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#but now its like. i guess half my followers on twt are stuck with me dabbling in persona for a bit
merakiui · 3 years
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Half-Off Love
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yandere!scaramouche x (gender neutral) reader art credit - kentasha1236 on twt cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, gold-digging, implied yandere!childe note - thank you so much for 600 followers! o(≧∇≦o) I’ll work hard!
It’s strange. There’s no other adjective to describe the situation you’ve found yourself in. 
The ring slides itself onto your steady finger and it’s a miracle your discomfort doesn’t show. Your eyes struggle to meet his, but when they do you’re searching for a reason—for a meaning behind such a generous gift. You’ve witnessed this scene plenty of times before, having scoffed at the couples who decide to take their relationship to the next level. Whether it be in Mondstadt or Liyue, you’ve watched your fair share of angelic proposals. Although this is far from a proposal—at least, you hope it’s not a proposal. You’d feel powerless to decline if Scaramouche put you in such a position, and you’re almost certain he’s aware of this. 
But the main thing—you now realize—that’s holding him back is your status and his relationship with you. It’s nothing special, just mere physical attraction rather than the emotional hindrances that come with real, heart-racing love. There’s nothing wholesome in the way you regard one another; it’s just sex. 
“Do you like it? I made sure to find only the highest quality gemstone for you.”
And yet when he performs this caring charade, it doesn’t feel like loveless copulation. 
Ew, you think, plastering a smile to your face. Since when was Scaramouche so concerned with materialistic signs of affection? He’s far from loving; he’s just pent-up, frustrated from his rigorous job as a Harbinger and so he decides to use you as a means of coping. He almost sounds like Childe with his ineffective flirting methods. You’ve received your fair share of spoils from him as well, and you’ve done everything you could to cull that relationship before it grew out of hand. But now you’re stuck with the lesser side of the coin: another troublesome Fatui Harbinger. 
If you didn’t know any better, you might think to chase after Signora or Dottore next. Maybe you’ll aim for the Tsaritsa Herself if you’re especially daring. After all, your life has been nothing but deceit and faux pleasures; there’s little value to a liar’s life. If the Archons wish for your swift end, you’re positive it’ll be a result of your insatiable greed.
“It’s lovely. The color matches my eyes.”
It doesn’t, but you lie about it anyways. And he looks pleased to hear your approval. 
“Then perhaps I should get you a bracelet as well? Or would you prefer something with a little more use, such as a pocket watch?”
Why don’t you just lock me up with a collar instead? you think bitterly, already keen on pawning the ring off once the initial luster fades. Since you’re so eager to buy these things for me in hopes that I’ll return. It’s annoying.
“This is more than enough. I don’t want you to spend a fortune on me.” There’s a sweet lilt in your voice as your hand cups his cheek, and he leans into your warm touch, starved of the affection like a stray mutt. ”I only need you per our agreement. You do remember what that is, right?”
He’d be caught dead bending to the desires of someone so insignificant, but he just can’t stay away. Not when your every word is intoxicating poison he’ll readily ingest. 
“I’m aware." There’s a sigh in his tone as he pulls away, almost as if he wants to simply sit there and indulge in playful conversation. As if he actually wants to familiarize himself with the real you. But that emotion doesn’t last for long and an irritated expression crawls onto his handsome face as he silently recalls something. 
You’re slipping your silks off with grace, curiously tracking his movements. “You look upset. Was it because of what I said?”
“Of course not. You could never upset me.”
Until you get bored of me.
When you cast your robes aside, reaching for Scaramouche’s elaborate outfit, you murmur, “Let me guess. It was that traveler again, wasn’t it? I’m not sure why you’re so hung up on them.” A whimper leaks into your voice and you fix him with a pout. “I’m sad you’d think of others when I’m right here. Aren’t I the only one you need?”
It’s ironic how quickly that line hooks him, dragging him up from the murkiest depths of love that has skewed into obsession. When you tried it out on Childe, he wasn’t so easily swayed. You find their differences to be invigorating. If the arrangement with Childe was still ongoing, you might’ve considered a threesome, if only to wring more glittering treasures out of the both of them. Mora and jewelry galore, it all goes towards your stockpiled savings. And it’s times like these when you’re lucky to have avoided economic business with the Fatui. Being free of Fatui debt has its perks, a bright miracle in your dark relationships. That’s one less tether to Scaramouche and one less reason to cling to him after you’ve had enough. 
He smirks at your forced envy, easily pushing you backwards onto the plush mattress once he’s fully undressed. For a brief moment, he pictures your pliant body sprawled across an office desk while he pounds into you from behind, putting on a lewd show for his leering underlings. There’s something arousing about your secret relationship that has strange ideas formulating within his head. He entertains a simple scheme, one in which he’d shed light on your connection; however, the other side of him wants to keep your existence for himself, where no one will disturb the two of you in your pleasurable endeavors.
