#kabukimono x you fluff

[galazry]

please don't ignore me...

pairing: kabukimono x gn!reader [established relationship] genre: modern!au, fluff(?), definately not angst tho content: kabukimono is a clumsy guy and you finally got upset at him words: 496 a/n: based on this brainrot! i just love how kabukimono is this sweet guy, always seeing the best in others... all in all, don't give anyone the silent treatment :(

Everyone knows Kabukimono, and not for a good reason. He was infamous for being the clumsy guy; always tripping over stuff, accidentally bumping into things, and even misplacing and forgetting the things that he had just placed. At first, you weren't too bothered by it. In fact, you actually find his clumsiness rather adorable. Though, it was always worrying to see fresh new bruises from him bumping into the table.... However, as time passed by, what was once seen as something adorable was now... mildly infuriating.

As always, he was being his clumsy self— bumping into a glass door, tripping over the last flight of stairs, and the sorts. Although today, in your eyes, he had done the worst crime possible; Kabukimono had misplaced your pen and it was now currently missing. It wasn't any other ordinary pen, it was your favourite one; one that you firmly believe brought lady luck to your side whenever you do your exams. You're upset, but you didn't exactly want to yell at him, as you were too tired to do so. So, you did the next "best" thing...

Give Kabukimono the silent treatment.

Even after he had apologized, your boyfriend knows you're still upset— with the way your eyebrows furrowed and with how you were exhaling loudly— Kabukimono was ready for any harsh words coming from you, a raise in voice, anything. Instead he was met with silence. Confusion was written all over his face as you kept ignoring him, not even giving him a single glance. He thought maybe you needed time to regulate your emotions out, after all, it was your favourite pen. Therefore, he gave you some space for a bit, waiting for you to strike a conversation with him first.

One hour pass...

Three hours pass...

Eight hours pass...

The once lively apartment was still, as if no one had been living inside of it. Poor Kabukimono was getting anxious as his thoughts began to spiral. Do you not love him anymore? Are you going to break up with him? Have you finally gotten tired of him? He finally gathered up what little courage he had to go to you.

Just as he had expected, you were in the living room, still giving him the silent treatment. To be fair, you knew what you were doing was childish considering that Kabukimono had misplaced your pen by accident, and he had already apologized for his actions. You decided to finally talk the problem out with your boyfriend before you felt a pair of arms embracing you from behind. A quite sniffle breaks the lingering silence as you felt Kabukimono's face burying into the back of your neck.

"[Y/N]... I'm sorry... I'm really sorry... Please... Please forgive me... I promise I won't do it again... I'll try harder to not be clumsy... So please don't ignore me like this... You can get upset at me, call me names, yell at me, anything... But please..."

"Don't ignore me..."

[dizzyjaden]

❝ all that is ephemeral ❞

Scaramouche x gn! Reader

♤ Summary: Relaxing fluffy evening after your husband comes home from work.

♤ Warnings: Implication of death, immortal x mortal, arranged marriage (but happy !), fluffy Scaramouche :')

♤ A/N: You are the world just as much as you are a small grain of sand. Accept where you are mortal, embrace where you are immortal. Scaramouche will love you anywhere <3

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"Darling, what is on your mind?"

Your tender voice cuts through the silence in the room where you sit alongside your husband. His eyelids slowly lift, tired as he seems, he is ethereal when the light from the window of the sunset outside lays itself bare across half his face in his dimly lit home. But as his lover, you do not see his serenity, all you see is the stress in the furrow of his brow.

He does not respond to your question, only brings his lips to meet your cheek, and then asks a question of his own.

"How do you not find boredom while sitting silently?" He whispers, resting his head on your shoulder. "So many I know can't stand still for a second."

Your answer comes more naturally than you expect.

"Your latent presence alone is contentment. Everything that needs to be said between the two of us floats through the room without a voice to accompany it."

Scaramouche stares up at you in admiration, his eyes half-lidded and his lips slightly parted.

"Don't you find life far too short to not speak your mind?" He asks.

You smile sadly.

"I actually find it excruciatingly long."

He smiles back.

"Time has passed so much swifter since I met you." He speaks. His smile falters slightly. "I feel as though life with you will pass in the blink of an eye."

"Is that what was on your mind?" You ask, digging your heels in quickly. It is so uncommon for Scaramouche to talk about his own thoughts and reflections with you.

"Sure... Amongst so many other little things." He whispers.

"Some big Tsaritsa-issued assignment tomorrow?" You question awkwardly.

You don't like the nature of his work. He knows this, so he rarely talks about it. You'd rather he talk about it than attempt to pretend it isn't happening around you.

Scaramouche sighs.

"I don't want to discuss work with you." He mutters. "Everything but you feels akin to work nowadays. I'd like to keep it all separated in my head."

You shake your head in disagreement.

"I'd love to take some worries off your shoulders." You say. "That's it."

He blinks up at you for a few quiet moments before sighing.

"I don't want to discuss anything." He clarifies. "Everything that needs to be said... Floats. Like you said."

You nod, quickly accepting the challenge.

The rest of the evening passes quietly, simply. After a while, you go on to prepare dinner with him. When you first got married, you'd usually shoo him away from the kitchen. Assuring him that you were more than happy to make him dinner, eventually, he admitted he just feels awkward watching you work alone, and you allowed for his extra set of hands.

Your entire engagement was not the most ideal. Your marriage had been arranged. Apparently, it was obvious to the cryo archon that Scaramouche did not have roots in Snezhnaya or attachment to his position. Marriage was her idea for him meant to keep him in place. You were just picked out from all the other noble families in Snezhnaya.

While it was something both of you resented at first, you now wonder that maybe as the goddess of love, The Tsaritsa knew what she was doing. The two of you did fall in love. You were certain you knew what to expect from a marriage with a harbinger, The Balladeer no less. You emotionally prepared yourself to live a life as a servant or a maid, rather than a spouse.

But when you moved in with him, you came to the realization so quickly that he wasn't loud, arrogant, or demanding. He was just quiet. Peaceful, even. Irritable, but respectful when met with confrontation. At first, it seemed as though he was just too tired from work to make his time at home a warzone as well, but affection was born of the inconvenience. He made a habit out of finding where you were in the house and preferred being nearby.

Aside from the servants who assist you in housekeeping, his mansion is empty. Silent rather than quiet. Barren. Anyone would become lonely.

Scaramouche was truly easy to understand. Your observations in his day-to-day life made the pieces fall into place. He wanted to love. He wanted to be loved. He was never sure where to look for it.

You are unsure how anyone could describe him as cruel as he quietly apologizes for merely grazing your side when you begin to set the dining table.

The two of you eat quietly, he practically scarfs his own food down, which humors you. He is always famished by the end of the day.

"Would you like mine as well?" You offer your portion of food to him without a second thought, he glares at you as if you just insulted him.

"Eat your food [Name]." He says in irritation. "Your day was no shorter than mine."

You hum in agreement.

When you finish eating your food, you're surprised to see Scaramouche waiting, staring at you eagerly when you look up to him. You smile.

"Yes...?"

You prompt him, though you know why he's looking at you like that. But, Scaramouche just isn't the kind of person to shamelessly admit that he so desperately looks forward to the conclusion of each day, when the two of you are curled up in each other's arms holding one another tightly in the warm comfort of a giant luxurious bed.

"Nothing." He lies.

And yet, when you go to wash the dishes from dinner, his arms are greedily wrapped around you, hugging you from behind with his face buried in your shoulder. You choose to not mock him about it, he is rather warm.

After you finish the dishes, he follows you into the bedroom where the two of you resign to your usual sides of the room to change into more sleep-appropriate clothing.

You turn towards the bed once you're changed, and realize Scaramouche has already buried himself under the covers, his face deep in the plush of the pillows, obviously exhausted.

You smile, and climb in beside him. He blindly holds out an arm to pat the area you've taken next to him, when his hand finds your cheek his thumb affectionately rubs across it.

"I... Missed you all day." He professes, his voice muffled from the silk covering his mouth.

You can't help but blush at his honey-coated tone. You don't respond but shuffle closer to him, causing him to turn on his side to face you.

He brushes your hair from your face and tucks it behind your ear.

"Will you... Always be here?" He asks quietly. "You won't... Leave or anything?"

"What a notion..." You say in a low voice. "Where did that come from?"

"I want you to say... That you won't leave." Scaramouche said, a slight blush dusting his cheeks to signify his embarrassment.

"I won't leave you, Kuzu." You say certainly, without hesitation. "Ever. Trust me."

His eyes trailed off as he got lost in thought.

"I want to take you... And all that is ephemeral... And keep it for myself. But I can't... All I can do is be in this moment where you are here." He speaks.

Your eyes widen.

"I am telling you I will not leave-"

"You are mortal, [Name]." He whispers shakily. "You can't keep your promise, no matter how badly either of us want you to."

You are confused, but Scaramouche pulls you to his chest before you can speak again.

"Love you... I love you." He kisses the top of your head sleepily. "Get some rest, my love."

"...Goodnight, Kuzu..."

[jaynahh]

# you confessed to kabukimono, scaramouche, and wanderer

(seperated)

# scaramouche

# kabukimono

"love?"

his doe eyes were blown wide at your confession, though it didn't take long for a smile to take over his expression.

"aw, you're so sweet. i wouldn't choose anyone else to be my companion!"

oblivious.

before you could explain yourself, he took your hand in his and lead you near a tree. he suddenly bent down and picked a flower. once he stood up, he held the flower with both hands, offering it to you.

"ah, i love you too..."

his mouth hung open, thinking of other words to say, but nothing came out. he clearly had no experience. after a moment, he spoke.

"i've heard that when two people love each other, they give each other flowers. oh, speaking of flowers, i've recently tried this one tea flavor made with this one flower–i should make it for you sometime."

um, he's quite innocent.

in conclusion, kabukimono does in fact love you too. he just doesn't have a full grasp of what love means yet.

(ooc, he is soft for u)

you did it. you finally admitted your feelings for him. not gonna lie, it was scary. in fact, you were borderline hyperventilating as you awaited his response, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

you two were next to each other. so close, yet so far. you couldn't see his expression from the way you stared at the ground in anticipation. the silence was eating you up inside, and you couldn't handle much longer.

"look at me."

his voice snapped you out of your thoughts, taking a moment to register his request.

