#Arthur Morgan x wife reader

[viharbinger]

A Proper Husband

To Know: wife!reader is shorter than Arthur , fluff and fluff only mwuah

When Arthur came back to the camp from the mayor's party in St Denis, you were all over him. His hair was combed, his suit was tailored nicely, everything you didn't think your mud loving husband could become.

He came back a few hours after dinner and you gasped at the mere sight of him. "Who is this handsome, proper and dressed up fellow?" You gush, walking up to him to adjust his blazer. He chuckles as a response, standing still so you could admire him longer. "Your husband, ma'am." He clears his throat and plays along, ears warm and stomach tingly from the sudden affection.

"Ah! And you combed!" You gush even more, pulling his tall stature down to press kisses all over his face, tickled by his stubble. And he squints everytime you brush your lips near his eyes. You're just not used to seeing him all cleaned up for a party, the last time you did was your wedding and unfortunately, it only lasted for a while!

"Get a room." John sneers as he walks past the two of you. You finally stop kissing him and cup his face gently. You were about to say something again but the setting was just perfect. Javier was singing and playing his guitar, and everyone in camp was either getting ready for bed or dancing with one another.

"I would love to be danced by a suited man once in a while." You grin cheekily, tip toeing your fingers up his shoulder. He laughs as a response, quick to grab your hands on his shoulder to bring you closer to the source of the music.

You both swung with each other, danced left and right, maybe stepped on one another's foot once or twice and tracked dirt all over his expensive dress pants. But at least you had a great time with the love of your life. And it's not often you see your husband in a clean getup!

And so, your night consisted of countless kisses and giggles, dancing and singing. You couldn't have had it any other way.

[emmcfrxst]

arthur is definitely the type of guy to say “let me ask my wife” whenever someone says something which doesn’t even involve his wife in any way like he is such a husband ykwim? once he is in love that man is infatuated fr fr

SOOOOOO TRUE he is SUCH a wife guy he will take literally any opportunity to remind everyone that you’re his wife pls 😭 he uses the term more often than he does your name when in conversation with other ppl he’s like “oh yeah my wife—“ and everyone at camp just sighs heavily because here he fuckin goes again

[woman-of-balnain]

Hey was just wondering if you could do one for Arthur being in the saloon and his wife is also there and the guys he’s with are teasing him about how single he is and Arthur’s like bet I can get the girl to leave with me and there like there is no way in hell that woman would leave with you but she’s his wife and Arthur downs his drink and walks up to his wife like hello gorgeous, how would you like to ride home on a real cowboy I got a six pack of cold ones and my roomie is out all night so you can scream my name as loud as you need to sugar and they walk out together and everyone’s gobs smacked and the readers like will you just stop and tell people I’m your wife and Arthur’s like nah I love the surprise on there faces when the see a beautiful woman like you wants to date me plz

Masterlist | A03 Ver.

Title: The Fine Art of Flirtatious Conversation

A/N: So, I hope this is okay, anon! I got from the tone of the request that it was supposed to be funny but I’m not the best at comedy hahah still, I tried and I thought it’d be funny if Arthur purposely used really bad pickup lines on the reader lol but yeah don’t take it too seriously I guess? 😅

Requests are still open, so feel free to send them through if you have any 😊

Warnings: Really bad pickup lines? 😂 No use of Y/N / Reader's name etc.

Word Count: 1,662

Divider by: newlips

Arthur was walking through camp and thinking about you. He headed for his horse, your letter tucked safely away in his satchel and he was about to head into town. The sun was hanging low in the sky and it wouldn’t be long before dusk hit.

He had asked you to meet him, since he was close by to where you lived and he’d been missing you something fierce. Now that he knew you’d made it into town, he was looking forward to some quiet time, just the two of you. And he planned to make up for the period you’d been apart, letting the rest of the world fall away while he reacquainted himself with you and -

“Arthur, where ya headin’ off to?” A thick Irish accent interrupted his thoughts.

Arthur inwardly groaned as Sean came up to him, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with intrigue.

“Nowhere, just into town,” Arthur reluctantly revealed.

“Yer goin’ to the saloon, I bet,” Sean correctly assumed. “I’ll come wit’ ya.”

“No-”

But it was too late and Arthur sighed as Sean called out to the others.

“Who wants to have a drink, fellers? Arthur’s payin’ fer the first round!”

“What-”

“Sure, I’ll come,” John piped up.

“Yeah,” Javier added quietly. “I could use a drink.”

