#wandering teeth | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cutiesgawr · 3 months

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HII GAWRR <3 I love your theme its so cute wtff

Can i req stepbro scara with reader being his fuck toy and hes able to do whatever he wants with her??🥺🥺🥺👉👈

TYYY I LOVE YOU MWAH MWAH

(🌊); BEING STEPBRO'S FUCKTOY!

(💧)chara.cters; Scaramouche

(☄️) syno.psis; Being stepbrother's fucktoy and you love when he does whatever he wants with you!

(🦈)content. warning; stepcest, dubcon, afab!reader, reader uses; you/them but has female parts, reader has boobs, boob play, nipple play, doggystyle, unprotected sex, slapping, ass spanking, reader has hair

(🌀)not.es; woahhhh :0 !!! Also TYSM !!<333

"You enjoy this, don't you?" He says, smirking down at you. He lets out a short laugh, gripping your hair with a fistful of it. "You love it when your stepbrother's cock pounds your pussy, don't you?" He smirks as bliss in your ear, you nod your head. "y-yhess!" You moan out, he lets out a chuckle at your cock-drunk self. His dick was hitting that special spot in your cunt, your eyes were rolled back, mouth open as you pant like a dog in heat. He groans in your ear, he pushes you onto the bed, head into the pillow as Scara holds your bottom half up. Your ass facing him, his other hand reaches for your chest. Fondling them, rolling your nipples between his fingers, pinching as you moan at his toying. "Love your chest, baby" he whispers in your ear, you bite your lower lip. *SLAP !*

You let out a strangled gasp-moan, his palm hits your cunt, your vision goes hazy as the pleasure builds up. His dick rubs at your ass as his palm keeps on hitting your wet sloppy cunt, you let out moans. "mmh!! S-scara!~" you cried, gripping into his wrist and rubbing your pussy against his palm. "What? Can't handle it? You want my fat dick in you?" He teases you, you bite your lip and nod your head frantically. He chuckles and pushes your head into the pillow, his hand spanks your ass before he enters you once again. You hold in your breath as he spanks your butt once again. "Ah!" You let out a loud moan, scara goes in you fast. Grabbing your hips and rocking his hips faster and harder, his dick never fails to hit that spot in you. It makes you see stars as you let out moans, precious to his ears. "MMh!" Your muffled moans are heard throughout the house, well good thing your parents aren't home, if they saw you and your stepbrother engaging in sex, you would be gone! "Fuck—! My fucking archons, your such a slut for your own stepbrother's dick!" He says. "I fucking love it, your all mine, baby" he whispers in your ear, he smiles and kisses your neck. Leaving a big hickey on your neck. You can feel your climax reaching the end, his dick twitches as it lets you know as well. He grips your hips hard, pushing you onto his dick, his nails dig into your skin as your nails dig into the sheets. Your eyes roll back as his dick pumps out his seed, filling your cunt up with his white stuff.

"You're all mine, baby... I don't care if I have to kill those fuckers to keep you. I want to keep you locked up and keep you with me forever, leaving you with no choice but to be mine forever" You didn't hear his last words as your vision turns black and you let sleep take over you.

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m1d-45 · 1 year

Text

wandering

summary: my scaramouche pulls, but make it sagau

word count: 1.8k

-> warnings: minor spoilers for sumeru (3.2) archon quest, author has not done 3.2 archon quest but had been spoiled by tumblr :/, probably ooc scara. based entirely on me and my prior pulls (pulled miko, pulled + built childe, has an itto), like two swear words?

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3

< masterlist >

scaramouche didn’t know what to think of the stars.

he’d kept an eye on them, out of curiosity, watching as constellations rose and fell, rose and fell, their cyclical nature never ending. he never saw any importance in them—not even when he heard of the forest watcher in sumeru being used as a vessel and his glass heart twisted—and hence never paid any attention, focusing on his mission in sumeru. he kept a passing eye on them, sometimes trying to guess how long the current rotation would be up during particularly boring fatui meetings, or trying to guess which constellations would light up when the stars began to fall.

after a while, he began to pay a little more attention to the patterns. he didn’t know why, but suddenly they drew him in more, even as he rolled his eyes whenever tartaglia boasted about a star crossing his constellation. never mind that that guuji from inazuma had hers too, no, he was the one that mattered.

and he was probably right. his bow had been replaced, he was a better shot than ever, and his water blades burned with skill. even the tsaritsa noticed his increase in strength, irritatingly, sending him a letter of congratulations on becoming a vessel. he’d even spent a whole day drafting a three-page letter to his family detailing it all, all the new skills and power he’d picked up by being with you.

what made him so favored?

he pulled down the brim of his hat, repressing the need urge to look up at the sky. he’d never been one to believe in astrology, or astronomy, or whatever that witch in mondstat wanted to call it. he wasn’t going to start now, not when his whole plan in sumeru was close to toppling.

he arrived at his camp. he accepted reports with a scowl. he marched to his office. he glanced through the window. he sat down.

he didn’t know why he was being so contradictory. he’d never felt this before towards anything, let alone something he actively despised. there was no reason for this. at all.

scaramouche picked up his pen, pulling over another dull report. the words bled together, the handwriting atrocious, and he was tempted to burn it. the only thing stopping him was the knowledge that it meant he’d have to ask for another from whatever recruit turned it in.

he tapped his pen on his finger. it was hard to focus, unnaturally, and he chalked it up to the weird feeling that’s been bugging him all day; the same one that wanted him to look at the stars. he sighed, adjusted his hat, glared at where a tassel caught on his chair, and picked up a pen again.

