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scaramouche tried to ignore childe for the most part.
when childe, a desperate college student struggling to find a place to live, first moved in with him, scaramouche wanted nothing more than to ignore him and be ignored right back. he wanted it to be like childe never even existed.
however, childe tried to talk to him. continuously. although scaramouche shut him down every time he tried, either insulting him or flat out ignoring him, it would not get him to shut up. instead, he’d double down, bugging him and poking at him until scaramouche either snapped or left the room.
he would have kicked him out by now if he himself wasn’t desperate for money. unfortunately, monthly rent was expensive, and it was helpful having an extra person to pay— not to mention, childe was really very clean, surprisingly. and also very good at cooking apparently, even more surprisingly. although scaramouche would never eat his food, sometimes the scent would waft through to his room when he cooked.
...but… that’s the only silver lining. he’s infuriating.
“scaramouche,” at this point, scaramouche wasn’t even paying attention to the words on the page, fingers gripping the book so hard it left crinkles in the paper. “scaramouche, hellooo!!” this is fine. if he shuts up now scaramouche can just ignore him and continue reading his now slightly tattered book.
then, a hand came and snatched his book away, and he bristled, looking up at childe in indignation. “hey…! give that back, idiot,” he tried to grab it, but childe held it high above his head.
the second worst thing about childe (the first being his personality) was his height. he was stupidly taller than scaramouche. the shorter got up from the couch he was lounging on and tried to reach for it again, but to no avail. “what is so important that you had to rip me away from my book?” he grumbled with a sigh.
childe’s eyes lit up with surprise and delight. “i’m bored. and also, it’s fun to tease you. you’re cute.”
that was one of the first indicators that childe was a fucking weirdo.
the second indicator was when scaramouche was in the kitchen, trying to find something to eat. he would normally try to avoid being in the same room as childe when possible, but he was kinda really hungry. childe had been working on a meal for an hour or two in the kitchen.
when scaramouche opened the cupboard, childe squeezed behind him, pressing up a little too close to him and reaching over him to grab a few spices. he definitely did not need to press up that close. there was room to just… not do that. “scaramouche, why don’t you eat dinner with me?”
with a huff, scaramouche pushed him away and grabbed a granola bar from the cupboard. “no.” he stated simply— although the food did smell really good. maybe he’d try to find leftovers in the fridge later. childe only laughed.
“why not? we can have a dinner date and everything. maybe at the end, when you’re about to go back to your room, i can kiss you goodbye!” with a short laugh, he snaked a hand around scaramouche’s waist.
feeling anger rise up in his chest, scaramouche shoved him away. he was sure he was joking, but still, what the fuck? face reddening in anger and something else foreign to him, scaramouche turned on his feet and began to tread back to his room. “don’t do that again,” he spat the words out in fury, cheeks pink.
childe hummed but did not reply as he returned to his room.
the third time something strange happened was…
despite him constantly bothering scaramouche, childe never intruded into his room. never knocked unless he needed something, and never barged in, thankfully.
and, because of this, scaramouche had quite a bit of privacy in his room. with privacy comes jerking off.
panting, scaramouche pressed his thumb into the tip of his cock gently, holding back a moan (the walls are thin) as his hand moved up and down. he sobbed into his sheets, desperately trying to get himself off, but… it wasn’t enough. momentarily removing his hands to scramble to grab his lube, scaramouche applied a layer to his fingers, kicking his pants the rest of the way off and onto the ground.
pressing a finger against his hole, scaramouche shuddered. the lube is cold. and then, he eased it in slowly. it did not take long to add another finger, desperate to fuck himself open. scaramouche had to bury his face in his sheets to muffle his noises, chest heaving. scaramouche is really quite loud when he touches himself. unfortunately, he is super sensitive, and he has a hard time keeping his noises in. it wasn’t a problem before childe moved in, but now… fuck, he didn’t wanna think about that idiot right now.
despite that, once he thought about childe, he seemed to get stuck on his mind. childe is… attractive. really attractive. and then scaramouche was thinking about being railed into the bed by him. great. he wanted to force him off his mind, but he could feel himself growing closer and closer by the second even with him on his mind.
childe would grab him by the hips and force his thighs apart, push him into the sheets… he’d bite hickeys up and down his neck and collarbone, fuck him until he cried. whining, scaramouche’s movements became more frantic. he was going to cum.
he wanted childe to fuck him. hold him still and force him to be pliant and submissive, holding him in place so that he couldn’t do anything but take it. “nnh… hhgh, ah, chi—”
the unmistakable noise of his door creaking open.
