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afewproblems · 1 year

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Give me Steve, Eddie, and Robin at a bar on a Friday night.

They've had a few drinks, and a shot or two when a song comes on, and Steve immediately jumps to his feet with an, "Oh shit!!"

It's Madonna's Get Into the Groove and for a moment Robin and Eddie think Steve is in pain, that he hates the song as is going to ask the DJ to change it.

Except Steve waltzes onto the dance floor, right into the center.

There aren't too many others dancing, it's early still, barely nine in the evening but the spot lights are on and the DJ flicks on the multicolor strobe as Steve parks himself on the dance floor.

Robin laughs and wishes she had brought the disposable camera instead of leaving it in her junk drawer at home.

Eddie meanwhile rolls his eyes, and pretends not to notice the tightness of Steve's jeans or how the light catches the flecks of gold in his hair and eyes.

He's been attempting to hide his pathetic little crush for awhile now, complaining to Robin every chance he gets when Steve does something particularly charming or handsome.

She tells him, as sagely as she can muster, to grow a pair and do something about it already.

But how can he, Steve was, well, Steve...lovely caring, hot as hell, Steve.

What chance did Eddie have?

So he sits there, miserable, nursing his beer, letting his eyes trail after Steve while Robin giggles beside him.

They've never seen him dance, it's bar, they're drunk, the worst that could happen is he makes an ass out of himself and they all go home with a great new story to tell the party later.

God Robin really wishes she brought her camera with her.

But then Steve is moving and he's fluid, never missing a beat. It's some kind of choreography, intentional and practiced movements that wouldn't be out of place in a music video. Eddie and Robin look at each other because, what the fuck, where did this come from??

And people are cheering and whooping, strangers scattered here and there sitting off of the dance floor. There's a sense of comradery, like they're all witness to something and being allowed to share and indulge in this little impromptu performance, but all too soon the song is over and Steve heads back to his seat with a small round of applause and a blinding smile pulling at his flushed cheeks.

"Steve, what the fuck was that??" Robin blurts out before Steve can even sit. Eddie nods, a little dazed, beside her and tears at the paper label on his beer bottle, maybe if he can keep his hands occupied he can keep them to himself.

"What was what?" Steve breathes out as he hops onto the stool beside them, Robin in the middle.

Robin's mouth falls open as her face scrunches into something exasperated but fond, "What was--that! The dancing!"

"Oh, that," Steve huffs with a lazy smile, he leans his elbow on the sticky wood bar and waves at the bartender to signal for another gin and tonic, "I used to help Carol with her choreography for cheer".

Eddie pinches his thigh below the bartop and chews the inside of his cheek as the image of Steve in the Hawkins High cheer uniform begins to solidify in his minds eye, fuck.

Robin elbows Eddie without looking, somehow reading his mind, and throws her hands out, beckoning Steve to continue because that isn't nearly enough information.

"Yeah, she'd come up with routines and you know, they are meant to be done with more than one person, and I mean she and I were friends before Tommy so," he shrugs and smiles at the bartender as they pass him the drink, "I dunno, it was fun, and I remember that one the most".

"Plus," he says with a smirk, "Carol always said the best thing about dance is that you can tell who appreciates the performance and who appreciates the person doing it," he winks as Robin scoffs and calls him gross, but Steve isn't looking at Robin.

Eddie swallows as molten heat creeps up his neck and over his ears, the urge to hide his face, run for the door, melt into the floor, is immense.

But Steve doesn't move his gaze, he smiles softly at Eddie and winks again over Robin's head which she promptly drops into her hands.

"I'm surrounded by horny idiots," she grumbles but the words are muffled in the din of the bar and her own hands as Steve tips his head back to the dance floor and holds out his hand for Eddie to take.

#im pretending this song came out in 1981 or 82 when they were still friends #dont come for me #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve x eddie #robin is fed up with all this pining #i 100% want steve and carol to be the childhood besties #tommy came after and he and steve were good friends but maybe tommy is the reason why they stopped being so close #i just like the idea of steve and carol doing fun silly things like this #steve and eddie absolutely go home together after this #they have a short talk and then a long night #and then a longer talk in the morning

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v3lv3tf0x · 7 months

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✧What Beautiful Tears✧ MATURE (i forgot to put that)

Scaramouche x male!OC

Info/Warnings- top OC, bottom Scaramouche, dacryphilia, overstimulation, light bondage, masochist Scaramouche, sadist OC, Scaramouche is a whiny brat, smacking(one time), hair pulling, these mfs kinky, OC isn’t very sane

NSFW under the cut

"I don't cry." Scaramouche scoffed, rolling those purple eyes that Mischa wasn't sure if he hated or loved.

