Genshin Imagines - Blog Posts

One of my favourite characters... 😀😁😂😃😈

honestly just itto angry fucking the reader,, this is it (perhaps a sprinkle of mating season things and size difference) im begging hihihihagdjbak

That is painful to read Anon. Not the request just the way in which you wrote it.

Pairing: Itto x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, mating press, angry sex, biting, size difference, growling, possessive sex, breeding kink, feral!Itto

A/N: God that font and colors hurt my eyes.

Fangs, claws, growls, deep pants, the sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you angerly were all the sensations you could feel right now. Itto was usually not like this. He was always careful, mindful of his strength and size when it came making love to you.

But this wasn't making love. This was fucking. Dirty, animalistic, feral fucking.

"Ya think I don't notice those sorry bastards looking at ya like a piece of meat?" He pushed your legs over his shoulders and pressed down on your hips with his, burying his girthy, big cock into your cunt, "Makin' eyes at ya. It's my fault. I should've done this before. Mated ya properly. Claimed ya as my own the right way."

"I'm already yours Itto." You spoke the truth. You were his since the day you saw his shining smile of victory as he strolled into town after fighting off a bunch of bandits. "They may look at me but you... you're the only one who can do this." You let out a moan against his chest. It rumbled with a deep growl, then a purr as he tried to focus but all he could think about was how good your pussy felt.

"Me. I'm the only one for ya. This little cunt is for my cock only. Mine. Imma claim it too. Claim ya inside and out, for good this time. After tonight every will know you're my woman." You wrapped your arms and legs around his shoulders, adding to the red marks when you dragged your nails across his skin. A sharp pain washed over you, starting at your neck and turning into overwhelming pleasure between your legs, "Need to breed! Breed my mate! Gonna give ya a lot!"

The look in Itto's eyes was distant as he pulled away, the only thought in his head being that of emptying his balls inside of you. One thrust, then two and then half a third and your womb and pussy walls were painted with his creamy seed.

"So good, so good! That pussy's so good! Taking my cum! Here, here, have some more!" He kept thrusting until his cock had no more left to give, until you could no longer feel your legs, could no longer feel anything but the empty ache he left you with when he pulled out, a sea of white cum spilling from your newly breed hole.

This was just day one of his mating season.

These guys are super simps.... :-}

Wedding Night Sex with Genshin Men

Pairing: Kaeya, Diluc, Itto, Childe, Pantalone, Dottore, Zhongli x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, bridal carry, mating press, gentle sex, mating bites, rough sex, torn clothes, wall sex, cunnilingus

A/N: It was between this and arranged marriage. Might do that one another time.

Kaeya, being the gentleman that he is, carries you in his arms through the door, lavishing your face and neck with lots of kisses. However once you're all alone he cannot hold back any longer. He'd had to walk all the way to the bedroom with a semi-boner, that really needs taking care of, and what better way then to bury it inside your pussy for the rest of the night?

Diluc makes sure that your wedding night, like all others, makes you feel special. He takes his sweet time taking off your wedding dress, kissing your body, making you sigh and moan and arch as he puts his mouth on you and gets to have the thing he's secretly been craving this whole time. Forget the damn cake, all he wanted for dessert was your cunt.

Itto could have been parting it up longer but why would he when he had something, no someone better to spend his time and energy on. His beautiful new bride, who he can't wait to mating press into sweet oblivion. Speaking of mating, tonight is the night he finally gets to bite you, make you his, with his fangs, kisses, hard cock thrusting in and out of that pretty, wet pussy, making you come all over his cock and balls right before he fills you up with his own cum.

Childe had a very hard time not teasing you all night before you got to your bedroom. You looked so damn beautiful he could hardly hold back, but he did, if only because he knew you'd give him the best time of his life once you were alone. He couldn't stop touching you, his hands, his mouth, his knee between your legs, his fingers digging into your dress to take it off in a hurry, his pants barely down his legs before he thrust his cock deep and started pounding away.

Pantalone is very patient with you. His cock is almost tearing through his pants but he can wait until you get undressed. He can wait for you to shyly crawl on top of him, straddle his face and part your pussy folds for his skilled tongue. The man could watch you come again and again just from his mouth alone, but alas you need more then that, he knows it, your pussy knows it. He would never deny you on your wedding night. You can still stay on top of him, besides he rather likes to watch your expression as you lose yourself from his cock.

Dottore can't wait for the bed, he's been holding back long enough, smiling through it all. The wall it is, your legs held up, spread just like your cunt, ready for what ever he's going to give you. He will absolutely make is so you can't walk the next day, or even talk from how sore your voice will be from moaning and repeating his name in pleasure.

Zhongli has been waiting to get his hands all over you since he saw you in your wedding dress. You do loo good in it, heavenly even, too bad it stands between him and you. At least until he tears it to tiny shreds with his fangs and claws, unable to hold back from clamming you as his. He's snarling, growling, his horns and tail on full display as he ruts into your pussyhole again and again, making you yell his name so loud it leaves no doubt to whose bride you are.

𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 tartaglia x m!reader — 3.8k words, not proofread, minors do not interact

TO NOTE: amab reader, reader is a dom at first then switches halfway through, reader is mentioned to be wearing lingerie, light feminization (childe says pussy once), use of good boy amongst other pet names, light degradation, praise (for both reader and childe), childe sucks reader's dick, childe also eats reader's ass, cockwarming (childe can't take it LMAO), no aftercare written but it is given, childe licks ur fingers to clean them, mating press, dirty talk. lmk if i missed any!

KAI SAYS: almost 4k words of pure smut haha but like omg i wrote this so late at night with my tip so pls spare me AND!!! this is my return post so...

Tartaglia knows you’re doing it on purpose now, because how can you not be? He whimpers, his cheeks flushing a rosy pink as he feels you clench around him. “Baby, please.” He whines out, nuzzling his face into your neck. “I-I can’t—baby, it’s been thirty minutes.” Thirty minutes he’d been buried to the hilt in you; his dick hard and twitching as it stuffes you full.

Tartaglia whines. He could faintly hear the sound of you taking a deep breath, but that’s not what he was focusing on. No, he was focusing more on the way you squeeze him as you inhale. It was on purpose, he knew you couldn’t just be faking this.

With a deep breath, doing his best to steel his nerves, Tartaglia pressed his thumbs into the joysticks of his console again. “I…” He murmurs softly into the skin of your neck. “I don’ think I can beat this level.”

“No.” You coo in that sickeningly sweet voice of yours. “You can.”

Tartaglia nods his head, your encouragement helping lift his mood somewhat. But, true to his word, he dies yet again. Tartaglia lets out a pathetic whine when he’s greeted with the ‘You Died!’ Screen for the nth time tonight. This bet was made specifically with his torture in mind. You knew he would never beat this level, so to “motivate” him, as you put it, you would sit nice and still on his sensitive cock until he beat it.

“Can’t you move just a little, please.” Tartaglia begs, his dignity long gone. You’re evil for this, he thinks, but all of that is lost when you shift your hips slightly, his mind going blank at just the smallest friction.

He feels his tip bump your prostate, and Tartaglia knows he’s hit it when you moan out, your mouth right by his ear as his fingers press harshly against the buttons of his game console. “P-please!” He whines again. “I-I need you t’move, just a little, just a little, please.”

“Maybe, if you last another thirty minutes, I’ll consider it.” You hum, and Archons Tartaglia thinks he's losing his mind with the way your breath trickles over his ear. “But, if you make it through the level…” Your voice trails off, but Tartaglia knows what you meant.

If he makes it through the level, Tartaglia could finally fuck you. Push you against the bed, wipe that stupid smirk off your face, maybe make you sit on his face until you cry. The options, at least to him, are endless.

You trail your hand over the neck of his shirt, and Tartaglia’s eyes dart from the screen to you. You, all dressed up in your white lace panties and thigh highs, with your chest arched against his chest and here he was, still fully clothed.

Well, only thanks to you.

You, like the cruel man you are, wouldn’t let Tartaglia strip. You’d forced him to watch as you changed, stripping off your pyjamas and slipping on the lace lingerie while he sat there, half sure he was drooling. And then you’d gone and pressed him to the edge of the bed, forcing him to sit as you pulled out his leaking dick, not even bothering to pull his sweats all the way down. Then you sat your pretty hole on his dick, and Tartaglia couldn’t pull his eyes away from the way your ass practically swallowed him whole.

And then, began this whole ordeal of pure torture.

You’re sat on his lap, facing Tartaglia as his arms wrap around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder as he looks over your body and behind you to the console gripped tightly in his hands.

Tartaglia’s eyes dart to you, and they widen as he watches you shift on his dick, your tip forcing its way over the hem of your panties, now drooling pre all over his shirt. Tartaglia squeezes his eyes shut. You press a kiss right under his ear and Tartaglia twitches inside you. You let out a lewd moan and he doesn’t think he can take it anymore.

Not another thirty minutes, or another five.

Tartaglia’s hands shake, and he’s forced to watch his in-game character die again. “Fuck…” He whispers, trying not to roll his hips into your heat. “I… You’re torturing me. Can’t take this.” He whines.

You shake your head. “C’mon, baby.” You coo, using the nickname Tartaglia always uses for you. It sounds almost mocking the way it slips from your pretty lips, but he doesn’t dwell on it. “You might wanna hurry up, or I’ll have to pull out my old dildo to help me…”

No! Tartaglia thinks, and he voices such thoughts with the aggressive shake of his head against you. I can do better than a stupid dildo!

“P-Please don’t.” he says weakly. “I’m trying, I’m trying.” Tartaglia starts to concentrate on his console once again, doing his best to ignore the squeeze of your ass and the warmth of your walls.

Your tip drools pre across his shirt, twitching gently against the fabric. Tartaglia’s mouth waters. He wants to taste you, wants to bury his face between your thighs and lick every drop up. It’s an indulgence he wants to become reality more than anything.

“Can I at least touch you, please?" he asks desperately, gaze not leaving your tip. Tartaglia wants to be closer to you, to have a hand on your soft skin, to play with your dick that was so close to the cumming. He’s ready to do anything in order to make you cum, to feel you pulse around his dick. He’s losing his mind, and the game was the least of his worries. Tartaglia wants you.

"Touch me before you finish the level, and there'll be consequences." You hum. "And trust me, if you think this is bad, just wait until you see what I have in mind." you press your lips gently against Tartaglia’s neck, trailing from his adam's apple to that sweet spot right under his ear. "I'm sure you'd deprive some sick form of enjoyment from that, though."

Tartaglia whimpers at the threat. He doesn’t know what would be worse: the current situation or the punishment you offer. Sick form of enjoyment… His mind echoes. He would most likely enjoy anything you gave him right now.

And like an answer to his prayers, you shift on his dick again. Tartaglia watches as your tip pokes above the fabric of your lace panties, even higher than before. The used-to-be white was now a dark grey with the way your pre had stained and wet through the fabric. Your panties were completely soaked through, the bulge from your dick covered in pre from your leaking tip, poking just above the hem.

Slowly, you tug your dick out of the panties, making sure to slather your fingers in your precum before pressing them against Tartaglia’s lips. "Clean them up." You whisper, and the sound of your voice almost makes him melt.

The instant your fingers press against his lips, Tartaglia is eagerly licking them into his mouth, his tongue swirling your digits around and coating them in his spit. He didn’t hesitate to continue sucking on your fingers, despite knowing they were already clean enough.

“Such an eager boy,” You murmur as you yank your fingers from Tartaglia's lips. There’s a string of drool that connects your hand to his pouty lips as he gives you another pleading look.

“Will you let me touch you now?” He begs, “Please, I’ve been so good for you!” Tartaglia licks his lips, savouring the faint taste of you. He wants more, he wants to grab you by the waist and bury his face between your thighs and suck you off until you’re nothing but a mess inside his mouth.

You bring your fingers back down to your dick, swiping them over your tip and harshly pressing them against Tartaglia’s mouth. “Suck.” You command in a harsh voice, completely ignoring his previous question.

Tartaglia’s lips go back around your fingers again. He doesn’t need to be told twice when you’re the one telling him. He easterly laps at your fingers, ignoring the drool that threatens to spill from the corner of his lips. You press your fingers down against his tongue and he chokes lightly, lifting his blue eyes to meet yours,

When you finally pull your fingers out of his mouth, Tartaglia buries his head into your neck about to ask to touch you again—only for you to beat him to it. “You get two minutes to touch me, but you can only use your hands.” You start. “And, we have to stay in this position. No pulling out or thrusting." You press a kiss against Tartaglia’s lips. "Think of it as... encouragement to finish the level faster."

Tartaglia nods happily at your words, pulling off your neck to get a better view of you. “Thank you—thank you, baby, needed this.” He slurs as his eyes rake down your exposed body before honing in on your sensitive cock. He wishes you’d let him lick that instead of your fingers, but you were clear on your rules for the two minutes.

Tartaglia has two minutes, a whole two minutes to make you feel good. There’s no way he’s let them go to waste.

He wastes no time when the game is finally paused. Tartaglia cups your balls gently, feeling the weight of them in his palm. He massages them slowly, his thumb rubbing up and down the underside of your dick, feeling the warmth and the leaking pre that slipps down your shaft. Tartaglia knows nothing can make you cum in this position, but he can make you squirm, he can tease you.

His other hand wanders up, his fingers ghosting over your skin, drawing circles around your nipples before pinching them gently. He wants to hear you moan, to see you writhe. Tartaglia needs to know he was pleasing you. He gazes at your face, waiting to see a reaction, anything to show that he’s making you feel good.

Your eyes roll back and your dick twitches hard against Tartaglia’s hand. “T-Tartaglia…!” You moan out, your back arching into his chest. Tartaglia’s fingers pull gently at you nipples, tweaking and twisting the nubs between his thumb and pointer finger. Your eyes roll back and Tartaglia whines at the sight, sliding his thumb faster up and down your dick, rolling it over your tip before sliding it against your slit.

He feels your hole clench around his dick, and Tartaglia has to squeeze his eyes shut in concentration to stop himself from bucking into you. He’s about to roll his hand again when it’s suddenly pushed away from your leaking dick. You yank his hands off your nipples too, panting as you do. “Two minutes have passed.” You mumble.

Tartaglia knows you were close from the way you sounded to the way you jerked your hips into his hand. “I’m sorry.” He whines, sounding like he’s carrying the weight of the world in his heart.

With a deep breath, Tartaglia focuses back on the game again, he hopes that this time he’ll finally beat the level. He’s determined, he wants to make you cum, to please you. He needs to win.

