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aticklishpercivalwriter · 3 months ago

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Home (is wherever I’m with you) -fic

Link to Art (chosen by Perz), (credits go to @buffkagome (anby ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚) on Twitter!): Sethos/Scaramouche

Summary (by Perz): Just them being lovey dovey, ticklish boyfriends :)

Perz: Another submission by @vaporized-dimsum! This time a fic! I want to express my gratitude and deep thanks to her for this gift and allowing me to post it here for all of you to enjoy! Couldn’t stop kicking and crying at how cute this was, so aah!

Word Count: 2609

Also on AO3!

—

The Temple of Silence, as one might expect, is a quiet place. Wanderer is quick to grow fond of it compared to the racket of The Akademiya. And of course, seeing Sethos in his home and amongst his friends and family was a pleasant sight too. Not that he would ever tell him that though.

The elders adored him and were always fussing over whether he was eating enough, and the kids never seemed to leave him alone. Since Wanderer was to remain in Sethos’ presence for the duration of his stay, that meant he was fussed over and never left alone either. It was… nice.

Playing with children was like a muscle he hadn’t stretched in a long time. Still, even after centuries it felt as though it was second nature.

Sethos’ heart swelled watching Wanderer interact with the little ones. Letting them play with his hat (no, he wasn’t jealous at all), bringing him things to levitate with his Anemo Vision, chasing him as he hovered away at a slow pace. The cherry on top was the sweet sweet smile on Wanderer’s face that he managed to hide pretty well until the very end. Sethos likened it to catching a shooting star for witnessing it himself.

“What’s that look for?” He muttered when the elders called the children to them.

Ah. He’d been caught staring again. Sethos chuckled. “You’re good with kids. It’s real cute.”

“Hmph. They’re simple creatures, easily entertained. It’s not difficult to manage them.”

Sethos opened his mouth to quip but a little one had called his name. He turned and got down on one knee as they approached him. Wanderer let himself stare now that his back was turned. The intricately styled braids in his curly hair. The gold accessories and freckles. Down past his broad shoulders to his spine where his clothes parted into a tasty back wind—

Oh?

Sethos patted the child on their head as he graciously accepted the golden Sumeru roses they had gifted him. One for him, and one for their guest. He was pretty sure this little one had developed quite a puppy crush on Wanderer too. Sethos grinned watching them go. He totally knew that feeling.

“Wow, Hat Guy. You’re popular wherever you g- IIEHEHE—!”

The squeal bounced off the four walls and left a deathly silence in its wake. Both green and indigo eyes were wide with surprise, but Wanderer’s were quick to narrow deviously.

“What was that all about?” He asked with the innocence of a kitten despite his curled fingers.

Sethos cleared his throat and stood up clumsily, “A-Ah, well one of the little ones entrusted me with gifting this to you. Pretty, isn’t it?”

He shows Wanderer the gold rose and to his relief, it actually does distract him. Temporarily anyway. Enough that Sethos, against his better judgement, comes closer to tuck it behind his ear.

“It looks good on you with your dark hair.”

Wanderer feels his face grow warm, “If you say so.”

Like magnets, they draw closer to each other until their lips nearly brush.

“Was that you I heard laughing, Sethos?” Said one of the adults in passing.

The two of them broke away swiftly, cheeks burning. “U-Uh, yeah! Just me!”

The woman in the doorway chuckled, “It’s been awhile, hearing you get all giggly like that. Your grandfather loved to tickle you and cuddle you when you were small. It was so cute!”

“Really?” Wanderer echoed.

Oh no.

“Tell me more. Sounds pretty interesting.”

Sethos waved his hands wildly, “H-Haha! Okay well that’s nice! You can go now, Aunty!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop embarrassing our great and glorious leader.” She bowed to them and as she walked away, she looked over her shoulder, “And to our kind guest, do be gentle with him. He really never outgrew how ticklish he is.”

Sethos gawked at the absolute betrayal by one of his own people. Desert aunties didn’t mess around. Sure she probably changed his diapers and bathed him but—

But he didn’t have much time to dwell on it with Wanderer’s eyes pinned to him. “Never outgrew it, huh?”

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up. Can’t we talk about something else? Or… finish what we started?”

Wanderer’s hands instinctively tug his shirt to pull Sethos closer for the kiss he didn’t get but he stops him halfway, “Not here. We can go to my room.”

“How scandalous.”

“Well if you don’t want me to kiss you, you’re welcome to not come with me.”

Wanderer rolls his eyes and follows after him. The living quarters are like a labyrinth of hallways but Sethos navigates them with no troubles. His room is full of leathery books, a few TCG decks, colorful handmade quilts, and a blooming mini succulent garden- courtesy of his friends, no doubt. It’s a bit messy, but full of life and an irresistible coziness. Wanderer feels right at home here despite this being his first time stepping foot in it.

Sethos now tugs on his wrists and sits him on his bed before diving in to kiss him silly. Wanderer can’t get a word out about how desperate and hot and bothered he’s acting but he doesn’t mind one bit. Being caged between his arms and eaten alive has never felt so wonderful.

Wanderer laces their bodies as close together as possible, and eventually, his fingers trail down his back to that sweet patch of exposed skin and—

Sethos all but squeals in his mouth. When he breaks away with wide crescent eyes, there’s a thin string of spit connecting them.

“Oh, I’m gonna devour you.” Wanderer growls playfully, licking his lips.

He doesn’t know how but Sethos quickly finds himself hoisted onto the bed and pinned under him. He hardly gets any protest in before that awful fluttery sensation runs all over his exposed lower back. And with Wanderer seated on his legs, he’s not going anywhere anytime soon no matter how badly it tickles.

And it’s bad.

“GYAHAAHAHAH- wait- wait! Not there! Not- baahahahah!”

He muffles his laughter in his pillows and blankets. Wanderer doesn’t know if he likes that or loves it. Sethos flails his limbs uselessly when he switches from fluttering to pinching and spreading the skin along the knobs of his spine. And when he scoots down to press into what’s practically his tail bone— that gets him howling.

“AHCK- oh SHIHIHIIHIHHIT! Hat- Hat GAHAHAAHAHAAHUY! I can’t!”

“Can’t what?”

“CAHAHAHAHAAHN’T TAHAHAKE IHIHIT! PLEHEHEEHHEHEASE, IT’S BAHAHAD!! IT’S SO BAAHAD!!!”

“Is it?”

“YEHEHEHES!”

“That’s a shame. I quite like this spot. You’ll just have to deal with it, little bee.”

“Nohohoho! Ihit’s really —KYAA!! WHAT IS THAHAAHAHAHAT?!”

“A dusk bird feather that I found in this book.”

“Jeheherk! I was using thahat as a bookm- MM! Mhmhmhmhm, stohohohop ihihihit! Lehemme tahahahalk! Honeehehey!!”

The soft plume licked and curled against his back, and his giggling was sickeningly sweet when it came to feathery tickles… Wanderer scoffed, “I’m barely even touching you.”

“Bahahaharely touchihihing is still touchihing!”

“Hah. That aunty of yours was right. What would your followers think if they heard their dignified leader giggling his pretty little head off, hmm?”

Sethos whined as he pressed his face further into his pillow and hugged it tightly, shaking his head in protest. The curves of his ears were burning up.

“No point in hiding it, little bee. I’m about to make you buzz nice and loud.”

He’d hardly processed what Wanderer said, let alone how it made him feel. Actually, that happened a lot faster. Because suddenly, his fingers were scribbling viciously into his armpits and Sethos screeched.

“NAHAAHAHAHAHAHHA! OH, MERCY!! HONEY!!! MERCEEHEEHEEY!!!!”

“I’m afraid I’m not much of a merciful guy.”

“ARCHOHONS! PLEHEHEASE!! I’LL BEG- IHI’LL BEHEHEG!!!”

“Oh? I do like the sound of that. Go on then. Beg me.”

He thrashed from side to side, pinning his arms down and trapping Wanderer’s hands in that tortuous spot. No matter where he went, the sensation followed. Unbearable and so so good, although he was pretty sure whatever words he did manage to get out weren’t in any intelligible language.

For all his bucking and twisting though, Wanderer decided to sit up just enough so Sethos flopped bonelessly onto his back before he locked him in place beneath him once more. He squeaked in protest as Wanderer stole the breath right out of his lungs. His tongue against his, his teeth tugging on his bottom lip, he felt like he truly was being devoured.

And he never wanted it to stop.

If he wasn’t human, would he be able to kiss Wanderer forever too? Without needing to breathe?

Sethos weakly clutched Wanderer’s wrists as his hands cupped his face, pulling with no strength whatsoever, “Hah- Hon’- please… air. Ngh— air. Can’t bre…hah…”

Wanderer pulled away and was convinced he could get off on just the sight of him. The dizzied and delirious look on his face. Warm brown skin and teary green eyes glittering like emeralds. That stupid stupid smile, shiny and red with spit and bites. His chest heaving.

What a sight to behold.

Sethos hiccuped, “Now w-who’s the one sta-aring?”

Wanderer caressed his face gently, thumbing over his cheekbone and puffy bottom lip until Sethos swiped his tongue against his skin playfully. Then hiccuped again. Cheeky brat.

“Looks like you’ve still got some fight in you.”

Even the buzz of his words against his lips tickles. Sethos licks the seam of Wanderer’s mouth, hiccups, and grins.

“I could do this all day, honey.”

“Figured you’d say that. Now let’s do something about those hiccups.”

Wanderer’s hands slide down his face and along the rise and fall of his chest. The hills and valleys of each rib under his coasting thumbs makes Sethos chortle desperately. And when Wanderer presses into the dimples of his hips, he all but melts.

“You like this spot, little bee?” Wanderer asks playfully with his spidery scribbly touch.

“Noho-HIC —I lohove ihih—HIC- it!”

Oh it’s awful. Sethos’ hips jitter and jump the more his hands draw inward towards his crotch. There’s a pulse point on an artery there. Humans, Wanderer knew, were chock full of weak spots.

And Sethos is endearingly human.

“Aww, thahahanks, honey. Tha—HIC—t’s real sweeheet.”

Wanderer blinked, he must’ve said that last part out loud. He stills his fingers and finally lets Sethos catch his breath.

Soon enough, Sethos crawls into his lap and plops his head on his thighs like a spoiled kitty cat. He sighs so contently, like Wanderer was the comfiest spot in the whole wide world. He nearly purrs when Wanderer runs his fingers through his hair.

“Mmm… that feels so good. Keep going please.”

“Pfft. This is how you treat your guests? Shouldn’t you be spoiling me?”

“Was obliterating me not enough? You’re the spoiled one.”

Wanderer rolls his eyes, continuing to massage his scalp and caress his face. He scoots back so they’re both more comfortable and now also blanketed. The boy in his lap might as well be a sentient pile of slime condensate.

“Honey’s skin’s so smooth…” Sethos coos, “And cool to the touch, too.”

He nuzzles Wanderer’s inner thigh with his cheek before humming a pleased sigh. In an instant, the sensation makes Wanderer clip his face between his legs, making them both yelp.

“I was so comfy…” He whines, “What’s wrong?”

Before Wanderer can even answer, to his dismay, Sethos puts the pieces together all too quickly. “Wait a minute-“

“No.”

“Are you?”

“I’m not.”

He’d responded too quickly both times, telling Sethos everything he already knew.

“You are, aren’t you! You lied! I knew you were lying!!”

Wanderer backs away to the foot end of the bed but it doesn’t put much distance between them before Sethos squishes him beneath his torso. Those green eyes are sparkling with a newfound discovery and revitalized mischief.

“You lied.” He states confidently.

“Like I’ve never done that before.” Mutters Wanderer, “Get. Off. Don’t you DAHARE—“

The weight he put in his elbows topples Wanderer the moment Sethos’ hands slide under his shorts and squeeze. The tingling ripples out from his thighs like his laughter in the room.

“FUHUCK! Sehethos!! Get ohoff! No- HYAH!”

He bonks his head against the footboard and then Sethos’ head too when he wedges his way into the crook of his neck. So close to the Electro mitsudono on his nape. The raspberry Sethos planted sparked his nerves into haywire.

“You keep your secrets close to your chest, huh?” Sethos grins. “Lucky for you, I’m great at keeping secrets!”

“Pihihiss ohohoff! Get your lips ohoff of mehehehe!!”

One raspberry twines into another all along his neck. And as it turns out, that weak spot on Sethos’ hips is just another thing they both share, his fingers climbing higher and higher into his shorts to scribble at it.

“Who’s got the most kittenish little meow meow laugh? Honey does! Honey does!” Sings Sethos, blowing gentle puffs against Wanderer’s ears.

“Shuhut uhup! Stuhupid little BEEHEEHEE!! NAHAAHAHAHAHA!”

“Huh, never realized your shorts have cutouts here.”

His hands felt so nice gripping his little waist, and yet all Wanderer could do was throw his head back laughing helplessly, “SETHOS! Dohohon’t! STOHOHOP IHIHIHIT!!”

“Don’t stop it? You know I’d never deny my honey anything.”

In addition to the warm glow of his cheeks, Sethos noticed certain patterns on Wanderer’s skin began to glow as well. Up his arms and legs, converging at his chest and even twining around his neck too.

“So pretty…!” He murmured enchantedly.

His fingertip traces along the patterns of light on his skin, following them everywhere they led. They seem to shine even brighter as he did so. And Wanderer’s giggles so adorably, Sethos almost stops.

Almost.

“Cuhuhut it ohout! Whehere do youhu thihink youhu’re touchihing?”

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any cuter!” Cooed Sethos, “Do you light up when you’re feeling something intensely?”

“Ihintehense annohoyahahance, maybeheehee!”

“Aww but you seem like you really love being touched like this. You get all giggly and kittenish.”

If Sethos didn’t know any better, he might’ve briefly thought Wanderer was glowing pink. It seemed that this was Wanderer’s fear because he was quick to wriggle just enough out of Sethos’ arms to flop onto his stomach. In his worming away though, Sethos spotted the source of all his enchantment. The mitsudono on his nape.

“Ohh, is this where all the light comes and goes from?” Ponders Sethos, “Can I touch you here?”

“Haven’t you touched me enough?” Wanderer grumbles.

He spots Sethos move his hands away from him and even begin to give him some space. So his shit eating grin makes him want to forcibly remove Sethos from his own bed when Wanderer drags his hand back to his shoulder.

His hair covers some of the mitsudono, and Wanderer shivers when Sethos gently brushes it to the side. He’d always been aware of how the mark branded him. Sometimes it even felt like hot iron pressing into his skin. So when Sethos gently pecks it, Wanderer can’t help but jolt.

“Did that hurt?” Asks Sethos worriedly.

Wanderer buries his head in Sethos’ blankets. The scent of him nearly drowns out his boyfriend’s voice. He shakes his head.

“No, it didn’t. It… felt nice.”

Sethos sighed with relief, “Oh good. I’m glad. In that case…”

Wanderer’s shoulders jump as Sethos spoons him and smushes his lips against his nape. “Mwah mwah mwah!”

He clearly has no intentions of letting him go with how tangled together their limbs are. “Quihihit it!” Wanderer scoffs, “Araharen’t youhu tired of thihis yet?”

Sethos hums happily against his skin, “Of you? Never.”

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chococolte · 2 years ago

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hi, can I request SAGAU SCARAMOUCHE getting spoiled and praise by their grace? It's okay if you don't want to! have a great day/night <3 [also gn reader please.]

word count. 520

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationship, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, religious + cult themes, sagau + cult au shit, g/n reader. i do not condone yanderes irl.

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. pretend like it hasnt been almost 2 months since i last posted writing 😍 this is short but uhmm ill try to write something else soon!!! orz

Your hands linger on his for a moment.

Scaramouche does his best not to overthink it, despite the position the two of you are in. His heart stutters where it sits in his chest, an unsteady beat pounding in his ears.

All he can hear is your breath and the sound of his own heartbeat. It's a struggle to keep himself contained— the soft flesh of your hands brushing against his own, the way you hover ever so slightly above him. Already, he finds himself uncharacteristically weak.

But it's your words that bring him to his knees so easily.

"You're so lovely," you say softly in his ear. He feels his resolve, already beaten and bruised, crumple a little more.

A shiver tiptoes down his spine and comfortably nestles itself in his lungs, as if it was always meant to be there. All of his breath is lost in one moment, a sudden swelling of warmth pooling in his chest.

Scaramouche reprimands himself for being unable to keep his strength, but your words echo in his mind as if they are the only thing worthy enough to settle there.

To him, they are. You are the only one who has yet to abandon him.

The fear still chokes him at times, all-consuming and overwhelming. One day, you will disappear like fine dust in the air; one day, he will search for you, and even if he ran until his legs gave out— even if he dug until his nails bled, he would still be unable to find you.

All who he cares about will one day leave him. To think you are the exception is to not to spare himself of agony, to imagine for one second that he has found his peace— but to enhance it.

One day, you will be embers, and he will be without you. You will abandon him, and leave him wretched and wanting.

But yet, your hands still coil around his hair. Your breath still hangs heavy in the air, and he can feel the warmth of your lap beneath his head. You are here with him, still breathing, not yet gone.

You are above him, still whispering sweet nothings in his ear as if he is deserving.

"Stay with me a little longer, okay?" You ask, with the same sweet voice he has grown far too used to. But his heart still churns at the sound of it, and his legs will always continue to beckon him forward if he knows you are what awaits him.

You ask as if he would have ever thought of saying no.

Scaramouche only wants to lie a little longer in your embrace. For a brief moment, he can hide himself beside you, protected from every bad thought. For a brief moment, he can pretend that he is somewhat deserving of your touch.

"My good boy," you laugh. It's a gentle thing; softly slithering in the air like an asp, quick to burrow in his skull. He's quick to hide his face in his hands, quick to wonder just how much weaker he can get for you.

#[🦇] — my writing #genshin impact #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #yandere male #sagau #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #self aware genshin #sagau scaramouche #yandere scaramouche #scaramouche #sagau wanderer #yandere wanderer #cult au #cult au scaramouche #gender neutral reader

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genshinluvr · 1 year ago

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Crave 7

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader, Scaramouche x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: You and Scaramouche go to Inazuma City together! Even though Scaramouche is (reluctantly) accompanying you to the City of Eternity, you can't help but feel like you're forcing him to go with you. The next thing you know, you and Scaramouche booked a motel room overnight because of a sudden weather change.

Note: It's been a while since I've posted something for Crave, so here is part seven of Crave! The smut is shorter than I planned for it to be, but I will make it up to you Scaramouche simps, hopefully soon. As previously stated in the previous Crave "series," I tried to keep the smut as gender-neutral as possible, but this smut does lean more toward AFAB!reader/female-bodied reader. All of my smuts do lean towards female!reader/AFAB!reader with gender-neutral pronouns. As usual, minors DO NOT INTERACT! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Horribly written smut as per usual, fingering, Scaramouche almost cummed on the spot lol, hair pulling, biting, cervix fucking chest/breast groping, reverse cowgirl, full nelson, creampie

Word Count: 8k

Crave "Chapters": [1], [2], [3], [4], [5], [6], [7]

The cool air of the Inazuman weather blows through your hair as you walk in the streets of Inazuma City, breathing in the sweet and savory foods. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. It feels nice to go outside every once in a while. Around you are bustling crowds murmuring, children laughing and chasing each other around, and street vendors shouting and giving customers their food.

The person beside you lets out a scoff, pushing past you. “Don’t just stand there and look around with your mouth open like a fish out of water,” Scaramouche scoffs, nudging you with his elbow. “Let’s start moving. The longer you stand there, the more you’ll be hungry and complain.” Scaramouche gestures for you to follow him.

You blink at Scaramouche and pucker your lips while watching him walk away from you. “Me? Complain? You’re the one that’s been complaining since we’ve arrived, not me.” You let out an exasperated sigh before following the shorter male. Scaramouche stops at the nearest food stall, getting in line behind a tall woman with long purple hair. You stand beside Scaramouche and cross your arms over your chest, tapping your foot on the floor.

Scaramouche looks at you from the corner of his eyes. “Why are you tapping your foot? Are you nervous?” Scaramouche asks, raising his eyebrows at you.

You purse your lips, shaking your head.

“Then stop it. It’s starting to get annoying,” Scaramouche rolls his eyes.

