#vampire!scaramouche
Text
just a bite.
modern!au vampire!scaramouche x reader
summary: being roommates with a vampire who craves you carnally just as much as he does for sustenance? awk.
word count: 4.6k
tw/cw: 18+ only, afab reader, drinking, unintentional roommates with a vampire (he kind of just invites himself in. and never leaves), mutual masturbation, sex in exchange for blood, frottage, rutting, bodily fluids, bloodplay, blood drinking, scaramouche isn’t really so much bitter, angry scaramouche or calmer wanderer but more a blend of both? (he’s really just a stray cat who latches onto you), lots of banter, brief reference to suicidal behavior (scaramouche)
--author’s note: happy late bday scaramouche <3
“You’re leaving?”
While two months ago, you wouldn’t think twice about stepping out to grab drinks with a friend, now things are different. Two months ago, after all, you did not have a half-starved vampire passed out on your doorstep, after trying to deny himself of his one source of sustenance.
Two months ago, after all, you didn’t invite said vampire into your apartment unknowingly, only to find yourself pinned to your doormat, his crazed, crimson-tinged gaze focused intently on your neck.
Two months ago, after all, you did not have said vampire now lingering in your house as an unofficial guest after said unsuccessful attempt to drain you dry.
(“You were the only one stupid enough to let me in,” he said drily, kicking his feet up onto your coffee table the day after, when you had awoken after his frenzy. Surprised you’re still alive, he’d said nonchalantly. As if he was not a stranger in your house. As if he hadn’t tried to suck the life out of you like some kind of vertically-challenged tick. He ignored your attempts to swat his feet off, instead crossing his arms and tossing his head to the side.
A tick with an attitude, most definitely.
“Besides… why should I pass up the chance for a free meal and board?”)
That free meal, as it turns out, is you. Modern day vampires are few and far in between, but they have to resort to any means for survival. Even if that means latching onto their unwitting victims for shelter. And a constant supply of blood.
Just your luck.
“Yeah,” you respond absently. “A friend invited me out for drinks.”
“…Drinks?”
Two months ago, you also did not know the telltale signs of his displeasure. The hard edge to his voice, the slight huff of annoyance he denies making. I don’t breathe anymore, you idiot. Perhaps it’s a tic he retained from his human days.
Scaramouche crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the doorframe to your bedroom. Looking every bit like the helicopter roommate he is. “What time will you return?”
“Hmm, I’m not sure. Eleven, maybe? Later?”
You glance over at him to find his mouth curled into a thin line. He’s sulking. When he catches your stare, he turns away, waving a hand dismissively at you.
“Whatever. You’re gonna regret it. You and I both know you’re not a drinker.”
—
The annoying thing is, he’s right.
Two hours later, you stumble through the front door after fumbling with your keys, during which you wondered why your ever so thoughtful roommate, who could certainly hear you, couldn’t just let you in. Like you did for him back then.
Vampires apparently don’t believe in ‘an eye for an eye.’ Or, er, blood for blood.
“Told you so.” His smug voice rings out once you’ve made it in.
“Mm, shut it,” you say, kicking off your shoes by the entrance before trudging towards him. You rub at your temples irately, willing away the wave of dizziness that runs through you.
Damn, and you didn’t even have that many drinks. Just one or two. The fact that your new guest knows you better than yourself is humbling.
Mercifully, Scaramouche is quiet as he takes in your disheveled state. You’re expecting more reprimanding, but instead, he asks, “Are you alright?”
“The room is spinning.”
“You would’ve enjoyed a night in more.” He pats a spot on the couch.
“Don’t remind me,” you mutter despondently, plopping down next to him. Of course, he’s bundled himself up in all your good blankets. You’ve been wondering why they’re missing. Mr. Cold and Undead and Heh, Only Humans Would Struggle To Survive in the Winter reveals his true nature as the biggest blanket hoarder. Tugging at one of them earns you a shrewd glance, before he opens it up and drapes it across your shoulder.
Some mindless telenovela drones on the TV as you drift off. You’re not sure why, but he’s taken an interest in watching shows that portrayed the difficulties of human relationships. It’s because I find them utterly foolish, he said. Why can’t your kind just learn to voice what troubles them? While he claims it’s like watching ants struggle to survive, you’ve caught him more than once engrossed in the passionate declarations of love and ardor playing across the screen.
Before you know it, your eyes flutter shut. Darkness settles over you. You don’t know how long you’re asleep, but when you wake up, the show is long over. Groggily you lift your head up, realizing that you fell asleep on his shoulder. Again. You murmur out an apology which he brushes off. He’s staring at you expectantly, as if he was waiting for you.
“Hey. I’m hungry.”
You stretch your arms out, before letting them fall back against your lap.
“And?”
He looks at you as if the answer is the most obvious thing in the world.
“Give me a bite.”
“Mm…” You gauge yourself. Drowsiness clings to you like a second skin. “I’m tired. No.”
Scaramouche frowns. He removes himself from the blanket fort he’s built, facing you with an irate expression.
“You’ve offered it before,” he says blithely.
“Yeah.” You nod. “I did.” You still have the scar to prove it.
“Well,” he presses. “What’s the difference now?”
You sigh, falling against the blankets he left behind. Since Scaramouche doesn’t exude heat, they haven’t leeched any warmth from him. You nuzzle into them, hoping vainly to warm them up somewhat.
“That was after you fingered me.”
He scoffs. “So that’s what it takes to get some food around here? Pleasuring your body? How easy.”
“Hey, it’s my house–my rules. If you want access to the blood bank…” you say, gesturing towards yourself with one hand. The other tugs at the sleeve of your sweater, dragging it down to reveal the unblemished skin of your wrist. Territory he hasn’t marked yet. His gaze darts to it with a look of barely concealed hunger, no doubt able to smell the blood thrumming through your veins.
“You gotta pay up.”
He narrows his gaze. His voice is measured, as if he’s negotiating the terms of your agreement. “And this form of payment… is just your pleasure, right? You want nothing else?”
You shake your sleeve back into its original position. You don’t miss the flash of urgency on his face. He must really be hungry. Guilt registers briefly in you. Perhaps you shouldn’t tease him too much.
“I would prefer it came as a package deal. My pleasure and yours combined. But…” You shrug. “It’s up to you. It’s your choice.”
“Choice?” He lets out a derisive laugh. “You speak as if I have a choice. As if this existence gives me anything but the illusion of free will.”
He leans in, grasping your wrist. “You though? You’re always choosing to be a damn brat,” he mutters. He yanks your sleeve down, staring intently at your wrist. You’re sure he can feel your pulse spike. You trust him–mostly. Other than that first time when he appeared at your doorstep, he’s never forced his appetite onto you.
But… in moments like this, you’re still highly aware of your roles here. He’s the predator who’s simply decided to play house with his prey.
“I can’t choose my diet. But you can choose not to be my next meal. And yet…” That same amused chuckle. As if he’s mocking himself just as much as you. “You offer yourself up like this before me.”
He’s close. So close you can see his lashes flutter, can see the flecks of scarlet in his eyes. His bloodlust.
“I trust you.”
His gaze darkens. With his other hand, he grasps your sweater fabric at your chest, dragging you closer to him. “You really are a fool.”
Then he surges forward, his lips crashing against yours.
Scaramouche, you’ve learned, has two types of kisses: the first is mocking or teasing. Whenever you’ve done something that particularly annoys him (the list is quite long), he’ll deny you affection for as long as he can. Nipping your lips with his fangs, sometimes nicking you, brushing his lips against your forehead when you really want a proper kiss. But this–this is the second kind of kiss.
Raw hunger.
Like your very essence could breathe life back into him. Like he can’t get enough. Like he knows he’s damned to a life of eternal solitude but he intends to drag you down to hell on the way.
He breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours. His hand on your chest slips underneath your sweater, tugging at the material. You know better than to keep him waiting. If he’s impatient enough, he’ll just rip it off.
Once your sweater and shirt are off, Scaramouche wastes no time, his lips finding yours once more. He circles your breast with his palm, marveling at its suppleness, before squeezing harshly. You moan into the kiss, pulling back, until he surges towards you again. Where do you think you’re going? His other hand brazenly undoes your pants before diving in.
Your breath hitches. This time you do pull away.
“H-Hold on, bud, have you ever heard of foreplay?”
He rolls his eyes. “You seem plenty wet down here,” he says, stroking over the damp spot in your panties. You squirm, more of your arousal pooling into the material. “Just a little kissing does this to you? Pathetic.”
“Y-You’re one to talk,” you say, eyeing the bulge in his shorts. At your words, he shifts his weight, attempting to hide the obvious signs of his arousal.
“It’s the thrill of knowing my next meal is so close,” he says offhandedly. Unconvincingly.
“You could just say you’re excited, you know. That I excite you.”
He glances at you curiously. Wide-eyed, in a false display of innocence (he’s anything but). “Now why would I say that?”
You’re about to retort when he cuts you off, his thin, dexterous fingers slipping into your panties, stroking the slick, wet seam of you. You let out a shaky moan, your thighs clamping down around his hand.
“Ah-ah-ah. Don’t hide from me now,” he reprimands. With a firm hand, he yanks your pants and panties down part ways, trapping the material taut between your thighs. You’re rendered immobile, splayed open for his greedy touch.
He brushes against your twitching clit, and your breath hitches. His finger slips inside you, the audible shlick of it parting your wet folds flustering you. Wriggling around inside you intently, he digs further and further until he nudges a walnut-shaped nub inside you. When he finds it, he thrusts into you with a relentless intensity, enough to have you lurching against him.
“You’re so predictable.” There’s a hint of pride in his words despite their harshness.
You pout at him but are interrupted as he slips another finger into you. Once he feels just how easily your walls take him, his fingers soon drenched by your slick walls, he makes a choked sound in the back of his throat. You grasp at the sleeve of his sweater, squirming against him.
“M-More… please,” you whine.
Scaramouche’s fingers probe you, his thumb circling your clit with intensity. He’s relentless in his assault. When he wants something, after all–whether that’s blood, or your orgasm–he gets it. He knows just the strings to pluck to make things happen.
You’re close, rapidly approaching the precipice of your pleasure. You tremble around his fingers, your toes curling. Your eyes slip shut, a cry of his name on the tip of your tongue. But just before you’re about to crash over the edge, he stops. His fingers cease all movement inside you, before slipping out.
The loss is instantaneous.
You gasp, your eyes snapping open.
“Say it,” he demands.
“W-wha—why did you—“
“Say you’ll let me drink from you. Then and only then will I continue.”
Your jaw drops.
“I was—I was so close!”
He smirks cruelly. “I know. That’s why I stopped.”
You pout. You shift your thighs, nudging his fingers inside you.
“Should’ve known. I guess I’ll just grab my—“
His gaze narrows dangerously. “You’ll use none of those contraptions on yourself.” You know what he’s referring to–he’s well-acquainted with the second cabinet of your drawers, where you kept your collection of vibrators and dildos.
You sniffle contemptuously. “At least she’ll finish the job—”
His hand grasps your thigh, squeezing. He’s frowning hard enough to leave a furrow in his brows.
“When…” He pauses, as if struggling to voice the words himself. “Are you going to admit that I’m all you need?”
Your eyes widen in surprise.
“Other humans… Contraptions–”” He spits the word out as if it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. “None of them can compare to what I can do. None of them can make you feel the way I do.”
“Scaramouche…”
“And you? You should be offering yourself to me,” he says, glaring. Seemingly over his oddly heartfelt confession. He looms over you, forcing you to lean back until he’s near straddling you against the bed. “A lowly human giving their life source to a demon of the night.”
The first thing that you think of is: Damn, this guy’s ego is something else. Offering yourself? Lowly human? He certainly thinks of himself as a god.
The second is, Did this all start because of a sex toy? Is he really jealous over Miss Satisfy-Her?
“Someone’s on their high horse--” You yelp once his fingers pinch your clit. You whine.
“Now,” he asks, locking eyes with you. Asking for permission. “Will you let me?”
