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photo1030 · 8 months

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Leather and Lace - Chapter 18: Feelings Revealed

Part 4 - SEE ME, FEEL ME, TOUCH ME, HEAL ME

Summary: You and Arthur finally have your first night together.

Warning: 18+ please, Minors - DNI; This is a long one, too.

*I had another title for this, but as I was listening to The Who, this lyric began to play as I was editing and it just seemed to fit this chapter perfectly.

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*These are NOT my images. However, I have seen them in multiple versions and on multiple sources. So I don't know who the owners are to credit. But if anyone knows, let me know.

Tag List: @rivetingrosie4 @bimbo-dollz @pine4pple-b0i @redwritr @kuri-chans-blog @queer-sadie-adler @joelmillerswifey @gimmethosedaddymilkers @pcotarelo @delilah-grimes @maemortem @wistfulwisteriawitch @lilacxxdreams @mentallyillfrogs @absolutegeek @spurz @sophiaj650 @uniqueclodzinevoid @lookingformaurice @pawoui @randomidk-123 @yyiikes @eddiemetalheadmunson @twola @kmartkiddieisle @red-dead-simp @regwishesshehadmagic @rhehr241 @earwen-x @akariver75 @djennty @nervousmumbling @xliliths @unbotheredbeeeee @onnetonprinsessa @kittiowolf210 @ezrynn @suhiss @arthurmargon @codnerd1999 @queer-sadie-adler @alice-vanderlinde @sweetandstoned21 @j4llyf7sh @spooky631 @m0r4rx @ilovrxats @i-69-urmom @ddbluesie @ivuravix @nervousmumbling @sickvictorianangel @tirededuxhours @ezzythereal1 @chloepluto1306 @ivys-valentine @spiritcatcherxo

*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know. There are a few that would not let me link, so I apologize if this doesn’t ping some people.

Arthur gets a small fire going outside the lean-to hunting shelter. The fire burns a deep red and vibrant yellow as the flames lick up around the logs. It’s a soft and comforting sight, the popping and crackling of the wood drowning out all other sounds in the forest this evening. The sky is deepening to a majestic royal purple hue, with its diamond-glittering stars emerging like a crown. The glow of the fire casts its light only upon your little shelter and the immediate area surrounding it as if protecting you inside of an intimate little sphere made just for the two of you.

With his task complete, Arthur moves into the shelter and sits down on the ground, nervously wiping his hands on the sides of his pants as he looks over and watches as you flit about to fix the make-shift bedding. You’ve rolled out his bedroll and fanned out a blanket overtop. You’ve even taken off your jacket, rolling it into a pillow of sorts and tucking it under the other fabrics.

Part of your fidgeting is because you want everything to be perfect. The other part is because you are so nervous. Although, you are not really sure why. Arthur is the one person in the world who you feel the most comfortable and safe with. And yet, with all of the previous restrictions and obstacles now removed, you almost feel more vulnerable than ever.

When you finish fidgeting with the bedroll and blanket, you turn and look down at him, meeting his gaze with a shy smile gracing your features. You nervously bite your bottom lip as you hesitate for just a moment before you hike up your skirts. Loosely balling the cotton into your hands to show just the slightest amount of your calves, you move to sit on Arthur’s lap. And straddling his hips so that you can face him, you slowly lower yourself down on top of his folded legs.

He tentatively sets his hands on your hips to help guide you down. Your hands come to rest upon the sides of his neck and shoulders for support, but you leave them there for a few moments after you settle, the muscle and bulk of his body keenly radiating through your fingertips.

Arthur’s hands carefully come up around your neck, his long fingers stretching around to the back and into your hair as his thumbs brush against your chin. He cradles your face, staring as if he hasn't seen you in years, because now he sees you in a whole new light, more radiant and precious to him than ever before.

You and Arthur simply sit and stare at each other with no words spoken, neither of you sure where to even begin. And yet the anticipation is epic. The comforting silence that encompasses the air is like that that follows the rain. The soft crackling of the fire just outside the shelter is the only sound you hear besides your measured breathing.

Excitement fills your mind as you cannot believe that this is finally happening. But suddenly, you have the fear that Arthur is going to change his mind about this whole thing; that he’s going to get up and bolt from you. Now that you are actually here alone together, you are filled with insecurity. What if he doesn’t like what he sees? You are not the prettiest girl in camp. What if you're too forward? What if you're not forward enough? (He is an outlaw after all.)

But your whole internal struggle is ridiculous, because Arthur is having the same exact conversation with himself in his own mind right now. He’s ugly. He’s riddled with scars and calluses. He’s older than you, too. And, he is not a good man.

But what neither of you realize is that despite how broken you both are, you are exactly what the other wants and needs.

His hands release your face, smoothing down over your shoulders and arms to now rest gingerly on your upper thighs. Arthur’s mind races as he stares at you perched so perfectly upon his lap, right where he’s always wanted you. He wrestles with his self-doubt, but in contrast, he also has to deal with his own heated desires. He's wanted you for so, so long. It is all he can do to restrain himself from throwing you down and roughly taking you here and now.

But eventually, your hand lifts and moves slowly like a butterfly hovering in the air to lay across his cheek. His skin is warm and his beard stubble tickles the palm of your hand. Arthur slowly closes his eyes the moment your fingers graze his skin. He slightly leans into your hand as he places his own massive one overtop of yours to hold it in place, basking in the tenderness found there. It is like a gift that he’s rarely received in his life, and his reaction to your simple gesture almost makes your heart break for him.

Your fingers soon leave his face and proceed to his neck to pull at the knot of his neckerchief which quickly comes off and gets tossed to the side. Then your thumbs gracefully hook under his suspenders to lower them down off his broad shoulders. Although your movements are fluid like water, you can feel Arthur’s whole body begin to stiffen a bit in apprehension under you.

With the suspenders out of the way, you drift back up to the collar of his shirt, hesitating but just for a moment. You slowly begin to unbutton, working the fasteners back through the holes with slightly shaking fingers. Your eyes follow the trail of your fingers, but Arthur’s gaze never leaves your face, watching you so intently as you work. The glow of the fire outside warms your skin and causes copper flecks to dance in your eyes. He takes note how your breathing has become a bit faster, yet shallow. He’s not sure if it is from nervousness or second thoughts.

When you get to the last button at his waistline your hands float up again, resembling the wingspan of a dove, and tuck under the collar. You slowly push the worn cotton fabric back and off of Arthur’s massive shoulders. Your fingertips trace along the thick sinewy muscles of his arms as you continue to push the fabric down to reveal more of his skin to you. The cool air nips at his skin the moment it is exposed. However, it’s a welcoming sensation to wake him up and anchor him to the present before he drifts off entirely and loses himself.

Once freed from the garment, your fingertips retrace their path, dancing back up along Arthur’s arms again until they find his shoulders. They continue to explore along his strong neck and move back up to cradle his jawline, until you are holding his handsome face in your hands once more. You pull Arthur in to you for another kiss; slow, deep and passionate. You close your eyes, savoring the taste of his lips. This kiss, just this simple kiss is all it takes for your heart to lose its balance. And all you want to do is fall.

Arthur’s hands suddenly leave your hips to clutch at your back hungrily while you kiss. He pulls at the bottom of your blouse, lifting it up enough so that he can place his hand onto the bare skin of your lower back, which is softer than he could’ve imagined.

You lean back from him just enough to catch your breath, reluctant to break the kiss, and take the opportunity to pull your blouse and chemise over your head and toss it to the side, leaving yourself now chest bare before Arthur. The movement causes your hair to ruffle, the locks falling softly like fire ash in the wind to frame your face.

Arthur blinks a few times and locks onto your eyes, as if testing if his are allowed to roam. At this precarious little moment, he is literally standing on the precipice of no return, and happily waiting to plunge over the side and into your arms.

Your soft smile gives him permission to explore and Arthur swallows thickly as he lets his gaze draw down your face and over your delicate throat, where he catches the skin flicker as you swallow and your pulse quickens. His eyes continue to float down across the delicate curve of your clavicle, until finally landing on your breasts. You watch his reaction closely, noticing his breath hitch slightly as you feel his body shift underneath you.

Arthur sits motionless, taking in the sight and taking time to appreciate the sheer beauty before him. He has waited and prayed for this moment and he wants not a second of it to be rushed. You reach down and collect his left hand into both of your own and bring it to your lips to softly kiss his dirt-stained knuckles before placing his hand on your right breast, closing his thick fingers around it. A soft puff of air huffs out of his nose at the intimate contact. Arthur draws his thumb across the bud of your nipple and gently squeezes the flesh, amazed at how supple it is.

You slowly remove your left hand from his and reach to set it upon his firm chest, trailing your fingers through the soft curls of golden-brown hair that is scattered across his body. You start at his collarbone and drift downward before placing your small, delicate palm directly over his heart.

"I can feel your heartbeat." You smile, pausing to experience the fluttering under your fingertips. "Can you feel mine?" you innocently ask him, staring at him with wide and hopeful eyes. You look at Arthur as if he is so special, so wondrous, that the feeling seems so foreign to him; almost as if it actually hurts him to be gazed upon so intensely like this. But it is not so much as the way you look at him, but how you can’t bring yourself to look at anything else.

“I feel your heart, your breath, your skin, your hair," he rambles as he gently pulls at a lock. "…everything.”

The poor man is so overwhelmed. All of his senses are saturated: seeing you perched on his lap so close that he can count the freckles on your cheeks, your honeyed voice and soft giggles of excitement ringing in his ears. He can taste you on his lips as you kiss.

And the kisses… dear God, you have lips so soft yet firm that they draw the very breath from his lungs. The feeling of your tongues rolling over each other is heavenly. But it’s your touch that does him in. When you caress Arthur’s tired face, or run your hand along his strong and burdened shoulders, he sweetly shudders beneath you.

It's been a long time since Arthur has done this; has allowed someone else to touch him in this way. Sure, there were Mary and Eliza, with the occasional working girl for the dire release, but those instances were far and few between. But Arthur has cut himself off for so long that he can’t even remember the last time he was touched like this. He can't even stand to look at himself, how could he manage to let a woman see him in this state?

Touch starved doesn’t even begin to describe it. And Arthur didn't notice how bad it was until the moment you ran your fingers along his bare arms and chest, your fingers caressing his face. Or, maybe it is just that it is specifically you touching him that is driving him crazy with desire right now.

You eventually begin to explore his body, and trace your fingers along several scars in particular along his chest, arms, and torso, mesmerized by them. Some are larger than others. Some are less angry-looking as time has healed them. But all show the contrast between an old wound and the tanned skin they bury into.

Being self conscious, Arthur instantly stiffens and tries not to instinctively recoil from you as your attention focuses on his scars. You don't pull back in revulsion as he had expected you to. But you simply stare and curiously run your finger over each one that you can find, like studying the fine thread work of a tapestry, and wondering how it got there.

"I know I ain’t much to look at for you," Arthur mutters lowly and embarrassed.

The comment causes you to look up into his eyes with a twinkle in your own before you lean over and softly begin to kiss each scar that you can reach with your lips. Each patch of hardened tissue is a target of your divine attention. The gesture catches Arthur off-guard and his eyes roll shut with a sigh at the feeling of your delicate lips on his damaged skin.

After a few moments of sweetly-delivered kisses, you sit up to look him in the eye again. "Your scars aren’t ugly, Arthur. They tell your story.” Your voice is an angelic whisper, both light-hearted and earnest at the same time; almost childlike in its wonderment. “They are a testament to how strong you really are, and of all of the things you’ve been through. Others would have crumbled under half the weight you’ve had to endure. You're like a tree; strong and weathered, and where everyone takes refuge."

Your hands dance along his chest again until your index finger lands on one scar in particular that is about three inches from his heart. Your face turns dark for a second, your brows furrowed at the thought of the glaring hardship that he unquestioningly assumes on behalf of everyone else that he cares for.

"You take the brunt of the storm while everyone is protected by you, Arthur." You gaze at him from under your thick lashes with a look of concern that darkens your once-bright face, worried about his well-being.

“Yeah, I’m rough and gnarled like an ol’ oak tree”, he sighs with a sad little self-deprecating grin as his fingertips drum nervously on your back.

The effervescent giggle that bubbles from your lips at his statement is music to his ears as that grin of yours that Arthur loves so much blooms across your cheeks.

“Yes, you’re rough, I’ll give you that,” you chuckle in agreement. “But, also like an old oak tree, every once in awhile, Arthur, you show the most magnificent colors.” The demure little smile that graces your face is enough to make Arthur’s heart stop.

He’s not used to this. He’s been denied attention for so long. Which is ironic, as all you want to do is touch him: run your fingers along his face, draw your leg along his, push yourself up against his bare chest. It's hard for you to imagine anyone ever thinking Arthur is not enough as he is all that you ever seem to think about.

Arthur pulls you to him again for more kisses which you happily reciprocate. The more you touch each other, the more the two of you relax and let go of the inhibitions and hesitations; the comfort settling upon you two like a warm blanket. Your kisses quickly lead to tight embraces, holding each other so close that it's possible that a rib may crack. Heavy breathing and gentle, needy moaning begins to fill the quiet night air.

Getting bolder, Arthur places hot, wet lips along your jawline, down your neck and over your collarbone, getting more and more greedy as your chin gently drops back to grant him access to the sensitive skin underneath. A contented sigh pulls from your slightly gaped mouth as his tongue darts out to leave trails along that soft spot on your chest above your breasts. Your arms affectionately cradle his head to you as your fingers comb through the amber-colored locks of his hair that are forever-embedded with faint hints of woodsmoke.

It is such a blissful moment as you feel each other wrapped in the other’s arms, held so close that every inch of you is heightened and yearning for more.

Arthur eventually rolls you to lay you down, his own body pinning the side of yours to the ground. Your leg lifts to intertwine with his as your arms slot under his own like a puzzle piece as he deepens the passion with hungry lips and curious hands. Closing your eyes only enhances the extension of his touch as he continues. Everywhere Arthur’s fingers and lips graze, the sensation bursts forth to travel the entire scope of your body.

He eventually sits up on his knees, straddling your right leg, to pull at the strings of your skirt. He’s trying not to get impatient when his giant fingers fumble with the ties. But quick enough, the waistline comes loose and Arthur’s fingers hook underneath and slowly pull the fabric back to expose your hips, and all their glory in between, before showcasing your legs.

Arthur’s hand comes up to cover his mouth in awe as he takes in the sight of you lying naked beneath him. Slightly embarrassed under his heated gazed, you instinctively pull your legs up a bit, curling in on yourself like a potato bug to try to hide from the exposure. Upon seeing your reaction, Arthur gives you a reassuring smile and leans overtop of you to protectively shield you from the world outside the shelter. His hand caresses your face, a gesture so gentle that belies his gruff exterior.

“You are so beautiful, you know that?” he whispers to you, kissing your temple. But Arthur’s compliment only makes your cheeks turn as red as the fire outside as you hide your face into his bare chest.

“Stop it”, you mumble into his muscles, self-conscious of his praise.

“Oh, so it's okay for you to say nice things, but not me?” he teases with that gruff baritone voice. “I see how it's gonna be.”

“You deserve to hear it more than I do.” Your voice is small and humble, averting your eyes from his as you roll your fingertips around his chest hair.

“Bullshit. If that ain’t the biggest lie I ever heard…”, his nose nudging against yours before encompassing your mouth with his own again.

Arthur carefully moves to crawl completely over you. Both of you are shaking slightly, but it's not from the chill night air. His movements are slow at first, terrified of hurting you physically or offending you with his pent up lust. His hands begin to roam more freely over your skin, which is softer than he ever dreamed.

Now that he finally has you, Arthur is eager to see every bit of you. His lips kiss over the faint lines and stretch marks that occasionally decorate your skin. His fingertips trace them first as he discovers every bit of you. His attention eventually lands on the soft swell of your breasts, which he caresses before clamping his hot mouth over the nipple, his tongue flicking and swirling over the highly-sensitive skin. You softly hum as your hands find their way to come up again to finger through his hair, your nails dragging slightly across his scalp before lightly grabbing onto the thick waves.

Your image, your shape, gets burned into Arthur’s brain as he continues his line of kisses and fingertrails all over your body: every curve, every freckle, even the soft roll of your stomach and hips. Everywhere Arthur touches makes you melt, as his hands are hot like the sun from his own want mixed with his nervousness.

Your heat is so sensitive as his hand carefully drops to caress it, causing you to jump slightly with a whimper. His fingertips linger around your soft mound until they dance along the delicate folds, already slick with want as you buck slightly into his hand, panting hotly into his mouth. His face now hovers so close to yours, close enough for his eyelashes to tickle your skin, as he gently slips a digit into you. Your spine arches back at the sensation of it, a breathless moan escaping your kiss-swollen lips and your toes begin to curl in pleasure.

Arthur watches your reaction carefully as he pumps his finger into you. Your eyes roll back as your chin lifts, your mouth sharply sucking in air. Your hand desperately reaches out to grasp his bicep with desire. Your eyes open again to meet his gaze, burning into each other with such intensity. His hand moves faster, adding a second digit now, and curls them to rub that certain spot so perfectly. The sensation draws the most beautiful moan from your lips. It is a sound that almost makes Arthur weep.

Suddenly, the realization of what’s about to happen hits him. What if he’s not good enough? What if you reject him after this? What if he hurts you? What if this ruins the one good thing he has in his life? Arthur pauses in his worship of you, retracting from between your legs for a moment. His hand graces over your forehead as his thumb lingers at the corner of your eyebrow.

“Are you sure this is what you want, (Y/N)?” His eyes crease with concern as he searches yours, not 100% sure if he should continue. “We don’t have to do this right now.”

But you are getting restless. You’ve been pushed to the limit in body, mind, and soul by this man and it is time to put an end to your longing. You cup Arthur’s face again with a look of seriousness settling across your features as you are afraid that maybe he is having second thoughts after all.

Your (y/e/c) eyes burn into his with such intensity and longing. “I only want you, Arthur. Of that, I am certain.”

Arthur inhales deeply, weighing the possible consequences. “If this is too much, you need to tell me. Promise?”

You lift up slightly and give him a chaste kiss upon his plump lips. “I promise.”

Giving a faint smile in acceptance, Arthur pulls away from you. He carefully stands up again, stooping slightly in the small shelter, and begins to unbuckle his pants. With no union suit on today, his remaining layers of clothing are quick to come off. His hardened cock springs forth from its confines as he bends to shuck the pants and boots from his legs.

You watch him intently, taking in the vision of him. Arthur truly is a beautiful specimen of a man. You have patched him up multiple times after jobs and fights, and of course there was that time when you accidentally stumbled upon him bathing in the river, so you have seen him before. But now you are free to observe his body, to truly take in the sight of him and appreciate the man standing before you.

Of course, he is muscular, his arms and thighs thick from years of hard labor. His entire body is littered with hair, but not in an unpleasant way. Now that he is completely naked in front of you, even more scars are made known to you. You notice old knife wounds on his thighs and an old white scar creeping up along his shin. He almost resembles a ragdoll, one that is tattered and has been stitched back together over time.

Arthur tosses his pants to the side and looks down at you, hesitating when he notices how keenly you gaze at him. Seeing his look of concern, you sit up to run your hands up his thighs and reach over his abdomen, making the mental note of how his bodyhair trials downward towards the V between his legs. When your face tilts upwards towards his, he leans in for another impassioned kiss before gently pushing you back down and settling himself between your legs.

Arthur shifts between your hips, getting his knees and elbow set. Caging you underneath him, he begins to rock back and forth causing his whole body to rub against yours. The rhythmic motion lulls you into a relaxed state like no other. You can feel his cock beginning to twitch as it pushes against your heat as if begging for attention. You hear him hiss slightly under his breath, fighting to keep his composure before he loses all self control. The sound makes you moan and mewl on your own accord.

Finally, it’s at the point where Arthur just can’t wait any longer, and neither can you by the way you're grasping and whining at him. He reaches down between you to line himself up and pushes himself into you so gently. Your hand immediately shoots out to his shoulder, bracing yourself. He's well-endowed between his legs and he knows it. Your eyes meet his, holding his gaze as he stretches you so wonderfully below, causing you to lightly gasp. He watches your face as you wince slightly, letting out a brief whimper as he pushes. He's trying to be so mindful of your comfort, knowing he's going to fully bury himself into you to the hilt.

"You alright?" Arthur cautiously asks as he grabs and hooks his arm under your leg, lifting it up and over his hip to open you up more to him.

"Yes", you pant out, smiling sweetly and lifting your face up to kiss him gently again. He takes a brief moment to get himself adjusted and then begins to move, causing your breathing to be heavy in his ear. He pushes his cock all the way into you, grunting at the heavenly sensation of it, before retracting again. He moves so slowly at first, but then begins to move at a steady pace. The experience is so utterly amazing to you both as you can feel every inch of each other in the most intimate of ways.

He begins to pump himself in and out as your whole body moves with him. You hook your arm around Arthur’s wide shoulders and neck while the other hand has a tight grasp onto his bicep, fingers digging into the muscles there. After a few moments, he wants to ask again if you're okay, but when your mouth falls open and he hears the words, "damn, Arthur" whispered into his ear, he knows his answer.

But you can still see the apprehension in Arthur’s face; feel it in his fingers as he touches you. He buries his face into your neck and holds you so tightly as his hips find their place in a steady rhythm between yours. Yet Arthur is still so hesitant, still holding back from you as if nervous.

"Arthur…I need you," your whisper to him barely audible.

“You're sure about this?” he asks again, lifting his face from your neck to look into yours. “I mean, I really don’t want to hurt you, (Y/N), after everything and all.” Arthur sweetly searches for any misgivings, for any sign that you are not ready for this next step.

“I want all of you, Arthur," your voice yearning with desire as you cup his face again. You are so touched that this sometimes-brutal man can be so careful with you, especially in this situation. "It’s okay. I’m tougher than you think." You give him a little nod as his favorite little smile graces your lips once more.

And just like that, that confirmation is all that Arthur needs as he suddenly crashes into your lips, hot and all consuming this time. His thrusts instantly become deep and steady as his hips begin to snap sharply into yours with the ferocity of a caged beast that has been released back into the wild. And you gasp in the most satisfied way as you give in to him.

“That’s it,” you pant, praising him as you wrap your one leg around his waist to pull him deeper into you, while using the other to stabilize yourself against his force and push yourself up to receive him.

It doesn’t take long for Arthur to give in to his long-denied desires and lose himself completely, drowning in his senses. He didn’t realize just how empty his soul was until you were there to fill it again. And you are more than happy to be the one to provide that comfort to him. It’s the simplest, yet most selfless thing that you could offer him with your humble existence.

Arthur used to think that he just wanted to disappear sometimes, to get lost from everyone and everything in the world. But what he realizes is that all he’s ever wanted was to be truly found. And clinging to him, you are just as desperate as Arthur is. Loneliness isn’t something just for an outlaw. You wrap yourself up into him, into his arms, against his barrel chest which is heaving and trying to catch the air for the lungs within as he moves faster and faster on top of you.

“Don’t let me go." Your plea wafts into his ear as tears form in the corners of your eyes as the weight of everything that you've been through and everything you've been waiting for, finally comes to a culmination.

”Never” is all he manages to murmur in response, not even sure if you hear him.

The feeling of Arthur on top of you, of him inside of you, is so wonderfully overwhelming and electric. The fullness of him inside you, his rough hands on your skin, his soft lips nipping at your jawline, and his hot breath on your neck, it’s all as if lightning has hit you and is traveling throughout your entire body. Your skin is buzzing with the exquisite sensation, acutely aware of even his chest hair as it drags and rubs against your sensitive breasts as he moves.

Arthur grabs onto your hip again, digging his fingertips into the soft flesh there. There will be slight bruising there for sure later, but neither of you are in any frame of mind to acknowledge or care right now. His cock continues to ram into you, hitting the back of your walls as his girth stretches you so wonderfully. His thrusts are sharp and hard, more desperate than harsh, chasing you, as if you’ll vanish from him in moments like the sun burning the morning fog away.

It is a good thing that your first time together is out and away from anyone else in camp. It gives you both the opportunity to explore and appreciate each other properly. But it also allows you to be free and unrestricted, as the sounds of your lovemaking burst forth in waves of moaning, squeals, and grunting, only getting louder and louder with each cascading wave of building ecstasy.