"...just for a moment," he spoke.

though his voice was quieter than usual, it didn't help with your racing heartbeat and uneven breathing. you fidgeted with your hands, weighing your options, hesitating before lifting your gaze from the ground to his face. your body tenses subconsciously, preparing for his wrath and uncaring behavior.

his eyes widen upon seeing your expression. you were crying. why are you crying? he wants to ask, yet he stops himself. he notices you tense up. were you scared of him? he instead takes a different approach.

"keep looking, please."

he knew how you would always avoid eye contact. he hated it. it always irritated him how he'd never get to see your face, how you'd always hide when he wanted to see your expression the most.

"i'm not mad. i... i won't yell at you."

without much thought, his hand went up to your face–his heart broke at the sight of you flinching, regret filled his mind thinking of the times he'd been harsh towards you–his thumb brushing your tears away.

"i might," he stammered, "i might feel the same."

in conclusion, scaramouche never knew about his feelings towards you until he saw the tears on your face. he needs time to process his newfound feelings.

# wanderer

he wants to make sure that you know what you'd be getting yourself into. him, out of all people? are you out of your mind?

he pursed his lips, analyzing your expression and body language. inside, he really doesn't know how to respond. he doesn't really believe it.

"are you sure?" he asked.

"why wouldn't i be?" you respond.

his mind was racing with so many questions. "but, you know how i'm like." it's true, you two have hung out on multiple occasions. he had never put up a front with you–or with anyone, for that matter. you know his true self well. so, why?

deep, deep down, he may be a tad bit insecure. just a little. okay, he feels like he doesn't deserve love–he doesn't deserve you.

"do you really want to live with my annoying remarks for the rest of your life?" he crosses his arms and tilted his head, making him seem judgemental in a negative way–but he's worried. just a little worried about you.

he's not sure if he's able to trust someone to that extent, but with you... of course he loves you. he's just scared.

scared for one, that you'd get sick of him and hate his attitude, and two, you'd get taken away from him too.

he's warning you, but he's secretly hoping you'd ignore all his warnings. he needs a hug.

in conclusion, he always had an interest in you, though he hid it quite well. he never acted on those feelings in fear that you'd leave him.

[xinxiaogato]

— snip! snip! snip...!

summary. the hairstyle of the guy with indigo eyes was very specific: a short jellyfish cut that ended at the base of his neck with wispy, sparse bangs lined up in the front. however, what would happen if your boyfriend gave someone free rein to a pair of scissors near his head?

love interests. gn!reader x kabukimono, scaramouche, and wanderer. (separately)

warnings. cursing, jealousy, unedited, and a lil spicy during wanderer’s part.

word count. 3,506.

note. let’s pretend both niwa and the nameless child (named “isamu” here) are alive at the same time for this fic… you are referred to as “reader” by the way!

꒰ 傾奇者 ꒱ — kabukimono

your cutie patootie of a boyfriend always burst through the door after working at the forge and embraced you as if centuries had passed since the last time you saw each other.

but today, for some odd reason, when you heard the familiar squeak of the front door, that squeak wasn’t followed by the usual croon of your name and a rush of footsteps toward you. instead, you listened to kabukimono wordlessly pad into the bathroom…

and he didn’t come out.

concerned for his well-being, you quickly made your way outside the room he barricaded himself in and knocked on the door twice. “kabukimono?” you called for him. “are you all right?”

silence.

and then you heard him sniffle.

“y-yeah, i’m okay,” his voice returned meekly. “please don’t worry about me…”

your heart squeezed tightly in your chest. “wait, are you crying?"

"..."

"kabukimono, please let me know what’s going on. we can work it out together. you know that.”

you prepared to give him space if there was no reply, but the door creaked open shortly after. you took that as an invitation to walk in but was abruptly glomped by him, his face buried into your chest.

“kabukimono!” startled, you tried to gently push your boyfriend off, but it was like the two of you got stuck together by adhesive glue.

“what happened?” you asked with what breath he hadn’t squeezed out of your lungs.

kabukimono was so, so embarrassed. half of the reason he refused to budge was the shame for not greeting you properly…

…but the other half was the atrocity that had become of his front bangs!

previously, niwa had noticed them getting a tad too long to the point they were poking into kabukimono’s eyes, so like a good samaritan, niwa suggested to give them a little trim. 

kabukimono should’ve protested a little harder when he saw niwa take out scissors the size of gardening shears.

“n-niwa…!” quivered kabukimono as he gawked at himself through a shard of glass.

“i’m so sorry, friend; this is all my fault! but it doesn’t look too bad?”

“…niwa, reader is going to break up with me.”

niwa offered up his bandana for kabukimono to wear home, but kabukimono knew he’ll have to face this dilemma head-on sooner or later.

however, the closer he got to his and your house of wooden veneer… the more he dreaded your reaction.

“kabukimono…” you said softly, which turned his stomach. “…may i see your face?”

“…”

against his better judgment, the wandering samurai peeled his face off of your clothes and angled it so that you could glimpse his bangs, which were much shorter than you were accustomed to. your lips parted in mild surprise as you took another second to process this.

“…i look terrible,” kabukimono murmured in the silence, tears pricking his bluish-purple eyes. he knew he was seconds away from bidding his quaint life with you goodbye. “p-please don’t leave me…” he added underneath his breath, his fingers gripping onto you tighter like you were about to disappear.

…so this is what he was trying to hide all along.

you let out a little “pfft” that captured his attention and then smoothed back his short bangs to plant a kiss as sweet as summer fruit on his forehead.

“kabukimono, you look perfect,” whispered you with only love in your eyes.

for the first time that night, kabukimono looked up and donned a gaze of profound intensity that felt like it was sucking you in. he really loved it when you said his name with your voice; it made him melt into a puddle. 

“i’m not gonna leave you over something this silly,” you continued, making him scrunch his face when you booped his nose. “besides, it’ll grow out.”

“really?” he croaked.

“really. now how about you wake up isamu while i get dinner ready?”

kabukimono blinked away tears that had threatened to spill down his cheeks earlier. you always dispelled his worries in a flash no matter how trivial they were. why did he ever have doubts in the first place? you were his sanctuary—the end-all to his anxiety of being abandoned. “okay!”

꒰ 国崩 ꒱ — scaramouche

slam!

that sound of the door to his bedroom was nothing to sneeze at, but the fact that the fatui harbinger didn’t greet you with a kiss on the lips as per usual was. hell, you didn’t even get the chance to see his face when he came home. that either meant he was really angry or really tired, and whether he joined you for dinner was up to you to test the waters.

tonight, you were feeling brave. how could he turn down your infamous chicken katsu?

“scara!” you exclaimed, wiping your hands on a towel before approaching the lion’s den. “i made dinner! or would you prefer a shower? or perhaps… moi?”

“…”

“i know you’re in there. at least give me a sign that you’re alive.”

“...”

“scaramouche! scaramouche! will you do the fandango?”

“...”

“sc-scara, there’s a fire in the kitchen!”

“…”

“seriously?”

well, you supposed you should’ve saved that one for later. you used that excuse last week to lure him out.

heaving a sigh, you turned on your heel to accept eating alone for the night when scaramouche suddenly whipped the door open and encircled his arms around you from behind, pulling a shocked you to his chest and locking you in place.

“if you turn around, we’re breaking up,” he grumbled into your ear.

“huh!?” you thrashed around in scaramouche’s grip to no avail. “that’s not something you can just decide on your own!”

“don’t care. if you saw me—!”

if you saw him, you would most definitely laugh, and the last thing scaramouche wanted to be was a laughing stock to his lover. of course he would cast aside his ego when it came to your reputation, but archons forbid you seeing him as something pitiable. not if he could help it.

“don’t you realize i’ll be more upset if i didn’t get to see your handsome face, darling?” you whined with futile tugs and twists at his wrists. “as to whatever happened, it can’t be that bad!”

oh, it was bad. really bad.

“the most important thing is eye contact!” declared his colleague with the irritatingly bright locks of orange hair. “after all, there’s a saying that eyes are the windows of the soul. how else are you supposed to communicate your feelings to them?”

“...dude, you don’t even have light in your eyes,” scaramouche responded. “why should i take advice from you?”

“what does that have to do with anything?”

sandrone’s massive puppet smacked tartaglia upside the head as she scowled. “stop making a ruckus, and just cut the balladeer’s bowlcut already. he looks homeless.”

“yes, i don’t think we can handle the sixth harbinger’s lamentation about his relationship much longer,” arlecchino grumbled, her eyes turning so far upward that they almost rolled right out of the room.

“none of you guys were even supposed to know about it!” scaramouche roared with fury practically emanating off of him.

this outburst had all the other partygoers of the tsarita’s banquet turning their heads. they couldn’t believe their eyes, but it was true. all ten executive heads of the fatui were gathered together in one place (fly high, signora). even the harbingers themselves never thought something like this would happen if it weren’t for you, who scaramouche had introduced and (to his dismay) had made them all smitten toward you. even the tsaritsa thought you were pleasant.

the fatui harbingers could not refuse your suggestion to have “team bonding events”—this gala being one of them—and the animosity between these lieutenants have actually lessened over time (by a hair’s breadth).

“i can use my water blades,” tartaglia offered, who thrusted his hands forward to summon them.

scaramouche’s hands balled into fists, ready to clock the eleventh harbinger before he even had the chance. “no. a thousand times no! don’t even get those things close to me if you want to live, you asshat.”

“what… transpired this?” whispered pulcinella, unable to keep up with the youngsters’ energy.

pantalone took it upon himself to explain the situation. “word is that our dear reader complimented the hairstyle of a subordinate working underneath the balladeer,” the regrator informed as he pushed his neck-strap spectacles higher up the bridge of his nose. “since then, he has failed to complete a single assignment.”

revealing his sharp canines, dottore snickered. “in spite of that, it truly is miraculous that the kid found someone who could get past his ironclad exterior.”

columbina hummed in agreement. “it is miraculous that anyone even likes him~!”

they eventually resorted to a pair of scissors that dottore had in his coat pocket (dottore was almost disappointed when il capitano reminded everyone that he carried one), and after some convincing and straight up fist fighting, it was decidedly pulcinella who got on a stool to give scaramouche a snip.

and pulcinella… doesn’t have the best eyes.

“if it’s about your dark circles, it’s okay,” you reassured scaramouche back in the present. “i’ll always accept you the way you are.”

“i don’t have dark circles!” in a fit of rage, scaramouche spun around to glare at you while blinking several times in quick succession and—lo and behold—gave you front-row seats to pulcinella’s botched job at cutting his bangs, which now ended halfway down his forehead. scaramouche felt his heart drop into his stomach at the sight of your widened eyes before he shoved his hat into your face and stormed off.

