Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

𝗗𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗿: This book contains smut, a contribution for kinktober so freaky readers—enjoy. And two hands should remain on the phone.

There will be suggestive content so minors that are reading this, do leave. Well, I don't really care since you'll be reading it anyways. If you're not into it, why are you even here?

Scaramouche/Wanderer might be OOC. Credits to the rightful owners (Pictures, inspiration, etc). Most chapters are 1-2k words or more.

This is highly inspired by anantaru's kinktober (AO3 & TUMBLER) and KazuKazuyas's Scaramouche Oneshot (WATTPAD)

I post in AO3 as well (this and short scenarios).

Story context/summary/overview are shown each chapter.

Masterlist:

♯1: Pocky Stick

♯2: Lovemaking

♯3: Bath

♯4: Awkward Moments

♯5: Head

♯6: Eating you out

♯7: Seven minutes in heaven

♯8: He caught you touching yourself

♯9: You caught him touching himself

♯10: Birthday Gift (For him)

♯11: Birthday Gift (For you)

♯12: Angry Sex

♯13: Public Sex

♯14: Sleepy & Sloppy

♯15: Favorite Position

♯16: Overstimulation

♯17: Vacation

♯18: Aphrodisiac

♯19: Bondage

♯20: Training

♯21: Brat Taming

♯22: Favorite body part

♯23: Spanking

♯24: Maid dress

♯25: Kinks

♯26: Mirror Sex

♯27: Riding him

♯28: Thighjob

♯29: Dominating him

♯30: Streamer (You)

♯31: Streamer (Him)

31 chapters, 31 days for the month of october, posted according to date and every 9PM GMT+4.

Chapter Text

Half-lidded eyes tracked your every move, murmuring how stupid this is yet he's addicted. The way you felt on his lap, so close to his growing hardness just for you to reach out for another pocky stick.

You placed it in between your teeth, holding on the back of the chair for stability. Even though you're pretty stable from falling by the way his grip on your waist was tight, suffocating almost to the point where it could leave a mark.

He leaned in, grazing the tip with his teeth. Slowly. Teasingly.

—

The place was empty, no students were seen to be roaming around the place and with every step; the sound of your shoes clacking echoed and your melodic hum bouncing through the halls of Akademiya.

Peeking through the cracks and windows, specifically looking for Wanderer. Come on, being alone is boring and your only source of entertainment was tormenting him.

You listed all the places where he could potentially hide from you, the empty abandoned classroom to the tree top of Akademiya—he wasn't there. So you only had one more place where he could possibly be, the library.

You whistled, making sure anyone staying there was aware of your presence and another way of you nagging him even from afar.

"Wanderer?"

You called out. No response.

"Wanderer."

Nothing again.

"Wanderer!" You called out again and raised your voice.

"What?!" He finally answered, visibly annoyed with his eyebrows furrowed. Not in a spiteful way, he's always been like that. He figured that you'd be here by now however it didn't stop him from being startled from your sudden appearance.

He lowered the book he was holding to divert his attention to you, covering the title with his entire hand and his slender fingers tapping on the surface of the object that he held—mimicking the noise of a clock’s tick.

His patience is low as always, nothing new.

A soft smile occurred on your face once he acknowledged your presence, another burst of energy caused you to boldly climb up onto the desk in front of him—sitting casually with legs crossed, your foot gently grazed his knee but he didn't care.

The entire time, he was staring at you—he wondered what were you planning this time, annoy him until he gets a headache? Whine about your day? Countless things came to mind but he didn't expect you to say this.

"Tutor me" You chimed with a grin, he stared at you in disbelief then scoffed—rolling his eyes as well to add another sprinkle of sass.

You fluttered your eyelashes at him, giving him doe eyes to at least convince him to say 'yes'.

He hesitated, giving it a deep thought then spoke. "Fine."

At his place, he was writing down some tips for you to remember since your brain is similar to the size of a pea with a memory of a goldfish.

Pen scribbling on the paper without halting.

Yet here you are, laid back beside him once again—one hand holding the book, the other holding the pocky stick to your mouth and with your legs crossed as it rests on his lap.

Your eyes darting throughout the book lazily, not even adding effort to comprehend it easily then being frustrated that you couldn't remember what you've read nor understood what it meant.

Flicking the paper out of boredom. Those were the only noises that filled the minutes of deafening silence—followed by a loud, consecutive crunch from munching on the chocolate coated sticks.

Immediately, his unwavering attention snapped to glance at you—observing how your lips were wrapped around the pocky stick you were consuming.

It made him become aware of his surroundings, your legs; the tantalizing glimpse of your creamy thighs peaking through your shorts, the weight of it pressing onto his lap somehow turned him on.

He took a while admiring it, shamelessly too.

A part of you felt someone staring at you a little too long, noticing him by your peripheral vision. A dirty idea appeared in your mind and it includes something to do with what you're eating.

"You like to stare." You mentioned, nibbling at the end with a soft smile—and you liked that he was staring.

"And? You like the attention" He scoffed, closing the book to face you with his body facing you which revealed a not so subtle semi-erection.

You thought of this as an opportunity to proceed with your stupid pocky stick idea, a bold move of yours to sit on his lap.

His hands instinctively gripped on your waist—wondering what's your next move.

Eyes widening slightly prior to returning to normal or well, one that's driven with lust
when he figured where this was heading to.

"I knew you wanted it but I didn't expect you to be this desperate."

Half-lidded eyes tracked your every move, murmuring how stupid this is yet he's addicted. The way you felt on his lap, so close to his growing hardness just for you to reach out for another pocky stick.

You placed it in between your teeth, holding on the back of the chair for stability. Even though you're pretty stable from falling by the way his grip on your waist was tight, suffocating almost to the point where it could leave a mark.

He leaned in, grazing the tip with his
teeth. Slowly. Teasingly.

He likes it, when you avoid his gaze especially with his lips hovering so close with yours—making you unaware of his next move, will he close the distance or keep this spine shivering game of his?His breath was warm, tickling your skin as his lips nearly grazed yours.

Clearly, he was playing with you—he always did and you always let him.The way your eyes flickered down at his lips, watching it slowly devouring the stick like it's on its way to devour you.

"Last one"

You blinked, obviously—you didn't want this to end so quickly but was it necessary for you to tell him or were you desperate for him to close the distance between you?

To make matters worse, even from the dim light, you could see the way his lips formed a subtle smirk. To tease you further, he adjusted himself by bucking his hips a bit—it left goosebumps on your skin.

"One more."

He watched as you put it in between your teeth once more, gaze glued to your pretty lips. He was tempted, to feel it—taste it, would it be soft like pillows or sweet like cherry?

"You're enjoying this aren't you?" He leaned closer, tilting his head—well, he was the one enjoying this more than you. He
might even keep this up for a month because it gives him the thrill.

His hand traveled to the back of your head, keeping your head steady. His bites became quicker and the tension from before shifted to something more hurried.

He pulled away like always, swallowing it and then smashing his lips to yours.

His kiss was hungry, pressing his body to yours—showing you what you've done. You whined, kissing him back with the same hunger as you could feel how hard he was.

He pulled away so that you could catch your breath, he watched on how your lips were glistening with his saliva and how it was swollen.

You rolled your hips to receive a groan from him, eyes shut and nose scrunched.

“Oh.. getting bold are we?”

“Who said I wasn't?”

