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ikaroux · 2 years

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How are they with their pregnant companion? Al Haitham, Dottore, Pantalone.

Synopsis: Pregnant, your husband/partner is over the moon. But how would he take care of you during pregnancy?

Style: Cute, fluffy, female reader.

Bonus NSFW (18+) I remind minors to avoid reading this kind of content.

Alert: May contain story spoilers for some characters.

Characters: Al Haitham, Dottore, Pantalone.

Next on the list: Ayato, Itto, Heizou, Cyno.

Part 1 Diluc, Zhongli, Kaeya, Xiao, Venti, Albedo, Kazuha, Childe.

Part 2 Scaramouche, Dainsleif, Thomas.

Note: For this headcanons, I assume that the reader is of age and that she is in a relationship with the genshin boy for a while! For Al Haitham, I don't know the character yet, I haven't met him during the main quest. I wrote him as I imagined him in a serious love relationship, like for Dottore and Pantalone. For Dottore, in the manga he is portrayed as a cruel man, who does not hesitate to play with the lives of others. I like the idea that once in love, he can completely change. You are beginning to know me, I never write anything cruel or violent. Dottore, Pantalone and even Pierrot (if I were to write about him one day), I would always soften the characters in their relationship, so don't be surprised to see no torture, insult or abuse.

PS: I'm trying to do a rewrite of part 1 with Diluc, Zhongli, Kaeya etc… I would like to add more details to what I already wrote…

masterlist

Part 1 Diluc, Zhongli, Kaeya, Xiao, Venti, Albedo, Kazuha, Childe.

Part 2 Scaramouche, Dainsleif, Thomas.

Vomiting, fatigue, late menstruation. Alhaitham would quickly notice the signs of your pregnancy. And, by the archons, if his deduction proved correct, you would make him the happiest man in Teyvat.

He would not tell you immediately, preferring to take you to a doctor first. Nevertheless, he won't be able to hide that sweet little smile every time he meets your eyes. No matter how much you ask him why he looks so cheerful, Alhaitham will just tell you in a calm voice, "You'll know soon enough."

When the doctor tells you the good news, Alhaitham will warmly welcome you into his arms, tenderly kissing the top of your head. "You knew, didn't you?" You tell him against his chest, which vibrates against your ear from his laughter. "Why didn't you tell me?" He gently pulled you away from his embrace to look into your eyes. "I didn't want to see your face devastated if it turned out I was wrong." His lips met your forehead. "But I'm glad you weren't."

Alhaitham was a scholar, a man more often occupied with furthering his knowledge than frolicking about the city. He spent most of his time reading, writing, studying or observing and, of course, improving his fighting skills. He was a man with a cold and distant appearance, often considered an unpleasant person, but as soon as you appeared in his field of vision, his expression would soften and he would stop all his activities to take care of you, and even more so since you were pregnant. The people of Sumeru as well as the scholars who knew the man well will be amazed at the change in his personality as soon as you entered the same room.

The man would personally take care of your meals, preparing each dish with care to ensure your child's good health as well as yours. He would select every ingredient and buy it for you. He would ask (or order, depending on your point of view…) Tignari and Collei to bring him the best fruits of the forest. Cyno would also be part of the game, whether willingly or not…

Alhaitham's hands are perfect for massages. He will use on you essential oils made in Sumeru to massage every painful part of your body. He will also apply it to the areas where your skin is more susceptible to stretch marks.

When he was not with Lady Kusanali, you will find him at the academy, sitting at his desk with several scrolls spread out in front of him. He has always allowed you to visit him, but where once his focus was on his work, since your pregnancy, Alhaitham now wants you close to him, pulling your body into his lap, one of his hands resting comfortably on your now beautifully rounded belly. His lips gently kiss your cheek before one of his hands picks up his quill between his fingers to continue taking notes. The gentle rubbing of his hand on your belly, the sound of the pen against the paper, and the peaceful breathing of your lover will accompany you into a pleasant sleep.

Alhaitham could sometimes see your face light up with intense joy when you felt the baby move. Curious, he would try to understand your feelings by touching your belly. The first time, his child had stopped moving as soon as he put his hand on you. "Sigh why do I feel like this child will be a strong head"; "Because he will be stubborn like his father!" You laughed and reassured him as best you could, one hand tenderly caressing his cheek before kissing him.

Alhaitham accompanied you on every visit to the midwife. She advised both of you to try haptonomy in preparation for the birth. It was a therapy that allowed you to create an emotional bond with your baby. She was to teach you both how to communicate with the baby. Touching was a fundamental thing and your lover did a great job of that, applying gentle pressure to feel the baby move.

With each touch, Alhaitham could feel his child respond as he "played" and stroked your belly, your hands gently placed over his to accompany him. He would often talk to your belly, his deep voice seeming to soothe your baby.

Sometimes he would stop whatever he was doing just to look at you. The more your belly rounded, the more he felt moved… You were so beautiful, standing there in front of that flowerpot you were watering, one hand on your belly while singing a nursery rhyme to your child. You were so precious to him, a jewel in his life.

Since your pregnancy, you had been moody. The midwife had already explained to him that this was normal, so Alhaitham did not worry about it. However, he stayed by your side through every bad patch that came your way, calming your fears. He knew you would be a good mother, and he told you so whenever you were in doubt.

At night, Alhaitham already had a habit of holding you close to him while you slept. Now that you were pregnant, every time you lay down next to him, he would massage your belly and your aching chest until you fell asleep. He will look at your sleeping form for a long time, his hand still on your belly before tenderly kissing your forehead, whispering a warm "I love you". He will fall asleep against you, his hand continuously brooding over your baby, who seemed to react to his father's warmth by giving gentle strokes against you.

Alhaitham was always lovingly tender with you. Throughout your pregnancy, he would bend over backwards for you, taking care of everything in preparation for the birth. He was the one who took care of decorating the baby's room, as well as everything administrative. He wanted to remove all the unnecessary stress from your head and take on his future role as a father.

Alhaitham will be an exemplary father, always encouraging his child to excel, to believe in his abilities. He will show great patience in his education.

NSFW Bonus:

Pregnancy hormones made you insatiable. The first time you begged your husband to take you, he was lying comfortably on your marital bed with a notepad in one hand and a pen in the other. Without him having time to react, you straddled him, gently pulling what was in his hands away to focus his attention on you. He knew immediately what you wanted and was neither surprised nor shocked. His lips met the sensitive skin of your neck as his hands came to rest on your waist to help you sway against his hips. You could quickly feel his sex rising up under his clothes as you rubbed languidly against him. You were driving him crazy. Crazy with desire, and your pregnancy wasn't helping.

Alhaitham would always go easy on you, he didn't want to bully you or hurt the little being in your belly. He would undress you calmly, his lips worshipping the parts of your body that were offered to him. By dint of rubbing against him, you were wet enough to take him inside you, nevertheless, Alhaitham preferred to prepare you for him, thrusting a finger then two between your lower lips, making you moan at the sudden invasion. As he pumped his fingers inside you, you clung to his clothes, begging him to remove them and penetrate you as deeply as possible. He couldn't resist you, but still decided to make you cum once on his fingers before tearing off his clothes and giving you the object of your desires.

As soon as he got what he wanted from you, he withdrew his fingers, leaving you panting and sweaty. He slid his tunic over his head as quickly as possible before opening his pants to pull out his manhood already soaked by his own excitement. His heart pounded against his chest as he helped you stand over him. You straddled him in one go, without giving each other time to adjust. Grunts filled the room. Both of you had red cheeks as you slowly rolled your hips against him, whispering his name over and over in his ear.

It felt good. Terribly good. Alhaitham helped you with your movements, using the strength in his arms to lift your hips up and down with more speed and precision. He was surprisingly loud, moaning loudly, his head pressed against the back of the bed. At this rate, he wasn't going to last long. Knowing you were pregnant, full of desire for him because of the hormones was making him dizzy.

He made you cum several times that night, before retiring to take care of your exhausted, but finally satiated body. After cleaning you up, Alhaitham took you in his arms to let you sleep. His hand, warmly placed on your belly, rocked you. He whispered loving words in your ear to help you fall asleep. Before he fell asleep, he made sure to tell you and the baby that he loved you more than anything.

"Dottore! I have good news for you!"

Dottore never thought about having children. Not with the life he was leading. He was known to be a cold-hearted man with little to no regard for human life. So when you happily told him of your pregnancy, Dottore would cease all movement with a grim look on his handsome face. His ruby eyes seemed empty as they remained fixed on the bottle filled with a strange liquid that he handled carefully before you arrived in his laboratory. "Good news, you say?" His calm voice nevertheless hid a hint of horror. Shivering at his chilling tone, you slowly moved away from him, understanding that he was not happy about the news. Quickly, you ran out of his laboratory, tears in your eyes. "Tsk… Shit!"

Dottore didn't care about people, much less their feelings… Many women had coveted him for his intelligence or his looks, but none of them had interested him enough to make him feel affection. His relationships had always ended in the same way, as soon as one of his suitors started to annoy him, Dottore killed her in cold blood, using her body for his experiments… So why was it so different for you? Why did your distress affect him so much?! Why, by all the gods, did he have to fall madly in love with you? Abandoning everything he was doing, he ran out of his laboratory to catch up with you. Dottore was a man of incredible intelligence, but he always felt like a complete idiot when it came to you. He easily hurt you with his words or his behavior. Yet, you had always stood by him, faithful and loving. So when he finally managed to grab your wrist, he vowed never to be the cause of your tears again.

Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, letting you beat his chest as hard and as long as necessary if it would earn him your forgiveness. Losing you was not an option… "Let me go! " He tightened his arms around you a little more as he heard your words. "I'm sorry…" He whispered in your ear in a broken voice, which stopped all your movements instantly. You weren't used to hearing him apologize. "A baby? The idea's not so bad." You sniffed against his shirt, plunging your face deep into his chest. "You really are just a jerk…"

After that, Dottore had a completely different demeanor with you. Where he was once obsessed with his research and experiments, his mind now wandered to you, often imagining you with a round belly. A gentle smile would sometimes appear on his lips as he tended to a few vials filled with some herbal liquid or poison. Seeing him like this often frightened his subordinates, who would ask him in a hesitant voice if everything was all right, which usually erased his soft, happy expression to find that cold, threatening façade.

Your companion was not a very popular man, either among the Fatui or anywhere else on Teyvat. He was feared for his experiments on humans and hated for being the cause of death of many. He knew that your relationship with him could harm you, so for your safety and that of his unborn child, he decided to have you live near the Tsarina's palace, only a few steps away from his laboratory. The only people Dottore trusted absolutely were his copies of himself, who took care of your protection in his absence.

At your request, Dottore will cease his research on human beings (though not willingly), claiming that your child does not need a murderer for a father. The two of you argued about this for a long time, but Dottore had found someone who could stand up to him, even finding you frightening at times (and even more so since your pregnancy), when you got upset about the methods he used in his experiments.

Dottore would go to great lengths not to upset you. He knew that strong emotions were not good for you during pregnancy. As a doctor and scientist himself, he knew the risks of miscarriage. He refused to have you followed by a doctor out of nowhere and preferred to be the one to follow your pregnancy and delivery.

During the first six months of pregnancy, Dottore would continue to spend a lot of time in his laboratory, asking Pulcinella to look after you and your needs when his clones could not.

Your husband would leave work in a hurry if one of his copies came to warn him of a problem. You'd be surprised to see him come running, breathless and disheveled, slamming the door to your house and calling your name in a hurry. If you complain of stomach pain, Dottore will lay you down on the bed, taking his medical equipment with him to examine you. As soon as he was reassured of your health, his body would relax as he continued to examine your belly with his stethoscope, a small chuckle making his vocal cords vibrate. When he removed the object from his ears, his amused gaze turned to you. "Would you like to hear it?" For the first time, you could hear your child's first sounds. A softly beating heart… Dottore tenderly kissed your forehead as the first tears of happiness rolled down your cheeks.

