dilf-luvr-4evr

[dilf-luvr-4evr]

The exhaustion grabbed me through the screen 😭😭😭💔 beautiful work my friend 🫂 I wish a giant stranger would do this for me too 🚬

Price x Reader

A/N: Just something short, simple, and sweet.. no use of Y/N, gn!reader, fluff, probably inaccurate description of humans socializing idk, just two stangers interacting

The train was packed as per usual.

Your exhaustion exhaled with a sigh, the muffled complaints of your tired mind was shut with a step through the crowd.

It was almost impossible to get inside, but having to face it daily, you were used to the odd. Following the flow of the others with enough clarity in your mind to move, but not to think, to focus.

You wouldn't be able to even if you want to, not after a long day.

Maybe not consciously.

Since you find yourself standing up not a minute after you find an empty seat by miracle.

Without a word, offering it to the older man standing near.

Despite the tiredness seeping in, your subconcious refuse to give up this particular mannerism taught to you growing up.

"..Sir?" your own voice sounded far to yourself, somehow.

The man heard you just fine though. A pair of midnight blue shifted from the window to your tired form.

Just when you thought you wouldn't get a word for a response, he spoke. "Yes, luv?"

Despite the exhaustion, your body seemed to have enough energy to send a heat tingling you cheeks. "..Seat" you managed to say quietly as you feel your face heating up even more. Feeling embarrassed of how pathetic you sound.

He responded with a tilt of his head, a glance at the empty seat before his eyes locked onto yours.

"..How old do you think i am?" was spoken with a layer of amusement concealing a slight pique you could still sense.

You wet your lower lip, finding yourself unable to respond. Shifting your weight to the other foot, you cussed yourself in your head for accidentally insulting-

"You look like you need it more" The timbre of his voice cut through the fog of your mind somehow.

Now it was your turn to frown. You knew you probably isn't looking the best at the moment, but he didn't have to point it out. "Wasn't an insult, love" Was heard alongside a chuckle.

"Nor a request" he continued.

You felt a warm grip at the side of your hip, which should've made you uneasy- yet..

The tension coiling in your muscles was loosening at the touch, and you found yourself leaning against his firm torso.

A sigh left your lips, along with whatever was buzzing in your head which was now left empty.

Silence, for once.

You could even hear a soft pitter patter outside, a vague buzzing of the light above, the thumping of his heart.

And yours.

"Sit down" He said more firmly, yet gentle to your ears.

You found yourself complying without a complaint this time.

The back of your thighs met the cold seat, a second before your back against the backrest.

Your eyes met his once again, but unlike before, the midnight in his eyes didn't feel as cold.

Like before, he didn't break the eyecontact. So neither did the you now.

Until you gave in to the weight that had been pulling you down, letting the abyss consume you for the moment.

The next second you breathe, it was light. Taking your consciousness along with it as your sleeping figure sway gently with the ride.

Somehow, the side of your lips twitched upward in response to him blanketing your form with his jacket.

A/N: ..this was supposedly dark or smut at first, idk what happened- but oh well..

[dilf-luvr-4evr]

MROW. AND LIKEE I DONT EVEN THINK BLOWJOBS ARE HOT. BUT THIS IS…….. IM THINKING.

“Spit glistens on your chin, dripping down your throat, messy and shameless and somehow beautiful in the way it feels to give yourself over like this.” EXACTLY WHAT I MEAN

“You think maybe you’ve never felt prettier than when you’re ruining yourself for him.” ??????? MARTIN SCORSESE CINEMA GIF

It’s role reversal wrapped in service somehow?? LIKE IF YOU GET ME but like gyat damn 🙏

Ruin Me || 1.1k

Warnings: male oral receiving, reader has hair arthur can pull

Summary: the bj fic no one asked for

Notes: This has been sitting in my docs forever and idk I'm nervous about it. I hope you enjoy <3333. Thank you @thundermartini for bullying me for days to finish this and supporting me through all my mental breakdowns. I love you always 🩷💖 @future-sobright-itsburning for being such a huge support and cheerleader, love you so much 🥹❤️ and @dilf-luvr-4evr for making this beautiful moodboard and helping me find dividers love you bunches 🫶🏼❤️ Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Masterlist

You don’t make it past the edge of the porch.

Arthur grabs your wrist the second he sees you slip out of the house, eyes burning, jaw clenched like he’s been holding back all damn day. He doesn’t say a word just pulls you fast and quiet down the steps, around the warped wood and into the thick brush behind Shady Belle.

You laugh under your breath. “Arthur, what the hell?” He’s got that look again, the one that makes you half-sure you should be worried.

“Need you, now.” His voice is low and ragged like he hasn’t taken a real breath since supper. Like the hunger’s been chewing him alive from the inside out.

Your spine meets the cold kiss of the wall. But he’s heat and hunger pressed up against you. His body is taut with restraint, and his thickness pulses against you. You can feel what he means. He’s hard. Painfully hard. He cages you in with his broad shoulders and trembling hands. And when you reach between your bodies to palm him through his pants, his breath stutters right beside your ear.

“Need my mouth that bad, huh?” You whisper as your fingers work him slowly. God, the way he shudders makes you feel wicked, like you’ve got him strung up on nothing but your touch.

But he doesn’t answer. Just unbuckles his belt like he’s starving. He frees himself, and boy what sight it is to see his cock flushed and weeping in the moonlight, thick and heavy like it aches for you alone. You sink to your knees like worship, the grass is damp beneath your knees, your skirt is ruined, and your dignity is surrendered. When you look up at him and smile, he looks like a man undone.

“You better keep quiet, Arthur,” you warn. “I don’t care if you come so hard your knees shake. I’ll leave you a mess. But you make a sound, and someone's bound to come lookin’.”

That snaps something in him.

His hand tangles in your hair and he pulls you forward, not harshly just a suggestion, a plea wrapped in the weight of his palm. His cock is heavy and hot on your tongue. He barely lets you ease in, just a second to taste him before he’s fucking into your mouth. Your throat is tight around him, your body welcoming the stretch and the sting. His jaw is tight with restraint and his breath is coming through his nose like he’s trying not to lose it too fast.

The sound of it is obscene, slick and wet and hungry, and it only winds you tighter, makes you ache until your thighs press together like you can rub away the need building between them. God, you’re already trembling, and you’re not even the one losing yourself. Spit glistens on your chin, dripping down your throat, messy and shameless and somehow beautiful in the way it feels to give yourself over like this. He groans above you, hips starting to rock faster, rougher, and you can’t help thinking you want him wrecked, undone want to drag him past the edge just to know you can. You think maybe you’ve never felt prettier than when you’re ruining yourself for him

“Gonna be the death of me sweetheart,” he rasps. “Mouth like that goddamn.”

You moan around him, the sound vibrates through his length, and the noise that rips out of him makes your thighs clench tighter. Your tongue drags just right along the sensitive ridge, and his whole body shudders, shoulders tightening like he’s fighting a losing battle. He’s so easy to read, you can feel every ounce of restraint snapping under your mouth, and it makes you drunk with it, the knowledge that you’re the one driving him out of control. He’s supposed to be the strong one, the steady one, and yet here he is, trembling for you, groaning for you, falling apart because you decided he would. The thought makes heat coil sharp and low in your belly, and you take him deeper, eager to see just how far you can push him before he breaks. Even when you gag, you don't pull away.

“Tha's my girl,” he grinds out, brushing your spit-slick lips with his thumb. “Look at you. Look what a goddamn mess you’re makin’, sweetheart.”

You suck a little harder this time. Arthur’s eyes roll back and his legs nearly give.

Ain’t—” his voice breaks off into a ragged groan, hips jerking before he manages to steady himself, “ain’t gonna last long like this.” His hand fists tight in your hair, to ground himself. “Goddamn, sweetheart… look at you.” The words tumble out rough and low, almost reverent. “Mouth full of me, all messy, all mine. Y’look so goddamn pretty like this — fuck, y’don’t even know what you’re doin’ to me. So — S'good.” His chest heaves with the effort of breathing.

He’s trying to hold back, you feel it, trying to make this moment last longer. His muscles are straining, legs shaking his hand in your hair is gripping slightly harder.

But you want it, and you want it now. The need claws at you, so you grip his ass hard, pulling him deeper until he’s pressed against the back of your throat. You hum around him, smug and aching with the thrill of it, and that’s all it takes.

He spills into your mouth with a groan so guttural it rattles through you, the kind of sound that sends birds scattering from the trees. Fuck, you did that you dragged it out of him. His big hand slaps over his mouth like he can shove the noise back down, but you see the truth in his wide eyes, he can’t believe how hard he’s coming, how much you’ve taken from him.

And you don’t waste a drop. You greedily swallow every bit, licking him clean while he trembles above you. He’s wrecked, and the thought burns sweet and sharp in your chest. You broke Arthur Morgan down to this, and nothing has ever tasted better.