His fingers toy with your clit, waiting patiently for your answer.
You nod, and he sighs in relief, muttering a thank you against your neck.
He leans in, his lips brushing your skin. His tongue peeks out, leaving wet trails against you. You shiver; it reminds you too much of another action, down there. It makes you think of what else his tongue could be doing.
He laps at the curve of your neck, before inhaling deeply. His fangs prod your neck, before they sink in, piercing your flesh. A soft sigh against you. His fingers resume their minute movements inside you, his other hand clutching your shoulder as he sucks harshly.
“S-Scaramouche.”
The sound of him gulping down your essence fills the air. His fingers resume their movement inside you, dragging against your walls slowly, stretching you out.
“A-ah–” you gasp.
He moans brokenly against your neck, clutching you further to him. He’s gulping down your blood by the mouthful. With great effort, he pulls away reluctantly.
“Your taste…” He sighs out. “There’s nothing like it.” His tongue laps up the blood seeping out of you, his venom to seal the wound. “Even with that human toxin inside you.”
His mouth is stained crimson, blood flecked acrossf face. He sees you staring and licks his lips slowly, a fang poking out. Heat pools in your gut.
“You know, it would feel even better if you tried me down there—yowch!” You jolts when he slaps your clit. The action has your overstimulated flesh throbbing.
“Filthy-minded human.” He rolls his eyes but the action is affectionate. His words have no bite to them.
He continues stroking you, and you reach out, your hand brushing the bulge in his shorts. You intend on making him feel pleasure too.
He stiffens at your touch, letting out a shudder. He’s always so sensitive after feeding.
“Ha. Looks like I’m not the only filthy mind here,” you observe.
“D-Damnit. If you’re going to do it, you better do it right.”
He ruts into your touch. The way he cants his hips up, his eyes fluttering shut, biting down on his lip–it’s as if he’s imagining fucking you, being inside you already. His fingers inside you turn crueler, thrusting with deadly precision against that spot that has stars dotting your vision. It’s clear that’s also on his mind.
“Y-You’re fucking my hand like it’s a-any empty hole.” Something about your crass tone has him bristling. His face aflame, he hisses at you:
“S-Shut it.”
You take it a step further, reaching inside his shorts. Once you grasp him fully, the whole throbbing, twitching length of him, he’s groaning, tipping his head back. The image of sheer debauchery. You’ve always thought Scaramouche was pretty–beautiful even–in a way that’s ethereal. He scoffed when you told him as much.
(“Fixating on appearances is foolish. I need to be able to attract my prey, right?” he said, hiding his face from you.
“Are you blushing?”
“Shut it! Vampires can’t blush.”)
But it’s more than that. You think that Scaramouche’s mannerisms, his temperament, his ego, are all delicate, like glasswork. But the way he’s fucking into your fist demands for you to treat him as anything but fragile.
You jolt when his hand reaches down to smack your clit. He smirks at the look you send him.
“Pay attention to me while I’m fucking you.”
“We’re hardly fucking—shit.” A moan tears out of you as he starts rubbing that spot inside you vigorously. You’re mewling out his name.
“Scaramouche~”
Then his fingers are leaving you entirely. While you want to whine at the loss, he’s discarding his shorts, his cock springing up, pointing towards you. A string of precum leaks from its reddened tip.
“I’m not going to soil my shorts,” he says defensively.
Scaramouche leans over you. You wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him closer. His cock slides between your bodies, his oozing precum easing the friction. He’s all shaky gasps and stifled groans.
In vain, you try to get him to put it inside you already, but he doesn’t. The most he does is move downward, angling it so the hard tip of his cock presses against the engorged flesh of your clit, makes you feel as if he’s fucking you.
“I’m… I’m close.”
That’s all he needs to hear to bring his fingers back into the mix. The combination of his cock stimulating your clit and his fingers thrusting into you like he would fuck you is enough to have your thighs trembling, your pussy spasming around his fingers. You cum with a shaky cry of his name.
“Oh god, oh god yes. P-please! Don’t s-stop.”
“Haa… more, more? Brat. Not once is enough to satisfy you, huh. Fuck. You’re so damn warm…”
His arms curl around you, his fangs sinking into your neck with a throaty moan as his seed spurts between your bodies. He continues humping you through it, making a sticky mess of your stomach and thighs. It goes on like this for several beats, Scaramouche’s thrusts against your sticky skin in tandem with his fangs sucking you dry.
Your vision dots at the edges. Scaramouche keeps sucking and rutting against you, as if you’re nothing more than his object to use.
He finally releases your neck, lapping it up with his tongue.
He sits up, glancing between your bodies. He smirks at the sight–his cum painting a messy collage over your skin, your blood streaked across your neck. His cock surprisingly still hard. Us vampires don’t have the same limitations you humans do, he once told you. He hums, his thumb traveling up to your neck, smearing the blood further.
He’s transfixed by the sight, his fingers trailing it down from your neck, circling your breasts, before making its way down to your clit, leaving a line down your abdomen. You shiver at the sensation, at the still hungry look in his glowing eyes.
Then he’s glancing back up at you.
“Don’t tell me you’re tapping out already. That was just round one.”
“I’m still hungry. And you? Heh. That twitching, drooling hole of yours is just begging for more attention.”
As if he hasn’t just cum, his cock stays hard. His stamina a thing of legends.
Scaramouche wraps your leg up around his waist. His cock slides through your slick, gathering your juices. A hand on his cock, he circles around your entrance, smirking once he hears you whine.
“Don’t tease—”
He thrusts into you fully, burrowing his cock into you deeply with not an ounce of mercy. It takes the breath out of you, has your hands scrambling for purchase around his neck.
The room is filled with the sounds of his hips smacking wetly against yours, interspersed by his grunts. Scaramouche pounds into you, his lips pulled back over his teeth, showing his fangs. His voice is strained through gritted teeth.
“Take it… fuck. You take it—you take me so well.”
His gaze is transfixed on the sight of the blood on you. He leans in to kiss your neck, willing it closed with his venom. But also to savor the taste of you. He groans like a man drunk on ambrosia.
You want to see the appeal. Scaramouche always looks so fucked out after he’s had some of your blood.
You reach up, your lips brushing against his neck. Your teeth graze his skin before you bite down. He grunts, stilling his thrusts. Your teeth aren’t sharp enough to draw blood, but you hope to at least leave some kind of bruise, to see violet blooming across his pale skin. When you pull back, you’re disappointed to see that you couldn’t even leave behind a mark.
You’re sulking. “No fair!”
“Heh. Ha—Hahaha.” He’s full on laughing now, his thrusts picking up in speed and force. His hips dig into your ass as he’s practically bouncing you with his cock at this point. “Were you trying to mark me?”
The idea seems to amuse him greatly.
“Foolish little human. Your teeth aren’t nearly strong enough to pierce my skin.”
You pout. “N-no kidding.”
At how upset you look, he seems to ponder something. His nails extend into claws, before digging into the side of his neck. Blood trickles down the smooth column of his neck, onto his fingers. Then he brings his fingers up to your lips, a strange look to his face.
Hungry, yearning.
“This is what you wanted, right?” Gaze half-lidded, he watches as your tongue slips out, tasting his blood. It doesn’t taste much different from yours—other than the fact that the taste is sharper somehow. The consistency of his blood thicker. It has the same iron, metallic tang. Scaramouche watches intently as you clean his fingers off, his cock throbbing insistently inside you.
As he pulls his hand away, you decide you want more. You lean forward, lightly nipping his neck where his blood pools out before it can heal. Lapping lightly, his blood coats your tongue. You scrunch up your face. The taste is not great, but Scaramouche moans helplessly against you, his hips sliding into you once more as he clutches you to him.
His pace is erratic, spurred on by the slick sensation of your tongue on his neck, at your teeth lightly biting down on him.
“Mmfp. F-fuck…fuck!“ he exclaims as you press a kiss against his neck. Scaramouche attempts to pull out of you, but he doesn’t make it before he’s shooting ropes against your pussy. Moaning helplessly, he brings his blood-tinged hand to the base of his cock, holding it as his still-cumming cock thrusts against you once, then twice, catching on your rim of your pussy. He makes sure to cover you with his spend.
Utterly spent, his form collapses onto yours. The two of you lie in silence, the room punctuated by your heavy breathing. His cum already cool on your skin, you fidget as his proximity makes an even bigger mess atop you. The realization of just what you did earlier hits you, the taste of his blood lingering on your tongue.
“So. That was… something.”
He props his head up on your chest, his gaze boring into you.
“You don’t… you don’t get the significance of that action, do you? Drinking my blood.”
You blink at him several times. The lack of comprehension clear on your face has him scoffing.
“Ha. Haha. You’re really something.” He props himself up on his hands, his state locked on your blood-stained lips.
“For my kind, sharing blood is an intimate act.” He pauses, voicing the next words carefully. “One reserved only for… lovers.”
His eyes meets yours, as if seeking your reaction to his statement. You can’t be sure but from the way he shifts uneasily…
It’s almost as if he’s afraid of your rejection.
“Oh,” you say finally. “Well, I thought that’s what we are?”
He’s silent. Your fingers brush your lips, before brushing the side of his neck that he jabbed. It’s all but healed, leaving behind a faint scar.
You grin at him. “Blood buddies.”
Something in his gaze sparks. He scoffs, turning away. “You really are an idiot… My idiot, though.”
There are a few things Scaramouche wants to tell you. Like the fact that vampires do not take mates easily, that the love of the undead is not something to take lightly. That sharing blood is not only an intimate act, but basically a binding one, absolved only by death. Not something as simple as being newfound “blood buddies.” But he sees your dopey, grinning face, and decides that those are things that can be saved for a later conversation.
For now, he will content himself with the fact that you’re in his arms, and there is nothing and no one that will get in the way of being here, where you belong.
His grip tightens around you.
He’ll make sure of it.
That is…
You make a face. “You know, your blood tastes kind of funky, Scaramouche.”
Unless the thing getting in the way of your eternal place by his side is you. Yourself.
He bristles at the comment. “What insolence. I’ll have you know my blood tastes just fine.”
“It’s just kinda… well, sharp. Thick. I hope I don’t have to drink more of it.”
“How dare you. I never should have given you my blood to begin with.”
“Sorry! Maybe it’s a vampire thing.” He softens his stance, but his scowl is still present. He’s not appeased by your excuse. “I’m sure my blood would taste funky to me too.”
“Well it doesn’t,” he says crossly. “It tastes like….”
Warmth. The sun. Life. Like being human again.
“...It tastes alright.”
“Hey!” You jab him in the shoulder. “That wasn’t what you said earlier.”
He gives you an unimpressed look. “And what was that?”
You scrunch your nose up, trying to recall. “Something something… ‘nothing tastes like you.’”
“Ha. That’s your misinterpretation. I meant no one tastes as annoying as you.”
You grumble, making a move as if to shake him off. He latches on tighter.
“Just admit that you need me already,” you say crossly.
A pause.
“I do. Just as you need me.” He catches your sideways glance at your room, and grasps your chin. “And not any kind of human contraption.”
“Sure.” He narrows his gaze, but settles back, seemingly appeased by your answer for now.
“I can wait for you to speak your truth on the matter. I’m in no rush,” he says easily enough. Suspiciously easy.
“And besides… you may find your drawers to be conspicuously empty tomorrow.”
You gasp. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Heh. You don’t know what exactly I’m capable of.”
#scaramouche x reader#kunikuzushi x reader#genshin impact x reader#wanderer x reader#genshin x reader#vampire!scaramouche#genshin smut#genshin not sfw#tati writes#tw: blood#tw: bloodplay
959 notes
·
View notes
Text
BITE ME !
vampires dont exist! of course they dont. but what happens when you meet one? do you still think they dont exist? do you fall in love? do you hate him?
content . .
↪ . . a vam!scara, school au, inspired by enhypens bite me
↪ . . if theres anything that might be unsettling in a chapter i will add a c/w !
status . .
