Not Necessarily NSFW, but view discretion is advised.
Warnings: Confinement, Implied Kidnapping
Our fallen archon has appreciation for the finer things in life. He hoards treasures from all over Liyue. I sometimes wonder if those treasures include mortal humans. Like he comes across someone truly extraordinary and he can't let them leave this world. He can't make everyone immortal, so he comes up with a plan b.
I can't get it out of my mind that he has a wall or room(s) full of Serenitea Pots. Inside each one is a person he's collected over the years. Artists, Poets, Friends, Enemies, Lovers. They're all there. Similar to our own inventory in the game, he has his favorites and he visits them often.
Those teapots have a place of honor in the room or they might be in his own personal space in his house/domain. Either his office or maybe even his bedroom. Somewhere where he will see them everyday and be reminded of that specific person.
The rest he visits infrequently, while some are left to collect dust. They're high on the display shelves, all but forgotten. Those might have been an impulse grab or perhaps they've fallen out of his favor. I imagine that not every subject in his collection is 100% willing to be there. I'm sure there was some sketchy stuff that led to them being there. A broken contract or a binding contract that bend them to his will. They've let him know they're unhappy, but he's not that concerned. If they don't want him there, then that's fine. He'll leave, but being the hoarder that he is, he refuses to let them go.
Warnings: Minors DNI, 18+, Yandere themes, Yandere Behavior, Sexual Themes (No Actual Sex), Power Imbalance, Dubious Consent, Forced Consent, Dark themes, gn reader, My bad writing, Anything Else I Missed
Posting this here as well, just because I think the other blog got shadowbanned. Anyway, finally got that Pierro C*cking Capitano out of my head. Enjoy.
A service. A sacrifice. A duty.
Even as you stood outside the ominous doors to what was the Jester’s domain, your husband's words rang loudly through your mind. An honor above all. That’s what he had called it. To be chosen by the director himself to serve the Fatui in this way. The pride that had reverberated in your husband’s voice had nearly made you sick then. The echoes of it served to further unsettle your stomach now. How could he be proud? How could he be happy that another man wanted you? How could he be pleased that someone else was about to lay his hands on you, and most grievous of all, how could he ask you to go along with it? A stuttering breath slipped past your lips as your eyes dropped to the floor. The concept that your beloved husband, your knight, your savior would ever ask such a thing was nothing short of vile. The vows you had made to him, made to each other were sacrosanct in your mind. They served as an inviolable promise between yourself and Capitano. They spoke of the love and commitment you had made to each other. How could he, despite his righteous nature, cast them aside so easily? The answer to that was simple. The devil who currently held you outside of his door had gotten in your husband’s ear.
Your entrance to the Snezhnayan court had been a quiet one. Your husband, despite his status, wasn’t much for personal fanfare. Unlike some of his brethren, he had no need for ostentatious carriages or trumpets announcing his arrival. Capitano preferred stealth to openness, calm to chaos, simplicity to complexity. A plain carriage had driven the two of you onto the palace grounds, where you passed by the notice of the crowd who lingered outside the gate. Despite your husband’s good reputation, you had been grateful for their lack of interest. Your poor body wouldn’t have been able to handle dealing with the attention you would have received. The slipping and rocking of the carriage against the icy streets had done little to help the severe bout of motion sickness that you had suffered under since you had left home. Despite numerous pleas to the Hydro Archon for their blessing, the seas hadn’t been kind to you. The ship had spent most of the journey being tossed around like a ball in a tin cup by the waves and storms that had plagued it. As a result, you had spent the better part of your journey in bed, with your husband hanging close to your side. Upon your arrival to the land of ice and snow, Capitano had insisted you be taken to the palace to rest and recover from one journey, before you made a second leg of the trip to his estate in the heart of Snezhnaya’s countryside. In his words, he wanted you happy and well. At the time, you were grateful for his care. Now, you silently wished you had been a tad more observant. If you had, you would have noticed the single star shaped pupil that began to follow you everywhere you would go.
“Excuse me” The intrusion of a soft voice broke your train of thought. You jumped back slightly, your heart leaping into your throat at the thought of being found lost in your own thoughts. The imposing doors in front of you had opened, and in the space between them, stood a smaller man in a Fatui uniform. He gazed at you with a rather curious expression, utterly confused as to why you were silently standing outside of the director’s apartments, staring at the floor.
“Apologies-” Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I-” You didn’t even know what to say or how to excuse it. How could you? What reasonable explanation was there for questioning your own life choices outside of the Jester’s door?
Those that sought his favor often haunted the hallways leading to his office or the grand space that was the Tsaritsa’s throne room. The dimly lit corridors that lead to his private apartments were devoid of any life. You had no viable reason to be here beyond the actual purpose for which you had been summoned. Hence his curiosity. “I suppose this isn’t the best place to stand.” He gave you a forced smile.
“Unfortunately not.” His hands tightened around the edges of the doors. “If you’ve come to speak with the Lord Director, then I’m afraid he’s indisposed. At present, he is expecting an important visitor and has asked not to be disturbed for the remainder of the evening. If you have an emergency, then I can see if there is a harbinger lurking about.”
A harbinger. There were quite a few nearby. You had passed the rich one and the short one on your way here. They had been discussing some matter of state that you were ignorant of. The new one, who you hadn’t been introduced to, had been sulking about as well. He had been standing a few paces off the short one, presumably ready to intervene should things get too lively with the rich one. Conspicuously absent though, was your husband. It had been your sincerest hope to pass him on your way here, if nothing else than to see him, but you had not. Capitano had been scarce since you had agreed to this little rendezvous. Part of you began to wonder if it was by design. “If there is no emergency-” You turned your focus back to the man in front of you, gently shaking your head. “Then may I be of service?” You hesitated, which wasn’t entirely appreciated on his part. “Not to be rude, but I am on my way to fetch someone. If you have no business here beyond blocking my lord’s doorway, then I ask that you go elsewhere.” The urge to take him up on that offer was strong. Archon help you, if only you could. You would run as far as your legs would carry you and never look back. There was just one issue with it, your husband. You doubted he would appreciate you making a fool out of both of you simply because you were scared of what was waiting for you on the other side of the door.
“I-” You took a deep breath, summoning all the courage you had to finally speak to him. “I believe I may be the one you were sent to fetch.” His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “The lord director sent for me this afternoon.”
“You’re Lord Capitano’s spouse?” He sounded about as impressed as he looked, which wasn’t very. You fidgeted under his gaze, hating how he silently assessed you. Had you been in a better state of mind and not ready to fall apart, you would have scolded him for it. “Finally.” You raised an eyebrow at him. “Where have you been? The lord director is most displeased.” You forced the heavy lump that formed in the back of your throat down. It hadn’t been your intention to displease anyone. The fact that you had, didn’t bode well for the remainder of your evening.
“For-” He was quick to cut you off.
“You’re terribly late. Were you not instructed on the time?”
“I was.” You briefly hesitated, your mind rapidly trying to find some excuse as to why you had tarried. “I got lost.” The excuse was a lame one, but it was the best you could manage considering the man’s harsh stare made your stomach flop around inside of you. “This place is so large. I had to forego the usual tour as I was unwell when I arrived.” The look on his face told you all you needed to know; he didn’t buy it.
Detailed instructions, including directions, had been provided to you. There had even been an offer for one of Pierro’s assistant’s to show you the way, lest you actually get lost. To claim that as an excuse for your tardiness after turning the guide down was literally the most idiotic thing you could say in the moment, but you had nothing better. Telling him you didn’t want to be here wouldn’t help, nor would admitting the real reason as to why you had been summoned here. Even if he already knew, the idea that you would tell one of Pierro’s lackeys that you were here to bed his superior was too humiliating for words. It was easier to let him think you were an idiot. For the time being, it spared you the blushes of him thinking any worse of you.
“I see.” He took a step back, pulling the doors open for you. “Then I trust then that you are aware that should you make him wait in the future due to your own personal incompetence or otherwise that you will suffer the consequences of your actions.” Your heart leapt into your throat at the very thought of the repercussions the Jester could make you suffer, should you displease him again.
The man, who later you learned was named Evgeniy, led you through the dimly lit foyer of Pierro’s apartment and down a small passage to what he described as a sitting room. The room, like the foyer, was unlike the rest of the palace. It possessed the same grandeur as the shining halls of Zapolyarny, but here the gilding here had long faded to a dull shine. The wax of dimming candles coated many of the surfaces that weren’t covered with papers or books, with the large fireplace being the main source of light in the room. The flickering light helped to emphasize the wear on the cold marble floors. Entire paths in the polish had been worn away due to years of use. To you, it seemed that the faded glory of the space reflected the age & experience of the man who occupied it.
Evgeniy cleared his throat, drawing your attention to a table at the far end of the room. Your eyes took in the piles of papers, refusing to see the large figure hovering over them. It was your rather foolish belief that if you did not acknowledge Pierro’s presence, then he wasn’t really there. It was a belief that you clung to as Pierro lifted his eye from the paper he had been reading, to meet both your and Evgeniy’s gaze.
“Ah” The annoyed edge that grated against his tone softened as he took you in. “At last.” With a flick of his fingers, Evgeniy bowed, swiftly leaving your side in silence. Your eyes followed the smaller man, silently imploring him to stay, but he didn’t. He gracefully exited the room offering both of you a second low bow before he was gone. “Good evening.” Your head snapped back in Pierro’s general direction, finding that he had moved closer. “I understand you’ve been unwell since arriving in our fair country. Hopefully I’m right in assuming that you’re now on the mend?” You had, but tonight wasn’t really all that good for your recovery. Your stomach felt like it had been tied in a knot and your whole body felt wobbly. Briefly, you considered whether or not that could be your saving grace. You were already as pale as a ghost, you wondered if you could get away with a fake fainting spell to avoid the inevitable.
“I-” One look at him told him it was probably best not to try it. He was already annoyed that you had been late. You doubted he would allow you to get away with a bout out illness, real or otherwise. “I am, Lord Director.” A quick bow to him followed. “And you? Are you well?” He gently smiled at, closing the remainder of the small distance between you.
“I am faring better than I was ten minutes ago.” You inwardly cringed, forcing an apologetic smile onto your face when he stopped in front of you. “I thought that my illustrious Captain might have changed his mind. He’s been terribly worried over your health. He had concerns you might not be up to the task. How nice to see that wasn’t the case.” You forced a small smile, trying your best not to shake too much when you nodded.
“No, my lo-.” You faltered when he gently reached out, the tips of his fingers brushing against your cheek when he tucked a few stray hairs behind your ear. “Lord.” There had been an excuse prepared. You’d been suffering from a headache, the clothes didn’t suit, your hair didn’t fix, but one stern look from him silenced them all. He neither needed nor wanted them. Why should he, when they wouldn’t change the fact that he finally had you?
Pierro pulled away from you, gesturing for you to take a seat on the small sofa that was situated in front of the fireplace. Between them was a low table with a highly decorated porcelain and metal drink set resting on top of it. As you moved closer, the faint smell of cinnamon and turmeric, mixed with the rich aroma of coffee filled the small space. You perched yourself on the end of the sofa, watching him as he drifted by you to take a seat on the opposite end, near the drink set.
“You’re shivering.” The ache in holding your shoulders as stiff as possible had given way to it. You couldn’t hold it in any longer. Not when the source of present woes was sitting a foot away from you. “Poor dear, allow me to warm you up.”
He began pouring the coffee, both of you knowing the cold had nothing to do with your shaking. Still, Pierro seemingly ignored the real cause, choosing only to smirk at you once he had finished with your cup. “I do apologize for calling you so late.” He handed you the ornate cup, his gloved fingers caressing the tips of yours. Much to his amusement, you were quick to pull back, clutching the warm porcelain to your chest. “I had intended a dinner for you.” He turned away from you again, busying himself with his own cup. “It’s fitting for the first night we’ll spend together, that we have dinner first, but I do not yet know your preferences. I thought to serve you some Snezhnayan delicacies, but regrettably I lost track of time. Something came up that stole my attention from my plans for this evening.” You had to silently wonder if it was the same thing that stolen Capitano from you this afternoon. He had promised to visit with you after you had agreed to this little fiasco, only for him to back out at the last moment. You had been devastated. His apology for his abrupt cancellation had come in the form of the outfit he had wanted you to wear for tonight, as well as a note that simply told you to do your best. “I do hope coffee is an acceptable substitute for now.” He finished pouring, setting the pot to one side.