Looking down at you, Arthur never thought he’d see you like this: flushed and pupils blown, your mouth fallen open and making the most incredible noises in his ear. In all the time he's watched you from afar and sketched your image to keep privately for himself, Arthur never dreamed it could be like this. He looks down at himself pounding into you, watching how your body shudders with each stroke. Like a musician playing a fiddle, you move and moan with his fingers. Your chest heaves while your back arches at an almost inhuman angle, desperate to receive more of him. It makes him want you even more. It's crazy how your body responds in perfect union to his. Every time you moan his name in broken syllables and wanton whispers, Arthur shudders and groans even more as it is a confirmation that you are really here for him and only him. And like a selfish child, he wants you all to himself.

The two of you form a beautifully ungraceful knot of limbs and noises, hard to tell where one of you begins and the other ends. Arthur rocks into your hips like a wave on the ocean, repeatedly surging and retreating. Your hands wrap under his arms to grip the planes of his back as your fingers dig into the hard muscle there, clawing for a handhold. You draw your knee up, causing your hips to open wider and granting Arthur more access to your core before your heels dig into the backs of his thighs. And in reaction to your movements, he swallows each of your gasps with his mouth, hungry for you. He winds his hand up into your hair again, pulling slightly to tip your chin back to expose the delicate area of your throat and allowing him to claim what is his with a twinkle of pure delight in his eyes. Your mouth opens up into a soundless scream, an airless breath that fights to escape your chest. And all the while, you are completely absent of coherent thought. Your mind is taken over by the feel of Arthur completely encompassing you.

This goes on for what seems like hours, as time seems to stand still. For the first time in forever, this feels different for both of you. You cling to Arthur as if your life depends on it because maybe it does. Arthur is the very air you breathe. But that is okay, because he clings to you just the same. The two of you lie there, skin against skin, yet you still try to pull each other even closer. It's a wonder that either of you can move at all for how tightly you hold each other. But it's because you move in perfect unison together that you are able to make it work so heavenly.

In this beautiful moment, nestled in the thick of the forest and caressed by the darkness of the night, yet kissed by the glow of a fire, you and Arthur give in to each other so completely and so deeply, each finding that missing piece in each other to make you both whole once more. He is the strength that you so desperately need, and you are the hope and humanity that he lost so long ago.

Lightning begins to build in your abdomen as your climax is soon to come. You can’t even form words to tell him, but Arthur can tell by how much faster you're panting and squirming beneath him. Your hot breath dances across Arthur’s neck as your bottom teeth drag along his earlobe, causing an almost animalistic grunt to erupt from him.

Now it’s your turn to dig your fingers with bruising pressure as your fingernails begin to cut into the flesh of his strong back, holding onto him desperately while the crescendo builds between your legs. You throw your head back with a loud and overwhelmed moan the moment it hits, stars clouding your vision as your climax comes hard with full force like a tidal wave. Arthur stares at you, mesmerized, as his hand comes up to cradle your face as if he’s trying to actually catch the feeling of it into his palm. He is utterly amazed by you. He can’t remember when, or even if, he’s seen a woman react to his touch like this.

And with this sight, Arthur is soon to follow you. Moaning loudly, his eyes shoot wide before screwing tightly shut again to brace himself for the impending sensation about to rock his entire body. And the intensity of his orgasm hits him like a ton of bricks. Arthur quickly reaches up to fist your hair again as he pulls himself out of you just in time to release between your thighs. The muscles of his entire body tense up and restrict, clamping down tightly onto your body underneath him. His breathing becomes staggered and jagged as he sputters to catch his breath.

Arthur has a split second of panic as he pulls out of you, not sure if he has timed himself properly. He almost doesn’t make it because he can barely pry himself from your reflexive grasp to move. Aside from the obvious precautions against pregnancy, Arthur doesn't want to offend you by assuming he could release inside of you.

Arthur remains motionless for a few moments, still trying to catch his breath from his own orgasm, before his bear-like frame collapses onto you. You notice how sweetly his legs and arms tremble as he tries not to crush you beneath him. His face returns to the crook of your neck, panting hot breath onto your sweat-glistening skin. The cool night air is a blessing as a slight breeze chases away the excessive heat that radiates off of your naked bodies. You slowly drag your fingers up the valley of his spine, dancing along the back of his neck and into his hair as the feather-light touch of your fingers causes him to shudder again. You let out a satisfied moan as you flex your fingers into his sweat-damp hair.

Arthur eventually pulls himself up onto his elbows to look you in the face again and is relieved to be greeted by the softest of smiles. You place your hand along his cheek again, just as you did before, and lift up to pepper his face with sweet kisses along his jaw and his cheek and over his eyelids and nose.

Carefully, Arthur rolls off of you and onto his left side, but keeps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he moves. He reaches over you to grab his neckerchief that was discarded earlier and uses it to gently clean your legs and then himself before tossing it aside once more.

Laying there wrapped up into each other’s arms, you forget that the rest of the world exists. You stare into each other's eyes, soaking up the reality of what has just happened between you, as your hand floats up to nestle your fingertips in between the pectoral muscles of his chest. There is a new sense of depth to Arthur’s ocean-blue eyes, a calmness that you haven’t seen before. Arthur studies your face, taking in the way the firelight catches in your irises and mapping the curvature of your lips that he has to fight the urge to kiss again and again.

“So now what?” Arthur asks, finally breaking the blissful silence.

You release a hum of contented exhaustion as you smile at him. "This doesn’t have to be anything that you don’t want it to be, Arthur. Although I’m really hoping it goes past this moment."

“I gotta be honest, (Y/N), I haven’t done this in a long time. I...I don’t know if I can.” He draws his lips inward, biting down slightly as he’s embarrassed to tell you this, worried you’ll reject him here and now.

“But what you don’t realize, Arthur, is that’s where you have me at a disadvantage,” you tell him with a voice so soft and gentle. “At least you’ve had love before. I’ve never been fortunate enough to have what you had, even if it was only for a brief window of time.” You lovingly reach over and run the pads of your fingers over his lips and chin. A lop-sided grin dusts your face as you study him for a moment. “You are capable of so much more than you know, Arthur. I can’t wait for the day that you realize that.”

Arthur hums in contemplation, averting his eyes for a moment as the corners of his mouth lift a bit. His fingertips roll over the delicate skin of your back as your words embed themselves into his mind.

“I don’t want anything from you, Arthur. I just simply want you.” Your breathy voice carries your warm proclamation, assured with the glinting look that you give him.

“This could go so wrong, you know,” he warns, his eyebrows knit with concern as his gaze meets yours once again.

“True. But, it could go so right, too,” you counter with a smirk. “This could be the best thing to happen to either of us, Arthur." You reach over again and gracefully run your fingers through his hair before cupping his cheek again as your thumb gently swipes over his bottom lip. "And I think you’re worth the risk.”

Arthur runs his hand along your back and over your hips, taking in all of your beautiful words. He thinks he is just so ordinary. Or maybe not even that. But to you, he is extraordinary, vast and breathtaking like the bluest sky over the valley. And he can see it in your eyes when you look at him and it makes it hard for him to breathe.

“Do you have any idea what you do to a man?”, he finally smirks, his eyebrows arching questioningly at you.

A coy smile dances upon the petals of your lips in return. “Don’t care about other men. Just you.”

That affirmation causes Arthur’s heart to soar higher than the stars sparkling in the sky above you, and he surges forward and into your lips again. He doesn’t want this moment to end, but only to fold the two of you up into it forever. You smile and hum into Arthur's mouth as his tongue pushes over yours again and again as you can feel his confidence building with each caress of his strong hands across your body.

When you feel him harden against your legs again, you take advantage of the opportunity and gently push the man over to climb on top of him. Your hair falls to create an intimate curtain, housing your two faces so sweetly as you catch Arthur’s lips with your own. You pull away from his mouth and begin to place kisses along his neck and over his shoulder. The thin blanket that Arthur had wrapped around the two of you slowly falls away to expose your naked body to the cool night air once more, causing goosebumps to prickle your skin.

Using one hand to steady yourself, you use the other to explore Arthur’s muscled chest, rolling over the chest hair that decorates his weathered skin. Playing on both angles, you draw your leg up along Arthur’s body, running your knee and leg along his side, while simultaneously moving your hand and lips down his thick torso. The full body caress makes Arthur’s whole body come to life. His body is used to hardship and blows; to be abused and pushed to the limits of its capabilities. Certainly not this type of coveted affection and touching that you are providing him now.

Arthur’s head rolls back with a moan as he is now the one being taken care of. His head thumps back against your make-shift pillow with a soft ‘thud’ sound as his hands land on your shoulders, massaging the muscle there between his strong fingers as you travel downward along his body. Your trail of kisses leads you down to his hips as your hair feathers out over his abdomen.

His breath suddenly hitches as he quickly looks down as you hover over his cock. You look up at him and meet his gaze, before you duck back down, gently taking his large cock into your hand. Arthur’s eyes go wide then immediately heavy-lidded as the heat from your mouth envelops his tip before slowing working down the thickness of his shaft.

You have only done this a few times before now, and Arthur is much larger than you're used to. But desire is a wonderful motivator. Your head starts to bob slowly at first before picking up a faster pace. Using your hand, you're able to take him entirely into your mouth without gagging. Your tongue wraps around the shaft before teasingly flicking at the tip. The muscles of your mouth firmly encompass his cock, creating the most blissful sensation of pressure and suction as you pull up and down. You can hear the hissing and moaning sounds the man is making and it only increases your confidence in your performance, and you change your technique to elicit the specific sound you desire from his trembling lips.

Right now, you only want to take care of Arthur; to make him feel good and show him the attention that he so rightfully deserves. And yet, the idea that you could hold this strong and fearsome outlaw hostage in the palm of your hand is incredible. This position also gives you the opportunity to take note of just how large Arthur is. It’s little wonder how he was able to pull such an intense orgasm from the depth of your body just moments ago. The very memory of it causes your own desires to ramp up, as your heat begins to tingle and get wet between your legs again.

Once Arthur is at the point that he is rock-hard again, you slowly remove his cock from your mouth with a soft “pop” and gently rise-up to place yourself on top of him. Arthur watches you, captivated, as you crawl over him like an animal stalking its prey, and slowly rock back and forth, rubbing yourself against him. He’s tempted to take himself in hand, line himself up with your heat and push up into you again. But he’s too transfixed by your dominance at the moment to do anything but watch you move atop of him.

As if reading his mind, you smirk and you lift up a bit more, wrapping your hand around his rigid cock to guide yourself as you lower onto him, moaning softly and biting down on your lip as his size fills you up yet again. Your head drops back, hair cascading down your back, as you start to slow-grind on him in a hypnotic rhythm.

Finally able to pull his mind out of its lust-drunk fog, Arthur runs his hands up the front of your thighs, his thumbs rubbing small circles into the plush skin there. He snakes one hand along your stomach and up into the valley between your breasts as the other hand lands on your hip, his fingers digging slightly to help hold the pace you are setting. Letting you take the lead this time allows Arthur to take in the sight of you as you straddle his hips with your own.

You're not perfect. But it’s your imperfections that make you perfect to Arthur. It really is as if you are made for each other. You have curves, for sure. You're not as small as some of the other girls in camp, but you fit into Arthur’s large hands perfectly. He doesn’t feel like he’s going to break you as if you are a porcelain doll. Your individual features are pleasant for sure, but taken in as a whole, you are striking. At least to Arthur you are.

He savors the touch of your soft skin against his which is rough and weathered; how the large orbs of your adoring eyes are looking down at him right now, and how you so generously take him into yourself. You are beautiful, you are kind…and you are his. And the two of you can’t get enough of each other.

For you, you had been so worried that what happened in Rosewood would have ruined you. And it almost did. But you didn’t want that act of depravity to define you. And you pulled from the common adversity of your new family to help rebuild your spirit like a phoenix rising from the ashes. And if that hadn’t happened, you wouldn’t be here now, like this. With Arthur.

If it were anyone else touching you like this, you’d probably curl up into a ball, retracting into yourself in fear or self-loathing. But with Arthur, you feel safe and shielded as if no one else in the world would, or could, touch you.

Arthur is different and you’ve always known it by the way he makes you feel, even when he simply speaks to you. He is warm and instantly feels familiar to you, like he has always been the other half of yourself. He feels solid and secure to your touch and almost makes you feel drunk with emotions that can’t even be named. The best feeling in the whole world is to be with someone who wants you just as much as you want them.

It's amazing how life works sometimes. Some people always have the sunshine in life while others always seem to get the rain. But sometimes, you really do need to suffer through the storm to see the magic of the rainbow at the end of it.

As you continue to ride him, Arthur can see and feel both of you rapidly approaching your conjoined climax again as he can feel the velvet walls of your heat clenching around his twitching cock inside of you. As you begin to move even faster, you take your hands off of where you've been holding on to Arthur’s forearms and lean over him to plant them on his shoulders. This angle gives you more leverage to grind Arthur even deeper into yourself, if that’s even possible. Harder, faster. Deeper than you thought possible, until you feel as if he’s up into your ribcage. Arthur reciprocates by bucking his hips up into yours with each stroke, causing you to gasp as the breath is taken right out of your lungs with the feel of it. And it’s shortly thereafter that you both start to grasp at each other again, bracing for the overstimulation about to hit.

Your climax is intense and hits first again. A sharp moan erupts from your lips as your head instantly snaps backwards. And as your muscles begin to go limp as you come down, Arthur grabs you and takes control, sitting up slightly to wrap his strong arms around you, and rides you through the surge of it.

Watching your eyes roll back into your head with a strained cry, he is quick to hit his own climax and swiftly lifts you up to pull himself out of you again. He pitches you forward, causing your trembling arms to brace yourself against him as he spills his seed along your conjoined thighs once more. It’s a good thing Arthur has a hold of you, too, as you are completely undone at this point, your whole body seemingly boneless. You roll your head to the side and close your eyes before leaning forward to collapse against his chest.

You both lay there for some time, motionless except for your heaving chests. Arthur’s massive arms encircle you to hold you tight to him as you curl up onto the plane of his chest, your fingers clutching at him. Eventually, you shift to lower yourself to lay along Arthur’s side. You turn into him and snuggle your face into his chest as your hand rests across his heart which you can feel beating like crazy beneath your palm. You absentmindedly rake your fingers through his chest-hair and lift your leg up and over to entwine with his, still trying to keep as close to him as possible.

Smiling slightly at the feeling of your warm body against his, Arthur pulls the blanket around you again to cover your naked body as it drapes over his own. He lays his hand atop of yours that rests on his chest and wraps his other arm around you to cradle you back into him, his hand tangling in your hair as he holds your head.

And here in this perfect little moment of satiated bliss, Arthur is happy.

“We could have done this a long time ago, you know,” you snicker as you roll your eyes up to look at him.

“Hmmm, don’t I know it. Remind me next time to listen to you, would ya?” He pulls his rough fingers along your spine and up over your bare shoulders, still fascinated by how soft your skin is.

“It’s like I told you before, Arthur: you look out for me, I’ll look out for you,” you say drowsily, as sleep is about to take over your worn-out senses. And within moments, you are asleep.

When you go silent and the only sound he hears is the crickets in the night, Arthur looks down at your form, curled up into him like a kitten and almost as fragile looking as one, too. He runs his fingertip along your shoulder again, admiring how the appendage curves. And as he watches you in your euphoric slumber, his mind starts to wander now that it’s quiet and his wits are about him once more.

It is amazing how this person who was once a total stranger to him can suddenly, and without warning, mean the world to him. You are everything Arthur has ever dared to hope for. And somehow, by some miracle, you have graced him with your affection. And Arthur knows it now: time, distance, background - nothing could separate you two. This is real and this is right. Arthur understands now that you are the person that he was always meant to find, and he is unimaginably captivated by you.

In the quiet night air, now that the symphony of moans and panting are done, the only sound carrying through the still night air is the popping of the fire as it dies down. The faint noise of a hooting owl in the trees can be heard off in the distance. Left to his own thoughts, Arthur’s reason and self-doubt begin to creep up again, but it’s only for a moment. Spreading like black ink, Micah’s words ring through his mind : if Arthur really cared for you, he’d save you the heartache and keep you safe from him and the trouble that someone like him brings.

But now, Arthur doesn’t think he could ever do that even if he tried. Selfishly, now that he has you, he doesn’t want to let you go. It would be like taking the air from his lungs or the blood from his heart. Arthur is all-consumed by you now. He could die tomorrow and he'll be a happy man.

What if he doesn’t run this time, but stays and lets your affection for him, possibly even love, overtake him? Arthur never fathomed that even something as simple as the sound of your voice could ever calm his soul like you have.

So instead of the foolish notion to leave you in order to protect you, Arthur determines he’s going to do everything in his power to keep you safe and protected in his care. He is your guardian, and you are his angel.

As he comes to this conclusion, Arthur’s powerful arms involuntarily tighten around you as if someone was going to come and take you away from him. He leans down and places an ever-so soft kiss on the top of your head, causing you to shift even closer into him in your sleep.

“I got you, baby-girl. I got you”, he whispers.

-----------------------------------------

Several hours go by and you slowly wake from your blissful slumber to the sound of chirping birds in the air. The lightening sky of soft lavender and subdued pinks washes over the landscape and creeps its way into the hunting shelter, intruding upon the blissful solitude where you and Arthur are still tucked away.

The last few plumes of smoke from the dying fire slowly waft through the air. Both of you must have been worn out from your passionate love-making as you are both in the same position as when you fell asleep in each other's arms. The slightly damp, cool breeze of the morning blows across your exposed shoulder, causing you to stir. You slowly stretch and curl into a tighter ball around the bulk of the man beneath you. You inhale deeply as your muscles flex and you instantly catch his scent. The smell of leather and cigarettes, mixed with a bit of clove from his soap, fills your nose. It instantly makes you smile in your hazy sleep, remembering where you are and that this is indeed not a dream.

Arthur refused to sleep much overnight, keeping a watchful eye on you as you slept, but he did end up dozing lightly here and there. When he feels you move against his bare skin, warm and soothing, he peels open his blue-green eyes with a sleepy grunt and peers down at you.

“Hey you,” he murmurs softly as he runs his thumb across your temple. You smile, inhaling deeply again, taking a moment to appreciate where you are before you reply with your own sleep-hushed “Hey you”.

“We’re gonna have to get goin’ here soon, little miss. Dutch ain’t gonna be too happy if we’re out much longer.” Arthur’s voice is thick with sleep and, of course, carrying with it the reluctant tone to enforce what he's saying.

You groan in disappointment, burying your face back into him as you shuffle a bit as your limbs slowly awaken once more. “You sure that’s the way you want to go?” you ask coyly, as you start to leave kisses on Arthur’s chest while seductively drawing circles on his skin with your fingertip.

“Aw c’mon, you’re killin’ me,” he whines, causing you to giggle mischievously. Arthur wraps you up into his arms and squeezes tightly before relaxing again. When you’re able to lift your head, you reach up to pull his face to yours and plant a soft, yet very intimate kiss on his lip. Your eyes create that dreamy, longing stare again as you look up into his face and run your knuckles along his cheek.

“You’re gonna get me in so much trouble, you know that?” Arthur raises an eyebrow at you.

“Oh, I know.” With a quick kiss to his nose, you slowly sit up and stretch, looking around for your clothes with a sigh of disappointment. “But I suppose you’re right. We should get going.”

Arthur reluctantly sits up as well, leaning over to kiss your naked shoulder as he runs his hand slowly down your back, his touch tickling your skin. Your eyes slowly float closed as you turn your head into his, trying to savor every last bit of time you have alone together.

“Trust me, Darlin’, I’d stay out here with you forever if I could,” he mumbles into your skin as his nose and lips smoosh into your shoulder as if trying to melt the two of you together.

“Yeah, yeah, promises, promises,” you joke as you roll over to grab your blouse and skirt. Arthur sees the perfect opportunity and playfully smacks your exposed butt, pulling a slight squeak from your lips.

But soon enough, the two of you get yourselves together. You reluctantly pull apart from one another long enough to pack up the few things you had brought with you in your hasty departure yesterday and prepare to leave the little hunting lean-to and head back to camp. The sun has awakened as well at this point and begins to shine down, its beams freckling through the tree branches. It is a gloriously beautiful morning and you look upon it with a whole new sense of wonder and happiness in your heart.

As you shake out the blanket and roll it up in your hands, Arthur stands hesitantly behind you, watching you gracefully move as you tuck the last bit of things onto Buck’s saddle. Noticing him out of the corner of your eye, you turn and give him a curious look. “Everything alright?”

“I’m fine. Just rolling the last 12 hours around in my head," he mumbles, swirling his hand in the air by his temple. "It’s hard to believe what just happened.” Arthur smiles sheepishly, rubbing his hand along his chin as he thinks about his current situation.

So much has changed in the last few days, let alone hours. From the fighting between you, to his ride to Rosewood; from the confessions to the embrace. And of course, the beautiful night you’ve just spent together. The river of emotions have weighed heavily on Arthur, leaving him delightfully overwhelmed and uncharacteristically content.

You beam with sparkling eyes as you take a few steps over to him. “Well, now you can touch whenever you want to. That should be fun, yeah?” You reach your arms around his barrel-chest, squeezing him to you, and lift your face upwards to start placing sweet kisses along his face and neck.

"Whatcha doin?” Arthur asks cautiously, a suspicious eyebrow raised, but one that belies the grin creeping across his bearded face.

“Just lovin' up on you again,” you giggle into his neck. "Something tells me you're past due and I got a lot of time to make up for."

A low hum rumbles from deep in his chest as Arthur folds you up against him, squeezing you into a strong embrace in return. He collects your beautiful face into his giant hands and leans down to kiss you deeply. Your breath rolls over each other’s as you indulge your senses yet again. Once more, the rest of the world falls away the moment your lips touch. The feeling leaves your knees weak and you have to fight the urge to push it farther as your arms tighten around his torso and begin to creep up his back.

When he pulls back again, Arthur looms over you, looking down into your face and admiring the precious gift he’s holding in his hands. He gives a slight shake to his head, absolutely blown away by his dumb-luck and how he’s managed to fall ass-backwards into your life. Arthur stares at you for a moment, those vivid blue eyes of his bright with a whole new purpose behind them as you reflect back to him the most resplendent smile he has ever seen.

“Mine,” he whispers.

“Yours,” you respond breathlessly.

----------------------------------------

It is mid-morning by the time you and Arthur make your way back to camp. You’re not too sure of what you’ll come back to, but prepare yourselves for the teasing and cat-calls you’re sure are coming. Thankfully, though, it’s mostly knowingly smirks and waves that greet you. A slight wave of relief settles over you at that, as you are not sure how Arthur would react to such personal teasing. Despite the connection that the two of you have, he is still very much a private person.

You both get Arthur’s horse taken care of, offer your apologies to a very agitated Blue for being left behind, and then head over to Pearson’s wagon to get some much-needed coffee. The camp is relatively quiet this morning, with a few members milling about with their own agendas. The slight breeze waffs the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee in your direction and pulls you like a tether. You inhale deeply, your eyes briefly rolling shut, and smile with the feeling of “being home”. This little moment is so perfect: a beautiful morning, surrounded by friends, hot coffee on the fire, and your man at your side.

“There’s the love-birds,” Pearson chimes loudly with a wink when he notices you and Arthur. The cook stirs the last remnants of breakfast in his pot, clanging the utensil loudly on the side to shake off whatever coats the spoon. The portly man quickly puts down the ladle and grabs the coffee pot and a few cups for you.

“Yeah, yeah,” says Arthur, waving him off as his face turns a slight shade of pink. You simply smile and gratefully take the cup from Pearson’s hand. A quick, eager sip of the hot, bitter liquid cascades down your throat, warming you from the inside out and a soft “Ahhhh” escapes your lips. And before the two of you can do anything else, you are greeted by the sound of Dutch’s voice carrying through the air.

“Well, well, nice of you two to join us again!”

You and Arthur both turn to see Dutch and Hosea approach and notice Hosea holding a few rolls of paper in his hands.

“Are you two done foolin’ around so we can get some work done around here?” asks Dutch, raising his eyebrows at you both in impatience with a slight wave of his arm.