When you finally pull back, his cock slips heavy against his thigh, softening. Your face is a mess with spit shining your chin, tears streaking your cheeks, his release smeared warm across your skin. You should feel ruined, you think, and maybe you do but not in the way he expects. No, you feel powerful. You feel alive. You just brought Arthur Morgan, all muscle and grit and stubborn will, to his knees.

He stares down at you like you’re something holy, a moan slips from his lips.

“You’re gonna ruin me.”

The words make your chest bloom with wicked satisfaction. You lick the corner of your mouth slowly and grin up at him, savoring the way he looks at you like he can’t believe what you’ve done. “Already did.”

[dilf-luvr-4evr]

hey girl !!!! i was thinking of u and wanted to check in and see how you’re doing!!! also saw all of your posts abt what’s happening in indonesia and omg!!!! i hope ur okay and will be praying for you and your country’s safety !!!! sending much love ur way dear <3

thank you so much lovely Rinnie 🥺🫶

We have lost a lot of people to this chaos.. Hopefully we are getting there 🙏 everyone is as united as ever and it warms my heart to see though I wish it wasn’t under such circumstances.. Tomorrow we are waiting for a big change we’ve been demanding so we’ll see 🩷💚 the world is now watching!! I just hope everyone is safe and all the blood spilled won’t be in vain..

And I am okay!! I am lucky to witness this through my screen and doing all I can..

I pray for you too!! Everywhere in the world is fucked rn tbh 😭 I hope you are doing well yourself! 🫂 I am excited for all there is to come for you career wise 😆😆!!! Have you gotten updates on the radio job?

Much love to you tooo beloveddd 🥰🥰🫂!!!

[dilf-luvr-4evr]

Seeing these photos while im writing a heart wrenching piece abt him 👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹🚬

took my lonesome cowboy to the lavender fields 🪻✨

[dilf-luvr-4evr]

This one was actually so crazy and insane to me like my jaw dropped lower every few lines omg likeeee like he was thinking with his COCK and nothing else pleak 😭😭😭 strauss asks where the fuck is the money and he’s like it got fucked out of me man 🥀

BUT PLEAK 🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚 I cannotttt 😭😭😭😭😭😭 I gotta bite him 👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹 AUGH

Crocodile tears

summary: Rhodes' parlour house shelters very few honest people. But you better be careful with who you are trying to scam. Arthur Morgan ain't the kind of man to fall for this type of con...Or is he? pairing: arthur morgan x f!reader rating: explicit (mdni!) word count: 7k. warnings: low-honor Arthur Morgan. Strangers to lovers. Smut (unprotected piv, creampie, vaginal fingering, rough kissing, spanking, face slapping, biting, light dacryphilia). Allusion to oral sex (m!receiving). Reader isn't physically described, she just wears a dress and has long hair. Drinking, smoking, cursing. A bit of mysoginy (men don't want to play cards and lose to a woman booo). English isn't my first language, sorry for the mistakes. Pics and dividers are mines.

a/n: I have 0 explanations for that one. Except that I am trying to distract myself from life stuff with Arthur Morgan 24/7 and that I suck real bad at blackjack, but it is the only game I understand the rules (sort of). Also I got the legendary gator and idk why... this outfit does something to me lol. I hope I did a good job with low-honor Arthur and that he isn't too soft (it was really hard to write). Once again, the biggest thanks goes to my precious @thedilfdiaries for being the best cheerleader in the whole world. I love you, always and forever 💖 I hope you will enjoy that one

“Blackjack” a voice yells from the red felt table as Arthur makes his way outside to enjoy some fresh air on the Parlour House balcony. The place is crowded tonight, if you want to move, you have to shimmy between the patrons standing in every corner of the bar, smoking, chatting, nursing glasses of cheap whiskey. 

The ladies have put on their best dresses, the most revealing ones, sneaking their hands on gentlemen’s chest, eager to make a little more money than usual. Arthur had to firmly decline a couple of offers, insensitive to any kind of flattery from said ladies. It’s just a business transaction hidden behind sweet meaningless words. And he ain’t no fool. There is no way he’ll get is cock sucked by the same mouths that those inbred bastards filled before him. Just the thought makes him shiver in disgust.

He just wanted to enjoy a nice dinner before riding back to Shady Belle, pockets full of money from the debts he was sent off to collect earlier. But now he is going to ride back with a fucking headache… 

Leaning over the railing, Arthur observes the flickering lights of the lampposts illuminating the path leading to the rest of the town. Patrons come and go out of the house, drunk and agitated, slurring greetings at each other. A couple of Grays are standing outside, guarding the place like it is a damned fortress. 

He scoffs as he opens his cigarettes, letting a stick slide out of the box  and capturing it with his lips. He lights a match against the sole of his boots before bringing the flame to his face. 

The first inhale is slow, Arthur letting the smoke permanently stain his lungs… and then he exhales, tilting his head up toward the shining moon. 

He glances to his right, a couple is sitting in the corner of the balcony, faces melting against each other in a position that could have them both in trouble for public indecency. But Arthur doesn’t’mind. He is not one to judge such behavior… who knows what he would be up to if he had a fine lady hanging around his neck instead of the cheap whores walking around this town. He probably would have found a dark corner, away from the crowd, pretending to focus on counting the stars while a woman would be staining her pretty skirts for him, hidden underneath a flowery tablecloth, putting her soft mouth to good use. Yeah… That would have been a nice entertainment for tonight. 

A ruckus of laughter and screams tears him out of his thoughts. It’s the blackjack table. Everyone seemed to be glued around the spot since he arrived here. He didn’t pay much attention but he suddenly feels the need to see for himself what it is all about. He flicks the cigarette in a flower pot, and walks back towards the house. 

Pushing the doors open, Arthur sneaks inside, finding an empty spot next to the chimney. A drunk man is occupying all the place in the corner, dozing off in an armchair. Arthur wonders how much that fella drank to be unbothered by such a commotion. 

“Gentlemen… Please” The dealer, an impressively bald man dressed in a too tight suit, asks for silence before spreading the cards before him. 

The room falls quiet again, everybody focusing on the game. Four men are sitting next to each other at the table, eyes squinted on the stack, waiting for the next reveal. 

“Place your bets” The dealer orders, and the chips are being pushed at the center of the felt. 

The round passes, and when the winner is announced by the dealer, the room explodes again, some cheering, other protesting at the result. 

“Gentlemen… Please, keep your calm” the bald man shouts above the sea of deep voices. 

Arthur laughs, noticing the way the player at the end of the table looks completely distraught. 

“I am done! What will my wife do when she realizes I lost the money for our new house?” He slurs, throwing his arms in the air. 

“Don’t give up Darren” his friend whispers in his ear, a rich Scottish accent coloring his words. “You still have that pocket watch of yours don’t cha?” 

The poor guy nods, eyes red from the tears he wishes he could cry in the loving arms of his missus right now. Arthur isn’t sure said arms will be loving after a disastrous failure like this one. He grabs an unopened bottle of whiskey resting on the mantel, opening the cork with his teeth and pouring the amber liquid into his mouth. 

After another lost game, the scottish fella is forced to give up, a bunch of threats thrown his way by another player were enough to make him quit. 

“You don’t want to cause a scene here brother, those Gray fellas, they ain’t joking… Come on, let’s head home” his friend says, pulling him out of the chair. 

Arthur snorts and shakes his head, really entertained by what is going on in that shithole. Ain’t nothing scary about these Gray fellas. He could take every single one of them in a fight… And yet, for some obscure reasons, people in this town are fearing these clowns even more than the day of judgement… What a joke. 

The view is cleared a little thanks to the missing player's grand exit, booed and mocked by the crowds for his epic failure. There is only one player keeping his calm at the end of the table, not bothered by this agitation, hat resting low on his head, wearing a fur coat twice his size despite the heat in this place, a faint smile painted across his lips…  Arthur focuses on this player more intently, squinting his eyes, searching for any clue explaining his strange behavior. The player tilts his head up and his eyes find Arthur’s amidst the chaos. He looks at him for a moment, a glint of mischief shining in them, but he quickly looks away. 

There is something unusual about him that Arthur can’t really put his finger on … But as the player focuses back on the table, Arthur catches a better view of his profile… Or shall he say… Her profile. Now he sees it… her plump lips, a shy shade of red tainting them, the soft traits of her face. This isn’t a man playing at this blackjack table. It’s a damn woman. And if the others have been too drunk to notice, Arthur had only a glass of whiskey. He can see it as clear as the day now, her hair probably hidden under that hat, or even under that big coat. Her sleeves are too large, and Arthur is sure it would be even more obvious if she was standing up. But nobody seemed to notice. Except for him. He could call her out, get her expelled from this place… Or he could let her win another round, see if she can rip these hillbillies off. Arthur lights another cigarette as he waits for the game to resume, intrigued to see where this is going. 