Pierro looked up, his eye connecting with yours once again. It was oddly nice to see Pierro’s face, even if he was terribly frightening. The one quality you disliked about your husband was that he never allowed you to see what was hidden under his mask. You spent all your time speaking to a dark void. During your swift courtship, it had made him difficult to read. You had to learn his moods and preferences based on his voice. Not the easiest thing, considering he rarely showed any emotion beyond calm. It had been your hope that perhaps he would let you see his face once you were married, but that wasn’t to be. He only chose to remove his mask when he was assured you were asleep or when he opted to employ a blindfold to shield your eyes in the waking hours. You had pleaded with him to reconsider both courses. It would make things easier between you if he did, but he always gently refused. You were told that the discomfort regarding his mask was temporary. Once the two of you arrived in Snezhnaya, it wouldn’t be a problem. You learned what he meant by that upon said arrival. Your life together at sea quickly became a life lived separately on land. Capitano’s presence in your life had been reduced to that of a dark spector in the doorway of your bedroom bidding you good morning and good night. Your days were empty or at least devoid of his person. Efforts to see him were in vain. His assistants and secretaries all fed you the same excuse. He was far too busy. You were always asked to return to the apartment by way of the path that took you past the director’s office and wait for your husband to return home.
Pierro’s pursuit of you was in no way subtle. It didn’t need to be. As the Director of the Fatui, the Jester had carte blanche to do as he pleased. The only person that could hope to reprimand him was the Tsaritsa, and even then it was doubtful that it would ever happen. He had her wrapped around his little finger, just as he did everyone else. It was testament to how charismatic he could be. You almost wished you could fall under the same spell the others had, at least then your present situation might be tolerable.
“You are so very lovely.” His voice brought you back to reality. “Perhaps once Capitano has departed for his next mission I can make it up to you.” There was an odd smile that ghosted its way across his pale lips. His eye left yours, traveling over your exposed neck and down across your shoulders. “We’ll know each other better by then.” You didn’t pay his gaze much attention, because your mind had focused on one singular thing, the word departed. You couldn’t stop what color you had from leaving your face.
“He’s-” You nervously swallowed, forcing the bile that had shot its way up into your throat back down. “He’s leaving?” Somehow, you managed to force out a little laugh. “We uh -” Your lips pressed themselves together into a hard thin line before you finished your thought. “We only just arrived.” In your mind, the stay at the palace was supposed to be temporary. “Surely you’re referring to us journeying to his estate in the country.” And not that you were being abandoned to Pierro’s care.
Together, you had planned to see the sights of Snezhnaya with your beloved husband. He had promised you so many things to make up for the rather botched and rushed wedding you had had. One of them had been a proper honeymoon of sorts. The rough nights at sea had been calmed with dreams of morning rides through the snow at his estate, while the afternoons would be spent by the hearth of the fire as he told you stories of battles won. Now all of that was reduced to ashes at the mention that Capitano was going away again, without you. Your horror at the thought had to be apparent. Why else would Pierro’s gentle chuckle resonated in your ear?
“How terribly awkward.” The Jester’s weight shifted and you felt him inch closer. “I would have hoped he would have told you, but perhaps you didn’t see him before I sent for you.” In the back of your mind, you knew Pierro had insured you hadn’t heard, but for whatever reason you tried to tell yourself that’s not what had happened. In Capitano’s haste to apologize for canceling your plans, he had forgotten to mention the trip. “You have my sincerest apologies my cecilia, but this can’t be helped.” He ran a cool hand over your face, ripping you away from your thoughts. The coffee cup nearly flew out of your hand, but Pierro was quick to steady it with his other hand, preventing it from spilling all over your clothes. He held you like that, the warmth of his hand radiating through his gloves. His fingers took it upon themselves to stroke the back of your hand, while his smile grew. “I was advised you can be a bit jumpy. You needn't worry though.” His free hand came to rest on your shoulder. “It will only be for a few months. You’ll have me to keep you warm while he’s gone.”
There was something in his tone that made your stomach roll. The inference that this wasn’t a one time thing nearly suffocated you on the spot. All at once, everything became too much. The air was too thick, the room was too hot, his hands on your body were too heavy, he was too close. Your mind, along with the room, spun as the panic that you had tried to quell finally took hold of you. The cup in your hand made it’s way to the table beside you as you tore yourself away from the sofa. He tried to grab hold of you, but his fingers weren’t fast enough. You managed to slip away, bolting for the nearest wall. It was your hope to put as much room between you and him as possible, without trying to get past him to get to the door.
“I can’t do this.” You did your best to calm your ragged breathing and pounding heart, but nothing helped. All you could do was stand there and toy with your fingers as you gazed at him with what you felt was absolute agony written across your face. It was your hope that your own internal conflict over the situation would be apparent enough that he might take pity on you and excuse you for the evening. Unfortunately, the Jester wasn’t that magnanimous in his victory. The determination to claim you far outweighed any emotional discomfort you might be having at the moment. So much so, that he met your outburst with complete apathy. He even dared to let his amusement at your actions show when a small smirk played across his thin lips. It was almost as if he was expecting it to happen. It was then that you stupidly realized he had.
According to many, the man in front of you was eternal. The Fatui had been born by his hands centuries ago, ripped from the ashes of the old world and built using the remains of his homeland. In the time since the Fatui’s founding, Pierro had built himself into a formidable figure. Mysterious and daunting at every turn. He was a weaver of destinies, a decider of fates and a ruler of harbingers. Snezhnaya’s very soul laid in the palm of his hand. Sadly, your soul and your whole future laid in the palm of his hand. He could decide it here and now and no one could save you from it. He wouldn’t even need to call the guard. Pierro was more than capable of handling you on his own. It would be nothing for him to force you into whatever fate he decided, should he need too.
A chill went down your spine, causing your whole body to shiver. It was hard not to wonder how many other individuals had found themselves in this same position you found yourself in now? How many of them had been willing? If they had been resistant like you, what had been done to make them willing? He sat where had you left him, intently studying you with that cold, cutting stare of his. The only sound that filled the room was the crackle of the large fire as it buried ominously on the other side of the room. You noticed the way the light from the flames danced their way across his handsome features. You saw the demonic shapes and shadows that they cast, giving the Jester a devilish appearance. The malevolence reflected in the crystal blue orb only seemed to emphasize it even more. “I- I love my husband.” The words spilled out in a thick, jumbled mess as you did your best to stop the tears that were now pricking at the corners of your eyes. Neither had any real effect. Pierro sat as still as a statue, letting you have what he would later describe to you as your little tantrum.
For now though, duty be damned. You didn’t want to be here. The vows that you had made, while rushed, had been spoken with your entire heart. You had sworn on the altar of your archon to be faithful to your husband. To break that vow, even with Capitano’s consent, felt wrong. The entire situation felt wrong. Surely he had to know that. “You have my sincerest apologies, my lord, but this isn’t right. This isn’t me.” He remained silent, still holding you fast with his gaze for a moment or two longer before he finally responded.
“New brides really are the sweetest of flowers. How fortunate Capitano is to have found himself such a lovely one amidst the wilds of Teyvat.” You furrowed your brows in utter confusion. “I’m sure your assertions of love and devotion will warm whatever heart he may have.” But it would do nothing to save you from Pierro. “Perhaps it will be enough to spare you from his disappointment when I tell him you refused me.” A light, breathy laugh broke that thought. “But then again, he does hate being disappointed, almost as much as he hates dereliction of duty.” You were beginning to hate that word almost as much as you hated how it was being used. It wasn’t your duty to be here anymore than it was your duty to mop the floors or light the fires. Your presence here was the result of Pierro’s control over his subordinates and nothing more. The concept that he expected you to pleasure him as if it was an act of service was revolting. “I suppose he could spare you his wrath since you are his most beloved spouse. After all, your refusal is coming from a place of fidelity. I imagine he is honor bound to be obliging.” He paused for what you assumed was dramatic effect. “But I would doubt it.” You forgot your own discomfort long enough to ask the one question you shouldn’t have asked. In part, because you had to live with the reality of the answer.
“Wrath?” Capitano had never once raised a hand to you. The thought of him even trying sent another shiver down your spine. He had always been deliberate with his touch. Capitano understood his strength. It was nothing for him to leave marks or bruises without trying. It would be nothing for him to strike you dead should he try to. “He would never-” The confidence in that statement failed when Pierro laughed at it. The words to finish it died on your tongue.
Slowly, the older man stood, groaning slightly as his body shifted despite its stiffness. It was the first indication that you had seen that Pierro might possess some human qualities.
“Your husband believes in the fulfillment of one's duty, regardless of whether you view it as personally honorable or not. Service to the Fatui, Service to the Tsaritsa-” Service to the director. “Come before everything else. He will not tolerate failure where it is concerned. He expects nothing short of perfection in his soldiers and he will expect nothing less of you.” Orders were orders. “Should I tell him that you have displeased me, then I have little doubt he would do all that he could to correct it.” Your eyes dropped to the floor at the thought of that. You used the last scraps of your denial to tell yourself that your husband wouldn’t go that far, that he wouldn’t force you into another man’s bed, but your presence here was already proof that he would. You hadn’t been begrudgingly sent as some kind of sacrifice to Pierro’s wanton desires, you had been gift wrapped in the finest Capitano could afford and presented with pride to the director like a prize at a fair. Despite his endless professions of love, in the end, your husband had been all too happy to give you away to a man he deemed his superior.
“I-” Your mind spun at the possibilities of what could happen if you didn’t do as you had been told. For the first time, you saw the man your parents had seen. They had told you he was dangerous. They had warned you he would bring you nothing but ruin. They had done all that could to stop you from making what was now the biggest mistake of your life, but you hadn’t listened. Instead, you stupidly believed you were getting your promised happy ending. You had run away with him, marrying him on the bow of the ship that had brought you here. You had laid with him night after night dreaming of a brighter future. You had prided yourself on being so smart. How could you have not seen that your shining knight wasn’t your savior, he was your villain?
The sound you made was inhuman as your back collided with the cool wall behind you. The scratchiness of the wallpaper against your neck and shoulders exacerbated the waves of panic that were shooting themselves through your body. Across the way, you heard the faint sound of Pierro’s boots shuffling their way across the plush area rug as he closed the gap between you two.
“Perhaps my cecilia is seeing the reality of their situation.” He stopped an arms length away from you, the tips of his ornate boot barely coming into view. “If you are, then I may not have to tell your husband about your misstep after all.” You looked up at him, blinking back the tears that freely spilled over the apples of your cheeks. “Your concerns regarding the morality of the situation have been noted.” And promptly ignored. “Since this is our first night together, I will give you a choice.” Or at least the illusion of one. In truth, there was only one choice and it had already been made for you, by two men who were not you.
You leaned against the wall for support, watching his long fingers as they reached into his side jacket pocket for something. “You may choose to take my hand and willingly follow me to my bed. If you do, then I can be persuaded to forget your hesitancy regarding this matter, provided you are obedient from now on.” You swallowed, continuing to stare up at him. “Or you may drink this.” He produced a small vial from his pocket, holding it up with two fingers. “It will render you unconscious-” A small chuckle slipped past his lips. “Or at the very least render you incompetent enough to where you won’t remember this night. But-” He drew the moment out for his own personal amusement. “It will render you piliant to whatever punishment I deem is fit for you.” Much his delight, you failed to stop the small whimper that had been building in your throat from escaping. The word punishment added a whole new level of terror to an already frightening situation. Pierro wouldn’t punish you lightly. While he had enjoyed your skittishness in the beginning, you had clearly tried his patience. Men like him didn’t enjoy being tested. So far, he had been generous with you, but you knew it wouldn’t continue. Pierro commanded loyalty, he commanded respect. His expectation was that you would fall in line and do as you were told. If you disobeyed, he would make sure you would never do it again; either by his own hand or via Capitano’s.
