Wanderer Smut - Tumblr Posts

Wanderer roughly pinning your hands atop your head as he kitty liked you neck. This entire thing was a test of your patience, a punishment. His tongue took long strides up and down from your neck to your collarbone. Hearing your desperate, hushed whimpers that were whispered into his ears encouraged him to go further, experiment a bit more, testing your limits.

Soon he started biting at your soft precious skin. On your neck, collarbone and even nipples, hearing you cry out his name he was over the fucking moon. He nudged his knee rather aggressively in-between your legs, catching you off guard and forcing out a moan. He leaned close and chuckled into your ear.

Now, one hand holding your wrists above your head, while the other circles your nipples, even pinching a few times (if he feels like it), his thigh was still nudging closer to your core while you tried your best to get as much friction as you could, by rubbing on his thigh, ahhh~ such cute little futile attempts.

His mouth was busy making out with you, shoving his tongue past your pretty lips, all covered and coated in a mixture of saliva, as he french kissed you. He continued his ministrations everywhere else too, even suddenly halting a few times to really edge you. Hearing your please, whines and cries just made him want to edge you more. Seeing you so desperate for his cock just made it harder for him to keep his pants from soiling with his cum.

18+||MDNI

Playing with Scara’s mouth ♡ Shoving your fingers in his mouth and toying with his tongue, feeling his saliva coat your fingers while he glares at you and tries to make sounds of protest. His flushed face and the rapid rise and fall of his chest give away his true emotions, though. You know he’s enjoying this just as much as you are. He looks so pretty like this..his hair a mess, his face a beautiful crimson, and a bulge in his pants that’s becoming hard to ignore.

18+||MDNI

Scara tit sucking...my brain is so full. He sucks on your tits like he’s been starved, his hands clutching at your back desperately as if you’d run away if he didn’t hold you as close as he possibly could. You hear him hum softly, and he even lets out the occasional whimper- he’d glare at you and deny it if you asked him, but after a few forehead kisses and head scratches, he’s right back to calling you mommy <3

18+||MDNI

The urge to hold Scara down by his hips and eat him out for hours while he squirms and writhes in your grasp ♡ poor baby is so overstimulated, his pretty hands are gripping your hair and he’s whining so loud :( the feeling of your tongue abusing his puffy clit is just too much for him :(

18+||MDNI

And the Scaramouche pussy eating thoughts continue...imagine having him sit on your face ♡ He looks down at you with his cheeks flushed a rosy pink and a stupid smirk on his face. “It seems like you’re enjoying this more than I am..heh, how amusing.” He spits the words at you, but they don’t hurt you, no, you’re far too distracted right now. The feeling of his soft pussy against your lips is dizzying, intoxicating, and you grab at his hips, trying to bring him impossibly closer as you lick and suck at his puffy clit. Your chin is coated in his slick, and you can’t get enough. You look downright lewd beneath him, all glassy eyed and desperate for his cum. “So messy...you’re disgusting. Do you really think you’re worthy of pleasing me? You’re already so pussy drunk, and you haven’t even made me cum yet. You really are pathetic.”

18+||MDNI

Scaramouche’s pussy is soft and puffy and dripping with slick. Sry I don’t make the rules that’s just how it is!!!!!!

18+||MDNI

“I want you to play with yourself for me.”

You say to Scaramouche, who’s currently sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard with his knees to his chest. He reluctantly spreads his legs to expose his cunt, glaring off the side as he brings his hand down and rubs his neglected clit a few times before slowly pushing one of his slender fingers inside.

“Good boy.”

It doesn’t take long before his breathing becomes labored. His face is flushed a rosy pink, and he’s bucking into his own touch. His pussy is practically dripping with slick, and the lewd squelching sounds it makes as he pumps his finger in and out are almost humiliating. “Such a needy boy..bet you wish it was me playing with your pussy right now, hm?” Your comment is met with a breathy “S-shut up..” and you can’t hold back a giggle at how he’s still trying to be intimidating. You smile at him. “That’s enough, baby.” You Inch closer and press a kiss to his thigh before taking his wrist and bringing his hand up to your mouth, licking his finger clean. He looks down at you with an expression you might have thought was disgust if you didn’t know better. “You’ve got an attitude, but you did a very good job. I think you deserve a reward, hm? Let me take care of you now..”

18+||MINORS DNI

I want Scara’s thighs squeezing my head while I eat him out :(( want him to tangle his hands in my hair and tug on it while I lick and suck at his cunt

i want scara to breed me full-

18+||MINORS DNI

Me too :( He’s so possessive and this is just another way of marking you and claiming you as his. He holds you impossibly close, arms squeezing you tighter and tighter as he thrusts into you with no mercy. He leans in close to your ear and you can hear him panting softly before he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m gonna cum inside you...gonna fill you up with my cum...” He lets out a breathy laugh “Ha, yeah? You want that? I’ll give it to you...”

Just a quickie ♡

YALL ITS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT IM DUJSJCKSJD.

Theres not enough sub wanderer fics around here istg⁉️

Anyways be kind to me and my first smut work because I am a fluff writer by heart👹👹

Tagging my lovely @hitomisuzuya because shes my fellow wanderer lover 🫶🏻

Written by a minor! Just block if ur uncomfortable😁

Sort of public sex, sub!wanderer x gen neutral! Reader, hand job, idk whatelse to write, not proofread

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"You idiot! What if we get caught here! Ah! Mmhm~"

Wanderer covered his mouth, when a not so innocent sound came out of his mouth.

"Thats fine by me" you answered honestly, too focused on painting his pretty neck with kisses and hickeys. "Let's just make sure its an enjoyable show for those who caught us"

The chances of getting caught was high, considering there isnt a lot of private alleyways in sumeru city, but you made the most of it.

Wanderer covered his mouth anytime a whimper or moan of his was deemed "too loud" by his standard.

But that only riled you to take his arms up and pin it above his head.

"Youre doing this on purpose. I fucking know it, you horny bitch" he whimpered, trying to get his arms free before the inevitable comes to play. He acts all high and mighty and doesnt help with his big ego. But it all comes crumbling down the moment you trap him between your arms.

"Aw but you like it though wanderer" you teased, a smirk plastered on your face. "Especially when I do this" you started grinding your knee up to his growing erection, making the man whimper louder.

More soft moans and whimpers escaped his mouth before you stopped. Causing Wanderer to look at you and frown.

"Why'd you stop? You could have at least get it over with and we can finally go home. Hurry up and do it again before I-" his sentence once again got interupted with you suddenly placed your hand on his chest, and slowly drag down to his erection, and under his pants.

"What are you doing?!" He demanded an answer, his race growing red by the minute.

"What does it look like im doing?" You gently circled your finger around the tip of his cock before wrapping your arm around it and started pumping it.

"Oh archons- no- mmhm~ a-ahh~!" He started moaning louder . "(Name) please dont stop! Please dont dont dont!" Babbling nonsense got you riled up more and started pumping his cock faster.

"Wait- no - stop! I think im gonna cum" he started squirming, hands still above his head trying to get them free

"Didnt you say I shouldnt stop? Why are you complaining now? Come on, cum for me my dear" that only made you pump his cock faster than before, catching wanderer off guard and made him release a loud moan and cum all over your hand.

Wanderer plopped his head on your shoulder and twitches anytime you toy with the tip of his cock.

"Lets continue this at home shall we? Im not done with you yet wanderer"

It was gonna be a long night indeed

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Scara with an s/o thats completely insatiable out of nowhere

Like before his s/o would be tired after maybe 3 rounds? But on one random day theyre like supperrrrrr insatiable

As in its been 10+ rounds and they still want more hehe

Scenario please!

Ooh, I like this! Thank you for the ask, anon🫶

cw: nsfw fem!reader, penetration, use of degrading petnames, rough, sub!reader, dom!scaramouche, dacryphilia, spanking, not proof read.

———☆★———★☆———☆★———★☆——

Scaramouche was amused, he'd never have thought that you, his s/o who usually was completely spent after 2-3 rounds, became so needy. Not to say that Scaramouche is complaining, it's quite the opposite. He found that arousing, incredibly so.

It has been so long since you two started, you couldn't remember what orgasm this was, nth, eighth? It was all blurry as only the desire of release overwhelmed your senses entirely. Your legs draped over Scaramouche's shoulder as he fucked himself into your abused hole, "Hhnn... You're— so, so needy today, what's gotten into you? Nevertheless, let us see when you finally break." not registering his words as his cock hitting your sweet spot was all you could think about, you had been hot and bothered all day long for him, it was until after you two returned within the confines of your home that he finally caved in, punishing you for acting so needy when you were in public.

It certainly surprised him, he was a puppet, he could go on for days but he was used to being done after a few rounds and then cleaning you up afterwards, this though was a pleasant surprise to him. He saw it as a challenge to try and see how long it will take till you break. One of his hands reaching to play with your chest, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, twisting and biting the bud, your body was all the more sensitive.

When he sees the tears well up in your eyes, he smirks, pushing himself even deeper inside your hole. His hand rubbing small circles on your swollen clit before spanking it, making you cry out, your legs trembling from the overstimulation.

Soon you found yourself cumming all over his cock, when Scaramouche thought you'd be all exhausted and beg him that you can't take anymore, but it was the opposite. "Mhhf~! Aa-ah! More...! More, please..." the words that reached his ears made him grin, he is going to give you just that. "You want more, yeah? Seems I'll have to fuck you dumb till you can't even speak, you want that, huh?" He laughed when he saw you nod, your cheeks a rosy hue, your cunt squeezing around his cock even more. Of course, he couldn't just deny his sweet little darling, could he?

After all, you were so obedient, taking him so well... He had to give you what you wanted, and so he did. The room filled with wet, squelcing sounds of skin clapping, his cock buried deep inside your used cunt, you don't remember how long it's been, you feel as if you can't take anymore but want even more, Scaramouche only cooing faux sympathy at you, telling you how you can take it and how you wanted this. "Hm, is my little whore already tired? No? Well, you will be when I'm finished with you." you were tired, yes, but hearing his words only made you wetter, the way he manhandled you with no care excited you, you will definitely want more of this in the future, even if you cannot walk days after.

Can I request Scaramouche giving his AFAB partner head for the first time. But reader has always been insecure about the idea of it after a bad experience with an ex... 👉🏻👈🏻

Any AU is fine! This is super self indulgent so if do you this I appreciate you

- Someone from the Shrine discord 🫶🏻🫶🏻

summary: scaramouche x fem!reader. him giving you head for the first time and providing you with all the reassurance.

cw: nsfw. oral (f receiving). use of 'good girl'. scara being nice. idk what to add more, the req says it all. i also hope i portrayed the idea of your req well🙌🏻. 1.144 words.

"do you still-"

"yes." scaramouche interrupts you, looking up at your blushing and hesitant face. you look at his head in between your thighs. gosh, he really does look like he literally belongs there, you think, gulping when you do.

but, nevertheless, all kinds of thoughts start forming in your head. what if he won't like it? what if you look bad down there? what if it-

"scara, are you really sure-"

"i am, [name]. i know that tone, stop overthinking." scaramouche sighs when he realizes what exactly you're thinking about. "you look gorgeous. stunning. jaw-dropping. breathtaking. do you see what i'm trying to get at?" he smiles at you, seeing how his words make you blush. he'll repeat that over and over for you if that means seeing you like this again - hand hovering over your cheeks and looking away.

"stop thinking about everything bad. i assure you it'll be fine." he says, and you give him a look while biting your lower lip. you catch yourself that you're thinking again, and you exhale deeply. "and i surely won't be disgusted. if i offered you this - it already means i'm not in any way disgusted."

"do you trust me?" he asks softly, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the milky skin of your hips, occasionally finding its way under the waistband of your lacy panties. god, he can't help but get hard while looking at them - he'd eat you out anyway, but with these undergarments he just needs to do it. and he surely needs to ask you to wear them more often...

