windsterias

[windsterias]

Nerd Scara <3 stealinh our panties to pleasure himself

Nerd scara finding out were a virgin?!! He would go absolutely Feral, and I know he’s already on his knees sloppily eating us out <3

Or maybe he’s rutting himself into our bed sheets as he sucks on our chest <3 he can’t help himself you feel so warm and good

He's going feral if he finds out he's your first 😶

✧･ﾟ:* ->Loser Nerd! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: NSFW, Cunnilingus, Sub! Reader, Shy! Reader, Fingering, Overstimulation, Only one line of Dialogue!

After all those nights of jerking off with the lacy undies he stole borrowed from you and imagining what your pretty little pussy must look like beneath them, he never thought that he'd get to see or even taste the real thing.

But here you were, sitting on the couch of your dorm, legs spread to reveal your bare folds to his perverted gaze as you shyly cover your face to hide your embarrassment. He's like a kid receiving candy as his fingers hesitantly rub along your slit, the feeling of your arousal coating his hand and your soft moans making his dick harden beneath the fabric of his pants.

Once Scaramouche gets over his initial shock and accepts the fact that he's really the first person to ever touch you so intimately, he completely lets himself go. He presses his face into your pussy, his tongue messily lathering up your juices as his nose nudges your clit. His hands curl around your plush thighs, nails leaving marks on your soft skin from how hard he's gripping them as he holds them over his shoulders. The way your thighs suffocate the sides of his head is heavenly and he groans as your delicate fingers weave their way into his hair, tugging him as close as he could physically be.

Scaramouche feels like he could cum just from tasting you on his tongue, shameless moans vibrating against your sensitive folds. The wet muscle makes an absolute mess between your legs as saliva coats your outer lips. Your head is thrown back in pleasure when he shoves two fingers up your cunt, pulling back a bit to admire the way your tight walls suck them in. You're squeezing his fingers so hard, Scaramouche can only imagine how it would feel if he replaced them with his stiff cock.

He moves to work on your neglected bud, warm mouth enveloping the swollen bundle of nerves and sucking feverishly. Your face is flushed and sweaty, chest heaving as whines for more fall from parted lips. Your body spasms and shudders in his firm grasp as he makes you cum on his tongue, again and again. Moans for more eventually morph into cries asking him to stop, that it's too much. But he's too pussy drunk by now to listen.

His spit mixed with your cum covers the lower half of his face and Scaramouche is sure that he's probably climaxed at least once in his pants from eating you out non stop for the past hour or two. The glasses that now sit crooked on his face are also dirtied, making it difficult to see but he doesn't need to see when he can just taste you.

After what feels like forever, he finally removes his head from between your legs. Strings of saliva connect his lips to your cunt. He looks like a mess, hair disheveled with cum covered glasses and face but he isn't done yet. Tears of overstimulation that have now dried up stain your puffy cheeks as he pushes you onto the couch, getting on top. You can feel his clothed erection against your abused pussy, making you writhe as he holds you down to prevent you from escaping.

He grabs your wrists and holds them above your head, leaning in to whisper in a raspy tone,"You taste so fucking good... I can't get enough. I want to see you cum because of me, because of my mouth, my fingers..and my cock..."

[windsterias]

yan scara’s biggest fantasy: resting his head on your lap while you run your fingers through his hair, then falling asleep to the sweet sound of you humming a lullaby.

[windsterias]

i still can't get over that one post that went something like "scara would hate his fans? WRONG. remember how he acted when he had haypasia!!" and it lives rent-free....... that one line he has where he goes, "who wants to hurt my devout follower?" AAAAAAA OTL and then his whole "oh, you've seen my affection for her. if you were in my position, surely you'd feel the same." MY HEART. HE IS SO !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and then his ability to peek inside traveler's mind to read all of their thoughts........ his god era will forever live in my heart. <3

translating this to an au,,,,, an idol au or even an au where he really is a god....... methinks he would adore his followers/fans, especially you. even more so if you were one of the first who always believed in him. orz such affection can easily be twisted into an unhealthy obsession and because scara himself has even admitted he has a proclivity to cling to things........ :) he is so perfect. so codependent and obsessed and and and !!!!!!!!

so many thoughts in my mind!!! ( ≧ᗜ≦) just know that the main takeaway from this is that mouchey is so beloved hehe.

[windsterias]

rosaria the type of girl to be obsessed with boobs ngl

she would, which makes me sob because i am flat as hell 🤬

rosaria wants your chest to press against hers while she fucks you with her strap. she wants to lean down and wrap her lips around your nipples while she plays with your clit.

she'll squeeze your boobs too, and you better play with hers, too, or else ☝️

[windsterias]

Honestly I feel like Arle's fingers are either hot due to her pyro vision or cold and somewhat staticy due to the Snezhnaya(?) cold with the additive of whatever the hell those marks are on her fingers - 🥂

FINGERS INFUSED WITH PYRO HELLO!

imagine being so cold in her office in snezhnaya, so she has you sit on her fingers on her lap while she works... and she heats them up so you're all snuggly

but, when she isn't infusing them with pyro, they're definitely cold due to the temperature. so she will use that to her advantage to tease your body before heating her fingertips up to send you reeling. 🫶

[windsterias]

Being in a relationship with Yelan, but she works soo much you barely see her </3

However, whilst out browsing stalls in the harbour, you two cross paths. You looked so cute, Yelan couldn’t help but steal you away to have you all to herself, even if it’s just for a moment.

A quickie with Yelan x fem!reader

I’m so whipped for her 😩

-> break time!

synopsis -> yelan finds you when shes on a quick break. she can't help herself, so she takes you behind a building for a quickie.

a/n -> THINKING ABOUT THIS SO HARD OOOH.... thank u for this request my brain gears are turning so fast rn

warnings -> smut, (semi?) public sex, fingering, quickies

w/c -> 470

it was a fine evening in the harbor, so you took this as an advantage to get some fresh air and some grocery shopping done. 

little did you know, your wife, yelan, was approaching you in a rather slow pace. she was on her work break, in which she had approximately an hour to herself. 

she was admiring you from afar, watching the way your eyes lit up whenever a vendor brought out something new to show you, your polite smile and a rather generous tip for taking their time making her want to pounce on your right there.

but she couldn’t do that, it’d ruin her facade. so, she calls your name, motioning for you to come to her with two fingers before a mischievous grin dances across her face.

“hey love, how was work?” you said, your smile contrasting hers. she nods, going on a small rant about how her day was, and how she has to go back again later. she saw your face flip into a frown, your sigh ringing through her ears. 

all of the sudden, she grabbed your wrist, leading you behind a building in an unpopulated area of the city. there weren’t many passersby, which was good.

“i need you,” she whispered in your ears, heat rising to your face. “please.” 

you nod, and she starts undressing your bottom half, leaving your panties on. she pushes you into the wall, your back facing her. she’s got a hand under your shirt, cupping and playing with your soft breast, while the others already found their way into your undergarment.

you were taken off guard by how quick it started, just ten seconds ago you two were walking side by side to this location. 

“yelan,” you moaned lightly, making her put another digit into your soaked hole. 

“so wet, so desperate,” she smirked, grinding against your ass and putting yet another finger in. “so needy f’me.”

you whine a little at the pressure, gripping the walls to the points your knuckles turned white. she kept pumping in and out of you at a fast pace, curling her fingers into your gummy walls.