“Another player to replace Mister Wallace?” The dealer asks, and every head turns around toward Arthur, except for one. He raises an eyebrow, wondering why he caught their attention. It seems like a path has cleared from his spot near the chimney leading to the empty seat now. And the whole room is waiting for him to make a move. 

“Nah… I ain’t good at blackjack” Arthur declines, cigarette stuck between his lips. His eyes immediately glance to your seat. And he sees you smiling, fidgeting with a red chip. 

Nobody is stepping up. The room is waiting for him again. 

“What the hell… Yeah, count me in” Arthur finally says, pulling out the chair. He sets a couple of dollars on the felt, and the dealer hands him his chips. The crowd starts cheering, the game resume, and as he loses the first couple of games, Arthur really wonders why he agreed to that. But it seems to amuse you, the quick little glances you throw his way clearly intriguing him. 

“Be careful with that fella on the right. I wouldn’t look at him too much if I were you or you’ll become his target. He hasn’t lost a single game. I don’t know how he does it” Arthur’s neighbor whispers too close to his face, the smell of cheap booze hitting him in the nose. He frowns, tilting his head back. He thought he was being discreet at ogling you, apparently not. 

“I ain’t afraid” He says, astounded that nobody noticed you were a woman when they’ve been seated next to you all night long. It’s evident. Despite all the fabric swallowing you, he can see the outline of your silhouette. It’s irritating, to lose against a woman… and when it’s one as beautiful as you… it frustrates him, making it difficult to focus on the game. 

The dealer starts preparing the next round, and sets the cards on the table. You are focusing on your hand, not saying more than a few words in a low voice, grunting every now and then, but it’s all an act and Arthur has to recognize that you’re pretty good at this, swindling people. But he sees right through you. And when he finally starts winning a couple of hands, he sees the way you suddenly lose your composure… You’re fidgeting more than usual, clearly not the way a man would fidget in this part of the country. Your hair is probably starting to fall down with all this agitation, and you try to discreetly place it back behind your ears, but he sees a soft strand falling in front of your face… 

You glance his way once, twice, worried that he noticed and Arthur just pretend to ignore you entirely, smiling at his hand. 

“Blackjack” The dealer says again, pushing the chips in front of Arthur. 

You curse silently, wondering how it is possible that you’re running out of luck already? And all because of that man in the crocodile vest. You’re fuming, but you can’t show any signs of fear. The atmosphere in the room changed. People are either starting to get tired, or too drunk to care about the game, but you’re suddenly feeling anxious about them realizing who you are. Your coat feels too big, you’re drowning in the fabric, and while the temperature in the room wasn’t bothering you earlier, now that you’re losing all your confidence, you feel like you are suffocating. 

The stranger on your left winks at you as he collects his latest earnings… Does he know who you are ? Or is he just as drunk as the others, and feeling bold enough to flirt with you? You don’t have time for this type of interrogation. You need to react, and quicker than this. Leaning on the side, you scratch your leg, discreetly picking up a card from your leather boot, and slide it inside your sleeve. The dealer gives you a nod, and you wait for him to turn his head towards the other players. You swiftly replace one of your biggest cards with this one, and wait for the reveal. 

“Blackjack” the dealer says, smiling at you.

You collect your coins finally feeling in control again and light a cigarette. Keeping your mouth busy with these all night long deters people from talking to you… and with the panic you just went through, you feel like you need one. 

“We thought you were out of this game” The man seated next to you says, bumping into your arm with his shoulder as if you were comrades. 

“I ain’t dead yet” you laugh in a croaky voice that doesn’t raise any suspicion around you. But Arthur’s eyes are set on you again, and you know now that he is observing you very closely. You cannot risk a single mistake, God only knows what he would be capable of if he realizes a woman was beating him at a card game. He doesn’t look as dumb as the others. And with the way he is carrying himself, his big arms stretching his black shirt, solid chest puffed out in that tacky crocodile vest you can’t seem to keep your eyes off… You better be careful. 

You manage to keep your head in the game until it’s only you and Arthur at the table. You’re planning on getting all his money, eager to make everyone forget you ever lost a couple of games to this man… 

“Place your bets” The dealer says, exhaustion finally noticeable in his voice. 

Things definitely quieted down around you, most of the patrons have left the house. A couple of girls are chatting on the couches, still hoping for a last minute trick. But it’s a vain cause, most of the men are already passed out on their chairs, a mess of dead cigarettes and empty bottles clattered around them. 

One last win. That’s all you need to show that mysterious long haired man that you are better than he thinks he is. 

The dealer gives you the cards, and shows his own hand…and…

“Blackjack” you squeal, almost forgetting to mask your own voice in the excitement.

“Well done…” Arthur mumbles, his eyes following your every move suspiciously. 

You pick up your cash and storm out of the room, the path to the balcony now completely empty. 

“That was a hell of a game. Ain’t never seen a fella playing like that…”The dealer yawns, cleaning the table. 

Arthur doesn’t know what to answer. He just nods, and when he gets up from his chair you’re already gone, the door closing behind you. 

“Hey” he calls out, pushing them open and scanning the terrasse. You ain’t here but you dropped your hat in your run. Arthur crouches down to pick it up, hands tightening on the leather as he realizes he really got played by a woman.  

You sprint down the stairs, rushing to get rid of that stupid coat away from prying eyes. You walk along the old walls of the Parlour House, the white paint stripping down on the cracked wood, and stop in a little recess. The ivy climbing on the facade gets caught in your hair, and you try to untangle it when you hear heavy bootsteps coming your way. 

“You lost this” Arthur appears in front of you, your hat secured in his hand as he brushes the top of it with his fingers. 

“It ain’t mine sir, you must be mistaken” you say, attempting to make him believe you ain’t the person he played blackjack with not even five minutes ago. It could work. Your hair is down, he can see your face clearly, and now that you’re standing, coat opened, he can clearly see your dress too. 

“It ain’t yours?” he chuckles, walking closer to you. 

You nod, taking a step back, eyes frantically searching for a way to escape. 

“See miss… The thing is I might not look like it but I ain’t half as dumb as the people in this damn town…” He steps even closer, eyes never leaving your hat as he talks. You don’t want to cross his stare, still unsure of your plan. You focus on his boots instead. They’re the same material as his vest… some white crocodile skin. You’ve heard of a legend about a white alligator haunting the lands in Lagras… You wonder if he hunted that thing himself. 

“Ain’t never seen anyone playing like you did up there…”

“What can I say… Got that talent from my dad” 

“Yeah? Was he a blackjack player ?...” Arthur stops mere inches from you, looking above his shoulder to make sure nobody is here. You stop breathing, afraid of his next move. “...Or was he a very obvious con man?” he says, grinning as he places your hat on top of your head.

“There. I knew it was yours” He says triumphantly as he stares at you. He’s glad he was right about you… even more now that you’re ain’t hidden like you were earlier. He gotta reckon that beauty usually works very well to con people, so why did you have to pretend to be a man? It’s way more dangerous.  

You don’t answer, immediately punching him in the ribs, ready to storm out of here, but Arthur’s arms circle your waist and he keeps you here, lifting you off the ground as you kick your feet in the air. You start to scream but his hand flies to your mouth, muffling your insults. 

“Shh shhh girl… I ain’t gonna hurt you…” He whispers, pressing you back against the wall, pushing the ivy out of the way. “Beautiful thing like you? Would be a shame wouldn’t it ?” He steps back, holding his hands in front of him as a proof of his willingness.

“How did you know” you sigh, frustrated.  

“That pretty little mouth of yours caught my attention…”

You feel your cheek heat under his gaze… And you think that maybe you can pull this off, manage to get away from this unscathed, with all your money, and your dignity.

“I thought…” You pout exaggeratively, hoping to get him with pity.

“Yeah well you didn’t think enough apparently. But don’t be so disappointed. They can’t even differentiate their wives from their cattle… It could have worked out just fine. It’s just very bad luck for you that I was here too” Arthur cuts you as he lights a cigarette, watching you. He knows you’re trying to figure something out… And he knows what card you’re about to play. The way you’re pushing your chest out isn’t very subtle. He looks away, pretending to be immune to the sight of your cleavage spilling out of that dress. But the things he would do to put his mouth on your breasts… He has no idea how the people in this bar could have been so stupid. 

You step closer, hands finding the sides of his vest, the cold leather is rough underneath your fingertips. You’ve noticed how handsome he is since you spotted him next to that fireplace… But up close, with his long hair shining under the moonlight? It’s a damn miracle you’re able to limit yourself to touching his clothed chest. There is a healing cut on his right cheek, the purple bruise slowly fading away. You raise your hand in front of his face, fingers bending slowly. But Arthur slaps your wrist down. 

“We could… make a deal” you offer seductively, letting your hand roam up his chest to his neck instead. Your thumb brushes his pulse point, and your breath hitches when you feel the way it quickens. 

