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nyursi · 4 months

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𝐂𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐑!ㅤpart one.

꒰ † ੭‎ㅤNSFW 18+ㅤ(MDNI)... in a series of successful heists, the infamous cat burglar is finally caught and is left with the mercy of his victims to decide his fate.ㅤノㅤnot proofread.

ᡴꪫ‎ TODAY'S SPECIAL!ㅤdiluc, zhongli, heizou, (here, part one) alhaitham, dottore, and wriothesley (part two)!

WOULD YOU LIKE SPRINKLES? (っω=`)ㅤm!rdr, degradation, tummy bulge, biting, breeding, impact play, petnames, hair-pulling, public sex, and more.

ㅤ ⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝

THE DARK NIGHT HERO'S NEW QUOTA...

featuring impact play, hair pulling, exhibitionism, (semi) public sex, and diluc.

killing slimes and dealing with drunkards both day and night quickly became a boring routine for diluc. but he finds such creatures easier to deal with more than a certian eye-patch wearing man.

so when he hears of the burglar who causes trouble nation after nation, finally arrived in mondstadt, diluc can't deny his curiosity.

the name he made for himself was quite odd, never actually thinking a cat burglar would come to life. but life has its ways. and in the nature of life, it's only normal to take hold of this situation. diluc deserves a break anyway.

and now here he is; thrusting relentlessy into the warm heat of the damned 'cat burglar' who attempted to rob him. wanton whines of different octaves escaped your drooling lips, and claws extracted to find purchase on the cobble walls of diluc's manor.

"dumb boy, who were you trying to fool?" your sensitive ears twitched when diluc spoke so close—even more when he grazed his teeth light as a feather against them. "n- no one!" you whined, wiggling your hips.

a tip too tempting to ignore was given to you a while back, claiming that the house ragnvindr had riches to spare for little ol' you. too bad that mister diluc had a tip himself, though much more eye catching and valueable. as half of the mondstadt ladies would fume with jealousy, wishing it was them being split apart by diluc's cock. and not some nimble cat eared boy.

your eyes welled with tears when a stern hand yanked on the hair from your scalp, eliciting a humiliating moan.

god, everything about him is so... big!

from diluc's reputation, wealth, to his physical attributes, diluc as a whole was domineering.

cheeks flushed an embarassing red when your eyes met his, and your tail swished out of your control. "pl- please... 'm close!" such desperate pleads fell on deaf ears, as diluc had no intention to listen to your words.

he counted mentally, giving you time to shut up. and when you didn't stop your dumb begging?

"ahn!~" your eyes widened when a harsh smack landed on your ass, causing your whole body to jolt forward. diluc took ahold of your temporary weakness, and forced your chest to meet the cold stone wall.

with your hard nipples and swollen cock rubbing on such an odd texture, the pleasure of it all caused you to near an orgasm. "you moan so sweetly," diluc grunted, planting his hands on your hips roughly.

"it could compete with the grapes in this yard."

oh yes. was it too embarassing to mention that you never managed to sneak in his manor at all? what was a stupid kitty like you doing anyway, wearing a suspicious cloak and prowling about diluc's courtyard.

he seized you then and there.

it's too bad a 'skilled' burglar like you was caught before your plan was in action.

"but unless you want to get caught, i suggest you tone it down." your eyes fogged with lust as diluc shoved his fingers down your throat, coating them with your saliva.

then you came. harshly. your cum splat against the wall, and rubbed against your skin as diluc went faster. course, your little cock was still between your body and the stone, forcing you to take the pleasure that hurt.

diluc soon followed, covering your insides with a creamy white, one that you wanted inside you forever.

one thing you knew now; no money in diluc's manor would ever compare to the treasure below his belt.

ㅤ ⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝

RE-AWAKENING OF THE GEO ARCHON...

featuring biting, breeding, double penetration, frottage(?), and zhongli (but morax).

it was no secret that the geo archon was the scariest of all. but with his charming looks, you somehow thought a similar personality would follow.

oh how wrong you were.

"please morax, have mercy on me!" you landed on your knees, body quivering as you felt morax's cold stare upon you.

he tsked, shaking his head. "weak mortals like you shouldn't be making the decision here." morax cooed at you with pity, running his rough palms over the top of your head.

an accident it was, really. for you to stumble upon his abode—and bask your greedy eyes to the glory of his shining hoarde. a large pile of gold and other trinkets was enough for you to trudge forward and grab an armful of wealth.

with your mind focused on the heavy riches you were carrying, your feline ears couldn't hear the heavy footsteps of this hoard's owner.

you were one of the unlucky few, as this den was ruled by the geo archon himself. morax.

"are you defective? surely these little ears of yours are much more sensitive than that of a humans." he mused, eyeing your trembling body.

an uncontrolled whimper broke your silence. morax was scary, definitely! but he was far too mean for your liking. but you had no choice other than to pray that he would forgive you.

"well," he started. anticipation built every second, and you were hung on his every word. "there is one way you could repent."

and here you were; laid limp in his arms. boneless as you eyed his large dicks, both erect and leaking. rubbing against your hole. you attempted to look away, but morax quickly took ahold of your jaw. "don't look away, this is your own doing, boy."

morax nipped on your ear, making you yelp. "oh don't whine, that was nothing compared to this."

in a split second, one had slid in entirely, leaving not a single inch uncovered. he was buried to the hilt. and you were full. morax wasted no time and quickly began to find rhythm, while you haven't even adjusted to his size.

"a-ah! wait please!-" it was an odd yet pleasing sensation, morax's cock rubbed against places you've never touched before, making you see celestia. "m-moraaaaaaax!~"

uncontrollable tears dripped down your red cheeks when his other dick was forced against yours. he wrapped his hand against both, and began moving it up and down. squeezing your heats within his palm.

the size difference between you two made him laugh; saying something about 'it barely counted as a cock, and how it resembles a pathetic pussy instead.'

your hips twitched, mind reeling. mouth wide open yet no sound escaped when you felt air breeze on your leaking tip once again, as well as the similar pressure against your hole.

morax bit your shoulder, and at the same time he sunk you down on both of his cocks. "i knew it, a boy like you was made for this."

he plowed upwards and his hands brought you downwards, kissing your prostate in a harsh and quick manner, like he wanted you to orgasm quickly. "gh!- gonna... gonna cum!"

eyes squeezed shut and toes curled, cum spurted out and landed on your face. but morax didn't stop. not until he fucked you full.

"you're gonna be a pretty kitty knocked up," he said, taking an arm beneath your knees and forcing them to your ears. "pregnant with my eggs."

"i'll breed you again and again," morax grunted, in a final thrust his cum quickly flooded your insides. "until you learn not to steal."

it's a shame you can't get pregnant. but no worries, morax will make you feel like you could!

ㅤ ⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝

A DETECTIVE'S LUCKY LEAD...

featuring orgasm denial/ruined orgasm, dry humping, face fucking, and heizou.

you were a bit too confident in your abilities. it's not your fault! all of your previous heists were succesful, but it did make you believe you were untouchable.

so you didn't think twice sending a hint of your location to inazumas detective. not like he was gonna find you anyway.

that's what you believed.

and how wrong you were.

"what? didn't think i'd believe your little trick? with a slimy cat like you as my target, i have to take every given opportunity." heizou sighed, as if he was disappointed in you.

currently, he had you pinned with your back to the wall of some random abandoned building.

"you really had me stressed, you know? what do you have to say for yourself, kitty?" he looked into your eyes, smirking when you couldn't answer.

you were ashamed. even more so when shikanonin had begun to grind against you, your clothed cocks twitching with pleasure from the friction. "mmngh..." your eyes averted to the ground.

heizou grabbed you by the thighs, bringing you up. in a quick reaction, you quickly wrapped your legs around his waist. this allowed him to grind i to you harsher, hips moving in a tandem. "i can feel a wet patch down there, what a slut you are. i bet you dreamed of getting caught!"

"no! i-i didn't!" you shook your head violently, tearing up from both his mean words and thrusting. to prevent any moans to leak out—you bit your lip.

with every second that passed by, your erection quickly fought against the tightness of your pants. "aww, you're hard?" heizou cooed, flicking the tip of your cock.

"ahn!~" you flinched when he continued his assault on your dick, non-stop flicking and slapping, causing your back to arch from the wall. "he-heizoou! nooo!" mindless babbles with tears in your eyes from the painful pleasure, a shiver of pleasure ran down your spine.

but as quick as that feeling came, it quickly went as well. you were left heaving from the ruined orgasm, tail curling around heizou's arm.

"stop whining, naughty cat burglars like you don't deserve to cum." you heard the sound of a zipper being undone, as well as fabric falling to the floor. "but if you're really thaaat desperate,"

he paused.

the detective grabbed the top of your head, and forced your face against his bulge. "then suck, like a good kitty."

with a determined fevor— you suckled on the delicious bulge through his boxers. soon taking his hung cock out, and wasting no time taking it into your mouth.

you slurped, and hollowed out your cheeks, using your tongue to trace every vein down heizou's impressive shaft. but he was too big. you had barely taken in half of it! and that wouldn't do.

"you really are useless, aren't you?" heizou sighed and took matters into his own hands (literally.) he grabbed the back of your head, and pushed his hips forward. making you swallow the whole thing.

"mngh!" the both of you grunted, heizou sighed out in pleasure, feeling his cock head reach the back of your throat.

the waterworks flooded when he began to thrust in and out. you felt the heaviness of his dick on your tongue everytime he moved, and archons was it amazing. hearing heizou moan and even whimper because of your mouth sent butterflies to your stomach, and you wanted more.

so despite the trouble you had breathing, you pushed on to bring the detective to his orgasm.

work hard to get the delicious, savory, creamy, and rich milk from heizou! it'll cure your sore throat right away.

vanillaclaws 2024.ㅤdo not repost.

#diluc smut #diluc x male reader #zhongli smut #zhongli x male reader #heizou smut #heizou x male reader #bottom male reader #male reader #x male reader #sub male reader #uke male reader #sub reader #bottom reader #male reader smut #っω=`)ㅤ⎯⎯ㅤmy works...#( ୨୧‎ )ㅤcat burglar!

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grugruel · 2 months

Text

Big Iron

Pairings:

bounty hunter!Arthur Morgan x outlaw!f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: She's escaped a robbery, and bounty hunters have been sent out after her. They'd made no problem so far– that said, the notorious Arthur Morgan set upon her trail.

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: Arthur Morgan, pinv sex, rough sex, soft sex ish, lap/bulge-riding, praise, petnames (girl, sweetheart, ma'am), creampie, overstimulation.

AN: 3rd person pov, trying it out. Not yet proofread!

The campfire blazed in the night, casting a warm glow over the small, temporary hideout as smouldering flakes of ash rose in swirls above her.

Her face lit up, the sizzling embers of spent coal entrancing her.

The soaring fires of a bright building shouldered It's way into her mind, stealing space from any other thoughts.

The trees around her rustled. She leaned back against the wall of the overhanging cliff. Sliding down into a sitting position and slanting her head in ponder, slipping deeper into the memory.

Money was all she had needed. But the simple, well practiced heist escalated. Attempted arson had suddenly been added to her list of offences, robbery another one among them. Which she could admit to, and proudly so.

But the fire. . . Now the fire, was not her fault.

And not only was the law after her, but they'd sent out money hungry, bounty hunters aswell. She'd already tied two of them down yesterday, big brutish men they were. All muscle and no brains. Still, they proved quite the nuisances, but wouldn't be a problem anymore. . .