“For now,” you quip back. “But I was hoping to fool around a bit again before dinner”. You give Dutch a cocky smirk and a wink.

Hosea's face wrinkles delightfully as he tries to stifle a laugh while Arthur lowers his head to hide a huge smile under the brim of his hat at your insinuation. But the look on Dutch’s face is anything but amused by your comment right now.

“Not in the mood. Right,” you say awkwardly under Dutch’s impatient glare, clearing your throat and quickly minding your place. “I’ll just...go somewhere over there.” You wave your hand dismissively towards the center of the camp before turning to Arthur. “I’ll see you later, Arthur,” you giggle.

Placing your hand on his arm, you give it a slight squeeze along with a big smile. He gives you a quick nod before you quickly scurry away from the men. Arthur’s eyes continue to follow after you, landing on the curve of your rear as you walk away, instantly missing your presence. He reluctantly turns back to Dutch only to be met with the older man’s stink-eye look.

“What?” asks Arthur innocently, chuckling a little.

Dutch plants his ringed hands onto his hips in annoyance, tilting his head to the side just a bit as he looks at Arthur. “This is going to get really old, really fast, isn’t it?” asks Dutch with an exasperated sigh.

“Oh, leave him alone, Dutch. He’s finally got a good thing goin’ there for himself,” interrupts Hosea approvingly with a knowing grin on his face. “Now, come on you two. We need to go over these carrier routes.” Hosea waves the papers he’s been holding in front of them and motions to the nearest table with his head.

Leaving the three of them to their business, you take your cup of coffee and saunter over to the fire to take advantage of a rare quiet morning to relax. Noticing that you are back in camp, Abigail is quick to run up to you with a huge cheshire-cat-like smile sparkling on her face.

“Well, good morning, Miss (Y/L/N),” Abigail sings as she hustles over, shimmying up to you and elbowing your arm. “Soooo?” she questions you with a smirk.

But you playfully roll your eyes at her and shake your head as you take a seat next to the other girls who are already gathered around the fire and trying to wake up for the day. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell," you tease Abigail with a grin, demurely pulling your shoulder to your chin.

“Well, we know there was more than kissin’ going on last night, so why don’t you tell us about that then?” jokes Abigail, swatting your arm.

"So tell us, (Y/N)! How was it?" Karen blurts out eagerly. Her sleepy face instantly perks up the moment you sit down.

"Karen!" scolds Mary-Beth in a hushed tone. Judging by their snickering, you can only imagine that your departure last night has been the talk of the camp.

"What?” Karen protests innocently to Mary-Beth. “I'm genuinely curious.” She waves her hand nonchalantly towards you. “I wanna know if it was worth all the trouble and the wait.” When Mary-Beth gives nothing but a disapproving stare, Karen leans in to her and swats her friend’s leg. “Oh c'mon, like you ain't dyin' to know yourself," she hisses.

"Actually, I'm kind of curious about it myself," interjects Abigail, looking back to you with that same cat-like grin.

“Yeah, (Y/N), how’d it go?” asks Tilly, leaning forward in her chair and planting her elbows on her knees in keen interest.

It is so sweet to you how your friends want to share in your excitement. You’ve never had siblings, and even your friendships as a young girl were never as open and close as the relationships that you have quickly cultivated with these women. Your face begins to bashfully dust pink at their attention, yet you can’t help yourself as your smile gets even wider by the minute.

“Some of the best moments in life are the things that you can’t tell other people about,” you gush, yet still trying to be elusive.

“Oh, come on! That ain’t fair! You gotta give us somethin’!” begs Karen, smacking her hands on her thighs and leaning in towards you.

You simply reply with a long, mockingly-impatient sigh before your face turns a deeper shade of scarlet. You cover your face with your hands for a few moments before pulling them down to peek over your fingertips at your friends, blushing and giggling like a school-girl.

"It was...perfect," you say with a dreamy, love-drunk grin on your face.

“Ooooo” They all let out a collective excited giggle, elbowing each other and so happy for both you and for Arthur.

—------------------------------

Fortunately, it is a bit of a slow day today and Ms Grimshaw is not chasing after everyone to get back to work for once. So you are able to just sit and socialize with the girls. You pass the time sipping coffee and gossiping, discussing what the plans are for the day and watching Jack play “swords” with a stick with Uncle. It is a perfectly content afternoon for once.

Somewhere off to the side you hear the sound of someone clearing their throat before they approach your little group. You turn your head when movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention and instantly grin ear to ear when you see that it is Arthur. The way your whole body lights up the moment that you see him makes Arthur instantly wish you were back at the hunting shelter. You’ve only been apart for a little over an hour and yet it already feels like days.

"Ladies", he addressed the group of you with a nod and polite touch to the brim of his hat.

"Hey, Arthur" they all giggle and smirk at the outlaw at their inside joke. You are quick to swat at them, trying to get them to hush.

"Uh...right.” His hand comes up behind his neck as he stands there awkwardly, suddenly a little uncomfortable with their smirking faces all turned to him. “(Y/N), can I talk to you for a minute?" He waves his hand to usher you away from the small group to speak in private.

“Sure.” You bounce up from your seat to follow him, turning back over your shoulder with a quick glare at your friends in warning to knock it off with the teasing cackles.

You and Arthur walk a few feet away from the girls before you stop and turn to face each other. "Don't mind them,” you say quickly to Arthur, waving at the girls. “They're just..." and you roll your eyes and shake your head, totally at a loss for words.

“Hmmm…yeah I know how they can get,” Arthur acknowledges with a chuckle. He pauses for a moment, looking down at you with a bit of a dopey grin. This is the first time you’ve had a moment alone together again since you’ve gotten back and he’s missed you already.

“Listen, I gotta leave for a bit. Hosea’s got a lead on some work, need to check it out. But I’ll be back as soon as I can.” His eyebrows raise a bit, waiting to see how you will react to this information.

“Okay”. You nod in understanding, giving him a simple smile. Your response is so easy and accepting. Arthur was expecting a protest or for you to be upset, but he’s pleasantly surprised when you are not.

“Well, after last night, I wasn’t sure if it was proper to leave.” He gives you a sheepish, guilty look as his thumbs tuck into his gunbelt in his usual, comfortable stance.

You place your hands over his arms as you lean in closer. “It’s alright. Go do what you gotta do. I’ll be here.”

Arthur hesitates for a moment as something else is clearly on his mind, and he shifts his weight from one hip to the other before he speaks again. “One more thing. Would you do something for me?” His eyes squint just a bit as he thinks on how to pose his next question.

“Anything.” You smile at him, moving your hands onto his chest now, and your fingers begin to fiddle with the knot of his neckerchief. Arthur hums a little, his eyes following your fingers and trying not to get distracted from his task at hand.

“Stay here in camp ‘til I get back, would ya? Don't be goin' out with the girls or nothin'. I’d feel better knowing you were safe here 'til I got back.” Arthur’s face becomes more serious now. You instantly realize what he’s asking of you and why, and his protectiveness is quite touching. You are relieved to see that Arthur has already taken to the idea of the two of you being “together” and it warms your heart.

“Sure, I can do that,” you agree and your smile grows even bigger like a plant that has been watered and set in the sun. You take Arthur’s chin in your fingers and pull him down as you raise up on your toes to kiss him sweetly. He blushes a bit at the public display of affection that he's not used to. But he loves it just the same.

"Be careful, please." You playfully scold him, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Always am," Arthur smirks.

From somewhere behind him, you can hear Bill yelling for him. “Come on Morgan, let’s go!” Arthur lets out an exasperated sigh as he looks at you, rolling his eyes before he turns to leave and making you giggle.

“Play nice!”, you call after him as Arthur begrudgingly walks away.

"Never do!" he calls back with another smirk and a wink at you over his shoulder.

Your eyes follow Arthur with a contented sigh escaping your lips as he walks towards the awaiting group that is about to head out. His broad shoulders rock slightly with his slow, swaggering walk; his burly arms sway at his sides, hovering above the guns that hang so naturally on his hips.

Yep. No doubt about it. You are just stupid for, and hopelessly in love with, this man.

You shake your head at the wonder of it all and turn to head back to the girls.

Arthur makes his way over to the hitching posts to join the others in getting ready to head out on the scout job. He lifts his chin in acknowledgement to John who is already sitting atop Old Boy, waiting for Arthur to join the group. Then suddenly Arthur is brought out of his reverie by an unwelcome sound.

“So you and (Y/N) have finally done the deed, eh, Morgan?” The sound of Micah’s voice grates on Arthur’s nerves like a knife scraping across metal as the man saunters over to follow Arthur to the horses. (Ugh, of course Dutch wants him for this job, as well.)

“Well, how was she?” the bastard grunts. “I bet she’s real frisky. Like a cat.” Micah shakes his eyebrows suggestively at Arthur, knowing full-well that he’s pressing his luck.

A lightning bolt of anger shoots through Arthur’s very being at the very mention of your name from Micah’s despicable lips. His jaw flexes tightly as he grits his teeth together. He reaches out and shoves his massive hand onto Micah’s chest, stopping him dead in his tracks. Arthur pulls a deep inhale through his nose in order to collect himself before he speaks. His eyes turn to that hard, icy-blue color as they pierce menacingly into Micah.

“Let’s get something straight right now.” Arthur points his finger at Micah’s chest. “You don’t talk about her. You don’t look at her. In fact, do yourself a favor and don’t even think about her. Or you and I are goin' to go rounds. Do I make myself perfectly clear?” Arthur’s voice is low and unyielding. That hardness that the outlaw is known for rears its dangerous head in Micah’s direction and the weasel freezes, instantly knowing where that line in the sand has been drawn.

“Say it,” Arthur slowly grits out between clenched teeth as he menacingly towers over Micah. “Say you understand me, asshole.”

Micah narrows his eyes at Arthur, the argument right there on the tip of his foul tongue, trying to decide just how far he wants to push this right now. But ultimately, he slowly swallows and concedes to back off. For now.

“Sure, cowpoke,” utters Micah, holding his hands up in surrender. “Anything you say.” His scummy, snakelike grin leaves Arthur with an unsettling feeling. If he didn’t like you being around Micah before, Arthur sure as hell doesn't like it now.

—------------------------------

It’s well into the evening when Arthur and the others come back to camp. It’s been a long, yet productive day and Arthur just wants to sit still for one damn moment and relax. Everyone who was left at home is sitting around the fire sharing stories and passing a bottle or two. Your head perks up when you hear the sound of hoofbeats in the distance and you watch Arthur ride in. You notice how he slowly climbs down from Buck’s saddle, almost bone by bone, with exhaustion. As he turns to head into the camp, the outlaw’s tired eyes immediately seek you out amongst the group. And once your eyes meet, your smile draws him in like a moth to a flame.

Arthur stops to grab a bottle of his own out of one of the crates before ambling over to the fire to take a seat next to you on the ground where you are curled up on a blanket. You nudge your shoulder into his side as he gets settled, placing your hand on his knee and giving it a gentle squeeze. The corners of Arthur’s mouth turn up as his eyes slowly blink at you with fatigue. The feeling of your warm body curled up against him instantly calms and centers him. He didn’t realize until now just how nice it is to have someone waiting for him when he comes home.

“Before you two get too cozy over there, you’re on guard duty tonight, Arthur,” announces Javier over the fire pit, interrupting your little private reunion.

Arthur quickly throws an annoyed look in Javier's direction. “What? You gotta be kiddin’ me.”

“I covered for you last night, amigo” Javier tips his beer bottle towards Arthur with a knowing smirk.

Arthur groans with disappointment. Feeling his frustrations, you lean into Arthur’s side, your face close to his. “Don’t worry, it’s alright,” you whisper. “We’ll have plenty of time later.” Fortunately, you get at least an hour together to relax at the fire before Arthur has to take his leave to head to the look-out post.

Soon after, after the darkness has snuffed out the sunlight of the day, the camp begins to settle for the evening and the people begin to meander back to their respective places for the night. You stand up from your spot at the fire, stretching your stiff joints before bending over to pick up the blanket you were sitting on. Shaking out the fabric, you neatly fold the blanket over your arm and turn to head to your tent.

You haven’t wandered too far off when you begin to hear the shuffling of footsteps behind you. And before you can say or do anything, the sight of Micah Bell comes into your line of vision. Your eyebrows crease in confusion as you wonder what in the world he could possibly want right now.

“Looks like you and Arthur have finally "consummated", as it were. Tell me, (Y/N),” Micah sweeps his hand out in front of him, “Can anyone take a ride in that saddle?"

You can only glare incredulously at him for such an insinuation. God, he is such a disgusting pig. Apparently, Micah is not only going to antagonize Arthur about it, but he’s going to make an attempt at you as well.

"I mean, if you're gonna spread them pretty legs of yours for the likes of Morgan, can't imagine you got any high standards." Micah arrogantly drags his dirty fingers over his nicotine-stained mustache as if he is about to eat a delectable meal.

You slowly tilt your head at him, your gaze cold. "And that is what burns you up the most, isn't it, Micah?" Your eyes narrow at him, trying to figure out his angle as you play his little game.

Micah licks his lips and nibbles a bit, taking the bait in return. "What's that, Princess?"

"That I would concede to lay with a man like Arthur, yet I won't even give you the time of day.” You cross your arms over your chest as you hold his gaze in defiance. “That must really get to you, hmm?" you purr.

The smugness instantly drops from Micah’s face being replaced with a sneer. You step a few paces closer, right up into his face so that he can smell the lavender oil you wear. His eyes rake over your body, noting how your cleavage gathers under your crossed arms. He can feel your warm breath scattering across his face. Your boldness, your lack of fear of him, is as annoying to Micah as it is arousing. He sucks his teeth in an effort to regain his composure as he stands in front of you.

"Know this, Micah. Arthur Morgan is twice the man that you could ever even dream to be," you say with a chilling dead calm. "And in more ways than one, I might add.”

Micah’s mouth twitches at that last rub. "Well, (Y/N), I guess it's a good thing I ain't ever aspired to be more than I am, then." His tone challenges yours as he leans even closer to you, the tone in the air bordering on threatening.

"That is unfortunate," you say coolly as you confidently hold your ground. "For all of us. Good night, Mr. Bell." And you turn to head into your tent, leaving Micah standing there alone in the cold night air.

—----------------------------------

Arthur leans his shoulder against the large tree, staring out into the darkness of the woods. The moon is full tonight, looming high above the tree tops and cascading its bright silvery light upon the silent world below. He stands guard over the camp as a brooding sentinel as he slowly draws on yet another cigarette. Smoke huffs out of his lungs like that of a locomotive.

This is not the place he wants to be right now, as his thoughts drift and focus on you and your night together. Even now, as he recalls even the smallest detail of last night, it seems like a dream to him. He half expects to wake at any moment alone in his tent, surrounded by nothing but the lonesome night, as it all seems just too good to be true. He still has no explanation as to how you seem to pull him in, but you just do. Like that same silvery moon hanging above that pulls on the ocean tides, you draw Arthur to you; just as unyielding, unchanging, and just as magical.

Suddenly Arthur’s daydream is interrupted by the very person he’s thinking about. He catches a wisp of fabric in his peripheral vision. Turning his chin over his shoulder, Arthur sees you coming down the path. He watches as your breath swirls in the frosty air, preceding you as you approach. Like an ethereal being, the moon’s glimmer casts your hair in a soft backlight, causing your gown to be almost see-through in the luminescence as he can see the outline of your calves as you walk. Your delicate hand clasps your shawl around you in the chill air while you carry something else in your other hand. As you get closer, Arthur can see that you have come to bring him a steaming cup of coffee.

A huge smile instantly erupts across Arthur’s face as he pushes himself up off of the tree. "Hey there, Beautiful. What are you doin’ out here this late?"

The nickname causes your cheeks to burn red more than the chill night air that nips at your tender skin.

“Coming to see you.” You hand him the cup of coffee, which he gratefully accepts and immediately takes a sip. The hot liquid instantly chases the cold from his tired body and offers just the pick-up that he needed. “How’s it going out here?” you ask as you shiver a bit before pulling the knit shawl tighter around yourself.

“Oh, loads of excitement.” Arthur’s dead-pan drawl makes you laugh a bit.

You snuggle up to his bulky frame, putting your hands around his ribs and looking up into his face with your beautiful (y/e/c) eyes. With his free hand, Arthur snakes his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. Despite the cold night air, he is so warm that you just want to curl up into him again like you did at the shelter. He leans in to kiss you, his plump lips finding yours once again. Starting off slowly, your tongue quickly begins to wrestle with his. He tastes like the cigarettes and whiskey he's been consuming while out here.

Dropping his chin, Arthur starts to kiss the tender skin underneath your ear before he proceeds to drag his fingertip along the area. “I love this spot,” he says, his voice a husky murmur in your ear..

“Do you, now?” you sigh with a silky tone of your own.

“MmmHmm. Because when I kiss it, you make that sound.” And he leans in again, placing another kiss in the same spot, only this time sucking a bit harder as his teeth catch your skin. And as if on command, a breathless whimper escapes your lips before you can control it and your eyes flutter closed again. It makes you melt at how playful he’s become just from simply providing him the opportunity and the feeling of being safe to do so.

After a few more moments of delicious kisses and nuzzling, you pull away just a bit, leaving your faces hovering close to one another's.

"I’d better get out of here," you whisper, "before I’m any more of a distraction."

"Too late for that now," Arthur hums, dipping his face down as he rubs his nose to yours, trying to entice you into another kiss.

"Tell you what.” You pull your face back a bit more to get his attention only to be met with a playful scowl of disappointment from him. “I’ll be waiting for you in your tent. When you’re done here, you know where I’ll be." You reach up to set a soft kiss upon Arthur’s stubbled cheek. And with a teasing grin, you turn and saunter back toward the camp, hips swaying exaggeratedly.

Arthur’s eyes follow you, the movement of your hips almost hypnotic, causing him to sigh deeply. And just like that, you are gone just as quickly as you had arrived; almost like a dream.

"Damn..." he says with a slight amazement.

—---------------------------------

It’s shortly before dawn when Bill comes down the path to relieve Arthur from his post. The large man ambles towards Arthur rubbing his bear-paw over his eyes and yawning profusely.

“I swear he’s walkin’ slower by the damn minute”, Arthur grumbles to himself with a huff when he lays his exhausted eyes on the man. He shoots Bill a look of annoyance as he briskly walks past the burly outlaw to head back to his tent. “I got things to do, Bill,” he snaps.

Bill simply chuckles with that deep voice of his as he adjusts his hat on his head against the brisk early-morning air. “Oh, I bet you do, my friend.”

Arthur can’t get back to his tent fast enough. He quickly strides across the camp, hurriedly passing by the other snoring and sleeping residents. It's still quiet out and the sun has yet to poke its radiant head above the horizon line. With any luck, Arthur will have a few hours alone with you before the flurry of daily activity kicks up again.

Excitement travels through Arthur’s exhausted body as he reaches his tent. The very sight of his humble little nest that waits for him in the shadows offers him a whole new level of tranquility. He is quick to notice that it is all silent and dark in the space. He half expected a candle to be burning or something.

Arthur hesitates outside the canvas before quietly pulling back the flaps and peers in before entering. And he is elated at the sight of you asleep on his cot, waiting for him just as you said you would be. In the back of his mind, Arthur harbored some doubt that you would be here, thinking maybe you’d change your mind for one reason or another. He cherishes the idea that someone, but especially you, would be waiting for the likes of him.

Arthur quietly creeps in and fixes the flaps back down to ward off the cold autumn breeze before it wakes you. He smiles to himself as he quietly shucks off his jacket and holster, his eyes continuing to rest on your sleeping form as he quietly moves about the tent.

He carefully sits on the edge of the cot, taking a moment to watch you sleeping peacefully. His eyes roam over your body from head to toe, taking in the sight of you and marveling at the treasure he has in front of him.

You're laying comfortably on your back, hair splayed round your face on the pillow. Your one arm rests up by your face, the other lays gracefully across your abdomen. Arthur’s head tilts to the side as he observes how your chest slowly rises and falls with calm breaths. Your eyelids occasionally flutter, making your lashes dance upon your angelic face. Oh, what it must be like to rest so peacefully, he wonders. Maybe now with you by his side, he’ll get to know what that’s like. Maybe.

Arthur places his hand beside your head as he leans over to gently kiss your delicate lips. The action causes you to startle awake, a sharp gasp crossing your lips as your hands shoot to his chest in surprise. But you are quickly relieved to see his handsome face hovering above yours.

"Sorry," Arthur murmurs with an apologetic grin. "Couldn’t resist."

You hum with a sleepy countenance as you slowly sit up, the heel of your hand rubbing your eye in an effort to wake yourself. You reach over to cup Arthur’s face and kiss him back as a welcome. When you pull away, you look him over, noting the sheer exhaustion that coats his whole body.

"You look so tired," you say with a sympathetic smile.

"I am tired." A deep sigh of acknowledgement escapes from Arthur’s chest as he reaches up to rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger with his one hand.

You nod in understanding. "Okay, then." You smile sweetly as you take a moment to curl your fingers through his hair, touching your forehead to his, before you swing your legs over the side of the cot and start to stand up.

Confused, Arthur sits up straighter with apprehension. "Where you goin’?"

You turn back around with a fluid and graceful movement as you catch his chin between your fingers in reassurance. "I’m just going back to my tent so you can get some sleep, is all."

"Well…", Arthur huffs in disappointment, his face dropping and his hands flopping into his lap.

"What’s wrong?" you ask, slightly amused at his pouty face.

"I mean…I know we’re not gonna…you know…” Arthur waves his hand at you suggestively. "But I was hoping you’d stay with me while I get some sleep."

"Oh." A big smile erupts on your face. "Okay, then," you gush, biting your lower lip a bit and trying to contain your excitement. You move to settle back down onto the cot, scooching over and fidgeting to make room as Arthur lays down alongside you.

“Boots, please” you say in a soft scold, tapping his shoulder.

"Huh? Oh!" And Arthur quickly sits back up to take off his boots. He’s so used to being on his own that he’s often just falling into bed, not even bothering to take off his jacket let alone his boots. Arthur is not used to having anyone in his space, let alone a woman in his bed. You look down with a soft smile as he pulls at his mud-dried boots with thick, clumsy fingers.

He lays back down and gets settled once more. You both wiggle awkwardly, giggling as you do, so that you can both fit onto his squeaky one-person cot. You face each other as his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close. You lift your leg over his, so that you can snuggle in tight, laying almost nose to nose to make room for each other.

Finally finding a comfortable position, Arthur inhales deeply and lets out a long exhale. You smile as you watch the tension drain from his shoulders. (You swear he just lost about 2 inches in height in doing that.) You gently reach up and lay your hand along Arthur’s neck, fingers resting along his jawline, as your thumb sweeps across those scars on his chin. Your eyes scatter across the tired features of his strong and handsome face.

You have no idea how this is going to play out between you two, but right now, you don't care. He is a risk, as you told him before, and your future together is an uncertain mystery. And yet, this is the most certain thing that you have felt in what seems like forever. Here, at this moment, in this precious, precarious little bubble, you are with Arthur, and that is all that matters.

"Hmmmm…that’s better," says Arthur, finally relaxed and content.

“Happy, now?” you affectionately tease.

“Quite.”

"Goodnight, Arthur." Your honeyed voice sings to him in the darkness before you close your eyes again.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)."

See me, feel me, touch me, heal me

-Pete Townshend - The Who

*The line about the storm and the rainbow is based on a quote from the wonderful Dolly Parton, whom I idolize. And the “guardian angel” line is based on a meme that I saw.

***Ahhh! Finally! I've been working on this for over a year, but had to write the events that lead up to this first. But good news, this is not the ending! I have much more taking place after this. Some of it is fluffy, some will be smutty, some will be angsty! For those who are interested in reading a continuing storyline, I can tell you that my plan is to see this through to the end (which I have already written, btw). If anyone is interested in being on a taglist, let me know. (I am really bad at those, so I am trying to figure out how to keep track of that kind of thing.)

Comments and feedback are welcome! As I continue this story, I also want to develop my writing skills. So please let me know what you like and don't like.