“...scaramouche…?”
he scrambled to pull his blankets over him, hands ripped away from his body. “wh.... why didn’t you knock?!” scaramouche snapped, entire face red. he was pissed. half because his orgasm had been torn away from him, and half because childe was in his room.
“i did, like a hundred times.” scaramouche’s face burned.
it was silent, and then childe slowly began to creep closer to him. “get out.” he hissed, and childe did not reply— just kept walking closer to him. “get out,” scaramouche repeated, in a slightly less confident voice. when childe sat on his bed and stared at him, scaramouche did not protest, just glared back at him with pink cheeks.
leaning forward, childe murmured to him softly, “i wanna fuck you,” scaramouche’s heart leaped at that, butterflies swirling around in his stomach. maybe it was his newfound crush on childe, or maybe he was this desperate to cum, but…
“...fine.”
in a moment, childe had scaramouche flipped over on his back on the bed, the taller of the two slotted in between his legs. he’s definitely gonna regret this in the morning, but right now, he couldn't bring himself to care. scaramouche’s half hard cock was quickly perking up again. it only took childe seconds to kick off his jeans before he returned to his spot above scaramouche, clearly eager to fuck scaramouche’s brains out.
frowning, scaramouche raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. “why do you think you get to have control here? get on your back, i’ll ride you.” he rolled out of the way so the other would have room, and wordlessly, childe scrambled to get on his back, lips slightly parted as he stared up at scaramouche above him.
scaramouche isn’t a virgin. he’s had sex before, but… well… he’s never been fucked by a cock as big as childe’s was. the two fingers he’d had in him from before would not be enough. after a moment, scaramouche grabbed the bottle of lube laying on his bedside table and applied the slick to his fingers. three fingers, maybe…
pushing a digit into his hole maybe a little too enthusiastically, scaramouche let out a breathy noise. his cock pressed up against his stomach, and he basically had to force himself to not just jerk off right there and then. scaramouche really, really wanted to cum, but… he also wanted to get fucked properly. cumming like that wouldn’t be satisfying at all when he could have something better.
it wasn’t long before scaramouche was easing in a second finger, scissoring and stretching himself open so he would be able to fit in a third. he curled his fingers, eager to find the spot in him that would make him see stars. a stifled moan spilled from his lips as he hit his prostate, and his eyes squeezed shut. warm hands settled on scaramouche’s hips— not quite doing anything, just laying there. he was dully aware of childe’s cock pressed against him.
slumping forward slightly, scaramouche nearly sobbed as he rammed into his prostate again and again, attempting to push in a third finger. it was a tight fit, but eventually a third finger was slowly pushing in. “f-fuck,” he whispered as he was stretched apart, a small whimper making it’s way out of his lips.
scaramouche could hear childe’s heavy breaths below him, and his eyes opened a crack to peer down at him. childe was staring intently at his face, his own cheeks red and flushed. there was a bead of sweat on his forehead.
pulling his fingers out, scaramouche lifted his hips up to position himself above childe’s cock. they were both silent as he slowly lowered himself, the only noise being the small gasp from both of them as contact was made. “fuck, scaramouche,” childe groaned as he sunk down on his cock.
“don’t talk,” the shorter growled out, but there was no bite to it. a moan tumbled from scaramouche’s mouth as he sunk down on childe’s cock. at childe’s silence, he smiled triumphantly. “good boy,” he grinned down at childe, and then, with a burst of confidence, dropped onto childe’s cock fully. a shocked (but delighted) noise came from childe, and an almost sob came from scaramouche. he was so fucking big.
“s-so obedient. do you like being tol...fuck, told what to do?” scaramouche jeered, a smirk dancing on his lips as he fucked himself on childe’s cock. “and don’t touch me,” he slapped childe’s hands away from his hips, huffing as the taller frowned. with a short laugh, scaramouche continued to speak, “normally you’d be so talkative. are you so desperate to fuck me that you’ll listen to me just like that? you’re pathetic.”