You stop the tapping and frown at Scaramouche, turning away from the indigo-haired man with a huff. Prior to arriving in Inazuma, you had planned on visiting Inazuma alone. But of course, your beloved boyfriends did not allow that and had one of the men tag along on your adventure outside of the abode. However, that person, Scaramouche, did not want to go to Inazuma due to personal reasons.

“If I have to go somewhere with you, I would rather go anywhere that isn’t in Inazuma,” Scaramouche deadpans, crossing his arms over his chest while glaring down at you.

You blink at him, looking at the other men. Scaramouche didn’t have to join you on your outing if he didn’t want to. It’s not like you’re holding him at gunpoint, demanding for him to tag along. Childe rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he approaches you and Scaramouche.

Childe wraps his arms around your shoulders, gazing at the shorter male with a smirk. “And what do you have against Inazuma?”

Scaramouche scowls at Childe. “None of your business, Tartaglia. If I don’t want to step foot into Inazuma, then I don’t want to,” Scaramouche hisses.

Childe holds his hands up in front of him, chuckling. You shake your head, smiling at the fuming indigo-haired man before you and Childe. Again, it’s not like you’re forcing Scaramouche to accompany you to the City of Eternity. You know his distaste for the Electro Archon, whose also your close friend aside from Lumine, and you didn’t want Scaramouche to feel the need to keep you company.

“Scara, it’s not like I’m forcing you to come with me! You don’t have to go to Inazuma with me if you don’t want to! Childe can come with me instead,” You said, gesturing to the ginger beside you.

Scaramouche’s eyes dart over to Childe’s direction. Childe smirks and drapes his arms over your shoulders, pulling you to his side and kissing your forehead. Scaramouche scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Fine. I’ll accompany you to the City of Eternity. Just as long as we don’t step foot anywhere close to the Tenshukaku,” Scaramouche grumbles.

Before you can respond to Scaramouche, the man walks away with another annoyed huff of breath. You can’t help but feel bad. While Scaramouche begrudgingly agrees to accompany you to Inazuma, you can’t help but feel like you’re forcing him to. Pantalone and Dottore come up from behind you and pat your head while the other snickers.

“Don’t take it to the heart, [Y/N]. The Balladeer isn’t upset with you. It’s his resentment for his creator that’s making him cranky,” Dottore snickers, crossing his arms over his chest.

You press your lips into a thin line, playing with the hem of your shirt. “I don’t know, Dottore. I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault,” you grumble.

Pantalone ruffles your hair and pulls you into his arms, kissing the top of your head. You sigh, resting your head against Pantalone’s chest and listening to his heartbeat against his chest. You sure hope Scaramouche’s sour attitude won’t affect the outing in Inazuma tomorrow. Still, knowing Scaramouche, he’s going to be sour the entire time until the both of you return to the abode.

“What do you want to eat?” You ask, looking up at the menu with a sulking Scaramouche beside you.

Scaramouche lets out a long exhale through his nose. “It doesn’t matter to me. You pick,” Scaramouche replies, looking at his surroundings.

You nod and begin ordering for the both of you. After ordering your food, you and Scaramouche stand to the side, waiting for the cook to call out the number of your order. The minute you and Scaramouche arrived at Inazuma, Scaramouche had this permanent scowl on his face. You try not to let it ruin your mood, but the man is making it hard for you not to feel upset. You rest your head on the counter, waiting for the food to be ready.

Footsteps approach where you and Scaramouche are standing. You assume it’s another customer until you hear a familiar voice. “Oh? [Y/N], and Kunikuzushi? What are you two doing here in Inazuma?”

You look up to see Ei standing before you and Scaramouche, with Yae Miko standing beside her. “Oh, no. This is not good.” You clear your throat and smile at the purple-haired Electro Archon and the pink-haired kitsune, who giggles beside Ei and waves at you and Scaramouche. Scaramouche’s face pinches with disgust before looking away from the two women.

“Your visitation was unexpected but not unpleasant. We hope you two have been doing well,” Yae Miko looks at Scaramouche, giving him a closed-eye smile, “especially you, Kunikuzushi.”

You can feel the crackling tension between the three of them. You scratch the back of your head and gulp. You smile at Ei and Yae Miko, only for it to turn out to be a grimace. Scaramouche huffs and turns to watch the vendor cook his and your food.

You laugh nervously. “We’ve been doing well! I wanted to stop by Inazuma to try some food and maybe do a little shopping while we’re at it. Scaramouche is accompanying me,” You reply, looking at Scaramouche from the corner of your eyes. “How have you two been? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you two!”

Ei smiles, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I have been busy. As the Electro Archon, there are many duties I need to tend to. And because I have been busy for a while, Miko stopped by the Tenshukaku and dragged me out into the city,” Ei replies, looking over at the snickering kitsune.

Scaramouche continues to ignore the two women standing before you and him. He rests his arm on the counter, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. While you, Ei, and Yae Miko are conversing, he starts tapping his foot on the ground.

“Can they be any slower? I just want my food and get out of here as soon as possible,” Scaramouche grumbles under his breath.

Yae Miko giggles. “If you and Kunikuzushi want to have a full experience in your exploration of Inazuma, I recommend stopping by a kimono shop. It’d be fun to dress like a local, no?” Yae Miko asks.

Scaramouche can feel Yae Miko’s gaze burn holes into the back of his head. Scaramouche continues to ignore the two women and taps his fingers on the wooden counter impatiently. You tap your chin, taking in Yae Miko’s words. It does sound fun, but would Scaramouche be interested in joining you in wearing kimonos and exploring the beautiful region?

You smile at Yae Miko and Ei, nodding. “That sounds fun! Thank you for the idea. I think we might try it out,” you say.

The two women nod before bidding you and Scaramouche goodbye and walking off. You turn around, and the food vendor places your and Scaramouche’s food down on the counter. You and Scaramouche ate in silence. The two of you have yet to look at one another after Yae Miko and Ei walked away. The tension between you and Scaramouche remains. You wipe your lips with the napkin and turn to face the Inazuman man.

“What do you think about wearing kimonos as we explore Inazuma? If I recall correctly, Ayaka recommended a kimono shop called Ogura Textiles & Kimonos,” you say.

Scaramouche sighs, closing his eyes. “Alright, we can do that,” Scaramouche mutters.

Your eyes brighten, and a big smile stretches across your face. “Really?! You’re okay with wearing kimonos with me while we walk around Inazuma?!” You squeak.

“Mm. Yes, I’m okay with it,” Scaramouche answers. “Only because I want to see you happy.”

You throw your arms around Scaramouche’s shoulders, nearly knocking him back. You press a big kiss on his cheeks and nuzzle against him happily while Scaramouche wraps his arms around your waist and pats your back awkwardly.

After finishing your food, you and Scaramouche walk to Ogura Textiles & Kimonos. You're excited and kind of nervous about trying and wearing a kimono because you've never worn one before, and you don't know what to expect. Is it too late to invite Ayaka to Ogura Textiles & Kimonos with you and Scaramouche to give her insights on the kimonos you and your boyfriend are going to wear? As much as you would love to ask Ayaka to join you and Scaramouche at Ogura Textiles & Kimonos, you don't think Scaramouche would appreciate having people tag along after what happened between Ei and Yae Miko.

You and Scaramouche enter Ogura Textiles & Kimonos, looking around the small store. You skim through the variations of kimonos, but none has captured your attention. Then there's Scaramouche, who looks uninterested but is trying his best to find something to wear. As much as he dislikes being in Inazuma, being with you makes it less painful and boring. An indigo kimono captures his attention, and he grabs it, only to realize there's another one beside it that matches but has a different design. Scaramouche reaches for the two indigo kimonos before he looks at you, only to see you glare at the kimonos before you while muttering something under your breath.

"Did you find anything?" Scaramouche asks, approaching you.

You shake your head. "Not really. There are pretty kimonos, but some of them aren't really my style," you mutter.

Scaramouche rolls his eyes, scoffing with amusement. "Well, in that case, here. Try this on, " Scaramouche says, handing you the indigo kimono.

You take the kimono from Scaramouche's hands and stare at it before going to the changing room after approaching the sales clerk at Ogura Textiles & Kimonos. Scaramouche sighs and leans against the wall, waiting for you to try on the kimono. This is probably going to be the only time when you and Scaramouche get to spend some alone time together. As much as he despises being in Inazuma, being away from the others and being alone with you is tolerable. Maybe while he's waiting for you to come out in the kimono, he should change into his as well. Scaramouche sighs and pushes himself off the wall, walking to the other store clerk to show him the way to the changing room.

A few minutes after fighting with the kimono, you're able to change into the indigo kimono Scaramouche picked out for you. Well, with some assistance, of course. You walk out of the changing room and to the front of the store to see Scaramouche waiting for you in a similar kimono as yours but with different designs. You clear your throat, approaching the indigo-haired man. Scaramouche turns to look at you. His eyes widen slightly as the color pink slowly appears on his cheeks. “Scaramouche looks so cute when he’s blushing.” You smile at Scaramouche, holding your arm out and twirling for him.

"What do you think? I say you picked the perfect kimono, Scara. Plus, we match!" You grin at the indigo-haired man.

Scaramouche clears his throat. "You look beautiful," Scaramouche mutters shyly. "I picked out the perfect kimono, didn't I?" Scaramouche murmurs, the corners of his lips quirks up.

You grin and nod, twirling around for Scaramouche to see the full view of the kimono he chose for you. You look at Scaramouche, admiring the view of him wearing something other than his daily wear. Scaramouche looks devilishly handsome in his kimono. Instead of going back to the changing rooms to change out of the kimono and buying it after, Scaramouche pays for the kimonos upfront and tells you to grab your clothes from the changing room.

You point at the kimono. "We're leaving Ogura Textiles & Kimonos wearing the kimono?"

"Yes, that is what you wanted, is it not?" Scaramouche asks, raising his eyebrows at you.

You nod and rush to the changing room in the back to grab your clothes from the changing room. When you return, Scaramouche's holding a bag in his hands. The bag contains the clothes he wore prior to changing into the kimono. You put your clothes into the bag, and after Scaramouche pays for the kimonos, both of you walk out of Ogura Textiles & Kimonos.

"Where do you want to go next?" You ask, looking around the beautiful city.

Scaramouche shrugs. "Doesn't matter to me. You lead the way, and I'll follow wherever you choose to go," replies Scaramouche.

You scan your surroundings and spot a dessert vendor from afar, calling out to passing citizens. Your eyes light up. You loop your arms around Scaramouche's left arm before dragging him to the dessert vendor. You know Scaramouche doesn't like Dango or any sweets that are sticky, so you're planning on ordering something that isn't Dango or is sticky.

"One Dango milk, please!" You say to the vendor. Scaramouche makes a sound of distaste. You chuckle and shake your head. "Relax, it's for me. I'll get you something else. I know how much you don't like Dango or anything sweet that's sticky," you say, nudging Scaramouche lightly.

You end up ordering Taiyaki for Scaramouche and another drink for him. You want to go shopping around Inazuma and see many things, but you don't want to overwhelm him with many activities. Maybe a little picnic under the Sakura tree trees will do. After receiving your order from the dessert vendor, you and Scaramouche begin walking around with your desserts and drinks in hand.

"Let's sit under the Sakura tree while we eat our desserts," you say, pointing over at the tree planted outside the city, away from the bustling crowd and prying eyes of two certain Electro users.

Scaramouche wordlessly agrees and links his arms with yours as the two of you walk to the lone Sakura tree. Beneath the tree are two large boulders, large enough for you and Scaramouche to perch on top while eating your desserts and drinking sweet drinks. You brush the dirt and rocks off the boulders before sitting down, patting the spot beside you.

Scaramouche sits beside you and looks around, taking a bite of his Taiyaki. "Is this all we're going to be doing today?" Scaramouche asks.

You shrug. "Maybe! I know it's not a lot, but I didn't want to drag you around Inazuma City and overwhelm you with the things that are happening," you reply, uncapping the bottle of Dango milk and taking a sip. "We can still walk around and look at things together."

Scaramouoche hums, taking another bite of his Taiyaki. There are other activities that can be done in Inazuma, and he doesn't mind doing them with you. The only issue is the possibility of running into the Electro Archon and her Kitsune companion. Scaramouche tenses up when you lean your head on his shoulders with your eyes closed. He relaxes and sighs, resting his head on top of yours. You suddenly jerk, startling Scaramouche. Scaramouche turns to check on you, only to see you holding a Sakura bloom in your hands. Your nose scrunches up as you stare at the pink petal with scrutiny.

You smile at Scaramouche sheepishly, rubbing your neck. "Hehe, sorry for scaring you like that. This Sakura bloom scared me when it landed on my face. I thought it was a bug," you whisper, tossing the Sakura bloom on the ground with a small huff.

Scaramouche snorts, shaking his head. "You get scared of the little things, don't you?" Scaramouche teases, pinching your cheek.

You huff again and look away, heat rushing to your cheeks. "Not necessarily! But since I have you here with me, I shouldn't be afraid, right?" You ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

"What do you mean?" Scaramouche asks, tilting his head to the side.

You scoot close to Scaramouche, nodding. You loop your arms around his and snuggle up against Scaramouche with a content sigh. You rest your head on his shoulders, staring at the view of the ocean. Scaramouche blinks at you, waiting for you to reply to his question. Scaramouche nudges you. You look up at Scaramouche, who blinks at you, gesturing for you to explain.

You smile. "I have you here to protect me from harm," you murmur, leaning up to kiss Scaramouche’s cheeks.

Scaramouche scoffs and looks away, pretending not to like it. You stare at Scaramouche with a smile. The longer you look at him, the more you can see that his cheeks and ears are turning red. Cute. Dear Archons, Scaramouche is adorable. You chuckle and snuggle up against Scaramouche, taking a sip of your Dango milk.

About thirty minutes later, you and Scaramouche leave your spot from under the Sakura trees before making your way back to civilization. Both you and Scaramouche decided to trek to the nearest island where a festival was once held when Aether and Lumine visited with Ayaka.

You were surprised to see the island is packed with many visitors, not just from Inazuma but from other regions in Teyvat. Scaramouche makes a noise and squeezes your hands. You turn to Scaramouche, blocking his view of the festival-goers. You smile at Scaramouche and squeeze his hands.

"We don't have to stay here if you're not comfortable with being around this many people," you murmur.

Scaramouche sighs, looking around the island with a deep frown. While you and Scaramoche can do that, he doesn't want to hold you back from having fun and enjoying the festivities in Inazuma. Besides, it's not like Ei and Yae Miko are going to be at the festival as well, right? It'll be just you and him (and other festival goers) enjoying the food, snacks, and games at the Inazuman festival.

He shakes his head. "No, no. It's alright. We can walk around to see what catches our eyes," says Scaramouche, pulling you toward the large crowd of festival-goers and vendors.

You and Scaramouche go from vendor to vendor, checking out what they’re selling to the festival-goers, from desserts to street food to masks to prayer plaques. You and Scaramouche draw your wishes onto the pentagonal piece of wood. You have many wishes, and you weren’t sure what you wanted to focus on. “Is it possible to draw more than twenty-five people on the prayer plaques?”

“Are you done?” Scaramouche asks, startling you.

You look at Scaramouche like a startled crimson fox. Scaramouche cocks an eyebrow at you; a small smirk appears on his face. You clear your throat, rubbing the back of your neck while staring at the blank prayer plaque. You don’t have a specific wish in mind. However, you want it to involve everyone in your life. Since there’s not enough space for over twenty-five people, one person should be good enough.

You pucker your lips, shaking your head. "I haven't drawn anything yet! What did you draw?" You ask, poking him in the chest and trying to peek at his prayer plaque.

Scaramouche moves away from you, shielding the pentagonal piece of wood from your prying eyes. "I'm not showing you until you show me yours!" He huffs like a petulant child.

"Hmph! Fine! Just give me some time to think about it, and I'll show you mine," you say, walking to the nearest table to contemplate what you'll be drawing on the prayer plaque.

Despite dating Scaramouche, you only know a few details about him. From his background to the people in his life to how he became a Harbinger before being where he is now. The man is open to you, but Scaramouche has his shield up all the time. You assumed it was going to be bothersome in the beginning, but you don't blame him for putting a shield around his heart and putting up a cold exterior.

You doodle a small image of you and Scaramouche standing beside each other with little hearts surrounding the both of you. Your wish is for Scaramouche's happiness and sense of security and belonging in Teyvat. You turn to Scaramouche and wave him over. Scaramouche walks over and crosses his arms over his chest, continuing to shield his prayer plaque from your view. You assume Scaramouche wants you to show him yours first, given the look he's giving you while keeping his prayer plaque covered.

"Don't make fun of mine, okay?" You mumble.

Scaramouche snorts. "As long as it's not ridiculous like wanting a vision," Scaramouche comments.

You roll your eyes. "It's not! I don't think I'm worthy of a vision in general because I'm not from your universe," you grumble.

Scaramouche takes a step closer to you, gripping your chin, and tilts your head up. "You're always worthy," He murmurs, brushing your bottom lip with his thumb. "Now, show me what you put on your prayer plaque!" Scaramouche pinches your cheek and tugs on it hard.

You wailed and smacked his hands, glaring at him after he released your cheek. You rub your aching cheek with one hand while cursing under your breath. You let out a long sigh before flipping the prayer plaque over and showing him the doodle, looking away from the indigo-haired man. Scaramouche adjusts the plaque and gazes at the doodles on the prayer plaque. You hear a small huff, causing you to snap your head in his direction.

"Care to explain to me what your prayer is? It looks like you want me to be shamelessly in love with you," Scaramouche teases, poking your forehead.

You sigh. "My wish is for you to be happy and feel a sense of security and belonging in Teyvat," you murmur, looking away from Scaramouche.

Scaramouche stares at you while you're looking away from him, your face feeling hot. Scaramouche chuckles and pinches your cheek for the umpteenth time today, making you groan and grab his wrist, pouting at him. Scaramouche pulls you into his arms and squeezes you tightly, kissing the top of your head.

"You're cute, you know that, right?" Scaramouche murmurs into your hair, stroking your hair.

You peek at Scaramouche, wrapping your arm around his waist. "And what's on your prayer plaque?" You ask.

Scaramouche stares at you, nibbling on the inside of his cheek. You stare at him, waiting for the indigo-haired man to answer you. Alas, the both of you continue to stare at each other in silence while children laugh and other festival-goers murmur to each other. You narrow your eyes at Scaramouche, reaching up to poke his cheek, only for him to grab your hand halfway and lightly squeeze your hands.

"Tell me. I showed you mine and explained what my prayer was! Now, it's your turn to do it!" You said, puffing your cheeks out while glaring at him.

Scaramouche snorts, rolling his eyes and releasing your hand. "Alright, alright," Scaramouche sighs, showing you his prayer plaque.

It's a doodle of you and him— similar to yours, but his prayer plaque is slightly different. You tilt your head to the side, gazing at it questionably. You look at Scaramouche, silently waiting for him to explain what his doodle meant, but he doesn't say a thing. You look down at it again, scratching your cheek, trying to interpret what it could've meant, but only for your mind to blank.

"What's your prayer plaque about?" You whisper.

Scaramouche sighs, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against yours. "My prayer is for you to be by my side forever," Scaramouche whispers. "You're... precious to me, and I can't imagine my life without you."

You gulp, watching Scaramouche slowly open his eyes. Your eyes dart down to Scaramouche's soft pink lips before looking into his eyes. Scaramouche caresses your face, brushing your cheek with his thumb before leaning in to kiss you. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in close to you. The kiss was rudely interrupted when a child bumps into your and Scaramouche's legs. You and Scaramouche pull away from the kiss to see the child scurry off with his siblings trailing after him. You close your eyes and rest your head on his chest while he wraps his arms around your waist. You and Scaramouche remain at the festival for another two hours before returning to Inazuma City, hand to hand, while chatting about your and his potential future.

On your way back to the city, the clear blue skies quickly change to dark gray skies, and rain starts pouring down on you and Scaramouche. The both of you run to the nearest motel in Inazuma City to stay until the rain calms down. While it wasn't your and Scaramouche's intention to stay at a motel in Inazuma, it's best to find shelter until the downpour ceases. You and Scaramouche can't return to the abode when it's pouring and thundering.

After checking into a motel for the night, the clerk at the front desk hands you and Scaramouche the key to your room. You and Scaramouche are drenched from head to toe. Thunder booming from a distance and rain crashing to the ground, and bouncing off buildings fill your ears.

