#blaze is so cool and mysterious... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shizuturnspages · 7 months ago

Note

hi!! if ur requests are open can be i have a yandere Xiao and kinich or ororon (I'm so indecisive so uhh choose one u think fit most) with a darling who's not from Teyvat? just say they're from another world and doesn't know how Teyvat works! optional but if u want can u make the darling use another name so they just hide their real names like the traveler? tysm!! love ur writings!

Oh, requests for an outsider darling? Hell yes—throwing a clueless darling into Teyvat is like tossing a spark into dry brush. This is such a fascinating idea. Dw about being indecisive. I'll write for all three.

Xiao: The Haunted Protector

Xiao’s attachment starts as reluctant guardianship. You’re so painfully out of place in Teyvat—every move you make screams, “I don’t belong here,” and it tugs at something deep in him. He’s already burdened by his karmic debt, but the thought of leaving you defenseless in a world you barely understand? Unthinkable.

❥ Overwhelming Vigilance: Xiao’s always nearby, even when you don’t know it. You might think you’re safe exploring Liyue, but every Hilichurl you scare off or trap you narrowly avoid? Yeah, that’s Xiao, silently taking out threats before they reach you. And if you wander somewhere truly dangerous? He’ll materialize in front of you, golden eyes blazing with frustration. “What were you thinking? You don’t belong here—it’s not safe.”

❥ Fixation on Your Name: You’ve introduced yourself with a fake name, and Xiao knows it. He doesn’t ask outright, but he obsesses over the mystery of your true identity. Why are you hiding it? Is it shame? Fear? Whenever he’s alone, he finds himself whispering the name you’ve given him, hoping it’ll somehow unravel your secrets.

❥ Territorial Devotion: Xiao can’t stand seeing you bond with others. It’s not jealousy—it’s fear. What if they manipulate your naivety? What if they steal you away from him? He becomes cold and distant whenever you get close to someone, warning you cryptically about trusting others. “People here will lie to you,” he’ll say, his voice sharp but tinged with worry.

How He Snaps: If you ever try to leave Teyvat, Xiao won’t let you go. He’ll argue, beg, and even threaten to bind you to this world with Adeptus magic. “You don’t understand the dangers out there. You’re safer here—with me.” And when he says “with me,” it’s clear he means forever.

Kinich: The Calculating Schemer

Kinich is not the kind of yandere to burst into a room and immediately start causing a scene. He’s a master manipulator who knows how to play the long game. With Ajaw by his side, he’s even more dangerous. His cool, collected demeanor hides a mind that’s always working, always planning.

❥ Patient Manipulation: Kinich’s patience is his greatest weapon. He’ll let you get used to his presence in your life, slowly drawing you in with his charisma and calculated charm. He’s aware that your trust is the key to getting closer to you, so he’ll wait for that moment when you can’t imagine your life without him. “You’re fascinating. I want to know everything about you… all in good time.”

❥ Ajaw’s Influence: Ajaw is not a typical partner for Kinich. Where Kinich is cool-headed and manipulative, Ajaw is impulsive, fiery, and more than willing to be the muscle to back up his companion’s plans. Kinich has carefully cultivated Ajaw’s loyalty, using the power and strength of the Ajaw to keep others in line. Ajaw, for his part, is drawn to Kinich’s vision and power, willingly carrying out orders that Kinich knows will push you closer into his grasp.

❥ The Steady Hand of Control: In terms of the relationship with you, Kinich knows that the best way to control you is to make you believe you have free will. He’ll approach you with an offer, something that seems like it’s your choice to accept. “I’ve been thinking. Perhaps you should stay close to me for a while… we could work together. I can offer you things no one else can.” It’s never truly a question—he’s just making sure you think it is.

How He Snaps: If he feels like he’s losing you—whether to another person or your desire to leave Teyvat—Kinich’s sunny charm darkens. He’ll corner you, his usual smile replaced by a steely intensity. “You think you can just walk away? From me? You’re mine, [Fake Name]. You always have been.”

Ororon: The Brooding Warrior

Ororon’s attachment to you is rooted in a mix of curiosity and protectiveness. You’re so alien to him, so out of place, and yet you’ve managed to survive in Teyvat. It frustrates and fascinates him in equal measure.

❥ Overbearing Protection: Ororon doesn’t trust anyone—not you, not the people around you, and especially not himself. His way of protecting you is blunt and harsh, often scolding you for your ignorance. “How are you still alive?” he’ll growl after pulling you out of yet another dangerous situation. But his rough words betray his concern.

❥ Guard Dog Behavior: Ororon doesn’t care if you’re stronger than him. He still insists on watching your back, even if it means standing in your shadow while you fend off enemies. And if someone so much as looks at you wrong? He’s ready to fight, glaring daggers at anyone who dares approach.

❥ Fixation on Your Mystery: Your otherworldly origins and fake name are a constant source of frustration for him. He doesn’t pry—he’s not the type—but his eyes narrow whenever you dodge his questions. “You’re hiding something,” he’ll say bluntly, his voice low and gruff. “I don’t care what it is, but don’t think you can fool me.”

How He Snaps: Ororon’s breaking point comes when you try to push him away. His voice rises, uncharacteristically emotional. “You think you can survive without me? You barely understand this world. Don’t be stupid—I’m the only one who can keep you safe.” And in his mind, that’s the truth. You need him, whether you realize it or not.

250 notes · View notes

vitaminseetarot · 1 month ago

Text

Pick a Card Disc: What Mystery Will Be Revealed to You Soon? 🔮🐉🌕

Hey y'all, I'm finally finally back again with you for another pick a card reading! I apologize for the long wait, but I have returned in better shape for tarot. I have a different reading I wanted to post first, but I figured y'all were anxious for the poll reading and tbh I was excited to jump into it as well.

For this nostalgia series, this reading is themed after the Playstation game the Legend of Dragoon, a beautiful little RPG I have recently began to replay. The story features a mysterious Moon That Never Sets, lending to the topic title. The game only lets you play 3 characters at a time (and you always had to have Dart included whyyy), however I felt called to write up 4 piles for this one based on the first 4 characters you play in the game (when the cool powers show up, that's where I'm at in the game rn), and also to represent that the game was split up into 4 separate discs. Thanks for reading!

Please choose your pile:

Disc 1 🔥 Disc 2 🧿 Disc 3 🌙 Disc 4 🍃

Disc 1 🔥

King of Wands, 9 of Wands, Queen of Wands, Page of Coins; Manta Ray, Balance, Spring Equinox - Rebirth, Full Moon Eclipse - Conclusions are within reach

Hey, pile 1! I'm not too surprised to see all this fiery energy blazing in your cards. And starting off with the King of Wands, no less. This is very main protagonist energy, just like Dart. He's so main character that you can't swap him out for anyone else throughout the whole game. He fiercely leads the pack of seven, and I see that your mystery is revealing a similar level of leadership potential in you, even if you don't recognize it now. And just like his Dragoon awakening, this is going to feel like a whole upgrade to your arsenal of skills. Not just the ability to lead a team or a community, but to lead yourself to the finish line. The ninth wand stands glowing between the eight, centered and balanced. Learning more about your capability as an effective and compassionate leader will bring everything else you're working on and trying to do into place.

Another interesting detail is the Manta Ray here, which resembles how the Blue Sea Dragon looks. And water opposes Dart's fire element. This is a card bringing in a vibe like the Page of Cups, a positive and upbeat approach to dealing with normal situations. You may have been stuck on some past thinking, or at times find yourself glued into thinking rather than doing. With the 9 of Wands, you've been holding your guard up for a long season. This mystery is opening you up to take action. The beginning of the game has Dart sitting in the woods after having wandered the world, lost in contemplation, all while havoc is wreaking around him. Pay attention to how you are capable of acting because your courage carries greater impact than you may believe. His call to action is the only way to start playing at all. Keep your focus on your own sword and shield as you begin.

Moreover, Manta Ray suggests staying out of your head and being focused on the present. You may be, like Dart, getting tangled up in the smoky past when something or even someone is calling for you to see them exactly as they are now. Recognize that things can change, people can change. The past doesn't have to look like the future. Spend time with friends who can help you stay grounded in the here and now, friends who respect your quiet leadership while providing a cheerful and encouraging approach to handling serious situations that come up. The Queen of Wands is all about charisma and having great appeal, so stepping into your power and passion will be warmly received by the group you're meant to be with. The right friend circle will acknowledge and uplift, rather than suppress and undermine, your true potential.

You're coming out of a calm period of your life brimming with new vitality. At the same time, with Spring Equinox and Balance, you're also in the stage of revealing that perfect goldilocks zone between lethargy and wrath. That is, either being too stuck in ennui to enact change, or being so infuriated that too much energy gets wasted. The perfect spark in between is like a feeling of being motivated an energized to take on important missions. The spark you've been carrying with you for some time will show itself to you in due time. Page of Coins, the only non-Wands card, wants you to keep your feet steady on the ground as you move ahead. If you don't see your own leadership potential, the spark will ignite on its own soon enough, and when it does, you'll be grounded in the certainty that you are more than capable of being up for the task at hand.

Disc 2 🧿

Page of Cups, XIV Temperance, 2 of Swords, 3 of Coins; Storm, Guidance, Volcano - Volatility, Full Moon in Pisces - Balance spirituality and practicality

Hello, pile 2. It seems that you're used to weathering intense periods in your life. You feel seasoned by experience, regardless of your age. There's the sense that you've "seen it all", wherever this is directed. At home, school, work, friends. By now, it's largely water under a bridge daily. So this mystery being revealed to you is full of playful energy. It's zesty and wanting for life, to grasp it by the horns and experience being instead of the constant pull of doing. There is an emotional vitality that will surprise you, it will feel like being a kid again with something, or loving something like it's for the first time. It may set you off guard even more than the usual humdrum of life's nonsense drama. This could come from falling in love with someone or something, like a little crush. Like the sound of ice cubes cracking as it sinks into warm water, this warmth and fuzziness may come as a little bit of a shock to the system, especially if you've been in an introverted phase.

Rose is a character of solitude: of all the characters in these piles, she is the most mysterious due to her power, backstory, and dearth of knowledge she shares. She is a warrior who has spent a great deal of time working alone after suffering painful defeats that would crush the toughest of souls. She could tell you what a dark shadowwork cycle is really like for her, but you'd rather not witness it. Yet, time after time, she does what needs to get done. I see you're used to putting in the work because it's what's required, but recognize that in all things balance must still be considered. With Temperance and Pisces, have you gotten acclimated to living only on the harsher paths of spirituality in the belief that it would lead to growth? Some patterns serve us for a time while some patterns may only be there to repeat themselves. A more gentle, receptive energy wants to come in and show you a different way.