Great.

But then Arthur saw Uncle about to chime in and he definitely wasn’t having that fool interrupt his plans too.

“Hurry it up then,” he told the others. “I ain’t waitin’ for you.”

He approached his horse and was quick to mount up into the saddle. Thankfully, the three tagalongs were quick enough to do the same before Uncle could manage to get off his ass and make a case to join them as well. As they rode out of camp and headed for town, with Sean talking their ears off the entire time, Arthur lamented over his spoiled plans with you.

When they entered the saloon, you hadn’t arrived yet. Leaning on the bar with the others, Arthur begrudgingly paid for the first round. Then, when the doors of the saloon swung open again, every pair of eyes in the room seemed to fall on your figure as you stepped inside.

Your own eyes, however, fell straight onto him and a smile began to curve up at the corners of your lips. Arthur just gave a subtle shake of his head and he didn’t miss the way you seemed to let out a sigh, but you still played along, looking away from him. Sean was quick to sidle up to you when you came to the bar, intending to order some food.

“Well, love, yer a pretty thing ain’t ya?”

Arthur watched from the corner of his eye as you gave Sean a disinterested glance.

“Let me buy ya a drink,” Sean continued. “I’ll show ya a good time.”

So, now you’re payin’? Arthur inwardly grumbled.

“No, thank you,” was your simple, but polite reply.

Your food was placed on the counter then and you took it before walking off to sit at one of the tables. Sean watched you with a look of shock, as if he’d never been turned down before (he definitely had) and Arthur couldn’t help but let out a light laugh.

“You’ve gotta ease into it,” Javier advised the young Irishman. “Take your time, not try and get under her skirt in the first five minutes.”

“That’s bullshit,” John cut in. “I’ll bet she’s just got enough sense to stay away from a feller like you, Sean.”

“I’ll have you know,” Sean argued. “The ladies have never complained before.”

“Not to your face at least,” Javier snickered.

Arthur couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as well and the smile never left his lips because he knew the real reason you’d turned the poor kid down. You’d never once, ever since meeting Arthur, had eyes for anyone else. Let alone even harmlessly flirted with another man. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little bit smug about it.

“What‘s so funny, English?” Sean turned to Arthur. “Think ya could do better, eh?”

“I know I can, boy,” Arthur replied calmly.

“When was the last time you had a woman, Arthur?” John smirked. “Let alone chatted one up. D’you even know how anymore?”

“Shut up,” Arthur groused.

“Go on then,” the Irishman challenged him further. “Give us a show, Morgan. We’ll see who’s laughin’ then.”

“Sure,” Arthur downed the rest of his whiskey and stepped away from the bar. “Pay attention, kid. You might actually learn somethin’ useful.”

You looked up as Arthur walked over to you and if it wasn’t for his unexpected and unwanted audience, he’d have dragged you off back to your hotel room by now. You looked so damn beautiful, and all you were doing was sitting there and minding your own business. Arthur sat down in the chair across from you and watched as you rested your chin in one of your hands, appraising him curiously.

“Can I help you, mister?” You asked him.

Good, you were still playing along.

“Do you remember me?” Arthur asked, loudly enough for the three gang members to hear.

You raised an eyebrow, obviously wondering if he was being serious or still playing at his ruse of not knowing you.

“Oh, that’s right,” Arthur continued. “I’ve only met you in my dreams.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, covering your mouth with your hand quickly to stifle it. Arthur just grinned, knowing how ridiculous he sounded, but that was the point he was trying to prove.

“You religious, miss?” He went on, loving the mirth in your eyes and the way you tried to hide your own smile.

“Why?” You asked, stifling another giggle.

“Because you’re the answer to my prayers.”

He heard Sean let out a cackle of a laugh at his expense, but paid it little mind.

“Ar-” you caught yourself quickly. “Uh, you have quite the way with words, mister…"

Arthur could tell that you were wondering when he would let up, but he wasn’t quite done yet. He was purposefully making a fool of himself, to show that it didn’t matter what he said, because in the end he would be the one you walked out of the saloon with.

“You got a map, darlin’?” He asked you.

“No…” you bit your lip to suppress another laugh. “Why?”

“Because I just got lost in your eyes.”

You couldn’t help it and let out a string of uncontrollable giggles. Arthur just smiled warmly at you, loving the sound. When you’d calmed down enough to speak again, your own gaze softened as you looked at him.

“Let’s get out of here,” you suggested quietly, so only Arthur could hear.

