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omfg she's so cute I love Furinaa

scarameow

The ol' switcheroo ❤️ 🤍 🖤 🩶 🩷

A prisoner on earth

@thechekhov

Fyodor Will Be Fine

Back to writin' this. Assuming that the anime is following hte manga's path (likely), Fyodor's gonna be fine y'all. Eventually.

I mean, first and most obviously, we still don't know Fyodor's ability. That's kinda important lol and set up as a major mystery.

Fyodor as Jesus

Fyodor's last words are "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" aka Jesus' last words (or among his last words). I mean, think about what happens after Jesus dies. It's kinda the whole basis of Christianity.

But there's another layer to the whole Fyodor=Jesus thing. Actually, a couple layers. See, Dostoyevsky was himself very Christian, as much theologian as novelist. So the comparison very much makes sense.

Jesus is the Son of God in Christianity... and Fyodor? He's also the son of God.

God is a Character

This God figure Fyodor references is probably an actual person, and God is probably Tolstoy. I'm sorry but there is 0 chance we are getting Dostoyevsky and a whole host of Russian novelists but not Tolstoy who could have "War and Peace" as his ability. Not to mention... the set up is kinda perfect?

Tolstoy's three novels are War and Peace, Anna Karenina, and... Resurrection. Gee I wonder what his ability might be and how that ties into Fyodor (it's also surely not unheard of for Asagiri to use multiple literary references in an ability).

What is Tolstoy's relationship with Fyodor? Probably a parent-child one. I'd say it's extremely obvious, actually, that parent/child relationships are a main theme of this arc, even if the parental-child relationships are not actual flesh and blood.

Gogol-Fyodor parallel Chuuya-Dazai, Kunikida-Dazai, Tecchou-Jouno, and Atsushi-Akutagawa. All of these pairings also have parental figures (Mori, Fukuzawa, Fukichi, Dazai) except Gogol-Fyodor, who are themselves parental figures to Sigma. I highly doubt Fyogol is the exception, though.

If there is no god, then I am god

Anyways if Tolstoy is introduced, it would kinda be perfect to have him thematically in this role of family. Because the real life Tolstoy was actually terrible to his family despite his altruistic, idealistic pacifism that directly influenced Gandhi (with whom he corresponded). And also because he wrote one of the most famous opening lines in all of literature which would kinda sorta address all the pseudo-parental relationships in the entire story:

Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way

It fits super perfectly.

𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 PART THREE

The work of a pantie thief!

<< last chapter — current — next chapter >>

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche/Wanderer x Fem!reader

Scaramouche and his disturbing— unhealthy obsession towards you, his gorgeous little classmate. (Soon to be more)

Yandere, creepy, obsessive and disturbing behaviour, character death, strangulation, pantie sniffing/stealing, masturbation, mentions of cum, everyone is 18+, dark content ahead! modern/collage au, mdni, afab reader. Around 3k words or something who knows, Not me.

Live laugh love obsessive creep scara 🫶 uhm,, I’m not happy how this turned out tbh, sorry I still don’t know how to word stuff properly l m a o. Also, I was about to shed tears of frustration bc I’ve been sitting here trying to fix this for over two hours, I’ve been to Wattpad, a word document, google docs to try and cnp this and IT KEEPS DELETING AND COPYING PARAGRAPHS. 😒 was about to give up fr

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche's eyes are locked solely onto your almost comically glowing figure, and he's one hundred percent sure that if he were to squint his eyelids hard enough— there would be a pair of Angel white wings sprouting from your back, and a golden halo floating above your head. You looked so god damn ethereal, he thought. The harsh blaze of the sun shining against your face so elegantly that it made you look almost unreal, and how your skirt blew softly along with the breeze. He has to quickly swipe the back of his hand over his mouth and make sure he's not drooling at the sight— humming in annoyed amusement when the feeling of his saliva leaves a small, wet spot on his skin. Ignoring the weird stares he gets from the other students around him, Scaramouche rises up from his spot on the grass and walks over to annoyingly insert himself in the group conversation you and your friends were having.