"What a good way to end the day," Scaramouche says sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

You giggle. "It's definitely something! Although I wasn't able to cross 'kissing in the rain' off my bucket list," you sigh, pouting at Scaramouche.

Scaramouche pauses at the door and turns to you, raising his eyebrows at you. You smile at Scaramouche innocently before walking around him to unlock your and his motel room. When the door clicks, you open the door and walk into the room with a sigh of relief. While your kimonos are drenched, you're relieved that your and Scaramouche's clothes aren't drenched from the rain. The door makes a faint click as Scaramouche closes the door.

The motel room is lit up by two tall lamps in the corner of the room. It's not a typical Inazuman-style motel. Instead, it was a mix of Inazuman and perhaps maybe even Liyuen. You walk further into the room and stop suddenly, causing Scaramouche to bump into you.

"Why'd you stop so suddenly?" Scaramouche asks.

You turn toward Scaramouche. "There's only one bed," You state.

He raises his eyebrows at you. "Okay and? I don't see the issue in sharing beds with each other. We are dating, right?" You nod. "Therefore, sharing beds shouldn't be an issue," Scaramouche says, pushing past you to put the bag of clothes down on the nightstand.

Scaramouche is right! There's nothing to worry about! You and Scaramouche are dating, and it's normal for couples to share beds in motels like this. The more you look around the room, the more you start to realize something strange about the small motel. While it's a mix of Liyuen and Inazuman, there was something a little bit off about this motel. You walk to the drawer, only to find a small gray and purple box.

You tilt your head to the side, eyebrows furrowing. "Huh? What's this?" You murmur.

You lift the box to your face, only to toss it back into the drawer and slam it shut after getting a clear look at it. Scaramouche looks at you, startled because you slammed the drawers shut. You clear your throat and turn to Scaramouche with a fake smile— Scaramouche motions to the drawers, gazing at you quizzically.

"Why did you slam the drawers shut? Did you see something?" He asks.

You gulp and smile at him sheepishly while shaking your head. "Oh, it was nothing! I didn't mean to slam the drawers shut," you lie, rubbing the back of your neck.

Scaramouche hums, getting up and walking toward you. You freeze and press your lower back against the cabinet, blocking the particular drawer. Scaramouche reaches behind you, grabbing a champagne cup and inspecting it. Where did that come from? You didn't even notice there were four wine cups behind you.

"Now, what are you hiding from me?" Scaramouche asks suddenly, placing the wine cup back on the stand and crossing his arms over his chest.

You sputter. "Nothing! I'm not hiding anything from you, Scaramouche!"

Scaramouche narrows his eyes, places both hands on your shoulders, and moves you out of the way. You groan and run your hands through your hair, mentally preparing for Scaramouche's reaction to the box in the drawer. Scaramouche looks at you, slowly opening the drawer without taking his eyes off your face, watching your expression very closely. He blindly reaches into the drawer and reaches around the semi-empty drawer before stopping when he feels a box.

Scaramouche diverts his attention from you and gazes at the box. Scaramouce reaches up and squints at the words printed on the box. Scaramouche snorts, closing the drawer with the box in his hands. He leans against the drawer, holds the box up for you to see it clearly, and chuckles.

"So this is why you tried to act like you saw nothing when you clearly see this," Scaramouche gestures to the box. "What, are you scared of a box of condoms?"

You bristle at the sight of Scaramouche's teasing smirk as he lightly tosses the box in the air and catches it with ease. How dare he teases you for getting flustered after seeing a box of condoms in the drawer! Is it possible that the previous motel visitor left their boxes of condoms at the motel? No, it couldn't be. Most people wouldn't forget something like this! Right? You gulp and tap your fingers on your thighs.

"I think this motel is a love motel," you squeak, looking anywhere but Scaramouche.

The indigo-haired man raises his eyebrows at your speculation. Scaramouche places the box of condoms on top of the drawer before walking over to you. You subconsciously step back, too embarrassed to look at the man before you. Scaramouche scoffs, grabs you by your biceps, and pulls you toward him. You squeeze your eyes shut as he grabs your chin and tilts your head up.

Scaramouche murmurs, "Look at me,"

You reluctantly open your eyes but nearly shrivel up in fear after seeing how close his face is to yours. You audibly gulp, locking eyes with Scaramouche as he smiles with amusement. Scaramouche feels joy and pride after seeing how flustered you become when he's so close to you. SCaramouche looks down at your plush lips, brushing his thumb against your bottom lip.

"Why are you so shy, hmmm? Is it because we're in a love motel, or is it because you found a box of condoms in the drawers at a love motel?" Scaramouche asks, sticking his tongue out at you.

You look down, refusing to continue to lock gazes with Scaramouche. "Both," you mumble.

Scaramouche hums, kissing the side of your head. You gulp and grab Scaramouche's kimono, tightening your grip. Scaramouche caresses your face, his nose brushing against your cheek. Scaramouche's lips brush against yours. You close your eyes and close the gap.

Scaramouche wraps his arms around your waist while holding the back of your head with his other hand, keeping you in place. Scaramouche deepens the kiss while backing you up against the motel bed. The back of your knees hit the bed, sending you tumbling back. You look up at Scaramouche, who towers over you. Scaramouche kneels on the bed, caging you against the motel bed.

Scaramouche gulps. "You drive me crazy. Did you know that?" Scaramouche whispers.

Before you can open your mouth to respond, Scarmaouche leans down and presses his lips against yours. You automatically wrap your arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss while tangling your fingers in his soft damp hair. Scaramouche straddles your hips and begins unraveling your kimono while your hands slide down to the obi and begin unwrapping his. Scaramouche breaks the kiss, brushes his lips against the base of your neck, and starts nibbling on your neck while pulling and yanking the obi off the kimono.

You arch your back to let Scaramouche take the obi off and watch him toss it to the ground. Scaramouche begins taking the kimono off you while you struggle to take the obi off him. Scaramouche chuckles and grabs your wrists, pinning them over your head. He leans down and gazes into your eyes, smirking at you. You gulp and stare up at Scaramouche, watching the pink muscle peek from his lips and swiping over his bottom lips.

"I love watching you struggle," Scaramouche chuckles, trailing one hand down the kimono and opening it.

Your face becomes warm as you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling Scaramouche's eyes wander over your almost naked body. Scaramouche bites his lips as he slides one hand down to your chest and gropes it hard. You gulp and peek at Scaramouche, watching him fondle your chest. Scaramouche leans down, takes a nipple between his lips, and begins swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

You whimper softly, clenching your fist on the bedsheets. "It's not fair for you to tease me like that," you whine, arching your back and letting out shaky moans the more Scaramouche sucks and licks your nipple.

Scaramouche releases your nipple with an audible 'pop' before looking at you, raising his eyebrows. "If it's not fair for me to tease you, then it's not fair for the others to have you before me," Scaramouche huffs, getting off the bed before grabbing you by the calves and yanking you toward the edge of the bed.

Scaramouche yanks the kimono off your body, tossing it to a nearby chair, and runs his fingers through his hair. Scaramouche gazes down at your almost naked body with hunger. Scaramouche pushes your legs apart with his legs while taking his kimono off his lithe body. The Inazuman clothing slides off his body like melted butter, leaving him in his black, tight-fitted boxers, allowing you to see a prominent bulge. You look away from Scaramouche, face hotter than it was.

Scaramouche snorts. "I don't understand how you're so flustered. This isn't something you haven't seen before," he smirks.

You swallow the lump in your throat. "I know, but...." you trailed off.

Scaramouche hooks his fingers over the band of your panties, raising his eyebrows at you. "But?" Scaramouche asks, waiting for you to finish your sentence.

You shake your head. Scaramouche shrugs and slides your panties off, letting them pool around your ankles before throwing them into the pile beside the bed. Now, Scaramouche can take his time on you and do as he pleases. But seeing you sprawling out on the bed, naked with your legs spread, your entrance dripping with need, makes him not want to take his time with you. He wants to be inside of you immediately, plowing his cock in and out of you until you scream and cum around his cock. Scaramouche clenches his jaws and takes his boxers off. His boxers pool around his ankles before stepping out and kicking it to the side.

Scaramouche's cock slaps his abdomen--- the mushroom tip is pink and glistening with pre-cum. Scaramouche reaches down, spreads your folds open, and dips his middle and ring finger into your sweltering heat. You gasp and involuntarily clench around his fingers, whimpering and letting out breathy moans as he steadily pumps his fingers in and out of your entrance. You dug your nails into Scaramouche's arms while he fingers your entrance repeatedly.

Scaramouche leans over you with one arm, buries his face into your neck, and begins leaving hickeys all over your neck. You hook one leg over his waist and pull him toward you. You blindly reach for his erect cock and begin pumping his throbbing hot dick. Scaramouche grunts and bites down on your neck. You tense and arch your back as a choke moan escapes your mouth. All you can hear is heavy breathing coming from you and Scaramouche, the squelching of your sopping-wet entrance, and your hand meeting the base of his cock with each stroke.

The tip of Scaramouche's fingers hits a gummy wall, causing you to freeze in his arms and squeeze his cock. Scaramouche groans and slowly pulls his fingers out from your hole. You release his cock and stare at him with lidded eyes. Scaramouche smirks and licks your juices off his middle and ring finger. You bite your bottom lip, watching Scaramouche suck on his fingers. You can't help but look down at his throbbing red cock, watching it bob up and down from the slightest movement.

"What? You want a taste?" Scaramouche teases, gripping his cock in one hand before kneeling on the motel's bed with one leg and caging you in with the other.

You nod, licking your lips while eyeing Scaramouche's throbbing red cock. Scaramouch hums, pumping his cock while watching your expression closely. Your eyes are hazy with lust and need, your chest heaving up and down with each breath you take. Scaramouche hums, tapping and rubbing the bulbous tip of his cock between your wet folds. You shudder when his dick rubs up against your swollen bundle of nerves.

"I really want to," you whisper, finally taking your eyes off his cock.

Scaramouche snorts, continuing to coat his cock with your juices. "I don't know about that, Sakura Bloom. While you may say that you want a taste, your body seems to want something else," Scaramouche murmurs, grinding and rubbing his cock against your entrance. "What is it that you really want, hm? Do you want to suck my cock, or do you want me to fuck you until you can't walk?"

You don't respond to Scaramouche's teasing comments as he continues to teasingly rub his cock up and down your folds, coating the underside of his cock in your slick. You whimper and bite on your bottom lip. You want to suck Scaramouche's pulsating cock and slurp up all of his cum until there's none left. But you also want Scaramouche to plunge his cock into your sopping-wet heat until the walls of your insides make a mold of his cock.

You throw your head back with frustration. "I don't know! I don't know! Scaramouche, I want both!" You whine, gazing up at Scaramouche pleadingly.

Scaramouche scoffs, prodding your entrance with the tip of his cock. "If you can't decide, then I will make the decision for you, pet," Scaramouche chuckles.

"Wait, what?!"

Scaramouche rams his cock into your wet entrance, causing you to shriek and involuntarily clench your walls around his throbbing cock. Scaramouche pants, propping both his arms beside your head as he sinks his aching dick deep inside of your gummy walls. His eyes roll to the back of his head, gripping the bedsheets hard until his knuckles turn white. Scaramouche pants, burying his face into your neck, latching his teeth on your neck, and nibbling on your skin.

You whimper, locking your legs around his waist and pulling him close to you until your bodies are pressing up against each other. Your walls clench around Scaramouche's dick, trying to adjust to his size. Scaramouche groans, biting down on your neck. You let out a breathy moan when Scaramouche's pubic bone rubs up against your swollen bundle of nerves.

"Stop tensing up so much. Relax your body or else...." Scaramouche trails off, letting out a deep guttural groan.

You pant, digging your nails into his pale back and dragging your nails down to his lower back. You can't help it. The sudden intrusion caused you to tense up and clench around his cock. You take deep breaths, close your eyes, and attempt to relax your body.

"Or else what? You'll cum on the spot?" You choke, cracking a weak smile.

Scaramouche doesn't respond. You peek at him to see his cheeks are red, and so are the tip of his ears. How cute. Scaramouche nearly cummed when your gummy walls clench around his cock while trying to adjust to the sudden penetration. You can't help but snicker, causing the indigo-haired man to snap his head in your direction with a glare.

"Why are you giggling?!" Scaramouche hisses.

You shake your head. "Oh, it's nothing! I find it cute how you nearly cummed," you giggle.

Scaramouche glares at you and thrusts sharply into you. You hiss and arch your back, legs wrapping tightly around his slim waist. He smirks and thrusts into you again, watching your eyes roll to the back of your head, jaws dropping, tongue lolling out of your mouth when the fat mushroom tip of his cock hits a certain spot inside you.

"You seem to like that," Scaramouche comments, scoffing.

Scaramouche pushes himself off you, keeping his cock buried inside you. He stands at the end of the bed, grabs your hips with an iron grip, and pulls you toward the edge of the bed until your ass is hanging at the edge. Scaramouche begins hammering his cock in and out of your heat with no remorse.

"Oh, fuck!" You yelp, grabbing the edge of the bed for dear life as Scaramouche rams his girthy cock in and out of your quivering hole.

Scaramouche growls, grab your hair by the roots, and pulls on it hard. Scaramouche yanks your head back and leans down while continuing to thrust into you with fervor. Scaramouche slams his lips against yours, your and his tongue rubbing against each other. Scaramouche rubs his pubic bone against your swollen, throbbing nub, making sure to put a lot of pressure while doing so.

The bed creaks beneath you while Scaramouche pistons his cock into you repeatedly. Your whimpers, moans, and yelps fill the room while Scaramouche's growls and pants overlap yours.

"You're a filthy slut, did you know that? Sleeping with multiple men before me," Scaramouche growls, ramming the tip of his cock into your g-spot.

You wailed and arched your back, digging your heels into his asscheeks. "Be gentle, Scaramouche! It hurts!" You whine, clawing his back until his pale skin turns red.

"Ha! Did you really think I was going to be gentle with you? A slut like yourself needs to be taught a lesson," Scaramouche growls.

Scaramouche suddenly pulls out of your sopping-wet entrance abruptly, making you cry out in protest. Scaramouche climbs onto the bed and lays on his back. He reaches for your arm and yanks you toward him. You stumble and land on his chest. Scaramouche flips you over on your back so your back faces him and adjusts you on top of him.

Scaramouche slaps your ass, "Ride me."

You huff in response and grab the base of his cock, and sink down onto his cock. You lean back, place your hands on his stomach and begin to bounce on his cock. Scaramouche grabs your wrists and pins them back, and thrusts his cock up into your entrance. You grit your teeth and plant your feet on the bed beside his thighs and begin bouncing up and down on his cock.

Scaramouche suddenly stops you midway, hooks his arms underneath your knees, and brings them up until your knees are beside your shoulders. He clasps his hands together and begins thrusting up. The new position has you gasping and curling your toes as the bulbous tip of his cock rams into your cervix repeatedly.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You gasp, head falling back as you succumb to pleasure.

Your entrance spasms around Scaramouche's cock as you're nearing your end. An all too familiar feeling starts forming in your lower abdomen as Scaramouche batters his cock against your g-spot. Scaramouche's thrusts start to become sloppy as he starts chasing after his orgasm. Scaramouche releases one leg and reaches for your swollen nub, pinching, squeezing, rubbing, and twisting the throbbing nub.

The tight knot in your lower abdomen suddenly snaps, and you cum all over his cock before collapsing onto him. Scaramouche slams his cock into your cervix, shooting thick, hot ropes of cum deep inside of your entrance with a growl. He releases your other leg and presses his cock inside you, making sure to fill you to the brim with his cum until there is nothing left.

Scaramouche wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you to lay beside him, his cock remaining buried inside of your cum-filled entrance. You take a deep breath and open your eyes, vision still blurry from your orgasm. Scaramouche mindlessly reaches for the blanket and covers your body. Scaramouche presses his lips against the back of your head, closing his eyes and trying to catch his breath.

Scaramouche reluctantly pulls his cock out from your entrance. You wince at the emptiness before gingerly rolling over to face Scaramouche. Scaramouhce caresses your face and kisses your jawlines, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to his chest. You press your hands against his chest and close your eyes.

"You cum fast," you mumble.

Scaramouche scowls and pinches your ass. You squeal and slap his hand away from your ass, glaring up at Scaramouche.

You huff. "That's not a bad thing, you know! It means I got a good—"

Scaramouche covers your mouth, his face bright red. You remove his hands from your face before scooting close to him, hooking your leg around his waist. You freeze and shudder, feeling the mix of your and Scaramouche's cum oozing from your sullied entrance. You slowly remove your legs from Scaramouche's waist and wince.

The birds chirp outside, and the sun peeks from the blinds. You close your eyes and snuggle up against Scaramouche, lacing your fingers with his while Scaramouche kisses the side of your head. The door slams open as you and Scaramouche are about to fall asleep. You and Scaramouche jump and stare at the door, covering your naked bodies with the blanket. Dottore and Pantalone step into the motel room, looking around the messy room with amusement.

"Ah! So that's where the two of you wandered off!" Pantalone chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest.

Scaramouche hisses, "What are you two doing here?!"

Dottore giggles and steps over your and Scaramouche's discarded panties and boxers. "Well, we heard there was a storm going on in Inazuma, and Lord Ayato sent us out to search for the both of you!" replies Dottore.

You hold the blanket against your chest, heat rushing to your face as you stare at Pantalone and Dottore, completely mortified. Pantalone closes the door behind him before walking over to where Dottore stands, flashing you and Scaramouche a teasing smile. Oh no. You recognize that smile of his.

"You heard us, didn't you?" you whisper.

Dottore and Pantalone nod. "That we did."

You collapse onto the bed while Scaramouche stares at the two men with disgust and embarrassment. Wait, how did they get into your and Scaramouche's motel room so easily? You're going to interrogate them when you guys return to the abode. You're too mortified to question them while butt-naked under the blanket.

Note: Ahhh, not the best smut, I tried my best 🥹 it's been a while since I've posted something for the Crave smut series, and I hope I can post more in the future. I'm not entirely satisfied with how short this fic (mainly the smut part) is, but I will try to make it up to you Scara simps in the future! I do have an idea for a Scaramoche individual fic, and I'll most likely toss smut into the mix. If you're new here and have never read my fics before, I do have another Scaramouche smut you can read. It's Route 1 of the Burning Desire series (in my masterlist). I like that smut better than what I have written out for Crave 7, mainly because it's longer. If you guys want, you guys can join my discord server to get fanfic updates and see the progress of the upcoming fanfics in [Zhongli's Server]. You're not obligated to join, but it'd be nice to have new members :) Please be respectful to everyone and remember to follow the server rules. Anyway, to all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for my Isekai'd!Reader one-shot series and my overall taglist: @chirikoheina, @yoru-trash, @kaoyamamegami, @deartoru, @luminarymoonlight, @toobytub, @ins4nebish, @bokuto-kinnie, @exhaustedcommunist, @jadedist, @mompt2, @chalksdreams, @thelost-in-time, @ventisweetheart, @hispasian-otaku, @juuuuuj101010, @samarill, @testsubject0012, @irisxiel, @lunarapple, @emilymikado, @mabie, @vinnie-w, @n8mareee, @heyimkay, @eliciana, @blesstosuisen, @goldeneclipsedragon, @jjvr4yxc, @sovermike-21-blog, @vox34, @skyyyyackerman, @undecidingfate, @nightlysunn, @faeryminnyx, @simpcreator, @lucifarts-boxers, @urlocalheizousimp, @sunlightstarr (Accounts that I was unable to tag have been removed. Those who don't want to be tagged in certain stories are not tagged in this particular post. Remember to check your settings to see if you're allowing people to mention you/tag you in posts or not)

Read more of my works on my Masterlist | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

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aqwnstars · 1 year ago

Text

Incubus!Scaramouche x GN (Afab) Reader

Pronouns used: You, yours.

CW: Dacryphilia, breeding (consentual), fingering, degrading (use of 'whore' 'slut' etc.) , reader is a virgin

(Dm me if I've missed any!)

Word count: 2.7k

<3 Hi hi!! I finally decided to post something, and what better way to start it off than with a bang (HAHA LITERALLY SIDNDN (im so funny))

DISCLAIMER: EVERYTHING IS CONSENTUAL. SCARAMOUCHE DOES NOT USE ANY SPELLS OR POWERS TO SEDUCE READER. I DO NOT WRITE/SUPPORT NONCON.

nsfw under the cut!!