His eyes traveled to your neck and collarbone, like an empty canvas, he had to paint and mark it as his own.

He had to test the waters, watch how'd you
react. Hands roaming around, figuring out what makes you jolt and whimper.

He noticed how your grip on his shoulder tightened when he gave your neck a lick to taste your skin—then a harsh suck, loving the way you gasp and close your eyes.

Hips never stopped although it faltered, he left small hickeys on your neck but not enough that you were smothered by it.

It sent a shiver to your spine when he gave it a gentle kiss, a contrast to before where he was making out with you like a wild beast who couldn't get enough.

It was amusing how a person could feel
such bliss from something this simple and it boosted his ego, of course. Especially when you softly moan his name, the way it rolled off your tongue so easily and the little tug on his hair.

Almost coming undone by it and with the combination of you grinding on him, who wouldn't?

His hands guiding your hips to his sweet spot, letting out a soft groan when your hips rolled sensually.

Your hand slipped underneath his shirt, trailing his chest then purposely leaving a mark by digging your nails into the skin—dragging it down to leave beautiful scratch marks.

He moaned, the mixture of pleasure and pain almost caused him to lose himself. You withdrew your hand and he returned the favor, a hand slithering underneath your shirt.

Fingers immediately attacked one of your perky nipples that pebbled from how aroused you were, not to mention how much wetter you became.

You held onto his wrist, moaning softly with your mouth agape. He pinched and rolled it between his fingers, tugging and smoothing it out expertly.

He was pushing your buttons like some sort of controller, intently observing the way you acted on the spots he'd push.

He chuckled, witnessing how concentrated you were with pleasing the both of you.
Your movements quickened, feeling the burn on your thighs and a knot inside of your abdomen began to form.

He was partly frustrated by the fabric that was preventing him from feeling you—in and out.

You kept silent when you felt that familiar pressure in your abdomen that was threatening to burst, hands fumbling to find the right place—right grip. You decided to settle it at the desk behind you, giving you more support to reach more of his length.

You didn't say a thing that you're getting close to the peak of pleasure, eyes glued to the visible bulge aching for contact from the way it throbbed when you reached the head of his cock.

His pre-cum was leaking profusely from the confines of his tight pants, smearing between your legs—coating it with both of your sticky substances.

"You're close." He leaned back to his chair, hands on your thighs—watching how it quaked on top of him.

The room was getting hotter and all you could focus on was the pleasure you're receiving, feeling his hands roaming your body.

Memorizing every single tick whenever he
presses onto the spots you're highly sensitive in.

"I'm not." You held back, pressing your lips together to prevent noises from slipping out of your mouth. He reached out, caressing your cheek then his thumb pried it open.

"Let me hear you."

He grunted—getting near his climax. Eager for more friction, you angled your hips that he was hitting the good spot. You tried your best hiding the way you came because of a subtle shift.

The way you arched your back and eyes struggled not to roll back was an obvious sign that you've orgasmed, he figured—knew all the spots and remembered all the things that you do.

Heck, he could even differentiate each note of your high pitched moans and what it meant.

His hair stuck to his forehead with sweat rolling down his face from how hard he was contemplating whether he should just rail you until you can't walk. "Pathetic, you already came? I thought you'd last longer than that."

He lets out a breathless laugh, watching how you trembled so hard from your hard orgasm. Even so, you were so pretty that he might let you cum over and over again.

To replay it in his mind—how your mouth fell open to let out gorgeous whimpers and beads of sweat dripping from your face.

He lets you ride your peak, not chasing his.

"Next time, you better make me finish." He stated, a promise that you must fulfill in the next tutor. He got you off of his lap, supporting you when you couldn't stand properly on his own.

"Right, whatever.." You stood in front of him despite your legs wobbling from the soreness.

He engraved the sight of you into his memory, your hair disheveled and lips swollen. His gaze travelled down to where a wet patch was visible.

You pulled your shirt down as an attempt to cover the soaked spot of your shorts. He gave you the piece of paper from earlier to which you shoved deep inside of your pocket and hurriedly left.

Once you left, he chuckled to himself after knowing that he ruined you once more and that you'd be crawling back to him the very next day. Pleading for more of this addictive dance of yours, either way—he lives for it.

He already planned on what to do with you next if you did return him, maybe take your ability to walk? Scream?

Gosh, he regretted going soft on you and should've fucked you roughly. Coat your insides white with his essence—claim you all throughout.

That lewd imagination of his didn't help, palming himself from his denied orgasm. Well, once he sees you again—he wouldn't be so gentle from now on.

Would you be perfectly tight for him, obedient and utterly ruined? To be buried deeply into you until he was buried to the hilt, planting a kiss to your cervix.

He sighed, reaching to jerk himself off like you weren't there minutes ago humping him to oblivion. The pleasure couldn't compare but it'll work for now yet he wished deep inside that it was you instead of his hand.

Might even read an article about different ways on how to pleasure someone, oh right, no need to suggest for that—he already did. That was the reason why he was previously in the library.

Chapter Text

Scaramouche wasn't a fan of being affectionate or intimate, but tonight, he'll be proving you wrong.

Like a fly trapped on a spider's web.

-
The both of you have been separated for days; he was on a mission without you and you've spent all day outdoors—training.

The training dummies were ripped and worn out and your hands ached from the relentless practice. Even from the bloody knuckles—you continued.

Someone entered the training grounds, drawn by the sounds of your heavy punches and loud grunts.

“Angle your fists better” they suggested, footsteps coming to a halt and so do your punches.

The voice was familiar, it wasn't him but that ginger bastard. Not that he is, it's how Scaramouche calls him.

You turned your head just enough to catch a glimpse of him, he smiled, lifting a piece of paper in a casual wave.

Looking back at the dummies that were laying on the ground, it wouldn't be so bad to take a break. To figure out what he wanted with you.

He reached the paper out to you and greeted you farewell, saying that he has some sort of chopstick learning lesson with Zhongli.

In the middle of the night? Don't think it's chopsticks he's learning about.

You tore your gaze away from his figure, reading the letter written for you. The handwriting gave it away—Scaramouche.

Messy cursive, still coherent and written with purple ink. How flashy.

A short message telling you that his return will be delayed and he'll be back by another week.

You've been expecting him to come back by now, receiving the news made you disappointed—infuriated even.

It bothered you that his absence had such an effect on you, each day filled with sleepless nights, concern and disturbing thoughts.

A last glance on the floor behind you, staring at the dummies scattered on the floor and then looking up at the night sky dooming upon you.

You folded the paper neatly and shoved it inside your pocket, heading back towards your room.

-

You decided to take a hot, steamy shower but once you turned the water on. Instead, you were greeted by a cold one. No matter how many times you've twisted the knob, it remained cold.

Somehow, this reminded you of his presence that cast an abundance of warmth even through his sharp tongue that's laced with venom.

His actions were always the opposite of his words, it was gentle like you're a delicate being. Always have been.

Once you've gone out of the shower, you catch a glimpse of your reflection through the mirror even if it is fogged up.

You reached out and wiped to remove the haze, staring at yourself and to your features.

What is there that made him fascinated by you?

Was it your skill in combat, your intelligence that solved every problem that his mind can't wrap around or maybe he just sees you as a toy?

How could you possibly love a coldhearted person like him?

These thoughts continued to surge through your mind as you left the bathroom and got ready for bed.