“What’s that?” He asked, louder than necessary. “You got a hotel room we can use?”

You just nodded with amusement, but it was clear that you were eager for some time alone with him. So, Arthur stood up and came around to your side of the table, holding his hand out to you like a gentleman. You accepted it and once you were standing, he linked your arm with his.

As you both walked past Sean, Javier and John, he didn’t miss the opportunity to glance at them. All three looked absolutely gobsmacked, but none more so than Sean.

“She turned me down, but fell for that?” Sean muttered incredulously.

Arthur couldn’t help the shit-eating grin that spread across his lips, but he just continued to lead you out of the saloon and head for the hotel. Once you were out on the street, you tugged a little on his arm and Arthur turned his head to look at you.

“What was that about?” You asked him, evidently confused.

“What?”

“You could’ve just told them that I’m your wife.”

“Nah, darlin’,” he gave you an affectionate smile. “I love the way people react when they find out a woman like you wants to be with me.”

You couldn’t help the smile that curved up on your own lips, but it didn’t make sense to you.

“Wouldn’t they still react like that if they found out we’re married?” You questioned.

“Maybe, but it’s more fun this way, darlin’.”

“If you say so…”

“Somethin’ wrong, sweetheart?” He asked.

Arthur stopped and turned to look at you, picking up on the fact that you seemed a little down all of a sudden.

“No, just… you’re not embarrassed of me, are you?”

“What? Course not, darlin’.”

You looked back towards the saloon, noting that his friends could still see you both through the window.

“Prove it then,” you brought your gaze back to Arthur’s.

“Wh-?”

You didn’t give him a chance to finish his question before you were grabbing on to the lapels of his jacket and pulling him to you. Arthur’s lips met yours and then his arms were wrapping around you and holding you close. You’d missed him like crazy, so feeling him kissing you again was like heaven.

Arthur kept it gentle and chaste at first, but when you wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed yourself harder against him, he deepened the kiss and groaned into your mouth. The coarse hair on his cheeks and around his lips tickled your skin, but the feeling brought you back to every other time his lips had caressed different parts of your body.

When he eventually pulled away, it was only slightly and Arthur pressed his forehead against yours. His hands were holding onto your waist and his fingers traced patterns tantalizingly across your skin, through the material of your skirt.

“I missed you, darlin’,” he told you softly.

“I missed you too,” you smiled happily. “Come on, let’s go make use of that hotel room.”

As Arthur took your hand in his, he could’ve sworn that he heard another loud comment ring out from the saloon, spoken in a thick Irish accent.

“That shite really worked!”

[abagoforeos]

Arthur Morgan

That is. That's the post.

[cowboyfromh3ll]

You know how in the epilogue John works on Mr Geddes ranch and the wife invites him inside the house (basically hinting at you know what) well that sparked an idea for a request. Could you do an Arthur fic where the reader is in a similar situation where she isn’t on good terms with her husband and she knows he’s cheating on her so after Arthur starts working on their farm she takes a liking to him and they have sex.

Sugar On My Tongue

(Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Smut)

FINALLY UPLOADING A ONE SHOT YALL

Warnings: smut, infidelity

You found it hilarious that people thought you and your husband were the perfect couple based solely on looks. During the celebration following your wedding, his brother loudly and drunkenly declared just how attractive the two of you were, “a genetic match made in heaven.” he said, his words slurring together with noticeable envy. Later that night, his brother would have attempted to put a hand on your ass before throwing up in the grass behind your ranch. 

The two of you were needlessly attractive, and in your days working as a handmaid, you would have bragged endlessly about what a catch you got. Your fellow handmaids would’ve also raved on about just how good-looking he was, expressing their jealousy through lighthearted jokes. The wealth he possessed was another determining factor of your marriage to him. You supposed marrying him was worth it for his massive ranch alone. However, the real problems began just mere months after your wedding ceremony. What should have marked a beautiful beginning to your lives together quickly deteriorated into something else. 

The ring on your husband's finger didn’t seem to slow the frenetic pace at which he flirted with women and picked them up, never in the comfort of your own home but under the guise that he was headed into town to take care of business. You often wanted to argue back that all the business that needed doing was here on the ranch, but you did not want to risk your life of comfort. Part of you learned to put up with it only because it meant you could sit around all day, spend your husband's money, and watch loads of sweaty men work around your ranch. In the same vein as your husband's infidelity, his time away from the ranch meant being able to flirt with the ranch hands subtly. 