“w-wait, scara!” you chased after him to the living room, and he still refused to face you. “that was what you were worried about me seeing?”

following that was a silence that thickened the air. you walked up to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. “hey… i like guys with short hair, you know?”

…

…

…

“...but that damn skirmisher had long hair,” your boyfriend grumbled.

ah. this confirmed your suspicion that he overheard you speaking to his underling. little did scaramouche know that you had just been asking about your boyfriend’s whereabouts that day (but of course the balladeer anxiously spying on you the whole time made it impossible for you to locate him).

“i also like guys with blue hair and blue eyes.” you went to stand in front of scaramouche and placed his kasa hat back onto his head before squishing his face with your hands. he furrowed his eyebrows and tried to pull away, but the almighty harbinger became weak before you very easily. “i like guys with red eyeliner. a big hat. a haughty attitude. i like you, darling. and nothing is going to change that.”

scaramouche clenched his jaw and looked down at the floor dejectedly. “...how can you stand it though? you just said my attitude is haughty. is that… fine?”

“i’m still here, aren’t i?” you smiled. “and i’m not going anywhere. even if you went bald.”

“...do not allow that image to form in your brain, reader.”

“it’s too late.”

“reader!”

but despite the irritation laced in his voice, his lips were curled into a smile reserved only for his lover’s eyes. he liked you, too, and nothing was going to change that.

꒰ 放浪者 ꒱ — wanderer

“lesser lord kusanali.”

the dendro archon whirled around and almost let out a breath of relief at the sight of you entering the sanctuary of surasthana, your fingers intertwined behind your back. “grand sage, it is good to see you,” nahida greeted earnestly. “i’m sorry for contacting you on such short notice, but you were the only one i could think of reaching out to.”

“really?” you cocked an eyebrow as you descended down the white stone walkway. not at all did you mind chatting with nahida when you had the chance, but if you were the only person capable of solving her problem, it must be serious. “what could be the matter?”

“well… it’s rather a long story.” scratching her cheek, the dendro archon recounted what took place that morning.

“what are you thinking about?” the little archon questioned as she and wanderer strolled along the outskirts of the city.

wanderer kicked a rock that had the misfortune of being in his path. “you and i both know the answer to that,” he stoically replied.

“has it been that long since you and reader have seen each other?”

those words made something in wanderer’s chest feel a foreign pang, one that only occurred when he envisioned your face.

“i know that they’re busy with official affairs,” he scoffed, coming to a full stop. nahida followed suit, looking back at him with a hand to her heart. “it just can’t be safe for humans to stay cooped up inside of their offices all day long.”

nahida knew the nonchalance in wanderer’s tone was just a cover-up for how much he missed you, and the archon was all too familiar with that feeling. “wanderer—”

“i’m gonna make them regret prioritizing their work over me.”

with a tip of his hat, wanderer started trudging back the way they came.

“hey, wait!” she rushed after him and clung onto one of the blue fabrics dangling from the back of his head covering, which yanked him back toward her.

“what?” he deadpanned.

“how are you planning to make reader regret it?” she asked her disciple, anxious about letting him out of her sight.

“...”

wanderer recalled overhearing a conversation in the grand bazaar. a woman was fawning over her husband’s new appearance, who shaved off his beard earlier that day because he wanted to surprise her, and it was like she fell in love with him for the first time all over again.

wanderer wanted you to fall in love with him all over again.

“haircut,” he grunted.

“haircut?” nahida echoed.

“i want a haircut.” wanderer blatantly pointed at his head.

nahida took a moment to process his request before breaking out into a smile antagonistic to his scowl. “leave it to me!”

“and that was my first time cutting someone’s hair…” concluded nahida quite dejectedly. “...so you can imagine his fury when he got his hands on a mirror…”

“oh, archons,” you muttered right in front of her, slapping a hand to your face. “where is he now?”

“i’m not sure… i think he grumbled something about curling up in a corner and never seeing a single person again before he flew away.”

the only place you could imagine he escaped to was your shared home together in sumeru city, which was the biggest decision you two had carried out together in your relationship so far. however, you had no idea that the house became such a lonely place for wanderer. anguish squeezed your heart as you pictured him eating dinner alone, pretending the food was satiating like you had suggested in the past because he had wanted to be more human. “like you,” he had said.

“please let the other sages know i am taking an early leave,” i said, pivoting on my heel. “lunch is on me tomorrow!”

“good luck!” nahida called out to you, and as you pushed through the doors of the sanctuary, you felt like you grew wings right there and then.

when was the last time you inhaled a breath of fresh air…?

you dashed home as fast as your little legs (that had been stationary for what? six days?) could carry you home. along the way, nilou stopped you to discuss performing for the people in aaru village, cyno wished to speak about dispatching additional soldiers to monitor trade in the caravan ribat, and al haitham wanted a vacation(?)

however, you had to direct each one of them to your p.o. box because there was one request that waited to be fulfilled for a long, long time.

“babe!” you exclaimed, stumbling a bit as you peeled off your shoes at the doorway. “babe, are you home?”

silence. every step you took further down the hallway entrance felt like stepping onto an eggshell, and your mind started to wonder. was he not actually here? where could he have gone then?

“babe—”

in a flash, you were tightly enveloped by a pair of arms that knocked the wind out of your lungs. you almost lost your footing if it weren’t for the wall right behind you while, in front of you, your lover’s shaking eyes were trying to immortalize every detail of your face onto the canvas of his mind.

“reader…” wanderer mumbled, his cold hands cupping your cheeks like they were made of glass. “you’re here.”

a complicated feeling began to creep up inside of your chest. you didn’t even have the heart to “pfft” at his bangs that looked like a kindergartener had cut it (which wasn’t far from the truth). the crooked ups and downs of his bangs were the least of your concerns.

“i’m so sorry, wanderer,” you whispered as you reached up and gently held his wrists. “i’ve been so busy with attending meetings and approving requests that—”

“shut it.”

wanderer leaned in and hungrily captured your lips with his, and it didn’t take long before they began to trail butterfly kisses down your jaw and to your neck. his grazing teeth coaxed small noises from your mouth as they made light work of your sensitive skin.

“wanderer, wait…”

he pulled back momentarily to look you dead in the eye. “i have waited far too long,” wanderer snarled. “just let me have you, reader…”

you could not risk losing the ability to walk like last time. an idea came over you in that moment to break the spell clouding wanderer’s eyes with lust and desire.

“i’M gONna mAke tHem rEGret pRioriTiziNg thEir worK oVEr Me!” you cried out dramatically as if you had been fatally wounded.

your allusion was so out of character that it completely caught him off guard. as wanderer pressed his lips into a thin line, he created some room for jesus between his body and yours and asked in a contemptuous voice, “did lesser lord kusanali make you come here?”

“of course not. i’m here because of you, babe.” you chuckled. “did you think i wouldn’t notice all the subliminal messages you planted in your works?”

wanderer’s eyes widened in light of that. “you read the scholars’ papers?”

“not typically, but i asked the sage of the vahumana darshan to provide me with yours,” you clarified.

you adored the way your partner wrote—even if he always acted like crafting those essays together was a chore. reading his dissertation on societal issues in inazuma was actually how you two crossed paths, as you voraciously sought the author behind it. who would have predicted that the aloof, cold stranger nahida introduced to you as “hat guy” became your clingy mess of a boyfriend years later?

“whatever, don’t pull that disappearing act on me again,” he snapped, flicking your forehead in an odd display of affection. you held back a few colorful words from the sheer strength he put into that finger.

“it’s not like i was trying to avoid you,” you stated. “plus, i would argue that you disappeared, too, babe. even our archon couldn’t surmise where you ran off to.”

“well, you knew where to find me.” and that’s all that matters, he chose not to add.

a soft laugh bubbled from your throat as you directed your attention back to what made him disappear in the beginning. “hey… there’s no need to doll yourself up to get my attention.” you gently swept his silky bangs to the side. “you are always on my mind and even more so when we’re apart.”

a hush descended over the world around you two as wanderer squinted his troubled eyes and averted them to the floor in deep thought.

he could not kid himself any longer. you, a measly and pathetic mortal, had successfully slipped past the outer shell he built to fool irminsul into believing that he was not an individual worthy of loving, existing, redeeming.

“...”

“wanderer?”

"...rea..."

reader, each day felt longer than the last without you by my side.

i never thought i would have a person in this world who wanted me as much as you do.

 if i had to thank beelzebub for one thing, it would be creating me so that i could meet you.

you are the center of my universe.

“teyvat to wanderer…?”

but wanderer would rather die than say allat. hmm, maybe he’ll put those heartfelt words on paper so that you can read them in your office, giggling and kicking your feet.

in the meantime, he settled on dragging you to the bedroom. “you’re getting punished anyway.”

“wha…!? wait, wanderer!”

but on the inside, you were so happy that it didn’t matter if your boyfriend had to fly you to the akademiya every morning for the next several days. you wished for nothing to take away the beautiful smile you could see creeping onto his face.

© xinxiaogato. please do not translate my work without permission or attempt to plagiarize it.

[yuyinesque]

everyone stfu rn — an alternative universe where dottore didn't stuff kabukimono with niwa's heart for his sick pleasure. instead of feeling his flutter incessantly and embarrassingly, his chest resembles the sounds of a running computer monitor LMFAOOOO. he's a mechanical puppet, after all. the more flustered he is, the louder it gets, and you'd think he's malfunctioning with the way it runs with you.

kabukimono didn't know what it was at first; it worried him a little, but the thrilling rush of emotions inundated him to the point where he didn't even care anymore. it's loud, but... not detrimental. besides, even though it's loud and humiliating, you found it adorable, didn’t you? you even compared it to heart beats or arrhythmic palpitations, which not only induced the poor puppet's desire for a heart, but his infatuation towards you.

unfortunately, scaramouche would deny every single whirling motion in his chest cavity; he even considered getting that specific trait removed by dottore himself a plethora of times. he'd gaslight you into believing that you're creating delusions in that pretty little head of yours, and as he ponders about that "pretty little head" of yours, his chest does that little thing again. just what is that ridiculous attribute mocking him at every given moment with you?

whereas wanderer would bluntly and condescendingly deny the fact that it's there, or even brushes it off as a part of his programming. by now, he accepted what it was, but still wouldn't tell you the specifics (even though he had a feeling that you knew anyway). instead, he insists that you should "figure it out yourself" while pushing your head towards his chest with a cheeky chuckle, allowing you to listen to the unidentifiable noise buzz louder and louder.