"Everyone cries." Mischa purred, leaning on his sword and batting his eyes at the short Harbinger. "Whether from pain, happiness, grief, or… pleasure…" he grinned.

"Not me. Nothing makes me cry." Scaramouche sneered. Mischa's eyes widened and he sauntered over to Scaramouche with a shit-eating grin.

"I bet I could make you cry." He hummed. Scaramouche glowered at him.

"No, you could not." He snapped, annoyed at the sadistic gleam in Mischa's eyes.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Scaramouche said flatly. Mischa got closer to him, tilting his hat back with one hand and putting his other hand on Scaramouche's waist.

"How 'bout I try and if I can't make you cry, you can do whatever you want to me?" Mischa's lips nearly touched Scaramouche's own. Scaramouche looked away, an infuriated look on his red face.

"No."

"Aww… please?" Mischa begged, giving Scaramouche eyes that reminded him of deer. He glowered at Mischa for nearly five minutes before giving in to the lower-ranked man's gaze.

"Fine." He scowled. Mischa wasted no time in smashing his mouth against Scaramouche's. The Harbinger flinched at the sudden touch but begrudgingly let Mischa kiss him. Suddenly the warrior shoved his tongue into Scaramouche's mouth, turning the kiss sloppy and wet, much to Scaramouche's disgust. Mischa's hand slid down his torso and he began to undress Scaramouche slowly, almost tantalizingly, as he broke their kiss and moved onto Scaramouche's neck. Scaramouche shuddered, a soft moan escaping his lips, as Mischa bit him gently, continuing to undress him until the only thing he had on was that black bodysuit that zipped up in the back. That and his ridiculous hat. Mishca pulled back and took Scaramouche’s hat off and placed it on his desk, earning a hateful glare. He then stepped back and grinned when Scaramouche attempted to follow him.

“I’ll be right back. Sit on the bed. And take that off.” Mischa said, ducking out of the room. Scaramouche rolled his eyes in annoyance, irritated at the fact that Mischa thought he would blindly listen to him with no questions asked. When Mischa came back, he was holding a pretty purple ribbon, but he noticed that Scaramouche hadn’t done what he asked.

“What’s that for?” Scaramouche sneered.

“I thought I asked you to get undressed.” Mischa said in a flat tone. Scaramouche scoffed.

“Why would I listen to you?” He crossed his arms across his chest.

“You said-” Mischa started in a whiny voice, only to be interrupted.

“Don’t whine at me.”

“Still… you’re not listening to me…” Mischa pouted. Scaramouche ignored him and gestured to the ribbon.

“What is that for?” He asked again.

“Just so you don’t get any ideas.” Mischa purred, sauntering over to the blue haired man and reaching behind him with both arms after putting the ribbon in his mouth. Scaramouche froze, thinking it would be some sort of embrace, only to hear his zipper coming undone and feel cold air hit his bare skin. Goosebumps prickled his body as Mischa removed his body suit while Scaramouche simply stood there.

“So bothersome.” Mischa sighed around the ribbon clenched between his teeth as he fully removed the article of clothing. Then he pushed Scaramouche backwards, earning a surprised and angry grunt as he hit the bed.

“Stay still.” Mischa said, knowing full well Scaramouche would not listen. He struggled slightly in Mischa’s grasp as Mischa grabbed wrists and tied them above his head and to the headboard. Scaramouche glowered up at him, trying to pull his arms free. He stopped struggling and let out a very audible gasp when Mischa’s cold hands trailed down his bare torso. Mischa grinned, pressing his palms against Scaramouche’s stomach, splaying his fingers out.

“Cold?” He asked. Scaramouche glared up at him and jerked his hips in an attempt to get Mischa off, only for Mischa to dig his nails into Scaramouche’s stomach.

“The fuck?!” Scaramouche flinched, his cheeks burning red as Mischa leaned down and gently licked up the droplets of blood that had formed. He shivered at the slight sting and pressed his thighs together, gaining Mischa’s attention.

“Oh? You like that?” Mischa giggled. “I figured you were a masochist.” Scaramouche stared at him, his jaw opening and closing a few times before he just looked away. Mischa giggled again and leaned into Scaramouche’s neck, peppering it with kisses and soft bites, listening to the restrained moans and gasps coming from Scaramouche before finding his sweet spot and roughly sinking his teeth into it. Scaramouche let out a yelp, arching his back sharply.