. . .Unless they died of starvation, and then she would indeed be guilty of murder. Lovely! She gritted her teeth at the memory, rolling her eyes interanally.

But she doubted it, seeing as they were curently tied to the fence of the sheriff's office.

Which left only one real threat.

One man, one singular man; a notorious outlaw himself. He was the sheriff's most resent hire. Big, deadly, tall and muscled. From long days of hard work killing and robbing she imagined.

She'd actually seen him in person once, and she could admit, he looked dangerous, and devilishly handsome. The rumors had been right about that, she was only hoping that his volatile reputation along with the Van Der Lind gang's would turn out to be folly.

She shivered at the thought, shaking her to the very bones. If it were from the thought of him or the cool of the night, she did not know. She closed her arms around herself, stroking them for warmth as she pushed the unpleasant thoughts away, her gaze snapping to the treeline beyond. She was back to reality, and suddenly accutely aware of the black darkness that lingered between its stems, but her vision was good and she was quite hidden after all. No one would be sneaking up on her–

'Ma'am.'

From the shadows, a man appeared at the edge of the campfires domain, vaguely illuminated by its warmth. Broad and tall in frame, the deep night clung to his back. His sudden prescence was the only evidence of his arrival, he'd made no sound nor been seen before he'd needed to be.

Her eyes snapped in his direction, widening with recognition, the eerie sense divulged itself to her body. Like poison, it spread quickly, crawling into every blood vessel and turning them ice-cold along its journey.

'Mister' she greeted, doing her damndest to stay calm.

His hat covered his eyes, but the smile he gave her was unmistakable. 'Theres quite the bounty on you girl.' The drawl of his accent sunk into her skin like the warmth from the fire.

'There's no doubtin' that,' she nodded in admittal, slowly moving away from him, 'Although im only worth half of it, I assure you.'

She sat still, eyes meeting his as they poked out beneath his hat. He tilted his head to face hers, regarding her silently. Eyes flickering over her, the way her hair fell over her shoulders, and how her blouse revealed the hills of her chest. '. . . 'S that so?. . .' He took a step closer, the rope in his hands now excruciatingly evident to her.

She got to her feet in one swift motion, hesitantly gesturing for him to stay calm. 'Mister, I'm not a murderer. Crimes I did not commit have been written in my name. The sheriff framed me!' She took a few steps to the left, placing the fire between them.

'I belive ya' ma'am.' His hands pulled on the lasso, adjusting its length. Gripping it roughly from time to time, trigger fingers readying themselves for any sudden movement. 'But the law can be a crooked thing sometimes.' His eyes narrowed in on her, then shrugged nonchalantly. 'But a bounty 's still a bounty girl.'

The birds sang above them, and the world blurred around her, her knees suddenly week. And unfortunately for her, he would be there to catch her when she fell. In a sense too literal for her liking.

'And I can say the same for myself ma'am, I'm a bad man. . .' His voice imposed, yet, the gravely tone vibrated perfectly well in her ears.

Gulping her nervousity, she assessed her options. . . And then ran.

Trees rushed past in peripheral whirls as she made her way along the cliff wall. Rope flexed behind her, threads wringing against eachother as it was swung and thrown with a woosh.

The air caressed her cheeks, pulling tears from her eyes and whistling in her ears. She gave it all she had, but it wasn't enough to stop the lasso from capturing her with deadly accuracy. It fell over her shoulders and tightened around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides.

The rope pulled taunt– and the world stopped moving for a short second, with a yank, her body whipped forward and her feet was swept from under her– then just as sudden, it sped up again.

As a tree cut down for its timber, she fell. The ground rushing up to greet her face as she stumbled to the ground with a hard thud. She panted, smelling the earth and feeling the wet grass tickle her face as she struggled against her entanglement; wriggling and thrashing like a stranded fish.

Well-used leather chaps groaned behind her as he stalked closer, winding the rope up as he did. Its sound of hot friction against fabric made her stumache churn. She rolled onto her back to get a better layout of the situation. And there he stood. Just by her feet, looming over her. With his back to the fire it cast a glow around him, framing the big man as he filled her sight. Fear and desire fought for the helm, conflicting her mind terribly.

He crouched down, bending over her as he circled the rope around her, securing his bounty tightly. He grabbed the knot and pulled her up diagonally, pulling her flush against his body so he could level her head with his. '. . .And I've done bad things.' He whispered, lips brushing against her ear. A dull pulse appeared where there ought to be no pulse. She screwed her eyes shut, lust for this man was the last thing she should be feeling. But oh. . . How his breath raised goosebumps, having it spread over her skin like wildfire.

He straightened his legs and stood back, taking her with him while keeping her close to his chest.

Her breath fanned over his lips as they stood a mere inch apart, one bound and the other free. A smirk made its way onto his lips, his hands sliding along the tied rope until they were at her waist, and in one strong motion threw her over his shoulder.

She yelped, 'You brute!' kicking wildy in hopes of getting free. But one of his arms circled around her legs and gripped the back of her thigh to keep them still, while he laid the other on the small of her back to stop her from falling. 'You keep your hands to yourself Mister!' She shouted, struggling against his bullish strength.

'Yes, ma'am.' He assured as he began walking, not paying her futile thrashing much mind.

She cleared her throat and huffed, expecting more of a reaction. She didn't quite know what to do in this situation, she hadnt planned this far ahead. She didn't think she'd ever be properly cought. 'Well, good.' She said curtly, calming herself. Being a nuisance and making the situation worse would be a bad idea, and she'd not made any progress nonetheless, his grip was solid steel. She'd have to settle on feeling his strong back beneath her instead and revel in the feeling of his hand on her thigh.

He stomped out the campfire before moving to where he'd hidden his horse, 'Sittin' or layin'?' He asked, being nice enough to hand her to options of sharing his saddle or to be stored over his horses ass.

She huffed, 'What a gentleman, take a guess Mister.' She muttered.

He nodded, 'Sittin' with me it is.' his hands moved to her waist, easily transfering her from his shoulder to the saddle. She scoffed for the sake of scoffing, eyes narrowing as she looked down on him, and if it had the power to, her look would certainly have killed him. 'Quite presumtions of you.'

With a low chuckle and a shake of his head, he gripped the saddle before climbing on. Placing his hands on either side of it, on hand on the pommel and the other on the cantel. Which just so happened to be between her thighs, and just behind her ass. Almost grazing her on both sides as he braced himself against it, eyes meeting hers with a satisfied smirk, 'Much more attitude from ya' girl and I'll have to take meassures.'

Shock sprung itself on her, feeling dizzy all over again. The knuckle of his thumb was an inch away from brushing against her cunt. Her eyes widened at the fact, and the implications his words carried. Her loins burned, it took everything in her power to stop from rocking her hips forward. But she simply cleared her throat and neutralised her expression, 'Id like to see you try.' And faced away from him, turning her nose upward.

He climbed onto the horse, placing himself close intil her and leaned over her shoulder. 'I will if you let me ma'am.' He whispered in her ear, and then spurred his horse. Shivers shook her at that, her entire body vibrating with a dull sense of need.

They rode silently for a long while, and she wanted to sass him, she wanted it terribly. But was both afraid and hoping he'd take action, just as he'd stated. The miles wound on, oh it felt never ending. Especially with the man behind her, rutting his hips against her with every step of the horse. He was a blessing against the cold, but pure torture as his heat soaked into all the wrong spots of her body.

But finally, it came time to rest. They'd ridden nonstop from the morning of her capture to the next night. If that werent enough, a heatwave had been raging the entirety of the day aswell, and the setting of the sun had barely made a difference.

He set her on the ground, binding her feet and hands before starting on the camp. Making quick work of the fire and tent as she sat down on a rock, silently watching the man work, and very much enjoying the show.

His skin was slick with sweat, much like herself. The cool light of the moon and the warmth of the fire made him glisten in every sense of the word, and oh. . . the way he toiled away.

He had removed his vest and chaps as he got to work, then rolled up the sleeves of his shirt which now stuck to his skin. A nuisance for him to be sure, but a dream for her, she could practically see the muscles of his chest rippling.

A drop of sweat trickled down her temple, tickling her skin and drawing focus away from the view. Her eyes widened as she realised how she stared at the stranger and shook her head, attempting to clear it.

God, focus. She needed to hatch a plan. Running would do her no good, he would be too fast. He wouldn't accept bribes either, and was very hard to persuade. No attempts had been succesful so far, he didnt even want the money she'd stashed away.

At that thought, unavoidably, abashedly her eyes snapped to him as he pulled his shirt off and reached for a new one in his saddlebag. She clenched her jaw to keep it from falling, his strong chest was adorned by hair, trailing down his abdomen and disappearing under. . . The waist of his pants. In that moment, she wanted nothing else then to see where that trail ended. She wanted to trace her fingers along it, or perhaps lick it, all the way down. . .

Her jaw began aching, she fought herself to tear her eyes away from him. Managing to direct her gaze at the ground instead, waiting for him to put a fresh shirt on.

After a short while, she dared to look up again. He'd pulled a log to opposite side of the fire and sat down, a cigarette placed between hid lips and was breathing in a long drag of it. Tilting his head back, he released the cloud of smoke with a sigh.

Her eyes followed his movements intently, studying them as she hoped that perhaps he'd notice her and offer one–

'Want one girl?' He nodded toward her, gesturing with the match box.

'I do, yes.' She answered expectantly, holding her hands out for him to untie.

But to her surprise, he scoffed, then stod and walked around the fire. He crouched on one knee infront of her, his arm bracing against the other. 'You'll have to do better than that.' He said, only a feets distance between them. Then picked the cigarette from his lips and offered it to her, holding it an inch from her mouth. She hesitated, observing him with disdain, 'Go on.' He nodded. But reluctant to follow his orders, she met his eyes, making sure he knew how unhappy she was about it, and then leaned in despite herself. Closing her lips around the cigarette, she sucked the toxic smoke smoke into her lungs like it were air, keeping her eyes locked on his. She swore something glint in his eyes as he studied her pouting lips. A plan struck her suddenly, but–

'Good girl.' He hummed.

Again, shock gripped her. The praise rose right to her head, sending waves of heat cascading through her body. Then she coughed, the smoke settling wrong in her airways. She pulled back, letting him retrieve his cigarette as she regained her composure. 'You alright there sweetheart?' He asked with a grin, and patted her back before replacing the cig between his lips.

'Fine.' She hissed, still reeling from. . . Everything. 'You got anything stronger? Whiskey, bourbon?'

He nodded, and pulled out and old bottle of bourbon from his bag, 'Could you?' She held her hands out to him again.

He studied her, stroking his stubbled jaw in thought. 'Got somethin' for me then?'

Insinuations led her down a path of all kinds of possibilities, but she instead opted for a simple, 'Please?' Instead, attempting it cheapishly.

His hands slipped down to his hip, pulling the knife from its hilt, 'Thats more like it.' He mumbeled with his cigarette clad lips.

And cut the rope around her hands and feet, stopping at the rope around her waist and met her eyes. 'Try anythin'. . .' He raised his eyebrows, and lowered his voice to a mocking tone '. . . run, hurt me' his eyes narrow as a corner of his lip tugs. 'And there'll be a steep price to be payed.'

Swallowing, she nodded enthusiastically, 'I just wan't a sliver of freedom before im locked up, you could understand that right?'

He nodded, 'S'pose so. . .' And began cutting, '. . . difference is girl' the rope snapped and slid down her sides, 'I'd never get caught.' He gathered the rope from her sides, his fingers accidentally brushing against her hips.