“‘m gonna cum-!” you moaned, the pleasure of release running through your body as you made a mess on her arm, the rest dripping down the wall and onto the floor. 

she helps you clean up and redress yourself, letting you keep her coat for the night to not draw attention to how soaked your bottoms got, even though they weren’t even on you. 

“shit, i’ve gotta head back to work now,” she kissed your forehead, putting the jacket over your waist. “i’ll be home late tonight. we can pick up where we left off if you stay awake long enough.”

you nodded, sharing a passionate kiss on the lips before parting ways.

[windsterias]

arles splash art is out,,, shes so handsome i need those long fingers in me

okay, long nails do not go inside. BUT, our considerate arle would trim 2 of her nails down just for us 😇

also, yeah. i had to write a lil something for this. sorry guys, it's the arlecchino takeover. also sorry for how short it is and the abrupt ending 😓

arlecchino x sub!fem reader ⁺˚⋆｡°✩

dom!arlecchino x sub!fem reader

warnings: smut (mdni), fingering

"does that feel good, doll?" her voice is low, sultry as it vibrates against the shell of your ear. the shiver she elicits from you is enough to make her lips quirk up against your skin.

her middle and ring fingers stay pressed deep inside of you, refusing to move as you adjust. she can feel you clinging to her neatly ironed jacket, wrinkling the fabric with how your nails dig in.

her palm nudges your clit, laying flat against it as you squirm. every movement of your hips pushes her fingers deeper, and her palm grazes your sensitive nub. all those sensations cause you to squirm more, trying to escape, only to be stuck in a never-ending loop as she keeps you in place.

"always such a good girl for me." she hums into your ear, changing the angle of her fingers slightly as you grip her wrist, your other hand muffling your soft noises.

the sharpness of her other nails against your skin is a clear reminder of just how dangerous she could be, gently scratching your skin without leaving marks. you're grateful she loves you so much to cut down said nails she's so proud of.

the grip you have on her wrist tightens when she massages her fingerpads inside of you, searching for only one thing while your hips rock against her hand.

she indulges in your sweet little sounds, your hand finally falling away from your lips as you tilt your head back onto her shoulder. you allow her to hold you so tenderly. despite her rather frightening status as a harbinger, she was so gentle with you.

"good girl." she kisses the side of your head, grinding her palm into your clit as you further relax into her.

[windsterias]

It's awkward talking smut so let's do it annon because your smut post "jerking into your pussy" got me going lmao.

Just thinking about walking around town, going on with the day, a toy inside your pussy, keeping their warm cum inside as it is slowly colling off and dripping out.

𝐢. ─ ◜ ౨ৎ ◞ nsfw below the cut. written with a black reader in mind, but nothing is stated explicitly. exhibitionism !!

𝐢𝐢. ─ ◜ ♱ ◞ so glad my original post got u going, i aim to please !! this was prolonged so much but i have some free time and had to answer this :3

imagine ur fav beating ur guts up, with you folded in a tight mating press. he’s making sure to cum deep inside you, pulling out slowly to keep your puffy pussy nice ‘n full. he can’t let anything waste out his pussy — not when he’s got something so fun planned out for the both of you. he’s spreading your lips to get a good at the gooey, warm cum coating your walls, before giving a soft pat to your folds in appreciation at the nasty view. <3

you watch with dazed, glossed over eyes as he leans down, pressing his lips against your own.

“sit pretty like this for a second, yeah? m’gonna get somethin’ for you,” he murmurs against your lips, pale hands guiding your own to keep you all pretty and in half. he can’t help the airy moan that leaves his lips as he steps back and takes you in in full. so gorgeous — his sweet, pretty angel always making him feel so good.

“do somethin’ f’me, just one little favor, and i’ll return it.” he says, talking to you so sweet and partially condescending — and you’re so fucked out of it (still) that you’re just nodding along. don’t even feel the plug he’s easing into your sloppy cunt, not until you’re hissing at the cool sensation contrasting against just how hot your pussy is.

and it’s certainly hard to ignore — especially because your fav is parading you around. in public. chatting so animatedly about any and everything as if you’re not carrying around a load of cum he’d dug out your pussy for. it makes you feel soso full — and you can feel the toy shifting slightly, a dollop of his milky cum just barely about to spill.

when he notices your attention elsewhere, instead of rightfully being on him — he’s rubbing a soothing, tender hand on your back. then you feel the toy inside you vibrating, your knees threaten to buckle, making it so you have to bite down hard to not moan. he’s turning to you, giving you a look of ‘concern’, fake worry in his tone.

“somethin’ the matter, pretty girl? actin’ like a baby deer, can barely put a foot in front of the other,” the hand on your lower back is adjusted to rest on the swell of your ass — innocently appearing to help you balance yourself.

a few heads turn towards the two of you. concerned passerbyers, nosey couples, and a few with knowing looks — though, you hope not.

by now, the vibrations aren’t as intense, but still causing you to pathetically attempt to rut back against it. it’s almost frustrating — stimulating you just enough to get tou to gush out slick, sticky arousal. arousal that’s making his now cooled cum to escape your cunt and panties. your fav just ‘tsks’, as if dissapointed that you’d even let his cum waste out.

with the false image of a caring boyfriend, he’s guiding you off to a secluded area — anywhere nobody can see just how depraved and shameless he is. a hand moves between your thighs, swiping the leaky cum between to fingers.

“ahh,” he prompts, a grin on his face as you so obediently open your pretty lips, taking in the salty flavor. “good girl, sweetness always s’good.” he coos — gently, slowly fucking his thick fingers into your throat.

“'s probably not so tasty cold, hm? my sweet thing deserves that somethin’ i promised earlier.” quiet gagging noises — your gags — are slightly lower than his hushed words. his digits are still down your throat, despite the cum previously coating them properly cleaned. “yeah, a nice ‘lil bakery. bet what you’ll get can’t be as sweet as you though.” he steps back, wiping his saliva coated fingers on your shirt.

“you’ll have to not let anything else leak though, baby. can’t treat you if you can’t even keep my cum inside.”

CHILDE, KAEYA, zhongli, ayato, GOJO, TOJI, geto, nanami, DABI, HAWKS, shigaraki, KISHIBE, + ur favs!!

© 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐙.. do not copy, modify, or otherwise repost my works to any other sites.

[windsterias]

dilf scaramouche fucks clueless virgin reader who welcomes scara to the neighbourhood idk

✧･ﾟ:* ->Dilf! Scaramouche x Virgin! Fem! Reader

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: NSFW, Praise, Mating Press, Breeding(?) (He cums inside of you), it's short, Light Dacryphillia!

✧･ﾟ:* ->Smut written by a minor!

You didn't expect to find yourself in such a position after bringing over some freshly baked cookies to welcome the newest member of your homely little neighborhood: body pinned against the soft mattress of Scaramouche's bed, getting your brains fucked out.

You felt like you were being folded in half with the way he hooked his hands behind your knees to push them to your chest. He groaned at the feeling of your blunt nails raking his bare back,"God..you feel so good, shit— tighter than any virgin I've ever fucked... You're doing so well for me, princess, taking my cock so obediently.." Blood rushed to your cheeks at his words, feeling the knot in your stomach pull at his praise.