"i.. do." you stammer quietly, and from his position below he sees just how your chest rises and falls, even hears your heartbeat thumping loudly in your rib cage. "i do." you repeat, this time sounding like you mean it - and you do.

"good." scaramouche whispers and lets his face get closer to your - yet - closed core. his eyes roam around your curves, and his hands spread your thighs a bit more. he looks at the lacy panties again, and his eyes' pupils basically dilate in hearts.

"mmm, wearing these just for me? i'm honored." he chuckles, and licks his lips. your heart nearly jumps out of your chest at this small gesture, and you feel yourself getting wetter by each passing second. "so sad i'll have to take them off tonight."

you missed the moment when he already discarded your underwear, making a lick along your folds, and you swear the sensation basically has you almost moaning out loud, before you bite your lip and breathe out slowly.

scaramouche, upon sensing your reactions, reluctantly, but withdraws his mouth from your cunt, smirking and taking your hand, guiding it to hold his indigo locks. you look down at him in confusion.

"i know how not vocal you are," he starts, eyes gazing up at you, full of understanding and love. "so just pull my hair whenever it feels too good, mhm?"

your eyes slightly widen at his idea. this is brilliant for you.

your fingers tangle in his hair, running through it for a few seconds before nodding slightly and giving him a small smile, still feeling your cheeks burning from all the embarrassed - it's basically written on your face how shy you feel. but you can't deny you want this.

"alright then... let me get back to my dish."

"scar- ah!.."

you moan and your fingers instinctively tug on his hair, and scaramouche nearly smirks at how easily it is to get you so turned on. he starts licking along your pussy, starting from your hole and up to your clit, then giving it a light kiss before his lips seal around it and his tongue makes swirling motions. he can't deny that you taste so good he wants to be in-between your legs 24/7. he'd never refuse such an offer - how could he?

it's not long before you whine something incoherent about how good it feels, and he just can't not notice that little babbling of yours.

"feeling good, aren't you?" he mumbles, lips grazing the sensitive flesh, almost soaked in your slick. his voice vibrates onto your cunt, sending small, vibrating sensations as you push his face more and more into your pussy, thighs instinctively closing around his head as he continues his ministrations.

"ah-ah-ah, no, keep them open..." scara says, hands coming to grab your thighs one more time and spread them. "be a good girl for me and keep your legs spread."

you whimper, head throwing back as a breathy moan leaves your throat as his tongue starts moving already inside your hole. you can't even begin to describe how good it feels, you couldn't even if you wanted to - it feels so great your thoughts can't properly form in your mind.

you, tugging on his hair again and again, and a few more times through another few minutes is enough for scaramouche to understand that he's doing everything in the most perfect way possible. the way you moan, arch your back and let your fingers pull on his locks every ten or so seconds is dazing for him that he just can't help but let his lips seal around your swollen clit once more to make you let out another high-pitched whine.

"you taste so good..." he mutters just barely moving his mouth away from your cunt, sending another vave of small vibrations straight to your core.

"s-scara- o-oh, god.. i'm-" you can't even form a proper sentence, only pushing his face more and more into your cunt, on the verge of tearing down from how good he makes you feel. "a-almost- there... please, scara, g'nna-"

scaramouche, realizing what you're getting to when you start bucking you hips into his mouth a little too much, hums a long "mmhm" into your pussy, making vibrating sensations pulse within you once more, and that is when you fall apart, your orgasm crashing down onto you.

scara helps you to go through the aftermath of it, bot moving his lips and tongue away for a moment as he continues to - now more slowly, to not overstimulate you - suck and lap on your swelled clit as he holds your hips so you won't back away. he finally pulls back after you start to slowly pant, and licks his lips, admiring once again how good you taste in his mind.

"t-this was... so good..." you manage to mumble after taking a few more deep breaths, calming yourself down after such intense release. you try to close your thighs together again, thinking that you're both done.

scaramouche chuckles and doesn't let you do so, holding the skin of your thighs and spreading them wide open again. he notices you looking down at him in confusion and raises an eyebrow. "what? you thought we were done?"

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂

{༻~NNN~༺}

CW: NSFW! MDNI! Reader is intentionally making the guys fail NNN part 2! Bottom F!Reader! Reader wears a short skirt in these to tease! Includes: Rough s*x, cursing, no protection, f*cking the reader till they go dumb, cream pie, hair pulling, and degrading in Wanderers! Mentions of being a good girl!

Part 1

(Includes: Diluc, Wanderer, Wriothesley, and Neuvillette!)

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𑁍༄Diluc:

Diluc groaned loudly as his member sunk deep into your wet folds, he could finish right then and not even regret it, all because you'd been sitting on him with that sweet little skirt of yours... whispering suggestive things into his ears...he was so pent up from the stupid challenge and he wasn't going to let it keep him from filling you up any longer.

"D-diiiluc ahhhng!"

"Louder, I want to hear your voice crack as I cum inside you like I should have from the beginning~"

𑁍༄Wanderer:

You cried out Wanderers name as he slammed his hips into yours harshly, his pace so unbelievably fast and rough that nothing could escape you but pants and moans, pathetic sobs as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. This is what you got for teasing him with that short little skirt of yours...if he was going to fail the challenge because of you then you were going to fail it ten times over because of him.

"That's right dirty slut, cum on my cock again like a good girl while I fuck you into the wall~"

𑁍༄Wriothesley:

Wriothesleys large hands slid up your clothes, lifting that small little skirt of yours so he could watch your throbbing pussy call for him, archons how had he not finished from this view alone after almost a week of nothing..."Wriothesley, please put it in~" Your words were like a leash pulling him to do your bidding, he couldn't even begin to care about the challenge anymore as he sunk into your tight walls. Filthy noises filling the room as his pace ramped up and his cock drove into you without remorse. He could finish a hundred times over and since you seemed to want that so badly, you'd take every single one till his white seed leaked out of you into a puddle on the sheets.

𑁍༄Neuvillette:

You gasped breathlessly as Neuvillettes mouth worked on magic on the sensitive skin of your neck, his cock deep inside your clenching walls that had his white hot love already smeared withing them, he just couldn't get enough of you. It was like he'd become addicted to finishing inside of you after trying so hard not to, he almost wanted to thank you for making him loose at this point. Especially when he saw that delicious cock drunk look on your face and felt the tight grip of your hands in his long white strands of hair, he was all but gone at that point.

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ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

ngl if you were to write the unspeakable things you wanted to do to that little twink I’d read it 10 times over lmao /lh

wanderlust (ruins in the wind) | scaramouche (wanderer) x reader

✦ tags ; afab + gn reader, described to be taller and stronger than scaramouche, submissive!scaramouche (not proper d/s but he's definitely submissive), virginity loss, handjobs, fingering (f!recieving), creampies, cum-swapping, fingersucking, praise, faux sympathy + mocking, overstimulation, reader carries scaramouche to bed and to a bath, aftercare, love confessions but scaramouche is scaramouche, reader is a mercenary and sword user, scaramouche is demisexual coded a lil bit, petnames (reader calls scaramouche sweetflower + brat. scara calls reader bonehead lol)

✦ mild spoilers for the archon quest and interlude + fic is written in scaramouches perspective

✦ wc ; 7.3k (im about to throw up rn)

✦ a/n ; dear god in heaven a stupid twink with so many problems has captivated me. im insane. i want to fuck this emotionally stunted idiot so bad. also scaramouche is in love with reader he is just fucked up i prommy

✦ synopsis ; scaramouche has never really cared for intimacy or romance. he likes the way you lick his wounds.

Scaramouche is not swayed easily. He doesn't not care for the whims of mortal men, or of finnicky human emotions. He doesn't care about justice or injustice, life or death.

And perhaps, in part, this is all because he is empty. Puppets often are, and with his strings effectively severed - he is nowhere to be found except in the corners. Beneath shadows, and under leaves.

It's important to know that Scaramouche doesn't sway easily, and that he desires little. It's even more important that it's understood of him, that this is not something that has fallen upon him easily. This... feeling he harbors towards you - did not happen easily. It wasn't born suddenly. It wasn't like a beating thrum of hearts that perfectly molded into some sickly fairytale.

In fact, implying as much is insulting. Nothing about this affair feels like those pointless love stories people love to drone about.

Scaramouche wasn't swayed by you easily. If he had to make any comparison, it would be like bracing the storms in Snezhnaya. Frostbitten with ice filling his lashes, withstanding a force greater than nature.

He doesn't understand it himself.

Since he's become the Wanderer, he's had a chance to observe life as it moves. The people who come and go he never too gets close to. Every now and again, Nahida will come and keep eye on him.

He isn't lonely. He couldn't be.

But meeting you has proved that he is capable of yearning for something, unfortunately. A meeting of pure chance, of a wanderer and a mercenary. Neither of you committed to any single place, crossing paths to his detriment.

Over and over, like a cruel twist of fate - Scaramouche finds himself in your company. If you're not aiding him in battle, you're cradling his wounds. Pouring salve over them with a bandage between your teeth and a coy look in your eyes.

Sometimes, you kiss the bruises on his knees. And instead of pushing you, he finds himself crumpling under the weight of your touch. It's shameful. Displeasing.

But despite it, his body seems to hone in on your absence. He thought he'd abandoned such things ages ago. His sensitivities.

And yet, he's like this. Tipping his chin up when you call his name, resisting the feeling when your fingers trace his jaw. He can always feel the lingering heat of you, a sharp line from the bottom of his ears to the point of his chin. You relish holding his gaze, sadistically refusing him when he tries to look somewhere else.

Scaramouche tries to resist it. He pushes and shoves and fleets. He loathes it after all. You always pull away if he asks, but that only frustrates him more.

Sometimes, he dreams about you being more forceful. He can't admit it to even himself, waking up in a fit of shame. A hot flash under his skin as his sleep conjures up images of it.

Scaramouche has been nothing but adamant to forget about you.

But again and again and again - your hands linger on him. Brief touches that awaken every nerve in his body.

Scaramouche isn't swayed easily, but when you come to his quarters in the late evening - he doesn't turn you away. He steps aside to let you, and complains when you close the door.

You're together again for a mission. Or rather, the end of a mission - a successful run of intel gathering on the beloathed Doctor has set you in a far-off inn on the edges of Sumeru.

You'd gotten separate rooms per his insistence, but you've come by anyway. Typical, really.

"What are doing here?" He says, voice flat. You chuckle softly as you come in, steel-toed boots noisy with your steps. You sit on this bed with ease, leaning back on your palms as he joins you in the room. He crosses his arms his chest.

"I was bored."

"If you're bored you can sleep instead of pestering me,"

You give him a small smile, making him deepen his frown.

"My energy is up from all the fighting, I'm afraid. " You reply nonchalantly. He scowls.

"And what exactly am I supposed to assist you with? Stop being a nuisance and get out."

"So cold aren't you, Wanderer," You say, nonplussed "Couldn't you be a bit more kind to your dear friend?"

"You've finally lost it, haven't you?"

"No, not yet. You seem like you'd benefit from some release, too. We could always help each other out. Just like always,"

There's something in your suggestion that makes his skin feel like it'll singe if it's touched. He scoffs, turning his head away from you.

"What are you implying?"

You shrug.

"It doesn't suit you to play clueless," You say, half-way between sarcasm and sincerity "Are you sure you don't have any idea?"

The pressure in the room gets more intense as each second passes. He chokes out his next words, lodged in his throat.

"O-of course not. Don't be ridiculous,"

When you stand up, he feels his stomach tense. His whole body feels strange at the sound of your voice. If he has no heart, what's this tension? This pulse so clearly emanating in your body as you stand to your feet?

It's hard for him to be intimidated, but you walk towards him and he feels himself shrink. A slow walk-back until he's stopped. You place your hand on the wall behind him, next to his head as you smile. Your teeth almost glint when you do.