After the seventh month, Dottore would spend more time with you. It was strange not to see him working on one of his experiments or even just seeing him in a more casual outfit. Now that he was home more often, Dottore personally made sure you rested properly, sometimes forcing you to lie down on the couch where you were sitting and rest your head on his thighs to fall asleep. Of course, you didn't say anything, enjoying these moments of affection between you and him. Dottore was more tender than he wanted to be, his hand caressing your hair until your eyes closed. You were the one who had made him like this, affectionate, tactile, in love… He had become completely addicted to you, to the idea of building a family… He couldn't deny that a little bit of fear was making his heart twirl.

The more your belly rounded, the more your back became painful, often forcing you to sit or lie down. Dottore would work on massaging your back until you felt nothing.

"I'd rather it be a girl." he once told you. You laughed, knowing exactly why he was saying that. "You'll take what comes, honey." Dottore had seen and lived with younger versions of himself, ranging from childhood to adulthood. You had always thought he was a bit of a father to them, even though it seemed strange.

Dottore always made sure to keep you away from his work to avoid any danger from the Fatui. But, when people hostile to Fatui had attacked you during a moment of inattention on his part, you had seen a face of your husband that you had never seen before. Anger invaded his features, distorting his beautiful face into a mask of hatred. You knew that Dottore already had a lot of blood on his hands and you didn't want your child's father to have any more. Just as he was about to kill those who had hurt you, your voice brought him back to his senses. So, since he couldn't punish them himself, he would let the Fatui justice system do it for him. Perhaps it would have been better if he had killed them…

Your child adored his father, you could tell by the way he wiggled in your belly whenever he heard his voice or felt his hand on your belly. Dottore may have told you it was ridiculous, but you could still see his ruby eyes sparkle every time he felt his baby press against the palm of his hand.

Overall, Dottore will be a very strict father, hoping that his child will follow in his footsteps. He won't be strict to the point of being scary or hateful, he was just what was needed to keep his child from straying from the straight and narrow. Nevertheless, his child will love him unconditionally, seeking his approval, attention and affection every time he comes home.

NSFW Bonus:

You had reached the second trimester of your pregnancy, and you were beginning to feel a rather ferocious carnal appetite. Dottore would be the one to claim you first, though, not waiting for you to come begging. Of course, you were happily guided by this man. You didn't know if it was the pregnancy that made you want to be one with him all the time, and frankly, you didn't care. The only thing that mattered to you was to feel him inside you, to have him claim you, to desire you. Maybe it was a subconscious need to feel desirable again as some of the curves were coming in with the pregnancy?

When Dottore came home, he quickly threw his long fur coat on the coat rack before looking for you in the house with the only idea in mind to make you his. You were used to his roughness in bed, but now that you were pregnant, he was more gentle. He'd take the time to prepare (or rather torture) you with his fingers, caressing your slit and then massaging your clit before his lips took over after tending to your sensitive breasts. Even if you were wet enough for him, Dottore would always add extra lube to his fingers and member.

Your round belly prevented you from getting into certain positions during sex. Most of the time, Dottore would dominate you with all his form, just to save you from any unnecessary physical effort. But sometimes he would simply lay you down on the mattress with your back to him, spreading one of your legs to facilitate the penetration of his member into you.

The swaying of his hips would be torturously slow at first. Dottore liked to play with your nerves, putting aside his desire to hammer you to listen longer to the small moans of pleasure that you offered him. You were so sensitive that it made him lose his mind. But there comes a time when his restraint breaks, and as his lips marked the skin of your neck in a possessive gesture, his hips would increase the pace of their thrusts. Your husband's grunts of pleasure along with the moans of your name would eventually send you over the edge.

Dottore would wait patiently for you to calm down before continuing, his hips slowing in a languid circular motion. He wouldn't cum yet, preferring to savor you for as long as possible. His hand would come to rest on your belly for a while, caressing it gently. He would silently claim your lips with his eyes, kissing you deeply, tangling your tongues together. Dottore was a cold and cruel man, but in your arms, passion and warmth would emanate from him like a fire.

"Sweetheart, I have a gift to give you."

Pantalone was a Fatui enforcer, a wealthy banker known throughout Teyvat as a false, calculating and unscrupulous man. Who would have thought that such a person was capable of loving anything other than his money and starting a family?

When you offered him this small rectangular box carefully sealed with a blue ribbon, Pantalone first looked at it with a doubtful air before displaying his usual smile. "Do we have something to celebrate my dear?" Your sweet, innocent smile always cracked him up. As you remained silent and your gaze grew more insistent, the man sighed before one of his hands tugged at the ribbon that surrounded the package. When he opened the box, he was surprised to find inside a small knitted sweater, obviously made by you. He remained silent for a long time, observing the garment in his hands. "Um… isn't this a baby garment?" He fell silent, realizing what he had just said. When his eyes met yours in a silent question, you nodded sharply, confirming his suspicions. Trembling, he dropped the box to the ground, treasuring the sweater in his hand as he pulled you into his arms. You had both been trying to have a child for several months, and so far, it hadn't been a real success. He was going to do everything he could to take care of you both…

The first few months were complicated for you. You had every morning violent and unbearable nausea. But Pantalone always managed to help you get over it, sitting you on his lap after giving you a cool glass of water. He would massage your belly until you felt better.

Pantalone is rich. Excessively rich. It's almost indecent. Next to him, you felt like a smile. Yet your husband had been poor and that was the same reason why he was spending a lot of moras on his unborn child. He wanted to give him a luxurious and comfortable life, everything that he had not had in his youth. The furniture was made of the best wood. The sheets, mattresses, and all the fabrics covering the surfaces were made of the most expensive materials in all of Teyvat. Of course, he also showered you with gifts, giving you clothes, bringing you all the food you wanted. He spoiled you and fulfilled your every wish.

When the two of you go out, Pantalone always keeps a protective hand on your lower back, warning those who would want to hurt you. He wants to keep you from any unnecessary stress, especially if it's work-related.

You'll be quite surprised to learn that Pantalone has told all of his harbinger colleagues about your pregnancy. Sometimes he would sit in Dottore's office and tell him about your growing belly with unconcealed pride. Dottore would often growl at him, asking him to get out of his lab. The man hated to see his colleague, usually wearing a cold, manipulative smile, so gaga over a "baby.

In the early stages of pregnancy, Pantalone sometimes didn't come home all week, too busy managing Snezhnaya's bank. He hated to leave you alone for so long, even knowing that you had bodyguards protecting you. And although Pulcinella would come to see you from time to time, sometimes bringing you some sweets or your favorite fruit, it didn't make him feel any better. Every day he would write you a letter and you would rush to answer it. He was always so anxious to hear from you…

Pantalone is the kind of man who will talk to your belly, hands gently encircling your hips and an ear pressed against you, hoping to feel his movements and hear his child. If you're sitting comfortably on a couch, the man will come between your legs, face against your belly, eyes closed, savoring your hands combing his long silky hair. He would be perfectly capable of falling asleep in this position, totally serene in your hands.

Sometimes your companion would come home late from work and find you asleep on the couch in the large living room, patiently waiting for him to return. The man would let a long sigh escape him before displaying one of his rare tender smiles, approaching you to kiss your forehead, your nose and then your lips. His hand would warmly caress your rounded belly, until he was startled by his baby's movements. "Well, aren't you still asleep my precious? Be good, don't wake up mommy…" Gently kissing the spot where he had felt his child's thrashing. He would eventually lift you gently off the couch, carrying you in his arms to lay you down in your bed.

Every time Pantalone passed you, he would pull you into his arms, kissing your lips and whispering about how beautiful he thought you were with your rounded belly, brooding over his child. "How is it that every day you get more and more gorgeous?" You would often roll your eyes, cheeks flushed and a slight smile on your lips before silencing him with a kiss.

Pantalone has a deep, gravelly voice, perfect for soothing your child's fidgets as well as your nerves. He will gladly lay you on his lap with a Snezhnaya storybook in hand and read it slowly until you fall asleep.

Your mood swings will never disturb this seasoned businessman. He will find the right words to calm you down.

Your husband will be very affectionate with you. He'll always speak softly to you, the warmth in his voice soothing your often frayed nerves during pregnancy. He will put aside his evil eye, wanting to live many years with you and your child.

Pantalone will be a very loving father and like Kaeya and Zhongli, extremely gaga over his child. He would spoil him to excess if you weren't there to temper him.

NSFW Bonus:

Your partner did not hide his desire for you. After all, he never stopped telling you that he found you beautiful and desirable… Pantalone was not in the habit of asking for you at any time of the day, often too busy with his work. But he couldn't help it, your pregnancy made it impossible for him to control his urges.

Your sexual relations were always slow and languid. Pantalone had never been a rough or brusque person. He liked to sit you on his lap in his office, his fingers penetrating your wet slit. He wanted to hear every moan, every whisper of his name in your mouth. His free hand took hold of your sensitive breast, gently pinching and pulling your nipple. His lips would mark the skin of your neck before moving up to your jaw and then your ear, gently whispering to you to cum for him… His deep voice, marked by lust, will make you rock on his fingers.

Pantalone likes to take you from behind, sticking you against a wall before penetrating you. His hips will slowly sway behind you, first in a teasing circle before moving in more forcefully. One of his hands would be under your belly, helping you bear the weight, however lightly, while the other would draw your hips into place. A smirk would appear on his lips as you begged him to go faster. "Oh? Don't you appreciate the way I take you? It seems to lull our child to sleep though, don't you think? " And indeed, it was possible for sex to lull a baby to sleep in the womb. Reluctantly, you gave in to your husband's slow rhythm.

As soon as he felt your walls tremble on his member as your orgasm approached, Pantalone accelerated his thrusts, surprising you in the process with a shrill cry of sudden pleasure. "Pantalone! The baby he-"; "I never said it was enough to be slow to rock him honey." You quickly climaxed, screaming his name over and over until he released his load inside you, his head collapsing onto your shoulder, his breath tickling your bare back. Both of his hands would rest on your lower abdomen, tenderly caressing it as he whispered his love for you in your ear.

9K notes · View notes

mooishbeam · 6 months

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『♡』 Treasures of the Fraud

♡ featuring: pantalone x f!reader

♡ summary: it's been forever since you've seen your friend, and as the hero of liyue, a new interruption has arisen. you pursue it, only to find memories awaiting you. wc: 9.1k+ (D:)

♡ cw/tw: long lonnggg fic, obsession, mentions of murder, mention of suicide, mentions of blood, manipulation, toxic pantalone, mean pantalone, possessive, spanking, degradation, mild praise, fingering, thigh riding, missionary, overstim, begging, edging, comeshot, pet names (darling, slut)

notes: helloooo!! ive been slow to get stuff out college is kicking my ass rn so sorry. not proofread so i apologize for any mistakes. I can't wait to have more time :) art by yion_yi on ig! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

12 years ago

“Come get me!”

The boy with inky curls spiraling down his back dips through trees, ducking under low hanging branches embellished with vibrant autumn foliage. Messy blends of pink and purple melt across the slowly bleeding sun carried into the night. His silhouette resembles that of a malevolent spirit peeking behind the boughs, leaping over tangled twigs and shallow ditches. His excited screeches signal you to chase after the leading direction. You’re both screaming and laughing down the undoubtedly dangerous shortcuts. If your mother knew about the adventurous risks you were taking at 13, you’d never leave the house again. Tag is a troubling game—despite the thousands of times you’ve played with him, you regularly end up being “it”. You don’t care about losing, though; having someone to call a friend is enough.

You turn into a clearing with columns of trees overseeing your small presence, hundreds of them. The colder night is rising, not a celestial body to shield. In this deep blue void, the leaves seem to be aggrieved at your interruption of some secret meeting, angry and smiling faces crumpling in the whispering wind. You spin around frantically, looking for signs or laughter, but neither reveal themself. It’s quiet besides the downy linger of grass. Your shoulders are snatched back and shaken to a rattling shock. You scream, and he laughs.

