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paddockbunny · 9 months

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Crowded

Summary : Inspired by the totally mad crowds outside of the drivers hotel in Budapest. What happens when it goes wrong? Rating : 16+ Pairing : Lando Norris x Reader Word Count : 2,247 ONE SHOT Trigger Warnings : 16+, small bit of language, there is nothing dirty in this BUT there is mention of injury, crowd crushing, accident and hospitals just so you are aware! Images : curated from Pintrest Authors Note: I’m not sure if this is my best work but I wanted to get it up during the GP weekend. Also, this is not shaming any fans but I think we can all agree that the scenes outside of the drivers hotels this weekend is a little extreme

The sun was setting as you and Lando made your way back to the hotel. It had been a tough day for him. The McLaren wasn’t playing ball around the boiling hot Budapest circuit and he had only managed to get P12 for Sundays race. Disappointed and frustrated he had barely said a word since getting into the drivers seat and you knew better than to try engage him in any type of conversation when he was so in his head. You had better ways of making him forget about the day - and none of them required either of you wearing clothes.

“Fuck!” Lando drew out an exasperated sigh as he turned on to the street where the hotel was. Throngs of people were crowded, no rammed, into every available space. They were 7-8 lines deep. 10-11 in some places. It was worse than the previous two days when it was at least limited to right outside of the hotel but tonight, it sheer amount of people was unbelievable. Barriers had to be erected to hold them all back and while Lando slowly drove up to where he was being directed too they began to scream and holler loudly at the car. “Lando, is this….” You glanced out of your passenger side window to the sea of faces “safe?” you finished.

“I’m sure it will be.” He was calm about the whole thing. He didn’t seem phased in the slightest which made you wonder why you were suddenly feeling a little panicked. Your hands hand gone clammy and your pulse had quickened. A tight feeling grew in your throat and your lungs felt like they were anxiously holding on to a breath that you couldn’t expel. Lando parked the car. You heard the decibels from the crowd outside increase as he cut the engine. “I’m a little worried.” You finally explained to him. You had been mindful of his mindset since Quali. You knew he would be in a dejected, disappointed mood and he wouldn’t want you creating imaginary problems. “I can’t not sign some stuff.” He shrugged but gave you a sympathetic look. You understood that and you understood how all this came along with his job but it felt to you to be chaotic and crazed - and he hadn’t even gotten out of the car yet. “Just go inside. You go in and wait for me in the lobby.” He opened the door as a hint it was time to leave the safety of the vehicle.

The noise from cheering and screaming hit you as soon as you climbed out of the McLaren Lando had been given this weekend. Sure, the roar wasn’t for you - you knew how much fans disapproved of your relationship from all the hate you got on your social media - but you wondered if this was how it felt to be famous. To be a Harry Styles or a Taylor Swift. It was daunting and alien to you. There was no way you would ever get used to it like they did. Or in fact your boyfriend did. He was already at a barrier, signing shirts and caps for swooning fangirls. He smiled away as he turned and took quick selfies so they could remember their 20 seconds with him forever.

A security guard from the Ritz-Carlton came over to you and started guiding you around the car and toward the hotel. But in that moment you realised Lando had the room key. You knew his quick 10 minutes would probably be more like 30 and honestly, you just wanted to get out of view already. You weren’t shy but with all the stuff you had read about yourself from jealous fangirls you didn’t want to give them anymore fodder. So instead of going straight in you headed over toward your boyfriend. He was in the process of signing a cap when you whispered in his ear about the hotel room key.

And then it all happened in an instant. It happened so quickly you had zero idea what had even transpired. You felt a knock to the side of you as the security guard pushed up against you and then cool, hard metal being thrust against your other side. You felt sandwiched. That was the immediate sense. And then, it was replaced by pure and utter pain. The type of pain that ripped through your entire body. That consumed your whole physical being and captures every last fibre of your brain. You couldn’t think of anything other than trying to get a breath in and your eyes began to sting when you couldn’t, it was a struggle. The same security guard that had been guiding you to the hotel - who had just been hard up against you - was pulling you away. Your feet barely able to touch the floor as you wanted to let out a yell that you were in pain but nothing came out. The agony in your chest was nothing like you had ever felt before and as the doors of the hotel were pulled open, you knew something was wrong.

“Baby!” Lando’s panicked voice was the first thing you heard. His outstretched arms as he rushed to you the first you saw. “What” you struggled “happened?” “The barrier gave way. People started pushing from the back.” His hands were going all over you, checking you had no physical scrapes after you nearly tumbled to the floor. But while you might have looked on in the outside you knew from the fight going on while trying to breathe, things weren’t ok. “I” you started “can’t breathe.” He had to have seen the pained expression flooding your face as he immediately turned and looked for Jon.

As you were guided toward a more private area of reception - out of all the hundreds of prying eyes outside the glass facade of the hotel - you couldn’t think of anything but the sheer pain you were in. You felt tears form in your eyes a slowly trickle down your cheeks. You weren’t meaning to cry, it just hurt so badly that it was an automatic response. Jon, bless him, thought you were having a panic attack so proceeded to try calm you down with some breathing techniques but he stopped when Lando loudly exclaimed; “Mate, that’s not working. Look at her!” And his hand was in yours seconds later. “What do you need baby?” Lando’s hand caressed down the back of your head. You didn’t want to say it because you didn’t want to be a drama Queen, but the torture in your left side was insurmountable. “A doctor.”

It was THAT bad. And it was about to get worse.

Two hours later, you were sitting propped up in a hospital bed awaiting the results of an X-Ray. Lando hadn’t left your side, he held your hand tightly and raised your cup to let you sip on water. He kept blaming himself and he should have listened to your concerns about safety earlier. No matter now many times you assured him it was your choice to come get the room key he insisted he should have made sure you had it before leaving you and you wouldn’t have been lying in a hospital bed in Budapest if he hadn’t been so absentminded. Lando simply went round and round in circles. He blamed himself, blamed security and even blamed the fans at the back pushing those at the front to try and get to him while you (in your head) blamed yourself. You should have just waited for him in the lobby. You should have listened to your gut. But there was no use in blaming anyone or feeling bad about it now.

When the doctor finally came in to your private room at the end of the corridor, you were practically flying from the drugs they had given you. They took a while to kick in but now, you had never felt such damn euphoria in your life. In broken English the doctor took a deep breath in and finally stated; “Unfortunately, you have two broken rib.” Broken ribs. Two. That would explain why there was so much pain and why you couldn’t breathe. You hadn’t as much as broken a finger or a toe before so breaking a rib felt extreme, and yet you had broken two! As you tried to listen to the course of action and pain management plan the doctor was describing you could see Lando become more and more frustrated beside you. He only just about managed to keep composed while the doctor was in talking to you and unleashed when the door was finally closed again.

“Fuck!” He groaned under his breath. “What the fuck?!” You weren’t sure if he was pissed because of the broken ribs themselves, because you had to abstain from sex until you had healed properly, because of the fact you would have to go rest at home and not continue on Belgium (and potentially not go on the amazing summer holiday he had planned during the summer break), or how you had them broken in the first place. You watched Lando pull his phone out of his jeans pocket and you asked him what he was doing. “I’m not driving tomorrow. I’m calling Zak.” “Lando…” you sighed - as much as you actually could “No. I’m not leaving you in pain, alone, in a foreign country. This wouldn’t have happened if they didn’t allow the hotel to tell everyone where we were staying.” He held the phone to his ear and you couldn’t move to even attempt to get it away from him. You just had to watch as he awaited Zak to pick up his call.

Thankfully, it went to voicemail and he cancelled the call. He announced he would try him again in a few minutes. You could see the vein in his temple throbbing away. You had come to know as a signal when he was frustrated or angry with something - or when he was horny or about to come but those were certainly not the case right now - and you knew you had to talk him down. “I’m sorry, Lando.” “What for? It’s not your fault.” He sighed. “I know but you wanted me at the track tomorrow. I should have just went in and waited like you told me too.” You were hoping your tone was enough to convince him and talk him down. “Don’t. It wasn’t your fault, baby.” He rejoined you back on your bed. He had been sitting on the edge of it, holding your hand before the doctor had come in. And now, you were (ok pretending a little so his anger dispersed) feeling sorry for yourself he came back to the same position. He gently ran his hand down your cheek and you nuzzled against it like a little kitten feeling happy at the touch. “I feel so bad about summer too. You planned that amazing holiday and…” “Stop it. If I have to drive from Monaco to Italy then I will or I will book a bigger jet with a bed so you can lie down. You’re going.” He was very determined about you not missing out on the trip. There wasn’t a doubt you knew Lando would look after you - when he was around to do so - over the next few weeks. You knew he would snuggle with you, plump your pillows, help you get dressed and shower and also force you to eat his terrible cooking, unintentionally make you laugh and ask you when you were better a million times a day because he wanted to have sex.

“You have to drive tomorrow.” You told him, looking in those sage green eyes of his. “It’s not fair of the team.” “It’s a family emergency” He shrugged and his eyes (subconsciously) flickered down to your lips before he sighed (probably reminding himself there would be no sexy time for the forceable future). Seconds later Lando yielded. “I’m still going to call Zak. I want to let him know you were injured because of the crowds at the hotel.” It was fair enough “Maybe he can ask them to do something. Move them back, keep them away from the entrance. When they’re right there and gather like that you feel like you have to go to them, like you have to choice.”

“They just want to meet their hero. They just got overexcited.” You felt yourself sympathising with the fans in the crowd that had surged forward and resulted in you getting hurt. You had never been THAT big a fan of anyone before but you were sure that if you were it would be easy to get caught up in the moment.

“This is why I love you. Even when you are lying in hospital with two broken ribs you are still thinking about other people and can forgive them for hurting you” Lando smiled broadly. You had no reply to him. You just coyly smiled back. “C’mere….” He made a tilting movement with his head and you tried not to laugh because it hurt too much “I can’t.” Your words were met with a confused eyebrow lower from Lando before he realised “Oh right, sorry.” He chuckled and leaned in carefully so not to put any pressure against your chest. “I love you.” He whispered before his lips touched against yours. And when you were about to answer him and tell him you loved him more, you hesitated. You realised you were just happy to have his lips on yours and his kiss made you feel safe and secure.

#Lando Norris #Lando Norris one shot #Lando Norris fanfic #Lando Norris fic #Lando Norris imagine #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 one shot #f1 x reader #f1 fanfiction #Lando Norris x reader #Lando Norris x you #Lando Norris x y/n #hungarian grand prix

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photo1030 · 4 months

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Anonymous asked:

Heyy , so i had this smut idea for a while now, but bare with me please cuz my English isn’t that good lol . Anyway it’s about arthur and f!reader who’s been teasing arthur with a lot of touches and stares all day. But they were all busy that day so nothing happened. Then at the end of the day arthur finally got to be with her alone to sort things out (if you know what i mean) and confront her.

Ik … not very fluent in English lol , but I really really LOVE your writing so i figured i should maybe request something

Hello again, my lovely Anon!

Thank you for the "ask"! This was certainly a fun one to write out. I wasn't sure if you wanted Arthur and reader to be friends with longing tendencies, or in an existing relationship. I went with the latter. Hopefully that is okay. Either way, it ends up with some steamy goodness. If you need it tweaked the other way, let me know.

LEATHER AND LACE - CLOSE, BUT NOT CLOSE ENOUGH

Summary: You and Arthur have been trying to get some time alone together all day, to no avail. But by the end of the day, Arthur finally gets what he wants.

Warning: 18+ please. Minors - DNI; NSFW

*This is not my image. I have found it posted on multiple pages on Pintrest but can't find the originator. If anyone knows, let me know for specific photo credit.

Masterlist

The early morning sun tries to cut its way into the woods, cutting the dewy mist with its beams of warm, golden light. The burgeoning glow sets the birds into motion, their busy little chirps filling the brisk air around the camp.

You are dead tired this morning. It was a long, hard day of chores yesterday and when you had turned in for the night, all you wanted to do was rest your weary head on that lumpy pillow of yours atop of that squeaky cot. And with all of the hustling and work lately, Arthur was hoping to have a little “private time” with you last night, too.

