pure ୨୧

I love scaramouche, yandere behavior, the color pink, horror genre, dolls, and cats! ♡

[pvrepure]

im JUST about to finish the entity scara (idk what to call it) x reader BUUUTT the reader is more depressed/wishful for scara but i just had the idea wouldnt it be better if i made the reader more obsessive with him? Like the mentally insane obsessive kind instead of meek

Im not sure if i should jst finish this and whatever or should i rewrite it to fit the other narrative ;;

[pvrepure]

hi wowie im back anyways sad news fav char privilages aint getting that part 2 anytime soon, in a fit of a tantrum and i deleted the whole thing and im too lazy to rewrite it (for now) so uh yay, this might be for the best though since i kept editing over it again and again since sumth felt off, also this might be a sighn to not make it a series n jst finish everything IN the sec chapter which i need to plan cuz i planned for like, other than the sex doll thing i wanted to do where y/n is finally let out for once and someone recognizes her outside and he says shes a cosplayer, AND for another smut is like kuni showing y/n rule 34 of her own self which includes mutual masturbation and then we have the stockholm syndrome kicking in, so since its scattered i'll take time bleh.

I really should stop posting abt whats in my drafts when im not planning on posting them soon ... Before anyone asks "Wattpad?!" Yes i use wattpad thing to write and copy pasting it from there to ao3 and here CUZ ITS SO MUCH EASIER I SWEAR

[pvrepure]

Theres a big chance my mom is taking my laptop away and i dont have my phone cuz of that fuckass monster of a principal so any fics will be delayed for awhile...

[pvrepure]

"Let’s stay together forever ♡"

THIS IS FROM @m0ll13 A BIG FAT KISS TO YOU FOR THIS AMAZING GIFT WTF I'M HOLDING BACK A SQUEAL IN CLASS RN MWAH MWAH MWAH MWAH

[pvrepure]

imagine yn giving scara head like in a new years party and when the time clocks to 12 and he cums he could joke abt sum "heh.. you had my dick in your mouth since last year, call that a mouthful of history"

This is so funny to me idc if you don’t laugh we are simply not on the same wavelength

[pvrepure]

Once i figure out how to make it character accurate I'm making discord esex between scara and reader smh

[pvrepure]

Ive made this painting like 6 months ago and i forgot to finish it but im too lazy to so whagever lets just say her unfinshed hair is just how my natural artstyle looks like

[pvrepure]

♡ Mine, Softly Made

warnings: Porn with plot / Pseudo incest / yandere / Kunikuzushi became an Archon (yes its a warning) / creampie / mating press / fluff / angst / trashy plot but fuck it we ball / Raiden Co.™ (we are the product) / Overstimulation / Multiple Orgasms /

summary: In which Ei didn’t abandon her prototype, but made someone soft to sit beside him. What starts innocently between two unfinished puppets becomes attachment, attachment into dependency, dependency into possession. And after that, things got.. out of hand.

19kwc

Men and women complete each other.

That's what Yae Miko told Raiden Ei when she wanted to abandon the prototype, that she didn't have to start over, the answer was simple: if he was too emotional to rule over Inazuma, she just needed to make another puppet to complement him, to be naturally obedient and help him with his duties, and what better would it be than to make a female puppet? As the saying goes, behind every great man is a great woman, and she just needed to make that great woman.

It took a while to make you, but it did not disappoint. You were done, another puppet whose duty was made clear from the moment you opened your eyes: serve the prototype and make sure to be his right hand anywhere he goes.

At first you were shown the Raiden Shogun's main residence, taught the basics of life to ensure you knew at least the bare minimum before meeting the prototype, and that was when Ei realized she might have made a mistake. You were too meek, too soft for anything, you were as emotional, if not even more than the prototype.

That was when Ei was ready to abandon you both, to scrap everything and start over like she meant to. Yae Miko came again and suggested that maybe this was for the best, that if the prototype had to be with a puppet as emotional as him, he would feel some type of connection. For a great ruler and his right hand to become, they needed a deep emotional connection that could be built through recognition. 

He could recognize himself in you, and in that recognition, find something worth protecting. If they were both weak in the same way, then neither could remain that way forever, because someone would have to take the first step, and perhaps they would learn to stabilize each other, to grow not despite their emotions but through one another. 

And if his first duty was something simple, to care for someone like himself, then maybe he would begin to understand responsibility before being given power.

The first time she introduced you to the prototype under her and Yae's supervision, it was... strange to say the least.

They didn't expect immediate connection, but they also didn't expect the thick silence to stretch the way it did, as the two of you stood there, facing each other with no idea what to do with it. 

You looked at him, and he looked at you, both of you aware of the other in a way that made it harder to move instead of easier, your hands held too still at your sides, clutching at your kimono, your posture too careful.

You tried to speak, but so did he at the same time.

The words overlapped and cut each other off before either of you could even get them out properly, your voice catching as you stopped immediately, gaze dropping while he did the same, both of you stepping back at the exact same time, shame radiating from the both of you.

Ei and Yae stood there watching the interaction, and neither of you managed to recover from it.

The meeting ended shortly after that.

Ei, with a low sigh, concluded the first meeting as a failure.

So she did something else instead. From the next day onward, you were made to meet him for two hours, every single day, in the hopes that simple exposure would do what intention could not, that being placed beside each other again and again would slowly ease the tension between you, allow familiarity to settle where awkwardness once held its ground, and, eventually, bring the two of you closer.

And of course, like everything that Ei planned that had gone wrong before, this did too, as at first nothing changed at all.

You would sit across from each other, or stand, or even walk slowly along the same path under supervision, both of you aware of the other's presence in a way that made it impossible to relax into it. Not a single word was exchanged, only brief, subtle glances that never lasted long enough to mean anything - except perhaps, a quiet, mutual judgment, as if neither of you quite knew what to make of the other being the same as yourself.

It went on like that for days.

Yae had even snickered at it once, something quiet and amused at the way neither of you could manage something as simple as speaking, let alone reconcile that strange, mirrored discomfort, which in her eyes was absolutely hilarious, two puppets judging one another for being the same? Unmatched.

Ei did not find it amusing. She needed this to be resolved as soon as possible, so she could finally lock herself away to meditate, maybe she should've abandoned you both and started over.... But she's far too gone now, she has to make it work, somehow.

Annnddd, there was absolutely no progress to acknowledge, no connection forming in the way it was intended to. When Yae saw Ei's distress, that's when she suggested something else: to intervene more directly, she would go to the prototype, and Ei would go to you. That both you and the prototype seemed eager to please, as endearing as it was seeing you both try to work hard, trying is not enough, they needed progress.

He was pulled aside first. Yae told him, plainly, that he needed to speak, she didnt say it as a suggestion, or that he should try to speak - no. Straight up, you have to talk, thats a task.

You were given the same treatment, Ei's instructions were just as direct: you were to converse with the prototype, it was a task.

The next time you were left together, the weight of those instructions sat heavily between you as you both tried to speak... Which turned out at the same exact time.

"I-"

"Did you-"

The words collided and stopped again, both of you freezing mid-sentence, eyes wide as you looked at each other before the silence dropped back in, heavier this time because you had both tried and still failed.

Your face flushed immediately, heat rising too quickly as your hands clenched slightly at your sides, your thoughts scrambling for something to fix it, to prove you were worthy, that you could do what you were told, but finding nothing, the embarrassment settled in faster than you could push it away.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- I just-" you started scrambling, words stammering against each other as you stepped back, your gaze lowering further in shame and embarrassment as the feeling built.

"I wasn't- I didn't- it's fine, you- you can go first," he said quickly, his own voice just as unsteady, his hands flailing around, his eyes flickering away from you as though that alone might make it easier.

"No, it's okay, you can-"

"It's fine, I don't-"

The overlap happened again, and somehow that made it worse.

Your breath caught as the frustration and embarrassment tangled together, your chest tightening as the situation slipped further out of your control, your body reacting before your thoughts could settle.

"I'm sorry-" you said again, quieter this time, before turning and running away quickly without waiting for anything else, vision blurring slightly as tears gathered in them.

"Wait-!" he called after you, the word coming out suddenly.

You didn't stop, you kept going.

Your steps carried you further than you meant to, past the halls, past the servants who tried to stop you, and into the garden, the open space hitting you all at once as your breathing grew uneven, your chest tightening as you moved toward the familiar sakura tree without really thinking about it.

By the time you reached it, you couldn't hold it back anymore.

The tears came before you could stop them, your hands coming up to your face as your shoulders shook, the frustration settling in heavier than anything else.

You couldn't even do something simple.

You were made for a purpose, given a role from the moment you opened your eyes, and your merciful mother Ei made it easier for you by giving you time to adjust, to get used to him, and you couldn't even manage to speak properly let alone start working, to the one person you were supposed to stand beside.

Your breathing broke as the thought settled deeper, your fingers curling slightly as you pressed them against your face.

"I can't even do this right..." you whispered to yourself, the words slipping out without meaning to as you continued to cry.

For the next few moments, your painful sobs were the only thing heard in the garden before careful, hesitant footsteps approached slowly behind you.

"H-hey..." his voice came, quieter than before, unsure in a way that matched the way you felt.

You didn't turn immediately, your shoulders still trembled slightly as you tried to steady your breathing, your hands lowering just enough for you to glance back at him after you made sure no more tears came out.

He had stopped a few steps away, like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to come closer, his gaze fixed on you with the same uncertainty that had been there since the beginning, though now concern was mixed into it.

"I didn't mean to mess it up," he said after a moment, his voice uneven but steady enough to continue. "I just didn't know what to say, and then you started talking and I thought I should answer but I think I interrupted you and then it just-" he stopped briefly, his brows pulling together slightly before he continued, quieter now. "I don't think you did anything wrong."

Your breath caught slightly at that, your gaze dropping again as your fingers tightened against the fabric of your long sleeves.

"I did," you said softly, your voice still unsteady. "I couldn't even talk properly. We're supposed to work together and I can't even do that, I don't know how I'm supposed to help you if I can't even- "

"You don't have to know right away," he said, the words coming a little faster this time, like he didn't want you to keep going down that line of thought. "I don't know either. I think that's why they put us together, because we're both bad at it." he continued, looking totally serious.

You let out a quiet pfft at that, you couldn't help it- he looked so funny concentrated like he didnt just call himself (and you) bad.

He flinched slightly at the sound, clearly not expecting it, a hint of embarrassment crossing his expression, because why were you laughing at his very, very hard attempt at comforting you? before the feeling softened into something quieter. His gaze lingered on you despite himself, drawn to the way you looked when you laughed, when you smiled, so different from the tearful expression you had moments ago, and from the usual meek look you had on your face almost all the time.

And, somewhere in that realization, he felt a small, unfamiliar sense of pride settle in his chest, knowing he had been the cause of it.

So he decided to approach you, though he did hesitate for a second before slowly stepping closer, very careful to reach you and not make it feel too sudden.

His hand lifted briefly, plucking a flower from the cherry blossom tree's bent branch, and before you could ask what he was doing, he gently placed it into your hair, tucking it just behind your ear with a touch so light it barely registered at first.

"There," he said quietly, like he was trying to fix something even through his embarrassment, "You look... better."

You blinked, your breath catching in your throat slightly as your hand came up instinctively, brushing against the small pink flower where he had placed it, your tears stopping completely.

From a distance, unseen by you and him, Ei had been watching as Yae stood beside her, observing the scene that unfolded just as closely.

When Ei shifted slightly, as if preparing to step forward, Yae reached out and stopped her without a word, her gaze still fixed on the two of you, and when Ei looked confused, Yae looked back at her and just shook her head no. For once, Ei didnt argue.

From that day on, something changed.

At first, it was the next time you were sent to prepare tea under the supervision of other servants (so you don't burn yourself), your hands still a little clumsy as you tried to remember the steps you had been taught. Your attention stayed fixed on the motions in front of you, measuring herbs, pouring the steaming water with precision to not splash anywhere, until you felt a presence beside you.

When you glanced up, he was already there, standing closer than usual, watching your movements with a quiet focus before taking the teapot and attempting to copy them himself. His motions were hesitant, slightly stiff, and when he got it wrong by pouring too fastly letting the water splash, he paused, staring at the mess like he was trying to understand where it had gone wrong, then looking at you as if waiting for correction without actually asking for it.

"You're holding it too tightly," you said softly, reaching out just enough to adjust his grip. "If you loosen it a little, it's easier to control and it won't splash next time,"

He nodded enthusiastically at your explanation, trying again, slower this time, more careful, his attention sharpening as he followed what you told him. And when he finished, seeing that he didnt splash nor did he overflow the cup, his gaze flickered back to you and lingered a moment longer to see your approval. You smiled and praised him while clapping your hands, he averted eye contactt with a sheepishly content smile. 

After that, it happened again when you were practicing writing.

You had already started before he arrived, the brush already moving across the paper in slow, careful strokes. He settled beside you without a word, taking his own sheet of paper as his brush hovered uncertainly above it, before he finally began to imitate the characters you were forming.

The strokes came out wonky at first, breaking where they shouldn't, and he paused halfway through one character, his brows pulling together slightly as he looked at what he had done, then back at yours, then back at his paper again, trying to see the difference.

"I think I did this wrong," he said quietly, tilting the paper just enough for you to see.

You leaned closer without thinking, your shoulder brushing lightly against his as you looked over it, your finger hovering just above the ink as you pointed out the mistake.

"It's this part," you explained, your voice low and steady. "You stopped too early. It should connect here."

He followed where you pointed, trying again more carefully this time, and when he finished, the line held properly. He stared at it for a second, before letting out a small breath and setting the brush down.

"Okay, thank you," he murmured, almost to himself, though his gaze drifted slightly to the side anyway, just enough to catch your expression again.

That day, he noted quietly that you seemed to like being asked for help.

Then it started happening outside of tasks.

You were in the garden one afternoon, crouched near the base of the sakura tree as you gathered fallen petals into your hands, your attention drifting as you watched them slip through your fingers. You didn't notice him at first, not until he lowered himself beside you, close enough that his sleeve brushed against yours as he reached for a petal as well.

He didn't say anything, he just copied what you were doing. Picking one up, turning it slightly between his fingers before letting it fall back to the ground.

You glanced at him briefly, then back at your hands, and after a moment you shifted slightly closer to him without thinking, the space between you closing just enough that it felt.. easier.

After that, it became something you started to expect.

When you were sent somewhere, he would appear sooner or later, sometimes a few moments after, sometimes already there like he had known where you would be. At first he kept a little distance, still unsure in the way he moved, but that distance grew smaller each time.

One time, when you were sent out to retrieve a few items as part of Ei's practical instruction for you, he had come with you without being asked to because, well.. hes almost always with you now. On the way back, you had both noticed a group of children playing something unfamiliar, running, chasing, laughing like it was the most fun thing in the world.

Curious, you had approached the group of children and asked them what it was, they explained it easily, calling it "tag," going over the rules as if it was something everyone was supposed to know already. Taking in the new information, you glanced to the side to see him already glancing back at you before giving a small, quiet nod - an unspoken agreement had formed between you.

To say you both wanted to be human was an understatement, so anytime one of you discovered something new about humans, you would tell one another to practice it when nobody was watching.

And so, the next time you ended up walking through the garden together without being told to, one of you eventually asked if you could try the game you had learned about before, as part of wanting to feel more human. The suggestion lingered for only a moment before it was agreed upon.

At first, it was just that, something you did in the garden when there was no one around, a simple agreement between the two of you to be more human.

But it didn't stay like that for long, it was fun. Thats basically it, you both had alot of fun playing this human-made game that it came naturally now as something that both of you enjoyed more than something that bloomed out of trying to be human.

Sometimes one of you would start running without warning, laughter slipping out in quiet bursts as you chased each other through the garden paths, your movements less careful than what you're taught to do. Your hands would brush when one of you reached out instinctively, neither of you pulling away as quickly as you used to. It didn't stay in the garden either, sometimes it carried into the hallways, even in the middle of errands or tasks, one of you would scream tag before the game started all over again. 

After that, he started staying longer, actually, scratch that, he started staying with you all the time.

So much so that the servants began to look for him when they saw you, grinning when he appeared a moment later, as if it confirmed something they had already begun to assume. And if one of them needed either of you, they would simply say to search for one, because you would always find the other.

"Two peas in a pod," they began to say, watching as the two of you moved through the residence side by side. It was almost as if the intention behind your creation showed itself in the way you stayed near each other, like two halves that were always meant to move in tandem, never quite complete apart.

And somewhere along the way, without either of you realizing when it happened, he stopped coming to you because he didn't know what else to do, and started coming because he wanted to be there. 

Before you were made, there were nights where he couldn't sleep, lying awake with a quiet, suffocating feeling of being incomplete that sometimes broke into silent tears when no one was there to see it. But that didn't feel the same anymore. Not when he was with you. Not when, for the first time, that emptiness didn't sit as heavily as it used to, because somehow, being beside you made him feel complete.

Raiden Ei decided it was enough, seeing the significant progress that had been made. Once she reached that conclusion, she withdrew from everything just as quietly as she had observed it, sealing herself away within her plane and leaving the rest in the hands of Yae Miko without telling any one of you.

From that point on, everything changed faster.

Yae took over what Ei had started, guiding it into something more official. The days after that became more organized, more demanding, as preparations were rushed forward and work had to be done. Even if you did not fully understand the weight of it at the time, you felt the shift in the way people treated him, in the way they spoke around him, in the way their attention lingered longer than before, and how Yae forbade either of you from playing around in front of people, unlike before.

The day it happened stayed with you like it had been carved into memory.

You were both prepared for six long hours, dressed and refined with careful precision, servants moving around you in practiced silence that felt unfamiliar as they were a little casual around you and him before. You were dressed in a layered dark kimono with different deep purple and lavender accents, heavy with fabric and detail, adorned with accessories that screamed wealth and royalty. Your hair was arranged to suit your pretty facial features, your face carefully painted with makeup meant to sharpen and elevate your presence, turning you into something formal, something that matched his position rather than just his company.

You were made to stand beside him, just as you always had, your place already decided long before you were made, before either of you understood the weight of it. The space around you was filled with voices layered over one another in formal tones, words spoken with intention rather than the ease you were used to, each one carefully chosen instead of simply allowed to flow. They carried expectation, and something heavier than either of you had been prepared for.

He stood still through it all.

You could feel the tension in him even without looking, the way his posture stayed too rigid, the way his hands remained too still at his sides, like any movement might disturb the weight of what was happening.

As much as you were concerned, you still stayed as formal as you had been taught during the days Yae had trained you, careful with your posture, your tone, your words. As you stayed where you were always meant to be, beside him.

When the title was given, when everything settled into place around him, it felt less like some type of beginning and more like something being placed onto him all at once, something heavy that did not leave room to step back from it. You were named as well, not apart from him, but as something defined alongside him.

When it was over, when the voices faded and the space cleared as servants cleaned everything up and changed you from formal clothing to light ones meant for sleep, you returned to your room and he came after you, as by now he not only followed you during the day, but he even decided to sleep next to you, saying it eased his occuring nightmares and you - feeling concerned for your beloved other half, the person who you were made to serve, agreed to not tell anyone and let him in everynight now.

He exhaled the second he stepped inside as he closed the door behind the both of you, he made his way to your bed and sat, his shoulders dropping slightly like he had been holding that tension the entire time.

"That was.. a lot," he admitted, his voice quieter now, lacking the composure he had held. outside.

You smiled at him, your expression soft and natural, unlike the rigid one you had moments before as you stepped closer.

"You did well," you said gently.

He flushed faintly at that, a soft pink rising to his cheeks as his gaze drifted to the side for a moment, like he didn't quite know what to do with the praise. Still, he reached for you anyway, pulling you into him with a touch that was still a little uncertain despite having done it many times before.

You melted into him easily, your arms wrapping around him without hesitation. And as the moment softened, his grip adjusted carefully until he shifted the both of you down, settling back so you were tucked together under the covers, half draped over him as he held you close.

"Thank you," he murmured after a while, so quiet it almost blended into the silence.

You didn't ask for what, as the comfort of him already lulled you to sleep.

After that, the duties piled.

At first it was manageable, things he could learn through guidance, through Yae's careful instruction. But the expectations grew quickly, the weight of the position settling deeper with each passing day, and it showed in the way he started coming to you later and later at night.