I WANNA WRITE SUM BASED ON THIS EUUUGHH help me.

[hellithides]

So Squish!! - Wanderer x GN! Reader

Synopsis: Wanderer is whipped for your tummy. Fluff.

Thinking about when you and Wanderer cuddle, his hands always wander to your tummy. Whether enjoying the quiet moments after your intimate encounters, or even during the simple act of cuddling before bed, you can trust that his hands would always find themselves gravitating towards your waist.

He would pinch, mold, press, and slide his hands all over your stomach as if it was play-doh. Except it was better, it was warm, it was you, and it was oh so delightfully pliable under his hands. He particularly enjoys pressing his palm down on your lower abdomen as he cups the supple skin, especially since the action never fails to make you squirm.

The first couple times he did this, his explorations were met with playful swats and protests as you tried to protect the your ticklish midsection. He only pouts at you, whining that he can’t help it if your tummy is so soft and squishy. It would be a crime not to have it filling the gaps of his fingers. It’s his favorite part of you, after all.

Over time, you've grown accustomed to his touch, realizing that it's an endearing expression of his affection. The playfulness has become a cherished routine, a shared intimacy that speaks volumes without the need for words. Now, you lie still in your shared bed, allowing him the freedom to knead at the plush skin of your stomach, with him planting kisses along the nape of your neck as you both settle into bed under the warm blankets.

——————————————————

Author’s note: someone help me figure out tumblr pls i wanna put the little colored lines i see ppl use :<<

[maehemthemisfit]

Thinking about sleeping beside kunikuzushi for the first time. He watches you so intently as you make your bed, hugging the pillow you gave him tightly to his chest.

kunikuzushi who stands there as you get settled onto the bed, not bothering to move until you look over and pat the spot beside you, ushering him to sit.

kunikuzushi who put on the change of comfortable clothes you gave him but doesn't take off the gift tethered around his neck as he idly caressed his finger over the iridescent feather.

kunikuzushi who's so delighted when you allow him to blow out all the candles, the flames twinkling in his night colored eyes.

kunikuzushi who continues to sit up while you lay down, content on watching whatever you're doing even after you closed your eyes

kunikuzushi who jumps at the sound of your voice when you catch him staring and ask him why isn't he going to sleep.

kunikuzushi who... is afraid of falling asleep, fearing that something bad would happen. What if he cries and you find him pathetic and useless? What if he opens his eyes to find you've abandon him? What if—

kunikuzushi who freezes when you cup his neck, running your thumb over the curve of his chin as your sleepy eyes gazed up at him. He blinks away the mist in his eyes, swallowing the fears so deeply sown into his chest as he nods.

kunikuzushi who slowly grabs your hand, weaving his fingers with yours as he lays on his side facing you.

kunikuzushi who waits until you're completely asleep so he can curl up against you, his lashes fluttering down as he recounts the wonderful day he had with you.

kunikuzushi who finally falls asleep, knowing you'll be there in the morning. Unconsciously, his mouth quirks into a content smile, his mind wondering off to the thought of cooking you breakfast, to prove how useful he is and as a thank you for staying with him so long.

[astrecium]

𓍯 that one specific special day.

CW. pronouns for reader are (you/your), modern au? Reader likes sweets. (does this count as a warning?×.×)

summary. Kuni trying his best to make you have a nice birthday.

A/N. My birthday is close so I decided to do this soo.. happy birthday to whoever is reading this !! By the way, do y'all mind the small letters? Or do y'all like the big ones more?🥲 Had to rewrite this🥲

He can't say he understands the concept or birthdays, he can't get what is the happiness on being closer and closer to your death. But, he understands that for you, it's something special, and he would do his best to make you happy on this day.

Believe it or not, he would never forget what day your birthday is. He has it craved on his mind, something he would never dare himself to forget, since he know this action would disappoint you. In the day, he wouldn't even sleep, trying to prepare the best day for you.

‘I could do better than this if I had become a god.’ the thought would cross his mind, which he would instantly brush away, not letting such trivial bothers ruin his focus. At 00:00, he would be awake, thinking on what to do before you wake up. ‘breakfast, maybe.’ yes, that will do for the morning. Wanderer would spend the whole night trying to cook your favorite dish, paying attention to every small detail, and doing his best even though he had no idea on how to cook things like that. But fortunately, the final result was better than expected. The image of the small cake was good, but just as you yourself told him, looks aren't everything. He hated sweets, yet he had to do the sacrifice of discovering if it tasted good.

After putting his finger somewhere discreet of the cake, he hesitantly puts it on his mouth. ‘eugh.’ it was sweet, just how you liked it. It was good, for you obviously.

He would cover the damaged part of where his finger damaged, leaving it perfect like it was before. 01:30 would show up on the clock. He needed to be faster. Placing your cake on the fridge, he didn't know if juice suits morning.. though, you'll probably wake up late today. If not, he'll have his way.

But even though he knew how to cook, celebrations were new for him. He had to search on what do to on someone's birthday. "What to write in a birthday card(so that they'll actually want to keep it)" he found a site, and immediately clicked.

It was so... Cringe. Corny. Or.. maybe he just wasn't used to seeing caring words. He looked at the birthday he card he had bought just yesterday, and though in writing just 'happy birthday.' nothing else. But no, that's too dry. You deserve more than that. He decided to look a bit more into the site, trying to find something he finds acceptable.

But that took more time than expected, too. 02:00. He immediately put his phone down when he sees the time, going back to the kitchen. He was in a hurry and frustrated, but all he let out was a sigh.

After some time, he checked the clock again. 06:00. It took some time, and you should be waking up soon— wait nah! He didn't get the most important thing. He shoves his head on his hands, and sighs again. He knew you were waking up, so he went to your room.

When he saw your figure getting up, he gently pushed you back to bed.

‘nuh uh uh, go back to sleep.’ he covered you with a blanket after shoving you on the bed. You tried to get up again, b ut he shooshed you and got you back to sleep. ‘try again uh.. when it's 09:00.’ as if you could know what time it is when you are asleep. He doesn't mind it though, the more time he got the best.

He rushed to buy you a gift. But don't get this words wrong, he'll carefully look at everything on the store, carefully pick the one you would like the best, judge every small detail that could go unnoticed. It took him... 3 stores. He judged the soul of everything, to the shop workers to the items. He decided to buy your favorite drink too.

When he came home, you were still sleeping, thankfully. He sighed, relieved, and went to wake you up with the cake on his hands, carefully shaking you so the cake doesn't fall and you don't wake up annoyed. He has... War flashbacks on when you did so.

When you woke up, you saw him looking away, a gift box by your side, and a cake and your favorite drink on his hands. ‘dont you dare get used to this.’ he would say dryly, in contrast to the sweet actions he did. If you hugged him, you couldn't even see, but he would smile slightly, relieved that he managed to actually please you.

on the birthday card, which he would only give to you at the end of the day, the words written in soft and elegant writing were surprisingly sweet. The day you came into the world was one of the best days of my whole life. I hope today is one of your best days, too. But he doesn't dare to look at your face when he delivered it, looking away with his arms crossed, a faint red on his face. ‘you are smiling like a fool.’ he would say even though he lives to see you smile like that.

Huh, what do you mean your birthday doesn't last three days? He bought three cakes and even more!!! Bro probably bought you airpods and a giant plushie since he thought you liked hugging them to sleep and said it's nothing💀(I have a fic about this :0)

Happy birthday to you 🫶

This is cringe im going to kms

[yourlocalstranger123]

Part 1 part 2

Ima just make this idea

[You can use this idea, but please tag me or mention me so I can see the wonderful post you made <3 and you're free to change the idea to your choice]

What happens if every stage of Wanderer just you know....appear (either just the betrayal or something else I forgot how to explain σ(^_^;)?

Like

Kunikuzushi, Kabukimono, Scaramouche, Wanderer

And you are just there, dealing with like 4 people.

You sat there as kunikuzushi sat on your lap, and he snuggles you. While Kabukimono is still slightly nice, as he sits there quietly and clings onto your arm. Wanderer just leaned onto your shoulders as he got flustered and would hit you in the arm if you said anything about it. Scaramouche is just watching the whole thing and gets annoyed and embarrassed that his versions of himself are clinging to you. It's not like he's getting jealous or anything.....

[tarlas]

✧ Scaramouche

It doesn't really matter which version of him.

I'd like to think that his limb are detachable, but he doesn't particularly like it because of Dottore.

He let's you though. You'd slowly take apart his hand before sleep, making sure to put him back together before you fell asleep.

He never says it directly, but his actions speak for him. He trusts you, and he wouldn't give you up for the world.

You would kiss his joints, watching as he shivers a bit.

You would have fun with this.

"I love you darling."

[galazry]

Do you really view me as your older brother?

pairing: big brother's bestfriend!Wanderer x gn!reader genre: modern au, fluff content: he's your big brother's best friend who you may or may not have a crush on, but it seems like he only views you as a little kid... word count: 512 a/n: based on the CN Drama "Hidden Love" episode 15. there's also an animation for this! and... maybe there's a surprise underneath as well ;) also i know Wanderer is inazuman so let's pretend the reader is of Li Yue descent, okay? 😁

"[Y/N], here for you. Make sure you study hard for your exams, alright?"

"Mm... okay 哥哥."

Wanderer is your older brother's best friend, who you refer as 哥哥(older brother). Over the years, you've grown attached to him, harbouring an innocent crush on the man who has a 5 year gap with you. You did everything you could to get his attention and stay close to him, even planning to enroll in a college in his hometown. Although, as time went on, it seemed that Wanderer only viewed you as a little kid, occasionally calling you 小朋友(kiddo), and nothing more.

With that in mind, you decided to move on from him, doing all you could to avoid any interaction with him. It became all the more easier to avoid him when he graduated and moved back to his home town.

Although fate had a different plan in mind.

You still enrolled in the college in his hometown though to your luck, you never did once met him. Until one day, as you were out partying with your friends, you stumbled upon your darling 哥哥. As if nothing had changed between you both, he teased you asking why you had been ignoring all his text and has never even once called him. You only gave an excuse of being busy as your answer, which he didn't really take. Even so, Wanderer lets that slide.

He was actually really glad to see a familiar face in his hometown. Unbeknowst to you, he actually didn't have anybody there and is oblidged to stay to settle a certain debt. From then on, he continued to pester and tease you, and looking out for you like he always does.

As the days go by, even though you initially wanted to move on from him, it was getting harder to do so as you both constantly meet up. Little by little, your feelings for him resurface. Though it seemed like he still treats you like a little kid, even when you're a legal adult attending college.