He doesn't care about the glares he receives from them, because he's more focused on the way you turn and smile at him welcome-ly, greeting him with that same soothing voice of yours that has his mind spinning in circles. He nods back at you in response, his eyes slightly dropping in rapture at how he's finally close enough to you where he could do (what he liked to call) intimate stuff like this. Everybody who was conversing with each other before he arrived, had stopped talking so freely— instead they choose to whisper their words because of the abrupt, awkward atmosphere that he had unintentionally brought over. No one there likes him, not one bit. His behaviour is creepy, not only in general— but directed towards you. Sometimes, his obsession towards you unknowingly breaks through his grumpy stature and slips up that he's not sane. How his lips turn to a snarl when you mention hanging out with a certain friend, or how you're coincidentally always paired up with him for assessments. Strange... yeah, they've noticed, and he's noticed their more passive aggression towards him.

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche who bites down on his own tongue to muffle his heavy breathing when he hears your friends voice their concern about his relationship with you, as he's stationed behind the wall to the women's restroom— listening intently to their annoying voice. Oh how badly he wanted to pounce on and bash their skulls into the ground— but then that would really scare you off, so he dismisses it and continues to harshly scratch at the now growing scab on his thigh. You wouldn't abandon him, would you? You did agree to be his 'friend' for life, even though you were drowsy from a two hour mid term test and probably had no idea what he was asking, you still agreed. Scaramouche straightens up and feels his heart swell love when your sounds of disagreement enter his ears— wow, you're sticking up for him? Arguing that he's just a misunderstood and lonely boy, Saying he's not as weird as everyone thinks? That you think he's quite... cute? That last one allows a bright, red hue to spread across his face, as well as his eyes pretty much dilating into hearts— a flush on his face which quickly rushes down his pants and to his dick, making it painfully prod against his now tight underwear. Though he of course wants to hear more of your silky voice echo though his ears with praise, directed at him, he hurries off to the male bathrooms so no one will catch him with a boner outside of the girls. That would definitely raise more alarms.

While Scaramouche is angrily pumping the shaft of his cock and rutting his hips up into his palm, gripping onto the tile wall of the stall he crammed himself into— he's thinking of ways to rid of those wretched vermin you declared were friends. When the first wave of cum sprays from his dick and spreads jolts of pleasure throughout his body— he decides that they should no longer study at the same university as the both of you, and plans to fake an incident so they'll be kicked out. When he's moaning out your name in a shallow, pathetic whimper, squirting his fourth round of sticky cum up and all over the stall door— he thinks that, that wasn't punishment enough. For trying to get in the way of your love, they should be gone entirely. Erased from existence with absolutely no way to interact with you, ever again. Hastily tugging up his pants, patting down his shirt and ruffling with his purple locks— Scaramouche exits the stall he had just orgasmed in and strides straight past the sinks, dismissing the thought of cleaning his hands and instead heads off to his next destination. Not caring about the cum he had painted all over the wall. In fact— he was more than smug about the thought of someone seeing the mess that he had left. (Because he's yucky like that)

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche who— two weeks later, walks into his next class and takes his rightful seat beside you without a care in the world. As if he had not broke into one of your friends house during the middle of the night and strangled them in their sleep, just the night before. It's was a slow and merciless process— one that he had relished in tremendously. The sight still vividly remains in his mind, how she had gasped and struggled around under the weight of his body. How his hands— tenuous as they were, wrapped around her throat and squeezed with all his strength. His eyes were downcast and luxuriating in the way her own had slowly started to loose their life, as her disgusting hands— which he knew had countlessly touched all over your graceful ones— had, inchmeal, lost their grip and fell from his arms that they were so desperately clawing onto for dear life. He hopes that they would forever remember the sinister smile he had on his lips the entire time during their suffering, because god does he wish that his face will haunt them for the rest of eternity.

He's your shoulder to cry on when you hear of the news, when you had flung your head into the crease of his neck to weep your worries— he's grinning like a mad man into your hair while patting your back lovingly, taking the thrilling opportunity to draw in a long and deep breath of your aroma which had fogged up into his nose. Your delicate hands are gripping onto his sleeve as you shed tears of sadness over the loss of your dear friend, all while he's smugly lavishing in the tender warmth of your touch. Just as he had visioned, having his beloved in such a distressed state where she can hardly form coherent words, he takes this chance to voice out his words of so called solace. "Truely such an unfortunate end for them to face... if you would like, we can leave class early and I'll walk you home. It's not a good idea to stay here while you're in such a... vulnerable state." And take you home he does. From collecting your belongings and leaving the room, to whisking you away from nuisances who tried to console you themselves, Scaramouche holds your hand tightly while you both walk the path to your house. You were so wrapped up in your head that you don't notice how he had known the exact direction without having to ask you.