Fleeting desires

It was an oddly quiet night at the bustling city you lived in as you walked home from the get together your work colleagues put together. You felt a bit tipsy as you walked, but still had your guard up for anything suspicious going on. Your pace quickened as you got an unnerving feeling in your bones, as if someone was watching you.

After a terrifying 10 minutes of walking you finally made it outside of your apartment, you took your keys out, putting it in the lock before you felt a hot breath against your neck. You shudder at the feeling as you quickly turn around, your sight being met with a short man with horns and a tail.

"Oh, your reactions are priceless, human." The incubus, from what you figured sneered at you, licking his lips seductively. You could feel your body getting hotter from the mere seconds you've spent around him.

"W-who are you?!" You stutter, blinking as you feel yourself getting turned on just by looking at him, prompting you to look away. "Keep your eyes on me, lowly creature." He demanded, and you couldn't help but obey his orders. "Hm, you're quick to obey orders, I like that." He commented, his voice becoming raspy and low.

"How about I give you the best experience of your life, and you give me your.. energy, hm?" He says, stepping closer to you, oh how inviting his voice was. "S-sure-- L-let me just--" You mumble, unable to bring yourself to resist him as you unlocked the door and let him in. As the two of you walk to your bedroom he suddenly grabs your hand, pulling you into a kiss, making you yelp in surprise. He took advantage of your open mouth as he slid his tongue in, swirling and exploring your mouth. His kisses seemed desperate and needy, as if he was starving to touch someone. You whimpered as he finally pulled away, a string of saliva connecting you as he does so. "I'll like this more than I thought I would." He said, chuckling before pulling off your top.

The cold night air hit your chest as he threw your top somewhere behind, his deep indigo eyes only focusing on you, as if he's a predator watching his next meal, which in a way is true. He didn't waste an extra second before his lips were all over your neck, reaching down to your collarbone as he licked all over your skin, relishing in the slightly salty taste of your skin.

A groan left his mouth as he bit into your sensitive flesh, sucking and licking at it for a few seconds before pulling away, admiring his work with a smug look on his face. The look in his eyes made your legs pudding as you sat down on your soft bed, your fingers gribbing the bedsheets as an attempt of calming yourself as you looked up at him.

"The desprate look in your eyes, it's so charming, but so pathetic." He mocked you, yet you couldn't help but feel shivers on your skin at his words. You mumbled something quietly, your eyes looking at your thighs in shame.

"Oh, come on, you surely aren't hurt by my words dear?" His voice was calmer and softer than the previous time he spoke, as if he's trying to comfort you, the look in his eyes said otherwise though. You shake your head, biting your lip before speaking more clearly; "P.. please touch me." You say weakly, but his eyes just lit up with lust and need.

He stepped closer to you, and another step, and another until he stood right in front of you. He climbed the bed, placing his knee between your thighs and spreading them as he started to crawl on the bed, his voice was low and seductive as he whispered onto your neck,

"Beg for me to fuck you.." He smirked before biting and sucking at your nape, making a gasp of pleasure leave your lips.

"Plead for me to pound my incubus cum into you, to make you my personal whore, hm?" He pulled away from your neck, looking at you, his eyes looked so beautiful under the moon's light, they shined with the desire and need to feel your body. You felt your skin shiver at his glare, gulping your pride away as you spoke.

"P-please fuck me dumb.." You looked away, feeling your dignity die within your soul, yet he just shook his head "Not enough. I need you to beg."

You sighed, ultimately deciding your pride is worthless compared to the demon on top of you. You tilt your head towards his as you spoke: "I..I need you so bad, p-please.. I want your cum f-filling my insides..!!"

You exclaimed, almost loudly. You closed your eyes, feeling your cheeks become redder by the second.

Scaramouche nods proudly before speaking, his tail touching the inside of your thighs, going up and down.

"Still shy, but I'll make you into my personal bitch in heat, don't you worry." He laughs as he takes your chin, forcing you to look at him as you open your eyes.

"I'll fuck you until your mind goes blank, the only thought on your dumbfucked mind will be my cock, my cum and me." He said smugly, a confident and possessive tone in his voice, rather out of character for an incubus. His lips curled into a smirk as he licked your lips, forcing his way in as he kissed you, his hands roaming across your body, touching every curve on your body as you moaned in the kiss.

He pulled away swiftly, looking at the desprate lust in your eyes as you let out a quiet whine. His hands placed themselves on your hips as he grinded his knee to your clothed clit, making you gasp in surprise that quickly turned into moans of pleasure.

He loved seeing you get so worked up over just grinding on his knee, you didn't even realize it but he stopped moving. You close your eyes as you whined loudly, your hips moving by themselves to grind harder on his knee.

"Look at you, already so pathetic for me and I didn't even do a thing to you."

He laughed audibly, but it felt as if you couldn't hear him as you moaned, right before he removed his knee that is.

"H-hey?! Wh-why'd you do that?"

You ask, pouting at him as he repositioned himself, taking your legs and putting them around his waist, bringing you closer to him. "Shut up slut." He scoffed, before smirking at your reddened face. You obviously weren't used to being degraded, but hearing his voice call you disgusting and degrading things was so arousing to you. You didn't know how Scaramouche knew exactly the things he needed to do and say to get you off, but he exceeded any expectations you've had for him.

His fingers grip at your pants, quickly pulling them off as you snap back into reality. Scaramouche stared at your underwear which has wet spots on it, his tail flicked in delight as he pressed his index finger on your clothed clit, swirling around it, making you squirm and whine.

From all the humans he's fucked throughout the 500 years he has been alive, he never saw one this desprate for him, this obsessed over his touch. His cold heart felt warmer by how many noises you make just by him teasing you with one finger. It almost makes him think you're a virgin, well if you were it'd be better for him.

He removed his finger which resulted in you whining from the loss of pleasure. "No need to whine so much, I know how desprate you are, and I get it." He laughed brfore he grabbed your underwear, swiftly pulling it off and throwing it on the floor.

His indigo eyes looked as if they were glowing in the dark as he spread your legs, revealing your dripping and wet cunt. His lips curled into a smirk at the sight of your body showing it's desperation for his touch.

He hadn't even user any charm powers on you, oh no this was all your desire. "You're so wet for me, I didn't even have to use any spells or charms, you're just a slut huh?"

He laughed, using his finger to stimulate your clit before inserting his middle finger in, your gummy walls stretching around it. Soft and quiet moans left your lips as he started thrusting his finger in, the wet noises that were coming from your pussy were so loud as he added his ring finger in.

"Do you feel my fingers stretching your hole?" He asked, his hot breath against your neck, making you shudder in pleasure. You nod, not trusting your tongue to do anything but moan and babble nonsense.

He smirked at the lack of audible response he got, quickly pulling out his fingers before taking your face, tilting your head to him. "Speak. I didn't understand you, human." His indigo eyes looked at you with full attention, his sharp canines showing with the smirk that was on his lips.

"Y-yes I feel your fingers s-stretching my hole.." You stutter, looking away from him in shame but he just scoffed; "Look at me when you speak." You took in a breath as you look at him, repeating yourself.

"Good bitch." He laughed as he lowered his head down on your neck, his warm tongue swirling on it before he sunk his teeth in as he inserted his fingers in and out of you again. You tilt your head back as you moan, feeling a knot form in your stomach, your legs were shaking as you whined loudly.

"I-i'm gonna cum!!" You whine loudly, tears falling from yohr eyes as you close them. The demon smiled at you, though you couldn't see it. He removed his lips from your neck before licking your tears, starting from your chin ending near your eyes.

You looked so pretty to him, though he'd never tell you that. Your cheeks red, tears shiny and glossy from your tears. How loud you moaned for him? He loved everything about this new human of his. That's right, you're now his human.

"Do you wanna cum, hm? You wanna break all over my fingers, like a whore?"

He spoke smugly, the smirk on his face never disappearing. You nodded your head up and down, your voice stuttering; "Y-yes! I wanna cum so badly, p-please!!"

"I'll allow you to cum if you tell me who owns you, pathetic human~" He purred into your ear as his fingers stopped.

You couldn't resist anything, it was him we're talking about after all.

"I-i'm yours, a-and you own me!! P-please let me cum!!" You whined, your knuckles turning white as you gripped the bedsheets harshly. He finally obliged, thrusting his fingers again. "I own you, hm?" His voice was raspy and loe as he continued; "Cum for me, cum for your master." Your walls clenched around his fingers as you quickly came undone, the know in your stomach snapping as you scream in pleasure.

Your body twitched as you fell onto your back, short pants leaving your lips as you try to catch your breath. Scaramouche pulled his fingers out, bringing them to his lips and licking them clean, a soft moan leaving his lips due to the sweet taste. You were so intoxicating to him, he doesn't think he can simply leave you after this ordeal, not when you're this sweet and adorable for him.

Your eyes look at him before quickly looking away, too embarrassed to see how he was licking his fingers, your eyes dart to his shorts, more speficically the tent in them. Eyes widening, you feel yourself getting turned on again, the thought of you, a lowly human making an incubus so needy for you?

Everything felt like a blur, you don't even remember how quickly Scaramouche took off his shorts, and how quickly he started to thrust into you. You're too drunk on his cock to think about anything clearly. Your voice was sore as you moaned, nails digging into his back as he moved his hips back and forth, his cock hitting the sensitive spot again and again.

"Y-you're so tight, are you a virgin? C-couldn't believe it, from how slutty you were." The incubus moaned, his hips never wavering, sweat drops started to form on his forehead, leaning his head into your neck he bit it, sucking on it as his hips suddenly stopped. He removed his lips from your neck and looked at you, his breath short pants before he asked; "Are you a virgin?" You couldn't form your words, you could barely hear him infact, but you nodded, confirming his suspicion.

He smirked at the revelation, one of his hands placing itself at your hip while the other took your chin, his voice became calm and collected; "Oh, I'm your first time? .. An honor indeed." He licked his lips, before leaning into yours. He had never met a virgin who's this needy and, well, who's this good at feeding him.

You were confused on why he had asked that, does it matter whether or not you lost your virginity, but the way the look on his eyes suddenly shifted tone felt intoxicating to you. How he stared down at you, his bangs sticking to his forehead as he panted, it's as if a switch has been turned on inside of him.

His breath started to become less controled, his face turning red as his smirk widened. You couldn't help but be more aroused at his state, as if he's going feral.

Little did you know, that he wanted to mark you as his human. For you to only need him, to only want him. Scaramouche felt something akin to a string dragging him to you, he felt like a moth to flame when he saw you. It was so out of his character to want a pathetic human like yourself, and he hated how much he needed you.

Yet he couldn't help himself, his tail wrapped itself around your thigh, his hips started to thrust again, this time his pace was faster than it was earlier, all you could hear is skin slapping against skin, Scaramouche's groans and your moans.

He felt his orgasm nearing, and sensed yours too. He looked at you, lust and longing in his eyes as he asked, his voice trembling; "C-can I cum inside? And m-make you mine?" His voice sounded so soft and genuine, a contrast to his harsh and fast thrusting.

Scaramouche wouldn't dare mark you as his without consent, something the other incubus do. He doesn't know why, but if he marked you without permission he knew you'd resent him, and the unfamiliar yet welcome string would break.

You nodded, grabbing his face and pulling him into a kiss. Your lips danced against one another, his cock hitting your g-spot repeatedly. You felt your walls clench around his cock as you came undone once more, whines and moans leaving your lips as he continued to fuck you.

"A-archons you're even tighter now.." He sighed out as his pace quickened, his hands gribbing and bruising your hips.

"You w-wanna be my personal whore so badly don't you?" He panted, a whimper leaving his lips as you nodded, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he did one final thrust before finishing inside you.

Ropes of white sticky cum filled up your womb, your body twitched in overwhelming pleasure as he calmed down from his orgasm.

He pulled out, looking at how his cum was pooling out of you, and suddenly he got a rush of energy as he saw an unknown symbol appearing around your stomach, a symbol that represented him.

"We can't let my cum just spill out of you can we? No.. I have to fill you up again." He smirked, leaning down to kiss your neck before lining himself against your pussy again. This is going to be a long night.

-- but he has to make sure you know who you belong to, right?

#scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin imagines #scara x reader smut #scara x reader #genshin scara #smut #genshin impact #kabukimono x y/n #wanderer x reader

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seakicker · 2 years ago

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☆ My Next-Door Neighbor is an Annoying Older Woman Who Constantly Bothers Me

☆ between: college au!scaramouche x milf!reader

☆ synopsis: scaramouche insists he doesn’t want to fuck the milf living next door, but all his friends think he doth protest too much.

☆ word count: 10.5K words

☆ a/n: like with my venti x milf!reader fic over on ao3, this is supposed to give a sort of doujinshi vibe, hence the embarrassing title and the lunacy of some ideas like milf!reader going outside in a super sheer shirt. hopefully you feel the doujinshi vibe i was going for as i have a lot of fun trying to replicate the style, themes, and flow of doujinshis using only text!

☆ contents: fem + plus-sized reader (reader is explicitly described as chubby, busty, and taller than scaramouche), age gap obviously; scaramouche is a senior in college and reader is in her early 40s, degradation, a couple insults (such as scaramouche calling you a hag/loose/etc.), degradation, exhibitionism (scaramouche fucks you in front of a glass sliding door), sexual frustration, and unprotected sex + scaramouche pulls out

also posted to ao3 with the same title and under the same username!

Scaramouche has a problem.

Well, a problem slightly more irritating than the approximately nine hundred other problems he deals with on a daily basis. These issues include, but are not limited to, the consistent problems he has with the hot water heater in his apartment, his obnoxious group project teammate Ajax who insisted upon being the group’s leader despite his complete and utter lack of intellect, his annoying circle of friends that always seem to find ways to poke their noses into Scaramouche’s business, his frustratingly-dull history professor that always goes off on tangents completely unrelated to the class’ subject matter… and so on and so forth. It’s one issue after another; there’s always something when it comes to Scaramouche.

A matter more pressing than all of those other nine hundred issues put together, however, comes in the form of his next-door neighbor— you.

You’re a divorced woman in your early forties who lives by herself, works during the daytime while Scaramouche is on campus, and always seems to leave and return home at the same times he does. He moved in next door to you a few months ago at the start of his junior year, but you’ve never really gotten the chance to get to know him beyond the curt responses he gives you when you ask how he’s doing or what he did over the weekend. His coldness towards you doesn’t make too much sense— have you somehow offended him without knowing? You like to consider yourself a good neighbor: you don’t party (like a woman your age would ever do such a thing), you don’t blast loud music long into the night (or at all), you take good care of your things and avoid causing trouble for Scaramouche or your other neighbors, and you’re very, very tidy. When you’re in the mood to brag a little, you’ll say that you have the nicest balcony in the entire apartment complex.

…Avoid causing trouble for Scaramouche, huh? He’d beg to differ.

If Scaramouche has nine hundred problems in his life, then maybe it’d be more accurate to claim that you’re the cause of at least seven hundred of those problems rather than claiming that you’re one single, self-contained issue separate from all of those other problems. Maybe it’s the way you insist upon butting your way into his life and, in what must be your way of expressing it, “taking care” of him that irritates him more than anything else. Really, if he had to sum up your advances in one word, he’d have to go with aggravating.

At first, he bitterly wondered if you’re just some senile old hag using him as a replacement for your son, who’s surely moved out by now given your age. All you are is a woman looking to cure her empty nest syndrome by doting on someone her son’s age according to Scaramouche— he viewed your kindness as underhanded and delusional because he can take care of himself, you know. He’s an adult man living on his own; he knows how to navigate the trials and tribulations of young adulthood without some old lady insisting upon knocking on his door and gifting him home-cooked meals, bringing up his mail from the first-floor mailroom, or helping him with chores where you can. It’s not like Scaramouche would ever let you into his apartment, but that hasn’t stopped you from finding ways to help outside by sweeping outside his front door or washing the outside of his front window while he’s not home.

Okay, maybe it’s a little creepy to wash your neighbor’s windows without him asking you to help out, but it’s not like he’s going to do it. You would know— you had once waited a week to see if he’d clean up a spilled drink stain on the walkway in front of his door. As you expected, he never got around to it, so you happily cleaned it up on his behalf. Cleaning up for him doesn’t really put you out of your way either— whenever you sweep his doorway, it’s because you were already outside tidying up in front of your place; why not help out your neighbor in the process?

When you bring him meals you prepared yourself, it’s out of the goodness of your heart and because you can’t help but worry about a college boy’s diet— fast food, pizza, frozen microwave meals, and instant ramen don’t have all the nutrients a hardworking man needs. When you bring him his mail, it’s because he has a tendency to forget about it until his mailbox is, quite literally, overflowing. Whereas you check your mailbox every single day, Scaramouche seems to forget about his until the end of the week, which is certainly no way to live— what if he misses an important bill or notice? As a result, you took it upon yourself to check his mailbox for him whenever you go to retrieve your own mail.

Again, maybe it’s a little creepy to gather your neighbor’s mail, but it’s not like you’re hurting anyone, right? You certainly don’t root through his mail or open any of it. Even though Scaramouche rolls his eyes and mumbles a halfhearted little “thanks” every time you hand him his mail, he doesn’t really seem to mind. Despite his initial reluctance to accept any of it, he still eats the food you prepare for him if the empty containers he returns to you a few days later are any indication of that fact. You figure maybe he’s just a little shy or tired from his long day on campus— it does your heart well to know that he’s working so very hard.

On the flip side of things, Scaramouche considers your… activities a total inconvenience. He’ll admit that your meals taste very good— though he’d never say it to your face— but he doesn’t like feeling indebted to you or thinking that he owes you something even though you’ve told him multiple times that your favors don’t need any payback. You’re just happy to cook for someone other than yourself, you had told him once, confirming Scaramouche’s suspicion that you live alone. It’s not his fault you’re bored enough to make food for someone you barely know, so do you have to rope him into your wiles? He already has groceries and though he doesn’t really know how to cook, what’s wrong with having a bowl of cereal for dinner? It’s none of your business, is it?

Between your constant insistence on involving yourself in his life and the fact that he’s never seen anyone else leaving or entering your apartment, Scaramouche was able to correctly guess that you live alone… a realization that can’t help but annoy him. He figures that if you had someone, anyone else in your life like a spouse or another child living with you, you’d stop pestering him and stick to involving yourself in the lives of your family instead of your neighbor.

Would a pet do? Should he find some stray kitten and leave it on your doorstep? Is that what it’d take to make you mind your own business?

“Hey, Kuni, tell me about your little neighbor lady again,” Venti coos, accidentally knocking over his—thankfully— empty beer bottle when he leans forward to grab his phone. He’s drunk, but that barely makes a difference; he’d still make this request sober.

Glowering around the mouth of his own bottle, Scaramouche rolls his eyes in Venti’s general direction. “Why? If you want to know that hag so badly, go talk to her yourself.”

Venti busts out laughing, an action that his drunken body clearly can’t handle seeing as he falls sideways into Aether’s shoulder, making the latter grimace in response. Venti’s already a handful sober, but when he drinks… it takes the entire friend group to get him home and/or in bed safely. “Don’t threaten me with that, ‘cuz I really will do it— I’ll go steal your hot older girlfriend.”

Glaring up at him from his spot on the rug, Scaramouche has half a mind to shove that empty beer bottle into Venti’s eye for suggesting such a thing. Hey, wait a minute— why is Scaramouche the one sitting on the floor when this is his damn apartment?

“She’s not my fucking girlfriend,” he barks, turning to direct his glare at Kazuha too when he hears him chuckle.

“The more you deny it, the less convincing you are— you talk about her all the time, so I’m inclined to believe you really are dating,” Venti chirps, reaching for a bottle of beer that is most certainly not his.

“That’s mine,” Aether protests, watching as Venti takes a sip from his bottle anyways.

“Oops, my bad.” He doesn’t sound sincere.

“Well… get me another whenever you stand up.”

Venti waves his hand dismissively before redirecting his attention back to the more important matter at hand— Scaramouche’s complete and utter inability to just admit that he has the hots for his hot MILF of a neighbor and that any protest otherwise is a feeble attempt at hiding the truth.

“They say you’re attracted to things that make you mad,” Venti says. “…Cuteness aggression. Yeah. I saw a video about it once.”