Who knew that after one eventful day, he suddenly grew feelings for you, his best friend's younger sibling.

On the day of your birthday, Wanderer had invited you to his home, celebrating your special day on the rooftop together. As you both enjoyed the city night lights, a gentle breeze blew as he asked you a question.

"You always call me 哥哥 (older brother). Do you really view me as your brother?"

You were a bit taken aback by the sudden question. Avoiding his gaze, you fiddled with the fork in hand. All these years, even though you've sworn to forget about your innocent crush towards him, all the repressed feelings came back full force. Despite that, it wasn't like you were going to confess that you have feelings for him...

"Of course, I do consider you my brother."

Silence then enveloped you both, only the sound of running cars in the distance accompanied in the background. Before you could get another word out, Wanderer then exhales softly, before saying...

[kuni-is-daddy]

THE ARC OF KUNIKUZUSHI

CW: THESE POST CONSIST OF NSFW

Thread of my scaramouche fics, will be continuously updated/edited whenever I post more.

Don't be shy to ask me stuff or just speak ur genshin thirst for scara, anonymously or however. I love talking to everyone :)👍 There are no request rules besides all characters requested being Over 18. Ask anything, anytime.

please don't re-translate my fics OR RE UPLOAD THEM😊👍 Art by @dlgodls0731 On Twitter

These Fics all contain spoilers for Scara's Backstory! Including (1.1 Stars event, Sumeru Chapter Spoilers, Inazuma Spoilers)

SCARA NSFW ALPHABET

WANDERER BIRTHDAY SPECIAL

BODYGUARD SERIES:

SMUT+FLUFF BOSS! SCARAMOUCHE X BODYGUARD READER

BOSS! SCARAMOUCHE X YANDERE BODYGUARD READER

MISSION: BOSS SCARAMOUCHE X F! BODYGUARD READER PART 2

A DATE!: Boss SCARA X F! bodyguard reader

His office: Boss Scara X F! Bodyguard reader

LESSOR LORD(DENDRO ARCHON) READER SERIES.

PART 1, FEAR: DOM! SHOUKI NO KAMI ARC X SUB! LESSOR LORD GN READER.

PART2, REDEMPTION: POWER SUB SHOUKI NO KAMI/WANDERER X LESSOR LORD READER. FLUFF + SMUT

PART3, PROBLEMS IN PARADISE: WANDERER X LESSOR LORD READER

PART,4 PUNISHMENT: SUB WANDERER X LESSOR LORD READER

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

<<"Your my pet." (Hybrid scara ERA!)>>

>DEMON SCARA X SUMMONER FEM READER

>VAMPIRE SCARAMOUCHE X FEMALE READER

>SNAKE SCARAMOUCHE X FEMALE READER

Sub! Catboy scara X Female reader!

JEALOUS! SUB catboy scara X fem reader

SUB CATBOY WANDERER X LESSOR LORD READER

><Yandere era><

YANDERE SCARA X FEM READER: 0RGASM DENIAL

Yandere SCARAMOUCHE X FEMALE READER (reader has social anxiety)

Yan scara x Female reader(social anxiety) part 2

><Soft/Comfort fics><

Wanderer! comfort smut x female reader

1 Shots/Requests!

WANDERERxSCARAMOUCHExFEMALE READER

IN PUBLIC+BEFORE MEETING: KUNI X FEM READER

BEG FOR ME: SCARA X FEMALE READER

KABUKIMONO X MALE KAEDEHARA CLAN MEMBER READER

WORKING OUT: SCARA X FEMALE READER

SCARAMOUCHE X FEMALE FATUI HARBINGER READER

FLUFF + SMUT. SCARAMOUCHE X 'DADDY ISSUES' READER. PURE COMFORT

WORKING! MALE READER X SUB! WANDERER

SUB SCARAMOUCHE BRAT TAMING DUMP. MALE READER.

PRANKS?: DOM! SCARAMOUCHE X M! F! READER SEPERATE SMUT PARTS.

SUB SCARAMOUCHE X DOM! MALE NO. 1 HARBINGER READER.

ANON'S AI..: BITE-ING THIRST

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

SFW, : LOVE LIKE YOU, FLUFF + ANGST.

I hope everyone enjoys my fics and trys to take care of themselves :)) please put yourself first and love yourself. The world is crazy nowadays, much love!!

[ataraxiaspainting]

New Dawn.

Scaramouche x GN Reader.

Synopsis: Kuni brews tea.

Word Count: 700.

inspired by this concept by @ddarker-dreams <3

*~*~*~*

“Hello? Teyvat to Kuni? I repeat, Teyvat to Kuni?” He keeps grimacing in the corner of the kitchen with his arms crossed. His scowl only deepens and he points to the crime. A bowl of sugarcubes beside your freshly brewed cup of tea.

You guess you’re a criminal now in his world.

“Teyvat to Kuni this, Teyvat to Kuni that, you know why I am mad at you, you little sh-”

“Hey, language. You know I like my drinks sweet.”

He jumped up from his wooden stool when you put a few cubes in like you had just set the table on fire, running to hide from the utterly horrifying scene.

“So?” He responds, stomping his foot down with a huff and puff. “This is an insult, [First]; an insult to me, the tea kettle, the water, the fire, the cultivators, the sellers-”

“So, sit down. You have to think about other people’s points of view sometimes.”

“No.”

“Kuni, you are acting like you are two years old. If you keep doing this I am going to make you drink it.”

“Over my dead body.” He mutters. “I’d shrivel up and die, come back as an undead, and tell the people who sold me the tea leaves that you are putting shame on their name.”

“You are so dramatic. Just because you like bitter drinks does not mean I have to too. Tell me, if this was reversed, would you be mad at me for drinking black tea and not putting a mountain of sugar in my cup?”

“N-No! Of course not.”

You smirk at his stutter.

“Correct. And why not?”

His expression sullens even more at this question. You got him; hook, line, and sinker.

“...Because… Archons, you are annoying. You can’t just swap our places like that. Argh. Sigh. Because… it’s wrong. Everyone has their own tastes. There, you happy? I said what you wanted me to.”

Your smile broadens, stretching from ear to ear.

“Very happy. Now sit down, your tea is getting cold. I know you have no care for cold things. That’s why you like me.”

In a fleeting instant, Kuni's hand instinctively shields his face, though you could've sworn you glimpsed your partner concealing a smitten grin. A noticeable crimson flush paints his cheeks, as he averts his gaze from you, searching the kitchen aimlessly. A faint rosy tint lingers on his ears, accompanied by a twinkle in his eye.

“Cute.”

“S-Shut up.” He says, his voice barely audible. “N-Not.” You can't help but smile as he stumbles over his words twice more. “Take that back this instant.”

“I don’t think I will.”

He stomps back to the table and sits down. You win.

“You’re pouting.” You yelp as his leg clashes with one of your defenseless ones. A kick, huh? Well, two can play that game.

“You’re so–Hey!”

While still hiding his face, he lets out a mocking laugh.

“Oh no you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t just do that.”

At your chuckle, he stands up once more and goes around the table to your side.

“Uh oh.”

In the blink of an eye, your back meets the ground. He is on top of you with eyes sharp enough to cut a rock in half. He’s not happy.

“Confess your sins,” He says, his face now sporting a smirk of his own. Though his blush is still there, and now visible because he cannot hide it as he pins you to the floor. “And I’ll let you drink your abomination of a beverage. Maybe.”

“Oh no,” You feign innocence as you shake your head. Kuni scoffs. Adorable. “Please, oh great and all-knowing Kunikuzushi, bless me for I have sinned by having functioning taste buds.”

One of his hands chops at your forehead, making you cry out bloody murder. “Archons, you are all bark and no bite.”

“So? The same can be said about you.”

“No.”

No?

…He does not plan to leave you here all day until you are actually sorry, does he?

[anemos-orca]

But a Furious Requiem of Stupidity

wanderer x irritated!fem.reader

cw: fluff, est. relationship, cussing, cynical themes, pessimism, comfort, not proof read, probaby more qnq

a/n: apologies for my lack of activity, ive had a bit of a writing slump lately :( im still here though, i promise qwq ah anyways, i apologize if this is not a good read

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

Usually, Wanderer was home first. He would get there before you almost every day and (im)patiently wait for your arrival, only to put on a cold-front once you walked in. You knew him though, so you knew that it was nothing more than mere instinct- a special little trait that he was conditioned to own due to his less than savory backstory. You were like him in the fact that you couldnt care less about others and what they did, thought, or believed, whether it be about you or not. You were often compared to both him and Alhaitham, having overheard the, "Shes like... if Hat Guy and Alhaitham had a kid," countless times. Admittedly, you knew they werent wrong. Although you had met the Scribe but a few times, you knew how he was, so you knew that you were, in fact, just like him- if not "worse" than him.

Today was a different-feeling day. Wanderer came home just as he usually did, stepping inside and shaking off his flamboyant getup to swap it for a more "Im incredibly poor and could really use some new clothes" look. His ugly, overused hoodie was far too big- the once bright blue sleeves, now washed out and dull, hung below even his fingertips, the hood could cover his face and then some, and the front pocket- well, it was more of a pouch, but thats besides the point- was big enough to fit an entire meal for two inside (a theory the two of you tested, wanting to sneak your own food into the House of Daena instead of snacking on the pathetic, drywall-esque food bars they provided). His shorts were nothing special; though, neither of you knew where they came from. Yes, they were one of the, "are these black shorts yours? theyre not mine, so they must be- what do you mean theyre not yours?" pieces of clothing everyone seems to have.

Stepping into the kitchen, Wanderer was met with the pitiful sight of you sitting on the cold stone floor with your back pressed against the once nicely polished Adhigama wood cabinets. He narrowed his eyes at you, looking you up and down as though he believed you to be a fake. You werent one to miss work, no matter how much you hated it.

"I got fired," you groaned, not even so much as turning to look at him. Your tone was more deadbeat than usual.

"Im surprised you didnt get the pink slip earlier," he scoffed, sliding his back down the cabinet to sit beside you. You yanked on the hem of his hoodie and pulled it over your head to join him, earning an irritated growl from your boyfriend as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

"Its a real shame, too," you sarcastically retorted, leaning your head on his shoulder, "i was hoping that one day, id wake up and head off to that wretched place, only to find that it had exploded overnight."

Wanderer couldnt help but snicker at your cynical wishes, "Is that what got you fired? Id fire you if i heard you say that."