Your duties were far lighter in comparison, smaller tasks, simpler instructions that were usually polishing up his work, basically things that usually ended earlier in the day. So by the time night settled in, you had already returned to your room, waiting.

There were evenings where he would arrive barely speaking, his movements slower as he stepped inside, his shoulders carrying a tension he didn't know how to put down. You would shift closer without needing to ask, your presence enough to ease it as he leaned into you, his guard lowering only when it was just the two of you.

You began to sit in on meetings when you could, your place beside him never questioned, though the people within those rooms did not always hold the same quiet acceptance.

There were those who spoke carefully, fully trusting Ei's decisions and having faith in their now  new ruler.

And those who saw themself in higher regard didn't.

"You expect us to accept this?" one of them had said once, a person from a prestigious family, their voice carrying a sharpness that cut through the room, their gaze fixed on him with thinly veiled disdain, as if the mere thought of a puppet ruling over them cut through his pride. "A puppet placed in a position meant for the Shogun herself, expected to rule as if that is enough to replace her presence? Hah, you make me laugh."

The room had gone still after that but he didnt respond.

He stayed composed, his expression controlled in a way that hid more than it revealed, but you felt it, the shift in him, the way something tightened beneath the surface even if he refused to show it.

It followed him back.

That night, when he came to you, it didn't take long before the composure slipped. He was already holding you close, his arms around you like he couldn't quite let go, and the weight of everything he had been carrying finally broke through.

His face stayed pressed against the plush of your chest as he spoke, his voice muffled, uneven, breaking in places he usually keeps hidden outside.

"They're right," he murmured, shaking slightly as he clung tighter. "I'm not... I'm not even human."

Your chest tightened at that, but you didn't move away. Your hand lifted gently, resting against his back as your other slowly threaded through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp to soothe him.

"That doesn't mean you're nothing," you said softly, your voice calm despite the way it pulled at you. "You're still you, and I'm the same as you are. So if that makes you less, then it makes me less too, and I don't think that's true."

He stilled slightly at that, the words sinking in as he stayed pressed against you, his grip tightening for a moment like he was trying to hold onto them as much as he was holding onto you.

"We're the same," you continued, quieter now, your fingers still moving through his hair. "So we'll figure it out together. You don't have to do it alone."

He didn't answer, but that night he stayed closer, clinging to you like you were his lifeline. Shaking softly as if letting go of it would mean falling apart completely.

But after that, things didn't get easier, if anything... they grew worse.

The voices against him grew louder over time, the discontent no longer something that stayed behind closed doors or slipped through in careful remarks. It grew into something harder to control, something that followed him into every room, every meeting, every space where he was meant to be acknowledged as the one in power.

At first, it had only been one voice at a time, a single person speaking out of turn, testing boundaries that had not yet been enforced.

Then it became two.

Then more.

Meetings that were once controlled began to shift, the tension no longer sitting quietly beneath the surface but rising openly, voices overlapping as arguments broke out in ways that no one bothered to conceal anymore. They questioned him directly now, their tones sharper, louder, no longer disguised as concern but something closer to defiance.

"You expect us to accept this?" one voice cut in, immediately followed by another before the first could even settle.

"A construct placed into a position originally meant for the Shogun, expected to carry out governance as if function alone is enough to replace authority!"

"-tradition, and the will that once defined it," someone else finished over them, not as agreement, but as continuation of the same accusation.

The room did not settle. It only grew louder.

"Power is not simply the execution of orders!" another voice pushed through the noise, refusing to be drowned out. "It is recognition! It is inheritance!"

"What you present is neither inherited nor recognized, only assigned!"

"This is not what Inazuma stands for-"

"We will not be led by something that was created to imitate-"

The room would fill with it, voices rising over one another, each accusation layered over the last, no longer a discussion, but refusal made audible.

And every time it happened, you flinched.

At first, it was small, barely noticeable, the reaction contained in the way your shoulders tensed slightly, the way your hands tightened where they rested. But as it continued, as more voices joined in and the volume rose, it became harder to hide, your breath catching more often, your gaze dropping as the sound pressed in from all sides.

He noticed. Even when he didn't react to them, even when he held himself still through it all, his gaze would flicker toward you for just a second.

But the meetings never stopped - and neither did the voices.

That night, when the doors finally closed behind you and the quiet returned, it didn't feel the same.

You sat beside him, your hands clenched slightly in your lap, your thoughts still caught in the echo of it as your voice came out softer than you meant it to.

"...what if something happens?"

He looked at you, the tension still lingering in his posture, though his expression softened slightly at the question.

"They're getting louder," you continued, your fingers tightening as you looked down, your words coming slower now, more uncertain. "Every time we go there, it's worse than before. They don't listen anymore, they don't even try to hide it, and I don't know what they're going to do if it keeps going like this."

Your breath caught slightly before you looked back at him, your voice quieter now.

"I'm scared."

The words settled between you, heavier than anything else. And for a moment, he didn't respond.

Then he shifted slightly closer, his hand reaching for yours, his grip gentle but steady.

"It's okay," he said, his voice softer now, more certain than before, like he was trying to anchor the both of you with it. "Nothing is going to happen. I'll fix it."

You searched his expression for a second, like you were trying to hold onto that certainty, your shoulders easing just slightly as you nodded.

"Okay..." you murmured, your voice still quiet, but steadier than before.

You believed him.

Or at least, you wanted to.

But he didn't fix it.

Because they got to you first.

It happened in a seemingly normal day, you were walking down the garden, everything was quiet as it always was, your steps slow as you walked along the path, your thoughts already forgotton the protests because, funnily enough, they all calmed down recently..

You didn't hear them approach, not having time to react as hands grabbed you suddenly, rough and immediate, your breath catching sharply as your body jolted in surprise, your voice barely forming before it was cut off, your surroundings blurring as panic hit all at once.

"Wait- I didn't- let go-!"

Your words broke apart as they pulled you back, your feet losing balance as you struggled against them, your movements uncoordinated as fear took over, your heart racing too fast to keep up.

No one stopped them, no one really saw what happened, as everything was already closed for the night. And so you got kidnapped.

And that same night, something felt wrong.

He was in his office, still working through a few documents, when suddenly he felt as if something had been removed from where it was supposed to be, a feeling so overwhelming he couldn't just shrug it off.

So he looked for you at first without really thinking, expecting to find you where you usually were, the garden, playing with stray cats or flowers, maybe already waiting for him in your bed or secretly eating sweets in the kitchen since everyone was asleep. He moved through all the familiar places he would usually find you in.

But you weren't in any of them

And the longer it went on, the heavier it became, the realization setting in piece by piece as the space around him felt emptier than it should have.

Incomplete, like something had been taken from him.

The news reached him soon after, not from a concerned servant, but from a secret letter sent with intention, delivered as something meant to provoke rather than inform.

They had you. And they made it clear what they wanted, the return of the real Shogun, give up his position, or consequences that would not stop with just you - a clear message of a revolt waiting to happen.

Thankfully, It didn't take him long to trace which family sent this, and the moment he had a clear name, he didnt wait. The same night he went,

The estate was guarded, as expected, with figures stationed along the entrance and within the grounds, already alerted enough to stop an intruder, but not prepared for him. They moved the moment they saw him, stepping forward to block his path, voices rising in warning, weapons, polearms specifically, drawn out, mistaken him for an intruder, how irritating, he's the Raiden shogun, the ruler of Inazuma, and these people can't even recognize him?

He really should have asserted his authority sooner, should have stopped trying to please everyone, to listen to every concern in the name of being a good ruler. Look where that had gotten him. They saw too little and took too much.

And now it was too late to regret it, wasn't it? Now that they had taken the only thing that had ever been meant for him.

He didn't slow down as the guards moved the moment they saw him, stepping forward to block his path, but they didn't get far. The moment they tried to stop him, he used his electro power.

The strike was immediate. It hit them before they could react properly, their movements cutting off as their bodies locked, a sharp, broken sound leaving them as the current ran through them. They didn't last long after that, collapsing where they stood, their weapons slipping from their hands as everything went still.

He had never used that power before. Not once, even after being given the Gnosis, as his creator built it into him, he had never felt the need to. But now that he did, it didn't feel unfamiliar, and it didn't feel wrong like he originally thought, it felt right, being in power, showing people their places in an immediate manner rather than using safer options that usually have him look weak in the end.

He didn't stop to look at the lifeless bodies around him.

He continued forward, deeper into the estate, and anyone who tried to stand in his way met the same fate,a strike of electro cutting through them, their resistance ending just as quickly, voices cut short before they could form anything more than warning. What had been structured quickly unraveled, order breaking apart into scattered attempts to stop him that never reached completion.

By the time he reached the inner halls, there was nothing left to slow him down.

The silence that followed wasn't natural, but when he finally found you, everything was already over.

You were locked in a room, your hands shaking as you sat there crouched in the corner, sobbing quietly to yourself, the fear still clinging to you before the sound of a door snapping open suddenly had you flich, your head snapping up.

You froze as you watched him standing there, just beyond the threshold.

His clothes were stained, the pure white fabric marked heavily with deep crimson, the sight of it jarring enough to make your breath catch as your eyes widened, your body going still as he stepped closer.

The moment he saw you alive and well enough, he felt a flicker of relief, but it was quickly overshadowed by an undeniable anger at what they had done to you. Your clothes were tattered, your usually silky hair from being meticulously cared for now disheveled, your eyes still teary like you had only just stopped crying.

For a second, you didn't move, not fully understanding the situation, but then he smiled. Soft, familiar, like nothing had changed.

"Let's go home," he said, his voice gentle in a way that didn't match anything you had just experienced.

Your breath broke as you stood, your steps unsteady as you rushed toward him as the relief of seeing him overcame what concerns you had about the red in his clothing, your hands reaching for him without thinking. Relief crashing into you all at once as he held you just as tightly, his grip firm like he wasn't going to let you go again. 

The next day, the entire nation heard it.

The way treason was almost commited, how the entire clan got wiped overnight for kidnapping the Shogun's right hand.

His voice carried across Inazuma, steady and unwavering, leaving no room for doubt as it settled over everyone who listened.

"Take this as a lesson," he declared, his tone calm in a way that made it sharper while he held your shoulder by his side, "Because from now on, those who dare to defy me, or lay a hand on what is mine, will face the Raiden's judgment without exception."

And from that day forward, he was no longer just a nameless puppet.

He gave himself a name.

Kunikuzushi.

──── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ────

“Let’s get you ready, miss.”

The servant’s voice was soft as she stepped behind you, her hands already steady as she guided you toward the seat in front of the vanity, the polished mirror reflecting your image back at you. You allowed her to sit you down without resistance, your hands resting neatly in your lap as she began her work, brushes and small containers laid out in careful order across the table.

Her fingers were gentle as they moved across your skin, applying each product with practiced precision, her gaze focused in a way that made it clear she had done this many times before.

“You don’t need much,” she murmured quietly, more to herself than to you as she adjusted the angle of your face slightly. “Your skin is already as smooth as porcelain... it holds everything well.”

There was a pause as she leaned back just slightly, observing her work before continuing, her movements light as she added only what was necessary, enhancing rather than changing. Being a puppet had its advantages, your features untouched by imperfections, your skin naturally even, clear from blemishes, almost too perfect in a way that made heavy makeup unnecessary.

Today wasn’t a normal day, though. It was a celebration, held for the day he became an Archon. You had been woken since the early hours of the morning, attendants already waiting to prepare you, guiding you through everything from bathing to choosing the right layers of clothing.

From the moment dawn broke, the entire residence had been in motion. Servants moved quickly through the halls as preparations were rushed forward, everything carried out with a sense of urgency.

Your gaze drifted slightly as the servant worked on your hair now, carefully arranging it to fall in a way that framed your face perfectly, securing pieces in place with luxurious accessories that matched the outfit laid out for you. Dark silk fabric, deep and rich in color, layered with accents of purple and soft lavender, elegant in a way that stood apart from everyone else's.

knock knock

You blinked, your attention shifting back as your voice came out softly, “Come in.”

The door opened as he stepped inside.

Kunikuzushi carried himself differently now, the presence around him heavier, more defined, carrying authority, yet the moment his gaze landed on you, something in it softened just slightly.

“Are you ready?” he asked, tone fond if you looked close enough as he stepped closer.

You nodded.

The servant immediately stepped back, lowering her head respectfully as she moved aside, her presence fading into the background the moment he entered.

He reached for your hand, and you took it without hesitation, a small, closed-eyed smile forming on your lips as your fingers curled lightly around his.

As he led you out, walking through the open hallways, his gaze flickered toward you again, lingering this time now that no servant was around.

“You look pretty,” he said, quieter now, the words meant only for you.

You smiled, your grip on his hand tightening just slightly, “You too, Kuni.”

The name still felt new, even though it had been five hundred years since he chose it for himself.

It was strange. The moment he told you, you hesitated, not because you didn’t understand it, but because you did. Kunikuzushi - a name that meant nation destroyer, something that definitely isn't something meant for a ruler, let alone him, a person who was the embodiment of gentleness itself. But even then, you accepted it without question.

You remembered how he used to hesitate whenever names came up, how something in his expression would turn insecure whenever servants spoke about naming their children, their voices filled with pride over something he had never been given. He never said it directly, but you knew he wanted one. Even when your creator, Ei, never gave him one, even when she had already decided he would take the position of the Shogun, she still left him without something as simple as a name.

You had wondered about that more than once, but never enough to ask.

So when he chose one for himself, you didn’t question it, even if it carried a meaning you didn’t like.

You accepted it because it was his, and because of that, you chose one too, naming yourself y/n.

The walk continued quietly after that, your hand still in his as you moved through the halls, the space clearing naturally wherever he stepped.

“C'mon, let’s go to the garden first before the shrine,” he said after a moment, his tone soft again.

You nodded eagerly, “I’d like that.”

Even after he had become an Archon, with duties piling up more and more, never seeming to end no matter how many hours he spent in his office, you found it endearing that he still made time for you, even if it meant abandoning his work sometimes just to stay by your side.

He led you along a different path, your steps light despite everything waiting ahead, but before either of you could react, a servant rushed around the corner too quickly, her attention elsewhere as she collided straight into you.

“Mmf-”

The impact knocked you off balance immediately, your body tilting back before you could steady yourself, but his grip tightened instantly, pulling you back toward him before you could fall, his arm steady as he held you in place.

The servant stumbled back from the collision, disoriented, her body dropping to the floor as she scrambled before looking up - and froze.

The moment she realized who stood in front of her, her expression shifted entirely, panic overtaking everything else as she immediately lowered herself, her hands and knees pressed to the ground, “My apologies- Archon, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t looking, please forgive me, I-”

Her words tumbled over each other, rushed and desperate as she bowed repeatedly, her voice shaking.

He didn’t hesitate, didnt even think for a moment, letting her word register to him, “Take her to confinement,” he said flatly, his tone leaving no room for discussion.

The words didnt have time to settle in the air before two guards came and took her away.

You stilled slightly beside him, your fingers tightening instinctively as your gaze shifted away, not wanting to look at that poor woman, your expression faltering just enough to show the discomfort you couldn’t quite hide.

Since that day, the day you were taken, something in him changed drastically. He was firmer now, cruel even.

There was no hesitation in the way he handled things anymore, no room left for mistakes or forgiveness where it could be avoided. People respected him, feared him even, and it showed in the way they reacted, in the way the servant was already being pulled away without protest, knowing that talking back would only lead to more punishment.

The first time you saw it happen was when he electrocuted a servant for accidentally spilling tea on you, a new girl who clearly hadn’t meant any harm. You had screamed that day, horrified that he would go that far over something so small, your voice shaking as you tried to make sense of it. 

You cried that night, the image of it stuck in your head no matter how much you tried to push it away, and even when he came to you, trying to comfort you like he always did, you couldn’t bring yourself to respond. You ignored him for a full day, turning away from every attempt he made, until he finally gave in and promised he wouldn’t do it again, saying he would send them away instead of killing them.

But it was something you still hadn’t gotten used to, and you weren't sure you ever would.

His gaze shifted back to you, expression going from stern to soft again, “I’m sorry,” he said, quieter now, the edge in his voice gone as quickly as it had appeared. “I hope that didn’t ruin your mood.”

You shook your head quickly, offering a small smile despite the way your chest still felt tight, “It’s okay.”

He relaxed slightly at that, the tension easing from his shoulders as he continued walking, your hand still held securely in his. But the silence didnt last.

“You know... you didn’t have to punish her like that,” you said carefully, your voice soft as you glanced at him. “It was just a mistake, she didn’t mean to-”

He abruptly stopped.

His head turned toward you sharply, the movement sudden enough to make you flinch, your words cutting off as your breath caught.

“What?” he asked, his tone low, unreadable.

“I- nothing,” you said quickly, your voice smaller now as you shook your head. “I’m sorry.”

He exhaled slowly, the tension shifting into something else as his hand lifted, his fingers gently but firmly tilting your chin upward until you were looking at him.

“Look at me.”

You did. His expression wasn’t angry, it seemed almost concerned, though it felt almost.. forced.

“Are you scared of me?” he asked, his voice quieter now, but more serious than before.

Your eyes widened slightly at that, your head shaking immediately, “No- no!, Of course not, I'd never be scared of you, Kuni.”

He held your gaze for a moment longer, searching it like he was looking for something specific.

“I don’t want anything happening to you,” he said, his tone softer now, the concern clear in a way that made your chest tighten for a different reason. “People take advantage of kindness. If I let things slide, they’ll think they can get closer, and I won’t allow that.”

You nodded, even if the feeling in your chest hadn’t fully settled, your hands tightening slightly, “I understand.”

His expression softened almost immediately at your answer, the tension disappearing as quickly as it had come, “Good.”

His hand moved from your chin to your head, patting it lightly before he continued forward again.

The garden came into view not long after, the space opening up into the familiar view. He didn’t say anything when you got there, just loosened his hold slightly and let you walk ahead, knowing you would anyway. It had always been like that with you and this place.

It was filled with blooming flowers, carefully tended, rows upon rows of them in different colors, their petals bright under the light as the sakura trees stood tall above it all, branches stretching gently overhead while soft pink petals drifted down with the breeze, settling across the stone paths and grass.

He had this made for you, every part of it.

Because he knew you liked flowers, the way you would stop to look at them, touch them carefully like they might break, the way you had once told him you wanted to grow something with your own hands, the way you would spend hours just playing with fallen cherry blossom petals. He remembered that, even when you didn’t think he would, and this was the result of it, a space made entirely from something as simple as your preference.

You stepped further in without thinking, your gaze lifting as you took it in, your shoulders easing as the tension from earlier slipped away little by little. Your fingers brushed lightly against a nearby bloom as you passed, your movements slower now, calmer and content.

He watched you for a moment instead of the surroundings, his expression softening just slightly, the faint tension that usually stayed in him loosening in a way it didn’t anywhere else. This was the only place he didn’t mind wasting time in.

That moment didn’t last long, though, as a servant approached from the side, her steps quick but more controlled than before, as she stopped a short distance away and bowed deeply.

“Archon, the ceremony is about to begin. They’re waiting for you.”

He clicked his tongue under his breath, a faint scowl crossing his face at the interruption, irritation settling immediately.

You glanced at him, the reaction so familiar that a small giggle slipped out before you could stop it, soft and light against the quiet of the garden.

“It’s okay,” you said gently, your voice easy as you turned slightly toward him. “We can come back later, you know.”

He looked at you for a second, the irritation easing just slightly as he held your gaze, before giving a small nod, “Alright.”

He reached for your hand again without thinking, his grip steady as he turned away from the garden, leading you back the way you came.

──── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ────

“Congratulations,” Yae said, her voice light, almost teasing despite the weight of the moment, her gaze settling on him with a knowing curve to her smile. “It seems Inazuma has gained quite the Archon. I do hope you plan on living up to all of this attention, hm?”

He glanced at her, his expression steady, though there was the faintest hint of something behind it, something that didn’t quite match the ease of the celebration around him.

“I don’t plan on disappointing anyone,” he replied, his tone even, not quite playing into her teasing, but not rejecting it either.

Yae hummed softly at that, amused.