“That’s not what cuteness aggression is, and ‘they’ say that you attract the things you fear,” Kazuha corrects him from his spot in the nearby armchair— again, why is Scaramouche the one sitting on the floor?— before he goes to take another hit off his blunt.

Venti repeats what Kazuha said in a nasally voice in an attempt to mock him, but the gesture only makes Kazuha chuckle again. It’ll be hard to draw any response more eloquent than a single laugh or a sigh out of him for the rest of the night— it’s a very, very stark difference from how he usually is.

“Why the fuck do I ever invite any of you over here?” Scaramouche sighs, taking a long swig from his own bottle. He doesn’t even really like the taste; it’s something Venti found on sale and decided to bring over, but Scaramouche has decided it’s better than spending his Friday night sober. Besides, it’ll take at least four more of these to deal with the impending conversation that he’s been trying so hard to pivot away from since Venti first brought it up.

“Because we’re best friends forever, next question. Why do you deny how much you wanna fuck your sexy neighbor, Kuni?” Venti asks again, pouting when Aether snatches the bottle Venti stole from him. “It’s super obvious. Xiao and Heizou agree with me, and I’m not just saying that because they’re not here tonight and can’t contest me on it. It’s true.”

Kazuha nods, and Aether simply shrugs. Christ alive, do they all think the same thing?

“And why on Earth do I— in theory— want to fuck her? She’s probably loose or something,” Scaramouche argues.

Venti busts out laughing again.

“It’s the opposite, really,” he starts, glancing between Aether and Kazuha when neither of them laugh along with him. “What, have you guys seriously never been with an older lady? They’re the best; the reason I know Kuni wants to get with that lady next door is because I got with the lady next door to me a couple months ago. It takes one to know one, or something. Trust me, Kuni, I know what you’re going through and we are seriously gonna get through this together.” Why is he making it sound like a relative died or something?

“They’re experienced,” Venti sighs longingly, blindly reaching out again for the bottle Aether’s holding, who moves it further away and out of Venti’s reach. “They feel really, really good. They actually know what they’re doing… sometimes the girls—and guys, mind you, I’ve gotten with plenty of both— our age clearly don’t know they’re supposed to be doing, but getting with somebody’s mom…”

“You’re gross!” Aether gasps, though his pink cheeks tell a different story.

“Not as gross as the guy who’s told us the same story about seeing his neighbor lady braless like four times now,” Venti replies, glancing over at Scaramouche with a grin. “Really left an impression on you, huh, Kuni?”

Just like that, Scaramouche finds himself instantly reminded of, well, the time he saw you braless first thing in the morning. A few months ago on some random Saturday morning, Scaramouche was out smoking a cigarette on his porch when you stepped outside to water the plants you keep on your balcony. There were so many of them: a small tomato plant, a pot overflowing with basil that you took to trimming after you finished watering everything, a couple of hanging baskets field with flowers, and a few other vegetable plants and potted succulents. More glaringly obvious than the abundance of plants occupying your balcony was your complete and utter shamelessness— even a quick glance in your direction was enough to draw Scaramouche’s attention to the distractingly sheer fabric of your white camisole.

It’s not like Scaramouche was actively staring at your tits— really, he wasn’t, he swears— because anyone would notice something that egregious. The low, low sweep of your camisole around your ample bust, your nipples beading up against the thin fabric, the constant fucking movement of the top as you shifted and bent over to water the plants sitting on the ground, moved, and walked, all of it. He complained to his friends about your complete and utter shamelessness— What kind of woman steps outside practically naked? he spat, much to the amusement of Venti, who had said that wearing a thin shirt does not, in fact, make one naked.

Worst of all, you had actually fucking caught Scaramouche staring, an action that made you grin wickedly and run your hands down the sides of your soft, plump body as if to try and draw his eyes down along with your hands. Instead, Scaramouche had only whipped his head to the other side, busying himself with tapping the ash off his cigarette as if it were the most important task he’d ever complete in his life. Jesus Christ, he was only staring because he couldn’t believe you’d be so shameless as to wear something like that outside, not because he was genuinely aroused by how low your camisole sat on your chest, how big your tits are, how soft they look…

He thinks he shuddered then, and he insisted to his friends that it was because of a sudden chilly breeze and absolutely nothing more. It was either that or because he was just so shocked by your display that a shiver went down his spine— he can’t even remember the exact reason he gave anymore.

Either way, none of them really believed him.

“Ah, he seems distracted,” Kazuha notes simply, raising a hand to point at Scaramouche before grinning. His words pull Scaramouche from his little daydream, and he groans at the realization that, yes, he spaced out remembering yet another instance of your abhorrent shamelessness and perversion.

“Spaced out thinking about cute MILF boobs, I get it,” Venti affirms, nodding. “Nobody gets that more than me. Not only that, but you’ve also, uh, ‘complained’ to us about seeing her in her swimsuit. Really, Kuni, it’s like you’re biding your time and waiting for her to take her clothes off so you can tell us about it.”

…That’s a story for another time. Scaramouche has had enough of thinking about you for one day; it’s bad enough that you brought him his mail today just mere moments before Venti, Kazuha, and Aether arrived to hang out— what if they saw you?— but to be reminded of the image of your tits underneath that pathetic excuse for a top…

He shakes his head and takes a long, long sip from his bottle.

“And they’re so soft, Kuni,” Venti says, slumping over further into Aether for support. “They feel like absolutely nothing else. I feel like firmness or perkiness or whatever is really, really overrated— the softness of a cute MILF’s boobs is unrivaled!”

“Can you not say things like that right into my ear?” Aether mumbles bashfully, making Venti laugh.

“Why? Am I gonna put the mental image of MILF boobs in your brain, too? Are we gonna become an entire friend group full of MILF chasers? That’d be hilarous. I already know about Xiao’s little crush on his English professor.”

Jesus, Scaramouche has got to steer this conversation somewhere else or he’ll go mad. “Anyways,” he beings, “Where is that pizza you ordered ages ago?”

“I thought Kazuha was taking care of it,” Aether remarks, glancing over at him. Kazuha goes to reply, but nothing comes out— yep, he’s gone for the night. He won’t be able to get out any more than four words max until morning.

As if the universe heard their request, the doorbell rings to signify the arrival of dinner. Before Scaramouche can go to pull himself up off the floor—he really should make Venti move; it’s his couch in his apartment— Venti’s already in the process of skipping towards the door. Aether takes the opportunity to kick his feet up over the other couch cushion, making Scaramouche wonder if the three of them formed some secret pact to ensure that he stays on the floor the entire evening.

However, what stands on the other side of the door is not, in fact, the pizza delivery boy. It’s you, aluminum foil-covered glass casserole dish in hand, leading Scaramouche to believe that while the universe did hear their request for food, the devil answered by sending you to his doorstep while he has three of his friends over.

“Oh! You’re not the pizza guy,” Venti beams, putting on his best ‘polite’ voice possible. Scaramouche groans and looks over towards his other two friends just so he doesn’t accidentally make eye contact with you, but neither Aether nor Kazuha look back at him. They’re looking at you.

Christ, he’ll never live this down. Not only do they know who you are, they now know what you look like.

“I’m not,” you giggle. “I live next door; I bring food to Scaramouche sometimes whenever I get a little too excited in the kitchen and make too much. I can’t eat the leftovers fast enough before they go bad, and I would hate to waste food, you know?”

“You can call him Kuni,” Venti offers. “We all do. It’s less of a mouthful, don’t you think?”

Scaramouche decides that Venti will be leaving his apartment in a body bag tonight.

His cheeks burn with equal parts humiliation and anger, and the realization that his friends’ teasing is only about to get worse now that they know who you are and what you look like more than motivates Scaramouche to devise a plot to kill the three of them.

After introducing yourself to Venti, he smiles and replies that “the pleasure is all his” when you tell him it’s nice to meet some of Scaramouche’s friends. Venti has half a mind to invite you inside for a moment, but he decides that’d be unnecessary— he figures he’s already done more than enough to inspire Scaramouche into action. If Scaramouche won’t act on his feelings himself, then maybe a little shove from his friends will help him along.

“That’s sweet of you!” Venti praises, taking the dish from your hands. “I’m glad Kuni’s eating properly these days. One time, he told us that the only thing he survived off of during finals week was a sleeve of Saltines and some peanut butter. You’re so kind, miss.”

You giggle sheepishly, a sound that Scaramouche would like to claim grates his ears. Miss? Can’t Venti see that you’re, well, old? “Well, I’m glad that he has such kind friends to support him. You all take care, okay? You too, Scara— Kuni!” You call out past Venti’s shoulder, making both Aether and Kazuha chuckle.

After bidding farewell to the four in what has to be the most mortifying moment of Scaramouche’s entire life, you leave, allowing Venti to close the door behind you and make his way back to the others. “Those boobs are huge,” he sighs dreamily, looking up at the ceiling. “If I got suffocated between those, I would die a fully satisfied man.”

“Then go die,” Scaramouche mutters in agreement, cheeks still burning with humiliation. Why does the universe insist upon tormenting him so?

Eyeing the dish in Venti’s hands, Aether pipes up too “She cooks for you? Kuni, you have it so good.”

Scaramouche is amazed that, after all this time, his friends still find it in them to be jealous of him despite all of his attempts at framing you as annoying, invasive, and overbearing. Can’t they see that you’re doing this on purpose?! Scaramouche has half a mind to wonder if you’re psychic— what other explanation is there for your obnoxiously perfect timing? He asks about food and suddenly you appear on his doorstep, dish in hand as if you had heard him through the walls. There’s no way they’re that thin, are they?

Venti moves to set the dish down on the kitchen countertop before turning around to look Scaramouche square in the eye. “Kuni, I’m saying this because I respect you as my longtime friend,” he asserts, tone and gaze both deathly serious in a way that’s genuinely almost out of character for someone as flippant and carefree as Venti. “But you better fuck that lady the first chance you get because, if you don’t, I’m taking her for myself.” That should do it.

Scowling in response, Scaramouche crosses his arms over his chest and sighs bitterly. “Why would I stop you? I don’t care what you do with her. For the last fucking time, I’m not into her.” Despite his words, Scaramouche can’t deny that there’s something… unsettling about the idea of Venti getting with you. Does he really want to watch his friend take four A.M. booty calls in order to fuck the woman living right next door to him? Can Scaramouche truly stomach the idea of his friend fucking the brains out of someone just a few walls away from where he lives? It’s hard to put his finger on why, but something about Venti getting with Scaramouche’s neighbor, despite his insistence that there truly is nothing between the two of them, really, really irks him.

Well, it’s probably just because a lot of Venti’s behavior tends to irritate Scaramouche in the first place, right? Yeah, it’s probably just that. He doesn’t need to hear every last gritty detail of his friend’s sexual trysts.

That characteristically smug grin of his finds its way back to Venti’s face as he reaches over Aether’s shoulder and snatches his beer bottle again. “Fine, I guess I’ll have to take your word for it. How about we forget the pizza and eat what she brought over?”

“Oh, I see now,” Kazuha interjects after having been silent for the past twenty minutes. He turns his phone around to show Scaramouche, Venti, and Aether the check-out screen on the pizza chain’s website. “It seems I failed actually submit the order; it was still waiting for me to pay.”

Scaramouche doesn’t have a hangover the next morning, a blessing he owes to the fact that he only ended up drinking two beers last night. He probably would’ve consumed more if he had the chance to, but Venti blew through the rest of the box quicker than the other three could try to stop him. It took both Kazuha and Aether supporting Venti’s hardly-conscious body to get him down the stairs to the parking lot so they can drive him home— there’s no way Venti would be able to safely get himself home amidst such an awful hangover.

As he pokes through his apartment scooping up empty beer bottles and stained paper plates to toss into a trash bag, the glass casserole dish sitting out on the kitchen counter catches Scaramouche’s eye. Save for a few scraps shoved into the rounded corners of the pan, it’s practically been picked clean— the four boys tore through it easily with Venti, Kazuha, and Aether all fawning over just how good a home-cooked meal tastes after months of campus cafeteria food, fast food, and instant ramen. Venti mentioned that there’s just something about a MILF’s cooking that makes it so much better, leading to a conversation about how, in Venti’s educated opinion, older women just do everything better: sex, cooking, cleaning, caretaking, all of it.

Scaramouche scoffs at the memory. “She’s nothing special,” he mutters to himself, still failing to understand Venti’s obsession with somebody he’s never even met until last night. Scaramouche is the one who’s actually been living next door to her for months now— as his friends know by now, he has plenty more to say about her than Venti does.

Shouldn’t he be the one to comment on things like the size of your bust, the softness of your legs, the plumpness of your ass and belly, and the flavor of your cooking? He’s the one who’s actually seen you lounging in tiny string bikinis by the apartment complex’s pool, watering the plants out on your balcony in a pair of shorts that certainly break publicly decency laws, and retrieving your mail in a shirt so thin he can make out the little bumps of your nipples up against the fabric.

“Christ, what am I thinking?” Scaramouche stops himself and second-guesses whether or not he’s actually hungover. There’s no way his sober mind would drift to thoughts of you, right? Clearly something must be wrong with him— he blames Venti for putting all these thoughts in his head with his never-ending discussion of what makes older women so utterly sexy.

He’s then reminded of what Venti told him right before they all sat down to eat your cooking: that if Scaramouche won’t hurry up and fuck his neighbor, Venti will do it for him. Even now, the idea still bothers him for reasons he just can’t quite put his finger on— Venti’s been with tons and tons of people; why does he want Scaramouche’s neighbor too? Can’t Venti see how awkward that would be?

Setting the trash bag down on the floor, Scaramouche takes to the sink to wash out the casserole dish you brought over for them last night. His mind concocts disgustingly vivid images of you as he scrubs at a particularly stubborn piece of dried cheese, and maybe he’d be shocked by how little effort he’s putting into warding those thoughts away if he weren’t so utterly immersed in them. His mind conjures up the image of you in that tiny black bikini he saw you wearing by the pool while he was out smoking on his balcony— he remembers the little number being so small that you had to readjust it every single time you simply sat up or lied down because every last motion was enough to threaten a nipslip. It makes him wonder if you dress like that on purpose or because you’ve deluded yourself into thinking that clothes and swimsuits you used to wear still fit you despite clear evidence otherwise— are you actively vying for the attention of any man who’ll give it to you, or are you brainless enough to throw something on without caring about how poorly or not it fits?

It’s probably a mix of both; you’re just that shameless.

Scaramouche grits his teeth at the mental image of you straddling him while adorned in that tiny little bikini that seems to only get tinier and tinier the longer he allows his imagination to run wild. Of all the fucking things to imagine you doing…

He pictures what you’d look like with your thick, plump thighs enveloping either side of his hips as you run your hands up and down your ample chest and soft stomach. God, he can see it all now: the little bumps of your nipples beading up against the thin fabric of your swimsuit, the soft hang of your tummy spilling over the tiny, flimsy string keeping your bottoms secured around your wide hips, the way your tits would bounce as you ride him…

“Something’s wrong with me,” he grumbles, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. The clump of cheese he’d been scraping at finally separates from the pan, and he realizes that if he wants to rid you from his mind for good, he should take matters into his own hands before Venti does.

No, wait, this has nothing to do with Venti— this isn’t about staking claim over you before any of his friends can, this is solely about him finding ways to release the grip you have on him as if you’re some kind of wicked succubus. Scaramouche glances downwards after setting the dish aside to dry and, much to his chagrin, finds that the mere thought of you was enough to fucking get him hard. The eager press of his cock against the confines of his briefs moritifies him solely because of the very reason why he’s like this in the first place; how the fuck did the thought of you in a bikini so tiny your areolas peek around the sides reduce him to such a state? He’d like to believe that he’s only this hard because it’s been a while since he’s jerked off, but that would be an excuse less believable than any of the ones he’s ever given his friends.

He knows that he’s too dignified to jerk off to the thought of you— if he’s feeling horny, then surely he can find things more deserving of his attention than some hag next door. He refuses to give you that kind of satisfaction (despite the fact that you’d never even know unless he told you, so how could you be smug about it?), so he decides that an ice-cold shower is in order before venturing out to settle things with you.

After a shower so cold Scaramouche swears he saw his fingers begin to turn purple, he dries off, gets dressed in something other than the clothes he fell asleep in last night, grabs your clean casserole dish, and leaves to go to the one place he wouldn’t have ever imagined himself stepping foot in— your apartment. If this is what it takes to sever the connection between you and his mind…

God, this is going to be annoying, Scaramouche thinks as he knocks on your door using his foot, casserole dish supported safely by both of his hands. He feels the need to steel himself because he just knows you’ll answer the door in something sheer, skimpy, or some combination of the two and he needs to be ready for that.

Why? Are you hoping for that to happen, Kuni? Venti’s voice whispers from the back of Scaramouche’s mind.

He really is losing it.

“Good morning— oh, Kuni! This is a surprise,” you greet him upon opening the door, flashing him a smile so bright it nearly makes him cringe. Can you spare him the pleasantries so he can just get to the point?

Fucking Venti— why teach her that nickname? Turning his head to look at a faraway bird instead of you, Scaramouche scoffs. “I need to talk to you.” Straight to the point, emotionless, and rude, it’s all so in-character for your neighbor that you can’t help but giggle.

You grin wider. “Of course. Come in; I’ll put a pot of coffee on.”

Scaramouche waits until you’re a good few steps ahead of him before following you inside, glancing around the living room of your apartment as he makes his way to the kitchen table. Your apartment’s clean, impeccably so at that— every book on your bookshelf faces the same direction, the blanket draped over the back of your couch doesn’t have a single crease, and he can’t see even an ounce of dust on any inch of your tables and countertops.

He snorts a little. Rather than viewing the cleanliness as impressive or inspiring, he bitterly interprets it as a testament to your overabundance of free time and lack of other hobbies or pastimes.

“I’m not sure how strong you like your coffee, so I’ll just make it how I normally do,” you pipe up from the kitchen, pulling Scaramouche away from scrutinizing the titles of the books on your shelf. Restless Summer Nights? The Devil’s Mistress? They all sound like bargain bin erotica novels.

It was a mistake to direct his attention away from your novels and to you instead, he figures, because only now does he get a look at what you’re wearing— if one could even call that clothing. You’re dressed in something he wants to call a workout outfit, but anyone leaving the house in an outfit like that surely has goals other than simply exercising— they want to attract attention. A sports bra that sits so low on your chest that a single bounce on an exercise ball would expose you combines with a pair of spandex leggings so tight they reveal the lines of your panties to comprise your “workout outfit,” and to say that Scaramouche is mortified would be an understatement. He can’t help but find the combination of your manner of dress and your collection of novels completely pathetic.

And despite his apparent disgust… he’s been staring at you long enough to pick up the most minute details about your outfit. The indifferent passerby likely wouldn’t notice your pantylines— a certain amount of staring is required to actually notice them; they’re really not obvious from a quick glance. Actually, why can’t he stop looking at you? He writes it off as a simple morbid curiosity at how someone can be so completely and utterly shameless— one could almost liken his sick, cynical fascination with your ample curves and soft body to rubbernecking.

Scaramouche instead stares down into the cup of coffee you’ve set in front of him like it’s the most fascinating object in the entire world. He’s half-inclined to just close his eyes entirely, seeing as the slightest glimpse of your bust still occupies the uppermost part of his peripheral eyesight when you sit down in the chair opposite of him.

“So,” you start, sliding a porcelain dish with a small bowl of sugar cubes and a saucer of creamer his way. “What can I help you with? It’s rare for you to talk to me first, Kuni.”

He adds “drop that nickname” to his mental list of topics to bring up with you. Scaramouche plucks a few sugar cubes from the bowl before him and drops them into his coffee before absentmindedly stirring the liquid with a serving spoon.

“Last night,” He clears his throat. “Why did you come over to talk to V— to my friends?” Why are you always in my business? he really wants to ask, but he feels like you’ll start crying if he presses you too firmly.

And that’d just be obnoxious.

You giggle. “That makes it sound like I came over on purpose because I knew you had people over, and that’s not true. Haven’t we been in the habit of food delivery and acceptance for months now?” Scaramouche’s eyes follow yours to the squeaky-clean casserole dish he placed on your counter.

“I’m glad your friends seemed to enjoy the food just as much as you do,” you add sweetly, pursing your lips and blowing on your coffee to help it cool down.