The first thing Yandere Creep!Scaramouche does when he trails behind you through your front door, is rack his eyes over every wall in the entrance way for sighs of other males. Wether family photographs or shoes that he knows aren't yours. He sighs out in relief when there is nothing for him to fret over— So he tightens his grip on your hand and trudges in the direction to your living room, right next to your bedroom. Your... bedroom... he's almost foaming at the mouth. He's just mere meters away from entering your bedroom for the first time ever. A place which you sleep, where you study, where you... masturbate. He pauses his steps, eyes slightly widening in realisation at the thought. You would definitely touch yourself at night, right? Maybe you grip onto your bed sheets in desperation as you're plunging your fingers into your tight and wet pussy. Do you muffle your bonny moans with your hands out of embarrassment? Or do you let loose and allow them to echo of the walls of your room. He's hoping option number one, for he does not want anyone other then himself to hear those cute little noises you let out. Scaramouche snaps out of his day dream when the feeling of your hand leaves his, and unconsciously, he reaches out to grip onto it because he's already missing your warmth.

He excuses his actions of needfulness as a way to console you further, because he 'does not want you to feel alone in this time of need.' And encourages you to sit down and rest away your worries, as he's by your side the entire time and tending to your needs. When you have tears leaking out from your beautiful eyes, and snot dripping from your nose— Scaramouche is extending a tissue into your hand and hovering his palm over your knee. When he notices the way your racked sobs slowly start to level with your now calmer breathing, he's finding his way around your house and to the kitchen, searching each and every cabinet for a glass and filling it with water— back by your side before you even had the chance to notice his brief absence and handing it towards you. (Not before he keenly rummaged through your fridge and took a mental note of the foods you like to eat.) Scaramouche, with one hand, lifts the cup of liquid to your lips, while his other lands on the back of your head to tilt it upwards— and god does he feel like your boyfriend in this very moment.

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche who twiddles with his thumbs expectantly when you excuse yourself to the bathroom to freshen up, saying you'll just quickly try and shower off your disturbance and be out within minutes. He nods quickly, and waves you off, muttering that he'll wait right here on the couch for you, and watches as you waddle off in the direction he assumes is the bathroom. And he does stay put— for the first couple of minutes. Because when the sound of water rushing through the pipes, enters his hearing— he's jumping up from his seat on the couch and making a beeline straight for your bedroom. His mouth slightly parts when he's in the doorway, and his eyes dart around the room in excitement. Your dresser... your desk... your bed. His stare is dead set on your bed, and he's about to start waking over to it until he accidentally steps on something soft that was lying on the floor.

When he looks down— he can basically feel his heart stop beating, because under his foot, is a cute little pair of pink underwear. Your underwear... Scaramouche doesn't even register what his body is doing out of his control until he unconsciously drops down to his knees, in front of the item, hands cautiously reaching out to grab them as if they would try and run away. "Holy shit..." he mutters the moment his hand curls around the fabric, pinching it between his fingers and raising it up to his face. He swears he can still smell the scent of your pussy lingering on them, and he's imagining the way your slick folds rub against the cotton with each step you take.

Scaramouche gulps down the lump in his throat, his grip tightening around the cloth as he slowly inches it closer to his face. And as much as he wants to saviour this moment, he knows that time is limited and he has to act, fast. So without a second left to waste— his hand is thrusting the material right up against his nose and taking a deep inhale. He moans, a loud and needy moan falls out his mouth and thankfully, muffles into your panties so you have no chance of hearing it. His eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels a jolt of electricity flow throughout his body. He hunches forward— his free hand planting on the ground to stabilise his trembling body. "Mhm god, so...fucking good." He mewls, unaware that he had started drooling all over the fabric like some sort of feral animal.