“I should warn you though.” He gave you a cruel smile, spinning the small vial between his lithe fingers. “Should you opt for the potion, I will make up for your lack of memory come the morning.” There was another cold laugh that followed that. Your only reaction was to shrink back, pressing yourself further into the wall. What should you do? What could you do? Take his hand in the hope that he hurt you less tonight versus the pain you could feel come the morning? Then there was your husband to consider. What would you face once you returned to your shared apartment? How would Capitano cope with the idea that you had behaved badly? Would he be proud that you had done all you could to remain faithful, despite his very clear consent, or would you face further punishment because you had proved an embarrassment to him?
A new kind of horror filled you.
You couldn’t help but falter, the lump in your throat feeling as if it would choke the very life out of you. Your knees failed, buckling under your own weight. You didn’t register that you were on the floor, nor did you register that Pierro had followed you, kneeling next to you as the reality of your situation crushed the last of your resistance under its weight. “Come now child.” The lilt in his voice was unmistakable. He tried to mask it with concern, but it was still there. He had enjoyed watching you break right before his eyes, just as he enjoyed the fact that the game between you was over. Now all he had to do was take you how he wanted you.
Helplessly you watch as Pierro reached out, brushing the tips of his gloved fingers over the line of your jaw, testing the proverbial waters. You flinched, but you didn’t pull away from him, earning a hummed approval. There was no point in resisting him. If you ran, you would be stopped. If you screamed, you would be silenced. If you fought, you would be punished. There was no escape. All he would allow you was to submit to him, willingly or otherwise.
Warnings: Minors DNI, 18+, Yandere themes, Yandere Behavior, Sexual Themes, Power Imbalance, Dark themes, My bad writing, Anything Else I Missed
Pantalone works with his hands.
Whether it's writing contracts or committing murder in the name of the Fatui, the man uses his hands a lot. As such, he tends to have issues with them on a regular basis. He suffers from cramps and fatigue due to spending most of his days with a pen in his hand. He’s found relief with medicinal stretches, but things get worse for him when the cold sets in for the winter. The touch of arthritis he’s developed as he’s gotten older will often flair up, forcing him to rely on his assistants to help him with the mundane things such as paperwork.
Being the high maintenance, rich bitch that he is, Pantalone has a team to keep him looking his best 24/7. He has an image to maintain. The last thing that should happen is that his hair should be a mess or archons forbid, he’s wearing last season's silks. He demands perfection, even if he’s a little too busy to notice when it doesn’t happen.
His hands though. He’s funny about them. Most of the staff aren’t allowed to touch them. Only his personal servant and maybe one assistant have actually seen the bare skin that exists beneath his gloves. The rest joke that to see, let alone touch the hands of the regrator is akin to seeing the face of the gods. The divinity of them is so assured, that some staff even spread rumors that he has a Midas touch and he hides hands, lest he turns everything he touches into gold. Others say he is the reaper of souls. One touch and you’ll fall stone dead.
It’s all nonsense, but Pantalone does little to stop it. There are worse things to be known for.
Because of his finicky nature surrounding his hands, the position of personal manicurist is often vacant. You’d heard the rumors surrounding the job. He had chewed the past candidates up and spit them out faster than a bad steak. But that didn’t deter you. A few inquiries into your predecessors had garnered key information. One had been let go due to extensive gossip. Another, insider trading. The list went on and on in terms of faults and failings, all while one constant seemed to emerge. None of the firings seemed to be skill based. If getting the job and then keeping it meant you had to be the sole of discretion, then you were more than ready to apply for it.
To your surprise, he takes you up on your application. It must have been a slow day in his office when it had arrived, because you hear back on it that afternoon. You’re summoned to his office the next day, where his personal assistant conducts the interview. From there, your skills are tested, retested, and looked into. His staff is thorough with their investigation. By the end, it feels like you’ve been flayed alive, but it’s worth it. At least that’s what you tell yourself when the offer letter arrives a week later.
The position itself isn’t a bad one. Being at his beck and call whenever he gets a hangnail isn't ideal, but you aren't one to turn down his money. Most mornings you find yourself seated next to him, silently filing his nails while he takes meeting after meeting. It’s not exactly satisfying, but it beats doing nails out of that crummy apartment you had before this.
Slowly your mind began to drift further and you quickly stopped paying attention to what was going on around you. The discussion surrounding the economic distress in Mondstadt bored you to tears. You could have been anywhere but in Pantalone’s office at that moment, you would have been. Much to your own amusement, your mind decided to do just that. It started with going over the list of supplies you needed to give Pantalone’s assistant. You’d been carrying the silly piece of paper around with you for days, but neither you or the assistant had really had a free moment to discuss it. Pantalone had kept you both of your toes for nothing more than his own amusement. It was annoying, but you made a mental note to corner his assistant after this meeting. Celestia forbid you run out of Pantalone’s favorite cuticle oil and have to replace it with the generic stuff. How would he ever survive the indignity of it?
As you continued to work, you could feel the tension in his hands. If you had been paying attention like you were supposed to, you would have left it alone. But you hadn’t been and you didn’t. Instead, you wrapped your fingers around his and pushed your thumbs up into his palm in a circular motion in the hope to relieve some of the strain in the core of his hand. The soft sound that came from directly above your head snapped you out of your reverie. You stopped moving, your eyes falling on your oh so obvious blunder. You had been hired to do his nails. Just his nails. You had been meticulously instructed on how to do them and all that was permitted while doing them. Massages were not part of that list.
Your hands immediately released his and fell to your lap. Archons what had you done? You moved to apologize, but you stopped yourself before you ever even started. You couldn’t apologize. Pantalone’s one rule concerning his staff was that during meetings, they were to be seen and not heard. While you doubted any of the other attendees would really notice a mumbled apology over their terse voices, the point was Pantalone would notice and he would not approve. So you sat there, like an idiot. Power was everything to Pantalone. He exercised it with frightening regularity when it came to his servants. Your entire body shook at the endless possibilities of how he would choose to exercise it on you. Unlike the kitchen maids who messed up his food or the footman who sold his lesser secrets, you knew things. You had witnessed the assassination orders and secret plots to overthrow the governments of Teyvat. You had seen how dirty Pantalone’s hands really were. Firing you was simply not an option for him. That realization made your mind spin. In fact, you were so wrapped up in what he could do to you, that you completely missed his fingers gently brushing away the tears that fallen onto your cheeks.
By the time the meeting ends and the attendees are gone, you’re practically on your knees with regret. But he isn’t angry. Far from it actually. He liked your little snafu. He wants more of it. You’re asked if you think it would help with the horrible hand cramps he has and you’re all too quick to reply yes. He asks you about his other maladies as well. Can you help with those? Again, you answer yes. There are oils that will help with his arthritis, lotions for his dry skin. You even know a way to fix that one nail of his that likes to split when it gets too long. You offer them all to him in the hope that it will stay the hand of punishment that you thought was coming. It does. He smiles at you, telling you to advise his assistant of what you need. He expects all of it in due course, but for now, do that thing with your thumbs again. He says he hasn’t felt pleasure like that in years. Unbeknownst to you, his mind begins to wonder exactly how good those hands of yours can make other parts of him feel. He begins to wonder just how good you could make him feel.
Your relationship with him begins to change. It started as strictly professional. He provided you with a job and in turn, you provided him with a service. You had never worried much about your looks. A uniform and dress code had been provided for you on your first day. You think nothing of it when the laundress gives you a different one. It was more revealing than the last one, but you doubted he was really looking anyway. Pantalone cared more about you being good at your job than how much of your chest he could see thanks to the low cut of your uniform. You tell yourself he likes you because you’re calm, quiet, and diligent in your work. His hand resting on your hip, or his fingers toying with your hair is nothing. He’s playful when he’s in a good mood. Pantalone's favorite hobby is to tease and you know you’re the perfect target for it. He’s become an expert in making you blush.
Sometimes he worries about you though. He worries you’re not what you appear to be. That you know too much and that it’s a matter of time before it all comes crashing down. The result of his worries are that you are watched more than anyone else. Your room is often searched on a regular basis and he tends to test you more than the rest of his staff. He's fed you with trading tips, gossip, and fake Fatui secrets more than once, only to never have it get back to him. The fact that you pass every single time endears you to him. He finds it relief that out of everyone around him, he can rely on you to do as you're told.
The results of his diligence surrounding you yields an unexpected result. He comes to know you far better than any of his other servants. He’s aware of the boring things like your background and your family situation. He doesn’t find those parts terribly interesting. What he prefers are things like your perfume/cologne, what type of underwear you like, how you sound when you touch yourself. It’s terribly untoward to want to know that information. Pantalone knows that, but he doesn’t care. He’s gone past the point of no return where you’re concerned. He makes your life his business, even if he shouldn’t.
Eventually though, it all becomes too much. You do your best to ignore his less than palatable qualities, telling yourself others had it worse. But that didn’t mean you didn’t find yourself praying to the local archon about what you should do. You knew he wasn’t the most wonderful of people, but he pays you well enough to not mind or so he says. You try to grin and bear it, even if it grinds you mental health to dust, you try. But there comes a point where you can’t. When you have enough and ask to leave. Your request is denied. He advises you to reconsider. Pantalone is a powerful man and powerful men are more than capable of changing people’s minds should they need too. He should hate to have to employ such tactics with you. He doesn’t make a specific threat, but the implication is there. Your family, your friends, even you are all in his grasp. None of you would be safe from his wrath should you decide to invoke it. When you waiver, he switches tactics and softens his words. Pantalone tells you that you’re the best he’s ever had, that he can’t do without you. He needs you. It does little to convince you.
Pantalone purposefully ignores the main issue, which is his ever increasing hold on your life. He knows he’s been aggressive when it comes to you. The flirting, the nightly massages in his bed, the complete replacement of all your undergarments. It’s all too much for you. He’s too close. He respects that you want to be professional. He admires it. How many of his employees would jump at the chance to be in your shoes? How many would take advantage of his good will and fleece him for all they could? You? You just want to do your job. It’s a comforting thought. Too bad he had other plans for you.
In his effort to keep you, he offers a solution to one of your many woes. If his business dealings are a problem, then he understands. His work isn’t the most pleasant thing in the world and you sitting at his side 8 hours a day like the pet he thought you to be was a poor use of your time. Even the most loyal of dogs needs space, and so do you. He suggests that you come to him after hours, in the mornings and the evenings, as a way to give you a break during the day.
At first it’s a welcome change. His office had become a suffocating place. The issue had been made worse with the knowledge that your entire life had become his without you even knowing it. Now that you didn’t have to be in there, it is your hope that things can go back to how they were at the start. You believed that, until you walked in on him in a specific state of undress. The first time it happened, you thought it was an accident. You averted your eyes, apologies spilling from your lips as you hoped to appease him. He’d merely laughed off, telling you he was sure he could find a way for you to make it up to him. The fifteenth time it happened, it was all too clear what his motives really were. The fact that he insisted on a pedicure while wrapped in nothing but a towel had been mortifying. He only added to your humiliation by spreading his legs so you would have the perfect view of his semi erect c*ck while you worked. Afterwards, you were compensated for your trouble in the form of a small necklace and a half hearted apology. He assures you it won’t happen again, even though you both know it will. When it does, his feet have your full attention. He thinks it’s cute how you blush. How you try to conduct yourself with some level of decorum despite his c*ck being in your direct field of vision. It’s such a shame you’re so uncomfortable with it all. Perhaps it’s just a matter of being shown things can only get worse, especially for those who are chosen to occupy Pantalone’s private life.
He starts slow. That necklace he gave you as an apology, he wants you to wear it wherever you go. Since you aren’t in his office anymore, the uniform standards can be relaxed. Your hair doesn’t have to be so nicely coiffed. He’d like you to leave it undone or down. Your uniform seems uncomfortable, perhaps you should loosen it or better yet, stop wearing it. After all, he’s bought you some very nice things to wear underneath of it. Such a shame he never gets to see them. He’d like you to change that. Oh, you picked that for today, tsk tsk. How did something so modest get in the mix? Here, let him help you fix that. In fact, you’re such a mess when it comes to your normal outfits. Not to worry, he’ll decide what you wear for him from now on. Oh, but you’re so far away. Your room is on the other side of the house, Pantalone knows just how to fix that.
You want to scream. You want to run.
He knows it’s coming. Pantalone knows you well enough to know that your first instinct will be to run. He lets you try. It’s amusing to watch. How clever you think you are for stashing away one of the maids uniforms when you think he isn’t looking. How ingenious of you to stash your meager belongings near your chosen escape route. Pantalone almost had them moved, just to mess with you. But he opted not to. The game was more fun if you thought you were catching him off guard, at least until you actually managed to catch him off guard.