Her breath hitched, and her skin tingled desperatley for more of him as fluttering wingbeats set of in her stumache. Such a small thing, turning into such a big reaction.

He cleared his throat, handing her the bottle as he threw the rope into the fire. He sat down on another log, not as far away form her this time. Leaned back against the tree behind it and spread his legs wide. His bulge was enough to make her salivate, 'It's not easy you know, for a woman like me, when there's men like you Mr Morgan.'

Arthur quriked an eyebrow in question, 'You know me?'

'I know of you.' She corrected, taking a big swig of the fluid, then handed it back to him for him to do the same.

He nodded silently, a sigh escaping under his breath. 'All bad I guess.' He took another swallow, not to bothered by her statement. Probably used to hearing it by now.

She shook her head, taking the bottle and another gulp. 'Many of the ladies say you're handsome.'

At this he looked up at her, chuckling. 'Well, I don't know 'bout that.'

'It's true. . .' another sip, followed by a hiccup. 'They say you can be quite the gentleman too.'

His eyes bore into hers, his tone serious but expression joking as he humours her. 'Depends on the lady.' He reaches for the bottle, and she stands up to give it to him. Walking closer, she hands it over, fingers brushing against eachother in the motion.

His eyes meet hers, and she brushes her hand under his chin, 'You know what else they say Mr Morgan?'

'No, what do they say about me sweetheart?' A smirk tugged at his lip, the liquor starting to affect the both of them.

'That you're good in bed. . .' She steps between his thighs, her hand falling from his chin to his neck, scratching at the nape gently.

He hums appreciatively, then takes another sip of the bourbon and sets the bottle aside. His hands reach for her, coming to a rest on either side of her thighs, pulling her closer to him and squeezing them at his pleasure. 'They're only rumours girl.' He tilts his head backward against tree to get a better look at her, eyes fastening on her lips.

With her other hand, she hikes her skirt up, revealing her thighs as she step over his legs, one at a time, slowly sinking down onto his lap as his hands automatically slide to her hips.

She placed herself on top of his bulge, and he grunted from the pressure. The pulse within her began strumming at her nerves, turning them jittery.

'I doubt it Mr Morgan.' She whispered, 'Women do not lie to eachother of such things.' his bulge beneath her grew harder, luring a hidden smile from her, but she wills it from her lips so that it only reaches her eyes. 'They say you're rough, or gentle. Dependin' on your mood.' As she says that, she swears she detects the faintest red creep up his cheeks. Arthur Morgan. . . Blushing? Now, she couldnt help herself as the smile reaches her lips. Hes quite endearing.

The man cleared his throat, acting as if it had never happened. 'That's told of me in everythin' I do girl.' He smirks, the grip on her hips hardening, knuckles turning white.

'But you're always sweet 'n caring.' She continues, her own words were building the lust within her, making the pulse ever stronger. It was becoming hard to focus. She needed to release some of the pressure building inside her. Evaluating the consequences, she rocked her hips downward. Grinding into his bulge.

Simultaneously, she whimpered and he hissed. She leaned against him, her lips brushing against his ear as she nuzzles his cheek. 'Apparently, It's also true what they say 'bout ridin' cowboys–'

'Girl.' He interrupted with a chuckle, 'I know what you're doin'.' He breathes, 'Seducin' me.' With the tight grip on her hips, he helps rock her hips against him, the rough fabric of his pants grinding against her core.

With a gasp, one of her hands shoots out to burry itself in his hair. Then she leans into him, the other hand grabbing his shirt for support as she rests her head against his shoulder. He nuzzles his cheek against hers, and mutters, 'You use your sweet talkin', then get me drunk 'n run off, that your plan girl?'

Her eyebrows furrow, hips grinding down harder, her ruts becoming more frantic, needy. She screws her eyes shut from the copious amounts of pleasure washing over her. All she can do to answer him is hum in admittal as shes straining hard to even stay contious.

He chuckles. 'Easy girl. . .' His voice commanding, low and raspy as he slows her hips, but keeps the pace hard. 'Use your words.' He orders, loving the way shes falling apart for him.

She nods hastily, hoping it would satisfy his request. But he pinches her hip through the fabric of her skirt, and her eyebrows furrow in pain, however not having the energy to even make a sound. Her thoughts were a blur, she couldn't tell what to keep secret anymore, 'Yes– yes. . .' She sighs, the coil inside her tightening impossibly hard.

'Mmh, thought so.' He breathed, the words curt on his tongue, but lust evident in his voice. His hands leave her hips, one arm snaking around her waist, his hand placing itself at the small of her back to push her against him.

Then he stands, drawing a whine from her. She did not quite understand what was going on as the loss of movement gradually undid all the progress she'd made. 'Mr Morgan?' She inquires, hesitantly wrapping her legs around his hips.

He walks them to the tent, 'Arthur.' He corrects, carrying her with ease. He pushes the flap to the side and kneels, bending over her as he lays her on the ground.

'Arthur.' She smiles, worry seeping out as she realised he was making them more comfortable.

His knees slide apart, hooking her legs upon them as they spread. Her hands shoot up, grabbing onto the collar of his shirt to pull him closer, close enough for his lips to hover over hers. Their eyes meet, 'Please. . .' She whimpers, one hand sliding downward. '. . .Please.' She says again, fingertips trailing down his abdomen, suddenly grabbing hold of his bulge with a firm hand, his member rock hard. 'Outlaw or gentleman?' She asked, smiling a wicked smile.

He grunts, lips brushing over hers. 'Neither.' And grabs her wrist, pulling her hand away from his crotch, catching the other in the motion. His free hand reached over her head, and the hauntingly familiar groaning of strong rope sounded above her. She shook her head, 'Arthur, please. . .' Panic moved into her voice, the repeated words carrying a completley different meaning this time.

He held both wrists with one hand and tied them together with the other, the rope burning her skin in the motion.

She cried out unhappily.

But he chuckles, in a matter of factly kind of way. Stroking the burn gently as ge corrects her, 'Should've behaved.' And when done, he sits back. Observing her as she lies tied up, legs spread infront of her, circled around his hips. Much to his dismay, he wouldn't be enjoying the sight as much as he wanted to. 'It's late.' He grunts curtly, then stands and walks toward the flap.

'Arthur. . .' She pleads, trying one last time.

He turns his head just enough to see her in his peripheral, 'Get some sleep, you got a long day ahead of you tomorrow.' He flashes his eyebrows smugly, 'Night, sweetheart.' Then exits the tent without another word.

She huffed, unbelivable. Nuzzling herself into the bedroll.

Sweetheart. . . But how could she be annoyed when he calls her such a thing. She dreamed herself away, with imagines of a shirtless Arthur Morgan and the feeling of him inside her. But she'd not given up, make no mistake, he would fall asleep and she would leave. . .

The night carried on and the temperature finally began dropping, a shiver shook her pleasantly. It was a welcome change. Her body strained as she raised her neck to get a look of the outside. Through the flap she saw Arthur, sitting, snoring, hat covering his face as he leaned back against the tree he'd previously been sitting on.

Now, she needed to get rid of her restraints. Rolling over, she crawled toward the opening, her eyes never leaving Mr Morgans sheathed knife.

The fire had been reduced to embers at this point. Crackling and sizzling lowly as the cool moisture in the air riddled the grass with dewdrops, dampening her hands and skirt as she approached her goal. She sat on her knees, then moved to grab the knife carefully, gnelty sliding it out. The sound of it unlatching nearly had her yelp.

No movement in Arthur.

Shallow breaths, she exhales. Relief flooding through her begoee she began working the knife against her entangled wrists with her fingertips. Carefully regarding the vicious man for any signs of waking. But her thoughts slid, perhaps, if he caught her, he would be kind. Or would he be angry? She could truly not decide werther which reaction she'd most prefer–

The rope snapped, and exhilaration filled her. Gaze snapping between her free hands and the hunter, imagining her prospects. She stood quietly, holding her skirt tightly around her to keep the fabrics from rustling. Slowly, knife still in hand, she backed away. On careful tiptoed steps she faded into the night, the fire dwindling in the distance.

The darkness made it hard for her to see much of anything, at its height the tree-crowns silhouette were visible against the blue summer sky. Branches moved, leaves swished in the gentle wind. She grew paranoid, head snapping in every direction, reacting to every little noise around–

A branch broke behind her, she jumped, turning around so fast she almost ripped– a Buck. She froze, a god damned buck? She had expected it ro be Arthur, but she seemed to have ogtten the better of him. The animal looked at her, ears twitching as it chewed on grass– suddenly hopping away. She sighed and turned back.

Only to collide with something hard. Her thoughts raced, she knew, she knew. She looked up, eyes tracing along his body until they met his, half hidden under his hat. Reflexes prepared her to run, but before she had as much as taken a step back, a hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her back to him. Again, she thumped into his strong chest. Held against him with the familiar iron grip, she fought, as usual; but to no avail, as usual. He snaked an arm around her waist to hinder her from breaking free, yet she kicked and punched violently with her free limbs. But it made no dent in the man. He couldn't even spare her a reaction as he half carried, half dragged her back into the low light of the burnt out fire. He spun her around and pushed her up against the cliff wall, grabbing the wrist closest to him and pinning it above her head. 'I warned you, girl.' He snarled, the look in his eyes doing just as good a of job pinning her to the wall as his hands. He reaches for the second–

When something sharp digs into the soft flesh of his throat, he froze. His chest was the only thing moving between the two of them, heaving breaths of annoyance.

'Thrid times the charm.' She smirked.

He raised his eyebrows and chuckled, 'That so?' His voice mocking, and before she could comprehend what had happened, he'd captured both wrists with one hand and slammed them above her head and into the wall. And the knife had appeared in his free hand, she noticed this because it was now held against her own throat. 'Repeat that for me girl.'

Her lips struck a thin line as she attempted a neutral expression, although fuming on the inside. She shrugged her shoulders, 'No.' Was all she said, but stubborn in tone.

He nodded, looking her up and down, studying the buttons on her blouse. 'Ought to teach you a lesson sweetheart.'

She cleared her throat, deciding that to act nonchalant was her best option. 'Yeah? What ya' gunna do, huh? Ravage me?' She asked half joking, but still hoping there'd be some truth to it.

At this, the corner of his mouth turned up, a wicked grin developing on his lips. 'I just might.' He breathed, tracing the tip of the knife downward, along her collarbone and then along the front of her blouse, coming to a stop at the first button. She gulped, feeling the knife poke through the thin fabric against her chest, making goosebumps run amock in reaction and the pulse reheating in her core. He leaned forward, pushing his body against hers until there was no room left between them, his head hovering just above the crook of her neck. 'May I do with you as I please?'

This was it, the sweet balance between a hardened outlaw and a tender gentleman. 'Yes– yes, Arthur please.' Her voice near a cry, it took everything in her to control her tone–

Her blouse ripped, from top to bottom he cut it open, and she wasn't wearing a brasier. Her chest laid bare before him, and he groaned happily at the sight.

With her go-ahead he wasted no time, he let go of her hands and cut her skirt too. Cutting a slit as far as he reached with the knife then threw it to the side, and the tore the rest. She gasped, every nerve in her body on edge. In an instant, his lips were upon hers. Hungry, hungry lips devouvered her as hands roamed her body, groping and grabbing wherever they got purchase. Her own hands greedily searching for a steady hold in his hair, she grabbed a fistful and pulled gently. He moaned at the feeling, such a beautiful sound. His hands slid over her breasts, squeezing them, then pushed the remains of her blouse off of her shoulders.