"What was it you always say about truth and honesty?" You lean in and you're far too close. Your voice drops, a whisper in the night.

"W-what does this have to do with that?"

"Everything, of course." You hum. Scaramouche wants to shove you away when your hand cups his face. It's disgusting. He should shove you away.

His knees feel weak.

"Scaramouche," You repeat, face inches away from his "Won't you admit it to me?"

"Admit what."

"That you wish to be adored?" You say with the lightest laugh he's ever heard in his lie "That you want me to adore you?"

He doesn't know what to say. He scoffs.

"You must have some sort of death wish."

You click your teeth at him.

"Nothing like that. I have a very simple wish, Scaramouche. Would you care to hear it?"

He avoids your eyes

"As if I have a choice."

"I want to know what face you make when I've pleasured you."

Everything comes to a halt. His eyes nearly pop from how wide he opens them, mouth open in shock. A noise of indignance leaves him, ready to push back. Only to settle his gaze upon the seriousness in your face. The... hunger so distinct in your eyes that he can't.

"Watch your mouth if you wish to live." He spits.

"I phrased it as pleasantly as I can, so don't shy away from me, yes?" You say, soft and careful, returned to that sunlight he's used to "Have you felt it before? Pleasure? Desire?"

"Be quiet."

"What does pleasure look like on that delicate face of yours? Those sweet little features you hide with a scowl? You've told me your story in such detail, Wanderer," You cup his face, forcing his expression forward once more. Smiling, you rub your thumb on his lip "That you're a puppet. Yet, you're fashioned prettily like some sort of porcelain doll."

"You—you, how dare you—"

"I know what your wandering heart longs for. Aside from revenge, from acceptance - you so desperately wish for adoration. That's what you sought for. From godliness, you wished for worship."

To this, he can't say anything. He curses and spits, but he can't form words to counter you. You've seen through him in this way, and while he cannot face his defeat - he can't counter the truth.

Adoration is such an unfamiliar word.

But memories of the beginning of his life come up, push through him like a thorn in his side. Scaramouche thinks of the moments, brief as they were, when he was cherished.

And something washes over him that he wishes to erase.

"You're flushed. Have you realized it? I can give you your every desire, if only you permit it," You tell him, no longer masking the disgusting sincerity in your voice "But I am not so lawless to force you."

"You're twisted."

"Would you have liked me if I wasn't?"

"Who says I can do anything more than tolerate you?"

"The fact you haven't pushed me far, far away."

For a long time, he's silent. Your stare isn't intimidating. You're not intending to intimidate. The storm of conflict ripping through him, the turmoil—it's his own affliction. He can only shift a handful of the blame on you. He will pretend it's all your fault.

But he's wavering in front of you. Why hasn't he pushed you far away? Why doesn't he want to?

He can't question it. But he can't say it explicitly, either. So he tells you a half-way truth.

"...Do as you please."

The way you brighten up angers him.

"Do you mean it?"

"Don't make repeat myself."

Your smile makes him...upset. Not angry, but not happy. He tsks as you lean into him again.

"Have you ever done it before?"

"So what if I haven't."

"Don't be so defensive. I'm wondering where we should start if that's the case. Have you kissed before?"

He shakes his head and you nod, processing the information.

"Open your mouth a little, and close your eyes."

He frowns, but does as you ask. He closes his eyes and waits for you. Your hands are slightly calloused, likely from wielding a sword. But they're distinctly warm. You wrap around the nape of his neck. He can feel you bend down, inching to him. Time feels like it's slowed down.

"Relax, Scara," You whisper against his lips "Let go."

Before he understands what's happening, he can feel your lips on his. At first, he wants to open his eyes. At the same time he doesn't. It's a simple press of lips to start.

But then you open your mouth. And out of instinct, he does the same. It feels like something then, the deep cradling his lips to yours. Your lips are smooth and soft, and your hand is careful.

He can't keep track once you've begun. He can feel his legs wobble, - hands fisted at his side because he doesn't know what to do with them. As if reading his mind, you take his arm until it's around your shoulders.

"Hold on to me, sweetflower."

"Don't call me that," He huffs, out of breath. How is he supposed to breath?

You smile.

"No promises,"

Before he can protest again, you're kissing again. Deep like before, but it feels different. You pull away more and without control over it, he chases the feeling. He can feel the rigid line of your teeth in his lower lip as you tug on it - just before pushing your tongue in his mouth.

At first, he doesn't welcome it but once he adjusts - he finds himself opening his mouth deeper. He keeps repeating in his head. That he'll stop you. Himself.

But every time he works up the false courage, he's melting. It all becomes noise. He wants to know what your tongue feels like again. Why it's so hot and so wet and why he doesn't like when you pull away.

He wants to know what face you're making so he opens his eyes, just slightly. Lidded, to look at you. And you look... well not bad.

Even without having done this, he knows you're experienced. He can feel how easy it comes to you, and in some way it annoys him.

"Cute," You say as you pull away. He huffs out "You're cute, Wanderer."

"Don't. Why'd you—"

Before he can finish the thought, he can feel your arms underneath his thighs - hoisting him up. A sound leaves his mouth as you look up at him. He wants to be angry, but he's flush at how easily you did it. How strong you are. He wraps his legs around, worried he's going to fall.

"Are you insane?"

"We should do this proper in bed."

He feels you set him down on the mattress, his body indenting in the weight before joining him. The weight of you is... odd. The contact is alien. Scaramouche hasn't experienced it, in any capacity, in so long. But never like this. The brief moments are from you but they're so fleeting in comparison.

He's so aware of all of it. Every sensation, the thick tension in the air as you slot your legs between his. He can feel you everywhere, your arms resting on either side of his head. You touch his hair on the occasion, twirling it between your fingers.

All you do is kiss him and you do so awfully slowly. Deeply in a way where you're exploring his mouth and he feels the fight in him curbing. He can feel something stir in his stomach, blood flowing somewhere he wishes he wouldn't. He convinces himself it's just a physical response. Of course he would react like that, he was fashioned as a human so of course—

Your knee presses to his cock and he stiffens. Eyes blown open as you kiss him like nothing happened. He pushes you off a little, eyes widened and you look at him confused.

"You alright?"

"Your—you touched me..."

"Oh, you mean how I pushed my thigh up? Are you sensitive?"

"Don't push it," He hisses, before frowning "It was...well I don't know. It was weird."

"Weird? That the best you can come up with? You can say it felt nice."

"As if I'd say that."

"You sure? That it doesn't feel nice, I mean?"

You do the same gesture as before. The angle puts gentle pressure on him. Half hard through silky fabrics leaves him biting his tongue, an insult he'd prepared—effectively lodged in his throat.

"Your body is more honest than you are," You say, words laced with amusement "You look overwhelmed."

"You must be daydreaming," He snaps. You grin.

"Having you beneath me sure feels like it" You reply, standing on your knees "I want to see more of you."

He sits up with you, unsure of what else to do. You're gentle in your movements. He detests it. He tells himself that as he sits up, eyes steady on your form. You undress him, first undoing all the intricate ties and knots.

Then your hands creep underneath the white robe that's come loose, Rough skin, filled with heat, that he can feel on his waist. He holds his breath.

"Quite the delicate thing aren't you," You whisper, voice coarse with desire "If I hadn't seen you fight, I wouldn't have believed it."

"Shut up."

It's the best he can do. Because the visual and the sensation is all too much. Your hands square on his sides, eyes looking up at him with familiar mischief is too much and he just wants you to shut up. He covers his face with the back of his arm as your thumb dips underneath his shirt.

You pull the bottom of his turtleneck up slowly, revealing his abdomen. Your gaze is fixed on him, keen in taking in every detail.

"Stop looking so much. You're—."

"You're beautiful," You say, rushed in a sharp breath. You look at him between your lashes and the sarcasm he had prepared dies on his lips. Everything comes apart "Without even trying, you've reached divinity,"

What is he supposed to say to that? He flushes, heat rushing to his face all at once. You tilt your head to one side as you lay him down slowly. His clothes are all splayed, pants low on his hips - shirt pulled just over his chest. Humiliating.

"You like being adored don't you?" You're hardly saying it to him. It's mostly to yourself, in between pressing kisses along his stomach - slowly till you're up to his chest "You always react to it nicely."

"What are you doing?"

"Foreplay," You state smoothly "Normally, I'd get right to it but I don't feel like it with you."

"With me?"

"When you've coveted something, you savor it more when it's finally yours."

You push him up towards the headboard before joining him. Undressing him fully, white robe discarded with the shirt too. He doesn't know what to do with himself. He's lived a long time. It's not like he doesn't know what happens here. At least in theory he does.

But it's different in practice. He's floundering, watching you as you slot yourself between his legs. Stood on your knees, you mimic his state of undress. He's never seen you like that before. There's scars on your body he's never thought of.

He can see your breasts. The shape and softness and swell hidden behind something that pushes them flat. And you take that off too, without thinking twice about it. He's so conscious of it, he can't look away. Your whole body is there. Shoulders and stomach and chest and back and Scaramouche is... taken by it. Desire doesn't come gently.

"You can touch them," You say, noticing his fascination with a laugh. He swallows, pushing himself up with his arm, using his free hand to hold one. He can't fathom the feeling until they're in his hands.

Fascinated, he wants to retract at the intensity. Yet, he wants to know more about it, cursing himself for hundreds of years of disinterest.

"Your intrigue with my body is surprising," You say, looking down at him "I thought this was more one-sided,"

"Not that you've ever been bright, but surely getting this far is enough of an indication of where we stand. Use your brain for more than swordfighting, will you?"

Your grin is so bright it's blinding and he can't stop himself from letting the corners of his mouth twitch up. He pulls his hand away, laying back in attempt to cover his expression up.

""Since when have you coveted me?" He asks.

"Since the beginning." You reply

He doesn't get a chance to ask about it more. You lay on top of him again, hovering slightly as you kiss more. It shuts him up effectively, quietly huffing as you pull away. You go quiet, no longer mouthing off at him, your plane your palms over his sides.

You kiss the corners of his mouth as you hold him - tracing his jaw with feather light kisses. He rests his arms over your shoulders like before, resisting all the sounds that threaten to leave his lips. There's a tear in his cheek from all the biting.

Slowly, slowly like water trickling through a creek - Scaramouche feels your mouth. Your tongue feels like it'll burn him as it trails down his neck. Teeth sharpened on every inch of him. You do it languidly, each part of him attended to carefully. He can feel your lips on his chest, and he stiffens,

But you're not concerned. He stares at you as you fondle his chest, thumb brushing over his nipples and waiting for his reaction. You must be pleased with whatever you see because you start to go in circles, slow and precise rolls of the hardened bud between your fingers.

His body has always been like this. He's gotten used to enduring pain in order to fight, but the sensitivity is familiar. He bruises easily and he used to hate cuts.

But it's different like this. Being so attentive to everything, like the soft fat of your chest pressing against his ribs. Your hands on his back, dipping into his waist band, your mouth and his cock that's twitching so desperately between his legs the longer this goes on.

You slowly tug his shorts from down his waist, until it's just his undergarments left. His cock is hard now. The tip is leaking just enough that it's making a damp circle where it's restrained. Your hand cups the outline, thumb pressed over the slit.

And Scaramouche whines. Never in his life has he felt it. He couldn't picture it if he tried, but he feels it and he whines.

You grin against his skin, a smile on your lips as you touch him tenderly.

"Was it weird this time too?"

"S-shut up, just sh-shut up."

You lay in his side, taking all of it off till he's all bare. His cock is hard, stood to attention. Without a warning, you wrap your hand around the base, craning your neck to kiss his pulse. Your teeth tug on his ear lobe as you stroke his shaft, go agonizingly slow.

And Scaramouche is twitching in your hand. He's so hard and his head feels like there's vines wrapped around his whole body. His hips move without his permission, rutting into your palms.

"Have you touched yourself before?"