“It was humiliating,” Scaramouche counters, a statement that prompts you to look up from your coffee and make eye contact with him. “They wouldn’t— they wouldn’t stop fucking talking about you after you left.”

Wait, that’s not the point here, is it? Surely Scaramouche’s main complaint isn’t that Venti practically sweet-talked you right into his bed, it’s that Scaramouche is tired of you invading his business and his space, right? He doesn’t care about Venti’s comments about your soft tits or your wide hips, he doesn’t care about Aether’s bashful confession that he exclusively jerks off to older women, he doesn’t care that he has competition because there’s nothing to compete over and he’s really, actually, truly angry that you always find a way to worm your way into his days and his mind and his free time and his wet dreams and his—

“Oh, I’m flattered,” you reply simply, sipping your coffee and smiling around the rim of the cup. “They’re such nice boys. I’m glad you have such sweet friends, dear.”

What’s warmer: the tips of Scaramouche’s ears or his untouched cup of coffee?

“That’s not— what? That’s not the point I’m making and you know that,” he grimaces, clearing his throat again. “My friends shouldn’t have to put up with a shameless old hag the way I have to.”

You set your cup down. “That’s not very nice. I look good for my age— that charming boy down at the corner mart always asks for my ID whenever I pick up some wine!”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. “That’s his job. Anyways, I’m telling you to mind your own business.”

“Oh, is that all? Of course I can do that for you.” Your reply comes without a single skipped beat.

“I mean it, that means don’t touch my mail and— what?” Wait, there’s no way you’re making this this easy. A shameless, conniving, lustful, lewd seductress of a woman like you agreeing to just… fuck off at the first request? Scaramouche doesn’t buy it— this is just another phase of your plan to throw him off guard and pull the rug out from under him so you can sink your claws deeper and deeper into him.

“I like cooking for you and cleaning for you, and I was very happy to meet your friends yesterday, but if you want me to stop, of course I will,” you explain. “I wonder who’ll help me eat my leftovers now… your friend from last night gave me his phone number; does he like potato soup? I’m making that tonight.”

Scaramouche almost, almost feels a shiver tear down his spine. He’s starting to believe that Venti’s just as much an antagonist in this situation as you are.

“Why the fuck did you accept his number? Delete it,” he grumbles, crossing his arms and glaring over at you. His coffee’s surely gone cold by now, but that’s alright— he was never much of a coffee drinker anyways.

You shrug, a sly smile forming on your lips. “Oh, I don’t know. He was so sweet I didn’t want to say no… it’d give me someone new to talk to, if nothing else.” Why do you need to talk to Venti when he barely knows you and I’m right fucking here?

“It’s not like you talk to me much despite all my best efforts, Kuni,” you offer him the subtlest of pouts, an action that would look out of place on the face of a woman your age if you weren’t so… if you weren’t so…

Forget it, he’s not saying anything about you that could be interpreted as a compliment. “…Especially now that you and I have agreed to leave each other alone.”

Oh, Scaramouche doesn’t like this feeling. He hates feeling like a situation has spun out of his control, and that’s, unfortunately, exactly what he feels is happening here. You’ve agreed to his terms and you’ve promised to stay out of his way, so why does he feel so… angry?

Yeah, you must have some underhanded motive here. Why else would you be making this so… easy? That’s not like you at all— he was expecting you to fan your eyelashes, pout your lips, push your tits forward, and whimper that you’re sorry and that you’d love to keep talking to him, so will he please give you a second chance?

I’ll do anything, he was sure you’d say.

You clear your throat. “Well, is there anything else you’d like to discuss now? If not, I’ll get back to my yoga. It’s good to be active, right?”

What the hell? You’re ending the conversation? No way, no how— this ends on Scaramouche’s terms, not yours. Who do you think you are?

“No, that’s not it, actually,” he blurts, crossing his arms over his chest. “Staying out of my business means staying away from Venti— from any of my friends. Don’t talk to them, don’t text them, don’t— I don’t know. Don’t be around them.”

You smile a little wider. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound jealous, Kuni.”

He scoffs, staring you directly in the eye as if to challenge you. “Seriously? Shit joke.”

Of all the adjectives you could have picked to describe him… “It’s just that the thought of you getting with Venti is nauseating, alright?”

You hum. “And why him specifically, hm? You had other friends over last night— are they single?” Jesus Christ, what is this, an interrogation? And where the hell are these sorts of questions coming from— did you already send Venti an invitation to hook up?

Sneering so hard his nose scrunches up, Scaramouche can’t help but feel appalled. “Did you decide I’m not good enough or something? Who do you think you are?”

You go silent.

Scaramouche, somehow, goes even quieter than silent when the weight of his words finally sets in. There it is— the culmination of your grand plan to humiliate, embarrass, and utterly demean him in your own home. You had this outcome planned from the start, didn’t you?

“I didn’t say that,” you stammer, attempting to correct yourself. “Why do you think I’ve been vying for your attention all this time? Of course I like you, Kuni.”

God, how you piss him off. Who do you think you are— some bashful schoolgirl confessing to her first crush?

“I know that I’m just an old woman and that you could certainly find a cute, young, perky college girl whenever you’d like to, but if you’d ever like me…”

Of course Scaramouche could get someone his age from one of his classes— he doesn’t need to settle for some loose old hag— and yet… the thought of you getting with anyone else, Venti or not, pisses him off in a way he can’t quite describe. Maybe he views himself as some kind of hero protecting everyone else from your shamelessness, maybe he views himself as the only one worthy of your attention as the one who has to put up with you the most, maybe he views you as someone actually, genuinely worth being with…

He sits up a little straighter. “You have no idea how obnoxious you are,” he mutters. “Taking up my time and attention even when you’re not around.”

“What a forked tongue,” you reply, leaning forward and, much to Scaramouche’s chagrin, pushing your breasts together with your hands. “You know that’s why I like you, right? Mean boys have always been my favorite— ever since high school.”

“You’re not worth the time,” he spits. So fucking annoying. So fucking shameless. What kind of woman your age behaves this way, anyway? So obnoxious, so pathetic, so intoxicating, so impossible-to-keep-out-of-his-mind—

“Venti sure seems to think I am,” you offer with a smug, self-satisfied smile as you rise from your seat. Hooking your thumbs up under the straps of your sports bra, you quickly snap the elastic fabric back against your shoulders to give your tits a little bounce, an action that, of course, does not go unnoticed. Slapping his hands down flat against the perfectly-ironed lacy tablecloth covering your dining room table and standing up so quickly he nearly knocks his knees against the table’s hardwood underside, Scaramouche laughs.

What a time to finally, finally accept that he has the hots for his neighbor— the same neighbor who’s supposedly the cause of so many of his bad days and sour moods. You’ve prompted many a disdainful mutter from Scaramouche after catching a glimpse of you through your drawn curtains, you’ve been the subject of many a snide comment made in the presence of his friends, and, most frustratingly of all, you’ve inspired countless, countless inappropriate thoughts that he cannot believe you’ve been the subject of.

And all it took was one of his friends hitting on you for him to realize that.

“Constantly flaunting a body like this,” he chides in a way that he wants to come off as insulting and condescending rather than sadistically flattering, but the little grin you offer in response gives him reason to believe you interpreted it as the latter. Seriously?

“Other boys your age seem to enjoy the flaunting,” you counter, slipping your thumbs into the waistband of your spandex leggings. As if to tease the act of pulling them all the way down your legs, you flip the fabric of your waistband over its seam to expose the majority of your soft lower belly.

Anger burns hot behind his pale cheeks. “Is this some kind of pathetic hobby of yours? Fucking guys half your age?”

“I like to consider it a lifestyle,” you reply, shimmying your leggings further and further down your thick thighs until your thong’s completely exposed. A black lace thong— how becoming of a nymphomanic like yourself. “I’m fine with trading experience for virility and stamina; do you know how many men my age finish in thirty seconds and call it there because they’re ‘just so tired’? College boys either go until they can’t hold themselves upright or until they have nothing left to pump into me.”

There’s that vulgar nature that’s both irritated and (subconciously) aroused him for months. He wants to believe that your disgusting nature doesn’t make his cock twitch, but the time for pretending has clearly passed. You don’t believe he finds you ugly or unappealing and neither does he anymore.

“And do you find this… lifestyle fulfilling?” Scaramouche challenges, grimacing at the pressure building in the frontside of his tight jeans.

You laugh. “Is that your way of saying you don’t? Are you a virgin, sweetheart?”

“Of course not. Just because some of us don’t fuck everything with two legs and a pulse doesn’t mean we’re virgins.” His clumsy escapades are none of your business— his high school girlfriend and that guy from the concert Venti dragged him to over the summer don’t concern you.

Bending forward to push your leggings down to your knees, you gaze up at Scaramouche through your eyelashes and giggle. “Don’t make it sound like I don’t savor every last cock or strap I ride. You could put every last one of them in front of me and I’d be able to tell you who they belong to with my eyes shut.”

Venti mentioned something about experience, didn’t he? What a sanitized way of calling older women complete and total whores.

The inferiority complex in Scaramouche wants to prove that he’s the best thing a whore like you will ever experience, that he can make you feel better than any of the other bumbling college morons he probably knows can, and that you’ll give up your ways of fucking everyone that looks at you in order to devote yourself to him and him alone. That’d be some nice payback for all the pain and humiliation you’ve subjected him to these past couple of months, right?

No, he has a better idea.

“If you want to show yourself off that badly,” Scaramouche huffs, doing his damndest to ignore the nearly-painful throbbing in his jeans. “Then I’m sure you’d be fine with doing it in front of that glass door, right?”

With your hands still bunched in the fabric of your leggings, you look back at the glass sliding door that leads to your balcony and bite your lip. It’s not likely anyone would actually see you— you and Scaramouche live on the third floor— but it’s still a possibility and an exciting thought nonetheless. Maybe you could give that nice redheaded quarterback boy you fucked a few months ago a nice show; he lives just across the parking lot in the building parallel to yours.

“Now who’s the deviant one? I’ve never fucked anywhere more public than a nightclub’s bathroom stall,” you tease, finally pushing your leggings all the way down and off your legs. He doesn’t believe you, but Christ, those thighs of yours look soft…

You accept his offer nonetheless and make your way over to the balcony door, your thong riding high on your wide hips and your hardened nipples pressing into the flimsy fabric of your pathetic excuse of a sports bra. “You’re helping me wipe off all the fingerprints afterwards,” you scold, inviting him over with a wiggle of your hips and a glance back over your shoulder.

Now, rationally, Scaramouche would never propose the idea of fucking in a place as public as right in front of an apartment complex parking lot. He’s never considered himself an exhbitionist and he’s always been somewhat obsessed with his image, and people who care about their image generally don’t have sex in the potential presence of others. Additionally, there’s probably something to be said about him potentially getting caught fucking the same woman he’s spent the better half of this past year complaining about, but the current irrational, horny, angry Scaramouche wouldn’t listen to better judgement or rationality anyways.

The relief that comes with unbuttoning his jeans and giving his almost painfully-hard cock room to breathe is so euphoric he can’t help but sigh, the throbbing in his crotch more aggravating than any pounding headache he’s ever experienced after an evening drinking with his friends.

“I can’t fucking believe it,” he laughs, incredulous. “To think the hag living next door to me is the reason I’m like this.” Jamming the weight of his bulge into the plumpness of your soft ass, Scaramouche seizes hold of your hips in both of his hands and gives the fat of your love handles a painful squeeze just to hear you suck the air in through your teeth.

“I thought you’d never come around, you know,” you breathe, beyond eager at the prospect of finally, finally getting to fuck the neighbor boy you’ve been actively working at breaking for months upon months now. A guy this mean, this arrogant, and this demeaning doesn’t come around that often, especially when so many of the guys you get with take the polite route by calling you “ma’am” and complimenting you over and over again— which certainly isn’t a bad thing, but cruel has always satisfied you in ways that kind cannot.

The height difference between the two of you means that Scaramouche has to stand up a little straighter than he normally does in order to press his hips against yours, a realization that’s only slightly humiliating. Granted, it could never compare to how humiliating it was for you to show up at his apartment in front of all his friends.

God, does it feel good to put you in your place.

“Spread,” Scaramouche mutters, knocking one of his feet against both of your ankles. He doesn’t tell you that he needs you to spread your legs so your hips will lower a bit, allowing him to reach them a little more easily since you’re a bit taller than he is.

You would tease him for skipping the foreplay and just jamming himself right into you, but you know that you’ve been plenty wet enough ever since your discussion with him first wandered to sex and masturbation. Well, that, and if you had to wait another minute to get the cock you’ve been so desperate for for so long now, you very well may go crazy. It’s taken months, but you can already tell that it was all so, so worth it.

Running his knuckles down the center of your thong, Scaramouche relishes in the smug satisfaction that comes with realizing that you’re wet. It’s equal parts arousing and equal parts pathetic— just how desperate are you for any cock you can get your hands on?

“You’ve already kept me waiting for months,” you say with a pout cast back at him from over your shoulder. “Why make me wait even longer when I’m right here?”

“Shameless and impatient,” he remarks with a frustrated huff. “Can’t you do something good with your life or yourself for once and just be quiet?”

As tempting as it is to make a teasing quip in return to only further rile up your angsty neighbor boy, a frenzied giggle is the only sound you can muster up when you feel the firm press of a cock against your clothed pussy. Even through your flimsy thong, you can tell that he’s hard, which is a reward in its own right. It’s what you’ve wanted to achieve since the very first time he caught you half-naked watering plants on your balcony— is it so wrong for you to want to rile up the cutie next door?

Scaramouche roughly yanks your thong down to hang around your lower thighs, leaving you entirely on display for him when you follow suit by tugging your sports bra up to your collarbone. The cool, smooth glass against your bare tits is an unfamiliar sensation, but it’s certainly not an unwelcome one— especially when you remember that anyone could look up from across the parking lot and get an eyeful of your bare tits squished up against the glass door.

“I wish I could watch you sink it in for the first time,” you hum, reaching down between your legs to part the outer lips of your cunt for him a little wider. “In front of a mirror or something maybe. Wouldn’t that be romantic?”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because you’re the spitting image of the romantic type.” There’s no way you consider him the romantic type, is there? He’s not going to hold your hands and whisper in your ear about how cute you are, you know.

Damn it, you’ve got him actually wanting you more than he’s ever wanted you before— this makes all his filthy fantasies about taking you bent over your kitchen counter or being underneath you while you ride him into oblivion look like a cheap, budget porno from a video rental store. His desire has always been real—albeit subconscious, sure—but it feels so much more genuine now that it’s been realized.

“Don’t say a word about this to anyone,” he mumbles in a brief moment of humiliation, biting into his bottom lip as he finally, finally sinks the full length of his cock into you.

Jesus Christ, if there’s anything Venti’s ever been right about, it’s how good a mature pussy feels. You’re soaked all the way down to your inner thighs, you’re so warm Scaramouche nearly feels his knees give out from underneath him, and you squeeze him so well he can feel your pussy gripping the sensitive underside of his tip.

“Why not? I can invite your friend next time,” you propose, squealing with delight when Scaramouche slaps a hand down against the side of your ass. “Venti, right? It’d feel so good to have my ass used while you—“

“Just shut up,” he hisses bitterly, glaring at you hard enough to give himself a stress headache. “Don’t talk about other guys right now. Especially not ones I know.”

“You’re right, it’s rude to talk about other men when I have such a good one right here with me already,” you feign sympathy, pushing your hips back flat against the front of his thighs. “Oh, Kuni.”

There’s that damn nickname again. As much as he hates the idea of you using it to tease him or fluster him, he can’t deny the way his dick twitches whenever you coo it in that soft, sultry tone of yours. It’s like you were custom-made to gobble men up or something— just how many of his classmates have you fucked?

Oh, it doesn’t matter. Not when he knows he can establish himself as the best of the whole damn lot of them. Not when he knows that he gets the privilege of seeing you every single day and nobody, nobody else does. Not when he’s seen your cute nipples peeking at him through that tiny, flimsy pajama top he caught you in all those months ago. Not when he gets to peruse on over to your apartment whenever he wants because you’re right fucking there and nobody, nobody is physically closer to you than he is.

Jesus, this is all starting to sound like some kind of crush.

“How’s that?” Scaramouche taunts, slapping his hips against you so wildly the sound of skin smacking on skin almost drowns out his voice. He’d like to claim that this sort of pace is supposed to be punishing, and he’d be right if he were to say that, but he wants it hard and rough just as much as you surely do. He couldn’t stop his hips even if he wanted to because he knows there’s nothing he’s wanted to do more than fuck your brains out for months upon months now.

You don’t answer him, too preoccupied with relishing in the feeling of his cock pounding into you with everything he’s got. How befitting of Scaramouche to fuck you like he’s angry at you— if he could even claim to be mad anymore. The combined sensations of his hips hammering against yours, his fingernails digging into your soft, plump love handles, and his balls slapping against your ass on each thrust are all far too overwhelming to even attempt a reply.

“Seriously? You run your mouth for ages and now you shut up when I ask you a question?” You’re doing this on purpose— Jesus, you’re insatiable.

Your back arches when Scaramouche digs the tip of his cock into a particularly sensitive spot inside of you, a broken whine leaving your lips instead when you attempt to reply with a dirty quip. He laughs when he realizes what’s just happened— that’s certainly one way to get you to shut that filthy mouth of yours.

“I hope somebody’s watching you, actually,” he admits despite all the jealousy even a single mention of his friend stirred up in him. “That way they can see you’re not worth their time because you don’t value yourself whatsoever. Why would anyone want someone who’s happy to just give themselves away like this and get fucked in a place so public?”

Maybe that’s just a weird, roundabout way of saying I want someone to watch me fuck you so they know a whore like you has been whipped into shape and that you only want me now. Who’s to say?

“You don’t care about getting caught yourself?” You finally pipe up with a grin.

Scaramouche snorts. “Getting caught with the likes of you? I’d transfer universities.”

You pout. “Would I still get to see you?”

For whatever reason, the question catches him off guard. How many times does he need to remind you that you’re not his girlfriend, that you’re not some sweetheart with an innocent crush, that you’re just his fucking neighbor who just so happens to have a hot body and just so happens to feel so, so good around him like this and just so happens to be the subject of his wet dreams and fantasies and—

He’s only able to spit out one word. “Obnoxious.”

His hands reclaim a firm grasp on your ample hips before he takes to fucking into you at a whole new angle— one that’ll surely hit that spot that got you to shut the fuck up moments ago. Your hands clamor for anything you could possibly grab onto to steel yourself, but there’s nothing except for the cool, flat glass beneath your palms.

“Kuni,” you rasp in a broken voice, beyond impressed with his ability to have found your most sensitive spot and target it specially. Call it sheer dumb luck or a testament to how perfectly compatible your bodies are, it doesn’t matter. He won’t let up on it until you’ve collapsed— maybe it’ll be a nice change of pace from your partners being the ones to collapse after an evening with you.

With the task of finding something to hold onto having proven fruitless, you instead slip a hand back between your legs to rub at your clit. Scaramouche snickers at your apparent desperation to orgasm, but he’s not letting you off that easily.

“What a pathetic display,” he remarks, pounding into you so quickly you can barely register the full length of his cock before he’s pulling it all the way out of you again. With your legs trembling and your knees buckling, the possibility of actually collapsing underneath him is becoming increasingly likely— these wild, frenzied thrusts of his prove exactly why you’re so into college guys.

Looking down from the fuzzy reflection of your face in the glass, Scaramouche watches each sink of his cock into your tight, dripping cunt with all the intensity and attention of a virgin. It may as well be his first time— you feel so fucking good he’s starting to lose his train of thought. You take him all the way to the hilt on each thrust so easily that he’d absolutely call you a common whore if he were able to form even a single word.

Despite his inability to form a coherent sentence, Scaramouche finds that he has just enough rationality left to pull out mere seconds before coming all over the swell of your ass, his cock twitching in his hand as he bites back moans. Here he is, coming all over the soft ass of his obnoxious older neighbor lady after spending so many months convincing his friends that he does not, in fact, want to fuck her.

You laugh breathlessly, the hand between your legs still rubbing frantic circles over your clit as you attempt to reach your own orgasm as well. “What’s wrong with coming inside? I’m hurt.”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. That’d be irresponsible.

“Well, that’s alright,” you chirp, standing upright and turning around to face him. “I can always wring it out of you myself, right?”