“Mm, how reassuring,” she said, though the look she gave him lingered just a second longer.

The shrine was filled with people, voices cheering in celebration, formal at first but loosening as the night went on, the air warmer with movement, with praise, with expectation that never quite left him no matter how much they dressed it up as something lighter. You stood beside him through it all, just as you always had, your presence something that naturally belonged there.

He handled it well as always.

He responded when needed, acknowledged what had to be acknowledged, his composure steady even as person after person approached him with words that all sounded the same after a while.

“Your Excellency, this is a historic moment-”

“It will be remembered,” he answered calmly.

“Inazuma is fortunate to have you-”

“I will ensure it remains that way.”

Praise. Congratulations. Expectations layered beneath polite smiles.

You stayed quiet through most of it, offering small responses when spoken to - which is quite rare as being the second puppet to the archon usually has you being forgotten or overshadowed  - your attention drifting more than once because the place felt too loud, too full.

By the time he had made his appearance, greeted who he needed to, and fulfilled what was expected of him, everything became calmer. The celebration spilled outward, people moving away from the shrine, conversations breaking into smaller groups, laughter slipping in where formality had been before as the festival truly began.

And for the first time that night, no one was paying attention now.

Your gaze shifted slightly, watching as the crowd dispersed, the weight of their attention lifting just enough that it felt like you could breathe again, and without saying anything, you stepped back, quietly and carefully.

Slipping away before anyone could stop you.

The shrine halls were emptier now, most having already moved toward the festival outside, leaving the inner rooms quiet, undisturbed. You made your way into one of them without hesitation, closing the door behind you as you moved quickly, already reaching for the small disguise you had hidden away earlier.

By the time you stepped back out, the change was enough to go unnoticed, your appearance softened, altered just enough to blend in rather than stand out, wearing a casual festival kimono rather than the extravagant one. 

And the second you opened the door, ready to enjoy your time in the festival, you froze.

A man with strange blue hair was standing right in front of you.

You jumped slightly, your breath catching as your hand came up instinctively, eyes widening before you relaxed just as quickly, realizing it was just Kunikuzushi, of course you'd know it was him. Even without the disguise, even with it, it didn’t matter. You would always know.

“Kuni-!” you breathed out, half startled, half relieved, your brows pulling together slightly. “Don’t scare me like that...”

He tilted his head slightly, watching your reaction with something faintly amused, though it didn’t last long.

“You were going without me?” he said instead, his tone quieter, but there was something in it, something that made it clear he didn’t like the idea even a little.

You blinked at that, caught off guard for a second before you shook your head slightly.

“I just thought you’d be busy,” you said, softer now, leaning to the side just enough to look over Kunikuzushi's shoulder, checking toward the direction of the shrine. “Don’t they need you there?”

“I don’t care,” he replied immediately. Then, just as easily, his expression shifted into something more innocent, something that reminded you of who he once was before.. Everything. As a small grin tugged at his lips. “Let’s go.”

He took your hand before you could say anything else, his grip firm, already pulling you along as if the decision had been made long before you even stepped out of that room.

By the time you reached the festival it was already deep into the night.

Lanterns lit the streets, warm and glowing, casting soft light over everything as people moved through the space, laughter and chatter filling the air in a way that felt completely different from the shrine. It was louder, messier, but in a way that felt alive with normal people.

You slowed without meaning to, your gaze lifting as you took it in, the small details catching your attention one after another, the stalls, the lights, the games, everything feeling new even if you had seen parts of it before.

Your hand tightened slightly in his without realizing.

“It’s pretty...” you murmured, more to yourself than anything, your gaze lifting as the lanterns above cast a warm golden glow across everything, the soft light catching on your pretty face and in your eyes as it flickered gently with the night air.

He glanced at you instead of the festival, his attention lingering on the way the light softened your expression, the way your features seemed to glow under it without you even realizing.

“...yeah,” he said after a second, quieter now, though it was clear he wasn’t looking at the same thing you were.

You didn’t notice, already pulling him toward one of the stalls.

The candied apples caught your attention almost immediately, the glossy red coating reflecting the lantern light as they were displayed neatly, and you paused there without needing to say anything.

Before you could even reach for one, he had already paid for it, already taken notice that you wanted it even before you fully arrived at the stall, placing it into your hands like it was nothing, like it was expected.

Your face lit up at that, a soft smile forming as you thanked him, already taking a small bite as you continued walking around, the sweetness immediate.

You didn’t get far into the festival before your movement was interrupted.

His hand shifted, fingers wrapping around your wrist just enough to guide it upward, pulling your hand closer to him before you could react, and then-

He leaned in and took a bite, a big proper one at that, right from your sweet sweet candid apple.

You froze, face flushing almost instantly as a pretty shade of pink dusted over your cheeks, your breath catching slightly as you stared at him, completely thrown off guard.

“K-Kuni- what are you-”

He pulled back, chewing once-

And immediately made a face.

His expression twisted, brows pulling together, his face scrunching in disgust as he turned slightly, spitting it out without hesitation.

“..that’s disgusting,” he muttered, his voice flat, clearly unimpressed as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

You stared at him for a second before bursting into laughter, you couldn't help it.

“You don’t even like sweets, why the hell would you do that?” you said between small bursts of laughter, the earlier embarrassment slipping away completely.

He clicked his tongue, his brows pulling together slightly as he looked at you, clearly unimpressed with your reaction.

“Tch. You’re laughing at the ruler of Inazuma?” he said, his tone carrying that familiar bite, though it wasn't the one he used to intimidate officials, the one you heard oh so clearly before this was nothing like it, “The one and only Archon of this land, reduced to this-”

He gestured vaguely to the mostly-bitten candied apple in your hand, his expression sour.

That only made it worse.

Your laughter picked up again, softer but no less amused, your shoulders shaking slightly as you tried and failed to hold it in.

“Kuni- pfffft” you tried, but it broke off into another quiet laugh.

His expression shifted at that, irritation flickering into something else before he reached out suddenly, his fingers catching your cheek in a quick pinch, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to make you stop.

“Stop laughing,” he muttered, as a faint flush dusted his face before he let go a second later.

You blinked at him, still smiling, your laughter fading into something softer.

“...you’re mean,” you mumbled, tone completely fond.

“..you started it,” he shot back almost immediately, before clicking his tongue again and looking away.

“...I don’t know,” he added under his breath, like he was backtracking, before taking the stick from your hand without warning. “I’ll get you another one.”

“Kuni, I can still eat this one-”

But he was already walking off.

You watched him go for a moment before following after him, though you slowed when someone stepped into your path.

A man. He greeted you politely, though there was a slight eagerness to it, something in the way his attention settled on you, his eyes lingering on your covered cleavage for more than necessary.

“Ah- sorry, I didn’t mean to stop you,” he said quickly, stepping back half a pace like he didn’t want to seem too forward, “I just.. saw you earlier, walking around, and-” he hesitated for a second, like he was trying to word it properly without embarrassing himself, “I thought I’d regret it if I didn’t say something.”

His gaze flickered over you again, softer this time, a little nervous but genuine.

“You look really beautiful tonight.”

You blinked at that, a little surprised, but you didn’t think much of it.

“Oh- thank you,” you replied softly, your tone gentle, your posture easing slightly as you smiled back out of habit more than anything. “You didn’t have to come all this way just to say that, though.”

“I don’t mind,” he said quickly, almost too quickly, stepping just a little closer without realizing it. “It’s not often someone like you is out here like this. I thought I might at least try to speak to you while I had the chance.”

You tilted your head slightly at that, not quite catching what he meant, or maybe just not thinking too deeply about it.

“It’s nice here,” you said instead, glancing briefly toward the lanterns, the stalls, the movement around you. “I wanted to see it properly, not just from a distance.”

He nodded, watching you more than the festival itself.

“I’m glad you did,” he said, softer now. “If you don’t mind, I could walk with you for a bit, just until-”

“You don’t need to do that,” you said gently, shaking your head slightly, though there was no rejection in your tone, just simple honesty. “But thank you.”

You smiled again, polite, kind, the way you always were, and that should have been enough.

It should have ended there, but you didnt notice when Kuni came back. But he noticed everything. The way the man stood too close, the way you smiled, the fact that you didn’t pull away.

By the time the man finally excused himself, offering a slightly awkward goodbye before stepping away, you turned back-

Only to find Kuni already there, looking at you.

Something about his expression made your chest tighten slightly, the earlier warmth from the festival dimming just a little under it.

“What?” you asked, your voice softer now, a hint of uncertainty slipping in as you tilted your head slightly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

His hand closed around your wrist before you could say anything else.

Tighter than before.

“Why were you talking to him like that?” he asked, his voice low, controlled in a way that didn’t quite hide the irritation underneath.

You blinked, caught off guard, the question not matching what had just happened in your mind, “...like what?”

“Like you didn’t know what he was doing,” he said, his gaze narrowing slightly. “You’re not that naive.”

Your brows pulled together slightly at that, the confusion settling deeper now.

“I was just being nice,” you replied, quieter this time, the earlier ease gone. “He came up to me, I didn’t want to ignore him.”

“You shouldn’t be talking to people like that,” he said, sharper now. “You’re not just anyone. You’re-”

He stopped.

But the words had already settled between you.

“I’m what?” you asked, your voice softer, but there was something else in it now, something more fragile than before. “I’m still allowed to talk to people, Kuni. I know what I’m doing.”

“No, you don’t,” he snapped, quicker this time. “You don’t have the Gnosis, you can’t protect yourself if something happens-”

“I don’t need to be protected all the time,” you cut in, your voice tightening, not loud, but firm in a way it rarely was, being the meek little doll you were. “I’m not helpless.”

The silence that followed wasn’t calm, it pressed in sharply as neither of you moved.

Your grip on trying to argue loosened slightly, your gaze dropping just a little, not in submission, but because something about this felt.. wrong. The night had been different just moments ago, lighter, softer, like how things used to be, like how he used to be with you before everything became so heavy.

Before this.

“...you weren’t like this earlier,” you murmured, barely above a whisper, more to yourself than to him, though you knew he heard it. “You were laughing with me.”

You stupid, stupid girl, that didn’t make it better. If anything, it made it worse as his grip tightened enough to make you wince.

“We’re going home,” he said, final, leaving no room to argue.

“Kuni- wait-”

But he didn’t.

He just pulled you along with him, back through the festival, past the lanterns, the laughter, the stalls you hadn’t gotten to see, the candied apple you never got back, all the way to the Shogun’s residence.

By the time you got back, everything felt colder.

The moment you were inside, you pulled your hand away from his without looking at him, going straight to your room to change out of the disguise, your movements quicker than usual, like if you stopped for even a second you’d start crying. When you were done, you went to your bed without waiting for him like you're used to, slipping under the blankets and curling into yourself, your back turned as you pulled the covers up higher.

It didn’t take long before the tears came quietly, your shoulders trembling slightly as you tried to keep the sound down, your fingers clutching the fabric near your chest as everything from earlier replayed in your head, the warmth of the festival, the way he had been smiling with carefree energy - one you didnt see from him for awhile now, the way it had all shifted so suddenly.

You had been happy, and then it was gone, just like that.

After a few moments, when the only sound heard in the room was your quiet sobs, a creak of a door opening changed that.

You didn’t move, even as you heard him step inside, the soft sound of the door closing behind him. There was a pause, like he was looking at you, taking in the way you were curled up, the way your breathing wasn’t steady.

The bed dipped slightly as he sat at the edge, and for a moment, he didnt say anything before-

“...Are you crying?” he muttered, quieter than before, like he wasn’t sure how to approach it.

You sniffed slightly, tightening the blanket around yourself. “sniff I’m not.”

He almost scoffed at that, you were shamelessly crying your sobs heard loud and clear, and you still had the audacity to lie - he doesn't know if she should find that annoying or pathetically adorable.

“...you’re a terrible liar,” he said flatly, though there was no real bite to it.

You didn’t respond this time, only turning your face further into the pillow like that would somehow hide it better.

Then you felt him move.

The mattress shifted again as he leaned closer, his hand coming to your shoulder, not rough this time, not like before, but still firm enough to turn you back toward him despite your weak resistance.

“Kuni-  no..” you mumbled, your voice small, embarrassed, your hands instinctively trying to pull the blanket higher.

“Stop hiding,” he said, quieter now, his brows pulling slightly as he actually looked at you.

Your lashes were damp, your cheeks flushed, your lower lip trembling in a way you were trying - and failing - to control.

For a second, he just stared, then his hand moved.

He pushed himself closer, one hand bracing beside you as the other came up to your face, his thumb brushing just under your eye, catching one of the tears before it could fall further.

“...you’re still crying,” he murmured, softer now.

“I said I’m not,” you insisted weakly, your voice breaking anyway.

“Idiot,” he muttered under his breath.

Before you could react, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your eye.

You froze.

His lips lingered just long enough to catch the tear there before he pulled back slightly, only to lean in again, this time closer, brushing against the damp skin beneath your lashes, almost instinctively, like he was trying to get rid of them himself.

It caught you completely off guard.

“W-what are you doing-” you let out a small, shaky laugh despite yourself, your hands coming up to push lightly at his shoulder. “That’s weird-”

He clicked his tongue, though there was no real annoyance behind it.

“You’re the one crying everywhere,” he said, like that justified it entirely.

You huffed a small laugh at that, the sound uneven but real, your shoulders loosening just slightly as you pushed at him again. “Stop-  Kuni-”

He didn’t move far, but he did pull back enough to look at you properly.

And for a second, it felt normal again.

The tension eased, the heaviness lifting just a little as the remnants of your laughter lingered between you.

But it didn’t last, this all felt so temporary, how could you bathe in these sweet moments when you don't know when he flips? Your smile wavered, your lower lip trembled again. You tried to look away before he could see it, but he already had.

There was a small pause before his hand shifted, tugging lightly at your sleeve.

You blinked, looking back at him, still a little teary, a little confused, “...what?”

He hesitated, just for a second but he still sighed, and reluctantly continued whatever he was planning to do, “...can you brush my hair?”

You blinked again, caught completely off guard. “..what?”

“Brush it,” he repeated, a little more direct this time, though his voice had lost its earlier sharpness. “Help me.”

You stared at him for a second like you were trying to process it, your expression softening without you realizing, “..now?”

“Yes, now,” he said, a little impatient, though it didn’t sound serious. “You like doing it, don’t you?”

Your expression brightened almost immediately, the sadness easing just enough as you pushed yourself up, nodding quickly.

“..okay.”

You slipped out from under the blankets, following him as he stood, your steps lighter now as you made your way to the vanity together. He sat down without another word, waiting, while you reached for the brush.

Your fingers wrapped around it before pausing. 

It was the one you gave him. A simple comb, tinted faintly purple, your initials carved carefully alongside his.

For a moment, your chest tightened.

You remembered when you gave it to him, how he had looked then, how gentle he used to be.

Your expression wavered slightly.

Then you shook your head, small and quick, like pushing the thought away before it could settle, and stepped closer behind him.

You started brushing.

Slow, careful strokes, working through his hair, smoothing it out, easing through the small tangles without pulling too hard. The motion came naturally to you from the amount of times he used to ask you to brush his hair after you gifted him the brush, how bashful and embarrassed he used to be after asking you, your hands steady, gentle as you hummed softly under your breath.

He didn’t say anything, but unknown to you, in the mirror, his eyes softened, his shoulders dropping slightly. Yes, he asked you to brush his hair only to comfort you since he knew you liked being helpful to him, but this was for him as much as it was for you, even if he'll never admit it.

He leaned into it just a little, his expression shifting into something quieter, something almost meek, almost obedient, like he was letting himself relax completely under your touch.

It made you smile seeing your work in use for him, so you kept going, softer now, more focused, your fingers careful as you worked through the ends before a mischievous thought bubbled up, your hand shifted slightly, brushing his hair back from his neck.

The electro mark was exposed.

You paused for just a second before leaning down and pressing your lips against it. The kiss lingered, warm, a little firmer than it needed to be, almost feverish.

He inhaled sharply.

His entire body stilled, a faint flush rising up his neck, his fingers tightening slightly against the edge of the vanity.

You pulled back with a small smile, a little pleased, like you knew exactly what that did. You knew how insecure he is about it, how he brings his hand back to press that symbol whenever he felt stressed, as if the proof of him being made, not born, fueled his self-hatred.

Before you could say anything, his hand shot up, grabbing your wrist.

You blinked, surprised, your gaze meeting his as he turned slightly in his seat, pulling you closer.

And then he kissed you directly.

Your eyes widened, a soft, startled sound leaving you as you pulled back slightly. “...Kuni- wait- what are you-”

He didn’t let you get far.

His face stayed close to yours, his grip still around your wrist, his gaze locked onto you in a way that made your chest tighten.

“You were made for me,” he said quietly, like it was obvious, like it didn’t need explaining. “So stop looking at other people like that.”

Your breath caught.

“..I wasn’t-”

He didn’t let you finish, kissing you again.

This time deeper, more insistent, his hand tightening slightly as he pulled you closer. You hesitated for only a second before your resistance melted, your hands lifting slightly as you leaned into him without thinking.

Your breath hitched softly against his lips, your thoughts slipping as the kiss lingered, growing warmer, heavier, until he bit your lower lip, a small gasp escaped you.

And in that moment, he deepened it, closing the space further with his tongue, pushing it in to swirl it around yours, like he was testing how far he could go, like he was claiming something he had already decided was his.

By the time he pulled back, your expression was soft, dazed, your gaze unfocused as you looked at him, your lips slightly parted.

He watched you for a second before standing.

Without a word, he guided you down into the chair, switching places with you as he reached for the brush again.

“Give it to me,” he said simply.

You did.

He started brushing your hair the same way you had done for him, slower than usual, more careful than you expected, his fingers occasionally brushing against your neck to the matching electro symbol you have as well, as he worked through it.

A small, content,  cute sound slipped from you before you could stop it, your shoulders relaxing as you leaned back slightly, your eyes lowering.

And just like that, you melted into it.

──── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ────

After that night, things didn’t go back to how they were before.

There was something new sitting between you, something unspoken and unsure but still soft, its better than before, definitely.

So when you went out again, dressed in a disguise and slipping into the streets like before, you found yourself smiling more than usual, your steps lighter as you wandered through the market, looking at things without urgency, simply enjoying being there.

You didn’t notice him until you walked straight into him.

The impact wasn’t hard, but enough to make you step back slightly, your balance falling back a little as your hands lifted instinctively.

“Oh- I’m so sorry,” he said immediately, his voice calm, soft in a way that felt as gentle as the winds breeze. He reached out slightly, steadying you before you could stumble further.

You blinked, looking up at him.

And paused.

There was something about him that stood out immediately, his red eyes, to his pale cream hair that had one red streak that matched his eye color, and how soft his expression looked - so calm even though you've bumped into him.

“It’s okay,” you said quickly, your voice softer now as you straightened. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

He gave a small nod at that, his hand dropping back to his side before you gave in to your curiosity.

“...are you from here?” you asked without thinking, tilting your head slightly as your gaze lingered on him, more specifically, the red streak in his hair, it was pretty unique.

He looked a little amused at that.

“What makes you think that?” he asked, his tone light, not offended, just curious.

You glanced at his outfit, then back at him.

“You don’t dress like everyone else,” you said, your gaze lingering on him for a moment longer. “Not like you’re from somewhere else, but... it feels different. Like you don’t stay in one place for long.”

He glanced down at himself briefly, then back at you, a faint hint of amusement in his expression.

“...is it that obvious?” he asked lightly.

You shook your head slightly. “Not obvious, just.. the way you carry things, and how your clothes are arranged. It looks practical, like you’re used to moving around a lot.”

That seemed to catch his interest.

“..that’s not wrong,” he admitted. “I travel often. I don’t stay in one place for long.”

“With someone?” you asked, your curiosity slipping through naturally.

He nodded slightly.

“With a friend,” he said. “We’ve been moving from place to place for a while now.”

Something about that felt... nice.

The idea of it.

Freedom.

You didn’t realize you had gone quiet until he spoke again.

“If you’re not busy,” he added, “would you like to join us? We’re staying at a nearby ramen stand. It’s not far.”

You hesitated instinctively.