Part of the work you may do involves guiding and helping others through their own difficulties. From all the ups and downs you've been through in life, your guidance has this casual "been there, done that, bought the t-shirt" approach that feels reliable and grounded. You may be at the tail end of where some are just beginning, and though you may come off intensely, there's something mysteriously trustworthy about your methods and expertise. You may drop information that leads some to wonder, "where did you learn about that?" And sometimes, you don't want to tell them that it was first-hand, but sharing your story will bring you more credibility in the long run. With Three of Coins below Temperance, people will want to respond to you in the same way, through helping you out from their own place. They may offer kindness, humor, and clear advice in return. If you open up to the help and cheer provided, it may foster even more harmony in your relationships rather than feeling perpetually one-sided. Balance acting out of love with receiving out of love, and watch how the Page of Cups naturally springs forth.

In many ways you're used to navigating changes, oftentimes challenging ones, so it's okay to admit that change is hard even when you've become resilient to the bone. So relaxing into calmer waters may take some getting used to. Rainbows come after storms, and I see you're due for a large and beautiful one. The more you're able to lean into your imaginative, hopeful side, the easier the transition to smooth sailing it will be. Talking, laughing, and crying about our pains brings the relief of moving on closer in reach. This change coming for you next is mysterious, but in the sense that it won't be at all like you expected. The next cycle to come through may be one that brings powerful healing and restorative justice to the path you've been on so far. Engaging with your inner child will help you prepare for the next spiritually fulfilling chapter in your life to begin.

Disc 3 🌙

V Hierophant, 10 of Swords, 10 of Cups, 8 of Swords; Breath, Speak Your Dreams, Eagle - Communion, Full Moon in Virgo - You are good enough

Hi pile 3! I can see that your energy is like a breath of fresh air to people who both know and don't know you all that well. To offer a helping hand, stand up for others, and smile through even the darkest moments is to beam like a candle in the night for more than you may know. Maybe you feel as though your casual, kind and good-natured side is the only side they ever see. You're someone who believes in their dreams, or at least hasn't given up on them just yet. And many of the people who clash with that idea may perceive you as naive or even foolish. But little do they see the mystery unveiling for them and for you, pile 3, which will slowly reveal a deeper and wiser part of your personality shining through. Meditation, as an example, may be something you could help others in or will be finding easier to do for yourself as this mystery reveals itself. I also see giving presentations or talks to large groups. You have a wealth of understanding to teach and become a guide with, especially in matters of spirituality and healing.

In the start of the game, we see Shana being taken away and held captive in a prison. Luckily, she doesn't stay for long, but her bold escape makes her a highly wanted fugitive on the run. The light in the Communion card glowls eerily like the moonlight beaming on her head, spotlighting her power. In doing so, it held her bound by something difficult to understand but otherwise highly influenced by it. You've actually been through much more than people around you may realize. It can become a habit not to let those past pains rub against the periods of light conversation and casual silence. So it's easier to put on a façade of being happy-go-lucky rather than show the real three--no, four-dimensionality of your being. A key has unlocked the mask and it's crumbling apart. When that truer side shows, are you able to trust the ones who see it? What side of your personality are you drawn towards showing the most?

Your Moonology card is on the dot: You are good enough exactly as you are! I see a natural and effortless appeal when you're simply being yourself with others, but from a soft and affable perspective. Being kind isn't the same as the toxic positivity version of "niceness"; even the brightest lights cast tall shadows, so integration will bring in relationships that are more authentic and easy. Shana, too, had a strong magnetic draw to everyone around her. Since everyone in the world is different, that interest may look different on some people, some good others bad. But overall being yourself creates more psychic protection than it does vulnerability. I would strongly recommend shielding and protection exercises if you do energy work, and learn to discern and cut ties with those who may be fascinated in you for the wrong reasons. The ones who are meant to stick around will be the ones who accept you for your light and and dark phases.

Shana had to be firm about being on the battlefield, fighting alongside her friends. Many of them were a bit too protective of her, but she stubbornly knew what she was capable of, and in fact was capable of even more. You are free from the perceptions of the world at large; if they can't understand your power, how could they possibly have any final say in who you are? Being soft, feminine, and caring is not just compatible with autonomy, wisdom, strength, and joy, it uplifts those qualities. See how much you can do when you believe in the very dreams and goals you speak out into the universe. Lavitz, her comrade, was quoted saying that through her imprisonment "She grew up. She was alone in a hell like place." You are vastly hardier than you look, like water off a duck's back. You have spirit and luck on your side, whether or not you're aware. And when all's said and done, the people, even the ones who first doubted you, will be inspired by your growth.

Disc 4 🍃

XVIII Moon, 4 of Coins, 10 of Coins, XI Justice; Moon, Open Your Mind, Desert - Vision Quest, Full Moon Taurus - Your dreams need a practical plan

How's it going, pile 4? Your card spread blew my mind at first because your mystery being revealed is, with the moon… [drumroll] … a mystery! Yeah, I know. I understand if that frustrates you a bit. Here's the thing: I flipped over your Untamed oracle for clarification, and I got the Moon card again! What are the odds? So this is something really special, a true surprise for you. Revealing it now will somehow spoil it for you. I sense this because I've had to dance around writing in major spoilers to this pile to provide extra context. Since we have two Coins cards here, I'm suggesting this surprise will be revealed in the area of physical health or finances, possibly even the home. It could also be for something like a project to which you're very dedicated.

Before I started looking at your cards, I remembered Lavitz's greatest character trait, which was his sense of loyalty. He was not only dedicated to his kingdom and king as a knight under oath, but he demonstrated incredible devotion to his friends and teammates, Even when he didn't know the other person for a long time, he forged new bonds quickly and with candor. He was completely and utterly dedicated to his cause and whatever he put his mind to. Interestingly, the Moon oracle card talks about the Moon's loyalty to the Earth through orbiting it. Notice the craters on the moon as it shock absorbs what could have gone towards the Earth? Part of the mystery being revealed has to involve looking at how aligned you feel about your cause. Do you feel it is worth it to take these little dents like losing sleep and peace of mind in order to get by? Are you foregoing your own needs for the sake of helping others out of duty? Without revealing too much, the Moons in this spread, because of the context of the game's story, represent some form of self-destructive behavior that needs to be confronted with and mended.

The Desert seems to show a thirst for self care and inner healing, like a despairing land offering no reprieve from hellish distortion. Kinda like a city he finds himself lost in later in the game. Acknowledge that this is calling your attention to deep and important needs, even if it's a five minute break for a glass of water. Desert also talks about amplification, so caring for yourself will amplify your intentions. You need to take back your positive aspect of loyalty and turn it around for your personal benefit. It's time to refill your cup in whatever part of your life this is affecting most. I see that the harder you try to show your devotion, the harder it will be to see it fully through if you're not taking care of your own end. Especially if you're helping others with things they could be doing themselves. You may be loyal to your job, for example, but one week you may be asked to fill more shifts than you can handle. With the Justice card, the mystery being revealed has to do with you drawing the line somewhere in order to restore your energy and sense of self again.

Open Your Mind suggests taking a step back and seeing outside the scope of your normal duties; who are you when you're not actively going and doing? Where do you feel the pressure to self sacrifice for the happiness of others? Break free from limiting beliefs telling you that you have to always please people. Give yourself the chance to be nourished by what you love. Feed yourself some comfort food, the kind you grew up with at home, the meal you could rely upon when everything else was hard. Surround yourself with familiarity when things become too much. This is the start of finding the balance between caring for one's inner needs while also helping the collective. That's the state of 10 of Coins: having enough for one and all.

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2025, @VitaminseeTarot ™

108 notes · View notes

essycogany · 9 months ago

Text

Radom Sonic Headcanons because I’m bored.

Some may be kind of out there, but here goes nothing.

(Free to steal)

Knuckles and Shadow would randomly meet in unexpected ways and weirdly get along the more they spend time together. They’d be great buds and grow a trustworthy friendship.

Shadow and Knuckles are unfazed by the Babylon Rogues (Mostly Jet) and tends to fight and win against them easily. They’re an unpredictable power house when put together.

Knuckle’s five people he’d trust to watch the master emerald are Amy, Shadow, Vanilla, Espio, and Tails. A few more people could earn their spots on the lists except for Sonic or Rouge. They’re forbidden to be a part of the list for obvious reasons.

Blaze, Espio, Shadow, and Knuckles gets trapped inside a cave and the more magic they use, the more power the cave gains to protect itself. The characters would have to accumulate a stabilized plan and combine their abilities together in order to get out. They’d also have random adventures of their own. Solving mysteries, discovering unknown treasures, and grow more as people the more they hang out.

Rouge and Blaze tries to convince Amy to go on some random heist, but Amy conflicts between having fun and being responsible. Cream eventually convinces her, but the four teens/young adults begs her to stay home. Cream wants to prove herself and become stronger. (But mostly wants to wear super cool outfits with them) Cream would eventually sneak out and follow the girls and they’d have to explain to Vanilla what happened.

If Whisper and Shadow met the first thing she’d ask him is if he was an enemy or a hero. His answer would be, “I am the ultimate life-form.”

Silver and Rouge’s first meeting would be Rouge convincing Silver to steal and Blaze would have to stop Silver from helping her.

When adventures run dry every so often, different characters like Knuckles, Amy, Tails, and others would randomly go on detective missions with the Chaotix (without money help) which would either help them out or stress them out depending on the day.

Silver, Tangled, and Amy’s group in Sonic Hero's would be “Team Bubbles” for no reason other than the three thinking it’s funny.

Shadow and Cream would have picnics every Friday and Cream would give Shadow lessons of the days. She’d be his friend/therapist and he’d randomly pay her a bunch of money. She’d never accept it though and gets on his case about her not needing anything from him, but his friendship. Leading him to pay her anyways. She’d be disappointed but use the money to pay for their meals.

On his free time, Sonic would take long naps that could last 18 hours. Maybe even a week depending how tired he is. When he’s not sleeping, he reads a lot about nature to learn more about plants. He remembers every page number in every book he reads. Also, small random angst, but if Sonic sees a plant dies, his internalizing states are extreme. Everyone around him pretends to not notice for the sake of his sanity. Luckily he manages to grieve properly by playing his guitar or finding new plants to care for.

That’s it! This is all to say it’d be nice to have groups of Sonic characters who’s known each other for a while, just…hang out. Give Sonic a break and let these other amazing characters interact. There’s so many stories to be had with them and I think this franchise could use it.

237 notes · View notes

brunchable · 8 months ago

Text

POV: You're sucked into your Fanfic - Part Two

《 The plot goes off the rails. 》

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Writer!fReader

Themes: Comedy - Chaotic Duo (mainly y/n), breaking 4th wall. Fanfic Bucky meets his writer.