The bed creaked with every heavy thrust of his hips, pelvis meeting yours each time. You cried out everytime he hit your g-spot with such precision— he was so good at this! Not that you would expect any less from a man who was probably twice, if not three times your age. You wouldn't have even guessed that he was so old, the slightest lines on his face being the only sign of his older age. The way his his long indigo hair fell over his shoulders and tickled your face was so attractive and made him seem so much younger.

A raspy chuckle next to your ear brought you out of your thoughts,"What's wrong, sweetheart? You look dazed..." Even the tone of his voice was perfect, a mix of seduction and tranquility that contrasted the sharp pace he was going at which only seemed to increase with the passing moments. Your moans heightened in pitch, tears welling up in your eyes you felt your first orgasm approaching. Scaramouche noticed your reaction and brought a hand up to wipe away the salty liquid beginning to leak.

"Haah... You look so pretty when you cry.. Gonna cum? Then cum for me, baby. Make a mess around my dick," he cooed so persuasively you just had to comply. A white ring formed around the base of his cock when you came, crying out his name so sweetly. You looked gorgeous as you lay there, accepting everything he gave you. It wasn't long before he climaxed too. Warmth flooded your pussy as he filled you with his seed, stuffing your cunt to the max.

After riding the both of your highs out, he finally slowed down and pulled out of you, eyes roving over the sight of your leaking pussy appreciatively. He moved to lay next to you, strong arms cradling you to his firm chest. You reciprocated the gesture, cuddling up to him as closely as possible, body still trembling a bit from the aftermath of your session. He grinned at the sight of you practically fusing your bodies together, using a hand to card through your messy locks of hair soothingly,"You're so cute, you know that? My baby did so well for me..Now let's get you cleaned up, yeah? I'll run a bath for the both of us and make some dinner to go with the cookies you brought. What's your favourite meal?"

[windsterias]

cw. oral (fem! receiving), pussy drunk kuni, fem! reader

how you're shaking, twisting, turning— eyes widened, breath catching at the very touch.

on the tousled, messy bed, your body moves smooth like water as you gyrate your hips into scaramouche's hold. the man wasn't stupid, his perceptions of you were always correct, besides, he was aware that the reason for your figure being loaded with pleasurable shocks and trembles was he. he alone.

a cruel tug at his hair makes him suddenly increase the flicks on your clit, you see, scaramouche likes to take his time with it before spitting on your pussy repeatedly, grinning in delirious pleasure when you react to every single droplet of his saliva making contact with your cunt— it's so you're all nicely wet for him while he's listening at the addicting need in your voice.

now, he sensually slides down his tongue to reach in between your folds, but he does it slow— pulling his face away just a bit from your sore cunt so he can get a real good look at how it's going to make you react, of course, with that wide grin on his face as well, trying to make you feel.

the wetness, the precision, can you feel it? the sheer contact of tongue on your throbbing skin.

your blunt nails begin to scratch his scalp— and oh? he's so loud with it too, scaramouche cannot stop himself, groaning into your cunt and gripping brazenly at your thighs as he squeezes the flesh before pressing you into his mouth more.

he's certainly done for, you can feel it when his hands abruptly shove their way further between your legs, forcing you wider for him.

you being his sweet significant other, have grown familiar with his actions and body language, being aware that tugging at his hair only turns him harder— makes him whine out even louder when you ride him later.

you comp through his hair as you moan his name in shambles, letting his tongue lap up and down your folds as he catches himself grinding stronger and deeper into the mattress from your taste alone, the heat of your skin overthrowing his body.

scaramouche swears it makes the entire scene so much more sensual when you push his head to where you needed it the most, practically end up riding his face as you claim him with your slick, the heightened arousal on your pussy suffusing his face and speeding his flicks of tongue.

you wail ever so dreamily for more, recognizing that your boyfriend will never be able to stop spoiling you.

growing hotter by the minute, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you circle your hips in tandem with the tip of his tongue teasing your clit. with that combination, scaramouche repeatedly bumps the wet muscle into the sore bundles as the loud squelching noises were almost able to overthrow your own.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[windsterias]

yan scara calls you dramatic like he hasn't threatened to end civilizations whenever you ignore him

[windsterias]

yeah hi I promise I'm still here I just haven't been doing x reader stuff recently lmao but pls send in rqs

#♡ chats #genshin smut #ive mostly been doing self indulgent stuff so #that's why i haven't been posting lmao

[windsterias]

may i ask for scara for B, G, H, Q, T ? :0

(no pressure 🎀)

-🫧anon

ALL THE PRESSURE BESTIE! I ALREADY HAD A COUPLE OF THESE WRITTEN, CAUSE GUESS WHAT?? IM A SIMP!!

Anyways, thanks for the request, bubbles!! I threw in a couple extra (the ones I wrote already) just to thank you (no other reason).

TW: mentions of self harm (very slight, I promise)

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Willing and able, Scaramouche can and has killed for you. Once out of protection and the other time as a warning. Blood on his hands means nothing to him and to him, any human life except for yours, is expendable.

The way you look at him after does make him falter a little, there's a genuine fear in your eyes. It's a visceral look that only those truly afraid of death can show, and thus he did choose not to commit such acts in front of you anymore, but that doesn't mean they don't happen.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

His heart is a closed lock box that will probably never be opened. Vulnerability is a weakness and he refuses to be weak, especially around you, who will use anything to your advantage to get away.

But there are times where his walls will fall. Times when he's not the balladeer, or number six, or even Scaramouche. There are times when he's just a scared, confused puppet.

He's only shed tears in front of you once. In the dead of night, his voice was soft. You asked him, not as a captive, but as a person, “why are you doing this to me?” And his response was a single tear, a moment of weakness, a moment where he lost himself.

That tear was wiped away as quickly as it fell and he was back to his usual demeanor, cursing himself for such shortcomings.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

While he hates to admit it, his love is anything but a game. To him, this is blatantly serious, and any attempt to escape is an attack against him personally.

Your escape attempts aren't cute, nor are they funny. He's done all of this for you, yet you don't want it? You don't want him? It's not fun having to drag you back after you try to get away, but the sight of you begging to him on your knees for forgiveness, that was exciting.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

The day he took you, was the worst day of your life. The day you met him was the day you ruined your life, but the day he took you was the day your life truly ended.

You still had nightmares about that day, waking up in a cold sweat and having to look at the reason for all your fears. He slept peacefully while your chest heaved and sweat dripped down your face.

The doors to your home, the windows, any place that a person could get in, someone forced their way through. Your house was swarmed with armed Fatui guards,all of them big, strong, and holding weapons. Fighting back was barely an option against Scaramouche, even with a vision, but against all of them together, you knew you stood no chance.

Grabbed and pulled out of your door, you kicked, screamed, begged, and cried. Anything you could think of as they dragged you to a carriage. His carriage. Where he sat waiting for you, a nonchalant look on his face.

If you knew that that'd be the last time you'd seen your home, you would've looked at it harder.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

The only thing that would ever keep you away from Scaramouche is death itself, but even the solace of that is one that you won't be able to enjoy.

When he takes you, you are his and his alone. He won't allow you to run away or even harm yourself. He views you as something he owns and treasures, hurting it would be hurting something that he loves.

If you do manage to get away, what a smart, but stupid thing you are. There is nowhere he won't find you and nowhere he isn't willing to go to get you back. You'd never be safe for a second, running to the ends of the earth. Life would be constantly looking over your shoulder and lacking trust in anything and everyone. It would make you ask if leaving was even worth it? If what you were doing now, constantly on the run, was even living?