Pantalone had several key events coming up. The house would be quiet, the guards would be busy, he would be distracted. It would be the perfect time to make your escape. What a fool you made of him. He had never considered that you would choose to leave on a normal day, in broad daylight no less. It made sense though. Who would question one of the maids leaving the house, especially when it was at the height of the day, when Pantalone had neither the time nor the inclination to chase after you.
It’s late evening before anyone notices you’re gone. By then it’s far too late to launch a search. Your tracks are well and truly hidden by the night’s sky. Come the morning, the Gods blessed you further by sending a torrential downpour to erase any further traces of you. Pantalone isn’t one to be swayed by time or weather though. He’s a patient man. What kind of Harbinger would he be if he didn’t know how to hunt someone as harmless as you? It may take him a day, it may take him a year, but he will find you. When he does, well he has a nice golden cage all prepared, just for you.
Worshipper reader confessing their devotion and love to the Geo Archon statue in silent prayer all the while Zhongli, your friend who you invited to visit the temple with you, stands next to you with a flustered face.
He turns even more red when you start to trail away from your prayer simply to admire the nice abdomen features of the statue.
// HC that archons are connected to their statues and can hear every prayer
praying to the Geo Archon about your "unrequited" crush on Zhongli and how amazing Zhongli is and going like "please make him notice me more than just a friend" all the while he's standing next to you like:🧍♂️
I'm going to do an awful job of explaining this, but what if the secret behind Baizhu & Pantalone is that they share a body. Basically Changsheng can take over Baizhu's body when she wants and they are Pantalone.
Also before I get a snake lecture, I know that non venomous snakes have round eyes. It's kind of interesting though that Changsheng has purple round eyes, while Baizhu has slits (similar to a venomous snake). That would tend to imply that Baizhu is more dangerous than Changsheng.
I'm probably wrong and they're twins or something but I figured I'd throw this out there.
IDK what this is. In the middle of working on the Capitan stuff, Diluc decided to invade my brain with the concept of what would happen if the reader unknowingly captured him and this is the result. Possible Part 2 inbound.
This is Diluc when he was out whoring about for four or so years. Since he's younger, I like the idea that he's sassy and flirtatious, especially after a fight.
Warnings: Graphic Content (Blood and wounds), Implied Capture, Implied Prisoner, Implied Nudity, Light Bondage, Probably OOC for him
SFWish, 18+
You didn’t know where he had come from or who he was. All that you knew was that he had materialized while you had been gone and he was bleeding. It took a moment or two for your initial shock to wear off. Not the best reaction considering he was badly wounded, but what else could you do? You lived alone, in the middle of nowhere. It wasn’t every day that an incredibly handsome stranger turned up in your house, let alone unconscious on your bed. You had to get past the sight of him before you could ever start to help him. The face of an angel, broad shoulders, long muscular legs, and hair that was the color of fire. He was magnificent. He was also half dead.
Snapping out of your stupor, you set your basket down on the floor, rushing over to his side. While his clothes were practically coated, your initial assessment revealed that not all of it was his. The main source of his blood was a deep cut on his left side. You would regrettably need to undress him to see if there were any other wounds hiding under his heavy waistcoat and shirt. “Sir?” He didn’t respond. You pressed your hands into his chest, giving him a little shake in the hopes that would help. “Sir, please.” Another shake. “I’m going to remove your jacket and vest. Is that alright?” Again, nothing. He just continued to lay there, his brow growing paler by the second. “Fine.” You began the struggle of getting his jacket off. “But if you wake up, don’t be mad. I did ask.”
Undressing him was a ghastly affair. In part because he was an entirely unwilling participant. Even with his athletic figure, he was still heavy for you. His arms refused to cooperate when it came to the tight sleeves of his overly ornate jacket. His torso flopped the second you let go of him. You would have had an easier time wrestling a dead puffer fish. It took every ounce of strength you had just to get his jacket off. By the time you were done, you, your clothes, the bed and him were all covered in a mix of fresh and congealed blood. The sight made you gag slightly. As a small measure of revenge, you tossed the cursed jacket aside, taking the thunk of the chains on the floor as a personal victory. Good riddance to it. Thankfully the rest of his clothes were less of a challenge. Even with the heavy gash in the rich fabric, the leather straps of the waistcoat unbuckled with relative ease and you were finally able to get to his body. Another small victory. In any other case, you would have celebrated that fact. In this one, all you could do was groan.
The laceration in his side was long and it was deep. You guessed it had been made with a sword, but you had to wonder. There was a Fatui camp over the next ridge. The deep burns on his shirt and around the edges of the wound made you wonder if he hadn’t run into one of them. It also made you wonder if they were looking for him. The thought alone made you pause. The last thing you wanted was to be arrested for aiding a potential criminal. Your friends were few and far between out here. The one neighbor you did know wouldn’t help you. The rest wouldn’t bother to wait for you to be gone before they looted your cabin. But the alternative was to let him die. Surely you couldn’t do that, could you?
Your eyes went back to his face. They traced over his handsome features while you silently questioned what you should do. Letting him die was wrong. You knew it was, but you also had to think about yourself. If he had gotten in a scuffle with the Fatui, then it would be both of your heads if they found him. But that was a big if. Surely if he had they would have been here by now, right? Maybe he wasn’t what you thought. Maybe he was a soldier or a mercenary that was just passing through. Maybe he had been attacked by treasure hoarders. “Archons-” You rubbed the bridge of your nose in frustration. There were too many what ifs to justify doing anything but helping him. You had no other choice.
Pushing off the bed, you made a b-line for the medicine cabinet in your small kitchen. He needed a poultice and some stitches. As for the rest, you could ask him how he got into this mess later, if there was a later. For now, you knew you had enough supplies to get him through the night, but you would need to restock come the morning. You rolled your eyes at the thought of dealing with the Fatui soldiers who seemed to occupy the roads these days. Archon forbid they stopped you and began to ask questions, especially when you were on your way home. If they were looking for him, then a basket full of medical supplies would be a dead give away. You could worry about that later. For now, all you could do was do your best to keep him alive.
Thankfully when the morning came, the roads had been empty of soldiers. Thankfully you had been able to get up to the local outpost without incident or question. Only the owner had raised an eyebrow at your purchase and that was simply due to the amount that you were buying. You offered no explanation as to why. You just quietly placed everything in your baskets and went on your way. Your only topic of conversation had been about the Fatui camp that had been wiped out by an unknown vigilante a day or so prior. Apparently carnage and fire had rained down on your region’s unwelcome guests.
Carnage. Your new housemate had been covered in blood when you had found him. Aside from the wound on his side, he had been relatively unharmed. It proved not all of the blood was his Fire. In addition to the blood, his clothes had also been singed in whatever battle he had fought. You had dismissed it to running into a Pyro agent. You clung to that theory until you fully undressed him. That’s when you found the delusion on him. It left a bitter taste in your mouth.
Three days you watched over him. Three nights you silently prayed that you were wrong. That it was a case of mistaken identity. But in your heart, you knew it wasn’t. His body was rife with scars from other battles. The weapons on his person, including the giant claymore and the delusion proved he was deadly. The man, whoever he might be, was dangerous. The entire situation was dangerous. You needed to do something to protect yourself and you needed to do it before he woke up.
Diluc felt exhausted. His last memory was of stumbling his way towards a small house after taking a strike from the business end of a pryo agent’s attack. After that everything was a mixture of reality and fantasy before it all went dark. The only thing he could discern was that to his relief, he was warm and dry. The feeling of a comfortable mattress and soft sheets added to his feeling of safety, though the lack of clothes was an odd sensation. Whoever owned the house must have helped him while he was unconscious. He could feel the bandages rubbing against the skin of his torso. There was a slight sting from the wound, but wasn’t entirely unpleasant. He went to touch it, only to find the resistance of his hands being bound to what he could only guess was a headboard. “Hm?” He twisted his wrists, feeling the bite of a rough rope against them. It was an peculiar sensation in his groggy state. Maybe he wasn’t as safe as he initially thought.
Slowly, Diluc opened his eyes a little more, testing his bonds once again. The ropes were loose around his wrists and the knots were poorly tied. His captor wasn’t a very good one. He worked his lithe fingers against his bindings, finding they would be easy to undo if he needed to, but for now he left them be. He had been tied up for a reason. Diluc found that reason when he noticed the sword that was pointed directly at his face. “Oh” He looked you up and down pleasantly surprised by what he saw. As far as being held hostage, he could think of far worse circumstances to wake up to than you. “Hello.” You didn’t answer him. You just stared at him, scared out of your wits. He could tell based on how hard the tip of the sword was shaking. It was a little unsettling, but not unwarranted. The issue was that even if you held the sword wrong, the last thing he wanted was to be stabbed, again. Not after you’d gone to the trouble of getting him well.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” Diluc blinked steadily, his eyes continuing to scrutinize the situation. You weren’t a threat to him. Even with his weapons and delusion on the other side of the room, he could easily disarm you. It wouldn’t take much. All he would need would be to get hold of one of your wrists and your positions would be reversed in a matter of seconds. It wasn’t something he was opposed to. He decided you would look cute tied to your own bed. You would look better tied to his at home. It had been awhile since his last tryst. He wouldn’t mind you moaning under him while he…
“W-why are you smirking at me like that?” He blinked again, his thoughts and his attention coming back to the present.
“I apologize. I -” He feigned contemplating an excuse for a second before he continued on. “I was thinking of something else for a moment. It was entirely ungentlemanly of me.” He purposefully kept his voice even, in the hopes it would calm you down. It didn’t. You just insisted on standing there, eyes wide with fear while you held the sword level with his face. “Tell me, do you intend to stay like that or will you perhaps take me at my word that I have no intention to harm you?”
“I don’t know that.”
Diluc raised an eyebrow at you. He was entirely surprised by that answer. You appeared to be such a meek little thing. The fact that you hadn’t crumbled in front of him intrigued him more. You could be fun. “There’s a fatui camp not far from here. You dress like them. There’s also a rumor going around at the local outpost that a vigilante burned it to the ground.” He shifted his hips slightly, his smirk returning. Diluc could help but be slightly impressed.
“You’re well informed. It is bold of you to make an assumption I’m connected to either based on the few words we’ve just shared. I’m a simple traveler, nothing more.”
“It’s not exactly an assumption when you had a map to it in your jacket pocket.” Diluc let out a small chuckle.
“It’s rude to go through people’s things you know, especially when they’re unconscious.”
“Injured or well, it’s rude to take over people’s homes when they aren’t home.” Touche. “Your clothes were covered in blood. I emptied the pockets to wash them for you.” He felt slightly grateful for that. It saved him the trouble of doing it later. “Even if I hadn’t, you have a delusion and the outpost owner told me the flames from the attack could be seen for miles. He said he’d seen a man with bright red hair pass through a day or so before everything happened. You bought produce from him.” He watched you take a deep breath. “I’m not interested in any trouble from the Fatui or you.”
“That is a tad awkward since I’m currently bound to your bed. I’m sure it would make some Fatui underling’s year if they found me like this. No doubt you would get a handsome reward if you decided to turn me in.” You swallowed, the edge that had been lingering in your voice softening slightly.
“I’m not going to turn you in. I don’t want you here, but I know what they do to prisoners. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” A sense of relief washed over him. It eliminated the worry of fighting his way out in his current condition, but it didn’t answer the burning question of what you did intend to do with him.
For the moment he was happy to play your little game, but he knew it would get old, fast. He also couldn’t run the risk of the Fatui finding him here. It was all well and good to joke about it now, but news would spread across the camps in the region. Eventually someone would want revenge. The last place he wanted it to be was here and naked when they did.
“So….” He lightly shrugged his shoulders. “What now? I am still at your mercy.” You bit your lip as a sign of doubt. The answer was you didn’t know. This wasn’t a normal thing for you. The signs were all there. Tying him up and holding him at sword point after he had woken up was nothing more than a precaution for you. It was likely you had thought he was going to die at one point. But he hadn’t. Now you were at an impasse as to what to do with him. You were alone and in your eyes, Diluc knew he was a threat. He knew you were worried he would hurt you or worse. Part of him was slightly insulted, but he didn’t blame you. It had been a risk to help him at all. You didn’t want to be rewarded with injuries of your own.