But much to his disappointment, you had already passed out the moment your head hit the pillow, already fast asleep before he could even get his boots off. So with a sigh and just a bit of frustration, Arthur lumbered onto the cot next to you for the night.

So this morning, you are reluctant to crack open your eyes when the feeling of Arthur’s heavy arm makes its way around your waist, slowly exploring your midsection and creeping up to your breast with his fingertips. His chest is pressed up against your back as he spoons you tightly to him, his skin radiating a comforting heat that sinks down through your skin and into the very center of your body. You can already feel his half-erect cock finding its place against the bottom of your rear.

In this precious little moment, you are faced with a “difficult” decision: do you try to get some very much-needed sleep? Or do you give in to the temptation of your beloved outlaw?

“G’ Mornin’, Darlin’”

His low, raspy voice, cracked with remnants of sleep, floats its way into your ear and breaks through your mind’s thoughts…and that is all it takes for you to decide. A smile slowly emerges across your face without you even opening your eyes.

“Good morning to you too, my lover.” You playfully reach up to encircle your arm around his head, turning your face back towards his. Your greeting is met with a simple low groan of approval as Arthur’s lips seek out the cuff of your ear.

You gently roll over onto your back, looking up into his awaiting face. His hair is rumpled from the night and his eyes are still heavy-lidded with fatigue. Yet those eyes still sparkle like the bluest sky as they meet your own. And your heart could burst at how that is the first thing you get to see in the morning.

He leans down to gently catch your lips into a kiss. It’s the first of many to come for the day, knowing you two. You push your body upwards to flatten against his, your leg bending up to entwine with his burly ones. A soft giggle emanates from your throat as you deepen the kiss and run your hand along his cheek and up behind his head to pull him down to you. Arthur is quick to roll himself to climb over you, settling himself between your spread legs. Your lips press together, repeatedly working over the other’s as his hands begin to explore along your chest, grappling at the tender flesh there.

You lift your hips just a bit in invitation as Arthur rocks back and forth ever so slightly. Your eyes roll back as your fingertips drag along the thick muscles of his back, trailing through the soft body hair that scatters across his wide frame.

“Arthur? You in there?”

Your eyes shoot wide open, instantly snapped out of your blissful reverie at the deep-sounding voice coming from the other side of your shared tent. Arthur seems to be oblivious to the intrusion at first as his motions atop of you do not slow down in the slightest.

“Arthur?” the voice repeats.

Finally, Arthur collects his thoughts enough to respond.

“Go away, Bill,” mumbles Arthur, pausing in his administrations only long enough to warn the burly man outside the canvas, as he has no intention of stopping right now.

“There’s a group of us heading out. Got a tip on a stagecoach coming through.” Bill pushes insistently. “Come on, we gotta go.”

“Not now, Bill!” barks Arthur as he keeps kissing you, his teeth nipping at the tender skin of your neck and collarbone.

You are trying not to focus on the fact that someone is not only outside your tent at this inopportune moment, but actually having a conversation with Arthur as his erect cock is rubbing against your aching heat, mere moments away from being embedded into the warm cradle between your legs.

“Well, Dutch is askin’ for you. So what do you want me to tell him, then?” Bill asks impatiently.

“Bill!” you suddenly snap, lifting your head to turn your burning gaze over Arthur’s broad shoulder towards the tent flap. “If you do not walk away from this tent right now, so help me God…!”

“Oh!” Bill’s eyes open wide and his face suddenly turns beet-red as the realization of what he is interrupting becomes all too clear. “Oh, sorry! I’ll..uh…come back, I guess.” He snickers as he abruptly turns to hurry-off back to the waiting group.

An exasperated sigh pushes out of your nose as your head plunks back against the pillow. Arthur has finally stopped the amorous actions, but still lays overtop of you, motionless and reluctant to move.

“Well, that just killed the mood,” you huff, noting how Arthur’s face has turned down into a hard frown.

Arthur takes a deep breath to steady himself. “I know I said I can never leave the gang, but there’s moments like this that I am open to the discussion.”

“Don’t tease me, now,” you warn as a tiny grin creeps its way across your lips. Arthur just rolls his eyes and sits up, playfully pushing your legs to the side so he can sit at the edge of the cot to get himself dressed.

Back at the hitching posts, Bill approaches the waiting group with a smirk on his face, shaking his head.

“Where’s Arthur?” asks Dutch impatiently, his gaze looking past Bill’s shoulder when he does not see the man in question in attendance. “You were supposed to go get him.”

“He’s…uh…busy at the moment.” Bill offers this obscure excuse to the men with a quirked eyebrow.

Dutch’s ringed hands land on his hips, his impatience growing by the minute. “Busy doing what, exactly?”

“More like, busy doing who?” chuckles Bill.

It only takes Dutch a moment to realize what Bill is talking about before his dark eyes roll to the heavens. “Oh, for Christ’s sake…”

—-----------------------------------------

Fortunately, the coach job didn’t take too long. Arthur had begrudgingly pulled himself from your warm and loving arms to drudge over to join his companions. He got a good ribbing from the men, as was expected, but all it did was aggravate his already irritable demeanor. He wanted to spend the morning buried between your legs in his tent, not between Bill and John on their smelly horses.

By the time the men get back to camp, you and the other girls are already embedded into more chores. Seems there is always something to do. In fact, the moment he gets back to camp and unpacked, Ms. Grimshaw is quick to get Arthur to the wood pile, stating that the firewood is already low again. He shoots you a quick glance, your eyes meeting briefly across the camp, before giving her an exasperated sigh as he reluctantly heads over to the ax to get started.

As you work with your needle and thread to mend shirts and darn socks, you delightfully treat yourself to observe Arthur as he chops the firewood. His strong arms slam the ax down onto the chunks of timber, causing them to splinter in his wake. His muscled arms flex with each blow, his wide shoulders set beautifully with each stroke. His burly legs set into a wide stance, the tendons there rippling beneath the fabric of his trousers with each jarring blow.

The sight of it makes your heart race so fast that it skips a beat in your chest, knowing that this hulking man belongs to you. Your legs involuntarily cross and squeeze your thighs in an attempt to contain your arousal, a feeling that has yet to be quelled since your abrupt separation this morning. You try to finish your mending as quickly as you can so that you can steal away to go over there.

“Hey, you,” you call to Arthur as you eventually saunter over, swinging your hips with a cheshire-cat-like grin on your face.

Arthur lifts his head as he tosses a heavy piece of wood as if it were feather-light. The second his irritable eyes land on your beautiful form floating towards him, the tension melts away from his weathered face. He stands up straight, grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, you.”

You hand him a cup of cool water, which he gratefully accepts as your fingers linger across his knuckles like an ivy vine. You intently watch him as he gulps the refreshing liquid down, observing how his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. God, how you want to plant your lips all over his neck right now. You shift your weight from hip to hip and bite your bottom lip as you watch him.

You step up even closer, bumping your hip into his and giving him that look. Arthur looks at you with intrigue. He swipes the back of his gloved hand across his mouth, wiping away the water droplets that escaped his lips. He dips his head to kiss you, but halts mid-stride when you hear Ms. Grimshaw’s shrill voice hollering for you from across the camp.

“Y/N! Quit foolin’ around with Arthur and get over here! I ain’t done with you yet!” You and Arthur turn your heads to see the woman standing in the clearing, arms crossed and face twisted up in annoyance.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” Arthur mutters. He turns back to you and the disappointment is plain on your face. You could be off wrapping your legs around this man’s waist, but no. You are needed elsewhere…to stitch holes in socks.

—------------------------------------

And so it goes for the rest of the day. It's as if the universe is purposely trying to keep you and Arthur apart. But Ms. Grimshaw is shrewd. Normally, you and Arthur can get a lot of work done when paired together. But when the two of you are acting more flirtatious than usual, the only way she can get anything done is to completely separate the two of you. Like wound-up teenagers, you and Arthur are known to play around and get distracted, sometimes even disappearing altogether. So the matriarch has been keen to assign you tasks on opposite sides of the camp.

Seeing an opportunity to catch you alone, Arthur comes up to you while you’re cooking. You are over at the food wagon, stirring the heavy cast-iron pot for tonight’s dinner when you hear the grass and leaves crunching behind you. You don’t even have to turn around to know he’s behind you, as the scent of leather and cigarettes, mingled with clove, permeates your senses. It’s a familiar fragrance that will immediately set your mind to race, making your blood run hot.

Arthur pushes his chest up against your back just enough to create that electricity. You suck your lip in between your teeth to silence any wanton noise that would be in danger of bubbling up from your throat. You turn your head slightly to the side, catching the pale blue color of his faded work shirt as he runs a single finger down the length of your arm.

“Ah, Mr. Morgan, there you are! I haven’t seen you all day.” Mr. Pearson suddenly appears out from behind the wagon with an armload of ingredients for you to cut and chop for tonight’s stew.

“Glad you’re here! Listen, did I ever tell you about the time I got into a fist-fight with a fella from town? He was an honest-to-God boxer. But I was too quick for him, you see. It was a good fight, too.”

Mr. Pearson is so wrapped up in his own story that the disappointed groan that comes from you goes unnoticed. Arthur’s brow settles into a hard, dangerous frown again. If it wouldn’t land him a stinging slap upside the head from Ms. Grimshaw, he’d land his fist in the portly man’s face just to shut him up. On and on Pearson goes, excited to have a captive audience for his rambling. You try your best to be polite and smile and nod along, but Arthur has never been one for social etiquette and quickly finds an excuse to walk away.

After you suffer through yet another one of Mr. Pearson’s stories and manage to get tonight’s dinner going, you set off to find Arthur again. The sexual tension is building and you can’t wait too much longer to deal with it. You finally locate him over by the horses.

Arthur is preoccupied with getting Buck saddled up, fixing the straps of the saddle and filling his saddle bags with provisions. He’s bent over at the waist, checking Buck’s hooves for any muck or debris, and you come up behind him, slowly running your hands up his back, pushing your fingertips into the muscle. You can feel Arthur shudder from your touch. But he quickly switches gears, muscles stiffening up under your hands.

“Quit. I can’t be startin’ that now,” he quickly scolds you.

“Oh really?” you purr as you press up against him, thinking he’s playing hard-to-get.

“I mean it. Knock it off.” He spins away from you, putting his hand on your forearm and holding you at arm's length as if you were something offensive.

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. “Excuse me?” Your arms cross indignantly over your chest in disbelief.

But he doesn’t mean to be cruel. He has to focus on what needs to be done. He can’t get sidetracked by those improper thoughts of you. And he has so many of those thoughts about you right now.

He sighs, rolling his eyes. “Look, it ain’t you, alright? I gotta head out. Dutch needs me to handle something for Strauss.”

You give a long frustrated huff. “Figures,” you mumble under your breath, taking a step back even further away from him.

“Don’t get mad at me for it!” he snaps.

“I’m not.”

His ocean-colored eyes flash at you. “Yeah, you are!”

“Arthur, if I was mad at you, you’d know it,” you snark back.

“Oh, so this look on your face is one of joy, then?” he says with dripping sarcasm as his hand waves inches from your nose.

You slap his hand down, your eyes narrowing at him. “Don’t be an ass.”

“I ain’t bein’ in ass!” His voice raises in volume as his limits get tested. He drags his hand over his face in frustration. “Nevermind. Can we deal with this later? I got things to do.” He plants his hands on his hips in impatience.

“Of course you do.” You give him an eye roll, your hair tossing in the air, as you spin on your heels to head back to the campfire.

—--------------------------------------------------

Later that night, you are walking through the camp. Arthur is nowhere to be seen, which is annoying. You grab the water bucket and head over to the edge of camp to dump it, when you hear a whistle. Confused, you follow the noise as it leads you to the tree line. Suddenly, a massive hand shoots out of the shadows and clamps over your wrist. It's Arthur. He holds his finger up to his lips in a shushing motion, tilting his head to indicate to follow him before you can even utter a word.

You quietly follow as he leads you away from camp and into the dark and awaiting forest, confused as to what in the world he’s up to. When you get to a thick collection of trees, he stops.