Except for her undergarments, she stood completley exposed for him. She could practically feel him salivating when he cupped her clothed mound, and finding her clit with expertise and rub it through the fabric.

She tore herself free from his kisses, she had to breathe. A deep gasp brought oxygen to ger lungs once again, allowing her to whimperand moan in equal measure as he worked her clit. The pressure made her knees week, she wriggled, attempting to rut against his hand. But she was too unsteady to make progress. Noticing her difficulties, his other hand slid behind her back and held her steady. Allowing her to chase her pleasure. And left with no lips to kiss, he latched onto her neck instead, to suck at her sweet spot.

She hummed appreciatively, unable to keep a big smile from her lips as pulses of pleasure washed through her. She slid her hands from his hair and unbuttoned his shirt, running her fingers along his strong chest and abdomen, gingerly feeling all of him as her hands worked themselves lower. Finally unbuttoning his pants. She did no longer have to wonder were his happy trail dissapeared too, she bit her lip. He was huge. She stuck her hand into his pants and stroked him eagerly. 'Need ya' Arthur, please.' She panted.

He let out a strained grunt against her shoulder, and his hand left her clit. She whined, but didn't have to stay displeased for long.

Both his hands slid down her sides, and she tried to breathe steadily, but it proved hard. The feeling of his calloused hands on her skin was too heavenly. Suddenly, he lifted her. Pinning her against the cliff wall with his arms and the weight of his body, allowing her to wrap her arms and legs around him. She hadn't known, but he had wordlessly obided her request. He pulled her garments to the side, and line himself up with her entrance. 'Sure about this?' He asked, a final reassurance.

'Yes.' She purred, no hesitation in her answer.

And so he pushed inside her, the sheer size of him was making her want to scream–

'Good girl.' He moaned, and directed his eyes to hers. She repressed a moan, biting her lip hard to hinder it as heat flashed through her. It was two words, yet she could've come undone from them alone, when said by him alone.

He gazed upon her softly, one of his hands left her thigh to gently stroke a strand of hair from her face. She smiled, and so did he. He was just giving her time to adjust, but her heart soared at the simple gesture.

God how could she feel so strongly for a stranger?

Her hands retangled in his hair as Arthur slid out of her, she furrowed her brows– but in a rough, quick thrust. He shoved himself back inside of her, filling her to the brim. He set a cruelly pleasurable, unrelenting pace. Any trace of gentleness gone.

She felt the pressure tightening within her, building snd building until she was on the verge of coming once again. Her hands sunk to his back, clawing and scratching because she did not know what else to do, he was too much, too good, too big. He overstimulated her with his mere prescence. And he knew when her walls tightened around him, adding extra pressure onto his already throbbing member. 'You close girl?' He grunted, his gruff voice breathed against her ear and his hand squeezing her thigh roughly beneath her. God it was sublime.

'Mhm. . . So- close.' She murmurs, her words coming out jagged as her body rocks with Arthurs thrusts. Pushed closer to her release with each thrust, once again, she shut her eyes and spots speckled her eyelids. Breathing turns frantic, she could no longer tell who was who as they mixed, moans and curses spilling from them both.

With a flash of pleasure, searing hot it soured through her, making her whimper uncontrollably. His thrusts slow, holding her securely, caressing her face and kissing her lips as she rides out her high. 'You're alright girl.' He breathes reassuringly, 'Well done Sweetheart.'

Overstimulated tears roll from her eyes, 'Oh Arthur, you sweet, sweet man.' She sighs happily, and he comes a mere second later. His seed filling her and oozing out.

They'd clean themselves tomorrow, since tiredness plagued them currently. He backed away from the wall and she clung to him, desperatley not wanting to part with him.

He carried her back to the tent, this time not bothering to tie her up as they laid down facing eachother. Arthur, grabbed her chin between his index and forefinger. Studying her thuroughly before they finally succumbed to sleep. She could escape if she wanted to, he wouldn't stop her this time. Her plan had worked, they both knew it. But they felt something else too, and they both knew it.

Hooded eyes blinked, blushing at Arthurs intent eyes and searching gaze. Her eyelids weighed down by exhaustion, It'd been a long few days, and before she knew it–

The light dawns, rays of dusty sunlight shone through the flap of their tent as the morning wakes. Bringing warmer tempratures and calm birdsong.

He opens his eyes, and immediately meet hers. She'd just been admiring him. 'Surprised?' She asked, biting her lip and stopping herself from reaching out to touch him.

He smiles, 'Naw, I was hopin' I'd wake up to you girl.'

#arthur murgan #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan imagine #rdr2 #rdr2 smut #rdr2 arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 smut #rdr2 fanfic #rdr smut #red dead redemption #arthur morgan fanfic

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saetoru · 11 months

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。SECRET — AL-HAITHAM.

pls come join me in silly haitham agenda and indulge me in the idea that he can be very playful and cute and lovely and charming thank you

al-haitham hates meetings.

and yet, here he is, struggling to find his clothes frustratedly in nothing but his boxers as he readies himself for one. to add to his misery, he can’t seem to find any of his regular clothes—how is it possible for all pairs of pants to be gone from his (neatly organized) closet? perhaps he was doomed from the moment he accepted his position—though it was hesitantly, and only under the agreement that it would be temporary.

he didn’t ask to be acting grand sage—and he certainly didn’t ask for all the responsibility that comes with it. but now, on the morning of a very important meeting which he absolutely cannot miss no matter how often he tries to make himself scarce in akademiya matters that simply don’t concern him, he rummages through clothes with a string of curses under his breath.

“are you planning on wearing pants?” you giggle, making him eye you wearily over his shoulder.

“well, that depends,” he huffs, “would you prefer me to show up like this?”

“of course not, this is a view reserved for myself only. and one that’s hardly appropriate for the grand sage,” you grin, pressing freshly laundered clothes into his hands.

he accepts them graciously—they’re still warm, like they’ve been freshly washed and dried for him to wear. you watch as he slips into his pants, admiring the pulls and flexes of his muscles as he dresses.

“how is it that i feel more exposed now that i’m dressed than before,” he raises a brow, “it must be your eyes practically undressing me.”

“oh but mister grand sage,” you tease, making him grumble a faint correction of acting grand sage as he rolls his eyes, “forgive me for my lack of manners. it’s just that…well, never mind. it’s a secret,” you giggle.

he turns, walking up to you as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his chest as he leans closer. he’ll run late if he doesn’t leave soon—but not late enough that he can’t spare a moment or two for you.

“a secret, you say?” he hums, nose brushing against the column of your neck. you shiver, fingers grasping at the smooth skin of his bare shoulders. “as acting grand sage, i require intel on this secret.”

“that’s an abuse of power,” you inhale sharply when he presses a kiss to your jaw, as the warmth of his breath hits your skin from the low chuckle he lets out.

“is it?” he grins, “i’m sure if i really wanted to abuse power, i would have by now.”

his head moves up so that his lips just hover over your own—it’s unfair, how tantalizingly slow he is at leaning into you, how his touch ghosts over you. it makes you lean in to close the gap yourself, but he doesn’t make it so simple. he pulls away quickly, chuckling at the pout that tugs at your lips.

“this is corruption,” you gasp.

“then i suggest you tell me this secret of yours.”

“well,” you make a show to look around, as though any eavesdroppers could make themselves present in your empty home—kaveh has already left early, with his keys forgotten, again. “i’ve come to realize that you’re quite handsome, mister grand sage. and…well, i’m afraid i’ve fallen quite deeply for your charms. i don’t know how i’ll break it to my lover.”

“your lover?” he furrows his brows in confusion, making you nod solemnly.

“yes, my lover. you might’ve heard of him? the akademiya’s scribe?” you smile widely once he rolls his eyes at your mischief, wrapping your arms around his neck while his snake tighter around your waist.

“i see. it’s a grave predicament indeed,” he nods, face as serious as ever as he plays along.

“yes,” you sigh dramatically, “i’m afraid i’m in a terribly difficult spot. i can’t decide if i love the scribe or you, mister grand sage. but if word got around that i’ve got my eye on two men…. well, my reputation would be in ruins.”

“well, we wouldn’t want that,” he shakes his head, squeezing your hips with his large hands and pulling you against his chest.

“any advice who i should pick?”

“i think,” he presses his forehead to yours, lips just barely a few millimeters away, “that they’re both equally good options.”

“then would you keep my secret? that i have two lovers at once?”

he laughs, soft and boyish from his chest, with a honeyed sound that fills your heart to the brim so quickly, it skips two beats.

“i believe i can keep it hidden, yes,” he nods.

and just when he leans in to close the gap, you pull away, pressing his shirt to his chest and plastering a devious grin on your face as you snicker.

“wonderful,” you nod in glee, “then you might want to get dressed and make your way to the akademiya. i heard there’s an important meeting today that you simply cannot be late for.”

with that, you saunter out of the bedroom, leaving him to grumble over his unfortunately demanding position that he should not have ever accepted under any circumstance.

i wish to bite him immediately

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff

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ph4ngz · 1 year

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“Suck me off like your future education depends on it. Oh, wait. It fucking does.”

Al-haitham gives a rough shift forward of his pelvis so that his heavy, twitching cock can plunge even deeper into your mouth. So bad, he wants to hit the back of your throat so bad. Archons, he thrives for this exact sensation EVERY moment of the dayyyyyy.

This view… your delectable expression. Plump, quivering lips glistening with saliva and doing their absolute best just to keep their place tight around his length even though you’re on the brink of gagging. Anxious, wide eyes clamping shut every so often to rid of the glassy layer of pesky tears blurring your sight. Knees visibly red and sore, digging into the hard floor each time you lift yourself up to chase after his dick and catch it in your mouth, shamelessly eager to revel in the flavour of him like it’s your last chance. So fucking dirty and… just downright iconic. Nobody can do it for him like you can.

Your scalp pulses with an addictive sting supplied by the scribe’s fist tangled and controlling in your hair. How he repeatedly yanks your head back and forth in time with his vigorous thrusts has your cunt clenching on nothing, sending arousal to come practically gushing from your hole, swollen clit feeling cruelly neglected and longing for the slightest hint of stimulation.

“Mmph… g-grrnm—!” you panic when a particularly forceful rock of the scribe’s hips causes you to tense up and fight for breath.

“Th—at’s right sweetheart, ha-ve-ve a gooood taste.” Al-haitham drawls and stutters an undeniably thirsty low-toned taunt, gazing down at your sweet, vulnerable little self all weak and bruising knelt on the ground below him. The prominent veins decorating his cock create shallow ridges that hardly catch against your tongue, and you would seize the opportunity to swirl around them, but it’s rather difficult with such a surprisingly heavy weight blocking the back of your throat. Fresh streams of tears begin to break out over your waterlines, and fucking hell is he ready to cum all over you. But not yet, no, he tells himself and gasps a large breath when the warning of an orgasm creates a maddening tension in his abdomen, you’re not deserving of that just yet.

At last, the brutal scribe’s actions come to a temporary standstill and he pries your mouth from him, not without a lewd, sticky pop and a cooling thread of saliva connecting the two of you. You can breathe. Speak, even. With a shaky hand, you quickly brush away any loose hairs obscuring your vision and attempt to softly thread a few into Al-haitham’s thick fingers so he’d secure them back for you whilst you teasingly trace messy lines up and down his bobbing length.

“I’m sorry, mister scribe, am I too good for you to handle?” you ask cutely, eyes disguised with innocence although your constricting grasp around the base of his aching dick betrays your visage de façade. Bending over and tugging your locks to tilt your head back, he directs a desirous, mean glare down past the bridge of his nose straight into your deceitful, sparkling eyes. His other large hand occupies itself by pinching your cheek between his thumb and pointer finger, stretching your face as if you’re just some dumb kid to him.

