You stood in front of the mirror, biting your lip as your eyes traced over the parts of your body you didn’t feel entirely comfortable with. A heavy sigh escaped you, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to push away the self-doubt that crept into your mind.

Scaramouche, ever the observant one, stepped into the room quietly. His violet eyes immediately found you, and without a word, he walked up behind you, slipping his arms around your waist. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his breath tickling your neck as he pressed himself close.

“I see what’s going on here,” he said softly, his voice warm and teasing. “You’re doubting yourself again, aren’t you?”

You didn’t answer, just shifted slightly in his hold. He squeezed you tighter, his hands gently roaming over your stomach and sides as if to reassure you. “You know,” he murmured, “I love every part of you. Every little curve, every inch of your skin... It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

His words made your heart flutter, and for a moment, you leaned into his embrace, letting his voice soothe the insecurities in your mind. “I don’t know, Scara…” you mumbled, “It just feels like—”

Before you could finish, he gently nipped at your earlobe, making you gasp. “Mm, don’t even think about saying something like that. If I have to remind you every day how irresistible you are, I will.” His hands slid down a little, fingers tracing patterns on your hips. “Especially when you’re wearing nothing but my hoodie,” he added with a smirk.

You could feel the warmth in his words, the comfort in his teasing. But just as you were starting to feel reassured, he leaned in even closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“And if you still don’t believe me,” he whispered, his tone shifting to something a little more mischievous, “I’ll have to show you exactly what I mean… in the bedroom.”

The heat rose to your cheeks instantly, and you lightly swatted his chest in protest. But his laughter, low and playful, only made your heart race more.