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

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royallyprincesslilly · 1 year

Text

Title: One Night {One-Shot}****

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warning: Cursing, NSFW, SMUT, 18+ Content, Filth, Mild Dom Behavior/Antics, Oral: Female & Male Receiving, Backdoor Play, Bondage, Very Mild Degradation,

Words: 13k 😳🥴 (My bad)

Summary: After attending yours and Lewis’ mutual friends' engagement party, he takes you home.

Note: Looks like I’m still going through this Lewis tunnel. Here’s another one for your guys. I hope you enjoy it!

Note II: This one has some content in it that may not suite everyone’s taste. I felt like pressing some boundaries and said why the hell not. If it’s not your cup of tea, that’s okay, scroll on by. READ THE WARNINGS.

***YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CHOOSE TO ABSORBE. NOT ME!***

As always, thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

***Images NOT my own courtesy of Pinterest***

~~~~~~~

Screams erupted all around you and even in your overly inebriated state your body perked up just like all your friends’. From the beat drop they were on their feet climbing onto the furniture in the club waving their hands through the air.

“Your days of singing this are over,” Mason shouted to Camina, one of your friends and his fiancée.

She rolled her eyes but still kept dancing as if he hadn’t muttered a word.

“He’s right. You feelin’ him heavy,” you added.

“You know what else heavy? That rock on her finger.”

Camina must have been tired of hearing it because when the lyrics started, she was the loudest one, “You thought I was feelin’ you, nah!”

You threw your head back and laughed. They loved to go back and forth like this and tease one another. You knew they’d have a happy marriage. As everyone around you lost their minds to “Munch” you joined in rapping along like it was your track and not Ice Spice’s. When your foot slipped off the stool you knew this was how you died but instead of a collision with the floor or the edge of a table cracking your spine in two, strong arms wrapped you tight then lifted you.

You recognized the scent before you saw their face. Lewis.

“Come on, Y/N. This really how you want to die?”

You smiled up at him, pinching your tongue between your teeth.

“Me die? How when my guardian angel always has my back?”

You caught his jaw in your hands and squeezed sending his lips pouting out.

“Shots!”

Your eyes widened hearing Tamara announce a new round.

“Shots,” you squealed as you tried to get free from Lewis’ arms.

He didn’t let you go though he kept you snug in what you now realized was his lap.

“I think you’ve had enough.”

You pouted and within seconds your eyes watered. “No, please. Lewis.”

“Those fake tears won’t work on me. It’s creepy how you can just cry on demand.”

You didn’t reply, you just stared into his eyes with your signature “lil’ baby” eyes. Puss in Boots could never, you had this on lock. Slowly but surely, you watched Lewis’ composure crumble and like everyone else who’d ever been prey to the eyes, he caved.

“Fuck! fine.”

You smiled, rolled your eyes to the back of your head and rapidly blinked a few times. When you looked back at him your eyes were tear free. He looked utterly disgusted with you.

“Creepy,” he repeated.

You climbed off his lap and straitened your dress. “You say creepy I say talented.”

As you took a few steps away from him you looked back at him over your shoulder, “I’m a baddie I get what I want,” you said then winked before dipping into the middle of the circle comprised of all your female friends. He was probably right; you probably had reached your limit for the night, but you didn’t see the harm in one or three more shots.

One or three more shots turned to six and the next thing you knew you were sitting in the passenger side of Lewis’ fancy car that was barely street legal. The lights of the city zipped by the window creating nothing but a trail of light as if you were traveling at warp speed. It was beautiful. Every few seconds you heard the gears change as he maneuvered the stick shift between your seats and that sound was what brought your eyes over to him.

He sat in the driver’s seat so comfortably as if that was the place be belonged. Hell, it definitely was. He’d found his knack early in life and had made an empire off it. All he’d accomplished thus far was nothing short of incredible. He was a legend, and he deserved every bit of praise he received. Again, Lewis shifted the stick and heavy click, click it made sent a smile across your face. You stared at his hands noting every vein that had made an appearance as he clutched the rounded top. His hands always looked so strong and when you thought about it, you guessed they had to be.

You slowly moved your eyes along his forearm up to where his long sleep shirt was now rolled up. When you made it to his eyes, you found them on you. His mouth was moving but you didn’t hear any words. You shook your head as if to clear the fog in your brain and focused.

“Told you you’d had enough. Now you’re fucked up.”

“I am not fucked up. I am just slightly—inebriated.”

The look Lewis gave you made you snort.

“You’re so fucked up.”

The track that came on had you cranking it all the way up. He didn’t bother objecting instead he sang along with you.

“We gon’ fuck up the night!”

As he changed lanes and got into the zone you both sang and danced as if neither of you had a care in the world. It was perfect and one of the things you loved about hanging out with him. It was always a good time. It didn’t matter what you were doing.

By the time you got to your loft, you were even higher than when you’d left the club. That’s how it always was around Lewis. You fed off his energy and vibe and it was the same with him. When Lewis placed you on the long couch in your living room you moaned and snuggled deeper into the suede material.

~~~~~

-Lewis-

“No, don’t get comfortable, let’s get you to bed first.”

“Nooooo,” you whined in protest. “Here good.”

He rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes for a brief moment. He knew how you got when you were drunk. He was in for one hell of a time trying to get you to cooperate. “Come on Y/N don’t be a brat right now. It’s been a long night.”

“No. Here. Good.”

Sighing again, he decided what the hell and began unbuckling your heels.

“Why is it that I’m the one that is always roped into being your babysitter when you get shit faced?”

You giggled, “Because you’re such a big softie.”

You reached your hand out to cup his jaw again. “Yes, you are Mr. Softie, yes,” you baby talked.

You were adorable when you were like this which made it hard to get mad.

“I’m sorry. I always do this around you and I know it’s annoying, but I only feel comfortable enough with you to do this. I know I’m safe, I know you won’t let anything happen to me and you’ll respect me. I trust you.”

It felt like someone had just thrust baby fists into his gut. Oof, he thought as he stared over your face. Your eyes were closed as if you were dreaming about saying these things, but he knew you were awake.

“I’m glad you trust me, Y/N. It—it means a lot.”

Your eyes opened to slits and, but your smile was as wide as an open gorge. He couldn’t help but smile back. He wasn’t stupid, blind, or unfazed by you. He knew you were beautiful, knew you had unbelievable curves that were almost unreal to think was a blessing from the almighty, knew you had an amazing brain and a kind heart. He knew you were a beautiful and sexy woman, there was no denying that. He also knew he went out of his way to ignore all of it. Neither of you ever bullshitted the other and there were no falsities between you. He knew who you were and knew what you were incapable of. You liked your freedom as much as he liked his.

Suddenly you rolled off the couch onto the floor then sprang up in a disorganized stumble.

“I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

Your eyes were still closed as you nodded. He watched you reach for the sleeves of your dress that were draped off of your shoulders.

“Wha--.”

When he saw you trying to pull your arm free his mind stumbled. “Uh—Y/N?”

“Mmm?”

Seeing that wasn’t going to work, you bent and grabbed the hem of your dress and lifted.

“Woah,” he cried lunging for you then wrangling the material from your hands. “What are you doing?”

“It’s hot.”

“Hot? okay, I’ll turn on the air. Sit.”

He set you in the couch then walked to the wall where the central air unit was. It was already set to seventy-two, so he lowered it to sixty-five. When he turned back around you were again trying to peel off the dress.

“No! No. I turned it on. It’ll cool down soon.”

He had to plaster your hands to your sides to prevent you from trying again. Thankfully, the air turned on and within a few moments the living room chilled. Releasing a relieved breath, he slowly let go of your hands as he stood.

“Okay, want me to help you up the stairs to bed?”

You shook your head. “Here good.”

“Right, here good,” he repeated.

As he made a move to leave you grabbed his wrist stopping him in his tracks. When he met your eyes, they were so clear, almost luminescent in the dull light of the living room. He was unexpectedly frozen where he stood unable to move or breathe.

“Stay.”

“Stay?”

You nodded. “Keep me warm, I’m cold.”

You pulled him to you and if he didn’t have quick reflexes, he would have fallen right on top of you. Instead, he braced himself on the back of the couch preventing any contact.

“You just said you were hot. I turned on the air.”

You were now leaned on the back of the couch looking up into his eyes. “I’m cold.”

The angle he was at gave him an overhead view of you. It was a view he’d never seen before. You kept your eyes on his but right now he saw nothing in them. It was like you were looking through him or seeing something that was deep beneath his surface. Before his brain could go any further down this rabbit hole of thought, he pushed off the couch and stalked to the thermostat. You whined the entire time, but he ignored you and turned it to seventy-five.

“There, seventy-five. You’ll warm up soon.”

He walked back to the couch and took up one of the throw blankets there and draped it around your shoulder. He stooped in front of you and rubbed your arms hoping the friction warmed you soon. When you hummed softly, he knew it was working.

“I’m thirsty. Can I have water?”

After an exhale he nodded. You were trying his last nerve. It was always like this. Once he was in the kitchen, he pulled a bottle of water out and brought it back to you with the cap off. After a few gulps you sighed.

“Can I have the pain meds in the bathroom cabinet?”

“Yep.”

Knowing the way, he trudged through your unconventional loft to the bathroom on the first floor. He slowly rifled through the pills there noting how many new types of sleep aids he saw. You’d always had problems sleeping. Sometimes he’d even have to stay on the phone with you talking until you fell asleep. If that didn’t work and he was in town he’d have you come over to his place where you stayed up all night playing video games or watching movies. He made a mental note to talk to you about it another day.

When his hand found the bottle, his eyes found something else entirely. He stood there for a few seconds as he allowed his thoughts to wander. When he was capable of moving again, he reached for the gold and purple device. Taking it in hand, he pressed the button, and the buzz brought it to life.

“Jesus.”

He should have put it back right then, but he pressed it a few more times wanting to see how much power it had and after five presses he was impressed. Before he could wonder what setting you preferred, he put it back where he found it and walked back out to you. He found you right where he left you.

“Y/N, you do know that anyone who uses someone else’s bathroom always snoops through the medicine cabinet, right?”

“Okay.”

“Okay? Anyone can see that thing and anyone with half a brain will know what it is.”

You snorted. “I don’t give a shit if anyone knows I use a vibrator. Hell, I have one stashed in just about every room in here. Never know when the urge will come and you gotta have a quick solution.”

He cotched on the arm of the leather armchair diagonal from you and shook his head. As he watched you down the pills and water, he peeped some of it cascade down the front of your dress, drenching it. You sprang up gasping.

“Fuck!”

“It’s okay. It’s just water,” he appeased.

“Cold.”

Hearing that word, he leapt up. “I’ll get you something dry.”

Without thinking, he beelined to the bathroom again and grabbed the robe behind the door. Before he made his way back, he took a beat and a few breaths. He had to get out of here—now. When he turned the corner back to you, there you stood in the path to the front door in your underwear.

“Shit!”

Instinctively his eyes wanted to roam your flesh, but he fought with everything in him to keep his eyes above her nose. If he thought this last season was hard, he would gladly take it again over this situation.

“Don’t be silly Lewis, you can look.

“No. Nope, I can’t.”

“Wow, am I that ugly to you? Is my body so bad that you can’t look at me?”

“What?!”

For a second his eyes dipped lower to your collar, then right back to your eyes. “No, that’s not it.”

“Then what?”

“I just don’t want to cross a line.”

“You won’t. It’s just like a bikini.”

Another scoff escaped him. He couldn’t believe this. “It’s not. I’m gonna—uh—gonna go.”

With that, he walked in a circle around you being careful to keep his head turned away from you while keeping a wide distance between you both. You didn’t move or make any attempts to stop him, and he was relieved. When he was a few steps to the door he heard the jingling of keys that stopped him in his tracks.

“Forgetting something?”

“God,” he muttered under his breath.

This was not what he needed right now, a drunk, half naked, mischievous and bratty you holding on to his keys. You’d never give them back willingly.

“Toss ‘em,” he said without turning around. He prayed you did what he asked, prayed you made this easy for him.

“Come and get ‘em.”

Dropping his head back, he sighed. He should have known. He’d seen plenty of signs you were probably a baby masochist so it shouldn’t have been out of character for you to enjoy inflicting pain on others. That part of you spoke to that part of him. Balling his fists, he gulped realizing his throat was drier than his exhaust pipe after a race.

Just then he felt something drape over his head and your scent engulfed him. This Burberry was your signature scent. He’d come to associate you with it and whenever he smelled it you came to mind. When he pulled the item off his head, his gut clenched when he realized it was a sky-blue lace bra. The same sky-blue lace bra that he’d seen for the millisecond it took him to register your state of undress. In the same moment the realization hit him of how you stood there now. When he turned it felt like he’d ran face first into a brick wall. You stood there in only your tiny blue lacy underwear that looked closer to string. Fighting his eye muscles and brain, because they were clearly separate entities that had their own wants, he focused them on your face.

“This isn’t a game--.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.”

His eyes bugged then. “Fun? Y/N, this isn’t funny. You’re drunk.”

“I’m still consenting,” you calmly replied before you took a step toward him.

“You can’t consent, you’re drunk.”

He watched you take yet another step to him and he swore he felt his body being pulled toward you like you and he were AB particles being attracted like magnets.

“How about we leave the determinations of me being drunk up to me?”

You took one more step.

“I—consent.”

You stood there looking him in the eye with not an ounce of fear or hesitation. This was the look of a woman who knew what she was saying. You may have been drunk but you were coherent. His head dropped down to look at the floor. It was the only safe place to look. Just as he was beginning to ask himself where any of this was coming from, you lifted your foot for another step.

“Stop!”

Now he was looking right at you and damn it his peripheral was took seconds too long to blur out your nakedness. you smirked.

“Now that I have your full attention--.”

You spun in a slow circle giving him a full view and boy did his eyes view. They took it all in. Fuck you were indescribably gorgeous. Every single inch of you was made to tease. The curve of your hips made his palms itch to grasp them. The hardened points of your nipples had his mouth watering. Tightening his fists, he swallowed and raised his eyes back to yours.

You cocked your head to the side and frowned ever so slightly, “Still nothing. Huh. Okay.”

You then hooked your thumbs into the waists of the string you wore and pulled them off.

“Holy fuck,” he exclaimed as he snapped his head to the side.

Seconds later, the garment slid to his feet and like the action of a machete hacking into the husk of a coconut to open it, his self-restraint took a major blow. He could feel the heaviness between his legs increasing with each passing moment.

“Wh—what—why--,” he stuttered out unable to speak or think up a sentence.

“I’m horny.”

He knew his eyes were wider now. “You’re horny?”

“And you’re here,” you finished.

He could have laughed. You’d always been blunt and often liked to cut straight to the point. He loved that about you. No one had to guess or assume where they stood with you or what you were thinking at any given time. You freely let your thoughts and opinions out not caring how you were perceived. He respected that and it made you hella sexy.

After a sigh, he spoke, “Y/N, it’s not a good idea.”

“It’ll be fine. One night. One night where I do every nasty, filthy, kinky, slutty, thing you can think of to you and you do every single thing you want, doesn’t matter what to me. One night of no thoughts, no inhibitions, no shoulds, or shouldn’ts. Nothing but pure fucking and screaming.

As he slowly registered your words while trying to not look over your naked body, he found it difficult to think. his body was rapidly reacting to your words.

“And after?”

“We move on.”

You must have seen his brow arch. Your soft laughter filled the foyer. “Look, I’m under no delusions when it comes to you Lew. I see you and you see me. Neither of us have ever had to hide with one another.”

You began your steps toward him again.

“Take one more step and I can’t be held accountable for what happens next,” he warned, making sure every bit of seriousness came through in his voice. He could hear the strain of the words and knew you heard it too. You knew just how tightly wound he was right now. The wide smile on your face said it all.

“Promise?”