“No, I don’t want to intrude,” you said, shaking your head lightly. “You’re with your friend, I shouldn’t-”

“It’s not an intrusion,” he replied calmly. “We wouldn’t have invited you if it was.”

You paused again. Then nodded, a little more hesitant this time.

“...okay.”

The walk there was quiet, but not uncomfortable, it felt like he was a quiet person by nature more than anything, so it was relaxing in a way. When you arrived, you were introduced to his friend, Tomo, who greeted you easily, his personality more open, more direct.

You sat with them, ate, and talked.

It wasn’t anything complicated, just simple conversation, small things, questions about where you were from, what you liked, what you did, things you answered carefully, not lying outright but not revealing too much either.

At some point, he asked your name.

You paused for just a second trying to think of a good name then-

“...Tsubaki,” you said.

There was a slight pause.

You could tell from the way his gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary, like he understood it wasn’t your real name, but he didn’t question it.

“...that suits you,” he said instead, letting it go easily.

And that was that.

When you left, you felt.. happy.

Genuinely.

That night, when you were already settled in bed, he noticed.

“Why are you so happy?” he asked, his voice quieter, but there was something observant in it.

You turned slightly toward him, the smile still lingering on your face.

“I met someone today,” you said simply. “His name is Kazuha. He’s a wanderer, he travels with his friend, and they invited me to eat with them. We talked for a while and it was really nice.”

There was a pause, you didn’t think anything of it, too trapped within your own happiness to see his annoyance.

“...is that so,” he said, his tone neutral.

You nodded, already settling back into the pillow, falling asleep completely oblivious to Kuni's gaze.

After that, it didn’t stop.

You met him again.

By coincidence at first, running into him in the market again, the conversation picking up easily like it hadn’t ended the first time. This time, it was simpler, walking together through stalls, trying small street foods, talking without hesitation.

You enjoyed it. But this time you didnt notice someone, a specific someone, seeing the interaction.

When you returned that night, the atmosphere was different.

You felt it immediately.

“What were you doing?” he asked, his voice calm, but there was something tight beneath it.

You paused slightly before answering,  “I was just out,” you said. “I ran into Kazuha again, we were just talking-”

“You went out to see him again?” he cut in.

You frowned slightly, “It wasn’t planned,” you said. “We just met again.”

“That doesn’t matter,” he replied, sharper now, stepping closer as if the distance itself annoyed him. “You shouldn’t be going out like that.”

Your brows pulled together, “...why not?”

“Because you don’t understand what you are to other people,” he said, gaze locking onto you like there was no room left for anything else. “You were never made for them.”

You stiffened slightly, “What does that mean?”

Instead of answering verbally, he reached for your arm.

His fingers caught the sleeve of your kimono and pulled it back just enough to expose the doll joint beneath, his touch slowing there like it was familiar, like it was something he had memorized long ago. His thumb traced over it gently. 

“You always used to do this,” he said quietly.

You blinked, “...what?”

“When I couldn’t sleep,” he continued, his voice lowering. “When I didn’t understand what I was, when I thought something was wrong with me.” His fingers stayed there, pressing lightly over the joint. “You would trace it like it made sense to you. Like you weren’t afraid of it.”

His gaze finally lifted to yours.

“Human hands would hesitate,” he added. “They would flinch. They would pretend not to see it or act like they don't think it's uncanny, an inanimate object made to mimic humans,”

His grip tightened just slightly on your sleeve.

“Do you think he would love you like this?” he asked.

You froze.

“He’s human,” he continued, voice steady, almost matter-of-fact, but with something sharper underneath. “He has a beginning and an end. A life that breaks in half the moment it starts. Do you think he would stay when he understands what you are? When he realizes you don’t end where he does?”

His fingers pressed lightly again against the joint, like hes trying to prove the point of what you are.

“And even if he did,” he went on more quietly, “it would still end the same way. He grows older. He forgets himself. He disappears.” His hand finally lowered. “You don’t.”

Your chest tightened.

“...then what am I supposed to do?” you asked, voice unsteady now. “Am I just supposed to not feel anything? Not talk to anyone? Not-”

“Let me,” he said.

You blinked, “...what?”

“Let me love you,” he repeated, slower this time, like it was the only answer that had ever made sense. “No one else is built for you. No one else stays. No one else understands what it means to exist like this.”

He stepped closer again.

“But I do.”

A pause.

“I know what you are,” he continued, softer now, almost certain in a way that left no space for doubt. “I know what I am. And I know we don’t break the same way they do.”

His hand lifted, briefly brushing your doll's joint on your wrist again like a habit he couldn’t unlearn.

“So don’t look for something temporary,” he said quietly. “When I’m already here.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty as the words lingered.

Your expression softened slowly, like something in you had stopped resisting, “...I love you too,” you said quietly.

──── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ────

Yae started noticing something.

You and him had always been close, that much was expected, encouraged even, something she herself had once pushed for, but this felt.. different. It wasn’t just proximity anymore, not just the way you stood beside him or followed where he went, eager to please, or how he always tried making time for you, it was in the way his attention lingered too long, the way your reactions came too naturally, like there was something unspoken being passed between you that no one else was meant to understand.

At first, she dismissed it.

It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to rely on each other, especially after everything that had happened. If anything, she had expected it. So she let it go, choosing not to look too deeply into something that could very well mean nothing at all.

But then she saw you in the garden.

It hadn’t been intentional. She had only been passing through, her attention elsewhere, she had personal matters to attend to, until movement beneath the sakura tree caught her eye. And when she looked-

She stopped.

You were on his lap.

No, it isn't that you had your head in his lap, sleeping, maybe you were fully straddled across him, your knees resting on either side of his waist, your pelvis pressed into his, your bodies close enough that there was no space left between you. Your hands rested loosely on his shoulders, his hands settled at your waist like it was the most natural place for them to be, like neither of you had thought twice about it.

You were talking to him softly.

Close enough that your faces nearly brushed when one of you leaned in just a little too far.

You weren’t kissing. Nothing about it was outright inappropriate.

But it didn’t matter, something about it felt wrong.

It sent a chill down her spine, something instinctive, something immediate that told her this was not what was supposed to happen.

She didn’t interrupt, nor did she make her presence known or confront either of you,

She just watched for a moment longer than she should have before turning away, her expression tightening slightly as she continued on like she hadn’t seen anything at all.

That was when she started paying attention.

Really paying attention.

It didn’t take long for more moments to reveal themselves, things that might have been brushed off before, things that no one else seemed to question.

One afternoon, she stepped into the kitchen, expecting to find servants preparing the next meal, only to pause when she realized it was just the two of you.

That wasn’t unusual, you had always liked cooking together, well, it was spending time together overall, but anyway. What was unusual was the way it played out.

You stood beside him, focused on what you were doing, your attention on the pot in front of you as you stirred carefully, unaware of the small smear of sauce left near the corner of your lip. You must have tasted it, and it smeared. He noticed it before you did, his gaze catching on it immediately as his hand lifted without hesitation.

He wiped it away with his thumb.

And instead of stopping there-

He brought it to his lips and licked it off.

You blinked at him for a second before letting out a small laugh, the sound light, unbothered, like there was nothing strange about it at all.

“Kuni- you could’ve just told me,” you said, smiling as you turned back to what you were doing.

He only clicked his tongue, looking away slightly like it didn’t matter.

Yae didn’t step in despite the weirded out expression she had on.

She simply turned and left.

Another time, she saw you walking through the halls together, your hand loosely held in his as he spoke about something in a low voice, your attention fixed entirely on him. That alone wasn’t new, but what caught her was the way he stopped mid-sentence, reaching up to adjust something in your hair that didnt need adjusting, his fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary, your expression softening immediately at the touch like it was something you enjoyed.

It was natural to you.

That was the problem.

The adjusting itself isn't necessarily weird, but as things stack up, underneath the normal display, things just feel off.

She started asking the servants after that, subtle at first, phrasing it like casual curiosity rather than concern.

“They work well together,” one servant said, not thinking much of it. “They’ve always been paired like that, haven’t they? It’s what they were made for.”

“They’re close,” another added, more thoughtful, though not suspicious. “The Archon relies on her. It makes sense.”

None of them hesitated or questioned it.

And that was what bothered her.

They didn’t see anything wrong, because to them, your closeness had always been explained away as duty. You were made for him, placed at his side from the beginning, shaped to assist him, to remain with him, to complete what he lacked. To everyone else, what they saw was simply the result of that design.

But Yae knew better.

That wasn’t what she had seen. That wasn’t what this was. Too close. - far too close.

That night, she decided to confirm it for herself.

She slipped into her kitsune form, sneaking into the estate, past the guards, and moved through the hallways with ease. She made her way toward your room first, expecting to find you there like usual.

It was empty.

That alone was enough to make her pause.

You should have been there.

Her ears twitched slightly as she listened, picking up on the faintest shift in presence somewhere deeper within the estate. She didn’t rush, but her movements became more deliberate as she followed it, slipping further in until she reached one of the inner rooms, one that opened out toward a quieter part of the garden, the window left slightly open as the night air drifted inside.

She only needed a glance.

She didn’t step in.

She didn’t need to.

Because the moment she had a peek,

She saw everything.  

You were on a low futon, both of you completely naked. Kunikuzushi had you folded beneath him in a deep mating press, your legs pushed up and spread wide, knees nearly touching your shoulders. 

His hips drew back slowly, the obscene glint of slick shining on his cock as it slid almost fully out of you. Then he pushed back in with one smooth, deliberate thrust, burying himself to the hilt. 

A broken whine slipped from your lips. Your body squirmed beneath him, back arching as much as the position allowed, fingers clutching desperately at his shoulders. He leaned down, pressing soft, almost reverent kisses across your flushed face, your cheeks, your fluttering eyelids, the corner of your trembling mouth, while one hand rested possessively on your breast, thumb brushing over the nipple.

It wasn’t something that could be misunderstood.

It wasn’t something that could be excused as simple fondness of one another.

Her expression tightened, something sharp settling behind her eyes as she pulled back immediately, not giving herself time to look longer than necessary, even though she already did.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Not like this.

Not between the two of you.

Yes, she told Ei to make you both anatomically correct, to have you built as realistically as it could be, but she didnt think it would turn out like this.

She turned and left without hesitation, her pace quicker now, her thoughts already moving ahead.

This had gone too far.

And if she didn’t intervene now, it would only get worse.

The next day, she didn’t bother with formalities.

She entered the estate directly, her steps steady and authoritative as she made her way to his office without announcement. The door slid open with a little aggressiveness she couldn't hide.

He didn’t look up.

He sat on the floor like usual, documents spread around him, brush in hand as he continued writing, his posture composed, unaffected by her clearly irritated display that screamed you're in trouble.

“What,” he said flatly.

Yae stepped inside fully, the door closing behind her as her gaze settled on him, sharp and assessing.

“I’ve been hearing things,” she said, her tone light, but her eyes weren’t. “About you and your little companion. Tell me, just how close have the two of you become?”

He didn’t pause.

“Nothing has changed,” he replied calmly, his brush continuing across the paper. “You’ve seen how we’ve always been.”

She watched him for a moment, then tilted her head slightly.

“Is that so?” she hummed. “Then let me ask you something else.”

This time, there was a brief pause in his writing.

“If the time came,” she continued, her voice steady, deliberate, “would you take a wife?”

The question lingered in the air as he didn’t answer immediately, but his brush resumed, slower this time.

“If it was required,” he said, his tone neutral. “It would be done.”

Yae’s gaze didn’t leave him.

“And would you choose one yourself?” she asked instead, eyes narrowing, “Or would you have one chosen for you?”

There was a brief pause, but his brush didn’t stop this time, the ink continuing across the paper as if the question felt irrelevant.

“No,” he said simply. “A consort isn’t necessary. I can handle state affairs on my own.”

Yae watched him for a moment, her expression unreadable, before she crossed her arms over her chest, clearly unimpressed.

“Don’t try me, Kunikuzushi.”

His brush didnt stop, clearly not caring for whatever she had this time but-

“I saw you,” she said, the lightness gone completely now. “Last night, I saw everything clearly. Don't play dumb, I already know,”

That was when he looked up.

His expression unreadable but dark, his gaze meeting hers without flinching, without denial, not even a hint of surprise.

For the first time since she entered, he gave her his full attention.

“And what will you do?”

Yae blinked slightly at that, the question catching her off guard.

“What?”

He didn’t look away from her.

“And what exactly will you do about it?” he repeated, his tone calm, but there was something else sitting underneath it now, something firmer. “You’re the one who told Ei to make her in the first place. You pushed for it. You said I needed someone, didn’t you? Someone to stand beside me, someone to stabilize me. You made her for me.”

His gaze didn’t waver.

“So what exactly is the problem now?”

Yae’s expression tightened, her composure slipping just slightly. “Kunikuzushi, don’t start twisting this into something it’s not. That’s not what she was made for, and you know it.”

He let out a quiet scoff, setting his brush down this time.

“She’s mine,” he said plainly. “That was the entire point. Or did you forget your own reasoning?”

“That doesn’t mean-”

“And did you really think I’d take a human as a wife?” he cut in, his voice sharper now, something irritated slipping through. “Some fragile thing that would wither in a few decades? Something I’d have to watch die while I stayed the same?”

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing.

“No one is worthy of that position,” he continued, more quietly now, but more certain. “No one except her. We were made the same, we’ll remain the same, and we’ll exist for the same length of time. There’s no replacement for that, no replacement for how she treated me, for how pathetically adorable she is, so eager to help me in more than one way.”

Yae’s patience snapped at his clearly disgusting implication.

“Kuni, don’t you dare try to justify this,” she said sharply, stepping forward now, her tone losing all pretense of lightness. “This is wrong, you-”

“We what?” he cut in immediately, his expression flattening. “Say it properly.”

Her jaw tightened, “You’re crossing a line.”

He stared at her for a second before letting out a quiet, almost amused breath.

“Are you implying we’re siblings?” he asked, his tone edged with something mocking now. “We don’t have blood, Yae. We don’t have biology. We don’t even have real bodies in the way humans do. So what exactly are you trying to compare this to?”

That was it.

Something in her expression hardened completely.

“I’m taking her,” she said.

He paused, and the shift in the room was immediate.

“What?”

“I said I’m taking her,” she repeated, her voice firm now, leaving no room for misinterpretation. “You’ve taken this too far.”

His gaze sharpened, irritation settling fully now, “No, you won’t.”

“Try me,” she shot back without hesitation. “By the time the sun sets, you’re on your own, Kunikuzushi.”

Before he could respond, she turned and left, slamming the door shut behind her.

──── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ────

That night before the sun fully set, she didn’t wait.

She moved through the estate unseen again, careful this time because the servants haven't fully left, so she kept avoiding them, slipping through the halls without leaving a trace. She didn’t need anyone witnessing this.

By the time she reached your room, everything was quiet.

You were inside, seated at the vanity, gently brushing through your hair, your movements slow and absentminded, unaware of anything beyond the routine.

The door slid open.

Before you could react, her hand caught your wrist roughly.

You let out a small, pained sound as she pulled you up to your feet without warning.

“Wha- Yae? What are you doing?” you asked, confused, your voice unsteady as you tried to pull back slightly.

“We have to go,” she said quickly, her grip not loosening. “Now.”

“Huh? Why-?”

She didn’t answer as she kept pulling you toward the door.

You stumbled slightly trying to keep up, your confusion growing as her urgency made no sense to you, your free hand instinctively reaching for her arm.

“Yae, wait- what’s going on? Why do we have to-”

She stopped, not because she felt the need to explain to you what happened but because he was already there.

Standing in the doorway and blocking it.

He looked at the two of you, his eyes half-lidded, a small smile resting on his lips, but there was nothing soft about it. It sat wrong, the kind of expression that didn’t reach his eyes at all.

Yae didn’t flinch.

“Move,” she said flatly.

He tilted his head slightly, “And why would I do that?”

“Don’t play dumb,” she replied, her grip on you tightening slightly as she pulled you a step back behind her. “You know exactly why. Move.”

Thats when he opened his eyes fully, the smile gone, a dark glint on his indigo eyes.

“What,” he said slowly, “so you can take what’s mine?”

His gaze flickered to you briefly before returning to her, something darker settling in it.

“No,” he continued, his voice lowering. “I don’t think so.”

Yae shifted, pushing you back slightly behind her.

“Kunikuzushi-”

He didn’t let her finish because the moment she moved-

He struck.

The first hit came too fast to anticipate, cutting through the air and landing before she could react properly, the current snapping through her body as it locked for a second, a sharp breath forced out of her as her footing staggered. It wasn’t that she couldn’t fight back, it was that she hadn’t expected it, and that single moment was enough.

She shoved you further back immediately.

“Stay back-!”

Her vision flared in response, energy pushing outward as she forced herself to counter, the air cracking between them as she blocked the next strike, but it didn’t fully stop it, the current still slipping through enough to make her body jerk again, her stance breaking as she dropped to one knee.

He didn’t rush or hesitate.

Another strike followed, stronger this time, the power behind it heavier, the kind that didn’t leave room to recover easily.

“The first one should have been enough for you to understand,” he said, his voice even as he stepped closer, completely unbothered by her attempts to steady herself. “But I suppose I expected too much.”

She tried to push herself up again, her movements slower now, her breath uneven as the aftershock still ran through her.

He continued like it was nothing.

“I know kitsune are supposed to be clever,” he said, almost conversational, another surge of electro building in his hand, “but this is a bit much, don’t you think? Sneaking around, trying to steal something that doesn’t belong to you.”

Another strike landed.

This one forced her fully to the ground.

“Aren’t Tanuki's the ones known for stealing?” he added, clicking his tongue lightly as he watched her struggle. “It’s disappointing, really. A Kitsune - something that represents Inazuma - acting like that and a shrine maiden at that.”

She still tried to move, tried to get back up but she was too weak now, her movements slow.

He stepped forward, stopping right in front of her.

“Stealing from the Raiden Shogun of this land,” he continued, his tone lowering slightly, something sharper settling into it now, “do you know what that’s called?”

His foot lifted-

And came down hard, pinning her head against the ground before she could move again.

“Treason.”

The word settled heavy.

“And you know what happens to people who commit treason, don’t you?” he went on, his voice steady, almost calm in a way that made it worse. “They’re executed.”

There was no pause after that. No hesitation as he pressed down harder.

A wet, sickening crack split the air as her skull gave way beneath his foot. Bone shattered like porcelain, and dark blood gushed out in thick, hot spurts, splattering across the floorboards and soaking into the edges of her outfit. It pooled quickly under her head, glossy and crimson in the dim light, her pink ears twitching once before going completely still.

And that was it.

“You’ve overstepped,” he finished flatly, his foot still resting there, grinding slightly into the ruined mess even after she was long gone.

Then he looked up to glance back at you and smiled, like this was normal, like he didnt just crush someone's head in front of you.

Your hands were already covering your mouth, your breathing uneven, eyes wide. And the moment he took one step towards you, you instinctively stepped back. 

His expression shifted immediately.

“...why are you moving away?” he asked, the smile fading, something sharper replacing it.

You didn’t answer, taking another step back, smaller this time as a small broken sound slipped from your lips, something akin to a scared whine.

He paused as annoyance flickered across his face.

“Why are you acting like that?” he said, more firmly now, stepping forward again, closing the space you tried to make. “Why are you scared?”

That made something in you snap.

“Scared?” you repeated, your voice shaking, your hands dropping from your face as you looked at him properly now. “You- you just killed her. Right in front of me. And you’re asking why I’m scared? Are you fucking serious Kuni?”

His brows pulled slightly, like he didn’t like the way you said that.

“She was trying to take you,” he replied, like that explained everything. “What was I supposed to do? Let her?”

“She wasn’t doing anything wrong!” you shot back immediately, your voice rising without you meaning it to. “She was probably trying to help-”

“Help?” he cut in, his tone dropping. “By taking you away from me?”

“Yes!” you snapped before you could stop yourself, your chest tightening. “Maybe she should have, if this is how you’re going to act!”

The moment the words left your mouth, his expression hardened as something in his gaze went cold.

“...you don’t mean that,” he whispered, voice laced with disbelief.

“I do,” you insisted, even if your voice wavered. “What is wrong with you? You weren’t like this before. You weren’t- you didn’t-” your words caught, your breath hitching as everything started catching up to you all at once. “You didn’t hurt people like this.”