A silky nightgown that he gifted to you during your birthday, where he promised to make love with you. (Didn't happen)

You laid down, reuniting with the soft mattress and pillows. Crickets chirping and clocks ticking, slowly helping you fall asleep.

On the brink of dozing off, the door creaked open—a subtle noise that you caught up on.

Heart beating rapidly, reaching beneath your pillow for a weapon that you hid just in case a situation like this happens.

A loud thud then a soft jingle, followed by two pieces of wood meeting wood, this can't be happening.. .

The right side of the bed sunk, his weight pressing down on the mattress as he joined the night with you.

He shifted closer, your back pressing on his chest and his arms wrapped your waist.

“You have no survival instincts at all” he chuckled, his voice low and teasing but even so—you missed it dearly.

“I knew it was you” you responded, knowing it was a lie.

His hand trailed to yours that was underneath the pillow and took the weapon you held so tightly.

“I don't think so.” He threw it on the ground, smiling softly on how prepared you were to fight.

He held onto your hip so that he could press himself from behind, grinding softly.

Scaramouche wasn't a fan of being affectionate or intimate, tonight, he'll be proving you wrong.

Like a fly trapped on a spider's web.

“I've missed you, missed this.” He hisses, nose scrunching from the delicious friction.

He was hard and you could feel it throb, how long was he like this? Is it because of you?

“I thought you wouldn't be arriving today..” you murmured, holding onto the sheets from how desperate his grinds became.

“I couldn't, not anymore.” he growls, flipping you to your back and making his way between your legs.

His eyes widened after realizing your attire.

“You promised..”

“I didn't forget, I was waiting for the right time.”

His eyes met yours, a contrast to the wild beast you first met—it was still hungry for you but softer.

He caressed your cheek then his gaze trailed down to your lips, collarbone and stopped by your panties.

“It was like you knew I was coming” he lifted the skirt, taking a better view of the lacy lingerie that you were wearing.

His cock was leaking through his pants, he bit his lips to stop him drooling from the sight of you.

You shoved your skirt back down, embarrassed from how much he has seen today. To tease you further, he leans down and suckles your perky tits through the fabric.

You suddenly moaned, not expecting him to start latching onto your breasts—like a leech.

“My lord..” you gasped aloud, hands burying into his hair to give a small little tug—he responded with a groan.

He pulled away and lifted your nightgown, discarding it somewhere on the ground that you'll soon find out by morning.

Suddenly, he paused—merely staring at your body without any obvious expression. This made you insecure, wondering if he got turned off out of the blue or was your body not enough.

“Fuck..” he whined, you blinked blankly from the word that left his mouth. He hurriedly took his clothes off and it met the nightgown that was laying on the ground.

His hand dipped straight to your core, just cupping it to feel your warmth—a soft squeak exited your closed lips.

“Do you think you can take me?” He questioned, pushing your panty from the side to have a better peek of your glistening folds.

Gosh, he knew. He already knew you've been pleasuring yourself after all the days you've been alone.

“Just.. hurry up.”

Already figured that you've been preparing yourself for him and for this moment. He stroked himself, getting closer to you like a magnet.

He pushed his own member to your folds, using your own juices as a natural lubricant. With a soft push of the head of his cock to your entrance, the both of you gasped in unison.

Watching together on how his cock quickly dissolved inside of you, he laughed from the sensation.

“You feel good as always.” He pinned your wrists above your head, feeling more in control even if he's no longer in control of his own body.

His thrusts were slow, making you adjust to his length as his pace gradually sped up. He relished onto the feeling by closing his eyes, pleasure immediately heightened like this.

The feeling of your walls clamping eagerly around him, surprisingly, he was vocal today. Letting out groans and grunts here and there.

“My lord..” you whined, escaping his grasp to pull him closely by wrapping your arms around his neck.

He noticed how close your lips were to his, “don't you think it would be more intimate if you moaned my name?” he huffed.

Giving a rough thrust to taunt you, “Scara..” you corrected with glossy eyes and he smiled. He closed the distance between you, continuing his relentless thrusts while kissing you.

Consuming your moans, holding onto your thighs to bring you impossibly closer. It was clear that he was pussy drunk by how giggly, desperate and vocal he's been.

“You're so perfect, perfect for me.” He broke the kiss just to state this before crashing his lips back to yours.

To be fair, you've missed this as well but something was.. different. As if he was taking his time? Most of the time it would be quickies, hurried and sloppy makeouts or just position tryouts.

His pace returned to being slow so that he could focus on kissing you softly—biting your bottom lip with a soft roll of his hips.

“Go faster” you demanded, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his. He chuckled, doing as you commanded him.

Once his thrusts become fast and deep, you can't help but roll your eyes to the back of your head.

“Feels good?” He flashed you a sly smirk.

“Yeah, that spot.” You whimpered.

He understood the assignment, adjusting himself to target that g-spot of yours. You moaned loudly—seeing stars and witnessed Celestia at some point.

He uses his free hand to rub your throbbing clit in a circular motion, making you jolt by the shiver sent to your spine.

There was that familiar knot rising on your abdomen, nails scratching on his back to prove the pleasure you've felt and this boosted his ego.

That he made you lose your mind by pounding on you relentlessly non-stop. He brushed back your hair that was falling onto your face, wanting to see more of the expressions you make.

“I'm close..” You used one of your hands to grip on the sheets beneath you, moaning shamelessly without caring about the Fatui’s nearby that were listening.

Especially it being accompanied by skin slapping on skin, bed creaking, headboard repeatedly slamming onto the wall and wet squelches.

“Hold it. Not yet.” He buried his face onto your neck, holding your hips so that he could push himself deeper inside to hear more of your screams.

“Please, I can't..” you pleaded, doubting that you'd last any longer holding it back.

His thrusts become sloppy and your toes curl once you've released the pent up climax. His hips jerked as you felt warm splutters inside of you, he dragged his spent cock out.

Watching how his hard work leaked out through your used hole, he pushed it back in with a finger. You reacted with an overstimulated whimper and your legs trembled due to it.

He chuckled at how sensitive you are.

The room was hot and steamy, like the shower that you wanted earlier. Even the windows were foggy.

You pant heavily, catching your breath after experiencing a mind-blowing orgasm. He collapsed beside you, panting heavily as well.

After the effects subside, you're starting to feel full and how wet the sheets are underneath you. It grossed you out but you were too exhausted to do anything.

Wiggling your legs a bit to make sure you still have the ability to walk.

There was some distance between the both of you and the silence finally became deafening.

“Are you not gonna leave?” you asked softly, almost like a whisper yet he heard it clearly.

“Do you want me to leave?” He turned his head to the side to look at you with an offended look.

“No, you always do.” You shifted to your side, fully facing him.

“..well, not today.”

Chapter Text

The night shift has begun, a work of yours that you've done for the past few years discreetly. A secret kept between you and Scaramouche, well, more directed to this odd relationship you have with him.

It's strictly business, but this? Far more than that. He was your superior and you were his subordinate, not lovers nor friends.

You highly respected him, looked up to him, worshipped him almost. Not that you'd admit to him but your action speaks louder, like right now.

—
Every night, ever since you proved yourself worthy, you’d prepare his bath. Assuming that he chose you as he trusts you in a way.

Usually, someone else would be in charge tending his bath—potentially two-to-three people.

There was an incident that you've heard once where a person unintentionally made the water too hot for his liking and some too cold. Scaramouche as a person is very precise and consistent, the temperature must be at least the same daily.