“Rahhh! Did I get you?” he jests. Your eyebrows narrow, and you push him lightly to a stumble.

“You scared me!”

“Hah, that’s the point. C’mon, it’s late. Let’s go.” He's scared too, swiftly grabbing your hand as you both brave the darkness back to the village.

“We should’ve been home a while ago” you say quietly. You feel the chill in your bones and press yourself closer to him.

“Yea.” He holds your hand tighter at the sound of a small rock bouncing down a steep hill.

“I had fun today. Let’s do this again tomorrow.”

“I have something to tell you.”

“Okay.”

“I’m moving in the morning” he states. It was nonchalant, but your stomach turns a churning sickness. One you can’t understand yet, it makes you uneasy.

“Oh. Okay, then.” It isn't okay, not in the slightest. But it had to be. Your best friend of 8 years looks at you, aiming to register the gravity of the situation. You both say nothing, but tears start to brim in your eyes in the silence. You wipe them with your arm.

“Will you miss me?” he asks.

“A lot.”

“I’ll miss you too. Lots and lots.” He sways your interlocking hands. You pass by vacant homes tattered and aged by abandonment, overgrown with invading ivy. Homeless reside, caring each other to warmth from the freezing draft. You were lucky to have a home in this little forgotten sector of Liyue. It's a small, unfortunate room, with holes in the roof that drips when it rains and bags over the windows to keep the heat in. The stove never works, and you share a bed with your mother, but every birthday she makes sure to save just enough for a slice of cake with one candle. There isn’t more you could ask for. Everyone in the village suffered from poverty but they made it work, sharing crops and dairy to persevere until the next year. That’s how you met him, sitting on a rock as your mother collected rations. You perform two pebbles in your hands, mumbling sea shanties while imagining voyage on a grueling journey—he sat next to you.

“Those aren’t dolls. They’re rocks.”

“You’re a rock” you retorted.

“No, I’m not.”

“Do you want to be a rock?”

“...That’d be kinda cool.” You gave him a pile of pebbles, and he joined the trip.

You’re getting closer to the village, still processing who you’ll play with once he’s gone. You glance at him, he’s spaced out in a faraway stare. You crave the power to read minds.

“Can we talk about something? I’m getting sad” you sniffle.

“What should be talk about?”

“What are you going to do after you move?”

“I’m gonna be super rich” he assures, looking up at the starless sky as if a meteor would shoot across and grant his wish. “What about you?”

“I’m going to save the world” you proclaim.

“Cool. I hope you do.”

“Me too.”

You arrive at your makeshift door drawn together with scraps of wood and twisted rope for hinges. A dim candle glimmers inside, most likely your vexed mother waiting for your tardily return. He makes space for your entry, and you undo your hands for the last time. Before you go, he snatches your wrist. His eyes are foggy, cheeks an anxious tinge of pink. He isn’t sure what he’s feeling, but the strings in his heart are tense. His mouth shapes to say something, but nothing returns.

“Yeah?”

“...I... I’ll really miss you a lot” he whispers with a lump in his throat.

“Then don’t forget me, okay?”

“I won’t.”

“You promise?” you say and raise your pinky towards him. He curls around it. “I promise.”

“Good. By the way, you’re it now.”

“I’ll get you back when I see you again!” he chuckles. You bid your goodbyes, unaware that it would mark the unforeseen conclusion.

Leaves crunch under your feet as you make your leisurely traverse to Liyue Harbor. It’s just before sunrise and you finished helping the elderly in Qingce Village carry copious amounts of heavy produce to their homes. The thankful candies from seniors' jingle in your pocket as you stretch your weary arms. Your mom offered to cook, but you're determined to locate the best commissions Katheryne had before afternoon. “Maybe I’ll pick up some rice buns” you think out loud at the rumble of your growing appetite. You still had a long way to go before you got to the harbor.

This was your new normal. After your thundering battle with Ningguang and Keqing against Osial, you became an example of Liyue’s triumph. You also became more aware of Fatui tactics, wiping out their swarms with the raging fury of your pneuma and swinging vision. Days of grueling bloodshed resulted in your victory, cementing you as the lionheart of Liyue. Beat up and bruised, the only request you made after your fight was a hot meal and a place for your mom to retire. They delivered both, and you used your recent hero status to provide help to the villagers where needed, be it casual favors or ruthless assault on Fatui agents. You were neither rich nor poor, and lived off the land and kindness of the Liyue Qixing. They often suggested you focus on less mundane tasks, but to you, the most vulnerable age groups warranted priority. There was something about the lighthearted innocent squeals of children and mellow grandparents rocking in their wooden chairs that made you protective to an almost volatile extent.

Bustling interactions of trade and commerce carry through the wind as you enter the harbor—a sound that’s brought you peace for years. The smell of food vendors has you drooling instantly. As you devour the complimentary rice bun, you feel the yank of a little hand on your skirt. You look down and a boy with brown hair searches for familiarity in your face. You recognize him, babysitting him numerous times. You kneel and pat his head, but he doesn’t react or move.

“Hey, what’s up? Where are your parents?” you question, briefly scanning your immediate area for his family. He’s hesitant to speak, as if he can’t find the panicked words, and rushes into your arms. You hug him instinctively and let him sniffle into your shoulder. You pick him up in your grasp and raise his head with your other hand so that he’ll hopefully be open to your compassion.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” The boy wipes his chubby tomato-red face. “Grandma is on the floor, what do I do?” You quell your rising nerves to suppress his alarm and speak calmly.

“Where is she?”

Speed walking towards the destination, the commotion of a small crowd surrounds a kneeling woman in the distance. She’s on her sun-spotted hands and knees, wailing for some bygone Archon. “Grandma!” he yells and jumps out of your arms. You run after him, relieved that the worst case scenario hadn’t occurred. You push through the group and get eye level with her, forehead pressed to the ground spouting religious scripture.

“Are you okay? Do you need medical assistance?” Wise sunken eyes wrinkled with age and torn by tragedy stick to your heart. Her feeble hands encapsulate yours, and tears stream down her cheeks. “They took my baby!” she rasps, rocking back and forth. “Who did?” you ask, and she weeps harder. “They took her memory...my baby, my daughter!” You support her weight and lift her hunched figure off the pavement. “What did they look like, ma’am?”

“A black hood...red mask” she recalls shakily. Instantly miscellaneous chatter ensues. They whisper nervously in each other's ears, he who shall not be named steals their voices. “Fatui probably got ‘er” you hear the mumble of one. Fatui. Your blood boils at the word, and you direct your view to the shrinking man with hands in his pockets. “‘He’ got all of us” he scoffs. “Did they hurt you guys, too?” you ask, and they stare. They’re pained but accepting.

“500,000 mora.”

“194,000 for me.”

They list off their debt one by one, and you’re horrified at the accumulating number. They seem to endure, however; no longer phased by the incurable tally haunting their lives. “H-how are you paying any of this?”

“We can’t. It adds up. Interest, late payments, it always does. So, we give everything, and ‘he’ takes everything, until we have nothing left. We die poor without a possession to our name” a woman sighs. As a child, you heard of the loan sharks that purposely fed false promises to the poor, and once they were reeled in, charged insurmountable payments to blackmail—it was the origin story of most people in your birthplace. Your soul aches for them, but is there anything you can do?

“...I’ll help you, all of you. I’m sure I can-”

Ningguang arrives. She's a nurturing figure to you, the kind that asks if you’ve been eating well and politely scolds you. “What happened?” You lead the tired elder to the Jade Chamber, and she tells her story through choked sobs. You didn’t expect Keqing to already be there, arms folded and turned away from the situation. Ningguang can barely glance at the woman.

“They stormed my home and took my jewelry and belongings. They took the pendant my daughter gave me; it had her face in it. Archons give me strength, my baby! I can’t afford it; I have nothing!” she quakes. You rub her back and Ningguang nods, listening—you can’t help but notice the anxiety blooming on her abstracted face. They take her through the process and once she leaves, Ningguang and Keqing look at each other with a silent understanding. The room is eerily quiet, and Ningguang paces back and forth in front of the intel wall contemplating an uncertain danger. You fumble with your thumbs.

“What are we going to do about this?” you wonder. Keqing clears her throat loudly, attracting the attention of Ningguang. She looks at you, and sighs deeply. “We already know about this issue.”

Your ears perk up. “Great, so how can I help?”

“By doing nothing, (Y/N)” Keqing says.

“...What?”

“I have eyes everywhere; I’ve known for a long time. The Fatui are not people to be taken lightly, especially the harbingers. A few of their skirmishers were caught trading exotic goods and taxing medicine at high prices, on top of extorting the impoverished regions.” Ningguang points to one of the many Fatui exclusive headquarters on the wall. “Pantalone is the richest man in Teyvat, he has more political influence than anyone can imagine, and they answer to him. We can’t risk getting involved with this. They’ve brought this upon themselves, and unfortunately, they must deal with the consequences.”

You can’t accept this response. How can they just desert them? It doesn’t comprehend in your naïvity—you scold yourself for not spotting the signs sooner, furrowing your brows and looking at them with distaste. “I expected this. You shouldn’t have said anything” Keqing chides. “...Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped before-”

“You’re the last person I wanted to know about this” Ningguang interrupts. Your anger feels misplaced, and you bite your lip in restraint. She sits next to you and offers fleeting comfort with a graceful hand on yours. “You’re quite the reactionary type. In due time, this will be sorted. But right now, I need you to calm down, and trust me.” It sounds desperate, you know you shouldn’t go looking for answers, but a snagging thread pulls at the back of your consciousness, all too convincing. You bounce your leg. “You should want revenge just as much as me. Where we came from, where they end up, it isn’t fair.”

“You know I do, more than anything. But we must handle this with care, before too many people get hurt. I’m doing this for the betterment of Liyue as a whole. It’s not easy to make these decisions.”

“We can’t just go around serving justice, there’s laws we have to act with” Keqing adds. You don’t reply and stand up abruptly to leave. The worried Tianquan grabs your wrist one last time. “Promise me you won’t make a mistake, (Y/N). I’m trying to protect you” she pleads.

“I promise. Thank you.” You flash a half genuine smile, already planning to rebel against her wishes.

Who exactly is ‘he’—Pantalone. You don’t even know where to start looking. Too many headquarters, infinite possibilities. The best way you have to find him is through Fatui agents.

You start taking up odd jobs late in the evening, scouring for the possibility that a fatui agent might fall into your hands. Though you considered playing the part of an impoverished villager taking out a loan at Northland Bank, it didn’t guarantee that you’d meet Pantalone in the flesh—it’s more likely that would raise unnecessary suspicion in the process. It’s awkward at first, seeing the hero of Liyue fish on the dock for petty change throughout the night. As you do, the malicious fire in your eyes burns bright at the occasional voice in chill silence. Your vision glows as you toss the hunting knife between your nimble digits. Listening closely to conversations, hoping that one might be unguarded enough to slip up, but nothing of the sort appears—not even the boldness of Fatui skirmishers enables them to divulge secrets under the baleful existence of Celestia.

The moon illuminates sweetly on the tranquil waters lulling you to drowse. You hadn’t heard much since the start of your escapade. A fishing pole is weak in your resistless hold, and you’ve evidently given up on the idea of portraying the hardworking fisherman tonight. You vowed to help the people of Liyue, but justice was seemingly unfeasible. Maybe a direct approach? Should I ambush their headquarters? More so a suicide mission, you’d have no luck achieving that. Just as you’re about to leave, the crunch of withering grass straightens your posture. You make yourself hidden with a burst of energy and slouch behind the bushes as a Fatui pyro agent charges along the route. Through the glutted leaves obstructing your vision, you can just make out the heavy bag on his shoulder and jagged blade waiting restlessly on the other. His stride points towards Qingce Village. You hold your breath disguising yourself with the scenery and allow him to take a few feet between you before you begin following him. He’s rather shifty, those veiled eyes darting back and forth at the lightest noise. You’re careful to glide behind trees, moving with the heartbeat of the wind and taking advantage of the various melody's nature offers. You suck in a breath and duck behind a boulder a few inches too close, and his head snaps in your direction. The feeling of being watched besets him, but with no way to prove it and time running out, he secures his knife for the hypothetical ambush, and makes haste towards the target. Turning a tree, you watch as the pyro wielder knocks on the house of a small worn cottage. A short stocky man appears, shading half his body behind the door.