Shifting again, Diluc winced as he tried to resettle into a comfortable spot. The sword lowered slightly at his sign of pain, but it didn’t go away.
“Are you-?” His eyes found yours again, finding that the fear had melted into worry.
“It’s nothing.” He lied. “May I offer a suggestion since you seem unsure?” The tip of the sword moved, a clear motion for him to continue. “You untie me and give me at least my pants back. Though if you prefer me naked and at your disposal, I’m sure we could make arrangements. I do owe you for saving my life” A light blush crept across the apples of your cheeks. It was adorable. “I promise to be on my best behavior if you do decide to release me.” Another lie. He would behave as long as you did, provided he couldn’t lure you into bed with him. Then all bets were off.
“What assurance do I have that you’ll be true to that promise? I don’t know you.” Diluc lightly chuckled again.
“Nor I you. I’m sure I found this place quite on accident. You could have turned me in while I was unconscious or worse let me die. But you didn’t. Instead you nursed a known vigilante back to health.” You chewed your lip again. “Now you have me in a weakened position. You could easily take that sword across my throat and I wouldn’t be able to stop you. A poor return on your investment if you ask me.” He paused to offer you another sly grin. “You won’t turn me in, I doubt you’ll kill me, so that leaves you the option of keeping me tied to your bed for the rest of our lives or letting me go.” In the distance, you both heard thunder rumble. An ill omen given the present situation. “I suppose it all comes down to trust, doesn’t it?” He watched you turn your attention back to him. “So my lovely captor.” The term of endearment grated on you slightly. “Do you trust me?”
Description: Pantalone has always considered himself an opportunist.
Reader specifications: woman AFAB she/her | switch reader with both elements of domming and subbing written into the fic
Character specifications: Dottore [switch!dottore, dottore likes being pegged :), socially inept Dottore, probs OOC tried my best, total disregard for his clones] Pantalone [dom!pantalone, he’s a sadist through and through to me, he’s also an asshole here] Both [they’re past fuckbuddies]
Tags: sft [dottore is bad at feelings as per usual, blackmail] nsft [dark themes, pegging, riding, vibrators, sex toys, non-consensual voyeurism, mentions of other kinks] future tags to be added in part 2
Note: Look, I just had to publish this tonight to motivate me to finish it tomorrow. I’ll be back, trust me, if you’re seeing this when it’s first released… please be patient :)
I am 18+, have read the tags, and consent to seeing the content of this fic [yes ⬇️] [no ↩️]
Dottore was a fickle man, and nobody knew this better than Pantalone.
Which was why The Regrator was so surprised when he had walked by the door of Dottore’s office late at night to hear the man’s poorly muffled moans. Pantalone had looked up the corridor, then down the corridor, and finally, ever so slowly, bent down and peeped through the keyhole, careful not to accidentally knock against the door.
What he saw had his eyes widening.
It was Dottore, bent over the desk in his office, hands scraping for purchase against the mahogany desk. And you, his assistant, positioned behind him, fucking into him at a steady pace. His mask was discarded, leaving Pantalone with an unobstructed view of Dottore’s teary eyes and the drool pooling onto the desk.
“Good boy,” You cooed. “Taking it so well. Why don’t I help you out a little, though?”
Pantalone kept his gaze focused on your hand, reaching down to Dottore’s cock. The fingers he could barely make out from his viewpoint indicated that you were only using your thumb and forefinger. Dottore had gritted his teeth and exhaled through his nose, eyes squeezed shut.
Pantalone resisted the urge to drag his hand away from the doorframe in order to palm himself. He didn’t want to lose balance. He wished he had walked by sooner, with the two of you appearing to already be deep in the act. 
When Dottore’s cum started splattering against the wood with a long, drawn-out moan, Pantalone decided it was time to get up before he was noticed.
Interesting. Very interesting. And something he just had to stake a claim on.
———
Pantalone had been rather disappointed when Dottore decided that they would no longer be having their usual meetings.
There was no talking. In typical Il Dottore fashion, there was nothing except a cold and impersonal parting, an icy refusal, a clinical denial that anything had ever taken place. Pantalone had tried not to let it bother him. Here he was, rich and influential, and choosing to fuck his colleague instead of anyone else he could have had. His unpleasant, ill-mannered, frigid colleague.
It was the appeal of seeing him come undone. There was nothing more amusing to Pantalone than seeing Dottore abandon some of his pride as he writhed underneath the ninth harbinger.
Some. Always some, never all. Dottore had usually cussed him out during sex, hissed out insults like he was trying to negate the fact that he liked having a dick up his ass.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” Pantalone had once told him, chuckling softly. He had put his hands on Dottore’s hips and decided to switch his pace, thrusting in faster. “There, doesn’t that feel nice?”
“Fuck you.” Was the response. And then, lower and more resounding, “Fuck you.”
It really wouldn’t hurt him to show just a little appreciation, but the ninth had never wanted to push it. After all, Dottore was a prideful, conceited man, placing his self worth delicately upon the myriad of scientific accomplishments he’d managed across his life. He pretends to be utterly shameless in matters of ethics and morals and yet clings to his dignity.
Pantalone had never gotten Dottore as quiet as you had managed, all whines and moans and gasps. There had to be some sort of secret to it.
All sorts of thoughts had ran through Pantalone’s head on that night. Did you thoroughly wreck his pride beforehand, make him suck your strap or eat you out? Or maybe you tried a bait and switch, let him put his cock into you before telling him the only way he’d be cumming was with a dick inside him. Maybe Dottore had been desperate and you made him beg for it. Wouldn’t that be an amusing sight?
And oh, as if the thought of Dottore being tamed by his subordinate wasn’t erotic enough. Celestia above, how did that happen?
Come to think of it… Dottore was rather clingy around you. He’s been clingy ever since around a week after the “break-up” (though Pantalone only uses that term in a satirical sense), and there was rumours that the two of you had started dating. But you’re not dating each other, and Pantalone knows this because he visits, and once outwardly asked. Though the sex has stopped, Pantalone still considers Dottore his closest acquaintance out of all the harbingers. Dottore is his first choice for a chat, and he has the added bonus of you, his assistant, being practically joined at the hip with him.
You’re both rather cool inside the lab, he’d observed, but you seemed to relax more outside of it. Pantalone had considered attempting to seduce you just to piss Dottore off. You always responded well to his light flirting, with soft giggles and a well-received tease in return. Best of all, it appeared to invoke Dottore’s wrath like nothing else. Clenched fists, clenched jaw, and no doubt a clenched asshole as he sharply redirects the conversation to his funding. Pantalone had thought it was just because he was being a nuisance on purpose. But perhaps, now… he can entertain the thought that it was because Dottore was possessive of you.
A wicked idea began to hatch in Pantalone’s mind.
Oh, yes.
———
A week passes before Pantalone starts pursuing his desires. He’s been busy lately, with work, and also with testing the waters with you. He’s been in the lab with tales of a never-ending funding issue, and after the excuse lost its merit, he’s just there to visit as per usual, but more frequently. You’re far more approachable than Dottore, but it isn’t like Pantalone can spend too long talking to you alone before Dottore involves himself.
Dottore would learn to be careful what he wished for.
“Dottore, are you interested in accompanying me somewhere?”
“No.” comes the reply.
“Oh, don’t be like that.”
“We’re eating, Pantalone. Care to save this for later?”
A polite demand in a very irate tone of voice. And of course, you’re sat next to him, eyeing Pantalone apologetically.
The room off to the side of Dottore’s lab is supposed to be an office or storage space, but doesn’t have enough room for all of Dottore’s filing cabinets. So the space is more like a break room, with a sofa, a coffee table, and a portable stove. Boxes line the edges, and there’s one single tattered wooden chair off to the side. Pantalone pulls it up beside the sofa with grace, somehow managing to not knock anything over in the process.
“Didn’t you hear me, Regrator? Get out.”
“No need to be so antsy, Doctor, I’m merely visiting.”
“You’ve been doing that an awful lot recently,” Dottore hisses. “Frankly, I don’t see why you should be in my lab instead of doing your work.”
Pantalone knows Dottore is the kind of animal to bite when cornered. He would have to back off slightly before closing in again, an elegant dance in tune to the music of Dottore’s threats.
And you’re an observer in all of this. Pantalone can tell how he’s also putting you on edge.
“Well, we’re friends, aren’t we?” Pantalone says, clasping his hands in front of him.
“What a strong choice of words.”
“Ah, how cold, Dotorre. I’m here because I want to invite you to dinner. We must discuss… a private matter. My apologies, (Y/N), but I’m afraid you can’t attend this one. That’s not to say I won’t take you out for dinner some other time.”
You exhale through your nose, smiling. “As nice as that might be, there’s really no need, sir.”
Dottore eyes you, and then Pantalone with a furious gaze.
“When is it?” He snaps.
“Are you free next Friday at seven? I’ve yet to book a reservation. The usual place.”
Something in Dottore darkens. Immediately, both you and Pantalone pick up on the heightened intensity of Dottore’s wrath. The only difference is, Pantalone appears to react with glee.
“I’m free. Don’t expect me to stay for long.”
Pantalone smiles wider. “I’ll see you then. It’s only a discussion. No ulterior motives.”
You start to look more confused, managing to pick up on the fact that there’s implications in those words, though not what they actually are.
When Pantalone leaves, you’re the only one wishing him goodbye.
Dottore isn’t himself for the rest of the day, falling into a deep silence. You choose not to ask him about it.
———
In the space between Pantalone’s last visit and the coming Friday, Dottore has been engaging in a one-man smear campaign against him. And it’s all directed towards you.
You try your best to let him vent his frustrations about the man- Dottore has never appeared particularly well-versed in handling his own feelings- and in doing so, you hope you eventually spare Pantalone from some of this anger.
Notably, Dottore has started leaning against you, touching you, laying a hand over yours. It’s like the irritation has brought with it a wave of assertiveness. He’s always been adamant in his denial that your relationship is nothing romantic. To him, you’re colleagues, and you also help each other release some sexual frustration, and there’s absolutely nothing in between those two things. He likes brushing against you and pretending it was an accident. He likes being held after sex only to skulk off later like it never happened. You’re happy to indulge him, but you don’t want to end up hurt. You’ve thought that since the beginning.
The first time was merely a result of accumulated sexual tension that came with working with him. You’d gotten dressed up with him to attend a function- strictly speaking, you weren’t his date or his plus-one, rather you had to be there for any business matters. However, this didn’t stop people from thinking you were an item, an idea that Dottore himself ended up fascinated with by the end of the night. You’d flirted with what could have been your death, but ended with him sinking into you, biting at your neck as your nails scratched up his back.
The second time came after a success in the lab, long awaited results of a study that you had been perfecting for months. He told you to ride him, and you did so diligently, noting how his dignified demeanour evaporated throughout the act, eventually leading him to plead with words you’d never imagine coming out of his mouth, not even in your wildest dreams.
After some more occasional sex, Dottore was the first to suggest a taking precautions to make sure it didn’t get… “boring”. He had clearly wanted you to chalk it up to his ever-expanding scientific mind, that it only made sense for a man like Dottore to be deemed experimental in the bedroom. You had disregarded that completely. You knew there was something he definitely wanted to try with you. And though he was a restrained character, when you pulled out the strap-on you could see barely contained excitement. He had denied it at first, feigning reluctance that went away as soon as you said, “We don’t have to try it if you’re not comfortable.”
It’d been amusing to watch such a confident man start to backtrack.
He’s not the only analytical one between the two of you. You’ve enjoyed figuring out what makes him tick as well, what really riles him up. And what have you learnt so far? Well, he likes being praised if he’s taking your strap. He’s sadistic at times, and likes the idea of sensory deprivation, though not for himself- he loves seeing a good reaction to his touch. He goes pretty much silent after any sex, lays his head somewhere near you or on you, and thinks. And there’s a pattern that, whenever Pantalone visits, he tries to prove himself and give as much as possible to you.
Now you’re starting to wonder if even the thought of Pantalone riles him up.