“Arthur, what are you doing-” but you can’t get another word out before he spins on you and roughly grabs your face, crushing his mouth into yours. You can’t even breathe, as he sucks the air right out of your lungs. He backs you up a few paces, hands still clamped around your cheeks, until your backside hits a tree, trapped and unable to move anywhere else.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day, sweetheart,” he whispers. “Can’t wait a damn second longer. I gotta have ya and have ya now.” He grabs at the fabric of your skirt without warning or permission and starts to hike it up, but you are quick to grab his wrists.

“What?! Out here? Arthur, someone is going to see us!” you gasp, shocked at his brazenness.

“Don’t care,” he grits out as he pins your body to the tree with his own, his lips attacking your neck. He maneuvers your hands away from his own in order to keep pulling at the skirt fabric which is the only barrier between him and his prize.

“But Arthur-” You try to take a second to try to talk some sense into him, but he silences you again, shoving his tongue down your throat. Your hands shoot up to his shoulders with a feeble push to try to get him to stop. But by releasing your grasp on his wrists, it frees him to reach up further under your skirt and yank your bloomers off, ripping them at the seam.

The sudden jerk causes you to gasp and it’s as if a switch has been pulled within you. The culmination of pent-up desire has come to a head as you no longer care about the world around you two. You look up at him with hungry, needy eyes of your own, but see nothing but pure lust reflecting back at you, like looking into the face of a wolf.

Your own pupils are blown wide with yearning and briefly flick from his captive gaze to his full lips. And with that brief glimpse of approval from you, Arthur shoves his arms under your thighs and lifts you up off the ground, slamming you back into the tree trunk. The motion causes the wind to briefly knock out of your lungs as your arms wrap around his shoulders to hold on and keep yourself from falling to the ground.

His hips grind harshly into you as his mouth devours your jawline and neck. You can feel how hard he is under the fabric of his trousers. Your precious little gasps only spur him on faster. Arthur fumbles with the buttons of his pants, pulling out his rock-hard cock. You can feel the tip of him rubbing hotly against your inner thigh, the length of him dragging along the folds of your heat. He seems impossibly rigid at the moment and you take a split second to wonder if it's actually painful for him. The thought of it causes you to desperately whine and moan in anticipation.

Arthur can be soft and attentive as a lover, and he can also be hot and passionate. But, every once in awhile, he can be just outright insatiable. A downright, dirty outlaw.

“You like that, don’t you?” he smirks, pleased with your reaction to his thick manhood teasing your sensitive skin. Cocky bastard.

All you can do is nod, your mouth agape and gasping for air.

“Good. ‘Cause I ain’t about to stop now.” He lines himself up to you and pushes in, burying himself until his pelvis is flat against yours. You cry out with a wanton little whimper, your head thrown back until it knocks onto the bark behind you with an ungraceful thud. Arthur is large between his legs, always a tight fit within you, but you have zero complaints about it.

“C’mon, baby, let me hear ya,” he coaxes in your ear. He immediately starts to pump into you, quick and desperate. Your back begins to drag along the tree as he ruts into you. The tree bark cuts into your skin, even through the fabric of your blouse, but you couldn’t care any less.

“Jesus, Arthur,” you moan. “Right there…(gasping) just like that…just like that.” You try to lean back, pushing your hips towards him and he grunts with a devilish grin.

“That’s right, girl”.

The beautifully lewd symphony that the two of you create could be heard by anyone in the area if they are close enough. Moans and stifled screams wrap around the wet sounds of tongues and lips clicking, while the unmistakable sound of skin against skin vibrates throughout the ring of trees that encompasses you.

Arthur lets your one leg drop down so that he can use that hand to reach between you. The pads of his fingers find their way to that sensitive bundle of nerves nestled within your folds and he begins to curl and rub. His other arm that is still hooked under your knee pulls your hip up, opening your gait even more, allowing his cock to ram into the back wall of your cunt with full force.

It's too much. You loudly cry out at the additional stimulation, your breath gasping as your hands pinch into the meat of his shoulders.

The sight of you coming undone before his eyes is enough to melt his mind. You lean forward this time, burying your head into his shoulder and letting your whole body go limp in his arms like a rag doll, giving in to sweet pleasure and just letting him have his way with you.

When you cling to him, he immediately pulls his hand away from your heat and lifts you back up again to get better leverage. He pounds into you even harder, chasing that euphoric ending. You are completely at his mercy now, mercy which will never come. The sexual tension that has been building all day like the pressure of a tea kettle boiling some water has finally been released. And like that scalding hot water, Arthur’s lust burns you.

“Baby, I’m…I’m close…” he sputters, his forehead digging into your temple. You can’t even form coherent words to give him a reply. In fact, you couldn’t care any less about anything he is saying right now, only about what he is doing.

Your climax is a tidal wave as your hands dig into his shoulder like the claws of a bobcat. The painful sensation of your fingernails cutting into his flesh is enough to push him over the edge as he quickly drops your legs, pulling himself out of you before his spend is sent hurling into the grass at your feet. Lightning clouds his vision as Arthur lets out a loud moan of release, not even bothering to try to hold anything back. His rough hands clasp the rough bark of the tree behind you, snapping pieces of it off in his palms as he braces himself for his own overstimulation.

As his large body comes down from its high, Arthur hangs his head, leaning it against your collarbone, his chest heaving for air. Your legs are shaking, trying to keep upright as you bring your hands up along the sides of his face, cupping his cheeks. Your thumbs begin to stroke his cheekbones to calm him and you press light kisses to his temple as you catch your own breath.

He slowly pulls his face back to look into yours. Both of you are left speechless. That feral beast that drug you off into the woods to be devoured is no longer in front of you. The man you recognize and love oh-so deeply is back, that sweet grin on his lips.

“What the hell was that?” you pant out in surprise.

“A man’s got needs,” he smirks with that devilish grin. “And I needed you.” He shakes his eyebrows suggestively at you as he kisses your still-trembling lips.

“I guess so."

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader smut #arthur morgan x f!reader

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morallyinept · 8 months

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Remember this?

The previously unaired pilot to The Sixth Gun TV Series from 2013, has been put up on Youtube.

You can watch it in full here.

Below is just Pedro's opening scene. He plays Special Agent Ortega. There are more scenes with him in the pilot episode, but rather than post them all here and spoil it for you, I urge you to go and watch it for yourself on Youtube.

There are also some screen caps below from the episode that I took, and I've included previously seen images that were released back in 2013 to promote it.

The show was never picked up by NBC for a full series and thus was cancelled. The pilot was never aired - until now where it's been posted on Youtube by a channel called Media Garage.

Pedro also posted a pic of himself in the role as Special Agent Ortega back on 9th May 2013 on his IG profile, stating in the caption "well since no one will see it now."

Alongside Pedro, The Sixth Gun starred Graham McTavish, Michiel Huisman, Aldis Hodge, Laura Ramsey, James Le Gros, Elena Satine & W. Earl Brown, to name a few.

Plot described on IMDB: Failed pilot adaptation of an eponymous comic book set in the old west about six cursed guns that give dark powers and are tied to its owners until their deaths. A heroine and an antihero are after the sixth gun that grants visions.

*Promo Images found on Pintrest.

🖤

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #special agent ortega #the sixth gun #pedro pascal tv show #pedro pascal roles #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

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cowplant-pizza · 2 years

Photo

alyska tatoo set

some cute tattoos or smthin!!!

this set comes with 12 swatches

- 9 individual swatches, 1 "all" swatch, 1 body and 1 arms swatch

- found in the upper chest

- works on all skin colours

- has not been tried on males, but should still work (just deselect masculine frame in cas)

important: these art images were found on pintrest and full credit goes to the original artist!! i take no credit for the art, only on making them into tattoos for your sims. no profit is made from this.

download on my patreon!

#sims 4 #my cc #my tattoos #sims 4 tattoos #ts4 tattoos #MYCC #ts4cc #simscc

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prince-dork-the-companion · 2 months

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Batfamily Presentation Night - Pizza - Cass

Masterlist

Cass: I'll go :)

Duke: Uh-oh.

Tim: Interested to see where this one goes.

Duke: Is this cheating? This feels like cheating.

Jason: When did you make this?

Cass: Before today. :)

Jason: I shouldn't be surprised.

Damian: That is a very useful visual.

Steph: I have nothing to say.

Duke: A good, hardworking employee.

Tim: We should get a cat and name it Cheese.

Damian: That is a horrible name for a cat.

Bruce: No.

Jason: Wh -

Duke: Are those turtles???

Bruce: Where did you get this image.

Cass: :)

Jason: B you have to explain.

Bruce: Cassandra.

Tim: So Bruce can have pet turtles, but when we do it's a problem? I see how it is.

Steph: Tim this is the perfect opportunity to go on your Jason Arc.

Jason: Your what?

Dick: Oh, I remember them! Those are the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles! They're vigilantes in New York. Super cool guys. Have a bit of an addiction to pizza, though.

Cass: And the sewers.

Dick: Yeah they live in sewers, it's kinda gross, but they're nice.

Jason: Please tell me this photo isn't in the New York sewers.

Tim: The rats, the rats... we're the rats...

Dick: Oh, that's a good one of me.

Bruce: Dick.

Dick: If you mention the rules about eating on patrol I will throw a fork at you.

Steph: Haven't we already discussed that, Bruce?

Dick: Y- WAIT!

Jason: [cackling]

Dick: So you HAVE been stealing my pizza??

[general laughter]

Steph: Why does that image look so sad...

Babs: Don't diss the deep dish.

Jason: Steph, you're not gonna say ANYTHING about the order it's in?

Steph: Nah it looks fine.

Duke: This is favouritism.

Steph: Sauce on top of cheese is a far cry from PINEAPPLE, DUKE.

Duke: It's good!!

Jason: It's not.

Jason: Wh-

Tim: Why are you so angry... What did that burger do to you...

Jason: CASS??

Cass: :)

Jason: I can't believe I have to move AGAIN.

Dick: You don't have to move every time we find your apartment.

Jason: It's called PRIVACY, DICK.

Duke: I'm unsure if I should be more concerned about what "Nemo" means or the Pinterest deck.

Jason: Pintrest deck?

Tim: [wheezes]

Dick: Nemo... does Jason eat goldfish crackers on his pizza??

Jason: GOLDFISH? Have you NEVER seen the movie finding Nemo?

Dick: I don't remember what kind of fish he is. Sorry for not having that information STORED AWAY in my brain.

Jason: It's a clownfish, Dick. Kind of like you.

Dick: I'm more of a Dory, I think.

Jason: No, you're those annoying ass seagulls.

Steph: Mine? Mine?

Cass: :)

Steph: EXCUSE ME?

Jason: Digiorno? You WILLINGLY eat DIGIORNO??

Steph: NOT ALL OF US HAVE THE TIME OR SKILL TO HARVEST AND PREPARE THEIR OWN PIZZAS, JASON

Jason: SO BUY SOME.

Dick: There's a really good pizza place on Poplar called Moe's. They give me free pizza.

Jason: Moe's is shit and you know it. I'd eat fucking Dominoes before I eat Moe's.

Dick: YOU TAKE THAT BACK!

Steph: Fight fight fight fight!

Duke: [wheezing]

Tim: Huh what?

Jason: I think I'm gonna be sick.

Dick: It could be worse.

Jason: I don't think it can get any worse than this. I can't believe we're related.

Babs: Y-

Dick: ANYWAYS.

Steph: Tim, you need help.

Duke: He's not the only one.

Steph: Duke, I take back everything I've said about your taste in pizza, this is a war crime.

Duke: This feels backhanded somehow.

Duke: Oh.

Jason: Hm.

Duke: I'll take it.

Steph: THREE STARS?? AND I ONLY GOT TWO???

Duke: L.

Steph: I'm going to unionize against Duke's union.

Bruce: Duke's what?

Jason: Pesto?

Cass: Hm?

Jason: Green pizza sauce. Was it pesto? Tastes like herbs, really notably the basil. It's alright. Not my favourite, but it's alright.

Cass: ...Yes. I think so.

Damian: Only four stars... what do I have to do to receive five stars?

Duke: Dude, are you trying to RIG the competition?

Dick: It's okay Dami, we tied!

Damian: I wish crush all of your pizza flavours.

Jason: There's the answer, kid.

