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#scaralumi | scaramouche’s no-good-very-bad day
The last thing Lumine expects to find in mid-search for the Goddess of Wisdom, is a kitten hissing in the center of the Sanctuary of Surasthana.
“Oooh, what’s a kitten doing inside here? Paimon didn’t know Nahida had a pet!”
The last thing Lumine expects to find in mid-search for the Goddess of Wisdom, is a kitten hissing in the center of the Sanctuary of Surasthana.
“Oooh, what’s a kitten doing inside here? Paimon didn’t know Nahida had a pet!”
Considering that Nahida had been imprisoned by her own nation for centuries, the kitten had to be a recent development. Lumine falls into a crouch, meeting its cobalt gaze.
The creature had frozen in place at their entrance, body coaxed into a watchful statue.
The creature had frozen in place at their entrance, body coaxed into a watchful statue.
Now, when she extends a hand, it shifts gears into pure aggressiveness, fangs bared, and a paw reaching out to bat her fingers away.
“Mrow!”
“Hey, ” Lumine admonishes gently, curling the digits away from imminent attack. “That's not very nice—ah!”
“Mrow!”
“Hey, ” Lumine admonishes gently, curling the digits away from imminent attack. “That's not very nice—ah!”
#scaralumi slight violence warning //
he wants to crush her.
she’s too bright. it hurts, looking at her. like staring straight into the sun and hoping it won’t incinerate you where you stand—
he wants to crush her.
she’s too bright. it hurts, looking at her. like staring straight into the sun and hoping it won’t incinerate you where you stand—
a foolish thought. a wasted dream. he can mourn and repent all he wants and he’ll never get anywhere.
her chest rises and falls gently as she breathes, and he looks at her; looks at the peacefulness of her slumbering face, and he wonders.
her chest rises and falls gently as she breathes, and he looks at her; looks at the peacefulness of her slumbering face, and he wonders.
mortal flesh is so weak. human and vulnerable, muscle and sinew that give way to the jagged edge of poison dripping pretty from his lips.
if he sank his fingers through her ribcage and cradled her bloody heart in his hand, would he understand her better?
if he sank his fingers through her ribcage and cradled her bloody heart in his hand, would he understand her better?
#scaralumi🔞roommates/fwb!AU where scara is a little too in love with his roommate, and lumine is just oblivious.
it doesn’t help that she’s open as a book, and tells him literally... everything.
(i want sex, she grumbles, draped over the couch. i want to be fucked so hard i
it doesn’t help that she’s open as a book, and tells him literally... everything.
(i want sex, she grumbles, draped over the couch. i want to be fucked so hard i
can’t walk for days and forget my own name. i want it to be filthy and obscene and have cu—
stop that, scara growls, willing the heat in his cheeks to recede. i have no inclination to listen to your inane prattle now, or ever.
stop that, scara growls, willing the heat in his cheeks to recede. i have no inclination to listen to your inane prattle now, or ever.
would it kill you to be nice to me every once in a while? she snaps
oh he could be nice to her, he thinks, eyes roving down the column of her neck, the dipping neck of her tank top. those legs, slender and pale, that bruised far too easily.
oh he could be nice to her, he thinks, eyes roving down the column of her neck, the dipping neck of her tank top. those legs, slender and pale, that bruised far too easily.
#scaralumi 🔞; cw: maid & master / breath play / degradation
— bestow upon me a sixty-minute mirage —
The library in their mansion was supposed to be holy and untouched, everyone knew. The books left to rot, a last memorial to a dead aunt, and here he was, defiling it.
— bestow upon me a sixty-minute mirage —
The library in their mansion was supposed to be holy and untouched, everyone knew. The books left to rot, a last memorial to a dead aunt, and here he was, defiling it.
The scent of sex mixes with dusty, sweet papers that were crumbling with age, and sweat drips down his jaw, landing on the carpet. Along with all the other liquids.
“Young master!” Lumine pants, gripping onto the bookcase in front of them, wood and paper blocking out the afternoon sunlight. “Please!” she begs. “We shouldn’t do this here. You know what Lady Ei’s rules are!”
#scaralumi ; what is left unheld (or: a morning with you)
The warmth of dawn caresses his cheek like a blooming spider lily, petals come undone in its bloom, waking the wanderer at first light. He relearns life slowly, sluggish consciousness and twitching muscles,
The warmth of dawn caresses his cheek like a blooming spider lily, petals come undone in its bloom, waking the wanderer at first light. He relearns life slowly, sluggish consciousness and twitching muscles,
regaining the function of his limbs, his fingers, his mouth. And, as always, the first thing he does is roll to the side, searching for what he may not find—never quite appeased enough to lose the habit.
The traveller remains sleeping, as she is every morning that he looks.
The traveller remains sleeping, as she is every morning that he looks.
From him to her, an arm’s length; and yet, a thousand miles away.
#scaralumi //
he sees her standing alone in the moonlight.
her back faces him, a shadow silhouetted against the darker velvet of night—she’s so still that he wouldn’t have noticed her if he weren’t looking.
“traveller,” he says. he sees her head turn, just slightly.
he sees her standing alone in the moonlight.
her back faces him, a shadow silhouetted against the darker velvet of night—she’s so still that he wouldn’t have noticed her if he weren’t looking.