“I did what was necessary,” he replied flatly. “You just didn’t see it before.”

“That doesn’t make it okay!”

“It does if it keeps you here.”

The way he said it was so simple, like your freedom was nothing to him at all made your stomach twist.

“You can’t just decide that!” you said, your voice breaking now. “You can’t just decide that I don’t get to choose anything, that I don’t get to talk to people, that I don’t get to leave-”

“You don’t need to,” he cut in again, sharper now. “No one else is needed. It’s just us. It’s always been just us.”

“That’s not true!”

“It is,” he insisted, stepping closer again, his presence overwhelming in a way it hadn’t been before. “Who else has stayed with you this long? Who else understands you? Who else even can?”

You didn’t answer.

Because you knew.

And he knew you knew.

Yae only stayed around for duty, her loyalty to your creator - your mother, is what kept her around, she doesn't particularly care about either of you personally she just cares about keeping inazuma safe for Ei, and talking about her, your "mother" dosent care about either of you too, she made you for her selfish wish of throwing her responsiblities to someone else, all other humans lived and died right before your eyes. You only had him.

“We were made like this,” he continued, his voice lowering, more controlled now, but no less intense. “You and me. The same. We don’t leave. We don’t change. We don’t disappear like they do.”

His hand reached for your wrist, gripping it, not as rough as before, but firm enough that you couldn’t pull away.

“So stop trying to act like you belong with them,” he said. “You don’t - we don't.”

The adrenaline that had been holding you up, that made you argue, started to fade quickly.

Your chest tightened, your breathing hitching as everything crashed down at once, your vision blurring as tears gathered before you could stop them. Your other hand came up shakily, fingers brushing over your wrist where his grip held you, tracing the visible doll joint there.

“...then why?” you whispered, your voice breaking, your fingers pressing lightly against it. “Why were we made to feel anything at all?”

He didn’t interrupt.

You looked down at your own arm, your thumb dragging slowly over the seam, your shoulders trembling as the tears started falling properly now.

“This isn’t fair,” you continued, your voice cracking as the words came faster. “I feel things the same way they do. I think the same way they do. I want things the same way they do, so why,  why does it matter so much that I’m like this?” your grip on your own wrist tightened. “I’m not any less than them just because I have this.”

Your breathing hitched.

“So why does it feel like I am?”

For a moment, he just looked at you.

Then his grip shifted, loosening just enough for his hand to slide over yours where it held your wrist, stopping you from pressing into it any harder.

“You’re not less,” he said, quieter now.

Your gaze flickered up.

“You’re more,” he corrected, his thumb brushing over the joint you were so focused on, “You don’t break. You don’t fade. You don’t get left behind by time like they do.”

His hand guided yours away from your wrist slightly, not letting you keep staring at it like that.

“And you think that’s cruel?” he continued, his voice steady, like he genuinely didn’t understand why you were hurting over it. “To exist without that weakness?”

“I didn’t ask for it,” you said immediately, your voice shaking. “I didn’t ask to feel everything and still be.. different.”

“You didn’t need to ask,” he replied. “You were made exactly the way you’re supposed to be.”

Your brows pulled together, tears still slipping down your face.

“For you?” you whispered, the words coming out before you could stop them.

There was no hesitation.

“Yes.”

The answer came too easily - too naturally.

“And I was made to be incomplete without you,” he added, his gaze not leaving yours. “So why are you looking anywhere else?”

Your breath caught.

“I don’t want you to look at yourself like something’s wrong,” he continued, quieter now, his hand still over yours, grounding it. “Not when I’ve seen every part of you and never once thought that, just how you didn't see me as any less.”

His thumb brushed lightly over your wrist again.

“You didn’t pull away from me,” he said. “So don’t expect me to do it to you.”

Your chest tightened further at that, your emotions tangling together until you couldn’t separate them anymore.

“What happened to you..” you whispered, your voice small now, breaking. “Kuni, you’re- you’re so mean now. You weren’t like this. Why do you keep hurting people like this..?”

For a second, something in his expression flickered, he wanted to say how other people ask - no beg to be hurt from their own idiocy from their own superiority, like a heartbeat is what makes them superior when it's the very thing that stops them from achieving immortality. But he didnt say any of that, instead-

“..I told you,” he said, quieter now. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Before you could respond, he sat down at the edge of the bed first, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. Then, without giving you time to react, he pulled you forward onto his lap in one smooth motion, your legs over his to the side. Your balance caught instinctively as your hands came up to steady yourself against him.

His hand came up to your face, holding your cheek, his thumb brushing just under your eye where tears had gathered.

“You’re still crying,” he muttered, almost under his breath.

“Kuni-” you started, your voice unsteady, your body still tense-

He didn’t let you finish.

He leaned in and kissed you.

You made a small sound against his lips, more of a whine than anything, your hands instinctively pressing weakly against him, not enough to push him away, just enough to show the hesitation still there.

He didn’t stop.

His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, the kiss deepening despite the way your breathing still hitched, your fear not fully gone.

“Stop thinking about it,” he murmured against your lips, not really giving you the chance to. “Just stay.”

His hand shifted, sliding down to your thigh, gripping it before lifting it slightly, guiding your leg on the other side over his lap until you were properly straddling him now, your light yukata lifting over from the movement, exposing your legs as he pressed your pelvis against his.

You gasped softly at the movement, your hands catching onto him more firmly this time.

He took advantage immediately, pulling you back into the kiss, slower this time, more sensual, like he was trying to overwrite the violence and blood with something else.

While his mouth moved against yours, one hand sneaked up under the hem of your pulled-up yukata, palm gliding over the curve of your ass. 

When you gasped again at the contact, he deepened the kiss, tongue slipping past your lips to tangle with yours. It turned into a slow, heated make-out, tongues sliding together. Neither of you needed to breathe - being puppets -, so the kiss went on and on, deep and consuming.

His other hand moved from your cheek to the back of your skull, fingers threading through your hair as he pressed you closer into the kiss, holding you there firmly.

Under the yukata, his fingers found the edge of your panties. He tugged lightly at the fabric, then paused.

“Lift your hips for me,” he murmured against your lips, voice low and gentle.

You obeyed without thinking, raising yourself just enough. He slid your panties down your thighs in one smooth motion, letting them catch at your knees before they slipped further. The cool air brushed against your now-bare pussy, making you shiver.

Only then did his fingers reach down. The first slow stroke of his fingertips through your folds had you whimper softly into his mouth, making him smile into the kiss. He circled your clit gently at first, then rubbed two fingers against your entrance, smearing your own slick on yourself before he pushed both digits inside you, curling them deliberately. 

He explored with patience, each downstroke of his fingers working through your walls, pressing and rubbing against that sensitive spot inside that made your thighs tremble and vision blur.

“Ahh- Kuni...” you whined cutely, the sound small and shaky even though you didn’t need air. “You’re getting so wet already.. One of the only things she did right is making you automatically correct... who could've thought a pretty little doll could get this soaked?” he purred between kisses, voice low and velvety. “Just for me. You were made for this, weren’t you? Made for me.”

Your chest tightened. The pleasure felt good - too good - but the memory of the sickening crack and the dark blood gushing across the floor flashed again. 

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes even as you rocked against his hand.“Kuni... I saw-” you started, voice breaking into a soft gasp as his fingers curled harder.

“Shh. Don’t think about her,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You’re mine. Ei made you for me. Not for this world, not for anyone else. Just me and she tried to take that.”

Before you could reply, he pulled his fingers out slowly, the loss making you whine in protest. 

Without hesitation, he brought his slick-covered fingers up to his lips. His tongue slipped out, slowly licking a long stripe up his index and middle finger, savoring the taste of your slick with lazy laps. He even closed his lips around one digit for a moment, sucking it clean while his indigo eyes stayed locked on yours the entire time.

You stared back at him, wide-eyed, the display so lewd it would have made you burn with embarrassment if your mind wasn’t already fogged over with pleasure. Instead, all you could do was let out a tiny, mortified whimper.

After watching him for a few seconds, before you could stop yourself, you asked-

“...What does it taste like?” 

Kunikuzushi raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by your question. Then a faint, mischievous spark lit in his eyes as an idea formed.

“Wanna try for yourself?” he murmured, voice low and teasing.

You - already flushed from the question you asked and not wanting to embarrass yourself further - nodded slowly, though that wasn't all, you were curious, being both puppets, artificial in every way. What did something like this even taste like to beings like you?

He brought his slick-coated fingers slowly in front of your mouth, tapping your lips slightly in a silent instruction to “open up.”

You parted your lips slightly, tongue slipping out as you started in small, kittenish licks - tentative and shy at first. You dragged your tongue along his fingers, tasting... Nothing.

There was no real flavor at all, only a faint, neutral wetness. It felt strange, almost disappointing in how empty it was.

You blinked up at him, still licking slowly. “It... it doesn’t taste like anything,” you whispered, a tiny pout forming on your lips between licks. “Just.. wet.”

He let out a soft, amused huff.

“Exactly,” he murmured, watching you clean his fingers with those delicate little licks. “Because you were made for me. Nothing about you is supposed to be for anyone else’s senses.. only mine.” 

Then he rested both hands on your hips so you don't squirm as he started grinding up against you, the friction of his clothed cock rubbing right against your soaked pussy drawing more helpless sounds from your throat.

“Mmm.. haa.... Kuni..” you gasped, hips twitching despite the guilt twisting in your chest.

With one hand still steady on your hip, he reached between you and undid the obi of your yukata, letting the fabric fall open and slide down your shoulders, baring your skin. 

His darkened gaze dropped to the swell of your breasts, taking self-indulgent glances before he took your arm gently, lifting your wrist to his lips, kissing the delicate doll joint there, then each finger one by one, then the joint at your elbow, soft, worshipful presses against the places where porcelain met synthetic flesh. 

The tenderness made your breath hitch. Before he could say anything else, you leaned in closer, fingers threading into his indigo hair. You tugged his head back gently and pressed your lips to the back of his neck, right over the glowing Electro symbol.

Your reverent kiss made something in him snap.

A low, feral sound rumbled in his chest. In one swift motion, he shrugged off his own yukata, letting it fall off his shoulders as he pulled down his briefs. His cock sprang free, hard and flushed, already leaking precum. Guiding your hips forward so the head of his cock is probing against you before he started smearing his precum over your entrance.

The blunt pressure made you both sigh.

For a moment he just held you there, tip pressed against you. 

Then, slowly, he began to push in - inch by careful inch. You felt every ridge, every stretch as he filled you. When he finally bottomed out, fully seated inside you, both of you were slightly breathless in that strange puppet way.

“..There,” he murmured, forehead resting against yours, voice rough. “Just feel me. Don’t think about anything else.”

He stayed still for a few heartbeats, letting the fullness settle deep inside you. Then he started moving, slow drags of his cock pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, the withdrawal wet and obscene. His hands guided your hips at first, pulling you up and down on his cock. Gradually, your own movements joined his. You rose and fell on him without fully realizing it at first, grinding yourself down onto his length. 

A soft, shaky whimper left you.“Kuni.. I can’t stop seeing it..” you whispered brokenly, tears slipping down your cheeks even as pleasure bloomed inside you.

Kunikuzushi’s grip on your hips tightened, but his voice stayed low and soothing against your ear, “Shh... let me fix it” he murmured, “You’re doing so well for me.”

The pace quickened as he buried himself to the hilt with every thrust now, the wet sounds of your bodies meeting filling the room. Your breathing hitched into small, needy gasps feeling his tip hit against your g-spot in every thrust.

“It feels.. so good.. but she ah-” you whimpered, the words catching as another deep thrust made your voice crack. “Kuni.. I saw the blood..”

“That’s it.. just like that,” he whispered encouragingly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Focus on me, she dosent matter,”

Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter until it finally snapped. You came hard around him, clenching and pulsing with a soft, broken cry, “Kuni-!” 

Your body trembling uncontrollably in his lap as fresh tears spilled over.

He wasnt too far behind, the moment you clenched around him his hips jerked up once, twice, and then he came too, burying himself as deep as possible while he spilled inside you with a low groan. 

You felt every pulse as he filled you with his release.

Both of you were panting softly, chests rising and falling out of habit more than need, when you felt him twitch and harden again almost immediately, still buried deep inside your slick, cum-filled pussy.

“Kuni...!” you protested weakly, voice shaky and tired.

He only grinned against your skin, something dark and hungry flickering in his indigo eyes. “Maybe I’m not done yet,” he murmured. “Let me have my share of you.”

Before you could say anything else, he flipped you onto your back on the bed, pressing you down into the sheets. The pace changed completely. He started fucking you harder, deeper, the wet sounds of his cock driving into your cum-slicked cunt echoing louder in the room. You lost count of how many times you came that night, each orgasm blurring into the next, your voice growing hoarse from crying out his name between broken sobs and whimpers.

At some point he turned you over again, pushing your chest down against the bed so your ass was raised high, your face buried in the sheets. He fucked you from behind with rough, relentless thrusts, one hand pressed firmly between your shoulder blades to keep you in place while the other gripped your hip hard enough to leave faint marks on your synthetic skin.

You were a trembling, overstimulated mess by the end, “No more... Kuni, no more..” you whimpered desperately, voice cracking as another wave threatened to crash over you.

He buried himself to the hilt one last time, groaning deeply as he came again, pulsing and flooding you with even more of his seed for what felt like the millionth time that night. Only then did he finally slow down.

He pulled out slowly, a thick trail of mixed cum dripping from your abused cunt onto the sheets. Your body collapsed fully onto the bed, exhausted and trembling, unable to hold yourself up any longer.

Kunikuzushi didn’t care about the mess. He simply gathered you into his arms, pulling your limp body against his chest and holding you close. His hand stroked gently down your back, fingers tracing the delicate joints along your spine.

“Sleep,” he whispered against the top of your head, voice softer now, almost tender.

You could still feel the warm stickiness between your thighs and the way his cum slowly leaked out of you, but his arms were secure and warm around you. 

“..it’s just us, right?” you asked quietly.

His hold tightened slightly.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just us.”

With your head tucked under his chin and his steady presence surrounding you, exhaustion finally won. Your eyes fluttered shut as you drifted off in his embrace.

──── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ────

Tsubaki (椿): primarily symbolizes deep, devoted love, quiet affection, and unwavering loyalty. Often associated with love that is both gentle and consuming, the camellia’s way of falling whole rather than petal by petal reflects a connection that does not fade slowly, but ends all at once, making it a symbol of enduring bonds and intensity beneath softness.

[pvrepure]

I think she looks cute..

[pvrepure]

I kinda wanna write a 6 chap fic with like yn and scara in the game granny.. DO YK THAT ONE HORROR GAME?? what if like each night is one chapter with the 6th one as an epiloge of them toegther.. (im choosing the car ending i feel that would be the cooler one)

Like yn wakes up like youd do in the og game and while looking around she bumps into scara whos been there befor her n stuff uhh he tries to leave yn stops him bc this is creepy n allat, you follow him, then like teamwork shit then more romance and ofc smut SPECIFICALLY in like yk that one place u gotta crouch to go to and grannys bear is there??? yeah. and maybe yn getting hurt and angst uhh yeah then also ima make yn a little cool she gonna give him the idea of luring granny to the smoke chamber

though this will take place in the old granny ver BEFORE the underbunker update added because that part was so confusing ?? and pretty hard im not good at mazes.. i literally gotta finish the sniper scara oneshot, the fav char priivilages sec chapter almost finished and 2 fics i gotta update AND 2 other fics i wanna start in around 3 months... now this fuck

[pvrepure]

dunno what to do first..

sniper scara x sick idol reader

octopus hybrid scara x catgirl reader

Voting ended onApr 10

i love both of these ideas sm and can’t choose which to start with, so i’m letting you decide <3 Both are porn with plot again.

[pvrepure]

i did NOT expect that to win holy guacamole uh i guess (lowk thought more freaks would be into the tentacle smut... or maybe thats just me) ? anyways starting on it and will be posted in around 1 or 2 months... and the other option will be posted in 3 or 4 months (after the first one)

[pvrepure]

Doll*

warnings: Public sex / semi public sex / car sex / Dacryphilia / loss of virginity / clothed sex

[Cropped from my fic <Beyond Appetite> just the smut part for a quick read, so the context might be a bit off]

~

The rest of the drive is silent, not in a tense or heavy way, but only empty. Your gaze stays forward, unfocused, not really landing on anything. The passing shapes outside blur together without meaning, your mind not quite catching up to what your eyes are seeing.

Your skin feels damp. A thin layer of sweat clings to your temples, the back of your neck making you take off your scarf. Your breathing is still off, too shallow, too uneven, but you don't adjust it. You don't think to.

Up front, his eyes lift briefly to the mirror.

He sees you.

Still, gaze unfocused, bangs clinging to your forehead in small clamps, breathing like something inside you hasn't fully settled back into place.

He watches for a moment longer than necessary, his expression unchanged on the surface, but there's something else there, something sharper, more interested. Whatever shifted back there didn't pull you away from him. If anything, it did the opposite.

Something opened.

Or broke.

And he sees it.

The drive ends the same way it began, quiet, uninterrupted as the engine cuts.

He opens the door and steps out, the muted thud of it closing behind him echoing faintly in the empty lot. For a second, he just stands there, the cool air brushing past him as his gaze lifts slightly, then shifts, drawn back to the car almost immediately.

To you.

Through the window, you're exactly where he left you.

In the back seat. Not slouched, not asleep, just.. sitting there, your posture loose but unmoving, your gaze unfocused and fixed somewhere ahead that doesn't exist.

He continues watching, waiting. There's a beat where he expects something, anything. A blink that lingers too long. A shift. A delayed reaction now that the motion has stopped.

Nothing comes.

His thumb presses lightly against the key.

Beep!

The locks engage with a soft click.

You don't react, not even a flicker.

His eyes narrow just slightly, not in concern, just in thought. Measuring, noting the absence more than anything else. A quiet breath leaves him, almost a sigh.Then another beep.The lock clicks open again. 

The door pulls open, and he slides back into the car.

The door shuts behind him, and the space closes in with it, the quiet settling thicker this time, more contained. The air feels different back here, warmer, closer, and you're still exactly where he left you, slouched into the seat, your head tipped slightly forward. 

You don't look up until he's already leaning in, closer than you expected, his face mere centimeters away from yours.

"How are you sitting back here?" he murmurs, his voice low, almost thoughtful.

You flinch, small, delayed, but there.

"...I don't know," you answer, the words soft, uncertain, like they slipped out without your permission.

He watches you for a second longer than necessary. Not just looking, studying now that hes close enough. Your unfocused eyes, the uneven rise of your chest, the way you're still not fully present. Still somewhere just out of reach.

Then something in his expression settles. A quiet decision.

"I'll fix it."

It isn't reassurance. It doesn't sound like it's meant to be.

He leans in before you can process it, closing the space completely, and the shift is immediate, the warmth of him, the press of his presence, the way there's suddenly nowhere else for your attention to go.

The kiss lands firm, without hesitation in a way that wasn't careful but certain.

Your breath catches against it, stuttering as your body reacts before your thoughts can, and you don't pull away, you don't even think to. One of his hands braces against the seat beside your head, boxing you in, while the other slides to your jaw, fingers curling just enough to guide you, tilting your face to where he wants it.

You follow without resistance.

Too easily.

It deepens quickly, not rushed but insistent, like he's testing the way you respond and finding nothing pushing back. Your fingers twitch weakly against his sleeve, brushing the fabric but never gripping, never stopping him, your breath breaking unevenly between each shift of pressure.

His mouth moves against yours with more intent now, slower but heavier, and when his teeth catch your lower lip - just enough to pull a soft gasp from you - it opens you up without thought. The sound barely leaves you before he's already leaning in closer, closing the gap completely by pushing his tongue in, and the kiss shifts again, deeper, more consuming, his hand tightening slightly at your jaw to keep you right there.

Your back presses fully into the seat at some point, you don't remember when.

Only that you're there now, your thoughts scattered and disconnected, reduced to fragments that don't quite line up. But he's there and all you could feel is him and nothing else, so why does it matter?

He pulls back just enough to look at you.

Your lips parted, your breathing uneven from him now, your blown pupils looking at him like there's nothing else in the world.