You slump against his shoulder, clearly needy. Tartaglia sucks in a breath. You were so close. He thinks. His focus turns back to the game, moving the joystick and pressing the rounded buttons as skillfully as he can manage with you taking his cock to the hilt,

Tartaglia feels you lean forward, your hands dipping under the hem of his shirt. “I wanna see you…” You whine and his face flushes. Tartaglia doesn’t have time to respond before the game console is slipping from his hands and you’re tugging his shirt off his figure.

Another eternity passes as Tartaglia picks up the console once again, doing his best to beat the level. He closes his eyes—just about to give up when the victory music blasts throughout the bedroom. “Finally—fuck, fuck, baby.” Tartaglia groans, tossing the console and pouncing on you.

His lips press against yours, his tongue sliding over your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth. Tartaglia is kissing you harshly, his lips flush against yours as your tongue gently swirls with his.

He pulls away after a minute, both of your faces flushed and panting. “I-I’m sorry it took me so long.” Tartaglia apologizes. He wants to please you, make you cum, see you lose control just because of him. He was desperate to feel you squirm against him, he wants to see the way your face would twist in pleasure when he fucks you just right.

Tartaglia slowly pulls out, hissing as he leaves your comforting warmth and is met with the harsh, cold outside air.

“Let me take you, please…” He begs, his eyes filled with desire and the need to have you. Tartaglia wanted you—no, needed you. His hand wanders back to your dick, wrapping his palm around your shaft and quickly jerking you up and down at a messy pace.

Tartaglia would do anything to have you come undone on his dick.

“Uh-huh.” You whine, and Tartaglia thinks it’s cute how all your confidence diminishes the instant you're offered some dick.

He watches you twist your body to lay flat against the bed on your back. Slowly, your legs splay into the air before you pull them back and bend them at your knees. Your ass, all empty and clenching around nothing, is now fully exposed to Tartaglia. Your hole is stretched already, from the much too long of a time you spent just sitting on his dick. Your own cock lays across your tummy, twitching and drooling uselessly,

Tartaglia sucks in a breath at the sight of your hole. His dick is throbbing at the sight, pressing angrily against his tummy, so hard and needy. He wants to do nothing more than bury himself inside you, to feel your warm muscle clench around him once more.

Slowly, he lowers himself into a kneeling position right in front of you. Tartaglia dips his head to your ass, pressing light kisses across the curve of your thighs. He trails his mouth down to your dick, taking the tip into his mouth. His eyes roll back at the feeling of finally having you in his mouth. Tartaglia sucks harshly, bobbing his head up and down your length. He runs his tongue over the underside of your shaft.

Tartaglia swirls his tongue around your overly sensitive tip, watching and depriving pure enjoyment of the way your hips buck into his mouth messily. You throw an arm over your face, trying to muffle your breathless moans and flushed face. Tartaglia gives you a harsh suck for warning, letting you know that if you don’t remove your hand now, things would get worse.

You, of course, comply, pushing your hand to the sheets and clenching them in your fist.

Tartaglia hums happily, the vibrations travelling across your shaft. He feels you twitch in his mouth and your legs thrash beside his head, squeezing and pulsing by his ears as he goes faster, making sure to let the drool spill from his lips as he moves his head.

Tartaglia pushes his lips down to your base bringing a hand to fondle your balls gently and you whine, your back arching off the bed. Your hand goes to tangle itself into Tartaglia’s hair, pushing your dick deeper down his throat. “I—holy shit—I’m c-close!” You whine, and that was enough of a signal to pull off your dick.

Tartaglia smears kisses across your ass, ignoring your desperate whines and cries, before eventually leading to your puffy hole, all nice and stretched for him. He’s quick to bury his mouth against you, already feeling his brain go mushy at the feeling. His tongue slips into you easily, and you whine at the feeling.

Tartaglia fucks his tongue into you with great fervour, not even caring for his hard dick. All he can think about is the taste of you on his tongue, the way your hole clenches down so nicely against his mouth and those sweet, sweet moans of: “M-More, please, need you so bad!” That slip from your lips and get his hips rocking his dick into the side of the mattress.

Tartaglia’s tongue pushes and prods into you, again and again until he hears you moan loudly. His eyes dart up, barely able to catch the way your back arches. Your legs shake around him yet again, your thighs squeezing around his ears, which only drives him to thrust his tongue into you further. Drool slips down his chin, but he doesn’t care, all he wants is to taste you again, and again, because, fuck, if he died right here, between your thighs, he would die a happy man.

“Right there!” You cry, Your legs threatening to squeeze tightly on Tartaglia’s head. He pushes his tongue in again, thrusting it in and out of your hole with a scary precision, making sure he hits your prostate every time.

“O-Oh, my—fuck, can’t take it!” You whine and he smirks against your tightening hole. “I need you, please, please, please, pleasepleaseplease!” You’re a complete mess, babbling nonsense as he eats you out, eyes rolling back and legs shaking in ecstasy,

All it took was him shoving a finger in, curling it in time with his tongue, for you to cum. Tartaglia eagerly pulls off your ass, watching as your dick twitches against your tummy and ropes of cum shoot from your member. He waits until you're finished before pressing his face against the mess you just made and licking it clean.

Tartaglia looks up at you from his position against your belly. “I….” He whines. “I’m still hard.” He gives an apologetic smile before going back to his first position in front of the bed, this time standing up. He lifts your collapsed legs, throwing them over his shoulders as he slaps his cock beside your limp one.

As quickly as he can, Tartaglia grabs the bottle of lube from the nightstand and smears it all over his shaft. “Help me out, pretty boy.” He whines and you whimper at the nickname. Slowly, you push yourself onto your elbows just enough to push your hand to his dick and help him spread the lube.

Tartaglia doesn’t even bother to continue once you start, only throwing his head back with a loud groan. “That’s it, o-oh, archons you’re good at this.” His eyes squeeze shut and Tartaglia has to stop himself from cumming on the spot for the nth time tonight. He doesn’t even bother to lube your hole, only murmuring a sweet, “This pussies wet enough for me, right?” before he’s pressing a messy kiss to your neck.

“Not a pussy.” You slur, but he doesn't take any mind.

“D-Don’t worry, baby.” Tartaglia coos as he presses his thick tip against your weak hole. “Promise it’ll feel so good…” He wants to be inside you, to make you come again and again.

And suddenly, he’s halfway in, the thick of Tartaglia’s shaft being swallowed almost whole by your pretty ass was almost enough to make him cum right then and there. You whine lowly, back instinctively arching into him, forcing yourself deeper onto his dick.

“Fuck, baby, look what you do t’me.” He groans, pulling out so it’s just his tip stuck in your pretty, clenching hole. Tartaglia fucks his tip into you, watching it messily slide out then in, then out then in, over and over again until he can’t take it anymore and can’t help but want more.

Tartaglia—like the pathetic man he knows he is—can’t take it anymore. He pushes in fully, but just before he does, spits a large glob of drool from his lips to the tip of your spent cock watching it twitch under the feeling. He laughs, watching your dick twitch back to life. “And to think you get off to me spitting on you.” He murmurs, before finally thrusting in fully, in one, harsh movement.

The moan you let out is so pretty and high, and Tartaglia can feel his balls grow heavy at the sound. Your voice isn’t nearly as loud as the lewd squelch of his dick pressing in, in, in and against your prostate, his tip knocking easily at it.

Tartaglia pistons his hips into you, basking in the moans and pleas for “more, more, more!” that slipped from your pretty lips. He’s pounding into you, and Tartaglia watches your head fall back against the pillow. Your hands shake as you desperately reach out to grab onto the sheets for leverage as he pushes your legs up, leaning down onto your body as he forces you into a mating press.

And, oh, Tartaglia feels like he just slipped so much deeper into you, and with the way your walls squeeze and clench and you moan his name like a mantra—Tartaglia is sure he’s just died and reached heaven.

His thrusts start to lose their rhythm, but they still manage to fill you up so much that, before Tartaglia can process what’s happening, you're crying out, your ass clenching so tightly against him he thinks he sees stars.

“I—I’m close, ‘m so close!” You cry and Tartaglia can’t help but bury his face into your neck as he thrust into your ass.

“Me too, baby.” He whimpers out. Tartaglia reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers with his much larger ones, before letting out a loud moan. “Together, please, baby, cum together.”

And you’re eagerly nodding your head, a mix of “yes” and “please” leaving your lips. Tartaglia isn’t even pulling out anymore, just knocking his hips against yours—no rhythm or pattern, just instinct as he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Cummin’ o-oh—fuck!” You whine and Tartaglia instantly does too, feeling the way your dick spurts thick ropes of white onto your chest and his only drives him to the edge. He buries himself as deep as he can before collapsing onto you, pressing his full weight onto his hips. Tartaglia shoots a thick load of his seed into your awaiting hole, whining in content as he feels you milk his cock, squeezing down on him.

You’re panting, laying on the bed with Tartaglia pressed on top of you. His arms snake around your waist, tugging and twisting your connected bodies so that he’s spooning you, his chin resting on top of you’re head.

After a minute of rest, Tartaglia’s arms squeeze around your waist. “Love you, so much.” He murmurs tiredly.

“Promise?” You giggle back, despite the feeling of your exhaustion weighing heavy on your eyelids.

“Always an’ forever.” Tartaglia whispers sweetly. His arms encircle your waist, pulling you closer as the two of you bask in the afterglow in each other’s arms. “I’ll love you, always and forever.”

© KISSENTURINE. do not translate, plagiarize, edit, or repost

𝐒𝐦𝟎𝐤!𝐧𝐠 𝐍𝟒𝐤𝐮 𝐰𝟑𝟑𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝟎𝐦!𝟑

The smell of weed filled the air, as dreams flew out the window. Kazuha had given up hope, ever since his friend had passed away, so he decided to get high to hopefully make his worries go away.

His eyes were red from crying, and from smoking.

He wrapped the naku weed in pieces of his poetry.

His plan was to get out of this damned nation with Tomo. However, the Raiden shogun had a change of plans; so did him..

He heard something behind him; but he honestly didn't give a shit anymore. Standing behind him was a short man, with choppy indigo hair, and a large hat. He sat himself across from him.

The man picked up the purple weeds, and curiously looked at them. "Know how to do it?" Kazuha asked. He shook his head. He grabbed the one in his hand and grabbed a piece of papers. Crushing it, then rolling it up.

"Then you light the tip and inhale." He showed him how to do it, carefully guiding his hands.

"There you go!" He cheered.

The men smoked for hours on end.

"My co-workers are such assholes! Can't even do they're damn job right.." The indigo complained. Kazuha listened to the man's tales about his boss, and how he worked with idiots. He had some sympathy for him.

"What are you doing out here anyway?" He asked. "The fucking shogun killed my friend, so I'm just out here mopingg." He gritted his teeth. "Oh don't get me started on that bitch, she's a fucking pussy, won't even leave her little safe place and sends her puppet to do everything for her!"

"I like you purple boy, what's your name?" "Kunikuzushi, what's yours weed boy?" "Kaedehara Kazuha, but you can call me Kazuha."

"Let's do this again, sometime." Kunikuzushi shook his hand.

Kazuha blacked out for most of the night, when he woke up, the man was gone.

This was so good...!! (I already imagine how elegant reader and wrio looked :'D)

Oh, the man he is... (Wriothesley x Reader)

Wriothesley x fem!reader; fluff, shared feelings, implied mutual pining or some sorts + Sigewinne, Furina, Neuvillette appeared as cameos!

You had agreed to extend your work in the Fortress, much to Wriothesley’s delight. However, recently, he found it harder and harder to spend time with you, and it left him feeling restless.

((The story is a sequel of my previous fic here! Although you can always read it separately, the build-up is somewhat connected to the previous one))

Words: 3.1k

Notes: 

I’ve always wanted to do the continuation of my previous stories, but I clearly went overboard for this one since I didn’t plan this to be this long. But, I mean, it’s Wriothesley, who could resist? ;) and don't judge the title pls HELP

Enjoy the story!

•~•~•~•

No, Wriothesley wasn't a jealous man.

As a responsible warden of the fortress, he remained focused on his professional duties, fully acknowledging the demands they entailed.

However, ever since you’ve agreed to extend your work at the Fortress of Meropide—with Neuvillette’s permission, of course, Wriothesley had unconsciously developed a habit of seeking you out—whether it was to hand you some documents or simply to ask about your day. 

Yet, it had been a week since he had a proper conversation with you, since the conflicting work schedules you two had left little time to spend with each other. And somehow, it was starting to bother Wriothesley more than it should. 

Wriothesley exhaled as he stood up from his office seat, leaving piles of documents sprawled on his desk. Despite his usual preference for lunching in his office, he found himself walking towards the cafeteria.

As he approached the bustling cafeteria, his hopes lifted momentarily when he saw you already seated, only to deflate when he spotted you already seated… with another young man in front of you. 

Oh. He thought to himself.

In that moment, he recalled that your latest work involved cooperation with some of the fortress’ members. Right, it was business matters and he’s the Duke of Meropide, he got nothing to worry about, right? 

So, he greeted you, asked about your day, and went back to his office.

•~•~•~•

Wriothesley surely wasn’t a jealous man...

Another day, he discovered that you were done for the day as your work for the day was finished. He was just about to step out of his office to search for you when, to his surprise, you appeared right in front of the office doors. What luck, he thought to himself. However, your sheepish smile hinted at something else.

“Oh, hi, um— I’m here to tell you that I won’t be here for the weekend.”

His plans to ask you out crumbled inside his head.

“Oh, you got called in by the court?”

“No, but I’ve got other things to do,” you replied as you gave him an apologetic smile. “Is that okay?”

Well, he couldn't just outright refuse; after all, you deserved a break too. However, his mind raced, wondering about the nature of the 'other things' you had mentioned. Was it work-related? Or perhaps it was something more private?

"Of course, don’t worry about it," Wriothesley reassured you with a smile, trying to bury his own thoughts as he mentally cursed himself for his train of thought. "I'll see you next Monday then."

You thanked him and went off. He sighed, hoping that you would be available for the weekend so he could at least ask you out. But for now, he would have to wait.

•~•~•~•

Wriothesley definitely wasn’t the jealous type... or so he believed.

But lately, he couldn't shake this nagging feeling of restlessness. You seemed busier than ever, going back and forth between the surface and the fortress. And, to make matters worse, you were spending less time with him compared to a certain assistant. This young man had been assisting you in the latest case at the fortress, and he seemed to be handling it well. In fact, it was Wriothesley himself who suggested you to appoint an assistant in order to lighten your workload—as you seemed to have some business to take care of on the surface, only to find himself now competing for your attention.

It was like his own idea to help you had turned against him, backfiring in the most frustratingly ironic way possible. 

Massaging his temples, Wriothesley groaned as his thoughts swirled in his head.