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Tears are a sign of weakness, he knows that best. Maybe that's why he takes pity on you when you cry. His harsh exterior can be melted slightly by your little sobs and begging, but that doesn't mean you'll get your way. But even you have noticed that his punishments are a bit softer when you've cried and his touch becomes oh so much gentler.

Slinking away from his touch does cause a pain in his chest though. Knowing that you despise him so much, you don't even want him near you anymore. These are quick ways to get him to calm down slightly, a type of reaction that lightens the blow of his usual attitude.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

You are a smart thing, aren't you? You'll learn eventually. Compliance is his biggest weakness, you doing and acting as you're told actually makes him trust you. It takes time of course, but act right for long enough and suddenly he's less irritable and more complacent with you as well.

The straw that really breaks the camel's back is begging. Scaramouche needs you, he won't say it, but he does, and he wants you to need him too. Say that he's the only one who can do something for you, and suddenly he's practically putty in your hands. Beg sweetly enough and that hard exterior will crumble. All it takes is a saccharine spoken, “Please, my lord."

[windsterias]

Bleeding Pastels (Kabukimono x Reader)

The puppet's life is colourful; while tainted and stained with a dark smudge in the middle- originating from his creation- at least it won't discolour the world he lives in...

right?

Yandere!Scaramouche x Reader

Kabukimono era

Canon-divergent. Some abuse briefly described later on. Symbolism-heavy. Read between the rainbow to find the shadows that the light casts.

-------------------------

I. Pink

The day that the boy first saw you, he almost mistook you for a god.

You sat alone underneath wispy sunlight that broke through the gaps in the bright pink petals above you. Gently fluttering down around you, picking up with the occasional spring breeze; sakura petals adorned your atmosphere and lay like a bed around your form.

The shade of pink that dusted the boy's cheeks was only somewhat darker then the beautiful pale pink of the sakura and it's flowers.

The boy could only stare in awe, lost in his own world of reverence and admiration- that was until a beautiful, soft voice pulled him out of his head.

"And who might you be?"

The puppet blinks. Your bright, vivid irises held him captive among the falling blossoms; his pale pink lips open and close without a sound- the boy unable to find a response.

You laugh. Gods, that sound makes something within him stir. It steals his artificial breath and replaces it with something so soft and light that he does not dare to look too deep into.

"Well? There's room for both of us here, if you want." You say with a smile, palm patting the soft grass beside you.

It takes a moment for the puppet to register your words, but as soon as he does it's like a string has been pulled taut- and he longs to loosen the tension that has formed. He makes his way over to you, his knees folded underneath him as he merely stares at you silently.

"You're that boy that guy brought with him a couple days ago, right? What's your name?"

For once, the puppet speaks.

"I... Don't know." His voice is soft, light, and almost somewhat childish. He sounds so innocent and boyish.

Your eyes wander down his face and trail down his arms. He doesn't say anything, but he can see you stop and stare at the joints in the middle of his arms; the ones attached with a ball and some hinges.

"Hey, you're not human, are you?" You say with curiosity in your tone, as you pull yourself onto your knees to take a closer look. Your hands are soft as they take ahold of his wrist and hand, pulling it out to a stretch as you stare in wonder at his unblemished skin and the way his arm connects to the rest of his body.

The puppet watches as a bright pink petal flutters down against the untainted sky and lands delicately in your hair.

"I hope you forgive me for oogling you; I've just never met someone like you before..."

Your eyes flicker up to meet his wide-eyed stare; and you offer him a smile as bright as the sunlight above.

"Your skin is so soft, and the way your elbows are designed is so cool! Are your knees like this too?"

The puppet doesn't say anything; instead unable to find an appropriate response as all he can do is nod his head.

"Really? That's so cool!" You say with wonder to match his own.

"I'm (Y/N). I-"

Your mouth hangs open, but no words escape you as you watch the puppet's hand slowly move atop your head. Delicate fingers pluck what his eyes are so intensely trained on from your hair, before bringing it down infront of the both of you to see.

"This... was on you."

You blank at the pink petal between his fingers, and for a moment the puppet's mind whirs to life with questions of whether he had done something wrong, but you soon snap out of your trance with a laugh. The boy sits still, confused about your reaction.

"Thank you. You don't have to show it to me though." You say before snatching the soft object from him and swiftly placing it atop his own head.

You laugh at the expression on his face from your actions, and the puppet finds the wonderful sound brings a smile to his face. He doesn't quite understand why you did that, or why you're laughing, but he finds your joy infectious all the same.

II. Purple

Over time, the people of Tatarasuna as well as the puppet himself learned how he differed and how he was similar to the humans around him.

He felt pain and bled just like they did. Yet, he didn't seem to have a heart. He didn't need to eat or drink either, but he claimed that he could and that he wanted to do so to 'become more human'.

The puppet- now called Kabukimono by his peers- also didn't quite understand social ques and what was wrong or right. After finding out that humans would often disrobe and bathe when they became dirty, the puppet had tried to do the same in the nearby stream of village. That little event had a few people swiftly ushering him to put his clothes back on while laughing awkwardly; as if he was a child who didn't truly know what he was doing.

Which, in all honestly, was pretty much what he was. A child who knew nothing about the world or people around him. But he was learning.

The pastel purple clothing that he was so often seen in flowed freely in the breeze; the smell of lavender was picked up by the summer wind off his freshly washed robes and filled his nostrils with the calming scent. It was the smell that adorned him whenever you were the one responsible for washing his clothes (as you often took turns among the other villagers to look after him).

He had grown to love that scent.

"Just... like... this." You said as you dragged the teeth of the comb through his wet hair; letting the Kabukimono watch your actions through the mirror.

"Think you got it?" He nods at your question, and you hand him the comb.

His hand is steady as he mimics your previous movements; dragging the teeth of the light purple comb through the strands of dark indigo atop his head. After a few strokes, he pulls the comb away; a deep violet staining the teeth as if to remind him that he wasn't like you.

You smile at him. "Perfect! Just like that. Now you're all set to wash yourself next time you need to."

The Kabukimono stares down at the comb in his hands; staring down at the violet that taints the pastel shade. You had gotten him this comb, it was one of the first objects he had ever owned. And now, because of him, it was stained a dark purple from the dye that was used for his colour- that still coated his hair.

And yet, the same dark stain that now marred his gift from you had dyed your palms a similar shade to that of the comb- a bright, pastel purple. Originally, he had panicked and apologized profusely for staining you, for tainting you, but you merely had laughed and said you didn't mind. That it would go away eventually.

And while others wore gloves when taking care of him and his hair, you didn't. You let your fingertips run through the dark locks and dance across the top of his forehead; you let him feel the warmth and softness of your touch as you scrubbed the dirt and dust that had accumulated in his hair. You let his colour stain you; and somehow, you managed to make the dark purple such a bright and beautiful shade of lavender once it touched your skin.

"My... arms hurt. Can you do this for me?" He says quietly, turning towards you and holding the comb back up to you with a pleading look in his eyes. You smile, the corners of your eyes crinkling in adoration at the Kabukimono's barely-concealed lie.