“Whatever you’re trying to do… Ain’t gonna work in your favor, let me warn you” He blurts out, exhaling the smoke slowly in your face. You inhale it defiantly, eyes focusing on him, trying to figure out if you could break him.

You stay silent for a minute, figuring something out. You haven’t played the crying lady card yet. And every outlaw has a heart, hidden somewhere.  

“Sir… I… I need the money… See, I am an orphan, living with my uncle and… He is very sick…” you start, tears pouring out of your eyes silently. 

Arthur has to reckon that it’s very impressive, the way your body can act this way and make it so believable. If only you weren’t such a bad liar. 

“An orphan?” 

“Yes…” 

“I thought your father taught you how to play blackjack”... 

You don’t come up with an explanation fast enough. You want to slap yourself for being so distracted. He won’t buy any of your bullshit. He isn’t drunk enough or stupid enough to do so… It usually works out so well… 

“Fine. I ain’t an orphan… Argh why are you soo…” you stomp your feet on the wooden floor, and take a deep breath.  “Please. Sir. I beg of you… We could make a sweet deal… Split the money? Or maybe I could just… Let me take care of you…I could…” you drop your hand further down his chest, brushing his stomach and getting dangerously close to the bulge hiding in his pants… Heat creeps up your face when you almost feel him against your palm. 

But Arthur slaps your wrist away again. “I said drop it” His voice is low, intimidating, and hoarse with lust despite his best effort to mask his arousal. He is struggling, that’s for sure, and if he wasn’t so stubborn he would already have you on your knees for him. But he doesn't need you to feel the way he just twitched in his pants at the thought, not when he is trying to pretend that he ain’t interested. 

“I ain’t trying to do anything.” You lie, brushing your thumb over the hurt skin of your wrist, backing off reluctantly. He is clearly affected by all this so why doesn’t he want to… Have his way with you? Fine. If he doesn’t want you then you don’t want him either. 

“I want my money back” He says slowly as he leans on, nose almost bumping into yours. 

You throw your head back and laugh, your real laugh this time, and it irks him to see the way you do it so confidently, like you’re really thinking you’ll get the upper hand in this little fight. 

“I won it fair and square. You ain’t getting anything from me, mister” you spit and take your hands off him, crossing your arms on your chest. 

“Fair and square?” Arthur scoffs. “I saw that jack of hearts you pulled out of your boots.” He points to your leg, and you look down. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you lie again, holding his stare, not shying off. 

“You want me to search you?” He threatens, but the way the words roll off his tongue almost flirtatiously makes it less scary… You want to say yes. The thought of having his big hands roaming over your body is making you feel dizzy.  

“You wouldn’t dare touching a lady that isn’t yours…” You manage to say almost out of breath. You’re not convinced by any of this, but you want to test the waters. 

“As far as I am concerned… I don’t mind putting my dirty hands on a hustler. Try me” He grins as he invades your personal space again, letting his hand brush the side of your thigh. 

“I ain’t scared” You state as you shift, suddenly very aware of the way he towers over you. You hold your chin up high, hands resting on your waist, and your coat opens even more. Arthur tries to ignore the sight of your curves as he sees the ivory grip of your revolver shining in your inner pocket.

You try to threaten him but the two guns on his waist are a clear indicator that you’ll lose your life playing this card. You’re a decent shot, but the way he hasn’t even thought about setting his hand on his belt while you showed him your gun is clear enough: he is better than you are at this. 

“You ain’t playing the sweet lil’ lady anymore uh?” He steps forwards, forcing you to lean against the wall.

You’re cornered. And he smiles thinking he has his prey eating in the palm of his hand. But if he wanted to hurt you… He would have done it a long time ago. Your charms are definitely working on him, he thinks he can play tough guy… But he is just a man after all. 

“It’s alright… I’ve dealt with feisty women before…” He says as he caresses a strand of your hair, pushing it off your face. “I'll find a way to get my hands on what belongs to me” He crushes his cigarette right next to your ear, the heat radiating from the lit end burning your cheek. 

“You… won’t get anything from me” You say again, and in an impetuous attempt to provoke him, you slap him on his bruised cheek, hard. 

Arthur slightly steps back, eyes wide, mouth agape looking at you surprised as his left hand massages his cheek, a red mark already forming where his beard isn’t covering his skin. But he doesn’t even get mad. He stands there and smirks. “Well…You sure are a wild one” 

You could run away, you have enough space to do so now. You’re certain he wouldn’t even follow you. But there is something else much more exciting happening between you. The tension is electric, and the burning sensation low in your stomach leaves you rooted in place. It’s not about the game or the money anymore. And maybe it truly never has been. 

Your hands clench at your side, the feeling of his muscles under his vest haunting you. You wish you could run your finger along his bare skin. 

Arthur stares at you, eyes traveling your whole silhouette and you’re burning up under his gaze despite the coldness of the night… It feels like he can read your mind. 

“Is that how you wanna play this out miss?” He warns you, rolling up his sleeve as he closes the gap between you. 

“What do you mean?” you ask almost innocently, suddenly not so sure that you have what it takes to handle the outcome of this encounter. 

“I think you know fair well what I mean” he mumbles, his hands slowly moving to rest on your waist. You take a deep breath, exhaling shakily when you feel the way Arthur presses you against him, the heat of his body piercing through the thin fabric of your dress. You turn your head to the side, not wanting to look at him, not wanting to let him see how much he affects you. 

“And… I think you’ve been wanting this to happen all night” His lips find the column of your throat and you can’t suppress the moan that leaves your mouth when he bites you. 

“I think you were the one dreaming about this” you manage to whisper as he kisses his way down your neck. You pull on his hair, impeding him from biting your sensitive skin again. But his hand cups your left breast, pulling on the material of your dress to reveal your bare chest to his hungry eyes. And your grip on his hair isn’t strong enough to keep him from ravaging your skin. He dips his head in your cleavage, kissing his way down the valley of your breasts to your nipple. You’re shivering already and he only touched you for two damn minutes. Ain’t no way you can keep pretending to have the lead here. 

“Yeah ? You think so?” Arthur chuckles before closing his mouth around your nipple. He sucks at the sensitive skin, before pulling on it with his teeth. You throw your head back against the ivy wall, whimpering. “I am not the one moaning like a whore right now, am-I?” he smiles, relishing at the sight of you already undone, before moving onto your other breast, licking and biting the tender skin. 

“I ain’t playing anymore” you whisper between moans, not really sure of what you’re even trying to say. Your hands grab him by his gunbelt and you press him against you. You can feel how hard he is already, the shape of his hardening cock brushing against your lower stomach. And you are oh so desperate to feel him inside of you. 

“Me neither” Arthur says before crashing his mouth on yours, bumping your nose with his in the process, the stinging sensation immediately bringing tears to your eyes. But you don’t have the time to focus on the pain, the way his lips move against yours is the only thing that matters. 

“You ain’t scared to do that here?” He pushes your coat off your shoulders, letting the heavy garment pool at your feet. 

“I don’t care” you whisper as you’re struggling to unknot the ridiculous crocodile teeth buttons of his vest. 

“Good, cause I won’t ask you to stay quiet for me. If you want my cock, I am going to give it to you, but you won’t be able to keep your mouth shut”

“That’s some big talk right here mister” 

“You don’t believe me?” 

“I might need a little proof of what you’re selling. I’ve seen men being all barks and no bites before” 

“A little proof uh? I’ll show you” Arthur sneaks his hand underneath your skirts finding the wet fabric of your bloomers. “I ain’t even touched you yet and you’re soaked miss, I think that this is proof enough” 

You nod, wanting to see what he can do. 

“Alright then, hold onto me cause those pretty legs of yours will stop working soon” Arthur says smugly, and you’re about to say something curt, but he brushes the tip of his fingers on your cunt, smearing the wetness on your pussy lips, and you stop breathing. Your arms fly around his neck, preventing you from falling back. “God damn it’s even worse than I thought…” 

He is teasing you, moving tortuously slow, never quite entering your cunt with his fingers, never quite stopping to give some attention to your clit. And it’s making you desperate. You’re squirming against that wall, jolting your hips forwards, silently begging for more.  

“Is that enough for you? Those pretty little whimpers, the way you’re already shaking in my arms? Or should I…” Arthur lets his fingers up and down your clit, brushing a little faster. 

“It’s not enough… Not enough” you moan against his neck, pulling on his hair. Arthur groans, and pushes you back against the wall. 

“Should I take off that dress then?” He asks, not waiting for an answer, the way you’re biting your lower lip is clear enough for him. He pushes your dress completely out of the way, tying it as best as he can behind your back, and pulling down your bloomers. “Look at you… Ain’t that a beautiful sight? I can’t believe none of these crazy bastards saw what they were missing out on in that bar”

“I didn’t want them to see… I am not offering myself to the first comer.” You explain, placing your hand inside of his half undone shirt, caressing the coarse hairs adorning his strong chest. 