“H-hello...” you hear faintly. The Fatui keeps his hand firm on the door, one boot propped under the hinge. He presents the flaming knife loosely as he towers over the man. “We’ve given you time.” You were sure now that he's working for Pantalone.

“I don’t have it. P-please, if you could just give me some more-” He slams his fist against the wood, a resounding thump shakes the home. The man cowers. “Give me everything you have. The Regrator won’t wait any long-”

A small rock flies past his mask, skidding on the ground until it comes to a stop. He glares in the direction of the tree you’re hiding behind. You have no plan, nothing but the distracting impulse to stop the assailant from attacking. “Stay here” he commands, and stalks towards you. His slow footsteps get increasingly louder, playful stomps toying with your obvious whereabouts. He twirls the razor-sharp knife, and as he sharply peeks around the corner, you’re nowhere to be found. “Here, kitty kitty” he taunts, spinning towards the lake, then the village grounds for footprints. He severs the air aimlessly in mirth, believing some amateur fighter came to challenge him. As he monitors the tracks under you, you drop down from the wiry branches. Legs wrap tight around his neck, and you catch hold of his hood trying to pull his mask off. He gags but he’s too quick, throwing off your steadiness as he slams your spine on the grass. He whips around to take a stab at your chest, but you roll away guarding the vital arteries. You kick him in the crotch, and he recoils giving you ample time to stand.

You can’t feel the wet laceration dripping down your abdomen as you take a slash at his throat with your weapon, infused with elemental energy. He leans back and meets your strike. You trade blows, the strength of your smite bursting sparks of light above the scratches and bruises. Your wrist burns with the unmoving knives stumbling you. He begins to manifest blazing knives circling his figure, and you jump back from the singing cut melting the cloth. You wipe the dried blood from your mouth, and in the blink of an eye, he disappears. Suddenly, red auras similar to the pyro agent surround you. One by one, the clones charge at you, and you parry their overhead onslaught. Something is different about the last clone, your vision revealing a brighter outline than the others. When the next clone attacks, as you counter you pretend to fall for his trick. With your eyes on the other, he immediately passes through the black fog to deal the killing blow. You’re quicker this time and heave a heavy tear into his chest. Crimson splatters the grass, it shatters his element and rips open the robe. You tackle him on the dirt and wrestle until you kick his weapon away. Your knee digs into his back, and he can barely breathe with his arm locked behind him and knife rigid against his neck. He ttempts to swing at you, but you wrench his arm tighter and slice into his skin just enough to draw blood.

“Fuck. Okay!” he wheezes. “Where is Pantalone?”

“I don’t know what you’re- shit!” You’ve lost patience long ago and twist his arm to dislocate the shoulder. He lets out a blood curdling scream thrashing in pain—you tug hard and focus him. “Shut up and answer my question. Where is Pantalone?” you demand. He hisses in pain and coughs up phlegm mixing with reddening soil. “Kill me.”

“Just tell me and I’ll let you go.”

“I’m a dead man, either way.” he rasps and hangs his head waiting for the execution. You grit your teeth; a drop of guilt leaves a bad taste as you thwack the pressure point on his neck that forces him unconscious. You glance at the bag he left and limp over to rummage through the contents. Useless papers crumple under stolen items, but one note catches your eye. Presumably a to-do list, you read to the bottom. A list of homes, goods on standby exchanges—at the bottom of those, a rendezvous point:

Report back- Yilong Bank, Liyue

You rest in a plot of prickly bushes and leave in the morning after patching yourself up. You couldn’t stop now, not when you were this close to facing him. You soothe your body from the twigs prodding you all night, and check the wound suppressed by gauze. It’s a light scar now, apparent after bathing in the warm water on the outskirts of Qingce. You contemplated telling Ningguang about what occurred, but imagining the look on her face once she knew kept you moving.

Tucking your vision where it can’t be viewed, you take a waverider to Yilong Port into the afternoon. You concoct a half-baked scheme, one that relies on every scenario being perfect to a tee. Unreliable, but probably your only chance. The plan amounts to scaling the building and breaking in through the office window, snatching everything owned by the villagers and breaking out before anyone notices. Easy in your capabilities, but you have no idea what the building looks like, nor do you know where the office is. The man driving wears all black, an outfit that stands out from the rest of the region. He stares at you blankly, and once you’re aware, you meet eyes. His smile is uncanny, stretching across his face with an abnormal friendliness.

“Is this your first time at the port?” he asks, finger tapping the wheel. Be it sleep deprivation or ignorance; you don’t recognize red flags in his behavior. You smile at the courteous face. “Yeah, the weather’s beautiful out here.”

“Mhm, hot weather up here. On vacation?”

“Nah, I have business here.” The minuscule edge of your vision catches in the light. He homes in on the passing twinkle. You wonder why his eyes widen momentarily, and his finger starts to tap methodically, as if memorizing a coded pattern.

“Business...what kind?”

“Oh...I have some items to trade.” You close off your answers feeling that you’ve said too much. He subsides with a stale expression. “If you’re looking to trade, you might find luck at Yilong Bank” he utters monotonously.

“And where is that?” You feign disinterest, but victory is too loud on your tongue.

“Up the mountain.” The waverider halts at the harbor, and he turns his head away from you unusually cold, akin to a mechanical bot shutting down. “Welcome to Yilong Port.”

You make yourself invisible in the crowd and wait for nightfall. People still roam the port along with Fatui monitoring the front of the bank, which gives you leeway to blend in as you find passage around the back of the mountain. It’s a steep, dark incline jutted with irregular jagged stones. The imposing size of the climb tangles knots in your stomach, and you wipe the persistent sweat on your top. In one huge leap, you latch onto a craggy indent, and begin your ascension.

Your legs feel like jelly with each contact of the unforgiving breeze. You sway alongside the spirit of anemo and swallow your anxiety before leaping to the next rock. Shoes plant into rock and nails excavate fresh cobble on the next jump. By the time you’ve realized, you’re already up most of the mountain. You tug yourself even with the land as a barreling gust of wind goads your glance to the ground, kilometers beneath you. Your breath stills, and for a second dizziness overtakes your nerves at the thought of slipping. I could die, one mistake and I’m dead. You focus, and spring to the next piece. Without warning, rock gives way into pebbles at the weight of your foot. You nearly plunge, but anchor onto the small bump out with one hand. You’re dangling off the edge, playing with death while you fortify your body. Hyperventilation makes your heartbeat thrum incessantly and stress palpitates tired muscles; If you didn't have your vision, you would’ve fainted to your demise. You bite the bullet, push your heels in and persevere through the hurdles. The next thing you clutch is malleable in your palm. You vault over the cliff, the smell of dew is overwhelming. The back of the bank—the end goal—is visible.

One Fatui member remains in the front. You scale up the building effortlessly, nothing compared to the hell you just went through. Shifting window to window, your eyes land on the pitch-black darkness of the room at the top of the building. An ideal glow casts on the fraction of precious gold resting on a coffee table. This has to be it. You slink through the window soundlessly, and land on the balls of your feet. Analyzing the dish, you don’t discern the pendant. You can faintly identify some bookshelves near the dish, and tiptoe further inside. You creep around luxury sofas, and squint at the embellished glass case next to the door, containing all manner of jewelry and valuable possessions. You won; this was it. You scurry to it, moving with abrupt carelessness. One more step.

Click

The fireplace you didn’t heed is set aflame. It flickers sneering shadows on the opposite wall and brightens the case. You pause and hope. There’s a confining silence stirring in the room, like someone is with you. The case is visible now, and so is the key to opening it.

You fell into a trap.

“Looks like I have a little thief on my hands.”

A bittersweet voice in the sable, reminiscent of rich dark chocolate, rolls off the room. He steps out obscurity behind his desk and your eyes adjust, revealing the tight black turtleneck compressing his willowy torso and gloves adorned with silver rings. You can’t see the upper part of his face, but the chains of his glasses hang in front of that duping smile. You expected the Fatui harbinger to be on the stronger side, physically intimidating. It’s not physical, but you feel a certain fear boiling in your body. He’s not terrifying, but you tremble. His presence makes your hair stand and sends waves of goosebumps up your arms. You can’t find the will to move your wobbly legs. His charmed laugh rings in your ears and causes you to hold your breath. He has no vision; you shouldn’t be afraid. You could take him on easily, why can’t you fight?

“Hello, honored hero of Liyue” the headless man taunts. It makes it worse that he knows who you are. How long had he known you were coming? Was your plan doomed from the beginning? Your feet are stuck in molasses as your fight or flight shuts down at the man before you.

“Now, tell me. What is the little thief doing, barging into my office to take the possessions I worked so hard for? Not very heroic of you, If I may say.” There’s power in his stature—you forget how to speak. He holds his palm out to you. Tangled between his fingers, is the ornate golden pendant you’d been searching for, a woman’s face in the frame. Your eyes widen, and the sweet familiar curve of his lips stretches in amusement.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” The plod of low-heeled boots accompanies unveiled darkness, and you can observe his entirety. Amethyst eyes drunk with an orchid hue pool into your being. Lazy curls brush against his glasses and kiss his porcelain skin. He’s beautiful, a calm enticing rip current that sweeps you with immeasurable pressure before you can pull yourself out. He leans on the desk, observing the chain halfheartedly. If you weren’t careful, you’d mistake the look on his face for genuine kindness; you’d drown, just like he craved. Nonetheless, you can’t shake the emotion his smile grants.

“Yes. That’s all I need, and I won’t bother you again” you whisper meekly, hoping that he’d let you go with the pendant in a spur of forgiveness. The jest in his eyes says something different.

“Come get it.”

Come get it. Your mind begins to piece the man into a stage of your life you’d forgotten. It can’t be him. Memory tells intrusive truth in short flashes. Inky curls spiraling in front of you as you chase. He was consistently miles ahead of you. It was irrelevant how far apart you were; he’d always find you. That big, curving smile for every match he won. Purple eyes glancing back at yours; the same ones that withheld tears when you said goodbye.

“Come get me!”

Tears stream down your eyes for the friend you thought you’d never see again. Childhood laughter bleeds into his current cat-like conniving snicker, and you gaze at his face.

“I... remember you” you choke. He looks up without a smile, perceiving an unexpected thought, and meets your eyes. There’s a hint of affection in the warm smile beaming on his face. “My my, (Y/N). You have quite the memory.”

You’re motionless, full of something that catches in your lungs. This isn’t the triumph you wanted, and now that you’re face to face you feel powerless. He must’ve known the entire time. Watching you fight and work alone, sending Fatui to roam in Liyue, all done to toy with you. Your lip quivers, swelling in your already deafening heartbeat.

“How long...” you utter. He inquires with the tilt of his head.

“How long have you been messing with me?” Your eyes adhere to the floor, pride that won’t permit you to shed misery for Pantalone. He drinks in your resistant frame, the kind he desires to break; perhaps this game of cat and mouse isn’t done, after all.

“This hurts me too, (Y/N). I wouldn’t be doing this if you weren’t so…persistent.” Your confusion spills over in shaky, weak huffs. You can’t maintain your composure, and make yourself first to oppose the authoritative man on his own territory.

“How could you do this to anyone? We grew up poor!” You shout with balling fists.

“It’s inefficient to dwell on the past” he replies with gentle cadence and languid grace unrepresentative of his cruel tactics. You nearly regret raising your voice.

“These people are at their wits end and you’re taking advantage of them” you chide. He slowly paces towards you. Pantalone looks down on you from height disparity, but the royal glower pities you, judges worth you can’t see.