Damian: Hn.

Duke: I smell bias.

Steph: No, no, she's got a point.

Duke: I feel enlightened. Good presentation, 7/10.

Jason: [muttering] So tired of fucking moving...

Dick: You don't have to move, little wing.

Jason: Fuck off.

Steph: I am going to hold off making my judgements but all of you know that Cass's presentation is the best.

Damian: I will go next, as mine is the objectively superior one.

TO BE CONTINUED?

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serpentandthreads · 6 months

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[Pick-A-Card] Are you a soldier, poet, or king?

[From left to right, pick one of three photos of roses + mirrors. Images found on pintrest.]

I've found several versions of this song, and all have been appealing to me. I figured, why not make a short and fun pick a card reading based on it? If y'all haven't listened to the song, feel free to go ahead and listen to it before picking an image.

[Pile One] The Poet

Uplifting Aspects: The Sun, Page of Cups, Seven of Swords (rv)

Young at heart and a soul much older, pile one are the poets. You are creative and have a unique charm to your personality. That charm comes in the form of optimism and having fun no matter what it is you do. This may draw attention to you, but take it as a compliment: you shine like the sun.

Some may think of you as naive and childish, but you are very self-aware. You know what you like and what brings you comfort. You are a dreamer. There are a dozen ideas for what path you want to walk in life, and it is so hard to choose just one so you try to live them all in some way. You often do this through your art.

Challenging Aspects: Strength (rv), Ace of Cups (rv), The Tower (rv)

Dear pile one, your joy and optimistic outlook on life may not come without some internal struggle. Your battles happen in your head with yourself. Poets seek to find the beauty in life and often will also find tragedy in it. This causes some fear and anxiety in you, but don't allow yourself to be paralyzed. You must learn not to be discouraged by this.

Self-doubt, imposter syndrome. You question yourself. Your abilities. The truth. Despite the reassurance you get from others, you still get that lingering "what if" in the back of your mind. Again, you can not allow yourself to be discouraged by this. You must move forward.

[Pile Two] The King

Uplifting Aspects: Ten of Wands, The Star, Five of Wands

Ambitious and honorable, pile two are the kings. You have a respectable sense of responsibility and will stop at nothing to achieve your goals. As a king personality, you tend to find yourself in the spotlight, but that is natural for you. You are a strong and intense presence. This can be intimidating yet admirable to others.

Competition and growth are what encourage you to keep moving forward. Even during times when you feel exhausted and ready to give up, there will always be a spark there to light you up again. Many admire you for your perseverance, and some envy you for it.

Challenging Aspects: Seven of Cups, Ace of Swords (rv), Seven of Wands

Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown. Your sense of duty can be both a blessing and a curse. You may frequently find yourself in situations where people look to you for answers. Sometimes, you may have them. There are also times when the options seem endless, and there are no true solutions to the problem at hand. Yet others expect you to make the hard choices.

Your neverending desire to achieve your goals may also come with a cost. You may sometimes find that others perceive you as cold and rigid, lacking in empathy. This may have cost you relationships of all kinds. Your competitive nature may have caused you trouble. Competition can bring out the best and worst in people.

[Pile Three] The Soldier

Uplifting Aspects: The Moon, Five of Cups (rv), Four of Swords

With an unbreakable spirit and the bravery to match, pile three are the soldiers. Many think of you as mysterious or closed off, but you're just mindful of where you use your energy. You're calculated and observant. All of this may result in you having very few relationships— it's not that you don't want meaningful relationships, you just see people for what they are.

Y'all are more likely to make peace with your past than poets and kings. Your sense of awareness is rather unique because, rather than dwelling on the past or worrying about the future, you are more concerned about the present. You can't change the past, and you can never be too sure about the future, but you do have control over how you approach life now. In the moment.

Challenging Aspects: Knight of Wands, Ace of Wands, Queen of Pentacles

Your fighting spirit may come with a hot temper and impulsiveness. You may be quick to judge, or you may simply judge harshly. Best mind your words, pile three. They cut just as sharp as a sword.

Y'all may also find that you have difficulty expressing yourselves. Yes, you have opinions about others and are morally conscious about right and wrong. How do you feel, though? Can you name your emotions? You spend so much time perceiving others and predicting what others are going to do next that you may become disconnected with yourself. Ground yourselves, pile three.

Deck Used: Tarot of the Divine

Enjoy the reading? You can leave a tip here.

#pick a card #pick a card reading #divination #tarot #tarot reading #tarot reader #serpentandthreads #tarotblr

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strideofpride · 1 year

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hart of dixie moodboards: wade kinsella

You can't grow up feeling like you're not as good as the people around you.

#wade kinsella #hart of dixie #hodedit #hartofdixieedit #hartofdaily #hart of dixie aesthetic #wadekinsellaedit #my moodboards #hodmoodboards #all images are from pintrest

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theworldofotps · 3 months

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Betrayed (Drabble)

Pairing: Damian Priest x Reader Word Count: 451 Pintrest Prompt: From the day we met, I knew I'd hurt you eventually.

Just wanted to pop a little prompt out for you and Pintrest has some really great ones. I hope you enjoy thanks for reading! Warning: Mentions of cheating. _________ Tag list: @omg-im-such-a-masochist @melissahausen @new-zealand-chic @writtingrose @99hook @sjwrites22 @sassymox @mrsacklesevansmgk @xladyxfatex @adamcolesbaybay @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @demonqueen29 @itsicantbelievethis666 @lilred91 @rebellious-desires @claymorexpunisher @letsgivethisonemoreshot @ava-valerie @shortyiceheart @serpantscorpio8497 @thatpanpal @thatnerdwriter @wrestlersownmyheart @vebner37 @auburnwrites @aews-four-pillars @seeingstarks @whenimakeitshine1234 @legit9thlunaticwarrior @blaquekitty @ironshamelessyouth @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @ripleyswhore @moonrosekk @xbreezymeadowsx @alyyaanna @elevennbloom @melblacc @alliwant456 @mcreignsera If you wanna be added to the list lemme know. _________ “From the day we met, I knew I would hurt you eventually.” The words Damian had said to you right before walking out of your apartment played in your head over and over again. That was almost a week ago and the pain still felt so fresh, the image of him carrying his suitcase full of stuff burned in your mind's eye.

You didn’t know how things fell apart so quickly. One moment everything was going so perfectly, then the next he told you he had made a drunk mistake and slept with one of his old friends. ‘She didn’t mean anything, I don’t know what I was thinking, I just missed you so much baby and before I knew it I was waking up in my hotel room with her in the bed.’ He apologized over and over again but all you could hear were the words ‘I cheated’ bouncing around your head. A sort of numbness had set in where you managed the strength and told him to leave. You wanted to be left alone, given time to think, time to grieve by yourself. Damian tried getting you to reconsider but your mind was made up. Even if you did forgive him, for the rest of your lives the thought of him sleeping with that girl would always be in the back of your mind.

So here you sat, a glass of your favorite drink in one hand, one of your favorite movies on mute and the silence of the apartment to keep you company. You shut your phone off after telling work and your family you were dealing with a nasty case of the flu. You didn’t want Damian to even attempt contacting you right now. Sure, he’d have to eventually come collect his things, but you couldn’t face him right now. Couldn’t really face anyone while your heart felt like it was broken in two. Staring at the wall your eyes drifted over the pictures you and Damian had scattered about, your vision focusing on one in particular. It was shortly after the two of you had gotten together. You were pointing at the camera, your best friend stood behind it taking pictures. Damian’s sole focus was on you a smile gracing his features, he looked like he was in love. Like nothing else in the world mattered than the fact he had his arms around you.

That was nearly three years ago and yet here you sat alone in your apartment, crying your heart out over a man who knew from the very start. That he was going to eventually hurt you one day, you just had no clue it was going to be this badly.

#wwe #damian priest #damian priest x reader #damian priest fanfiction #drabble

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biggest-stupidhead · 1 year

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Demons

A/N: I'm baaacckkkkk, I was inspired by a tik tok about how dangerous the winter solstice is, and how the veil between this world and the next is thinnest this time of year. So, in honor of my previous spooky Nat fic, I wrote this :) Hope you all enjoy! Listen to Demons by Hayley Kiyoko if you're feeling jazzy. Image is from pintrest not mine, credit goes to the creator!

Summary: The darkest night of the year harbors dangerous creatures, and you find yourself in a precarious situation when Natasha returns after a month of radio silence...

Warnings: Uhhhh lesbian sex (duh), blood (minimal), dark! Wanda & dark! Natasha (not super dark just spooky) , slight horror themes, porn w plot, fingering (r receiving, Wanda receiving), oral (r giving & receiving, nat giving). Lmk if I missed anything, this was a long one and I wouldn't be surprised if I did tbh.

Word Count: 3.5K

Autumn departed in a long drawn-out battle, temperate weather ebbed into freezing winds and biting blizzards. Bare tree branches scraped against your window, and the leaves have long fallen to be replaced with icicles and heavy snow. Dried herbs and pickled goods littered your minimal counter and cabinet space, casting strange shadows in the dark. You sat in a small armchair near your fireplace, a book splayed open on your lap. The scent of bitternut hickory logs burning filled the space, mingling with the dried herbs and the soup you’d prepared earlier.

Your cat purred as she slept by the fireplace, her paws kneading the air. Your cozy cabin felt lonelier than ever during this holiday season, your only company was the cat. This solitude had never bothered you before, but after Natasha had slipped into your life and just as easily slunk out of your life, you found yourself feeling lonely. Your nightly visitor had stopped visiting, and you found yourself missing her company. After her last visit on All Hallow’s Eve, she stopped coming, and your fears were confirmed. Natasha wasn’t a townie who was visiting your isolated home, she was something else entirely. A true creature of the night, bound by ancient laws to restrict the havoc she could bring to the secular world.

Deep down, you had always known this was the case, her glowing eyes, sharp fangs, and claws hidden under a vague disguise gave her away. You shouldn’t miss her, she was not yours to keep, and she likely hadn’t thought about you since that final encounter. But you thought of her constantly, every night you spent between cold sheets with your fingers buried in your heat you thought of her. You closed your book, eyebrows knitting together at the memory of her body slotting against yours, the chorus of your moans filling your quiet cabin. The book clattered to the ground as you stood quickly from your chair. A log in the fireplace popped loudly, but your cat continued to purr, her flank rising steadily with each tiny breath. You ground your teeth as your eyes flickered around your tiny cabin, taking stock of the herbs you had grown and gathered.

It wasn’t enough. You hadn’t been prepared for All Hallow’s which is why you felt so tormented. Mere days separated you from the Winter Solstice, a time when the veil between worlds was thinnest. It was the popular belief that Halloween or Samhain was the most dangerous night of the year. But those people would be sorely mistaken, the true danger lies in the darkest night of the year which occurs on the Winter Solstice, a time when sun deities are said to have died. You were counting on Natasha’s return on this night, but you needed boundaries this time. You flew into a frenzy, throwing open cabinets and lighting beeswax candles as you rummaged through your stores. It became apparent that you would have to run into town for mistletoe and yule logs. There was little you could do tonight, so you set about pacing your cabin as you made a mental list of what needed to be done.

________

As the first rays of sun filtered through your window, you were already dressed and stepping out the door. You hurried into your beaten pickup truck, allowing the ancient vehicle to warm up as you double-checked your list. One full day of sunlight stood between you and the darkest night, between you and Natasha meeting once more. Of course, this was all provided she wanted to see you, a thought that made your stomach swirl with anxiety. Once the truck was warm enough you slowly drove through the powdery snow, navigating your way through the precarious roads.

Once in town, you checked off each item, leaving nothing to chance. You were back in your cabin, unloading sprigs of mistletoe and hauling yule logs into your home. You tethered the mistletoe above every threshold and sprinkled some salt down for good measure. A large chunk of beef was simmering in bone broth on your stove, the aroma overpowering the scent of smoke and herbs. The berries you had preserved were bubbling in a mixture of lemon juice, water, and sugar, well on their way to becoming a fine jam. A feast for yourself would be ready by dark, which wasn’t far away, and maybe if you were feeling generous, you’d welcome a guest.