You were well aware of how attractive you were and were more than well aware that the ranch hands thought the same of you. You’d feel their leering gazes whenever you bent over to pick something up, the whole world suddenly stopping behind you just to stare at your ass. You found enjoyment in the act of undoing the top buttons of your shirt to expose your cleavage before heading out the doorway of your home, looking straight ahead while doing your best strut past the working hands. You would smirk openly as you heard their chatter between each other die down and fall silent, feeling all their eyes transfer to you as you walked past. Once you were several feet away, you’d hear the low whistles of the men, followed by their lewd comments: “She’s smoking hot.” “If I had a wife like her, hell, I’d be home all the time.” “Too bad she’s married to the ranch owner.” 

You knew this was the mindset you had to conquer in Arthur’s mind. In your conquest of the new aforementioned ranch hand, you had to rid him of the idea that what you were doing was wrong; it’d appear more as taboo flirting than actual infidelity. Arthur could also be described as needlessly attractive. He seemed to highlight every aspect that made up exactly what it was that you loved so much about your ranch hands: his sultry low drawl, his big arms with bulging biceps that would flex from any form of strain, his rough hands, callused from all the work he had done in his life, his full beard that he’d occasionally trimmed down to a fine stubble, and his wonderfully welcoming gentle blue eyes that contrasted every other bit of his begin. The sweat on his skin made him appear glossy and slick, and you’d taken a liking to the fantasy of licking his entire body clean of it. The perfect cherry on top.

At times you wished your urges for the man would remain dormant, but the silent cries from between your legs were hummed just loud enough that you were constantly aware of them; like a soundtrack to whatever it was you were trying to do with Arthur. And every time you ventured outside your ranch home, you’d spot Arthur in the distance, splashing his face with water and watching the way the droplets of water raced down his jaw and neck to see which was lucky enough to make it under the collar of his shirt first. Other times you’d see him shoveling dirt or hay, and you’d focus solely on the way his hands and arms worked. Your favorite was being able to watch him heave large sacks over his shoulders, often multiple at once. By the end of the day, the scent of Arthur’s sweat as he stood by you or walked past you was so pungent that it clung to your nostrils and made you dizzy with desire. 

You clung onto the hope that during one of these encounters, you might come across the best scenario possible: Arthur fixing a fence at noon when the sun was highest in the sky, freckles of blown dirt sticking to his sweaty shirtless torso, his dirt-stained denim jeans hanging lowly on his hips; one tug away from freedom. Your husband gone. In that case, you might be able to stumble across his working form and feign concern for his sunburnt skin. Would he mind taking a break? Allowing you to take him into your home for a cold glass of water? You’d been in the sun all day, you were both likely parched.

Your greatest bouts of confidence came during moments when you were able to find yourself alone with Arthur. You knew seducing any of the other ranch hands would be ridiculously easy, but Arthur had a little resistance to him, and you loved a little challenge. You pounced on the opportunity to talk to Arthur when you saw him standing inside the stables, soaked in sweat from head to toe while trying to evade the sun’s harsh rays in the shade provided. You saw him wipe his sweat off on the back of his sleeve, feeling as though it was a blatant misuse of a precious resource. ‘No!’ you wanted to shout ‘Don’t wipe it off! Let me clean it off you!’ 

“Real hot today isn’t it, Mr. Morgan?” You sauntered up behind Arthur, leaning your weight on the door of one of the stables. He pitched his pitchfork against a wall and turned back before smiling politely at you. 

“Certainly is, Miss. Why ain’t you inside, huh? You could get sunburnt.” Arthur warned, which you found incredibly endearing. It could’ve been just a simple show of concern, but you believed it to be far more than that. It sounded more to you like a declaration of love. 

“I just like making my rounds around the ranch, taking nice walks. It is my ranch after all.” You reminded. You found that an admonition of your position of power around here would cement you as someone with far more influence than any of your hands. It proved effective, as Arthur began nodding in understanding. 

“Right, my apologies, Miss.” He said, bowing his head slightly. 

“No need to apologize, say, do you wanna come into the house for a cold beer? Sure seems like you need to cool off.” Not just a beer, a cold beer. You had a way with words. How many hours had Arthur worked in the field, the skin of his back stinging from cruel sunburns while his vision blurred from his own sweat dripping into his eyes, parched beyond any relief the tepid tap water could provide, dreaming of a really cold beer? You shifted your weight onto one hip and allowed a small smirk to crawl onto your face. You began to shed all polite pretenses as you looked Arthur up and down, reveling in the way his body noticeably tensed. You weren’t being too forthcoming, but just enough that if Arthur decided to come onto you, you’d be doing him a great favor by entertaining his advances. 