“Is that so?” He seizes your breast with his hand again, soothing the bruising skin with his thumb. “With the way you lie and how you’re letting me get my hands on you…I am sorry but I have to doubt that miss…” He kisses you before you can utter more falsity, his hand traveling down your body and stopping at the apex of your thighs. “Why don’t you give me your name?” he demands, cupping your cunt in his warm hand. 

“You don’t need it” you whimper, the sensation of his fingers now running through your wet folds already about to take you out. 

“And… You don’t wanna know mine?” He asks curiously, unbuttoning his pants with his free hand and pulling his cock out of his jeans. 

“I do” you say as you wrap your hand around him, bumping your head against the wall when you finally feel him against your bare skin. You move along his shaft a little, never looking away from his blue eyes darkened with desire. “Or else I won’t know what name to moan when you’ll make me come around your big cock” you say, quickening the pace of your hand.

“Goddamit woman…” Arthur curses, jaw clenched, breath hitching in his throat. “You sure know how to flatter a man’s ego, miss. No doubt it’s been working out well for you until now. M’name’s Arthur Morgan” 

You smile, knowingly. You definitely heard that name before. But you had no idea it belonged to a man so handsome you’ll be losing your sanity over him the first time you met. You repeat it, and Arthur doesn’t leave you the time to process who he is. He kisses you hard while pushing a finger inside of your cunt. Your hands stop moving along his cock, you can only pant against his mouth. 

“How does it feel?” He asks, pushing another finger inside of you. You just nod, tiny whimpers escaping your lips as he grazes your clit with his thumb. 

“Oh gosh” you moan, hitting the wall with your head again. 

“Yeah? Wait until you get a feel of my cock.” He is ruthless, making you come around his fingers without any warning, leaving you shocked, head resting against his collarbone. 

“Fuck…” It hits you like a freight train… 

“Now come here, I’ve got some places to go, can’t exactly stay here fucking you against that wall all night, can I?” He retreats his fingers from your pussy and you whine at the loss. His hands slide underneath your ass and he holds you up against the cracked wood. 

“Didn’t know you were a busy man” you say as you push your skirt out of the way again, blocking the fabric behind your back, and wrapping one of your legs around his waist, opening up for him. 

“I reckon I have my hands pretty full at the moment” he says, massaging your ass while the tip of his cock brushes against your pussy, up and down, up and down. He positions himself at your entrance, barely sliding the tip of his cock inside of your cunt. 

“You’re still so fucking tight” he groans as he pushes inside of you. You’re gasping for air, the burning stretch already making you whine. “I’ll go slow…don’t worry… then you’ll beg me to go faster”

“Arthur” you moan as he goes deeper, almost bottoming out. Another slow thrust and he fills you to the brim. You struggle to catch your breath, whispering his name again and again. 

Arthur tilts his head up, ready to move. “The hell are you crying for?” he asks, irritation tainting his voice. He isn’t even being that rough with you, not that he cares anyway. “Better not be about that orphan bullshit again” he warns, finally moving, bucking his hips into yours hard. You shout as he hits that deep spot inside of you, knocking the air out of your lungs. Your thighs are shaking, and it’s really hard for you to stay still. You suddenly regret not being spread out on a bed underneath him. 

“Noo no. It’s just too much…” you manage to say as he makes you bounce on his cock one, two, three times, your rear hitting against the wall with each thrust. You’ll get a bruise on your lower back, that’s certain.

“Am I hurting you?” He still asks, and you don’t hear any worry in his voice. It’s just a mechanical question. But he wipes the tears with his thumb as he presses open mouth kisses on your cheeks, sliding down your neck.

“No please…just…” you sob, feeling more tears running down your cheeks. You’re completely overwhelmed by the feeling of his cock pistoning in and out of your cunt.  “It feels so good. You feel so good inside of me… So full and I…”

“Yeah? Shall I keep going then?” He lets his hand tracing down your exposed stomach, brushing past your hipbone until he goes straight to your clit, drawing languorous circles there, pushing you closer to the edge.  

“Please…Don’t stop” You throw your head back against the wall again, lost in the feeling coursing through your whole body. Warm hot pleasure like you’ve never experienced before threatening to explode and leave you a complete mess on this stranger’s cock… 

Arthur’s ego inflates when he sees you closing your eyes. Maybe he shouldn’t trust a liar like you. You could have thought he would have learned his lesson by now. And maybe your tears are fake. But knowing that they’re the result of the pleasure he brings you makes him twitch inside of your cunt. 

He grips your waist harder, feeling your flesh jiggling in his hands, pulling out of your cunt just a little more… Just to hit you a little deeper with his next thrust. You don’t leave him the time to do so, impaling yourself on his cock, moaning so loud you’ll probably wake the whole town. But you don’t care, it’s like no one can hear you but him. 

“Oh gosh… Arthur… faster, I need you faster” you whine, feeling yourself getting closer. You grip the back of his neck and clash your mouth into his, biting his lips as you kiss him, the iron taste staining your tongue. His reaction comes quicker than you expected. A deep groan vibrates through his chest, and one of his hands spanks your ass cheek hard. You scream into his mouth, but the way you clench around his cock is everything he needs to know. He spanks you again and again, the sounds of skin slapping skin making the both of you completely feral. It flies through his mind again, that maybe all this is also part of your plans. Maybe you’re overdoing it a little, thinking that he will let you go with the money if you make him feel like the only man in the world. But you can’t feign the way you’re growing even wetter around his cock, the obscene sounds coupled with the moans of his name making his heart beat even faster. You can’t exaggerate the way your body shivers as he comes inside of your cunt, the way you can’t catch your breath as he stays inside of you, pushing his spent deeper with slow thrust. You can’t fake the sweetness of your last kiss, the way you slip your tongue inside of his mouth, letting the tip brush the little cut a second longer than a rough fuck against a wall with a stranger should allow. 

Who would have thought a game of blackjack could be so… entertaining? 

After a minute, Arthur finally finds the strength to part from you and looks away. He drops you back on the floor unceremoniously, and tucks himself back in his jeans. Your limbs are shaking, thighs muscle so sore you wonder if you won’t have to crawl out of this damned town. You try to put your dress back in place, to look more…appropriate for your train ride. But Arthur stretched the sleeves of your top while pulling on it to access your breasts… Now you’ll just have to wrap yourself in that big fur coat again. 

You glance at him as he passes his hand through his disheveled hair, a cigarette already burning between his lips. 

“Well miss… I should probably warn you to be careful with who you’re trying to scam. Next fella won’t be as… comprehensive as me…” He says before putting his hat on top of his head, and whistling for his horse. 

You just stand there and smile, having not found the strength to use your voice yet. 

“Good night” he mumbles as he jumps on his horse, disappearing through the night. 

“Good night Arthur Morgan” you whisper as you watch him go. 

Arthur Morgan… You think to yourself. The man that fucked you stupid against Rhodes’ Parlour House’s damaged wall. You pat your coat pockets to find your smokes, and realize without grand astonishment that you don’t have your money anymore… The son of a bitch. But he certainly isn’t a better thief than you are, that’s for sure. You walk back to the train station, rumpled, cursing yourself for coming so far away from your own town to scam people… At least you ain’t coming home empty handed. You hold the shiny golden necklace close to your chest, before sliding it in your coat pocket, where your new treasure joins the stack of dollar bills you robbed from that ruthless outlaw. That’ll teach him. 

The sun pierces through the crack of the walls in Arthur’s room. He overslept, and Shady Belle’s heat is already unforgiving. He feels hungover despite barely having a glass of whiskey. He runs his hand over his face, and winces as his thumb brushes over his split lip. The memory of your mouth against his, the way you moaned when he sucked on your tits, the way you fitted perfectly around him, the salted taste of your tears… It wasn’t all a dream, and it makes him grow hard instantly. But a woman like you is nothing short of dangerous, and he is glad you didn’t tell him your name. He won’t be tempted to find you. He stands up from his bed, walking with a heavy thread to his cupboard, rummaging through his satchel. He smiles when he feels the blackjack money in his hands. Last night was a double win for him, he got the money, and the lady. But when he walks out of his room, patting his vest pockets to look for the debts money, his smile changes into a deep scowl. What a fucking idiot. He has no idea how you pulled that one off… Now that he thinks about it, he wasn’t really paying attention to that envelope, too busy stealing from you and drinking up your moans. Maybe he could ask about you then, see if he can find you…

Because he really wants his money back.