The afternoon slipped by and you watched the sun set as you placed your jam in jars, the scent of freshly baked bread threatening to overwhelm the scent of the stew. It was the proper way to fend off spirits, a warm meal, salt covering thresholds, and mistletoe dangling above every doorway. Most would surely pass you by, but you were praying that one wouldn’t. As you sat out plates and poured yourself a glass of wassail, the heady scent of cider and cloves filled your nose as you brought the steaming cup to your lips. The flames of your candles licked at the air, occasionally spitting plumes of smoke into the still air. The sky outside was like crushed black velvet with studded diamonds sprinkled across its surface. You found yourself enamored with the vision of perfect constellations, the heat of your drink seeping into your calloused palms.

Just as you began to think about sitting down to eat your meal, there was a soft yet demanding knock on your door. Any feeling of warmth or comfort left your body as gooseflesh rose to the surface of your flesh. You sat your cup down softly and carefully crossed the room, pausing in front of the door, trying not to grin like an idiot.

“Hello?” Your voice was mistreated, rough from not speaking often. Your porch creaked under the weight of whatever was on the other side of your door.

“Let me in.” The voice was unfamiliar, your smile dropped from your face, eyes widening as a cold sweat broke out all over your body. It was feminine and sultry but it certainly was not Natasha.

“No.” Your breathing picked up as you staggered backward, and a soft malicious chuckle filled your ears as if the creature was right behind you. You spun around only to find your crackling fireplace with your cat batting a ball of yarn innocently across the floor. Another slow rhythmic knock rang through the cabin.

“Come on, don’t be scared.” The creature sang between knocks, followed by a soft scratching sound.

“Little witch I know you’re home.” You struggled to maintain your breathing as the scratches grew louder.

“You must be so lonely in there. I can help you.” The scratches stopped, the porch creaked, and the hinges on your door groaned. Carefully, you stepped closer to the door, call it a morbid curiosity. You pressed your body against the door, your ear on the smooth wood as you listened intently.

“Speak to me.” A wispy voice rang through the wood, she was also pressed against the door, and the vision of a beautiful woman just on the other side filled your mind. Subconsciously, your disloyal fingers wrapped around the brass knob, turning it a quarter before a searing heat burned your palm.

You yelped loudly and laughter rang through your cabin, a sadistic sound that made your blood freeze. You stepped back again, nearly tripping over the ball of yarn as you sank into your chair.

“I won’t leave until you open this door.” The voice grew stern and you felt a tear slip past your lashes, the fear encompassing you. Between shaky breaths, you gathered yourself before throwing another yule log onto the fire. The ashes swirled as the logs popped and snapped because of the blistering heat. Your stew was growing cold, the forgotten glass of wassail sat on your counter, and the creaks of the creature outside grew louder and more impatient with each passing minute.

“Let me in.” The voice sounded tired and frustrated as it continued to plead, a pitiful scratch followed the request.

“I won’t!” You shouted into the brisk night air, and the creature hummed.

“You will.” The creature growled and the candles you’d lit flickered out, leaving you in darkness. Your cat yowled before racing into your bathroom, the clatter of things falling led you to believe she had jumped into your shower. The pounding on the door was louder now, more demanding, you covered your ears and curled into yourself, tucking your legs to your chest in fear. Suddenly the pounding stopped, the porch creaked again, and then you could discern a second set of footsteps.

“I told you to wait.” Natasha.

“I couldn’t help myself Natty.” The other voice sounded soft and playful.

“You’ll have your turn.” Natasha hissed and you nearly flew to the door to open it at the sound of her voice.

“Natasha!” You screamed and their hushed voices stopped. The darkness seemed to heighten your senses, you swore you could hear them both breathing heavily on the other side of the door.

“Let me in darling.” Natasha turned the doorknob impatiently and you paused, recalling the salt and mistletoe. You kicked the salt aside and took a deep breath, your hand resting on the brass knob as Natasha turned it once more.

“Just you.” Your voice was shaky and brimming with fear. Natasha laughed softly and turned the knob once more.

“Just me.” Little did you know, she was crossing her fingers between her back, her lips curled into a sinister grin as her friend hovered over her shoulder. You opened the door slowly, peeking through the crack to see Natasha standing innocently, alongside another beautiful woman. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of the two. Natasha looked the same, her red hair tied back in a loose braid, green eyes sparkling in the moonlight. She looked like a vixen, her white teeth shining in the soft firelight that slipped through your cracked door.

“This is Wanda, she won’t hurt you.” Natasha stepped aside, and you got your first good look at your tormentor. She had dark hair that hung loosely around her round face, her hands were locked together in front of her. But what truly caught your attention was her face, her eyes were green like Natasha’s but they were wider, more doe-eyed. She had full pink lips that curled into a grin as she noticed your prolonged stare.

“It’s freezing out here.” Natasha hinted at you to let them in, making a show of rubbing her hands together.

“Come in.” You threw all inhibitions to the wind as you let the door swing open and stepped aside. The two stepped in quickly and you shut the door behind them, Natasha paused under the mistletoe, reaching up to tap it lightly. The bundle of leaves swung with the disturbance and you watched it, swallowing thickly as Natasha turned her attention to you. Wanda stood looking into your fire, her neck craning down as she watched the flames lick the logs.

“How festive,” Natasha murmured, reaching out and cupping your face and you found yourself leaning into her touch, despite the coolness of her palms and the sharpness of her claws.

“I missed you.” You whispered as she touched her forehead to yours, red whisps of hair slipping from her braid as she did so.

“I’m here,” Natasha spoke softly, her lips brushing yours as she did so, her thumb brushing over your ear lobe tenderly. She leaned forward and sealed her lips with yours, setting a slow and sensual pace as her arms circled around you, pulling you flush against her.

“Wow get a room.” Wanda scoffed, whirling around on her heel and smirking as the two of you broke apart.

“Can we eat? I’m starving.” Wanda’s green eyes glowed in the firelight, she licked her lips and the fear that was hiding inside of you was ignited again.

“I could eat.” Natasha shrugged, her own gaze languid but lurking beneath you could sense that familiar darkness. Something told you they weren’t talking about your stew, you slipped out of Natasha’s grasp and moved through the small space to grab your drink. You gulped down a few long sips, the auburn liquid slipping past your lips and dripping down your chin. Natasha sighed loudly, walking to Wanda and rubbing her back.

“I’m famished.” You made eye contact with each of them, blinking slowly as the two broke into sly grins.

“Come here, sweet girl.” Natasha crooned and you slowly padded over to her, your confidence fading with every step. Wanda bit her lip, her sharp fangs protruding as she did so. You wouldn’t be surprised if she had a forked tongue as well, maybe even a pair of leathery wings folded behind her back. Once you were an arm's length away, Natasha grabbed your wrist and reeled you in, kissing your jaw as her hands cradled the back of your neck and wrapped around your waist. Your eyes fluttered closed as you basked in Natasha’s affections, her claws scratching your back softly.

“Give me a turn Natty.” Wanda whimpered and your eyes flew open, meeting her green ones as she placed her chin on Natasha’s shoulder. Wanda’s warm breath fanned over your lips, her long lashes batting as she watched your mouth drop open. Natasha’s lips had found your collarbone, her sharp teeth scraping against soft warm skin.

“When I’m done, you’ll never forget who you belong to.” Natasha hissed against your skin and Wanda giggled, leaning forward and pressing her lips to yours just as Natasha broke your skin. A hot trail of blood slipped down between the valley of your breasts, staining your shirt as it blazed a trail down your body. You gasped against Wanda’s open mouth, her laughter cut through the tension as she cupped the side of our face softly.

Her lips found yours again and you honed your focus in on kissing her, your tongues mingling as your heads turned to reach deeper into one another. Meanwhile, Natasha had sunk onto her knees, resting between you and Wanda as Wanda’s own hands greedily tugged at the hem of your white blouse. Natasha was busy pulling your pants down, along with your underwear, her cold hands roaming along the expanse of your thighs. Wanda broke the kiss so she could pull your shirt off, leaving you completely exposed to the women. She groaned as she cupped your breasts, smearing your own blood across your skin as she leaned in and took a pert nipple between her teeth, biting down softly. You threw your head back and arched into her, Natasha’s finger traced along your labia, smearing your arousal as she watched you and Wanda from below.

“Fuck, you look so perfect like this, covered in blood, being such a good girl for us.” Natasha groaned as she sunk a finger into your heat. You whimpered, your hand clutching the back of Wanda’s head as you struggled to meet Natasha’s gaze. Wanda switched breasts, her green eyes lidded as she savored you, her cold hands skating along your sides. Natasha’s own lips latched onto your neglected clit, suckling softly as Wanda returned to your lips, kissing you deeply. Natasha added another finger, slowly curling her digits to massage the rough spot inside of you that she knew drove you crazy. Your knees buckled and you nearly lost your balance, Natasha chuckled as Wanda steadied you, her fingers digging into your shoulders. Natasha continued her ministrations, feeling your pussy clench down on her fingers as Wanda stripped off her clothes.

“Nat, please. I need you so bad.” You whimpered as Natasha’s fingers picked up their pace, her thumb finding your clit once more. Wanda was nearly nude now, her teeth shimmering in the firelight as she leaned in to place fiery kisses along the column of your throat, your head was thrown back in ecstasy. The tight knot in your stomach was becoming unbearable, and the ache between your legs seemed insatiable. Natasha’s fingers held a brutal pace, the loud noise of her fingers sinking into your cunt spurring her on. Wanda’s fingers found your neglected clit, nearly matching the pace that Natasha had set.

“Go ahead sweet girl, come for us.” Wanda bit down on your ear lobe, her lips pressed against the side of your neck. That was all you needed to hear before tipping over the edge, your legs shaking as your eyes rolled back and a wave of pleasure washed over you. Natasha slowly let you come down from your high as Wanda peppered kisses across your collarbones, whispering praises as your heart rate returned to a normal rhythm. You felt like the room was spinning as Natasha cupped your chin in her hand, a smug grin smeared on her face.

“Let's go to the bedroom huh?” Natasha’s brow raised suggestively and you hummed in agreement, eager for what was to come next. The three of you staggered into your bedroom, crowding into the queen-sized mattress that occupied most of the room. Natasha reclined against the pillows, patting the space between her legs and pointing at Wanda, who leaped at the opportunity. Wanda laid back against Natasha’s chest, her head notching between Natasha’s neck and shoulder perfectly, the sight made you jealous. You pushed your lower lip out in a pout, unsure where you were supposed to lay, what you were supposed to do. Natasha laughed, her long slender fingers skating down to stroke Wanda’s glistening pussy, Wanda moaned, burying her face into Natasha’s neck. You watched as Natasha’s fingers slipped into Wanda’s heat effortlessly, her arousal shimmering in the moonlight.

“Come here, sweetie.” Natasha hummed and you climbed onto the bed, slowly crawling between Wanda’s legs. You rested on your elbows, watching as Natasha’s fingers slowly pumped into Wanda’s cunt.

“Go ahead, take care of her.” Natasha withdrew her fingers, a stretchy string of Wanda’s wetness still connecting them. Wanda whined at the loss of contact, her eyes screwed shut as her hips rose from the mattress eagerly. Your mouth watered as you leaned in to place a soft kiss on her clit. Wanda sighed as your tongue lapped at her aching cunt, her hands weaving into your hair to keep you close. Your eyes remained trained on Wanda’s face, which was twisted in pleasure as Natasha’s hands roamed her body and your tongue delved into her.

“‘m close Natty.” Wanda cried out, her hips grinding against your face as you looked at Natasha, trying to see what she wanted. Natasha nodded at you, a proud gleam in her eyes as you focused on bringing Wanda over the edge. Your fingers sank into her heat, slowly setting a steady rhythm.

“Tell me about it, Wanda, what’s she doing to you?” Natasha asked and your cunt throbbed, as Wanda whimpered as her fingers pulled at your hair desperately.

“S-she’s… her fingers are inside of me.” Wanda stuttered as you kept your pace, eager to bring her pleasure.

“Go on…” Natasha sighed, her hands cupping Wanda’s breasts, her fingers pinching her nipples. Wanda gasped, her hips jutting off of the bed and pressing into your mouth. You moaned into her, your mouth watering as you continued to eat her out.