He'd complain that he couldn't find the right person to prepare it for him, insulting them for not doing their job properly.

One day, you boldly volunteered to do it for him. He wasn't against the idea but he doubted that you could do it properly, even telling you to stay as a secretary of his but when you did—not only did you do it properly but perfectly too.

From that day forward, it became a routine to you but hey, at least you got bonus payment.

Tartaglia noticed how Scaramouche stopped ranting every morning on how the workers messed his night and somehow he caught on that you've exceeded his ‘bathing’ expectations.

However, this time—it’s different.

Candles were placed on every surface, lit up to cast this dim and warm atmosphere.

You grunted, carrying a bucket of freshly hot water to the Ofuro (wooden bath). It spilled as you made your way, back aching after repeating the process until it was filled to the brim.

You could feel the heat emitting from the water, your face meeting the steam.

Once it was full, you kneeled at the edge and reached out to the water to feel the temperature on the back of your hand.

The water was perfect, it made you crave to have a bath soothing like this.

You knew it was time for Scaramouche to try it for himself, entering his office to inform him yourself.

Wiping the sweat gathered on your forehead and neck with a towel, to at least look presentable to your boss.

Who wants a sweaty secretary visiting him to inform him that his bath was prepared for him? That'll turn him off—not that he was turned on.

-

He entered the bathroom first and you followed, closing the sliding door for privacy. Your eyes darted everywhere, avoiding your gaze on him.

He hasn't uttered a single word ever since the office and it has been putting you on edge. Could he be tired? Well, if he was then he'd probably make you do all the work.

He set his hat down, then his gloves and accessories. Simply toss it to the floor for you to pick up later. Until he was left with his hakami-styled black shorts and high collared, short sleeved layered shirt.

You were there to serve some purpose, not standing there idly to gawk at your own boss stripping. However, sometimes when he strips, you wonder why he seems to be comfortable with you around?

That thought disappeared when he took the first layer of his shirt. Slowly. He lent it to you, for you to hold. Followed by the second, then his last.

He lifted his last shirt off, showing you his smooth and bare back. Subtly glancing at you from the side.

Oh, he knows what he's doing. You haven't gotten inside the water but gosh were you wet.

You caught his gaze lingering on you, only to realize he'd caught yours too. Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you quickly folded the pieces of shirts he gave you to neatly place on the wooden counter nearby.

While you weren't looking, the sound of soft splashes signaled that he had slipped into the tub—followed by a quiet, relieved sigh.

You bent over to the ground to pick up the pieces of clothing that he carelessly tossed to the ground whilst he adjusted to the water.

Unaware of how closely he was staring at you, trying to peek on how your pants hugged the curves of your ass as you bent down.

You thought you could finally leave the room for doing half of your night shift.

Suddenly, he broke the silence and gently called out your name.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Wash me.” He ordered, reaching out a wet towel.

You blinked blankly, amused from his bold request yet you didn't hesitate nor question.

Taking the towel to gently rub on his skin, starting from his arms that you held to properly clean him off.

Luckily, the room was dark so you couldn't see anything under the water.

Then you did the same on his back, staring at the tattoo that he has on his nape—it always fascinated you but you couldn't gather the courage to ask.

After you finished with his back, you paused.

Do you have to clean the front part of him? Wouldn't it be awkward? Typically, you'd just prepare his bath and clothes. Not that you wash him yourself.

“I'm finished, sir.” you muttered, heart racing whether he'd let you go or not.

“Who said you are? You've missed a spot.” he turned to face you, grabbing your wrist to guide you on what to clean. He guides your hand towards his chest.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, unsure on what to do in this situation. Face flushed because of the close proximity.

“There's something else that I want you to clean,” His voice low, grabbing the towel from you and taking your other wrist.

“Preferably without the towel.” he added, slowly luring your hands to his chest then trailing it lower.

He didn't break eye contact with a knowing look, he was teasing you.

You let out a shaky breath now that he paused by his abdomen, feeling his warm radiating through his skin. Your fingers twitched, wanting to touch him more.

He observed your reaction if you were willing to go further as he found your quivering form endearing.

Your hands sunk lower into the water, leading you straight to him. He was hard, like he was planning for this very moment.

Wrapping your hands around him, stroking him slowly. You couldn't believe that you were jerking him off, especially when you didn't have any experience with doing this.

He huffed, throwing his head back and letting your wrists go.

You wanted him to feel good so you used your thumb to press on the tip, he then let out a gasp. All of the noises that escaped his mouth sent a shock to your own core.

He buried his face to your neck, planting soft kisses with his eyes closed. He was feeling the moment.

His hips jerked to meet the stroke of your hand, you felt a surge of confidence so you quickened your pace.

Getting a loud groan from him, his cock twitches in your hand.

“Keep going, I'm close.” His nose scrunched up from the pleasure.

You leaned down, taking the tip into your mouth to give a harsh suck. Tasting the salty pre-cum on your tongue, his hand quickly found its way to your hair.

He moans quietly, releasing his essence into your mouth as he rides his high. Moving your hair aside so that he could see how good you were.

He pulls back, leaving your mouth with a soft plop. The cum was slightly bitter and salty, not like you expected him to taste sweet—he didn't taste much like anything.

You swallowed it all and you could hear him panting, returning back to the water.

He dismissed you like nothing happened, to be fair, you also needed that space away from him after all that.

Maybe the next day, you'll be joining him.

Chapter Text

“I’ll make this night unforgettable.” He promised in soft whispers to your ear, hands trailing your body that left goosebumps.

His words are gentle but his action says otherwise, roughly groping your mounds like he couldn't get enough of you—it is true, he can't.

Pressing his body to yours eagerly, even that couldn't satisfy him and he needs to be one with you—fuse into one.

He worshipped you by planting kisses and marks all over, watching you squirm with his hands keeping you in place.

The moonlight pierced through the window, the sheen of sweat on your skin reflected it—casting an alluring glow to your body.

You were mesmerizing, sprawled out like that with mouth agape and prepared to take him every second.

“You're rougher today” You observed, panting heavily while he sucks harder because of your words, causing you to moan.

Your hands found its way to the back of his head, burying it into his hair to give it a small little tug and which. He responds with a groan.

Clearly, he didn't want to be parted away yet—lips latched onto your skin like a leech. The previous marks turned into violet, making him lick his lips as he adjusted his position.

He had you pinned on your own bed, mattress sinking from the combined weight. His legs in between yours, clothes discarded and scattered across the ground.

Luckily, he didn't decide to rip your clothes off this time even if he was extremely aroused.

The saliva on your skin drying from his warm breath, a little too hot to be fair but you didn't pay much attention to it.

“Scara..” A soft moan escaped your mouth, ringing into his ears like a lullaby.

You shut your eyes close, relying on your other senses and this heightened your pleasure—hands finding the sheets to pull and grip tightly.

Even though he hasn't entered you yet, he noticed the sheets were soaked by your fluids—he was proud of himself for causing such a mess without wrecking you completely.

“Look at the mess that you've made, I haven't even started.” He forced you to look down, to witness it yourself by gripping your hair, pulling it harshly.

He grinds his hard length on your thigh, proving to you that he needs you. Not that you weren't aware of, he was dragging it quite roughly that you were afraid that he'd drag your skin with him as well.

Once he lets go of your hair, you sighed—head resting back to the soft pillows and relieving your thighs. His hands found your legs to lift it so that he could position himself in between them.