Perhaps you would truly belong to him if he were to expose you for the fraud you really are. Oh, the joy of trapping an unsuspecting rat in a corner, with no way out but into his open arms. You’ll hardly have any semblance of a choice, but he knows you’ll choose the option that guarantees another chance at life.
Scaramouche thinks about that as he revels in soft, tantalizing foreplay. He knows you aren’t as dedicated to this relationship as he is and he’s almost certain you’ve got others waiting for you in different parts of Teyvat. He’s just another plaything you’ve picked up for the fun of it. And in these moments where you surrender to his touch, your back arching with avaricious thoughts, you seem to forget about the power he truly wields. The thought that he could suffocate you in this very bed with his love alone should have you taking precautions to cover your vulnerability, but you only have your eyes set on one thing—not exactly minding the outcome so long as it’s monetarily favorable.
And if playing into your covetous hands ensures your weekly arrival, he’ll gladly empty his pockets of spare change.
You don’t like this new side of him. Lately he’s been treating this as if the two of you are lovers: slow, sensual thrusts accompanied with the sweetest of promises. You’ve never really minded the filth he’d moan in your ear and now you wish he’d resort to that instead. Loveless words spoken through the veil of lust—that’s what you want to hear.  
He envelops you like a smothering fog, fitting himself snugly inside of your tight hole in an embrace that’s oh so familiar. You aren’t used to such gentle treatment and as he kisses along your collarbone you feel yourself going under, having fallen victim to a Harbinger who is normally so cold-hearted. Perhaps he’s more sensitive than you originally thought. Months ago, you wouldn’t have imagined your relationship would grow into something so uncertain, where emotionless love becomes packaged and bogged down with so much feeling.
His lips ghost over yours and there’s a slight pause in his actions. You turn your head to the side, denying his choking affection before it can drag you further into a spiraling abyss of regret. Annoyance swells in his hazy gaze, but he uses your new position to his advantage.
“It’s cute,” he says in a hushed voice, breath tickling your ear, “how you seem to rid yourself of my gifts as soon as they fall into your hands. I wonder where they’ve gone. Into the harbor? Traded off for food and shelter? Do tell me.”
When his grip on your hip tightens to a threatening degree, you resign yourself, opting to hold your tongue as his pace remains brutally slow. Rather than speaking out of line, you raise your hand to his face, and he clasps your wrist in a forceful hold. 
The look in his eyes is far from loving—it’s that same obsessed expression Childe wore. And even if he still searches for you for reasons other than sex, you’re aware there’s no luck where Scaramouche is concerned. You can run from Childe because he’ll allow it—because he adores the chase—but Scaramouche hardly finds delight in a game of cat and mouse. You should’ve expected this. After all, he is just as conniving as the rest, always inventing new ways to track down and eradicate that peculiar traveler. Of course he would know about how you handle his presents when he isn’t looking because there’s no denying the stern gazes that would pierce through your backside whenever you went to the market.
"I’d never throw them out like that...” you mumble through another soft moan, hoping he’ll just pick up the pace and be done with you. “Your gifts are priceless.”
And yet the price for your own love is so hefty. If he weren’t Fatui, it might be enough to throw him into lifelong debt.
“Is that so? You seem to put a price on them whenever you visit the marketplace.” His fingers grip your chin, forcing you into an inescapable eye contact. “If you enjoy putting prices on items that you claim are priceless, you won’t mind if I collect a refund for your dishonesty.”
“A...refund?” 
Your lustful thoughts evaporate once you realize his pace has become horribly slow, his dick stilling and creating an itch of barely noticeable ecstasy. You wiggle your hips to increase the friction, wanting to get yourself off before his words can sour the mood. Though it’s already spoiled when you recognize the carnal victory shining in his twisted smirk. Your unfortunate fate was sealed the moment you welcomed his company with foolish openness, and you’ve been indebted ever since he decided to spoil you with lavish foods and accessories. 
For love that is far from cheap, interest must be paid and your very being makes for the perfect bargain.
It’s weird when he kisses you on your lips rather than on the parts of your body that are normally obscured with delicate cloth. And it’s even weirder when that metaphorical collar binds your throat in a vice. It’s more harrowing than any sort of debt you might’ve garnered and it’s just as inconvenient as his boyish adoration.
Scaramouche doesn’t have to purchase your flimsy, half-off love when it’s already prepackaged and ready for the taking. 
“You heard me. A refund is hardly enough punishment for a lying brat, but it will have to suffice for now.”
For now.
Spurred on by his own insinuating threats, he seeks to bruise your very insides with thrusts that are filled with physical vexation rather than the emotional ministrations from before. And since you’re so accustomed to him, your greedy hole eagerly welcomes him. 
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