He’s ranting and raving on Thursday evening, and you think that some dick will finally shut up what you’ve already had to listen to in the lab all day, but he takes the initiative to do everything himself. You end up propped against the headboard of your bed as he straddles you, still talking. He holds the control to the two vibrators at your pussy in his hand as he rides the strap with more fervour than you’ve ever seen. He barely even quiets down when you try to kiss him.
“No, listen,” He hisses, turning the vibrators on full. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you can barely pay attention to what he’s saying, but you try to look him in the eyes and focus. “That imbecile has made it his life’s mission to irritate me to no end. Next time he comes in, you’re going to-“
“Not speak to him, yeah, Dottore, I get it.”
He doesn’t stop. You reach across for the small vial on the bedside table and spill some into the palm of your hand.
“- because I swear to Celestia if you do, I’ll dissect y-y-“
He finally stops once your closed fist starts pumping steadily up and down his cock, precum starting to drip down the shaft. Eventually, Dottore slows altogether, cum starting to shoot from the tip, landing on your chest and onto the bed. You let go of his dick and choose to hold onto his hips with both hands, angling him slightly to adjust the vibrators as you finally reach your own release. You feel him wince, but he doesn’t turn down the vibrators, thankfully. He could if he wanted to. He’s mean like that.
And finally, at last, the only sounds in the room are breathing and a faint buzz.
Dottore turns them off, drowsily lifts himself off your faux-cock, and starts moving towards the bathroom with an undeniable stagger in his walk. The bath starts to run, and you take a couple of deep breaths before you lift yourself off the bed and get to work clearing things up and changing the bedsheet, using a tissue to wipe what’s left on your chest.
The resounding silence once you’re in the bath with him is neither pleasant nor unpleasant.
———
“You’re just going in your work clothes?”
You can practically see the way Dottore’s eyes narrow from beneath his mask.
“Yes. There’s no need to get dressed up, is there?”
You look down at your plate again, pushing the carrots around with your fork.
“Oh, no, not if you don’t want to. I guess I’d just see it as an excuse to wear something different. Do whatever works for you.”
Dottore says nothing else, and chooses to grab his coat and leave, practically dragging himself to the door. You think you should call out a, “have fun”, but decide against the risk of patronising him.
You wonder what’s so important to discuss that it demands a dinner date.
———
“I see you’ve already ordered wine for the table.”
Pantalone laughs, yet his hand keeps the bottle steady as he pours out two glasses. Dottore’s face stays motionless. He’s really not in the mood.
And the fact that this level of privacy has been demanded, private room, a curtain to separate them from the other other patrons… well, it worries Dottore, though he wouldn’t admit it.
“Starter?” Pantalone inquires, flicking through the menu.
“No. Just a main. I would rather not be here any longer than is necessary.”
Pantalone hums, finger tracing over the paper. The waitress comes, and both order.
There’s a few minutes of silence, Pantalone flicking through the wine menu again, Dottore scribbling down things into a notebook, no doubt work notes. It takes a while for Pantalone to actually speak.
“I couldn’t help but notice you’re still not deviating from the usual?”
“Tell me why I’m here, Regrator.”
Something sinks in Dottore at how the smile across from him becomes more sinister. With nothing said whatsoever, Pantalone already looks like the cat that got the cream.
“Were you planning on eating with your assistant tonight?”
“What in Teyvat does that have to do with anything?”
And Pantalone raises his index finger towards Dottore. “Ah-ah. Please, for both our sakes, just answer honestly.”
The Doctor’s chest rises and falls with one heavy breath of frustration. “I might’ve, had she been in the right place at the right time. I implore you to get to the point.”
“I see. And I presume you may have had sex after?”
He says it so casually, and Dottore’s entire body goes rigid. “That’s none of your business. Take your perversion somewhere else or I’ll rip out your filthy tongue.”
“Perversion? Last time I checked, I was merely a curious man who wanted to know more… not someone actually participating in, say, some of the acts you and (Y/N) perform.”
“Is this a joke?” Dottore scoffs. “You’re sexually frustrated because I stopped our arrangement, and now you suddenly feel you need to involve yourself in my sex life again.”
“I’m surprised you convinced her.” Pantalone says, swirling the wine in his glass.
“What the fuck is that supposed-“
“Surely you understand my confusion when the decrepit, asocial maniac manages to secure himself a young and enthusiastic woman. A woman willing to engage in all sorts of sex acts with him, no less. Are you paying her extra for that?”
“What do you know?” Dottore says, practically trembling with rage. The innocent expression across from him blinks in feigned confusion. He swallows dryly. “And just what are you hoping to accomplish with this?”
When the curtain is pulled back for a moment and two waitresses walk in, the tension runs high. Pantalone thanks them whilst Dottore keeps staring, and staring, and staring. Pantalone waits until he can no longer hear their footsteps before continuing.
“If it were to get out that you enjoy getting railed by your assistant, and being called a “good boy” during the act-“
Dottore has to stop himself from reaching over the table and strangling him right there and then.
“- I wonder what people would think. What people would say.”
“That reads like nonsensical slander. Nobody would believe it.”
He doesn’t deny it.
“They don’t have to,” Pantalone replies, taking another sip of his wine. Dottore hasn’t touched his. “All I would have to do is say… drunkenly confess at a party what I heard and what I saw. And just let the rumour trickle slowly down the masses.”
Dottore sits for a while, thinking, trying in equal parts to calm himself down and come up with a response and a reaction that doesn’t involve attempting to slit Pantalone’s throat with his knife. Killing another harbinger would surely be frowned upon more than his sex life being revealed to the public.
“And so you want to have sex with me again so I can prevent this from happening?”
Reader specifications: woman AFAB she/her | switch reader with both elements of domming and subbing written into the fic. This part is mostly subbing with you in a hierarchy that goes Pantalone > You > Dottore OR Pantalone > You >= Dottore
Character specifications: Dottore [switch!dottore, dottore likes being pegged :), socially inept Dottore, probs OOC tried my best, total disregard for his clones] Pantalone [dom!pantalone, he’s a sadist through and through to me, he’s also an asshole here] Both [they’re past fuckbuddies]
Tags: sft [dottore is bad at feelings as per usual, blackmail] nsft [dark themes, pegging, riding, vibrators, sex toys, non-consensual voyeurism, mentions of other kinks, cucking, yes dottore gets cucked lol, bondage, initially dubious consent, cunnilingus, nasty sex lol, degradation, sex fluids in mouth, edging, thighfucking, this part of fic is basically all porn]
Note: Sorry for the slight delay but I still managed didn’t I :D I haven’t wrote smut since my first Dottore fic so it was a tough thing to write. Hope you enjoy :)
I am 18+, have read the tags, and consent to seeing the content of this fic [yes ⬇️] [no ↩️]
Pantalone is the last person you expected to see that night.
Dottore doesn’t explain anything. His mouth is etched into a flat line. Pantalone stands behind him, smiling as always with a practised genuineness and a friendly greeting. The two men take up the entire doorway of your small apartment within the Fatui facility, and for a moment, you think you must’ve did something horribly wrong.
“Would you like to come in?” You offer, looking to Dottore for approval. His expression doesn’t shift, but he marches in to the small living space, sinking down onto the sofa. For a brief moment you’re aware of his anger, something incredibly volatile bubbling inside of him- the rigid movements, the clenched fists. And for a moment, you feel nothing except pity for the man that can’t seem to catch a break these days.
Pantalone nods before also letting himself in. “How has your evening been, (Y/N)?”
It’s hard to understand anything that’s currently going on. Did Dottore intentionally invite Pantalone around for after-dinner drinks? To your place specifically? Did he just invite himself? “Uh, fine. It’s been fine. Did you enjoy your meal?”
“It was wonderful, thank you for asking,” Pantalone replies, shuffling out of his coat. You reach to him for it, placing it on the hooks by the door. “I’ll have to take you to that restaurant one day, I think a lady like yourself would-“
Dottore, clearly growing irritated, calls out, “Tell her why you’re here. I would appreciate it if this was over as soon as possible.”
You can tell his teeth are gritted and worry begins to swamp your thoughts. Pantalone merely looks down at you through his glasses. You can see your reflection in them, wide eyed, nervous. He clears his throat, beckoning you to follow him to the sofa. You pick the loveseat across from him, slowly setting yourself down and observing how Dottore shifts his entire body closer to the armrest, away from Pantalone. It’s a gesture that attempts to mimic disgust, yet also indicates fear.
You feel like a guest within your own home.
“I’ll get to the point, shall I? I was in the right place at the right time, and overheard some rather… interesting things occurring between you and my colleague.”
Dottore leans his head backwards, sighing in exasperation. Your eyes dart between the two men. Surely Pantalone wasn’t implying…?
Oh archons, he was, wasn’t he?
“Lord Harbinger, I’m so sorry-“
And he laughs. He’s always smiling, always laughing, always so overwhelmingly friendly. You’ve never quite gotten the sense that there’s a threat behind it, though you know of how exactly Pantalone deals with people who fail to repay him. You wonder if he doesn’t stop smiling then, you wonder if he gleefully informs someone of their downfall in that even yet airy tone of voice.
“Well, dearest (Y/N), I’ll let you off with it, if you’ll just do one little thing for me?”
Contract. Deal. Bargain. Something you’ve never wanted to have with the man purely out of self-preservation. Mouth gone dry, cheeks ablaze, and head spinning, you can do nothing except nod.
“I want to fuck you and have Dottore watch.”
Your lips part, and nothing comes out. Dottore stays completely still in that moment. Pantalone relaxes further into the sofa, crossing one leg over the other as his hands join together.
You close your mouth before opening it again, praying for something, anything, to manifest itself into the silence. And like a lost child calling for their parent, you weakly say, “Dottore?”
You’re not sure who it’s addressed to.
“He’s threatening to tell people if we don’t.”
“Threaten..? No. Suggest, yes.”
“Instead of wanting to sleep with my assistant, you should consider sleeping with one eye open for the entirety of your life.”
Staring down at your hands, your thoughts begin to form above the sound of your thudding heart.
“(Y/N).” Pantalone says. You realise he’s never explicitly stated that the threat applies to you, or if you would be named in this slander, though you don’t exactly want to damage Dottore’s reputation. That’s a one-way road to being fired, possibly dead.
“Yes, I’m… thinking.”
“Do try to make up your mind soon.”
“Personally, I don’t care,” Dottore tells you. “I don’t care about us. Watching the two of you have sex means nothing to me. I’ll just be there during the act so this freak can get his rocks off.”
You know Pantalone doesn’t miss the way your facial expression morphs to one of hurt. He tilts his head like an expectant dog, hoping Dottore’s testimony will bring you to agree. Your shoulders slump and you murmur out a small, “Fine. I’ll do it.”
Pantalone only nods. You’re expecting more of a reaction from him, but he stays calm, his presence still the most overwhelming in the entire room. Dottore has slumped into a state of acceptance.
Perhaps Pantalone is the one expecting a larger response from you. There’s no leaping out of joy at the prospect of having sex with him- though he’s certainly handsome and you may have entertained the thought briefly, on occasion- you’re too worried about Dottore. But why should you be? He’s already stated that he doesn’t care. You should just take the once-in-a-lifetime experience of having sex with the ninth harbinger, and try not to think too hard about the implications on your relationship with Dottore.
“Where’s your bedroom?”
“Now?” You whisper.
“Of course.”
And surprisingly, Dottore is the first to get up, trudging towards the hallway.
———
Initially, it’s awkward.
“So I suppose this is your idea of fun?” Dottore says, watching as Pantalone begins to take off his clothes. You hear his belt fall to the floor and he sits down on your bed, staring at you as you stand between Dottore and Pantalone whilst you remove your stockings. Pantalone stops you from removing anymore after that, hooking his arm around your waist and gently guiding you into his lap. Your superior is across from you, viewing the ordeal from his awkward position.
Dottore’s hands are tied behind his back using a tie he forgot in your room from the last time. His mask is off. His red eyes look thoroughly unamused, like he may as well be watching paint dry.
“It’s one of them.”
Dottore, Dottore, Dottore. You can’t stop glancing over at him but you never really catch his eyes. He’s staring right through you.
Pantalone, now seated on the bed with you, begins to run his palms up and down your bare thighs, hiking up your skirt in the process. They’re cold, but his body radiates a divine warmth. You’d rather just lean your head against his chest and drown in the scent of his earthy cologne, but you both know that’s not why you’re here. His hands start to slide beneath your blouse, evoking a pleasant hum from him when they make contact with your braless chest.