He takes it in.

All of it.

And something in his expression sharpens, darkens, as it settles into place.

"You're my favorite doll," he says quietly, his tone not teasing or light but certain like hes stating a fact.

Then he leans in again, and this time there's no pause, no space left between movements. The kiss resumes deeper, his face pressing closer, like he's trying to close whatever distance is left, like he's grounding you through it, or claiming something, it's hard to tell.

Your body gives easily under it, your hands barely finding his shoulders this time, more for balance than anything else, your breath catching and breaking again when he shifts closer. 

Somewhere in between the kisses, when they start to blur together, when you stop being able to tell where one ends and the next begins,

You're already leaning back against the seat, but it doesn't stay there.

His hand slides from your jaw to your shoulder, then lower, pressing just enough to make you sink further. The angle shifts gradually, your back sliding against the leather as he leans in with you, guiding instead of forcing, until the seat gives way beneath your weight and you're no longer upright at all.

Your head tips back first, then the rest of you follows, your balance slipping as your spine curves into the dip of the seat. 

A soft, unsteady breath leaves you.

He doesn't break the kiss.

If anything, he presses closer.

One knee comes up onto the seat beside you, then the other, his weight settling in as he follows you down fully this time, not hovering anymore but closing the space completely. The shift makes the position unavoidable, him above you, you beneath him, your back no longer supported the way it was before.

His hair falls forward with the movement, brushing against your cheek, your temple, soft strands catching against your skin as he leans in deeper.

And like this, angled up toward him, with nowhere to go, the kiss changes again.

Heavier. More consuming.

Your fingers tighten slightly against his shoulders this time, holding on as your breathing breaks unevenly between each shift, each press of his mouth against yours.

He leans into you more, his weight settling in a way that keeps you there, grounded beneath him, your head pressed against the car seat, your thoughts slipping further out of reach the longer it continues.

There's no space left to think.

Just this.

The warmth, the pressure, the way everything narrows until it's only him, only the way he moves, the way he keeps you exactly where he wants you.

And you let him.

His other hand moves, dragging lower until his fingers catch on the edge of your coat.

There's a brief pause before he pulls at it, not rough but impatient, like it's in the way.

The movement forces you up slightly.

Not fully, just enough. Your back lifts from the seat for a second, your balance unsteady as the kiss breaks for the briefest moment, your breath catching as the fabric slides against your shoulders.

He doesn't go far.

Doesn't let you.

One hand steadies you at your side as he shrugs the coat off in a quick motion, pushing it down your arms, letting it bunch uselessly beneath you before discarding it somewhere to the front seat without looking.

Then he presses you back down just as easily, your back settling into the seat again. This time, he doesn't lean in right away. He pauses instead, his gaze lingering on you - taking in the way you look beneath him, your parted lips, the uneven rise of your chest, the way your eyes still haven't fully steadied.

His hand lifts slowly, and when it touches you, it's different from before.  His fingers brush along your cheek, light at first, almost absentminded, before settling more firmly, his thumb grazing just beneath your eye, The touch isn't rough, but it isn't soft either.

His hand moves again, unhurried, sliding down the line of your jaw until it reaches your throat. He doesn't press, just lets his fingers rest there for a moment, feeling your pulse.

Your breath hitches.

Your chest rises a little sharper this time, and he stays just long enough for it to matter before continuing, his hand drifting lower, brushing over the fabric at your collar, then across the swell of your chest in a slow, steady motion that makes it impossible not to feel it.

He doesn't rush. That's what makes it worse.

Every movement is measured, intentional, like he's mapping you out piece by piece, watching how you react, how you don't stop him, how you let it happen. His palm flattens briefly before sliding lower again, over your stomach this time, the pressure light but grounding, keeping you right where you are beneath him.

Only then does his hand still and he speaks,

"Can I go further?"

His voice is low, quiet in a way that doesn't match the question, no hesitation, no uncertainty. Like he already knows what you'll say.

And just wants to hear it anyway.

You nod, small and shy, your body already reacting before you can fully think it through, that faint, tingling warmth between your thighs growing with every lingering touch.

That's all he needs.

He adds pressure to his hand, pressing harder against your stomach. You draw a soft, involuntary sound - something unfamiliar, something that slips out before you can catch it. You freeze for half a second, like you don't even recognize that it came from you.

His eyes sharpen slightly at that.

"I want to hear it," he murmurs, voice low, closer now. "Tell me the full sentence."

You hesitate for a second before complying, looking into his eyes while answering with faint nervousness, "It's okay, Scara.. you.. You can go further..."

Its okay, isn't it? He's your boyfriend, he's been that way for a while now, and you both still haven't gone that far. The mood is already established, it would be awful to stop now, and it's not like you hate it anyway.

He kept staring even moments after the confirmation, waiting until the uncertainty left your eyes, and only then did his hand drift lower. His fingers catch at the hem, lifting it slightly, then higher, slow enough that you feel every inch of it. The movement alone is enough to make heat rush straight to your face, your breath catching as your gaze immediately drops away from him.

You don't look at him.

You can't.

A quiet tsk pulls your attention back up before you can stop it.

He's already looking at you, unimpressed, expectant, and when your eyes meet his, he tilts his head just slightly, his gaze flicking down toward the fabric still caught between his fingers.

A small gesture that took you a few seconds to understand.

"Oh.."

Your fingers hesitate for a second before moving, a little clumsy, a little unsure as you take over, holding the fabric up to your collarbone, exposing your breasts. Your hands stay there, gripping it lightly, like you're not entirely sure what you're doing, but doing it anyway.

"..okay," you mumble, the word quiet, uneven, barely making it out before you gasp as you feel his lips press against the part of your cleavage that spills over the bra in soft, soothing kisses.

He lets out a pleased hum at your pitiful whimpers, letting his hand slither to your back, unclasping your bra, and throwing it to the front.

You shudder at the cold air brushing against your now exposed pretty chest, but it doesn't stay that way for long as his mouth latches at one of your nipples, his tongue twirling around the flesh. A sharp gasp leaves you at the sudden jolt of unexpected pleasure. Your fingers curl instinctively around the dress you're holding up as you squirm, the heat pooling down between your thighs increasing with each flick of his tongue against the sensitive bud.

Scaramouche, seemingly pleased by the newfound pleasure you're experiencing, lets out an approving hum, his other hand going down to slither from your stomach, going lower.. lower... lower...

A strained whine leaves you the moment the tip of his fingers reaches your clothed cunt, making you buck your hips involuntarily against him for more friction.

"Shhh... be patient, pretty girl. We've got all day," he mumbled against your breast, the low vibration of his voice brushing over your heated skin and making it that much harder to stay still.

You let out a small, unsteady sound when his fingers press harder against your clothed slit, the pressure drawing a sharp reaction from you that you can't quite hold back as he lets your wetness soak the fabric.

He's really good with his tongue, that's the first thing you think about. Each flick of his tongue, each soft suckling, only fuels your impatience, leaving you breathless as your clit throbs from each ministration of his fingers and the heat of him against your breast.

A few moments later, his fingers stilled the rubbing motions as he let go of your nipple with a wet pop, and the absence of it hit you immediately, a small, unexpected disappointment blooming in your chest, but before you could voice it, before the words could even form, he- 

"Up," he murmurs, gesturing at your hips, his fingers already hooking into your underwear.

You lift your hips lightly, just enough for him to slide the soft fabric down your legs, leaving you bare to his gaze.

You close your eyes, embarrassment blooming in your chest from being bare under his gaze, but after a few seconds pass and nothing happens, confusion starts to creep in. Your brows knit slightly as you open your eyes again, glancing up at him to see what he's doing.

Heat rushes to your face to see him staring directly at your cunt, "S-scara.. wh..what are you doing..." you whisper, voice laced with barely contained disbelief.

He looks back at you, his brows faintly furrowed, like he can't quite believe what you're doing - like you're the unreasonable one here. "What?" he says, almost incredulous. "I can't look at what's mine now?"

Your already flushed face deepens in color, heat spreading across your cheeks as you look away. "..whatever," you mumble under your breath, trying to sound dismissive even though it doesn't quite land. "Just- get it over with.."

You hear a faint sigh that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle, but before you could look back, you feel a finger near your entrance, testing for a second, coating his finger with your own slick, before it pushes in without warning.

Letting out a small, faint sound you almost don't recognize yourself making, he lifts one of your thighs up just enough so he could nibble at the sensitive flesh, each kittin-ish lick and nibble coaxing soft whimpers from you. He pushes another finger in, two now stretching you open. Fingers dipping further into you, curling in downstrokes with cruel precision.

"Hah.. ngh~ Scara.." You mewl, clenching around his fingers and squirming under him. Seeking more friction with every shy roll of your hips against his knuckles.

"So impatient..." he tsked softly, though there was no real annoyance in his voice, only a quiet, unmistakable hint of delight.

His fingers curl more now, caressing your inner walls, searching for that one spot.

"More.. mfh.." You manage, voice so sweet and needy.

He doesn't respond.

But before you can say anything back, you jolt, your mind going fuzzy, as a broken cry spills out your lips. He found the spot, fingers rubbing and curling against the sensitive bundle of nerves, your cunt leaking all over the car seat, brain melting into mush, so much so that you didnt hear the faint rustle of fabric, and then something warm and undoubtedly hard pressing lightly against you. You flinch at the sudden contrast.

You don't look down - you can't. You already know what it is, and the embarrassment would swallow you whole if you did.

He notices but doesn't bother doing anything about it for now; instead, his thumb presses against your clit. You flinch, violently. The sensation was nothing like you've ever felt before as he circles agonizingly slow motions against your clit, not enough pressure to do anything but tease, while he presses himself flush against you, and you could feel his own warm and heavy cock resting just ontop of your abdomen. 

He shifts and adjusts himself just enough that you could feel his cock probing on your leaking entrance, rubbing himself slowly against your folds, almost teasing.

You slam your eyes shut, bracing yourself for what's coming before a faint shuffle reaches your ears, then the soft click of the seat belt or a compartment opening. When you peek, he's leaning back toward the storage compartment of the car, pulling something out. The crinkle of plastic tears as he opens it with his teeth, pulling the condom out, and you can't help but glance at him, curiosity and embarrassment twisting together in your chest.

He notices your gaze lingering and lets out a soft pft, the sound carrying a teasing lilt, clearly mocking your blatant staring without needing to say a word.

You let out a mortified sound, face burning hot as you look away again.

"Aww, did you get shy? It's okay, you can stare, I'm yours too, aren't I?" he coos, leaning backwards a little to slip on the condom before his tip probs against your slit again.

"S-shut— ngh!" Your breath hitched, the rest of your words collapsing into a strained gasp.

He slid all the way to the hilt in one smooth thrust, a low, breathy groan tore from his lips as he sank into your cunt. You cry out, a wounded sound ripping from your throat.

It hurts

So badly.

The ache of being stretched beyond what your body should have taken burns. Tears spill down your cheeks, warm and unrelenting.

His hand rises to your face, thumb brushing them away slowly, almost gentle, a quiet contrast to the cruelty he just put you through. He leans in closer. Your breath catches as his lips hover near your cheek before pressing against the damp skin, lingering just long enough to taste the salt of it.

His gaze flicks over your scrunched expression, something unreadable in his eyes, before his tongue traces a slow line where your tears fall.

His fingers tap lightly against your cheek, grounding, almost patient.

"Breathe," he murmurs, low and steady. "You're doing so well that was the hard part."

You try, you really do. Your chest jerks with a shaky inhale, but it catches, splintering halfway as it collapses into a broken sob instead. Another follows, thinner, more desperate than the last.

He leans in at the sound, lips brushing along your tear-streaked cheek to the corner of your eye, unhurried. A soft hum leaves him, warm against your skin, pleased. "Aw..." he coos, voice dipping into something almost fond. "Are you still crying pretty girl?"

His mouth lingers there, tracing the dampness, as if savoring it.

"Shh... it's alright," he whispers, though nothing about him feels like comfort, "don't fall apart on me now."

Your back arches, unbidden, your body tightening under the strain. His hand leaves your cheek, settling against your stomach, rubbing slow circles as he presses you back down, easing you out of it.

He experiments with a single, long, slow stroke, pulling out almost all the way out before pushing back in, watching how it affects you.

“N-ngh! hic wait..” you try to curse, but he silences it with a kiss, devouring the words before they can take form.

“It'll feel good soon, I promise,” he murmurs against your lips, calm and certain, "I said I'll fix you, won't I? Trust me..."

His hand slips from your belly to your clit, palm settling there as his thumb begins tracing slow, circles, gentle, applying just enough pressure to elicit a reaction from you.

Just as he promised, after a few moments that felt like hours to you, the pain lingered stubbornly at first. Then, inch by inch, it twisted into warmth, pressing and building, impossible to ignore. Looking down where the both of you were connected, you felt the last bit of strain leave.

"Ahh... uhm... ahh~..."

"See..? I told you to trust me, there we go.." he coos, noticing the way your body adapted to him.

He doesn't rush. Instead, he brushes a stray hair from your forehead, watching your eyes glaze over with that new, heavy heat. Letting out a delighted hum, he starts thrusting, his pace slow and agonizingly deep, ensuring you feel every inch of him as he claims you.

You can't help the way you squirm beneath him, your hips tilting instinctively to find more of that pressure. A small, broken whimper catches in your throat, a sound so sweet it makes his cock twitch.

"So eager now, hm?" he murmurs, his voice dropping into a rougher, darker velvet.

Slowly, he begins to pull back. It’s a teasing retreat that makes you gasp at the sudden emptiness. But before you can even protest, he slides back in, in a deep, firm glide, sending a fresh wave of sparks through your nerves.

"Just keep making those cute sounds for me..." he murmurs, his voice vibrating against your collarbone.

Beginning to find a rhythm that's not fast or pounding, more accurate as he thrusts himself in and out of you in a steady, rocking glide that stretches the coil in your abdomen. Your breath hitching, coming in short, shallow puffs with each thrust as the warmth from before turns into an insistent, pulsing ache for more.

Driven by a sudden need to be closer, to feel the solid weight of him against you, your hands start to slip. The fabric of your dress, which you'd been clutching tightly at your chest, begins to slip as you reach out, your fingers trembling as they graze his shoulder. 

You just want to hold him, to anchor yourself as the world starts to blur.

"Aht, aht, aht..."

The sharp, clicking tsk of his tongue cuts through your haze like a blade.

Before you can even wrap your fingers around him, he catches your wrists. He doesn't squeeze or growl, he just firmly guides your hands back down, pressing your own knuckles against your chest until you’re clutching the bunched-up fabric of your dress once more.

"I don't remember giving you permission to let go of your dress," he says, his tone calm and dismissive, as if he’s simply correcting a small mistake.

"But... Scara," you whimper, the sound small and broken. You don't quite realize you're disappointed, you just feel a sudden, hollow ache in your chest at being pushed away. Your bottom lip wobbles, your eyes wide and searching his for any sign of softening. "I just... I want to touch you..."

"Not today," he hums, his gaze flicking down to your mouth before returning to your eyes in soft rejection. "You just stay right there, hold your dress up, and look pretty for me. Can you do that?"

You let out a tiny, frustrated whine, your head sinking back into the car seat. You feel small and strangely empty, unsure of what to do with the longing in your fingertips, until he shifts.

He pulls back almost entirely, then pushes back in a deliberate tilt of his hips, hitting that one particular spot, deep and perfectly sensitive, sending an electric shock straight to your core, making your jaw slack as you go semi cross-eyed. The hollow feeling in your chest is instantly replaced by a sharp, high-pitched cry that breaks in the middle.

"Oh?" he breathes, a faint, knowing smirk touching his lips as he feels the way you clenched around him in shock or pleasure - maybe both. "Found something you like better than my shoulders, did we?"

 "hah.. hah Scara.." You mewl out, thighs clenching around his waist as he mercilessly abuses that one spot deep in you with every hit on his tip.

His hand was relentless, fingers toying with your clit while his mouth traced a path over every sensitive inch of your skin, your neck, collarbone, the curve of your jaw, and each low, faint groan he occasionally let out vibrated against you, fueling the fire until every deep, thrust that keeps hitting that perfect spot with bruising accuracy. It was a sensory overload,

Too much, yet not enough.

Your muscles began to clamp tightly around his cock, your body twitching under him, moans becoming high-pitched and more desperate with every thrust. And when the coil threatened to snap-

“NO- UGH, I DIDN’T CHEAT ON YOU WITH YOUR SISTER, GODDAMNIT-”

A sharp voice from just outside the car had you go very, very still.

For a second, you don’t move at all, your eyes going wide as the words register. Slowly, you lift your gaze and realize Scaramouche is already looking past you, attention caught somewhere outside the car.

The voice keeps going, frantic now.

“Please- c’mon, baby, listen to me! I swear we were just checking if she had any lumps inside of her or something, like- like for cancer or whatever, and I couldn’t reach so I had to use my dick, you know like-”

You blink.

Once.

Twice.

...What?

A slow, creeping disbelief settles over you, your brows knitting as you try - and fail - to process what you just heard.

Without thinking, your eyes follow his line of sight toward the window, curiosity taking over as you shift slightly beneath him, trying to push yourself up just enough to see what’s happening outside-

His hand immediately catches your jaw firmly before you get far.

Your movement stops.

“Don’t,” he says, low and even, guiding your face back toward him like it’s nothing. “Look at me.”

Your breath catches slightly, your gaze pulled right back to his, but when you look back at him, it hits you all at once, how he's still balls deep inside of you, how flushed he looks, how your basically bare out in the open. It makes something in your chest jolt, awareness rushing back in too fast, and your hands come up instinctively, pressing lightly against him.

“Wait-” you start, your voice catching as the noise outside gets closer.

He doesn’t let you finish.

His hand tightens at your jaw just enough to hold you there, and he leans in, cutting you off with a kiss and another deliberate roll of his hips that had you mewl, your thoughts slipping again as your breath falters against his.

You try to hold onto it, to stay focused on the voices outside, but it’s harder than it should be. Every time you start to pull away, he follows, not rushed, not forceful, just persistent, his hips brushing flush against yours again and again in thrusts despite being shallow carried precision, making sure to angle them just right in a way that leaves your head light and your cunt clenching around him.

“..someone’s-” you try again, quieter this time.

“They can’t see anything,” he murmurs against you, voice low, almost dismissive. “Windows are tinted.”

Like that settles it.

Like that’s all that matters.

Your grip on your dress falters.

Another kiss, softer now, slower, but somehow worse, because it lingers. It makes it harder to think, harder to keep track of anything beyond him. Picking up the pace, he bottoms out almost fully before pushing back in one brutal thrust that had you cry a little too loudly, your vision blurring at the edges.

Then the voice comes closer. Too close.

“-wait, hold on,” the guy says suddenly, right outside. “I think I heard something..?”

You stiffen slightly, your breath catching as everything seems to pause for a split second.

But from the other side, the person he’s arguing with raises their voice again, louder, sharper, pulling his attention right back.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming- just don’t do anything stupid, please- don’t file the divorce, just- wait!”

The voice fades, the tension outside breaking with the sharp slam of a car door right beside you. An engine starts almost immediately, low and close, followed by the sound of tires shifting against the concrete as the car pulls away. It clicks then, all at once - they’d been parked right next to you the entire time.

It takes a moment for it to really sink in that it’s over.

Your body loosens before your thoughts do, a quiet breath leaving you as you finally lean back properly against the seat.

“...Scara, what if he saw us?” you murmur, still a little breathless, your voice softer now, edged with lingering nerves.

He doesn’t even hesitate.

“I told you the windows are tinted,” he replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, his tone calm, almost dismissive. “Why are you so nervous?”

You huff slightly at that, your brows pulling together as you look away, a faint pout settling on your lips without you really thinking about it. It’s instinctive, the way your shoulders draw in just a little, like you’re still trying to shake off the leftover embarrassment.

He notices.

His gaze lingers a moment longer this time, taking in the flush still spread across your face, then going lower to stare at your gorgeous breasts, then even lower at where the two of you were connected, and his cock twitches inside of you again as something in his expression shifts.

Smashing his lips into yours, he starts moving again, a little rougher and more needy, while his thumb returns to clit, rubbing in circular motions. The coil returns even harder this time, the pressure of everything is returning at once is too much.