Just the money this time. He promises himself as he drags his tired body back to bed, cursing when all he can see behind his closed eyes is the way you looked after he was done with you…

Not half as dumb as the others hm? He probably is the dumbest of them all. 

a/n: thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated 🫶🏼

[dilf-luvr-4evr]

I just read this again. Oh for no reason except to hurt myself 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😭😂

It’s like you purposefully aimed for my mundane fluff enthusiast heart. Dead center. I genuinely loved every paragraph 😔🤚 and he’s so NAUGHTY 🤭😩 “ain’t got no secret for my beautiful wife.” GET OUTTTTT!!!!!!!!! GET OUTT!!!!

Down to the waterline

summary: Arthur comes home from work and finds you writing near the river. pairing: husband arthur morgan x wife f!reader rating: mature word count: 2.5k warnings: none. It’s fluff. Kissing, and things getting a little handsy again, allusion to smut. Established relationship. Post rdr2 events. No tb no drama no sadness. Let’s say they both escaped the gang’s mess and live a peaceful life together. Mention of the Marstons living a happy life too. Reader isn’t described. Arthur pic is mine, the others are from Pinterest. English isn’t my first language, sorry for any mistakes.

a/n: to my precious @thedilfdiaries thank you for your love and for the sweetest words of encouragement about this story, and for your help with the ending, I love you ✨🩷. and a big thank you @dilf-luvr-4evr for your enthusiasm and support, love you honey 🫶🏼.

Jumping off his horse, Arthur grabs a couple of items wrapped in brown paper from his satchel and heads for the front door. He stopped by the general store on his way home, lured by the hunger of a man who spent 14 hours working on a railroad track, with so much as a cup of coffee, and some cheese in his stomach. He couldn’t resist the sight of fresh bread, canned peaches and chocolate. 

Your orchard isn’t producing much this year, a mysterious disease forcing the fruits to rot before they even start to grow. With the sweet peaches he sets on the table, almost knocking off the vase filled with lilies as he leaned down to smell what’s in the stirring pot, Arthur hopes you can bake a delicious cake. You told him multiple times you hated showing up empty handed at the Marston’s ranch… mumbling in vain all the way there that a couple of dead rabbits wasn’t really what you had in mind. Now this should make you happy, and that's the only thing that matters to Arthur. 

For so long, his only goal was to survive, making sure he wouldn’t get caught by the law, focusing on doing everything he could to avoid the inevitable tightening of a noose around his neck. But everything changed when you appeared on his path, and terrified to repeat his past mistakes, he immediately realized it wasn’t only about him anymore. And that you deserved better than this life. Fate forced him to make a choice between blinded loyalty leading him to a certain death or faith in a future he wasn’t sure he deserved yet. 

He chose you, fueled by your love and trust in him, something he still can’t quite believe in as he walks around the small house, realizing just now that he is scattering dried mud on the floor. But he doesn’t hear any admonition following an exaggerated exhale of his name.He smiles as he heads to the back door, picturing you slapping his arm in disapproval while pressing the softest kiss on his lips. 

The sun is setting behind the mountains, the air still warm with the memories of a sweet summer day, the last vigorous rays drawing a path of light through the grass, leading to you sitting underneath the sycamore tree by the river. Arthur approaches slowly, boots dragging down the dirt path, heart beating faster as he spots the brown fabric of your skirt first, half hidden by the trunk. As he gets closer with each step, you appear in front of him, hair untied, flowing in the light wind, skin glowing in the sun, eyes closed as if you are waiting for the wind to whisper all his secrets in your ear. He stops for a moment, admiring you, mentally chastising himself for not bringing his journal to draw you basking in the evening light. 

Soon he hears the nagging question running inside his head. How did he get so lucky? You would retort that there is no such thing as luck in this world, that it’s all about what God has written in his book. 

You tilt your head up, smiling as soon as your eyes land on him, closing the page of your notebook quickly, twisting a strand of hair around your useless pencil. 

"What’cha doing out here so late darlin’?"

Arthur crouches down next to you, hand resting behind your neck, his thumb brushing your skin gently. 

"I needed some sunlight." You murmur, tugging on his sleeve to force him to sit next to you. 

He surrenders, plopping down on the blanket you spread on the floor, preventing the humidity coming from the grass to reach your skin. You lay your head on his shoulder, linking your arm with his as he presses his lips on your forehead. 

"What are you hiding ?" His hand pats your skirt gently, searching for the item lost in the fabric. 

"Nothing. I missed you" you distract him by kissing him deeply, throwing your arms around his neck, the warmth of his lips against yours making you feel giddy. 

Arthur stumbles backwards, the solid trunk catching him in his fall, but you don’t part from him, following him down until your body rests against his strong one. 

The notebook falls next to his hand. Arthur slides it closer to him, and you realize what he is up to. A protest forms on your lips but before you can stop him, he grabs the book and holds it out of your reach, leaning over to kiss you back. 

"Arthur" you warn him as his mouth finally parts from yours. 

"I knew y’was hiding something. Are you drawing?"

You kneel between his parted legs, pushing up on his chest to try to reach his hand. But he leans backwards, almost dropping the book in the movement. 

You give up, snuggling against him instead, your head resting on his heart, the comforting beating beneath your cheek drawing a satisfied sigh out of you. 

"You know I can’t draw Arthur" you admit in a defeated tone. 

His left arm circles your back, pressing you closer to his side as he holds your notebook in front of you with his right hand, thumb pressed in the middle to keep it open. 

"I could teach you if you want" he offers, turning the pages mindlessly : a couple of dried leaves pressed between the paper, a lot of words he knows not to ask about for now. 

"You don’t have the patience for that" you chuckle, pressing a chaste kiss on his cheek, nose brushing against his beard. 

"I think I proved you more than once that I am a very patient man" he smirks proudly, making you want to wipe that smug look off his face. You smack his chest playfully instead, turning the pages of your notebook to reveal what you were working on. 

"It ain’t finish but… since you are so convincing"  

Arthur laughs at that, focusing on the words before his eyes. It’s a poem. He reads it silently, taking longer than you expected for a short piece like this. 

"So?" You ask nervously, almost regretting to let him see your unfinished works. 

Arthur just nods, turning the page and you block him immediately, slapping his wrist in a quick motion, the palm of your free hand glued to the page, hiding in some way the writing from his curiosity. 

"Why can’t I see that one too?" Arthur asks, a boyish smile adorning his face. He pinches your waist, and you involuntarily let go of the notebook, holding your sides while you laugh. 

“It’s not … it’s not good enough” you reply, face growing hot at the reminder of the words you laid on that page earlier...Words highlighting a moment of passion shared with your husband, the memory invaded your mind all day, and you thought that writing about the way his hands traveled on your skin would help tempering down your desire until he got back home.

"Come on… I let you read my journal all the time" he insists, waiting for your permission before focusing on the page again. 

You point at him with your index finger "You liar." 

"Alrigh’ it ain’t true.. But you can read any page you want if you let me see. It can’t be so bad darlin’. Why are you so shy about it?”

"I am not…Okay maybe I am a little shy… it’s just… well. You’ll see for yourself" You say as you take his hands in yours and open the notebook slowly, before hiding your face in his neck to avoid showing more signs of your embarrassment.

It’s silent for a long minute. Arthur’s eyes scan the page, and he feels the heat getting to him instantly. He gives you a look, and sees the way you are peering at your notebook, one eye open, the other closed against his chest. He smirks, before whistling loudly next to you.  

"Arthur don’t." You hide yourself again, chuckling awkwardly. 

“These are some… refined words” He jokes and takes a deep dramatic breath. 

Your heart stops. Arthur starts reading the first sentence, and you can clearly see the way it’s affecting him. But you don’t let him go too far. 

"Don’t!" Your hands fly to his mouth, in an attempt to block any words coming out of it. He laughs, the sound muffled by the palms of your hands, and suddenly bites the tender skin. You get your hands off his face, beaten, and hide again in his neck, eyes shut tightly, cringing at what he is about to read. 

He keeps silently reading this time, and when you feel his heart rate going faster, you open one eye, pushing your hand on his chest to look at him. He is blushing. 

"I ain’t surprised to read that I have that effect on you darlin‘" he says smugly.

"Who says it’s about you?" You tease with a smile, raising a brow. 

Arthur gives you an unimpressed look, something hiding behind the blue of his eyes, the remaining of a doubt that he isn’t good enough for you and that you deserve someone else to live this life with. Someone kinder, better. Despite all the two of you have been through, a part of him is still convinced that he makes everything uglier. 

"I am only joking with you" you reassure him, pressing a little kiss on his cheek. 

His eyes leave the pages to look at you. "Always told you you had a way with words darling." Arthur smiles.

"You like it?"

He hums. 

"Which one do you prefer?" You tease. 

"First one is beautiful. You could write a novel if you wanted"

"About what?" you scoff at this silly idea. 

"Anything…something historical, some small town drama…”

“Yeah? I have a better idea… what about… a gang of outlaws hiding in the swamps trying to escape the government…when suddenly one of the most trusted men disappear in the seas for days, leaving his soon to be wife at the pit of despair…" you recount theatrically, the memories no longer painful for either of you. 