“Natty please, I’m so very close, please let me come.” Wanda yelped as your teeth scraped against her sensitive bud. You felt her clench down on your fingers, her leg twitching as her orgasm built up inside her.

“Go ahead Wanda, come for us, baby.” Natasha hissed into Wanda’s ear and the woman screeched, her thighs clamping down around your head, her fingers pulling at your hair as she rode out her high. You sighed contently as her body shook with tremors, you gave her clit one last kitten lick before departing and she whimpered, at the stimulation.

“Come here,” Wanda spoke between pants and you crawled up her body, your head spinning as she reeled you in for a searing kiss.

“How did she taste (Y/n)?” Natasha’s hand rubbed your back languidly and you broke the kiss to respond.

“Like candy.” You teased and Wanda’s nose scrunched at the jest.

“You surprised me tonight sweet girl.” Natasha hummed, toying with a strand of your hair as you laid down on Wanda’s chest, your own fingers busying themselves in Wanda’s curls.

“It could be like this every night….for a price,” Natasha mumbled, and Wanda chuckled darkly.

“I might just take you up on that offer.” You sighed as Wanda’s nails traced patterns on your back.

“Think about it, we’ll be waiting.” Your eyes slipped closed, tangled in their warmth despite the cold outside. You knew you’d wake up alone, and you knew that if you agreed to their terms, your life would change. For the better? Likely not, but you found yourself weighing your odds. You might just agree if it meant you would spend every night like this.

Tags:

@natashaxwife

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff smut #natasha smut #wandanat x y/n #dark natasha x reader #dark wanda maximoff #dark wandanat #wandanat x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #smut imagine #wanda maximoff x reader smut

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paddockbunny · 10 months

Note

List B + Challenge with Lando please!

Good Kisser

Summary : The first time you had kissed Lando it was well, the worst kiss you had ever had. So when you joke he wasn’t a good kisser, he makes sure to prove you wrong Rating : 16+ Pairing : Lando Norris x Reader Word Count : 1,787 ONE SHOT Trigger Warnings : 16+, NSFW, adult language, nothing too bad Images : curated from Pintrest

List : List B. Prompt : Challenge - after the receiver teasingly suggests that the sender is a terrible kisser, sender immediately and fervently proves them wrong with a long, passionate kiss that leaves the receiver taking back what they said.

You felt the heavy bass of the thumping music reverberating through your bones as you made your way to the VIP table your friends were sitting at.

While everyone had been indulging in the free bottles of liquor that adored the table, you had been good and had barely drunk a thing. You were the responsible adult for your friends tonight - which meant you had to make sure none of the guys went home with any girls - so when you saw Lando raise his glass to his mouth again you rolled your eyes.

“What are you drinking, Norris?” You saddled up beside him. Momentarily, he looked up at you sheepishly but there was also a hint of smugness about him. “Why don’t you try it and see?” He held it out to you. You knew Lando didn’t like the taste of alcohol. He went for fruity little cocktails and sugar based drinks instead of the strong stuff simply because he hated the taste of it. So when you sucked the orangey red liquid up the straw it didn’t surprise you that it tasted like a smoothie. “You’re such a child.” You laughed as you slid into the booth beside him. “I’m really not…” You weren’t sure if he intended you to hear his words or not. They sounded like they were laced with something other than sarcasm. Something more like flirtation. But it was Lando. He was the last person who would be flirting with you.

As Max returned to the table he eyed the pair of you up and down and raised his eyebrow. Max had continually been complaining about how close and cosy you and Lando were. He always moaned about the pair of you seemingly like bosom buddies and like he was third wheeling. Which was utterly ridiculous as there was absolutely nothing going on with him. You were just friends who occasionally flirted. Flirty friends. That was it. Suddenly as you looked at him you saw the mischievous side grip hold of your friend across the table. The glint in his eye gave him away.

“Why don’t the pair you just kiss already?” You mentally wanted to strangle him. See months ago, you had in fact kissed. You and Lando. He had come P2 at his home race and on the night out that followed he kissed you. It wasn’t in the slightest bit romantic and as far as you could get from mind blowing. Actually, it had been a total fail. He had caught you off guard and instead of it being some big breath stealing kiss it was like kissing a dead fish. You were in shock. You had zero idea it was coming and the element of surprise was really, well, surprising. And besides all that, he didn’t actually seem to be into it. He didn’t grab your waist, caress your neck or fist his hands in your hair. He basically stood in front of you and just went for it. His tongue felt too foreign in your mouth, lips to unfamiliar and he felt so distant and uninterested that you even thought he had done it on a dare. Kissing Lando should have felt euphoric. It should have felt like you were the luckiest girl on earth - after all the fans that would have killed you to have been in your position - but it felt more like you were kissing your brother. It was truthfully the worst kiss of your life.

As you shot Max daggers across the table you heard Lando nervously giggle beside you as if he was in on some kind of joke. He had probably told Max all about the failed kiss and made it seem like it was all your fault. Hence the laughter and hence why you played him at his own game. “Please, not again, once was enough.” You jokingly flicked your hair over your shoulder dramatically. It whipped passed him and skimmed the open space left by not doing enough of his shirt buttons up. You glanced at him - thinking he would be ready to laugh about it like you were - and he looked at you like he had never looked at you before. Lando seemed angry. His brow was furrowed and he had a stern look on his face you had only seen when he was pissed about something that happened in a race. “What do you mean?” Tension grew. In fact it grew so large it felt like it a whole person had sat between the pair of you separating you both. You thought he was on the same wave length as you due to the fact neither of you had brought up the failed kiss after it had happened. Now, as nerves began to fill your body, you turned your head and glanced at Max. His eyebrows were raised and he was staring at you with a shocked expression. You were sure Max knew all about it - Lando was a bloody blabber mouth and told him everything after-all - but the look he was shooting you seemed to imply he was himself shocked at your words. Lando hadn’t given him the impression the kiss was good, had he?

“It wasn’t exactly good was it?” Your mouth kept going. You were digging yourself a hole and couldn’t stop. Fuck! This was why you didn’t like the spotlight. You’re mouth had a kind of its own when you got nervous. “Are you saying I’m a bad kisser?” Lando actually sounded offended. “Well, I’m not calling you a good one” It came out quicker than you could stop yourself. Your brain not catching up to your mouth, once again. But you also nervously chuckled to yourself because you were suddenly so anxious and you always laughed when you were uneasy. No one else laughed however. Certainly not Lando himself who was practically staring into your soul, seething in what you were reading as anger. “You’re the only one who has complained.” He said it directly to you. Looking dead in your eyes. “Really?” You we’re pretending to be shocked but you really were actually shocked. The failed Silverstone kiss was all you had to base your assumptions on so could he really blame you that you presumed he had had other complaints about his kissing skills. “Yeah really.” He scoffed.

And then your mouth did it again. It went off on its own accord before you could stop it. And with confidence you suddenly stated broadly; “Prove it”

You had no idea what you thought was going to happen - considering the fact you had quite clearly insulted him and then proceeded to push him - but now as he looked at you with a cocked eyebrow you felt like you could read his thoughts. He was surprised but pleasantly so. The smirk that breezed past his lips told you that. His head turned the opposite direction just as the knot formed in your stomach. If this was how you were thinking it would happen, you were sure he would chicken out. He would never do anything that was even slightly PDA in public. It wasn’t in him.

And then his hand was in your hair, his thigh was hard against yours and his chest pushed against yours. Your eyes closed in time for his lips to suddenly - finally - be on yours. His bottom lip grazed and his top lip captured as your breath was already stolen from you from the utter confusion at what was happening. But as Lando’s hand tugged your hair, your head tilting back for him, your mouth opened against his lips giving him access to your tongue. That was when you felt it. You felt yourself melting, swooning at his kiss. The blood seemed to rush to your ears and beat so loud it drowned out the noise from the nightclub speakers. All you could think about was him and how he was making you feel. Your temperature raised when his tongue glided across your own. He wasn’t forcing a game of dominance, you were already at his mercy. He had reduced you to a puddle on the floor. Your hands found his shirt and you held on to him while subtly trying to pull him into you even more. A deep, low groan flowed freely from him and straight into your mouth which sent a throbbing ache straight between your thighs. Fuck. What was he doing to you. Lando nipped at your bottom lip. Taking it between his teeth at one point making you completely loose control of your mind. You sighed giving him the signal that he had you in the palm of his hand and all you cared about was getting more of him.

But - almost rudely - he pulled away. His lips gone from yours in an instant. His face was only inches away and you stared directly into his beautiful olive green eyes, breathless and full of want.

“Well?” He smirked. His hands were still on you and you felt his body heat radiating from him. Words couldn’t form anymore. Your quick talking mouth had fallen silent from one single kiss from him. There was nothing you could say in response. You’d rather show him, kiss him back, kiss him again. But he pulled back when you went to do it “You didn’t answer. Am I still a bad kisser?” No. That’s all you had to say. You just needed to tell him no, he wasn’t a bad kisser. But you didn’t. “I think I need another sample to really confirm.” You shrugged and tried to brush it off (while trying to ignore the throb going on inside your panties.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He smirked but he gave you what you wanted. He began kissing you again and you never wanted him to stop.

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photo1030 · 4 months

Note

Pls do a fic or smthing where readers old guy friend finds her and they reconnect and they’re both crying and Arthur is like who is this and reader is like he’s my closest friend from home I haven’t seen him in ages and Arthur is all jealous kinda

Hi, Kids!

So sorry for the wait. Life has been busy, but I've been plugging away on this one. Thank you so much for this "ask"! This was actually an idea that I had for my regular "Arthur x reader" fic, so I was happy to oblige. I wrote this to coincide with my reg fic and I decided to go more angsty than smutty for this one, so I hope that is OK for the Anon who asked.

**Special thanks to @readingcoco for beta-reading for me. Your help was priceless.

LEATHER AND LACE - SAY HELLO TO AN OLD FRIEND

Summary: Arthur is none too pleased when you run into an old friend from your previous life.

*This is not my image. This belongs to Rafa on Pintrest. Beautiful work there.

Masterlist

Tagging: @daisybvck

The banging of an anvil echoes heavily in your ears, the deafening ringing thumping in your brain. You and Arthur have wandered into the busy town of Cripple Creek to see the local farrier. You have spent the last day hunting and while coming down through the valley pass, your horse, Blue, had thrown a shoe. Never one to neglect your horse, you insisted Arthur take you into the closest town to get him some attention immediately.

Now, Arthur is a firm believer in taking proper care of one’s horse, as a man’s horse means his survival. But the way you fuss over this spoiled animal as if he were your child causes Arthur to just chuckle and shake his head at you.

Coming out of the farrier’s building, you shield the sun from your eyes as you look around at the townspeople. The area seems pleasant enough. It is a depot location for one of the railroad lines, so there is a lot of traffic. People are coming and going, always in a hurry to go somewhere or nowhere. But always in a hurry to get there all the same.

You passed several pungent livestock farms on the way here, but now you can inhale deeply, enjoying the fresh air being pulled into your lungs. A slight breeze kicks up, lifting the soft tendrils of hair that frame your face to sway gently in its wake.

Arthur looks over as he lights his cigarette, amused at how your eyes roll closed and your whole body relaxes in a rare moment of peace and quiet. He really should get you out of that camp more often. Maybe he’ll hold off a bit on returning home, and the two of you can spend some more time alone together.

You can feel the bulk of him leaning in closer to you as his gloved hand runs down your spine to land on the small of your back. “Well, what do ya think? Should we get a room for the night or just rut about in the woods like we usually do?”

Your lips pull into a smile at his suggestion, and when you open your eyes, you are met with Arthur’s twinkling suggestively at you. Your face immediately brightens as you turn your body into him, hands finding their way to his broad chest. Your fingertips play with the upturned collar of his faded black button-down shirt. Giggling with excitement at the idea, you push up onto your tiptoes, your nose flirtatiously inches from his. Arthur’s hands settle comfortably at your hips, his arms enfolding you.

“Y/N? Y/F&LN, is that you?”