“Feeling unwell, Your Grace?” Sigewinne's soft and cheery voice interrupted his brooding as she entered his office, carrying documents from the infirmary.

“Oh, Sigewinne, it’s nothing,” Wriothesley exhaled. “Thanks for the documents though.”

“If you’re wondering about y/n, she’s already gone to the surface,” Sigewinne said softly, yet, her tone masking a hint of mischief.

Wriothesley sighed in defeat. “Right, the event tomorrow. I figured she'd be attending.”

“Didn't she tell you?” Sigewinne asked innocently.

Oof.

Wriothesley fell silent, then replied, “No, but I had a hunch.”

“I saw her heading to the surface with Antonio—the assistant, did I get his name right? I heard there’s a ball in the event, right? Maybe they’re preparing for it,” Sigewinne added, her smile widening just a bit, her eyes anticipating his reaction. 

Wriothesley lifted his head to stare at Sigewinne, at a loss for words.

Wait, were you actually planning on dancing together with Antonio?

She giggled innocently at his reaction before continuing.

“But you’ll be there too, Your Grace. And for security reasons, I don’t see any problem,” she chirped, her amusement evident in her voice.

With a grumble, Wriothesley stood up and headed straight to his room. “Security reasons, right… I’ll need to think about tomorrow's outfit then…”

Sigewinne watched him go, giggling softly to herself.

“Racing hearts, rising blood pressure, uneasiness. Yep, those are the physical symptoms of jealousy, alright,” Sigewinne mused to herself.

“Human emotions are truly interesting.”

•~•~•~•

You stared at the dress laying on top of your bed at your dwelling in the surface, mentally preparing yourself up with confidence to wear it for the event tomorrow. In fact, Furina had picked the dress together with you. Classy, beautiful, drop-dead gorgeous; was what she commented. But honestly, when was the last time you'd slipped into something so elegant? 

As you lay back on your bed, your mind wandered over the events of the past few weeks.

--few weeks before--

“A… ball, you said?” 

"Yes, in fact, Lady Furina will be hosting the event. And we are expected to attend as representatives from the court," Neuvillette explained, his tone as flat as ever. Beside him, Lady Furina nodded eagerly. “The ball will pose as the closing ceremony.”

"Ah, I see... so the event about three weeks away," you replied, your confidence faltering slightly. "To be honest, I'm not exactly skilled at dancing..."

"Oh, nonsense! A Fontainian lady must know how to dance!" Lady Furina interjected, her voice brimming with determination. "Fear not! I'll personally train you at least twice a week until the ball. How does that sound?"

You swallowed nervously, anticipating her rigorous training methods. You glanced to Neuvillette, only to found him nodding in agreement. 

"Um... alright, thank you for the offer, Lady Furina. I'll try to make time during the weekends."

"Excellent! It's settled then!" Lady Furina exclaimed with a wide smile, her hand clasped in front of his chest. "Meet me in front of my house this weekend!"

You closed your eyes, recalling the training sessions with Furina as you tried to gather your confidence for tomorrow. Although you could safely say you were doing okay-ish with the training, your mind kept wandering back to a certain man in the fortress, leaving you longing for the interactions you shared with him.

•~•~•~•

The next evening, the venue began to fill with people, the atmosphere bustling with liveliness. You positioned yourself near the Palais Mermonia members, keeping Neuvillette in your sight as you glanced over at Furina, who was already engaged in conversation with other people.

As you talked with various guests, your thoughts often drifted to whether Wriothesley would attend the ball. The idea of dancing with him crossed your mind, but so far, he was nowhere to be seen.

Come to think of it, you hadn’t told him a thing about your secret dancing lessons. 

“You haven’t found a dance partner??” Furina's panicked tone was evident as she approached you, her arm linked with Neuvillette's, signaling that they would dance together. 

“Um, well, not yet…” you mumbled, feeling a bit flustered.

“Oh, my! I won’t allow you wasting your skills today! Let me see…”

Furina pondered for a moment before suggesting a few Palais Mermonia attendees as potential partners. However, none of them really piqued your interest. If you want someone, it would be– 

“Wriothesley is also attending this event too, in case you are wondering,” Neuvillette added suddenly, catching you off guard.

Your eyes widened slightly at the unexpected mention of Wriothesley's presence. You knew Neuvillette must be offering his personal opinion, perhaps based on his own observation of your close working relationship with the Duke, in addition with Wriothesley's request to extend your stay at the fortress. However, the comment had caught you off guard, and you went silent, a faint blush tinting your cheeks as you hid your excitement.

But your reaction had caught Furina’s attention as her smile turned into a mischievous grin. “Ah, the Duke of Meropide! How could I forget?” she exclaimed dramatically, holding her hand up to her face. “I saw him near the gardens earlier. You should go check him out!”

Although you realized her attempt on teasing you, you found yourself nodding hastily and made your way outside to the place she had mentioned. 

“And the ball is starting in fifteen—!” Furina added rather enthusiastically, her voice trailing behind you. 

And so, you went outside. The atmosphere was less crowded than indoors, but there were still plenty of people mingling about. You paced around in search of Wriothesley when suddenly, a young man intercepted you from the side, introducing himself.

“Good evening, m’lady. You're as lovely as a fresh rainbow rose. Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

“Thank you, but I’m actually looking for someone…” you began, trying to politely decline.

“A dance partner, perhaps?” he persisted, holding out a real rainbow rose this time.

“I’m sorry, but I really should— ,“ you attempted to excuse yourself, but he wasn't taking the hint.

“The ball's starting soon. It'd be a shame not to enjoy a dance with such a beautiful lady…”

Feeling pressured but unable to escape his persistence, you were about to step away, but a reassuring hand suddenly clasped your waist, holding you close from the side.

“The lady clearly indicated she wasn't interested.”

Relief flooded through you as you immediately recognized the voice. Looking up, you saw Wriothesley standing with a polite – or perhaps, intimidating – smile on his face, standing rather menacingly in front of the persistent man. The young man went off immediately, clearly taking Wriothesley’s cue.

After the man had hurriedly retreated, Wriothesley released his arm from your waist and turned towards you, his gaze lingering for a moment, a small smile playing on his lips as he took time to admire your delightful appearance. He then bowed slightly towards you, lifting your hand with a gentle touch and pressed a small kiss to the back of it.

“M’lady,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. 

You were stunned by his gentlemanly gesture, as you just felt a flutter of butterflies inside your stomach. “Wriothesley…” You found yourself momentarily at a loss for words, struck by how incredibly charming he appeared in his formal attire.

“You look stunning,” he complimented, his warm gaze met yours, a stark contrast to the coolness of his icy-colored eyes. You shyly thanked him for his kind words, feeling a warmth spreading through you at his sincere compliment.

As the two of you were lost in the brief moment of admiring each other, he cleared his throat, subtly regaining his composure as he glanced around. “…Are you perhaps, waiting for someone?” he asked as his curiosity piqued. 

“Oh, well, I was…”

Wriothesley immediately caught onto your choice of words.

“You… were?”

“Mhm, but not anymore,” you replied with a warm, sheepish smile.

A hint of confusion flickered across Wriothesley's face, his thoughts momentarily jumbled. Wait, so you weren't waiting for Antonio, which meant…

You sensed his slow realization and couldn't help but let out a small laugh as you added, “You, Wriothesley. You’re the one I’ve been searching for.”

Your words came out cheesier than intended, and you felt a blush creeping up your cheeks as you scrambled to explain. But Wriothesley did not seem to care as his smile grew wider. It was what he had hoped to hear. 

But then, before he could say anything, your attention shifted to the direction of the building, with the music began playing from inside the hall, signaling that the ball had already begun as people started flocking into the building.  

Observing the dwindling crowd, Wriothesley turned to look at you. “As much as I want to dance with you, I don’t think we’ll make it in time inside.”

You returned his smile at his eagerness to dance with you. You looked around, taking in the serene atmosphere of the nearly empty garden. “It’s fine. Instead… I’d hate to miss the beauty of the moon tonight.”

He gave you an affectionate smile as he seemed to understood the hint, and extended his arm towards you. “Well then, m’lady, may I have the honor of a dance?”

With a nod, you gladly accepted his hand. “Of course, Your Grace,” you replied, earning a small chuckle from him at your sudden formality.

As the music played softly in the background and the moon cast its gentle glow upon you, you and Wriothesley began to dance. The waltz you had practiced with Furina proved its worth as you both moved gracefully under the enchanting night sky. You realized that you had been longing for his company for this whole time.

As you danced, you became acutely aware of the close proximity between you and Wriothesley. Your faces were just inches apart, and his eyes seemed to be locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. His hand rested firmly on your back, providing a reassuring support, while the other held yours with a gentle yet firm grip. 

“You dance well,” you whispered softly, breaking the silence.

“I could say the same about you,” he hummed, his eyes affectionately locked on yours as you two transitioned into a slower dance. “Have you been practicing in secret? Or were you just naturally gifted?”

You gave a small laugh at his remark. “Actually…” You paused, shying away for a bit. “I’ve been attending dance lessons with Lady Furina these past few weeks.”

“Oh? Is that why you've been going back and forth to the surface?” 

“Mostly, yeah, since I agreed to return her favor,” you explained with a sheepish grin. “But she also roped me into helping compile some data for this event. I must thank you for offering me appointing an assistant to help with the job though. He really did his job well.”

“Wait, I thought he’s also coming to this event?” He stopped the slow dance momentarily, still holding you in his arms as he processed the new information.

“Antonio? No, he’s taking care of my duties today in the fortress, as I instructed him yesterday.”

Wriothesley went silent as everything seemed to click inside his mind, a chuckle escaping his lips, amused by his own thoughts. You looked at him in confusion, but he waved off your concern with a dismissive smile.

“Never mind, it’s not the time to dwell on petty things,” he said, his focus returning to you. “I don’t want to spoil the moment dancing with you tonight.”

You stared at him for a second, before nodding in agreement, letting go of any lingering questions inside you as you both resumed your dance under the enchanting moonlight. It felt like you were dancing without a care in the world, lost in each other’s embrace.

As the song reached its conclusion, you both stopped gracefully, locked in a gaze neither of you wanted to break. A warm smile played on your lips as you looked into his eyes, feeling the warmth of his gaze that he returned to you.

In that fleeting moment, as the night air wrapped around you like a gentle caress, there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere. His eyes began to flicker between your lips and your eyes. You were ready to surrender yourself into the silent invitation as you slowly leaned forwards, feeling his breath brush against your skin as your noses almost touching.

Seeing you responded to his silent cue, a faint smile tugged at the corners of Wriothesley's lips as he too began to close the gap between you, inching closer. Finally, his lips met yours as he kissed you gently, sealing the moment carefully with a tender embrace.

Despite your racing heartbeat, you melted into his soft kiss, feeling his hand cupping your cheek gently that made your heart flutter. As the air around you seemed to grow warmer with the intensity of the moment, you pulled back slightly, needing a moment to catch your breath. Your cheeks flushed with a rosy hue as you met his gaze with half-lidded eyes, the heat of the moment still lingering between you.

He leaned in closer, as if to pull you into another kiss, but then abruptly halted, his body rigid as his eyes widened slightly. He then quickly turned his head to the side facing the bushes, while his hand remained protectively on your waist.

“Who’s there?” he asked, his voice a bit demanding.

Slowly, a small figure behind starting to emerge behind the bushes, revealing Sigewinne who slowly tiptoed out.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Your Grace, I thought I was hiding well,” she said with a sheepish smile. “I didn’t want to bother, so I waited.”

Wriothesley immediately released his hand from your waist, bringing it to his face to hide his embarrassment. “Ah, it’s you…, what brings you here?”

“Monsieur Neuvillette was searching for you, and I happened to spot you here,” she explained, her tone light and playful. 

Wriothesley let out an exasperated sigh, his hand falling to his side. “Right.”

Then, Sigewinne glanced at you with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Looks like your jealousy was a tad unnecessary, Your Grace,” she teased.

“Huh, where did that come from?” Wriothesley responded with a bemused expression.

You stood there, momentarily stunned, before Sigewinne’s words finally sank in. “…Jealous? Of whom?” you asked, glancing between them in confusion, before it dawned on you as you recalled your lingering questions from your mind.

Wait…could it be? 

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as Sigewinne continued, “Ah, you see, this big man was actually jealous that new assis–”

“Ugh, spare me…” Wriothesley groaned, turning to walk away, not wanting to hear the rest of Sigewinne’s teasing. You laughed softly as you followed behind with Sigewinne as she started to explain her observationsfrom the past few weeks.

As you walked, you caught Wriothesley stealing a glance back at the two of you, a playful smirk tugged on his lips. It seemed like he was content with how things had turned out.

And so, the rest of the night unfolded with cheers and laughter, with everyone by your side. Despite the lingering feeling of a certain unfinished business, you couldn't wipe the smile from your face for the entire night.

After all, you now know that the feelings were mutual, right?

A moment with you

just a scenario of you and diluc being all lovey-dovey

(my first time writing something like this so go easy on me <3)

Diluc

Being with Diluc makes you feel like a princess, He's the type to compliment you even with the smallest things. Sure, it makes your heart flutter whenever he goes out of his way to stare at you and tell you what he loves about you every day. It never gets boring. Maybe it's because he does it? You have no idea, but you like that he does what he does anyway

"Hi love, good morning". You hear diluc say when you wake up in the morning, how nice it is to have someone like him greet you in the morning?

"Mhm morning". As those words slip out, his hands slip onto my waist to pull me in for a hug, he always does this. Every morning, its like a routine for the both of you. He plants kisses on your neck and tells you how good you smell in the morning.

"You smell good love". He says as he continues to pepper you with kisses. Kisses that you would never get tired of, and you laugh

"Yeah? What do i smell like?". You ask as he always says you smell good but never really elaborating any further.

"Smells like home". He whispered softly and you almost missed it. You laugh and tease him as he will only ever show this side of himself to you. Sure it may be corny or cringy but you wouldn't want it any other way. After all, you consider him your home as well.

A/N: This is so cringe, but hopefully I'll be able to write more in the future, no fluff anymore though HAHAHAHA

Collage AU! Diluc x Y/N

Collage AU! Diluc x Y/N

Note: I am not a writer, this is simply just for fun or to pass the time. If I put the punctuation incorrectly, make spelling errors, Bad grammar, or the format is off that is why.

Y/N for this story: Non-binary

Warnings: Non since ya” ll ignore me

Contains: Fluff, pet names, authors’ easter eggs

• • • ✎ • • •

-You guys became partners for a project and you were not on board at first but after you talked to him and listened to his suggestions it felt nice, you’ve heard rumors about him from a handful of people and you felt a bit bad believing the rumors.