He yanked you to him, his core meetings yours. Right as it's about to be fun, suddenly, a loud noise started and it sounded like it was coming from him.

Every time he pants or exhales, smoke comes out and his eyelids are heavy as he stares at you through his lashes.

“Scara, are you alright?” You questioned, propping yourself up on your elbow and reaching out to him to caress his cheeks—visibly concerned about his well-being.

His skin was outrageously hot and he leaned away, aware of his temperature that could harm your fragile hand.

“I'm fine.” He lied like he wasn't a fire breathing dragon in front of you, his usual stubborn behavior. “Yeah, as if your temperature is normal.” You scoffed, getting up—you couldn't continue when he was overheating.

“Don't leave.” Even though he has a hard time moving, he used some of his power to get a hold of your wrist to prevent you from leaving.

He was still aching down there, ignoring the fact he was shutting down. “We need to cool you down” you stated and he understood, loosening his grip so that you could break free yourself.

He stayed like that, sitting on his heels whilst watching you with the same tired half lidded eyes.

This wasn't the first time it happened.

Not in bed though, it was during a Fatui mission.

The mission lasted longer than necessary, all because one of the soldiers had failed their objectives.

Four soldiers of different kinds lined up, standing straight as Scaramouche interrogated them.

If they've failed, he would be included too. You were there during the process, standing behind him in the cold weather.

Snow falling from the sky, coating the surface with white snowflakes and casting a cold blow. He paced back and forth, the sounds of snow crunching beneath his footsteps were the only noise that occupied the silence.

He was stressed, a hand on his hip with the other rubbing his temples in a circular motion. Brows furrowed as he muttered curses under his breath.

They all trembled—not by the cold but the power that he held, even if they knew that they didn't cause the mistake, his anger was intimidating.

Suddenly, he dismissed them and they all left hurriedly. Lucky for them, they had escaped his wrath. He turned around, facing you and you met his eyes.

It was bloodshot like he was about to combust, he took a hold of your wrist in a tight grip. A part of you were nervous, he was unpredictable and you wondered what was going through his mind?

Did he change his mind and thought that you failed him?

He moved the fabric of the tent aside in a swift motion, visibly frustrated from how rough he handled it. He dragged you in, however, he paused to a halt and faced you once more.

The same noise occurred, taking his hat off and leaning to rest his forehead to your shoulders and even through your clothes—you could feel the heat from his body.

Sure—it caught you off guard, on the other hand, he was showing vulnerability to you. His systems shutting down and the person that he was depending on was you.

Not knowing what to do, you froze then gradually relaxed once you sort of understood the situation.

As a gesture of comfort—you reluctantly placed a hand on his head, patting his soft hair as you processed on what happened. From how many years have you been working for him to discover this, even so—he has yet to surprise you.

I guess the night was indeed unforgettable, well, just not how he expected it to be.

Chapter Text

In the entirety of Akademiya, Wanderer was known to be naturally smart. He'd be thrown into competitions left and right to flaunt his intelligence.

He didn't mind, deep inside, he actually likes the attention. The praises that he constantly hears with every step in the hallway, boosts his ego through the roof.

You, on the other hand, weren't in the same level of intelligence nor popularity as him.

Yet you cross paths with him every single time. In competitions, a red target was marked on his head in every encounter.

In fact, you're almost labeled as a machine gun from all the insults that spills out of your mouth that's directed to him. He just scoffs then ignores you like you're a nobody.

The audacity.

Even from a far, your glare could be felt like a laser being pointed behind his head. Sometimes it could be intimidating, not that you are but others pointed out that it was close to falling out from your eye socket because of how hard you glare.

He simply stares back with a smug look, composure in check while you're crashing out and in the verge of jumping him.

Your eye twitches and blood boils, something about him was infuriating. The challenge began with a blow of a whistle, eye contact never breaking even if you used your elemental skills in unison.

Anemo vs Anemo.

It was a sight that was anticipating to watch, crowd cheers after feeling the cold breeze that passed them by. Like an airplane flown past.

Objective: Win the race with the golden crown.

Midway during the round, a golden crown was shot to the air from the ground. Your eyes locked on the target, boosting yourself by using your skill.

It felt like time slowed down, reaching out an arm to retrieve it and a wave of relief entered your body when you felt your fingers graze it.

Only for it to be a temporary feeling when Wanderer yanked it away from you and your heart immediately fell to your stomach.

He looks back over his shoulder to notice your look of disbelief, scoffing from your reaction and to torment you even further by sticking his tongue out.

You never prayed so hard to the archons for his downfall, possibly getting struck by lightning or you randomly gain hacks and just turn on creative mode.

Along the way, there were traps. Of course, to entertain the audience it has to make your life even difficult.

Rolling wooden logs, wild hogs and rocks being thrown to the sky. All that needed to be dodged simultaneously without using elemental skills like flying.

You could see Wanderer ahead of you, if he's not struggling then you wouldn't as well, right?

Gathering all the courage to climb the steep hill, realization hits you when it is getting a little exhausting.

Legs aching from taking big steps that weren't making any difference and the hot weather didn't help at all but then a loud yell coming from the crowd woke you up.

“Beat Hat guy for us!”

They roared and this motivated you to not give up—to try harder. Wiping the sweat that bundled up on your forehead and climbed with all your might.

You pant heavily when you finally reached the top of the hill, only to be disappointed to see where the finish line was. Neither of you were nearly done.

Now that you're up here, you have to go back all the way down and retrieve the crown from him.

A different set of obstacles on the way down, you didn't have time to process all of the traps blocking the way when something came across your mind.

Since the hill was steep, there was a small opening at the side that wasn't blocked by anything. As Wanderer walks through the middle of the path with the idea of the smartest person in the entire world.

You took the opportunity, sitting down at the side and slid like it was a slide at a water park. At first, everyone stopped to check what the actual fuck were you doing before cheering wildly when they figured what you've done.

As you reached the bottom, panting heavily, you waited for him by the finish line to snatch the crown from him. He seemed to be caught off guard slightly when you were in front of him but his expression didn't waver.

It pissed you off.

Just as you were about to lunge yourself onto him, he uses his elemental skill and lands directly onto the finish line.

Oh.

You forgot that you could use it anywhere else other than the hill.

Wanderer fans quickly swarmed him, bombarding him with compliments and praise on how great he was.

Leaving you on the ground once it was all over, you felt your body ache all over. Especially your limbs, the dirty ground was nice—somehow.

—

After that, you returned to Akademiya for your stuff and you heard some voices coming from the other room.

Without a single shame, you approached the door to listen.

A grand sage talking to what seems to be Wanderer.

“Meet me in my office.” He ordered, giving him some sort of paper based on the ruffling sound.

“What's this?” Wanderer questioned, probably about the paper that was handed to him.

“To all of these tasks if you want to keep your scholarship. If not, you'll be expelled.” The grand sage stated.

You gasped, loudly. Enough to alert them.

“Who goes there?”

You quickly walked away to stay hidden behind a desk by the nearest classroom until they went away.

Covering your mouth and holding your breath to keep you silent. Heart beating rapidly due to the thought of getting in trouble.

Footsteps gradually went away and you exhaled, relaxing for a bit then you crawled out of the cramped space underneath the table.

“How much have you heard?”

Wanderer was standing in front of you and the only barrier between you was the desk.