“Mm… I’m beginning to understand, Dottore.”
Deft fingers start working at the buttons with ferocious speed. You have to admire the carefulness in unwrapping you so delicately. Dottore had ripped off one of your shirts before. He’s always so fast and aggressive, perhaps more fondly described as “passionate”. Yet Pantalone’s handling of your body shows passion too, albeit in a more reserved and sensual manner. You close your eyes, wanting to focus on the moment. You feel something heating in your core as his hand meets one of your breasts, rolling the bud between his two fingers gently, pinching, tugging slightly. Your legs tighten up reflexively, and your hand finds itself wandering to between your legs, only to be met by your the fabric of your skirt.
“How could you keep her all to yourself?” Pantalone sighs. The warm breath tickles the back of your neck and for a moment you feel completely enveloped by the man, his presence dominating every one of your senses- spare one. Opening your eyes reveals the man across from you once more- and this time, when you listen carefully, you can hear his breathing as well.
The room is glacial when Pantalone starts to unzip your skirt from the side, lifting you slightly and sliding it down your legs where it falls limp on the floor. You lean forward and abandon your open blouse as well, leaving you with only one item of clothing between your legs which Pantalone’s fingers begin to hover over. His lips create a suction at your neck, teeth nipping the skin whilst he plays around with the waistband of your panties.
The other breathing in the room merely grows louder. Blood rushes in your ears, and as your panties begin to get tugged down your legs, you find yourself staring at Dottore’s shoes.
He’s really getting nothing out of this? He just has to watch?
“Focus on me, dear.” Pantalone calls out. He sounds so distant, yet feels so close.
And you comply as you’re shuffled out of his lap and Pantalone stands dead in front of you, blocking your view of Dottore. The Regrator begins to gracefully remove the rest of his clothes, and you find yourself reaching out. A light chuckle rings through the room as your fingertips graze his hips longingly.
When he reveals an impressive length, you avert your eyes immediately like the very sight would stain your long-forgotten modesty. The last thing to go is his glasses, which he sets gently to the side on your bedside table.
Backing yourself up on the bed to get ready for him, you faintly realise that Pantalone’s not the only one who’s been pitching a tent in his pants the entire time. And it comforts you, somehow, to know that you still exist to Dottore.
“Face down, rear up, darling. Present to us.”
Diligently, you follow his command. Embarrassment registers at the position, clearly meant to give Dottore a full view of what he’s missing out on. The second Pantalone’s fingertips meet your pussy, you clench up instinctively. He’s standing off to the side so Dottore can see it clearly. How generous.
“It’s glistening,” Pantalone narrates, as if neither of you know that. “She’s already wet, see? Did you ever get her like this?”
“Yes.” Comes the dull reply. It’s not a lie.
Prodding. Rubbing. And two fingers start to ease their way in, slowly. You take deep breaths as they slip into you, exploring your body. You whine as they hit a spot that feels just right, and you can make out the sound of Dottore’s shoes shuffling on the floor. Pantalone’s hand stills as the fingertips keep working inside of you. Heat and tension begins to build inside. His thumb starts running over your clit gently before picking up speed and pressure. You clench down hard for a moment- just briefly, so briefly- and Pantalone draws his hand back with violent speed, leaving you without stimulation entirely.
You start to whine, wiggling your ass in the air slightly with little regard for how wanton you look. “Why did you stop?”
“We’re all going to exercise our patience tonight, sweetheart.”
Footsteps, moving away from you.
Dottore’s voice, speaking on his own initiative for once. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m completely serious, dearest Doctor.”
There’s a slight sucking noise, a pop- and archons above is Pantalone making Dottore suck your juices off his fingers?
“I have a very special job for you, Dottore. Can you guess what it is?” Pantalone coos. “Don’t worry about your bindings. I’ll support you the entire time- see, aren’t I good to you?”
The height of your pleasure is beginning to fade as Dottore is guided over to you, painstakingly slow. You’ve already guessed what the “very special job” could be, and your idea is only confirmed when hot air fans over your dripping cunt.
His tongue meets your labia, licking up in one, long stripe.
“Good boy.”
Dottore’s head is pushed closer, his nose practically buried in your folds. And you swear to Celestia, he moans.
When his tongue starts to work at your clit, your thighs tremble and your mouth betrays any efforts to keep quiet. It’s been a while since Dottore’s did this and you’re reminded of how he’s so focused and so precise, sucking both delicately and with pressure, his tongue rolling over in the right places.
“I honestly expected it to be quicker.” Pantalone muses, only serving as encouragement for Dottore to try harder. With his tongue pressing firmly and his head bobbing slightly, you finally cum with a long, drawn out moan, pussy fluttering around nothing.
It’s like Pantalone’s talking to a pet when he says, “Good boy, good Dottore!”
You think Dottore puts up a struggle as he’s dragged away from you, because you faintly hear Pantalone whispering to him not to get any ideas.
“- Or this won’t be taken care of.”
Dottore whines before you hear him sit back down on the stool. You’re still presenting yourself. Something runs down your thigh.
“She’s so nice and wet for me now. Dripping.”
A finger swipes your dribbled slick away.
“Just imagine what it feels like inside of her right now. But… I think you’ve spent enough staring at this angle of her. Turn around for me, dear, same position.”
You crawl on your hands and knees like a dog about to lie down, settling where you can open your eyes and see Dottore.
And he looks back. He looks right into your eyes. His forehead is shiny with sweat and his hair sticks to it. And all he can do is watch.
“Good girl. Now, let’s put on a show, shall we?”
The mattress dips behind you faster than expected, and Pantalone’s cock prods at your entrance, rubbing back and forth slightly before sinking into you. You gasp as it makes its way in, filling you to the brim. And it stops completely, buried to the hilt with no movement. You move your hips but two pairs of hands now rest on them, warning you not to continue.
“Well? Describe how it feels for our audience.”
“I feel- I feel so full. It’s so big- I- I need you to start moving. Please. Please!”
You’re rewarded with a gentle pace, slow and shallow thrusts driving into your core. The sound is humiliating, brazenly revealing your wetness. Dottore can definitely hear it.
“Faster.” You gasp out.
The difference is so small, but it’s faster nonetheless. “You’re going to have to put on a better performance if you want more.”
“Dottore,” You call out, addressing him personally. “His cock is so big- he- it’s stretching me out so nicely-“
You’re interrupted by the moan you make at Pantalone’s quickening rhythm. You don’t hold anything back, knowing now that louder is better.
“I have to also testify that she’s so tight, Dottore. I don’t envy you right now, stuck over there.” Pantalone breathes. His speech fades as you squeeze around him tighter, trying to milk him for all he’s got. In response he grips your body harder, bruising your sides with his fingertips, and starts slamming into you.
“Just like that.” You gasp. You stare into Dottore’s eyes again, unsure if the expression in them is one of wrath or lust. His mouth is open, rows of pointed, gritted teeth exposed.
“Good girl, taking me so well.”
You end up rocking your hips back slightly, desperate for even more friction as the knot in your loins tightens. A shameless mewl is ripped from you as he hammers into your g-spot, your toes curling behind you.
“I hope you don’t mind that I’m marking her up Dottore,” Pantalone says. You become suddenly aware of the previous locations of his fingertips, red hot against the cold in the room. “Ah… what am I saying? You don’t have a choice.”
You can feel his balls hitting against you as you bury your face into your arms. He fucks into you with an unknown ferocity, leaving you moaning like a bitch in heat.
“Who’s fucking you, darling?” He breathes.
“Pantalone!” You squeal, hands gripping into the bedsheets.
“Look into his eyes, and say my name when you cum.”
Your body reacts immediately to that message and you know your release will come soon. You’re drooling at this point, eyes blank, but you still find it within yourself to redirect your gaze towards the man who is looking more desperate by the second.
And as you follow Pantalone’s final command, your body succumbs to an earth-shattering orgasm that traps you in a realm where time slows, enthralled momentarily within Dottore’s piercing red stare. You keep breathing, moaning, gasping as Pantalone continues to rail you, eventually stopping abruptly when he drags your entire body towards his, fully bottoms out, and empties his hot seed deep inside of you.
With shuddering breaths you start the process of calming down, now struggling to look at Dottore’s face. Instead, you shamelessly look at his clothed dick straining against his pants.
Pantalone finally removes himself, watching as you finally stretch out your legs with a sigh of relief. He makes his way over to Dottore, hand ghosting over the area of interest.
“Now, let’s see. Has our desperate doctor creamed his pants yet, or does he require some… assistance?”
And Dottore doesn’t speak. Doesn’t defend himself as he’s stood up, pants finally tugged down to his ankles as Pantalone inspects him. You prop your head up on your elbows to watch. A slender finger runs over the tip whilst Dottore whines in agitation.
“Just precum. Do you want to cum, Dottore?”
“Badly.” He rasps.
“I see.”
Pantalone rakes a hand through his hair before directing his attention to you.
“We’re not finished, then. Spread your legs, (Y/N). Dottore, go behind her.”
Dottore doesn’t offer any arguments. He just stares.
“The only way I’m letting you cum is while tasting the sex I just had with your assistant. Now move before I change my mind.”
Despite your current exhaustion, something still manages to tingle inside of you at Pantalone’s display of cruelty.
And so, one last time, you spread your legs and this time Dottore’s presence is behind you. He’s awkward, unbalanced as he tries to position himself. You find your eyes on Pantalone as Dottore begins to clean you up, tongue darting so he can taste the leakage of your creampie.
“Collect some. Don’t swallow.”
Pantalone offers you his signature smile. Your eyes roll back as ecstasy begins to spark once more, undoubtedly enjoying the sensation before it’s cut off by Pantalone himself.
“Good enough. Dottore, get up, off the bed. Stand. (Y/N), do the same. Face one another.”
Both of you obey the command immediately. It’s only been an hour, but it feels like Pantalone has made you into his well-trained pets.
Pantalone offers Dottore some assistance with positioning his cock between your legs, right in the crevice of your wet pussy and thighs.
“Don’t put it in, now, Dottore. I don’t want you disturbing my work. You can get off by fucking her thighs.”
Dottore’s hips buck forward, and Pantalone stills him, going behind Dottore and looking into your eyes from behind.
“One last thing. Kiss, and don’t break it off until you both orgasm.”
Your mouths clumsily find each other as Dottore starts to rut against you, creating friction against your clit. You can taste your slick combined with Pantalone’s salty cum, the fluid coating your tongue and dripping out of your lips. Dottore is groaning unashamedly, and you can feel the veins of his shaft rub you in your most sensitive area. It takes surprisingly little time to reach your final orgasm of the night, moaning against Dottore as Pantalone holds him steady. And when Dottore cries your name, knees starting to buckle, cum spurting out the tip of his cock, you can finally remove your mouth from his and breathe.
In through the nose, out through the mouth.
The room smells like sex, and you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to see your bedroom the same way again.
You eventually find yourself beside Dottore on the bed as he stretches his aching arms, Pantalone returning from the bathroom. You can hear the sound of running water coming from down the hall.
“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Pantalone says, looking rather proud of himself.
(Not exactly unearned pride in your eyes, however, distastefully smug)
You look down to the floor in embarrassment, face aflame.
Dottore just groans.
“I’m very pleased with the way both of you performed. I hope we can make similar arrangements in the future. You both look like you enjoyed yourselves.”
Noting- though not caring about- the lack of response, Pantalone continues.
“You can both go in the bath first. It should be ready soon enough.”
When he leaves the room, you rest your head against Dottore’s shoulder, praying silently he won’t squirm away from you.
And he doesn’t. Rather, he leans in, resting his own head against yours.
Thanks again so much to everyone for the comments, likes, reblogs. I'm glad everyone is enjoying this. I'm kind of writing this in installments, so I'm not sure how much more there will be, but I'm always open to suggestions. :)
I took massive liberties on this one in terms of Snezhnaya and Capitano himself. Since he's loosely based on the character from commedia dell'arte, I did try to incorporate that into my thought process of his character. Hopefully nobody minds too much. I'm so sorry if I got it wrong.