Summary: Y/N, now fully aware she’s in her fanfic, tries to navigate the villain’s role but is terrible at it. Y/N tries to sabotage one of the villain’s main plans but accidentally makes things worse.

A/N: Y/N is just a clown at this point LMAO.

tags: @winterslove1917 @zeeader @iamdedsthingz @hzdhrtss @almosttoopizza

@yiiiikesmish

You’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re in your own fanfic, but now comes the hard part: pretending to be the villain you wrote, a role you’re quickly realizing you’re terrible at.

“I can do this,” you mutter to yourself as you pace around your lair—or, well, the lair you wrote. “I wrote the villain. I know how to be evil... right?”

The words sound hollow even to your own ears, but you try to psych yourself up. After all, you can’t be that bad at playing the character you created... right?

Wrong.

You freeze at a loud thud echoing through the room. Oh no. That’s probably Bucky—or maybe the rest of the Avengers—coming to crash this part of the story. You know what comes next: an epic confrontation, full of dramatic one-liners and battle-ready glares. A perfect opportunity for your villain character to show off her menacing charm.

Only problem? You’re about as menacing as a kitten wearing a cape.

You glance toward the entrance, heart racing. Okay, play it cool, you can pull this off.

But deep down, you’re still reeling from the last time you faced Bucky. You were supposed to be locked in a super high-tech Avengers prison, right? Yeah. That lasted a grand total of two hours, mostly because your minions—and you use the term very loosely—broke you out.

To be fair, you didn’t even know you had minions. You didn’t exactly plan for that when you wrote the story. But, apparently, your villain character does. And when they broke you out, it was less like a well-executed heist and more like a disorganized clown car unloading directly into a high-security facility.

Imagine the worst rescue you can think of. Now multiply it by ten, add three explosions that were definitely not supposed to happen, and you have a vague idea of how badly it went. There were henchmen tripping over each other, one of them got stuck in the ventilation shaft, and another one kept calling you "Supreme Evil Leader," which felt flattering but... also very awkward.

To make matters worse, Bucky—looking all intense and broody, because of course he does—caught up with you right as you were awkwardly sliding into the escape vehicle, and the confrontation? Oh, it was a mess.

You tried to give him a villainous speech about how “this isn’t over,” but it came out more like, “I’m... uh... not done here! Watch out!”

Then one of your minions set off a smoke bomb before anyone was ready, and you tripped over your own feet trying to make a dramatic exit. Classic villain move? Not quite. You barely made it out without face-planting.

So yeah. That’s where you’re at. This is round two, and you’re really hoping to do better this time.

Another thud echoes through the room. You swallow hard.

Okay, no more bumbling. This time, I’m going to deliver the villainous performance of a lifetime.

You scramble to the center of the room and try to remember what your villainous character would say. You did write this scene, after all. It’s just... harder to do it when you’re living it. Especially when you know Bucky is about to walk in, all brooding and muscle-y.

Maybe if I just stand here and look mysterious? That’s evil, right? Just stare into the distance like I’m plotting something dark.

As the door bursts open and Bucky strides in, guns blazing (literally, because of course he’s carrying), you raise a hand, attempting to look menacing. “Aha! Bucky Barnes... we meet again!”

He pauses mid-step, raising an eyebrow. “You’re... dramatic.”

Damn it! Why did I write such terrible dialogue?

You cringe internally, but you push on. “Yes, well... I’m a villain. That’s what we do, right? Be dramatic?”

He’s not buying it. “Is this supposed to scare me?” His tone is flat, his expression unreadable.

You fumble for a comeback. “I—I mean, of course! You should be terrified of my... evil...ness.” You gesture vaguely around the lair, hoping it looks more intimidating than it feels.

Bucky takes another step forward, his metal arm gleaming under the dim lighting. “You don’t seem very sure of yourself.”

Great.

“I’m very sure!” you snap, but even you don’t believe yourself. You can feel your composure slipping. This is not how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to deliver a chilling monologue and strike fear into the heart of your enemies.

Instead, all you can think about is how Bucky’s muscles look even better in person.

Focus! You’re supposed to be evil! Stop mentally cataloging his biceps!

Bucky crosses his arms, clearly waiting for you to say something intimidating, but your brain is short-circuiting.

“Look,” you start, hoping to salvage the situation, “maybe we could just... skip the whole fighting thing? We’re all tired, right? How about we just, I don’t know, chat?”

He blinks, clearly confused. “Chat?”

“Yeah!” you nod enthusiastically, jumping on this new plan. “You know, talk it out. No need for violence. I’m sure we can... negotiate.”

Bucky narrows his eyes. “You’re stalling again.”

“Stalling? Me? No way!” You laugh nervously. “Okay, fine, maybe a little. But in my defense, I wasn’t expecting you to look this... uh, intense.”

He steps closer, clearly not amused. “You’re the worst villain I’ve ever met.”

“How many times are you going to say that?,” you groan, throwing your hands up. “I didn’t ask for this! Well, technically I did because I wrote it, but now that I’m living it, it’s way harder than it seemed when I was typing it up, okay?”

Bucky stares at you, utterly confused, as you ramble. “You wrote what?”

“Never mind,” you mutter, waving him off. “The point is, being evil is exhausting, and I’m not cut out for it.”

Bucky looks at you like you’ve lost your mind—which, honestly, you probably have at this point. You’re clearly not doing a great job of selling the “evil mastermind” role.

“Okay,” you say, standing up straighter, trying one last time to get back into character. “You know what? Let’s forget all that. Let’s just get back on track, okay?”

You strike a dramatic pose, trying to regain some villainous dignity. “Behold, Bucky Barnes, for you will never escape my clutches! Mwahaha—”

Before you can even finish your half-hearted evil laugh, the ground beneath you starts shaking. You freeze.

“Oh no,” you whisper, realizing that you’ve accidentally triggered the next phase of your villain’s grand plan—which you totally forgot about.

The lair begins transforming around you, mechanical arms lowering from the ceiling, hidden weapons emerging from the walls.

What did I even write here? You try to remember, but it’s been too long, and you wrote so many twists and turns into this plot.

Bucky raises an eyebrow as the chaos unfolds. “This part of the plan?”

You wince. “Uh... yes? I mean, obviously.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “You don’t even know what’s happening, do you?”

“Not... exactly,” you admit sheepishly. “It’s been a while since I wrote this, okay? But look, I’m sure it’ll all work out in my favor.”

Just then, a panel on the wall opens up, revealing a countdown timer with large, glowing red numbers. Your heart sinks. Oh no. Not the countdown!

Bucky notices the timer and shoots you a look. “What happens when that hits zero?”

You scratch the back of your neck. “Um, you’re not gonna like this, but... I think it triggers some sort of self-destruct sequence? Maybe. I’m not entirely sure.”

Bucky glares at you. “You think?”

“Look, I was going for high stakes when I wrote it, okay? I didn’t expect to actually be here!” you blurt out, throwing your hands up.

He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re a disaster.”

“I know! But it’s not my fault! Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep your villain persona together when you’re staring at all this?” You gesture to him dramatically, feeling flustered. “You’re like... ripped.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard by your sudden compliment. “Excuse me?”

“I said what I said!” you huff. “You’re ripped, and it’s distracting, okay?”

He shakes his head, still looking at you like you’re crazy. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ve been told that before,” you reply with a grin, trying to distract him while you figure out what to do next. “But seriously, can we stop the countdown? Because I really don’t want to blow up right now.”

Bucky takes a step forward, eyes narrowing. “Then stop playing around and fix this.”

You fumble for the control panel, desperately pressing buttons at random. The countdown speeds up, and you wince.

“Oh no, I think I made it worse.”

Bucky grabs your wrist, yanking you away from the panel. “Stop touching things if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“YOU TOLD ME TO FIX THIS!” you protest, but Bucky’s death glare shuts you up immediately. You shrink back, feeling the weight of his grip on your wrist as he pulls you away from the panel.

“You’re making it worse,” he growls, letting go of you. “Just… stand there and do nothing.”

You cross your arms, pouting. “Not my fault this whole thing’s a dumpster fire. I wrote it, but I didn’t think I’d have to live it.”

Bucky ignores your muttering as he works on the control panel, trying to figure out how to disable the countdown. You watch him for a moment, eyes trailing over his arms as they flex with every movement.

Focus, Y/N. Now’s not the time for ogling. Well… maybe just a little ogling.

"How are you so calm during all this?” you ask, hoping to break the tension—and maybe sneak in a little more flirting. “I mean, you’re literally disarming a self-destruct sequence with those gorgeous, dangerous hands of yours. It’s honestly distracting.”

Bucky doesn’t even look up, but you swear you see a flicker of a smirk. “You’re the one who set this off in the first place. Shouldn’t you be handling it?”

“Look, if you weren’t here being all Captain Broody and Muscles McGee, maybe I could think straight,” you snap back. “I can’t be held responsible for the chaos you create just by standing there.”

He finally glances at you, eyebrow raised. “You’re blaming me?”

“Well, yeah!” you say, gesturing wildly. “I was trying to be a villain, but have you seen yourself? How am I supposed to be evil when you look like you just stepped out of a superhero calendar?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, turning back to the control panel, but you catch a flicker of amusement in his expression. You might be bad at villainy, but at least you’re good at throwing him off.

You lean back against the wall, pretending to be casual as your heart pounds in your chest. “So... once we stop the countdown and we’re not blown to smithereens, what do you say we grab a drink? You know, to celebrate not dying.”

“Do you ever stop talking?” Bucky mutters, still focused on the panel.

“I’ll stop talking when you stop being hot,” you fire back without missing a beat.

Bucky finally stops what he’s doing and looks at you, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Are you flirting with me right now? While we’re about to blow up?”

You give him a sheepish grin. “Hey, if we’re going down, might as well go out swinging. Or... flirting.”

“Unbelievable,” Bucky mutters under his breath before turning back to the countdown. With one final movement, he manages to disable the timer, and the red numbers blink out.

You let out a long breath, slumping in relief. “Okay, so maybe I didn’t entirely screw things up.”

Bucky stands up straight, glaring at you with his arms crossed. “You almost killed us.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t,” you say, flashing him a grin. “So technically, I saved us. You’re welcome.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I prefer ‘charmingly chaotic,’” you reply with a wink. “But sure, impossible works too.”

Bucky shakes his head, clearly exasperated. “You’re lucky you didn’t blow up your own lair.”

“See? Lucky. I’m like a walking good luck charm,” you say, giving him a playful nudge. “So, about that drink—”

“Not happening,” he interrupts, cutting you off.

You sigh dramatically. “You’re no fun.”