-He recommended doing the project at a café and you agreed, both of you exchanged numbers and said your farewell to each other and went on with your day, once the day you agreed on the date of the making of the project you went to the café called “Angel’s mocha café”, once you entered the café you started to look for Diluc, seeing you, he waved to know where he was. After settling down and having a little chat, you excused yourself to buy yourself [insert favorite coffee], he nodded and you went to the counter to order, after ordering you returned to your seat and started doing the project.

-You both were doing your work quietly. Sometimes you ask him for his suggestion and he gives you some suggestions after you both are done you let out a sigh and stretch a little and he looked away you were confused but decided to ignore it. You asked if he could stay a little to chat before leaving. He was hesitant at first but he agreed.

-You talked about your interests and in return, you also learned of his interests tho he listened more, you didn’t mind it was nice having someone listen to you while you talked, you talked and talked until you lost track of time, once you noticed the time you apologized for keeping him in the café for so long, but he said he had a good time. You blushed at his words and tried to hide it

“Sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?”

“Oh no no i-it’s uh…fine really I didn’t mind”

“That’s good I was worried if I did”

-After that, you walked out of the café together and before you bid your farewells he asked if you were up for a coffee again at the same place and same time, you agreed and went back to your dorms/homes.

-After a week or so of getting coffee with Diluc you both started talking after classes, going to the park with each other, and even went to the movies, you fell for Diluc it was hard to keep a straight face when he’s next to you and in return, he also left hints he liked you but you chose to ignore it.

-The time came when you finally told your feelings to him and he also told his feelings to you, he took your hand and kissed your fingers and your face was flushed he laughed a little and put the palm of your hand on his cheek and kept kissing it you covered your face with your free hand while blushing profusely.

-After that you guys started dating which has the perks of Diluc tutoring you with subjects you struggle with, the two of you cuddling in your dorm, getting lunch together, and one time going to a beach party Jean invited the two of you.

-He’ll start calling you pet names like Darling, Love, Beloved, Hun bun, etc. And he’ll just see your face flushed and he’d laugh a little

-Diluc introduced you to some of his friends (like Jean, amber, Lumine, Aether) and introduced you as his partner, and made sure he’d say your pronouns if anyone ever say something bad to you like “you look like a boy so you should use he/him” or “You’re using they and them wrong” or even “There are only 2 genders” he’d step in and tell them off or just threaten them. After the people leave he’d hug and say sweet things to you like “don’t listen to them it’s not their life it's yours” or something like “you are you don’t let people tell you what you should and shouldn’t be” and give you kisses to make you feel better.

• • • ✎ • • •

Authur: HEYA! The name angel’s mocha café is my idea for my OC’s story I wanted to add a bit of an easter egg here because I can ಥ∀ಥ

Some harbinger game night hcs cuz why not??

Pierro- I just know this man would be a god at basic games like chess and checkers

Dottore seems like the type of person who would have an amazing poker face or would eat uno cards

Capitano is just happy to be there at this point

Arcleccino would throw hands 1000% when something doesn’t go her way

Columbia prob needs her beauty sleep

Pulchinella is there to make sure they don’t kill one another

Sandrone secretly messes with games so she wins

Scaramouche will do whatever it takes for him to win 100%

Pant alone is good at monopoly (I don’t make the rules)

Signora is done with all the harbingers

Genshin boys on Halloween 🎃

I know Halloween was like 3 days ago but this was in my drafts and I forgot to post it 😭

Warnings: nothing! Crack and fluff(?)

Characters: Diluc, Childe, Itto, Xiao, Cyno, Dottore

Diluc

He is definitely not celebrating. End of story.

Prob forgot that it was Halloween ngl until Klee came and asked for candy 😭

No amount of mora could convince him to dress up

Man is boring 🙁

Childe

1000% going all out

He’s never experienced this as a child so he’s really excited!

Would dress up as a funny or hot costume. No in between

Like a banana costume or would wear his normal outfit and say he’s a fatui harbinger for Halloween 🧍‍♀️

And yet everyone would believe it

Also would definitely NOT take only 1 candy from the bowls

Itto

*sigh*

You best believe he’s celebrating

Another one of the “not only taking 1 at the bowls”

Would definitely want a funny costume like a ghost

His horns would poke through the sheet tho so he would be a devil ghost(?)

You can not tell me he doesn’t trade his candy with kids for better ones

“I’ll trade you butterfingers for that full size bar!” “Wha- that’s a terrible deal!” (Sorry i don’t like butterfingers 😭)

Xiao

Will not celebrate pt 2

Would disappear before anyone could ask him to celebrate

He would watch the children trick or treat tho and make sure they stay safe

If he catches a kid taking more than 1, he’d probably wear his mask and scare the child into putting the candy back

Poor kid ran crying to their mother 💀

Cyno

Now he’s interesting

He wouldn’t dress up, but he would get in the Halloween spirit

Would crack jokes

“What do you and a Jack o lantern have in common?” “W-what?” “You both don’t have any guts. Now get up and follow me.”

“You see, Jack o lanterns have their insides taken out and you are the definition of a coward so-” “I get it, I get it!”

You get the point

Dottore

The type to lace the candy

No he probably would

Just a little sprinkle of whatever this is on the candy wont hurt

Just imagine how pissed Tighnari would be when children would come to him with hives and fevers all over them 😭

At least Dottore knows his powder works!

Lesson: don’t take candy from fatui members 😢

Sorry again I couldn’t post this on Halloween 🙁 I was trick or treating (I’m never too old to trick or treat 😡)

There was hardly any children out, like when I was a child, I would be going to every single house and then trading my candy with my brothers

Anyway hope you enjoyed!

Kazuha as your bf!

Happy birthday Kazuha! I love this man too much 😭

You basically won

He’s sweet, caring, gentle, patient, and just amazing all around

If you work on the Crux with him, he’ll do your work for you so you can relax

If you don’t, then on his journeys he’d bring back whatever he can find including flowers, pretty rocks, etc

If someone were to threaten or harm you, they better start running cuz Kazuha is not gonna let it slide

He’ll make sure to comfort you on your bad days

Haikus about you 100%

If you’re traveling with him, he’d be over the moon cuz then he’d be with you 24/7

You can expect him to be constantly giving you affection such as holding hands, a peck on the cheek or forehead, lots of haikus written about you, gifts, etc

Loves to hold you while you guys sleep because it reassures him that you’re really there

You also get to listen to his tunes

They’re very relaxing to listen to and you often drift off to sleep

When you do drift off to sleep, he’ll gently put your head on his shoulder <3

They didn’t mess up his birthday art!! The October birthdays broke the curse for the b day arts 😍😍

Anyone else I should do bf headcannons for?

Hope you enjoyed! 💖

Cyno as your bf <3

He would be a very quiet lover

The definition of actions speak louder than words in this relationship

Whenever you guys go traveling, he always makes sure you’re not too tired, and if you are, then he offers to carry you

Don’t expect to be fighting with him around, he’ll defeat any enemies before you can even turn around

Would be super shy to initiate pda but when he does, it’s really subtle like linking a pinky with you when walking together

In closed doors however, he would be much more willing to show you physical attention

Lets you wear his headdress! Only you have the ability to do that

…his jokes

“Tighnari’s tail looks so soft” “FUR-real” “…cyno-”

His jokes are terrible but you always laugh at them cuz you love him <3

Cynos favorite moments with you is when it’s night and you guys are just making small talk while lying in bed together

The way your voice would get softer and softer as you slowly drift off the sleep makes cyno weak

I hope you enjoyed!

Platonic head cannons for albedo and Klee because I just saw a genuine Klee x albedo 😭

He would 100% do Klees hair everyday you can’t tell me otherwise

He would make up excuses for Klee blowing stuff up saying it was his fault cuz he was doing an experiment

He gives head pats 😫

Klee would want to do albedos hair cuz it looks really soft and fluffy

She tries to make his hair like hers but fails as one ponytail has more hair than the other 😭

They make snowman families all over Dragonspine

Klee loves to have albedo teach her how to draw when in reality she just wants to spend more time with him ahshdhssbxb

She would 1000% help albedo with an experiment….especially if it involves bombs

SAGAU Imposter AU but the higher the character friendship level, the easier it is for them to recognize you as the divine god without having to see your golden blood.

So following the typical SAGAU plot, who and how will your characters help you? I'll start!

Mondstadt

I'm doomed at Mondstadt considering Klee is my highest at friendship level 9. No one would probably take her seriously? But maybe she can convince Albedo (as a non-albedo haver) to hear me out first, he's pretty perceptive.

If Albedo can't help then Barbara (f.level 8) might just help me escape. She can probably convince Jean (f.level 2) to not kill me and just exile me from the city?

I like to believe that Fischl and Bennett could also help me enter Liyue (both f.level 7) as adventurers but they're probably doubting themselves, but not enough to kill me

Liyue

Liyue is definitely the safest place for me to go to. I have both Ningguang and Keqing at friendship level 10! Both big authority figures.

Although it would be hard to meet them immediately, I could probably reach out to Chongyun and Hutao first (both f.level 10 too).

Sad to say it could take a while to convince Zhongli, he just came home at f.level 1, and we all know how dangerous he can be in cult!au

It'll be even worse if he orders Xiao, as a non-Xiao haver. So I really have to reach the Qixing before the yaksha catches me.

Inazuma

An even more difficult place. My highest would be Sayu at f.level 3 and it would be hard to meet the sleepy ninja in the first place.

Thoma and Itto might just take pity (both f.lvl 2) and turn a blind eye though.

Otherwise, I'm dead in Inazuma

Tagging a few SAGAU writers to know their thoughts. This is open for anyone though and I would love to read everyone's sagau experience! don't think it's a relatively new concept! I just rly like how this gives us all a unique sagau experience based on our own efforts at being their friend! @dewdrop-writes @neetra @saryneid @chocoenvy

Rules, Introduction

Hello, my name is Kat and this is my blog, I write fan fiction for a variation of different fandoms AUs and am not opposed to commissions for ocs

Genres I’m willing to write for are,

Fluff, angst

Some examples of fluff or angst would be arguments, comfort, casual dates, sweet movie nights or hurt

Smut

About anything would be fine however I’m unwilling to write about piss kinks, huge age gaps or incest, stepcest is fine

Characters I’m willing to write for are,

Hazbin Hotel; Alastor, Rosie, Charlie, Husk, sir pentious, cherri Bomb, Angeldust, Valentino, Vox, Velvette, Lucifer, ADAM, lute

Helluva Boss; Luna, Moxxie, Millie, blitz, Verosika, Asmodeus, fizzarolli

Voltron; Keith, Lance, Pidge, Hunk, Shiro, Princess

Mha; class 1A, monoma, shinso, tenko, himiko, Dabi, Villain deku, Villain katsuki, villain shoto

Bsd; Dazai, Chuyaa, fyodor

Saiki K; saiki, kaido, chiyo, Aiura, rei

Atla; zuko, sokka

JJK; sukuna, toji, megumi, gojo, itadori

Genshin impact; any male character + Ayaka, Ei, Yae

Haikyuu; Hinata, kageyama, sugawara, suna, kenma, Kuroo, tsukishima, terushima, sakusa kiyoko, Yachi(my favorites) will write for any other character as well

Creepy pasta: Jeff the killer, Ben drowned, slender man, Jane the killer, eyeless jack, hoodie, ticci Toby (other requests)

tw! albedo x kaeya (idk some of yall are uncomfy w the ship so pls look away if its not ur cup of tea ^^)

virgin albedo getting fucked for the very first time by captain kaeya. albedo is scared when he sees the length of kaeya’s cock, immediately calculating if it would even fit him when hes so much smaller than kaeya. all his thoughts dissapitate when kaeya helps albedo ease onto his length, albedo letting out the prettiest whines the second the head of kae’s cock enters his hole. “s- sir kaeya i-” albedo’s brain short circuits when kaeya bottoms out, the poor blonde arching his back. kaeya lets albedo adjust to his size before he starts ramming in n out albedo’s tight virgin hole. the alchemist has to hold on the bed posts, shoving his face into the pillow as he yells out broken moans. he finishes before kaeya n the older switches their positions, albedo now ontop of kaeya. the cavalry captain doesnt stop there tho, albedo feeling his stomach bulge from kaeya’s fat fucking cock n he cries, bouncing up n down kaeya’s cock like the older asked him 2 do so. kaeya doesnt stop fucking albedo until gods know when, wanting to fill the younger boy w/ so much of his cum until it leaks out onto albedo’s thighs. safe 2 say, albedo is so glad sir kaeya took his virginity.

venti stans come get ur meal <3

continuation from the last post. venti would be such a good boy for u )): he may be the anemo god but to u, hes ur sweet little boyfriend. hes super tiny in terms of height nd that rly spurs u on , however there are times when the aforementioned god is in a mood to dom u ;) not for this post tho venti would cry and whine at every touch he feels from ur fingers, the way u carress his naked chest, feel every curve of his body, run ur blunt fingernails down his thigh and feel him shiver. venti’s so good to you when he starts to cry from the amount of pleasure you give him. and oh.. the way he moans.. they might be more angelic than barbara’s singing and that is not an outstretch. he archs his back so beautifully within your hold. you’re teasing the poor little baby, “are you feeling good?” he takes a breath, thighs quivering as you run your thumb over his tip excruciatingly slow. “y-youre a meanie,” you unwrap your hands from his cock, slapping the insides of his thighs. “that’s not what i asked, venti.”

i love how when my friends see genshin characters as doms, i see the potential of them being subs.. like yeah rail me against the bar stand diluc. but also.. fuck i wanna fucking tug on ur hair every time u disobey the shit out of me. nd kaeya?? dont get me started on this perverted fucking pirate. oh to step on kaeya’s dick lightly as a joke until he cries from feeling the pain Nd pleasure mixing. dragging ur nails along the inners of his thighs n hear him whine like a little baby.. UGHHHHH kaeya would be so bratty too. diluc has his pride but watching it shatter when u peg the little thing.. sighs. id love to ruin childe too.. he’d try to tell u hes in charge n will pretend hes not enjoying the way ur overstimming him.. but secretly he likes it nd u can tell from the way his hips buck up n the silent moans he tries to conceal. ZHONGLI THIS FINE man idk he can rail me any time ... id love to ruin him too tho :p.. making a separate post for venti bc i love he..

