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but i do think that sandrone would have built a little robot and hid it in dottore's workspace so, if/when he died, she would have first dibs on his stuff. there was also a list of specific things she wanted that pierro found after the robot was done scrounging through the lab
pantalone/gn!merchant!reader, pining, he is down bad, jealous jealous banker, commentary from tartaglia
minors / ageless do not follow
He's been staring for the last five minutes.
You were outside your store, talking with a customer, arms crossed and a smile on your face. Despite the chill in the air, you seemed unbothered, breath fogged and curling like dancing currents as snow starts to gather on your hair.
"You know, most people find it rude to stare," an annoying voice calls out from behind Pantalone. The cigarette in his mouth feels like it sours with Tartaglia's arrival, the carriage tilting as he climbs in. "But knowing who you're staring at, I'm sure they'd be flattered if they were aware."
"I thought your mother raised you to keep to yourself," Pantalone mutters, blowing smoke into Tartaglia's face. He smirks as the younger man coughs and waves it away, but the amusement is short lived as your laugh echoes out. His attention snaps back to you, across the snowy road, and something dark and sickly tightens around his heart and in his stomach. He could get you to laugh like that- he's done it countless times, you're not difficult to amuse, so why is he feeling this way?
"Who's that customer?" Pantalone asks himself, wondering about the dynamic between you and him. He's not your type, presumably, short and lithe like an underfed hare. How is this ... common man making you smile like that, making you laugh like that? The emotions are bubbling and festering inside his ribcage as he watches you both join for a hug. "Childe. Do you have a clue as to who that customer is?"
Pantalone regrets asking, as glancing over to the young man shows amusement and a wide, toothy grin. "Well well," he starts, arms crossed as he settles into the carriage. "I guess I should have assumed you'd be the jealous type."
"What- jealous? Me?" Pantalone laughs, ashing his cigarette with a roll of his eyes. "Never in my four hundred years of living have I been jealous. Do I look like a child?"
"I don't know, comrade, you were looking a little lovesick," Tartaglia sings, leaning over to glance out the frosted window. "Ooh, now they're exchanging letters. You may have a competitor!"
"What," he hisses, shoving the other out of the way and crowding the glass. Embarrassment crawls up his neck immediately, realizing that he fell for the bait laid out: you and the customer were simply exchanging packages. Of course. A simple business transaction, even if seeing your hands touch the stranger's makes his blood boil. Hands he's only gotten to brush in passing, and a stranger is allowed to have a full clasp of palm-to-palm with you? No, absolutely not. "You're an immature brat," he reprimands, smacking the back of Tartaglia's head.
Across the road, you and a customer named Jack gaze at the ornate carriage. "Harbinger business?" He asks, crossing his arms and giving you a knowing look. "Or is this personal business?"
"I'll have you know it's a simple delivery pick-up," You chastise, heart fluttering in your chest. "Absolutely nothing is going on between the Regrator and I."
"I never said there was," Jack sings, grinning wide. "Here, let's see if he's a jealous one or not. I'm going to dust off some snow from your sweater, and you'll tell me if he's pissy when he enters your store. Hm?"
"You want to the ire of a harbinger aimed at you? Be my guest," you huff, but the idea of the Regrator fawning and getting jealous over you... there's a certain feeling at the back of your head that itches for it.
He's still laughing, the imbecile. But his attention is now back to you, snow sticking to your wool sweater (the one you refuse to part from, the one he's offered to replace time and time again). You and this stranger are in deep conversation, and when his hand rises to dust snow off your shoulder, there's a moment where he swears his teeth might shatter from tension. Pantalone gazes from the carriage as you (finally) wave the customer away, waiting around until you deem it time to return to your post behind the counter of your store.
"So are we going into the store or are we done here?" Tartaglia asks, interrupting his moment of peace.
"You are staying here while I go in and retrieve my order of goods," Pantalone scolds, wrapping his coat around his shoulders. "The last thing I need is for you to bumble around and break something. Oh, Celestia, the thought of being in the same space publicly with you is nauseating."