Feeling yourself about to let go, your moans become higher-pitched, needier, more desperate, and he notices, kissing you deeper. You cum so hard your body convulsed, twitching and squirming under him as your thighs clamp around him, your hands going lax, the fabric falling down. He works you through your orgasm, his thumb rubbing in soothing circles as his thrusts become slower, shallower till he buries to the hilt and spills himself with a rough grunt.

Neither of you said a word after that, the only sound was the echo of your mutual, ragged breaths filling the cramped space of the car until he finally moved. As he pulled out, you couldn't help the pathetic whimper that escaped you at the sudden loss of him. In the heavy silence,he stripped off the condom and knotted it with practiced ease, his motions absentminded and efficient as he pulled his pants back up.

But before he turned away completely, he leaned back down, pressing one last lingering kiss against your lips. He pulled back just an inch, his eyes dark as he swept a slow, thorough look over you, taking in every bit of the mess he’d made. A small, private smile tugged at his mouth, one of pure satisfaction. With steady hands, he reached for your dress, pulling the fabric back down before catching a stray lock of your disheveled hair and tucking it behind your ear. Only then did he reach out to help you sit back up.

The door opens and cool air slips in.

He steps out first, and you follow a second later, your movements just slightly delayed, like your body is still catching up to itself. When the door shuts behind you, the sound feels dull, distant, and you don’t move far from him, close enough that it doesn’t even register as a choice.

Your face is still warm, the flush lingering, your breathing not fully settled. Your eyes stay on him, not searching or questioning, just fixed there like he’s something steady to anchor to without effort. He notices. His head tilts slightly as he studies you, taking in the softness in your expression, the slight wobble to your legs, your blown pupils, the way your gaze lingers, open, unguarded in a way that isn’t quite awareness.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says after a moment, his voice even, measured. His gaze holds yours just a second longer before he adds, quieter, “...doll.”

The word settles without resistance. You nod immediately, no hesitation, no confusion, like it belongs there - like it always has.

He turns and starts walking, and you follow without thinking, your steps falling into place behind him as easily as your thoughts fall quiet. 

You don’t look back at the car or the space you just left behind. It doesn’t occur to you to. 

Whatever was there, your mind has already shaped it into something that no longer needs questioning.

[pvrepure]

dunno what to do first..

sniper scara x sick idol reader

octopus hybrid scara x catgirl reader

Voting ended onApr 10

i love both of these ideas sm and can’t choose which to start with, so i’m letting you decide <3 Both are porn with plot again.

[offbrandkyoya]

hii i hope you’re doing well! can i req a girly gf!reader bf!scara au 🥹🥹 no pressure tho!! i’d like it if u wrote hcs and maybe a few scenarios if u’d like <33 btw as in girly i mean as appearance and her style is very girly like princess coquette ykyk but her personality is rlly chaotic😭😭 AND ALSO IF U’D LIKE CAN U MAKE HER SHORTER THAN HIS 5’4 ASS… AND LOVES PINK A LOT. sorry this is a lot of self-insert lmao😭 take as much as time h need and tysm already if you do it! btw can i also be the –🎀 anon?? :))

girly gf!reader x bf!scaramouche

contents: fluff nom nom, angst......like a LOT, Scaramouche being a dick for the first half, CHILDE, established relationship, college au, mommy issues, fake friends, proofread ONLY the scenarios (first one is kinda ass tho), Grammarly hates my writing :/, coquette reader too, emo Scaramouche, alcohol mention ig its not that important, you're crazy, I think I overdid this but we ball I guess #NOTLIKEOTHERWRITERS😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

a/n: IM FREE. I rewrote this shit like 100 times. I was locked in I wanted this to be PERFECT. but dont be surprised if it downgrades towards the end I edited this for 2 days straight 24 SEVEN. I hope I did this justice this was a really cute req :3 WELCOME TO GANG 🎀 ANON XOXO

honestly..

the fact that this happened is pretty crazy

you're so (,,>ヮ<,,) and hes so…him…….

but its all about personality you know?

you have so many photos saved of each other from your dates.

you've taken him to so many pop ups and cafes that he has the names memorized.

he used to not be a fan but seeing you happy, makes him happy.

plus they have good food..sometimes.

he becomes such a food critic its kind of funny.

anyways, he doesnt really mind about how you dress.

you were always just some girl in the class that dressed up so frilly and pink. and hes just some guy who wore whatever he thought was emo style. anything black sufficed and it made him look like a homeless person aka a loser but WHO CARES! 

so you can imagine his surprise when he found a love letter on his "assigned" seat during his first class lecture. 

he was shocked and also impressed about how…visually pleasing the letter was. thank god he knew cursive.

the letter being bedazzled with stamps, stickers, and doodles that hes starting to think its a prank. bullying? in college? not cool.

he WAS gonna throw it away but then you entered and it was SO obvious it was you. eye contact and you were already red in the face. 

you sat in the front row and he took a good look at you, analyzed you. you weren't his type but..its worth a shot right?

now hes been stuck with you for months HOORAY.

you actually lived in the dorms and WOW he has never seen such a bright room before. it was like a rainbow threw up. a PINK rainbow…..so basically just pink 

what he didn't expect was how rambunctious you are.

under all that cuteness, you were a devil.

when getting to know each other, you were calm, a bit shy but calm. then after a few weeks, he saw your true colors. INSANE. 

you talk a lot. and i mean. A LOT. you yap to him in lecture (now you sit with him btw YIPPEE) and if you cant talk you spam him messages with goofy emojis like 🧜‍♀️💁🌠📟 THEN you're always tackling him. you spot him outside? JUMP HIM. you guys are hanging out in his dorm? LAY ON HIM TILL HE CANT BREATHE. walking out the bathroom? SCARE HIM THEN BITE HIS FACE.

to think he stayed around..but why? youre fucking crazy! on top of that your room is kind of an eyesore like why do you need lights EVERYWHERE? well…

Scaramouche wrote the remaining class notes before packing up to go.

As he exits, putting on his headphones, Scaramouche receives a text message from his mother. She’s asking, once again, when he will come home—never considering he might be busy. With break nearing, she expects him to stay over for “family bonding,” which always feels more like a test of patience than anything else.

He ignores it. At first, he's surprised she can still text him. Then he remembers—of course. That night, he'd unblocked her, drunk and barely conscious. Since then, the messages haven’t stopped.

Scaramouche groaned again and cranked up his music, hoping it might help. He hated feeling vulnerable—and he regretted that night every single day. 'Stupid Childe,' he thought bitterly. If that damn ginger hadn’t forced him to hang out back then, he wouldn’t be stuck with this constant, nagging torment.

He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and kept walking, deciding a nap in his dorm was the best way to kill time before his next class. At least there, he could shut the world out for a while.

He was just starting to settle into the rhythm of this music, already planning to hole up in his dorm for the rest of the day. The familiar world of his headphones wrapped around him, shutting out reality. Then the world intruded. His headphones were yanked off. In place of the beat, a sharp breath of air hit his ear, cold and unexpected.

Startled, Scaramouche lets out a sharp scream and leaps back—only to scowl in frustration the moment he realizes it’s just you.

You giggle, waving the item in your hand. "Hey!"

He doesn’t respond. Great—he completely forgot he was supposed to meet you at the cafeteria, and now he can’t sleep. Just perfect.

Still smiling, oblivious to his growing irritation, you lean in and press a kiss to his cheek. “You hungry?”

“No,” he replies sharply, snatching his headphones from your hand with more force than necessary.

You notice the shift immediately. Your smile falters. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he snaps, avoiding your gaze like it’s a challenge.

It had only been two weeks since the two of you started dating.

He only accepted because he felt obligated after all the effort you put into that letter. He’s already decided the breakup is coming soon. With everything that just happened, there’s no point in waiting any longer.

Scaramouche is pulled from his thoughts the moment your hands slip gently into his. Startled, he glances down—only to find your concerned eyes already watching him.

"You sure you're okay?" You ask softly.

He blinks, then looks away. "I told you—it's nothing."

You don’t believe him. Not for a second. Without a word, you tug lightly on his arm.

"Come on. I want to show you something."

Soon, you lead him away from the busy campus. With each step, the clamor of footsteps and chatter fades, replaced by a growing silence. You reach a secluded bench beneath the wide, sheltering branches of a tree. Its broad limbs sway gently overhead, casting mottled shadows on the ground. The distant chatter disappears completely, replaced by the soft rustle of leaves and the steady hum of the breeze. You sit down first, gently tugging his hand. When he settles beside you, you let go and begin rummaging through your pin-covered bag—the faint clink of metal the only sound in the calm that surrounds you.

He watches in silence as you search for something. After a few seconds, you pull out two small plush keychains, holding them up with a quiet smile.

You hand one to him. He takes it, eyes fixed on the silly creature.

His eyes widen slightly when he realizes—it’s a mini version of himself. It's bedazzled with sparkles and hairpins. The figure is purple, accented with black details, fully embracing his emo aesthetic. A noticeable red blush colors its cheeks, and it wears an angry little scowl.

“I saw this workshop near the cat cafe,” you say, watching as he turns the item over in his hands. “They were letting people sew their own keychains, and I don’t know...I thought it’d be cute if we had matching ones!”

You show him yours—it’s frilly and pink, just like always.

"I spent, like, hours in there—but it was super fun!" you say, continuing to talk about your experience making your mini version, even mimicking some of your actions as you speak.

Scaramouche watches you quietly, his eyes settling on your bandaged, pink-stained fingers. Guilt tightens in his chest. After everything, how could he have judged you? All you’ve done is care for someone who never felt worthy.

“Why...”

His voice cuts through your story, making you stop mid-sentence.

“Why do you like me?” He asks, his gaze dropping, bangs falling over his eyes.

You blush, caught off guard by the sudden question.

"Well, I just do," you say quietly.

"When I first saw you, I thought you were cute and cool, so...I wanted to get your attention.”

'Always about looks,' he thinks bitterly.

You hesitate, then continue, your voice a little softer. "I wanted to reach out to you, but you always left so early...or just shut people out. You never really talked."

Your fingers nervously fiddle with the lace on your dress.

"I don't know…Whenever I didn’t have class, I’d see you sitting alone. I saw you talk to some people—I'm guessing they’re your friends—but sometimes…” You glance up at him briefly. “Sometimes during class…you looked sad…."

Scaramouche's grip tightens. "So you pitied me?"

"N-No! I'm sorry—I didn't mean it like that!" You say quickly, covering your face with your keychain. "I just…I thought maybe I could get to know you. Connect with you..."

His eyes widen slightly.

"And now we're here!" You say cheerfully. "Together forever, till death do us part."

He squints at you. "Don't get ahead of yourself."

You laugh softly, "Okay, okay.."

Then you lean over and wrap your arms around him, gently resting your head on top of his.

"I'll make sure your life is filled with love,” you whisper, “until you’ve had enough to last a lifetime."

He freezes, stunned by your kindness. Despite all the darkness he carries, you remain—steadfast and patient—as if you see something in him he’s blind to. No matter how hard he pushes you away, you never give up on him, and that unsettles something deep inside.

After a long, tense silence, Scaramouche exhales without realizing he’d been holding his breath. His shoulders slowly drop as the tightness in his body begins to ease. The stiffness in his muscles softens, reflecting a subtle thaw spreading through his heart. In that fragile moment, something inside him breaks open—a guarded part of himself finally giving way.

Without a word, he pulls you close, wrapping an arm around you with a new tenderness. His other hand clutches the keychain against his chest like a lifeline grounding him to reality. His eyes flutter shut as he leans into your warmth, breathing in your familiar scent, letting your steady presence calm the turmoil inside. For the first time in a long while, he stops fighting—both physically and emotionally—and quietly surrenders to being held.

You let out a soft squeal, barely containing your excitement, and nuzzled your cheek against his hair, your smile warm and close.

"Oh, Scaramouche, you're so cute ꉂ(˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵)!"

"Stop moving—I'm gonna be sick!!!"

"Sorry... (˶‾᷄ ⁻̫ ‾᷅˵)"

wow what a heartfelt story!

thanks to you scaramouche isnt that much of a hermit anymore YAY!

you've guys went out a lot and you just loved sharing your hobbies with him.

though, there was a point where you BOTH got mistaken for kids and weren't allowed entry.

unfortunately, you are shorter than him plus Scaramouche is kinda baby faced. Even though he looks so edgy, he'd get told he's just a middle school student going through a "phase". And since HE gets confused as a minor, you are too. You've crashed out a lot about it and so has your boyfriend.

"THOSE ASSHOLES THINK THEY KNOW EVERYTHING HUH??? 凸(`△´＃)" "i don't even look like a kid WHAT THE FUCK. that place is probably dirty as shit anyway!" "For real!!!! (＃`Д´)"

at one point, you began imprinting yourself in everything he owned.

Scaramouche getting ready and notices that his pants has heart stitched pockets, his journals now having bunny stickers on the front for the world to see, even his mini fridge had something going on with magnets from a show you like. 

One time he just felt you doing something behind him when he crashed at your dorm. He felt ticklish on his back and it was bothering him a bit.

"What're you doing?" "Drawing. (＾▽＾)" "Kay. Don't fuck up." "I won't! ☆⌒(≧▽​° )"

The back of his hoodie now has a cute, emo bunny face. He can't lie, it was pretty cool. He gave you a kiss as a reward. 

You've shared him hair clips that you thought suit him. He's bought you some before and you kept them in a special place. You actually have a drawer filled with the gifts he's given you. He knows about it too. It wasn't hard since it was labeled with a big heart and the letter S with MORE hearts around it.

The gifts you've given him are all displayed on his shelf or tucked away in the closet. 

Everyone in lecture kind of speculated there was something going on between you two. It's hard not to notice when there's a gorgeous coquette styled girl sitting next to the emo boy outcast. 

Your friends confronted you about it, whining about how you don't sit with them anymore. That's when you giggle and say, "We're dating. ♡ (˘▽˘" "WHAT." 

There isn't many classes you two share so you try to make the most with it.

Sometimes you make Scaramouche lose focus so he's always scolding you after.

It leads to you guys sharing notes as a way to communicate. It doesn't really matter who sends first but it's usually you.

He tries to stop the chain so you can both pay attention but then he gets so into it that he forgets his initial plan.

You guys don't even throw the notes away, you keep them. Scaramouche has them tucked away in his folder while yours are in the drawer. Though, when he writes something sweet, you hang it on your bulletin board.

Your relationship isn't necessarily a secret nor is it public. 

Have you basically told everyone you see you have a boyfriend? Yes.

Has Scaramouche mentioned you that you were his girlfriend? No, not really.

He believes it's no ones business to know who's dating and who's not and you respect it.

But what about his absolute bff EVER?????? aka CHILDE.

childe has noticed his friends sudden mood change and, after some prying, scaramouche spills the beans.

what he didn't expect was that childe didn't believe him.

and scaramouche who HATES being told a liar, had to show proof.

At this time, Scaramouche has been dating you for two months.

He was absolutely furious after his conversation with Childe. Maybe avoiding him and flipping him off in the halls was a bit childish, but was it so hard to believe he wasn’t single? Scaramouche had a pretty face, and his girlfriend definitely wasn’t the first to ask him out.

So when Childe said, “Are you serious?”—like it was unthinkable—something cracked. Hurt flickered behind Scaramouche’s eyes before hardening into cold fury.

He’d had enough.

Scaramouche had switched your meeting spot from the study room to the cafeteria—without mentioning that others would be there. Thinking it was just the two of you, you gave him a casual thumbs up and showed up unsuspecting.

Class ends. Scaramouche heads straight to the cafeteria, spots Childe’s ginger hair in the crowd, and drops his bag on the seat before him with a sharp glare. Childe, chatting with Itto, looks over and smiles. “Hey, Scaramouche! Feeling better?” “Don’t test me — I’ll hit you with my bag.” Scaramouche snaps back.

Childe pouts, and Itto jumps in, “Are you guys fighting?” “Yeah.” “No,” Scaramouche says firmly.

Childe sighs as Diluc aggressively slurps his milk. “Not surprised,” Diluc mutters.

Scaramouche sits down, still glaring.

“What now?” Diluc asks.

“Nothing!” Childe scratches his head. “I didn’t think he had a girlfriend.”

Diluc spits out his drink, and Itto gasps, “YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?!”

Scaramouche’s face flushes as he nods. “Yes! I do.”

Diluc eyes him uneasily. “I thought you hated girls.”

Itto smirks. “I thought you liked men.”

Scaramouche sneers, “No way. I hate clingy girls. Big difference.”

The guys exchange looks, and Scaramouche scoffs. “Can’t I get a girlfriend?”

Itto shrugs. “Do you, man. I just didn’t think you were boyfriend material.”

“Excuse me?” Scaramouche leans in, voice sharp. “What do you mean?”

Diluc steps in. “Let’s not fight over something so stupid.”

Childe nods and adds, “Keep that temper in check.”

Scaramouche leans back and folds his arms.

Childe says, “Sorry, I didn’t take you seriously when you said you had a girlfriend.”

He glared sideways, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed, his anger barely contained—masking a deeper hurt he wasn’t ready to face.

"Whatever."

The sharp click of high heels cut through the cafeteria chatter, drawing attention. In a flash, the girl lunged and wrapped her arms around Scaramouche’s neck, yanking him back like a surprise attack. Childe, Itto, and Diluc froze, stunned into silence. A beat passed—then she spoke first, shattering the stillness.

“Hi, Scaramouche!” you sing, planting a kiss on his cheek. That stuns the group even more.

You let go with a smile, scooping up your boyfriend’s bag and setting it on your lap. Your own bag rests between you, like a friendly little barrier that somehow makes the moment feel even more fun.

You ask, “Are these your friends?”

He nods, rubbing his neck. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You guess?!” Itto snaps back.

Childe blinks, still processing what the hell just happened.

Diluc looks at you with a pleasant smile. “I’m Diluc, you are?”

You giggle. “Oh, right! I’m Y/N.” You wrap your arms around Scaramouche, nuzzling your cheek against his. “I’m his girlfriend.”

Itto’s mouth drops open. “But you’re so pretty!”

Scaramouche glares at Itto.

You smile sweetly. “Aww, thank you!”

Childe watches you and Itto—who are already hitting it off—chatting animatedly.

You wore a bow headpiece and laced gloves shimmering with glitter. Your sparkly high heels and knee-length dress—with puffed sleeves, a corset, and a frilled lace hem—completed the look. A necklace, likely from Scaramouche, and pearl earrings added a delicate touch. Your light makeup featured pink lipstick and glitter around your eyes. Pink was everywhere—impossible to miss.

How did Scaramouche bag a girl like you?

“Oh, Scaramouche, I forgot, but look what I brought!” you say, letting go and rummaging through your bag. You take out a box and open it for everyone to see.

“The bakery had cute cake pops, so I grabbed some—and added my own twist.”

Childe eyes the cake pops, noticing the bows and chocolate ornaments. “I wish you had told me we were going to eat with your friends. I would've brought some more.”

Scaramouche takes one and instantly bites into it. “It was a last-minute decision,” he says.

Diluc raises a brow, doubtful.

So, you ended up getting to know his friends, and you were quite surprised at how bright they were compared to your boyfriend.

As Childe packs, he suddenly speaks up. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Yes?” you reply.

He stares at you for a moment. “What do you like about Scaramouche?”

Everyone’s eyes turn to you.

“Wow, déjà vu,” you say. “He’s thoughtful, smart, handsome, cute, arrogant, short-tempered, short—”

“WHY ARE YOU INSULTING ME?!” Scaramouche bursts out, face flushed as he shoots you a dramatic glare. It’s more bark than bite—half annoyance, half wounded pride, like he can’t believe you’d dare.

“I’m not insulting you! I’m being honest,” you say, cupping his face. He starts to squirm.

“Aww, is someone offended?” you tease in baby talk.

His face flushed a sharper red, anger flaring—hot enough to mask the faint, unspoken affection still clinging underneath, raw and exposed in ways he didn’t know how to hide.

“Want me to shove you down the stairs?” he snaps, pushing you hard. You grip him tightly, but he twists sharply, struggling to break free from your hold.