♡XIAO!YAKSHA argument w love

arguing with xiao is like arguing with a brick wall. your boyfriend, sometimes forgets that you, have a ton of human emotion. so right now, your hands are being thrown in the air every so often for dramatic affect; and he’s standing there, taking it.

you weren’t mad at him for an invalid reason. you actually had a good point as to what upset you so much.

when traveling all together on accident and colliding down at the bottom of the chasm, you and yanfei found a way to connect with xiao and bring him to you. but after figuring out the time-loop, and the true loss of his friend’s life; you found an exit.

yelan and xiao used the said compass to help you all get out of this mess; whilst then xiao had full control of it, and you, yelan and yanfei fought the darkness that swormed.

for some odd reason, this entire small trip of yours, with friends, and boyfriend, he was awfully admiring the thought of sacrifice. and so when the compass was breaking, he teleported all of you to the surface; allowing him to fall alone. in the dark. zhongli had a feeling this would occur, and so luckily he was there to save your boyfriend. but what if..

“xiao, you could’ve died!” your voice on the cusp of a screech, you continued. “what then huh?”

“you were safe. that is all that mattered to me.” he defended, “I am an adeptus, it is my venture to protect liyue and its people.”

“what about being my protector? I don’t care if I’m stuck with you for eternity down there! sacrificing yourself is never the answer xiao!”

“it is when it was the only option for your safety!”

“no it isn’t!”

this argument was pointless. you were getting nowhere. you couldn’t really understand why xiao spoke so much about sacrificing himself earlier in the chasm, because you thought you’d made him a little less miserable. the moment you felt yourself touch the air above, when your feet hit the ground, you were quick to try running back into the chasm. but yelan held you back.

“I’m going to bed.” you mumbled; because after a long and complicated discussion full of yelling, how could you not be tired? in fact, xiao should be resting much more than you. but you weren’t going to push him right now.

you slush yourself into the shared bedroom in the teyvat building, knowing well that the wangshu inn walls were top quality, and still, verr could probably hear you both. you weren’t going to hear the end of it tomorrow.

fluffing your pillow now, you got yourself ready for bed. you couldn’t fight him anymore. like said in the beginning, it was like arguing with a brick wall. not because xiao could care less about you, or your feelings, no. xiao loves you, and for that, he’d do literally anything. but more so because xiao cannot comprehend the way he makes people feel sometimes; how he makes you feel, making poor decisions such as this.

he worries you. you felt your heart pound out of your chest, reliving the moments where you really thought you’d lost the love of your life forever.

as if on cue to the small twinkle of water that melted off the side of your face, your boyfriend wiped the tear from your stained cheek. he felt bad, slightly coming to an understanding on how you felt. I mean, you are his world; what if you were to do the same? what really got to him, was the spoken liquid that laced your beautiful complexion.

“please don’t cry my love.” xiao could feel your discomfort, hurt, fear, causing him to wrap himself around you, enclosing you in his body, as your head measles it’s way into his soft abed chest. still wanting to hit him and fight him, for now, you’d except the comfortable aura that now served the room. “I’m sorry.” xiao’s voice whispered; whilst his chin rests upon your head of hair, comfortably. “though as an adeptus I swore to protect the people of liyue, as your partner I also swore to protect you.”

“I love you.” his hands drabbled along your sides, now resting his head in the crook of your neck; allowing you to swirl your pointer-finger around in circles with strands of the green-blue locks combed through. “I love you.” you replied, still wrapping his hair around your digits, falling asleep in what felt like seconds after; satisfying xiao. and now he, can also rest.

as you predicted, you didn’t hear the end of it when trying to leave wangshu inn discreetly, verr was just waiting for you to try and leave without her catching sight of you.

an: I cried playing the perilous quest lmao.

♡𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐍- [ scenerio ] ft itto, childe & diluc

summary: what turns them on.

[f!reader] [m!dom] [nsfw]

itto! itto would politely pound you in his t-shirts. If there was one thing that really turned him on, it’s when he catches you wearing them. Itto is more of a cuddly type rather than a fucking you raw kinda guy, but the second your found wearing his clothing, his kindness has been replaced by dominance. “Itto—“ you moan. You could feel your walls begin to suck him dry, clouding your mind. His hand interlocks with yours, while his cock continued to pounce your precious cunt. “you look so pretty in my shirt precious.” Pulling in and out of you, his finger grasped at your chin, forcing eye contact with your sloppy image. “So I just couldn’t resist.” He will fuck your perfect clit, until he finds himself satisfied enough with the view of you cumming in his t-shirt. Your hands lazily clinging and tugging at Itto’s hair, pressing lips while you cum again. Once he is finished, and all is said and done, after a couple minutes of laying there, all cuddly, he will go right back to whatever he was doing before fucking you senseless.

diluc! Diluc is a very calm and collected man. Therefore, he has great composure. But if/when he sees you taking charge of things, or trying to tell him what to do.. it gets him going alright. He likes to see you attempt to take control, knowing damn well he will always have it. Your hands pressed hard against his chest, lazily holding your upper body as you slide yourself into his warm cock. You winced, feeling the sock of pleasure hit your entire body all at once. “Cmon, darling, your almost there.” He said teasingly. He was fucking with you. You pulled yourself down faster, moaning at the feeling of his hard figure now inside of you. Your body began to then sway back and forth, still getting used to the motion. “I will have to show you who is in charge.” He bucked himself back and forth while you did the same now. Diluc’s hands found placement at your hips, moving quicker and lower into you. “and who isn’t.”your sopping cunt couldn’t get enough of him, making him only want to fuck you even harder. He could feel your orgasm; the cum seeping out of your hole. But even if dominating you, he will still place loving kisses on your forehead.

Childe! anything turns this man on. You could literally be cooking in the kitchen, and he’ll just be noticing how pretty your ass looks in those pants. However, one thing that really gets him, is calling him by his real name. “Ajax” his fingering only circling faster around your clit. He could feel the liquid start to drool down to his arm, making him smirk in delight. “Say it again.” He said, still licking on your cunny, thus fingers dug in deeper. He knew you were barley able to mouth words, and he hasn’t even put his cock in yet. It pleased him so very much. “A-Ajax!” You moaned, desperate to rock yourself into his wet tongue, but he already told you not too; and if you did, there would be consequences. He smiled, watching you shiver in pleasure, wanting no.. needing more. But the way his name fell out of your mouth made him so fucking hard. He removed his tongue and his fingers from your cunny, looking at its soppy self; wanting to cum so badly. “That’s it. Now let me fuck you girle.”

Happy birthday Alhaitam. ✨️

This drawing is inspired by a work by @zhongrin , and I am publishing it taking advantage of the fact that it is his birthday.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated

Reblogs and comments are appreciated

Reblogs and comments are appreciated

The Master of Shadows

In the bustling heart of Fontaine, where the laughter of children mingled with the symphony of splashing water, a sinister undercurrent flowed beneath the city’s pristine surface. It was a place of wonder, but also of secrets—secrets that Pulcinella, the enigmatic Harbinger, thrived upon. His cunning and resourcefulness allowed him to navigate the shadows, manipulating events to suit his needs.

You had recently arrived in Fontaine, a curious soul drawn to its vibrant life and intricate waterways. However, beneath the glimmering facade, you sensed an unsettling tension that seemed to pulse through the streets. Rumors whispered of a figure that moved unseen, a puppeteer pulling strings from the shadows—none other than Pulcinella himself.

One evening, while exploring the winding alleys of Fontaine, you found yourself entranced by a street performer. The way he danced and twirled captivated the crowd, but your gaze kept drifting to the dark figure lurking just beyond the lantern light. His presence was almost magnetic, yet shrouded in an unsettling air. As the performance drew to a close, the crowd erupted in applause, but you felt an inexplicable pull to the shadows.

Before you knew it, you had followed the figure into a narrow alley, the laughter of the crowd fading into the distance. The atmosphere shifted; the air grew thick, and the shadows seemed to stretch and twist around you. You caught sight of him then—Pulcinella, his features partially obscured by the darkness, a sly smile playing on his lips.

“Curiosity can be quite the double-edged sword, wouldn’t you agree?” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “What brings you to my domain, little moth?”

You took a step back, heart racing. “I—I was just watching the performance.”

“And yet, you chose to venture into the dark,” he mused, stepping closer. “Not many dare to tread where shadows linger. You must possess a spirit of adventure.”

“Or foolishness,” you replied, summoning your courage. “What are you really doing here?”

His smile widened, revealing a glimpse of the cunning mind behind those sparkling eyes. “Ah, the eternal question! I am but a humble observer, a collector of stories, if you will. But every story has its secrets, and every secret has a price.”

“What price?” you asked, intrigued despite your better judgment.

He tilted his head, studying you. “Knowledge, dear one. The knowledge of what lies beneath the surface of this grand city. Fontaine may appear idyllic, but it harbors darkness, secrets that can be used to your advantage if you know where to look.”

“What do you mean?” you pressed, feeling a mix of fear and fascination.

Pulcinella stepped closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Imagine the power of invisibility, of slipping through the cracks of society unnoticed, manipulating events from the shadows. Would you not want to know how to weave your own destiny?”

You hesitated, the allure of his words tugging at your heart. “And what would I have to do for this knowledge?”

He chuckled softly, the sound echoing against the brick walls. “Nothing more than a simple favor, a small act of courage. Help me retrieve something that has gone… astray, and I shall share with you the secrets of the unseen.”

“What is it you need?” you asked, curiosity burning brighter than your trepidation.

He gestured with a flourish, and a small, intricately designed box appeared in his hands. “This box contains a device—a tool of invisibility, crafted by the greatest minds of Fontaine. But it has fallen into the wrong hands. Retrieve it, and the knowledge will be yours.”

Though a voice in your head warned you against the path he proposed, the thrill of adventure was intoxicating. “I’ll do it,” you agreed, steeling your resolve.

With Pulcinella’s guidance, you set out into the night. He led you through the winding alleys, instructing you on how to move with stealth, to remain unseen. You felt his presence behind you, a dark shadow guiding your every step. The thrill of the chase consumed you, the pulse of adrenaline racing through your veins as you approached the hideout of the thieves who possessed the box.

The thieves’ lair was a crumbling warehouse, illuminated by flickering lanterns. You could hear their raucous laughter mingling with the clinking of bottles, a sense of bravado hanging thick in the air. As you crouched behind a stack of crates, you could see the box, gleaming under the dim light, resting precariously on a table surrounded by drunken revelers.

“Now,” Pulcinella’s voice whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “You must be quick and clever. Distract them while I retrieve the box.”

With a nod, you prepared yourself. Stepping out from your hiding place, you let out a loud shout, your voice echoing in the hollow space. “Help! Someone’s after me!”

The thieves jumped, startled, their laughter cut short. In the chaos, you darted to the side, watching as Pulcinella slipped into the shadows, his movements fluid and silent. The thieves scrambled to their feet, trying to grasp the situation.

“Get her!” one of them shouted, but Pulcinella was already moving, a blur in the night as he made his way toward the box.

You caught a glimpse of him as he deftly retrieved the device, his expression one of triumph. But just as he turned to leave, one of the thieves spotted him and lunged forward. Without hesitation, Pulcinella reached out, pulling a string from his pocket that shimmered like silk. The string danced through the air, ensnaring the thief’s feet and sending him crashing to the ground.

“Now, let’s go!” Pulcinella urged, his voice filled with urgency. You both dashed back through the labyrinth of streets, the sound of angry shouts fading behind you as you made your escape.

Finally, you reached the safety of the shadows. Pulcinella halted, catching his breath, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Well done, my daring accomplice! You have proven yourself more than capable.”

You felt a rush of exhilaration. “What now? What do we do with the device?”

He held the box up to the moonlight, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Now, we reveal the truth of the unseen world, but first, allow me to show you how to use it.”

With deft fingers, he opened the box, revealing a small orb that glowed with an ethereal light. He gestured for you to take it. “This will grant you the power of invisibility for a time. Use it wisely.”

As you grasped the orb, a strange sensation washed over you—a heady mixture of power and responsibility. “What will you do with it?” you asked, intrigued.

Pulcinella’s smile faded for a moment, replaced by a flicker of seriousness. “I will continue to operate from the shadows, influencing events in ways that many cannot comprehend. There are forces at play in Fontaine that require a careful hand.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine as you realized the extent of his ambitions. “And what about me? What role do I play in this?”

“Ah,” he replied, a glimmer of mischief returning to his eyes. “You shall be my eyes and ears, my little partner in crime. Together, we can weave a tapestry of influence and intrigue.”

As you considered his offer, you felt a spark of excitement. The thrill of adventure, the allure of the unseen world—it was intoxicating. With Pulcinella at your side, the possibilities were endless.

“Let us begin,” you said, determination igniting within you. “Show me the way of shadows.”

And with that, you stepped into the darkness together, ready to manipulate the world around you from the hidden corners of Fontaine, where secrets thrived and the invisible danced just out of reach.

The Strings of Deception

The fog hung heavy over Sumeru, cloaking the landscape in a shroud of mystery. Your small cottage, nestled on the edge of a tranquil grove, had once been a sanctuary—a place where you could escape the chaos of the world and find solace among the trees and whispers of nature. But lately, an unsettling presence had settled in your mind, a creeping sensation that you were no longer alone in your secluded haven.

It had begun with the arrival of a peculiar letter, an invitation to a gathering organized by Sandrone, the elusive Harbinger known as the Marionette. The townsfolk spoke of her in hushed tones, warning of her mechanical creations that danced and moved with eerie precision. Whispers circulated that she could manipulate not only the lifeless but the living, bending them to her will with a mere flick of her wrist. Curiosity got the better of you, and against your better judgment, you accepted.

The night of the gathering, the sky above was shrouded in deep indigo, the moon a ghostly glow against the vast expanse. As you approached the destination—an abandoned mansion perched atop a hill—you felt an unsettling chill in the air, the atmosphere thick with unspoken secrets.

You stepped inside, the door creaking ominously as you entered. The grand hall was dimly lit, shadows playing against the walls. The flickering of candles cast moving patterns, resembling the delicate movements of the marionettes you had heard about. A shiver ran down your spine as you took in the room, your heart pounding in your chest.

Sandrone emerged from the shadows, her presence commanding. Clad in flowing garments adorned with intricate patterns that shimmered in the candlelight, she seemed to blend seamlessly into the ambiance of the mansion. Her porcelain skin and striking features captivated you, but there was something unsettling about her gaze, an intensity that seemed to pierce through your very soul.

“Welcome, dear guest,” she purred, her voice smooth like silk. “I trust you’re ready for an evening of wonder and revelation.”

“I… I’m not sure what to expect,” you admitted, trying to keep your composure.

“Expect the unexpected,” she replied cryptically, her lips curling into a smile that held a hint of mischief. “Tonight, you will see what lies beneath the surface.”

As the evening unfolded, you were introduced to her creations—mechanical marionettes that moved with an unsettling grace, performing elaborate dances that captivated the few guests who had gathered. The air was charged with an energy that felt almost alive, and you couldn’t help but be drawn into the spectacle.