Long moments passed with the two of you just staring at each other. No more words were needed. It was either going down or not. You rested your hands on your hips poking one out accentuating those deadly curves and he lost the battle with his brain. His eyes slowly roamed your body taking in every single detail and inch. When his eyes stopped at the trove at the apex of your thighs his tongue snaked out to wet his lips. It was going down.

~~~~~~

-Y/N-

In seconds, both of you closed the space between you colliding your bodies and smashing your lips against each other’s. As soon as your nakedness brushed against the rough material of his clothing you groaned. Lewis’s moan evaporated on your lips as his tongue swirled with yours in a way that took your breath right from your lungs. Holy hell, the man could really kiss. The hunger rolling off of him matched yours and soon the foyer was filled with both of your eager moans.

The warmth of Lewis’ hand on at your spine made you press more firmly against him, but you were met with more rough material. Groaning, you peeled off his leather jacket and allowed it to drop to the floor. Wasting no time, you moved to his button-down shirt and rapidly made your way through the buttons. Just when you thought you’d made it to skin you groaned finding a men’s undershirt.

“Fuck, so many layers!”

Lewis snorted, pulled away and peeled the shirt over his head. The move was quick and smooth and a few moments later he’d captured your lips once again. He backed you to the nearest wall and pressed your back against it making you feel the definition of his chest and abs.

“Mmmmm!”

He tore his lips from yours and trailed kisses down your jaw to your neck. The goosebumps that littered your skin only intensified the desire you felt for him. This was new considering you’d never done anything like this throughout your entire friendship, but it felt like the easiest thing in the world. Your brain didn’t hesitate, neither did your body.

“Oh, fuck,” you mewled once you felt Lewis’ lips latch onto your weak spot.

No other words followed because the nip of his teeth sent sparks through you and directly to your sex. You grabbed at his waist and pulled him closer needing to feel more of him. Understanding what you needed, Lewis reached around you and grabbed onto your ass, squeezing while he pulled your flush against his hardening member. You whine, giving him the opening to press his lips to yours again.

This kiss was more heated, than the last. This one spoke of urgency, desperation, excitement, need and ruin. Lewis flicked his tongue against yours fighting with it coaxing you to play and play you did. The carnal sounds that filled the room fueled you both. Feeling the heavy and racing thuds of his heart beating against your bodice, it blended with yours and now your hearts were pounding as one. Your need was his, his desperation was yours and the burning need you felt was one he also felt.

It was so easy to get lost in the taste of his lips, of his mouth, his breath, so easy to stay here pressed on the wall with his hand squeezing your ass like it were a stress ball, but you needed too much. You bit his bottom lip hard but not hard enough to break skin. He groaned and thrusted his hips forward, spearing you and giving you a taste of what was in store for you.

“You feel incredible,” Lewis mumbled.

“Me?”

Your hand dropped to the front of his pants and rubbed. He was bigger than you’d imagined, and you couldn’t wait to see. Lewis dropped his head back and you watched his jaw slack as he released a breathy sigh. Smirking, you leaned to his ear then licked along his neck.

“The things I wanna do to you.”

“Tell me.”

“I wanna put my lips all over you, use my tongue to write my name, taste every single inch of—,” you paused and gripped him, “You.”

Lewis growled and in the blink of an eye he’d hoisted you into his arms and took off for the steps leading to your bedroom. With your legs wrapped around his waist you teased his neck and ear testing if they were as sensitive to touch as yours were. Every few steps, Lewis stopped moving seemingly getting lost in your touch and not trusting himself to maneuver movement and immersion at once. Once you made it to your door, he pressed you against the wall beside it sending his clothed arousal against your moistening cove.

Lewis grabbed your hands that were entangled at the nape of his neck then pressed them flat against the wall before he latched onto your neck again. As he teased you, whimper after whimper left you. Then when his lips found your breast. You fought against him needing to grip onto something. However, Lewis wasn’t having it. He laced his fingers with yours and kept them firmly against the wall.

His tongue flicked across your nipple, waking up the bundle of nerves making it harden within seconds. You realized then that he controlled your hands, but you still had some control. Bucking your hips, you rubbed your sex against him using his material covered bulge to find some relief. Lewis groaned then ground his hips into you, giving you what you needed tenfold and sending you over the edge. You squeezed your legs tighter around him as you allowed the waves of pleasure to gently ebb you to a mini orgasm. This release didn’t relieve anything, it only made things worse.

You could feel Lewis smiling against your breast and you knew then he’d done it on purpose.

“Fuck, I can feel how wet that pussy is for me through my pants,” he teased.

“Mmm, you should feel how wet it is for you.”

Your eyes met and the devilish smirk he gave you said it all. He planned on wearing you the fuck out. Lewis pushed your bedroom door open and walked inside as you kissed him. Before you could get carried away, he tossed you onto your bed. After a few bounces you looked to him and took in the sight of him standing at the foot of your bed in just his pants. The waistband of his boxer-briefs was peeking through making the sight of his defined abs that more enticing.

Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you tried to quell the urge to rush him and strip him bare.

“You have on too much clothes.”

Lewis’ eyes roamed over your body again and you decided to tease the fuck out of him. Laying back against your silk sheets, you spread your legs wide to show him the prize of the night. His groan echoed in the room. You peeked at him and saw you had his undivided attention. His eyes were glued to your sex as he rubbed his bearded chin.

“Such a pretty pussy.”

Slinking your hand lower, you used it to shield yourself from his view. The corner of his lips curled up almost as if he were snarling at you for the move. Oh, he was so easy to fuck with and you loved it.

“Plan on getting as naked as me? Or do you need some help?”

You watched him drop his hands to his pants and kept watching as he languidly unbuttoned them. Your patience was wearing thin by the time he’d unzipped. He knew how eager you were, and he was showing you that you weren’t the only one that could tease. When he finally pulled his pants down, he kept his underwear right where they were. After kicking them off, he fisted himself.

Unable to stop yourself you swirled the tips of your fingers against your clit and immediately regretted it. You needed much more than this. You easily got lost in the pleasure you brought yourself and when you brought your attention back to Lewis, you found him stroking himself. In your haze you hadn’t realized he’d discarded his underwear and was now before you in all his glory.

Your fingers stilled as you took him in. He was beautiful and hung beyond belief. Your mouth watered with anticipation. Pulling your hand back you watched his eyes follow your hand and when you looked at it you saw why. Your wetness coated your fingers making them glisten. Lewis closed his mouth over your fingers and sucked them clean moaning the entire time.

When Lewis pulled back you zeroed in on your prize.

“Mmm, a meal.”

You slid yourself so it was your head that was facing him. But before you could crawl to him Lewis reached over and grabbed your ankle.

“Not a chance.”

He pulled you, spinning you right back around onto your back then lower on the bed. Your legs were spread before him again only this time he was much closer.

“I get the first taste of the night.”

He hovered over you sending the chain he wore dangling above you. When he dopped down to kiss your lips, it was a slow, teasing one that set to the tone for what you knew was to come. Lewis kissed a trail down your body, taking his time to lick, suck and nibble your nipples. When he got to your stomach, his teeth grazed your flesh riding the fine line of pleasure and pain.

“You like a little pain with your pleasure, don’t you princess.”

It wasn’t a question. He spoke as if he knew. When you didn’t answer he bit harder right at your pelvis. The move sent your hips jerking up and your head angling back.

“Princess?”

His eyes met yours and you nodded obediently. He kissed the spot he’d bitten then trailed his large hands down your thighs and legs until he’d lifted them to hook over his broad shoulders. Looking down at him in this position you arched up onto your elbows and realized you’d had it wrong before. This was how you were going to die. The man looked like he was meant to be kneeling between your thighs. As soon as the thought sparked, Lewis dipped down and placed a perfect kiss against your clit.

The sound that came from you was closer to an inward breathy shriek than a gasp.

“Mmm, I love how you react to me.” He placed another kiss this time increasing the suction of his lips. “I love the sounds that my touch brings out.” When he went to kiss a third time you found your clit being sucked into his mouth as he sent you to the moon.

You clamped your thighs around his head, arched your back and allowed the bliss to take you. Lewis didn’t stop sucking though, he continued making every second that much more intense. When you finally came back to Earth, you took a deep gulp of air and loosened the grip your thighs had him in.

“Mmm. That’ll be the only free orgasm you have tonight. You want more, you better earn them.”

Your belly fluttered at the thought. Before you could speak, Lewis went to town licking, and swirling his tongue around your sensitive clit. Every time you thought you’d die from overstimulation; he backed off and paid his attention to another part of your pussy. Going between flicking butterfly lite licks against your clit, sucking your flesh and dipping his tongue into your heat you were seeing stars and well on your way to another release.

“You taste like every decadent dessert I’ve ever had.”

As if to prove his point he slurped your flesh sending vibrations across your sex and muddling your brain in the same breath.

“Mm, delicious!”

“Are you?”

Lewis cocked his head to the side, gave you the eye and smirked. “Are you up to sampling?”

Unable to stop yourself, you licked your lips and nodded. He brought himself to a standing position at the end of the bed and stroked himself slowly. He was even harder than before. Slowly, you slinked toward him never taking your eyes off the prize. Truth be told you were slightly intimidated by the size of him. Not only was he lengthy, he was also girthy in a way that said you’d feel the ache of him for days to come. Anticipation rattled through your core, and you knew there was no way you’d be able to go slow and tease him.

Lewis stood there proud with his hands at his side while his brilliant cock bobbed waiting for you. You tipped your tongue out and swirled it around the bulbous tip moaning when his taste seeped into your taste buds.

“Mmm, cocoa, vanilla and—coconut. Mmmm.”

You closed your mouth around him and lowered yourself until you felt him fill your throat. From the looks of things, you still had two or three more inches to go. Fuck, you were definitely going to feel him for days to come. You moaned around him and slowly shook your head nestling him tightly.

“Fuuuuck!”

His hands rested at the top of your head, but he didn’t do anything else. You remined still wanting to see how long it would take him. After only ten or so seconds his fingers flexed on your skull.

“Come on princess. It won’t suck itself.”

Pulling back, you slurped your way off his cock until you kissed the tip.

“Mmm.”

Locking eyes with him you lowered your mouth again but this time you took the remaining inches and gulped forcing your throat to relax. Lewis grunted then thrust forward sending the tip of your nose to his pubic bone.

“Oh god!”

That one motion set him off. He slowly withdrew from your mouth then thrust back in. Each time he did it he picked up his pace. Within moments he was steadily fucking your mouth and grunting the entire time.

“This fucking mouth.”

You moaned as he used your mouth and gave him everything in return. He withdrew you clamped your lips around his cock making retreat near impossible. Every time you did it his grip tightened, and his hips staggered. When he pushed forward you opened your throat and moved your tongue like a wave, so he felt the sensations along each inch. Your name fell from his lips over and over and within a few short minutes, your chin was covered with spit and pre-cum. There was no point in trying to be cute. That’s not what tonight was for.

You pulled him from your mouth with a pop then beat your tongue with his length.

“Mmm. You like this cock, don’t you?”

You nodded before you sucked him back in and used your hands to pump his flesh as your mouth worked magic. You didn’t know what to imagine when thinking if he were a quiet fuck or a loud one, but you were happy to know he was the furthest thing from quiet. You were so turned on you couldn’t help but touch yourself. What you found should have been alarming. You were beyond wet; the slickness was now dripping down your inner thigh showcasing just how open he had you.

Lewis grabbed your hand then held it up in front of him. “That greedy little pussy is screaming for attention huh. It’s begging to be fucked, right?”

“Yes.”

“You want this cock, Y/N? Does my dirty, nasty princess want this cock?”

Lewis gripped the base of his cock and tapped it against your cheek.

“Fuck yes!”

“Go lie down at the headboard.”

Your body thrummed with anxious energy hearing how comfortable he was ordering you around. You’d always sensed dom energy coming from him and it always had your mind running wild. Here and now, you were seeing those dom reflexes shine through. Once you were laid against the headboard, you watched as Lewis walked around your bed to the table beside it. He opened the bottom drawer and your breath caught. How’d he know which drawer to look?

“Wow. What a collection,” he said as his eyes roamed over the toys you had there.

There was a toy for every mood you found yourself in. Stimulation, penetration, teasing, or a challenge.

“What mood are you in tonight, princess?”

“The I want you and not a toy mood.”

His smirk was cute.

“I recall someone said any and everything I wanted to do to you, no matter what.”

You smiled.

“And right now, you want to inspect my toys.”

“Right now, I want to choose the right one to watch as it drives you mad with you being unable to cum.”

Your smile fell. He wouldn’t, you thought. Lewis picked the small and sleek pink vibrator and tested its settings. You knew just how powerful it was. You’d choose it on nights you didn’t have the patience to tease or prolong your pleasure, it was for when you needed to blast off fast. The look on Lewis’ face as he looked between you, and it said you’d given something away on your face.

“Looks like we have a winner.”

He closed the drawer and walked back around then climbed into the bed. As he stalked toward you, you truly felt like prey and again your belly fluttered with anticipation. The device buzzed to life on the lowest setting just as he circled it around your breast, slowly closing in to small circled until he was going around your nipple. It felt like a vibrating feather against your flesh, soft and tingly.

As he moved to your other breast, he increased the setting. Your back arched slightly when he pressed the tip directly onto your nipple and his eyes were there drinking in your every reaction.

“Mmm, I love your body, Y/N. You’re perfect.”

He brought the toy down the center of your body in such a slow and teasing manner that your back arched off the bed and your fists balled the sheets. Biting your bottom lip, you watched as he brought it lower and lower until he rested it right atop your pubis, but he didn’t move after that. A frustrated huff came from your mouth and his smile said it was the desired reaction.

“Something wrong princess?”

“Yes, you’re a tease,” you whined.

Lewis’s soft chuckle filled the room. “I thought that would be a good thing.”

“Good thing my ass.”

“Don’t you worry about that sinful ass; it’ll get what’s coming to it.”

Because of the flare of arousal that filled your gut you lost control of your body for a moment and that moment sent your hips jutting up brushing your pussy against his chin.

“Oh you can’t wait for it huh. God, you’re a dream.”

Lewis slid his tongue along your seam from opening to clip then kissed it.

“Lewis,” you whined.

All right princess.”

With that, he brought the toy to trace the outline of your lips a few times until you were a gasping mess. Every time you thought he’d just be easy and give you what you wanted, he passed the desired location and continued his teasing. You were so on edge you knew that once you got what you wanted that you’d cum. Maybe that’s what he wanted. After a few more laps around your pussy, Lewis finally placed the vibrator against your clit and the unexpectedness of it all nearly sent you into the ceiling.

“Ahh!”

In seconds, you felt your orgasm creeping up but just when you were about to claim it, Lewis pulled the toy away.

“Lewis!”

“I told you; you want more, you better earn ‘em.”

Your groaned then reached down to finish the job yourself only to be met with a smack to the back of your hand.

“Don’t touch what’s mine.”

“Then own it.”

His smirk was mischievous. “I always knew you were a snarky brat, knew you loved to talk back and challenge. It was cute before, now it’s amusing because you have no idea what’s in store for you the more you do it. I’m the type of man who will be the last to lose control. I guarantee I can hold out longer than you can, princess.”

His voice was like pure unadulterated sex, sex in its most primal form. You wanted him badly but now you wanted to bring him to his knees even more. Angling onto your elbows, you brought your face close to his. Fighting to not get lost in his cognac eyes or the softness you knew of his lips, or his hypnotizing scent you remained focused.

“Mmmm,” you seductively cajoled while rolling your eyes to the back of your head and biting your bottom lip.

When your eyes landed back on his, you saw him glance down between your bodies. The moment he realized your hand had crept there and was showcasing every inch of your pretty pussy, his Adam’s apple bobbed just before his jaw clenched. He looked like a mesmerized man under a spell that he was unable to break.

“Is she pretty?”

“Bloody beautiful,” he croaked.

“Don’t you want to feel her wrapped around you?”

Again, his jaw clenched and again his throat moved.

“You know I do.”

You circled your finger around your opening then barely dipped the tip in. When you pulled back you brought that finger to his lips and painted them with your wetness. If he hadn’t looked like a predator before, right now he looked more frightful than an African lion in the plains.

“Then stop teasing me and fuck me until I’m hoarse from screaming your name. Fuck me till I can’t wait or sit right for a week. Fuck me like it’s yours.” locking eyes with him you finished, “Fuck me like you hate me!”

Lewis slowly licked his lips cleaning them of your juices and moaned. As he crept closer and closer you could only focus on his face and nothing else. His hands slowly snaked up your legs over your hips, across your torso and over your breasts before fanning out to go down your arms. Before you knew what he was doing he’d brought your arms above your head, pushed you back onto the bed, captured your wrists in one of his hands and pressed the vibrator on full speed right against your clit.

Your body felt as if thirty thousand joules of electricity has been sent into you. You didn’t even realize you were screaming until you felt the burn in your throat. Though you tried to move, you were unable to thanks to Lewis’ thighs keeping yours spread wide. He had you completely at his mercy. Incoherent words and sounds fell from your lips as you torpedoed to your release.

“Look at me.”

As if he were the master and you the genie your eyes locked on his. “I own your orgasm. Without my permission you better not cum.”

An unintelligible croak left you and you writhed trying to free yourself but also prevent yourself from cumming. It was an impossible task, one that you knew you were going to fail. From the looks on Lewis’ face, he also knew you were going to fail. Holding on as long as you could you tried to keep your release at bay. When your body began shaking from the sheer might it took, Lewis smirked as he took the vibrator away.

“Fuck!”

You were feral at this point, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You were in a strange state that you hadn’t prepared yourself for. Lewis flipped you onto your stomach and when you felt the bed dip from his weight you crawled away to the headboard while peeping back at him. As if on a leash he followed until he was hovering over your back with his cock resting atop your ass. His lips took yours for a moment then dipped to your shoulder blade before licking a path along your spine. Feeling mischievous, you bounced your ass up and down giving him a mini show of your twerking skills. Lewis hissed and dropped heavy handed slaps across your backside giving his nonverbal seal of approval for every move you made.

As you held onto the headboard you peeped back at him and the look on his face only made you wetter. If you didn’t feel him soon you were going to lose your mind. Lewis must have had the same thought because his eyes met yours and you easily read the question in them.

Could he? Was it okay?

You nodded and seconds later he’d slid the tip of his need into you. Your gasp was sharp and breathy and with every slow inch he fed you it became more of a high-pitched squawk. The tight grip he had on your hips was so near the point of pain it felt good. The slowness of how he filled you was both a blessing and curse. More than anything you wanted him to split you in two, but you also knew that you’d die if he did. It was a battle between present pleasure and future pain.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Lewis pushed out.

His voice was tight and constrained. You could hear the battling he was fighting with his own desire for the ultimate pleasure and not wanting to hurt you.

“More,” you whined.

It was the only word he needed. Lewis then snapped his hips forward sending every single inch of him inside of you. Again, you screamed and clenched around him as you marveled that you’d managed to take it all. Neither of you moved for a few long moments. Both of you were adjusting to this new facet of your relationship, this new realization that you both could have felt this incredible pleasure of your bodies fitting together perfectly a lot sooner. When that sentiment settled for him, you felt him pull out then grab the back of your neck. This was how you died, you thought to yourself.

~~~~~~~

-Lewis-

Snapping his hips forward, using you as leveraged he pummeled into you forcefully. Your entire body shook while your head flung back to go forward. The glorious sound of your scream-whine filled his ears making his eyes flutter closed. Fuck you sounded so good. He’d never been affected by his partner’s sounds of pleasure quite like this before. Yeah it felt good to know he was putting it down and delivering the best dick down they’d had but with you—right now. Knowing that the pleasure you felt came from him did something to him. Knowing that you’d become this unbound sent him closer to the edge than he’d ever been.

He'd almost cum at least a dozen times already and it was by the sheer grace of God that he’d managed to suppress it. It was like all his primal instincts took over with you. The need to dominate you until you submit to him and his desires. the need to pleasure you beyond measure. The need to abandon any and all ways that did not serve for pleasure, enjoyment and pure sin. As he thrust into you again, your colliding bodies clapped together filling the room with the sound he squeezed your hips trying to keep himself in check though the vice grip you had him in tempted him to just be reckless. Goddamn you were tight!

“Yes, yes, yes!”

The more you mewled for him, the more he wanted from you. Releasing your neck, he gripped the headboard where your hands were currently holding it and picked up his speed. He couldn’t believe how easily you’d adjusted to his size and was now drunk off of the way your body begged him to never stop what he was doing. On every retreat you gripped him not allowing him to withdraw more than a few inches. Then on every plunge you squeezed even tighter making him work to touch the very depths of your canal.

“Oh god, right there Lewis. Yes!”

“Does it feel good?”

“So fucking good?”

“Does this pussy want more, princess?”

“Ye—yess!”

With that consent he jackhammered into you getting lost in his own pleasure. You felt unbelievable, unreal even.

“Y/N!”

“Lewis! I’m gonna cum.”

He pulled from your body with a growl then gripped the base of his cock. You were going to be the death of him. Never had he come quick, and you were trying to have it another way.

“Flip over, let me see that creamy pussy.”

You flipped over and spread your thighs showing him what a mess you were.

“Aw, princess, you’re a mess.”

He traced your trove with his cock smearing your shared wetness everywhere creating his own work of art atop the work of art that was you. Once he was coated again, he slapped your clit with his cock making your body jerk.

“Mm.”

“Does princess want this cock?”

You nodded.

“Tell me.”

“Yes. I want it.”

“How bad?”

“More than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

He smiled then circled your opening. You gasped and from the look of you, he could tell you were holding your breath. Rather than going for it, he only slid his tip in losing himself in the way you stretched to accommodate him. Just when he felt you clench, he withdrew. Your frustrated groan echoed around you. You thought he was teasing you but really, he was just torturing himself at this point. He’d already become addicted to the feel of being inside of you, already become addicted to your moans, addicted to your smell, taste, and how your body obeyed every nonverbal command he had. He was practically a slave to you and how you crippled him so quickly. He repeated the action a few times and just when you began whining, he locked ayes with you.

“Oh princess. You’ll never be the same once I’m done with you.”

He impaled you instantly then ground his hips so you could feel every single way you’d made it impossible to have just one night with you. Your moans were loud, and he was convinced those who lived around you knew what was happening and was probably pressed against their windows trying to peep in. He didn’t care. He should have, but he didn’t. Matter of fact, he wanted them to hear you, he wanted them to know that you were being fucked so good that they were jealous cause they’d never even come close to an experience like this.

Your breasts swung in front of him and there was no way he could resists from taking them into his mouth. As he licked, teased, and sucked, you hugged his head to your body digging your fingers into his hair.

“So good, Y/N. So—fucking—good!”

Peeling your hands from his head, he placed them on the headboard and covered them with his. You looked like an offering just for him, an offering he could do with as he pleased, and that thought was sending him. Again, he picked up the forced of how he thrust into you, and it send the headboard clattering against the wall creating your carnal playlist. Your moans and whimpers turned to screeches and loud grunts. He could tell you weren’t holding back anymore and when you put one of your ankles over his shoulder, he nearly lost his shit.

“Fuck yeah!”

Releasing your hands, he hoisted you a few inches into the air adding your other ankle to join the first then ravaged you without thought.

“You take this cock so well princess. It was made to fill your sweet, tight pussy up.”

Your moans blended, shouts competed, bodies rocked and dripped with sweat as both of you took the other to new heights, unfathomable heights.

“I have to cum, can I cum?!”

Reaching down he played with your clit then slipped his thumb just beneath you to the tight puckered flesh there. Your eyes widened but you didn’t stop him or pull away.

“Oh such a nasty girl.”

He’d found his match tonight and it filled him with much more than excitement. As he massaged you, your eyes fluttered closed and the way you clenched him became unbearable.

“Cum for me princess. Cum all over this cock.”

~~~~~

-Y/N-

The stars you saw were not of this galaxy. Hell, they were not of this universe. In this moment you saw the multiverse. You had to have because everything was so much more poignant, so much more astonishing. Your body convulsed, core clenched, toes curled, hands balled and back arched. No one else existed, it was just you and him and both of you were fucking your way through a whole ‘nother galaxy in a whole ‘nother universe seeing things none had seen before. It was such an otherworldly experience, one that you’d seek in every encounter after him for the rest of your life.

Gradually, you came down and you should have felt pure nirvana but instead your body was to the point of combusting. You felt as if you’d never cum at all. You wanted more, so much more. When you were fully back inside your own body, the blaze you felt only made you buck against Lewis who was still thrusting away, fucking your through your release. The feel of being filled in more than one place shocked you. Your words came back to you then.

Any and everything.

You smiled then beckoned him closer. When he was right in front of you, you kissed him, swirling your tongue with his and teasing his lips. As he moaned against you, his thrusts slowed until he was barely rocking into you. Using his distraction, you used all your remaining strength and flipped him to his back in a seamless move. Lewis groaned as he looked up into your face.

“Someone want control?”

“No, someone wants to drive you mad.”

“Oh, don’t worry princess, I’m already there.”

In a tender move, he cupped your jaw then softly slid his thumb across your bottom lip. It would have stolen your breath if you weren’t already teetering on the edge of breathlessness. You rocked your hips his back and forth in a slow wave that had Lewis biting his bottom lip. Lazily you continued not wanting to give him too much and as you continued you watched his every reaction. The way his eyes struggled to focus on one thing. He went from your eyes to your lips then your breasts, your hips and where you were joined most intimately only to do it all again in no pattern at all. It was like he was overstimulated and couldn’t focus, or he was trying to distract himself so he didn’t cum.

At that thought you almost laughed out loud. If he thought you were a terror before, he was going to be very disappointed to find your unruliness hadn’t even reached peak mass. Pressing your palms to his chest you leaned forward and used him as your anchor. Deliberately, you lifted yourself off of him allowing him to slip from your body inch by inch as you kept your eyes on his. With every inch Lewis’ mouth opened wider and wider. When you knew you had him right where you wanted him, you crashed right back down on him.

“Fuck!”

You did it again and again faster and faster until you were bouncing on top of him flicking your ass up and down. Lewis whimpered, moaned and panted out your name over and over as he gripped and slapped your ass. Feeding off his energy you tipped onto your feet and gave him the show of his life. His eyes were now glued to your core watching the way you fit so perfectly together and the longer he watched the more the fire within you blazed.

“Gahdamn Y/N. Uuugh, this pussy.”

He lifted his hips thrusting his cock into you as you dropped down on him.

“Aaah!”

Your entire body tensed as you clenched around him as you claimed yet another release.

“Mmm, you look so beautiful when I make you cum.”

He grunted and got a proper grip of your hips as he pistoned into you. It was your turn to hold on like you were riding a bucking bronco. One look at him told you he was gone and chasing something you’d claimed many times already. After a few minutes you overpowered him and stood over him. Lewis stared at you like you were a goddess, and he was ready to worship you any way you wished. It was an intoxicating thing. Turning your back to him you lowered yourself onto him yet again.

“Aaaah, yessss. Such a greedy pussy. She takes all of me and begs for more.”

“Then give it to her,” you sassed as you slowly flicked your backside up and down riding him. You could only imagine the view he was getting.

“Bloody hell, Y/N!”

You leaned forward then held onto his ankles and completely let go. You followed every innate instinct you had, every whim your body needed. It didn’t take long at all for you to feel the beginning of yet another orgasm. You rotated your ass in a circle as you twerked on him like you were following a beat. It was over then. Lewis let out a growl then you felt him moving underneath you until he was behind you. In seconds, you felt something tie around your writs securing them behind your back. You glanced at him over your shoulder, but you were met with the eyes of a predator.

“Shit,” you panted out.

Lewis ground his hips into you until you were at the brink of tears from the mix of pleasure and pain.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“You wanted this right dirty girl?”

Words escaped you, hell they were above you right now. Lewis gripped the back of your neck bringing your back to his chest and his lips at your ear. A deep groan escaped you when you felt him bit it.

“You wanted me to lose control, right? Wanted to drive me mad, wanted to make me use you like a beautiful hole? What was it that you said—,”

Lewis tilted your head backward so your eyes met his. The whole time he continued to burrow deeper and deeper into you making it impossible to breathe. You were so full.

“Fuck,” you whined.

“Close. I think it was, fuck me like you hate me was it?”

You should have felt fear. You should have recanted and begged for mercy, should have tried to talk him down but you didn’t feel fear, nor did you do any of those things. Instead, you smiled then tipped your tongue to trace over his lips. Lewis sucked it into his mouth and gave you the most titillating kiss you’d ever had. Just when you were getting into the kiss, Lewis pulled back then snapped his hips forward making you break the kiss to gasp out.

“Face down, ass up!”

Obeying, you dropped down flattening your back and gave him a perfect arch.

“Fucking hell, you’re killing me Y/N.”

You rocked your ass from side to side while you winked at him. Your sassy act came to an abrupt end when Lewis slammed into you again with such force that your entire body went forward. If he wasn’t holding your hips, you probably would have toppled over. Burying your face in the silk sheets you screeched as he did it again and again and again. He didn’t wait for you to catch your breath, or wait for you to adjust, he continued giving you every single thing he had, and you took it all as you fell apart.

“L—Le—Lewi—sss!”

“Say it again!”

“Lewis! Yes, fuck!”

“Whose is it?”

“Yours, all yours!”

Just when you thought he would slow down he continued like a prized stallion with superior stamina. Your mind was completely blown and shattered. When your knees gave out, Lewis grabbed the material that was tied around your wrist and pulled you up so your back pressed into his chest again and drove into you as if he’d just started. He looked like an angel, talked like a seductor but by God did he fuck like an animal, and you didn’t think you’d ever get enough.

“Mmm, give it to me baby!”

Another growl echoed behind you just as Lewis slapped your backside and delivered a bruising thrust that had you seeing spots.

“Mmm, yes! Yes. Give it to me motherfucker!”

While holding you up with one hand he brought his other hand around to your clit and pinched just when he daggered you again.

“Aaaah!”

In an effort to silence you, Lewis covered your lips with his and drew in your screams of pleasure as he fucked you through another orgasm. Once it had run its course, Lewis brought his hand around to tease your rear and you moaned again. Slowly he sank one digit inside of you then another using your wetness to aid his fingers. The feel was foreign but not unwelcomed. You were so far gone the man could have brought in a friend to watch and you wouldn’t have cared.

“Mine,” Lewis muttered.

“Yours. Show me--you own it.”

Just then he added a third finger and you whined from the stretch and feel of him filling you from both entrances.

“Jesus., Y/N. How are you so perfect for me? How didn’t we know it’d be like this? How didn’t we do this sooner?”

His lips pressed to your back as he slowly rocked into you making you shiver. He was right. You didn’t know how neither of you had ever guessed it would be like this between you. The sensations you were currently feeling made it so hard to think logically. Right now, you were tempted to open your mouth and say you wanted more than one night but you knew it was the pleasure that would be talking. The slowness he rocked into you coupled with the softness of his lips against your skin and his words put you in such a calm and comforting mood, but the way his fingers worked into you lit a whole new fire in you. It was one that you knew would become a blazing inferno that would scorch the two of you branding one another as the others.

“Fuck, Lewis,” you mewled.

“Yes princess.”

“More.”

“You’re ready for me?”

You nodded then whined again when he pulled from your body.

“So needy for me huh princess. Hungry for daddy’s cock?”

“So hungry. Fuck me daddy.”

You felt him slowly push forward sending the tip of his intrusion inside of you and it was then you fully grasped how big he really was.

“Fuck!”

Cool liquid dripped down you and you knew without looking that he’d taken advantage of the lube that was in your drawer. It definitely helped and when Lewis pushed further into you your back dipped.

“Uuuuugh, you’re so tight.”

“Stretch me out baby.”

“You really don’t wanna be able to sit or walk right for a week huh.”

“Yolo.”

Lewis snorted before he full on laughed. “No one says that anymore.”

Another few inches followed and so did more lube and by the time he’d delved halfway in you were a panting mess. With steady moves, Lewis rocked into you taking his time savoring the sensations coursing through him.

“Feels—feel—so—good,” he stuttered.

Feeling brave you backed onto him taking most of him in. Glancing at him, you saw his eyes bugged and mouth dropped open.

“Fuck me.”

A lazy smile spread across his face before it settled into something mischievous. he kept his eyes on you as he withdrew and submerged himself again. The move sent your eyes to the back of your head as you bit your finger to keep quiet. You were so focused on trying to keep it down that when you felt the vibrator rest right where he was currently nestled you melted into the bed.

“Oh god, Lewis I’m gonna cum.”

“Wait for me princess.”

He increased the speed on the vibrator and the feel of him plowing into you coupled with the vibrations there was no way you were going to last much longer. Lewis then brought his hand between your legs to flick your clit with his thumb.

“Aaah, yes!”

Your body moved without a thought backing into him, giving him as much as he was giving you. Your moans melded together as you both chased your release.

“Lewis!”

“Y/N!”

You pressed your hand atop the one he had between your legs and used his hand to rub against yourself while you circled your backside heightening both of your pleasure.

“Holy—you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Cum for me daddy. Fill this ass up!”

His grip tightened on you and his thrusts sped up and before long you both were screaming each other’s names as you both came together. You took every spurt he gifted you as a waterfall dripped down the inside of your thighs. Your bodies chose that moment to cave, and you fell to the bed in a tangle of limbs. The last thing you clearly registered was his lips pressing against your neck, your ear then your temple. Then it all went black.