“That-” he started but interrupted himself with another moan when Mischa licked the bite. Mischa continued to bite and lick him all over, planting soft kisses in between. He reached up and pinched one of Scaramouche’s nipples, rolling it harshly between his fingers, making Scaramouche moan and pant. Mischa put his mouth on his other nipple, swirling his tongue around the bud, biting it before removing his hand and mouth from Scaramouche’s chest and pressing a hard kiss against his mouth. Scaramouche was shivering by now, his dick straining painfully in his boxers. He pitifully tried to grind down on Micha’s knee only for Mischa to scooch back. Mischa sat up and gazed condescendingly down at Scaramouche.

“I haven’t even touched you yet and you already looked fucked out.” He mused. “How long has it been since you’ve been fucked good, hmm?” Scaramouche snapped out of his daze enough to curl his lip in disdain.

“None of your business.” He spat. Mischa quirked a brow.

“Oh?” He sneered. “Okay, then.” He yanked off Scaramouche’s boxers and grabbed his dick roughly, jerking him off at a too-fast pace. Scaramouche let out a loud yelp at the sudden stimulation.

“W- wait, that’s too much-!” He stuttered, gripping the sheets as he bucked his hips involuntarily. “I’m gon- gonna-”

“No, you’re not.” Mischa said in a reasonable voice, sliding his thumb over the tip of Scaramouche’s dick. Scaramouche gave a whiny groan at the loss of his high and the inability to relish in his release.

“What… what the fuck…” he panted, glowering angrily down at Mischa, who sat between his legs, still fully clothed.

“You really are a little shit, huh?” Mischa giggled as though nothing had just happened. Scaramouche stared at him in disbelief.

“I am a God-”

“Really? Who knew gods could be so slutty…” Mischa mused with a wry grin. Without warning, he shoved two of his fingers into Scaramouche’s mouth. “Suck.” Scaramouche didn’t do anything for a moment, causing Mischa to practically shove his fingers down his throat.

“I said,” He snapped. “Suck.” Scaramouche gagged and began swirling his tongue on Mischa’s fingers. When Mischa deemed fit, he took his fingers out of Scaramouche’s mouth and hoisted his legs up onto his shoulders.

“What are y-” Mischa pushed a finger into Scaramouche, making the “God” let out a high pitched, drawn out moan. His whole body jolted and tensed at the sudden intrusion.

“Relax or this will hurt… more than I intend for it to.” Mischa sneered. Scaramouche let out a shuddering breath and attempted to relax his body, only for Mischa to curl his finger, drawing another moan from him. Mischa kissed him sloppily, pushing his tongue into Scaramouche’s already-open mouth, muffling the sound. Without warning, a-fucking-gain, he shoved a second finger in and began thrusting them in and out of Scaramouche.

Tears of pain and pleasure pricked at Scaramouche’s eyes, threatening to spill, as Mischa’s fingers brushed his prostate, but he blinked them back, refusing to give into Mischa’s cruel antics. Mischa pushed yet another finger into Scaramouche, his fingers moving at a pace that Scaramouche could barely keep up with. His dick twitched and his moans got louder, letting Mischa know he was close. Mischa swiftly pulled his fingers out and Scaramouche almost let the tears fall. Almost.

“You- you fucker- I-” Scaramouche struggled for words. Mischa leaned forward and kissed his cheek gently.

“You’re not crying yet…” he had the audacity to sound disappointed.

“Let me fucking- just let me cum already.” Scaramouche spat, his voice wobbly.

“You’re so rude.” Mischa teasingly dragged his fingers down Scaramouche’s dick. Scaramouche jerked his hips into the touch.

“I swear-”

“What do you say?” Mischa purred. Scaramouche snarled at him.

“Let me cum.”

“C’mon… you know the magic word.” Mischa rubbed the tip of his dick again and Scaramouche shuddered.

“Please,” he looked away, his face burning with shame as he got over his ego. Micha giggled with glee, taking his pants off as quickly as he could, freeing his almost painful boner, and stroking himself a few times before lifting Scaramouche’s hips up, spitting on his ass, and slamming into him. Scaramouche broke, instantly cumming as tears of relief and pain spilled down his face. At the sight of his tears, Mischa sped up his pace, slamming into Scaramouche’s prostate nearly every time.

“You’re- ahh, you’re so pretty when you cry, Kuni~” Mischa panted, taking one hand off of Scaramouche’s hip and gently brushing the tears off of his face. Scaramouche let out a sob, mixed with a moan, as Mischa used the same hand to jerk him off again.

“Call me that again.” Scaramouche begged, his arms struggling in the ribbon.

“What? Kuni?” Mischa grinned. Scaramouche whimpered, wrapping his legs around Mischa’s waist.

“Please, please.” He whined.