↪ . . upcoming ! ive worked on it a bit, i might post a chapter soon
taglist . .
↪ . . @itzblazekun, @alatusorrow, @wanderchive, @akairaindrops, @ash-in-lavender, @kaoriee, @ozzierenato, @valiryyz, @prime-yumi @eunchaeluvr, @featuredtofu, @valiryyz, @veekoko, @beriiov, @duckyyyx, @danfelions, @anonbinaryweirdo, @n3r0-1417
notes . .
↪ . . remade bite me even though i didnt even start it yet :3
Chapters
#001 . . A little an encounter
#002 . . tba
#003 . . tba
#004 . . tba
#astronetwrk#genshin x you#genshin x reader#scaramouche x reader#vampire!scaramouche#wanderer x reader#kunikuzushi x reader#scaramouche x you#scaramouche x y/n#wanderer x you#wanderer x y/n#kunikuzushi x you#kunikuzushi x y/n#genshin scaramouche#scaramouche genshin#scaramouche genshin impact#scaramouche gi#genshin wanderer
90 notes
·
View notes
Text
Delirium - Vampire!Scaramouche x GN!Reader
I’m in the mood for vampires what can I say?
Warnings: dark content, kidnapping and captivity, blood-drinking and biting, reader is very out of it and it’s reflected in the prose.
You don’t know how long you’ve been here. Kept in this room where the thick velvet curtains are always drawn and the faintest hints of sunlight able to sneak through the gaps on the brightest of days are a fine luxury. The sheets underneath you are soft and silken, clearly of high quality—as is the set of manacles chaining your wrist to the bed frame.
It is not those that make escape something of a far flung dream however, no, it is instead the arms of your captor that are often locked around you in a vice-like grip in your more conscious moments. He’s holding you now, the dark strands of his hair brushing against the side of your face as he leans down and buries his fangs in your neck.
You barely react to pain anymore, just an almost imperceptible flinch, too used to the sensation and too unfamiliar with your own limbs to do much more. This is all you know anymore, arms and fangs and cold—always so very cold, like every speck of heat has been drained from your body and you are incapable of generating any more. If only you could reach the curtains and pull them open to let the sunlight warm your skin just like—
Like when? Had you ever stood in the sunlight? You could recall the sensation, the lovely way it felt on your skin but any memory you might have had of it is gone, lost to the dust and the dark and the cold. It is so painfully cold in here.
Your captor draws back from your neck, peering at you with eyes that seem to glow violet in the dim light, a smear of your blood darkening the corner of his lips. A slender-fingered hand cradles your cheek with a little too much force to be called gentle.
“Not long now,” he says, brushing his thumb over the skin of your cheek. “See, I told you you’d get through it just fine, didn’t I?”
Did he? You can’t recall. You think you knew him before the room on some days—on days where you even remember a time before the room at all. In your clearest moments you think you might have been fond of him once. Or maybe you were afraid? Perhaps it was both, before the cold had come and left your insides deadened.
“You’ll feel better when it’s over, you’ll realize I was right all along.” He leans towards you and kisses you sweetly.
His lips are like ice and taste of blood.
No, you’d told him you didn’t want this. That you wanted him but not the cold and the never-ending night. You pull away with as much effort as you’re able when your muscles are all numb.
“S—Scara—” The rest of his name falls away from you as quickly as your moment of lucidity had come.
“I’m right here,” he says, wiping away a tear that you do not remember falling down your cheek. “We’ll be together forever now, you’ll never need anyone else.”
He may say that but you feel like you do. Like there are people you want to see so badly your heart may burst from your chest, even if you can’t recall a single one of their faces.
“I—” you try but the cold has seeped into your tongue and your brain and you do not know whether to tell him to go away or come closer so that you may lose yourself in the scent of green tea on his clothes and dream of days gone by where he was not the feature of your very worst nightmares.
Your chance to ask for either is lost as he pulls away, rolling up one of the sleeves of his fine shirt to reveal a skin so pale it can never have seen the sun at all. Without any sign of hesitation, he brings his wrist to his mouth and sinks his fangs into it while you watch on impassively.
A drop of dark liquid—darker than the blood of a human had any right to be—runs over his wrist as he draws it away from his mouth and holds it out towards you.
“Drink,” he tells you. The wound looks raw and deep, blood welling up from it freely, yet there’s no trace of pain in his expression as stares at you expectantly.
You don’t think it’s normal for you to drink blood, even if you have vague memories of going through this same ritual on a number of occasions. And it’s so dark, the same shade as the curtains. If you could just reach the curtains and pull them back to reveal the sunlight then—
“I told you to drink it—” he shoves the bleeding punctures in his skin towards your mouth, “—so hurry up before it starts to heal.”
“I…” What was it you wanted to say?
“What?” he snaps at you.
“Will it take away the cold?”
He freezes, eyes boring into you. “What do you mean?”
“I’m so cold Scara. I don’t want to be cold anymore.” You’ve started crying again, the rolling tears like icicles on your cheeks.
An expression flickers across his features, but in the dark room you can’t tell if it’s one of annoyance or remorse. Finally he looks away and says, “yes, it’ll take away the cold.”
That’s all you need to hear to bring the bloody wound to your mouth and start lapping at it with your tongue. The taste is bitter but you can’t bring yourself to care, not if there’s the slightest chance it could ward off the chill that has crawled so deep inside it might as well be a part of you.
Scaramouche watches you rapturously, his features softening in a way they never did for anyone other than you. It used to make you so very happy, when he looked at you like. Before he’d asked you to become something inhuman and you’d told him no—only to end up here. Where sunlight could no longer reach you and you were left in the dark and the cold.
Ah, it’s still so very cold.
#vampire AU#Vampire!Scaramouche#Scaramouche x reader#genshin impact x reader#GN!reader#not sure if this counts as angst or horror tbh#both maybe?#for anyone who could not follow my nonsense:#Reader was in a relationship with vampire!Scaramouche and things were actually going okay#right up until Scara brought up the idea of turning them so they could be together forever#and reader told him they didn't want to lose their humanity#this was not well received#tw: yandere#tw: kidnapping#tw: blood#have I missed anything?#please let me know if I have#genshin x reader
101 notes
·
View notes
Text
you and scaramouche have been married for fifty years, but unlike your immortal husband, you’re a human who inevitably ages.
“yes, she’s my wife. yes, she’s seventy-eight. you got a problem with that?”
he stares thunderously down at the recruit who had stupidly asked who the old grandma hanging around their camp was.
#hey guys you know that one cute comic about the vampire and his human wife who have been married for a long time?#yeah that’s the one that inspired me#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#scaramouche x reader#wanderer x reader#fem reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
vampire scara addicted to reader blood? like he can't get enough of it that he would leave marks in a way? smut!!
(I really don't know how to do a request since it's my first time sobs)
Vampire! Scaramouche x fem!reader. AU. Biting. Blood. Smut. Cunilligus. Feral Scaramouche.
I have a couple more requests for vampire Scara smut. This request 😳
"H-Have you eaten yet today," You managed to get out behind a shaky sigh. You could feel his tongue dragging over the blood dripping from a bite mark on the inside of your thigh.
Scaramouche slurped loudly lapping up your blood. It set his body on fire with ecstasy, sending him reeling and feral with lust and hunger. "You know I don't eat out anymore," He prodded his tongue against his fang marks, the taste of you blood made his cock throb and strain to be buried deep inside of you while he enjoyed his meal.
He would most certainly eat you out though while he sucked your blood, which is what he was doing now. Scaramouche had been slotted between your legs for what felt like hours, coaxing orgasm after orgasm from you with his tongue, pausing to suck some of your blood a little a time.
He knew he couldn't drain you too much. He didn't want to accidentally break you.
His fingers ghosted over your thighs, making you shiver as he delivered a few more through sucks to your clit. Your moans of pleasure sounded so sweet in his ears. He pulled away and wiped his mouth.
Crawling up your body, he kissed with your cum and your blood still on his moan. "Stroke my cock, and tell me how much you want you want me to fuck you full while I suck from your neck," You always came so hard on his cock when bit and fucked you at the same time. His fangs made a small cut on your lower lip, dragging his tongue over it before he pulled away.
Your hands hastily found their way onto his cock, wrapping around it. You squeezed, making him groan as he rutted into your hand. Your expression was hazy and adoring, looking up at him as you stroked and rubbed his leaking cock. "Bite me and fuck me dumb," You pleaded, your cunt clenching from the thought. "Cumming on your tongue wasn't enough."
You hastily pumped your hand on his cock, squeezing your thumb and index finger on the tip to show your desperation for him.
Cum nearly spurted into your hand. Your begging sounded as sweet as your blood tasted. You were flipped over onto your stomach so fast it stunned you a little.
Scaramouche more than took advantage of that, yanking your hips up. He licked a long line on your abused cunt, pushing your face into the pillows as he lined his cock up with your entrance.
You cried out in relief, muffled into the pillow finally feeling his cock sink deep inside you. He bottomed out in one harsh snap of his hips. "Fuck, you are always so tight after I feed from your thigh," He groaned, gripping your hips.
He set a breathtaking pace, his skin slapping against yours. You could do nothing but dig your fingernails into the pillows, moaning shamelessly while he bullied his cock as deep inside of you as it could go.
Keeping an arm braced around you, he reached to rub your clit. He grabbed a handful of your hair, yanking your body up, his cock kissing deep into your sweet spot with every thrust.
He licked a line over your neck before sinking his fangs into it. He knew he had to control himself a little but he couldn't help it. Your blood just tasted so fucking sweet. He could cum on the taste alone. He didn't like that your moans and screams of pleasure were muffled by the pillows.
"You are mine to feed on, fuck, and devour," Scaramouche moaned into your neck, barely being able to contain himself. You were clenching so perfectly around his cock.
"Yes, yes, gonna..cum.." You babbled, your body shaking with your approaching orgasm. His thrusts turned more feverish, starting to become sloppy from his own approaching orgasm.
His mouth felt more ravenous on your throat as his cum filled you full.
#genshin impact#genshin smut#fem!reader#genshin imagines#scaramouche#scaramouche smut#modern au#vampire scaramouche#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche x you#scaramouche x y/n
884 notes
·
View notes
Text
a sinner wakes up and finds himself trapped in eden.
announcement that i’ll be working on a long-ish (40+) page vampire/vampire hunter chscr comic and will therefore be on hiatus for about a month!!
spiderweb in paradiso will be debuting at comifuro18 this may, and i’ll (do my best to 🤞) have asia preorders open and up by next friday with intl orders opening date tbd
#genshin impact#childe#wanderer#scaramouche#tartaglia#chiscara#scarachilde#comic#my art#vampire au#cw blood#cw religious imagery/themes#anyway this is my self indulgent vampire bs and i get to make the rules!!#and the rules are that childe has to wear something easy to draw but also kinda slutty#not that its obvious from the preview lmfao
286 notes
·
View notes
Text
Vampire scara cockwarming his partner while he sucks their blood .
Vampire scara's pupils growing wide when he pulls away to glimpse at your face while access blood dripped down his lips.
Vampire scara who has ice cold skin but his insides are as warm as the summer heat.