"Shut the fuck up and let me finish talking," you said with a growl. Even though you couldnt see it, you could feel that stupid sly grin on his face and those disgustingly dreamy eyes rolling at your bitching. It was normal for you two to talk this way with one another- in fact, it was your way of bonding and the thing that brought you together in the first place.

"The Akadeymia is full of idiots. A graduate student asked me- genuinely asked me," you cleared your throat and began repeating the students words in a mocking tone, "wait, so do i use 'their' or 'there'?"

Wanderer hung on your every word, waiting for the inevitable explosion of, "How is he a graduate student?" and "What was he going to ask next? Which 'to' to use? Which 'your' to use?" with increasing intensity. However, it never came. Instead, you simply shrugged, sighing in relief.

"I ripped his paper to shreds and threw it into the air like confetti before walking out without saying another word."

"So, you quit?"

"No, i was fired."

"You said you walked out without ano-"

"I didnt say another word, but the student, his friends, and the professor had some words. A lot of words."

"Hmm. Im sure they did. People from the Akadeymia sure do have a lot of words."

"A lot of words they dont know how to use. Its hopeless, but its also not my problem anymore. Itll eventually devolve into a nothing more than a joke and a waste of time."

Wanderer was quiet for a moment, taking his next words into great consideration as to not say the wrong thing, "You know, im usually the pessimistic one, but youre being a real downer right now. Even I know that humanity isnt that stupid."

You let out a careless sigh in response.

"There will always be people you meet that are so unbelieveably stupid, they make you wonder how they got past the age of seven," he grumbled, seemingly annoyed at just the thought of them, "But theres also people like you, like us. Sure theyre few and far between, but theyll come to you. Theres no need to sift through the endless waves of brainless idiots. Anyone with even an ounce of self respect will stick out like a sore thumb."

You hummed in thought, seemingly not believing him.

"Dont hum at me. Think about it- its how you me, not to mention those blabbering fools you call friends. Alhaitham, Tighnari, Cyno, Kaveh- even though theyll never live up to the bar ive set, theyre still above the rest of the crowd."

You sneered up at him, teasingly smacking him on the back of his head, "You bonehead! If anything, youve lowered the bar!"

Wanderer glared down at you, shoving you away. However, due to being in the same hoodie, he was inadvertedly pulled with you as you flopped onto the floor. He managed to fall on top of you, smushing you down to the floor and effectively trapping you. With a devious grin, he moved his hands up to your cheeks, forcing you to look at him, "Tell me you love me and that im better than everyone else."

You raised an eyebrow at him, "I loathe you and go to sleep every night hoping youll dissolve."

Wanderer narrowed his eyes, his nose crinkling in irritation as he squeezed your cheeks together, "Say it."

"Or what?" You protested in a purposefully bratty tone.

"Or no kisses. No cuddles. No-"

"Alright, alright, damn! I love you and you are slightly above everyone else."

"Wrong. Say it the right way."

"Youre so irritating, just give me a kiss, blockhead!"

"Guess ill be sleeping elsewhere toni-"

"NO N-" you clear your throat, a bit embarrassed that you reacted so strongly, "N-no, i love you, i do, and you really are better than everyone else," you begrudgingly admitted, a slight blush creeping in on your cheeks.

Smirking with satisfaction, Wanderer released your face from his hands and leaned down to press a gentle, loving kiss on your lips, "Thats better. You know, youre awfully cute when you get all flustered and blushy like that."

"WANDERER!!"

He snickered, thuroughly enjoying how easy it was for him to get under your skin no matter how pissed off your expression was. Besides, it was hard to take you seriously when your cheeks were bright red.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

[kaahgyuya]

Stupid, so stupid.

>> Fluff - Wanderer realizes he's developed feelings for you. Nothing of the sort, just big fluff.

Just know that I tend to switch to gender pronouns to you/yours/you're sometimes so just a heads up before you read! ( ￣▽￣)

Wanderer x gn!reader

Below this is the text, read the warnings/heads up before pressing the keep reading. Thank you! (　＾▽＾)

That's it, when that snap clicked in his mind. Like a rope snapping in two. He was a puppet. Why was he feeling this way? Just pure mortal and pathetic feelings humans felt. Nothing more.

But it kept ghosting him nonstop. The way his chest would clench then feel a small aftertaste of warmth and weakness. The way he stared at you from afar, yearning for you to come and talk to him.

Wanderer always kept his cold face and insults for anyone he met, but for you, it was different. Everytime when you would ramble on and then realize you've been rambling and apologize, he just straightforwardly says, "Go on, keep talking." With that bland tone always painting his voice. Burning his brain with your voice.

It was until then you and Wanderer kept on hanging out more and more. Only for his reaction to be more delayed by the minute, lost in his thoughts whenever he was with you. His guard somewhat 'accidentally' down. Finding it pathetic when Nahida could read his puppet mind whenever she accompanied the both of you.

"Are you thinking of—"

"Shut it." He glared at Nahida with a cold stare.

How long was it? A few months? Maybe 5 or 6? He didn't have any words. He was just in denial, always thinking to himself or muttering;

"There's no way I'd ever fall in love. It's a pathetic feeling. God what is this feeling.." Wanderer would mumble to himself and clench his shirt and flush whenever he thought of you. At first he thought you cursed him and he was really leaning onto that thought actually believing you cursed him with some sort of spell..

"What did you do.." Wanderer could only really think of you. He 'hated' it. He hated it so much. The way you smiled, the way your conversations flowed every time like water whenever you talked to him, the way you laughed, the way your hair just looked so soft, the way you cheerfully talked, the way your eyes just sparkled without effort, the way yo—

He slammed his fist on his study desk his other hand covering his flustered face. Only crumbling by the second. His feathered pencil fell to the desk and his books nicely stacked dropped to the floor.

"God I hate you..." Wanderer's eyebrows were scrunched up and his eyes closed, his face flushing up more and more by the millisecond. That funny feeling still lingering and teasing him, he hated it. He hated how he loved your smile, he hated it how he would admire you from afar, he hated it how he fought the urge to hug you, he hated it how your personality was like a glimmer of light to him, he hated it how so kind you were to him, he hated how you managed to stick out to him like a sunflower in a field of daisies, he hated it how you seemed to look so adorable to him without effort, he hated it, he hated it so much. He hated how he loved you.

He absolutely loathed that he managed to fall in love with you.

But yet, he never complained. He never said anything. The way you would always follow behind him like you were his shadow or a little kid. You would always put excuses but he would find it... he couldn't find the words. He found you so cute he wanted to genuinely explode.

always finding excuses to be closer to you, like in the akademiya. Wanderer barely went to the akademiya, but he did in order to find you about to borrow books. You felt a tap on your shoulder.

"You have notes for this right?" It was the latest lesson you listened in. You nodded. But he just wanted to spend time with you. He already had gotten notes and studied enough.. by the force of Nahida basically saying; "It's good for you! More knowledge means more power." Basically saying vegetables are good for you, but in knowledge form.

He really only came to the akademiya to find you or to secretly follow you. Or whenever you went to the same lectures, he'd always steal glances at you. And if you caught him, he'd just return to his normal gaze and listen in to the lecture again. But as soon as you looked back in front of you, he'd immediately look back at you and the slightest bit of red brushed on his cheeks.

One night, you and Wanderer hung out of the night. You two went exploring together in the forests of Sumeru, only stopping at a cliff where a log sat. The sun already set long before. And the moon rose high up in the sky, glimmering softly.

You plopped down on the log and he slowly approached you without hesitation and sat down. You began to ramble on and count the stars you saw. He only muttered out a couple of words back to you but you completely filled the silence with your happiness.

"Y/n," Wanderer finally said.

"Hm?" You hummed back in response.

"Do you..." He paused, hesitating.

"Want to dance with me?" When he used to be Kabukimono, he'd dance in the moonlight alone. Only the sounds of soft wind and birds accompanied him. But what if he reunited with that moment but with you?

You paused and processed his words.

"Cmon, we don't have all day." He was starting to get impatient but then you suddenly burst,

"Yes! Okay!" Wanderer continued to look at you, but then took your hand with his and intertwined his fingers with yours. He took you up so you'd be standing, and spun you around like a ballerina, and he was the knight. You were startled by the sudden movement, but continued to dance.

You were smiling and giggling until you step on his foot on accident. He snorted and let out a chuckle. "You suck."

The both of you both danced in the soft moonlight. Dancing near the cliff you both observed from earlier, letting all the people down below see you and his shadows swaying together. Your warmth embraced his cold porcelain puppet hands as you continue to smile and hum a nice melody.

The sounds around him just numbed. He observed you gently with his eyes reflecting the sky. Wanderer's eyes softened.

And there you two were, intertwined hands and a soft melody from your mouth surrounded the both of you. He was there with you, softly thinking to themself of wanting to break the fragile laws of friendship.

@xyouami 10/6/23 5:59 pm

[hellithides]

An Invite to Temptation

Synopsis: Arlecchino invites Scaramouche to join in on the fun. Content warning: Dom!Arlecchino x Sub!Fem! reader, Scaramouche x Reader, making out, exhibitionism, threesome, cunnilingus, sesbian lex and scara watches.

4.5k words. NSFW under the cut

Scaramouche opens the door to your shared apartment, his footsteps pausing abruptly at the sight of you and Arlecchino lounging comfortably on the couch. Her arm is draped casually over your shoulder, fingers lightly tracing patterns on your arm. He glares, eyes narrowing as if he’s just walked into something profoundly offensive. With a heavy sigh, he rolls his eyes dramatically.

“Tch. You two are disgusting,” he mutters, the words sharp and biting as they cut through the quiet atmosphere.

You chuckle, completely unfazed by his attitude. Pulling Arlecchino closer, you rest your head against her shoulder. Her presence is warm and grounding, and you feel a sense of contentment despite Scaramouche’s usual sour demeanor.

“Welcome home to you too,” you reply smoothly, your voice light with amusement.

Arlecchino says nothing but shifts slightly, her hand lazily continuing its path along your shoulder, adding to the intimacy between you. Scaramouche, visibly cringing at the sight of the two of you all wrapped up in each other, scoffs loudly, crossing his arms as he leans back against the wall, a look of pure disgust etched onto his face.

“Seriously?” he huffs, eyes flicking between you two. “Can’t you save this revolting display of affection for a private room? Not all of us want to see you practically merged into one person.”

You snort softly, glancing over at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. “It’s pretty private here. I mean, last time I checked, this is my home.”

