Fantasies

To become one is a lustful thought

Scaramouches hand wandered down your waist, sliding down gently, feeling every dip in your skin. "So soft .." He muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. You giggled, you had never seen him so amused by a human being. Was it because it was you ? You didn't know, but you where enjoying your time with him. He lifted both his hands to your muffin tops and squeezed, like they where stress balls, your fat being molded by his hands. You laughed loudly, covering your mouth as you let out silent snorts. Scaramouche smiled gently and sighed at your reaction, he really likes your laughter, more than he likes to admit.

Your chub was so squishy, so soft. So adorable. Like little balloons full of flour, mushy and plush. It felt so nice in his hands, he just kept squeezing over and over again until your skin began turning red due to the pressure. "Ah, that hurts .." You laughed out, gently scooping his hands off your sides and intertwining your fingers with his. You held his hands as you smiled at him with a soft look, one that felt like a pillow, you couldn't help but sink into it. Scaramouche giggled. Somehow all of his giggles sound mischievous in a way, like he was going to pour glue in your cereal or eat all your chocolate and leave the wrappers to let you know they where gone. You couldn't help but be at least a little reeled into it, it's such a silly laugh. His eyes pierced into you, a threatening yet beautiful gaze that could make a mortal fall to their knees and beg, just what he wanted. It was funny, he almost looked like a cat when he smiled, so cunning, never knowing what their next action will be. Will he bite you or will he kiss you ? Only your actions will tell.

"You have such a silly laugh, and a silly smile. Your overall very silly." You mused at him, resting a hand on your chin and slyly smiling. He makes very odd facial expressions. Well, more so how many he makes in a short amount of time. One moment, he would be surprised, the next confused, then he would be angry ! Although, you always think he is the prettiest when he's angry. He's a beautiful piece of work, one only eyes worthy of a gods praise could gaze upon. He's majestic in every-way. Down to the tip of his fingers, he truly is a divine creation. "Hey ! Your talking to the 6th of the Fatui Harbingers right now, you know ! I could have you ruined in an instant and you have the gull to call me silly ? How utterly ridiculous." He pulled his hands away from yours in a jerking motion and crossed his arms like a child throwing a baby fit. Yeah. He was definitely silly.

You rolled your eyes and smiled again, "You know titles don't matter to me." You said as you flicked his forehead. "Gah ! You-" He yelped out, slapping his hands over his forehead in a frenzy, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched. A laugh tore from your throat as you fell back onto the bed, stretching your arms as you let out a low groan. He's very strange when it comes to mood. He's smiling gently with a light pink dusted across his cheeks the first second and then the next second he's wanting to kill you and throw you into a lake.

Scaramouche grumbled, plopping down onto you, laying his face on your chest as you sat back with your arms behind your head. Scaramouche sighed, closing his eyes as he listened to your heartbeat gently. Human hearts. He despised human emotions yet yearned for a heart of his own. He confuses himself most of the time. His mind is so conflicted. It was like 2 sides of the same card trying to pick a color, red or blue. This isn't fair, he shouldn't have to put up with this inner conflict. He's supposed to be superior, better than anyone else. He is better than anyone else ! But then why is he questioning this ? He narrowed his eyebrows as his lip quivered in cold anger, showing a face of distain and annoyance. You quirked an eyebrow and let out a long sigh, lifting your hand slowly to his head.

He was snapped out of his train of thought by the feeling of your loving hand caressing his hair and stroking it softly, filling his mind with cotton. Warm. He feels so warm. Ugh. This isn't how it's supposed to be for him. He always feels cold. But then why does he feels so warm right now ? It's so hot. It's overwhelming. This is so confusing. Your hands are so soft, so sweet, so gentle, like they're made of honey. Burning. He could feel himself start to burn, something tight welling up inside of him. Your touch. He wants to taste it, to know it, to embrace every kind of it. Poking, pitching, holding, punching, every kind of touch he can think of. He inhales shakily, taking in your sweet sent. He wants to recognize it everywhere he goes, he wants to be able to smell you were ever you are. He always finds himself crawling up to you and burying his face in the crook of your neck and softly inhaling, it feels nice to smell you. Comforting even. He could feel himself growing stiff, his face heating up. He just wants to feel you, like how he was feeling your waist earlier. He wants to slither his hands everywhere on your body, he wants to feel your curves and imperfections. He wanted to rip that cute uniform right off of you and see you for your true beauty, not to be covered by a feeble article of clothing. How he despised that clothing for daring to cling to you with such zest, he wanted to burn it for it's crime of hiding your body from him. Oh how you blessed his mind with your naked figure. Imagining it wasn't enough, he wanted to see the real you. Stupid images in his head where pointless if, in the end, he never got to see your milky skin. He mumbled curses, brows furrowing. He gripped the sheets below him tightly, his breath started to grow heavy and shallow. He didn't know how to deal with this !