“but, well...it’s fine, anyway. i think i like you better like th— hnnhh—?!”
scaramouche was rolled over onto his back, knees swiftly pushed up to his chest to the point where he was basically folded in half. “you talk too much.” was all childe said, cock driving into him cruelly.
“i t-talk too… too, m..muuh… much?!” he managed out, anger rising in his chest. “sl-slow, sl, hhnn, haah, w-wai—” hand fisting into scaramouche’s hair, childe wrenched his head up and spat on his face. scaramouche was too fucked out to recoil— if anything, it just turned him on even more. he sobbed, back arching as childe continued his assault on his insides.
childe barked out a laugh, “not so confident now, huh?” scaramouche shook his head frantically, only to cum pathetically untouched just like that. it’s only been a few minutes— not even. more like a minute. he wailed stupidly as he came, his back arching off the bed.
“you came already? i bet you were just itching to get fucked like this, huh? is that why you were acting like a bitch?” childe growled, and scaramouche could only sob and whine weakly as he was fucked into. hands kept a bruising grip on his hips, holding him completely still so he couldn’t do anything but take it.
a shriek was pulled from scaramouche as childe somehow rammed into him harder, eyes rolling back and drool dribbling down his chin. he tossed his head back, hands scrabbling frantically at childe’s shoulders, leaving little white lines on him. childe lowered his head to bite and suck at scaramouche’s neck, marking up formerly unmarked pale skin.
childe groaned, tightening his hold on scaramouche’s hips. and finally, tears began to form in already wet eyes. they spilled over and rolled down his cheeks, which absolutely overjoyed childe. “you’re crying? fuck, that’s so cute,” he moaned.
a bulge was moving against scaramouche’s stomach. childe let out a low groan at that, and he would’ve squeezed his eyes shut from the pleasure if not for the fact that there was a fucking bulge in scaramouche’s stomach. he was so fucking tiny compared to him. he pressed a hand against the shorter of the two's belly to try to feel it moving, taking care to not slow down his hips in the process.
“you’re so fucking hot, scaramouche,” he growled out, earning a slurred out, broken moan from the other male. “you’re so small, so easy to use however i like. i bet you’d like it if i bent you over and fucked you whenever i wanted, wherever i wanted. you’re too small and weak, you wouldn’t be able to do anything. would you like that?”
he didn’t wait for him to reply, and pushed a digit inside scaramouche’s mouth, pulling his mouth to the side to open it by force— only to spit in his mouth, pulling a spluttered cough from him. scaramouche tried his best to glare up at him, but it was kinda hard to look threatening when he was being fucked like this. his face was flushed a deep pink, his eyes rolled back, and there was a finger pulling his mouth open— yeah, definitely more than just kinda hard to look intimidating looking like this.
experimentally, childe forced the finger down his throat and laughed softly as he felt the shorter gag around him. the bed hit the wall every thrust, and childe was sure the neighbors would be pissed after this. “aahh, nnnh, ah..a-assho..le…hhah, ha-hate you…” scaramouche could somehow form a sentence (not a very good one). this seemed to only amuse childe, judging from the grin on his lips.
“i’m gonna c-cum, gonna fill you up, fuck,” childe groaned, fucking into him more frantically than before, more desperately. his movements became uneven, and finally, his hips stuttered, and he came deep inside of scaramouche. the shorter sobbed, his hand coming up to try to touch himself so he could get off again. childe pushed his hand away, instead wrapping his own hand around scaramouche’s cock. to his enjoyment, childe noticed that his hand was much bigger than scaramouche’s cock.
within seconds, scaramouche’s cum was spurting out and coating childe’s hand. scaramouche’s eyes rolled back, drooling as he came with a long whine. spent, he slumped against the bed, chest heaving as he desperately tried to catch his breath.
“so, did i do a good job? do you wanna go out on that dinner date now?” childe rolled over so he was beside scaramouche and wrapped an arm around his waist to pull him closer. it would've been sweet normally, but... a) childe's actions and words before that were anything but sweet, and b) his cum was currently dribbling out of scaramouche's ass.
still trying to catch his breath, scaramouche huffed. there was going to be bruises on him tomorrow. “don’t talk.”
and that was the third indicator that childe was a fucking weirdo.