God your scent smelled so good— way better then he had envisioned in his mind. Way, way better that it has his mind running fucking haywire. And although he doesn't want to, he pulls them away from his nose to take a breather. His breaths are erratic, tongue lolling out from his lips while his eyes blink rapidly in desperation to try and rid of the black spots around his vision. He's just in a complete state of pure euphoria as he hurriedly stuffs his face back into your underwear, his teeth clamping shut over them.

He's wasn't aware how long he had hunched over the floor with your panties basically shoved up his nose until he hears the faint sound of the shower turning off from the bathroom. He pauses, eyes anxiously darting up and racking around the room in a panic. Of course— just as his hand was slithering down his stomach and towards his aching dick, he knew time was up. So with all his remaining strength, he lifts up from the floor and tries to steady his shaking legs. He's so dizzy and there's a line of drool leaking down his chin, his eyes are drooping in pleasure.

Scaramouche tries so hard to steady his breathing, he really does— and he's one hundred percent sure he looks like some sort of crazy person with the way he stumbles around the room. So with one last whiff into the fabric, he quickly stuffs your underwear into his back pocket and stumbles his way towards the door, grabbing onto walls and shelves to ensure he doesn't topple over in his drunken state. Thankfully, by the time he's back in the lounge room and hunched over the couch— you emerge from the bathroom with damp hair and new clothes, an elegant scent of strawberry's lingering off your body. (He'll have to ask what soap you use one day.)

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche, for the next ten minutes, tries so hard to cover his boner from your gaze— he's cupping it with his hand and grabbing a couch cushion to shield it away from you— all while he's nodding along to whatever you say. It's so painful, as he occasionally takes deep, shaking breaths (which he blames on the sadness he feels for your friend) while he keeps shifting around in his seat to try and ease the tension. By the end of the day— as the sun slowly starts to set, you decide to call it a night, thank him for his time and walk with him to the front door. He nods at you, eyes cast to the ground and saying to email him if you ever need anything. anything.

‘Did you notice his boner? Or the pink fabric that slightly peeked out from his back pocket? God he hopes not’

When he gets home, Scaramouche stumbles into his bedroom and impatiently turns the lock on his door before leaning his head against it. He's in a state of shock— like he was the whole walk back to his house. Though he vividly remembers the way when by-passers would stare at him with weirded out looks as he walked by. And honestly— he doesn't blame them, because when he turns around to walk to his bed, he catches sight of himself through a mirror next to it. Where he's hunched forward with his arms hanging loosely by his side, his hair damp with sweat and sticking to his forehead. How his eyes are blinking more then normally, and his mouth, opening and closing like a fish as he has to keep trying to catch his breath. In short— he looked like a fucking mess, and he felt like one too.

Tiredly, he walks to his bed and takes a seat, planting his elbows on his knees and putting his head in his hands. He's so tired, he's still in disbelief, and he's very, very horny. Slowly he lifts his head up and turns towards the doll that sat up right against his pillows— staring lifelessly at the wall in front of it. His grunt turns into a small smile as he turns around on his knees and crawls closer to it, hand reaching out to grip onto one of its silicone arms before rubbing his thumb over its skin. "You look so pretty, [name]..." he whispers, bringing up its hand and planting a long lasting kiss to the knuckles. "I have a— a gift for you."

His shaking hand reaches to his back pocket and pulls out your underwear in his tight grip, and dangles it in front of 'your' face. "Sorry... I'm sorry I stole them from you, my love. Please forgive me." He apologises, unfolding the fabric that had tangled in his hold, before reaching down to the dolls thighs and spreading them apart, slowly gliding your panties up it's legs as if he were clothing it.

"I knew it... I knew it! You look so— so beauti— no, so perfect. So god damn fucking perfect." He collapses into your chest, his hands rubbing up and down your skin and slowly inching lower. "Please... please, I'll make you feel so good. Promise, I promise." And as fast as he put them on— Scaramouche pulls your panties back down your legs and glides his fingers over the folds of your pussy. "I... promise."

the way I keep going on these small haitus. IM SORRY GUYS

I HAD A DRAFT SAVED, WHERE DID IT GO. I LITERALLY CANNOT FIND IT WTF

Episode 11 🤨 is apparently their favorite, so everything up to then will be just rough 😫

don’t forget to dream about me- [narrator: she did not]

LUCKY MY LOVE | EPISODE 2