You had done a lot to take care of him and teach him about various things; he knew that lying was 'bad' and that he shouldn't do it. But even so, on rare occasion- like right now- he would say something small that didn't match what you already knew. And it would always end up with you taking a little extra care of him then you otherwise would have.

You knew you shouldn't let him keeping lying, but he was so bad at telling them, and it was adorable how he yearned for attention... so you couldn't make yourself scold him for his behaviour. You let this lie slide like all the others.

"Alright, alright. Come on then, turn around."

You can see the corners of his mouth tip upward in a smile, however subtle, as he did as he was told and let you run both the comb and your fingers through his hair.

The Kabukimono couldn't help but watch your hands. To seek glimpses of the bright purple staining on your palms that could only have been from him. He always loved when the other humans would point out your coloured hands and comment on how you practically took sole care of him with how often your hands took on the familiar shade.

Even when he wasn't by your side like a loyal puppy, it was like a part of him was still with you. Even if at first he saw the colour as a stain upon your otherwise perfect skin, you had assured him that it was harmless, told him you liked the colour, even.

You had taught him that being 'selfish' is one of the 'bad' things, and he shouldn't be 'selfish'. But if it was so 'bad', then why did it feel good? Why did it feel good to leave a piece of him with you, as if to claim you as his own human?

The teeth of the comb grew ever darker as they sorted through his indigo hair.

III. Yellow

For a being that was supposedly crafted by the hands of the god of thunder, the Kabukimono couldn't help but jump at each loud roar of lightning that dared to light up the dark night.

"Oh, Kabuki..."

The puppet was shaking; his arms wrapped around his knees as he sat staring at the floor, trying to ignore each jolt of thunder only to be hyper aware of every crash of it outside the window.

The pity in your voice somehow comforted the puppet, even more so when you kneeled beside him to pull him into a hug.

"It's ok, you're not in any danger. The Electro Archon would never hurt us."

The Kabukimono still shook. Sure, she may never hurt you, but to him- every bolt that struck the earth was searching for him; the fruit of the anger and hatred he knew his mother held for him.

Each flash of lightning lit the inside of your warm home a bright yellow. A stark contrast to the usual deep purple of the electro element he knew so well.

Your hand smoothed over his back, the other wrapped around his shoulders as you held him close. Another flash had him jump once again; burying his face into your shoulder as if to try to hide from the storm.

"Oh, hey, hey... It's ok..." You tried to soothe him, your voice gentle and low as his arms wrapped around you to hold tightly to your clothes.

Your arms wrapped around him were warm, firm, secure, as if you were the one shielding him from the tumultuous rain and deafening thunder.

"Ok, c'mon, lets go to bed."

The boy in your arms sniffled as you pushed him away from you, guiding him towards your plush bed.

"B-But... My bed..." He mumbled out, his eyes falling onto a small mat off to the side that you had done your best to make comfortable. And as shabby as it was, the Kabukimono loved it. You had made it for him, after all.

"You won't be able to sleep if you're over there, will you? This storm doesn't look like it's going to stop anytime soon, so... Why don't you stay with me? That way, I can protect you."

The deep purples of his eyes were wide and glossy with tears at your proposal; but he swiftly nodded and climbed onto the bed with you following suit.

The two of you got settled underneath the blankets, and the Kabukimono couldn't tell if your bed was just more comfortable then his, or if he really liked being beside you that much more then being alone. He watched as you shifted around; moving the pillow you normally slept on to rest underneath his head as you lay flat on the mattress next to him.

You smiled at him, a smile that made his chest tighten and something within his artificial body malfunction. His breath caught in his throat at the feeling of your fingers brushing along the side of his face, pushing his bangs out of the way of his eyes.

"Do you think you'll be able to sleep? I'll be right here if you need me."

The rain was loud on the old glass of your home; a flash of lightning bringing attention to the lack of purple that the Kabukimono had so loved to see on your hands.

But the fear of the thunder triumphed over his sadness that his hair no longer stained your palms; and he couldn't help but jump at the noise that shook him to his core once again.

Trembling hands grabbed your soft, steady one and brought it up to his cheek. The Kabukimono rested your palm against his flesh, nuzzling into it even as he shook in fear. You couldn't help but pity him, the pad of your thumb brushing over his cheekbone as you indulged him.

"You won't leave me, right?" He says quietly, warily, as if he's afraid the storm will hear his weakness and aim straight for his non existent heart.

The smile you give him almost looks sad. But it remains as sweet as it always does nonetheless.

"Never."

"You promise?"

Another crash of thunder has him jump once again, but with your hand against his cheek, he's quick to recover.

"I promise."

He peers at you and sees no trace of malice; no trace of annoyance or deception or betrayal. All he sees is you; your beautiful smile and crinkled eyes, glistening even in the darkest of nights.

The next flash of yellow lightning that illuminates the two of you only proves to show that even against the Electro Archon herself; your light is so much brighter then anything the god could conjure to harm him.

He doesn't jump at the sudden thunder. Instead, he lets out a shaky breath and pulls you forward- bringing your head onto the pillow that you had given him before he buries his head right underneath your chin; pushing himself into your body as if he wished to become one with you.

You can't help but smile at his unintended affection. Your hands move to embrace him; to smooth over his back and run your fingers through his hair.

"It's... bad to break a promise." He mumbled into your chest. "You won't break your promise, right?"

You let out a soft chuckle, tightening your embrace as you let the boy cling to you for life.

"Of course I won't. I love you too much to hurt you like that."

Your words were accentuated with another jolt of thunder. Another flash of yellow. And then a second bolt of lightning- this time, right through the cavity where his heart would have been.

I love you.

The words repeated in his head like a prayer; and he nestled himself deeper into your embrace in an attempt to muffle his thoughts and hide the pink on his cheeks.

The innocent, pure little Kabukimono had heard the words before. Humans who were close, who kissed and slept in beds together would say it to one another. Humans who were bound for life by little bands of metal on their fingers would whisper it to eachother whenever they pleased.

His tongue burned- yearned to repeat the words back to you, but something inside of him refused. Rejected the idea of feeling the intimacy of human love... of the idea that he could be with you just like all the other humans who loved eachother.

That night, when the puppet and his human had fallen asleep, the Kabukimono found himself without a single dream.

IV. Blue

Even when the Kabukimono wasn't under your care for that day, he still hovered near to where you were.

The old woman who was tasked to care for him that day was a vile creature. One who refused to acknowledge the puppet as anything close to human; instead treating him as merely an object, a plaything, something that could do whatever she wanted of him without complaint.

Because the poor Kabukimono didn't know how.

The puppet watched from where he sat by a large bucket. His hands were filthy; red and sore from scrubbing away at the clothing that he was forced to wash by his current caretaker.

He watched as you bid farewell to your fellow villagers; a basket hung off your arm as you walked into the nearby woods.

Oh, how he longed to follow you. To see where you were off to, to accompany you and watch every move you made.

He looked down at the water in the bucket, browned with dirt and dust. Surely, the water flowing through the stream in the forest would be nice and clean, right?

He's quick to set everything aside; emptying the water into the nearby crops like he was instructed, and then following you into the forest.

It was like your presence had merely teased him; he stumbled blindly through the brush hoping that you would be found in this direction. That he could, at the very least, be able to lay his gaze upon you once more and lighten this heavy feeling in his chest.