“I.. uh, well.. I didn't hear anything.” you lied, eyes darting everywhere around the room just to avoid his interrogating gaze.

Laughing awkwardly to ease the tense atmosphere, sweat gathering on the palm of your hand.

“You like to stare, what's so different today?” He went around to approach you and you backed away until you felt your back hit the blackboard.

Fuck.

“N..nothing! I swear, I didn't hear anything at all..” you pleaded with a soft little whimper, he gripped your chin with his index and thumb to fixate your attention on him by tilting your head.

“Be honest and you'll be free of trouble.”

Once he gave you that option, you became a blabbermouth and told him everything you heard.

“That wasn't so hard, was it?” He scoffed.

Your gaze trailed down to his lips then back at his eyes.

—

He pinned you to the board, making sure you won't be able to escape. His hands beside each side of your head and one of his legs in between yours.

From the closeness, you could feel his hot breath and eyes that were staring at you with lust. You caught a whiff of his scent, it was refreshing and light.

Almost like flowers and nature.

His thigh pressed onto your crotch and he smashed his lips onto yours before you could even moan.

You weren't sure where you got the expertise but it felt so good, he kissed you so gently and slowly like he was savoring the way you tasted.

Eyes shut closed and he moved his hand to grip your hips roughly, guiding you to grind your core on his thigh with deliberate rolls.

You gasped, momentarily breaking the kiss and he took this opportunity to shove his tongue in.

“Mmph..” you whined, this was all so new to you but you were doing it so nicely that he didn't seem to notice that you were inexperienced.

He responded with a soft grunt, brows furrowed when he adjusted his grip to your hips.

Especially kissing with tongue, you followed his lead. Wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him further close. Tilting your head for better access.

He pulled away, eyes landing on the string of saliva connecting your lips to his. You pant heavily, who knew kissing could leave you breathless.

The room stayed silent, except with loud breathing and sounds of footsteps when he helped you sit on the table.

“Let's use that pretty mouth of yours in good use, hm?” He chuckled, you adjusted by laying down on your back until your head was by the edge.

With one swift movement, pulling his pants down until his hard cock sprang free to meet your face.

He dragged it along your cheek, then tapped the tip on your lips for you to open your mouth. In which, you obeyed.

You held onto his hips when he slipped it inside, the feeling of your warm mouth and wet tongue wrapped around him felt amazing.

It sent a shiver to his spine, he thrusts slowly. From your collar, his hand slipped underneath to feel your chest.

How it rose and fell with each breath, goosebumps forming as he found his way to your perky tits. Fidgeting it between his fingers to emit a reaction from you but all you could do was give a muffled moan

“You seem to have some experience. Not bad.” He uttered, lifting your head a bit to angle himself better.

The bitter and salty taste of his pre-cum whenever you get to lick the head of his cock. You noticed how sensitive he was, his eyes closed and mouth open as he released soft groans and grunts.

It was endearing, almost. Not until he started thrusting relentlessly into your mouth when he was getting closer.

The tip slamming onto the back of your throat, blocking your airway while he felt your walls clamping on him like a vice.

Wet squelches and your gags made him throb on your tongue, he wondered how deep you could take him. Pushing himself deeper until you choked, tears forming—not that it was painful.

“I'm close, don't spill anything.” He huffed, chasing his high. Holding the back of your neck and you just braced for what was coming.

He pulled out, stroking himself to your agaped mouth, groaning.

Splurts of warm, sticky substances landed on your cheeks and lips. Completely missing the target.

How frustrating.

How could you not spill anything when he decided to shoot it everywhere else other than your mouth?

Even so, you sat up and licked your lips—tasting him once again.

After looking around, there wasn't a single trace of him. Did you get face-fucked by a ghost or something?

You're left with cum painted on your face, a dirty classroom that you're left to clean and an aching throat. It's fine, you'll get your revenge some day.

Chapter Text

Days passed by ever since he's fucked your face and leaving you with a sore throat. Throughout the day, you planned for your revenge.

He left you aroused while he finally released all his pent up stressed on you, it's unfair.

Don't worry, let's just say you received what you wished for.

—
“I've never noticed how absolutely pathetic you are, not that you weren't in the first place by the way.” He huffs, heart aches when he flipped through your failed exams.

He was sitting down on the ground while leaning back to your bed, busy figuring out what's your idiotic problem that's in desperate need of fixing.

“Okay, rude. Seriously, I need your help.” You said, trying to find the right book on your shelf.

“I'm only helping you because I pity you, don't expect anything else.” He sighed, watching you struggle with a soft subtle smile on his face.

Impatiently, he grumbles like a child having a tantrum as you continue—ignoring him.

Eyes roaming around your place, it screams ‘you’ and smells like you too. You've probably sprayed perfume on yourself just recently as your scent lingers in the air, he wouldn't admit that it was pleasant.

His attention caught when you suddenly bent over, reaching the lower shelf and how your skirt rode up as you did. Not that you were planning to do so intentionally.

The black lacy underwear that you're hiding peaked through made his heart race rapidly and heat rose to his cheeks. Shifting to hide the small tent forming in his pants, luckily for him, it wasn't enough to get him aroused enough to just pounce on you.

“Do you need help?” He coughed, staring at the ceiling and hoping the image of your panties mysteriously fades away.

“No, I found it!” You exclaimed, turning around with the said book in your hand and a proud smile on your face.

He scoots to give you some space so that you could sit beside him, your shoulder pressing on him while he adjusts himself uncomfortably to hide his growing boner.

—

Time passed, he had a hard time giving you a lecture when all he could ever think about was comparing your mouth to your pussy.

You, on the other hand, was oblivious to this situation and all you wondered was why does he seem to be so tense and jumpy around you.

“Are you alright? It's like you're having a hard time with the subject or something.” You said, changing the topic and he immediately flinched when you looked at him.

“I'm fine.” He stated sternly, avoiding eye contact which was very unlikely of him.

“No, you're not.” When you placed the book down on the gap between you, he instinctively covered his crotch and this made you question everything that's been happening.

This must've been so embarrassing for him, your attention glued to his hands as he exposed himself. Who's pathetic now?

He groaned, closed his eyes and rested his head back on the bed like he's receiving flashbacks on the times where he was doing things so nicely but now you have a lifetime of potential blackmails.

“Are you.. seriously turned on right now?” This question was like poking a sleeping bear with a stick.

“It's not my fault, you were seducing me”

You blinked blankly, what did he say? Not any of his words were helping his case, instead, burying his own grave deeper.

Based on your expression, he caught on.

“What seduction have I done?”

“You bent over.”

At this point, you weren't the only one in disbelief of admitting any of these. However, you're slowly inching to your stupid yet marvelous, lustful revenge.

“Do you need help?”

To him, that question entered his ear and bounced through his mind like a ping pong ball. A fuel to a burning flame.

“Are you offering?”

His gaze flickered down to your lips and never left, a quiet demand of using your mouth again.

“Not until you help me first.”

—
Lights were off except for the small lamp nearby, the atmosphere of the room shifting to something a little more intimate and with the help of the moon light.

He was laying on your bed, watching how you positioned on top of his face with legs on each side of his head. Fuck his boner when you being on top of him was a heavenly sight.

Even through the dim room, he sees the lust in your eyes and how it took control of you.

His hand on your thighs, caressing the soft skin and squeezing it. He hasn't even tasted you yet but oh was he drunk, intoxicated by the scene.

