Thread by @fuwasdeadinside

#scaralumi🔞roommates/fwb!AU where scara is a little too in love with his roommate, and lumine is just oblivious.

it doesn’t help that she’s open as a book, and tells him literally... everything.

(i want sex, she grumbles, draped over the couch. i want to be fucked so hard i

can’t walk for days and forget my own name. i want it to be filthy and obscene and have cu—

stop that, scara growls, willing the heat in his cheeks to recede. i have no inclination to listen to your inane prattle now, or ever.

would it kill you to be nice to me every once in a while? she snaps

oh he could be nice to her, he thinks, eyes roving down the column of her neck, the dipping neck of her tank top. those legs, slender and pale, that bruised far too easily.

he could be very nice. he’d run his lips up her calf, kiss the the prominence of her knee, draw a line with his tongue across her inner thighs. maybe indulge himself a little there—sink his teeth into the soft skin, and watch bruises bloom like ink spills. marks that would remind

her of him.

and when she’s finally begging, crying his name, in that sweet, wrecked voice, he’d—

scara? lumine calls out.

scaramouche shudders, his blood boiling within his veins.

fuck you, he snaps, and marches back to his room)

oh to be in love with someone who you think hates you, and to live in the same space as you (you can’t even avoid them.) esp when they take great pleasure in telling you about their exploits in bed, because they know it infuriates you.

(all the while you’re imagining yourself

in bed with them, and you hate yourself for it)

and its stupid that he likes her, stupid that he /wants/ her, and sometimes he just needs to shut her fucking mouth up with his—

(yeah, he’s got it baaaad)

and then one day a package arrives at their place, no name in the address, and scara thinks its one of those silly little care packages the hag and witch insist on sending him.

when he tears the wrap open and finds something else instead, he realises he is very much mistaken.

a sex toy. a fucking sex toy goddamit—

It’s not his, for sure. That means—

fuck.

scaramouche.exe has stopped working

OKAY we knew where this was going but. look.

(for fucks sake keep better track of your cheap shit.

lumine blinks as scara flings a box onto her bed. one second. two seconds. and then she’s screeching as she realises what it is, throwing herself on top like it would erase

that it existed from his memory.

i—just—don’t go through my mail!

there wasn’t a name on it, genius.

then you could have waited for me to come home! and we could have—

i’d still have seen what you waste your money on. can’t believe you pay for that crap, he says

throwing a disgusted look at the bright, purple… thing.

lumine glares at him, clutching the dildo to her chest. her hands are so small they barely wrap around it. and suddenly, he thinks of her hands around his—

he needs to get a hold of himself.

its not a waste of money, lumine retorts. and even if it was, it’s none of your business!

what, is the real thing not doing it for you now? scara leers. can’t come on a man’s dick anymore or something?

lumine doesn’t reply.

wait, you can’t be serious.

still no answer.

have you ever come with a man?

get out, she hisses, and throws him out of her room.)

anyway, manifesting scara finally growing a spine and offering to “help” her, even though he’s “going out of his way” and is just “tired” of hearing her whine

and lumi shouldn’t say yes. for all she finds it amusing when she flusters him, indulging herself by taking his offer—when he’s half the reason sex has been so unsatisfying the past few times she’s tried—would be nothing short of stupid.

(alas, they are both idiots.)