What the Kabukimono hadn't thought about, though, was just what you may be doing out here in the forest. And what he saw when he finally approached the familiar babbling brook stole his artificial breath away- the feeling all to familiar to that time had first laid eyes upon you.

The water was a beautiful crystal blue; your clothing lay next to the stream, a telltale sign of what he had stumbled across.

You looked divine. Beautiful. The way the water ran by your bare form and dripped so deliciously from your skin had the puppet star-struck. Pink was quick to dust his pale cheeks.

Then, like an all-too-familiar flash of sickeningly-yellow thunder, a thought occurred to him.

He shouldn't be seeing this.

Sudden panic washed over him, a fear he had felt so many times before now baring it's fangs at him once more.

If you caught him, you would leave him too.

He bolted.

The trees rushed by him in a blur of green; sticks cracking beneath his feet as he retraced his path out of the forest. Birds flew and squirrels panicked as he went by them like the roaring wind; and finally he reemerged from the trees to the sight of the village before him.

He felt warm. He couldn't get the image of you out of his head. The picture of you bathing in such beautiful blue waters was ethereal. He felt his chest tighten even further at the memory.

"You damn puppet! Where have you been!?"

The Kabukimono's face paled instantly at the shrill sound.

"You thought you could just go for a stroll through the forest, huh?! You didn't even finish your chores!! And where's my water pail!?"

The voice boomed. It's origin angrily stomping up to him before grabbing his wrist so harshly, he was sure it would have bruised if he were human.

If he were human.

"You damned-... Can't you do anything right!?" The old woman shouted, dragging the shrinking boy along behind her and towards her old, decrepit house.

"I'm sorry-" He tried to speak, tried to make himself heard over the pounding in his ears.

The woman was like a constant flash of thunder; waiting for the perfect moment to strike the puppet where he stood. And this time, it looked like he was all alone in this storm.

The woman tossed open her front door before dragging the Kabukimono inside, harshly slamming the door shut before she turned to him with a wild look in her eye. The puppet looked absolutely pathetic as tears welled in the corners of his violet eyes.

She shouted at him. Cursed at him. Pushed, pulled, hit him in whatever way she felt fit to.

The Kabukimono shut his eyes, and recalled the divine scene he had stumbled across just a little while prior. He pictured you, standing within the crystal blue water of the stream, and he pictured himself standing infront of you. The sky such a rich, pale blue above the two of you as you found comfort in one another's embrace.

"Are you listening to me!?"

The puppet opened his eyes, and all he saw was blue. The world was blue, he was blue, the old woman was blue, and the constant patter of liquid splashing onto wood from his cheek was blue as well.

A sad, soulless, cold blue. The blue of loneliness and pain.

He remembered how beautiful you looked underneath the cherry blossoms that day he first met you. The shade of pale pink that so beautifully complimented the darker pink on his cheeks that day.

He remembered how tightly you held him under the flashes of yellow that threatened to consume him whole. How you told him you loved him- how you promised you would never leave him.

And he remembered the blue of the water running by your hips. The blue of the sky above, the blue of the cotton of your clothing.

The pounding in his ears was overwhelmingly loud.

A blue hand raised itself before him.

Before it could hit it's target, the pounding stopped.

Everything stopped.

V. Red

The world's colours had returned. But they were so much darker then before. As if drenched in thick shadows that clung even to the most well-lit areas.

And it was like the Kabukimono was just seeing the real world for the first time.

The green of the foliage outside had turned from a beautiful bright shade to a deep, forest colour. And even darker still were the greens inside; where moss and mildew grew along the corners of the old house, and the various stains from archons-know-what seemingly having appeared from nowhere now dotting the surroundings with the deepest shade of black.

The puppet had seen black before. But this was different. Darker. And it was like the entire world had been tainted by those stains of black.

Even the deep brown of the rotting wood below almost seemingly started turning black as a dark red seeped into it's pores.

Such a deep shade of red it was. The colour akin to the same that flowed freely from his cheek; although his was so much brighter then the vile woman who stained the floorboards.

No- if he wasn't a human, then she wasn't either. She was merely a creature, a worm- that now lie pathetically limp at his feet.

Her words, despite his attempt to drown them out, had seeped into his head regardless.

You will never be human.

You will never be wanted.

You will never be needed.

Perhaps she had been correct.

After all, she had only been repeating what he had been telling himself already.

But, if she was correct, then what did that make of the words that the other villagers had said? What, pray tell, did that make the humans themselves?

Liars. All of them. Filthy, red-stained liars.

They had never once truly cared about him. Merely tossing him scraps, at best; demanding that he do things for them and barely leaving him to fend for himself.

Barely giving him space in their village, barely caring to try and be 'polite' with him- even when they demanded that he be polite around everyone he interacted with.

At first, he just accepted it. Of course he did. The world was bright, colourful, beautiful- but now, he's seen it for what it truly is. He's seen the suffering, the pain, the lies; the shadows etched into every crevice of this forsaken world.

He knows that they had lied to him when they said they considered him a fellow human.

And you had taught him, the saint that you are, that liars are bad.

Oh, you... how beautiful you are. How wonderful and amazing and kind you are. Out of everyone in this damned, pathetic village, you had been the one to treat him like an equal. To treat him like a human.

To love him like a human.

His chest tightened at the memory of your voice above his head that night; "I love you" falling so effortlessly from your lips as you held him close.

Archons, you loved him. You promised him you would never leave him. And you had never broken your promises before.

You loved him.

Deep purple eyes fell to the human shaped insect on the floor. And a laugh bubbled up from within him.

He did something bad. Terrible. He had made the woman who hurt him stop moving.

But it felt good.

And if it felt so good, then... why stop?

He was already stained a deep, dark black. He could never go back to being as pure as you had seen him. Perhaps, he had always been this way- perhaps that's why his so called 'mother' and her fox-pet had decided to seal away what was rightfully his. The power that she had inlaid within him.

The power that now pounded so freely through him. And it seemed like the only way to silence it was to let it go.

As the puppet exited the house, a trail of red followed behind him. Electro crackled at his fingertips as he walked towards the center of the village, and he revelled in the hushed and desperate whispers of the humans he passed by.

The pounding in his ears- in his head- only grew stronger with each passing second. The crackling electro a disgusting shade of darkened, tainted yellow as it emanated from him.

And like a bolt of thunder that once had scared him so; flashes of yellow now flew through the open air and showed no mercy to the humans he was surrounded by.

Screams filled the air, filled his ears- and all he could do was laugh. Such pathetic insects, all scrambling to seek shelter from his divine wrath. It was chaotic, beautiful, as red stained the ground and painted the houses in it's corruption.

A gentle breeze kissed the cheek that had rapidly healed it's wound. With it, it brought delicate pale pink petals from the sakura trees that were so abundant in this land.

The village fell still. Nothing but the blossoms that danced on the wind dared to move; to catch the eye of the puppet-murderer.

"K-Kabuki...?"

A voice so small called out to him, stirring him from his thoughtless-thoughts.

He turned to you, and it was like your very presence made the surrounding area brighten to how it was before. Suddenly the world was perfect again; bright and happy and welcoming and loving.

Your eyes, so beautiful and vibrant, were wide and tinged with fear. Your hair was still wet- evidence of your bath, but all it served was to remind the puppet of what he had seen. Of the divinity he had been so blessed to witness.

You didn't move as he walked up to you. You couldn't. Shock had it's tight grasp on your body and mind, and you were unable to even speak at the bloody scene around you.