But as you watched, a nagging feeling gnawed at you, a whisper in the back of your mind that something was amiss. The marionettes, while enchanting, seemed to carry an undercurrent of menace, their movements almost too precise, too controlled. It was as if they were merely shadows of something darker lurking beneath the surface.

“Do you see their beauty?” Sandrone asked, her voice a melodic whisper in your ear as she leaned closer. “They are an extension of my will, reflections of my artistry. But they are also more than that. They hold secrets, truths that the living often overlook.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, your curiosity piqued despite the growing unease in your chest.

“Life is an illusion, dear one,” she replied, her eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light. “We are all puppets on strings, manipulated by forces we cannot comprehend. My creations remind us of that, of the fragile line between control and chaos.”

As the night progressed, the atmosphere shifted. Laughter and music faded into a low hum, and the guests seemed entranced, caught in a trance-like state. You glanced around, noticing the blank expressions on their faces. It was as though they were no longer participants but mere spectators in Sandrone’s grand design.

“Join me,” she beckoned, her hand outstretched, a marionette string appearing in the air, shimmering like silver. “Let me show you the truth of your existence.”

A shiver ran through you, an instinctive warning. “What truth?”

“That life, as you know it, is but a performance,” she murmured, her voice dipping low, almost hypnotic. “You fear the strings that bind you, yet they are what give you form, what allow you to dance.”

As you stepped forward, drawn to her like a moth to a flame, you felt an inexplicable pull, a connection that defied logic. The air crackled with tension as she grasped your hand, and in that moment, the world around you shifted.

Visions flooded your mind—images of puppets and marionettes entwined with memories of your own life, the moments you had felt manipulated by unseen forces, the times you had danced to the tune of others’ desires. The lines between reality and illusion blurred until you could no longer distinguish between the two.

“Do you see?” Sandrone’s voice echoed in your mind. “You are not the master of your own fate. We are all marionettes, controlled by the hands of fate.”

Your heart raced as the realization settled in. She was right. You had spent so long trying to escape the strings that bound you, striving for freedom, yet had never truly confronted the depths of your own manipulation.

“Join me,” she urged, her grip tightening, the marionette string weaving around you like a serpent. “Together, we can break free from these illusions, redefine our roles in this performance.”

But a flicker of defiance ignited within you. “No! I won’t be a puppet to your whims!”

With a surge of determination, you pulled away from her grasp, the string unraveling as you took a step back. The room seemed to tremble, shadows flickering like dying embers. The other guests blinked as if awakening from a dream, confusion filling their eyes.

“You dare defy me?” Sandrone’s expression darkened, a flicker of something dangerous sparking in her gaze. “You would choose the chains of reality over the freedom I offer?”

“I choose to face my own truths!” you declared, your voice steadying as you stood your ground. “I refuse to be your pawn in this twisted game!”

A silence fell over the room, tension hanging in the air like an electric current. For a moment, it felt as though the world had paused, caught between illusion and reality. The marionettes froze, their movements stilled, and for the first time, you saw Sandrone’s true self—a woman who had lost herself in her quest for control.

“Then you leave me no choice,” she said, her voice low and resonant, laced with both admiration and frustration. “If you wish to walk away, then you must sever the strings entirely.”

With a flick of her wrist, the marionettes sprang to life, their movements now more menacing, their eyes glowing with a fierce intensity. Panic surged through you, but a newfound resolve blossomed within your heart. You had come to understand the power of choice, the strength that lay in defiance.

“Stand with me!” you shouted to the other guests, your voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “We can break free together!”

As if awakened from a trance, the guests rallied around you, their collective strength pushing against the force of Sandrone’s control. Together, you faced her, united in your resolve to reclaim your agency.

“Enough!” Sandrone’s voice rang out, the marionettes hesitating as they sensed the shift in energy. “You think you can resist me? I am the master of this illusion!”

But the resolve in your heart burned brighter than the shadows around you. “We will not be your puppets!”

With that declaration, you and the guests reached out, intertwining your hands in a circle, a barrier of defiance against her grasp. The marionettes faltered, their movements stilled as the power of your collective will surged forward.

A blinding light erupted from your joined hands, washing over the room, and in that moment, the illusion shattered. The marionettes crumbled to the ground, lifeless and still, as Sandrone’s expression shifted from fury to realization.

“No… what have you done?” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper.

“We’ve broken the chains,” you said, your voice steady as the light enveloped her. “We will not dance to your tune any longer.”

In that moment, the mansion transformed, the shadows receding as the truth emerged. The once-oppressive atmosphere shifted into one of liberation, the lingering darkness replaced by the warmth of newfound freedom.

As the last vestiges of Sandrone’s control faded, she stood before you, her porcelain features softened, vulnerability shining through the remnants of her facade. “You… you have taken everything from me.”

“No, we have taken back our own lives,” you replied, a sense of empathy washing over you. “You have your own strings to cut, Sandrone. Find your own truth.”

And with that, you turned away, leaving the mansion behind. The fog began to lift, revealing a world unshackled from the chains of illusion, where each step felt like a reclaiming of agency and truth. The night was still, but it was no longer filled with the haunting echoes of manipulation.

As you made your way back to your cottage, the stars twinkled overhead, and a sense of hope blossomed within your heart. You had faced the darkness, and in doing so, had discovered the light.

The Legend of Capitano

The evening mist rolled through the quiet village of Liyue like a whispered secret, shrouding the cobblestone streets and thatched roofs in a spectral embrace. Lanterns flickered dimly, casting shadows that danced along the walls as villagers hurried home, eager to escape the encroaching darkness. Tales of a fearsome figure had spread through the town like wildfire—an enigmatic warrior known as Capitano, one of the dreaded Harbingers of the Fatui. The stories spoke of his martial prowess, of battles won and enemies vanquished, but more than that, there were whispers of something supernatural, something that sent chills down the spines of even the bravest souls.

You had come to Liyue seeking peace, a place far removed from the conflicts that plagued the rest of Teyvat. Yet, as the tales of Capitano reached your ears, it became clear that even this tranquil village was not immune to fear. The villagers spoke of shadows lurking in the woods, of a great figure clad in dark armor, and of an unseen terror that stalked the night.

It was on one such misty night that you found yourself wandering the outskirts of the village, drawn by a strange compulsion. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, and the moon hung high above, illuminating the path ahead with an otherworldly glow. You had always been captivated by the unknown, by the tales that stirred the imagination, and now you found yourself drawn into the very heart of one such legend.

As you ventured deeper into the woods, a sudden rustling caught your attention. Your heart raced as you turned, expecting to see a mere animal, but instead, you found yourself face-to-face with a figure draped in shadow. The imposing silhouette loomed before you, armor glinting in the moonlight, a dark helm obscuring his face. It was Capitano.

“Lost, are we?” His voice was deep, resonant, and sent a thrill of both fear and intrigue through you. There was an authority in his presence, a strength that made your pulse quicken.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper. “I was... curious.”

“Curious?” He stepped closer, the light catching the edges of his armor, revealing a fierce expression beneath the shadows. “Curiosity can lead to peril, especially in these woods. Many have wandered too far and have never returned.”

There was something almost hypnotic about him, a magnetic pull that drew you in despite the warnings echoing in your mind. “What are you doing here?” you asked, your curiosity piqued even more.

He tilted his head, a glimmer of something—perhaps amusement—flashing in his eyes. “I am the guardian of these woods, or perhaps a specter, depending on who you ask. The villagers fear me, as they fear the unknown. But fear is a double-edged sword. It can protect or consume.”

His words lingered in the air, heavy with meaning. You sensed a depth to him that transcended mere martial prowess—a complexity that made him both fearsome and fascinating. “Why do you stay here, then? If they fear you so?”

“Because I am bound to it,” he replied, his gaze piercing through the veil of night. “These woods have secrets that must be guarded. My duty is to ensure that those secrets remain hidden. There are forces at play that even I cannot fully comprehend.”

The tension in the air thickened, and a chill ran down your spine. You wanted to ask him what he meant, but something in his demeanor warned you to tread carefully. “But what about the villagers?” you ventured, your heart pounding. “Don’t you wish to show them you mean no harm?”

A shadow passed over his features, a flicker of sorrow mixed with determination. “They would not understand. To them, I am a monster. They see only the surface—the armor, the darkness. They do not see the burden I carry. To break that perception would require more than mere words.”

You stepped closer, feeling an inexplicable connection forming between you. “What if I could help?” you offered, your voice steadying. “What if I could show them that you’re not a monster?”

Capitano studied you for a long moment, as if weighing your resolve against the shadows that cloaked him. “It would not be easy. Fear runs deep, and once instilled, it is not easily erased. But should you choose to tread this path, you must understand the risks.”

You nodded, a surge of determination coursing through you. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Perhaps you should be,” he replied, a hint of a smile breaking through the darkness. “But bravery often lies in the face of fear, does it not?”

Over the next few days, you returned to the village, emboldened by your encounters with Capitano. Each night, you would meet him in the woods, sharing stories, learning of his past and the weight of his role as protector of the secrets hidden within. As you grew closer, you realized that beneath his fearsome exterior lay a soul burdened by duty and loneliness.

With each passing night, you formulated a plan—a way to bridge the gap between him and the villagers. You spoke of Capitano’s virtues, of his bravery, and the purpose he served, hoping to dispel the darkness that surrounded him in their eyes. But skepticism ran rampant. The villagers were too entrenched in their fears, too quick to dismiss your words as folly.

“You’re risking everything for a man you barely know,” one villager admonished. “He is nothing but a specter, a harbinger of death.”

But you couldn’t give up. You felt a connection to him that you couldn’t explain, a shared understanding of the burdens that came with their respective paths. “He is not a monster! He is protecting us from the true dangers that lurk beyond our perception!”

On the night of the harvest festival, you finally devised a plan to reveal Capitano’s true self to the villagers. You invited them to the woods, promising a spectacle that would dispel their fears once and for all. You hoped that, if they saw him not as a shadow but as a man, their perceptions might change.

As the villagers gathered, whispers of doubt filled the air. You stood before them, heart pounding in your chest. “Please, trust me! Capitano will show himself.”

With a wave of your hand, you called out to him. The silence thickened, the air electric with anticipation. After what felt like an eternity, he emerged from the shadows, his armor gleaming under the moonlight.

Gasps echoed through the crowd. Fear was palpable, yet there was also intrigue. Capitano stood tall, imposing and formidable, yet there was a softness in his gaze as he looked at you, urging you forward.

“Fear not,” he called, his voice steady. “I am not here to bring harm. I am bound to these woods, to protect that which is sacred.”

But the villagers remained wary, their fear outweighing your efforts. “You’re a monster!” one shouted. “We know what you are!”

At that moment, you felt the weight of their fear pressing down on you, but you refused to falter. “He is not a monster! He has protected us, hidden us from true danger! You cannot let fear dictate your lives!”

Capitano stepped closer, lowering his head as if to bring his presence to their level. “Listen to your hearts,” he implored, his voice echoing in the silence. “I am but a guardian, tasked with a purpose you do not yet understand. Embrace the truth, and you shall find peace.”

Slowly, the atmosphere began to shift. Some villagers took tentative steps forward, curiosity igniting where once there had only been fear. But others remained entrenched in their distrust, their eyes darting between you and Capitano.

“Who will stand against me?” he challenged, his voice rising above the murmurs. “Who will join me in the fight against the darkness that threatens to consume us all?”

In that moment, you felt a flicker of hope. One brave villager stepped forward, heart pounding yet resolute. “I will,” they declared. “If he truly protects us, then I will stand with him.”

With that, others began to follow suit, stepping out of the shadows of their own fear. And as the realization spread through the crowd, Capitano’s presence shifted—no longer just a figure of dread, but a symbol of hope.

As the night wore on, you watched the villagers engage with Capitano, their laughter mingling with the whispers of the night. The fear that had once held them captive began to dissolve, replaced by an understanding that had once felt so distant.

In that moment, standing beside Capitano, you felt a warmth blossoming within you. Together, you had shattered the chains of fear that bound the villagers, transforming dread into camaraderie.

Yet, as you looked at him, a thought nagged at the edges of your mind. You knew that even now, the specter of fear was not entirely vanquished. But perhaps, together, you could face whatever lay ahead—whether it be darkness or light.

Capitano met your gaze, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. In that moment, you understood that legends could evolve, that they were not merely stories of fear, but of the courage it took to confront it.

And perhaps, just perhaps, the legend of Capitano would transform from one of dread into one of resilience, a tale of a guardian who stood steadfast against the night, with a heart that beat fiercely beneath the armor.

The Masque of Columbina

The air in the grand palace was thick with the scent of incense and the distant hum of whispered conversations. The moon hung heavy in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the sprawling ballroom where masked guests twirled in an endless waltz. Opulence dripped from every corner—the walls gilded in gold, chandeliers sparkling with a thousand jewels, and the attendees dressed in extravagant silks and velvets, their faces hidden behind intricate masks.

It was a masquerade unlike any other, a night meant to banish the specter of death that loomed ever-present outside the palace walls. You stood at the edge of the festivities, uneasy, even though the laughter and revelry echoed around you. For beyond these walls, the Red Plague ravaged the world, an unstoppable force that devoured villages and cities, leaving only death in its wake. And yet, inside this haven, a fortress of privilege, it was as though the world had forgotten its suffering.

Your fingers tightened around the stem of the wine glass in your hand, the dark liquid inside reflecting the light like blood. No matter how much you tried to lose yourself in the grandeur of the event, you couldn’t shake the weight that pressed on your chest—the sense that something was terribly wrong, that no amount of gold or velvet could hold back the inevitable.

And then, as though your thoughts had summoned it, a figure emerged from the shadows.

She appeared at the far end of the room, as if from nowhere. At first glance, she seemed to be one of the countless revelers—a woman in a flowing gown of deep crimson, a mask obscuring her face. But there was something different about her, something that drew your gaze and refused to let go.

Her mask, unlike the others, was pale and delicate, like the face of a porcelain doll. Her eyes, though hidden beneath the shadows of her mask, seemed to gleam with an unsettling light, as if they saw through the façade of the masquerade and into the heart of every soul present. Her movements were slow, deliberate, almost like a dance—ethereal, haunting, and yet utterly hypnotic. The music swelled, and as if on cue, the other guests parted to make way for her, though they did not seem to notice her approach.

You found yourself rooted to the spot, unable to look away as she glided across the floor, closer and closer, until she stood before you.

"Why do you linger at the edge of the party, dear one?" Her voice was soft, lilting, as though she were singing rather than speaking. It sent a shiver down your spine. "Surely, on a night like this, you should be dancing?"

You swallowed, trying to ignore the way her presence seemed to fill the space around you. "I... I don’t feel much like dancing tonight."