Your pussy was soaking wet, he figured, all because of how much it glistens and throbs. The both of you remained like this for quite some time, staring intensely at each other as you wondered what he would do.

He leans his head to the left, kissing your right thigh, then a bite that makes you jolt. It was so out of the blue that you didn't expect it from him, he was kissing you so gently.

The bite mark turned him on even more, you were easily claimable—not that you weren't already his. Saliva cooling off from the air, he proceeded to leave more on other parts of your thighs and to your other leg.

He'd close his eyes and moan into it, hips jerking slightly into nothing. Not a single friction being sought after, he was desperate, sure. Although, with your legs spread and pussy in his face.

Who would have said no?

You lowered yourself and he accepted you with an open mouth, wrapping his arms around your thigh to pull you closer.

Sitting on his face to feel his tongue on your core, sliding between your folds to gather your juices into his mouth.

“..sweet.” he murmured, not leaving your pussy once.

Sweet, why are you sweet? Probably because of all the pineapple juice you consumed days before.

Your thighs tremble with every flick, gasping for air. He grunted, using his fingers to push your lips aside for better access. Rolling your hips to feel that delicious wet muscle on your clit, riding his face.

He didn't care when he was receiving head, right? Let him suffocate in between your thighs, sadly, he was enjoying it.

Hands roaming around to squeeze your ass then reaching underneath your shirt and back to your thighs, he quietly worships your body as much as he secretly does with you as a whole.

Pre-cum leaking out of his neglected member, too concentrated in making you see stars, ignoring how it throbs and twitches for your touch. Precise licks become sloppy.

“Archons..” you called out.

The sound of your heavenly moans nearly made him cum his pants untouched, how you looked so good using him for your own pleasure and how your mouth fell open for those lovely noises to escape.

The sudden surge of pleasure made you lean forward and hold onto the headboard for dear life, his pace quickened, lapping crazily like a cat that was introduced to catnip.

He was sucking all the right places too, a little too well.

Your abdomen began to tighten, however, you didn't tell him that you were close. There was not a single thought occupying your mind, tongue twisted.

With a single shove of his tongue into your hole, your juices quickly rushes all over his face. Coating his cheeks and chin with your nectar.

He was surprised, oblivious from the fact you orgasmed so easily.

Tongue still out for you to ride your high, well, because he didn't get the chance to take a break when you're grinding yourself onto his face like he was some sextoy.

“Did you have fun?” He says, helping you get off him.

“You.. weren't so bad.” Your lower body was numb, recovering from the mind-blowing climax that you experienced.

Laying beside him with your quivering form, his subtle way to show affection was placing a hand on your abdomen.

Simple, maybe not enough to others but it'll do for now. To be fair, it's understandable. There's nothing between you. Just two scholars releasing pent up frustration with each other, like two horny teenagers figuring out intercourse.

Chapter Text

There's a game that was ruled to be forbidden that the Fatui would play discretely, it's a peculiar event that occurs once a year when the date reaches 7th.

The Harbingers have definitely known about this yet kept it as a secret when they figured out the soldier’s performances increased and for their sanity's sake.

It must've been disturbing when they did, let's just say, they didn't care about genders nor protection.

Except, all of this happened without you knowing. Those who knew were those who were stupid and willing enough to join.

Tonight, he'll be the one showing you what truly happens in every Fatui party.

—
“Are you not attending the party, my lord?” You inquired, holding the paper that one of the soldiers had given you with the information about the so-called party.

“A party? I have better things to do than watch fools congratulate themselves for existing.” He laughs, gesturing for you to hand the paper over.

A party to celebrate those who are newly promoted, nothing extraordinary. However, something within you craved to join and he noticed how your expression softened like a puppy begging with pleading eyes.

“Don't tell me you're actually looking forward to it. I didn't expect you to be easily persuaded.” He scoffs, returning the paper by throwing it back at your desk.

The silence returns, shifts finished but neither of you wants to part ways.

“If you're going, don't think I'll be there to keep you from getting in trouble.”

“I'm not going.”

“Oh, what changes your mind?” he raised a brow, now intrigued, leaning closer and hovering the desk.

He presses on, wanting you to admit that you'd prefer to join a party instead of spending the evening at the office with him.

“Nothing, I wasn't planning to.” You stated firmly, voice not wavering once by his tactic

Come on, you've been his secretary for years. He's gone at least a little bit predictable in your case, protective and possessive as always.

“Do you want to party?”

You blinked, a question that you didn't know he'd ask. Okay, fine. He likes to switch things up and always will be unpredictable. It wouldn't hurt to be honest right?

“Yes, my lord.”

“Just party here with me then.”

“Pardon?”

That was the first thing that appeared in your mind, something bold coming out of his mouth that's always laced with insults and sharp daggers.

“Go get some drinks” He gestured, shooing you like he's uninterested. Legs crossed and leaning onto his desk, gaze boring into you.

A huff escapes your lips, standing up abruptly. The chair scratches the ground with a loud screech, he taps his index finger on his temple with his gaze glued onto you.

Heading your way to the bar downstairs, through the hallway, your mind wanders.

What type of drink does he prefer? Guessing from the type of food he eats, probably something strong enough to leave a sting in his throat.

You head to the office with a bottle of whiskey, every step creating a loud clacking noise that echoes through the halls.

Opening the door to reveal your boss, still remained in his seat reading some documents whilst waiting for you. “Took you long enough” He scoffs, placing the folder down and lifts his head to look at you. Eyes trailing down your figure to the bottle you brought, a subtle smug look present on his face.

The expression on his face made you exhale the air that you didn’t know you’ve held, relieved that he seems to approve of your choice of liquor.

He moved his items aside, making space for the drinks, attention now directed towards you.

Placing a singular glass cup on his desk, “Only one? What? Are we sharing a glass?” he nearly laughed, you didn’t hesitate to grab another glass. Dropping a circular ice on both cups then pouring the whiskey.

The ice crinkled when it came in contact with the hazel liquid, his hand already wrapped around the rim. He took a whole gulp, twirling it around.

Sitting in front of him, taking your glass and bringing it up to your face. A small little sniff, it was pungent, hitting your nostrils like a strong punch.

Now you're regretting choosing this, knowing it'll be as strong as it is when drunk. You sipped to taste just for it to immediately leave a sharp sting in your throat, nose scrunching and letting out a cough.

“Oh, archons that hurt..”

He chuckled, finding it amusing that his almighty secretary could handle everything other than a very powerful whiskey.

The entire time of drinking, not a single one of you spoke and you began to get used to your drink, gradually liking its flavor. He chugs drink after drink, emptying the bottle.

His cheeks undeniably flushed, eyes heavy as he blinks agonizingly slow like a sloth.

He calls your name out in a soft mumble.

“Yes, my lord?” You tore your gaze away from your drink to him, noticing the red hue across his pale cheeks.

“It's not a party without games, right?” He abruptly stood up, slamming his empty cup on the desk. Picking up the bottle of whiskey and making his way to the middle of the room.

You followed suit, leaving your half empty glass. He crouched down, gesturing you to sit across him and which you obeyed.

Still wondering what he truly meant about games.

He laid the bottle down on the floor then turned it with precision, slowing down for it to be pointed to you and him.

At first, you thought it would be some truth or dare game that you've played during small parties in your teenage times. Until he dragged you to an empty storage room.