“Shut up.” the harsh scribe orders you, an aura of lust and dominance practically radiating from underneath his clothes. You swear you can feel it, too, due to his tall, lean and muscular frame looming over you so intimidatingly close. Al-haitham’s aquamarine irises seem to darken right in front of you, an illusion portrayed by his control over you. His power could be seen as figurative chains he keeps you bound to him by. Do as you’re told or face the higher-ups, he’d threatened you with a deal you couldn’t refuse after you’d gotten him dangerously close to expulsion by nabbing a folder comprised of detailed information regarding you.

Suddenly, the embarrassing touch on your cheek disappears only to land a firm, swift slap there instead. His hand was a mere few inches away from the area it smacked, so why— how does it hurt this much? A meek and wobbly moan still escapes the confines of your sore, sensitive throat no matter how hard you push it down to start with. You’d best shut up.

“Dirty, dirty little thief.” he chastises, voice deep and seductive through gritted teeth as you pump his pink-tipped cock in hopes that he’ll forget about your pathetic excuse for a “one-up”. Al-haitham mindlessly toys with your pouting lower lip, then by using a smidge more pressure to force your jaw open he glides his fingers over your bottom front teeth, a devilish smirk playing upon his mouth whilst he engraves the ticklish sensation of the toughened skin grazing along every serrated edge into his brain. Before you can clamp down and bite, the scribe removes your touch by the wrist to hurriedly line himself up and help himself to your mouth once more, without notice. His sharp, quiet inhale releases as a hot, sinfully pleased exhale that leaves your own hips wriggling aimlessly.

He watches you squirm helplessly as he holds your forehead to the sexy trail of short hairs leading from his navel to the long, hard dick he’s so generously stuffing your proud mouth full with. You’re barely trying to pull away, staying still until the natural recoil of your body prevents you from passing out. The faint, salty taste of his pre-cum along with his alluring and delicious scent combined and rendering you more intoxicated, cock drunk, by the second. Both addictive as fuck, so much so that your body begins to slump diagonally into Al-haitham’s legs as soon as the pressure on your head relinquishes, a jelly-like arm coiling around his thigh to stay as close as possible whilst your lips glide over his length when it slips out.

“I, I loooove seeing you choke…” the scribe, watching his slick jolting cock thwack against his lower stomach, confesses in a slur just in case you hadn’t gathered. He’s evidently high on the exhilarating pleasure, possibly much more than you are. “I bet you wish, fuck,” he pauses, sex-dazed yet tense with the consistent tightening of his balls, “you’d never have attempted to swipe those documents fr— from under my nose.”

/-/-/-/

#genshin impact #genshin impact smut #alhaitham #al haitam x reader #al haitham #genshin imagines #genshin smut #genshin x you #genshin x reader smut #genshin x reader #genshin alhaitham #alhaitham smut

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cthulhusstepmom · 10 months

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Hobbits are attracted to soft things, Dwarves are attracted to opulence.

It was the talk of the Shire when the last Baggins ran off on an adventure, presumed dead of course, those adventures are nasty, deadly things; even more so when he popped up again, a rather large, rather wild looking fellow at his side. He'd not been home for long before talks of a wedding started circulating. And of course there's no talk for polite society quite like wedding talk. It was even more a surprise when, confronted about the rumors on one screechy morning by a Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, he quite gleefully announced that it wouldn't be to a Hobbit at all but to a dwarf of all people. The dwarf that had taken to following Mister Baggins everywhere, Dwalin they called him, had let loose a rather frightening, growly laugh at the shock on all their faces. Poor Miss Sackville-Baggins had to be carried down the hill after she fainted the poor dear. They were told to sit tight and be patient, that they would get their fill of ogling soon enough. In the meantime all of the Shire was alive with the joyous occasion of wedding preparation. Because if there is one thing that Hobbits love more than Mushrooms it is celebrating. And a wedding of any kind is as good of an excuse as any.

A quiet catching worry of having so many dwarves about does spread through many of the older, more respectable hobbits. They're just so very different is all, especially if they're anything like Mister Dwalin; who is a great help when it comes to lifting heavy things but is truly terrifying when he's had a bit much to drink as he's fond of heavy handed cuddles and the hobbits are a fragile folk that bruise quite easily.

So is it any wonder that mutters and murmurs chase up and down the hill when the wedding party arrives for one Mister Bilbo Baggins and the good folk of Hobbiton get a look at his groom?

At first glance he was a very comely fellow, round and jolly with a smile that could make up for the beard. And then he was introduced as one Master Bombur, one of the Groomsmen. The good hobbits of the Shire were quite quietly appalled when Mister Baggins introduced his Fiance to them. A Master Thorin Oakenshield Son of Thrain Son of Thror; a rugged dwarf with far too many angles and tangles and hard lines and edges, covered from head to toe in lean muscle that had a great many hobbits doubting Mister Baggins skills as a homemaker. He was grumpy whenever he was parted from his fiance and moody at the best of times. There was nothing soft about him, which it is common knowledge to be that which Hobbits prize most dearly in a partner. And, in the opinions of the Hobbiton high society, one of the singularly most unpleasant and unattractive individuals in the entirety of Middle Earth.

Though he did briefly salvage their good opinion when he thoroughly and succinctly put at least a temporary end to the screeching of Lobelia Sackville-Baggins by glowering at her so hard she was, for the first and probably the last time in her life, struck dumb.

As the wedding grew closer the murmurs grew more frantic, was Mister Baggins really intent to tie himself to this unpleasant dwarf? He was certainly eccentric but he's a kind fellow and the hobbits of Hobbiton surely did not wish to see him miserable. Such murmurs persisted until the time they were overheard by the rather overzealous nephews of the dwarf in question and were silenced with enthusiastic prejudice. So the Hobbits worried. Privately. And quietly. (No one was going to be the first to find out if the young dwarves really would skewer them like shish kabobs and leave them to dry in the sun.)

Until the day of the wedding.

Gathered in a discontented crowd the hobbits of the Shire watched on as the glowering dwarf stood watching for his husband to be, barely paying any heed to the officiant. (To be fair Old Took was paying him about the same amount of mind, distracted he was rattling off tales of Tooks past). And then, when Bilbo entered, something remarkable happened.

The Dwarf softened.

Icy steel eyes melted into warm springs, tense shoulders settled open and loose, clenched fists relaxed, subconsciously reaching forward just the slightest bit.

That day, that dwarf was the softest of any seen before or seen since to this very day. And every single Hobbit in the Shire was jealous of one Bilbo Baggins and his beautiful soft dwarf.

#except of course Lobelia Sackville-Baggins who declined to attend though ask any Brandybuck or Proudfokt and theyll tell you she was there #they have two weddings one in the shire and one under the mountain #a little bit out of my usual wheelhouse but the dormant brainworms were stirring #bagginshield #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #bagginshield wedding #the hobbit

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sam24 · 4 months

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Chicken Butt

Summary: It was supposed to be a good deed. Really, it was. Tony had woken himself and the team up at ass o'clock to get ready for your morning birthday surprise, barking out orders like a dad on the morning of a road trip. Everything was supposed to be perfect. But a 6 foot something blond super soldier laying in your bed was not part of the plan.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader

*****

Tony crept down the hall, motioning for the rest of them to follow his lead through the silent hallway.

His janky ass team clearly didn’t care as much as he did, grumbling loudly, their arms full of birthday kazoos and party horns that Tony had shoved into their hands earlier.

“I don’t think she’s gonna appreciate you waking her up by tooting horns in her face, Tony.” Natasha fixed the party hat that was sliding over her eyes. “Taking her out to breakfast would have been so much nicer.”

“Breakfast is temporary, carrot top. The memory of us working hard to surprise her and make her birthday morning special is permanent,” Tony whispered.

“I don’t know about that, Tony.” Sam piped in. “Those hash browns down the street are pretty damn memorable.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” Bucky’s lips were pressed tight together, looking a little nervous and queasy, like he ate a couple moldy hot dogs before hopping on a roller coaster. But Tony didn’t have time to call out the cyborg, especially when you could wake up any minute now.

“When did you suddenly start caring about birthdays?” Clint looked suspicious. “For my birthday you gave me a half drunk coffee.”

“Don’t be selfish, Barton. I was tired that day.” Tony dramatically turned his head to peer down the hallway, making a weird sweeping motion with his hand.

He turned around to see everyone staring at him questioningly.

“It means all clear, you imbeciles. Has no one seen Die Hard?”

“Oh, I have!” Peter raised his hand and let go of his balloon, and Bucky snatched it before it could float off with a roll of his eyes. “But it’s kinda more like this, Mister Stark-”

Peter tried to demonstrate but Tony silenced him with a glare. “Guys, you’re ruining the whole thing. I’m trying to be nice and surprise our friend without you chihuahuas waking her up before we even get to the door.”

“Why are you trying so hard to be nice, Tony?” Natasha shook her head. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“C’mon, are you doubting me? I love being nice. It’s my favorite hobby.”

Natasha was unimpressed. “Pepper told you to be nicer, didn’t she?”

Tony grumbled, choosing not to reply.

Okay, so maybe Pepper did want him to be a little kinder, especially after he sent a few too many interns home crying.

”It’s not my fault they don’t understand my humor!” Tony had insisted.

Pepper had just given him a firm look and told him that he had to put more effort into expressing his appreciation for other people.

Tony was offended, but he knew his wife was right (as always). He didn’t exactly know the right way to express his love, growing up in a house with minimal affection.

He had tried multiple techniques: saying kind words, giving out compliments like candy, and even going as far as squeezing in random hugs, but none of them felt natural to him.

His love language was remembering the little things, Pepper had told him after she saw Tony give you a full-sized cardboard cutout of Channing Tatum after you had mentioned that the Jump Street movies were your absolute favorite.

However, some didn’t appreciate his little gifts as much as you did.

Helen Cho was not very thrilled to see thermal underwear for hands, no, not gloves, on her desk after whining that the medical wing was always cold.

Tony had decided to change his affection tactics to something everyone could enjoy. Everyone likes surprises. Right?

He liked to act like he didn’t care about anything other than AC/DC and whiskey, but he honestly did. He loved his team to pieces and would do anything for them.

Plus, it would be some practice for his incoming child. His future daughter would probably prefer hugs and playtime with her daddy rather than a chicken butt magnet (but considering it was Tony’s kid, the chicken butt might have a chance.)

So, that’s how Tony ended up here, searching his pocket for the keys to your room that he bribed borrowed from the floor’s housekeeper.

He made a mental note to fire the lady for dangerously handing out keys to anyone who asked.

“Wow, Tony. Look at you. Breaking into girls’ rooms,” Wanda snorted. “That’s a new low.”

“Quiet, before I burn you at the stake.”

“I still don’t think we should do this.” Bucky shifted his weight uncomfortably.

“You know, I would’ve expected Steve to say something, he’s being weirdly quiet. Something like, Anthony, respect her privacy-” Tony looked up from the lock. “Wait, where is he?”

Bucky cleared his throat. “Uh I dunno.”

“You don’t know?” Tony raised his eyebrow. “I thought you two were telepathically connected or something.”

Bucky looked down, suddenly very interested in the carpet under his feet. “Um I don’t know but I think we should go-”

“Whatever, he’s probably running an ultramarathon right now for some senior citizen charity, doesn’t matter. We’ll save some cake for him. But make sure someone has a glucose monitor. I don't think Cap can handle too much sugar.”