#scaramouche#genshin scara#scara x reader#vampire scara#dom reader#genshin impact#gn reader#sub character#「 ★ 」 applepeye#「 ★ 」 male reader#「 ★ 」 female reader#「 ★ 」 genderneutral reader
249 notes
·
View notes
Text
“why do you stan this character, they did [insert crime], ur prawblemateec😭😭”
they have pretty face? they don’t exist? have you considered that I don’t give a fuck? let women have hobbies?…
that whole discourse with villains bores me senseless. “they are evil & cruel etc” — yes, they are, this is literally why we stan them, I’m not a pro in using some ‘very smart’ terms, so I’ll explain it in easy words.
yes, we like villains because of their nature, because they’re evil and because they have charisma, cunningness, magical, their motives and their character is intriguing NOT FUCKING BECAUSE WE ARE THE SAME😭
also “you like [insert character] because of an actor” — No!?! I like them because of their personality and if I do like them because of an actor, it’s not a fucking crime? yes, we admit we like them because of an actor, that’s the powerful aura lol.
the most confusing thing about all of this is when a person stans a morally grey character but actively shits on you and creates a whole ass ‘hate communities’ because you stan another morally grey character + ur not pure enough if you stan [insert name] 🤡🤡 + they will make you a criminal and create million lies about u and ur character + “my villain is morally superior than your villain” (kaz brekker & six of crows stans, I’m looking at u)
#rhaenyra targaryen#the darkling#daenerys targaryen#villain#pro darkling#shadow and bone#darklina#klaus mikaelson#wanda maximoff#cersei lannister#melisandre#daemon targaryen#I support pretty characters as long as they are not r*pists#davina claire#katherine pierce#house of the dragon#the vampire diaries#game of thrones#dottore#scaramouche
216 notes
·
View notes
Text
ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀʟʟ
◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇
ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ ꜱᴄᴀʀᴀᴍᴏᴜᴄʜᴇ/ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
Content includes: SFW, mild mentions of blood, vampire kinks, mentioned vampire Harbingers though only slight (it's gonna look like a Childe fic at first but trust me, I'm not writing for his ginger ass anytime soon), ball room dancing that's probably all over the place.
Scroll away if you don't entertain any au's regarding vampires, witches, and hunters. Also this is quite long, almost two-thousand and five hundred words, grab a snack!
◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇
In a distant, secluded land, lays a splendid manor. Filled with guests, ranging from vampires and humans alike, all under the gaze of stars that mimic splatters of white paint scattered across a canvas, they glimmer and shine in the moonless night. Leaves entranced by the soft touches of the wind, sway according to its direction.
A melodious tune of a violin accompanied by a piano reaches the ears of laughing guests, played by the two pale men situated in the middle of the ballroom, wearing well-tailored suits, both playing their mastered instruments, each movement effortless as they played, gaining the attention of almost everyone inside.
A beautiful young-lady stood out from the rest, wearing a luxurious gown, one would think it was embroidered by the gods themselves. It twinkles with every step she makes, matching with the hat veil covering half of her face. Heads turn as she steps inside the luxurious manor, taking the breath of almost every attracted man and jealous woman away.
Her eyes dart across the room, exchanging pleasant smiles with everyone who was courageous enough to lock eyes with her intimidating gaze. Her heels clacking against the marble floor, the light from the chandelier illuminates her figure even more so as she crosses the center of the room, the other guests attention stolen from the musicians who were to engrossed in their own music to notice their gazes drifting away.
From across the ballroom, a group of dark dressed people started whispering among themselves. A tall man with a slender figure spoke up first, “Looks like I’ve found my main “food” for entertainment for the night,” He says with a whistle, eyes quickly moving to his companions in search for support, “Get it? Like “food” as in-”
“You better shut your mouth if you’re considering continuing that sentence.” The much taller woman threatens, raising the wine glass in her hand above his head.
The tall man immediately takes a step back, “Woah, no need to be so irritated first thing in the night! What’s a little comradery between us Harbingers?” He carps, shaking his head with fake disappointment.
“Oh, cut the crap, number 11. I’d rather starve and decay than be anything more than a business partner with you,” the shorter man grumbles, boring holes in the latter’s head.
The ginger-haired man frowns and turns to look at him after seeing the woman nod along, “Really? You’re still holding that over my head?”
The short-tempered man didn’t bother responding, focusing his attention on something much more worthwhile his attention. Surveying the rest of the room from where he stands, the mysterious woman “number 11” mentioned appeared to be looking at their direction after crossing the center of the room. Most of her features being hidden due to the shadow of the balcony above, so he couldn’t make a guess who she was.
But before he could even start guessing at all, the annoying one disrupts, “Ooh, would you look at that, a pretty little woman looking right at your direction, would you dare?” he muses from beside him. Scaramouche turns to glare at him, but immediately regrets it when he’s faced with Childe’s eat-shitting grin, “Do you know her?” He asks instead.
Childe looks back at him, “Me? Oh, no, if I did, I would’ve left you guys here as soon as she came in. I’m sure her company would be more worth my time.” He comments with a snort.
Scaramouche returns his gaze to the woman upon hearing his “No,” finding her to have already left her previous spot and headed for the food on the table near where they’re standing. Upon realizing this, he felt his eye twitch.
As if feeling his bruised ego, Childe whispers to him with a sigh, “Maybe your charms just didn’t work on her,” patting his shoulder with a plastered smile on his features.
He had to grit his teeth near breaking point to avoid punching him.
Resorting to a more tamed option, Scaramouche pushes his hand off his shoulder, giving him the fiercest glare he could muster. “I’d like to see you make an attempt. After all, I think I’d prefer to eat stale food than give you a try too,” He gave a snarky remark. A small but victorious smirk grew on his face after seeing Childe’s face drop.
“Well, I doubt anyone would be willing to give me a pass when you’re next to me, the choice is obvious, don’t you think?” Childe replies, expression quickly transitioning to a smug one, almost too smug for his liking.
Before Scaramouche could even rebut, Childe already slid past him and made way to approach the lady. He wishes he could watch him make a fool out of himself, yet as he turns to glance behind him, Signora was already staring at him with a repulsed look, head tilted to the side. Scaramouche walks away from the scene filled with resent.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A half-eaten sweet in one hand, a ginger-haired man kissing the other, [Name] stands frozen in front of the table filled with food (thankfully they actually provided water and actual wine this time, she doesn’t think she can stomach accidentally drinking blood again), eyes wide and mouth agape. She lowers her gaze to look at the stranger, who has a ghost of a pleased smile on his face, “I apologize for the abrupt greeting, fair maiden. I simply could not take my eyes off of you,” He says and stands upright. [Name] lets her eyes wander his features, trying to recognize him from somewhere if she could.
She gulps down the remaining food in her mouth before speaking, “Good evening, dear Sir, may I inquire who you may be?” Ever so slowly moving her hand away from his mouth.
He might be one of those vampires that prefer blood from the wrist.
“Tartaglia, Eleventh of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers- but you may call me “Childe” instead.” The stranger replies, holding a polite smile. “And you must be..?”
Well, there goes her plan of avoiding that one particular party for the night.
Was her get up too eye-catching?
Seriously, how unlucky is she going to be tonight? Please get at least get one vampire back home!
“..My name is [Name], it’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir Childe.” [Name] bobbed a curtsy to him, and he reciprocates by bowing as well. Finally letting go of her hand.
The Harbingers… A bunch of royal skinned vampires ganged up together. She’s never heard of any members’ names in it nor its organization (she doesn't really bother herself with it), but that didn’t mean she wanted to know either.
“I could say the same to you as well, Lady [Name]. It’s a privilege to be able to meet such a magnificent lady such as yourself in this fine night. If I may ask, what brings you here?” Childe asks after correcting his posture, his smile noticeably widening after seeing her flash a strained smile.
[Name] averts her eyes for a quick moment, appearing to be flustered, “Oh, I came here in my fathers stead. It was originally suppose to him as he has a meeting with one of the figures here, unfortunately, something happened to him that required a last minute switch.” She manages to lie, perhaps she should’ve prepared herself a bit more. The last time she went in an event like this to hunt, none of them even bothered to talk to her.
“Oh?” Childe muses, tilting his head as his eyes stare curiously at her.
She takes a deep breath, “It would’ve done him good to let it be yet, he insisted someone to go as it’s offensive to appear unattended despite his perfect reason for missing the event.” She sulks, furrowing her eyebrows for effect.
The gentleman laughs, “It certainly is- well, for some at least.” He says, eyes lingering from her eyes to her gloved hand. “But I wouldn’t call it “unfortunate” for the most part, I say it must be pretty lucky that fate allowed us to be here together?” Childe adds, his voice going an octave lower.
[Name] catches where his gaze lingers, and a ghost of a smirk creeps up her face. “I dare say it must be, Sir Childe, I couldn’t think I could be any less lucky of having met you.” She says, biting back the tone of sarcasm she wishes to add.
Alright, so he is one of those vampires. Should she go to the bathroom to apply the drug now or later? He looks like someone impatient.
His eyes light up at that, “I am delighted to hear you agree, Lady [Name]!” Childe exclaims with a grin, and as he was about to add to the conversation, the lights in the room suddenly go dark, all except for a spot in the middle. The musicians playing the terrible music from before paused their playing, taking the noise from the other guests with them, making the entire room ghost quiet.
[Name] squints her eyes at the obvious trap, if they wanted people to engage in a ballroom dance, they should’ve just switched the tune of to something more mellow. She could see some people already nudging their partner for a dance, some formed a circle outside the light, anxiously looking at one another, waiting for a brave couple to steal the show. She sighs, now all that’s missing are some people who are willing enough to have everyone’s eyes on them-
“Well, seeing as they’re all basically staring at us,” Childe turns his attention back to [Name], reaching a hand out. “Lady [Name], would you like a dance?”
[Name] felt her world turn cold at his invitation, she hasn’t dance in almost a year, but she couldn’t just refuse him for the sake of her dignity. Her mission is on the line! “With pleasure,” she says through a forced smile. Ignoring the amount of eyes boring into her head as she takes his hand, cold sweat dripping down her back.
Quiet whispers and murmurs follow their every step, with Childe still wearing his signature smile, her hand in his, he couldn’t be more pleased.
They both reach the main spotlight in the room, placing themselves in front of the other. Once again, they did their own respective curtsies to one another, and soon after, the music starts.
Childe took a step forward, gaze never leaving hers as he places a hand to her waist, and [Name] had to resist the urge to move away. Placing a hand to his shoulder, maintaining her small smile to avoid accidentally offending him. Any moment he might rip her head off… probably.
Their bodies sway to the music, Childe looking as carefree as always, not minding the stares of multiple people right at him. Looking almost happy to be in the situation, a total contrast to [Name].
Step to the right, a step to the left.
Feet in their proper position.
Shifting weight equally to avoid slipping.
..ok, she’s got this.
Her dress follows her every movement perfectly, enhancing her enchanting looks even further he takes a step back and spun herself around, earning some amazed gasps from people around, including her dance partner. He looks almost pleased at seeing her move so gracefully. She only shyly smiles back as she held his hands once more.
Taking a step back once again, [Name] only manages to complete half of her spin when she almost collides with Childe, much to his fault for not letting go of her hands when she clearly gave him the cue to. Their faces mere inches away from each other, she could feel his breath tickle her cheek, and from this distance she could clearly see the missing shine in his eye. Her own breath got caught in her throat, but before she could ponder over it, he swiftly spins her back around to her original position from before, lifting his hand above her to let her move freely.
[Name] manages to maintain her poker face as she’s spun back around, but couldn’t shake the odd feeling in her chest. Almost as if something is about to go wrong.
Her gaze nervously alternates between his eyes and his face, Childe stays silent, “Your eyes..” She starts, her voice barely above a whisper.
He hums, both of them stepping forward before spinning around to switch their positions, “They’re.. unlike anything I’ve ever seen.” She continues, still entirely unsure whether to continue asking or not. Would she be suspicious if she did? Or would she be even more suspicious if she didn’t?
“Oh, that,” Childe chuckles, not letting his gaze on her ethereal face falter. “I’ve had it ever since I can remember.” She nods and spins around again, expecting him to do the same as before and so he did. Maneuvering her close to him with their hands still intertwined before letting go of the one held behind her waist to let her continue spinning to end up to his other side.
“I have a question,” Childe spoke up once they started to walk in a circle with their hands on each other’s waists, [Name] couldn’t see his face from this angle, so she had to stare at the people looking at them. Finding them dancing along, but farther away, as if afraid to even be near their presence.
She raises a brow at that, “What do you wish to know?” [Name] replies to him.
Childe asks, “When was the last time you danced in public like this?”
[Name] felt her blood run cold at the out-of-the-blue question, should she be honest? No, if she raised even more suspicion later on, he’d be able to connect the dots. “A while ago, why do you ask?” She answers, ending up with a plausible half-truth.