~~~~~~~~

-The Next Day-

When your eyes fluttered open the sun was beaming into your room lighting half of it up. Thankfully you remained in the dark. You realized within seconds that you weren’t alone, and it all came back to you. Lewis’ limbs were still tangled with yours and you were cocooned in his arms as he spooned you from behind. You sighed relishing the feeling of being enclosed in his arms. You felt safe, and calm like there was no need for anything else. You allowed yourself to savor the calm, savor the way this felt.

When you made a move to get up, you dropped right back down as every single muscle, bone and crevice of your body screamed in protest. You opened your mouth to scream but nothing came out and that caused even more alarm. Taking the time to calm yourself, you tried to get a grip. It took longer than feasibly possible but you untangled yourself from Lewis, rolled off the bed then steadied yourself on your legs. You were sure you looked like a newborn fawn as it tried to stand for the first time.

Your eyes fell to Lewis who looked so peaceful lying there among your lavender and pearl colored silk sheets. He looked angelic, not like a man who’d fucked you in every position, a man who’d been inside of every crevice of your body, a man who should make fucking his career rather than F1. A man who quite literally fucked you to sleep. That man from last night was a devilish seductor. This man in the morning was a sweet angel.

When your eyes took in the skin that was on display it took your breath away. If his face was angelic his body was pure destruction. The tight muscles that he’d no doubt worked hard for made him look sexier than any statue you’d ever seen. Statues should be made of him. The urge to dip your hand underneath the sheet that was draped across his crotch was so strong that you had to dig your nails into your palm to stop yourself. Wobbling to your door, you walked out leaving him to his sleep.

The trip downstairs was a slow one that you took one step at a time. Every move you made you felt everything you did the night before. You could still feel his hands sinking into your skin, his lips against your skin and his cock sliding in and out of you.

“Jesus, Y/N.”

You grabbed your robe off the floor and wrapped it around yourself as you beelined it to the kitchen. You needed sugar and caffeine. As you started the process of brewing the strongest cup of black tea, you’d ever had you dug out the cinnamon rolls from the freezer and popped them into the oven. Guessing you had maybe 5 or so minutes before the tea was ready you decided to fry up some vegan sausages. The salt would be a good balance for the sugar, both of which you needed to fully return to reality.

Once the cinnamon rolls and sausages were done you plated them and hopped onto the counter with your large cup of tea. You took your time taking small sips allowing the caffeine to seep into your veins and bit by bit revitalize your senses and brain cells. As you fully awakened every memory came back to you. Every single sensation, every thought overwhelmed you. You almost laughed out loud when you recalled your overconfident proposal.

“One night.”

Shaking your head, you took a large gulp of tea ignoring the burn of your taste buds. As expected, it was an unforgettable night that had scratched every single itch you had. It was a night that left you so sated that you felt like you could run the 4 miles he always tried to drag you on. As you ate one of the cinnamon rolls, you scrolled through your messages. Finding 6 unread messages in the group chat you scrolled through.

MSG Miles: Y.N, have you heard from Lew? No one can find him.

MSG Daniel: Lew’s not answering messages or calls. Anyone with him?

MSG Andrew: He took Y/N home last night. Nothing since. Y/N?

MSG Selah: You know Y/N don’t wake up before noon. Call Angela, his dad, his mom?

MSG Miles: None of them have seen him. His mom’s getting worried now.

MSG Bea: I’m sure he’s fine. He’s probably asleep recovering from last night.

MSG Andrew: He’s not at home. Bed made and everything.

MSG Selah: Maybe he went to someone in the rotation.

You went through a range of thoughts and emotions reading through the messages. The first was panic especially when Andrew threw out that he’d taken you home last night. That was all it took for anyone to put two and two together. Then the mention of things escalating to now his family worrying about him being MIA brought that panic higher. When you got to Selah’s message about his rotation you wanted to vomit.

“Shut up, Y/N, that would be the logical thought.”

It all fell to the side as you realized you were being paranoid. There would be no reason for any of them to ever suspect he was still with you or that last night you’d both gotten to know each other’s bodies better than ever.

“Hey, good morning.”

You screamed and flung your phone from fright. Thankfully Lewis caught it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh my god. You scared me half to death!”

“I’m sorry,” he said again holding his hands out to show he wasn’t a threat.

After a few centering breaths, you took him in standing in your kitchen in just his boxer-briefs. Fuck he looked good.

“Eh-em, no worries I’m just not used to having anyone here--like this.”

He nodded.

“I get it.”

Usually, any guests didn’t make it to the overnight stage. You’d have them out the door once you’d both caught your breath. Sleepovers were not a thing for you. It was a rule. Get it in, get them out, or get it in and you get the hell out. You didn’t like complications, or situations where one could misconstrue intentions. That all led to drama and problems, you hated both. You had enough of your own to add on someone’s hurt feelings.

“Uh—tea, breakfast?”

Lewis looked over the food on the kitchen island and nodded as he hopped onto it across from you. You couldn’t stop your eyes from roaming over his body and you couldn’t stop where those eyes landed once he’d settled—right between his legs.

“Looks good.”

You gasped which sent a small piece of the cinnamon roll you were eating down your through and that sent you into a coughing fit. Lewis hopped down to come around and pat your back. After a few moments, you took a large gulp of your tea dislodging the bread.

“Are you good?”

“Fine. Oh my god. What did you say?”

“Looks good. The food.”

You snorted then sighed. “Yep. I hope you savor these sausages I think this is the last vegan item in this house.”

“I also see we’re back to obscene levels of sugar and processed food.”

Your jaw dropped.

“Hold the judgements. I’ve been so busy I haven’t been able to shop and excuse me my body needed the sugar.

“Why?”

“Because I was all fucked out,” you blurted out before you could even think about it.

Lewis studied you for a few seconds then scoffed as he hopped back onto the island. “You should be having electrolytes not sugar,” he mumbled.

“Ehm, anyway, you should let the crew know you’re fine then call your parents and Angela.”

“Why?”

You handed him your phone so he could read the messages through.

“Wow.”

You watched him get ready to type and you lurched for your phone, but he pulled back.

“What’re you doing?”

“Telling them I’m good,” he explained.

Your eyes bugged. “Not from my phone you’re not.”

“Why?”

You looked at him like he was insane. “Lewis you can’t reply as you from my phone. They’re going to know you’re here.”

“Okay.”

“No, they know I don’t allow people to stay over, that’s like announcing everything.”

He paused and it looked like he’d finally gotten it.

“So, I’m the first guy why’s stayed the night?”

“Lewis you know that.”

A slow smile spread across his face until he was full on grinning. He held out your phone to you then both of you ate in relative silence. Every few seconds your eyes met and lingered both wanting to say something but nothing coming out. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the super charged energy between you. It was mind altering. When you drained your cup Lewis tossed the rest of his sausage back onto the plate then wiped his hands. After, he hopped off the island and came closer to you. The way he looked at you gave you an idea what he wanted and though you shouldn’t have, you wanted the same thing.

When he stopped in front of you, he grabbed your ankles and yanked you to the edge of the surface making the memory of the same move from last night come rushing back. Just like that you were ready for him and the aches in your body no longer mattered. You watched Lewis��s hand creep to your body and the ties of your robe that hung between you. He loosened the tie in such a painfully slow move. You knew he was doing it on purpose. He was giving you the time to say no, but he was also using it to prove to you that there was no way you’d say no. Angelic face, body for destruction--he was an angel of destruction.

Your robe now hung open teasing him with the swells of your breasts. Lewis then used his fingers to part the material giving him the view of your body in early afternoon’s light. A soft sigh fell from his lips as he took in every bit of skin that was on display for him. He inched closer to your face prolonging your anticipation, increasing your desire for him. You had it right when you tagged him as a seductor. You inched in only for him to pull back. when he inched to you, you pulled back and the temperature in the kitchen skyrocketed.

Both of you rushed the other crashing your lips together. You moaned on him as his hands slipped into your robe and pressed across the small of your back. You wrapped your legs around his back and moaned when you felt his arousal. Addiction was a real thing, and it was at this moment you realized he’d ruined you. He’d intentionally ruined you and he knew it. When his eyes met yours, it was clear he knew it before he’d even laid a finger on you.

“One night,” he began as he peppered kisses along your neck. “And one afternoon,” he finished waiting for your reply.

You were already ruined. Why the hell not.

Colliding your lips with his, you took control of this kiss giving him all the consent and then some he come ever need. Lewis moaned and nibbled your bottom lip before he broke the kiss and trailed his lips down the center of your body stopping to taste your nipples. By the time he sank down to his knees before you, he’d perched your feet onto the edge of the counter, so you were spread for him.

“Worship her.”

He smiled then buried his face between your legs. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you laid back across the slate countertop ready to receive and enjoy his devotion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Wheeeew!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#one night one shot #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x black reader #black fanfiction #lewis hamilton smut #f1 fanfic

755 notes · View notes

stormberry-12 · 1 year

Note

Heyy,I love your writing! May I request a JJ fic inspired by the ‘Work Song’ by Hozier?

time comes around ~ jj maybank x reader

notes: thank you so much for the request and I'm so sorry it took soooo long. it gave me so much to work with and it ended up being super long lol, i hope it turned out okay I kinda just went with what the lyrics reminded me of.

you also don't really have to read all of them if you don't want, their all just blurbs off JJ and Y/n's life together. ❤

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader (jj pov)

warnings: making out, jj's dad being a dick, mentions of jj's good ol' gun, language. (not very well edited)

youtube

(i recommend listening while you read>>>>)

~<>~<>~<>~<>~

Boys workin' on empty Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat? I just think about my baby I'm so full of love I could barely eat

"Jayj!" she giggled, dropping her fork on the table and staring at me.

"What?!?" I laughed in mock offense, crossing my arms and leaning back in my chair.

"You haven't even touched your food," y/n complained, her pretty eyes squinting at me in confusion.

"I-"

"You love food." she interrupted me, a smile playing on her lips, "Probably more than you love anything else in the world, now eat!"

"Not as much as I love you," I whisper, she looks down at her plate with a smile and a blush. "I don't want to eat... I just want to watch you,"

"That sounds creepy when you say it like that, stop!" she choked on her food and I fell into a fit of laughter that squeezed my lungs, making it hard to breathe. She made it hard to breathe.

There's nothing sweeter than my baby I'd never want once from the cherry tree 'Cause my baby's sweet as can be She give me toothaches just from kissin' me

I hummed into her lips, they were sweet, soft, and warm. I tapped her thighs signaling for her to jump up, she wrapped her legs around my waist, hands in my hair.

Her back hit the wall and I slid my hands up her waist. She hummed into my mouth and we broke away panting.

"Missed you too-"

"Shut up." she said and I laughed, leaning my forehead against hers. I was so glad it was finally summer, her family would stay at their beach house for the next few months and we would spend every day together. Love only growing.

When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

Boys, when my baby found me I was three days on a drunken sin I woke with her walls around me Nothin' in her room but an empty crib

I woke up with the sun shining through the curtain, y/n was laying on top of me, her arms and body heavy like they were sheltering me from a storm. In this case, the storm was my dad.

She shifted on top of me, rubbing her eyes from sleep.

"Morning," she whispered.

"Mornin'," I said back, shifting our position and sitting up, pulling her into my lap.

"I'm so sorry," she rubbed patterns into my bicep, "I had no idea... do- do you want to talk about it?"

I looked down at her beautiful face and shrugged my shoulders. She looked up at me and I wrapped my arms around her tighter.

"He has no right to do that-" her fingertips ghosted over the scar on my cheek that she had patched up the night before. After I had come knocking away on her window way past midnight.

I felt a pain in my chest, "I'm sorry I bothered you with this, I'm so sorry-" I buried my face in her neck so she wouldn't see me cry.

"Oh Jayj..."

A sob broke my lips and my shoulders shook, god I was being such a baby.

She turned to face me, still sitting in my lap, holding the sides of my face with her hands. Her eyes were watering as she kissed each tear that fell from my face before wiping it away.

"You could never bother me," she said, voice more stern. I silently thanked her.

God, how did I get so lucky.

And I was burnin' up a fever I didn't care much how long I lived But I swear I thought I dreamed her She never asked me once about the wrong I did

"Y/n-" I said sitting on the couch, running a hand through my hair, "I can't believe I did that, I'm so sorry-"

She just watched me from the other side of the chateau, leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed over her chest. Her expression was unreadable, eyes stone cold.

I had just pulled a gun out at the kegger, I was so stupid.

And not only did I put it up against Topper's head at some point but I fired it into the air. I let my anger get the best of me, it could cost me my freedom, my friends, or even y/n.

I hoped she wouldn't- oh god.

"Please don't dump me!" I squeaked out.

"Dump you?" she laughed shaking her head.

"I'm being serious, why are you laughing?!?!" I panicked standing up and bringing my hands to my head.

"Cuz your funny," she walked towards the back door and left the chateau. I followed her out back, she was walking to where the rest of the pogues were eating around a fire.

I sat down beside her and grabbed a hot dog and a roasting stick.

"So, we all sorted out?" Pope asked, raising his eyebrows at our sudden appearance.

"Did she give you shit?"

John B chuckled and I flipped him off, "No, actually..."

"Damn!" Kie said. "Your lucky JJ, not many people can put up with your shenanigans-"

The conversation shifted to something royal merchant related, I ate my hot dog and snuck glances at y/n. She was wiping sticky marshmallows off her finger, but it just kept spreading all over her clothes. I looked down and my plate and smiled.

Kie was right, y/n was the only one that could deal with me. But I was also the only one that could deal with her.

We couldn't live without each other.

When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

My baby never fret none About what my hands and my body done If the Lord don't forgive me I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me

"Hey, y/n!" Rafe called from across the boneyard, "Your not still seeing that dirty pogue are you?"

"I'm sorry?" she said taking a sip of her beer.

Ward Cameron's evil spawn got closer and eyed me up and down, "Honestly, I can't believe you guys are still hanging on, normally JJ would have moved on to a new bitch by now-"

"Ohhhh shittttt," Kelce and Topper called from behind him.

I stood up lighting fast but y/n grabbed my arm to stop me, "How dare you!" she shamed him.

y/n knew I had a past on the island, I had slept around with a lot of girls. I made a promise to her and myself that I was done with that shit, and it was working out for the best.

y/n tossed the rest of her beer on the back of Rafe's shirt as he walked away, he whirled around fuming.

"Try us, I dare you," John B said, he and Pope were now beside me, and Rafe backed off.

Y/n was still holding my hand, rubbing her thumb over my palm.

Yeah, Rafe, try us, I dare you.

When I was kissing on my baby And she put her love down soft and sweet In the low lamp light I was free Heaven and hell were words to me

The sun from the hot day was setting behind the sky and the soft glow of the street lights began to shine. The breeze was warm and the ocean was crisp.

I dusted the sand off my board, "One more go before dark?" I asked her.

She nodded slowly, pulling her hair up into a ponytail and following me toward the water. "I'm still not so good at this Jayj," she said fidgeting with her fingers.

"No, you're doing great!" I encouraged, pushing the board into her hands, "Go on, I'm right behind you."

We joined the rest of the pogues in the water, I watched as y/n got up on her board and rode a wave all the way down. Pride rushed through me as the pogues broke out in cheers.

"LET'S GO BABY!!"

She laughed and sat down on my board paddling over to me, "I'm so fucking proud of you right now!" I said pulling her off the board and into my arms. She giggled and wrapped her arms around my neck.

"Nice one squirt!" John B ruffled her hair and Kie said something about celebratory french fries on her.

I kissed her sweetly and looked into her eyes, "Your fearless, you know that?"

She just grinned at me, but I only spoke the truth, she was.

Love felt so wonderful.

When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you y/n," I slurred drunkenly, but it was most definitely true. Drunk words, sobber thoughts.

She giggled and buried her face in my neck.

"I'm serious!" I complained.

"Same." Y/n said, sounding just as deadly serious as I was. We locked eye contact, her gaze reaching mine.

"What if you die before y/n? Like when you're a Grandpa and all your smoking comes to bite you in the ass?" John B countered jokingly.

"Well you know, like when I die, I'll probably get buried and shit-" I felt myself start to ramble, "but then Imma be all badass, and dig my way out!"

"What the fuck?" Y/n cackled, tears brimming her eyes from laughing so hard. Kie choked on her beer and Pope gave her a few good hard slaps on the back.

"Yeah, and then I'll come to find you," I said confidently. "NO GRAVE CAN HOLD ME DOWN!!!"

The pogues broke into laughter and I held Y/n's body tighter, I would never let her go. After all we had been through together, the ups and the downs, I knew at that moment it would always be her.

When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

~<>~<>~<>~<>~

#jj maybank blurb #song lyrics #work song #jj maybank #obx #outer banks #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #hoizer #jj maybank pov #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank angst

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 10 months

Text

Love Misunderstood

Warnings: None really. Brief mention of sexy times. Angst.

Summary: The moment came and went so fast, but Y/N has regretted it ever since.

Pairings: Dean x Y/N

Word Count: 505

A/N: This was written for @deanwanddamons Rock SPN Flash Fan Fic Challenge 3. I was given the song Why Can't This Be Love by Van Halen. Reading the lyrics and listening to the song again made me think of young love, and the bad choices we make in our youth. I was also slightly influenced by Cassie and Dean's story. (Though this is obviously different.)

Thanks for hosting this challenge once again, my dear! I love them!

The beautiful divider at the bottom was created by @talesmaniac89

I didn’t understand regret until I watched heartbreak bloom in a pair of exquisite emerald eyes. It’s been years, but I still remember every word, every shift of emotion on his beautiful face.

I hadn’t grown up in the life like Dean had, but I’d been hunting for a few years when we met in our early twenties. His boyish grin, and undeniable charm had me tumbling happily into his bed. He’d surprised me; by day he was this rough, sometimes ferocious Soldier. But in my arms, in the dark, his lips were soft, and his hands unbearably gentle on my skin.

He played my body perfectly, murmuring sweet words of praise and encouragement in my ear.

“So beautiful.”

“So perfect.”

”Need you so bad.”

I fell fast, hard, and quick.

But…well, I was so young, and so terrified of everything - of losing him, of keeping him, terrified of what it meant to love another hunter. So, when Dean spoke softly against my heart one night, as he laid in my arms, I panicked. His voice was soft and silky, a little trepidatious, but hopeful.

“Y/N, I…I love you.”

I was sure he could hear my heart speed up to double time as I stopped breathing. Without speaking, I slid out from underneath him, and pulled on my t-shirt. He sat up slowly and swung his legs over the bed, his back to me, before standing and pulling on his boxers.

His voice was a bit harder when he spoke again.

“You don’t have to say it back, or anything. I just…” He trailed off and I felt my heart crack as he turned to face me. I could see the deep hurt on his face, though he tried to cover it. He shrugged. “It’s not that big a deal.”

I shook my head. “It is a big deal, Dean. Those words are a big deal. And I…”

“What?” He challenged.

“I don’t think you really know what they mean. This…this isn’t love.” I said quietly, sure I was right.

Dean clenched his jaw tight, his eyes wounded. “No? Why not? Who says?”

I shook my head. “We’re too young, this is too fast. And our lives are…” I was silent for a moment, tears clogging my throat as the fear built within me. “It’s not love.”

Dean licked his lips, turning his head to hide his gaze from me. He nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

He stepped into his jeans and pulled on his t-shirt. “Sorry.” He said simply, glancing at me long enough to let me see the tears he blinked away. “Didn’t realize it wasn’t love. Guess I was wrong, so - thanks for correcting me.” He turned and walked silently out the door.

More than a decade later my heart still picks up when someone mentions his name, and I’d give anything to tell him how wrong I was.

Cause it was love, and it was real, and bright, and worth so much more than I gave it.

I miss it every day.

Tags under the cut:

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays. @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @deanswaywardgirl @slytherinlyn314 @globetrotter28 @jensensgirl @perpetualabsurdity @tristanrosspada-ackles @djs8891 @muhahaha303 @kayyay1219 @emily-winchester @recoveringpastaaddict @maximumkillshot @mimaria420 @sacriceria @envyaurora95 @lacilou @jc-winchester @spnwoman

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only. @carryonwaywardgirl

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @alexxavicry @nancymcl @spalady26

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @jensensgotyoudean @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79 @courtn92 @avanatural @ellie-andthemachine @this-is-me19 @roseblue373 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @fanfic-n-tabulous

#dean x y/n #dean x reader #dean winchester angst #deanwanddamonsrockflashfic3

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merakiui · 5 months

Note

⭐

Go off Queen ❤️

>:D why, thank you, my liege. Go off, I shall!!!

(ask game)

I think I'll take this opportunity to discuss Death Row Undertow's chapter seven: Kismet Kiss! Specifically the latter half involving Cater. I've put my thoughts under the cut!

I loved writing this scene (the tonal shift from Riddle's anxious meticulousness to Cater's friendly and feigned positivity is very yummy to me)! The karaoke bar that the pop music club frequents actually has a name: Siren's Heartache. Reader and Cater visit it often! That aside, this chapter shows a much more meaner side to Cater. >_< not only that, but it also illustrates his inner thoughts and feelings. For example, this section here:

Cater makes it a mission to familiarize himself with his favorite karaoke bar’s menu, but despite every food and drink combination he’s come across (some photographed and strung up on his social media and others admired from afar) he cannot stomach the sweetness. So for tonight—like most nights—he chooses something that is, as his sisters would often say, “so not cute.” Beer is his go-to, even if his carefully curated Magicam feed is adorned with photos of pastries and sugary drinks galore. Peel back the pretty wallpaper and you'll find the dollhouse is not what it seems. But festering in rot is so not cute, and so for this reason he plasters the bitter with beauty.

Cater likes to curate a certain image for himself, especially when that image is being posted to his Magicam. He does something similar in Cicada City when he takes Riddle out for boba and orders a very sugary drink (which he only photographs and doesn't drink once). In canon, it's noted that Cater is more partial to spicy flavors than sweet flavors and that his aversion to the latter is due to always having to force himself to eat the sweets his sisters would make to avoid disheartening them. Also, his sisters have a tendency to judge things based on how cute they are. I imagine this habit is engrained quite deeply in Cater, hence why in this chapter (and other chapters) you will see him referring to things as "cute" or "not cute."

Though he seems rather cruel and detached from the main issue (Reader's disappearance), there are little things to suggest otherwise. The most glaring one would be his song and its lyrics. When I wrote it, I wanted every line to hold an underlying meaning for plenty of analytical dissection. Lilia's able to read between the lines, which leads to this exchange:

Cater curls his fingers into a tight, self-assuring fist, nails pricking his palms. “Sure did. Penned by yours truly and everything! It’s still not finished, though. I’m always going back to edit, but so far that’s the most coherent draft I have. So whatcha think? It’s totally cute, yeah?” “It’s very telling,” Lilia praises with a cryptic grin. Cater doesn’t like the wisdom discreetly woven into his next words. “You can learn a lot from the speaker in the song. Some truths are best expressed in writing, after all. When we put pen to paper, left alone with but our wrist and brain, we’re usually very honest with the page.” As always, you’re a mystery, Cater thinks with a thin smile. Maybe I shouldn’t have shared it so confidently.

These lyrics are very vulnerable and personal to Cater, but he shares them anyway because he's seeking validation for the song itself (not the story told within), which Kalim gives him without touching upon the message. But Lilia's the one who sees beyond the song's cute façade, which is exactly what Cater didn't want. Of course he separates Cater and the speaker in the song when he refers to them, but both he and Cater know they are one and the same.