"Of course I have, but it's—it's n-not—Archons,"

"It's not like this, right?"

"Hnnn."

Like a body that's never felt pleasure before. Scaramouche forgot momentarily, that he never has done anything in this body. Not pleasure nor pain, like a brand-new weapon. Sharp. Untouched. He has this realization as you fist his cock without any mercy and every fiber in his being is working to stop himself from making a mess in your hands.

He doesn't want it to be over too soon, but you're relentless. He's gasping for air by the time he feels it. Eyes blown open in something akin to fear.

"S-slow down, slow, I - please, slower."

There's something terrifying about being so close. It's the come down. It's the inevitable drop that's going to follow. And even if he'd rather eat glass than admit aloud to anything vulnerable, he is so starved of touch and it's only taken him up until now to know. You feel so good and Scaramouche is so late about it that all he can do is beg you to slow down.

But of course, it's not that easy. Why would it be?

"Why should I?" You taunt, and you're expecting an answer. He can hear that you are and he wants to kill you for a minute.

"I'll—It's going come out, if you just—"

"You can cum, Scaramouche." You say, voice all breezy "I told you I'd give you anything you desire. You want me to keep going, don't you? Even after you cum?"

And then, relenting a little, he shudders.

"Don't stop. D-dont stop, ngh."

"Cum for me, Scaramouche. Show me what face you make."

He can hardly bear the shame as he cums. Like the body of an arrow, pulled so taut - Scaramouche feels all the tension in his body release at once. He shudders, hard, covering his face with the back of his hand and trying to muffle his voice.

Humiliated, he pulls his hand back and huffs. He can't imagine the expression on his face, confirmed by the satisfaction on yours when you look at him. With your free hand, you tilt his face towards you - kissing him one more time until he's chasing your lips.

"Did it feel good, Scara?"

He's in too deep. Far too deep. He feels like he's being held captive by some force.

"...It was fine."

You grin.

"Good boy."

"Shut up," He says, half-hearted and increasingly desperate "Just—"

"Just kiss you?" You tease, as he makes effort to climb over you "Is that at all?"

"You love asking idiotic questions." He says with no real bite. Fed up with being under you, he scowls. The humiliating mess he's made in your hands in covering your palms and he goes to wipe it away

But before you can, you prop yourself up on your elbow and lick your hand clean without even flinching. If he wasn't so embarrassingly turned out, he would've used his vision to blow you into the next room. He pulls your hand away from your mouth, expression dusted pink.

"What are you doing?"

"Cleaning? You taste nice, Scaramouche," And with the most annoying self-satisfaction, you stick your tongue out "Wanna try?"

He doesn't have a chance to ask because you're pulling him ontop of you again, hair tugging on the roots of his hair and kissing him. He can taste himself, and he winces. It's bitter and salty, but the way you're moaning into his mouth is tricking his body because he can feel something stir in his stomach again.

He pulls away, nose scrunched.

"That was awful. How'd you do that without flinching? What's wrong with you?"

"I've tasted worse. Yours really is pleasant." You say with a grin. He wants to shove you away. He wants to kiss you again.

You take a minute to get comfortable. Pillows placed under you, you lay on your side - gesturing for Scraramouche to join you. He does, of course he does. And he stares at you, frustration and desire and want all culminating to make something awful.

"Do you want to stop here?"

"I don't like owing people favors," He says flush. You give a deep, belly-laugh that makes him want to suffocate you.

"What a bad habit you have with honesty, Wanderer. What do you want to do? Do you wanna try touching me while you get it up again?"

He nods, not even bothering to counter your crass words. Your face softens. And everything has taken a shift from hard and fast, to noticeably intimate. Scaramouche can feel the tension in the air, clinging to his rib cage as you reach for his wrists. You open his hands up, shaping them - before you pull them towards.

It's not brief like last time. It's a full touch, his whole palm squishing the fat between his fingers. He looks up and your eyes are lidded, like you're enjoying. He's trying to remember how you touched him, how to mimic it.

So he gets ontop of you, determined to accomplish something. Just like you minute ago, bodies pressed together. He gropes them both and looks up at you - aware of the differences between you. Of height and of stature. He rolls his thumb over your nipples and you make a sharp noise.

And with a little more confidence, he ducks his head down. Drags his tongue from your clavicle, down the valley of your breasts - teeth scraping the skin lightly. He can't bring it himself to kiss you, but he can bite. He's always been good at biting.

So he bites, gently, running his tongue on your hard nipples. Sucking gently. Watching as your expression changes, the way you swallow around spit the more he does it. Scaramouche may doesn't like losing.

"There you go," You all but coo, and his resolve wavers "That feels good."

His chest aches at the approval.

"Do you want to try touching me? Like, actually touching me?"

He feels something that he wants to bat away. A rush. It sweeps past him all at once. He's never really thought about such things before. About...another persons body. He always thought it wasn't programmed in him. It was another thing that added to his inhumanity. That's how he thought of it.

But this is the first time he's ever felt anything like this towards someone, and the gravity of it makes him weak. He hates that he's weak. He hates how bad he wants to touch you, after all.

He nods, and you grin. He moves so you can take your pants off, and watches as the material rolls down your thighs with a deep breath.

He sits back, between your legs. Helps you take the rest off until you're naked, and watches as you spread your legs. It's not like he doesn't know. That he's never seen or read, but it's so different.

He must look hesitant, because he hears you chuckle form above him, making his expression twist. You snake your hand down, fingers pulling yourself apart. He can see inside. It's all wet, and all soft. There's heat coming off it and Scaramouche doesn't know what to do with himself.

"You can touch right here, my clit. Slowly, like this."

His hands are trembling as he reaches out. His hand resting on your navel, he drags his thumb on your clit in the same way he did before. You shudder, pushing your hips up. He does it again, in slow circles. Thoughtfully, watchin as your body pulses under him. He's so intrigued by it. Nervous to make a mistake and careful to keep the momentum.

You groan and Scaramouche almost pulls away.

"Haah, there you go. You think you can go a little farther than that?"

"Farther?"

"Get me ready so you can put it in," You say with missing a beat. He gasps "If you want to, still."

"H-how do I..?"

"With your fingers. You don't have to go too slow, but don't push it in at once. You'll feel a little resistance but it should be alright."

Reading his face, you laugh before showing him. He watches you, intent. Your hands pushing into your sex, one finger first. It's a well practiced movement. Your brows are drawn together tight as you pump them in and out - stretching yourself out in front of him.

He can hear you take your fingers out, and you gesture him. You spread your legs for him as he comes up to kiss you. He can only assume that's why, but before you can reach - he's feeling your fingers slip between his lips.

"Open up, sweetflower," You pull his lip down with your thumb, pushing thick fingers into his mouth "Thought it was only fair."

"Mmph," When it registers what he's tasting, sweet and slight in comparison to before, his eyes flutter. He's transfixed by it, and suddenly feels his hips nearly rutting for friction. You taste good, by comparison.

He doesn't know whats happening to his head, but he doesn't stop you when you start to move. Fucking his mouth open with your rough hands that he's starting to long for.

"Messy little brat," Your voice is full of adoration, breathy. It's effecting you at least half as much as it's effecting him "You love making messes, don't you?"

He huffs and frowns but he does. He hates to admit it but he's enjoying the coaxing. The petnames, the empty-headed responses. Whatever his body is experiencing is out of his control. Even when it's frightening - when its awful, he wants more of it.

"Look at you drooling all over me," You say, a little meaner. It's that sickly taunting. He's heard you do it tens of times. In interrogations and in arrests "Maybe if you're nice, I'll let you taste me, really. That'd be nice right?"

He blinks up at you, unsure of what else to do. He hears you groan.

"Sometimes, you make me angry enough that I want to be cruel to you," You admit, pushing your fingers out until his mouth is stretching "But other times, like this, you looks so desperate to be loved that I want to give you the world. What should I do?"

His cock twitches hard.

"Your innocence is intact. Cock untouched and needy, it's cute. Would you consider kindness or discipline if I ruined it your purity?"

He pulls aways with a huff. He's desperate.

"Mercy," His voice is hoarse. It's the only time, he'll ever be able to say it clearly "It'd be mercy."

You smile at him.

"Good answer. Come here."

Scaramouche nods. He has to get the angles right. Even after watching you do it, the task feels impossible. He shakes the nerves out of him and watches you instead, focusing on something else.

He's never been to keen on appearances. On bodies and of what makes someone attractive and what doesn't.

Maybe, it's the knowing you. Knowing what you look like half-asleep, and knowing that you're a rowdy drunk and know that you've kissed some of the other people in your platoon and maybe it's because he knows you well enough. But he is reacting, intensely, to the sight of you with your legs spread.

And he thinks that he'd take you in whatever way you asked of him, no matter the fact he'd prefer to die than admit it.

He starts with his middle finger, slow. It's what you describe, there's resistance. But he wasn't prepared for how warm you were. Hot inside and so wet that he hardly has to try to go further in. You moan above him and it's nauseating how much he wants you to do it again.

When he's down to his knuckles, he pulls out and pushes back in. A repetitive motion until there's no longer any resistance. And he repeats the action, stretching you out until it doesn't feel too tight. He feels around, instinctually, committing it to memory because he has no idea where things go after things end.

He hits a particularly spot, different from the rest. Spongier and noticeable, and you choke on air.

"It feels good there," You say, laughing through it "But I'm getting impatient. We can get into another time."

The promise of another time rings in his head loudly as he pulls his hands way. He doesn't know what to do with himself. He watches you sit up, and your expression is flushed and panting. And you're smiling, because you're always doing that.

But for the first time, Scaramouche is relieved and not entirely agitated. He can't believe the state he's in, but the shock can only come later because right now he's vulnerable and dependent on you. For clarity and guidance and reassurance and everything else.

So he's relieved when you're sitting across from each other and you kiss him so innocently. It's terribly tender. When you pull away, you kiss the corners of his mouth. And his eyelids and the place where his ears meet his jaw.

"What are you doing?"

"Kissing you."

"Why."

"What do you want to hear? The truth or something to appease you?"

"The truth." He insists.

"Because I like you."

He hates how how that makes him feel.

"What was the other answer?"

"To embarrass you."

Being seen through like that is worse embarrassment than being effectively confessed to.

"Aren't you going to ask me if I like you? Isn't that what people usually do here?"

"Would you answer me?"

"Obviously not. As if I would."

You laugh again and kiss his lips. You're so welcoming it's gross. So inviting. So sweet. He resents your generosity.

"Then why would I? Silly question, no?"

"Doesn't it bother you?"

"Are you concerned about me?" You say, voice shrill with delight. He scoffs.

"No. But it'd be uncomfortable to see you act pitifully about it."

"I dare not ask for your heart, Wanderer."

"I don't have one, remember?"

"Wherever you hide your longing is your heart. You have one somewhere, deep down. This much, I'm sure of."

"Hearing you wax poetic makes me shiver, you bonehead." He says, failing to put any sarcasm in his voice. You merely laugh again, more soft this time.

"You'll have to forgive me." You say, another kiss but this time to his shoulder and Scaramouche breathes out "Lay down, sweetflower."

The saccharine sweet petname makes him feel a little sick. He lays down, unsure of what to do with himself. From what he knows, it's supposed to be the other way around.

The bed creaks under your movements. Scaramouche watches you closely, as you climb over him. Your knees end up on either side of him, effectively sitting on him. It dawns on him all at once what you're doing. His eyes widen as you place a hand on his chest, your feet over his thighs.

Reality sets in when Scaramouche watches you above him. Like the whole world has come to some kind of halt. Pride, anger, retaliation. All of the parts of himself he's sworn to honor when this is over, burn away to nothingness as he watches you. Your breasts hovering over him, and your palms pressed to his chest and your eyes.

Scaramouche has so much ire for you. He complains about your recklessness and bad habits often to anyone who will spare him time. How you're airheaded and that all you know how to do is wield a sword and drink poor liquor in poor taste.