They stopped walking and each took a step outside of their makeshift circle with their hands out, [Name] spun herself around to land herself back to his arms, her back to his chest, “I just couldn’t help but notice how you were pretty nervous when we started.” He says, tone friendly as it had been in the first time, but she couldn’t help but feel offended. Was it necessary to point it out?
She smiles through her mild annoyance as she lands back to his chest after repeating the step, “Ah, please excuse my disgraceful dancing, I don’t usually go out as much as other women do.” She rolls her eyes, thankful for the veil covering half of her face.
Looking down, [Name] sees Childe’s shadow shake it’s head, “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that at all. In truth, I find it impressive to know you’re quick to recall the dance.”
She forces out a chuckle and steps back to repeat the step from before, placing her hands out for him to hold as she lightly spun herself around.
To be honest, she’s a little surprised herself too. The last ballroom dance she actually danced in was almost a year ago, she had to stop attending since they were getting too suspicious with the missing vampires every event held in this manor. It would be very bad if they found out about her.
Still, the place didn’t really change much since her last visit, it was still irritatingly bright and the food was still too stale for her. Did they only consider vampire and dead humans in their guest list?
And speaking of vampires, he… wait- why am I falling?
Her heart stopped beating as she looses her footing from the loss of support, it felt as if time had stopped as she felt herself descend ever so slowly onto the ground. Her hands continue to try and search for his hands, but she only grasped at air.
That was, until hands swiftly intertwined with hers again. Their bodies collide softly against each other, her heart threatening to burst out her chest at the split second fall.
Had this egotistic of a man forgotten to catch her all of a sudden? What if she actually fell!
She clasps their hands together (wishing she could break it there and then) and glares at the ground, pretending it was him, “Well, I certainly know a certain someone who forgot a portion of the dance.” [Name] swallows the tone of grumbling in her voice as much as she can, preparing to show him a frown as he spins her around once more, like a ballerina in a music box.
Except this time, instead of catching a glimpse of the ginger-hair she knows of, what she saw was unfamiliar indigo-colored hair.
◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇
This is probably gonna take 2 more parts, since I plan to... never mind. Hope you enjoyed reading though!
Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated!
#fanfic#genshin#genshin fanfic#genshin imagines#genshin impact#wanderer#ballroom#ballroom dancing#harbingers#scaramouche#childe#scaramouche x reader#vampire au#witch hunter#witch reader
83 notes
·
View notes
Note
heyyy, i’m the anon who proposed the yan vamp kaveh alongside his trauma dumping tendencies 💀 it’s been awhile but it’s just bc i’ve been busy!! anyway, i’m glad for the feedback!
now that my ramblings has been enabled, i was musing a thought earlier about the sumeru hexagon au. since in the main story where—i think—everyone is contingent with the fact darling is a traveler, who had to suddenly go home due to family businesses. if we’re going with that main plot point, isn’t it safe to assume that darling would have many friends that they made along the way? imagine darling getting a swarm of letters from their many friends from the seven nations of teyvat. a few letters here and there with one from mondstadt, something something about a winery. another one from fontaine and a few photographs of fontaines lush scenery. a gift from inazuma, the list goes on. it seems darling is the sociable kind, very popular. once every few weeks darling would get a letter from a friend, but there’s this particular sender that becomes a frequent pen pal to darling.
here’s how i think how each bachelor would react:
*kaveh: he’s a very passionate man. unlike his roommate, he’s not afraid to show his feelings—or more like, he sees that showing vulnerability and emotions is integral for a blossoming relationship. kaveh runs on emotions with the way he presents himself, so he’s no stranger to being loud himself. especially when he’s running on a bit of alcohol. he gets tipsy fast and it’s an even more deadly combo. once kaveh sees you paying more attention to these letters, he can’t help himself but feel an itchy feeling in his hands. he keeps imagining himself snatching up those stupid letters you have tucked away in your hands. you shyly hiding it beneath the table, your eyes going back and forth between him and that scrap of paper that seems to be your final calling. kaveh knows you’d rather much pay more attention to whatever squabble on that paper than at him. kaveh throws a joke your way, but you shrug it off. he scoffs, rather loudly. suddenly you get the hint and stuff the letter away somewhere in your pocket. but it doesn’t dissuade his seething frustration. his hands gripped tightly on his drink at the whole ordeal. luckily it isn’t glass as it would be malleable to his anger. there’d be shards of glass stuck to his skin now. but the more he thought about it…it wouldn’t sound too bad. what if—you’d finally tear your loving gaze away from that paper and instead place it on him as you hold his hands in reverence. that’s be nice, kaveh dreams.
*al haithaim: he is a quite man. yet he’s observant. it’s not like he lets it happen because he’d rather not place intrusion on your private affairs. no, he cares a bit too much for any sense of privacy. despite the obvious crossing of boundaries between “close friends” (as you emphasised) he rationalises and rationalises and rationalises. a common sign of a mad man, finding excuses to lessen the blow of the self-awareness. the thing with al haithaim is that he’d never admit to many things. which is why he’s quite and finds himself just…watching. no he’s not being crazy; he’s just curious. well yes, of course, who else caught your eye so intensely you’ve kept a souvenir from them. “something to remember them by.” you tell him after a maple leaf falls out of your book. you’ve been keeping it as a bookmark. al haithaim already feels something swell inside of him when he doesn’t recognise that plant as not a native plant anywhere around here. he’s already inflexible with any sentiments and emotions, staying in the rigid lines of logic. but why is it he’s stunted silent at the sight of you happy for another? why is it that he feels something like a knot in his stomach eating him up when you speak of this “friend” of yours? al haithaim watches carefully, picking up every minute detail. and if by any chance he’s free from his busy schedule, he’ll find a way to get his hands on those letters you keep dear.
*cyno: he’s somewhat the same as al haithaim. but unlike the latter, cyno doesn’t let his perturbations shut his lips and keep his heart locked away. there’s no need for a calculating tactic, to silently watch and observe, to plan out what needs to be done. he knows what he feels and why. it must be because of his occupation that he acts this way. so when he sees these letter or even catches a hint of it, he’s quick to question…thoroughly for the matter. he doesn’t play slow, he plays in whatever card he’s been handed with and deals with them right away, concisely as he needs to. cyno is no stranger to using his voice. his voice is stern at first, questioning you about this friend of yours. cyno tells you that your trusting nature will one day be your biggest flaw, as he grips one of your letters tightly in his hands. you cast it as part of his serious nature, but the less you’re willing to share, you notice how cyno closes in on you. verbally, the way his questions become increasingly curt with no room to back out. cyno asks you if you’re so sure this person is genuine as you are, with only knowing them after a few meetings and nothing more. well, how can you already be so vulnerable with them when the main contact is through letters? it’s easier to deceit one another when you’re not face to face with them…c‘mon darling?! don’t you see how it’d be easy for you to fall for a trap like that?! are you sure this person is not taking advantage of you?! and with the way cyno begins to hone in on you with each bated breath, physically, when you feel his presence dwarf your meek one. unlike being discreet, if he ever catches you with these letters in your hands, he’d snatch it out of your hold under the pretence of doing…whatever he is doing. he doesn’t say exactly, even when you try to grab it back. cyno see’s no reason to give you an excuse, other than an expression of bitterness. it’s one thing to be keeping a secret lover, but another thing to have the audacity to bring it up around his presence. i mean, you’re asking to get interrogated at that point. though he might be able to question you, you have no room to do so on your behalf. if you ever try to reason with cyno’s absurd behaviours, you’d only be met with a pointed look from him and it’s enough to shut you up.
*tighnar is observant himself, but he plays it coy. he has a way with his words, especially when he knows you know his humour as sarcasm. you don’t take him seriously at first when he comments about how you’d rather pay attention to some sappy love letter—which you deny that it is one. it ensues in a banter of a teasing kind. it is. it is not. it soooo is. it sooo is not. but beneath all of those nervous giggles and eye rolls, there’s a cold glint in tighnari’s eyes. jokes would slip pass his lips, but it does not convey what truly lies in his heart. he’d rather not. for now, he’s seeing every detail of your reaction. he notes how after he joked about it being a love letter and how you attentively read each one, you began to act jittery and there’s a smile on your lips that hasn’t been wiped off your face just yet. interesting. and you kinda notice it too, notice tighnari’s prowling eyes. but you don’t think of it with any malicious intent. instead, you ask him for advice. you believe he’s looking out for you. and out of the bunch, tighnari is one of the sociable and personable kind. so one day, you share him a peek of one of the letters. you ask him, what your friend means by this phrase—are they possibly hinting at something deeply intimate? is it crossing the lines of friendship into something…more? should you instigate it and let it happen—or are you just overthinking it?! as any good friend would do, tighnari dissuades all of this. he tells you, you are overthinking it and maybe to not jump into conclusions. you nod and agree. yeah, maybe you are pushing it! he also adds, if it were to evolve into something more, it would be difficult to maintain a relationship anyway due to the long distance. and from what he’s known, long distance relationships usually never ends well. and well, he cares for you too much to not see you get hurt at the end of this. you agree even more. you were just being delusional, he jokes. you laugh back and thank him for his words and advice. he jokes again, “i know i’m always right.” tighnari’s next hypothesis is how he’ll get his hands on these letters himself. it only seems to get in his way. he’s the type you wouldn’t expect to act so irrationally or even in such a manner, that if you ever catch him cracking through his forced smiles and jokes, you’re in for a treat.
*scaramouche is fragile like a glass. swaddled in his own enclosure, of which he finds himself in the warmth of your hands. scaramouche yearns for you, so when you speak of another name with a giddy smile, you began to feel cold to him. he hates this feeling. it’s anguish, torture. and he’d do anything to keep this warmth to himself and only him. due to close proximity, he’s mostly likely the only one who’s able to get his hands on these letters easily. he’d wait until you’re asleep, staring at your chest fall and rise. after he watches you breath for a few minutes, he finds himself rummaging through the letters you’ve kept so far. he reads through the more intimate ones, near and dear to your heart, with a scorned look on his face. these vulnerabilities that you shared with him, scaramouche cherished deeply as a sign of trust. yet it is shared with another. he can’t help himself but let the letters scatter pitifully into the fireplace nearby. at least he’ll keep you warm tonight. all you need to do is to return the favour.
btw: i kept the sender of these letters open for any, but i kinda hinted that it was kazuha. also might be ooc, especially on cyno and tighnari’s part because i haven’t grasped how they’d act as yanderes??
anyway, i implore you to add on…i wish i could write more about it but i’m running out of brain juice as i speak.
Nonnie nonnie hear me out,,, I think we might be soulmates because this is EXACTLY what I was thinking about the other day !! I hereby dub you as vampire kaveh anon for all the exquisite meals you've given me<3 And Tighnari in this is making me swoon?? That little gaslighter :v Cyno is so frustrating ughhh (I love your take on them) and I just know why you specifically chose Kazuha in Alhaitham's part ehe [ au masterlist ]
There are whispers in the wind that a certain bartender keeps many of Sumeru's secrets dangling at their fingertips, it never is easy coaxing a certain set of information out of them though, just as it is with what remains locked in their heart.
There is a simple, albeit unspoken rule across Teyvat : when one's desire becomes too fervent, they either receive the recognition of the divine or delude themselves in a reality that does not actually exist.
“—veh? Earth to Kaveh!”
Kaveh thinks, and he's certain that he has no reason to worry about the latter, not when the testament to the former hangs proudly by his person. But that doesn't stop him from desiring for more, after all, which human is ever truly satisfied?
The remaining wine from Kaveh's glass jolts as his hand slackens, body in a temporary state of disarray as you shake his shoulder firmly. He blinks once, twice, thrice and slowly adjusts to the sight of your pinched brows.
“A-ah, yes?”
One of your eyebrows raise in appraisal and Kaveh finally gathers his bearings, realizing the cause of your frown to be his dazed state. If his cheeks were flushed before, they now compete with the colour of his eyes.