"You think it’s funny don’t you?" Arthur cuts you off, his arm circling your upper back, shushing you by pushing you down on his chest. 

"Don’t worry cowboy, I prefer trying my hand at romance… I have plenty of experience." you jive, looking up at him, face resting a breath away from his, the tip of your nose touching his.

"Is that so ?" He whispers, slowly closing the gap between you, his mouth finding yours in a deep kiss. You part your lips and welcome his tongue inside, the notebook dropping next to him as Arthur brings his hands to the sides of your face, pushing your hair behind your ears. He takes complete control of the kiss, the familiar feeling of need burning low in your stomach. His heart is threatening to fly out of his chest as he hears a stifled moan vibrating in your throat. He tilts his head back, parting from you, trying his best to catch his breath. 

You stand up from the ground, smiling at him as he leans back on his hands, admiring you in the dying sun. After a moment, you shy under his gaze, holding out your hand to help him. Arthur stands up and grabs the blanket you were sitting on. 

“Between this kiss and what you wrote in your little poem… I reckon you could write about romance” he says as he grabs you by the waist. 

You laugh as you take the path back to your house, Arthur’s hands holding you close to him. 

“Got any shirts for me to mend?” You ask as you cross the threshold, the orange light of the sunset flooding the whole room. 

“What do you think I am doing all day? Picking up fights with the workers?” Arthur arms circles your waist and he forces you to turn around, peppering kisses on your face. You let your hands caress his body, suddenly stepping back.

“What’s this cut then?” You point out the torn fabric on his upper arm. 

Arthur’s head tilts down to look at the damage. “Got caught on a wired fence” 

“Hmm… let me remind you I know who I married mister Morgan” you affirm, proudly.

“Is that so?”  

“Hm hm. I know you crossed that house with your boots full of dirt too and you are only kissing me to distract me from this mess”

“Ain’t why I am kissing you darlin” he reassures you, crashing his mouth against yours, and pushing you against the edge of the dining table, bringing his hands on your ass, making sure you got the hint to where this is leading. 

You nod knowingly, and break the kiss to blindly grab his satchel resting behind your back, finally getting your hands on his precious journal. 

“Thought you would forget about that” Arthur sighs, still trying to divert you by swiftly opening the buttons on the back of your dress. 

“Nuh uh. Any page I want, you said?” 

“A deal’s a deal” he concedes, fingers retreating from your half opened dress. 

“Sure you don’t have anything to hide in there mister Morgan ?” 

“Ain’t got no secret for my beautiful wife” Arthur takes your hand in his and kisses the silver ring on your finger. 

The compliment makes your heart beat faster, and you struggle not to melt completely under Arthur’s loving gaze. You lean over, kissing him again, holding the journal in both your hands. 

“So… what do you want to read?” Arthur asks as he helps you down the table onto the little bench. 

“You know damn well what page I want to read again”

Arthur brings you closer to him on the bench, holding you against his side as he opens his journal on the day the two of you met. A drawing of your bloodied face, focusing on cleaning your gun appears next to a full page recollecting the moment the two of you just shared. First time meeting each other, narrowly escaping death already. 

“Would you read it to me?” You ask after a moment. The content of the page you know by heart sounds way better in his voice. 

Arthur sighs, pressing his chin to the top of your head, and starts reading, the first word written down that day being your name. You still shiver the same way you did the first time he repeated it after you saved his life.

The sun had set for a while when you finally closed Arthur’s journal. You read far more than a page, but it felt good to revisit all these memories together. A reminder of what you’ve overcome. 

Arthur is replaying your first encounter in his mind as he watches you marvel at the peaches he brought, already grabbing your cooking book and looking for a recipe. He smiles, appeased, knowing that you hadn’t just saved his life, that day in the desert. You had given him something worth living for. 

a/n: thank you so much for reading. Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated 🫶🏼

arthur morgan masterlist | arthur morgan fluff recs

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the scariest thing to come out of beaver hollow was jack's fascination with the skulls

(based off a video i saw on reddit 😭 i love how realistic that interaction was, because children are always strange lol)

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Hai everybody I have been hard at work 🙏 I’ve decided I won’t be participating in kinktober because I’m painfully vanilla and don’t think I could write for all the dirty, dirty kinks I have chosen 🧍‍♀️

Rather, I’ll be participating in flufftober!!! 🥰 Living up to “mundane fluff enthusiast” and also channeling the embers from a useless yearning once aflame 🚬 I am trying my best to just write no matter the outcome and I hope I successfully do all 31 prompts 🙏 Here is this week’s WIP Wednesday <3

His gaze was on your lips as he wet his own, tongue darting out. Like he was nervous. Like he had never seen anyone more beautiful. It made you chuckle before you could stop yourself.

"What?" He asked clueless, the hard edges of his voice hidden from your presence, eyes almost crossing on your mouth. You were giggling now, shaking your head. From the nerves, from how much his attention burned your insides. And he just smiled; that endearing crooked smile of his like he always did at the sound of your joy. Like he hadn't a single idea of what he does to you.

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Reading smut in the mall 🚬

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sadie adler x fem reader. slow dancing attempts. a little bit dramatic with the slightly angsty wlw wild west romance and lyric parallels but oh well.

the faint scent of gunpowder and sweat fills your nostrils. sadie smells like that most of the time these days. it doesn't bother you anymore.

you don't always get her at her best, for many reasons. she's been missing for a week on a job and now she's nursing a new wound. she's tired and only has a few minutes to spare before her temper or her exhaustion win out. worst, she's the woman you love and any extended time you do get to spend with her has to happen behind closed doors. you'd spend time with her anywhere, you think, if it just meant you could have her.

when you do get her, it's the kind of thing you'd swear historians will care about retelling one day. the same way people pass on folktales and mythology. society's ideals be damned, you know there's not a man alive or otherwise that could get your pulse thrumming so sweetly the way she can.

these are the moments you used to dream about when you were younger. the way her boots scuffle across the wooden floor, the way her tussled locks brush against your skin with your head leaning into the crook of her neck. sadie's hand slips around your waist and tugs you tighter against her body. "what're you doing?" the question leave your mouth in a soft mumble, lips already tugging in a small smile.

"dancin'," sadie grumbles, the tender look of focus on her face betraying the gruffness of her response. the still hug you were embraced in slowly turns into a gentle sway around the room as your own hands find her shoulder and her free hand, fingers looping together easily like every line and curve of your body had been carved to make room for her.

moonlight filters in through the window, peaking through the thin curtains and casting sadie's face in a murky glow. she’s achingly beautiful in these moments — handsome, even — the focused scowl on her face framed by sandy blonde hair, highlighting every little defined feature like a rough sketched drawing. you want to run your fingertips across every freckle on her face and the ridge of scarred skin above her eye.

it crosses sadie’s mind amidst the stillness that maybe things can start to feel like home again. she deserves it, you deserve it. can’t marry you in front of a preacher, might not be able to build you a house somewhere like other families, but she’d try for damn near anything that would you even a little bit happy.

she hasn't felt this way in a long time. or let herself feel this way, at the very least. and she certainly won't say it out loud, not on account of having done the whole being in love thing before and swearing that she's no longer any good with people. but you make it feel different. the way you treat her nice, the way you’re letting her dance you around the room with a twirl that’s less than perfectly coordinated.

there’s a future there, surely.

"i got plans, y'know," sadie mumbles the words against the side of your head, voice quiet like confession. the honesty of her words is punctuated with a spike in her pulse that she's almost certain you can feel as well. "for the long haul." before you can answer, she's pulling your arm up and away to pirouette your body in a slow turn. she wishes it wasn't just the moon watching you two right now, wants the whole damn world to look at how good she’s doing now. she’s got a pretty girl and she makes her happy.

that doesn't make the promise of plans from the outlaw any more tethered. sadie would keep her word to you until the last breath drawn from her lungs, but that won't change the ways of the world and the company she sometimes keeps on the job. you're pulled back against her chest by rough palms that snake around your waist from behind, her chin settling on your shoulder. it's hard not to believe her anyway.

her lips brush against the side of your neck, skimming over the sensitive skin before moving up, kissing your temple once. twice. a beat of silence passes. "i'll be here," you whisper softly. another mindless promise between you two. "always will." sadie's hands clench along with the tight feeling in her chest at the sound of your response, slender fingers curling into her own palms instead of grabbing at the meat of your waist inadvertently.

you've slipped your way into her life. slow, like water through floorboards. carved your place in her heart and settled there despite her initial denial of her feelings. the worst is behind her, she hopes. nothing new on the horizon except for the love wrapped up in her arms.

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Red Dead Redemption

summer heat

fluff. you get caught gawking at Arthur. some maiden you are.