Bucky steps closer, leaning in so his face is just inches from yours. For a split second, you think he might actually be considering it. But then he says, “You still owe me for almost killing us. Get moving before I change my mind.”

You blink up at him, trying to ignore how flustered you feel. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be a hero, you’re awfully grumpy.”

“And for someone who’s supposed to be a villain, you’re terrible at it,” he shoots back.

You can’t help but grin. “Fair point. But hey, I never said I was good at being bad. I’m more of a... chaotic neutral.”

Bucky shakes his head again and walks toward the door, clearly done with the conversation. “Let’s go. And try not to trigger another self-destruct sequence.”

Before you can even muster a comeback—probably something sarcastic about how it’s hard to be a villain when you’re distracted by muscles—you suddenly feel a strange tug, like someone’s yanking you backward by an invisible rope.

Your eyes widen. “Wait, what—”

The room starts spinning. One second, you’re staring at Bucky’s very serious, very grumpy face, and the next, it feels like the entire lair is collapsing around you. Everything blurs together in a whirl of colors and lights.

“OH MY GOD, AM I DYING?!” you scream, arms flailing as you try to hold onto something, anything. But there’s nothing. Not even Bucky’s annoyed expression to anchor you.

For a brief, panicked moment, you’re convinced this is it. This is how you go out. Flung into the void for writing bad fanfiction. What a way to go.

Then, with a pop, you land face-first into... your bed.

You blink, completely disoriented. “Wait... what just happened?”

Your laptop sits open beside you, the fanfic document staring you in the face like it’s mocking you. Your head is spinning, your heart racing, and you slowly sit up, still convinced you might be hallucinating.

“No way...” you mutter, glancing around your bedroom, taking in the very non-evil surroundings. The smell of laundry detergent. The sound of traffic outside. Your cat, Felix, staring at you from the corner with a look that clearly says, What the hell was that?

“I’m... back?” You pat yourself down, making sure you’re all in one piece. No villain outfit, no lair, no brooding super-soldiers demanding you fix things. Just... reality.

It hits you like a ton of bricks. “Oh my God, I got kicked out of my own fanfic.”

You collapse backward onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I didn’t even get to redeem myself! Or finish flirting with Bucky! Not that I was doing a good job, but still!”

Felix hops onto the bed and meows at you, completely unimpressed with your current existential crisis.

You groan, pulling the laptop onto your lap and staring at the screen. “Well... I guess this is better than being trapped in my own chaotic, terrible story. But man, I was so close to redeeming myself. Kinda.”

Felix bats at your laptop as if to remind you of your priorities.

“Fine, fine,” you mutter, fingers hovering over the keyboard. “I guess I’ll just... write the rest of the story like a normal person.”

You pause, glancing at Felix. “Do you think Bucky misses me?”

Felix’s blank stare is the only response you get.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you sigh dramatically. “He probably doesn’t even remember me. I didn’t even get to finish my evil monologue.”

You sit up on your bed, still reeling from your sudden ejection from the fanfic world. Your brain is buzzing with one thought: I need to go back.

Sure, your villainous arc had gone off the rails, but you were so close to turning things around. And, let’s be honest, who wouldn’t want to try a redemption arc when it means more time with Bucky?

You rub your temples, staring at your laptop like it holds the secrets of the universe. “Okay, okay... maybe if I just... concentrate hard enough, I can get back in. That’s how it works, right?”

Felix watches you with his usual disapproving stare as you gather all the determination you can muster and lean in toward the laptop screen.

“Come on, just suck me back into the fanfic,” you mutter, inching closer to the screen, squinting at it as if somehow willing yourself back into the story would do the trick. “Please?”

Nothing.

You frown. “Alright, time for desperate measures.”

With a deep breath, you slam your forehead into the laptop screen.

Thud.

“Ow!” you yelp, clutching your head as Felix meows at you like, What is wrong with you?

“That didn’t work,” you mutter, rubbing your forehead. “Okay, let’s try something else.”

You get up, pacing back and forth. “What did I do last time? Maybe if I type something... yeah, that’s it! I’ll just type myself back in!”

You sit back down, hands flying over the keyboard as you try to rewrite yourself back into the fanfic.

“Y/N is sucked back into the story... um... gracefully and... with a cool villain pose!” you type, nodding to yourself. “Yeah, perfect.”

You press enter with a dramatic flourish and then wait.

...

Nothing happens.

You stare at the screen, blinking. “Okay, rude.”

Felix hops up onto the desk, flicking his tail in annoyance as if to say, Even I know this is a terrible plan.

“Oh, shut up,” you grumble at the cat, shaking your head. “Maybe it needs more drama.”

You jump up from your chair and dramatically yell, “I SUMMON THEE, FANFICTION WORLD! BRING ME BACK TO BUCKY!”

Felix stares at you, completely unimpressed.

Still nothing.

“Why is this so hard?” you groan, leaning over your laptop like you’re trying to psychically connect with it. “Come on, take me back! Just throw me back into the chaos! I’ll do better this time, I swear!”

In a fit of frustration, you try slapping the screen. Then gently caressing it. Then hugging the laptop like it’s some magical portal that just needs a little love.

Felix meows again, this time louder, as if to say, Seriously, stop embarrassing yourself.

“Fine!” you huff, letting go of the laptop. “Maybe I need to... I don’t know, meditate my way back in. Channel my inner villain.”

You sit cross-legged on the bed, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. “I am a powerful, misunderstood villainess. Bucky Barnes cannot resist my charm. Take me baaaaack...”

Silence.

Your eyes pop open and you look around. Still in your bedroom. Felix gives you an unimpressed side-eye.

“Ugh!” you groan, throwing yourself backward onto the bed in defeat. “I’m stuck here. Forever.”

Then, out of nowhere, your phone buzzes. You lazily grab it, fully prepared to ignore the world, when you see the time.

Your eyes widen in horror. “Oh no... I’m late for work!”

You leap off the bed, tossing Felix an apologetic look. “Sorry, gotta go! Villainy will have to wait! Please don’t tell anyone how badly this went!”

In your panic, you nearly trip over your slippers as you rush to grab your bag and dash for the door, realizing that while you might have been kicked out of your fanfic, real life is waiting—and it doesn’t care how close you were to a redemption arc.

As you race to get ready, you can’t help but mumble to yourself, “I swear, next time I get sucked into a fanfic, I’m writing myself as the hero... and with a better wake-up plan.”

249 notes · View notes

prettyshinnythings · 4 months ago

Text

The Offering. Chapter 4

Story Idea: What if Sauron had been successful? What if he'd taken all of Middle Earth and obtained everything he ever desired? What if he still desired something more?

Warnings: This chapter is 18 plus. Contains smut, language, and an arranged marriage. There's also some vampire Sauron happening in this chapter so warning!

Chapter is unedited!

Pairings: Sauron x Reader

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4:

I had always dreamed of going to a masquerade ball. I had always been drawn to the allure of the beautiful masked faces that concealed the identities of party goers. The idea of losing yourself behind a mask. It was enticing and electric, a feeling that seemed to hang in the air around me.

The throne room had completely transformed from the day before. The tall cathedral arches in the ceiling of the castle seemed more shadowy in the darkened candle light of the room around me. The chandelier nowhere near as bright as it had been on my wedding day. Candles lit the walls, spaced out just enough to provide the comfort of its flickering flame. It was the first masqaurade ball I had ever gone to, but it was hauntingly beautiful. Gothic, dark, and alluring.

I hold tight to my husbands arm. He walks forward, eyes surveying the room with a cool expression from behind his black leather mask, his eyes blazing with power. A look that was distant and full of authority. He did not want to be viewed as one of the others, no he was far above the people he ruled over and you could see it in how he held himself.

With his back straight, finest black robes, and the crown upon his head, he looked every bit the king that he was.

My dark king.

I find myself looking up at him in awe while he keeps his gaze forward. He knows that I am watching him and I know that he knows because I see the smirk that tugs at the corner of his lip. My husband's court watches us closely, their eyes surveying us in silence. As instructed, I was wearing the red gown my husband had picked out. It was a fitted dess with a sweet heart neckline and off the shoulder sleaves. The dress was fitted along my body until it reached my waist, then it loosened into a flowing gown, befitting a princess. The dress was as red as fresh blood, but beautiful all the same. I wondered if that is why my husband chose it for me.

Eventually I pull my gaze from him and back to the room around us. I could not help but wonder how long it had taken to put together. I momentarily wish that I could thank the ones who did put it together, but I know he would not approve. He would view it as his servants doing their job, nothing more. Not a reason for awe, but a requirement for surviving. Looking out at the sea of courtiers I feel the nerves travel up my back as I notice the salacious sounds emanating from the corners of the room. Secret pockets where lovers made no secret of their sexual encounters. It almost shocked me how open the courtiers are. But then I think of how sinful my king was, the way his dark eyes seemed to darken whenever he looked at me. I think back to this morning when he had taken me in the great hall on the dinning table. He may have sent his courtiers away, but they all knew what we had been gearing up to do. With Sauron as the king of Middle Earth, no sexual urge was judged. As long as he maintained control he cared little for whatever else his court got up to.

I remain silent as he guides me up the stairs that lead to his throne. Each step forward I feel the eyes of the courtiers on us. I was not used to the feeling, but a quick glance over at my husband I realized just how much he relished it. At the top he slowly turns us to face the party goers. Everyone watches with baited breath, the room silent apart from the mysterious lovers finding solace in each other. He takes a seat at his throne, eyes moving from our guests to me. Even through his mask I can see the dangerous expression in his eyes. As he had done this morning, he rests his head back against the golden throne, his eyes moving up and down my body. My breathing hitches the longer we watch each other. As if I meeting him for the first time all over again. His smirk grows, his thumb lightly tracing his ring of power on his left index finger.

"Be a good little dove and sit upon my lap. Let them see their queen in the hands of her king."

My breathing hitches at his words, but I do not make him wait. Instead, I face the court as I sit down on his lap, his chest against my back. The silence that had already fallen over the room seems to grow quieter still. That is until my husband glances past my shoulder, hands lightly tracing over my exposed shoulders.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Start the music."

He barely needs to raise his voice for the command to fall over the room and compliance to be demanded. Instantly, the courtiers and the enslaved elves come to life. The courtiers dancing and the elves beinging to start to serve food and drink. The harp starts first, peaceful notes coming from an unknown part of the room. A man's voice sings over the harp, and it is one of the most beautiful singing voices I have ever heard. But I am not paying a single bit of attention to what the song is saying, or the movement of our party goers, I am too caught up in his hands. The way his fingers trail along my collar bone, sending chills up my spine. His lips are on my neck, just below my earlobe. My eyes flutter closed at the gentle sensation of his lips on my neck.

"My lord..."