“You’re insatiable,” he replies, inching backwards towards the couch as you step forward in time with his footsteps.

“Pot, kettle. You’re still hard, Kuni.”

With the realization that he’ll need some kind of excuse to offer his friends when he inevitably returns to a slew of unread messages a few hours from now, he falls backwards onto the couch just before you make yourself comfortable in his lap.

Well, not that any of them have ever believed any vague, half-baked excuse Scaramouche gives.

#hiiiii #juju bakery #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #scaramouche x y/n #kunikuzushi smut #fem reader

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hotvintagepoll · 8 months ago

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Propaganda

Eleanor Parker (Scaramouche, The Sound of Music)— Eulogized as a ravishing beauty whose looks were merely ornamental to her craft, feast your eyes on Eleanor Parker. Listen! I know you're thinking of the Baroness in Sound of Music and saying NO I won't protect the woman who tried to steal him from Maria but forget about that (like you personally wouldn't shoot your shot with Plummer)! The trailer for Scaramouche describes her character Lenore as "The glamourous queen of the nightlife of Paris. A flame-haired wildcat" and this is a woman who was able to pull off that role, and you get the vibe she was like that irl too. There's a story about her changing hair colors that never fails to make me laugh. Take note of her stunning eyes! Her amazing legs! And to see her in motion is to make note of the aura about her, she has an amazing presence. Fall in love with Eleanor Parker today, and make your vote count!

Audrey Hepburn (My Fair Lady, Sabrina, Roman Holiday)—Growing up, Audrey Hepburn desperately wanting to be a professional ballerina, but she was starved during WWII and couldn't pursue her dream due to the effects of malnourishment. After she was cast in Roman Holiday, she skyrocketed to fame, and appeared in classics like My Fair Lady and Breakfast at Tiffany's. She's gorgeous, and mixes humor and class in all of her performances. After the majority of her acting career came to close, she became a UNICEF ambassador.

This is round 3 of the tournament. (yes I know it says round 2 in the poll. sometimes I post these when I’m sleepy.) All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Eleanor Parker:

“When I’m spotted somewhere, it means that my characterizations haven’t covered up Eleanor Parker the person. I prefer it the other way around.” So shy she was actively nervous about winning awards in person, her personal life remains mostly behind the scenes. But on screen? she was a force majeure. It's a shame the role most people remember her in is the Baroness in The Sound of Music, but then again, it did make Christopher Plummer reminisce upon her passing “I was sure she was enchanted and would live forever.”

Listen we all know Christopher Plummer and Julie Andrews had insane chemistry but the Baroness deserves some love too! She has such a glamorous presence but not in a hard way

She will be known as the fabulous baroness in TSOM, but she was so much more than that. Just as comfortable in westerns or melodrama, the scheming other woman, and the beauty that wins the heart of every man in town.

Audrey Hepburn propaganda:

"She may be a wispy, thin little thing, but when you see that girl, you know you're really in the presence of something. In that league there's only ever been Garbo, and the other Hepburn, and maybe Bergman. It's a rare quality, but boy, do you know when you've found it." - Billy Wilder

Raised money for the resistance in nazi occupied Hungary. Became a humanitarian after retiring. Two very sexy things to do!

where to begin......... i wont her so bad. i literally dont know what to say.

My dude. The big doe eyes, the cheekbones, the voice. The flawless way she carried herself. She was never in a movie where she wasn't drop dead gorgeous. Oh, also the fact she raised funds against the Nazis doing BALLET and she won the Presidential Medal of Freedom for her humanitarian work.

"It’s as if she dropped out of the sky into the ’50s, half wood-nymph, half princess, and then disappeared in her golden coach, wearing her glass slippers and leaving no footprints." - Molly Haskell

"All I want for Christmas is to make another movie with Audrey Hepburn." - Cary Grant

64.media.tumblr.com

I know people nowadays are probably sick of seeing her with all the beauty and fashion merch around that depicts her and/or Marilyn Monroe but she is considered a classic Hollywood beauty for a reason. Ironically in her day she was more of the alternative beauty when compared to many of her contemporaries. She always came off with such elegance and grace, and she was so charming. Apparently she was a delight to work with considering how many of her co-stars had wonderful things to say about her. Outside of her beauty and acting ability she was immensely kind. She helped raise funds for the Dutch resistance during WWII by putting on underground dance performances as well as volunteering at hospitals and other small things to help the resistance. During her Hollywood career and later years she worked with UNICEF a lot. Just an all around beautiful person both inside and out.

youtube

No one could wear clothes in this era like she could. She was every major designer's favorite star and as such her films are time capsules of high fashion at the time. But beyond that, she had such an elegance in her screen presence that belied a broad range of ability. From a naive princess, to a confused widow, to a loving and mischievous daughter, she could play it all.

Look at that woman's neck. Don't you want to bite it?

#audrey hepburn #eleanor parker #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 3 #Youtube

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rierice8 · 1 year ago

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Last words of an old flame

Thank you for 100 followers guyss!! I was supposed to post a scara fic a long while back but I’ve been pretty busy, but then the next time I opened tumblr I had 100 followers?! So I decided to dedicate this scara fic to that milestone. Thanks a ton guys! And sorry for the long wait, this fic is super angsty too- OOPS! Turns out liquid smooth is not the kind of music I should write smut too…

Word count: 1921

Ftm Scaramouche/wanderer x male reader

TW: heavy mentions of memory loss, angst, degradation, semi public sex (forest), creampie, blowjob

You don't quite know when you’d first felt like this.

Perhaps it was as you saw him for the first time, sitting way up high, far from the busy bustling streets of Sumeru with that dejected look on his face. Or maybe it was as you caught another glimpse of the strange man as you were studying the forest, drenched from the summer heat. It could have been when you first spoke with him, calling him out for seemingly following you. Maybe it was as you spoke the second time, or the third. It could have been as he and you got closer, maybe as you played in the shallow waters of a nearby stream as a way to cool off. Perhaps it was his perfect physique, the way the water made his shirt stick against his torso, his muscles accented by the sleeveless black fabric. His hair dripping against his face and his sly smirk as he forces water your way.

But you don’t think it matters when you started feeling this way. Because it feels good. Too good.

Sitting alone in your room, fingers wrapped around your cock as you grunt and throw your head back to the thought of him. Skilfully going up and down to the rhythm you imagine pounding the man with. Staring at the pictures of him you took with your kamera, precum leaking down your cock. It was like your skin was on fire, though if it was really his touch it would feel all the better. You were completely unravelled all while thinking of him.

Him.

…

Who is he again?

It's been days, or maybe weeks since you’ve seen him. But who was he? You rack your brain yet you can't seem to remember his name, looking through your memory there seem to be blank places, places where his face should be. He meant so much to you, you know that much. He was your world, your light.

What was his name again?

Months go past and you’re sitting, face in your knees, photographs with what seems like blurs of what was a man all across the floor. It was like someone forced him from your memory. You were starting to forget the memories you shared. All that was left was the feeling. It was like sparks lighting against your skin, or that's what you remember it as, at least. A burning desire, a passion, a love for this…figure. This blur. If you didn’t know any better, it felt like someone had forcefully cut out his face from your memory. You miss him so.

Miss him?

Who again?

You walked down the streets of Sumeru city in the summer heat, buying some herbs for your morning tea.

“Thanks again for the windwheel asters, they’re so hard to get here!” You exclaimed. The salesman smiled and said it was nothing as you waved goodbye and set off again. Your next stop was the flower store, which brought you an immediate sense of dread, as it always does. The flowers made you think of something, but you don't know what. It's the same empty patch that kills you every time. You shake your head in an attempt to fix your thoughts.

There.

Your head darted upwards. A man you’d never seen before sat on the roof of some building. You’d never seen before? Yea… never before. His eyes were focused on you. You made direct eye contact with the stranger who sat above you. Who was he?

“Who are you?” You yelled up to the wanderer.

He looked at you cynically before letting out a ‘tsk’ and standing up, preparing to leave.

“No please! Tell me, I swear I must have met you before, something feels wrong about you,” you begged him. He slid down the side of the building before grabbing your arm and dragging your shocked self away from the busy roads. You didn’t question his antics, only following him deeper and deeper into the forests to the sides of the big city. His indigo hair flowing in the wind, his left hand holding his hat down to his head, pale shimmering skin holding your hand tight. He didn’t break a sweat from all the running, so you tried not to either, as not to embarrass yourself. Besides, you were quite well versed in combat, both with and without your vision. Yet running this far and long seems impossible with human stamina.

“Stop please,” you panted. He immediately stopped running and let go of your arm. You stumbled backwards and ended up falling over. He stood above you and cried,

“HOW CAN YOU TELL, HOW DO YOU KNOW!”

You shuffled yourself backwards and away from the angry man. What did you know?

“I don't know…I’m sorry. Who are you even, I feel like I’ve known you but whenever I try to think of you nothing comes up and it makes my blood boil!” You said shakely, eyes wide open. The mystery man took a step back, stumbling slightly as he covered his mouth with his hand and his eyes went glassy. As if realisation has struck him through the heart and it hurt.

“I love you,” he trembled out.

“You don't even know me?”

He knelt down to place himself on top of you, caressing your cheek with his burning palms. Pulling you into a kiss. Like habit you kissed back. He moved his lips against yours and like habit you closed your eyes and sighed into his mouth. He slid his tongue into your mouth and, like habit, you let him. His touch felt oh so familiar, like you’d felt it a million times before. As though the was he touched you was the same as the past. Like he was the missing piece in your memory.

You broke the kiss panting and staring wide eyed.

“Just who are you,” you whispered as you lent your head against his shoulder.

“Everything you do feels so right, but I can’t remember you.” He smiled, a sad smile, a small smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“I want you, my love,” he said with half lidded eyes.

And like habit,

You said yes.

Against a tree, deep in the forest, you ravaged this man who you’ve loved so much, yet who has been burnt from your memory. He stared up at you as his mouth worked your tip and his hands worked the base of your cock. Eyes tear filled yet perfect, seeming as though they were begging you to use his mouth as you pleased. Every time you moved slightly he’d moan around your cock, sending vibrations throughout your whole body. It was intoxicating, the way his pink lips worked so skilfully and as though they’ve been there before. As if they knew everything that made you come undone. You grabbed his head by his hair and forced him to take you all the way. He gagged before grabbing your thigh and letting you move his head as you pleased. His occasional moans were enough to get you burning on the inside, aching for him. Pulling him off your dick, he whined before you pulled him off the floor and pulled his shorts and panties right down. You lifted one of his legs above your shoulder to support him better before shoving a finger into his wet pussy, not needing any lube from how wet he already was. You pumped that one finger in and out of him slowly, painfully. You watched his face as he squirmed in pain.

“Hahh~ more, faster…please?” He moaned out.

You smiled at him as you pushed in one more finger and started moving them faster.

“Someone’s already all stretched out, like a good slut. I’m sure you were thinking of me a lot, hmm? Not being able to tell me who you are or show yourself really got to you, bad little whore.” You whispered into his ear.

“Mmfh! It- ah! It was so hard! I missed you too much~ ngh!” He groaned. You pulled your fingers out and licked them clean while staring him in the eye. You closed in and kissed him, letting him taste himself from your mouth. You moved down along his chest, giving him little hickeys and kisses along his whole neck and collar.

“Please…put it inside.” He begged. You smiled as you followed his begs. Aligning your dick with his sopping pussy before pushing in. It was almost like he was made for you, fitting you perfectly inside him. He moaned out loud and pulled your head down to his chest. You started moving, fast straight away, having no patience left to tease the wanderer anymore.

“Fuck, I feel as though I’ve done this before. Have I? Why don't you be a good little cock slut and tell me everything?” You say as you pull his hair so that he faces you.

“I- ah!! I can’t tell you~ mhfg, fuck me oh archons!” He whined. You furrowed your brows and sped up. Even now he couldn’t open his mouth.

Even now you were left in the dark.

You kissed him violently, smashing your lips together as you pounded his small frame and trailed your free hand up to twist and pinch his nipples. He moaned into your lips and you did nothing but speed up again. Chasing your own high.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum!” He moaned out.

“Then cum, slut.” And he did. He let out a long moan as he tried to close his legs, but you kept them open and continued so that you could feel release too.

“I can't any more n- no! Too sensitive~ ah!” He moaned, but you ignored his pleas.

“I don't even know your name yet I feel like I’ve fucked you senseless a million times. Yet you seem to know me so well, plastering yourself on me like some cheap whore,” you said, accentuating each word with a sharp thrust. The wanderer was a mess beneath your arms now. Crying and moaning at how good it feels.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” you groan.

“Cum inside me- ngh!! Ah yes, please!!” He whined and begged. You smiled and nodded slightly, after all, you couldn’t refuse such a good boy. With a few more thrusts you came inside him, filling his pussy up with your cum. You stayed like that for a moment as you caught your breath.

“I wish I knew who you were, you know,” you sighed. The wanderer looked away from you, in a solemn way.

“And I wish I could tell you, but even if I did, you still wouldn’t remember me.” He whispered almost inaudibly. You sighed again and pulled out. The man gasped at the sudden emptiness. You pulled your own clothes back on before helping him out and dressing him again. You then picked him up and carried him back to yours.

As you came home, you lay him down in bed alongside you, already knowing that he would be gone before you next opened your eyes. But you silently prayed that he’d still be there. Yet before you fell asleep, you stared at him, letting all the details you’d long forgotten sink back in.

“I forgot how beautiful you were,” you smiled.

He said nothing in return, just blankly stared at you.

“I’m sorry.”

In the morning he was gone. Just as you’d predicted, any trace of him vanished, all that was left were his words echoing in your mind.

The last words of an old flame.

#im sorry guys #genshin impact #smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin #scaramouche genshin x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche smut #wanderer smut #scaramouche angst #wanderer angst #sub genshin #sub scaramouche #male reader

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mondaymelon · 2 years ago

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Remember the one where the boys read your fanfics about them?? It was rlly good!! How abt if they read a fanfic about someone else?? Would they get jealous??

djlajflkdt thank you!! and ooh i can s e n s e the jealousy 👀👀

original fanfic here ✩ (does this count as a post? idk)

xiao: he'd probably act really cold to you for a while or so. he thought he was your favorite, and now here you go, using your scarce time to write fantasies about someone else? he's upset, to say the least, but doesn't even begin to confront you about it.

kazuha: probably the most understanding out of the four - but still not exactly okay with it. i mean, his favorite person in the entirety of the world is busying themselves writing strange fictions about someone other than him. even after he's written all of his poems for you, how could you betray him like this? still, he'll try to understand your point and will probably just act a little shunned.

heizou: goes into detective mode as soon as he finds out. what's the difference between that person and him? what makes them better? he's a renowned detective, both handsome and charming, so why was it that you had decided to write about them instead? he'll count this as his "official" work and probably spend most of his time researching the secrets of the person you dared write fanfiction for... so in a way, this might just be your fault.

scaramouche: pissed. so pissed. after all this talk about "not betraying him" and "always being by his side"... even after all those compliments you threw at him, wishing he'd come home... now you go ahead and shamelessly do... whatever that is? about them of all people? hm, that's strange, how come his ingame model isn't looking the screen in the eye... must be a bug. ah, but now he's angry, and he might just have a thirst for blood. if you don't hold him back, there might just be a character deleted from the game, for whatever reason...

(a/n) im just going to try and be responsible and do a couple reqs because prompt creativity is on an all time low

(dunno if this counts as a post so ima just ✨not✨ add this to the masterlists)

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brayneworms · 6 months ago

Text

in your basement, i grow cold.

featuring. il dottore x reader

content. gore (specifically eye gore), relationship isn't romantic isn't platonic but a secret third thing, toxic dynamics, reader is called dottore's pet, scaramouche appearance, reader is mean to scaramouche, reader is generally fucked in the head, alluded kidnapping + medical experimentation, body horror, injections, electrocution

word count. 1.6k

notes. this was an xmas gift for a friend but ummm might as well post it i guess :p this is silly. i'm a certified dottore hater but he's fun to explore psychologically. also used this as gore practise. i don't think it's majorly disgusting but i'm not very squeamish generally so i might be biased.

♪ strangers — ethel cain

There is some peace to be found in ugliness.

The Balladeer has yet to learn the same lesson. With every session he seethes and hits, he bawls and curses. The Doctor takes it all standing up, though, a flex of his wax-sheen gloves brushing the Balladeer off as though he were no more than an irksome fly. The doll scowls as you strap him in, hook wires and tubes into his artificial body. Sometimes the voltage is too high and he jerks and turns purple in the face, roasting from the inside out. Sometimes you think Dottore does that on purpose, his own small dose of revenge.

The Balladeer despises you. He calls you Dottore’s little mouse at first, scampering around quietly doing the Doctor’s bidding. He sneers at you, a curled lip of cold command. “I see he’s let you out of the cage for another evening,” he remarks, violet eyes watching unblinkingly as you hurry between operating tables. “Try not to roll over and die with the shock of your newfound freedom. It would be a shame for Dottore to lose his favourite…” He rolls the words around in his mouth for a moment, considering, before flashing a smirk your way. “Pet.”

You get your own small revenges on Balladeer. Dottore languishes in pain, but you like to watch his sadness. When he’s under, he often dreams, and when he wakes he often cries. Sometimes he even cries in his sleep. You wish to bottle his tears whilst he’s unconscious, scrape them up into little crystal vials until you have enough to fill a chest. Then when he begins with his glaring and his remarking, you will open it in front of him and show him cruel, irrefutable proof of his weakness. Tears enough to drown a man. Not him, though, because he is not a man. He’s not even human. And despite how much he looks down on humanity, he bristles each time at the reminder.

Dottore finds your ugly streak endearing, in the same way someone might find a cat with three legs endearing. Mostly his mask stays on, sinking most of his features into shadow, but sometimes you find his jaw twitching or a smile curling at his mouth.

What you find exhilarating about helping to operate on the Balladeer is that you had been in his place once. Strapped down to the table whilst Dottore poked and prodded at you with his various instruments. And Dottore had been hardly gentle with his bedside manner. He’s been open about the fact that he expected you to die on that slab. Archon residue was no blood transfusion; it pumped hatred into your body and festered there, under your blood, pickling your veins. The results had not been pretty; an injection into your left eye had resulted in it bursting inside its socket like a red flower blooming too fast. Dottore had knelt, scooped up the residue in his gloved hands, rubbed between his fingers. The scarlet slip-slide of your innards. It felt like being touched for the first time; his lips hung open, parted in a gentle sort of awe. That time, when you spat at him, he only smiled and ruffled your hair.

Sometimes he lets you wear a patch. Mostly he likes to look, observe how it heals, what irritates it, documents how long until it stops bleeding. He wonders about nerve damage in the area. You have a constant headache in your lower-left frontal lobe now, pressing against your skull like a bruise.

You’d expected the Balladeer to laugh himself hoarse at the ugly emptiness of your right socket, but instead he went quite quiet. As you were hauling his body into the machine, he reached out, traced the gaping maw with delicate fingers. Your good eye flicked behind him where Dottore stood, finding the twitch of displeasure in his jaw. He didn’t like the Balladeer touching his handiwork. What’s more, you didn’t—the doll’s touch was gentler than you’d had in years, but you’d grown accustomed to Dottore’s clinical coldness. It was precise, even when it did hurt. The Balladeer’s caress feels clumsy in comparison, and you jerk away. He doesn’t try to touch you again.

Whatever rapport you have with the Balladeer dies quickly. Once you might have sympathised, but as the years wear on, you start seeing him as Dottore does. A doll. A means to an end. And the Balladeer pretty quickly stops seeing you as a mouse. Sometimes, the way his gaze lingers on you out of the corner of your eye, the way he looks away when you catch him at it, you think he’s more afraid of you than he is of Dottore.

You enjoy fitting the Balladeer’s body into the wires. You stab them through his artificial skin with prejudice, observe the way he tries not to wince. Your fingers brush over the ball-joints in his limbs, skirting under with a nail just to see him shudder and glare. And you love his tears. He rarely cries when he’s awake, especially in front of Dottore if he can help it. But he’s such a willing crier when he’s lost to his unconsciousness. He murmurs words, too. Mother is a frequent one. He calls out for her more than you did for your own in the beginning. But there’s also Niwa and Katsuragi, Tatarasuna and Escher.

“Poor puppet,” you hum, swinging your legs. Dottore glances over, mouth a thin line.