Tony inserted the key, the lock settling with a satisfying click as he turned it. He slowly opened the door, bringing his kazoo closer to his mouth.

What he was not expecting was that the same Steve who he thought was probably helping an old woman cross the finish line right now was lying in your bed.

➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸

You thought you heard the creak of your door, but you mentally waved it off, classifying it as the creak of your fan.

You turned, not bothering to open your eyes, your hand feeling for your human pillow, who was unusually soft and an excellent cuddler for being built like a wall of muscle.

Your palm landed smack dab on Steve’s chest, and you buried yourself into his side with a smile creeping across both your faces.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.” You felt Steve sleepily pressing his lips into your hair and all across your face.

Fuck, his morning voice was so hot.

You were glad you had him to yourself for a little while before you two had to act like colleagues. It was a mutual choice between you two to keep it from the team. Some of them could be just a tad bit dramatic, and you two wanted a quiet relationship before it went public.

Bucky already knew, because he knew Steve more than Steve knew himself, and you suspected that Natasha knew as well because she’s Natasha and knows everything.

Everyone else probably didn’t know, and you’d like to keep it that way for a little bit before Tony would inevitably scream "PDA! PDA!" everytime yours and Steve’s shoulders grazed.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and he buried his head into yours.

You mumbled something along the lines of “thank you” as you pressed kisses into his hair.

“I love you so much.” Steve lined kisses on your bare shoulder.

You heard a gasp followed by extremely violent shushing.

Your eyes flew open and Steve turned around in a split second, looking for the intruder.

You both were met with the team standing wide-eyed in your room, Tony in the lead looking like he was either about to pass out or throw the cake in his arms to the ground.

Steve tried his best to cover you with his body from his nosy team, trying to keep the blanket from slipping down his waist at the same time.

All eyes turned to Bucky, who was wearing a glittery-pink polka-dotted party hat that, by looking at the dents in it, seemed like it was wrestled on by someone.

He blew his party horn with a pathetic puff of air, smiling nervously at Tony. “Surprise?”

Thor launched his arms into the air. “SURPRISE!”

The commotion started.

“C’mon Cap,” Sam whined in the corner. “I thought I was your friend! How could you not tell me?”

“Knew it.” Natasha grinned cheekily.

“You two are so cute!” Wanda gushed. “Right Vis?”

Vision nodded, sending Steve an awkward thumbs up.

Bruce coughed, trying to respect your privacy by looking down at his shoes.

“Always thought you had a little crush on him,” Clint smiled.

“This is so cool! Wait, if you have a kid can I babysit please? I love babies. Oh my god, is it going to be a super baby?” Peter was bouncing with excitement. “Crap, I’m sorry, Mr. Steve. I didn’t mean to call your baby an ‘it’. I swear, I don’t see your baby as an object, I’ll be a great sitter.”

“Um, yeah, sure, kid-” Steve started.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” Tony finally jolted out of his paralysis state. “How the hell did I not see this?”

“Tony-”

“Are you telling me that the whole time I was trying to set you up with Matthew from logistics, you were getting pounded by Ol’ Captain here?”

“Jesus, Tony.” You grimaced. “Why would you put it like that?”

“So, this is why Steve was extremely against my brilliant idea of locking you and Matthew in the bathroom together? That jealous bastard!”

“Your what-” You choked.

“That wasn’t the only reason why, Tony.” Steve huffed. “That’s just plain weird.”

“You know what else is weird, Cap?” Tony narrowed his eyes. “The fact that you’re hoeing around with a girl who’s literally a baby compared to you.”

“I’m not ‘hoeing around’, Tony. I love her.”

Tony’s eyes danced between you and Steve until his face finally relaxed.

He sighed, coming around to your side of the bed and planting a kiss on your head.

“Happy birthday, kid. I would hug you but I’m pretty sure you’re naked under there.” He turned to face Steve again. “If you break her heart, hang onto your dentures, 'cause I’m blasting your dusty ass back into the ‘40s, got it?. ”

“Got it, Tony.” Steve smiled.

“Ew, don’t smile at me like that.” Tony made a face and looked back at you. “I had a backup present, just in case the whole surprise thing went to shit.”

Tony fished out something from his pocket, placing it into your hand.

"You mentioned something about how you loved to use that stupid chicken butt joke when you were a kid," Tony mumbled.

It was a chicken butt magnet.

You loved it.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #marvel fanfiction #crack fic

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solradguy · 8 months

Text

GUILTY GEAR VASTEDGE XT - FULL ARCHIVE

Yeah. The canon pachislot machine. Here's everything we have for it at the moment, including a bunch of files ripped from the Android port, concept art, and a Japanese transcript of the game's dialog.

ARCHIVE.ORG

=== FOLDER CONTENTS ===

VXT CONCEPT ART - Character model sheets

FIXED COLORS - Color-corrected model sheets

VXT DIALOG TRANSCRIPTS - Transcript of the Japanese text, partial English translation

VXT MESHES + SOUNDS + TEXTURES - Assets from the game itself (graphics, etc)

MESHES

SOUNDS

TEXTURES

VXT MOBILE APP RIPPED FILES - 2 .OBB and 1 .APK files ripped from the Android port

VXT VIDEOS - Footage of the gameplay and of the physical machine in action (there were some cool moving bits, like an animatronic Junkyard Dog MK.II)

VXT ANIMATED GAME ASSETS - Anything from the game that moved (cutscenes, UI assets, etc)

CREDITS + INFO.TXT - Informational text file. Also including the credits and additional info in that file here below the cut:

=== CONCEPT ART CREDITS ===

Mister Guest (via e-hentai) Volcanic Fighter (Twitter: nincopyjasb; Tumblr: @nincopyjasb) Shmuel (Twitter: shmuelbrain; Tumblr @shmuelbrain) Renexuz (Twitter: renexuz1; Tumblr: @renexuz)

=== DIALOG MANUSCRIPT COMPILATION & PARTIAL TRANSLATION ===

Volcanic Fighter (Twitter: nincopyjasb; Tumblr: @nincopyjasb) Dialog script original host (defunct): http://priban.gozaru.jp/ggv.html

=== MOBILE .APK & .OBB FILE RIPS ===

Lux (Twitter: xaeldritch) Nainsoo (Twitter: na_insoo)

=== ANIMATED & GRAPHICAL ASSETS, MUSIC, AND MESH RIPS ===

Tillman (Twitter: validtine; Tumblr: @tillman)

=== RESTORED & REMASTERED OPENING ANIMATION ===

Shmuel (Twitter: shmuelbrain; Tumblr: @shmuelbrain)

Original video hosts:

Youtube: www.youtube.com/watch?v=3-Vj8wymN3Q

Twitter: twitter.com/ShmuelBrain/status/1650153182725636098

=== ADDITIONAL THANKS ===

Shmuel (Twitter: shmuelbrain; Tumblr: @shmuelbrain) Renexuz (Twitter: renexuz1; Tumblr: @renexuz) The GG Lore Rev server

=== ARCHIVE COMPILATION ===

Sol Radguy

=== ADDITIONAL NOTES ===

About the archive - The files here were previously scattered across multiple websites and cloud storage services, making them difficult to acquire to those outside the small Guilty Gear archival group. I did my best to gather them all in one place. Please contact me if more files are discovered and I will add them to the archive upload on Archive.org.

The ripped mobile port files - The mobile version of Vastedge XT was only online and available to even download for around a year before the servers shut down. The two .OBB and one .APK file were ripped from the Android port of the game and are what Tillman ripped the animated assets, meshes, sounds, and textures from. A lot could not be ripped because it was stored on the game's servers. The encryption also makes ripping files from these difficult. It's possible there's more on them that was not able to be ripped.

Japanese file names - The original name of the .APK was ﾊﾟﾁｽﾛ GG_com.dtechno.slotguilty.apk and had to be renamed to be compressed into a .ZIP folder. If the file runs into errors during launch/cracking attempts, try reverting the name. Likewise, the Japanese names of the videos could not be compressed and were also translated. There is a separate .TXT file within VXT VIDEOS that includes their original Japanese file names.

Duplicate concept art images - There were two archives of the concept art. One was hosted on e-hentai by Mister Guest and contained the full, uncropped, images. The second was from a folder that Volcanic had compiled. Volcanic's files were a higher resolution, but were cropped and missing some information Mister Guest's files had. I've included them both here as well as the files from a third archive where an anonymous user on Imgur had restored the colors on the character models to match how they look in the game itself.

Neon colors on the concept art - The neon sections on these character model sheets are temporary/placeholder colors and not how they appeared within the Vastedge XT game. Their true colors can be seen in the videos within the VXT VIDEOS folder or in the FIXED COLORS folder within VXT CONCEPT ART.

Dialog transcripts - What we know of Vastedge's story came from official story summaries posted by Arc System Works on the Guilty Gear websites. The dialog is exactly that: character dialog. There may be lines missing, that are inaccurate (due to typos), or other written/spoken parts of VXT not included. It may be possible to get this missing information from the videos in VXT VIDEOS or from other VXT video sources online.

#guilty gear #guilty gear vastedge #vastedge #guilty gear vastedge xt #from the archives #photopost #long post #I hope I didn't get anything wrong/forget anything major lol #It takes Archive like an actual hour to upload the files #This took like a solid actual 24 hours of digging + compiling + organizing + uploading to get together argh

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emeritus-fuckers · 1 month

Note

Could I maybe request some head cannons for the ghouls interacting with a small child that they have been asked to babysit? Maybe even Papa Copia’s? I’m in need for some fluff right now lol :)

Copia's ghouls babysitting his baby

Swiss

Swiss isn’t exactly the ghoul you choose to watch a baby.

Swiss is best with young children that need tiring out. You come back to sleepy ghoul and sleeping child.

Copia hands him the baby? Well…

Eventually, he comes back to the staring contest of the century.

Baby vs Swiss. No sign of who’s going to win.

Surprisingly though, all the care is actually done pretty well. It’s just…staring at Copia’s baby now.

Sodo

It's absolutely hilarious to witness because both Mister Sodomizer and the baby will be confused the moment the child is handed to him.

They both just stare at each other in complete shock.

Eventually, thee baby melts against him because he's warm.

And once he's done with the initial paralysis, he slowly starts to hold the baby closer.

They become cuddle buddies.

The baby is sorta treated like a cat, in the way that Sodo will not get up if the baby is on him.

And once he's carrying the baby, he's cradling them like the most precious thing.

Rain

Rain is great with kids, very motherly and gentle.

Will make sure that baby is safe, well taken care of and as happy as she can get them

Ve will absolutely have the room set up to meet any and all needs as quickly as possible.

Might accidentally bore the baby, would benefit from help from Swiss or sunshine.

However the baby will be sleeping peacefully on his chest, enjoying the comfy spot to nap.

Second best choice for looking after the baby.

Aether

That kid is thrown around so much it's a miracle all the food stayed inside the baby.

He's definitely fun for the baby. Just like Swiss, good for wearing the kid out.

He comes up with the most fun and creative things to do with the child.

Honestly, Aether might just be the favorite uncle with all the running and jumping around as he holds the baby securely in his arms.

They eat banana-flavored baby food squeeze pouches together. (i have no idea what these are called, this is the best i found.)

All kids love him.

Phantom

Is the baby. This is the child they’re babysitting.

Mountain

He worries the most.

He would rather be sent back to the pits then not take the absolute best care of this child. He makes sure that they're happy and very comfortable.

Makes sure that the child is nothing but happy giggles and peaceful naps.