Cater mentions in Cicada City that, "I’m thinking it could be an energetic love song with dark undertones. Lots of people like creepy romances, and who said Halloween couldn’t start early?" but in this chapter he says it "sounds kinda pop idol." The contrast in these descriptions are unique to Cater because it suggests that previously he was content to recognize the darker aspects of the song and its story, but now he simply wants it to be "pop idol" instead. This erasure of the dark tones in the song is a parallel to how he feels currently: a stressful situation has arisen and he doesn't want to confront it head-on because it's much smoother when things are cute and sweet (or pop idol).

In other words, Cater's role in this chapter is frustrating because he's meant to be Reader's friend and yet here he is: not being a friend. But the truth is that Cater is so used to her pattern of coming and going that he doesn't see any need to worry, so he becomes a little tense when Kalim and Lilia are voicing his concerns (which he's tamped down) back to him rather than agreeing easily.

He's also quite defensive and protective of Reader, even more so when Lilia and Kalim press him on certain issues related to their relationship, often answering with, "I just know" or "I know her." Cater doesn't want to lose one of the few close friends he's ever had, so the idea that she isn't just taking leave for a few days and that it could be something far more serious is deeply unsettling to Cater. And if that's the case, it will confirm two things for him: (1) Cater doesn't know Reader as well as he thinks he does and (2) this isn't another case of crying wolf; it's something more.

It may seem like he's dismissive when he tries to get Kalim and Lilia to drop the subject entirely so they can focus on band discussions instead (and he is), but the reality is that Reader has been on Cater's mind the entire time. At the end of the chapter, he thinks, This is so not sweet. I completely forgot to take pictures for Magicam. Cater never forgets to take pictures. He actively searches for ways to snap photos at every opportunity; it's one of the things that's almost always at the forefront of his mind. He was so distracted with his own buried worries related to Reader that taking pictures genuinely slipped his mind.

So he is genuinely worried. He just doesn't want to show that side of himself because it's, in his own words, "so not cute."

#twisted chit chat #death row undertow #forgive me for rambling a lot orz #i love cater so much and his role in dru is very interesting and fun to discuss!!!

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presidenthades · 4 months

Text

Once again, I am doing a series of my behind-the-scenes thoughts for The Golds while I do light edits for formatting, typos, and continuity. Here’s Chapter 1!

DO NOT read these commentaries until you have finishes reading the entirety of The Golds! These commentaries have many spoilers for future chapters.

First I’m gonna talk about why I decided to write this fic in the first place, because it wasn’t part of my original roadmap for the series. After I finished writing Daemon’s Handbook, my plan was to write an epic longfic with POVs from all the Targkids that encompassed a multi-year timespan a la the ASOIAF books…and then I realized if I did that, I had high odds of burning out halfway through 💀.

I’ve discovered that I do better at writing fic if I have an ending an mind when I start writing it, and the story needs to be something I can finish writing in several months so I don’t lose steam or get distracted/go on hiatus too long. That meant I needed to focus on a specific story with 1-2 protagonists/narrators that had its own complete story arc within the series’ larger arc.

When I finished writing the Handbook, I read a lot of books during my break. Several of those books were about fashion history, and one was the official GOT costumes book. I got really obsessed with fashion in the HOTD world, and I temporarily thought about writing a Rhaena POV fic because in my verse, she’s really into fashion and I wanted to put my newfound amateur knowledge to use 😅. But as I brainstormed what her story would look like, I realized it was super adjacent to Jace’s story because Rhaena is her lady-in-waiting, and eventually I shifted over to a Jace-centric story.

While I was brainstorming the Rhaena fic, I thought of a pregnancy subplot where Rhaena has to create Jace’s pregnancy wardrobe, and that pregnancy plot ultimately became the central story in The Golds. I was originally going to make Jace the sole narrator as she deals with the pregnancy, but I realized Aegon would have some really entertaining thoughts so I made it dual POV. This is when I started thinking about the Bridgerton approach, where each Targkid gets to be the star/costar of their own story in roughly chronological order.

The title “The Golds” is a reference to the canonical Greens and Blacks. There’s a theme throughout the story of Jace and Aegon accumulating popularity and soft power at court and among the smallfolk. This growing faction will unofficially be called the Golds because Jace and Aegon are strongly affiliated with that color, due to Sunfyre’s scales, Jace’s preference for gold, and all the symbolism that gold entails.

Most chapter titles are lyrics from the in-universe lullaby “The Song of the Seven.” Since the fic is about pregnancy, childbirth, and parenthood, I thought a reference to this lullaby was appropriate. My original outline had 7 chapters for the fic so I was going to title each chapter after the first line of each stanza in the lullaby. As I wrote the fic and realized it was going to be more chapters, I had to get creative. For Chapter 1, I picked the Maiden lyrics because the Maiden is associated with innocence and young women. Aside from this chapter including the wedding night (and thus Jace’s last night as a maiden), this is also the beginning of Jace’s character and emotional journey, during which she becomes less innocent/naive and, as you know, encounters a lot of darkness in the real world.

Ok now for the actual chapter commentary lol

I started showing during the Handbook that Jace is a responsible, dutiful “eldest sibling syndrome” kind of person, and I wanted to really highlight that in this fic. In the beginning of this story, Jace is the neurotic workaholic while Aegon is hedonistic and urges her to relax. Throughout the story, Jace does learn to relax and delegate better, but Aegon also starts picking up responsibilities along the way. By the end, my goal was for them to meet in the middle, where Jace learns that she has to take care of herself if she wants to take care of others, and Aegon learns that he needs to put in some work in order to secure the things he really wants in life.

There’s also a theme of private vs. public. Jace starts as having a very public life (she’s the heir to the throne, her life is on display at court) while being very private about things like her body and personal wants. In contrast, Aegon is very public about his body (the casual nudity is canon, don’t blame me) and personal wants (“I love my wife and everyone must know it”), but he wishes he could have a private life (be his own person and do what he wants, rather than be the prince and politician his family wants). Again, they kind of grow to meet in the middle by the end. Jace learns to be more selfish about her desires and fight for them (she also becomes more comfortable with her body around Aegon, although the self-consciousness never entirely goes away). Aegon learns to put aside his hangups about “I don’t want to be a player in the game” and steps into the arena so he can ultimately achieve what he wants, which is to protect Jace and their child.

We see the beginnings of Aegon’s powers of observation this chapter. He notices the Bracken/Blackwood exchange (these are the same lovers that Daemon spies in the tunnels in Chapter 9 of the Handbook) and deduces a likely explanation. This trait was inspired by a TGC quote about how Aegon is very observant and knows people’s weaknesses. I loved this idea that Aegon observes a lot of what’s happening around him, but canonically he’s too drunk and apathetic to do much about it. Here, Aegon is not an alcoholic and he’s a lot more grounded, so he actively registers a lot more details.

I mention in Chapter 2 that Daemon is part of the reason Aegon doesn’t drink so much, but that’s definitely not the whole story. Aegon seems very driven by the pursuit of dopamine, things that give him pleasure. In canon, he achieves this through whoring and alcoholism. Here, he has Jace, who has always fulfilled many of his emotional needs and now his physical needs. His life is a lot happier, so there’s no need for him to drink himself into a stupor. He did still have a youthful period of debauchery, but it’s not an outrageous amount of debauchery for a spoiled prince—although still in an upper percentile.

Aegon remains impressively chaste during the Stepstones because he realizes his youthful debauchery was a big reason Rhaenyra disapproved of him. And by the time he leaves for the Stepstones, he’s realized (thanks in part to their forced separation, thanks in part to Jace being the prettiest girl he can ever imagine existing) that no other woman is ever going to compare to Jace, so why bother? (He definitely had a locket or something with Jace’s mini portrait and lock of hair lol)

Aegon’s attitude toward dancing (he’s good at it but he hates the formality) is similar to his overall attitude toward court life and politics. He can do it if he wants, but he just doesn’t want to—unless it makes Jace happy.

Confession: the Tyroshi subplot wasn’t supposed to happen the way it did. I’ll explain more in future chapters, but for now, I’ll just say Floris and Sara weren’t always intended to die. But they did die in the final draft, and in hindsight I’m glad I included the Baratheon scene this chapter. Originally the scene was supposed to showcase Jace’s politicking and diplomacy, as well as lead up to her eventually picking Floris as a lady-in-waiting. Now it has extra meaning because it shows how sweet Floris was, how she fit in with her sisters, and how her mother doted on her 🥺.

I actually kind of like Maris, she’s funny in a mean girl way 😂. But she canonically has a tendency to run her mouth and say nasty things. Here, I think she feels jealous that Cassandra is getting so much attention from potential suitors, and that contributes to her rudeness. Jace could have publicly shamed Maris for being so rude to a Targaryen bride at her own wedding, but she decided to be sneakier about it and not cause a scene. Jace wants to maintain a good relationship with the Baratheons while making it clear what Maris said is unacceptable, so she extends the private tea invite to the other Baratheon women while deliberately omitting Maris from the offer. Now Lady Elenda feels honored by the invite and relieved to not have disfavor, and she’ll probably give Maris a terrible scolding in private.

The bedding tradition seems awful and potentially traumatic, especially for the bride (but that’s ASOIAF for you!). I can’t remember what’s canon or fanon, but I went with the interpretation that the bride and groom are supposed to be stripped naked or close to it. I feel like the royal family ought to be exempt from it (in a privileged “nobody else is allowed to behold our naked bodies” kind of way), but I know Alysanne made a point of having the bedding ceremony so nobody could question her marriage was consummated. The ceremony also seems horribly wasteful because all that expensive material and labor that went into the wedding clothes is just trashed, but I guess it’s a status flex. Only the super-rich can afford to deliberately destroy all those resources after one use.

I wish I wrote more scenes where Jace and Aemond hang out 😭. They have a lot of similarities: dutiful, studious, responsible for their siblings. I imagine their relationship being super chill. Then again, they’re very proper so they probably have hangups about spending alone time with someone of the opposite gender for extended periods of time 🙃. Anyway, their relationship is much less antagonistic than in canon. Fem!Jace thinks bullying is wrong and tones down Aegon’s mean streak, while Aemond has a chivalrous and gentlemanly attitude toward women (contrast with book!Aemond, who seems pretty misogynistic). Since a lot of the friction from canon is removed, they get along much better, and this Aemond is more comfortable with the idea of fem!Jace being queen one day because they start from a better place, and he’s her good-brother.

You can see my newfound fashion history geekery showing itself during the scene where Jace gets ready for bed. (Also, take note of how meticulous Jace is. It highlights her general cautiousness, and it serves as a contrast for Chapter 3). I try not to get too flowery with description, but I decided it was relevant to highlight key fashion choices like her wedding dress because it is an aspect of Jace’s influence at court, and she is concerned about appearances. I incorporated a lot of design aspects from GOT, which are much less medieval than the HOTD gowns. I had this idea that the older generation (Alicent and Rhaenyra) stick more to traditional cuts and designs, while Jace and the other girls are starting a new fashion trend akin to what we see in GOT, where styles are more flattering and multicultural.

Jace’s wedding dress is strongly influenced by Margaery’s Purple Wedding dress. The backless part makes it rather daring, and it’s part of Jace and Rhaena’s goal to depict Jace as a leader among the younger ladies at court since matrons are far less likely to wear something so revealing. Also, in GOT, Daenerys’s dresses tend to be much more revealing than anyone else’s, so I deduced that the fashion culture in Essos is overall more daring than in Westeros. Rhaena grew up in Pentos, so I decided she brings that influence into Jace’s wardrobe, which then spreads through court. Jace’s jewelry (heirlooms owned by Valaena Velaryon, mother of the Conqueror and his sisters) is also a statement to highlight that she was born a Velaryon but now she’s a true Targaryen in name.

Jace’s lingerie is definitely Rhaena’s (and Baela’s) influence. Otherwise she would have zero clue what’s fashionable in Lys. 😳

Jace deciding to work on her wedding night is very in character for her. And Aegon making her stop to enjoy herself is also very in character for him. Definitely a recurring pattern for these two.

Like any scene I write, I try to make sure the smut has a purpose in the story. I don’t usually write PWP but I think smut scenes are an excellent way to demonstrate dynamics and emotional connections between characters, so that’s how I typically use them. Here, we see Aegon is devoted to Jace: makes her feel comfortable, ample foreplay, even cracks a few jokes because their relationship is familiar enough for that sort of thing. He literally “lets her hair down” so she can shed her usual inhibitions.

True to character, Jace overthinks the process. She knows the theory of how it works (Rhaenyra would ensure her daughters are informed of the mechanics, and Jace has been living with Baela for three years). She also knows Aegon enjoyed his time on the Street of Silk and she desperately wants to meet his expectations. She doesn’t realize that she could do literally anything (or nothing) and Aegon would still think she’s perfect.

Since Aegon hasn’t had sex in three years, he’s trying very hard not to finish too early 😅. It’s OK though, Jace has no idea how long a guy is supposed to last and they have the whole night to make up for it 😂.

In the Handbook, I hint at Aegon’s artistic tendencies when he doodles in his letters. Here, I expand upon that so he’s sort of a Renaissance man: he sings, he plays lute, he dances, he draws, etc etc. All the skills he enjoys are skills not conducive for a politician/king. In this verse, Jace encourages him to sing and draw, so he pursues it further than he would’ve in canon.

I like to think of the morning-after smut scene as when Cheeseball is conceived 😂. It’s when Aegon dirty talks about making heirs for the throne, and Jace thinks about how much she would like to have children with Aegon. It just makes sense lol.

GRRM makes his female characters give birth way too young. Some people argue it’s historically accurate, but it’s really not. Other than Margaret Beaufort (who gave birth at 13 and never had any other children, probably due to complications), royal and noble women generally married in their late teens and early twenties. But this is the world and culture GRRM created, so I’m trying to work with it. I still headcanon that in normal peacetime, highborns try to wait until bride and groom are at least 16 to marry because they are aware that giving birth too young is dangerous. It’s during wartime or when politics require an earlier consummation that we see things like Sansa marrying at 13 💀. So I made Jace realize, after she’s had time to stew, that being forced to wait three years was best. (Especially since she IMMEDIATELY gets pregnant.)

I had to research whether people with a broken nose (or recovering from rhinoplasty surgery, which apparently has similar side effects—the more you know!) could have sex. Apparently one of the concerns is causing blood vessels around the nose to expand/contract/whatnot, and arousal impacts blood flow so that’s why Orwyle bans any nookie 😔. No wonder Aegon bribes Alyssa to wake Daemon early lol.

A side effect of broken noses is bruising around the face and black eyes, so Jace looks like she got hit very badly. The ensuing gossip about how she got injured ties into the recurring themes of a) Jace’s concern with appearances and b) that courtiers can and will gossip about anything, and the more salacious the better.

Jace is pretty peeved that Luce was so reckless re: the tunnel incident, and probably upset that it inadvertently led to her broken nose. But as soon as Luce needs help, Jace stops caring about her injuries 😭. Another recurring part of Jace’s personality: she’ll do almost anything to help her loved ones but she’s much harder on herself. (Note Luce’s little question, “What do I do now?” which is a question she always asked Jace when she was in trouble as a kid.)

Aegon is closer to Aemond than in canon, since a) they went to the Stepstones together and b) Aegon had far fewer options for male companionship in this genderbent world so he had to lean on Aemond a lot more. The brothers aren’t the kind to have heart-to-hearts, but Aegon knows Aemond well enough to know that Aemond is really into Luce and is probably going to try to marry her.

With Larys dead, there isn’t a very good option for master of whisperers. The council keeps trying to fill it but the candidates never last for long. I like to joke that they’re holding the seat open for when Joff is old enough, but finding a good spymaster seems pretty difficult. Daemon would probably be good at it but he’s already flamed out of several council positions, and he would hate working with Otto.

A little more fashion history! A surcote is that quintessential medieval gown for women, which I decided is very traditional in Westeros. This is Jace’s first day at her new job, so she wants to dress extra conservatively. Color is a big deal in this world of Black versus Green, so she deliberately picks very neutral and inoffensive colors. She also styles her hair and wears gold jewelry from Aegon to emphasize her new marriage, which shows she’s a mature woman and is forging harmonious bonds with her husband across the Black/Green divide.

In canon, Corlys resigns his position as master of ships around Episode 2. Tyland is canonically master of ships during this time, but I made an error in the Handbook and turned him into the master of coin. So I decided to just force Lyman Beesbury into retirement, and this can serve as an in-universe explanation for the change in roles: Viserys (or somebody else) wanted Corlys to have his position back, so they reshuffled the council a bit.

Aaaaand Jace officially has a “first day at work” horror history. Vomited, fainted, and cried in quick succession. And for someone who values privacy regarding her body, this was an awfully public way for her to find out about her pregnancy (and have it announced) 🥲.

#my writing #meta #fanfic meta #hotd meta #house of the dragon meta #Aegon II Targaryen #female jacaerys velaryon #the golds

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madebypointlesswords · 4 months

Text

It absolutely flabbergasts me that I have not seen a single GO2 edit to any Lucy Dacus songs. Specifically Night Shift and Nonbeliever. Like HELLO????? The lyrics fit so well????

"I feel no need to forgive,

but I might as well.

But let me kiss your lips

so I know how it felt."

AM I SUPPOSED TO NOT GO INSANE????

"You shook my hand and said goodbye,

you'll never let me see you cry again.

What good has come from learning to pretend?

You said I could've been a better friend."

At this point I'll make them myself

#good omens #go2 #good omens fandom #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #lucy dacus #lucy dacus historian #going insane again

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rosesoflilac · 9 months

Text

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear.

Summary: MC's experience buying Taylor Swift tickets in the Devildom <3

pairing: lucifer x mc, mentions of levi and other characters

genre: fluff, some kissing, not proofread!!

a/n: i wanted to write something but have had no inspo until i realized i can combine my girlie taylor and my current game obsession together. look forward to different obey me and taylor content in the future!!

Everyone in the Devildom knew that there was only one person that you held above everyone else, even above the demon brothers, the demon prince, and their demon boyfriend. You would always find a way to mention this person, to spread their influence, no matter what. You believed that the Denizens hearing her sing, hearing her lyrics, would be a positive influence as it was in her life.

You loved Taylor Swift. Really, really loved her.

When you found out about the Eras Tour (Levi totally did not assist with jailbreaking your secret D.D.D.) you completely freaked. You had secured tickets to Loverfest before Barbatos teleported them to the Devildom (if it was never canceled, all demons would feel the wrath of a thousand suns). This was your chance to make the past right.

First, you needed a plan of attack. The first step was to get the seal of approval from Lord Diavolo and Lucifer. You imagined this would go smoothly and might include some coaxing, but you would be able to gain their permission. Then, they would get every brother, angel, and sorcerer to sign up for presale codes. The final step would be to wait, hope, and pray to any higher power out there.

You wanted this more than anything. To see the artist that got them through teenage angst, breakups, the growing pains, would be the greatest thing to experience, ever. The thought alone makes pressure build-up behind your eyes. You’d be able to do this.

Thankfully, everything went smoothly. Permission was granted, and various emails and phone numbers were signed up for presale. Waiting was the only wrong thing about the situation. You just wanted the anxious feeling to go away.

—

Lucifer picked up on your signs of stress. The nervous checking of your phone, the slip in your grades. He understood how badly you wanted this, how that made you nervous. It was similar to how Levi acted when waiting for the release of a limited special edition Ruri-chan collectible. Levi would lock himself away in his room and obsess. Lucifer has his whole faith in you that you would be able to secure tickets. He does not want to contemplate what would happen if you were unable to, he’d imagine it would rival one of Levi’s episodes.

Lucifer’s concern is how you ended up sitting on his bed between his legs as he worked on your shoulders. It was the night before you found out about ticket presale codes… And you were stressed. That stress slowly melted away as you leaned into Lucifer’s gentle, yet firm, touches.

He rubbed at the middle of your back where it felt tense. You hummed your appreciation and leaned back into him more, wanting to give him a break. “Thank you for this. I needed it.”

Lucifer hummed back, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as his arms slowly moved to wrap around your body. “Everything is going to be alright. I know you love her and want this, but I hate to see how it affects your health, my love.”

Your heart dropped a little, feeling the worry in your voice. “I promise I’m okay. I just… She means a lot to me. I would not be the person I am without her. Her music helped me get through so many tough times, even happy times… Especially with the last couple of years. The thought of being able to sing with her in person makes me so happy and I want to protect that happiness with all of my heart.” You squeezed his arms and shifted around to face him, taking his face in your hands, you smiled. “She even helped me realize my love for you. I didn’t want to tell you, but I have a whole playlist of songs that remind me of you, of us.” You looked into his ruby eyes as a blush crept up your face.

Lucifer’s eyes filled with love as he pulled you into a soft kiss, “You are special to me too. I’d like to hear these songs one day. But for now, you need rest for tomorrow.”

You kissed him back happily, leaning into him as he pulled you to lie down. Everything would be alright if Lucifer was by your side.

–

The following day was a whirlwind of events. Levi allowed you to use his setup, as it was much faster (also in exchange for rare Ruri merchandise), and now all you had to do was wait…

And wait you did..

Levi anxiously watched the screen and you. He understood how important this was to you and had been in this very exact situation multiple times- he had complete faith in you, unlike himself. However, that line was not budging. Until it finally did.

Everything happened so quickly. You searched and searched for six floor seats or a lower bowl- or literally any seat. It wouldn’t matter as long as you got to be there. Soon enough, you got the tickets and life was not real.

You immediately squealed and looked at Levi with a big grin and hugged him tightly, catching the otaku off guard. You screamed and laughed and danced as you ran to grab your D.D.D. to inform Lucifer.

He picked up before the phone had the chance to ring. Lucifer desperately wanted to be there with you but had other duties to attend to. He had been checking his phone every couple of minutes to see if you texted him an update.

Accepting the call, Lucifer stepped outside of his meeting and was met with your face filling the screen. You had tears in your eyes and a big grin on your face, he couldn’t help but smile at your reaction. He was so happy for you.

“It felt like forever! I swear- I can’t believe I’m going, that we are going!! Together!! Life is so not real right now.” Your voice was full of energy as you continued to recount the past few hours of your life.

“I’m very happy for you, my love. You deserve to go and I’m happy you want me to experience this with you.” Lucifer looked at his watch quickly, “I’m sorry but I have to go back to my meeting. We’ll have dinner tonight, the two of us, when I get home. I love you.” Lucifer smiled at you as you repeated the words back to him. Lucifer agreed that life was “so not real” but because he got to experience it with you.

Walking back into the conference room, he began thinking of all the travel you and he would be doing in the next year. Of course, he wouldn’t let you just go to one concert now, would he?

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inkedtae · 2 years

Note

for the creating moments can i get dawn haze couple watching a movie with stray kids please 🥺

a/n: sure! idk if you wanted smut so i just added it bc i feel like it would probably lead to that anyway

pairing; idol!bang chan x reader (f.) warnings; exhibitionism, slight fingering, teasing, not edited

Movie nights are rare. Any down time Chan gets usually involves him writing lyrics or fiddling on his laptop. He always tells you needs five more minutes but usually ends up working until you pass out on the couch behind him.

You got lucky tonight though, seeing that the other guys were free too. Sure, maybe you wanted to spend the night alone with Chan, but you would never turn down a request from Seungmin or Jisung, especially because they usually make a scene of it and trigger Changbin to start yelling incoherently.

The first thirty minutes start out fine. Everyone grabbed their seats, fought over their popcorn and now were fully enthralled in the action sequence on screen. With all eyes staring ahead, you didn't see the harm in burrowing your way into Chan's lap. He was already sitting beside you with his arm around your shoulders, allowing you to nuzzle against his chest. What difference would this really make?

Chan seems to think it made all the difference in the world. When you're beside him, it's innocent cuddling, no different from holding hands or soft pecks on the cheek. But between his legs, your ass pressed firmly against his crotch, it's dirtier, like a tongue laced kiss or suggestive look from across the room.

Before you know it, one of your legs rests above his, exposing your wet panties under the knit blanket you once didn't think was necessary. You lean your head back and watch him watch the movie, his fingers tracing the hem of your panties, teasing you with the possibility of exposing your unbecoming activities in the back of the room.

"I don't think I'd ever survive that," Jeongin mutters to no one in particular, still focused on the screen.