Arlecchino nods in agreement, her expression unreadable but clearly comfortable with the situation. She shifts a little closer, her fingers brushing lightly along your neck. Scaramouche groans dramatically, his patience thinning by the second.

“Yeah, real private,” he sneers, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s not like I just walked in and got an eyeful of... this.”

He gestures vaguely at the two of you, as if words are insufficient to describe how offensive he finds your closeness. Suddenly, Arlecchino leans in, her breath warm against your ear as she whispers something that makes your heart skip a beat. You shudder, feeling her hand slip beneath the hem of your skirt, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. Scaramouche looks like he's about to keel over. His eyes dart between you and Arlecchino, his initial disdain turning into a look of bewilderment as he catches the suggestive movement of her hand. He raises an eyebrow, clearly at a loss for words.

“You two are not seriously doing this in front of me, are you?” His voice is sharp, but there's an undeniable hint of interest creeping in. "Have you no shame?"

“You can watch,” Arlecchino says, her words dripping with playful provocation. Arlecchino smirks, her sly smile deepening as she shifts you further back into the couch until you’re lying on your back, head resting on the arm with her between your knees. The world around you seem to fall away as her fingers slide against your skin, spreading your thighs ever so slightly. Her movements are deliberate, almost daring, and you feel the heat of her gaze as she remains focused on you. Scaramouche’s reaction is almost comical—his eyes widen, his usual cold composure completely shattered.

“What?” he sputters, the word coming out in a strangled breath. “You’re kidding, right? You can’t be serious... right?”

His voice falters as he averts his gaze, looking anywhere but at the two of you. A light blush creeps up his cheeks, the uncharacteristic color betraying his embarrassment. He shifts his stance awkwardly, crossing his arms tighter, as if trying to form a barrier between him and the situation unfolding in front of him.

"Relax,"

Arlecchino says with a chuckle, her voice low and teasing, her eyes never leaving yours. “We’re just having a little fun. Unless you're interested in joining—”

"As if!"

Scaramouche cuts her off immediately, his face turning even redder. He shakes his head furiously, his voice a pitch higher than usual. “Mm… My already so wet, mon amour. Does the thought of him seeing you so debauched for me turn you on this much?”

“Yes… Fuck, Arle… touch me please.” You respond, unashamed despite Scaramouche’s eyes on you.

Arlecchino only hums as she begins to slip your underwear off. You shudder, anticipating her touch as her hands slide further up your thighs. At this point Arlecchino is between your spread legs, the angle is just right that your little skirt covers you from Scaramouche’s gaze.  He lets out a strangled cough, his face now turning a deep shade of red. He tries to look away, but his eyes keep darting back to you and Arlecchino. He gulps nervously, trying to form a coherent sentence. “You... You're actually going through with this?” “Why not? I mean she’s too pretty a sight not to share.”

Arlecchino chuckles, lifting one of your thighs to her shoulder. The change in position allows Scaramouche just enough of a peek to your already wet folds that his breathing quickens together with the pounding of his heart. He’s rooted to the spot as Arlecchino begins to plant soft kisses onto your inner thighs making you whine her name softly. The sound causes him to throb in his pants.

“Why don’t you take a seat?”

Arlecchino regards him, nodding in the direction of the loveseat adjacent from the couch where the two of you lay. Her lips brush against your clit, earning her a shaky exhale from you. At that, she shifts her attention back to you and presses a kiss to your clit. Your fingers tangle into her silky, black and white locks, tugging gently as she inches even closer. Her movements are deliberate and slow, heightening the tension between you both in the way that she knows all-too-well drives you insane. Your breath catches, and when your half-lidded, dazed eyes meet Scaramouche’s, the charged atmosphere only intensifies.

Scaramouche, frozen in place, seems to struggle with the whirlwind of emotions now stirring within him. His breath hitches sharply, his gaze locked onto yours despite his earlier disgust. There’s something deeper in his eyes now—an unmistakable blend of embarrassment, flickers of desire, and even a faint glint of envy. The tension in the room feels palpable, thick with unspoken feelings. He shifts uncomfortably on the edge of his seat, his fists clenched tightly in his lap as he fights to maintain his composure. Despite his earlier protests, his body betrays him. His flushed cheeks and the way his gaze keeps darting back to you say more than his words ever could. For a moment, the air is thick with possibility, a crossroads between temptation and restraint. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, a brief involuntary gesture as his mind wrestles with the conflicting emotions surging through him. The cold, biting persona he usually hides behind seems to be slipping, and he’s struggling to regain control.

Arlecchino, sensing the charged energy, lets out a soft, amused hum. She doesn't look at Scaramouche directly, but it’s clear she’s aware of the effect the two of you are having on him. Her lips brush lightly against your folds as she speaks, her words barely above a whisper, but loud enough to slice through the tension like a knife.

“Looks like we’ve got an audience.”

Arlecchino says with amusement, noting the way Scaramouche looks at you, drinking in the sight of you as if he was a man who’s been starved for centuries. You feel a ripple of amusement mix with the heat rising in your body. Scaramouche tenses visibly, his jaw clenching as he tears his eyes away, his pride warring with the raw vulnerability that has been laid bare. He looks as if he’s about to say something, but no words come out, only the faintest, shaky exhale.

“Arlecchino—” he finally begins, voice low and strained, as if he’s fighting every word. “This... this is insane. You’re both insane.”

Arlecchino's chuckle is soft but dangerous, a sound that seems to vibrate in the air between you. Her hand slides down your thigh, her gaze never wavering from you, but the weight of her words is unmistakably directed at him.

“Insane? Maybe. But aren’t you curious, Scaramouche? How good your roommate would look cumming on my tongue? How heavenly she sounds? You should be honored I’m letting her sing for you.”

His breath comes out in a shaky sigh, and for the briefest moment, you see his composure crack. He doesn’t respond, but the silence speaks volumes. The room remains heavy with the tension of the moment, the air thick with the unspoken desires and the battle raging behind Scaramouche's guarded eyes. Your head tilts back, lips parted as you let out a moan that reverberates through the room, filling the air with a palpable sense of desire. Arlecchino’s tongue moves with deliberate skill, and her own soft moan in response only deepens the intensity of the moment. The tension between your bodies is electric, almost too much to bear. Scaramouche feels a wave of heat wash over him, his stomach tightening painfully as he grips the arm of the chair beside him, his knuckles turning white from the strain. He swallows hard, trying to ground himself, but it’s no use. The sight of you, so unashamed and vulnerable, moaning with reckless abandon, stirs something deep inside him—something he’s never allowed himself to think about until now.

You moan his name, soft and breathless, “Scara…”

The sound is like a spark, igniting something within him that he didn’t realize was there. Hearing his name roll off your tongue in such a needy, pleading way sends a jolt straight to his core, and he instinctively shifts in his seat, resisting the overwhelming urge to adjust himself. He’s not supposed to feel like this. Not toward you. Not while watching this. But there’s no denying it anymore—the way his pulse quickens, the heat creeping up his neck, the tension coiling in his body. His thoughts are racing, tangled between discomfort and the undeniable pull of desire that’s gnawing at him from within.

"Archons…"

He mutters under his breath, his voice barely audible, almost as if he's trying to convince himself that he's still in control. But even as he whispers it, the tension in his body betrays him. His gaze flickers back to you, drawn against his will to the sight of your flushed skin, the way your body arches slightly in response to Arlecchino’s ministrations.

Arlecchino, ever perceptive, notices the effect you’re having on him. Her eyes flick briefly toward Scaramouche, a predatory glint in them as she continues with deliberate purpose, almost as if she’s drawing him into this intimate dance, even from across the room.

Scaramouche bites down on his lip, hard, trying to focus on anything but the growing heat pooling in his lower abdomen. His breaths come quicker, shorter, and he feels a bead of sweat form at his temple. He’s never felt so conflicted, torn between his usual aloofness and this unfamiliar, overpowering desire surging through him. He tries to look away, to close his eyes and shut out the scene unfolding before him, but the sound of your voice, that soft, yearning moan of his name, keeps echoing in his mind, pulling him deeper into this vortex of sensation.

"Scara..." you moan again, your voice more desperate this time, and the last of his resolve crumbles. He can no longer deny what’s happening inside him—he wants you, needs you, in ways he never imagined. His hands clench tighter around the edge of the desk, his mind spinning as he wrestles with his own desires. In the back of his mind, he knows he should leave, should retreat to his room and pretend this never happened. But something keeps him rooted in place, watching, feeling, wanting—despite every part of him that’s screaming to stop. “Go ahead, you can touch her. Just not here. This pussy’s mine.” Arlecchino’s words hang in the air, sharp and possessive, as she punctuates her claim on you with a harsh suck that sends a surge of pleasure through your body. Your back arches involuntarily, hands pulling at her hair, a loud whine escaping your lips. The sound draws Scaramouche’s attention, his jaw tightening as he processes her invitation. His mind is torn, screaming that this is a line he shouldn’t cross, but his body betrays him, filled with a growing, undeniable desire to touch you, to feel your skin under his hands.

He takes a shaky breath, trying to steady himself. “Are you sure? I... I don’t want to overstep any boundaries.” His voice wavers, hesitant as he looks at both you and her for permission.

“Don’t make me change my mind.” Arlecchino growls, her tone brooking no argument. Her grip on your thighs tightens possessively, her head buried deeper between them, the heat of her movements sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

“Haah… Arle, feels so good…”

Scaramouche swallows hard at the warning, knowing full well she isn’t one to be defied. But it’s your moans, needy and raw, that ultimately seal his decision. His feet move before his mind can catch up, standing from his seat and closing the distance between you and him. His gaze flickers between you and Arlecchino, heart pounding in his chest, hands trembling as they hover just above your skin.

You whine softly at him, the sound barely above a whisper, “Wanna kiss…”

At your words, Arlecchino growls softly, her actions growing more intense as her tongue works relentlessly against you. She sucks harshly, drawing a loud, desperate moan from your throat as her name tumbles from your lips. The sound drives Scaramouche to the edge, his body reacting to your every movement, to the way you squirm under Arlecchino’s touch.

His eyes darken as he leans in, his breath ghosting over your lips, tantalizingly close. “You want me to kiss you, huh?” he asks, his voice low, taunting. A smirk plays on his lips, but beneath the facade, the heat in his gaze is undeniable. “Ask nicely, then.”

Before you can respond, Arlecchino’s head lifts just slightly, making you whine ever-so-softly from the loss of contact. She glares at Scaramouche, her tone sharp with warning. “You have no right making demands of her.” Her voice is firm, unwavering, and the possessiveness in it is impossible to miss. “Do as she says before you anger me.”