There'd be nothing more embarassing that falling for someone as stupid as you are.

Scaramouche watches you sink down on his cock. You're deliberate about it, your hand around the base as you guide the tip to you're entrance. He can't even describe the sensation in it's entirety. His whole body gives out the minute he feels you stretch around him.

You're hot inside. So hot it feels like his whole body is melting. Tight enough that he can't imagine the whole thing going in despite the fact he's watching it happen. You lower yourself slowly, inch by inch and Scaramouche doesn't know what to do with his hands. He grabs your hips out of instinct. Gritting his teeth overwhelmed, he groans as he bottoms out.

"Oh, fuck." Scaramouche tosses his head back, groaning. It's guttural and deep, his cock throbbing. A dull heat settles in the base of his stomach.

Every muscle in his body is working over-time trying to keep himself from cumming. He opens his eyes to look at you, the expression on your face twisted in pleasure and the task becomes so much harder.

"You feel so good," You mumble, leaning forward "Haah—Scaramouche, you feel good. Can I move?"

"Ngh, y-yes."

You nod. Scaramouche is transfixed by the sight of you. He hates to admit it, reluctant to submit himself to such a reality. But he's not in any position to deny such an obvious sight. Your always-charismatic, always-charming face is pinched with focus. The arch of your body, the weight of your thighs and the shape of you lit well under the low lights. You are beautiful to the point it's agonizing and Scaramouche can't deny himself the pleasure of looking. Not that he deserves it. Not that he feels he's allowed, but that he can't stop himself from trying to etch it into his mind.

You were always meant to be another alliance of need. Scaramouche needed brawn. Just like he needed allyship in that foolish traveler and archon.

So he can't wrap his head around how he's landed here precisely. How he finds himself underneath you and fucking you, and feeling pleasure from you. It escapes him. It fills his head. He understands it now, why he all the other Harbingers seemed so obsessed with screwing their subordinates.

You bring your hand down between your legs as you find a rhythm steadily. Your fingers rub your clit in hard fast motions, and you're trembling. You bounce on his cock easily, and each time he pulls out - he can hear how wet you are when he pushes back in.

He moans brokenly, throat hoarse and scratchy as he holds onto you for dear life. Struggling to catch his breath. To think anything other than this feels good. Scaramouche wants to cum again, already. He can feel that knot in his stomach, like a rope pulled on two ends and he wants to make a mess.

"You can cum again, sweetflower," You say, noticing the strain in his movement "But that doesn't mean I'll stop."

His eyes widen as you grin at him.

"I'll stop when I get to finish. Make sense?"

Scaramouche knows he couldn't hold it if he tried. He curses at you but the words come out slurred.

"Hngh, 'm it's—I'm gonna—"

Scaramouche cums a second time, harder and faster. It feels like something is crashing into his ribs, whole body seizing tight before he thrashes. His cock is sensitive, releasing inside of you. Thinner than before, he opens his mouth letting out a groan.

Just like promised, you don't stop. You don't even slow down keeping the same steady pace. He's still half-hard but he's so achy. He can't keep up with it, eyes feeling watery from the sensation. He's humiliated and angry that he's about to cry, but he can't form the words to express it.

"What a crybaby you are, Wanderer," You say, voice filled to the brim with affection "Do you want me to stop?"

It's a genuine question, a way out. It kills his remaining pride to shake his head no, but he does. You chuckle above him, so airy like you're not fucking him like this.

"Say it," You repeat, slowing down which makes his heart sink "Say you like it." '

"Fuck you, f-fuck you," And then he shivers as you stop. It comes out as a cry "I like it, fuck you,"

You're so delighted by his response that you bend down to kiss him. You're limp, likely at your limit so your bodies are pressed together and your arm inbetween them. You're touching yourself, using him really - all while kissing him and it's all messy. All of it is unclean and impure and so messy and Scaramouche sticks his tongue out in hopes you'll make it messier.

"Gonna cum," You say, between breaths "Gonna cum soon,"

And Scaramouche can't do anything but brace himself as you do. His whole body is begging for mercy but the feeling you tightening around him is addictive. It's terrible. It's so terrible and lecherous and Scaramouche wants to kiss you again. You moan the loudest you have all night and he shudders as you fuck yourself through it.

When you finally, finally stop - Scaramouche is all but broken from the experience.

"We should shower before bed," You tell him, somehow cognizant "But give me a minute."

"Hn."

__

It's at this point Scaramouche has effectively given up on protesting whatever is happening here. After trying to stand and having his legs give up - you promptly carried him into the bathroom and set him on the counter like some sort of delicate houseplant.

Other than seeming a little tired, you seem unaffected by the whole thing. Meanwhile, Scaramouche feels like he just braced the worst storm of his life and can't find it in himself to recover fast enough.

So he lets you do as you please. Lets you help him into the bath - knees pulled to his chest and face in his knees contemplating killing you just so he can pretend this didn't happen.

But when you join him, humming that same tune from Mondstadt that your mother taught you, he can't find it himself to actually kill you. Maybe this new body has caused him to go soft. Whatever he is, he hates it.

"Sweetflower," You hum, behind him and pouring some scented soap over his back "Lift your head a bit,"

Maybe it's the exhaustion, but he find himself pushing is head back onto your shoulder. Frowning. Pouting. You seem surprised by it.

"Hi there,"

"What's your problem?" He questions, voice full of frustration. You giggle.

"Not sure."

He hates everything. He hates himself for turning around, pushing himself further into you until he's half in your lap - his face in your shoulders.

"If I catch you kissing another one of those idiots you call comrades, I'll have their head."

You freeze before your shoulders shake with laughter. He feels your lips on the top of his head, arms around his shoulders as he comes closer.

"Who should I kiss instead, then?"

"Shut up. Stop asking stupid questions." He says, looking up at you. You laugh a little, pressing your mouth against his.

"Yeah," You agree easily "Stupid question."

(Nsfw) Moonlit Intimacy

Characters: Scaramouche x fem bodied!Reader

Warnings: NSFW-- explicit sex, vaginal penetration, oral (f. receiving), fingering, pet names (princess), implied cockwarming at the end, Scaramouche is probably softer than he would be lmao, mdni!!

WC: 1.6k words

Note: Thank you for 100 followers! I'm so happy you all enjoy my writing ❤️

Under the light of the moon, outside your shared home, you and Scaramouche were pressed up against each other, kissing as if you'd never felt intimacy before. Hands roamed each other's bodies, groping and grabbing at whatever you could.

While out walking around Sumeru, some random drunkard made a couple comments to you. You brushed them off, but Scaramouche didn't let it slide. He let a few harsh words spill out and dragged you home.

That's how you got to the position you're in right now. You hadn't even made it past the front door when he spun you around and held you against the door.

You manage to break free from the heated kiss, gasping for air. He looked at you, cheeks flushed and breathless. Violet eyes watch your every moment, darkened with the familiar and dangerous look of lust.

"Inside...let's go inside," you manage to breathe out, hands sliding down and grabbing the door handle. The wanderer hums in response, watching you enter the home. He stays quiet as he follows you, taking your hand into his as you lead him back to the bedroom. The moment you're both inside, he's stepping forward to guide you to the bed, tossing his hat to the side.

You fall back as your legs hit the bed, sinking into the cushioned bed. He crawls on the bed, leering at you, and suddenly you feel like prey being hunted down. He reaches one hand up and grabs your neck, applying enough pressure to make you gasp.

"You're so precious to me, Y/N. You know that right?" He questions, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. You nod, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets under you. He pushes his thumb inside your mouth, rolling it around your tongue and gathering spit and saliva. You whine, unable to do much else as your lover has his fun. As drool builds up and starts dribbling out the corner of your mouth, he gets his fill, pulling his hand back.

Scaramouche sits back on his legs, working on undressing himself. You sit up to watch as he carefully undoes the ropes and sashes holding his outfit. You bite your lip, rubbing your legs together as you watch him undress, taking in the milky white skin shining under the moonlight. Muscles flex as he slides his arm covers off, tossing them to the side.

He looks over at you through his lashes and his lips curl into a smile.

"Not going to strip? That's not fair to me Y/N," he teases, and you sit up embarrassed. You move to strip, but his hands stop yours.

"No no, clearly you want me to do everything. So just sit your pretty little self still and I'll handle it, hm?" His words make your cheeks darken but you nod, watching his hands slide down your arms and work to strip you of your clothes. They're careful but quick, and soon you're down to your undergarments.

Slim fingers hook under the elastic waistband of your panties and he looks up at you, waiting for you to stop him. You make no moves to slow him down and he pulls them down your legs, hissing at the sight of a sticky string of your arousal clinging to your underwear.

"So pretty, and just for me," Scaramouche murmurs, laying down and adjusting your legs so they're on either side of him. He leans forward and kisses your clit, causing you to squeak in surprise. Instinctively, you try to close your legs but his hands are fast and dig into your thighs, keeping them spread.

"Keep 'em spread for me, princess," he commands, and you nod. You don't get any further prep before his lips are against your folds and his tongue is lapping inside your pussy. Moans tumble out your mouth as his tongue works its wonders inside you, lapping up your juices and exploring your walls. His lips wrap around your bundle of nerves and suck, sending your back arching and forcing an unholy scream out of you.

"F-feels good..more please~" You plead. Scaramouche chuckles against your dripping entrance, and you feel your muscles tighten from the vibrations.

"Whatever you want, princess." He continues his focus on your clit, flattening his tongue against the nub. Juices gush out of your pussy, staining the sheets, and the smell of sweat and sex fills the air. You could feel your high approaching-- it was like a coil tightening in your stomach, winding up more and more. It was just out of reach-- like your fingers were brushing right against it. So close...so, so...

You choke on air at the feeling of Scaramouche's fingers curling inside you. They pump inside your fluttering pussy, coaxing more of your arousal out. Your desperate cries fill the room-- the added stimulation pushes you closer to your bubbling orgasm. Just one more push and-

His fingers brush against a special spot and it's enough to send your orgasm crashing down. He quickly pulls his fingers out and replaces them with his tongue, and you can hear him slurping up everything you give him. You chant his name over and over, eyes fluttering close. Your thighs tremble and twitch, barely able to keep their upright position. It's like floating on air-- your voice devolves into quiet whimpers, even after Scaramouche pulls away from your pussy.

His face glistens with your juices and he watches you, absolutely enamored by your blissed-out state. His hands slide up and grab your waist as he adjusts himself to be slotted between your legs.

"Hey pretty, are you still with me?" He gently questions, giving you a loving squeeze. "Do we need to stop here?"

You hum and reach up as best as you can-- your hands felt like jello.

" 's okay...keep going. Wan' you to cum in me," you sigh. You watch your lover's pupils become blown out. Your words go straight to his dick and he's quickly working to get the rest of his clothes removed.

He readjusts the both of you and you feel the head of his dick pressed against your entrance. It was on the slimmer side but had a nice vein that trailed from the tip down to the base. Your essence coats the tip, working as lube. One of his hands grabs yours and squeezes while the other grasps the sheets next to your head. In one swift motion, he pushes himself in. You let out a pathetic sob, the feeling of being split open overwhelming you.

When he's fully sheathed, he stays in place, giving you a moment to breathe. Scaramouche watches the slow rise and fall of your chest as you gasp for air. You look up at him through your lashes, clumped together by your tears and tongue lolling out.

"How sinful. To think that I did this to you," he curses, and he rolls his hips, eliciting a lewd moan out of you. "How ruined can I make you, princess?"

He pulls his hips back, making you whine at the sudden emptiness. Your complaints are short-lived as he thrusts back into you and begins a steady pace. Instantly, you wrap your legs and free hand around his body, sobbing out moans. The bed rocks and creaks with his movements, the sound of wet slaps echoing in the room. He leans down and captures your lips with his, groaning in pleasure.