“Driven by emotions, are you that simple? You presumed that if you stormed in here, and professed a touching story, that I would suddenly see the error in my methods?” You’re not sure what you’re here for anymore or why you haven’t left yet. Subconscious urges can't determine if they should slap or hug the man inching towards you. “I simply enforce contracts and exchanges. No one can be swindled by a debt accreted on their own.”

“No one asks to be poor either” you interject. Pantalone’s a foot away from you now, analyzing your reactions to his personal entertainment. He recalls the blurry past—the pranks you pulled together that ultimately failed from your loud hurried sneakiness tripping to alert the farmers, helping out for loose change so that you’d split a snack between each other that wasn’t big enough to share, gazing at the twinkling night imagining a distant future—you changed and stayed the same, but he keeps wanting more.

“Weigh the odds. They either die impoverished or live by passage of loans. I merely provide a service. Does that make me so cruel?” You can’t find an answer.

“You’ll always be my friend, but I need it back. It can’t be much to forgive someone’s debt” you plead.

“You still consider me a friend?”

“I think…you’re hurt. And you’re trying to heal. We all are. I know I’ve dealt with a lot as I’ve gotten older and I think you have, too. Power corrupts even the best people in this world, so maybe you’re not a bad person. But you’re doing bad things, and this isn’t the right way to get better.”

Pantalone is quiet for a few long moments. His hands web his face, but you can clearly see the pearly fangs in his open-mouthed smirk. Then he laughs—dulcet and mocking, it lingers for too long as he throws his head back and relishes the obtuse notion. He gazes with insulting compassion and stalks towards you.

“Incredibly…. gullible. Mora is the pathway to all endeavors. Devoid of gnosis or divine knowledge, wealth has rendered me impervious to control. Suffering and destitution only manifest if I will it. I am the guise of a false god, an emblem of achievement.” It’s borderline delusional the way he regards himself, arms moving in theatric grandeur, the star of his own opera.

“Does that make you feel good? Stepping on the backs of the community that raised you, and abandoning them because they chose not to be influenced by greed?” Pantalone towers over you. His fingers brush light against your sensitive ears, trail to your clenched jaw, and finally cup your frustrated cheeks with the cradle of a long-lost lover.

“It does, in fact. I’m not easily swayed by ridiculous optimism, that’s why I’m at the top. You’ve devoted your blood and tears to a region that will succumb to adversity in your absence. Is that not a pointless feat?”

“So what? That doesn’t mean we just don’t help people. You have nothing without the Fatui, you’re a pawn just like the others” you retort. He brings his lips close to the shell of your ear, and his breath hot on the untouched skin drags a tingle up your spine.

“And what do you know about the Fatui?” he whispers.

“I know enough. You’re all disgusting.” He huffs out his nose.

“Disgusting isn’t the right word. I’d say...opportunists.” Pantalone backs up, sliding his hand up your chin and tilting your attention to the intense glint. “But you’re clever, I’ll give you that. If only you were clever enough to know your place.” You'd forgotten you were acting out of line. You refocus your mindset to negotiation.

“I’ll do anything you ask for the debt. Please, just give it back.” The word “anything” evokes a malicious yearning—so forthcoming without understanding the implications of “anything”, of eternity. He caresses your cheek.

“Anything, hm? Even if I said to give up being a hero for good? Would you still call yourself a heroic traveler if you weren’t allowed to travel or adventure as you please?” he teases. Your mouth opens to refute, but you bite your bottom lip instead. Pantalone walks back to his desk and leans while dangling the golden chain. Now that he’s far, the invading space between you two shows how insignificant you are in this luxury palace.

“Your resolve moves me. Consider this; make an exchange with me, and I’ll guarantee not only her debt, but the debt of all residents in Liyue forgiven” Your face instantly lights up, ready to accept it without thinking.

“What is it?” you ask.

“In exchange for regional loan forgiveness, I want you.”

“...What?”

“I want everything you have. It’s the fairest exchange I can make. Your obedience, your loyalty, and your body.”

The choice turns in your frontal lobe. You can’t fathom giving yourself to a man, let alone a Fatui harbinger. It’s unbecoming of a hero to lie with the enemy.

“Absolutely not” you assure.

“Alright. Then allow their village to be reduced to nothing.” No, wait. “You may leave. However, if you do, you’ll cause great misfortune to that woman and her struggling family” You play into his covet so smoothly as you stand in the center of the room, reluctant to leave.

“I’m not a complete monster, so I’ll give you 5 seconds to make a choice.” He sways the pendant in his hand like the transient time of an hourglass. 5 seconds, all you have to sign your life away.

“4.”

What if no one ever sees you again? What’s the point of sacrificing your happiness and freedom, are the people of Liyue truly worth it?

“3.”

You could threaten him, take him hostage so that a harbinger might bow to your demands. That, or they kill you, and the village suffers anyway.

“2.”

You think of your graying mom, the sweet boy with his chubby red face who cries over the smallest things, the grateful elders that give you candy after every good deed, Ningguang and Keqing stressing over the next financial impact.

“1.”

“I’ll do it.”

Pantalone swings the chain into his palm, an undefeated smug overbearing as he sets it on the desk. There was never a point in resisting; he always got what he wanted, no matter how long it took to achieve it. He waited months—no, years—to get you in this exact moment. There’s a daunting beguiling charm in the way he closes the gap between you two. You glare at him; a temper common people would dread shooting. He assesses the pending punishment and lowers himself eye-level. He grins, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I can see the defiance in your eyes. Do you want to talk back? Go ahead, challenge me.” You don’t test this scenario and turn your head. “Don’t patronize me. Get it over with, ‘Pantalone’.”

He quirks an eyebrow, and pliable flesh strains your teeth as your face is gripped rough by satiny leather. You’re twisted sharply to the calm expression—it humbles you.

“That’s not how you address your superior. What should you call me?” You don’t answer promptly to his liking, and he tightens his grip. “Answer me properly, darling.”

“...Sir.” Pantalone plants a sickly sugary kiss on your forehead, the kind that makes you forget how petrifying he can be, and lets you go.

“Good.” He walks back to the desk and sits in the onyx chair embellished with silver jewels fit for a king. His chin rests on bridging hands. “Strip.”

You don’t move, your heart hammers in your chest at the request and you stir uncomfortably. You have no experience with sexual gratification, let alone exposing yourself to an old friend.

“(Y/N). Don’t make me say it again.” Keen agitation in his voice serves as a final warning. He eats you with his eyes, homed in on your hands clumsily snaking the top over your head. A glimpse of the scar you received during your fight with the Fatui captures him. He takes a mental entry, for an explanation that might justify why the agent suddenly goes missing. You were generally too busy to look in the mirror or analyze your assets, and pleasure was a removed afterthought—so the hungry fervor warming your skin and permeating the room clamped your thighs shut. You’re visibly flustered and nervous fumbling with the clasps on your bra while stabilizing your anxiety, and he delights in every second of the accidental strip tease. It feels like fresh meat introduced to a savage animal, and the instant your bra omes off, a new vulnerability coils in your gut. You move to your bottoms; the sheen of sweat polishes your plush thighs to wiggle out of them. You’re left in nothing but tantalizing panties hugging you in the right places. His eyes undress and redress you, tracing up and down the perk of your nipples, tempting fullness of your thighs, each unseen curve and perfect imperfect mark on your glistening body. He lets out a deep breath to stop himself from jumping over the table and taking you right there.

“The underwear. Take it off” he says, an undertone of lust. You shimmy the fabric off and fully expose yourself. You impulsively cover your intimate parts and avert your eyes, but you can still feel Pantalone on you, ravaging you. He doesn’t bother telling you to put your arms at your sides, your bashfulness combined with an attempt at stoicism is comical.

“Ah, the little thief is trying to act tough. That's cute” Pantalone teases and leans back in the chair. Manspreading, he pats his thigh. “Crawl.”

He’s hellbent on shaming the defiance out of you. It’s a vile command, but you begrudgingly drop to your hands and knees. You drag your chaffed knees on wood, balancing like a newborn fawn adjusting to its legs. It’s humiliating and downright degrading; the cold floor fails at cooling your burning fever. You’re on the verge of tears, but Pantalone can’t help but smile. You get around the desk and look up at him, waiting for the next horrible thing he’ll have you do. “Unfortunately, the stunt you pulled impeded my paperwork. Be a good thing and sit on my lap until I’m done.” A “thing”—that’s all you were now, a shiny trophy meant to be ogled at but never taken seriously, used and thrown away. You stand off your scraped raw knees and straddle his thigh, hands balancing the leg so you don’t fall.

And Pantalone starts to work. Working as if you’re not there, filling in the spaces on his documents. For some reason, it’s more demeaning this way, you truly are just a prize. One hand dances beautiful penmanship in masterful motions on embossed paper, the other fondles and explores your being. The gloves brush down your delicate spine, nonsensical shapes drawn on your lower back that make you shiver and pool heat in places you’ve never thought of. You’ve never been touched like this, it’s needles light on your skin. They move to your stomach, pleasant circles above the pelvis that threaten to go lower. He’s careful to trail his hand up your cleavage and behind your neck, neglect your hardening nipples and repeat the process over and over. He’s painstakingly slow, savoring the dazed arch of your back, massaging your inner thighs and dragging the sleek material over your rear.

Middle and index sweep across your lips, pulling your bottom lip to reveal teeth, and prods your mouth. Pantalone’s fingers are invasive, they exploit your gums and twirl around the squishy tongue molding to his appetite. He plays with the pink mass, and it fills you like a kiss. He’s everywhere and he hasn’t looked at you once. You hate it, the kind elegance and refinement of his technique that makes every calculated word and action reek of opulence. Yet, arousal pools on the surface, sticking to your labia and clouding your drowsy mind. It’s an extreme ache that doesn’t go away from cold showers or shrugging off like you usually would. You can’t remember what you did today, yesterday, or the day before that. The sensation of him consumes you and persists in spots he left. He smells of expensive cologne, hints of heady wood and sage. You’re lucky his fingers are in your mouth, or piteous moans would spill out of you. Flat on his thigh, the subtle jolts of his leg rub against your hypersensitive clit and set your nerves on fire. Throbbing swells in your core, and you struggle to stay stiff as your hips stutter.

Pantalone knows exactly what he’s doing. Your labored pants sound like saintly melody while you writhe on his lap. The fabric goads your pulsing pussy, and you hang your head in embarrassment of the juices soaking your thighs and his. He’s surprised you have strength left to withstand the itch. You do your best to hover above it, trailing thick strings of slick. “There’s no need to pretend you don’t like this. Just give yourself to me” he whispers. And it’s so enticing, an invitation that might let you come if you ask. However, remnants of pride cling to your melting resolve, you can’t give in yet. He takes the fingers out and presses on your nipple, flicking the bud. You can’t hold the mewl, and he snickers.

“So indignant for the hero of Liyue, to be on a harbingers lap, reduced to a pretty pet.” Your ears tune out the insults. The damp gloves pull and pinch your puffy nipples, then knead to soothe the pain. He does the same to the other, switching between both as he feels you squirm.

He works on the last few pages. Piles upon piles of reports and records—they detail the deaths, or “suicides”, of clients who’d disappeared mysteriously after extended absence of payments for millions of mora, people who dared go against the Regrator. Unruly, uncooperative clients that take advantage of fair exchange, and pay the price for it.

Your arms get tired, and you settle on him again. Pantalone starts to softly bounce his leg, enough for you to notice the friction on your clit. It’s too much, you can’t take it anymore, and start to rut your hips on his thigh. You look messy, smearing your essence on those overpriced slacks and biting back your moans. Pleasure flows in your veins, and you give up. His cock throbs nonstop, print stealing space in his pants. “Did you believe I wouldn’t catch you? You’re not sneaky enough. You’re not good enough," he taunts from the corner of his eye. You hump his leg like a desperate bunny, chasing the addictive high.