"I'm not that bad! I'll have you know I'm quite the charmer; maybe if I went in with you-"
"Perish the thought," he interrupts, opening the carriage door. He knows there is truth to the Eleventh's statement-- it's not uncommon for letters, gifts, and suitors to appear at the Palace in hopes of his hand or a night on the town. But to be ... wing-manned by him is an entirely different scenario, one he'd appreciate not happening to him. "Now excuse me, I have to figure out who that customer was."
"Jealousy isn't pretty on you, Pantalone!" Is the last thing he hears before the carriage door shuts close.
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reader is technically gender neutral but i was thinking with my dick about homoerotic smoking. quick write up because i needed a break. not properly edited, i need to go to bed.
1.2k words. minors dni.
Fucking rich people.
You stood on the Fontaine balcony, leaned over the balcony. Dressed in black dress pants and a white dress shirt, the only thing that kept you apart from them was simply money. You were the one serving them, and they were the one ordering you. Beneath you, nobles streamed through the streets. Sometimes they were interesting, sometimes they had kink parties you served at. But most times the were boring, schmoozing and trying to one up each other.
Watching them from above was far more preferable, especially after tonight.
A disgruntled grumble caught your attention, and you turned to look for the noise. A fur coat cladded man sat on a bench on the other side of the balcony, heavily covered in jewelries. He likes when everyone knows he's rich, you thought, turning around to watch him. Not that that wasn't abnormal amongst nobles.
But there was something about him. His dark, slightly curled hair with a gray streak, heavy eye bags, a strong nose. Oh, that eyeglass chain would be fun to play with. Twirl it in your finger, ruffle his feathers with how "improper that is" and "you'll break it", request that him show you how to properly treat him. Fuck him senseless in the process. Maybe right here, right now on your break.
His gaze interrupted your thoughts. Fuck, was he a kink party dom? What with that gaze and the... Conceit? Disgust? You couldn't tell. But whatever he had to offer certainly had to be better than what was going on inside.
Boss said you couldn't accept favors or bribes. But those were monetary and didn't include a fuck.
Fortune favors the bold, as they say. You walked over to the man, a spare cigarette in hand. Thank fuck it wasn't crumpled, with how the packet and lighter were in one back pocket. In one smooth motion, you placed it between his lips. Your own gloved hand found his chin, holding him still. Another swift movement, and one was between your lips. Leaning down with your lighter in hand, a flick! echoed between you two and both ends lit up. Pulling it back, you packed both into your back pocket.
His curiosity was catlike. Biting back a smile, he raked his eyes up and down you. A smile grew on your lips around the stick. Oh, this would be a fun night.
Politely, he removed his cigarette. "Bold one, aren't we?" he cooed, voice rich and unfortunately distinctly noble. "Stay a while, why don't you? I think I would enjoy your company."
The man didn't offer much choice. Leather gloved fingers grabbed you by your shirt collar, forcing your head down again. You shrugged, and threw your leg over your lap. He didn't argue when you straddled him and settled on his thighs. In fact, he politely readjusted you, shifting your hips to be closer to his.
Fortune favors the bold, and you were certainly being more bold than usual. You pressed in closer to him, chest hovering above his own. Tobacco, gunmetal, black pepper to try to cover both of them. Oh, a rich rich bastard. Probably just got out of committing some crime. Your arms rested on the balcony, forcing his head back on the railing. Perfect position to mark up his neck.
You would behave for now. He hummed, pleased as you ran your finger up his throat.
The man found your hips and ass, a thumb hooked through your belt loop while the other remained near his lips. A man versed in this song and dance, thank the gods. He pulled the cigarette back out of his lips, letting the ash fall to the street below.
"Shit cigarettes." Wow, smooth talker. "You need to get hand rolled ones."
You laughed, pulling your own out from your lips and following suit. Unhappy complaints echoed throughout the street. "You offering?"
"Entertain me..." A squeeze on your ass, his eyes focused on your currently empty lips. "I only offer to those that deserve it."
Shit. Your core was already throbbing at his voice. Flicking your gaze to the door, you mentally calculated how long you had.
Somewhere along the line, he slipped his other hand under your pant line. Fucking shit, you didn't expect those rings to be so cold as he squeezed your ass. Your lower lip almost bled from how hard you bit it.
"Cold ass rings, huh." You remarked, a shiver going down your spine. Anything to bite back that moan. "You ever get complaints?"