Your walls squeeze him as the tip brushes against that one tantalizing spot inside you. Every time he thrusts fully into you, your cloudy juices squirt out, coating the base of his cock in a white ring. And when he pulls out, one glance lets you see that his shaft is coated in your essence, reminding both of you how well he was treating you.

That familiar feeling of an orgasm approaching creeps over you-- like waves batting against a wall moments from crumbling.

" 'm close! K-Kuni I'm close~" you plead to him, fingers sliding up and curling in his hair to tug hard. His eyes roll back and he lets out a despicable moan, his lust absolutely evident.

"C'mon princess-- cum for me. I've got you," he manages to whisper. He moves his hand to between the both of you and starts palming your clit, timing it on the off-beats of his thrusts. Your vision turns to stars as you arch into his touches, and the walls come crumbling down. Your 2nd orgasm washes over you, sending your pussy into flutters as it squeezes around Scaramouche's cock.

He doesn't slow down, instead picking up his speed as much as he could with your walls squeezing. Your high was never-ending as you gushed more and more, drenching the sheets under you.

"So good to me...I'll give you what you want. I'll cum in this pretty pussy of yours," he promises, kissing down your jaw.

His thrusts falter a bit as he feels his muscles tire in his thighs. One, two, three thrusts-- and he pushes fully inside one last time, cumming. You whimper, feeling hot as his cum floods inside you. You two stay there, intertwined with each other. You slowly quieten as the aftershocks of your orgasm run their course. Scaramouche absentmindedly thumbs your waist, humming lowly.

"You okay?" He questions, keeping his voice low. You nod, peeking up at him.

"Tired, want to sleep."

He doesn't waste any time, slowly lowering himself onto the bed. He maneuvers you around, still sheathed inside you fully. Wrapping your arms around him, he buries your face in your back, wincing when he feels your insides squeeze him.

"Good night, Y/N."

🙈 It's been a hot minute since I've written smut.

Requests (sfw and nsfw) are open~!

Wanderer x (Gender Neutral) Reader

Warnings: NSFW - MDNI, I guess switch reader/Wanderer as there's definitely switching of dynamics, unhinged reader (as a treat), uhhh reader is uhhh well probably very morally ambiguous and is portrayed as at least somewhat obsessed with Wanderer (but he's into it), also ig semi-public sex??? They aren't caught and no one's around so it feels weird to say that but they ARE outside so ..... a little bit of biting/blood (very minimal) uhh think that's about it

Word Count: 2089

Even though your eyes were closed, you could feel his brain working a mile a minute, his overthinking decaying the sense of peace the sunny afternoon previously fostered. Sighing, you opened your eyes. Being caught staring at you, Wanderer blinked and quickly looked away, face flushing. You reached up, flicking between his eyes. 

“Ah!” His hand reached up, grasping at his face as he turned to glare at you. “What was that for?!” His face looked severe, his displeasure apparent as the corners of your lips quirked upwards. 

“You’re thinking too loud.” You tucked your arm back across your chest, your eyes closing again as you rested your head across his lap. You heard him sigh, but with no sign of his mood improving, you opened your eyes once more. This time he didn’t bother looking away as your eyes locked onto his. “Is it about your past?” 

His gaze faltered, his eyes flickering away, and you knew you were dead on. He couldn’t look you in the eye as he spoke, his voice hushed, all that false bravado stripped away, until he was bare and vulnerable before you. “It feels dishonest if you don’t know who I was.” 

“But?”

“But I don’t want you to hate me.” 

You sat up, your knees touching his as you clasped his hands within your own. “I already told you, don’t push yourself. Tell me when you’re ready.” You reached out, fingers clasping his chin as you raised it until he was looking at you again. “Whatever your past holds, it doesn’t matter to me.” 

He looked at you in disgust, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “You say that now.” 

“Hm? I mean it though. It’s not like you’ve ever killed anyone that I personally like, nor have you ever harmed anyone I like. So why should I care?” 

Wanderer’s face smoothed out, his expression an unreadable mask. “Those are some low requirements.” Your hand dropped, his face finally escaping your grasp, as your hand carelessly fell to his thigh. Your chest shook, your head ducked down so he couldn’t see your face. For a long moment, he felt a strike of terror, thinking he made you cry, until a laugh burst out of you. He scowled once more. “Care to inform me of what’s so funny?” 

You took a deep breath, trying to stifle the remaining giggles as you smiled at him. “Yeah, they’re probably low requirements, but I don’t care. I love you, y’know?” A smile remained on your face, but your gaze was sharp. Like a wolf, smiling at the thought of its next hunt. You squeezed his thigh, the pale skin giving way easily, before you moved your hand, grasping both his wrists before shoving him down, into the grass, his wrists high above his head as you invaded his space. Red crept into his face, his shock brief before he glared at you. You didn’t give him the chance to say anything as you kept speaking. “I’d kill for you.” 

His glare dropped, his face unreadable again. “Wouldn’t most humans kill to protect the ones they love?” The words must’ve tasted bitter, for his face dropped like the petals from a dying flower. 

Your smile sharpened, edge razor sharp as you watched him. “Who said it’d be to protect you?” You paused, giving him a moment’s reprieve to think before you continued. “If you asked me to kill someone for you, I would. Even if it was to just prove to yourself that I’d do it. Even if that person was important. Or had a family. If you asked, I’d end them without a second thought.” You leaned closer, your faces a breadth from touching. “Does that scare you?” 

He scoffed. “How could I be scared? You sound like a dog, begging its master for a modicum of praise.” 

“Woof.” 

He smirked, eyes lidded as he stared up at you, a teasing lilt to his voice as he spoke. “Too bad I’m more of a cat person.” 

“Hmm…” You leaned back, eliciting a gasp from him as you sat directly onto his clothed cock. You hadn’t realized it before, but you could feel he was hard. Your smile never wavered as you took one of his hands, the other remaining in your grasp, and you wrapped it around your throat. “But if I’m your dog, you can collar me.” You could feel his cock twitch beneath you. “You like that idea?” 

Your hand dropped down, but his remained at your throat, until he finally gave a squeeze. He was oddly gentle, only applying a small amount of pressure to your neck. His eyes remained on your neck, his hand encasing it, until you pushed further into him, grinding yourself into his cock. 

He let out a hiss. “Fuck.” His hand, previously at your throat, flew down in a blur. It grasped tightly onto your waist and he gave an aborted thrust upwards. “So pent up you want me to fuck you out here in the open?” His words were teasing, but they were hardly convincing with how red his face was, as barely contained lust shone in his eyes. 

“C’mon you know no one comes out here. We can be quick.” You leaned down, until you were close enough that you could feel his breath on your face. You first kissed each cheek, then his nose, then beneath his eyes. You could feel him getting impatient as you kissed the corner of his mouth, before finally relenting and kissing him. His hand grasped at the back of your neck, pressing you as close as possible. 

The kisses were rough, frantic, and it didn’t take long for him to bite your lip, before shoving his tongue into your mouth. It felt like he was trying to devour you, tongue sweeping into your mouth with fervor. You could feel heat flood your core, blood rushing fast enough it left you light headed. You knew he felt the same, as you could feel his bulge straining the fabric of his shorts. 

You could barely breathe anymore, but he refused to relent, hand keeping you in place and preventing you from pulling away. As his tongue pushed between your lips again, you bit down, hard enough to draw blood. He winced, less out of pain and more out of surprise, but he allowed you to pull away. “What was that for?!” He asked indignantly, his brows furrowed as he stared up at you. 

“Couldn’t breathe…” You panted, your lungs failing you as you tried to draw in sufficient air. You laid your head on his chest, licking the blood off your lips. Your hands wandered, and you quickly untied his shorts before pushing them down. You ripped into the rest of his clothing, fabric tearing beneath your fingers, before you wrapped a hand around his cock. 

“Give me a warning! A-ah!” His hand flew to his mouth, covering it in an attempt to smother his moans as you pumped his cock. 

You shimmied your bottoms down, until you were exposed enough to grind onto him, his cock grinding into your core, his precum sticking to your skin. 

He thrust upwards, his tip prodding at your hole. You yelped, your hands fisting into the fabric of his shirt as you balanced yourself. Grasping his cock with one hand, you lined it up before sinking down to the root in one moment. Wanderer gasped, hands digging into your hips as he bucked into you. The stretch burned, but it shot sparks of pleasure up your spine, and you craved more, but you wanted to tease him. 

“Beg for more.” You said, clenching on his cock, causing him to let out a hiss at the unexpected tightness. 

He frowned, face contorted into a scowl as if he couldn’t believe you’d request that of him. “As if I’d stoop that low.” You pulled his hands off your hips, pushing them up above his head, holding yourself over him as you looked down, your gaze locked onto his. You clenched onto his cock again, grinding down as you teased him. “You think this is enough to have me begging at your feet?” Despite his words, his eyes were hazy, half lidded, lust clouding over his senses as he felt his insides turn to mush as you toyed with him. 

With one hand holding his wrists, the other traced downwards, first his face, lightly squeezing his neck, before grazing down his torso. You grasped at the ruined fabric, pulling it up and over his chest. You brought your hand back down, and brushed a finger over a nipple. The reaction was instantaneous, he gave a strangled yelp, his hips bucking up into you, as if he could further sheath his cock in you. You rubbed circles into his nipple, before leaning down to kiss him again. 

This time was a little bit slower, as you deliberately slowed the pace down, keeping you both at a simmer as you drove him insane from sensation. You pinched his nipple, and when his mouth opened to let out a strangled moan, you shoved your tongue in. You ran your tongue over his, your sudden fast pace overwhelming him. 

One of his hands slipped from your grip, and he brought it to your neck, squeezing slightly before pushing you away. He huffed, his breath unsteady. He refused to meet your eyes as he spoke again. “More.” 

“Is that anyway to beg?” 

His grip on your throat tightened, the red of his face spreading to his ears and chest as he flushed under your gaze. “Please…more. I can’t take it, just hurry up!” His voice raised and cracked as his bravado melted away. Though, you always found it easy to see through his mask anyways. 

“Good boy.” His eyes shot to yours at your praise, and as he was about to protest, you lifted yourself, before letting yourself fall back down into him, his cock filling you again in an instant. He panted, thrusting upwards to match your pace. 

You raised yourself upwards, before sinking back down onto his cock. You set a steady pace, pushing yourself up and down his cock, until he grabbed one of your arms and yanked you forwards. Off balance, you crashed into his chest, and he took advantage, pulling your arms behind your back, holding both your wrists with only one hand. He bucked upwards, thrusting into you at a brutal pace. You fell forwards, your face buried in his neck as he fucked into you. 

You could feel yourself nearing the end, your core tightening as you felt yourself being pushed further towards the edge. You could tell Wanderer was also near cumming, his cock twitching within you. He just needed one more push. 

As you finally were pushed over the edge, cumming on his cock, you dug your teeth into his neck. “F-fuck!” With a strangled yelp, he came, his cum spurting into you as you clenched around him. He filled you an unnatural amount, cum spilling out of you even with him still embedded into you. 

The two of you sat like that for a few moments, trying to catch your breath, before you lifted yourself again, allowing his cock to slip out of you. “Y-you’re an idiot. Doing something like this outside of all places.” 

“Huh? You didn’t seem to care a few minutes ago.” You said as you fixed your clothing. You definitely didn’t want to walk around with cum leaking from you, but you were going to have to deal with it until the two of you made it back home and you could bathe. 

“Hmph.” He tucked himself back into his shorts, pulling down the ruined fabric of his bodysuit until he could tuck it back into his shorts, as if nothing had happened. Even though you both had fixed your clothes, it didn’t help much. His face was still beet red, and his expression practically screamed he’d been ravaged. It was all you could do to wait until you were in the comfort of your own home for another round. 