The woman tilted her head, as if considering your words. Her lips, painted the color of blood, curved into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Ah, I see. You’re afraid, aren’t you?"

You stiffened. "Afraid of what?"

Her smile widened, and she leaned closer, her voice a breath against your skin. "Afraid of what waits outside these walls. The Red Plague. The death that no mask, no walls, can keep out forever."

A chill ran through you, and you took a step back. "Who are you?"

She laughed softly, the sound low and melodic. "I have many names," she said, brushing a delicate hand against her mask. "But tonight, you may call me Columbina."

The name sent a wave of unease through you. Columbina, one of the Harbingers of the Fatui, a woman shrouded in mystery and darkness. You had heard of her, of course—whispers of her ethereal beauty and her deadly power. It was said that she moved through the world like a ghost, untouched by time, untouched by the pain and suffering that gripped the rest of Teyvat.

"I didn’t realize you were... invited," you said cautiously.

Her eyes glittered behind the mask. "Invited?" She laughed again, this time louder, the sound echoing through the ballroom. "I don’t need an invitation. I go where I am needed, where I am called."

She reached out, and before you could react, her fingers brushed against your cheek, cold as ice. "And tonight, I am here for you."

Your breath caught in your throat. "For me? Why?"

Columbina’s smile softened, though it did nothing to ease the growing dread in your chest. "Because you are not like the others. You see the truth, don’t you? You know that no matter how grand this masquerade may be, no matter how many walls they build, death cannot be kept at bay."

Her words wrapped around you like a vice, tightening with every breath you took. She was right. Even now, you could feel it—the creeping, suffocating presence of something inevitable, something inescapable. The Red Plague had not yet touched the palace, but it was only a matter of time.

"That’s why they wear the masks," Columbina whispered, leaning closer still. "They think they can hide from it. But death is not so easily fooled."

Your heart pounded in your chest as she pulled away, turning her gaze to the rest of the ballroom. "Look at them," she said, gesturing to the swirling mass of dancers. "They laugh, they drink, they dance. All the while knowing that their time is running out. They are all trying to escape, but none of them will."

The room seemed to blur, the laughter and music fading into a distant hum as you stared at her. She was right—there was no escape. This masquerade, this charade of life and luxury, was nothing more than a distraction, a way to pretend that death wasn’t looming just beyond the doors.

"Come with me," Columbina said suddenly, her voice pulling you from your thoughts. She held out her hand, her eyes locking onto yours. "Let me show you the truth."

You hesitated, your mind spinning. There was something about her, something you couldn’t explain. She was terrifying, yes, but there was also a strange allure to her—a beauty intertwined with doom, as though she were both the angel of death and the one who could save you from it.

"What truth?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Her smile returned, soft and knowing. "The truth that there is no escape. That death is not the end, but a beginning. That I can give you peace, if you are willing to see it."

The weight of her words settled over you like a shroud, and for a moment, you considered it. What if she was right? What if there was something beyond the fear, beyond the endless running? What if there was a way to face the inevitable and emerge unscathed?

Before you could make a decision, the clock struck midnight.

The sound reverberated through the ballroom like a death knell, and in an instant, the atmosphere shifted. The laughter ceased, the music faltered, and the dancers froze in place. The room was silent, save for the slow, deliberate footsteps of a figure at the far end of the hall.

It was a man—tall, cloaked in black, his face hidden behind a mask the color of blood. He moved with the grace of a predator, each step purposeful and slow. And as he approached, the guests began to back away, fear etched into their faces.

Columbina watched with a smile, her eyes gleaming with a strange light. "Ah, the final guest has arrived."

You stared at the man, your heart pounding in your chest. There was something unnatural about him, something that set your teeth on edge. And then, with a sudden, sickening realization, you understood.

The Red Death had come.

The man stopped in the center of the room, his gaze sweeping over the silent crowd. Slowly, deliberately, he reached up and removed his mask.

The room erupted into chaos.

Guests screamed and fled, their masks torn from their faces as they tried to escape the inevitable. But there was no escape. The doors were locked, the windows barred. And as the Red Death moved through the crowd, his touch bringing swift and terrible ends, you realized that Columbina had been right all along.

There was no escaping fate.

You turned to her, your heart racing with terror. But Columbina was calm, serene, as though she had known this would happen from the start. She met your gaze, her smile soft and haunting.

"Do you see now?" she asked quietly. "There is no need to fear. Death comes for us all. But I can offer you peace."

Her hand extended once more, and this time, you didn’t hesitate.

As you took her hand, the chaos around you seemed to fade into the background. The screams, the terror, the inevitability of the Red Death—all of it vanished, leaving only Columbina’s gentle presence beside you. She led you away from the madness, away from the fear, into the quiet stillness of the night.

And in that moment, you understood.

She had been right all along.

The Island of Sandrone

he mist hung thick over the ocean as your ship approached the remote island. Your heart raced with both anticipation and unease. This place—this isolated stretch of land, shrouded in secrecy—was known only to a select few, whispered about in hushed tones across Teyvat. The island belonged to none other than Sandrone, the Puppet Tinkerer, one of the enigmatic Harbingers of the Fatui. It was said that here, far from the eyes of the world, she conducted her experiments—pushing the boundaries of life and death, of human and machine.

You were sent by your nation’s scholars to investigate the rumors. Word had spread of Sandrone’s mechanical creations—beings who looked like people, but weren’t. Puppets that moved, thought, and acted with eerie precision. It was unclear whether they were mere machines or something far more disturbing.

As the ship docked at the desolate shore, a chill ran down your spine. The island was a bleak, inhospitable place—rocky cliffs and twisted trees bent against the ceaseless wind. But it wasn’t the landscape that unsettled you. It was the silence. No birds, no animals. Just the sound of the waves crashing against the shore and the faint hum of machinery in the distance.

A small figure approached from the mist—a woman in white, flanked by two tall, mechanical beings whose joints creaked as they moved. As they drew closer, you recognized the woman from the descriptions. Sandrone.

She was younger than you expected, her delicate features framed by an elegant, yet utilitarian outfit. Her eyes were sharp, like a craftsman studying their latest creation. There was an air of cold detachment about her, as though she existed on a different plane of existence from those around her.

"Welcome," Sandrone said, her voice soft but commanding. "You’ve come to see my work, I presume."

You nodded, feeling the weight of her gaze. "I’ve heard... rumors," you said cautiously. "About what you’re doing here."

A faint smile tugged at her lips, though it didn’t reach her eyes. "Rumors," she echoed, turning away from you and beckoning you to follow. "People always fear what they don’t understand. But I assure you, my work is far beyond mere gossip."

You followed her deeper into the island, the mechanical beings flanking you both like silent sentinels. The terrain shifted as you approached the center of the island—what had once been wild and untamed gave way to carefully constructed pathways and towering structures. The air buzzed with the sound of machinery, and as you looked around, you caught glimpses of Sandrone’s creations—mechanical puppets, each more intricate than the last, moving about their tasks with eerie precision.

"They look so... lifelike," you murmured, unable to tear your eyes away from them.

Sandrone glanced at you with a hint of amusement. "Lifelike, yes. But they are not alive. They are my creations, my masterpieces. Machines, nothing more."

Her words were cold, clinical. But as you continued to follow her through the winding pathways, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of unease. There was something unsettling about the way these puppets moved—something too smooth, too perfect. They walked, spoke, and gestured like humans, but their eyes were empty, devoid of any spark of life. It was as though they were merely imitating humanity.

"How did you create them?" you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

Sandrone stopped in front of a large, glass-walled structure—her workshop, it seemed. Inside, you could see more puppets being constructed, their bodies in various stages of assembly. The sight was both fascinating and horrifying.

"The process is... complicated," Sandrone replied, her voice taking on a tone of pride. "It requires a delicate balance of mechanics and... biology."

Your stomach twisted at her words. "Biology?" you echoed, feeling a knot of dread form in your chest.

Sandrone’s smile returned, sharper this time. "Oh yes. Machines alone cannot mimic life. There are certain... qualities that must be taken from living beings. Tissue, nerve endings, sometimes even organs. Only then can they truly function as I intend."

You recoiled, the weight of her words hitting you like a blow. "You’re using... people?"

Sandrone’s gaze remained calm, unbothered by your horror. "Only those who no longer have use for their bodies. Criminals, the condemned, the forgotten. They are given new purpose in my creations. It’s a kindness, really. To transcend the limitations of human flesh, to become something greater. Isn’t that what we all desire?"

Her words chilled you to the bone. There was no remorse, no hesitation. To her, this was science, progress—nothing more. But to you, it was something far darker. The lines between life and death, between human and machine, had been blurred beyond recognition. What she was doing here on this island was unnatural, an affront to the very essence of what it meant to be alive.

"You’re playing with forces you don’t understand," you said, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. "This... this is wrong."

Sandrone’s eyes narrowed, her expression hardening. "Wrong?" she repeated, stepping closer to you. "Tell me, what is wrong about pushing the boundaries of science? What is wrong about creating something perfect, something that transcends the frailty of human life?"

You stumbled back, your mind reeling. "But they’re not alive. They’re puppets, machines—soulless."

"Souls are irrelevant," she snapped, her calm demeanor slipping for the first time. "What matters is control. Power. Efficiency. Humanity is weak, prone to failure. My creations... they are flawless."

Her words echoed in your mind, filling you with a deep sense of dread. She wasn’t just reshaping life—she was destroying it, twisting it into something unrecognizable. And worse still, she believed she was doing the world a favor.

"What happens to the people you take?" you asked, your voice shaking.

Sandrone’s smile returned, colder than ever. "They cease to be. Their bodies become vessels for something far greater. They live on, in a sense. Isn’t that a form of immortality?"

"No," you whispered, backing away from her. "It’s a nightmare."

Sandrone watched you, her eyes gleaming with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. "A nightmare?" she repeated softly. "No, my dear. You’re mistaken. This is the future. And soon, the world will understand that. Whether they wish to or not."

You turned, your heart pounding in your chest as you fled the workshop, the sounds of the island’s machinery ringing in your ears. But as you ran, the truth of Sandrone’s words settled into your bones. There was no escaping this island, no escaping the horrors she had created.

And as the mist closed in around you, you realized with growing terror that you were already too late. You had walked into the web of a woman who saw herself as a god—and now, there was no way out.

The Banker’s Thirst

The sprawling estate of Pantalone, known far and wide as the Regrator of the Fatui, was a place of beauty and terror. Its cold, marble halls stretched endlessly, its opulence and luxury flaunting wealth and power beyond imagination. There, in the heart of Snezhnaya, it stood like a fortress, casting long, foreboding shadows over the snow-covered landscape, a symbol of untouchable dominance.

You had arrived at Pantalone's estate after weeks of correspondence. It had started innocently enough—formal letters exchanged between you, a representative of a foreign business, and the notorious banker. He had expressed interest in expanding his influence beyond the frozen borders of Snezhnaya, his ambition stretching out like an unseen force. You had been tasked with handling the negotiations on behalf of your nation, unaware of the dangerous game you were about to play.

From the moment you stepped foot onto the icy grounds of his estate, you could feel it—a sense of dread, lingering beneath the surface. The cold seemed sharper here, the air heavier with unspoken words and hidden intentions. And as you approached the grand entrance, the massive doors opened, revealing a figure that commanded attention.

Pantalone was waiting for you.

He was a man of refinement and elegance, his every move calculated and precise. His clothes were tailored to perfection, his demeanor one of quiet control. But it was his eyes that drew you in—sharp and dark, like the endless depths of the ocean. They seemed to see through you, reading every thought, every fear that flickered across your mind. His smile, polite and welcoming, held a dangerous edge, as though he were a predator preparing to devour his prey.

"Welcome," he said, his voice smooth and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. "I trust your journey was pleasant?"

You nodded, though your heart raced in your chest. There was something unsettling about him, something that made the fine hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. But you pushed the feeling aside, reminding yourself that you were here on business.

"The journey was long, but manageable," you replied, doing your best to match his calm demeanor. "Thank you for receiving me on such short notice, Lord Pantalone."

His smile widened slightly, though it never reached his eyes. "It is my pleasure," he said, stepping aside to let you enter. "I am always eager to meet those with... potential."

As you crossed the threshold into his home, you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, heavy and penetrating. The estate was as grand as you had imagined, its walls lined with priceless art and artifacts, the very air humming with the wealth and power that Pantalone had accumulated. But there was something else here, something you couldn’t quite place. An undercurrent of darkness that seemed to seep into every corner, every shadow.

"I must commend your reputation," Pantalone continued, leading you through the labyrinthine halls. "It is not often that I find someone so... intriguing. Your letters were most informative."

There was a pause as he glanced at you, his smile still present, but colder now. "But I imagine you know that already."

You swallowed, trying to ignore the unease that twisted in your gut. "I’m here to discuss the details of our agreement," you said, hoping to steer the conversation back to the business at hand. "Your interest in expanding your operations is well-known, and I believe we can find mutual benefit in—"

"Mutual benefit," he interrupted, his voice a purr. "Yes, I’m sure you believe that." He stopped walking, turning to face you fully, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But I must ask... do you truly understand what you are dealing with? Do you know the nature of what you have stepped into?"

There was a threat in his words, subtle but unmistakable. You met his gaze, trying not to show your fear. "I understand enough to know that this partnership could be lucrative for both sides."

Pantalone chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Lucrative, yes. But there are other... considerations." He stepped closer, his presence suffocating. "Power, for instance. Influence. Control. These are things that cannot be measured in mere currency."

You found yourself backing up, instinctively retreating from his looming presence. But there was no escape from him. His eyes were locked onto yours, his gaze piercing, as though he could see the very essence of your being.

"You are here because I chose you," he said quietly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I have seen countless individuals come and go, each one thinking they could strike a bargain with me, that they could outwit me in some way. But none of them truly understood the nature of the game they were playing."

He reached out, brushing a gloved hand against your cheek in a gesture that was both intimate and terrifying. "You, however," he continued, his tone soft and almost tender, "are different. I can sense it in you. There is something... pure. Untapped. And I find myself drawn to it, like a moth to a flame."

You wanted to pull away, to run, but his gaze held you captive, his touch sending a strange warmth coursing through your veins. There was something about him, something otherworldly, that made it impossible to look away. His voice was like silk, wrapping around your mind, clouding your thoughts.

"I can give you what you desire," he murmured, his lips curling into a smile that was both seductive and sinister. "Wealth, power, influence—everything you could ever dream of. All you have to do is... trust me."

His words hung in the air like a dark promise, and for a moment, you considered it. The temptation was there, undeniable. To have everything you ever wanted, to rise above the constraints of your world, to be free from the limitations that had always held you back. It was an offer too good to refuse.