I breathe, my heart seeming to beat hard in my chest. He had already fucked me twice today, once with his mouth and once with his cock. But something inside of me told me he was about to try for a third time and I knew that I was not strong enough to not give into him. He would take me as many times as he wanted and I would want it as much as he did.

"... I cannot imagine you crave me again. Surely not this soon."

My words amuse him. He chuckles and begins to suck at the skin of my neck. His tongue marking me as his own, tracing over where he had marked me before. He uses his hands to hold my body in against his, grinding himself against me. His cock hard against my bum.

"I cannot help it my little dove. Especially when you are dressed like this."

He groans the words against my neck, my head tilting back to give him better access to my exposed skin.

"Did you forget that you are the one who dressed me?"

I ask, my hands reaching out to take his in mine. Our fingers intertwining together.

"I know and I have excellent taste."

When he says the word 'taste' I feel his teeth nip at my skin. Like a vampire hungry to devour me whole. The sensation of his teeth on my skin sends a chill up my spine. I know that he can sense how aroused I am and I cannot bring myself to care. He bites a little harder, hard enough to bruise and it feels like perfection. His left hand releases itself from mine and ghosts up my arm before entangling itself in my long hair. He grabs a fair amount of my hair and pulls it to the side, earning more access to my neck. His grip on my hair is firm enough to mold me in the position he wants, but not enough to hurt. It feels good.

"You know, there was a time when Morgoth granted me power over dark creatures. Werewolves and vampires and I could take on those forms. I still can. Would you like me to drink from you little dove? Hmm?"

His words are intoxicating and spellbinding. But he knows my answer without me needing to say a word. He hums in response as I whimper a faint 'yes.'

His lips traces over my neck, lightly grazing before I feel pointed teeth. I know I should be scared, but I trust him. I trust him more than anyone else.

The chill that moves up my spine is all consuming as I feel his teeth sink into my flesh, drinking me in. I cannot stop the way my quiet moans fill the space around us. My eyes open as he drinks from me, looking out to the members of the court who are dancing to the music still playing in the room around me. No one is paying attention to us which makes this moment feel all the more intimate. The longer he drinks from me the more my head feels as if it is spinning, the candle light blurring under my gaze.

Before I want it to end, he pulls his teeth from my body. Swallowing the last few drips before nestling his head into the crook of my neck.

"Only blood can bind (y/n) and you are bound to me in every way."

There is possession in his voice, but I already know he possesses me. He has possessed me since the moment I was presented before him as a choice for a wife. Since the second he touched me.

"I know."

I whisper, trying to catch my breath. I glance over my shoulder to meet his gaze. Through lust blown eyes, he looks at me like I am the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. Without thinking, I guide my lips to his. My blood is sweet on his lips, a taste that is unlike anything else I have ever tasted before. Our lips dance together until we cannot bare another moment without breath, only then does my forehead find his, our bodies desperate to regain control.

He breaks the kiss for a moment, long enough for me to shift in his lap. Moving my body to face his in the throne. My legs on either side of his lap, our eyes locked together. I do not speak as I place my lips against his. A slow tender kiss that causes him to freeze for only a moment before placing his hands on my waist and deepening the kiss. It could be the fact that the kiss was not of carnal desire but of something deeper. Maybe he could sense the love I had for him and it scared him. Perhaps he peered inside my mind and was unsure of whether he wanted me to feel anything but desire for him. But I could not help but feel something more. It was as though we were fated to be together. Our gazes lock in gentle anticipation for whatever is going to happen next.

“Can I ask you for something my king?”

My voice is small when I say the words. My hands move to his mask untying it from behind his head to reveal his handsome face. I set the mask down on the arm rest of his throne before glancing back at him. His face was the most handsome face I had ever laid eyes upon. I knew he could change forms, but this form was the only one I had ever known. It was a form that brought me great comfort. The dark fabric of his robes contrasting with his long blonde hair. He looked like an angel, but I knew he was anything but. Worse yet, I did not care.

“Of course, you may ask me anything little dove.”

He rasps the words as his hands move from my waist, to my own mask covered face. He unties the mask as I had done with him, and sets it on top of his mask on the arm rest. His hands return to their place along my waist, gripping me firmly as he pulls me in against him, our chests touching.

“Would you please take me? Right here on your throne?” I whimper against his lips, my hips jerking against his hardened errection. My voice is braver than I feel, lust in every word. My voice almost a breathy moan. A dark chuckle escapes him as he peers back at me in silent awe. As though he is surprised his once innocent wife could make such a request let alone ask it out loud.

“You wish for me to fuck you out in the open? For all to see?”

His tone is slightly amused when he speaks, but he does not make a jape at my expenses. Instead, he seems to be asking for clarification. As if he is ensuring that I meant what I have requested before he dares to do anything else. I peer up at him wide eyed only thinking of my words for another second before I nod. I do not know if it was the sound of the other lovers moaning and fulfilling their own desires that had made me want to do this, but I knew that he was what I wanted and I did not care about anything else.

“Please, Mairon.”

I beg desperately. Pathetically, but I do not have any shame. I have never desired anyone like this before. He had quickly turned into something all consuming. The mention of his true name causes his eyes to darken a few shades. His jaw tight as his eyes move between my gaze and mouth.

“As you wish my queen.” He rasps, his voice a low growl as he presses his lips to mine. His touch is almost animalistic and needy. His hardened cock seemed to stain against his robes more so much more than it had when I had grinded myself against him moments ago. The heightened tension causing a chill to move up my spine. I deepen the kiss, his left hand moving up the back of my spine until grasping the back of my neck. He grips me tightly, our bodies molding together like two perfectly placed puzzle pieces.

A moan brushes past my lips as I break our kiss, my forehead resting against his while I try to catch my breath. He consumed me, almost like I was breathing him in with every touch and kiss. I gasp as he grinds himself against my sex, through the layers of fabric of my red gown.

“I confess, that no one else will see us like this. I have created an illusion for our guests to see. To them, you are sitting upon my lap and nothing more. I do not want another soul to see you as I do. You are mine and I shall not share you with anyone else.”

He sounds possessive when he says this, but it does not bother me. It excites me. Knowing that he did not want to share me with anyone else, that he wanted to keep my body for him and only him. The thought alone causes my breathing to still, my body frozen in his hands. He uses the stillness as an opportunity to slowly lift the fabric of my dress up along my legs. Stopping only when he’s reached my thighs.

The anticipation building between us is thick enough to cut through while his fingers lightly trace the inside of my thighs. I had not bothered with any undergarments and the moment his fingers dip between my legs I know he is thankful for one less step between him and my needy sex. He lightly traces my clit with his index finger, slowly circling my sensitive bud. The light touch sends a sharp sensation of arousal through me, my stomach turning in delight. I keep my head against his, my lips mere centimeters away from his as I breathe in sharp breaths.

I hear him chuckle darkly as his middle finger dips inside of me. Past my soaked folds, he starts to thrust his finger deep inside of me.

“Fuck.” I whimper as he slowly pumps in and out of me. The swear on my lips causes him to chuckle once more, his other hand still grasping me from the back of the neck. He pulls me back to look at him, a smug smirk tugging at his lips as he watches me closely. He seems to be enamoured by the look on my face as he brought me closer to the edge.

“Are you enjoying yourself sweetling?”

His tone is condensending, his eyes peering down at me with cruel intent. He knows my answer all without needing to read my mind or having me utter a response. I can only whimper as I move my hands to hold onto his shoulders to keep me in place whilst I ride his finger. My eyes locked onto his. He adds another finger inside of me when he decides to torture me further. Knowing full well that he is the one in control.

My eyes flutter closed as I focus on his fingers and the way my walls clench around him as I approach my climax.

“Mairon.”

I murmur in a heated daze as the nerves in my lower stomach begin to build up. But as soon as I feel myself on the verge of spilling over, he stills his actions. The smug look on his face somehow growing when he sees my brow furrow in confusion. His fingers pull out of me slowly leaving me empty in their wake.

“Hold tight to that feeling little one. If you are going to cum, I want to be inside of you…” He pauses, eyes on mine as he gestures for me to stand from his lap. Which I do, my legs shaking slightly as I try to hold onto the building bundle of nerves growing between my legs. I watch him closely as he slowly lifts his robes up his bulge prominent in his trousers. I find myself fixated on the bulge as he slowly pulls his trousers down, his cock free and leaking with precum. His smirk turns cruel as he watches me closely, my fixation turning to hunger.

"Come."

He rasps, head back against his throne as he looks at me carelessly. The command in his voice is soft, but demanding and I know that I cannot wait a moment longer. With as much grace as I can muster I lift the fabric of my dress up so I can straddle his lap once more, allowing the fabric to cascade around us, sheilding our indecent exposure should his illusion fall away. I feel the head of his cock at my entrance, teasingly cautious as he watches me.

"You are so pretty..."

He growls, the head of his cock slowly dipping into me. Deeper and deeper until he is inside of me fully. Once he has filled me to the brim he does not move. He waits for my soaked sex to adjust to him.

"... You look even prettier with my cock inside of you."

I feel my cheeks redden at the words, but he does not allow me the time to be bashful before he begins his slow thrusts inside of me. His hips rolling his cock deeper inside to reach new angles within me. New satisfying parts of my sex that I had not thought possible to reach. My head falls back, my neck exposed to him as he places his lips along my collarbone. I grasp onto him as he starts to bounce me on his cock, each thrust gaining speed as he does this. I feel my brain start to spin at the sensations pulsating through me. Overstimulation threatening to push me over the edge.

However, this overstimulation only worsens when I feel his lips slowly move up from my collar bone to the same spot that he had drank from earlier. Without warning I feel his teeth sink into me once more. The sharp sting sending my body to new heights. I moan shamelessly into the air, my body breathless and wanting. He chuckles against my neck, smug as ever as he drinks from me with ease. Between the sensation of his cock and the bite I am lost in a sea of depravity. I feel my body slowly making its way towards the edge and I do not know how much longer I can hold onto this feeling before I spill over. He knows that I am close, he can feel it in the way that my walls clench around him. In the small sounds of pleasure that escape me without any control.

"That's it little one. Take my cock. Take my cock like a good little wife."

He growls the words once he stops drinking from me, my head as dizzy as it had been when he first drank from me. The sharp sting of his lips leaving my flesh allows me to focus on his cock. He is rougher now that he is chasing his own high with mine. I feel him twitch inside of me, not yet spilling his seed inside of me, but getting pretty damn close to. He seems to read my mind as I feel myself getting to a point of no return. Unable to not hold back a moment longer.

"Cum, my darling wife. Cum all over your king's cock."