You laid next to him, your head laying on his chest as he wrapped an arm around you, the other thrown over his eyes. The two of you rested in the grass together, the cool breeze ruffling your hair as you basked in the affection you were receiving. Ah, but he could give you more if you were in private. You couldn’t wait to get home later.

Scara who ties and gags you up so you won't move as he shoves a vibrator into your hole, leaving you in his room to head to work while the vibrator was buzzing into at low intensity and when he came back, your legs were soaked and dripping with your juices— your eyes teary and face flushed. You weren't able to cum for the last few hours and you needed to orgasm so bad, but you can't even do anything while being like this. He soon takes out the vibrator that was all covered in your juices, and placed it aside— only for him to pull his cock out and push it inside of you. You've been waiting for so long, so relieved that Scara was nice enough to fuck you raw while you're becoming a dumb little mess under him and even after a few rounds, he wouldn't stop even if you were too dumb and overstimulated to even realize how many times you even came. You might have to decide a color on your wheel chair...

Comforting touches

Character: Sub!Scaramouche // Reader: Dom!Afab, no pronouns used

Genre: Smut // CW: Titjob, cum play, nipple play, dumbification(?) he just doesn't want to think about anything :(

Plot: No // Word count: 1.9k

Barely more than half an hour ago, you were sitting on the couch in your living room, waiting for your boyfriend to come home. Scaramouche had been increasingly anxious recently, but due to his standoffish nature, he couldn't even bring himself to open up to you about the problems he was facing. Always pushing you away, you'd come to expect the degradation that came with being caring towards him, him seeing it as a slight towards his capabilities.

Safe to say, when he came through the door, stumbling into your arms as soon as you stood up to welcome him home, you knew something wasn't right.

With his face pressed into your neck, you were content to simply hold him close to you for the time being, just breathing together to try and calm him down and assess the situation. But when a wetness soaked into your skin, you slowly pulled away to face him, your gentle hands on his shoulder. (You'll never tell him that it was mainly to catch him if he fell, what with his unsteady knees and shaking shoulders, not unless you wanted to get your head bit off).

Before you could even get out a word of confusion or consolation, Scaramouche took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes before another tear could slip. Already, without a word being spoken in the past three minutes, you knew that he was overwhelmed.

This wasn't the first time that this had happened, and, as guilty as it made you feel, you hoped that it wouldn't be the last. Moments like this were the only times he would let himself be completely vulnerable around you, to completely surrender the control that he clinged to so despairingly. Instead of bottling all of his frustrations up, you were glad to have found an outlet in which he could relax and reset himself, without taking it out on the public by way of his... less than amiable personality.

...

That led you to this: kneeling on the floor between Scaramouche's parted legs, as he looked off to the side, his arm covering his eyes from your view in embarrassment.

It was an action that he gravitated towards each time this would happen, as if you didn't already know exactly what he looked like when he got like this; as if he wasn't eagerly awaiting what he knew would be coming. If only he could be a bit more patient.

"Tch..."

"... Is something wrong?" A responding sigh, and your hands slowly glide over the flesh of his thighs, an encouraging squeeze making its way through your fingertips.

When he shows no sign that he's going to say anything, you take hold of the bottom of your shirt and bring it up and over your head, leaving your top half covered only by a bra. He turns his gaze to look at you out of the corner of his eye, a fierce blush taking over his face, accompanied by a half-restrained pout.

Sensing his inner hesitation, you reach out and carefully rest your hand over one of his, which he keeps plastered to the couch on either side of his body. At your warm touch, he eventually pulls himself together enough to look back at you, his eyes immediately darting to your cleavage, before hurriedly looking back into your eyes.

With a silent praise, your lips pull upwards in a calm smile. Your hands slowly reach behind you to un-clasp the bra, letting it slide down your arms and drop from your body, bearing your front to the cool air of the room, as well as Scaramouche's hungry gaze. Your nipples harden under his insistent eyes, and his fingers twitch under your own, longing to take them into his hands and play with them until the sensitivity has you moaning out for him. But other than the twitch, he makes no move to act out on it, the situation familiar enough that he knows what you want from him.

"Are you ready? This is what you need from me, right?" You shuffle forward until your midriff is pressed against the cushion of the couch of which he is sitting on, your other hand riding higher until it comes into contact with the waistband of his shorts.

With an audible gulp and a clear of his throat, he rasps out, "Yes. I just... I need this right now."

A clench of your hand around his.

"What's the magic word~?"

Reluctantly, he tightens his hand around yours in answer, "...Please..."

With him, that's as good as you're likely to get, so you don't push him any further. Not when he's like this; desperate to take his mind off of everything around him and just indulge in the comfort of you.

Quickly, not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, your hand undoes the ties around his shorts, pulling them away until his half-hard cock comes free from the coverings. Taking him into your hand, you slowly stroke him to his full length, his dick twitching in anticipation as he tries to control his reactions. All the while, your other hand rubs relaxing circles onto the back of his palm, coaxing him into relaxing until he gradually gives in, letting out short hums and groans when his pleasure spikes.

Pleased with how he's reacting, you let your hand fall away from him, his now-full length drops down to rest against his still-clothed stomach, his gooey precum smearing into the fabric.

He lets out an impatient grumble, but it isn't long before he's cut off completely.

Leaning forward, your shoulders push his legs to spread even further apart to make room for you. Biting your lip to rein in your excitement, you take one of your breasts in each hand, pulling them apart to guide his cock into the space between.

Immediately he lets out a loud keen, curling forward to hold onto your shoulders with a tight grip, trying to ground himself as he becomes accustomed to the pleasure once again. When he looks down, his mouth drops open to let out a moan at the obscene sight below him:

His cock throbs between the tight heat of your plush breasts, his oozing precum aiding the glide and glistening erotically in the low light of the room. Each short bounce you make as you drag your breasts along his length pulls his cock to be encased in the hot flesh of your chest, his sensitive cockhead disappearing and pressed tightly between your mounds to allow him to feel every slick slide. With each thrust, his tip pushes through, more slick drooling from his slit and pooling upon your chest, before dripping down to meet your perky nipples. The sensation is odd at first, the sticky fluid quickly cooling in the cold air and the slow drag of it against your skin tickles, making you shiver. The slight vibration of the action causes him to thrust against your chest, a weak cry falling from his lips, chasing the sensation no matter how fleeting or overstimulating it is.

Steady moans break through Scaramouche's rough exterior. He always gives in so quickly when you do this for him. Maybe it's the fact that you can still look at him clearly, or talk to him when he's getting too carried away without stopping in your ministrations. Or maybe, it's the intimacy of the experience, being so close to you, buried in the welcoming heat of your chest and still able to see you, to feel your hands making contact with any part of his body you wish to feel.

Each rise and fall of your chest with your breath leaves him gasping, the added friction keeping him tense as he hurdles closer and closer to his peak. With all of your attention focused on his needy cock, there's no escape from the torturous sensations. All of his whines and choked out calls of your name amount to the final burst of pleasure that shoots through his entire body.

As his pulsing cock begins spurting his thick cum, you lean back, taking his length back into your hand once more and jerking him off. Squeezing as much of the white substance out of him as possible, it lands on the apex of your chest in a messy splatter, more joining the mess until he finally starts coming down, overstimulation slowly setting in.

His nails dig painfully into your shoulders when you don't stop, but you push through, milking him of all he has to give, until he is completely satisfied and slouching back onto the couch. And then, you let him go, content to watch him gasp for air as he regains his senses for the next minute or two.

Scooping his cum onto your fingers, you trail it across your chest in slow, meticulous movements, making sure to draw his attention to your nipples as you massage them, finally getting the attention you've been missing out on. The hard buds are soon coated in Scaramouche's white, viscous cum, the thickness sticking to your skin and the wetness making you all the more reactive to the touch from your fingers. He takes hold of your arm, and before he can apply much pressure, you're already rising, sitting down on the couch beside him and guiding him to sit at your side, asking:

"Are you still good to–"

"–Yes. Keep going... please..."

"...Okay. You can tell me all about it later. If you want."

But he doesn't answer.

Licking the salty fluid off of your fingertips, you slide a hand into his hair and pull him into a kiss, letting him taste the slight trace of himself on your tongue. He groans at the taste, pushing himself further into your body, one leg sprawled over your lap as he leans against your shoulder.

Pulling away, you guide his face to your chest, and he instantly starts licking up the remaining tracks of his own spend. Laying little nips and bites on your skin, he makes his way down to one of your buds, taking it into his mouth and sucking attentively, lapping over it with his tongue until it is completely clean of his essence. He's sloppy with his technique, not caring much for how he looks or sounds, with wet slurps causing spit to trickle down his chin from the corners of his lips.

Letting out low moans, you wipe his lips clean from the drool with your thumb.

He soon moves his attentions to your other neglected bud, suckling and latching onto it as if he'll never get the chance again. When he nips or pulls too hard – and sometimes he does, after all, he can get quite carried away when he's like this – all you have to do is lay a light tap against the back of his neck and he'll know to be more careful, laving his tongue over the mark to soothe the pain as if kissing it in apology.

While you are obviously enjoying this, this experience is more so for Scaramouche than it is for you.

The mindlessness of his actions allows him to drop into a hazy state, completely hidden from any of his life's worries. If you're needed to help him reach this mindset, you'll gladly help him each and every time, as well as take care of him until he eases out of it. Even if it means that he'll be too embarrassed to face you for the next few days.

Because despite how harsh he is at times, he can never get enough of you taking care of him.

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Hii im new here! Found your blog by chance and I love how you write! Would you be able to write wanderer x jealous!reader on valentines day? Lets say Wanderer has got a lot of admirers from the akademiya and reader is just silently furious abt it but doesnt say anything. When Wanderer finds out he fucks them nicely and praise them/ reassures them <333

Apparently I struggle to do angry jealousy, I just make it sad... but it's light this time! And soft.

Also it feels so weird writing Wanderer as a name??

Want to skip the lead up? Look for the NSFW sign that marks the smut!

Valentine's with Wanderer

Character: Top!Wanderer/Scaramouche

Reader: Bottom!Gn // Genre: Smut, angst

Cw: Classic Scara misunderstandings, praise/reassurance, fingering, soft sex, slight angst(?) it's more hinted I guess

Plot: A little // Word count: 1.9k

Valentine's Day: a day of love, gifts, and showing appreciation for your partner.

Usually, everyone tries to take the day off, freeing up their schedule so that they can focus entirely on the occasion, however it may be that they want to spend it. Which is why you were quite surprised to find yourself alone in bed when you woke up in the morning.

Now, that's not when you started feeling doubt. After all, maybe Wanderer, your boyfriend of the past few months, was in the kitchen. Breakfast in bed is a traditional start to Valentine's Day, and an easy way to get in anyone's good books. But, when you heard nothing after a few minutes of waiting, – no clanking of cutlery or slamming of cabinets – you just had to go see where he was.

Unluckily for you, all you could find was a little note, hastily sprawled and left waiting on the counter:

"I'll be gone for a while, don't wait up for me. I left you some breakfast in the cupboard, it might need heating up if you stay in bed too long, but that's not my fault...

–Happy Valentine's Day."

As usual, his handwriting is kind of hard to read; quick and messy. But, at least he did technically make you breakfast, even if he also alluded to you being lazy.

However, what most takes your attention, is the blotch of ink that splattered right at the end of "fault". It was as if he were hesitating to let go, to pick up the pen and leave it at that.

Which is why you felt oddly warm at the fact that the last part was perfectly legible and obviously had been written slower than the rest.

Even though you know Wanderer isn't particularly fond of outright expressing his feelings, you thought that surely, today of all days, he could push aside his own pride for you. Even just a little. Maybe that was too high of an expectation. His ambitions never let him take a break, so why would he take one for a made-up holiday?

Well... at least he's aware enough of your excitement for the day to acknowledge it first thing in the morning, even if he wasn't there to actually say it.