‘troops near chatrakam cave…’

purple eyes glared at his page, at where the ink bled a bit as he left his pen too long. what was his problem?

his eyes flicked to the window, to the curtains waving in the breeze coming though.

‘…have encountered no problems. all…’

‘…all…’

‘…all is going gwe-‘

scaramouche slammed his pen on his desk with a loud groan, standing from his chair and sending it skidding back. with stomping steps, he approached the offending window, reaching to shove the pale green curtains aside. he fumbled once on the lock but quickly pushed open the whole window, removing his hat to put his head through and glare at the sky.

“what the fuck could you possibly-…”

scaramouche stared.

his steel tongue was stilled, no quick remark or scathing quip coming to his mind. his thoughts were empty, his mouth suddenly dry as he looked upwards.

at his constellation.

he knew the moment he received a vision—how he wanted to see it shatter—that he had one, the image filling his mind alongside the elemental abilities. he knew what it was, he knew it’s name, he knew the six stars that composed it and the lines drawn between.

he didn’t know it was in the sky.

but there it was, blue stars shining brightly next to some orange bull, almost mocking him as he looked up at them. in his disdainful study of the stars, he knew that only a few were delegated to the prime positions in the sky, and that the latter of the two had been rotated in already. even if he didn’t, the way it’s stars outshone his made it clear.

curses rose and fell on his tongue, like a relentless tide that dared him to speak whilst taking away his air.

he knew what having a constellation in the sky meant. he knew it, and it was why he tried earnestly to destroy it the moment he got over the shock when he received it. he wasn’t picky about power, but power that came at the cost of being another gods puppet?

he’ll pass, thanks.

so to see himself in the sky, to know that at any moment strings could be tied around his wrists once more, that he could be jerked and pulled across a stage of another’s making-

the stars shone brighter.

his office fell away, his hat slipping from between his fingertips.

no.

he reached for it, he reached for his last semblance of a shield—he wouldn’t need it—from another god, but he barely felt the fabric before it was gone.

a white haze surrounded him, vaguely bubbling into clouds far beneath his feet as he stood on an invisible platform. a blurry rectangle was far out in front of him, a distorted voice warping through.

“-i have 45, that makes… i just have to get lucky, then…”

the voice was soft- you were soft, urging him to relax even as his rational mind fought. he could feel his heart speeding up in his chest, feel the war of emotions clouding his thoughts.

this wasn’t fair. you didn’t get to show up, after everything he’d been through, and expect him to fall into your lap. you didn’t get to do that, not to him, not now, not ever.

how he wished you’d catch him.

stars lit up the sky, one after another, and he saw one of them cross a flower-like constellation. you ooo’d and thanked whoever it was for answering—as if they had a choice—and sent out more stars, more wishes, the dust certainly fogging his head.

your voice grew clearer the more stars you summoned, his heart rate increasing in turn. how many did you have? would he be forced to go? why did he want to? would you wrap your divine hands around his and pull him into your team? why did his paper front of a soul leap at the idea?

emotions he’d never felt filled his chest, heat and warmth and icy frost pooling in his veins.

“50,” you called, voice alarmingly gentle in his ear. “please, scara, please?”

he should be proud to have a god so high begging for him. he should cross his arms and puff out his chest, he should smirk and glare with a comment about how even the divine can fall.

he was one of them.

“60,” you whispered, flaring the boil in his chest.

what did he do? what could he do? how did he get out of here? why didn’t he want to? what were you doing to him? what were these feelings? why did he never want them to fade?

“70. please? pretty please?”

he felt himself lurch as the star passed but gripped desperately to the invisible air around him, wide eyes searching for a way out. it was all clouds and stars, as far as he could see, with vague shapes slowly coming into focus around him. he saw something that he thought would direct your attention elsewhere, then realized it would take your gaze off him would only be temporary and saved his energy.

“80. come on, scara.. i promise i’ll be nice.”

nice? he wanted to laugh. he would have if he wasn’t so short on breath already- and yet somehow still lightheaded, his vision swimming as his fingers began to buzz. he could feel it, the invisible rope around his chest pulling as the purple stars whizzed by, and yet he held firm in his place amongst the clouds. he couldn’t answer you he wouldn’t be able to stay composed. he wouldn’t allow himself to be put under another’s jurisdiction again but he knew you were different, you were warm and soft and so different from her.

you would not have him yet.

you were not his god you were his true creator.

you laughed. he hated loved that it was edged with bitterness.

“damn. making me go to the shop again, huh?”

he wanted to apologize tell you it was a lost cause.

“well scara… 4 more wishes. i know it’s useless but… please?”

one.

the pull knocked the wind out of him, his treacherous to who? hands faltering their grip on the walls around him. in the blue light of the stars, he knew he was flushed with exertion.

he could feel it, the chance he was given. the choice to stay, to hear your voice falter and slip and plea, or to go. to answer the string pulling at his heart of glass, to trust and hope that you wouldn’t betray him like so many before.

two.

did he dare believe you? did he dare to trust the only one he could another god, to put his cracked trust in your palms and hope you wouldn’t drop it? did he go against his rules, did he follow the reputation he had built up, did he cling to the clouds before crashing down in regret his office?

who knew if you could be trusted? if he went, you’d have two harbingers under your thumb. what if you wanted to topple the fatui? what if this was a ploy to get him to trust you? what if you didn’t treat him like you did childe or any of the others, what if you wanted him to laugh and scorn and taunt? what if you wanted him just to see him try and pick himself off the floor where he landed, expecting nothing and yet still disappointed?

what if you wanted him for him?

three.

enveloped in gold, the wanderer could only wish that you would catch him.