“Uh, what are we doing here?” You asked, hearing the sound of a match ignited and the flicker of a candle.

“We're playing seven minutes in heaven. You wanted party games, you're getting party games.”

The room was dim, enough to see your face and body but his hat cast a shadow on him. Unable to cipher his features, what expression he was making at the moment.

He approaches you closer, catching a whiff of his scent, reeking of alcohol.

“I get to have you for seven minutes.” His tone was laced with some sort of relief, satisfaction, and possessiveness.

He uttered, caressing your cheek softly yet you didn't push him away. Instead, leaned closer.

Closing the distance with a soft kiss, his hands roaming your body. Wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, afraid that this moment will end.

You could taste the subtle flavor of whiskey from his lips, his kiss was sloppy and hurried.

He pushes you onto the cold stone wall, pressing his body onto yours so firmly, letting you feel what was growing beneath his pants.

He softly grinded on you, causing you to gasp and he expertly slipped his tongue inside.

You returned the kiss with the same fervor, he gripped your chin then tilted his head to kiss you better. Biting on your lower lip before soothing it with a soft lick.

He lifted your chin for better access to your neck, leaving hot open-mouthed kisses that trails down to your collarbone. He unbuttons half of your shirt, gradually going lower.. and lower.. then halts.

“Seven minutes is up.”

He stated casually, you blinked, realizing how you lost yourself to the heat of the moment.

“Right..” you huffed, buttoning your shirt and fixing your disheveled hair.

—

During the time you prepared his tea, you wondered how he'd react to your presence after the encounter from last night.

“Sir, your tea.” You informed, placing the tea on his desk. His back facing you as he's taking some files from the cabinet.

He hums in acknowledgement, turning around with documents in hand. He didn't seem to act weird or anything, except a little groan here and there.

Possibly from the headache after all the drinks he had.

The corner of your mouth felt a little tug when you felt a wave of relief pass through your body when he didn't seem to recall nor talk to you about the previous night.

With a small turn of your heel, you head back to work. Leaving his office momentarily.

On the other hand, he was resisting the urge to react in front of you as he, in fact, was entirely sober last night.

He was a puppet, additionally, his alcohol tolerance is incredibly high.

Chapter Text

During a mission, your cryo gun after being shot by some traitor, breaking it in the process.

Scaramouche has commissioned a specialist to create a brand new cryo gun, for the meantime, you'll use a cryo rifle.

Through grit teeth, you trained with the weapon you despised the most. Every shot completely missing the dummies, sweat pouring down your face as you continued.

The painful thought that you're no longer the feared secretary of the sixth harbinger, feeling the tear of the title being peeled off of you.

Even the cold couldn't bother your determination to do better, lifting the rifle once more, gripping it tightly. A warm presence appeared from behind, holding your wrist to guide you with your aim.

“Fire.”

He whispered into your ears, the command made you pull the trigger and hit a bullseye.

You glanced to the side, seeing the shadow and figuring who's assisting you. Please, the width of that hat won't go unnoticed.

However, deep inside, you still feel like a failure. Not to yourself but to him as well, you were his right hand. Lips quivering when you feel the same knot in your throat and your vision becoming hazy from the upcoming tears.

“Again.”

He said, hot breath tickling your nape as he presses his body onto yours, still guiding you. Holding onto your hip and wrist.

You couldn't focus on any of his instructions, too focused on feeling him. With another trigger, you shot the head off of the target.

When he pulled away, his touch was there like a permanent burn and being engraved to your skin.

Once you're back in your quarters, the heat between your legs is irresistible to neglect. Bending over at the edge of the bed, spreading your legs to just feel some sort of relief.

Didn't even bother changing clothes, dipping your hand beneath your pants. From a mere touch, it got you soaking wet that it was humiliating on how easily aroused you've gotten.

A soft whimper escaped your lips, a pleasurable shock whenever you rub your clit in circles.

“My lord..” you gasped, wishing that he was guiding you on how to pleasure yourself instead of how to properly shoot. To replace your fingers with his, to roam his hands all over your body.

Pressing your finger into your entrance, just one. Thrusting it in and out, you admit, you weren't an expert but as long as it gives you pleasure then that's all what you ask for.

It wasn't enough, no matter how fast or how many fingers you shoved inside. Probably because you weren't angling it right? Not hitting it right?

Suddenly, you become quiet, trying to figure out what makes you tick.

“You can't shoot and now you can't pleasure yourself? You're nothing but a disappointment, are you?”

A familiar voice coming from behind, getting a glimpse of him by peeking over your shoulders. He was locking your door with one hand, not even staring at it as his eyes were too occupied watching you.

He didn't dare to tear his gaze away from you while you were masturbating.

“How did you get inside my room?”

Standing up, stepping closer to where the lights weren't able to reach, hoping the shadow will consume you whole to disappear from the embarrassing situation of getting caught.

Hands hiding behind you, hiding the evidence of your lustful daydream.

“You didn't close your door properly and I heard you calling for me. I assume you needed me.”

With a few strides, he was there right in front of you, reaching for your hand that was previously inside of you.

“I have to keep on teaching you, don't I? My secretary.”

He wrapped his mouth around your slicked fingers, tasting you with a soft hum. The sweet tangy flavor coating his tongue, he pulled out with a lewd pop.

—

He was sitting behind you as you're sitting in the middle of your own bed, pressing your back onto his chest. Pants and underwear discarded, he planted soft kisses on the surface of your neck.

Hands roaming around your body, tracing your thighs and getting closer to where you're aching the most but not touching yet. He wants you to squirm with desperation and beg with submission.

He urges you to spread your legs wider with a small little smack on your thighs, the flesh rippling from the impact, causing you to whine. Obeying him by doing so, he smirks against your skin.

Letting out a low chuckle then he slowly trailed down, feeling the wetness on his fingers.

“With how wet you are, I wouldn't have to stretch you out. Do you want that? Slipping myself in.. thrusting deep inside of you.” He whispered into your ears, sending a shiver to your spine when you could vividly imagine his words.

“Unless, you're too tired for that.” He added, abruptly shoving his fingers in. Walls clamping down tightly, groaning into your ear.

In a single movement, wet squelches began to bounce through the walls off the room and straight to his ears. You gripped the sheets below you, moaning from how he was pressing the spots you've been trying to find.

With each deep burial of his fingers, his palm rubs onto your clit. Dragging it inside of you slowly, teasingly, wondering what could possibly make you scream his name, not his title. He wants you to call him.

Pressing onto your abdomen as he quickened his pace, you threw your head back so suddenly. Emitting a loud, unexpected moan.

Luckily, he managed to move his head away or else you would've broken his nose.

It wasn't enough, staying determined to his goal. What if he stretches this glory hole of yours, will you react?

He observes intently, scissoring you and using his other hand to rub your clit.

“Scara..” you whimpered, eyes rolling to the back of your head while he was satisfied with himself. He shall grant your wish of cumming.

Your moans gradually become louder, the relentless pace of his remains so that he can finally pop the bubble forming in your abdomen.

He pressed onto a sensitive spot inside of you and you came, he didn't pull out but he wrapped an arm around your waist. Holding onto your shuddering form, helping you ride out that sweet climax by slowly fingering you.

You pant heavily, eyes closing as exhaustion creeped up. Leaving him to clean up the mess you created on your own sheets and you, who's passed out in his arms.

Planting a last kiss to your temple, seeing you as an amusing and endearing secretary than a fearful one.