You watch him a bit more and the Architect dares not to breath, relishing in the attention of the eyes that can pick apart any turbulences within his soul, the ones he's wished to be on him throughout the whole evening. Your lips part and he braces himself for a scolding, but it's never voiced.
“..Go home.” Kaveh responds to your gentle command by staring dumbly and it inclines you to add, “You're out of it, I don't want you to cause more trouble for yourself, alright? You have that meeting with an important client next morning.” with a final nudge on his shoulder, you move away to a different section of the Tavern.
Through slightly blurred vision, the Architect catches sight of the letter still firmly held by your hand and it makes his stomach churn further. There's no doubt in his mind, you left primarily because you wanted to read those wretched words, to think he was so excited to chat the night away with you as well. How disappointing.
Kaveh finishes the remnants of his glass, the liquid sending static through his nervous system and an epiphany waves. You don't make it far until a loud bang! echoes throughout the walls of the Tavern, you turn back hastily and search for the source of the noise. The Architect lies passed out on the surface of the table, his form almost slithering off of it before you catch it. A sigh escapes you once you determine him to be uninjured, another when you realize you'll have to drop him home, again. Kaveh faintly catches you calling for that hatted boy to take over and a grumble, almost revealing his ruse as a smirk curves at the letter finally laying discarded.
“I can practically see cogs turning in your eyes — what are you piecing together this time?”
Your airy admission has Alhaitham's gaze flickering from the scarlet leaf to your face, despite the depth of his stare and the awareness of it, there appears no faltering of your placid smile. That had been a prominent topic of the Scribe's studies for a while, do you actually not mind his scrutinizing eyes or are you just really good at acting unbothered? Because he's certain had it been someone else, they would've avoided him like the plague and yet, you seem nowhere near unsettled. Whatever it is, Alhaitham has accepted that no matter how much he observes, he can never decipher your personality.
“Hm, is it about my friend?” you answer for him just as his lips part and he wonders if it's the wine taking effect, or is your voice nearer than before?
“I was just wondering what kind of person has charmed you so much that you hold so tightly onto a leaf from them.”
“Hey! Maple leaves are pretty, therefore, worth holding onto for more than one reason.” you wag a finger to his eye-level, delivery matter-of-fact. Your defensive behavior both amuses and confuses the Scribe.
Then, the lights of the tavern bounce across your eyes and back at his in an apparition of revelation, “Actually, I think, you'll get along with my friend as well. Oh, I'm sure of it.”
An eyebrow raises at your declaration, Alhaitham subconsciously adjusts the settings of his headphones to amplify the echoes of your voice, hanging onto every word that leaves your lips. He's so intoxicated by the increasing teasing lilt of your voice that the thought of offering you a reply escapes his mind.
“But first...” Alhaitham catches your twinkling eyes on the top of his head for a moment, “We ought to get you a helmet.”
That has words form on his tongue, “A helmet?”
You affirm with a purposeful giggle, but offer no further clarification, skipping away with a tray of empty glasses. The Scribe watches your retreating figure with a bemused frown, replays of the interaction filling every crevice of his mind.
Meeting this mystery friend of yours would require him to wear a helmet for protection? Alhaitham's frown deepens.
It seemed that his hypothesis of you being a magnet for troublesome individuals was only proving itself correct with time. Hmm... Alhaitham would need to keep a closer eye just in case.
“..And those are the reasons as to why you should stop responding to these letters.”
“Hm... I still think you're being paranoid, Cyno.”
You expected the General Mahamatra to sigh in frustration and give-up with this petty debate at that point, you've seen your fair share of persistent individuals and through many observations you've devised two tactics against them : 1. Simply yield to their request so that they'll move on for the time being and 2. Being double persistent to assert dominance. Though, your personal choice would be to not deal with these types of people at all but the General Mahamatra makes even ignoring his blatant overbearance a challenge.
Cyno makes no effort to return your breathing space, he doesn't even seem to be deterred by your attempt at establishing the rightful boundary, “Was I not concise enough in my speech? Perhaps you need me to reiterate all 21 reasons once more?”
“—Good heavens, no!” a sigh escapes your lips, fingers raising to massage the skin of your temple. He'd been at this pointless charade the moment his sharp eyes caught sight of the letter, he hadn't advanced until he noticed the undeniable giddiness as you read through the words albeit. In terms of persistence, the General Mahamatra really does take the cake. But then again, what did you expect from a man who goes over every one of his jokes in great detail?
“Cyno, look. This friend of mine helped me a lot when I was in a.. particularly difficult situation. I know them well enough to be certain that they have no ill-intentions.”
“How so? They can use that excuse as a means of manipulation. Actually, are you being blackmailed, perhaps? Is that why you don't want to admit it?”
“I am not being blackmailed, I am not being manipulated. Even if I was, I'm more than capable of handling it on my own, Cyno.”
“That is the exact thing you said for that eremite mercenary and then what happened?”
“I admit I was careless then— wait a minute, how do you know about the eremite mercenary? I only told that matter to one person and it certainly wasn't you.”
Cyno's breath catches in his throat as your eyes fixate on his figure with renewed suspicion. The man's grip on the deck of cards hardens and loosens continually until he re-establishes eye-contact and you're almost the one taken-aback as he doesn't back down a bit.
“Come to think of it, I haven't seen the mercenary and his group of friends in a whole week. They used to be regulars as well, any ideas on the case, Cyno?”
“Well, they are mercenaries and being one means they take on arduous missions to distant lands from time to time.” the General Mahamatra delivers smoothly, so easily that you miss his initial intake of breath. His eyes hold your gaze firmly, you search and search for even a flicker of hesitance and return empty handed.
“Hm.. I suppose you're right. That still doesn't explain why you know of the matter though.”
The quirk of the man's eyebrow almost makes you feel stupid for even asking, “I am the General Mahamatra, [name]. I overheard some other mercenaries talking about the incident at Caravan Ribat, I trust you of all people know how loose lipped men get once a bit liquor hits their system.”
You hold his stare for a prolonged minute, sighing once you find no dent in the Matra's composure and acquiesce at last to his reasoning. Cyno nods a little too enthusiastically once you offer a free glass as an apology for suspecting him, missing the breath of relief that escapes his parched lips as you turn your back to get a glass altogether.
“But Tighnari, how are you so sure that the writer isn't trying to convey any double meaning?
One of Tighnari's ears twitch at your attempt at back-pedaling to the earlier discussion, he tries his best to maintain his nonchalant countenance but unfortunately for him and fortunately for observant eyes, his fox like features will always be more honest than his words.
You trace a finger along the cursives of the parchment, “After all, he is quite the trickster.”
“You mean your ‘friend’?”
“Yes, friend.”
The Forest Watcher hums at your absentminded reply, his ear twitches with a bit more force as your eyes glaze over in reminisce, “He was one of the first few people I befriended in Fontaine. Though the events leading up to that were rather.. wild, let's say, enduring all that mischief was worth it in the end. Oh, oh, look at this line ; he still teases me about that time!”
“...What an interesting character,” Tighnari muses, looking at the words you point, half of him feels proud that you'd share your secrets so casually with him and the other half feels bitter at the contents.
“He is, yes. But you avoided my question : how are you sure my friend isn't insinuating anything?”
Tighnari gives the letter a long look before shifting his attention to your curious stare, his features relaxes significantly when he determines you're not offended by his dodging.
“Well, the fact that you know your friend to be a trickster first of all, should be enough of a reason to validate that scenario, if that's what you're asking.”
You open you mouth to protest (he assumes) but think otherwise after you let his words sink in, flickers of uncertainty spreads across your eyes.
“Hm.. you do have a point,” a defeated sigh, “Let's drop this topic now, tell me about what you've been up to!”
The Forest Watcher's tail swishes at the change of tone, he's bent the situation to his advantage for now but he'll need to look for a long-term solution as fast as possible, lest you slip away.
The ex-harbinger freezes midway from throwing another parchment into the fireplace as he hears the shuffles of covers and a faint creak. He doesn't dare move an inch til everything returns to silence once more. One second, two seconds, three, four and he gathers the courage to face your slumbering form on the fifth. Stifling a sigh of relief, he quickly throws the cursed letter, not bothering to witness its destruction.
With tentative steps, Wanderer makes his way to your bedside, watching you for a few moments before sitting down on the small space beside your form. He knows you'd be disgruntled to find him barging in your room as if it's his own but he remains unbothered. If you really do react negatively, he can just say he's had a nightmare again.
How laughable, truly. The things he's doing now to maintain the affections of a mortal. He knows such actions are beneath a being of his calibre and yet, as mortifying the realization is, the puppet couldn't care less. The ex-harbinger's eyes soften ever so slightly as you hug your pillow tighter, shuffling beneath the silken sheets. A few stray locks of hair fall over your relaxed face and his hand twitches by his side.
Despite the small distance the puppet usually shares with you, he'll never fully grasp your thought process. Your kindness, as much of a paradox it is to him, still continues to be your greatest charm. It's no wonder you're so popular, all ants are drawn to sweets. Your unassuming visage is almost effective in making the puppet forget his initial bitter feelings if not for the glance at the fireplace. Wanderer has still not yet healed from wounds of a distant past, it's irrational but still, he cannot push back his fears.
Would you betray him, too?
The puppet knows it's beyond selfish of him to keep demanding more, you've given him so much but still his hunger for love remains as insatiable as ever. It burns him from the inside out and he in turn, burns all obstacles that stand in the way of your affections. He considers it a fair exchange, for all the suffering Teyvat has bestowed upon him, he deserves this much. He deserves you, wholly. So he succumbs despite that piece of his non-existent heart screaming to do otherwise, fingers brushing away the errant strands of your hair.
#sumeru love hexagon#──⚝ vampire kaveh anon#yandere#yandere genshin impact#yandere genshin x reader#yandere genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x reader#yandere concepts#yandere au#yandere kaveh x reader#yandere alhaitham x reader#yandere al haitham x reader#yandere cyno x reader#yandere tighnari x reader#yandere wanderer x reader#yandere scaramouche x reader#yandere alhaitham#yandere al haitham#yandere kaveh#yandere cyno#yandere tighnari#yandere scaramouche#yandere wanderer#wanderer x reader#alhaitham x reader#kaveh x reader#cyno x reader#tighnari x reader#scaramouche x reader#yandere genshin imagines
243 notes
·
View notes
Text
VAMPIRE AU
Ft. Dottore, scara, childe
Warnings ⬇️
Gn!reader, slightly suggestive, fluff, comfort (yes even in dottores part), biting + blood.
DOTTORE
This man is pretty composed and is therefore able to control his undying thirst for you.
Does that mean he'll refrain from biting you atleast four times a day? Think again (this is dottore the sadistic scientist we're talking about)
If anything, he probably does it for fun.
And what's worse is the fact that he will make it hurt on purpose.
That's right, he takes advantage of those wierd ass pointy teeth he has just to get a reaction out of you.
He will sneak up behind you whilst you're helping him organise the clumsily kept papers on his desk, snatch you by the shoulders and just sink into any exposed skin he sees without warning.
And if there's nothing exposed to him? He'll just tear his way through that stuffy fatui uniform and lean in towards your bare body.
If you're lucky enough to see him in this state, you'll realise that he looks quite unkept - with messy hair and his face blushing red.
If he notices you staring though, be prepared for him to prove to you that he's very much still in control, his fangs sinking deeper into your skin making you feel dizzy.
But it's okay don't worry, because he'll be there afterwards to kiss your forehead and teasingly tell you how cute you were for him.
After this, if he's still needy, he will carry you off to a more comfortable place to continue and then finally treat your bite wounds whilst you doze off in his arms.
"Suprise!! Guess who it is? Tch I hate these stupid fatui uniforms...."
CHILDE
He feels very guilty tbh.
Due to this he will try and restrain himself for as long as possible.
Unfortunately this makes him go really rough and a little out of control sometimes due resisting for so long (please forgive him he's trying)
If you wish to avoid this you should find him first,as it's never too hard to predict when he needs you.