Permission is all that I need to unravel before him. His thrusts quicken as he feels me soak his cock until he is as deep inside of me as he can be. Deciding then would be the perfect moment to thrust his seed into me. I gasp at the sensation of his release mixing with my own, his thrusts slowing with each twitch of his release until he is still once more. I lay my head against his as my breathing struggles to regain normalcy. His as uneven as my own when he pulls out of me.

We do not speak as we collect ourselves. Even with me in his lap, he is able to pull his trousers back up, concealing him once again. The silence that had fallen between the both of us is comfortable, my eyes peering into his once more. I do not know what to say now and I can tell that he pitties my awkwardness.

"Dance with me."

He whispers, his voice is gentle as he brushes some of my hair out of my face, tucking a strand behind my ear. He sounds so sweet when he says the words, so sweet that I cannot deny him, even if dancing was not something I was necessarily good at. His smile grows when the thought enters my mind.

"You do not have to dance perfectly (y/n). All will bow before you regardless of your skill."

I do not know what it is about the way he says the words, but it causes a lump to form in my throat. I had never known a kindness like his towards me. My own family had never been this kind, mainly because this arrangement had been all they cared about. They had taught me to be the perfect, submissive wife, worthy of our dark king. They did not care for how I felt, only that I would be agreeable to him. The perfect offering. His brows furrow at the tears that form in my eyes. Momentary confusion for what had upset me so.

"Little dove, do not cry. They can no longer hurt you."

He speaks with caution before pulling me up off of his lap, so we can stand face to face. We adjust our clothing, his trousers concealing him once more and my dress falling back to the ground, our audience none-the-wiser. I swallow the lump, the discomfort unable to wash away as quickly as I would have liked. But then again, what kind of pain could be swept away so carelessly? But I do my best as he leads me to the stairs, slowly with his hand entwined with my own. I follow him silently and note the way his hand brings me comfort as it guides me forward. I glance around the room and see the courtiers watching as we join them on the dance floor. Whatever illusion he had created earlier must have fallen away when he and I stood from his throne. My breathing hitches when he turns to face me, his eyes encouraging whilst he takes one hand and places it on my waist. He uses his other hand to grasp my own.

"Follow my lead (y/n)."

He murmurs for only me to hear, his lips brushing my forehead before he gives me a light kiss. The music that had been playing his entire time seems to fade into the background while he moves into a waltz, one that I follow. He starts off slowly for me, but quickens when he sees that I have managed to keep up with him. Dancing with him makes my heart skip a beat, it feels like we were always meant to move together like this. Two pieces of a puzzle that were destined for one another. I do not know how long we dance, but one tune turns into another, and then into another. All the while I am having more fun than I could have ever imagined. At one point he spins me around and when he does I spot the smiling faces of his courtiers, kneeling before me as he had promised me they would. But that is not the sight that causes my stomach to turn uncomfortably, it is the figure tucked into the corner of the room. An elf man without the collar his enslaved elves wore. The elf is unfamiliar to me, but the weapon he holds in his grasp is not. I know that he is holding a spear and from the look on his face, I can see that my husband is his intended target. But my husband is too wrapped up in me to notice the intruder. I try to speak but no sound falls from my lips as the elf lifts the spear and aims for us. He throws the spear forward, faster than I wanted, but I had enough time to push my husband out of the way. So I do, I push him away from me and ignore the brief look of confusion that flashes over his face as he falls back onto the ground, missing the spear completely.

I however, do not miss the spear.

Instead, I am impailed from behind straight through the chest, directly above my heart. The room falls silent the moment the blade pierces my skin. When the weight of what has happened sinks in.

My body trembles as I look down at my husband, a tear escaping me. I point in the direction of the elf who was standing in his same position frozen to the spot. Shock on his face that I had been hit... That I had pushed Sauron the destroyer out of the way... That I would sacrifice myself for such an evil being. My husband's eyes shoot over to the elf, his gaze turning to pure rage. His eyes seem to blaze as he starts shouting for his guards to capture the elf. Followed by his demands for the nurse maids to help. He stands to hold me as my knees begin to shake, my vision blurring. The blade was infused with something vile and though I did not know what it was, I could feel it in my veins.

"Why did you do that?"

He rasps, holding me to him. I feel him reach around to pull the spear out of me, the weapon falling to the floor before he makes it disappear completely. He puts pressure on the wound, our eyes locking together. I am weak and losing consciousness, but I manage to whisper out one more sentence before I am engulfed in darkness. Passed out into an unfamiliar kind of exhaustion.

"Because I love you."

#annatar #annatar x reader #charlie vickers #halbrand smut #halbrand x reader #sauron x reader #the rings of power #halbrand #trop #sauron

81 notes · View notes

autumnslance · 26 days ago

Text

Reminded of my hypothesis that Roegadyn men, at least in canon, need time to cook. They just aren't worth much until past age 40, or even beyond. Anyone younger is often depicted in game as a buffoon, a reckless hothead - or worse, a villain. Sometimes due to upbringing and ignorance (Grynewaht) or because they enjoy being evil (Doesmaga).

Unfortunately, I've seen this affect players of Roegadyn men. I remember one of the rare times I went to a roleplay event a Roe gentleman showed up and immediately several of the other characters, mostly male player characters themselves, got in his face, posturing and pulling tough guy acts, when he had barely done so much as say hello. We spoke a little, and ran into each other at some events, and once I ran into him and he had fantasia'd to Elezen. He had gotten so tired of being bullied and harassed and assumptions made of his character, used to try to prop up how tough guy cool some mi'qote felt, just because he was a Roe man.

Really sucked (and contributed to my growing disinterest, among other things, to stay out of the RP scene, especially on Dark Autumn, and stick to fanfic, blogging, and activities with close friends only).

Anyroad. The older Roegadyn men we meet in story tend to be solid. Eynzahr is probably the first example that comes to mind, an old pirate who is Totally Not Mistbeard and gave that life up to support Merlwyb and her vision for Limsa Lominsa's future. He's steady, thoughtful, and tempered by decades of experience. Ketenramm (aka Tankwa) follows along those lines.

A renowned adventurer missing for decades, Ketenramm is famous for discovering a way past the Shades Triangle to reach Tural (not Hingashi as he thought) when he was, per the most recent lore, not even 20 years old yet. Merlwyb later made her name discovering the safe southern route to Tuliyollal, but the way was blazed by young Ketenramm, who found more adventure in Tural alongside Gulool Ja Ja and company. Together they changed that realm.

Now, elderly but still more than fit enough to fight, Ketenramm wants to complete one last mystery, one last voyage. He doesn't have to sell this idea too hard to the Warrior of Light; they're cut from the same cloth as adventurous explorers.

But Ketenramm is so very experienced and competent. He is eager for that thrill of discovery - but never reckless or stupid about it. He uses his knowledge and experience several times just in the introduction to the Occult Crescent as the Phantom Village and other intro areas are explored.

And he relies on his crew. He keeps in mind his original shipmates that got past the Triangle with him. A granddaughter of one of those men is on this voyage. Ketenramm is quick to rely on the team's expertise and advice. Everyone has their role, and he manages them as any good commander should.

It's a good reminder and nice representation, when so often Roe men are reduced to clownish thugs, the butt of jokes due to their size. Unless they're middle-aged.

So hold tight, ladies. Like a fine wine, Roe men just have to be allowed to get it out of their system and age properly to be as swoon-worthy as ol' Blue Eyes.

#final fantasy xiv #dawntrail #occult crescent #ketenramm #roegadyn #meta analysis

61 notes · View notes

0omillo0 · 9 months ago

Note

i’ve really been into vampire chan recently. hehe. and i’ve also really been loving your writing. 🩷 do you think you could try out some vampire stuff? if you don’t want to write it for chan, i’d be fine with any member. (but yk he’s my fave)

or if you don’t want to write this at all, that’s fine too. i’ll read anything you post :)

🩷🩷🩷

VAMP! BANGCHAN X FEM! READER

a/n: thank you so much for your request!! I hope you like it 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

genre: fluff and a bit angsty

One night, you and your boyfriend Chan are sitting on the couch. The air is thick and you ask him what’s wrong…

The soft hum of the night hung in the air as you sat on Chan’s couch, a blanket draped over your legs. His apartment was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of wind brushing against the windows. The dim light from a single lamp cast a golden hue across the room, flickering gently as though it, too, sensed the tension in the air.

You glanced at Chan, who sat at the far end of the couch, his posture stiff and eyes avoiding yours. His hand rested close to his knee, fingers tapping absently against the fabric. He looked distant, like he was a thousand miles away even though he was right there, just an arm’s reach from you.

“Chan…” you began softly, your voice cutting through the silence. “Is everything okay?”

He flinched, just barely, but enough for you to notice. His hand stilled, and he looked down at the floor, shadows hiding his expression. For a long moment, he didn’t respond, the weight of unspoken words thick in the air between you.

You shifted closer, reaching out to him, but he subtly pulled back, just out of your reach. The sudden distance stung more than you expected. He was always careful, always keeping you just far enough away when the night deepened, but this… this felt like something else. Something worse.

“I’m fine,” he finally murmured, but his voice was hollow. The words felt forced, like they weren’t for your comfort, but for his own.

The soft glow of twilight faded outside, the last remnants of the sun sinking below the horizon. You noticed how, as the darkness took hold, Chan seemed to grow more withdrawn, his shoulders hunching slightly, his jaw tight.

You frowned, your heart aching with the need to understand what was happening. “You’re not,” you whispered, more to yourself than him. “You’re not fine, and I wish you’d just tell me what’s going on.”

He tensed at your words, his breath catching for a moment before he let it out in a slow, measured exhale. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and for the briefest moment, you thought you saw something strange—something dark, like a storm building behind his gaze.

You’d always known there was something Chan wasn’t telling you. Something important, something that lingered in the way he carefully constructed his life around you. The late nights, the way he disappeared when the moon rose high, the way his touch always felt cool, even when the summer heat blazed.

But you loved him. You loved him so deeply that the mystery of him felt like a secret you were willing to wait for, no matter how long it took for him to trust you enough to share it.

Tonight, though… tonight it felt different. The air was thick with unspoken tension, the kind that made your skin prickle with anticipation, or maybe it was fear. You didn’t know anymore. All you knew was that the man sitting in front of you was pulling away, and you couldn’t bear it.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you said, your voice wavering slightly as you looked at him. “I can’t sit here and pretend that everything’s okay when I feel like I’m losing you.”

Chan’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with something close to panic. For a second, his entire body went rigid, like he was caught between the instinct to flee and the need to stay and explain everything.

“Y/N…” His voice was soft, like he was pleading with you, but for what, you didn’t know.

You swallowed hard, feeling your chest tighten as you searched his face for answers he wasn’t giving. “Just tell me the truth,” you whispered, stepping closer, your hands trembling slightly. “What are you so scared of?”