Scaramouche’s eyes flicker with brief annoyance, the idea of being ordered around clearly grating on him. But one look at Arlecchino’s fierce expression reminds him of her power in this moment, and he knows better than to push his luck. He lets out a frustrated huff, his defiance melting under the weight of her authority. His gaze softens as it meets yours again, his resistance crumbling as he sighs.

“Fine. You asked for it.”

Without another word, Scaramouche leans down, kneeling beside the couch and closing the final inch between you. His lips crash against yours in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. It’s possessive, hungry, as if he’s been holding back for far too long. His hand finds your cheek, fingers trembling slightly at the first real touch, and he deepens the kiss, his body pressing closer to yours as he loses himself in the moment.

At the exact same moment, Arlecchino reminds you of her presence by sliding a blackened hand beneath your shirt, cupping your breast harshly through the lace bra. The world seems to blur around you, the heat of his kiss mixing with the relentless pleasure from Arlecchino’s touch and tongue, sending your senses into overdrive. Scaramouche groans deeply, the sound muffled as your moan vibrates against his mouth. His lips move against yours with an almost desperate hunger, the heat between you two igniting like wildfire. His hands slide down to grip your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you closer, wanting more. The need in him is palpable, his tongue flicking along your bottom lip, seeking permission to deepen the kiss.

“Fuck!”

Your gasp breaks the tension as Arlecchino slips two fingers inside you, her touch sending a jolt through your body. The cry that escapes your lips is raw and involuntary, your body arching into her, giving in to the sensation. In that brief moment of vulnerability, you part your lips just enough for Scaramouche to slip his tongue inside, deepening the kiss with a fervor you hadn’t expected from him. He groans again, the taste of you driving him wild, his tongue exploring the depths of your mouth with a newfound boldness. His grip on your waist tightens, as if he’s afraid to let go, afraid to lose the connection. Every inch of your body is buzzing with sensation—Arlecchino’s fingers working you expertly while Scaramouche’s kiss devours you, his breath hot and heavy as his desire matches your own.

The room feels suffocating, heavy with lust and need, and the tension between the three of you crackles in the air like electricity. Arlecchino doesn’t slow her pace, her fingers curling inside you just right, making your hips buck in response, pulling her name from your lips once again.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you feel the pressure building within you, your body trembling on the edge. “A-Arle… m’close…” you manage to whimper, voice strained, the desperation evident in every syllable. Arlecchino hums against your clit, a low, satisfied sound that vibrates through your skin, only intensifying the pleasure she’s giving you. Her movements become more focused, determined, as if spurred on by the sound of your need.

Scaramouche pulls away for a moment to watch the two of you with a sharp, almost predatory gaze, his eyes clouded with lust and jealousy. His breathing has grown heavy and uneven, his composure unraveling as he witnesses the scene unfolding before him. His hand moves to cup your chin, tilting your head gently so that he can see the expression on your face—your flushed cheeks, parted lips, and the look of bliss etched in your features.

Hearing your voice tremble as you moan Arlecchino’s name fuels the fire burning within him. An unfamiliar flash of jealousy tightens in his chest, the possessive part of him wanting you to call his name instead. But he pushes that feeling aside, using it to fuel the intensity of his actions. His lips crash against yours again, his kiss desperate and consuming, his tongue dancing with yours as he drinks in every sound you make. He wants to taste your pleasure, to feel it resonate through him.

You moan against Scaramouche’s lips, your body wound tighter and tighter, your senses overwhelmed by both of them. Every flick of Arlecchino’s tongue, every curl of her fingers inside you, pushes you closer to the edge, and Scaramouche’s hungry kiss only adds to the intensity. His low growl reverberates through your mouth, a primal sound that vibrates against your lips, sending shivers down your spine.

Unable to control himself, Scaramouche grinds his hips against the edge of the couch he’s been leaning on, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through his body. He groans into your mouth, his tongue delving deeper, exploring you with desperation, as if he’s trying to claim every inch of you. His hand trails down from your chin, his fingers brushing the soft skin of your neck, tracing your collarbone and down to your shoulder. His touch is light but filled with intent, as though he’s memorizing every curve of your body.

Just when you think you can’t take it any longer, Arlecchino delivers a final, harsh suck, and it shatters whatever fragile hold you had left. Your body convulses, pleasure exploding through you in waves as you scream her name, your release hitting you like a tidal wave. Every muscle in your body contracts, and you feel yourself unravel under their touch, lost in the overwhelming sensation.

As you come undone, Scaramouche feels your muffled moans and cries reverberate through your shared kiss, your trembling body sending shudders through him as well. He’s completely enraptured by the way you respond, the way your moans seem to echo in his head, feeding the need within him. He watches, dazed, as Arlecchino pulls away slightly, but not before batting his hand away from you with an almost playful impatience. Without hesitation, Arlecchino swoops in, her lips capturing yours in a hungry, urgent kiss. You moan into her mouth, tasting yourself on her tongue, the intimate connection between the two of you heightening your sensitivity. It’s raw and possessive, her grip on you unrelenting, as if she’s reminding both you and Scaramouche that you belong only to her. Scaramouche, momentarily stunned by being pushed aside, watches the scene unfold with a mixture of awe and frustration. Arlecchino pulls away from your lips after a moment, her breathing heavy, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. She holds up her hand, showing off her glistening fingers to both you and Scaramouche, a wicked grin spreading across her lips. The sight of your release coating her fingers sends a jolt of heat through Scaramouche, his mouth going dry as he stares, unable to tear his eyes away.

"Look at what you’ve done," Arlecchino purrs, her voice low and teasing as she holds her fingers in the air, taunting both you and Scaramouche. The slick forms webs between her blackened digits, making Scaramouche imagine what it would taste like. What you would taste like. He gulps the thought down.

“So beautiful, aren’t you?” Her gaze flickers between the two of you, daring him to react. You simply whine in response, unable to even think with how intensely your orgasm has overtaken you. You remain boneless, watching the exchange between the two through dazed eyes. Scaramouche’s chest tightens as he swallows heavily, trying to compose himself, but the sight of you and Arlecchino, the taste of your moans still lingering on his lips, makes it impossible to regain control. His fingers twitch at his side, itching to touch you again, but for now, all he can do is watch, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as the tension between the three of you continues to simmer. Scaramouche’s eyes fixate on Arlecchino's fingers, his breath catching as he takes in the sight of your wetness glistening on her skin. His face heats up instantly, a flush spreading across his cheeks that he can’t hide. The image sears itself into his mind, the raw intimacy of it making his stomach tighten with an emotion he can't quite place—jealousy, desire, frustration, all tangled together.

“I believe that’s enough for you now,” Arlecchino says coolly, her tone carrying a note of finality. “I’m sure you’ve got enough material to get you off for months.” She licks the wetness from her lips and fingers slowly, deliberately, her eyes flicking toward Scaramouche with a smirk as she does so. Every move feels like a taunt, like a reminder that she holds the power here.

Scaramouche swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry as he watches her, unable to tear his gaze away from the sight. His heart pounds in his chest, the frustration bubbling just beneath the surface as he bites the inside of his cheek to keep from saying something rash.

“Excuse me,” Arlecchino adds nonchalantly, as though this entire moment hasn’t left the room charged with tension. “I have to take my girlfriend up to rest.”

With that, she effortlessly scoops you into her arms, cradling you as if you weigh nothing. Scaramouche watches, his muscles tensing as he sees the possessive way she holds you, the way she claims you with every gesture. There's an ache in his chest that he can't ignore, a raw, visceral longing mixed with resentment as you disappear behind the door with her.

He remains seated, staring at the now-closed door with a frustrated huff, his body betraying him as desire and frustration course through him. His chest heaves, breath unsteady, and his pants feel far too tight as he shifts uncomfortably. The room feels far too quiet now, the absence of your presence hanging thick in the air. His mind reels, trying to make sense of everything he’s just witnessed, emotions swirling like a storm inside him.

Before long, Arlecchino returns downstairs, her movements casual yet carrying the same air of dominance that seems to surround her. Scaramouche looks up, his eyes still darkened by the unresolved tension in him. His face is flushed, and despite his efforts to maintain his composure, there’s a hardness in his expression—a mixture of frustration and envy that he can’t quite shake.

Arlecchino meets his gaze with her usual steely confidence, her smirk ever-present. Scaramouche clenches his jaw, fighting the bitter retort that rises to his lips, but his emotions get the better of him. He lets out a frustrated huff, running a hand through his messy hair, glaring at her through narrowed eyes.

“I hope you don’t think this means you can touch her whenever you please.”

“I know my place,” he mutters, the words dripping with sullen bitterness. But even as he says it, the jealousy gnaws at him, an unspoken desire simmering beneath the surface.

“Good,” Arlecchino replies, her tone casual, but there's a dangerous edge to her voice. She takes a step closer, her eyes gleaming with amusement as she adds, “Maybe next time I’ll have you between her legs, servicing her instead.”

Scaramouche’s eyes widen, his jaw dropping open in shock. The possibility of a next time suddenly on the table. For a moment, he’s completely at a loss for words, his mind struggling to process what she’s just said. The boldness of her suggestion hits him like a punch, his body going rigid with embarrassment and surprise. His face flushes an even deeper shade of red, and he lets out a strangled cough, trying to regain his composure.

“W-what?” he stammers, his voice cracking slightly. “You... you can’t be serious.” His heart races, and the thought of what she’s implying sends his mind spiraling. He can’t tell if she’s toying with him or if she genuinely means it, and that uncertainty only makes him more flustered.

Arlecchino tilts her head slightly, her smirk widening at his reaction. “Maybe,” she says, her voice low and teasing, leaving just enough ambiguity to keep him guessing. “I’ll be off now.”

With that, she turns and leaves without another word, her footsteps fading as she exits the room. Scaramouche remains frozen for a moment, his fists clenched at his sides, his mind still spinning from her parting remark. He feels the tension in his body, the way his heart races uncontrollably, the way his breath comes in shallow bursts. Everything about this moment has left him shaken, and not just with frustration—there’s something else stirring deep within him that he refuses to acknowledge.

“Bastard…” he mutters under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he watches the space where she had stood moments before. “Who does she think she is, saying something like that…”

But even as he mutters those words, Scaramouche can’t stop the thoughts racing through his mind, the conflicting emotions that refuse to settle. His heart is still pounding, his body still buzzing, and as much as he tries to calm himself, the fire Arlecchino stoked within him refuses to be extinguished.