He'll be sulking around Zapolyarny Palace but in your presence would be unusually clingy.
Hugs from behind, holding both of your hands whenever he can and you can expect small little kisses EVERYWHERE.
When he eventually does take the chance, he will be kneeling down in an empty hall with his head resting on your chest or shoulder, hugging you tightly and whispering words of comfort to assure you as much as possible whilst sinking his teeth into you .
You better stroke his hair rn.
No matter where you are or whatever you're doing he will take you back to your/his room in the palace and start licking and kissing over every single bite wound.
"I'm sorry! I'm so so sorry!! Just one more bite I promise!! Please..."
SCARAMOUCHE
Now for this guy....
He suppresses his urges for as long as possible.
And no, that's not because he cares about you or anything oh no!
It's because his dumb pride gets the better of him and he sees the act of having to depend on someone else simply embarrassing.
Even when he can no longer hold up his composure anymore.
I'm talking skin pale, puffy red eyebags, flushing red face, snappy attitude (yes more than usual), pointy teeth out etc..
He might only actually only really crack out of jealousy or If you go to him directly and present yourself to him.
both of these situations will end up with you pinned to whatever surface he can reach.
At this point he doesn't care
He's gonna let loose to the point you have to really pull on his hair to stop sucking too much blood out of you
It's painful, the way his sharp fangs are practically carving into your veins (but who are we kidding? U scaranation mfs will like anything when it comea to this man)
When he's finished devouring you, he'll place your arms over his shoulders and drag you back to his room where he will treat your bite wounds in silence.
However if you're lucky enough, you might hear the smallest utter of an apology come from the balladeers lips.
"I'm afraid I couldn't hold myself back any longer....forgive me?"
#scaramouche#dottore#childe#tartaglia#dottore x reader#vampire x reader#childe x reader#scaramouche x reader#genshin impact#genshin x gender neutral reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader
714 notes
·
View notes
Text
BITE ME !
Vampires don't exist, right? What happens when a vampire appears to be the cause of death in your neighborhood? Do you still think they aren't real? Even so, what happens if you fall in love with the vampire responsible for the recent deaths?
status ?
ongoing !! ill post when i get motivated teehee
content !
vam!scara x gn!reader, vampire au, might have some angst !!, royalty au, inspired by enhypens dark blood album; specifically their song bite me, also inspired by their webtoon
posting schedule ?
none ! i literally dont know when my brain turns on my creative juices, i dont control that !!
Taglist ?
@itzblazekun, @alatusorrow, @wanderchive, @akairaindrops, @ash-in-lavender, @kaoriee, @ozzierenato, @valiryyz, @prime-yumi @eunchaeluvr
ask to be added! whether in the comments or in my asks !
a/n !
are you guys even surprised that my first fic is scara LMAO, ill post soon... i think?
CHAPTERS
Bite me !
001# It's you and me
002# In this world
003# tba..
004# tba..
#scaramouche x reader#vampire!scaramouche#wanderer x reader#kunikuzushi x reader#genshin x reader#scaramouche x you#scaramouche x y/n#wanderer x you#wanderer x y/n#kunikuzushi x you#kunikuzushi x y/n#genshin scaramouche#scaramouche genshin#scaramouche genshin impact#scaramouche gi#genshin wanderer#hat guy#scaramouche imagines#royalty au#wanderer genshin#wanderer genshin impact#wanderer gi#genshin impact wanderer#genshin impact scaramouche
113 notes
·
View notes
Text
Vampire AU mmm (last image is separate, just the same AU hehe)
#genshin impact#genshin fanart#genshin art#wanlumi#scaralumi#wanderer#scaramouche#lumine#vampire au#alternate universe
131 notes
·
View notes
Text
bittersweet.
ft. vampire!scaramouche x human!gn!reader.
cw. angst w no happy ending, blood, swearing, character death.
a/n. I don't know where I got this from, but I like people crying over angst, so here you go 🫶🏼
scaramouche's castle was dark dimmed with a warm light from the candles scattered in the halls. but why did it seem so.. off..?
he went out to run some errands, leaving you behind where you would be much safer under his roof. but this smell..
something was burning.
he trusts that you would not be clumsy enough to knock a candle or especially burn something in the kitchen. you were an excellent cook. you wouldn't make such a mistake like that. but it didn't help the sinking feeling in his stomach that was slowly swallowing him up.
his pace going faster, he rushes in opening the door with such force making the door almost fly off its hinges. eyes darting the main hall as everything is thrashed.
the burning smell was coming closer, as his fear creeped up on him as he passed the kitchen.
he sees the ballroom door busted open, as if someone was pushing through.
he hasitly made his way inside and saw his curtains burning and a figure sitting down against the wall it alomst seems as if you were in pain.
"[name]..?"
as he walks closer to the figure, he quickly makes a gust of wind silencing the fire.
he sees you as you tilt your head to his voice. his eyes widening as he sees blood dripping out of your mouth.
ah.. the fire was too strong he couldn't smell it.
he goes down on his knees and cradles your weak body, his right hand caressing your cold face and making his way to slightly open your jacket.
your white dress shirt soaking up your blood in one area. were you stabbed?
"what the fuck happened?"
you couldn't speak at all. it hurts too much. was it because you swallowed too much of your blood or maybe because you were running out of time. but you couldn't just not let him know.
"i don't know how, but they found out.."
stopping your sentence midway to cough,
fuck.
"someone told them there was a beast living in this castle.."
"did those bastards think it was you?"
who was he kidding? of course they thought it was you.he just wanted to spend a little more time with you. even just for a bit more.
"stay with me alright? if you don't, I'll never forgive you."
he was lying. if you died he would never forgive himself.
but it was too late, your eyes were looking somewhere else, dazed.
"shit! don't you fucking dare close your eyes on me!"
his lips came crushing down on yours, kissing you for the last time..
he always liked feeding off your blood, you asked him once why he liked it so much and he simply responded,
"it's sweet."
he lift his face away from you, lips light smudged with blood.
"how bitter.."
|| comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! ||
#{✒️} | writing#vampire! scaramouche#genshin impact imagines#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact angst#genshin impact scaramouche#genshin imagines#genshin x reader#genshin angst#genshin x gender neutral reader#genshin scaramouche#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche x gender neutral reader
216 notes
·
View notes
Text
Event batch 4
a little later than i anticipated, but the next batch is here!! only two batches left 🤗🩵 thank you to all my requesters!! and apologies if i deviated from your original prompt these things really take on a mind of their own when i write 🫡
🩵 Check out my other event requests! 🩵
for Anon || Scaramouche x Reader - Modern AU, urban fantasy, monster hunters (not main characters), rivals to friends (implied potential for more)
for @resident-cryptid || Foul Legacy x Reader - SAGAU, imposter hunt
for Anon || Tighnari x Reader - Canon setting, Tighnari x reader, Life & Death trope, reader is a mortician, mention/discussion of deaths
----- ⚘ -----
Of the Night
You clutch your side as you dart down the nearest alleyway, foot splashing into a murky puddle. You haul yourself up the fire escape with one arm, doing your best to move quickly. Once you reach the roof, it’s just a matter of speed.
You jump from building to building, hoping beyond hope that your pursuers aren’t parkour experts. There’s only one place that you can think of, the only place nobody will look for you. Your chances of survival either way seem slim.
You find the building you’re looking for, sliding as quietly as you can off the roof and onto the tiny balcony you hope belongs to the correct apartment. Keeping your fingers crossed, you knock on the window of the sliding glass door.
There’s a shuffle of movement inside, and then the blackout curtains move to the side just enough to let a blade of light hit the corner of your eye. You squint into the brightness, offering an apologetic smile around your elongated canines.
The door slides open and a pale hand reaches through to grab you, yanking you inside. You stumble over the door track, whimpering as the movement jostles the arm that’s holding your wound.
“What the hell happened to you?” Scaramouche hisses, his nose wrinkling at the stench of wolf blood.
“... Hunters afoot,” is all you can say before you collapse from exhaustion.
---
You awake some time later, probably not all that long, with a thick padding of bandages around your torso. You sit up, ignoring the screaming pain from your injury, to take in your surroundings. The room is dark, hardly any decorations on the wall, and the bed you’re stretched out on is plain and uncomfortable, as if it’s never been used.
Scaramouche sits at the end of the bed, wiping blood from his hands with a wet cloth. You snort, drawing his attention. His eyes are electric in the low light.
“I’m surprised you didn’t sneak a little taste, leech,” you taunt. The vampire’s expression darkens and he throws the soiled rag in your face.
“As if I want to know what dog tastes like. That’s the thanks I get for patching up your clumsy ass, mutt?” he demands, his insult not quite landing with how worried he looks. “How did you even let it get this bad? Why didn’t you, y’know, wolf out or something?”
“You can’t climb fences with paws, dummy,” you tell him, wiggling your thumbs in front of his face. He pushes your hands back down with a look of annoyance, the tip of his fangs peeking out over his lip with the expression.
It’s the city’s favourite public scandal, that senator Ei and her son are creatures of the night. Due to their standing, and some pretty hardworking PR agents, they’ve been working on fixing the reputation of monsters year by year. Despite some of the new anti-discrimination laws in place, nothing will stop a very determined hunter from going after random citizens they decide aren’t human enough.
Beastfolk like Doctor Tighnari, and Ei’s own partner Miko, don’t get nearly the same kind of bad rep as werewolves. People like you are still heavily stereotyped, despite the countless arguments that you all retain your sound mind during the transformation.
That’s why you’re here, in your old highschool rival’s apartment on a full moon night instead of running around in the park like you’d originally planned. Everybody knows of the age-old feud between vampires and werewolves. Plus, it’s been years since you last saw each other, nobody will associate you with him these days. Nobody will think to look for you here.
You look at the curtained window, then at Scaramouche, who’s still sitting on the bed. His back is to you, a little bit broader than he used to be when you kicked his ass at track and field. You don’t resist the urge to extend your hand, shifting your nails just a tiny bit, to touch the sharp angles of his shoulder.
You don’t make it, of course. Little bugger had lighting reflexes in school too, even if you were the faster runner. He turns and grabs your wrist before it even comes close to touching him. With surprising strength, he pulls you close by your arm until your noses are almost touching.
“Paws off,” Scaramouche mocks you, his slit-like pupils barely visible with his narrowed eyes. He gives you a smirk. “Bad doggie.”
You snatch your hand back quickly, growling softly under your breath. You look down and test the bandages, finding them to be holding firmly.
“... So when d’you want me to get out of your hair?” You ask, knowing that you’ve definitely overstayed your welcome by now.
“You can hide here for the rest of the night,” his answer comes, much too quickly to be anything other than impulse. You raise your eyebrow at that, knowing he definitely sees you with his night vision. He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just say you owe me one later, okay?”
You whuff and kick him gently, which earns you a pillow to the face.
Tomorrow morning he’ll make you breakfast, and you’ll probably eat enough to put him out of house and home, and you’ll tell him all about the hunters who chased you down last night, and sometime over the week you’ll hear through the grapevine about some college kids going missing but you won’t think anything of it.
Sometime during the week, you’ll get a text from an unknown number telling you to use the front door next time, and a six digit passcode for an apartment building security system.
But tonight, you let Scaramouche baby you (as much as he denies it) and you fall asleep in his dumb, uncomfortable bed to the sound of him saying you haven’t changed a bit.
----- ⚘ -----
Blood in the Water
You don’t have gold blood, or super strength, or special powers. What you have is the clothes on your back, a pocketful of change for your bus fare, and a dead phone.
And the face of Teyvat’s omnipresent god, apparently. Not that that’s done you any favors since you got here. There’s been an order to bring your head to this Creator person. Preferably on a silver plate. Maybe a spike, if they’re feeling artistic.
That’s how you find yourself being chased by dozens of people who you thought were your favourite videogame characters. You surely regret it now, having upgraded them and kitted them all with best-in-slot weapons and artifacts. You’re not sure you want to test whether or not you’ll revive like the traveler, so you just run.