He is very good at keeping the kid calm, its just his energy, honestly.

Keeps the kid close, and will mostly just make his nest and flop down (softly) with the baby and take a nice long nap.

All the hugs and naps.

Cirrus

She's incredibly good at making the baby laugh.

Bounces the baby around and makes silly faces at them.

Her and Aether are the absolute best combo for a fun day with the baby.

And if you combine zir with Cumulus? You could leave the baby with them for days and come back to the happiest child alive.

Honestly, she could absolutely be a kindergarten teacher or a nursery caretker. Kids love zir.

Cumulus

Naturally very motherly and nurturing.

Probably the most responsible choice.

Also, she can let the baby nurse on her if needed.

(I want to nurse on her so fucking bad.)

Sings the best lullabies, the baby falls asleep so easy it seems unreal.

The baby just feels very safe and happy with her.

Sunshine

Much like Swiss, is not the first choice to leave with a baby.

She is full of energy and much better at just a temporary playmate.

She will play peekaboo, patty cake and rocket ship for hours to entertain the child.

Dancing fruit baby sensory videos? She will stare at them too for hours and hours.

Is just the chaotic playmate summoned to entertain the baby.

That may also teach them to bite as a form of love.

Aurora

Gushes. Fawns. Loses it.

Keep in mind, she hasn't been around for long.

Which means fae didn't get to see too many babies.

But once fae sees them, she absolutely loves them.

They think babies are absolutely adorable, but she spends most of faer time with the baby on just watching, waiting for the small human to do something cute.

Gushes about the baby to everyone who will listen.

Swiss, Rain, Phantom and Sunshine written by Death.

Sodo, Aether, Cirrus, Cumulus and Aurora written by Nosferatu.

Mountain written by Zenith/Jasper.

Taglist: @charlie-is-a-menace @copias-fluffy-asscheeks @randodummy @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @calliedion-dungeon @randominstake @callmeicaro @thecuriouss @nuntia @dio-niisio @ethereal-maniac @mamacarlyle @mybotanicaldemise @igodownjustlikeholymary @natoncesaid @bloodmoon-bites @plaquerat

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foxilayde · 7 months

Text

Where’s My Goddamn Money? [Marc Spector x Fem!Vampire!Reader]

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Blood drinking, lack of consent, groping, nudity, suggestive language. Minors DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: Marc Spector wants his wallet back.

A/N: I wrote this fic a long time ago, but removed it in a fit of angst shortly after posting. I’ve been thinking about Ula recently because of spooky season and wanted to share her with y’all. I hope you love her as much as I do!

“I know you’re here Dracula, you big fucking nerd. Where’s my Goddamn money?!”

Hurried steps and the swish of a crescent-shaped cape accompany the echoing voice of Marc Spector as he descends the slate steps of your abandoned-chapel-turned-temporary-home. Seems ironic to live in the belly of a place so full of crosses, but it reassuringly houses a small family catacomb, and it just might be the last place anyone would think to look for a vampire… unless they knew who they were looking for. And would you look at that, Spector figured it out.

“Took you long enough, Spector.” You sip your wine, curled up on the velvet divan, the ceiling drips steadily above you, and you couldn’t look more like a fucking vampire if you tried. You look like a boudoir photoshoot they’d sell at an alternative gift shop, and if you were able to appear in photographs, you’d consider posing in a calendar for real. Eternal life has it’s disadvantages certainly, but it is easy on the eyes.

“Where’s my fucking money, Ula? I know it was you.”

He stalks closer to you now with a slow intensity. It’s funny; for how rushed he seemed to be making his way down the steps, he appears to have lost some of his impatience upon reaching his destination. The sight of you totally naked in the candlelight on the blood red velvet fainting couch has the desired stunning effect on poor Marc Spector. His steps grow slower, edging closer to you, but scanning his surroundings now with creeping mistrust. Smart boy.

You pick at a button on the sofa and purse your lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Marc.” You smile wickedly at him, taking another sip from your glass.

Marc’s mask dissolves and he flips back his hood to reveal an unamused angular face, inky curls hanging handsomely over his brow. What a tasty looking treat. And so thoughtful. To bring himself all this way.

“My fucking wallet, Ula. Black. Leather. Full of cash. Ring any bells?”

You put an affronted hand on your bare chest, making sure to caress a nipple with your ring finger while you give him a cartoonishly innocent doe-eyed look “Why, whatever could you mean, mister Spector? Are you accusing me of being a thief?”

“You this lonely, huh? You have to take things of mine to lure me down here. You’re obviously not expecting… company.” He shakes his head and gestures to your curled nude form.

“I’m deeply offended, Marc. I assure you, I did not take your wallet.” You set the wine glass down on the lacquered table, next to the flickering candelabra. “Tell you what” You stalk toward him, very slowly as not to frighten him, “You can even search me if it’ll make you feel better.”

Marc gulps and takes one step backwards for every advancing footfall you trod across the damp stone floor. His back eventually reaches a column and he pauses wide eyed allowing you to slowly and carefully close the distance between your bodies.

You thought an avatar might be a little harder to hypnotize, but he was no more of a challenge than any other man. His eyes are effortlessly tractioned by your own and his jaw loosens in wonder as you step between his legs.

He puts up no fight when you grab his hands and place them on your waist. Oh darkness, his hands are warm, warm and sweet like his candied brown eyes. And fuck, the way his panicked heartbeat vibrates through his hot fingers and into the flesh of your ass? The radiance is akin to the memory of sunlight… you can smell he sun on his golden warm skin. Everything in you screams with a bat-shriek to bite into him now, to suck the sweet life out of his sun-kissed neck, with its thick ropes of tense muscle, fatigued from carrying that pretty head around.

He won’t fight now, not while you’re looking at him like this, but you can’t hold his gaze forever… or perhaps you could. You’d wager your hypnotic gaze could theoretically keep him here for as long as his biology could remain stasis without rest and water— but there’s no chance your patience and lust could wait that long. Not while the throbbing vein in his neck, so thick, so appetizing, is inches from your face. You’ve improved upon your restraint in the last few hundred years, but it’s yet to be perfected. And why wait? You don’t want the stupid bird to come looking for him, do you?

Your eyes are heavy on his own when you purr, “search me, Spector.” He nods like a zombie and his hands are rough on your body, zeroing in on the fleshiest part of you— your bare ass, he squeezes and pulls your cheeks apart and his lip curls like a dog when he growls softly. Whether the vocalizations are a demonstration of pleasure or defiance, you don’t care.

“Ooohh,” Your eyes tighten in mirth and you nearly lose the gaze before you widen them again.

“Good boy, Spector.”

You bite your lip, letting your pearly fangs hook on your bottom lip. He’s delightfully obedient to the gaze. You let your long nails scrape along his scalp, scratching him affectionately before you take a handful of his unruly curls in your grasp.

“Such a good boy that I’m going to let you in on a little secret, okay?”

Marc gives no indication that he understood and he continues to stare dumbly into your eyes and pinch and squeeze the softness of your backside in his warm, wide palms.

You huff impatiently and use the reign of his thick strands to nod his head in agreement for him. You smile with satisfaction. “I did take your fucking wallet, Marc.”

Again, no reaction from him, thoroughly caught in the haze and muck of your sticky spell.

“I took it to lure your cute little butt down here so we could have some fun.”

Still silence, hardly a trace of recognition on his dazed face.

You trace a long fingernail down the side of his cheek, poking up the corner of his mouth into a half-smirk. “Gods, I love a man who knows when to shut the fuck up.” You laugh, scraping your nails gently down his neck and down his suit, to the crescent emblemed breast plate. You nearly, very nearly, break the gaze to look at the plate while you tease your fingertips across it. But your gaze is steady.

“But that’s not the secret, Spector. You knew I took it. The secret is this, and I’ll drain you if you ever tell anyone, but the secret—” You pitch your voice down to a breathy whisper, “You know how mortals have to invite a vampire into their home before we are allowed to enter?”

No response, no matter.

“Well, the opposite holds true for mortals entering a vampire home.”

Again, not a flicker of recognition from him, his thumbs are rubbing needy circles at your backside and the closer you step into him, the more pronounced you can feel the pulsing heat between his legs. Fuck, maybe you should drink from him there. It’s been a long time since you feasted on a femoral artery of a man.

“You see, Spector, once you enter a vampire’s lair, you can’t leave without express verbal permission.” You lick your fangs to punctuate your point. “Like a mouse in a glue trap, I could keep you here as long as it pleases me,” you laugh.

You think you see a subtle widening of his eyes, but it could have been a trick of the candle light.

“Oh don’t be scared, Marc. I’m not going to kill you. Not even going to change you. Just going to take a few good mouthfuls of you, and then I’ll let you go.” Your mouth waters at the visual you’ve painted for yourself. Mouthfuls of his thick pulsing blood, straight from the femoral artery. Christ, you need to feed.

“Does that sound good to you, Marc?” His nostrils flare a bit and you grin. “Oh look at you, baby. You’re excited, I can tell.” You place your palm at the inside of his knee and drag it up, up, up, till it’s resting over the booming ventricle at the center of his thick, warm body, it’s playing a quickening beat and you can feel your fangs grow at the temptation of it.

“Eyes on me, baby.” It’s harder to talk the more your throat fills with the analgesic fluid and your fangs thicken and extend. Your tongue gets hard to control in your attempt to swallow the flood of venom that pools in your mouth. You drop to your knees, never breaking eye contact while you kiss his inner thigh. Your lips are right above the searing pulse point he smells like heaven itself. You rip off his stupid loincloth with impatience. Nuzzling your face into his thighs as best you can while still holding his eyes with your own.

Your bare knees sting slightly on the cold wet floor, You grip onto his thighs, nails biting into the grey linen wrapped coverings while you affectionately nip at his clothed inner leg, never breaking the gaze. In your mad craving, you hardly register as a string of venom drips to the floor from your mouth in a debauched display. You admit you can’t remember the last time you went on your knees like this for a warm suck, but Spector looks delicious from this angle, leant back against the cold stone column, legs obediently spread for you. His hands, unable now to “search” and grope you, are balled into fists at his sides.

Your fangs are at full extension and they grow itchy and painful, if you had any patience left you’d have asked Marc to vanish this part of his suit, but he’s likely capable of fuck-all since the gaze kicked in, so you sink your teeth right through the gauze of his leg coverings, hitting that sweet throbbing vein that’s been calling out to you, begging for relief, begging you to slow its rapid pace down.

Your eyes close in relief and ecstasy, and it’s no matter that they do, the damage is done. You don’t have to hold the gaze any longer, your prey is paralyzed. Though, you think briefly you might enjoy it more if he were able to struggle, to vainly wriggle his thick thighs against your predatory hold. He would be so much fun to play with! To wrestle him down, to fight for your meal— for each suck to drag him further and further away from his own strength… but mortals are so fragile, if it weren’t for the gaze, many would perish from a heart attack before you could get to the meal. Only the most unrefined of your kind ever resort to such discourteous practices when feeding.

He tastes so thick and sweet, and so very very warm, much warmer than a neck bite. The heat of his thighs on either side of your head adds to the burning delicacy, the muscles are more tender down here as well… as much as you had fantasized about the ropey texture of his neck under your lips, this holds its own delights. Sure, you can’t taste the sun, salt, and stubble of his neck— but the flesh down here is soft like butter-seared fois gras. Blood syrupy and warm like hot mead. You don’t want to drink too much, but you don’t want to drink too little either. It’s unlikely Marc Spector will be fooled twice and pay you another visit, so you must savor and make this last as long his blood will hold.