A vaguely familiar voice distracts you from answering Arthur’s question, but you can’t quite place it. Turning your head in confusion, you search for the source, and suddenly, your eyes widen with recognition.

“Robert?” Your gaze lands on a tall, slender man making his way through the crowd towards you. He is well-dressed in a blue and gold brocade vest and has auburn hair neatly combed back. He’s sporting more facial hair than you remember, giving him a distinguished look. He’s a bit older now, but you’d recognize that wide, toothy smile anywhere. An unexpected shriek of excitement escapes your lips as your hands slip away from Arthur. “Robert!!”

Arthur stands there dumbfounded as he watches excitement overtake your whole body as you run into the waiting arms of this mystery man. Who in the hell is this person? And why did you just abandon Arthur to embrace him like that? You and this strange man hug each other tightly, laughing and smiling as if God himself had gifted you each other.

“I thought you were dead, Y/N!” the man exclaims, holding you at arm’s length so he can take a good look at you.

“I thought you went to Europe! I thought I’d never see you again!” you laugh incredulously. Shaking your head in wonder, you throw your arms around the man’s neck again.

Arthur stands quietly, eyebrows knitted together, lips pulled into a thin line. He doesn’t like this one bit. The only person he’s ever seen you this excited over is him. Arthur’s fingers tap impatiently along his belt where his hands sit idle, as he waits for you to finish this reunion. Eventually, he clears his throat to try to turn your attention back to him.

Finally remembering yourself, you turn towards Arthur. “Arthur, this is Robert, my best friend.” Arthur’s eye catches how your arm eagerly loops around the man’s elbow. “We knew each other as kids. We grew up together back east!” You continue to gush as you present your old friend to your current lover. “Robert, this is Arthur.” You motion to the mountain of a man standing to your right.

Robert’s face lights up as he boldly strides closer, extending his hand out to shake Arthur’s. “So nice to meet you, Arthur!” His voice chirps with bravado and swagger, instantly making Arthur’s skin crawl. When Arthur doesn’t reply with the same enthusiasm, Robert turns back to you, eyebrows raised with curiosity. “So, is this your…husband?”

A slight giggle comes from your lips at the suggestion. “No, we’re not married. But he is mine.” You smile proudly at Arthur, your hand reaching over and squeezing his. Arthur smiles down at you as his body drifts slightly closer to yours. His strong arm snakes around your waist until you rest protectively against him. When he sees you beaming at him, it sets him at ease a bit with this intruder and he tries to relax a little.

“Robert, is it? Well, Robert, looks like you and Y/N go way back, huh?” Arthur asks, trying not to come off as annoyed as he feels right now.

“Oh boy, do we. We used to get in all kinds of trouble together.” Robert waves his hand in emphasis, then reaches out to tap your arm. “Y/N, remember when we used to sneak out and stay up ‘til 3:00 in the morning?”

You cover your mouth in embarrassment. “God, if my father ever found out what we were up to, he’d have taken a belt to me for sure!” you roll your eyes.

Robert’s dark eyes fall upon you with a sweet and nostalgic look, one held with affection of a time long past. “Used to be you and me, spitting off the edge of the world, right?” He leans over to wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you away from Arthur and into his side.

You smile affectionately back at your friend, nodding in agreement. “That’s right. You and me.”

‘You and me’ - The phrase sticks in Arthur’s brain, a phrase you should only be using in reference to him… not some other random fella. His lip curls into a slight sneer of contempt, however, you are too caught up in the camaraderie with your friend to notice.

“We need to catch up! Come on, let’s get a drink and a bite to eat. I want to know everything that’s been going on with you since we last saw each other,” insists Robert, tugging on the sleeve of your white cotton tunic.

“Oh, yes!” You turn towards Arthur. “Can we, Arthur? We have time, don’t we?”

Right now, Arthur wants nothing more than to get you away from this man, this town and everyone else in the world. But he can’t say no to that wishful look on your face. He doesn’t have the heart to crush your hope. That has always been Arthur’s weakness: he can never say no to you.

“Fine, I guess we got some time to spare,” Arthur reluctantly agrees, trying to hide the disdain that threatens to break through his patient facade. You clasp your hands together, giving a little hop of excitement.

The three of you turn to head down the side of the street, with you and Robert chit-chatting incessantly the whole time. As you stroll along, Robert explains how he has become a lawyer and is traveling to California to take care of some estate affairs for a prominent family. He is just stopping for a layover in Cripple Creek to catch a connecting train.

Instead of going to a saloon, you reach a little restaurant along the main strip in town and head inside. Robert orders a bottle of the best liquor the bar has to offer, and you all sit around a table as he proceeds to tell you of all the gossip from back home.

Robert is so animated and full of life and fun, not caring at all about the judgmental looks of others as he loudly tells you anecdote after anecdote. But he’s always been like this. For as long as you’ve known him Robert doesn’t care what anyone thinks and therefore is free to do as he pleases. This is something that you have always loved about him and why you were such good friends when you were younger. He was a breath of fresh air in a stuffy upper-class world. And to be honest, you always had a bit of a crush on him, too.

“So, David and Clare got married, you know,” he smirks. Of course, Robert is referring to your ex-fiance who you were betrothed to, who, as it turned out, was sleeping with your friend the whole time.

“I figured as much,” you reply dismissively.

“Huge obnoxious wedding, of course.” Robert waves his hand with a flourish.

You huff out an unimpressed chuckle. “I figured as much,” you repeat again.

“Wasn’t even six months, and the rumors were flying about his infidelity.” Robert laughs at the absurdity of it. You roll your eyes and take a large swig from your glass. “You dodged a bullet there, my friend.” Robert gives you a wink.

Arthur has to stifle a snicker at the irony of the man’s choice of language.

“Probably should’ve just married you myself,” smiles Robert. The statement makes you blush a bit under Robert’s affectionate gaze. But it is a statement that sets Arthur on edge.

Arthur patiently pretends to listen as you and Robert continue to laugh and joke about old friends and the social scene you left behind, the pair of you growing more and more chummy, until eventually, you find yourself resting a hand on Robert's forearm as you speak. Arthur clenches his fist tightly under the table, his eyes staring at your fingers and watching as they absentmindedly dance along Robert’s arm. It is not intended to be a flirtatious move, as it is a mannerism that you often do when you are excited about what you are talking about. But it is an action that Arthur resents all the same right now.

You try your best to involve Arthur in the conversation but to be frank, you are discussing people and places that he has no frame of reference for. The only thing that does pique his interest is the way Robert keeps referring to you. That certainly has Arthur's attention. But he has to be careful. He can see how happy you are and doesn't want his temper to burst your little bubble. However, if he had his way, he would be grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you to the closest hotel to make you forget your own name, let alone another man's.

Arthur hates that you have this “other language” and bond with someone who is not only outside the gang, but outside his class altogether. He’d forgotten where you came from and what you’d given up to be with the Van Der Linde gang and him along with it. And this conversation with this ghost of your past only confirms it. Arthur tries not to glare at Robert as he takes in the man’s fine clothing and clean hands that have probably never seen a day of labor in his life.

The whole thing is a harsh reminder that Arthur may not only be holding you back in life but actually pushing you down.

“So,” Robert finally turns his attention away from you, ”What do you do for a living, Art?” Robert asks innocently.

The very sound of Robert’s voice makes Arthur bristle. “The name…is Arthur,” he grits out. “And it’s none of your damn business what I do.” At this point, Arthur wants nothing more than to plant his massive fist in this pompous fool’s face.

You instantly pick up on Arthur’s annoyance. You can see his steel blue eyes set hard as his fist clenches around the glass in his hand. Arthur’s head tilts slightly to the side as he watches Robert, and you know from experience that he is measuring the man up. Robert is only being nice, ever the extravert, but he has no idea what sort of man is sitting across from him.

“Easy now, Arthur,” you chuckle nervously as you pat his burly forearm. “Robert is only asking out of curiosity.” Arthur shoots you a look that you can’t quite place. “Arthur does a little bit of everything,” you quickly answer Robert to avoid further awkwardness. “He’s done bounty work, loan collecting, things like that.”

“Interesting,” muses Robert.

“Well, I’d rather be an honest sinner than a lying hypocrite,” asserts Arthur as he levels his gaze across the table at Robert.

“I assume you work with horses quite a bit, too, then?” Robert pushes as his eyes roam up and down over Arthur.

“I do.”

“Figured as much. You seem pretty ‘rough and rugged’ like the cowboys we read about back in the city.” Arthur’s eyebrows knit as his mouth turns into a slight frown. “Oh, I don’t mean anything by it, friend! You look fantastic!” Robert insists. “In fact, I couldn’t be happier for Y/N. Looks like she’s got herself a real man. Those sniveling, uppity simpletons back home were never her type.”

“And I assume you are?” Arthur asks. This causes you to look at him questioningly.

“Me? Oh, no. We were never like that.” Robert waves the comment off, not reading the underlying meaning of Arthur’s question.

“He’s right. Being married to Robert would be like being married to a puppy,” you joke, trying to lighten the ominous mood that Robert is thankfully oblivious to.

“True. But, you have to admit, we would have made quite the pair, wouldn’t we?” Robert leans over and nudges you in the side with that wide smile of his again.

Arthur roughly grabs his glass of whiskey and throws it back, the bitter liquor hitting his throat, before he slams the glass down onto the table.

“What are you gettin’ at, there, Robert? Hmm? You think Y/N would be better off with you than me? Is that it?” The icy stare that Arthur throws at Robert is cold enough to frost the windows of the room. His chiseled jaw sets tightly, his body tense as if about to explode. Your stomach drops as you realize that Robert has indeed crossed a line with Arthur, whether he has intended to or not. And you find yourself at an impasse: do you stand by your man, or do you defend your oldest and dearest friend?

Finally, seeing that Arthur is not amused by his antics, Robert takes the hint and clears his throat nervously. “Well, it has been so wonderful to catch up with you, Y/N!” He stands up from the table and adjusts his vest, running his hand over his hair to make sure everything is still in its place. You and Arthur stand as well in anticipation of the farewell. You are reluctant to say goodbye to your friend, and Arthur is anxious to leave.

The three of you silently file out of the little restaurant together and onto the busy sidewalk.

“I truly hope we can do this again sometime soon, Y/N. Maybe if I swing through these parts again, I’ll reach out.” Robert says hopefully.

“I’d like that, Robert. Please do.” You affectionately place your hand on his arm. “I’ve missed you quite a bit since I’ve been out here.” You give each other a tight hug, one that lasts a bit longer than Arthur’s liking. But then again, Arthur doesn’t like anyone touching you for any reason.

“Arthur, it was a pleasure to meet you.” Robert smiles and sticks his arm out to shake Arthur’s hand again, which he reluctantly does. Arthur’s large hand dwarfs Robert’s as it clamps down extra hard. “Take good care of our girl, yes?”

“Sure,” Arthur deadpans. “Our girl.”

Robert gives you both an awkward smile and turns to head back down the street towards the train depot. Your eyes follow him as your chest feels heavy at having to say goodbye to a part of your past.

When you turn back to Arthur to thank him for his patience, you are met with his hard face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he snaps.

Sighing in exasperation, you cross your arms over your chest. “Don’t give me that.” You knew this argument was coming.

“Just that you seem awfully close with that Robert fella.” The contempt in Arthur’s voice is not lost on you.

“Well, yeah, he’s my best friend.”

Arthur’s jaw clenches just a bit more at your answer. “Uh-huh.”

Your head tilts slightly to the side, eyes narrowing as you study him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Like I said, you two seem awfully close.” His voice drops low and slow, almost spitting out the words like a spoiled piece of meat.

“That’s because we are. He was the only true friend I had, Arthur.” You shuffle your weight from hip to hip, becoming increasingly uncomfortable under Arthur’s scrutiny. You suddenly feel like one of his marks.

“Uh-huh.” Arthur’s simple responses quickly escalates your annoyance as you watch him pull a cigarette out of his pocket, striking the match on the nearby building with enough force that the wooden stick almost snaps between his fingertips.

“Oh my God, are you jealous?” you ask, disturbed at the turn in the conversation.

“Nope.” Dipping his head down, his eyes are hidden by his dusty, worn hat as his fingers bring the cigarette back up to his lips.