“Nasty slut, fucking your hips on a man you barely remember.” He moves his hands to your clit and replaces the slacks with slippery leather. You grind on it harder and hold your moans. More, more, more. He coats it in the mess and finally diverts his attention to you. He teases your entrance gliding vertically on your vulva before pushing one finger in. It hurts at first, but your walls hug him eagerly, pulling it deeper. He coaxes it to take another and starts scissoring your gushy walls.

“I’ll devour you. I’ll inscribe my name upon every surface of your physique until it adorns your lips, and I’m the only thing that remains.” Pantalone starts pumping rhythmically, tormenting, poking everywhere but your g-spot. Gloss drips down his knuckles and glazes his rings.

“S-sir please, s’too much” you whimper, mustering up an ineffective stable voice. “Hmm? Can you hear the lewd sounds you’re making?” Loud squelches sing from him fucking your insides. Each time you try to speak, he elicits another moan.

“M-my sto-mach hurtss” you whine. He holds your waist in place with the other hand and continues the assault. “I know, it hurts? Would you like me to alleviate the pain?” he coos. You nod fast.

“Hold it in. You ask for permission every time you’re close, do you understand?” You don’t reply and try to angle your body to get more contact. You make the mistake of guiding yourself to your clit and earn a harsh stinging slap on your hand. “Don’t touch what’s mine” he orders. You’re frustrated and he’s doing it on purpose, it’s entirely too hot where pleasure and pain blur. “N-not yours” you stammer, and he stops. He pulls out your warmth and you whine from loss of pressure. Looking at him, there's no smile, and the irritation on his face makes your heart drop. You're really in for it.

Without delay, your stomach flies over one of the chair arms, and you hold onto it for dear life. It presses firm on your ribs, and he slants your ass to the air. “You have courage, speaking back to me” he says. He pulls his gloves off and hurls them. They’re lovely, the silken soft hands of a man who hadn't lifted a finger through combat a day in his life. They sink into your sex, and you moan out for him. The other winds back, and you feel the palm hit brutally on your unsuspecting backside. Crack. It echoes in the room, and you almost fly forward.

“Disrespectful.” Crack. He keeps pumping through it, and tears collect in your lashes.

“Disobedient.” Crack. There’s blood rushing to your head, and violent smacks make your pussy flutter and ass ripple; his control won’t give you adequate touch.

“Little.” Crack. Every time he feels you getting there, he pauses. A masochistic pleasure whirls innermost.

“Brat.” Crack. Both cheeks are a sore fiery color and beginning to welt, but he resumes. You’re drenching his palm, sobbing from prolonged edging and Pantalone laughs. “Pfft, you’re crying? Too embarrassed to beg? Perhaps I’ll give you what you want, if you grovel hard enough, darling.” An incoherent orchestra of please’s mesh with broken moans. “Sir m’sorry. Wan’ it so bad, p-please!” you mumble. There’s no dignity on your lips, no residue of the hero you once were. Drunken ardor floods your short-circuiting brain.

“Oh, what do you say? You want it? Is that it? I'll let you have it... but only if you say it loud and clear for me” he croons. He winds his fingers in a come-hither gesture that licks your core.

“Please...I won’t misbehave again!” He spreads your ass apart and watches your hole pucker from lining the brink.

“I’m not sure I want to give it to you now. It's a lot more enjoyable watching you squirm and beg.”

“’M yours, sir. Please give it to me. I’ll be s’good, promise!” you mewl. You’re so pathetic, it’s endearing. He simpers and maneuvers impossibly fast while gyrating your clit. “How humiliating. You’ve satisfied me.” Your eyes roll back, and you dissolve in pure euphoria. There’s black dots in your vision, and it doesn’t stop as he starts torturing your overstimulated clit with the pad of his thumb. Your tears only encourage him. You jerk and spasm, but he moves where you move with insistent skill. “T-too m-”

“Aww, what’s wrong? Isn’t this what you wanted, where are your manners?” Pantalone pulls out and delivers staggering mean swats to your pussy, and you recoil. “Say thank you” he demands.

“Thank you, sir.” He hums and picks you up in his arms. Before color can return to your numb cells, he lays you on the desk. You watch him pull his shirt up to his pecs with haste and uncover the lean skinny midsection. Unzipping his pants, he unsheathes his leaking thumping erection. Even his dick is pretty, it curves upwards and shades a starving dusty pink past the thin strip of tissue on the underside of his bulbous tip. Composure thinning, a bead of pre come runs down his tip at the sight of provocation sluicing your ass and thighs. His glasses plunge down his neck, body blushed wildly, but he doesn’t care. Pantalone slides between your labia and groans at the sound. Engulfing the tip in awaiting velvet warmth, “You’re so good for me, hm?” he sighs. You embrace him, delicious searing stretch of your walls forming to his cock. Your orgasm builds just from your body accommodating the size. He places your hands on your calves and holds them at your sides. He slips out, and in one swoop, drives into you. His heavy balls smack against your ass as he thrusts frenetically in the gooey grip he’d been waiting for, stalking and spying for. He digs crescent shapes in your waist and uses you to his abundance. The desk base creaks and grinds on abrading wood and obituaries float to the floor with overturned calligraphy ink from the unrelenting momentum. You throw your head back and indulge the carnal lust washing over you both.

“You’ll never see anyone ever again. Fuck- you’re mine, and mine alone. You’re nothing but a come dump, your purpose is to please me, hah, until I say it’s over” his voice is unexpectedly deprived and weighty with vulgar whimpers. Pantalone eyes your neck and encapsulates it in his slender hand. He clenches tight and releases in sporadic bursts that have you seizing around him. For a split second there’s the image of you—exorbitant pearled collar wrapped around your throat, with “Pantalone” inscribed in bedazzled letters—and he loses it. He swipes your clit rapidly and feeds you deep strokes; you’ll definitely die. You speak, but it’s unintelligible rambling.

“Use your words” he lilts, squeezing your airflow taut. “C-can I, sir, please?”

“You’ll do it on my command.” Pantalone thrusts frenetically, you can feel him bucking, twitching and quickly approaching his climax. His hips sputter, chanting some mixture of your name and curses under his breath. “You’re so obedient for me, aren’t you? F-fuck, darling, go ahead. Come on my cock.” You permit yourself to surrender, white noise streams in and time slows as you come down his shaft. A creamy ring forms at the hilt of his slaps. You recite “thank you” through wails with the semblance of a follower at the altar of their savior. Then he grabs your face and goes in for a kiss.

It’s sloppy and misses half your lip, but its doughy attachment mellows your blissed out head. His lips taste like the bitter excess of green tea, and you crane for a better sample. His tongue does things his fingers couldn’t, and swirls around yours in a passionate bruising waltz. Pantalone breaks away, a string of saliva when he frees himself. “Mm, coming. Gonna claim you everywhere” he whimpers. Sweat on his lustered abdomen, he pumps his tender cock before spurting thick hot ropes across your tits and stomach. He paints your vulva with the rest and plunges the tip in your entry so as to not waste the endless globs of white. He tremors inside you until soft, and when some dribbles out he fingers it back inside.

Afterwards, Pantalone opens one of the drawers on the desk and takes out an embossed loan dismissal form. You can’t read the finer details through hazy eyesight. “It’s already signed, so don’t worry. I won’t deceive you.” He caresses your face in his normal sing-song attitude. “We depart in the morning.” You don’t have a clue where you’re going or how you’ll get there as you drift unconscious. Once you’re asleep, Pantalone shuffles in a different locked drawer. He twiddles the stunning purple geode in his hand, a crystal lined mineral you gave to him years prior. He looks at you, then the druse, and cackles.

“Mine. Always.”

#genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin au #pantalone smut #pantalone #pantalone headcanons #headcanon #pantalone x reader #pantalone x you #pantalone x y/n #genshin impact pantalone

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eros-kisser · 5 months

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ₊ ⊹ 𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆.

pantalone x sub!mreader. nsfw. dubcon(?), drugging

“Enter.” A rich voice, one that had been expecting your arrival. When you gently opened and closed the door shut behind you, you felt dark eyes gaze at your exposed body, your open skin visible through the clothing you wore. The clothing he requested you to wear. “You’re late.” His words were cold, but his tone wasn’t, and was instead one of much amusement.

“I-I’m sorry Sir-“

“Pantalone.” He strided, standing up from his desk, which sat at the wall of his expansive room. It was darkly lit, and with only a few vague shapes to go off by, you could assume this was his quarters. A shiver ran through your body. “Why so nervous? I told you I’d please you tonight, did I not? All you have to do,” he reached where you stood now, and cupped your chin in his palm. “Is relax.”

And then he began his craft. A play for his eyes. “Strip.” There was a hint of a cruel smile in his voice, but he had hid it well. You eyes shook as you flinched at his order, shrinking. "Are you deaf? That was a command, and I expect you to follow through. Though..." He closed his eyes in a smile, hiding his dark gaze. "If you aren't able to, I'll do it for you."

You shuddered, opening your mouth to speak, but the man had already determined your answer. He forcibly grabbed your arms and threw you onto the bed, where you landed with a soft thump. The area where he had gripped your wrists stung, something that was sure to bruise. "S-Sir, I-!"

"You talk too much." Something entered your mouth abruptly, his fingers, covered in the fabric of his gloves. "Suck on it."

He didn't give you much of a choice. He forced his digits into your mouth, and you weakly swirled your tongue around them. His other hand roamed your defenseless body, tearing away at your clothes and disposing off them. When he finally took his fingers out of your mouth, a string of saliva trailing from your lips, you glanced down at saw how exposed you were, fully naked with nothing to hide in front of Pantalone's sharp gaze. Suddenly finding it rather hard to breathe. Pantalone seemed to notice this, and a knowing smile graced his lips. "Ah, has the drug finally kicked in? About time. While this isn't exactly my preference, it's better than watching you flail about as you desperately try to take me. Don't worry, it's not all that potent. You should still be able to feel everything."

Take... what? Your mind had grown hazy, and you could barely register Pantalone taking his gloves off, revealing his slender, pale hands, and spreading your legs apart. Your stomach felt funny... how strange... and your body was burning.

"It's... hot..." You whined, unknowingly bucking your hips against Pantalone's fingers, which were busy pumping in and out of you, coated in your slick and spreading your hole.

"Is it?" With a smirk and a quick glance at your member, he slowed his fingers, earning a huffy moan from you. "Come now, let's not be too impatient. After all, I can't have you cum when I haven't even put it in yet, can I?"

"Ah...?" Your throat felt dry, and you gripped at the sheets in a frantic attempt to sit upright. It was useless. His held onto your hips as you continued to thrash, movements gradually slowing, and kept you locked in place as his free hand undid first his coat, which he threw off the bed in a careless fashion, and then his pants, which he unzipped, revealing how hard he had already gotten. He was big, and you struggled against his grasp once more at the sight. Tears filled your vision as lined himself up to your hole, breath shallow. "N-No, it's too- It won't- Ah-!"

Your complaints were cut short as he entered you all at once, giving you no time to adjust as he thrust into you relentlessly from behind, blurring the line between pain and pleasure, and you desperately clawed at the mattress, gasps quickly turning to pants. It hurt, he was going to rip you apart, you were almost sure of that - yet soon, your pained noises turned into moans, and the dick that was sliding in and out of you filled a once empty you full.

A hand snaked up your body and toyed with your nipples, flicking and teasing them, only eliciting another shameful sound from your mouth, and you trembled under his touch. It was too much, he was only going faster now as he reached his high, your chest was sensitive and the wet sounds of his body slamming into yours resounded across the walls, yet the fear that someone would hear you had already faded under the insurmountable pleasure that coursed through your body. Your own dick stood upright, leaking cum from your previous... how many... orgasms...? There had been too many to count, each time you climaxed, sparks flying in your vision.