“traveller,” he says. he sees her head turn, just slightly.
but she doesn’t otherwise acknowledge him.
he steps forward, reaching towards the window. moonlight streams through the glass pane, and it turns his hand silver—transient and ethereal, a ghost walking among the living.
a description he finds a little more apt than he’d like.
he steps forward, reaching towards the window. moonlight streams through the glass pane, and it turns his hand silver—transient and ethereal, a ghost walking among the living.
a description he finds a little more apt than he’d like.
“what are you doing awake?” she asks. her voice is soft, low, a whisper that blends into the night.
“couldn’t sleep,” he answers, glancing at her face. her features are shrouded in shadow, her golden eyes just barely visible.
she hums, a sound of understanding. “nightmares?”
“couldn’t sleep,” he answers, glancing at her face. her features are shrouded in shadow, her golden eyes just barely visible.
she hums, a sound of understanding. “nightmares?”
#scaralumi ; a thought:
it's a dream. it has to be. because in no reality would the traveller be in his lap, clinging onto him, /willingly/.
but no. he looks down, and it's her, same gold eyes and gold hair, golden hero of teyvat nestled in his arms, her head on his shoulder,
it's a dream. it has to be. because in no reality would the traveller be in his lap, clinging onto him, /willingly/.
but no. he looks down, and it's her, same gold eyes and gold hair, golden hero of teyvat nestled in his arms, her head on his shoulder,
legs sling over his thighs, arms around his neck.
"what are you doing," he says flatly. "have you gone insane?"
lumine lifts her head, confused. "your excellency?"
it's her voice too. no hint of concern, scorn, just a dreamy lilt that has him frowning.
"what are you doing," he says flatly. "have you gone insane?"
lumine lifts her head, confused. "your excellency?"
it's her voice too. no hint of concern, scorn, just a dreamy lilt that has him frowning.
/your excellency./ as if the traveller wouldn't first bite her tongue off than address him in such a subservient way.
"who are you?" he asks sharply.
"have you forgotten?" she nuzzles at his neck, warm breath landing like a brand. "lumine. your devoted follower, my lord."
"who are you?" he asks sharply.
"have you forgotten?" she nuzzles at his neck, warm breath landing like a brand. "lumine. your devoted follower, my lord."
#scaralumi nsfw 🔞 slight dubcon, ft. sexbot scara being just a little mean to lumine.
His mistress, Lumine. So innocent, so foolishly naive, that he could laugh himself stupid about it for an entire day and it would still not be enough. The woman who’d decided that
His mistress, Lumine. So innocent, so foolishly naive, that he could laugh himself stupid about it for an entire day and it would still not be enough. The woman who’d decided that
the poor, lost droid just had to have a place to call home, flung open her doors so carelessly when she’d helped him inside. And now look at her, clinging onto him as his fingers find that weak, soft spot inside of her drooling cunt—
a sudden thrust, pushed right up to his knuckles with a filthy, wet slap against her folds. This, combined with his thumb furiously circling her clit, Lumine comes with a wail, a violent arch of her back against the beige wall of her apartment.
hypocrite #scaralumi 
saur much empty space... but i am lazy sorry ☹️
anyways this was just an excuse 2 draw her from da back my bad im a horndog
#scaralumi
he crawls into her bed at night, and she welcomes it—turns over, half-asleep, and wraps him into her arms, soft and drowsy and vulnerable.
he tucks himself under her chin and breathes her in. a reminder that this is his reality, now.
he crawls into her bed at night, and she welcomes it—turns over, half-asleep, and wraps him into her arms, soft and drowsy and vulnerable.
he tucks himself under her chin and breathes her in. a reminder that this is his reality, now.
it’s so very different from how things were a few months ago.
he would never have imagined himself doing this. willingly showing his weaknesses, especially not after all the betrayals he’s suffered.
but the traveller has an uncanny knack for getting under his skin.
he would never have imagined himself doing this. willingly showing his weaknesses, especially not after all the betrayals he’s suffered.
but the traveller has an uncanny knack for getting under his skin.
“wanderer,” she says, and her voice is gentle, soft with the remnants of sleep. “what’s on your mind?”
he clutches on to her, fingers digging in a little tighter. if that hurts her, it doesn’t show. “the passage of time.”
she hums. “is that something you fear?”
he clutches on to her, fingers digging in a little tighter. if that hurts her, it doesn’t show. “the passage of time.”
she hums. “is that something you fear?”
#scaralumi abyss princess au //
humans always lie.
he’s existed for centuries, watching the ebb and flow of time. there’s nothing constant in this world; the words that flow from their wretched mouths are so malleable as to mean nothing.
humans always lie.
he’s existed for centuries, watching the ebb and flow of time. there’s nothing constant in this world; the words that flow from their wretched mouths are so malleable as to mean nothing.
three betrayals he’s suffered. three betrayals that etch their marks into his skin and rattle about in the hollow cavity of his chest.
he wonders what it’s like, to bleed. to fear. to die. can a puppet die?
he wonders what it’s like, to bleed. to fear. to die. can a puppet die?
he doesn’t want to think of himself as human, but he knows he is not a god. not yet, at least. so what does that make him?
“i can love you,” she whispers, and her voice is soft and sweet.
“i can love you,” she whispers, and her voice is soft and sweet.