But, you knew that with Wanderer, everything would be awkward and touchy the first time around. You had to move slowly. Baby steps, you remind yourself, as you head back to your shared room to start getting ready.

It's only the start of the day.

...

You wish it weren't Valentine's Day.

Every street was lined with couples, each and every one of them holding hands, carrying flowers... things that you should be doing with your boyfriend right now.

And it didn't help that you felt like everyone was judging you for being alone, especially when most of them likely knew who you were dating. It's not like you hadn't seen them staring before now.

You couldn't blame them, really. Wanderer had shown up in Sumeru suddenly and didn't feel especially inclined to explain himself, so of course people would be curious. You just didn't like the way that their eyes would... linger after him. Even when you were there! And on the rare day that Wanderer was comfortable enough to let you hold onto him in public, the admiring stares turned to full-blown jealousy.

Now, what was wrong with that? Shouldn't that be an ego boost for you? You'd thought so too, at first. But then you realised that just meant they'd want to try and steal him from you.

You thought you could put up with it at first. After all, you knew that Wanderer wouldn't stand for anyone else touching him or getting in his way other than you. You trusted him just fine. You didn't trust the average Akademiya goer, though. They all seemed to think they were entitled to have whatever – or whoever – they wanted, just because they'd gotten into the prestigious school at all.

You'd tried to bring up your concerns to Wanderer about the whispers going around and the jealous looks you'd get when walking through the streets or halls of the Akademiya. Almost instantaneously, he shut down your complaints, finding the words so easily that it almost felt as though he hadn't even tried.

"Tch... they're annoying and only want to waste our time. Just ignore them like I do."

That response was actually exactly what you'd expected to hear, and while you were grateful for his straightforward answer, you'd wanted a more... passionate outcome. Something to show he cared.

That definitely isn't what you got, considering he didn't even look at you when he said it.

After that, you didn't want to bring up the same problem again. Especially not on Valentines Day, even though he'll probably come home having been confessed to over twenty times in the past hour alone. Okay, maybe you were over-exaggerating a little, but it really didn't feel like it to you. Plus, it's the day of love! You're allowed a little leeway for feeling paranoid, right?

Maybe this evening will be better, when Wanderer finally comes come.

...

As you walk through the door, you're instantly met with a faint smell that you recognised to be the lavender lemongrass scented candles that you kept around the house. Of course, this clued you in to the fact that Wanderer must already be home. But what solidified this, was that when you walked through the doorway, there he was, waiting for you standing next to a vase of beautifully arranged flowers. It was mainly made up of your favourite flower, along with some of the famous Valentine's flowers as well, such as roses, carnations, and even some daisies.

Most likely, it was thought up by the florist that he went to. But at least he knew your favourite flower, as well as followed the tradition of buying them for you at all.

Often times, it was unusual for him to initiate physical touch with you; even though he was comfortable with you, he still just wasn't used to it yet. Tonight, however, he seemed to have no trouble in walking right up to you, taking your hand to guide you into the living room, where you could both just relax in each other's company. The calming lavender lemongrass candles eased your mood quite well, and you were happy that your Wanderer had really tried for Valentine's day.

...

You had a lovely evening with your boyfriend, cuddling on the couch as you spoke in hushed voices about anything and everything (even if he was slightly apprehensive to start), the lovely atmosphere of romantic music quietly flooding through from the street.

And even though it had felt perfect, as you get ready to retire for the night, the candles having gone out a while ago, you can't help but feel the uncertainty from before start to overtake your thoughts again.

Resigning yourself to forget about it, you get into your side of the bed, your Wanderer already having been waiting for you to return. But he can tell that something in your mood has changed almost as soon as he lays his eyes on you again.

"What's wrong?"

"... Nothing."

He leans forward, showing his engagement. "Bullshit. If you don't tell me, there's nothing I can do to help you get over it."

"I just... those people from the Akademiya... they're still bothering me." You look down at your hands.

He sighs, closing his eyes for a second, "I've told you to just ignore them. There's nothing I can do to control how people think of you, or me, or us."

"I can't just ignore them!" You whine, "They're always looking at us when we're together... it's making me worried..."

At that, he looks over at you, his eyes scrunching as he thinks your words over. "Worried about what?"

Not sure how to say it, you move yourself to lay against him. Your back is pressed to his chest now, and the feeling of his warm breath on your neck helps to soothe your thoughts just enough for you to find the words:

"...I don't want them to take you from me..."

Now, it's Wanderer's turn to be silent. Now, he realises the mistake he'd made in telling you to just ignore those insignificant people; by ignoring the problem himself, he'd made you focus on it more. Of course you'd be feeling worried about this, he'd shut it down the first time you'd tried bringing it up.

You didn't need to just forget about it. You needed to work through it so that you could forget about it.

After almost a minute of tense silence, you're surprised when you feel his lips press gently to the back of your neck, accompanied moments later by his arm curling around you, pulling you ever closer against him. His hand rests over the place where your heart rests, while the other intertwines your fingers with his against your stomach, as if caging in the butterflies that start to flutter.

"Allow me to try again..." He presses a kiss to your ear before speaking again, "you don't need to think about them, or what I think about them." The hand on your heart shifts to cup your chest, your breath wavering when his hand brushes over your hardening nipples. "Because I'll never want anyone but you."

Then, the night is almost a blur.

Wanderer sneakily pulls a bottle of rose scented lube from under the pillow, liberally gathering some as he starts to stretch you out on his fingers. The scent slowly fills the room, intoxicating you on the heady fragrance, allowing it to pull you deeper into the moment.

He steadily pushes his fingers against the sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you, never slowing until after you've cum around his lubed up digits. Your hand finds purchase with the one on your chest, tightening your grip around him as you come down from the residual high.

He's whispering short encouragements to you while you collect your breath, the moans you'd been letting out dying on your tongue. Wanderer slowly lifts your leg, allowing him to guide his hard cock to finally, finally press against your hole, not making you wait to feel him as the slowly pushes in.

You don't need to adjust much, the lube and his attentive fingers having done the work well enough that only the comforting sensation of being full registers in your core. He starts thrusting when you signal that you're ready, his pace is easy and the power behind his hips is controlled enough to pull a soft moan from you with each stroke. It's different from what you're used to, but it's good. So good. And what makes it better is the hushed and stuttered, "I love you," and, "You're the only one that matters," that gets breathed into your shoulder as you both approach your shared climax.

The next morning, you wake up to find your Wanderer exactly where he ended last night; right next to you in your bed. You close your eyes contentedly, knowing you'll never have to worry about him being taken from you.

He's your Wanderer.

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heyyo!

(not me doing it wronf the first time sorry!!)

imagine tho

fem!/gn! reader cuddling with genshin men (alhaitham preferably) platonically and getting hard

like AIIDJWNWKS

I wasn't sure if this was like a friend or S/O situation, but I think this checks out. Hopefully.

They get hard while cuddling

Characters: Al Haitham, Xiao, Scaramouche/Wanderer, Heizou

Reader: Gn // Genre: Smut (suggestive) // No Cw.

Al Haitham:

Al Haitham isn't much the type to talk unless it's needed. He prefers silence (hence the earplugs), so any time you're even just in the same room, to him, it passes as quality time. That being said, it wouldn't be impossible to convince him to snuggle up together during one of his reading sessions, so long as you promise not to disturb him too often.

Now, Al Haitham can go quite a while without having to change positions, so most likely – unless you fall asleep against him – you'll be the first to move. However, after multiple instances of this, for varying lengths if time, it was only natural that his body would betray him at some point.

He'd randomly gotten hard. For no particular reason. Maybe you'd "accidentally" brushed against his clothed cock at some point, but it really doesn't matter; now, he's stuck in this situation that is naturally quite embarrassing, even for someone who doesn't usually care about others' opinions. But this is you we're talking about, and Al Haitham does care about what you think of him, as subtle as he tries to be about it.

So, he does notice his unfortunate predicament quite early on. But, instead of leaving to... take care of the problem, he decides to just leave it as is and see what happens. Maybe it'll go down on its own, or maybe you won't even notice. Maybe something worse – or much better – will happen if/when you do notice. But he's not going to disturb how comfortable you are just for the risk of his own potential embarrassment. He'll deal accordingly with whatever outcome comes his way.

Xiao:

Surprisingly, once he trusts you, Xiao isn't that hard to rope into cuddling up with you. However, it is quite hard to get him to stay. With the constant nagging in the back of his mind telling him to get moving, he can't help but be a little fidgety at times, sometimes even leaving when his debt gets a bit too overwhelming.

But, regardless of all this, Xiao will still find ways to show his gradual acceptance, and even craving, for your closeness. That may be him standing closer to you, seeking you out more often, or, eventually, even him being the one to ask you to huddle up together. At some point, it'll become something that he expects to happen, and on the odd occasion that it doesn't, he can't help but feel that something just isn't right. (You'll have to be the one to tell him that it's because he misses you).

Because of how new the physical touch that you're sharing is to Xiao, it'll obviously feel quite strange, to start off. This leaves plenty of opportunities for him to accidentally get hard while pressed up against you. The worst thing, – in his opinion – is that he doesn't even notice until one of you shifts to get into a more comfortable position. At first, he's kind of confused, until the realisation settles heavy in his mind, at which point he'll start working himself into a nervous frenzy; all while you're there just calmly enjoying yourself.

Not wanting you to have to deal with his "problem", Xiao will try to create some type of distance between you two. Whether it's just pulling away from you a bit, or trying to leave, depends on how conscious you are to his sudden odd behaviour. However, if you end up asking him about it, he'll instantly apologise, hesitantly explaining his accident (as if he can control it). However, no matter how much he wants to, Xiao won't leave until you've had enough time to decide how you want to proceed.

Scaramouche/Wanderer:

How you managed to convince him to try this, even he doesn't know. But now that you've already trapped him in the optimal position for some warm, comfortable hugs... it's hard not to fall further into your embrace.

Scaramouche would be very tense upon feeling your touch at first, understandably so. He's never had much physical touch at all, let alone been in an environment where that would be a safe thing to welcome. So, he'd need you to be relaxed for him to be able to follow suit, gradually easing up in your proximity.

As soon as he notices the uncomfortable stiffness between his legs, Scaramouche would instantly feel awkward, inwardly hoping it would go away on its own. He doesn't like not being in control, especially of his own body, so this happening certainly doesn't make this unfamiliar situation any easier.

Of course, as always, Scaramouche would not be the first to point out what was happening. He'll hide the steadily rising embarrassment as his usual confidence, pushing the blame onto you and accusing you of purposefully grinding against him to get him hard if you call him out on it. He'll make half-hearted threats to keep you quiet, but overall, he wouldn't want to stop just yet. Not when he's just starting to get used to the feel of you being so close to him... It may be a lot harder to get him to agree to do this again, though. He'll need some extra reassurance.

Used to being an observer, Heizou can be slightly uncertain with his movements when he's this close to you. He can find it kind of hard to shut off his detective brain at times, but once he gets used to it, he soon realises that holding you like this is the easiest way to get him to relax.

Heizou:

During these moments, Heizou likes to keep a conversation going. It's not always about something in particular, just whatever topic springs to mind. You don't even have to join in, if you don't want to; he's perfectly content just to let his mind wander and his words follow aimlessly while you listen.

Unfortunately, at some point, his thoughts will start to become sidetracked, suddenly focusing on the pressure of your body pressed so closely to his, especially... down there. Now, Heizou doesn't get embarrassed. Not in the slightest. Instead, he's annoyed.

Irritated by this turn of events, Heizou tries to ignore the hardness he feels. But, no matter how he shifts or how well he controls his voice, there's no way he'd be able to play this off. Of course, your comfort is the only thing on his mind at this point, so he'd be pretty open about it. Giving you some space and even making a small quip at his own humility, he tries to keep the friendly atmosphere flowing even as he leaves to take care of himself.

If you're not too put off by this, Heizou is totally up for more cuddles with you.

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