“Kuni, Kuni, Kuni,” Micha said between grunts. “You’re so good, Kuni… so tight…” Scaramouche came again, leaving his thighs weak as his legs dropped from Mischa’s waist.

“Mischa…” he breathed as he felt the latter pull out.

“You finish so fast… it's sad, really.” Mischa said pitifully before looking down and seeing Scaramouche’s relieved expression. “Oh, you didn’t think we were done, did you?” He asked innocently as he reached up and untied Scaramouche’s wrists.

“What?” Scaramouche furrowed his brow. “But… you got what you wanted?” God, he sounded so fucking pitiful, it took all of Mischa’s self control not to slam back into him that second.

“I still haven’t come yet. You just expect me to deal with it myself after pleasing you?” Mischa asked, sounding hurt. Scaramouche whined as his arms were finally allowed to rest at his sides.

“Of course. Why should I care-” Mischa smacked him, not hard, but enough to leave the harbinger stunned into silence.

“You’re already back to being a brat.” Misch sighed in disappointment. “I don’t think you get it, Kuni. I’m going to fuck you until the only thing you can think or say is my name.” Although the words were said with a sugary sweet tone, Scaramouche swallowed hard. He refused to admit it, but the thought turned him on. His body gave him away.

“Oh, you like that idea? Me too, I loved seeing you cry…” Mischa sighed dreamily as he leaned down between Scaramouche's legs and peeked up at him, dragging his tongue up his dick.

"That's not-"

"Hmm? Sanitary? I just had my dick in your ass." Mischa deadpanned. It honestly scared Scaramouche, how quickly Mischa's moods changed.

"You're so lewd…" Scaramouche grumbled. Mischa giggled before wrapping his lips around the tip of Scaramouche's dick. Scaramouche whined from the overstimulation, digging his fingers into the sheets as Mischa continued to take him into his mouth completely, deepthroating him without gagging in the slightest. Scaramouche’s hands flew to his hair and Mischa groaned as his hair was yanked, Scaramouche’s fingers digging into his scalp. The sound sent vibrations along his dick and Scaramouche moaned again, thrusting his hips up and forcing his dick even further down Mischa’s throat. Mischa let his teeth graze the underside of Scaramouche’s dick, making him shudder and pull his hair yet again.

“So fucking… so fucking good…” Scaramouche moaned. Mischa grinned, sucking harder. Scaramouche whined, arching his back.

“I’m close… let me- let me cum-” he panted. Mischa decided to let the Harbinger cum, his jaw was starting to get sore anyways. Scaramouche let out a whiny moan as he came for a third time in Mischa’s mouth, the latter swallowing around his dick. Mischa pulled off of his dick with a lewd pop and looked up at Scaramouche. His face was, his eyes droopy, and his mouth open. Mischa bit his lip and reached up to cup Scaramouche’s face.

“You’re so pretty, Kuni…” he purred, gently caressing his cheek with his thumb. Scaramouche absentmindedly leaned into the touch with a quiet groan.

“Ready for more?”

“Mmm…” Scaramouche responded as Mischa slipped his arms around his back and put him in a sitting position.

“Get on your hands and knees, okay?” Mischa asked sweetly. Scaramouche glared at him, slowly coming back from his high.

“Seriously…?” He snapped. Mischa’s eyes glittered as he nodded.

“You’re gonna feel so good, I promise.” He said. Scaramouche frowned at him before rolling over and getting on his hands and knees. Mischa pulled his shirt off and tossed it on the floor, knowing it would be uncomfortable to have on.

“What are you waiting for?” Scaramouche snapped, looking behind him.

“Relax, I was just taking off my shirt.” Mischa replied, leveling his dick with Scaramouche’s ass.

“Hey! Go slow, I’m sore from-” Scaramouche cut himself off with a loud cry as Mischa blatantly ignored him and slammed into him, immediately hitting his prostate. This new position had Scaramouche seeing stars. Each thrust made his body jolt with pleasure as Mischa bottomed out every time. He dug his fingers into the sheets, the room filled with his moans and Mischa’s grunts.

“Oh, fuck, oh, fuck- Mischa- fuck-” he gasped out between groans.

“I told you.” Thrust. “It’d feel.” Thrust. “Good, Kuni.” Thrust.

“More-” he said, his tone pleading.

“What’s the magic word?” Mischa panted. Scaramouche whined.

“More, please, Mishca-” he begged. Mischa thrusted into his harder and faster, giving him what he had asked so nicely for, and Scaramouche’s arms gave out. His head fell against the pillow, his back bent in a way he didn’t know it could bend, but Mischa didn’t stop. Tears were freely spilling down his face now, overwhelmed with pleasure and overstimulation. Mischa grabbed his hair roughly and yanked him back up so that his chest was pressed against Scaramouche’s back.