The puppet smiled so sweetly at you. And despite being the same smile as he had always given you, it no longer looked so innocent.

"I love you." He said, voice proud and unwavering.

Your eyes darted to meet his. He looked so...

dark.

"What...?" You couldn't even process what he said.

"You said you loved me that night, and I never said it back. I love you, (Y/N)."

"What-... what did you do..?" Your voice trailed off into a pathetic whisper, and it made the puppet smirk as his hand moved up to cup your cheek- much like how yours had once done for him.

"They were... bad. All of them. They could have hurt you, like they did to me..." The pad of his thumb spread a deep red over your skin as it rubbed your cheek. "But you love me. You promised you would never leave me. And I know you would never hurt me like they did..."

It was like his eyes had become gateways to the abyss itself; dark, devoid of life- of the boy you had once loved. Black stained his beautiful purple irises; tainted the beautiful colour with darkness and something sinister. Just like the blood that now stained your cheek.

The puppet-murderer intently watched your face drain of colour; intently watched as your pupils shrunk into pinpricks- and made note of your body starting to tremble.

He knew the signs of fear- he himself had expressed the same many times before. He knew you were scared. His chest felt like it tightened around a non-existent heart... he didn't want to see you scared. Not of him.

"...They were going to hurt you. I-I heard them. T-They were waiting for you to come back, a-and they would have... I-I couldn't let them do that. I couldn't let them be bad. I-I wanted to protect you..."

You still continued to tremble. It was like you had barely heard the lie he had told- but you didn't push him away when he pulled you into a cold, blood-stained embrace. And that was enough for him.

"I will... protect you. Stay with you. I will... be good for you."

...another lie. He was no longer good- he could never be good again. His soul- his hands- were now permanently stained red... a red that would be drained of colour as soon as you left his side- and he refused to be seen with that vile black ick. He refused to let you go.

It was almost sickening how swiftly he was able to return to how he was just hours ago... innocent, sweet, gentle. Even as the vibrant crimson stained his once-white flesh. Tainted him. Changed him.

As you gazed at him with a slacked-jaw expression, you could see the surrounding area- the massacred village- devoid of colour... of life. As if the puppet-murderer had drained the pinks and purples and blues and reds and it all congregated into a swirling black in the center of his beautiful indigo irises.

Was your beautiful, sweet little puppet-boy always so... heartless?

The way he pressed his lips to yours was robotic. Stiff and almost forced- but you knew that this was just his way of doing things, until he got used to it.

Until he got used to kissing you. Loving you. Tainting you.

A colourless tear cascaded down your cheek, your eyes closed as the puppet continued to kiss you as sweetly and gently as he could.

When he pulled away, he gently took your hands into his own, and looked down to see you trembling in his grasp. He noticed just how pretty your hands were covered in red.

And his violet eyes flicked up to your face, your hair- his red-stained fingers reaching up to pluck a crimson petal from your hair.

The pretty pink looked good on you, he once thought.

But he thinks you look so much better covered in red.

[windsterias]

New loser scara emotes just dropped❗️⁉️

Loser scara series

[windsterias]

I absolutely love your writing style and choice of words😭😭 whenever you write scara or do a a character study he sounds like a loser lmao (in a good way-)

Thank you, dear anon! Your kind message inspired me to write a proper response (I haven’t done this in ages), so do forgive me for wasting your time on reading it! ❤️🙏

I think “loser” is a pretty accurate word to describe Scaramouche. He never gets what he wants, being either robbed of something he had spilled his own blood and tears to finally seize or prescribed to experience the underwhelming and unsatisfying results of his seemingly “successful” goals. In my humble opinion, it’s the latter that makes Scaramouche such a tragic character. In the end, he wasn’t even allowed to escape from the painful reality of living with the fact that he had spent almost five centuries believing in absolute lies and subjecting himself to blatant manipulations. He was denied the right to commit what the game essentially implied to be a suicide in the name of “correcting his mistakes”, and to someone as wilful yet fragile in terms of ego as he, having to continue existing in Teyvat and actually face the consequences of his actions instead of “quitting in a quick and beautiful fashion” is the cruelest but sobering punishment one could invent and execute against already broken and humiliated individual whose unyielding convictions were shattered by the sudden revelation.

In short, Scaramouche is a complete failure of a person (and deep down he knows it). It’s only natural that you, the “Reader” character, won’t be happy with his pre!Wanderer version — after all, you are the prisoner of his flawed mentality. His imperfections (hidden self-hatred and prejudices included) are too sharp to be smoothed, let alone to be rid of. They leave no room for improvements to be made to the cage you are placed in, depriving him of the pleasure of hearing you sing for him. A bird without a voice is a pathetic sight to behold, and there is nothing he can do about it other than activating his usual defense mechanisms and blaming you for not succumbing to his childish whims. He will be inclined to think that you deserve to have your wings clipped because... there certainly must be an urgent justification for making you miserable, right?

But he won’t be happy either with the outcome. Despite a certain amount of sadistic glee produced, your suffering won’t be considered a victory on his part. It doesn’t matter what kind of feelings you harbor towards Scaramouche — you may desire or loathe him, whatever. It’s he who is the sole problem here; to be precise, it’s his tendency to constantly contradict himself that really dooms your already unhealthy relationship. After all, you are no mind reader, so how would you know that Lord Scaramouche’s disdain for you was born out of his bizarre interpretation of how love works? How would you know that The Balladeer’s despicable demeanor has a complex layer to it? How would you deduce the discarded puppet hurts you because his guts twist at the thought of him — of all people — behaving in a genuinely nice manner?

He wants you to love him, truly, for even failed tools can long for the taste of intimacy. But he also has a burning hatred for seeing the sincere joy of another, himself included. As such, those mutually exclusive feelings constantly clash with each other — if he can’t just dream of that sweet fairy-tale nonsense without a feeling of revulsion, then he is not worthy of it at all. By this logic, the fault is yours alone (for causing him to malfunction, of course) and you are not worthy, too.

Scaramouche is being difficult because there is no other option for him to take – he simply can’t see alternatives. His preferred method of coping with the trauma is lashing out at those few pleasant things in his life and destroying them, therefore prematurely declaring his defeat. It’s as if he aims for it on purpose... or is in strong denial of his neglected need to be loved, thus unconsciously choosing the most crooked and thorny path.

Predictably, this path will lead him to an impasse. As long as he keeps refusing to admit he still has the capacity to feel himself human, he will never win. He is the creation of Eternity, the puppet made by the hands of the embodiment of everlasting stagnation; enthralled by false beliefs, he won’t reconsider them at his current state of being. Your humanity, on the other hand, gifts you the ability to endure, adapt, change, and ultimately prevail – a feat not eligible to his infinitely tolerant body. You have the advantage of possessing a spirit free of the constraints of an artificial creature and a mindset of agile properties – in other words, all roads are open for you to explore to your heart’s content.

Scaramouche, however, has only one. He shall remain a dedicated worshipper of the stale idée fixe until enough force – a force of source almost divine – is applied to his stubborn self. You don’t hold such power, but at least you will always find a way to escape the horror of cohabitating with him. Yet he… He will haunt the same repeated trail in a vain attempt to prove to the world and everyone living in it that his decision to torment you (and himself) was never wrong. Only time shall eventually show him the downsides of the narrative he has been obsessing over and point out the obvious inconsistencies, and until then…

Until then, he will never ever beat you. But will you still be here to laugh at him once he realizes that he never had the slightest chance of putting your king in checkmate from the very beginning?