“Do not bother pitying him,” he muses. “He won’t soon thank you for it.”

You don’t answer, gaze locked onto the Balladeer’s sleeping form until Dottore steps in front of you, obscuring your vision. “Have you tended to your eye today?”

You shrug, trying to peer past him. “I’ll get to it later.”

“You’ll do it now.” His fingers grasp your chin. “What is study and science without consistency? A mad scramble to find pattern, that is all. I’ll do it, if you insist on being stubborn.”

You bat his hand away, snarling. “I can do it myself.”

“Will you?” Dottore says sharply. “It’s been a while since you were tied down to this operating table, but I can certainly make an amendment.”

Your glare is poisonous. “Get your fuckin’ hand off me,” you grunt.

Dottore smirks. “You’ve grown so bold from the shrinking violet I brought you in as. Some days I miss the subservience of that form.” He pauses. “Then again, most days not.”

Of course. Dottore isn’t afraid to say the quiet part aloud, but he doesn’t have to: he likes violence. He relishes in getting his hands bloody. Poking around your eye socket, fingering the innards, like digging for shrapnel in a wound. He likes the fight back. He likes when you hiss and spit and hit like a feral cat, like a dog who has just learned it has teeth. He likes it even better when you leave a mark.

Your last appointment before the Balladeer leaves for Sumeru. He sits on the table, spine a gentle slope. His skin is marred with holes and titanium anchors. You run your fingers down the knobs of his back and he shivers. He is unusually subdued, despite how his exuberance over being made into a god had been cumulatively climbing for the past few months.

“I leave soon,” he tells you as though you don’t know. “I will see a new land, and new people. They will have no idea that they will soon kneel before a new god.” His fingers flex as though physically reaching out to grasp this power. “Will you stay?”

You stare at him and realise you can no longer picture the world outside this laboratory. Your silence seems enough for him; you almost think he pities you. You are particularly vicious with your ministrations that time, reducing him near tears before he’s even slipped unconscious. Dottore watches, the ever-present spectre, smiling and smiling and smiling.

The Balladeer tries one more time before he leaves, in his own way. “Sometimes I miss that little mouse,” he says ruefully. “Now? You’re nothing. You’re worse than nothing. You’re just as bad as him.”

You know you’re beyond saving, because that idea makes your stomach flip.

You’re under no illusion that Dottore cares for you. Dottore cares for nothing beyond his own experiments and deductions and projects. He doesn’t care about the Fatui. He doesn’t seem to even really care about the Tsaritsa. Only what she can offer him. Dottore is more likely to cut you up and decorate the lab with your insides than confess any sort of love. But it’s alright, truly, because you don’t love him either. You suppose he’s become something of idolatry for you, in the worst possible way. You despise him for what he did to you, but now you cannot picture being any other way. The Balladeer may miss the little mouse, but you certainly do not. Gone are the days of your weakness. Now, in the darkness that Dottore had pumped into you, one injection and cut and fever at a time, there is power.

Maybe one day you’ll grow to consume him whole. Maybe it starts with spitting in his face and hitting back, but maybe it blossoms to something more. Maybe one day you’d get him down on that operating table, prise that mask of his away to see the way his eyes widen in surprise. Maybe you’d get the scalpel or the wires or the syringe and turn him into the false gods he was so obsessed with puppeteering. And maybe he’d be your little mouse, afraid to catch your eye.

Idle daydreams. Sometimes you think he can see them in the corner of your eye, because there are days he regards you almost with wariness. But he never exiles you. You suppose, in the way you’ve grown attached to him (as disease grows attached to a person) the same can be said for him.

You’ll take advantage of it, sometime. You can’t wait to feel his insides on your hands.

#🫀.scribes #genshin impact x reader #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact oneshot #il dottore oneshot #dottore oneshot

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kuni-is-daddy · 1 year ago

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Hii!! Could u make a scaramouche x reader smut, but the reader has a breeding kink? i would love dom reader but its completely up to you 🤭

(i finally got the courage to ask...)

Bottom! Scaramouche X Top Female Reader

Ft: Degrading, bondage/cuffing, grinding, riding.

word count 1.2k

CW: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT PAST THE CUT! THIS IS A NSFW POST.

ScaraMasterlist | Subby cat scara | Sub wanderer

Scara coming out of the shower with his shorts halfway on and his hair still dripping wet with a towel wrapped around his hair. He walks into his room while you catch him off guard and pull him into a sloppy kiss against the wall. At first he's dismissive about it but when he realizes it's you, when he feels your cleavage against his chest. He couldnt help but moan as you sandwich his body against the wall and trail your hands down to his half put on boxers. "S-shit~ I see your eager arent you? Ive only been gone for a week and this is how you act?" he pulled the towel off his hair and tossed it onto the floor.

"Hah- Like a little pet. Couldnt wait for me to finish getting dressed?" you shake your head and sigh into his shoulder. "Want you so bad scara~ please, I want to make you feel good~" Scara smirked, then guided your hand on his stomach; Abs slightly defined on his flat stomach while he had plenty of scars and markings rubbing along your fingertips. "Hm- Then I should entertain you since you've begged so well." Your eyes filled with lust as he slowly descended your hand to his V line and giving you a peak at his hard length. "Give it to me...Show your master how good he should feel pet."

You spared no time bringing scara onto his bed. Quickly sitting ontop of him and against his clothed cock as he gasped at how aggressive you we're; How hungry he was to feel you. You grinded on his clothed length, slowly stripping off your oversized shirt with your bare chest on display. Scara looked aroused and intently at you, He didnt notice until now that you barely had anything on. Just one of his shirts and silky underwear he bought for you. Pale fingertips itched up to your hips, he Squeezed and rubbed your body in motion with your grinding. "Shit..Thats it pet, Dont stop. Love how much you want me~" He dug his free hand through his hair, pushing his bangs out the way to watch you speed up your pace. 'Fuck~ Wanna flip you over right now and cum inside you. Dont stop y/n, Dont stop..' In a daze scara began bucking his hips up down. You lost a bit of balance and leaned on his body for support. "Scara~" you teased, but your words went through one mechanical ear and out the other. "Does it feel good?" 'Ah~ You~ mnn~' Stuck in his trance all he could do was grab tighter on your hips. You pouted at the lack of attention and looked down onto his shorts. His boxers we're barely hiding his hard on through his pants and poked at your wet slit. 'Was he close?' you slowed down and he sucked his teeth in irritation, and you swore you saw his eyes glow. "Fuh-.. i- W-why'd you stop?!" He hissed. "Because scara~ I want it... here.." you pointed down to your stomach and He immediately blushed "O-oh?... Is that what you want, pet?" you pressed his hands over his head, leaning down to his face close enough your noses touched. You pecked his lips and pulled away from him then got off the bed, walking to your room. "I'll be quick okay~! keep your hands like that for me." 'over... my head?' he sucked his teeth and turned his head towards the ceiling, just wondering what you had planned for him.

Scara turned his attention back to the door over the faint sound of jingling. Watching as you emerged completely naked into the room with a pair of handcuffs around your finger. "Hah So you want to be cuffed up too, slut?" he chucked as you walked towards the headboard. "No scara, this is for you~"

In a matter of seconds scara's hands we're both restrained against the headboard. You climbed onto his body once more like a cat, Pulling down his pants to reveal his aching shaft. Scara tugged against the handcuffs as you moved closer to his erection leaking pre. He wanted to put you in your place so bad, how dare you starve him of his release then cuff him up as if he was the pet. You took a deep breath before sinking yourself onto his length, your walls squeezing against his thick cock. Your body shivered and he moaned in response. "Hah..mnh y/n, Your so warm- Oh god...yes~" you leaned your hands against his body for support. Slowly bouncing up and down "fuck~ ah...You want it that bad baby? Wanna be a- ah~ mommy?" he instinctively went to touch your hips but was jerked back by the cuffs. He tugged again then groaned. God it was too much, scara wanted to touch you so bad. You began panting heavily at his sudden submission. He could just break the handcuffs, couldn't he? you gripped tighter onto his sleeveless shirt as your pace grew messy to make sure he always hit your sweet spot. "mnh~ yes scara! I want it.. Want it so bad please, please inside~ ah! please!" your body bounced faster, sloshing up and down his length "ah~ mommy~ j-just like that~! im close~ S-so fucking close. im gonna~!" He bawled his hands in a fist-

Click!

sticking out his tongue slightly while he felt his orgasm wash over him. You quickly came after, coating him with your juices as his warm seed filled your pussy and clamped down on him.

You we're a bit exhausted and collapsed onto his chest, sliding off his cock while his seed gushed out and onto your folds. He let out a deep sigh after you pulled out and was oddly silent. "scara..I-mm!" Suddenly you felt his hot hand cover your mouth. Wait..Cover your mouth? Your heart skipped a beat and looked up at him. His eyes we're glowing, With a cocky smirk planted on his face. He couldnt take it anymore. The 'pathetic' little cuffs you put on him we're dangling; broken on the headboard. Before you could process it any further, the puppet flipped you over on the side of the bed on your back. He caged you under his own body and softly bit his lip at your now 'innocent' glare. "You call yourself wanting to please me but only for one round? How pathetic." He chuckled while you looked away flustered. He noticed your shyness and shifted his hand on your throat. "Your mine. Do you understand that pet? Dont you dare stop." He moved his hand off your throat while you choked for air "B-but scara- I already-c- AH!" You pleaded and he slapped your thigh, teasing you with a spark of electro. "Isnt that what you wanted? Wanted to be a mommy?" Your eyes widened a bit, And you drooled at his words. He made a thin smile at your reaction and took off his shirt. "Good pet..I let you have your fun..now your gonna take this like a good girl yeah?" He hoisted your legs over his shoulders and lined himself up, Slowly fisting his length again.

He couldnt wait to see you bare his children.

#genshin smut #genshin x you #genshin impact #genshin x y/n #genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x female reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #scaramouche smut #scaramouche

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machiten · 2 years ago

Text

thats my seat!

academic rival scaramouche x gn!reader headcanons

warnings: scaramouche(bro is a whole warning), foul language(it's scaramouche we're talking about here so), reader is mentioned to have bad eyesight, fights, angst, academic validation, bad parenting

barely proofread lmao im tired, it's 3:15 am and im starving. there will be a chapter 2 ofc i just wanted to post something goddamn my blog has been empty for so long (4 days) didn't have a way to keep track of the word count but it's kinda long. anyways hope u enjoy!!

oh god

when i say rival, i mean full on brawls on the school hallway

so let's say you've been top of your school since day one. your name has always been at the top of the score board every exam, always class representative, and well known as a smart kid ever since you steped on school premises.

you work hard to keep your grades up, your parents pay enough attention to your succesful brother and none for you

having a successful brother plants high expectations on you. i mean, he did very well, so why cant you? you both have the same blood running through your veins. your parent's praise, that is all you've ever wanted. and yet you're not even informed if there's a family outing, leaving you in your house alone

it has been like that for years

not until one day, you enter into the classroom and someone else is sitting in your chair. someone unfamiliar is sitting on your chair.

"hey, excuse me. i sit there." you pointed at what is supposed to be, your chair. "what, i dont see any names on it." Ok, what. when you finally look up to the culprit, my goodness. Fierce purple eyes that looks like it holds the entire universe, his skin as fair as a maiden, lips plum as a springs fruit, a beauty mark at the underside of his right eye, and his hair a unique color of indigo that is cut in a weird jellyfish-ish hairstyle. while yes, he looks ethereal, not gonna lie (if he had longer hair you might've mistaken him as a girl) his personality certainly does not match his elegance. an annoyed look currently adorned his face, as if you disturbed his peace.

"done checking me out? i know im hot, i get that look everyday so dont ever think you're special." and now it changed into a cocky smirk. the nerve! not only is he sitting on someone else's chair but it seems like his head is getting bigger too. "well excuse me, i havent seen your around school until today so im guessing that you're the transfer student our teacher talked about last week. but do you mind finding a new spot, i sit there." you glared at him.

"no i like it here. here's a better idea, why don't you find a new spot. im the new student here, show some courtesy."

"no- what, go away thats my seat!"

"alright everyone, settle down- oh, i see that the new student is here already," the teacher finally came in the classroom, cup of steaming hot coffee in his hand. Everyone sat down on their seats while you are still standing up waiting for this person to look for another seat. Lmao guess what, he didnt move.

"(name), c'mon sit down. i know getting a new friend is exiting but we have to greet the new student properly. now go find your seat."

"wait but sir--"

"sit down, (name)"

"yeah that's right (name), sit down" a voice beside you spoke. you looked over to the new student adorning a triumphant grin at your loss. and so you are now forced to sit at the back, barely seeing what's in front because of your poor eyesight, and wearing a vengeful spirit.

epic first meeting

the seats in the back are okay, its breezy and you now sit next to xiao (his music taste is so good) but yeah, you cant really see the board clearly so you get notes from mona at the front

at first, it was a one sided rivalry. how hated how rude and bratty he was and at that time, he didnt seem too care (like he get those everyday). but then he started fighting back and oh boy he hasn't had this much fun in years!

the way you retort back to his harsh words is so amusing to him. usually, no one would dare talk to him in a degrading manner but then you came into his life, claiming that he's sitting on your chair, and it was never the same ever again.

now, he looks forward to everyday. he rises up earlier so that he can sit at your chair first, he keeps looking at the classroom door everytime someone enters (in case it's you so that he can give that shit eating grin), he loves how your face gets messed up when he wins an argument, he loves how small your hands are compared to his when you have a brawl in the hallways, and most of all, he loves it when you give him the shit eating grin when you win something (he says he let's you win sometimes because he pitied you, but is it really?)

to him, this is fun, amusing, entertaining. but to you? you've never felt this much hate in a human being, ever.

scaramouche is smart as fuck and he demonstrated that loud and clear

he aced the math test that the teacher gave that wasn't even taught to him

in presentations, he speaks loud and clear and you can really understand the point he's making

he doesn't really like group works (you noticed) but if he was put in a group, he does most of the job flawlessly

sports? oh of course. he's really good at baseball (pitcher). he's also good at other sports but not as good as baseball

oh and pray that you don't get him as your opponent in debates, you will be grilled like a brisket

did i mention he sleeps in like 70% of his classes? it's not like the teachers can do anything about it. he excels in everything, at least let him sleep as a gift

the only times he would be awake is when he pulls on your strings

but of course, you're also good in all of these, that's why you both are rivals

you fight almost everyday for the top spot (and for your original seat) to the point where its a daily routine to everyone else to see you both pinching and arguing in the classroom

He doesn't have any close friends (ahem childeahem) and it's either bc ppl are intimidated by him or he just doesnt give a fuck about friends

maintaining grades is one thing, winning against him is another

you are very intellegent, yes, but you work very hard for your grades every night. losing sleep studying for upcoming quizes and making sure your projects are perfect. unlike him who doesnt even try

you havent seen him study once

and it makes you see yourself lower. you're both equally in par with your grades but thats when he doesn't even try. what happens when he takes everything seriously? what if he studies as hard as you do? where will you stand then?

but when you got 2nd place for the 3rd time this year, he took it too far

"what the hell?! this is the third time!" you looked at the results in the bulletin board expecting to see your name in first place. you studied hard, right? so then why,,,

"oh oops, looks like i did a little too well again this time. aw and i didn't even answer some of the questions because i felt bad for beating you the last two times." a snicker is heard behind you and sure enough, piercing indigo eyes is looking at yours in pure pity. "thanks i guess. are you happy now? that's three times in a row!" aether beside you is now having a deadpan expression, expecting the worst. 'alright here we go again'.

"oh yes very, you know what makes me even happier? your declaration that you're inferior to me. why do you even try anyways, it's clear to everyone that im better. you're just wasting your time burying your head in your books and notes when we both already know who's coming at the top. imagine not meeting your parent's expectations." he's now looking down on you, beating you up with words that you know damn well are true. but that doesn't mean you're not gonna fight back.

"what."

"oh you know, maybe if you tried harder, the cost of your education might be worth it for your parents. honestly, if i we're them id--"

before he could finish his sentence, a loud echoing smack is heard all across the hallway, making everyone's attention turn to the commotion. scaramouche head is now turned the other way, his cheeks beginning to flare from the hit as he glared at the culprit, you. "you motherfucking bitc-!" you tackled him and due to surprise, he fell back. aether is now alert, shouting your name trying to get you to your senses.

you gripped scramouche's collar, rasing his head from the floor and slamming it back down. "you're an asshole, you know that?! i try my best everyday and this is what i get?!!" he fights back, hand on your arm that's trying to get a hold of his hair and another on your neck, holding back your weight.

"you don't know what it's like!! you will never know what it's like being compared to your brother everytime they get a chance!! you dont know what it's like going home to nothing but words of disappointment when you did everything you can to get their approval!! you will never know what it's like for your efforts to go to waste!! you will never know the feeling of being kicked out of your own home and live in a run down apartment!! i work day and night, i lose sleep everyday, i barely have anything for myself to live, and now i have to deal with your ass every single day too?!!"

"(name)! calm down, hey-!"

"fuck off aether!"

every word you spat pricked scaramouche's heart and made him struggle from your assaults. this isn't fun anymore. he knew a bit of your situation, kazuha told him. but he never knew it was this bad. all he knew is about your parent's expectations. he didn't even attempt to fight back this time and just defends himself from your blows. 'shit, i took it too far.'

"you dont have to remind me of my incompetence! i already know, i know damn well i will never be enough!! you're right, why do i even try, right?! you're so fucking annoying, doing everything so effortlessly, like school is a nuisance!! can't i take a fucking break?!!" at this point, you cannot control your tears from falling into his cheeks, rolling down his porcelain skin.

"what are you--?!"

"why can't i be a genius like you?! why dont i have everything that you have?!! i did everything i can, what am i doing wrong?!" you are now saying intangible words that no one can decipher because of the mess of emotions you are feeling at that moment. you're about to deliver another blow when someone held you back.

"(name)! you're doing too much! thats enough!!" goddamn she is stronger than i thought, scaramouche deals with this everyday?? aether pulled you away from the tangled mess that you and scaramouche managed to create. you're struggling his hold but after a bit, you slumped down having no more strength to keep going, sobbing quietly. "...(name)?" aether said.

"...i am so tired of everything, why do i even keep trying. i.. i just want to make my parents proud..." sniffles could be heard from where you are being held my aether's arms. aether supported you from the groud and led you away from the scene and the prying eyes of other students. before you both can disappear completely, aether turned around and gave scaramouche a threatening glare. "i know you both bicker a lot but you took it too far. you are an asshole and you better change that attitude of yours or i will send you home even worse than your condition right now." and you both are gone.

scaramouche is still sitting on the floor, his arm supporting his weight, bruises are forming in his skin while he's craddling his cheek that is now very noticeably red and flaring from the slap you served him earlier. he doesn't know how to act, really. should he apologize? should he just walk away and like nothing happened? should he report you for physical abuse? he didn't know anything.

what he does know though is that he fucked up, big time. he knows that you'll never want to see his face ever again, he knows that nothing will be the same again, and he knows thag the feelings he has will never be reciprocated, after what he's done.

he actually just found out recently, when someone from the other class was making fun of you and he didn't like it one bit, he's the only one allowed to make fun of you, everyone back off. scaramouche can see the crowd dissipating, no longer interested since the main action is gone. he sat there on the floor the whole time, rethinking his life choices, wondering if he said things differently instead of those. would he be seeing you tomorrow? will you still argue with him about nonsensical bullshit? can he still hold your hand whenever you pinch him?

he heard footsteps and before he can look up, someone had smacked him in the head.

"what the fuck-!!"

"i want to say 'are you okay', but to be honest you kinda deserved that." a mop of ginger can bee seen hanging from someone's head.

"fuck off childe, and why did you smack me?!"

"because you deserve it. but y'know, it's nice having front row seats seeing you ruin your life because of that toungue of yours. aether's right you're an ass." he helped scaramouche from the floor, dusting his uniform from the filth. "ill take you to the infirmary." scaramouche can only nod, feeling lethargic after all that energy spent.

he hopes to see you the next day, acting like nothing ever happened.

part 2

#genshin impact #scaramouche #genshin headcanons #genshin scaramouche #genshin angst #angst #sumeru #kaedehara kazuha #aether #genshin kazuha #kunikuzushi #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #genshin impact drabble #genshin impact imagines #wanderer #genshin wanderer #wanderer x reader

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