Pantalone's face was flushed the slightest, his brows furrowed, but he didn't even seem exhausted, how was that possible? You were shaking, light-headed, and could barely move your hands to grab at his wrists in a futile effort to whine at him to stop. As good as it felt, the pleasure hurt with how sensitive you had grown orgasm after orgasm... or was that just a lie that you were telling yourself to remain sane? This couldn't have been normal had it? Sir Pantalone, as you called him, was just your superior in your field of work... despite that, he had been the one to reach out to you first, offering you a position under him, instead of where you had been working under general forces previous. A big promotion, sure, and now you cursed yourself for it, tears slipping past your eyes and staining the bed sheets as you mouth remained ajar, sounds of your shame being jerked out of you. You bit your tongue in an attempt to silence yourself, but instead felt stinging. Pantalone was staring down at you in earnest glare, his hand flush where he had slapped you across your chest.

"Don't be quiet. It's better if you're loud, darling."

Darling?

His pace grew more erratic, the bed creaking with his every brutal movement, and you swore you could see where his dick pumped in and out of you - a bulge in your stomach, and an unfamiliar emotion you couldn't describe surfaced. Either way, he had picked up his pace once more, and at some point discarded his glasses, removing any obstruction to witness his dark eyes, gleaming sinisterly. It was hot, hot, and you could feel his touch like electricity spread throughout your body... were you going to cum again? Was there anything even left to cum?

Your thoughts slipped away as his teeth found his way into your neck, pressing deep kisses and lapping at your unmarked skin, and that's all it took for you to wail, sending you right over the edge, and you felt Pantalone grow even harder in you, shoving in once, twice, before releasing his ropes of cum, painting your insides white.

Your chest heaved with every breath, vision already flickering as sound faded in your ears. "I-Is... Is it over...?"

His laugh was cold, cruel. "Oh darling, surely you didn't think we'd stop after just one round?"

©eros-kisser.

> if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging as it supports me a lot as a new blog! thank you !! still a lil inexperienced in writing smut so feedback is very appreciated :) thank you for reading!

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anantaru · 2 years

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𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟎 — 𝐒𝐈𝐙𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊

✦ kinktober day 10 — size kink feat. childe : capitano : pantalone : pierro x fem! reader | kinktober masterlist.

✦ warnings: size : we love big men

✦ 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄

you watched with eager eyes as childe pulled his shirt over his head, lazily throwing it on the floor. You're laying comfortably on the bed, his body towering over you as he advancing closer to feel you on his skin. You helped him unbuckle his belt and most importantly, get rid of those annoying restraints which were his pants, finally exposing his leaking cock to your eyes.

he was hard, more so big, childe took it in his hand to give it a few pumps before lining himself up with your hole. Your slick was pooling out of your cunt and he made sure to collect enough to have himself coated in it, being certain you aren't going to be uncomfortable with his girth. It still stung a bit, always did, as he carefully slid himself into your warmth, relishing in the feeling of your walls shivering around his length.

You're working your way up there, taking him inch by inch until he was fully sheathed in you. "you can move now." you're whining, lips formed into a pout as you wrapped your arms around him lovingly. Ajax continued with a nod, stealing a kiss from you yet again once he started to pump himself in and out of your sobbing cunt, his hands taking a hold of your legs to spread you wider for him, setting a comfortable pace as the both of you melted into each others embrace.

✦ 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐎

you couldn't help yourself but admire the view in front of you, capitano in his full glory, naked with his lean muscles enhancing his already natural beauty. His cock was otherworldly, you could remember the first time the both of you were intimate and the thought on how in hell that could fit inside of you.

capitano's hands would wander towards your face to lazily stroke his thumb around your cheeks, assuring that you're in fact made for him so it has no other choice than to fit. You're shivering underneath his brought body, his figure nestled in between your legs and spreading them for you as he leaned down to take your lips in his. His cock head was leaking, slowly prodding against your tight hole before he poured it in, splitting you open, the mewls from you only coaxed him on to continue to slide himself in until he filled you to the hilt.

Your glassy eyes made it hard for capitano to breathe, not to mention think straight. His hand drifted towards your abused clit, deciding to push his thumb against the little bundle of nerves while rubbing, hard. With that you were able to take more of his length, his girth gradually getting sucked in until he was finally feeling your warmth embrace him fully. "you're perfect, you're made for me." he purrs, continuing to draw soft circles on your clit before picking up on pace.

✦ 𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄

you tried not to drool around pantalone's cock, but that wasn't an easy task since right now, you were completely full of him, eyes watering at the feeling of his tip prodding against your throat. Your vision was blurry, looking up at the man who had a satisfied grin painted across his features. "don't tell me you can't take it anymore?" he was tilting his head a little to feign innocence, the pseudo innocent laughter that followed sent shivers through your body in ways you never experienced before.

You're gulping around his impressive girth, somehow trying to respond as he pulled you down harder against his cock until your nose felt the soft layer of pubic hair right on his pelvis. You‘re flexing your jaw a bit, trying to loosen up so you‘d be able to relax while being full of his cock. Your hands wander towards his balls, lightly kneading them while continuing to hollow your cheeks, suckling on his cock. Pantalone‘s eyes rolled back at the feeling, his hand falling heavy on the back of your head to help you up and down his length while now adding shallow thrusts into your mouth.

Your lips were beginning to strain, he was so big n heavy, it was near unbearable as you felt him spasm inside of you. Pantalone groaned out from overstimulation now— you were so good to him tonight, haltering his movements for a second before finally spilling his seed in you, painting your insides with thick spurts of white. He‘s bathing in his afterglow, panting harshly as he pulled out of your mouth, witnessing the big mess he made.

✦ 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐎

pierro is slowly licking a straight line behind your ear, eliciting soft whimpers of you before wrapping his brought arms around your body. You're straddling him in his leather chair, it was late at night and he just so happened to have finished his work when he called you in. Nights like these were certainly your favorite, unbuckling his pants to pull them down to his knees when his growing bulge throbbed hard against your pussy, only the tiny fabric of your panties separating the both of you now.

Pierro starts kissing your chest, biting down on your sensitive flesh to leave needy hickies on the most noticeable places. You're shuddering upon feeling him push away your panties, lining himself up with your throbbing heat. He was big and very much aware of that fact, "you have to relax." he stated sternly, helping you sit down on his cock, you on the other hand only being able to take in half of his length. You're whining, twisting n turning against his hold as you scrunched your eyes shut to get rid of the blur, pouting your lips. It really didn't matter how often the both of you were intimate with each other, it always pained you at first before it developed into real pleasure.

your breath got stuck in your throat at the feeling oh his impressive girth splitting you further, crying out his name as you leaned forward to rest your head against the crook of his neck, your nostrils taking in his manly scent. Pierro was entering you deeper and better, inch by inch you were welcoming him in your warmth before he was finally sheathed completely inside of you, cock throbbing in your sensitive walls. "pierro." you're whining out his name, barely able to catch a breather as he pulled your face towards his lips, kissing you sensually, "I'll take care of you." responding, eyes half lidded with an obvious desire surrounding them.

kinktober masterlist.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #childe smut #childe x reader #capitano smut #capitano x reader #pantalone smut #pantalone x reader #pierro smut #pierro x reader #tartaglia smut #tartaglia x reader #genshin x you #childe x you #pantalone x you #fatui harbingers

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dvhuwr · 7 months

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Genshin Impact - NSFW Pantalone Alphabet Head Canons !!

Pairing: AMAB Pantalone + AFAB Reader

Synopsis + Information: NSFW Pantalone Head Canons for every letter of the Alphabet.

Tags: Mentions of Sex, Cream pie, BDSM, Uneven Power Dynamic, Rough Sex, Anal, CNC, Mentions of innocence and vulnerability, Overstimulation, Fingering, Fellatio, Cunnilingus, Edging, Quickies, Dirty Talk, Lap Dance, Face Fucking, Free Use, Pet Name “Princess”

Minors do not interact with my account or this post! Enjoy!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after the act). As one of the wealthiest individuals in Teyvat, Pantalone never fails to spoil you. He takes great pleasure in rewarding you with expensive and lavish gifts including jewellery and designer clothing. This is his way of showing appreciating and love for you after having sex. Due to the nature of your sex, he also checks up on you, to see if you’re okay and if there’s anything you may need.

B = Body part (Their favourite Body part). He absolutely adores your face. Whilst he, of course, likes your body, there’s nothing better than seeing the lewd faces you make whilst he shoves his cock deep into your pussy.

C = Cum (Anything cum related). Pantalone enjoys finishing inside of you, he likes watching his seed drip down your cunt, he finds it very erotic. He also enjoys finishing inside of you to reduce the mess, plus, he believes finishing ‘on’ you is tacky.

D = Dirty Secret (A dirty secret of theirs). He is very turned on by BDSM. He has a vast collection of bondage, ropes, whips and other various ‘toys’ that could be used in the BDSM department. He loves seeing your moans of pain, it makes him feel like he has power over you, and that you’re his own personal toy.

E = Experience (How experienced are they?). Very. He knows exactly what he’s doing. As a wealthy and influential figure in Teyvat, there is no surprise that he has had his fair share of encounters with women.

F = Favourite Position (Favourite sex position). Pantalone is a very busy man, dealing with Snezhnaya’s economy and so forth. Therefore, a commonly used position is doggy on his work desk. Whenever he feels the urge to, he will pull you to the side and bend you over his desk, and without warning, he will thrust into your pussy whilst tightly gripping the back of your hair. It’s quick and get’s the job done, as most days he doesn’t have time for drawn out intercourse. It also makes him feel powerful; being able to pull you to the side and force you to take his cock from behind.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment or are they humorous). No. Pantalone is not someone who jokes around, especially during sex. If you ever try to joke around with him, he will make sure to punish you accordingly.

H = Hair (How groomed are they down there). He believes self-care is of utmost importance, especially down there. He is completely shaved and keeps up with this daily.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, the romantic aspect). He can be romantic when he feels it is appropriate; in fact, Pantalone can be very romantic, taking you out to fancy dinners and buying you expensive and beautiful bouquets of flowers. But don’t be fooled, as soon as he gets you into bed, he’ll be rough, demanding and dominant.

J= Jack off (Masturbation). He doesn’t masturbate, he believes masturbation is ‘tacky’. He knows he can pull you to the side any time he wants and fuck you senseless; therefore, masturbation is of no use to him.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks). He has many. He mostly indulges in CNC and BDSM. He loves the feeling of forcing himself onto you, and being as rough as he pleases. Panting heavily whilst he’s hunched over you, thrusting into your ass whilst you moan his name and tell him to stop.

L = Location (Favourite places to have sex). Pantalone believes having sex in public is tacky and stays away from such, especially since his reputation is of value to him. Therefore, the bedroom tends to do the job, especially since that’s where he keeps his collection of sexual ‘toys’. However, he is a busy man who is constantly working at his desk, and he won’t be afraid to bend you over his desk and rail you from behind when he feels like it.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going). Whenever he sees you looking vulnerable and innocent, it turns him on greatly. He also just plays off of instinct as well; he has a high sex drive so, whenever he has the urge to have sex, he’ll drag you toward him and slam you onto his desk before fucking you like there’s no tomorrow.

N = No (Turn offs, things you shouldn’t do). He is not open to you not taking him seriously, and if he can sense you joking around this will frustrate him. Additionally, any sort of public sex or threesomes are completely off the table for Pantalone; he feels as if these activities are for ‘low lives’ and are ‘tacky’.

O = Oral (Preferences, skill). He enjoys face fucking you, watching the beautiful mess he creates all over your face. But he can’t help but eat out your cunt. Eating pussy is something he is extremely skilled at; he’ll suck on your clit while sliding his fingers in and out of your cunt until your dripping wet and begging him to keep going. And, when he feels like it, he’ll edge you and stop as your about to cum, leaving your pussy twitching and pulsing for more. What a tease!

P = Pace (Are they fast, slow, rough or gentle?). His pacing can depend on the scenario. He can be slow or fast or rough or gentle. However, he almost always prefers starting off slightly slowly to tease you and leave you begging; then suddenly fucking you hard, rough and fast to overstimulate you.