You're not sure you'll be able to survive this now that Chan has pressed his fingers against your clit. You bite your lip and try to regulate your breathing. If they hear how shaky you sound it will all be over. They'll never hang out with the two of you again, let alone look either of you in the eye.

Chan begins to rub soft, delicate circles around your clit. You might have been able to handle this, resisting the urge to squirm and moan well enough to not raise suspicion. But then he gets bold, allowing his finger to trace your entrance.

You have to hold your hand over your mouth to keep from whining. He smirks, eyes still locked on the screen but attention all too obviously on you.

You feel him lean his head down, fingers sliding back up to your clit to rub and tease all over again. "Stay still," he whispers.

You thought you had been. glancing down ot find that you've been shifting your hips up into his hand, only to ground your ass back against him.

"Or I'll give you a real reason to hold your breath."

Your eyes slightly water, legs tremble and lips quiver as desperation sells you out. Chan is calm, fingers still lapping around your clit while his eyes remain focused on the movie.

[create a moment with me]

#bang chan smut #bang chan fanfic #bang chan fluff #stray kids smut #create a moment with me: skz #chantober 2022

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jongshiftz · 1 year

Text

# stuff to script - survival shows.

… cameras aren’t installed in private areas.

… (if you want to debut) after you shift you won’t know you’re going to debut so you can get the whole experience of being in a survival show (please tell me you get this 😭).

… your performances never disappoint.

… contestants help each other and are not overly jealous or rude for no reason.

… there is no favouritism.

… evil editing doesn’t exist.

… global votings aren’t faked.

… mentors actually help contestants, not only criticise them.

… contestants aren’t overworked.

… you don’t forget lyrics/choreographies.

… you pick up choreographies/memorise lyrics quickly.

… you take criticism well and it doesn’t affect your confidence or your performances, it only helps you improve and understand your mistakes.

… you don’t have beef with other contestants / other contestants like you.

… everyone gets enough screen time.

… (mixed gender show) everyone is treated equally and the tests are fair.

have a good day/night! happy shifting ♡

#🐇 jongshiftz’ posts #🐇 shifting related #🐇 stuff to script #kpop shifting #shifting #shifters #reality shifting #kpop dr #desired reality #dr #shifttok #kpop #kpop layout #soobin moodboard #things to script #stuff to script #scripting #shifting community

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sharkneto · 7 months

Note

i think someone’s already asked you this, but do you ever get writing inspiration from music? or have certain songs you associate with certain characters?

for me, 39 by Queen, Slipping Through my Fingers by Abba and Asleep by the Smiths are such Five songs!

also wanted to say i love your writing! i think you’re absolutely brilliant, you write in such a beautifully grounded way and i literally want your fics to be made into movies they’re so amazing! i hope your writing brings you as much joy as it does me!

Oh, I don't know if I've answered that specific question. I've talked before about how I write to music/the kind of music I write to (shoutout to my playlist oh for it's sad vibes, it does such heavy lifting). But songs that have inspired scenes...

The answer is definitely Yes, but can I remember them... For the Post-S3 Five And Allison Talk Fic haven't shared, a specific scene of that I haven't officially written vibed hard with The King by Sarah Kinsley (lyrics half fit), although I think that was more I was thinking about it and that song came on and turbo'd it. I think that's the closest one I've got off the top of my head. EDIT: Back to say how the fuck did I forget about Kokomo. Iconic. Included here for Obvious Reasons for any JT readers. The entire goddamn Amanda and Five road trip came from Kokomo coming on in my car during a commute home.

For songs that I associate with characters, absolutely. I've got a whole playlist of Number songs and songs Five likes (made with @non-plutonian-druid, linked HERE and HERE if anyone is curious). I've got my Five and Delores/Five Apocalypse Playlist HERE. You'll notice a theme, here. Gonna go do a listen for the Five Vibes of your recs, can always use more Five Songs. Do I have songs for other characters...? Not... really?

I feel like music is more fic based than character based, I've got songs I associate with fics (from listening to them while writing or vibing about them). Time Is On My Side (Irma Thomas) and Hotel California (Eagles) for Searching for Good Times. Night Shift (Lucy Dacus) for Nice Things Can't Last Forever (They Still End Too Soon) despite those lyrics not really working at all, but the Vibes. The Vibes. This section would be more fun if I could remember more of them right now, but there are three examples rip

And thank you so much for the kind words. This is a low time of the year for me, so your love was really well timed. I'm late to replying to this, but I've come back to my inbox to read them many times. I see my fics playing out in my head like a movie while I have a narration going that is what ends up getting written, so I'm so glad that translates back to you as Could Be A Movie :) My writing brings me so much joy, even when I'm in a little bit of a slump like I am now. I think my favorite thing about getting into writing and sharing is the shared enjoyment of it all - we're all just here having a great time together

#i went back to find the notes i took on that Allison and Five Fic scene and may i just say they fucking slap #god one day i'm going to finish that fic and it's goign to be So Good #i should really work on it it's gotta come out before S4 does and that time is dwindling lol #but! was fun to go back to some tunes (and check out your recs! great five vibes to them!)#and thank you for the #nice things #ask response

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randombush3 · 2 years

Text

Bad Habit.

florence pugh x reader

summary: words that should’ve been said never were.

words: 4209

warnings: drinking, suicidal themes, major breakdown, disturbing topics

notes: OKAY. it was originally supposed to follow the song, but now it doesn’t. look out for the lyrics though. also this got really out of hand imo, it’s one of those fics where i never actually saw the end when i began it and therefore takes lots of twists and turns and may not make sense. you might have read it like twenty times. who knows!

based on steve lacy’s song Bad Habit

p.s. fuck tumblr’s editing interface.

“That will be my cab, Flo.” You swirl the dregs of your whiskey, noticing that though the bar is cold, the ice has melted. Have you really been here this long? You would never have realised if you hadn’t remembered to order a ride to the airport while washing your hands twenty minutes ago. Time is irrelevant with her.

She places a hand on your arm, wishing you’d meld together and stay forever. In this bar, forever. In her life, forever. If she were to truly believe that she’d be naive and stupid. You met filming, and, yeah, maybe you did become friendly but you’re always going to view her as a work friend; nothing more, nothing less. “Okay,” she says, voice deep and low and undeniably sexy to have directed at you. It isn’t fair. “This is it, right?”

You smile, lips pressed together and hiding the slight ache of your heart. “Right.” Work friend. Your characters were dating, not you two. You tilt your glass, toasting with what’s left of your diluted drink, “until we meet again.”

She laughs, but it rings out more melancholic than intended, hanging heavy in the air between two people who will most likely not end the night the way they’d both like to.

“Yeah.” She smiles. “Until we meet again.”

Standing up to see you out, Flo envies the bartender because the smile you give him is more genuine than any you’ve given her. “Thank you,” you tell him. He fights a blush, finds your softness beautiful, charming. Flo would better describe you as the magnet that attracts every ounce of adoration in her body and takes it unknowingly and unwillingly. “Have a nice evening.”

“You too,” he replies, seemingly ignoring the five other customers — all old men with cash only and wives on the brink of divorcing them. Florence thinks he is about to hop over the green leather of the bartop and kiss you, because he certainly looks as if he will, but you’re lacing your fingers with hers and taking her with you outside before he can move an inch.

She feels special in that moment. More than she has ever felt.

“How come you’ve dragged me into the freezing air of wintertime Helsinki at one in the morning?” You giggle, pure tipsiness making your decisions for you. The woman in front of you recognises the way you shift your weight from one foot to the other, leaving her hand dead by her side in order to wrap your arms around your front. “I’m going to miss watching an underdressed Y/n L/n die a long, cold death while begging me for my jacket.”

“I haven’t asked for it yet.” She grins, taking it off anyway. “And I don’t want to take it, because I’m going to stop by my friend’s to grab my suitcases and then I’m off. Back home until the next adventure.” This jacket is old, it must be from skiing a few years ago, but her body has warmed it and it’s cosily swallowing you whole.

“Or the next torture. At least being forced to be near me is coming to an end,” she jokes, self-deprecating. You hate it when she says things like that, mainly because you’d watch her in awe whether she delivered an Oscar-worthy monologue or figured out a simple maths equation. Either would be something you’re convinced you’d never do, anyway. Wrapping the movie hit you both like a brick, because the sudden realisation that, if neither of you had the balls to say something tonight, nothing would ever come of the three months you spent frolicking in the snow, pretending to be in love with someone who made you feel an affection you were supposed to not feel in real life, pinches your cheeks and reddens them. Flo chalks it up to the snowflakes falling on your eyelashes, your collarbones, touching parts of you she can only dream about.

“No, c’mon. Nothing’s ever torture with you. I’ll love this film even if it turns out to be a disaster because we made it together and I could never hate something you put your heart and soul into.” You’re essentially saying you’d like to kiss her and fuck her and preferably marry her, but Florence has failed every subtext social test ever presented to her. It’s brave of you to reach out and grab her hand again once you’ve said that. She’s blushing and not hiding it, your heart is pounding. If you could visit the Wizard of Oz, you’d beg for courage and step closer, tell her how you really feel. “I—”

Whatever magical emotion revealed itself to you is instantly scared off by the harsh beeping of a fat old man’s horn. “Are you getting in?” The taxi driver rolls his window down, face sour and bored and sick of stupid people having stupid rom-com moments. “I’m allowed to leave if you’re not going to.”

After a pause, you let go of her hand. Of her. “Okay. Goodbye. Good luck for Oppenheimer, yeah? I’ll see you when I see you.” If Flo’s voice hadn’t slipped out of her and ran away to the circus, she’d have stopped you in your tracks and told you that goodbyes needn’t be said so soon because she’s convinced that she loves you (and she’s right to believe so).

She should kiss you: it’s her final chance and chances shouldn’t be wasted on people who are too scared to say something in case the other doesn’t feel the same. You wish you knew if she felt the same, but you haven’t got time to rebuild your earlier fortitude as the driver is threatening to creep away by slowly leaving the side of the pavement. She waves goodbye awkwardly, trying to seem funny at the very least, and turns her back once you’ve surpassed the ten metre mark.

Not kissing you has to be the biggest mistake she has ever made.

You’re at the airport, sitting in the business lounge alone because you can’t cry in front of all those people. The waitress asks if you’d like anything to drink, nervous, not wanting to startle her client. “Do you have whiskey?” You decided that the tears need wiping if you are to carry on with your life like she never happened.

Once you are comfortably in the air, the plane’s window becomes more interesting than any of the movies offered in Finnair’s business class. While it proves as little distraction from the events of seven hours ago, you ask yourself two million questions, most of them beginning with ‘why didn’t you’ and ending with internal outbursts of frustration. Being alone, your head quite literally in the clouds, is what you need to recover from three months of nights where neither of you wanted to go back to their own bed. Three months of giggling endlessly though the director has reminded you how easily replaced you are. Three months down the drain.

God, you miss her, but you’ll have to go on missing her. You’ve kid yourself she could ever reciprocate selfish desires.

—-

Seven months later, you feel as if you’ve only just landed from your flight home. (Not that LA is quite your home.) Summer is supposedly fun, or it appears so on your Instagram that is monitored closely by an old costar. While your mind can, at times, be distracted for a day or so, hers is constantly split in two. Like every other thing in her life is fighting for her attention but being battered down by the thought of a lost girl in a jacket that swallows her, waiting for words that will never come.

Occasionally, under the influence of too much tequila, you text her, shit like what you ate for dinner, how your parents’ dog is doing. Empty words from an empty brain. She ignores them because it doesn’t sound like you, not because she wants to (she would like to screenshot each one, frame it, and worship her shrine for the rest of her life, but that’s deranged — you make her feel deranged). Though most of your friends think you’re overreacting to delete her contact and unfollow her on everything, it’s somewhat therapeutic to return her radio silence. If the mighty Florence Pugh won’t give you time of day, why should you remain?

“I’m not doing it,” you tell them — your friends — when she’s brought up. “I’m not going to wait for someone I’m not good enough for. Why can’t that be okay?” Secretly, you fall asleep every night lost in a tornado of moments that could have been; everything that could have happened but didn’t still happens in your mind, filling in gaps where the cupping of your cheek led to kissing you, where the parts left unsaid were spoken and heard and listened to. Listened to by the right person, not a friend, not an unbothered sibling, not a stranger sitting next to you at the dentist with too much time before their appointment. Sometimes the tornado begins to materialise and you spend the night with trapped sobs finally tasting the air beyond your lungs. As the sobs rise up in your throat, you can feel the snow land on your nose, the bleak taste of Helsinki resting on the tip of your tongue, nothing but a vivid memory that disappears when you gasp to check if you’re really there. You never are. You seem to snap in half every time.

Every fucking time.

“It’s just press.” Your publicist doesn’t accept your statement as smoothly. “If you don’t do it, you’ll be blacklisted and I’ll be underpaid. You’re an actress, Y/n. Act.”

She keeps three books on her desk, each the size and shape of one Hunger Games book. You’ve always wanted to ask what they mean to her; does she thumb through them between meetings? “I want to hit you very hard with the largest of your Hunger Games books. The second one, right?” She nods. “Yeah. I’d use the second book.” Under her desk, she has her palm flat against the wood, searching for the emergency button desks in movies have. She’s never had to even think about using it before. “I’m not going to, of course. That would be preposterous.” You get up, smiling at her. “I’m not going to do that, just like I’m not going to do that stupid press tour, understand? Because if I do that press tour, hitting you with a book won’t seem ridiculous to me. She will drive me insane. She already is.”

Reluctantly, the executives allow you to skip the cast briefings on the basis that you do more interviews than you’d initially agreed to, overlooking the breach of contract. Considering Florence and you were in love for the whole movie, the original interview schedule had twenty interviews with her and your other cast members and four with her alone. Now you have fourteen with the woman your publicist went back to counselling for.

You realise you’ve been massively fucked over, because not only are you doing the press tour, you are doing majority of it with Flo.

“I’m going to slit my wrists in the bathtub if one more Marvel actor tries to talk to me.” Your friends have started to look increasingly more alarmed every time you open your mouth, but it’s their fault that they got you drunk. “Do you know that they’re like some,” you spill your beer from your gestures, “cult? If you hurt one of them, you hurt them all. I didn’t even fucking hurt one of them. I fucking… fucking loved one of them. Fuck, I love her now. You know? Love? Fuck that.”

A particularly kind-hearted member of your friend group removes your drink from your hand and pats your shoulder. But you continue, unwillingly to hold it in any longer. “I have a confession,” you slur, eyelids closing heavily before you force them open again. “I have a… I have a confession to make to you all.” The group are drunk, some as far gone as you. You’re not the favourite member, not the one everything is planned around. They’re your friends from an early movie you once played a supporting role in. Most of them are jealous of your success, most want to leech off it. All of them are tired of your bullshit. “I’m kinda mad I didn’t take a stab at it. We’d have had great sex.”

- - -

She wakes up alone again.

She’s not used to that just yet.

Not physically.

Going back to a man she once thought she loved was comforting for a while. A good six months. It was a good, long slap in the face too, like being in a car crash with your favourite person in the world; she was reminded that she didn’t say anything every time he kissed her, attempting to kiss the hesitation out of his girlfriend, and felt like the crash was beginning to drag. Sparingly, she waited for him to state the obvious (“this isn’t working out”), collect his shit, and leave.

And so, one month later, she still pats the unused side of her double bed to check if it’s cold. It’s not that she misses him. Florence Pugh dreams about being with you every time her eyes close, and has done so for ten months. From the minute she met you.

“Mama has interviews today,” she tells her Billie. She seems to be the only proper listener nowadays. Humans can talk back, voice their unwanted opinion, and recommend therapists who really helped them. Dogs can’t. “They’ve told me I’m with Y/n for one of them. Do you think she’s changed?”

If dogs could text, Flo would’ve texted Billie to say you haven’t. You look sadder, but so does she, and you look ever so slightly older. Your eyes don’t light up quite the way they used to.

Flo moves her hand away from yours when you get too close to her on the sofa they’ve had you sit on. You didn’t mean to inch towards the ruffles of her dress but if your home is sixty centimetres away, you wouldn’t run in the opposite direction. (You did once, remember how that made you feel?) “Our characters are beautifully in love,” you answer, smiling at the interviewer behind exhausted eyes. “The kind that is excruciatingly wonderful to witness, and even better to create. Falling in love with Florence was the best thing I have ever had to do.”

She wishes you meant it.

“Have you ever been in love like your characters? Was there something real woven into your portrayal?” For a moment, you think she’s caught onto the fact you did actually fall in love with Flo. It takes a second for your mind to repeat her words in different tones, deciphering what she meant by ‘something real’.

You pause. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

“I think that, in every movie ever created, there is a piece of reality, a base to build on, because stories are a way to explore what didn’t happen. For me, the love we filmed came before my experience of it. There’s something real in there, but it was the kind of seed that only gets planted in a script and made into a blockbuster. The way I love her is unrealistic.” The interviewer nods, smiling at the material you’ve given them. That’s the perfect quote for the headline.

It breaks Flo in a way that no one can describe.

“Unrealistic?” she quietly repeats once the interview is finished. It’s the last of the day. “Who?” You stay silent, though in your head you’ve professed your undying love to her five times over. “You weren’t with anyone when we filmed.”

You’re called away — thank god — because your car is here.

Flo wonders who stole your affection from beneath her feet, pulling out the rug and letting her fall on harsh reality. She decides she hates that person wholeheartedly. Maybe she even loathes them — they’ve taken her world from her.

“It was okay, I promise,” she later says to her stylist, Rebecca. Press junkets for Rebecca are like advent calendars for Flo. She is a stylist, and so Flo doesn’t blame her excitement, having become used to it over the last few years. Rebecca’s mission is to make Flo look irresistible to you (set by Flo’s unspoken desire that floats around the very much spoken angst-filled pining). “Apparently she was in love with someone, but it was ‘unrealistic’. She phrases things so…”

“Cryptically,” Rebecca offers, mundanely recycling that word from the last time her client (and friend) brought this up. “Ever thought it was you she meant?”

Jerking upright at the thought, Flo shakes her head; “there’s no way. Y/n doesn’t beat around the bush. She would’ve made a move ten months ago!”

“I think she was talking about you, maybe she was trying to tell you how she felt.”

“It doesn’t matter. It has to be too late to pursue her.”

You wouldn’t care if Flo and you started dating in fifty years. It would just be another fifty years of feeling lost in an expansive desert where love is like water.

“Why don’t you respond to the many willing women then? Just for sex. I’m sure they wouldn’t care.” Your friends don’t quite understand that you can’t do anything with anyone who isn’t her. You’d say her name, think of her face, her hair.

“Did you know she cut her hair?” You like it. She once told you that she’d chop it off after filming ended, and that she’d like you to cut it for her because she’s sure you’re a talented hairdresser. “She has that septum piercing you told me about, and she has a new tattoo. She’s changed so much since last year, and I feel like I’ve been frozen in time instead. That’s not fair… I feel like that’s not fair. That she gets to be so…” You recount previous conversations, “you guys think she loved me, don’t you? I think that, if she did love me — which she didn’t — then she’d have said something. She’s honest and blunt and not the kind of person to harbour feelings for someone and do nothing about them. Especially when it comes to love.”

“Y/n, you always act like you have one chance to do something.” Trying again and again doesn’t work for someone who exclusively does things she’s good at, and loses her passion at most setbacks. Resilience never seemed to find you when you were in need of it the most.

“I feel like, my whole life, I’ve been missing the boat,” you concede.

“Just get the next one.”

- - -

Like you warned your publicist, you are losing it. Things don’t seem to matter as much anymore, and if they do it’s because it has to do with her. Brushing your teeth is easier, actually, because what if she got close enough to smell your breath?

You feel taller, shorter, wider, narrower. You’re being stretched in every direction at every moment of the day, only contracting to your most painless self when Flo is beside you on a chair or a sofa, hand close to yours but not enough to touch it.

Most wonder if you actually eat, having not seen you holding any form of edible object during the whole three weeks. You can’t eat, you can’t sleep. At night you forgo convincing yourself to wait for a break that will never come, so you spend them staring at a working TV, not interested enough to turn it on.

By the time your last interview is finished, you haven’t slept in four days. Everyone is worried.

Flo corners you when you stumble away. She forgets her anxieties, her doubts, she doesn’t care if you hate her. “You’re not going back somewhere where you are alone.” She leaves you no other option, grabbing your wrist, pulling you to her car. You’d fight back if you weren’t feeling like every breath is your last. It feels nice to be defeated.

She drives you to a house you’ve never been to, telling you to get out of the car. Her fingers fumble for the keys in her pocket as she unlocks the door, pressing her hand on your back to get you inside.

“You’re a mess,” she murmurs, guiding you to her kitchen, sitting you down on one of the cream leather stools tucked under her island. You smile.

“I’ve been worse.”

She hates the way you say it. As if she doesn’t care about you. As if you think she despises you.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” You shrug. “I’m making you food.” She fills a glass with water from the filter in the fridge, placing it in front of you. A drop spills over the edge, rolls down towards the granite surface. You swipe your finger against the glass’s edge before the drop can touch it, drying it off on the fabric of your unreasonably expensive Versace suit. It fits looser than when you tried it on, but your stylist doesn’t like you enough to care.

The clang of her pans mocks the silence between the two of you. Her kitchen communicates more than you can, and it’s only when the smell of something good seeps through your barriers of believing you aren’t in need of sustenance that you speak again.

“I love you.”

Flo glances at you, breaking her concentration. “What?”

You rock back on the stool, enjoying the thrill of almost falling over but never quite hitting the floor. “I know you heard what I said. I love you.”

“No,” she mutters. “No, you don’t.” You scoff and she looks alarmed. Upset.

“I may not be in the best state of mind, Flo, but I’m pretty certain that I love you,” you tell her again, nodding your head. “I can even tell you the exact moment I fell in love with you.”

She fights back tears, because this is not how any of it was supposed to be. “You haven’t slept. You haven’t eaten. You don’t talk to people — you don’t talk to your friends. You have no right to sit there and tell me you love me when I know you don’t mean it. It’s mean.”

“I’m not being mean.” Your defence is penetrated by her eyes: mistrustful. She doesn’t trust you anymore, she doesn’t know what to believe and what to blame on your current insanity. “I’m telling you the truth, because I thought you would want to hear it. I thought you’d listen.” You stop before you tell her she is just like everyone else.

“That’s unfair.” You drink the water. “I’m not going to let you manipulate me like you’ve manipulated everyone else.”

“Why?” you ask, curious. “Do you think you’re different? You’ve rejected the idea that I am able to love you, clearly. That puts you on the same level as the rest of them, doesn’t it?”

To be honest, you weren’t expecting her to take you with her, after all that wasn’t said or done. When you said it, you didn’t want her to necessarily push you against the worktop and kiss you hard, but you’d assumed she would at least believe you. You’d rather shock her than make her sad.

But you’re making her cry.

You hate watching her cry. You want to swipe away the tears just as you cleared the droplet from the glass of water, but you find yourself stuck to the cream leather stool, only able to watch her. She wipes her face with the back of her palm, knuckles running over her soft skin, reddening it.

“You can’t love me, because I love you, and we’d destroy each other. It’s already destroying you.”

“Not being with you is destroying me.”

“I heard what you said to the woman who does your makeup. I’m destroying you, Y/n. This,” she gestures between you and her, voice breaking, “is destroying you.”

You shake your head. “I think about you all the time. I live for you,” you state firmly, standing up. As you move towards her she backs away. “Don’t you get it? You are my everything.”

Flo can’t be your everything, because she is one person and you need at least four. She knows you better than you think, she knows that you’re an addict, that you don’t like living with the feeling of not having anything. If you weren’t addicted to her, it would be alcohol or drugs or a simple thing like crocheting. You chase that intensity, bleeding it dry until it can give you nothing more.

“I don’t want to be your everything, Y/n.” It’s a lie. You can hear her regret, it drips off her words. “The food is ready. Eat it, and then leave.” She almost smashes the plate, but holds her anger in until she leaves the room.

Your, “I’m sorry. Wait a second,” gets stuck at the roof of your mouth, refusing to come down its hiding place. You find other words to say, but you don’t say them.

You bite your tongue, it’s your worst habit.

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