"Oh no, not at all," he responded, chuckling a bit. "I've usually got a pleasant spot to warm them up in by the end of the night. I'm more than happy to show you."
Fuck it. You could discard one half smoked cigarette. Forcing your hand in his own, both of your sticks slipped out and fell to the streets below. Whether someone complained, you couldn't hear. Your lips crashed onto his, him greedily swallowing down your moan. He dismissed your hand, gripping the back of your skull and locking you in place.
His tongue ran over the roof of your mouth, inviting himself deeper inside you. Cigarette smoke and cheap red wine. You wouldn't have it any other way.
Your hand curled into his hair, gripping hard for some form of dominance. The free, more frantic, hand reached down to your belt. You'd had quick enough fucks to make your way around you belt. And he didn't need to say anything, slipping his hand down your front. Long, narrow fingers made for easy work in this situation. You ground onto his hand, desperate to close that gap. More moans rumbled from deep in your chest.
Shit, need a better angle. Can't get enough. Your hand flew down to his, forcing him closer. Teeth clamped down on your bottom lip, now a broken whimper flying out. His lips left yours, forcing your head back to expose your neck. Sharp canines nipped at your delicate skin, pressing against your racing pulse.
Right there, right there, right there, right th-!
"Hey!" your boss shouted from the closed balcony door. "Get your ass out here! Smoke break's over!"
The man removed his hand, and you choked on your cry. A cruel smirk grew on his face, leaning back and forcing a gap between your bodies.
"My, it seems you need to get back to work," he cooed, zipping your pants back up. "And I need another cigarette, it would appear. Maybe a third, after things are finished up. Find me when you're done?"
"Hey, fucker!"
The door knob started rattling, and you threw yourself off of him before you could respond. Heavens knew what he would do if he caught you on a noble. Grumbling out a quick "coming!", you headed back towards the door.
Shit. You felt lighter. You pat your pocket for your cigarettes and lighter, the only thing keeping you going tonight. Frantic, you looked at the floor, figuring they had fallen out.
The man was leaned over on the bench, lighting up another cigarette. Its fire flickered in his predatorial gaze.
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i've been working on my longform dottore x reader piece and needed a brain break. here's my thoughts on the genshin gay body types.
this is based off of real life gay culture of bear, otter, bull, etc. since there are different animals in genshin, i'd figured the gay culture would be a bit different. no, some of these descriptions are not canon to the game. yes, i am a bear fucker and i do tend to lean that way with headcanons.
wolves would be the same. hairy, lean, muscular, but not as big as a bear. wriothesley falls in this category. but the one exception would be a boreas, a massive, very hairy man known for his strength. think varka and wagner. diluc is on his way to be one. this is a mondstadt specific term, but i could see pierro being in this category. varka wanted to see if capitano fell in this category, but was unsuccessful in finding out.
boars are stocky, strongfat guys. levels of hair vary on them, with shroomboar being considered the hairiest. itto falls in this category. diluc is in this category, but is on his way to be a boreas. sumpters are hairless, fat strongmen and is used regionally in sumeru.
dragon is a fairly uncommon body type. tall, slender men that are top heavy with broad shoulders and chests. zhongli, neuvillette, and pantalone all fall under this category. tend to be hairless. there's frequent debate in snezhnaya clubs if pierro falls in this category or not. no one has been able to confirm though.
crane is a lean/athletic/low body fat, typically minimal body hair man. this term can vary from region to region, sometimes called a stork or an ibis. thoma, ayato, baizhu, alhaitham, kaeya, and flins fall under this category.
weasel is the hairy version of a crane. cyno, tighnari, and childe would fall under this category. thoma would fall under this category if he didn't shave.
capybara is a regional specific, natlan term. these tend to be older fat and hairy retired men that frequent the hot springs to go cruising. there's some rumors going around that capitano got labelled a capybara when he was in natlan....
a bake-danuki is an inazuma region specific term and is not a body type. in fact, it refers to a simply playful and teasing gay man or someone who cruises frequently at the hot springs. ayato is the most well-known one.
a puffin is a short, stocky, hairy man from snezhnaya.
fantail as a term has spread out from fontaine. based off of a fantail pigeon, they are feminine, flamboyant men, beloved by drag queens. pillars in their community. trans masc furina is the poster child for this category.