He looked at you, and this time, he didn’t look away. His eyes… they shimmered with something foreign, something otherworldly. The low light flickered in his irises, and you gasped softly when you saw it—his eyes, once so warm and brown, now glowing a deep, almost crimson red. It was subtle at first, like the flicker of dying embers, but the longer you stared, the more intense it became. The red pulsed through his gaze, sharp and luminous, like fire burning through his soul.

Your breath caught in your throat, heart racing as your mind scrambled to understand what you were seeing. His eyes. They weren’t human. They weren’t… normal.

And then it all clicked. The nights he disappeared. The strange distance he kept. His cold skin, even on the warmest of days.

“Chan…” Your voice was barely a whisper as the realization crashed over you, a wave of disbelief and fear washing through your veins. “What… what are you?”

He flinched, guilt flashing in his eyes, the red hue dimming but never fully fading. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his entire frame trembling with the weight of the secret he had held for so long.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this,” he said, his voice ragged and broken. “I never wanted you to see me like this.”

You stumbled back a step, the air in the room growing colder, heavier. The words wouldn’t come, your throat dry, your chest tightening with the weight of the truth unraveling before you.

“I’m a vampire,” he confessed, the words falling from his lips with a sharp finality. His eyes, still glowing faintly red, bore into yours with a depth of sorrow that broke your heart.

Your mind reeled, trying to process what you were hearing, but all you could do was stare at him, at this person you thought you knew. The man you loved… wasn’t human.

“I’ve been hiding it,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to scare you. I didn’t want you to look at me like I’m a monster.”

You felt dizzy, the room spinning around you, but when you met his gaze again, something in you steadied. Despite the shock, despite the impossible truth he had just told you, there was one thing you couldn’t ignore—the look in his eyes. The fear. The pain. He was terrified of losing you.

“Are you scared?” he asked softly, his voice cracking as if he was holding his breath, waiting for you to run. “Please… tell me if you’re scared.”

The air felt thick in your lungs, but you took a deep breath, willing your heartbeat to calm. You looked at him—really looked at him—and saw the man you had come to love. The one who had stayed by your side through everything. The one who had always put your safety before his own desires.

“No,” you whispered, your voice stronger than you expected. “I’m not scared.”

Chan blinked, clearly not expecting your response. “Y/N…”

You stepped forward, closing the distance between you, your hand reaching for his. His skin was cold, even colder now, but you didn’t flinch. You held onto him like you were anchoring him to the earth.

“You’re not a monster,” you whispered, your gaze softening as you looked into his eyes, into those red, burning irises that once would have terrified you. “You’re still you, Chan. And nothing about this changes how I feel.”

He stared at you, disbelief and relief battling in his expression. His lips parted, but no words came. He was trembling, like he couldn’t comprehend your acceptance, like he was afraid this moment would shatter into a nightmare.

“I love you,” you said, the words spilling from your heart, raw and honest. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

A tear slipped down his cheek, and he pulled you into his arms, holding you with a desperation that made your heart ache. You could feel him shaking, his cold body pressed against yours, but in that moment, you knew one thing for certain.

You weren’t afraid.

“I thought I’d lose you,” he whispered into your hair, his voice breaking. “I thought… I’d lose everything.”

You held him tighter, your hand gently stroking his back. “You’ll never lose me.”

In the quiet of the night, as the shadows enveloped you both, the truth lay bare between you. And even though everything had changed, the love you felt for him burned brighter than ever, unshakable and eternal.

#bangchan x you #bangchan x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids #skz x reader #skz #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #bang chan #bangchan fluff

163 notes · View notes

theuberadventurer · 2 months ago

Text

Looks to me like this is setting up some interesting team-ups for future issues. Wonder how they'll go!

Sonic and the Chaotix are off to solve the Clutch mystery. According to issue #77 previews (and the issue being out now), that'll mean going to White Park! These four don't get to have a lot of stories together, so I welcome this team-up.

Blaze looks very cool standing on the wing like that, and her grouping up with Tails and Amy will be sweet.

Belle isn't part of a team here unless Motobud counts, but I like his new recolour and the carriage! Very adorable and amusing.

It looks like Lanolin and Jewel have already gotten started on their Emeraldville project. Do they have a ship name I can assume this might start fueling?

I'll be making a longer post about this issue, almost like a review of sorts, once I can gather my thoughts on it a little better. Don't expect it to happen today.

For now, I have to work up the motivation to read issue #77.

#uber reads #idw sonic #sonic idw #sonic the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog (character)#vector the crocodile #espio the chameleon #charmy bee #blaze the cat #miles tails prower #tails the fox #amy rose #belle the tinkerer #motobud #lanolin the sheep #jewel the beetle

56 notes · View notes

goodmorgan · 10 months ago

Text

Perfect Strangers

Chapter 8: A Reward to Forfeit

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

Series Summary: When a stranger appears at your homestead to steal from you, you set out to help him instead. What follows is a reckless relationship with potentially dangerous outcomes.

Previous Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7)

Chapter Summary: Arthur returns after your learned an unexpected truth.

Word Count: 3.6K

Tags: 18+. MDNI. NSFW. Smut, Porn With Plot, Mutual Pining, Angst, Infidelity, Oral Sex (m! and f! receiving), 69, Caring and Protective Arthur Morgan, Mentions of Domestic Violence and Death

Taglist: @how-the-heck-would-i-know @pinkiec6-rubi @spiritcatcherxo @slumberr67 @nervousmumbling @themoonalienhere2000 @cwbylikeyou @mieriella @chxxrliie @lunawolfclaw @tinaaaa5747 (i can't seem to tag everyone, i'm so sorry)

AO3 Link

The moon is incandescent tonight. Blazing like you've never seen it, not even in the plains of New Hanover. It's warm and inviting and leaves no place in the dark. You put out the only lamp in your room to witness its magnificent beauty, its powerful shadow coming through the swaying curtains.

The breeze is inviting and the night is refreshing, a salve after the hot day that just passed. As you stand by the window, you remove your housecoat and let it fall to the floor, the coolness hitting your warm skin. The feeling is magical, addictive, and you immediately remove your nightgown, a chill running through your most delicate parts. For a moment you bathe, fully naked, on what the moon and the breeze offer you, the perfect respite after such a heavy day. You focus on the physical sensations that envelop you if only to forget the emotional ones.

After some time, you feel the ache in your legs from the movements of the day. You sit on the edge of the bed closest to the window, close enough to still feel the draft. The moonlight still shines on your skin. All you have to do now is wait. The house is finally quiet. Your lover will be here soon.

And so will the outlaw.

It didn't take you by surprise to learn of his dealings with the law. Mysterious and effusive, always scuttling away from your house and from your bed to head to same place not too distant, but never clear enough of where it is. Doubts kept lingering on your mind about his abrupt comings and goings, his dirty bloody clothes, his bruised calloused hands, his smell of gunpowder and danger. But those doubts were never enough to overpower your senses, drunk on kisses and touches you had never conceived, blinded by lust and exhilaration only he could give. The cunning outlaw, desperately clinging to you for release and passion, headed east to escape from the law, only to find himself ensnared by you.

But how can someone so passionate and caring be so dangerous? How can someone so elusive be the refuge you’ve been hiding in?

The wanted poster would seem like the ultimate betrayal to anyone else. A secret so vile no relationship could survive, not even a secretive one. Your heart should be screaming to evade the scoundrel. But no man could deliver his soul to a stranger, to you, and be ruthlessly devious. Of that you were sure of.

Your plan for now was to wait for his arrival. In the nude, as promised. Bare, as you've been to each other since you've met. Besides, who are you to contest a hidden secret? Just a few hours ago, you kissed your husband with his spend still in your mouth.

You’ve made sure the door is locked this time and you've placed the key on the vanity, making sure no one manages to enter. As you put it down, you realized you might just be locking yourself in a room with one of the most dangerous criminals in the country. Full lunacy under a full moon.

You barely hear him until his hands reach your window, climbing gracefully despite the strain. His boots are dirty and dust disperses when he lands on his feet. He’s physique takes up a large part of the window, towered only by the draped curtains. His face is barely lit as he faces you, replacing the moon’s glow with his own. He smiles fully as he sees your naked body, a man thankful to get what he asked for.

And then you realize he’s not the dangerous outlaw on the poster. He’s your Arthur. Nothing more.

“You sure know how to make a fella feel welcomed, missy." He kneels by you, his face becoming clear in the moonlight, his smile widening as he meets yours. "Prettiest thing I've seen in Saint Denis."

You stare at each other for a few seconds, wondering which one is about to start your usual greeting of a fervent long kiss. But Arthur surprises you, and instead, he places a soft kiss on your cheek, his lips warm on your cooled skin. His eyes are as kind as you remember them, and his demeanor is as soft as his embrace. Whoever drew the wanted poster didn't love him like you do.

But you can't take it anymore. "Arthur, would you ever…" His brow flexes in patience. "… hurt me?"

Arthur's pause is short. "Now why in the hell you asking that, sweetheart?" You must look serious enough that he continues. "Darling, that's the last thing I would do in this world." His hands rest on your hips perfectly, urging you to believe him. "Why are you asking such a thing?"

"There's bad men out there, Arthur." You brush the fabric on his shoulder, afraid of opening a door you can't close. "I've… seen things."

"What did you see, darling?"

"There was a woman on the street today. She got robbed right in broad daylight." You hesitate for a moment before you're brave enough to say it. "They said the man was a fugitive. An outlaw."

Arthur's breath is heavy but you're unsure if it's the word that bothers him. "I'm sorry you had to see that, sweetheart. That must have been scary." His thumbs brush the side of your leg in comfort.

"Yeah. Well, they caught him. Thank heavens."

"That's good." He kisses your temple and lingers before the question pops into his mind. "Why are you asking if I would hurt you, darling?"

"Well." You don't want to tell him you saw his face at the police station under any circumstance. "I know men can…" You try not to stumble too much. "Hurt women… a lot worse." Arthur's eyes are wide as he stares at you. "Some who-"

"Has someone hurt you?" he almost whispers.

"No," you interject, dispelling the thought from his mind. It never really happened with you, although you've heard plenty of horror stories from the women in your life. It was never physical, anyway. Your husband always managed to harm you with his words and deeds, never with his hands. Sometimes you wonder if it would hurt less that way. "I just… Seeing that man. I got scared, I guess."

As you look into his eyes, in the clutch of his hands, you're no longer scared that Arthur's really the beast they hung on the wall at the station. Instead, you're scared that they'll hang Arthur on the gallows, you're feet on the ground as they lower him and your only proof of love into damnation.

The idea is so hurtful, you feel tears forming in your eyes, your heart shrinking in its place. You bury your face in his shoulder, quick enough so he won't see the sorrow on your face. He catches your body in his arms, quick to steady you on him, his feet adjusting to hold the full weight of your naked body.