It is a question you must resolve yourself. By then, his intervening whisper won’t entice you anymore; by then…

You will be the one to pull on the unlucky doll’s strings.

[windsterias]

⊹ 　 ﹒ 　 ❝ 　a losers secret ⠀⊹⠀˚⠀ ౨ৎ

𝜗𝜚 ┈ loser!scara x shy!fem!reader ㅤ ✦

𝐈. ──ㅤ youre the good and shy girl of the school, everyone knows you and everyone likes you, you consider everyone a friend, even the loser that sits in the back of the class. but what happens if you, the most well-liked good girl, gets paired up with the most hated loser in school ?

𝐈𝐈. ──ㅤ mentions of fingering , overstimulation , cream pie , raw sex , mentions of markings , little bits of degradation 'n praise, reader is very shy and gets nervous easily , reader is inexperienced , reader is innocent , breeding kink , && corruption kink .

𝐈𝐈𝐈. ──ㅤ nsfw , smut , english is not my first language, please forgive me , proofread , fluffy yet suggestive ending .

﹒ thoughts : hope u guys enjoy this ,, its been months since i was active here and im trying to get back here because ive been starving yall </3 . btw , reqs are open ! feel free to req anything . :) what do we think of new theme tho? it keeps changing 😭 .. and ngl this fic kinda sucks. ☹️☹️ but yeah i hope u guys still like this even if it’s horrible!

> story right under the cut <

SCARAMOUCHE is the typical loner you’d see in your class, black jacket with the hoodie over his head, headphones on, is at the back of the class, and much more. there were rumors that he murdered someone, that he does drugs, and the list goes on. no one likes him—in fact, everyone hates him.. almost everyone hates him.

for your english project, you got paired up with scaramouche. after the teacher announced who would be paired with who, everyone in your class came up to you, telling you how much sympathy they have for you, that how sorry they are for you, and telling you ‘good luck with dealing with him’.

you were confused, what was so bad about scaramouche? sure there were rumors, but if they don’t evidence that they did those stuff, you have no reason to believe in the rumors. you felt so bad for him, he already had no one by his side, and the entire school hates him.

you went up to scaramouche, he immediately notices your presence and looks up at you with an indifferent expression on his face, yet he looked awfully tired.. he took off his headphones and he stared to speak,

“what? here to bully me for having no friends?” you hear him scoff, a frown plays on his lips as he brings his gaze to the floor.

hearing his words made you protest, you would never bully anyone, or even hurt a fly !

“n-no! of course not..” you stammered.

you fiddle with your fingers in nervousness. you always get nervous whenever you talk to new people or when people assume things about you, a slight blush creeps up your cheeks as you think about his words.

the indifference immediately leaves scaramouche’s face once he notices your blushing. he stares at you for a moment before a huge smirk appears on his face.

“ah, so you’re not like all the others?” scaramouche tilts his head back and chuckles.

“huh..?”

you take a seat next to scaramouche’s chair and you bring it closer to him.

“what do you mean by that..?”

“everyone else treats me like i’m sort of monster or freak. you, however, seem different from everyone.”scaramouche leans back in his chair.

“well, you don’t seem like a freak or a monster..”

you were growing increasingly nervous, and as an attempt to calm yourself down, you look down to your lap to hide your nervous and red face and grip the hem of your skirt. you never thought someone would assume you’d bully them— let alone think that you think of them as a freak or a monster!

you can’t help but notice that scaramouche’s eyes trail down to your legs. it’s quite unnerving, and your short skirt doesn’t help much with that either.

as a way to snap out of his thoughts, scaramouche shakes his head and sighs.

“are you just saying that to be nice? what about me isn’t freaky?”

“u-uhm… you seem like a normal person. you look.. um.. cool too..?”

scaramouche looks back at you and raises his eyebrows.

“oh yeah? you think I’m cool?”

you notice him shifting slightly, leaning toward you.

“then, you surely don’t mind me getting closer, right?”

your blush gets heavier the moment you feel scaramouche leaning in closer to you.

“no… not at all.”

scaramouche grins at your response and scoots even closer to you.

“then is it okay if…” he trails off, and his voice gets husky as he leans in. you feel something touch your leg, you look over to see his hand resting on your thigh.

“i suppose so..”

scaramouche’s eyes light up after hearing you agree. you could feel him plant his lips on your neck; a few gentle kisses on your skin.

“how about if i…” scaramouche places a finger along the hem of your short skirt.

a small whimper escapes your lips, you don’t know how to feel about being this close this to someone, you had never been this close or intimate with anyone.

“is it alright for me to… lift your skirt up?”

your eyes widened, you weren’t sure how you’d respond to that, but, if you were going to be honest, scaramouche was making you feel hot down there..

his words made you feel tingly and horny, but his gaze was what was making your panties damp and wet.

“can we.. go to a private room first?”

…who knew it was so easy for you to fall right into scaramouche’s trap?

after successfully making the teacher believe that scaramouche he was taking you to the clinic, he brought you to his dorm, and next, to his bedroom.

SCARAMOUCHE had you on a tight mating press, your clothes on the floor with bits of your orgasm stained onto it. (it got to your clothes because scaramouche had fingered you until you squirted all over the place.)

how could scaramouche have resisted himself? you looked so innocent, and so corruptible, he just had to get his hands on you.

scaramouche groans as he feels your walls clamping down on him for the ‘nth time. it was a sign you were about to have another orgasm, another sign was when your moans get higher-pitched.

the feeling of scaramouche’s cock mercilessly ramming into you was agonizingly pleasurable. you couldn’t think of anything else but him and his cock, your body couldn’t help but just have orgasm after orgasm.

you held tightly onto his shoulders, clinging onto him as if your life had depended on it. scaramouche’s dick was bruising your cervix, fucking you into the mattress, and possibly trying to fuck your brains out.

“does it feel nice being reduced to nothing but a whore?”

scaramouche grabs a handful of your hair, staring at your messy and slutty state. the way you looked so disheveled, the way you were gasping for breath, the way you gave up trying to keep up with scaramouche’s quick and brutal pace.

you looked so helpless and vulnerable under him, his cock ramming into you and you have no choice but to take it like the good girl you are.

“answer me, you whore.”

scaramouche speaks to you with a stern voice, in which you immediately nod your head.

he smirks, letting go of your hair. he speeds up his thrusting, bringing one of his hands down from your waist to your clit, rubbing slow circles on it. you felt the knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter until,

finally, with just one more snap of scaramouche’s hips, you both reach your intense climax and cum together.

scaramouche continues to sloppily thrust into you, however, it’s much much slower, he continues to thrust until he comes into a full stop.

“oh fuck, you felt so good..”

you both lay there panting, with scaramouche still on top of you. he stares at all the hickeys and bite marks he left on your neck (he also left a lot on your thighs.), feeling proud he had his markings left on you.

“scara..?”

scaramouche snaps out of the daze he was in while he was staring at the markings he left on you—he immediately looks up at you and responds back.

“what is it?”

“can we do things like this… more often?..”

scaramouche chuckles, finding your shyness even after all the rough sex you two just had adorable.

“hmm.. sure.”