You’ve accumulated a plethora of wounds, doing your best to keep them clean and wrapped until you can figure out how to get back home. You move only at night, taking care to avoid places you distantly remember being inhabited. You even avoid the monsters, too afraid that they’d cause a ruckus and attract attention.
You find a cave. It’s not much more than a hole between the cliff face and the ground, but it's a shelter at the very least. You tuck yourself into it eagerly, hoping that the unremarkable location will save you from waking up to a knife pointed at your face.
You wish you could say you slept well, but you woke up barely an hour later to the sound of something scraping against the dirt outside. You risk a peek, and immediately shriek and retreat to the back of the cave.
Just outside, trying to dig his way in, is Childe’s Foul Legacy form. You briefly send a thought to whatever powers that be, hoping you can somehow get out of this alive.
The man stops his scratching, face leaning down to peer into your burrow. You can’t see him, but you get the sense that Childe is smiling behind his mask.
“Wakey wakey, little impostor,” he sings, reaching in to claw at the walls of your hideout. “Come on, I wanna play a little before we bring you in!”
Just as he finishes saying that, he gives a strange choked noise and yanks his arm out of the hole, clutching at his head. You don’t question it, taking the opportunity to make a break for it. You hear a frustrated snarl behind you, and the sound of heavy footsteps quickly follows.
You don’t stick around to find out what happened.
You’re not sure which direction you’re going anymore, your sense of direction completely messed up now that you’re seeing Teyvat in person. As a result you’re not paying attention to where you’re going, which is a nice way to say you Wile E Coyote’d yourself straight off a cliff.
You let out an undignified shriek, limbs flailing as you plummet down toward the frothing ocean below. Is it better to drown than to be stabbed, you wonder? You glance over your shoulder and watch in dread as Childe leaps down after you, arms outstretched. You close your eyes, and pray it will be fast.
---
You open your eyes one at a time, mostly surprised you’re still alive to do so. You take quick stock of yourself, and find that you miraculously still have all your limbs and belongings. Next, you look around for-
There he is, sitting on a rock behind you. Childe watches in silence as you check yourself over, which you think is a little bit creepy. You wave hesitantly, offering a wonky smile.
“Your Grace,” a deep, raspy voice emits from Foul Legacy, definitely not Childe’s.
A little stupidly, you look around and behind yourself, before turning back to Foul Legacy and pointing at your own chest. The creature nods.
“We have been waiting.” it rumbles, standing up and walking toward you. It’s much more imposing now that you have a good look at it, and you shrink back instinctively. “Be not afraid, Your Grace. The people of Teyvat are ignorant of your status, but the Dark knows.”
“What… what does that mean?” you squeak as Foul Legacy finally stops in front of you, talons reaching up to gently caress your face. You freeze, unable to will yourself to move when you’re so close to getting your head sliced off.
“You are the true Creator,” Foul Legacy says, surprisingly patient. “It is difficult to tell, as your divine presence is faint, but those who know will recognize it immediately.”
The creature reaches into your pocket with its thumb and forefinger, pulling out your dead phone. It gives the phone to you, so you take it mutely. You watch as Foul Legacy activates Childe’s electro Delusion, tapping the black screen with one claw.
Immediately, your phone blinks to life.
“Woah! That’s useful,” you gasp, unable to help your surprise.
“Your divine focus, Your Grace,” Foul Legacy nods. At its encouragement, you open up the lockscreen.
It loads into the Genshin Impact game immediately, and the first thing you notice is the plethora of new buttons available to you. You look up at Foul Legacy curiously.
“Teyvat is yours to command,” it states, then stiffens and flexes its hands. “I cannot hold him at bay for much longer, this is where I take my leave.”
‘He’ must be Childe, trapped inside the living armor of Foul Legacy. Internally, you wince at how lowkey degrading that must be. You wave as Foul Legacy bounds up the cliff, taking Childe somewhere far away from you.
Once the creature is gone, you open your phone once more and stare at the new UI. Well, you think, might as well give it a shot.
Your thumb presses down on a button.
----- ⚘ -----
Memento Mori
Many people question how Tighnari can stand to be so close to you. He, who’s study in biology brought him into the light, into an affinity with all things life. Meanwhile you, who studied the same Amurta major as he did, delved into the field of sickness and decay and death.
You chuckle and close the icebox, letting the body of a departed grandmother rest before it is her time to be returned to the earth. As one of Sumeru’s few morticians, it’s your job to respect a good death, and to help the family in their time of suffering.
But there is also beauty, and life, in death. You see it every day, when people come to visit their loved ones at their gravesite. There is much love and sadness, yes, but there is blossoming and growth in it as well. They plant bushes and flowers to mark the resting places, and with each new shoot the visitors continue to grow as time passes.
Likewise, Tighnari knows that his job as a forest ranger is not just about preserving life, as much as he tries his best to keep fools on the right path. To preserve life, you must also respect death. The bodies of dead animals will feed their peers for days, and the decomposition of fallen trees will nourish the soil for years to come.
People don’t know how you and Tighnari can coexist so well, and it’s because they don’t realize that the two of you are each other’s perfect mirror. You balance each other out; where Tighnari is strict and hotheaded, you are patient and soothing. When Tighnari laments the decline of a species, you are the one who brings him the skull of their ancestors to show him that these creatures have come a long way and will persist under his care.
When the two of you come home after a long day apart, you share stories and gripes about your daily work, smushed together on your too-small couch and watching over Collei as she studies her letters.
“I had to stop a would-be explorer from wandering into the Withering zone again,” Tighnari sighs, his ear flicking down to brush the top of your head.
“Unfortunate,” you muse. “I’m assuming you succeeded, given you’re in a relatively good mood.”
“Oh, of course,” he waves his hand at the notion. “No thanks to the idiot’s lack of compass, or common sense. How about you? You are terribly lucky you don’t have to suffer fools the same way I do.”
“A grandfather who passed last week was visited today,” you tell him. “His family requested that he be cremated, and have given me a pouch of his late wife’s ashes to send with him on his final journey.”
“That’s very kind of them,” Tighnari replies, the pad of his thumb rubbing over the back of your hand. Despite your love and respect for your job, and how many requests and wishes you fulfilled, there is always a vague sense of melancholy that follows you home.
“His granddaughter will be enrolled in school this year,” you continue, holding his hand in yours. “Her father said she seems to take an interest in her grandfather’s old books. She likes the pictures.”
“The cycle keeps moving,” Tighnari nods. The two of you are distracted as Collei exclaims in joy, leaping up from where she’s sitting on the floor (and isn’t that amazing? She regains a bit of her strength every day) running to you to show you the perfect score she’d gotten from her homework.
Yes, many people question how Tighnari can stand to be so close to you, but who else besides you two can perfectly balance life and death?
#genshin modern au#genshin scaramouche#scaramouche x reader#vampire scaramouche#genshin isekai#genshin sagau#sagau#self aware genshin#genshin self aware au#sagau cult au#sagau impostor au#genshin childe#genshin foul legacy#foul legacy x reader#genshin tighnari#tighnari x reader#seabird.txt#birdy.thanks
123 notes
·
View notes
Note
HOO OK OK
Vampire Scara stalking you, you just think it’s a coincidence you keep bumping into him, at your favorite shop and cafe (scratch that all around town) one day you joke about him “stalking you” and he plays it off giving you his number, what you didn’t expect was for him to be in ur tree that night waiting for you to get home, ya he was stalking you and once you were pinned to your door he got a taste and he needed more of you
Vampire! Scaramouche x fem!reader. Some smut suggested at the end.
a/n: Ngl, when requests are worded like this, it makes me smile. I wasn't sure if you wanted smut or not, but just in case, I put some suggested smut at the end.
At first you thought maybe it was a coincidence. Once at the bookstore, and once at the cafe. That was when you first started seeing Scaramouche. He always watched you at a distance at first, the intensity of his gaze pulling your attention in his direction instantly.
However, he was gone before you could ever take a second look.
The sightings continued, going beyond the definition of what you would call chance encounters. You were positive now that you were seeing him everywhere you went.
Absolutely everywhere.
Not only at the bookstore, and the cafe but at restaurants you liked to eat at, places that you hung out with your best friend, you even saw him a concert you went to.
He seemed to be getting closer and closer to you each time. And to top it all off, you swore you thought you saw him watching you at home up in a tree. The feeling of his gaze was unmistakable.
Fast forward to the here and now.
The person behind the counter was giving you your usual hot chocolate order at the cafe. "Hold on, let me find some change for you," You said, giving him a polite smile.
A credit card was suddenly placed on the counter. "Let me pay for that for you."
There it was. That unmistakable gaze. Slowly, you looked up. There was Scaramouche, standing right there next to you, offering to pay for your drink. "It's you. You know, sometimes I think you are stalking me."
Scaramouche smirked at you, one that sent a tingle up your spine. His eyes suddenly flicked to your neck for a moment. "You think so? I just happen to frequent the same places as you. It's a small world," He replied, taking his eyes off of your neck. "Tell you what, if you think this guy you think is me is still stalking you, give me a call. I'll deal with him."
Taking his receipt from the barista, Scaramouche wrote his phone number on the back, and slid it across the counter to you.
"Thank you, uh, I'm afraid I don't know your name," You admitted sheepishly. You just accused this breathtaking, captivating boy of stalking you without even knowing his name.
"Scaramouche. My name is Scaramouche," He took your cup of hot chocolate and set it down in front of you. "Take care on your way home at night. It's dangerous for someone like yourself to be walking home alone."
You nodded. "I'll be careful. And thank you for the drink. I'll have to treat you to one sometime."
Putting the receipt with his name on in your back pocket, you left and started for home. Scaramouche watched you go, the smirk widening on his face.
Your choice of words were so amusing to him. What a naive, innocent little thing you were. You didn't know just how right you were, and you believed him so easily. You by far his very favorite by far.
And tonight, it was all over for you.
You. Your neck.
They were going to be his tonight. Your blood was no doubt going to taste the sweetest to him.
Scaramouche took the short cut back to your home, and went up into his usual tree, the same one he always watched you from. He could practically hear your blood pumping through your veins in his ears the closer you got.
You walked right passed the tree, missing him entirely. You were so careless to be looking down at your phone while you walked.
That left your back nice and open for him.
You saw Scaramouche's reflection on the screen of your phone behind you. You didn't have any time to react before he was turning you around, pining you against your front door.
"Surprise," He purred, grasping your chin and turning your head, "I can't believe how easily you believed me. Now, about that drink you said you were going to treat me to."
No sooner when your heart started to pound in your chest, he sank his fangs into your neck. You gasped in pain. The want to fight him was fading as quickly as it had come.
Scaramouche biting your neck felt..incredible. The feeling of him sucking, his tongue lapping greedily at your blood, the soft groan of bliss muffled into your neck. All of it felt so good.
He could feel you relaxing under his grip. It added such an intoxicating taste to your blood. They always fought, but not you.
Who knew submission could taste that fucking good?
Scaramouche sucked on your neck for a few moments more before he pulled away, licking his lips. He curled his fingers under your chin, making you look at him. Your eyes looked clouded over, and it made him laugh darkly with glee.
"How about we head inside, hm?" He purred, to which you wordlessly nodded. "There is a vein in the inner thigh that have been dying to try. I'll be sure to bite into it right when you are cumming hard on my fingers. That sounds appealing to you, no?"
Your screams of pleasure were going to sound so sweet while he devoured more than just your blood. It truly was over for you now.
You were all his now. Your blood. Your body.
In every way.
#genshin impact#genshin smut#fem!reader#genshin imagines#scaramouche#scaramouche smut#vampire scaramouche#scaramouche x y/n#scaramouche x you#yandere scaramouche
741 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
7starmovies
7starmoviess
hearts4caimsey
chu does Stuff
aaronsniderus
Tips By Aaron
therandomfandomme
IDK what I’m doing with my life
arxcalledmusic
Keep Your Head Up