When his heartbeat eventually slows to a resting rate, you make an irate little sound against his blood soaked thigh and force your teeth to pull back into your mouth. Fuck, its so painful to do when your lust isn’t slaked, much easier to just drain him… but a promise is a promise.

You nip your finger and squeeze a few drops of your own blood till it pearls on your skin and you swipe the healing blood onto his puncture wounds, effectively sealing him up. It does nothing for the staining though, and the dark red continent is prominent against the light grey of his suit. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and smile, rising up to your feet. You step in between his legs and snake your arms around his trim waist, planting a bloody kiss on his dazed mouth. He kisses you back faintly, like one might groggily mouth a kiss in their sleep.

“Mmmm, darling, you tasted even better than I dreamed you would.” You wipe of the stain of blood you transferred to his lips with your thumb and you pout at him.

“Baby is tired, isn’t he?”

Marc blinks slowly at you in response, eyes rolling back in delirium, and he heavily collapses into your embrace. Luckily your senses are heightened from having just fed, so you’re able to support his weight with ease and bring him to rest on the divan. You prop him up comfortably. Poor baby is helplessly unconscious… Perhaps you took a tad too much from him? You climb on top of him, still naked, and straddle his limp form to press your ear to his chest.

Still beating. Strong enough.

You sigh with relief. If he was dying you’d have to change him and then you’d have that fucking bird on your ass for turning his avatar. Nearly 600 years old and you still can’t control your lust to a conscionable level. Just imagine, Spector as a vampire! You laugh at the idea and slap his sleeping chest as if he were the one who came up with the thought. “Ha!” He would make a miserable vampire, he’d never have fun with it. No imagination. He’d be the type to be wracked with guilt at every kill. Sad silly boy. A regular Louie du Pointe du Lac, feeding on cats in shame and writing disconsolate letters to no one with his own blood tears. What a mess he would be!

You prop yourself up in a cobra pose on him, forearms and elbows on his breastplate, laying on him fully, the tops of your feet pointed atop his shins. You shake your head at his handsome face and smooth the curls from his brow. For the first time in a long time you have a whim to sleep for a moment… but you can’t, you haven’t slept in nearly 600 years, so you prop your chin on your fist and stare at the pretty avatar while he sleeps, drinking in his slumber with your eyes, savoring the slow rise and fall of his chest.

You reach under the decorative pillow and pull out a black leather wallet. You grin as you tuck it safely in his belt and you kiss his warm cheek before whispering in his ear, “I grant you permission to leave when you wake, Marc Spector.” You rest your head in the crook of his neck, lips teasing his weak pulse point. You sigh when you close your eyes and pretend that you can dream.

END

[If you enjoyed, please consider a reblog! 😘]

#Marc Spector #Marc Spector x Reader #Marc Spector x You #Moon Knight #Oscar Isaac forgive me #Kinktober

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it-was-funeral-grey · 1 year

Text

Celestia-sent (Al Haitham x F!Reader)

Prequel Part 1 Part 2

Summary: There's a weird guy lying outside your house.

Warnings: Vulgarities, food (stew) , mentions of injuries , crying, reader mistakes al haitham as a old guy lmao, reader lives in vimara village, spoliers for al haitham's lore,

Word count: <1.7k words

Inspired by: -

Author's note: it was kinda therapeutic to write al haitham's part- the first half. not sure why. it just felt so easy. i miss my grandma. i should visit her once i feel better.

Please give criticism! Also, if i missed any warnings, do tell me so i can add them!

He's just lying there, faced down. His grey hair sticks out painfully against the brown dirt path, and you fight the urge to squat down to take a closer look. It's a shade of grey you have never seen before. It kinda looks like the moon.

Another old drunkard, you think. There's been many of them recently in Vimara village. Ever since the scandal in the Akademiya three months ago, Port Ormos had crashed. The whole port is a mess- what once was Sumeru's most efficient had become disorganised and stagnant overnight. Now, it's akin to a ghost town- especially after the mass layoff of port employees.

Trading has halted completely, the Wikala Funduq citing 'awaiting instructions from Akademiya higher ups'. But so far, no one from the Akademiya has come down to remedy the situation and help revitalise Port Ormos.

As a result, private traders can't do business, and trading companies can't do business, so no one is making money anymore. Traders from Inazuma and Snezhnaya had stopped docking in Sumeru. In a couple more months, Port Ormos would lose its position as the central trading hub of Teyvat. Sumeru will lose a terrifying portion of its national income. It will only get worse from there.

Vimara village was outraged at the mass layoff. Most port employees lived there, after all. In an instant, families lost all sources of income. The village community had tried to help each other, sharing food and whatever they could with each other. But this was only a temporary solution. The stress of unemployment is beginning to weigh heavy on many, which is why many have taken to drinking recently.

Which is why you aren't surprised that a guy's passed out on the ground. What was surprising is that you had never seen this dude before.

He's wearing expensive clothes, you note. He's definitely not from the village. Clad in green, he'd almost look like a plant if not for his grey hair. There's a cape hanging off his back, and on a shoulder is what you think is a vision.

Damn, you wonder. What kind of guy is this?

Curiosity gets the better of you. Squatting down next to the old guy's side, you lay your groceries down. Strangely, you don't smell any alcohol on him. So, not a drunkard?

"Hey, uh… sir?" you shake his shoulder, brushing your fingers over his vision. It's cool to the touch, the green orb emitting a gentle glow amidst the fading daylight. "Wakey wakey, mister?"

The man doesn't wake. You sigh. What are you going to do? It's almost nighttime. You can't just leave him here. I mean, you could, but still…

There's a pleasant aroma in the air, accompanied by the sound of sizzling oil. Onions, Harra spice… stir-fried with snapdragon leaves?

It reminds Al Haitham of his grandmother's cooking. Maybe she's making dinner now. He's pretty hungry.

Huh. Now that he thinks of it, it has been a long time since he's had dinner with her. When was the last time he even spoke to her? Or visited her?

He has so much to tell her.

He has to tell her about his job as a Scribe. Well, for now, he's the ACTING Grand Sage. Not for long, though. He'll make sure of that.

He's got to tell her about the stunt he pulled to save Lesser Lord Kusanali. She'd enjoy that tale. Probably scold him for being so reckless as well, though.

Yeah, he'll do that. Maybe he'll ask for a second serving of rice too. He's really, really hungry.

Then, he'll ask for advice on how to handle the whole shitshow that he has been assigned to run. She'll know what to do. She always does. She'll teach him how to manage the infinite number of impossible tasks thrown his way.

She'll comfort him. She'll tell him that in no time, he'll be back to his usual job: stress-free and not responsible for saving the nation from a crisis that may result in future generations growing up in poverty and political instability.

She'll hear him out as he rants about the mess Azar and those fuckers ("Language, Al Haitham!") had left him. And how everyone was so reliant on the Akasha terminals and the sages' leadership that when all that disappeared, they were clueless. They can't function anymore. Systems fall apart. People stop working. And because of that, he has to do everything on his own, and he's so tired and-

The sizzling sound has stopped. Is it dinner time already?

But he doesn't want to get up. Not now. Just ten more minutes, please?

There's a faint scraping sound. A spatula against a wok. If he tries hard enough, he can hear a plopping sound. So, it's a stew. He hopes it's Sabz Meat stew. That's his favourite.

How long has it been since he had a homemade meal?

Footsteps. Ok, no ten minutes, then. He'll get up.

Wincing, he sits up. His whole body aches. His knees feel sore. That's weird. He hadn't fallen or hit anything, but he feels bruises forming all over his arms and legs.

Trying to adjust to the bright light, Al Haitham slowly opens his eyes. He's in a small living room. Huh, he doesn't remember his grandmother moving. She never had this couch he was resting on either. Or the wooden coffee table in front. Or that many Liyue magazines.

"Ah, you're awake!"

That's not his grandmother's voice. Wait, what did her voice sound like again?

Al Haitham whips his head towards the voice so fast he pulls a neck muscle. Groaning, he reaches for his neck, massaging it before attempting to turn around, slowly this time.

"Hey, relax!"

There's a soft click from behind, and then frantic footsteps. Someone runs around the couch.

It's a woman. Not his grandmother.

Oh.

Oh yeah. Of course, it isn't her.

"Are you feeling alright?"

Hah, what was he doing, dreaming? Someone like him? Dreaming?

"Uh…sir?"

Of course, it isn't her. The dead can't come back to life. He's alone now. He has been for the past decade.

"…sir?"

He'll always be alone. Now, and for the foreseeable future. If he can even ensure that Sumeru still has one.

There's a hot sensation on his face, snapping him out of his thoughts. It's the woman again. This time with a bowl in her hand, holding it right in front of him.

He'd recognise that aroma anywhere. It's Sabz Meat stew.

"Um, I'm not sure what's going on," she says, placing the bowl into his hands. "But why don't you eat first?"

She pulls the coffee table closer towards him and walks back behind the couch to retrieve cutlery from the kitchen and a plate of rice. Laying them on the coffee table, she then sits on the floor, watching him.

"I didn't add lemons, but I can get you some if you want?" she asks when he doesn't move.

A minute passes. Al Haitham can't move. He can't, and he honestly doesn't want to.

What's the point of moving? Everything moves too fast. He'll never catch up. There's too much. There will always be proposals he can't clear in time. A question he can't answers right now. A policy he needs time to understand. Time that he doesn't have. Time that Sumeru can't afford to lose. He'll always be behind. And because of that, Sumeru will fall behind. Because of him.

It's almost funny. Before all this, he had never worried about being behind. He barely worried about anything.

"Come on," she prompts, taking a spoonful of rice and handing it to him when he still doesn't move. "Eat. You'll feel better after you eat."

Al Haitham doesn't have the energy to resist or deny her. Taking the spoon, he dips it into the bowl, letting the rice soak up some of the stew before lifting it to his mouth.

And suddenly, he's 19 again. He's in the dining room, having dinner with his grandmother again. She's lecturing him about spending too much time alone at home. Again.

"You may not understand now, Al Haitham. But there are people out there- good people. People willing to listen, be patient with you, and shoulder burdens with you. Comfort you."

Al Haitham reaches over to scoop another spoonful of rice. His eyes feel funny. So does his nose.

"You are never alone, child. I just want you to know that. "

Am I really?

Then just send one person, please. I'm waiting.

I've been waiting for a long time now.

"And one day, you may find someone that you can bare your soul to-you do have a soul, child. Everyone has one- no, yours isn't as dark as that 'black coffee'."

His vision is blurry now. With hydro. How strange. He chomps down another spoonful of stew. It's delicious. He hasn't had comfort food like this in a long, long time.

Just one sign. Please. I can't do this anymore.

"But until then, grandma is here to stick by you, hm? Until you stop being stubborn and go make friends!"

The woman shifts in her seat on the floor. In his peripheral, he sees her reach over to a box, pulling out tissues.

She moves closer to him, a little bit hesitantly. But when she realises that he isn't moving away, she gently dabs his eyes with the tissue.

"There, there?" she comforts awkwardly. She then reaches over to pat his back. "It's gonna be ok. Just let it out."

And that's all it takes. It's so weird. Hydro Tears begin to flow freely. He chokes back a sniffle.

She doesn't stop patting his back. The weight of her palm is comforting- almost grounding.

He cries. In the presence of an absolute stranger, he cries ten years worth of tears in a night.

Later on, as he drifts off back into the realm of sleep to the rhythmic pats on his back, Al Haitham wonders if this is what his grandmother meant.

Maybe there really are people that are willing to stand by someone like him.

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