You pet him like a cat. “I love all of you, Scaramouche. Stop being such a baby.”

“I'M NOT!”

Childe watches, then laughs. “Wow, you really have changed.”

Diluc and Itto exchange surprised glances. Scaramouche remains still as you continue to pet him.

Childe stands and pinches his cheek. “The Scaramouche I know wouldn’t let this slide. You really love her.”

Scaramouche blinks, trying to process his friend’s words. A soft pink creeps into his cheeks, the sharp edges of his expression easing just slightly—as your eyes light up with excitement.

“I love you, Scaramouche!” you squeal, before showering him with kisses.

Childe laughs softly before walking away, clearly relieved. He didn’t have to worry after all.

To think Scaramouche is actually in love—it brings Childe to tears.

Unfortunately, he definitely owes Scaramouche his life savings for doubting him.

"Your friends are so nice! (っ˘ω˘ς )"

"They're annoying..like you."

"( • ⩊ • )"

AND IIIIIIIIIII WILL ALWAYS LOVEEEEEEE YOUUUUUUUU

thats you @ scaramouche

you guys definitely went to karaoke and it was an experience.

hes not even a bad singer like he says he is.

you guys mostly do duets because you don't want him being left out.

You have a planner of your guys future and it freaks him out.

lets just say…you always wanted a big family.

even so you guys always look at pet stores to see the animals but it ends up with him dragging you out because you start getting emotional.

"NOOOOOOO THEY NEED US!!!!!!!!!!!! (ﾉД`)" "NO. THEY. DONT."

you have a lot of nicknames for your boyfriend like babe, baby, kitten, kitty, peanut, scara, scaramoo, scarababe, pookie, teddy bear, etc.

he doesn't have a lot for you but its babe, girl (yes just girl), girlfriend…um

hes not a big nickname guy.

when it comes to pda you are the most affectionate (fork found in kitchen)

he'll hold your hand, kiss you, all that stuff but he gets embarrassed because he feels the whole world staring. 

you understand though and you don't want to make him uncomfortable.

sacaramouche made a system where you can either tackle him once a day or two for one so you'll have to wait the next week. 

you literally started twitching cause you wanted to but you used up your limit to the point you started pulling his hair instead. 

sometimes scaramouche thinks about a future with you like having kids and stuff and the thought of them all being you kinda makes him happy…in a way…….

you've done spa days with him because you just know he needs them. 

you just love doing things with him. its your love language. 

his love language is buying you things and you feel like a spoiled princess. 

his contact name for you: yn 😐❤️?

your contact name for him: SCARA (ⓛ ω ⓛ)🥕

why is there a carrot? who knows.

you guys tried spicy noodles together and almost died.

you were more upset that you got your top stained than almost seeing the light.

Scaramouche's hands are always warm while yours are always cold.

he started a habit of always warming your hands with his own before you guys go anywhere. he even does it in the winter despite you wearing gloves. 

you've called him out on it and he just says its because he doubts your gloves function.

it's nice to sleep next to him during those times. hes like your personal heat pad.

you've noticed he's started to be more comfortable sleeping around you since he hardly slept before. 

you take a lot of photos then decorate them like a photo card. 

it's NOT creepy! they're only for you to see!

..but it is kinda creepy.

the one time you've both had a serious moment was when Scaramouche finally said I love you.

One year has passed since you’ve been together.

Not once has Scaramouche said I love you.

You never questioned his silence or tried to force the words from him. You understand he takes a slower pace in relationships. You never got angry at him. Despite your crazy nature, you never made him do something he didn't want to. Scaramouche found that fascinating. How can a girl like you exist? You're optimistic, headstrong, a social butterfly, yet considerate and kind-hearted. You're a lot of things he isn't.

He's never seen you cry before. He's never seen your weaknesses as much as you saw his.

Until the day you went to the movies with your friends.

He remembers how excited you were — it was all you'd talked about for weeks. Instead of stopping by his dorm that day, you went straight to yours to get ready. He used that time to study for a test he had coming up in one of his classes. The sun was due to set soon, and the forecast said it would rain after the movie ended. He reminded you to bring an umbrella, and you answered with ten heart and smile emojis before finally slipping in a thank you.

He hadn’t heard from you in hours. Glancing at the time on his laptop, Scaramouche noted the movie had already started. Then, a loud rumble confirmed the rain had begun earlier than expected. Thirty minutes passed before his phone buzzed — a message from you, surprising him as he looked up from what he was doing.

Can you come get me?

When you sent your location, he was even more shocked to find out you’d been on campus the whole time. He hurriedly puts on his coat, grabs his umbrella from his closet, and rushes out to you. After running for what feels like hours, he spots you squatting on the floor in front of the fountain. Your umbrella was completely ignored as it touched the puddle while your head was down, soaking in the cold. Scaramouche walks in front of you, and you finally notice him. You lift your head up, and his eyes widen as tears and mascara flow down your plump cheeks with a quivering lip.

Scaramouche had never seen you so defeated. He asked what was wrong, but you stayed silent. Your brows furrowed deeper as tears fell. He reached out, and you took his hand. Slowly, you rose, still gripping your umbrella. Pressing your face into his chest, you sobbed harder, clinging to him. Scaramouche rubbed your back, his umbrella shielding you both as he led you to his dorm.

You say nothing as you watch him hang both umbrellas to dry and take your coats to the laundry. Your boots sit by the door while you stand quietly in the center of the room. Returning with a baby wipe, he places one hand gently on your cold cheek and uses the other to wipe away your makeup. He meets your gaze, but you look down. He keeps cleaning your face, gently moving your hair aside when needed.

He offered you a shower, but you declined, and he didn’t press further. Instead, he fetched his sweater and pants from the closet. You changed slowly with your back to him, then tapped his shoulder when you were done. He returned to the laundry room and didn’t come back until the clothes were clean and neatly tucked away.

The silence shatters as you reveal the painful truth of what happened.

When you met up with them, they started criticizing you, and you couldn't understand why. Apparently, they've never liked you in the first place. Because you were liked for your looks, they hung out with you. You got frustrated and fought. They called you names like you were delusional, a freak, and a trend hopper. They even claimed that you were only dating Scaramouche for money. As it turns out, the movie hangout was never about spending time together — it was just their way of ending things with you.

What hurt the most was hearing them talk about the movie like you weren’t even there. Shame washed over you, heavy and raw. You didn’t have the courage to go back, so you stayed outside—feeling small, alone, and completely lost.

You sobbed again, and Scaramouche hugged you. He told you that you did nothing wrong, but you got quiet again. Then, ignoring his schoolwork, he suggested you guys watch a movie here. You looked at him before nodding while wiping your tears with the sleeve. Scaramouche grabs his laptop and heads to his bed. You go ahead and crawl on top, then he hands you his computer. He tells you to pick a movie, then goes to make some popcorn and get snacks. After a few minutes, he joins you and hands you the bowl.

For a better movie experience, Scaramouche gets up and switches off the light, the room falling into a soft darkness.

The two of you watched the movie, and he could tell you were feeling much better. Thanks to the screen’s light, he can see you laugh again. Even without the makeup, you were still beautiful and bright. There was life in your eyes again, and slowly, your face began to reflect the person you were before.

This time, Scaramouche wasn't listening. He was more focused on you having a good time. You were back to your old self, and without realizing it, Scaramouche finally relaxed. He never realized how tense he was throughout this time. He knew his heart was beating, but it was from the anxiety and hurt of not being able to help.

"I love you."

Your eyes widen, and you turn to him, heart racing. He quickly looks away, fixing his gaze on the screen—too shy to meet your eyes. Even though he won’t look at you, you can feel his gaze lingering, tender and vulnerable. You don’t ask, not wanting to break the moment. Instead, you smile softly, rest your head on his shoulder, and wrap your arms around him, drawing him gently closer.

"I love you too."

Seconds later, Scaramouche rested his head on yours and finally smiled.

(o´ω`o)ﾉ

[pvrepure]

my fav piece of literature in this whole place, u do not know how many times i re-read this

[pvrepure]

beyond appetite

The city has been swallowing girls lately. Young ones, vanishing without a trace. Streets that should feel familiar twist into alleys of danger. Patrol cars idle at every corner now. Questions are asked, posters go up. The case grows teeth. And still, the girls keep disappearing. You've managed to survive, unnoticed, small enough to pass through the cracks. Until one night, you stumble across something you shouldn't have.

Scaramouche keeps you alive out of curiosity. Then proximity. Then something harder to name. He tells himself it's control, that you're only a stimulus he hasn't exhausted yet, but constants are dangerous things. And some hungers don't fade; they change.

Neither of you expects what happens when a constant outlasts the appetite it was meant to replace.

 ──────────── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ─────────────

Tags:

Psychological Horror, Possessive Behavior, Yandere, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Top Scaramouche (Genshin Impact), It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Cannibalism, Eventual Happy Ending, Angst, Child Neglect, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, (but teyvat geography), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Relationships, it gets worse, Codependency, slow corruption, depression, gets rlly dramatic, slow build, slow emotional collapse, smut, public sex, semi-public sex, car sex, dubious consent, dacryphilia, loss of virginity, mild physical abuse, manipulation, lovesickness, cannibal scaramouche.

I dont know how to create a masterlist so heres the link if yall wanna read it

ao3 (no need to register for an account)

wattpad

[pvrepure]

favorate character privilages

You wake up in a strange room, disoriented, and the first thing you see is a pretty boy staring at you like he’s never expected someone like you to appear in his world. He says you’re safe, but something about the room - the darkness in his eyes tells you otherwise.

Scaramouche is from the modern world, and somehow because of a sketchy link he clicked on an impulse, you’ve been dragged into reality. You’re his favorite character but favorites are dangerous when fiction collides with life what will happen when a boy who knows nothing of boundaries meets someone who shouldn’t exist?

~

Scaramouche staggers into his messy room shutting the door behind him with a loud thud to stop whoever was talking to him to get the hint and leave him alone, he sighs and collects himself as he moves some dirty clothes on the floor to the side by a kick of his foot to the side, the air is heavy with a raw, damp, vaguely unpleasant smell the sweat-dampened clothes he never bothered to wash cling to the floor and furniture and a faint creak sounds as he shifts his weight across the uneven floorboards.

He was never the social type, preferring the comfort of his own room to the outside world, but he didn’t think of it as wasting time. 

Quite the opposite.

The more he spent alone, the more he could focus on something far more important. His favorite character, [name] from an otome game called 'Crimson petal', you were one of 5 different characters, each one is a different route, and as the game name suggests, all the endings end with the death of the love interest.

He throws his jacket to the side as he makes his way to his laptop, flopping on his gaming chair and opens it with a click, closing his eyes as the brightness had a heavy contrast to the dark room, making him wince a little, but he quickly adjusts. His eyes flick to the time: 11:38 pm.

Amazing, just great. He already doesn't like to talk to people, and now four hours have been wasted going out because his persistent mother's girlfriend had him go out to admire nature, as it was sakura tree season, and to “touch grass for once.” Now, all he feels is his body aching from the boredom of going out.

What's so good about sightseeing nature anyway when he could admire you instead?

It was late, but not by Scaramouche’s standards. He opens the official Twitter account of Crimson Petals, scanning for updates. And it's as the gods themselves had blessed his evening, a new limited-time figure catches his eye: You were there smiling cheerfully in a pink sakura-themed kimono. 

Your kimono is a dream of soft pink silk, layered in delicate ruffles along the long sleeves and hem that sway gently, even in stillness. A wide obi wraps your waist, tied in a perfect bow at the back, tassels dangling and embroidered with tiny cherry blossoms that shimmer in the light. Ribbons and lace peek from beneath the folds, completing the cutesy outfit.

To celebrate the cherry blossom season, the 5 main love interests were dressed for the occasion, but he never paid any attention to any of the other 4.

Scaramouche’s pulse quickens. He hates his mother and her cunning girlfriend for interrupting his evening, but in moments like this, he can’t help but feel grateful, grateful for her wealth, for the endless access to these pieces of y/n that fill his room: posters, plushies, figures, all meticulously arranged to celebrate your presence. Fingers hovering the mouse moving it to the direction of the “Order Now” button on the screen, he smiles faintly, a mix of obsession and relief tugging at him. Tonight, at least, the world makes sense.

He goes to the website and is already placing an order for the figure.

As he's done putting all the credit card details, he saw the order confirmation pop up on his screen. he leaned back, letting the chair creak under him and lazily flipped through the other old tabs that had been stacking up for days now. a click here, a scroll there - his attention drifted.

One tab stopped him cold. It was a site he had opened long ago, the kind he could only justify with a “just for research” excuse.

He knows its just a lie.

It had him peering at content he’d never admit to anyone. 

Images and pictures of you in suggestive poses, completely nude, filled his screen. His pulse picked up, eyes widened, he hadn't even realized he’d been holding his breath. No one could know about this.

He felt pathetic, gross, but it never stops him.

 It never does.

Suddenly the task of deleting his old tabs, clearing the storage long forgotten, buried under something far more consuming.

He scrolls, fingers rolling through his mouse hastily, screen reflecting through his eyes, breath hitching at every image that passes through, every glimpse of your face in them.

He zooms in, he lingers, he saves every image that's available without hesitation. His chest feels oh so painfully tight and hot, skin prickling with anticipation

It doesn't take too long before his other hand crept towards the waistbands of his shorts. He doesn't notice the way hes already at the edge of his seat as his palm drags over his cock.

His grip tightens when he finds a particular image of you, one he recognizes instantly. The same sakura-themed kimono, the familiar pattern etched into his memory.

Only this time, it isn’t worn the way it’s supposed to be. The fabric hangs loose, slipping from where it once sat properly, draped carelessly along your shoulders, showing your cleavage out. The wrap has come undone, folds parted just enough to reveal more than it should, the panties showing and slightly tilted, almost agonizingly teasing, like a promise of what you could see. more than he should be seeing.

The way It looks wrong. Intimate. Like something not meant for anyone else’s eyes, certainly not his.

And yet, he doesn’t look away.

He lets out a soft airy laugh slips out of him before he can stop it, it's almost funny, considering only a few hours had passed - that's all it took. One appearance, one outfit, and someone had already twisted it into something else entirely.

The internet never wasted time, neither did he. 

His cock twitches and his chest feels like its going to bust open as he begins to rub his erection, making him writhe in pleasure softly. He starts to imagine you between his legs, licking his shaft, looking up at him with that painfully pretty face and ridiculously pink kimono that makes you look soft - too soft.

Precum sticky along his knuckles as he continues his motions, he thinks about you more, mind replaying that image of your thighs slightly spread apart, lips partly open to the point you can see a glimpse of your tongue.

He strokes himself faster just imagining it, the faint pleasure-filled expression across your face, the more he pictures it, the more he can't control the small groan he lets out, his hips lifting off the gaming chair as he reaches the peak, white ropes of cum spurt out.

His hand and oversized hoodie are sticky, thighs ache, high from the aftershocks of his decisions, and the exhaustion finally catching up to him as he stays still to collect himself from the afterglow.  

────────────⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅──────────────

“Isn’t there anything new…?” he mutters under his breath, fingers idly scrolling as search results blur together on the screen.

Your name sits at the top of the page, followed by the same recycled links he’s already clicked through a dozen times. Fan accounts. Old comments. Nothing interesting. Nothing new.

His jaw tightens slightly. Boredom gnaws at him, sharp and restless, the kind that makes his foot tap against the floor without him realizing it.

Then, something different.

His eyes narrow as they catch on a strange link buried halfway down the page.

summonme.com

“…Weird,” he murmurs.

The site name lingers in his mind longer than it should. He hesitates for only a second before shrugging to himself. What’s the worst that could happen? A virus? Two, maybe. Nothing he couldn’t fix.

He clicks.

The page loads almost instantly and that alone makes him pause.

No warning banners. No porn ads. No desperate pop‑ups screaming about sarah 5 miles away Just… emptiness. A vast white screen, clean and silent, with a single text box sitting perfectly centered.

Above it, a line of text blinks faintly:

"Write down your favorite character and see the magic" with a winky face

He scoffs, leaning back in his chair. “What kind of bullshit-”

But he’s already here already curious.

His fingers hover over the keyboard, then move almost on their own.

Your name.

He presses Enter.

An impulse action that will change his mundane routine.

The screen erupts in blinding white.

“What the fu-”

He hisses, eyes squeezing shut as he throws an arm up to shield his face, chair scraping loudly against the floor as he stumbles back. The light burns through his eyelids, sharp and invasive like a flashbang going off inches from his face.

Then-

“…Huh?”

The sound is soft. Confused. Not his.

He freezes slowly lowers his arm.

You’re standing there.

Right in front of him.

Solid. Real.

Breathing.

His heart skips, not in fear, but in stunned disbelief.

“…What?” you mutter in confusion.

The last thing you remember is lifting a forkful of strawberry shortcake, the smell of sugar and cream filling your nose.

Then nothing.

And now-

“Where the hell am I…?”

Your voice sounds too loud in the unfamiliar room. You blink, staring at the empty space where your dessert should be, fingers curling uselessly around air. “I was literally about to eat my cake-”

Your words trail off.

Because someone is standing in front of you.

Indigo eyes lock onto yours.

Your breath catches painfully in your throat.

He’s… beautiful. In an almost unreal way. Pale skin untouched by blemishes, sharp features arranged too perfectly to feel human, lashes casting faint shadows beneath wide, startled eyes.

“Pretty…”

The word slips out before you can stop it.

His lips part “What?”

The heat hits your face all at once. “What?” you echo back immediately, horrified realization crashing down a second too late. “Oh-oh my god.”

You tear your gaze away heart pounding as you scan the room trying to distract yourself from the embarrassing moment you just experienced and to also understand where are you.

Your stomach twists.

Pictures.

Photos of you line the walls, some you recognize others you don’t remember ever existing. Different outfits. Different expressions. Different days.

Your chest tightens.

“Are you… y/n?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah!” You answer automatically, then freeze.

“…WAIT how do you know my name?” 

Panic spikes, breath coming faster now. Your hands tremble at your sides.

You feel anxiety creeping into you, your eyesbrows forrow.

He notices.

He lifts his hands slowly, palms open. “Hey- hey. Calm down. I’m just as confused as you are.” he assures creeping closer like a boy slowly coming close to a stray cat trying to pet it without scaring it away.

You don’t miss it.

The flicker in his eyes.

The way something dark curls beneath his expression as he takes a cautious step closer.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, voice soft, too soft. “You’re safe.”

But why did his look scream otherwise? You want to believe him, you really do but something twists in your stomach, the way his eyes darkened in something possessive, the dark eerie room with the dim lighting from the weird box behind you told you otherwise.

You can't be here, 

You shouldn't be.

Your instincts scream.

Before you can think, you run.

Sandals slap against the floor with harsh tapping sounds as you bolt for the nearest door, relief surging when your fingers brush the knob—

Then pain explodes at your scalp.

You cry out as your head jerks back, fingers clawing at his wrist.

“Shhh,” he whispers close to your ear, breath warm against your skin “Don’t worry. I’ve got you” 

Something sharp presses into the back of your neck.

Numbness spreads fast,

the world tilts, 

then darkness.

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“Ugh…” you hiss groggily your eyelids flutter open.

The room smells warm. Weird, and oddly familiar.

“You’re awake already?”

He’s sitting beside you, calm as if nothing happened. A plate rests in his pale hands. “I made you pancakes, your favorite” he said casually

Too casual.

Way too casual.

that for a moment you forgot what happened and where you were.

Reality crashes back in all at once.

“Where am I?” Your voice cracks. “Who are you- what did you do to me? Where am i?” you asked pitifully questions flooding your brain.

Tears blur your vision.

He sighs softly, thumb brushing beneath your eye while caressing your cheek “Don’t cry like that…”

His touch is gentle, almost affectionate.

“you’re in my room,” he says. “I’m scaramouche, though for you, I suppose you can call me kunikuzushi.” a smile curves his lips. “you’re special after all, and I don't particularly know what happened and also how you came here sorry to disappoint”

“please,” you sob. “I want to go home.”

His expression softens.

Something possessive flashes beneath it.

“Even if I knew how,” he murmurs, wiping your tears with care, “I wouldn’t let you go.”

His thumb lingers.

“You’ll adapt.”