But there was a price.

You could see it in his eyes, the hunger that lurked beneath his calm facade. He wanted more than just a partnership, more than just an alliance. He wanted you. Your mind, your body, your soul—he wanted to possess you completely.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," you whispered, though even you could hear the tremor in your voice.

Pantalone’s smile widened, his teeth gleaming in the dim light. "Oh, but you do," he said softly. "You know exactly what I’m talking about. And you know that there is no escaping it."

His hand moved to your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze fully. "I am offering you immortality," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "A life free from the chains of time, from the decay of the mortal world. Together, we can transcend it all. You and I—eternal, unstoppable."

Your heart raced, your mind screaming at you to run, to escape before it was too late. But your body refused to move, held in place by the sheer force of his presence. There was no escape from him. No way to break free from the web he had woven around you.

"I... I can’t," you managed to say, your voice barely audible.

Pantalone’s smile faded, his expression darkening. "You can," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "And you will."

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Because if you don’t... I will destroy you. And everything you hold dear."

The threat hung in the air like a blade, poised to strike. And you knew, in that moment, that you had no choice. You were trapped in his web, bound to him by forces you couldn’t understand. There was no escape from the Regrator’s grasp.

With a final, trembling breath, you nodded.

Pantalone’s smile returned, cold and triumphant. "Good," he murmured, his hand sliding down your arm in a possessive gesture. "You’ve made the right choice."

As he led you deeper into the shadows of his estate, you couldn’t help but wonder what you had just given up—and what dark fate awaited you now that you had fallen into the grasp of the Banker.

The Portrait of Innocence

The cold halls of the House of the Hearth were filled with whispers—dangerous secrets and murmurs that seemed to drift like smoke, lingering in the air long after the words had faded. It was a place of power and influence, ruled by the most cunning of the Fatui, each member carefully selected for their skill and ruthlessness. And at the center of it all was Arlecchino, the Knave.

Her reputation preceded her, a woman of cold beauty and even colder ambition. She commanded respect, fear, and devotion in equal measure. The children of the House, raised under her watchful eye, adored her as their matron, but they knew better than to cross her. Her mask of elegance and charm concealed something far more dangerous beneath, a predator lurking behind every polite smile and graceful gesture.

You had come to the House under strange circumstances—a visitor, an outsider with no ties to the Fatui. Your connection to her world was tenuous at best, and yet, you found yourself drawn into it, into her orbit. Arlecchino had taken a peculiar interest in you from the moment you met, her sharp eyes assessing, her gaze lingering on you with a calculated intensity that left you unsettled. And though you should have feared her, there was something undeniably magnetic about her presence, something that pulled you closer despite the warnings that echoed in the back of your mind.

"You are different from the others," Arlecchino had said, her voice soft yet commanding. "You don't belong here, and yet... I can see something in you. Something untouched."

Her words had left you confused and intrigued, a strange mixture of emotions that you couldn’t quite place. There was something in the way she spoke to you, something in her eyes when she looked at you, that made you feel both exposed and desired. And as the days passed, you found yourself seeking her out more and more, captivated by her presence, despite the danger that seemed to radiate from her like a warning.

It was during one of these encounters that she led you to a small, dimly lit room deep within the House. The air was thick with the scent of incense, and in the center of the room stood an ornate, gilded mirror—a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its frame adorned with intricate carvings of serpents and roses. The surface of the mirror gleamed in the candlelight, reflecting the room with eerie clarity.

Arlecchino stood beside you, her hand resting lightly on your arm as she gestured toward the mirror. "Look," she said, her voice a low whisper. "Tell me what you see."

You hesitated, glancing at her before stepping closer to the mirror. For a moment, you saw nothing out of the ordinary—just your own reflection staring back at you. But then, as you looked deeper, something shifted. Your reflection began to change, subtly at first, then more noticeably. The face that stared back at you was no longer quite your own; it was a version of yourself—perfect, flawless, untouched by time or imperfection. It was the idealized image of who you could be, who you wanted to be.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Arlecchino's voice was like silk, smooth and intoxicating. "This mirror shows you not just your reflection, but the possibility of what you could become. Untouched by the world, untainted by age or hardship. Eternal beauty... eternal youth."

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at the reflection, unable to tear your eyes away. It was mesmerizing, this vision of yourself—a version of you that was more than just human, more than just mortal. It was perfection, in every sense of the word.

But something about it felt wrong. You could feel it, deep in your gut—a gnawing sense of unease that tugged at the edges of your mind.

"What is this?" you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

Arlecchino’s lips curved into a smile, but it was a smile that did not reach her eyes. "It is a gift," she said softly, stepping closer to you, her presence almost overwhelming. "A chance to escape the decay of time. To become more than you are, more than anyone else. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?"

Her words were like a poison, seeping into your thoughts, twisting your desires. You had never been one for vanity, never craved the kind of beauty that others sought so desperately. And yet, standing here in front of the mirror, you couldn’t help but feel the temptation tugging at you.

"What’s the cost?" you asked, your voice barely audible, though you already knew the answer.

Arlecchino’s smile widened, her fingers brushing lightly against your skin. "The cost is nothing... and everything," she said. "You won’t age, you won’t change. But your true self—the one that lives beneath the surface—will remain hidden, locked away in the mirror. Every sin, every vice, every cruel thought will manifest there, leaving you untouched. The reflection will bear the weight of it all."

The idea was both seductive and terrifying. Eternal youth, eternal beauty, the chance to live without consequence, without fear of time’s cruel hand. But at what cost?

You looked at her, searching for some sign of deception, but all you saw was her cool, calculating gaze. She was offering you something that most people would kill for, and yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something darker at play, something far more dangerous than she was letting on.

"What happens to the reflection?" you asked, your voice tight with unease.

Arlecchino’s eyes glinted with amusement, as if she had been waiting for you to ask that question. "The reflection will take on all the burdens of your soul," she said. "Every act of cruelty, every moment of weakness, will be etched into it. But you won’t have to look at it. You can live freely, without the weight of guilt or regret."

For a long moment, you were silent, your mind racing with the implications of what she was offering. Could you really live like that? Could you accept eternal youth and beauty at the cost of your soul?

"I don’t want to lose myself," you said quietly, turning away from the mirror to face her.

Arlecchino’s smile faded, her expression turning cold and unreadable. "You wouldn’t be losing yourself," she said, her voice sharp. "You would be elevating yourself. Becoming something more."

"But what would I become?" you asked, your heart pounding in your chest.

She stepped closer to you, her hand brushing against your cheek. "You would become whatever you want to be," she whispered, her voice like a siren’s call. "Free from the chains of morality, free to live as you please, without consequence."

Her words hung in the air, thick with temptation. And for a moment, you considered it—considered what it would be like to live without fear, without pain, without the constant weight of conscience. It was a tantalizing thought, one that tugged at the darkest corners of your mind.

But deep down, you knew that it wasn’t freedom she was offering. It was enslavement—to her, to the mirror, to the reflection that would slowly consume everything you were.

"I can’t," you said, stepping back from her, your voice trembling with resolve. "I won’t."

For a moment, Arlecchino’s expression remained unchanged, her eyes cold and calculating. But then, slowly, her lips curved into a smile—a smile that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Very well," she said softly, though there was a dangerous edge to her voice. "But remember this: the world is not kind to those who reject its gifts. And beauty... beauty is the most dangerous gift of all."

With those words, she turned and walked away, leaving you alone in the room with the mirror. The reflection still lingered in the glass, watching you with eyes that were no longer your own.

And as you gazed into it, you realized that the temptation would never truly leave you. It would haunt you, just as Arlecchino would, a shadow lurking in the corners of your mind, waiting for the moment when you would finally give in.

Melody of the Forgotten

The grand opera house of Sumeru City was the jewel of the nation’s artistic world, a towering edifice of stone and glass, alive with music and drama. Its stage had seen performances that transcended the mortal plane, and its corridors echoed with the whispers of stories long forgotten. You had been drawn to it from a young age, captivated by the splendor of the performances, the allure of the music, and the dream of one day performing on that hallowed stage yourself.

And now, that dream was within reach. You had been accepted into the opera’s prestigious company, your voice singled out as one with great potential, a rising star in the world of song. The opera house had become your second home, its backstage corridors a maze of opportunity and challenge.

But there was another presence in the opera house, one that the performers rarely spoke of—at least, not aloud. There were stories, rumors whispered among the stagehands and the older performers, of a phantom who haunted the opera house. He was said to be a master of disguise, a shadowy figure who could slip between worlds unseen. His moods were as tempestuous as the sea, his emotions unpredictable as the wind. He was both feared and revered, his influence felt in every corner of the grand theater.

No one had ever seen his face. And those who claimed to know more often spoke in cryptic tones, as if afraid to say too much. Some said he wore a mask, hiding some hideous deformity, while others claimed that he was a spirit—an echo of an ancient, forgotten soul who could never rest.

You had dismissed these stories at first, focusing instead on your training. But soon, you began to notice strange things—small, unsettling signs that you were not as alone as you once thought. At times, you would catch a fleeting glimpse of a figure in the wings, watching your rehearsals. Doors that had been locked would mysteriously open, and you would hear faint whispers in the corridors when you were sure you were alone. Most unnervingly, though, you began to find letters—perfectly folded pieces of parchment, slipped under your dressing room door.

The first letter had been a simple compliment: “Your voice is like the first breath of dawn—pure, yet aching with potential. Do not waste it.” It was unsigned, written in an elegant hand, but you had a suspicion it was from the phantom.

From that point on, the letters became more frequent, sometimes offering advice on your performances, other times cryptic messages that left you pondering their meaning for hours. And slowly, you began to realize that the phantom, whoever he was, had taken an interest in you—an obsession, even.

One evening, after a particularly demanding rehearsal, you lingered on the stage, watching as the candles in the chandelier flickered, casting long shadows across the empty seats. The house was quiet now, the other performers having retired for the night. You stood alone in the vast, echoing space, your heart still pounding from the intensity of your singing. You could feel eyes on you, though you saw no one.

"Why do you hide in the shadows?" you called out, your voice barely above a whisper, yet confident.

There was no immediate response, but you could sense something shifting in the air. Then, from the darkness of the wings, a figure stepped into the dim light—tall, with a slender frame and an air of theatricality about him. His face was obscured by a half-mask, covering the right side of his face, leaving only his left eye visible, cold and calculating.

It was him. The Phantom.

Or rather, Scaramouche.

He was known by many names—the Balladeer, the Wanderer, the Sixth Harbinger—but here, in the shadows of the opera house, he was the phantom. His movements were precise, his posture one of practiced elegance, as though every step was part of an unseen performance. His dark hair framed his mask, and though his lips were hidden in shadow, you could feel the weight of his gaze on you.

"You're brave," he said, his voice smooth and velvety, with a hint of danger lurking beneath. "Most would flee at the mere mention of me. But not you."

Your breath caught in your throat, but you refused to look away. "You’ve been watching me."

He tilted his head slightly, a slow, deliberate gesture that sent a shiver down your spine. "Yes," he admitted, with no hint of apology. "Your voice—it is unlike anything I’ve heard in years. Pure, yet raw. It needs... guidance."

His words hung in the air, and you felt a strange mixture of fear and fascination. Scaramouche was as much a part of the opera house as the stone pillars and velvet curtains, and now he stood before you, a living mystery wrapped in enigma and shadow.

"I don’t need your guidance," you said, though your voice trembled just slightly. "I’ve made it this far on my own."

He chuckled, the sound low and mocking. "Is that what you think? Do you believe you’ve come this far through sheer talent alone? No... you’ve had help—whether you knew it or not."

His words sent a chill through you. "What do you mean?"

Scaramouche’s visible eye gleamed with amusement, and he took a slow step closer. "I’ve been behind the scenes, pulling the strings. I have arranged for you to be noticed by the company, whispered in the ears of those in power. Without me, you would still be singing for an empty hall. You owe me... everything."

Your mind raced, trying to comprehend what he was saying. Had he been manipulating your career from the start? The realization struck you like a cold wave of fear and anger.

"I didn’t ask for your help," you said, your voice firmer now, though your heart was pounding.

He laughed again, this time with more cruelty. "No. But I gave it nonetheless. And now..." His eye darkened, his tone shifting to something far more possessive. "Now you belong to me."

The finality in his voice left no room for argument, and for the first time, you felt the weight of his obsession settle over you. You had always thought of him as a distant figure, a myth that haunted the opera house, but now, here he was—real, tangible, and far more dangerous than you had imagined.

"What do you want from me?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Scaramouche’s gaze lingered on you, his eye narrowing slightly as if assessing your every thought. Then, in a swift motion, he moved closer, his gloved hand reaching out to tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"I want your voice," he said softly, but there was a dark hunger in his tone. "I want it to sing only for me. I want to shape it, control it, make it perfect."

You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, his fingers cold against your skin. "You don’t understand," he continued, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, almost tender. "I have waited so long for something... someone... who could complete my music. I’ve seen mediocrity, incompetence, but you... you are different."

His obsession was suffocating, the intensity of his words sinking into your bones. You could feel the weight of his desire pressing down on you, and for the first time, you understood the full extent of his control.

"I’m not your puppet," you said, your voice shaking with fear and defiance.

Scaramouche’s lips curled into a cruel smile beneath his mask. "No... you’re not. You’re something far more precious. But make no mistake—you are mine."

The candlelight flickered as his words echoed in the empty opera house, and you felt the walls closing in around you. You were trapped in his web, caught between fear and fascination, between a desire to run and an inexplicable pull that kept you rooted in place.

"I can make you a star," he said, his voice turning soft, seductive. "I can give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of. Fame, fortune... all of it. All you have to do is sing for me."

You hesitated, the temptation of his offer gnawing at the edges of your resolve. There was something irresistible about his words, something that made you want to believe him, to trust him.

But deep down, you knew the truth. Scaramouche was no savior. He was a phantom, a manipulator, a creature of shadows who sought to control you for his own ends.

"You don’t control me," you said firmly, stepping back from him.

For a moment, Scaramouche’s smile faltered, his eye flashing with anger. But then, just as quickly, the mask of calm returned.

"Perhaps not yet," he said softly, though his tone carried an unmistakable threat. "But in the end, you will sing for me. Because there is no one else who understands you like I do. No one else who can bring out the true potential in your voice."

He stepped back, his form blending into the shadows once more, his presence as ghostly as ever.

"You will sing for me," he repeated, his voice lingering in the air as he disappeared into the darkness. "Sooner or later... you will."

The opera house was silent once more, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a curse. And as you stood alone on the stage, you knew that your fate was now intertwined with his, bound by the melody of his obsession.