"It's ok, sweetheart, I've got you." You feel one of his hands patting the back of your head, and he holds you like he always does, as if in possession of life's preciousness, something of his own. "No need to be scared now." You try hard to contain the sobs in your chest, but it's too late as they're pushed against his own. "It's ok, missy." He holds you tighter as if trying to swaddle your worries away. "It's ok, darling."

You don't cry for too long but it's enough to dampen the shirt underneath you. You feel warm as he envelops you in his touch. You somehow rest fully on one of his knees as he holds you up from the floor, scared of dropping you. His breath is steady as he waits patiently for your distress to subside. A new kiss on your temple is enough to lift your head from his clutch, and the light of his eyes returns to illuminate the darkness in you, as gentle as ever.

No outlaw looking at you, no. Just a love that will outlast.

Arthur keeps holding you tight and before you know it he places you down on the bed, the softness of the bed linen cool against your skin, your head heavy against the pillows, finally serene, as you watch him undress his shirt, his boots, his belt, his trousers. He joins you on the bed, his hands reaching for yours so he places small kisses on them. He makes sure you're calm and attentive before he even says a word.

"Wanna know why I came to see you? All the way out here?" He tightens his fingers around yours, your arms bending as he inches closer. "You're the only one who's ever taken care of me like you have." A peck on the cheek softly before he exhales, his face in full view. "Sweetheart, I'd protect you if it's the last thing I do in this world. Cause you're the first one I've met that makes me feel like I might belong in it."

You're frozen in place as he bears himself to you, his face as serious as you've seen it. You're dumbstruck by his words, suddenly floating as he sits next to you, his strong arm rubbing your shoulder, his hands still holding yours. You let your head fall on his chest, curling yourself around his nakedness, begging him to hold you like only he can. Before you know it, you're in his arms again, your ear pressing against his heartbeat and his echoes of paradise.

"I'll always be here for you, darling. You're safe with me."

You're not sure how long you both stare at each other before your eyes close. The world seizes to exist, the notion of lawlessness expires. Only the heavens prevail and the comfort of his arms. His breath a virtuous lullaby.

As soon as you open your eyes, you know it was a nightmare that awoke you. You can't remember what it was about, but it was unpleasant enough to make you want to end it. You're surprised you haven't jolted awake, and you can tell it's because Arthur is still holding you, barely moved since you caved into sleep. He's in a heavy stupor, or he would've noticed your small head tilt as you look toward the window.

The great big moon is gone and an orange hue is closing in on the sky, far enough that you know you don't need to send Arthur away. Not just yet. You turn to see his face instead, his eyelashes long over his cheeks, his tan browning the skin beneath them. His breath lands on your face faintly, you can feel it rustle some of your hair. His lips are plump and primed just to taste. You hope he forgives you as yours land on them, finding it impossible not to indulge. You've seen him wake many times now, but every time is just as dazzling as the man who stares back at you.

"You ok, darling?" His words are groggy as his eyes, blinking to better look at you. He tightens his hold of you as he shifts in position, barely disturbed by the fact he spent hours holding a grown woman in his arms. "You feel better, missy?"

You nod your head as you find it necessary to continue to kiss him, trying to get him back to the land of the living. Once he's more awake, he starts to kiss back, and soon enough his tongue leads into ecstasy that makes you completely alive too. As alive and safe as you've ever been.

Arthur is not an educated man, of that you know. He's been puzzled by some of the books beside your bed, or with a topic of conversation that is a little more erudite. You don't mind it at all, as you feel he in no way lacks more important qualities, like emotional maturity and life experience. He often knows how you feel before you even do so yourself. But his candor has always been genuine and abundant, never being able to conceal his true intent. You know every word he said to you last night was truthful and sincere, not taken from a flimsy novel or a yesterday's paper. You know his words were heartfelt and spoken with legitimacy. Arthur is a man of his word, even if not of the law.

You're safe in his arms, of that you are sure of, and as you kiss him back deeper and deeper, you know your loyalty lies with him, even more so than before. Your hands hold steady on his shoulder blades as he places you gently on the bed again, his tongue distracting enough that you barely feel it. The brush of the tip of his cock against your thigh suggests maybe he's keen on dragging this on, much like you are.

Arthur continues his way downwards, first down your neck, then to your breasts, taking a moment to savor each one, his tongue hot on each nipple. He leaves a trail down your stomach before he starts fondling the hairs on your mount, his hands reaching for the side of your thighs to hold you in place as he readjusts. The way he clenches you means his impatient. He looks over at you before he can dive into you, just as the daylight dives into the night outside your window.

Many mornings have come and gone where he has lavished you like this, your eyes barely opened before he delights you awake. His acts are those of a man thankful to have a woman he can ravish like this, thankful to have a woman who will undoubtedly return the favor when she's allowed. But that's not why he does it. He does it because, above all else, he enjoys it. It thrills him that he can do it, thankful he gets to do something for another person besides beating them or robbing them. You're his escape from this world, and by his own words, you're the only one that keeps him anchored to it: *"You're the first one I've met that makes me feel like I might belong in it." *

All thoughts vanish when his tongue joins his lips on your bud, the sensation making you so elated that you close your eyes at once. His work is thorough and dominant, now that he knows you're well awake. He charges quite forcefully, hungry to see you squirm under his grip, your legs struggling under his hands. You take a deep breath before you open your eyes and you see him, kneeling as he lavishes your sex, his muscular back beginning to sweat. Underneath his torso, you catch a glimpse of his cock, half hard from either his slumber or his appetite. You reach for it with your hand, determined to get his attention.

Arthur stops his ministrations to look back at you, your hand slowly working his length. His chin is shiny from your slick and his spit. "You sure?"

"Please," you beg.

Arthur knows what you want and acquiesces. He's gentleman enough to readjust himself on the bed, his tip now closer so you can taste him fully. You both tilt to the side, facing each other, your head landing on his thigh before his own lands on yours. He's still looking at you as your tongue reaches his tip, moaning as you satisfy your urge to lick his drip, not averting his eyes until after you close your lips around it.

His arousal often leads him to surrender to his urges and he becomes impatient to get you to wriggle under his touch again. His tongue lavishes your bud with swift but effective strokes, getting quicker with each pass. His free hand joins his efforts and you feel a finger at your entrance, inching closer to the spot on your wall he knows how to find so well. Soon enough another finger joins in, and you feel edging closer to the end. His mouth is relentless on you, but you try hard to keep your mouth busy, as full as you can, his hardness at peak as you work his base with your hand. You feel yourself drooling with pleasure and it becomes hard to determine which of the muffled moans are yours and which are his. You're starting to take him deeper when Arthur speeds up the pace even more.

You try to keep him in your mouth as much as possible, even when it becomes impossible to move him in and out. When you're close, you take him out with a noisy pop that's stifled by a loud moan from you, your hand clutching to his back to anchor your descent. Arthur's stamina doesn't wane and in just a few seconds he brings you to the place of wild and livid bliss, his tongue still licking as your hips rock back and forth as you ride the heavens once again. You tighten your fingers around his muscles, your fingernails digging deeper into him, unaware you're leaving a deep mark. Once your whimpering is steadier and lower, he removes his fingers from inside you to rub your ass, kneading on the flesh to help you quell your movements.

Arthur really knows how to make you dizzy, exhausted. A mastermind at making you succumb to pleasure. It takes you some time before you can open your eyes again, only to find yourself looking at the carved ceiling of your bedroom. It could use some painting. You turn your face to see Arthur watching you, slumped down on one elbow, his hand working his cock, trying to finish off what you started. His pace is hurried. It won't take him long. He moves to sit more comfortably and closer to you, his tip towering from your viewpoint. He decides to take his free hand over to your face, brushing off a few strands of wet hair covering it. He takes one good look at you unveiled before his breath hitches, his eyes close and his hand moves erratically, his tip then erupting into a hot white streak, which then covers his hand, his stomach. Dark spots form on your fancy bed sheets.

You move toward him before his breath steadies and he opens his eyes to watch you lick his spend off the back of his hand, his fingers, his tip still dripping. He places his hands around your arms as you lower down to lick what landed on his mound, his stomach, his chest. He makes sure to keep watching the deliberate movements of the tip of your tongue, which makes him want to burst all over again. Your tongue doesn't stop until it reaches his neck, his sweat is sweet after the bitterness of his spend. You try to drink most of him before he pushes your chin upwards, kissing you as passionately as he does when either one of you finishes, as if you haven't had enough of a reward yet. You both catch a trace of yourself on each other, exchanging the perfect symphony.

Arthur likes to kiss, and luckily he's great at it. So much so that this is almost as thrilling as what came before. As he continues, his back comes to rest against the headboard, welcoming you onto his lap, your legs a perfect fit with his.

It's only when his eyes start to sparkle with the sunlight of a new day that you notice that it's best to stop, making sure he can still leave before anyone catches him. It's even more urgent now that no one should catch him, now that you know he's a wanted man with a price on his head, a reward you damn well want to forfeit.

The outlaw subsides the work of his tongue when you pull your head back, your fingers brushing the flex of his arms to tell him to stop. "It's best you should go."

He turns slightly to catch the sky out of the window. "I guess it is."

Despite that, you both continue to kiss, more hurriedly but just as deeply. Your hips rock slightly forward against him, the need in your lower abdomen blooming again. Arthur's barely recovered but it's clear he wishes for more too.

You take a deep breath as you wrap your arms around him, a soft moan escaping your throat when you can't get any closer to him. It's here, on his lap, where you belong. The comfort of his body beneath yours is the safest place on earth somehow, and somehow, you yearn for more. More of him, more of this. More of the outlaw grinding beneath your thighs, growing stiffer by the minute his tongue spends inside your mouth. It's here, in his lap, where you want to be, bound by lust and evasion of the law. After all, being an adulterer is a crime too. You best enjoy this before either one of you is caught.

None of you show signs of stopping, although dragging this on is anything but wise. The risks of you or Arthur getting caught increase with every brush of your lips. But it occurs to you, that you don't just want him not to go. No. You want him to take you with him.

To take you back to your cottage in New Hanover, where your affair blossomed, where Arthur used to have you just like this, sometimes harder, sometimes softer. Where perhaps you can resume where you left off, where it's less likely that someone can catch you. Either the law or the spouse.

The wanted man halts his movements as you break from his embrace to deliver your most unlawful plea yet.

"Take me back, Arthur. Take me back with you."

---

A/N: I am so sorry for taking so long for an update. Unfortunately life got in the way. But please know I intend to finish this fic, whenever that may be.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan smut #goodmorgan #perfect strangers fic

105 notes · View notes