I am a collapsing star with tunnel vision (but only for you)

fluff, hurt/comfort, smut (at the end)

head - you give Arthur head. that's it that's the post

two dollars, a hat, and a dime - you know the rule. take the hat? ride the cowboy. well, Arthur isn't actually sure if you do.

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two dollars, a hat, and a dime - arthur morgan x reader

The first time you did it, Arthur didn't even think you were thinking what it meant.

He'd been helping with the firewood when you had passed from behind him, and you'd mumbled out his name in a quick greeting before pausing, and as Arthur had started turning around to ask if you needed something, you'd already taken what you needed.

"Thanks." You hum, taking his hat from his head under the blazing heat of the sun, fanning your face with it a few times before you pop it on your head and head off with the bucket to fill up the camp bath.

He turns around just in time to see the sway of your hips as you walk down to the lake, his hat sitting on your head as he processes what you've just done.

what.

He's certain you're slightly more aware of what it meant the second time you do it — it had been some time since you had, after all. You'd apologized for taking his hat without thinking twice, returning it to him after you'd finished filling the bath, placing the hat back on his head. He'd nodded without word, worried the strain in his voice would cause you to glance at the matching strain in his pants.

The second time it happened, the two of you had been in town. He'd been picking out new clothes, and you'd needed a new hat.

He'd watched you as you'd taken his hat from the barber's hat rack, waving at Arthur without looking back.

"'m gonna borrow that real quick!"

He doesn't move, worried the barber'll mess up his hair and sighs.

"Does the—"

"I'm not sure."

Sure enough, a day later, you'd shown up with a similar hat to his, your name carved into the inside of the accessory when you'd shown him with a quick bow and nod.

"Looks good, sweetheart." He nods, tipping his hat in reciprocation. "Y'gotta stop stealing my hat, though."

"Why?" You reach up to flip his hat off his head as you pop yours onto his head, and he sighs.

"Y'know the saying?"

"I'd owe you well over three rides at this point." You tilt your head, and he sucks in a breath of air through his teeth.

"'s that an invitation?"

You grin up at Arthur, head tilted as you press two fingers to his belt.

"That's for you to find out."

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Helpp why did I just found out my go to divider maker (bernardsbendystraws) was an adult coercing sexual discussions with minors 😭😭😭😭🤚 YUCK YUCK thank God I havent posted any fics w her dividers yet YUCKK

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BEFORE YOU READ: consider donating to Palestinian families in need here.

𐚁 — 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐰 | 𝐬. 𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐫

song: charlotte — hope sandoval & the warm inventions

summary: with rage and vengeance sweltering in her heart, love is something distant to sadie now. she’s still sweet on you, though — but only ever under the amber hue of lantern-light, stretched upon dusty sheets.

warnings: 18+ mdni. smut and a little bit of angst. porn with little to no plot, afab fem reader, fingering (r! receiving), tiniest amount of nipple play, semi-public sex (?? they’re in a tent so…), she puts her fingers in your mouth, pet names used (honey, seeetheart, darling). mentions of sadie’s past marriage and grief, canon timeline, mentions of guns, mentions of violence and death. kind of sad??? not proofread

a/n: this one’s dedicated to @catfern because without her i never would’ve played rdr2 🫡

Her heart is buried elsewhere, among the kindlings of her old life. What tender creature that laid inside that chest of hers remained where it was broken, beneath the ashes of home and husband.

You knew this when you first saw Sadie; her eyes wide, fearful pools that drank in ambery flame-light. You knew it when she arrived back at camp one day, the nagging sorrow evolved into something with teeth; the tang of gun smoke clung to her shirt and her slender hands were caked in the grit of a sin you didn’t wish to know the details of.

You’re aware of it even now, sprawled across tattered sheets and peering up at her in the warm glow of a single lantern. The same eyes and hands that tear open early graves in the daylight are now preoccupied with you; sweetly. Warmly.

The honey blonde tangle of her hair brushes against your collarbone as she leans over you, her lust-heavy gaze appraising you from top-to-toe. So close, you can smell the bite of gunpowder and the dry sweetness of hay lingering on her dusty clothing. There’s always a lick of danger that surges, electric, up from beneath her surface.

But she is never jagged with you. Her holsters lay like half-forgotten mementos, the gleaming handles of her guns glinting for attention but garnering none of it from her.

Revenge seemed a distant call now as her coarse fingertips kissed up your sides, slipping up the curve of your hips to the crook of your waist. Her skin is searing against the air-cooled body beneath it, and she can’t quite reel back the smile that graces her lips when you melt, so instantaneously, at the sensation.

It felt good for somebody to offer her all-encompassing trust again. To wish for her touch, to crave it and to respond so earnestly, even if no drum of love beat within this heady rhythm.

Her hands ghosted over your ribs, sprawling as they ascended to the supple flesh of your breasts. Your breath hitches in the back of your throat as the pads of her thumbs brush over your already stiff nipples, back arching like a branch in the breeze, bowing towards her.

Sadie laughs at this, and the sound is as warm as milk and honey on a drowsy night. It runs down the notches of your spine, balmy as it pools in the centre of your core. Repining fingers hook into the knotted teal neckerchief she’s wearing, and she tuts as you pull her body closer.

“Patience, honey,” she attempts to chide, but the word left her half-heartedly. When has she ever been patient?

The ghost of teeth and tongue graze over your neck, hot air tickling as she tugs at the buds on your chest. Softly at first, then harder, until your body sings shakily with a want for more.

One hand traces a fiery path south. Down, down, down, until she is met with it; silken and soaked, welcoming her so sweetly.

Something hybrid and base, a laugh twisted up in a sigh, leaves her lips. She parts your folds gently, the sound already obscene despite her feathery touch. Your hips lift off the sheet, a beckoning.

She wastes little time as she slides two fingers into your velvety walls, kissing a butterfly trail up your jaw as she does.

The speed of her movements is melodious with the grinding of your hips, the near-blinding desire for more of her, any of her. They reach deep and heavenly, ambrosial pleasure sliding thick through your veins as she curls pumps them in and out.

Her lips find their way to your hair, and they whisper honeyed praises into it, a cooing chorus of sweetheart’s and that’s it in the guitar-stringed voice you have come to adore. She pecks your temple and your quivering brow as your cunt flutters around her digits.

Your moans crest the quietness of the night, soaring to a crescendo as you shudder beneath her. Sadie clicks her tongue. It’s too late, too crowded, in the camp. Although she doubted any of those crooked folks would mind, a part of her wants this sliver of heaven for her own selfish self.

“Shh, shh,” she breathes against the shell of your ear. The hand that was on your chest now hovers above your agape mouth. “Gotta keep quiet, darlin’.”

You feel the pads of two fingertips skim along the bitten-red lips and you know just what to do. You take her middle and ring finger into your mouth, the corners of your lips slick with drool as you suck on them.

The sight of you, with eyelids flickering and velvet tongue laving over her rough skin, makes her own cunt throb in her trousers. Debauched, all for her…

She curls her fingers inward as her thumb joins the symphony, rubbing tight, determined circles on the swollen bundle of nerves above. She’s set on it now; seeing you come undone on her fingers, a mass of shivering limbs and saccharine bliss. She needs it.

Her fingers in your mouth twitch on your tongue as you slur worshipping words around them. Cool metal presses against your chin, an added layer to your ecstasy. Her wedding ring, glinting beneath the obscenity of your lips.

You crack open your bleary eyes to look at her as the pressure roils within you, threatening to break. Chestnut eyes, half-lidded, stare back, and a blush blooms from her golden nape up to her sharp-lined cheekbones.

In this lighting, beneath the haloing glow, with her tousled waves slipping from her plait and her rosy skin, you could imagine it. Loving her. Being loved by her.

Your peak washes over you, crashing over you like frothy ocean waves. Your body trembles beneath her roaming gaze. She doesn’t stop, not until the tremors pass, until your voice quiets around her fingers.

When her fingers slip out from within, Sadie lets you reach for her. She doesn’t protest when you pull her close and she doesn’t move when your limbs tangle with hers.

Chest-to-chest and hip-to-hip, your breath evening out as she traces a finger across your swollen bottom lip. Kissing your forehead, even as the sheen of gold on her left finger is a reminder of why she shouldn’t.

Yes, her heart is a burnt, battered thing. But it still exists, doesn’t it?

In the hushed aftermath, she thinks she feels something. Weak, hesitant, but a heartbeat nonetheless.

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Thank you for the comments WAAA but also also like imagine how funny it would be if arthur made a cameo it would be like omg I chose you in a different life 😔🤚 and now he’s just walking by lmao

Soooo tempted to make a sadie adler series where it’s just self insert and the yearning works out 🥀🥀🥀

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Soooo tempted to make a sadie adler series where it’s just self insert and the yearning works out 🥀🥀🥀

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my country is strong is all I will say 😭 laughing through all this mess and even making it funny 😭🥀 blessed are the people who fight for our rights 🫶🫶🫶

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