HOMICIPHER

❦ 𝑅𝑒𝑑 𝑅𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 - мя. ѕ¢αяℓєтєℓℓα ❦

—·•𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: ғʟᴜғғ•·—
☁️
Mr. Scarletella x MC

Today had been a particularly grueling day of exploring the apartments. You had given up hope of ever finding the elevator, resigned to your fate of staying here forever. Although, this fact wasn't exactly depressing to you—you'd found companionship with Mr. Scarletella, a being whom you believed was your foe upon your first encounter, but soon discovered is no more than a big flirt who gained an interest in you. You live in the apartments with him, your shared base being the only room in the entire world that never changes locations—you can always find your way back to him.

You sighed as you entered the room, pressing the door shut with a sharp click. Your figure slumped against the door frame, a deep sigh rumbling from your vocals. (Add more here about thoughts)

Your eyes fluttered open when you felt the shaded presence of another standing in front of you—none other than Mr. Scarletella. His vibrant red umbrella shaded the both of you, casting a darkness over your figures that you'd come to find comforting.

"нєℓℓσ," You whisper in his native tongue, feeling his eyes digging into yours despite being unable to actually see them.
"уσυ σкαу?" He asks, his raspy voice caressing your eardrums deliciously.
"уєѕ. мє σкαу." You reply, caressing his arm with your hand before pushing past him, entering deeper into the space you've learned to call home.

"fσσ∂ нєяє. яєα∂у вє вυяи." Mr. Scarletella tells you, glitching out of space and returning next to the table, where a large slab of meat is splayed over the wood, lifeless eyes staring straight ahead in an eerily discomforting manner. There is no word for "cook" in his language, so you both settle for "burn" when talking about cooking the food he quite literally brings to the table. 
"мє вυяи ιи ѕσσи тιмє. мє яєѕт. мє тιяє∂." You tell him, shuffling to the couch to lie down. As your worn, exhausted body prepares to fall against the soft couch cushions, you feel fingertips brushing against your elbows, gently sliding down your forearms. Your eyes flutter closed, now able to truly feel each sensation of this gentle caress as it glides to the top side of your forearms, tracing back up, this time wandering over the toned, yet still soft skin of your biceps. The feel of it lures you deeper into the intoxicating high that you can only find when in the presence of the man behind you, who knew just how to satisfy your physical cravings.

"иσт тяυтнfυℓ. уσυ мσяє fєєℓ. иσт σиℓу тιяє∂." Mr. Scarletella whispers gently, his breath ghosting against your neck as he leans in, his face nuzzling into your neck. You lift your hand and gently ruffle his hair, placing a tender kiss to his head.

"fєєℓ... ємρту. иσт киσω мυ¢н мє иσ мσяє." You say to the best of your ability; his language is hard to communicate in, due to its simplicity by nature. What you meant to say is—you feel empty because you can't remember much of who you were. Much about life, and what it used to be like. It's all a blur to you now. Every day is the same, if you can even tell how much time is truly passing in this world.

Mr. Scarletella's hands slide down your arms once more, this time coming to lightly rest on your hips. He paused there, as if to ask permission to continue before his arms slowly wrapped around your waist, his tall figure having to bend excruciatingly in order to achieve this action. He pulled you in closer, his long fingertips laid out against your skin, one fingertip teasingly slipped beneath the hem of the red sweater he'd provided for you as it got colder around the apartments. His attempt to comfort you was working, reminding you why you didn't choose to leave when you could.

"ѕσмєтιмє ιт ∂ιffι¢υℓт. уσυ ѕтяσиg, уσυ иσ ωσяяу αвσυт ℓιттℓє ρяσвℓєм ℓιкє яємємвєя σℓ∂ ∂αуѕ." He says softly, nuzzling deeper into your neck and beginning to place tender, comforting kisses along the column of your throat, eliciting a pleasurable sigh from your eager lips. "мє тαкє ¢αяє σf уσυ. иσ иєє∂ ωσяяу мσяє, вєαυтιfυℓ." He whispers into your ear, pulling you closer to him and simply hugging you tightly, now comfortable with the sensation. You sigh once more, the calmness he draws from you settling over your anxieties and saving them for another time—another time in which he will calm you down again.

"тнαик уσυ, мя. ѕ¢αяℓєтєℓℓα," You mutter, turning out of his arms to face him. You look up at him, a hand reaching out to touch his grey cheek. He leans in, his red hair falling over his eyes as he basks in the comfort of your hand against his face. "мє ωσяяу мυ¢н. иєє∂..." You pause, unsure of the word you were looking for in his language.

"¢αℓм?" Mr. Scarletella suggests, a hint of amusement in his otherwise expressionless tone. You chuckle a bit before responding with a simple affirmative.

He gently clasps your hand in his, brushing his fingers over the knuckles before guiding you to the couch. He settles you down beside him, pulling you close so that your body presses against his side and your head rests on his chest. "мє ¢αяє αвσυт уσυ. мє ℓσνє. ℓσνє." He murmurs, kissing the top of your head gently. His loving caresses and soft humming lulls you to peaceful slumber, comfortably rested in his protective embrace.

Red Romance End

—☙❦❧—

Beyond ▷

Later that evening, after his touch relaxed your nerves, you went into the kitchen to cook the meat he'd brought home. You began getting everything ready as he cut up the parts of the meat he knew you'd eat (you're a picky eater, as he's come to learn, so he only bothers cutting up what you want and saves the rest for him to eat raw as a snack), settling the slabs of fresh, rinsed meat in a pile on the counter beside you. As he begins to walk away, you grab his hand, a devilish smirk playing across your lips as you pull him in, lips crashing against his. Your hand gently rests on his hip now, as his free hand cups your face to hold you still while the other grips at your hip, firmly yet tenderly tugging you closer to him. His thumb brushes against the front of your pelvis, the proximity to your most sensitive place causing your body to flutter with desire.

His tongue dove into your mouth, exploring its depths as if to suck the life from your radiant, youthful figure before pulling away, reluctantly. "мє ℓιкє уσυ мυ¢н. мє ѕнσω αfтєя ¢σиѕυмє мєαт." Mr. Scarletella mumbles, glitching out of the kitchen and to the table where he sets up the flash cards he made to teach you his language. Your fingertips brush against your lips, a smirk stretching across them as you grudgingly focus back on making your hungry lover dinner.

—☙❦❧—

Shorter chapter than I wanted, but I was determined to get this out to you today so you had an actual story to read! When I get more ideas for less single-focused oneshots, they will be longer. For now, I hope you enjoyed!

[ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ : 𝟙𝟚𝟛𝟛 ᴡᴏʀᴅs]