“I never said you could lay down, Kuni.” Mischa growled, stopping his movements all together. Scaramouche let out a pitiful half-moan, half-sob noise.

“Don’t stop,” he begged, grinding his ass against Mischa, who just bit his shoulder in response.

“You’re a whiny little bitch, aren’t you?” Mischa snickered, turning Scaramouche’s head so that he could kiss him. In no way was he nice about it, practically shoving his tongue down Scaramouche’s throat, but the latter didn’t seem to mind as he let out another moan. Mischa pulled back, licking his lips.

“Keep going.” Scaramouche begged again, gazing up at Mischa with lust fogged eyes. Mischa grinned. He had broken the 6th Fatui Harbinger, the one nearly everyone feared.

“As you wish, Balladeer.” Mischa purred and let Scaramouche lay back down, his ass in the air. Mischa resumed his thrusts, making Scaramouche keen, the sound music to Mischa’s ears. His hands held Scaramouche still, so tightly that he would probably have bruises tomorrow. Scaramouche’s moans and whines got louder until he came again. Mischa thrusted a few more times before he came as well, and Scaramouche nearly screamed at the feeling. The sheets were soaked now, with drool and cum, but Mischa paid no mind as he shifted Scaramouche to see him. His face was positively fucked out now, his mouth open and drool dripping out, his face red, and his eyes half-lidded.

“Are you finished…?” He half mumbled. Mischa shook his head in mock sympathy.

“You can still form coherent sentences, Kuni. Remember what I promised?”

“Mischa…” Scaramouche whined as he felt himself being moved again. Now, he was on his side, one of his legs thrown over Mischa’s shoulder and Mischa was plowing back into him, causing more tears to spill down his face.

“S’ good, too much, Mischa- ahh-” Scaramouche whined, his nails digging into Mischa’s biceps. Mischa continued to slam into him. His body shuddered and twitched sporadically.

“Too much? You- nng- you’re doing great, Kuni…” Mischa grunts in his ear, kissing away the tears on his cheek.

“M’ gonna-” Scaramouche whined. “Mischa-”

“So… soon?” Mischa panted, thrusting harder. Scaramouche’s eyes crossed as he came harder than he had before, his body jolting against Mischa’s. By now his brain couldn’t make sense of anything other than the feeling of Mischa pounding in and out of him, fucking him into oblivion. Mischa had gotten what he wanted, the only thing Scaramouche could sob was his name, and to Mischa, it was ecstasy. He didn’t stop until he had found his own release again, filling Scaramouche to the brim.

“Fuck…” Mischa panted, slowly pulling out of Scaramouche, who whimpered at the emptiness. Mischa watched as his cum spilled out of Scaramouche, whose thighs trembled and twitched. Mischa leaned over and scooped his cum off the sheets and fingered it back into Scaramouche, who simply whimpered.

“Look at you, such a whore for me…” Mischa said, leaning over and pressing gentle kisses to Scaramouche’s face. “I’m going to get a bath going. Don’t you dare fall asleep.” He got up off the bed and made his way to the bathroom. His bedroom smelled of sex, and it probably would until he aired it out, but he didn’t mind. He got the bath running with warm water and went back to get Scaramouche. He was still laying on the bed but his legs had given out. He slowly looked over to Mischa, who picked him up gently.

“Mischa…” Scaramouche mumbled sleepily. Mischa blinked down at him.

“I’ll clean you up, don’t worry, Kuni.” Mischa said as he set him in the bathtub and turned off the water. He stepped into the bathtub and gently began cleaning Scaramouche, washing him softly with a soapy rag. He washed his hair and rinsed it, making sure not to get soap into his eyes, before Mischa began working on himself. When he was done, he let Scaramouche sit in the water while he dried off and changed the sheets and made the bed. When he made his way back into the bathroom, Scaramouche had fallen asleep.

“Ah… that’s alright.” He muttered, picking Scaramouche up and drying him before putting him in one of his own shirts, which looked like a dress on Scaramouche, and set him in bed. Mischa climbed in next to Scaramouche and brushed his hair out of his face.

“G’night, Kuni.”

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tags: @scara6 @st0pthatsgay

first Scara smut. its been marinating in my google docs for a really long time. lmk if you see any typos <33333

#genshin scaramouche #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #genshin x oc #kunikuzushi #genshin smut #genshin impact #please read the warnings #oc #genshin impact oc #the end is lowkey rushed idk why #dont come for me #actual filth

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