“No?”

“Alright, maybe I am,” he suddenly spins on you, face turning crimson. “Maybe I don’t like how excited you get to see another man. Maybe I don’t like you all laughing and smiling at someone else.”

Your heart begins to pound in your ears, taken aback by his surge of anger. “Arthur-”

“Don’t!” he barks at you. “Just…don’t! I can’t compete with that, and you know it!” He points his finger accusingly at you.

“Arthur, I'm not asking you to compete with anyone! In fact, there’s a reason why I left all that behind.” You step towards him, arms raised to embrace him, but he blocks your hands with his own.

“Save it!” And he storms off, leaving you standing there on the sidewalk. Butterflies swirl in your stomach, leaving you queasy. A storm of guilt, frustration, and yes even anger, rages inside your chest. You wrap your arms around yourself as you try to make sense of what just happened.

“Damn it, Arthur,” you mutter.

—---------------------------------------------------

Rather than chase after him, you decide to leave Arthur be and give him time to cool off. There’s no talking to him when he gets like this, as it usually escalates into a fight if you push it. You feel awful for making him feel bad, as you are well aware of how self-conscious he is. But then again, what about your feelings? You have every right to visit with an old friend and a dear one at that. Yes, you know how it looks. You and Robert always did have a special bond that bordered on the flirtatious side. But you love Arthur. And he knows that. You love him with a depth that could swallow the stars. And you are getting tired of having to constantly prove that to him.

After an hour of wandering the local shops to stall for time, you decide to find Arthur, knowing exactly where you’ll find him. Your boot heels click along the worn floorboard of the porch outside of the saloon. You can hear the chatter and piano music coming from inside. You look through the window, eyes searching for your target. Between the small sea of dusty hats and hulking shoulders, you catch sight of that familiar form that you seek.

Walking into the building, your hands roll over each other, fingers intertwining, as you take a shaky breath when you approach Arthur at the bar. You glide onto the stool beside him, fidgeting slightly to get comfortable. He sits quietly, still brooding with a menacing vibe radiating off of him. You motion to the bartender, who walks over when he catches your eye. “What’ll it be, Miss?”

“A beer, please.”

“Comin’ right up”. It only takes a minute for him to grab a bottle and set it next to the coin you’ve already placed for him. His thick, ready fingers pick it up off the bar top with a pleasant nod of approval as he sets about his previous task.

You spin the bottle between your fingertips, looking at Arthur from the corner of your eye. “So, are we going to talk about this?”

He continues to sulk quietly, lifting a shot of whiskey to his lips and downing it in one. His jaw clenches at the sting of the cheap liquor, but he promptly pours another shot into the diminutive glass, the bottle half empty at this point.

“Alright, fine.” You take a swig of your beer.

“Where’s your ‘friend’?” Arthur grunts without even looking at you.

“Robert is about to get on a train.”

“Mmhmm”.

“Arthur-”

“Alright, look, I’m sorry,” he interupts, slicing his hand through the air as if to end the argument right here. “Please don’t make a big deal outta this.”

“What were you worried about? That I’d run off with Robert?”

“Wouldn’t you?” he blurts out bitterly.

“You can’t be serious?” Your face twists up in shock. He only answers you with a snort of derision. “Arthur, I was excited to see an old friend. That’s all,” you stress emphatically. “You have to remember, I am surrounded by your people, your family, all of the time. This is the first time I’ve seen someone from my previous life.” Your tone unwittingly begins to take on one of annoyance as you try to plead your case. But it is an argument that is falling on deaf and angry ears.

“I’m sorry, I thought the gang was ‘your people’, too,” he bites back. Arthur can be a reasonable man until he is provoked, and then reason doesn’t factor in at all.

“Well, they are,” you backpedal sheepishly at his harshness. Your gaze falters to land on the bottle in your hands before attempting to meet Arthur’s again. “But you know what I mean. You can’t be angry because I was happy to see someone from my life that, heaven forbid, didn’t involve the Van der Linde gang.”

Artur just pouts in silence. You are getting really irritated at this point, but trying to remain calm and not cause a scene.

“So you’d just let me run away with Robert rather than talk to me and ask me to stay with you? Is that it?” you huff.

“Couldn't help but notice how excited you were to hear about everything back home. Almost like you miss it. Pretty damn clear after your little visit today that you don’t even belong here. Maybe you should.” And another shot gets poured into the glass.

Damn it, and there it is. The thing that always seems to be present in your relationship: the idea that you still don’t belong, even after all this time and everything that you’ve done. Arthur still doesn’t see you as “one of them”. And it is a sting that doesn’t sit well with you at all.

Your eyes begin to well up as you try to fight the lump forming in your throat. ”I can’t believe you just said that to me.” Your lips tremble slightly with emotion, a mix of betrayal and anger swirling and bubbling up inside you like one of Pearson’s stews.

The very insinuation is hurtful to you. You have turned your life upside down for the gang and for him. And yet, it seems it will never be enough. It’s as if you are being punished for having a decent life before you were thrust into this new one. You didn’t fit into society back east, and it seems you still don’t fit here either.

“Stop with the theatrics. I ain’t in a mood for it.” Arthur slings back another shot of whiskey.

“You really are an ass sometimes, Arthur,” you stammer in disappointment.

He immediately slams his shot glass down on the bar, shattering it. The action startles you, your eyes shooting wide open. Arthur finally turns to face you now, his eyes burning into you so intensely that it causes you to cringe. You know damn well that you’re not perfect. But, it always made you feel special that Arthur seemed to think so. But the look he’s giving you right now is plain enough for you to know that he no longer believes it.

And the wounded expression on your face enrages Arthur even more. The sight of you cowering like a lamb to slaughter because of his anger is too much. He’s furious at the everything right now: you, Robert, this town, and more importantly, himself. He grabs the whiskey bottle on the counter and whips it at the wall, sending shards of glass flying into the thick smokey air to rain down onto the immediate vicinity.

With your breath shaking, you slowly stand and back away from him. For the first time ever…you are afraid of him.

The tumultuous noise alerts the bartender, who promptly yells at Arthur. “Hey, watch it! You gotta problem, you take it outside! Don’t be causing a ruckus around here!” He shoves his thick, meaty finger towards the doors.

“Mind your own goddamn business ‘fore I give you a problem!” Arthur shouts back, now standing as well, leveling his gaze at the bartender.

With Arthur distracted by the barkeep, you turn and push your way through the now-curious crowd and make a dash for the door.

Your feet clumsily carry you down the steps as you sprint into the street, eyes watering and hands trembling from anger.

“Hey! Hey! (Y/N)!” It doesn’t take long before you hear Arthur’s gravelly voice hollering down the street for you.

“Leave me alone, Arthur!” you shout over your shoulder, not even bothering to turn around. Tears of anger are dangerously close to flowing as you walk even faster, your arms pumping back and forth to propel you further down the road. But Arthur is quick to catch up to you with his long strides.

“Where you goin’?” You can hear him quickly stalking up behind you, his spurs jingling heavily in the dirt of the street.

“Doesn’t matter, right? I don’t belong here, remember?” You throw his words back into his face with such a biting tone. “Maybe I’ll see if there’s a seat next to Robert on the damn train!”

“Like hell you will!” Arthur yanks on your arm, his grip painful like a vice, spinning you around.

But before you can even think clearly, your hand flies as if of its own accord, and you hear the sharp smack land across his cheek, cracking in the air before you feel the sting against your delicate hand. Arthur’s head snaps to the side from the strike, his eyes twisted shut from the impact.

Gasping, your eyes shoot open in shock as your hands immediately cover your mouth. You stand there, silent and trembling. Your chest heaves with broken breathing and choked sobs as you take a few steps back from him. You hate him so much right now. Not because of what he’s said, although that is bad enough, but because he has pushed you to this point. You never, ever want to hurt him. Arthur is dearer to you than life itself. You had never imagined raising a hand or weapon to the man you so desperately love, and yet, he has pushed you, backed you into a corner, to do so.

“Oh…I’m sorry,” you utter, the sound barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Arthur.” Your eyes are glossy with unshed tears as your unwavering gaze never leaves his face, waiting with bated breath for his reaction. As you blink rapidly, a tear finally escapes your lower lash to cascade and roll over your hot cheek.

Arthur freezes before his gaze slowly turns back to you. But what he sees shocks him. The very sight of you in your heightened state almost breaks his heart in two. Shame coats his insides as he realizes his jealousy has gotten the best of him. And the pain and fear in your eyes is worse than any bullet to the gut, rocking him to his very core.

Arthur’s expression journeys from one of rage to shock to one of absolute remorse. He says nothing, which begins to terrify you even more. Arthur is known for his temper, even taking his frustrations out on you when needed. You pride yourself on the notion that Arthur may be difficult to handle but never for you. You have always been able to read him, to know his mind better than himself, which is why he relies on you so greatly. You set his world to right when it goes off-kilter. But now, you feel a great divide between you. You stare at him with no idea of what will happen next.

Arthur’s strong arms extend out towards you as a silent apology. But instead of falling into them, you shrink back from him. He halts immediately, turning his palms up in surrender. But slowly, he steps a bit closer to you. Arthur reaches out again, wrapping his hands carefully around your biceps. He can feel you tremble slightly under his fingertips.

Regret sits heavily upon his brow. You can see the self-reproach embedded into his eyes as he stares into yours, searching for forgiveness that he prays you’ll grant him.

Your eyes leave his face, a silent understanding settling between you as you focus on the buttons of his shirt, watching as his chest rises and falls with his calming breath.

With a deep sigh, he silently escorts you into the privacy of the immediate alley, gently pushing you back against the siding of the post office.

“You’re mine.” Arthur does not say this out of anger or possession. Nor has he faltered into a blubbering mess. He simply utters the statement as pure fact, no question.

“Am I?” you stammer. Your eyes lift to search his, looking for any doubt that may still linger.

“You sure as shit are.” Arthur’s voice is low but carries the loving undertone you always take refuge in as the slightest hint of a grin pulls at the corner of his mouth.

“Really? Ten minutes ago, you were ready to let me walk out that door. Told me that I shouldn’t be here.”

Arthur pulls his lips inward at the dismay in your quaking voice. “I shouldn’t ‘ve said that. That was me being a goddamn idiot. But, it is true, ya know. You don’t belong in that gang, Y/N. I keep tellin' ya you’re too good for it. You deserve the finer things in life, things like Robert can give ya.”

Your shoulders fall with a painful sigh as your eyes gently drift shut again. You are so tired of having this same conversation over and over again.

“But,” he continues, “I do want you there. I want you with me. I need you, Y/N. We need you. It’s selfish, I know.” His chin bobs slightly in acknowledgement. “God forgive me, but we do.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Arthur. I want to belong somewhere. And to someone.” You look at Arthur with an almost desperate expression on your face. Your whole life, you’ve been floating like a leaf in the wind, bobbing about with no particular place to land. You thought you had finally found your place, your home, with the Van Der Linde gang, no matter how unlikely it seemed. And when Arthur threw it back in your face, it was like being pushed off a cliff to free-fall backwards with no one to catch you.

He lifts his rough hand to cup your face, his thumb ghosting over your cheek. “I won’t ever let you go, Y/N. Not ever. Not even if someone else comes along.” Your eyes begin to flutter again as the feeling of his skin on yours reassures you. You wrap your own hands around his wrist, holding his hand in place as you lean your face into his warm palm.

“Arthur, I promise you, you have nothing to worry about. The way you make me feel when I look at you is why I could never look at another.” Your eyes sparkle brightly in earnest, the last of your tears rimmed along your lashes.

He only hesitates a moment before he pulls you close to him. He secures you safely against him where you belong, your chest pressed up against his as powerful arms coil around you to lock you in. Arthur lowers his face to nudge your nose with his before planting his lips to kiss you slow and deep, taking your breath away.

When his lips separate from yours, Arthur briefly rests his forehead on yours before pulling back to look into your face once more. His eyes are intense and reflect a deeper shade of blue than you’ve ever seen. A wolfish grin begins to emerge under that peppered beard stubble as his finger tucks a rogue strand of hair behind your ear.

“Like I said, Y/N, you…are…mine.”

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic

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