Q = Quickies (Opinion on Quickies). He takes pleasure in having quickies with you, especially during his work hours. There’s something so perverted about swiping the contents of his desk to the floor and roughly slamming into your tight ass while he’s meant to be reading through tedious documents.

R= Risk (Are they game to experiment). Pantalone cares too much about his reputation to take risks during sex, especially if it’s public sex. Being caught in such a degenerate act is the last thing he wants and needs.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they last for, how long do they last?). Long. Not only can he go for a while without finishing, but he also has the stamina and endurance to go for plenty of rounds. He can really go for hours if you let him, though you probably wouldn’t be able to walk afterwards.

T = Toy (Do they own toys or use them?). He loves using toys on you. As mentioned before, Pantalone has a vast collection of whips, toys, ropes, paddles and so forth that he takes pleasure in using. His favourite are the ropes; he likes tying your wrists and ankles together so there’s no chance you can escape him, even if you beg him to stop. The whines of pain and over stimulation are sounds that can make him cum in a matter of seconds.

U = Unfair (How much do they tease?). Pantalone takes great enjoyment from teasing you, it makes him feel dominant and powerful. He’ll swirl his tongue around your clit whilst thrusting his fingers into you, gradually increasing the speed till’ you’re about to cum. But then, he stops. He’ll leave your pussy pulsing and you begging for more, and he won’t continue until he feels like you’ve done an adequate amount of begging. Watching how desperate you get for him is a massive turn on.

V = Volume (How loud are they, what sounds do they make?). He isn’t very loud. He’ll breathe heavily and lightly moan whilst thrusting into you, but he definitely isn’t loud. However, if he’s dirty talking you, he may raise his voice slightly, to make sure you can understand every single word he’s saying to you. “Look at me brat, look at me while I shove my cock into your little cunt,” he’ll demand of you.

W = Wild Card (A random NSFW Head canon of choice). Pantalone loves lap dances. Quite frequently he’ll ask you to dress up for him and show him some dance moves. He’ll even throw money at you to treat you as if you were a stripper; then once his cock starts leaking in his pants, he’ll push you to your knees and face fuck you relentlessly.

X = X-Ray (What’s inside his pants?). Pantalone may have a cute and innocent smile, but don’t let this deceive you, he really is packing down there. Measuring out at 7 inches, his cock can really do some damage if he isn’t careful. But sometimes the pain feels too good.

Y = Yearning (Sex Drive). He may be a busy man, but this doesn’t affect his extremely high sex drive. He just can’t help but thinking about fucking your tight asshole, he loves it. Furthermore, the fact that you’re pretty much always available for him to ‘use’ makes it easier for him to act on his thoughts, rather than suppress them.

Z = ZZZ (How quickly do they fall asleep after sex?). No; he’s too busy for that. Once he’s done with you, he’ll usually leave to continue his work. He’ll check up on you after sex and make sure you’re okay and he’ll remind you, “If there’s anything you want, tell the maids. Oh, and also, I’ve left some Mora on the bedside table, go treat yourself if needs be Princess.”

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makelemonade · 15 days

Text

Things they do when they're in love but haven't realized it yet

Characters; Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Childe, Cyno, Diluc, Dottore, Itto, Neuvillete, Thoma, Pantalone.

Warnings; GN!Reader, mentions of pretty/handsome, cologne/perfume, the notebook (that movie killed me It's a warning I can't), mentions of crying, mentions of past injuries, annoying kids, lowk stalking in childe's part LOOL

under the cut!

Aether- Notices every physical and mental detail about you more than the average person.

He notices the way there’s a slight limp in your walk due to a past injury, and he can notice when you also try to hide it.

He notices how each day you always try a new hairstyle because you thrive for praise and compliments. Of course because you’re so loved, everyone compliments you, and he notices the way that when he does too, you’re more flustered than usual.

He knows you start to tap your finger down on any platform whenever you’re feeling nervous or even zoning out. He also notices that when you get annoyed, you bite your lip to hold back anything.

He knows that whenever you’re lectured at or given a talking-down to, you try to hide your tears, but the side of your lip trembles. He knows that once your alone within your own privacy, you let the tears fall. He’s literally seen you catch them with your mouth once.

He notices that whenever he gives you some sort of gift, you’re at a loss for words and you don’t know whether you want to make the first move after months of pining.

He notices, so now maybe he can act on it.

Alhaitham- Starts to read books or watch movies/shows he’s heard you talk about.

He spends most of his time in libraries, looking around for anything that piques his interest. He notices the title of a book, something you’ve mentioned before.

You both have complete opposite tastes, but maybe romance books could do him some good.

Since then, he’s been looking around libraries for every book he’s heard you mention. He even starts to write down a list.

Shows and movies as well. On a rainy day that he stays in his home and his roommate isn’t being annoying, he likes to lounge on his couch and watch something.

He notices once again another title you’ve mentioned; The Notebook.

No hesitation, he decides to watch it, and by the end, he’s nearly crying.

“Are you crying?” His roommate asks.  “Shut up!”

At some point he brings up that he’s watched almost all the movies and read all the books you’ve mentioned and you don’t know if he was genuinely bored and did so or because he really was interested in you.

Your thoughts are answered when he asks if you want to go see a romance movie coming out.

Albedo- Starts to become mesmerized when he watches you study or work

He loves the way you look so focused- the way your nose scrunches up when you get confused at a question or really anything, or how when you feel lost, your hand moves up to your cheek as you just stare down at the question.

You’re so focused to the point that sometimes you forget he’s even there but in fully honesty- he doesn’t care. As long as he can stare at you without you noticing, he’s fine with it.

Sometimes, he forgets about his own work. You just look so pretty when you’re focused- he wishes it was on him.

At some point, the staring becomes too obvious and you look up ti find him just staring at you, and his face comes of one of surprise when he sees he’s been caught.

“W-would you like some help?” He asked, nothing your nose had scrunched up just seconds ago.

You smiled. “Yes, please.”

Ayato- Seeing you with kids makes him feel something.

He sees how you treat kids with such kindness and adoration- as if you’ve met your favourite hero. Whenever you take strolls, you love to stop by the park and push some kids on the swings; It’s to the point all the parents know you and the kids love you.

Whenever you hear a child cry, you get sad. Whenever you hear a child laugh, it makes you smile- It makes him smile too, being honest.

He loves how you’re so attentive to them, that one day when one of the kids falls and scrapes his knee and starts to cry, you’re immediately there comforting them, putting a bandaid on their knee and telling them it’ll be all better.

You pretend to play “shop” with the kids to the point even he is dragged in by one of them.

“Are you two married?” One of the children ask one day, which then causes a bombard of questions from the rest while they all say things like

“Is he nice?”

“Does he treat you well?”

“You two are sooo perfect!”

“Can he play with us more?”

Ayato only smiles at you and you smile back.

Childe- He always looks for you in a public setting

Whenever he goes out, whether it to be to run errands, go somewhere with his brother or just something for work, he always wondering if you’ll be there.

Most of the time you aren’t- it’s a small chance you’d be at a random toy shop that his brother was non-stop talking about, but he’s always on the lookout.

Parties that friends invite him too, he always asks if you’ll be there or he’ll just look for you the moment he arrives, praying and hoping to God that you’ll be there.

Maybeeee it’s stalking, but he starts to go to places he’s heard you mention in hope of seeing you. Even if it’s a place he has no reason to be at, he’ll still go.

For the first time one day, instead of him noticing you and going up to you, you’re the first to notice him and go up to him, starting a conversation.

Cyno- He always wants to make you laugh

He sucks at making jokes- he knows this, everyone knows this, but it always makes him feel warm inside whenever you let out a giggle or a loud cackle at his jokes- even If they were horrible or made sense, something about it always lightened you up.

So, even though everyone else hates it, he continues to go with them, just in hopes of hearing you giggle- it’s so cute!

He’ll even start to think of new jokes, new types of humour just for you, and he’ll always go with the ones that make you laugh the most.

He may update his whole humour for you, but who cares!

Then, he notices that you started using his own jokes, which makes him cackle just as loud as you.

Diluc- Nicknames

If anyone were to ever call Diluc something other than his name, he’d lost his shit. EVERYONE knew this, and not even Kaeya would test him- the closest he’s ever used a nickname was “Luc” and Diluc was ready to fight him.

But you, well, he just doesn’t seem to care. Whether it be Luc, Didi, Lulu, and even pookie, he’s completely fine with it.

Everyone knows he has to has something for you, but he doesn’t even realize it himself. It just brings a warm feeling to his face when he hears a nickname come out of your mouth.

Then one day, he randomly starts to call you nicknames, and you feel the same warmth he does.

Dottore- Drops anything for you

Dottore is a hard-working man. He hardly takes breaks, and he’s always up to something. So, it’s hard to speak to him on most days, that it even makes you upset as his friend.

His coworker mentions something about you being upset and he immediately puts down any work he’s holding and asks where you are. He would never do that for anyone, but you? He didn’t know why, but he just felt the need to be at your side.

He tells you to text him whenever you need something, and he’ll answer. He just won’t answer the other 100 texts from other people and continue to leave them on delivered.

You’re bored? Come work with him. You’re hungry? Go get some food together. It’s to the point that work is no longer his main priority.

You ask him one day if he’d like to go to dinner, and before you could finish your sentence about knowing he was a hard working man and was never free, he immediately says yes.

Itto- Anything that smells like you reminds him of you

Itto has a good nose- it’s a blessing and a curse.

When it comes to smelling something similar to you, whether it be your shampoo, conditioner, body wash, cologne, perfume or mist, he considers it to be a blessing.

He could be anywhere really; In a random shop, and if someone walks by and has the SLIGHTEST smell smilier to yours, he’ll almost think its you and now all he can think about is you.

It’s to the point it becomes his favourite smell, and he finds himself buying items similar.

You notice his efforts, and give him a gift one day. It was full of everything you used to smell the way you do.

He’ll use it everyday.

Neuvillete- The way you act doesn’t bother him

The Iudex was not a patient man. Anyone who acted immaturely, whether it be like a child or an insolent teenager, he’ll became so annoyed.

But you? Act however you want, he does not care. Instead, he’ll just laugh, enjoying your antics.

You’re acting like a child? Okay, not his problem, he’s fine with it. But if Furina came in here acting like a child he’d kick her out in and instant. Even if a literal child came in he’d kick them out in an instant.

He finds himself finding comfort in the way you act sometimes. He doesn’t know how to explain it, but he thinks it’s the fact he knows you’re comfortable enough near him to act the way you do.

Then one day, you decide to be calm for a day, and sit and talk with him normally, and even if it’s a change, he’s still happy nonetheless.

Thoma- Everything reminds him of you.

The flowers? They’re as pretty/handsome as you.

The window? Sometimes he imagines you’re outside.

The floor? He’ll remember both of you hiding out at parties and sitting on floors.

Money? He’ll remember the time you bought him lunch because he forgot his wallet and you refused to let him pay you back.

The sky? It brings him comfort to know you both see the same sky.

The stars? As bright as you.

He gets a gift from you one day, telling him that It reminded you of him, and he could only give a heartfelt laugh.

Pantalone- Whatever you look at, you’ll find it within your belongings in the next week.

He’s a perceptive, rich man. You may only be friends but he loves to spoil you.

He sees you staring at a necklace for over 2 seconds? Bought immediately, and of course he’ll place it around your neck.

Trinkets you think look cool? The next time you both hang out at your hose, you’ll mysteriously find it within your home.

If you have an event coming up and he hears you describe what you’d like to wear, he’ll be looking through every store and buying whatever is similar to the description.

He stares at flowers, wondering if he should give them to you or if it was weird. He’s heard you talk about wanting flowers once, but maybe not now

Yet he is met with you holding out the same flowers to him 2 days later, stating you saw him staring at them for quite a while.

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