Previous Installments:
A Worthy Sacrifice
Spoil of War
Taglist: @that-boi-sus
Warnings: Pre-Release Snezhnaya, Pre-Release Capitano, Slightly Dark, Implied Forced Relationship, Imprisonment, Religious Themes, Implied Non-Con, Implied Forced Drugging, Implied Body Horror, Implied Medical Procedures, 18+, My Bad Writing
Summary: There's nothing bloody or disgusting in this. I kind of allude to it, but it's not descriptive. I wanted to warn people about it just in case though. There really isn't a catchy summary beyond the man, the myth, the nightmare needs to make an appearance and explain himself.
One of the hardest things to do in Snezhnaya was to keep roses. The frigid climate did not lend itself to the fair weather flower. The ground was too hard, the wind too wicked, and the temps far too cold for them to properly thrive. In milder climates, roses could grow outdoors, basking in the warm sun and gentle breeze. They were common, natural, wild even. In the land of winter, locally grown blooms were rare. The requirements to keep them reserved them solely for the wealthiest of Snezhnayan society. To have them was something to be envied. To be able to grow them was something to be admired. To possess a perfect bloom was something that could bring a war to one’s doorstep.
Years of war had brought a unique kind of patience to Capitano. He had learned to ignore the inflammatory remarks made by his opponents. Endless nights spent in stir had taught him to curb his anticipation. Days spent in tiresome negotiations had taught him to check his eagerness. Bloody battles fought over land and sea had taught him to quell his zeal. He had developed a calm within himself that aided him greatly in his rise to prominence. His ability to listen, to watch, and to wait had won him a seat amongst the Tsarista’s chosen few. Capitano’s steadfast demeanor had provided him access to the first fatuus, granting him the honor of being included in Pierro’s inner circle. His capacity to wage war on any level was what had earned him the respect he coveted. Few in Snezhnaya dared to cross him. Fewer still wanted to know him.
To the public, the actual man was a mystery. He enjoyed having the reputation of being a black specter amongst the ice and the snow. Capitano made it no secret that his position as a harbinger was to serve as a warning to all those that challenged the will of the Tsaritsa. To insult her was to invite death to your door. He had more than enough victories to prove that. The heads of his latest victory, your countrymen, still hung from the city gates as proof. Yet with all that he had achieved, he had found it was not enough. A hollowness found it’s way into his soul, filling him to the brim. The quiet of the Snezhnayan court allowed him time to reflect. It was an unwelcome side effect in his rise to power. Pierro preferred that Capitano saw less and less of the battlefield and more of the council room. Citing that Capitano was someone the Fatui could not afford to lose in the midst of battle. That’s what people like Tartaglia were for. Capitano was in many ways, irreplaceable.
If one were to describe him, sentimentality was not something that generally came up. He was a conqueror. He enjoyed the bloodshed of battle. To him there was nothing more honorable than to stand victorious amid the chaos. That didn’t mean that he didn’t carry regrets within him. The things he had done of his own accord and the things he had been asked to do in the name of the Tsarista gradually became a stain that wouldn’t wash off. It echoed off the hollowness that filled him, surrounding him like a cloak as it followed him from place to place, eventually soiling all that he touched. He gradually lost interest in all he enjoyed. He became listless, irritable. The calm in him gave way to the turbulence inside. He sought different hobbies, different interests, but nothing helped. The issue was not one that a simple distraction could fix. He required more.
Eventually Capitano sought Pierro’s counsel. It was a humbling experience for him to admit he was losing a battle with himself, but the Jester understood. He too had seen his fair share of discontentment in his long life. The violent loss of all he held dear by the hands of the gods and the denial of a natural death had filled Pierro with bitterness. He mourned that which he had lost, even to this day. But he didn’t let his grief control him. He had weaponized it instead. Using it as fuel for his war for peace. As a solution to Capitano’s problem, Pierro suggested absolution. The Tsarista had offered it to the first fatuus all those centuries ago. Perhaps she would do the same for Capitano.
The price of his absolution was to spend large amounts of his free time in meditation and prayer within the confines of the Zapolyarny Chapel. It was a useless endeavor to him, as it would do little to correct the problem. But he would do as his Archon commanded. He would think, he would pray, and after enough time, he would be made whole again or so he was told. The experience did nothing for the latter. Day in and day out he was surrounded by feckless souls. They all asked for the same forgiveness as him, but none was ever found. It was almost laughable. There they all sat, waiting for an epiphany that would never come. The only thing that made it tolerable was observing the desperation that came when the weak and the corrupt resigned themselves to the fate that awaited them on the other side.
Capitano came to the conclusion that contrition did not exist in this place. The grand chapel was a stage on which the corrupt could perform for one another. Who could display their piety the best, who could be weakest, who could be the closest to death, who could hold their own righteousness above all. Illusions in his mind. A group of charlatans trying to outdo the other for the benefit of her majesty's benevolence. He made the choice to end his time there. If he was to wash away the darkness, then he was going to have to do it somewhere else. For he would not be made whole here. He walked away, despite the cleric’s insistence that he not. They bemoaned that what he sought was right at hand, but he simply dismissed them. What he sought was not to be found in the church. Empty words would not fill the void within him. Reflection would not purge the stain from him. Only something tangible could do that. The question was what was it? He had money, he had power, he had the respect of those around him and the fear of the rest, yet none of it satisfied him. It left him empty. He didn’t understand. What would it take to make him whole? The answer refused to come, until he met you.
The journey to get to you had been a difficult one. He had begun it not long after he had abandoned his need for the church. Capitano often passed the cloisters on his way to prayer. The sisters that resided there had always paused to stare whenever he passed by. The sight of him was something to take in, especially in the context of him seeking the refuge of the church. They were frail things dressed in white. Their only purpose seemed to be tending the Tsarita’s beloved winter gardens. He had generally paid them no mind, because they weren’t worth his time. He would only offer his respect to the reverend mother if he saw her and that was only out of duty. At the time, Capitano hadn’t realized the insult he had paid them or rather her by ignoring them. How foolish he was to think that she wouldn’t make him regret it.
She liked to perch herself on a window sill, not far from the chapel. Sometimes she would be arranging flowers, other times she would be praying, but the alluring look in her eyes had always been the same. She silently called to all that passed her like a siren, beckoning them closer every time they passed by. He had seen the procession to her side on a daily basis. The guilty would attend to their souls with prayer and their bodies in her bed, if she was so inclined. She wasn’t interested in the weak. She liked strong men, brave men, powerful men. There was one who was above him when it came to power, and he rarely attended church. The ones below him weren’t necessarily her type. Of the inner circle, one was mad for the sake of being mad, the other’s greed would never allow for him to lower himself to her level. He would never dare to share something as valuable as power with her. Neither would allow themselves to be controlled. They didn’t yearn to be whole like he did. They couldn’t be led astray by sweet promises of personal fulfillment. That trick only worked on Capitano. He had resisted her at first, but she refused to allow him the peace of his own mind. She had decided she wanted him and as he learned, she always got what she wanted. When she finally managed to lure him to her side, she asked him to call her Rose.
He sometimes wondered how you would feel about her. Late at night, after he had enjoyed the warmth of your thighs against his cock, his mind would drift to her. He would run his fingers over your soft skin and think back to Rose. Would you hate her if you knew the truth? Would you despise the fact that the only reason you were here at all was because of her lies? Would you curse her more than you likely cursed him for destroying your life? Part of him genuinely wanted to know, if nothing else than to see your reaction. You were so good at denying him that part of yourself. He could have your physical self. He could do what he liked to it. But what laid inside that wonderful mind of yours was a mystery to him. It was forever hidden behind a heavy mask of complete indifference. That mask nearly drove him mad. Others had screamed and sobbed and wailed, but like him, you were ungodly calm. You couldn’t be bribed with earthly desires, because you had no want of them. You were content in your little prison. Content with all he had provided. Even the lack of company had little effect on you. You treated his lack of presence with the same level of indifference that you had everything else. To his astonishment, you had reached the point where you had thrived in it.
To Capitano, one of the most fascinating parts of the whole experience was how his latest interest chose to play his game. All of them hadn’t been as accepting as you. They all resisted him. Some chose to physically fight him to the point that they had to be restrained, others attempted escape by bribing his former servants. Those issues had been easy to fix. A few cast offs bought Capitano access to Pantalone’s connections. He had found architects willing to build a chamber worthy of holding his prizes. Capitano traded a single room, with a simple lock for a magnificent prison surrounded by high walls and a maze of locks. He eliminated his need for his servants by sourcing mechanisms from Fontaine that could do things like maintain the fires, fill the baths, and lift food directly from the kitchen to a dining table within the chamber. For the things that the mechanisms could not do, Sandrone had been all too eager to take those same servants in exchange for the mindless automatons that now roamed his house. For the issues that locks and walls could not fix, Dottore’s skills had proved useful. Medicines were concocted in an attempt to cure them of what the good doctor called their disruptive maladies. Heavy sedatives were employed to calm them or keep them in a dreamless sleep if they would not calm. Capitano wasn’t fond of the latter. What use were they if all they did was sleep? One had proven so difficult that Capitano allowed Dottore to try an experimental procedure called a lobotomy on her. It corrected the issues but did little to improve Capitano’s opinion of her. He soon left her in Dottore’s care, hoping to never see her again. The doctor was happy to oblige.
You however, had given him a run for his money when it came to his little game. Others had been easily distracted, either by their own hand or his. There had been no need to distract you. You possessed the admirable quality of being able to pick up on his rules and follow them without any need for further instruction. It was one of the reasons he had picked you. While most of his men hadn’t paid attention to you constantly observing them, he had. A little bird had been paid well to keep extra tabs on you as your name rose up the list. A friend you had once known well. She traded her spot on the officers auction block for a large bag of Mora and her freedom, all while she sold information about you to him. By the time of your selection, he knew all there was to know about your preferences and your past. It was thrilling to think he held your future in the palm of his hand.
His other reason for taking you had been a far better one. You were wasted in your village. The potential to be more than you were was undeniable. He had seen it just behind your eyes when he had looked at you for the first time. It was the same potential Capitano had spent years trying to find. He refused to see it wasted on someone who would achieve little else in the backwater you called home. Not when you were an arm’s length away and so well priced. Your village being spared was a worthy enough trade to get you. They were fools to think you were only worth that. They could have asked for all of Pantalone’s wealth and he would have gladly given it, such was your effect on him. You consumed him. He would offer you all of Teyvat if he thought it would bring even the hint of a smile to your face. But he knew better. You only ever smiled in your sleep.
Through his own observation, what you wanted from him wasn’t something that could be bought or given. It was something you already had in your possession, something so valuable that you would trade all that you had just to keep it. You wanted to survive. Your will to live sparked a desire to do as he wished, regardless of your own feelings. It was easy to see that your thought process was that if you pleased him the way you believed he wanted to be pleased, that he would reward you for your good work. It wasn’t hard for Capitano to imagine what your request would be in that instance. What a silly notion though. You were his light, why would he ever entertain the idea letting you go?
At some point, I seriously want the traveler to be roaming around Mond with a bottle of Diluc's grape juice and Kaeya is just like WHERE THE $%^& DID YOU GET THAT?! Knowing full well where we got it from. Paimon proceeds to make it worse by bragging about being VIPs at the Dawn Winery and how Diluc treats you to dinner whenever you're there. Oh one time it was storming, and he offered you the spare bedroom.
Kaeya's just like ....THAT DICK
Two days later, Diluc gets a health inspection and a petty note that reads VIP THIS - K
Kaeya: They're making me speak to you. I'll be swinging by in THREE DAYS
Diluc: lul nope bye *Gallivants off with the Traveler*
Adelinde: *Out Of Office Service Engaged*
In all seriousness, I thoroughly enjoyed the event. At some point I hope we get a healing arc similar to what Xiao got. It's clear Diluc is healing on his own, but it would be nice for him to find a level of catharsis with his past.
Him simping for the traveler is seriously adorable. I like that this is the second time he's made sure to be available whenever we're around. I'd like to believe he came back and Adelinde or Elzer were like Oh yea, the traveler was here. They went to look for you. We sent them.... and Diluc just storms out in search of us. They get a letter later that tells them if the traveler shows up DON'T LET THEM LEAVE. Also, cover for me with Kaeya. K THX Bye
stormborns
snowghoul
turnnoffyourmind
tangentwithtanner
ellievsbear
germansingergirl
2087
pixelskylines
kianamaiart