“I don’t think I should, Miss, I-”

“Nonsense! You live on this ranch, after all, I see no harm in stepping inside my house. Especially since I’m allowing it.”

Arthur looked at you hesitantly, then quickly around him as if he didn’t want anyone to see him talking to you. Arthur wasn’t oblivious to the fact that every single ranch hand found you attractive, as well as himself. He just didn’t want to receive an endless stream of questioning as to why and what he was talking to you about. 

“If you insist.” He said, removing his hat from his head and following you out the stable. 

“I’m more than happy to.” You smiled, blithely patting his shoulders before sliding your hand down his arm. You passed it off with clueless laughter, shivering at the feeling of his eyes on your backside. Arthur fiddled with his fingers as he followed you up the path to your house. The glaring sun made the green grass appear brighter, creating a luminous passage toward salvation. 

The sounds of your footsteps up the wooden porch pulled him out of a trance he didn’t realize he was in. Arthur looked up at you from the bottom of the steps, still hesitant to make his way up. You looked down at him from where you stood, reveling in the faux height difference that made you far taller than he was; you felt half god to his mortal. 

“Come on,” You beckoned. “It’s just my house.” You shrugged and smiled, your lips twitching in an attempt to hold back a smirk. Arthur took one last cautionary glance around before finally making his way up. You opened the door and allowed Arthur to walk in first, stepping inside afterward with a large smile. The sound of the metal clanking as the bolt shut into place felt like a small kick in your loins that spurred you on in your pursuit. 

Arthur stood awkwardly in the center of the living area as he looked around. He became hyper-aware of his limbs, his arms hovering over his torso, unsure what to do next. You walked past him and smiled at him, motioning with your hand for him to follow you. 

You led him to your ornately papered kitchen, making a show of bending over in front of him to retrieve the box of chilled beers below the counter. You set the heavy box down on the table, digging a beer out, and popping the lid off on the corner of the table. Froth rose from the beer bottle, sliding over your hand and soaking the skin. Arthur watched, as if hypnotized, as the foam slid over and dripped onto your floor. He swallowed hard and squinted his eyes, the kitchen window behind you draping you in a soft sheet of sunlight as you eclipsed it; only adding to your godly image. Your movements seemed to play in slow motion as you stretched your arm out and handed Arthur the beer. Every turn or twitch of a limb felt somnambulant, his arm feeling like a sandbag as he lifted it and took the beer from your dainty hand. 

The condensation, combined with Arthur’s nerves, caused the bottle to slip from his hand and crash on the floor. The shattering sound caused Arthur to snap out of his daze, as thought it more some sort of anecdote to the hypnosis he was under. 

“Oh, Miss, I’m so sorry.” Arthur crouched down and began gathering the large pieces of glass in his hand, afraid of the possibility that if he looked up, he might see your disappointed face. Being able to step inside your home to be able to enjoy a cold beer already felt like a blessing. You bent down in front of him, placing your lithe hands on his wrists. He looked up at you, swallowing hard and preparing for any chastising he would receive. But it never came. 

“It’s okay. I’ll clean it up. It’s my fault anyways, I should’ve wiped it down before I handed it to you.” Normally, Arthur would have argued back, but he seemed to fall under your spell again. It was as if against his own will, he let the glass side from his palms onto the ground again and rose. You looked up at him with a smile, still kneeling before him. Arthur felt his cock twitch. 

“Why don’t you go sit down at the table over there? I’ll get you a new beer.” You smiled a bit longer, watching for any signs of refusal before getting back to cleaning up the mess. You waited for the view of Arthur’s boots to disappear from your peripheral before you decided to dispose of the glass in the trash. You turned your back to retrieve another beer, hearing the scrape of a chair against the floor. You took the opportunity to unbutton two extra buttons from your shirt so that it hung open and exposed some cleavage. You expected him to stare at you as you spoke inane details about how the ranch was doing in terms of business, then you could act surprised that his gaze had med your open shirt and possibly get a confession that he was indeed looking at your chest—information you’d pretend to find so overly flattering you’d offer to give him an even better look. 

The moment you turned around to face him, beer and bottle opener in hand, you caught his eyes flickering to your chest before quickly looking away. You would’ve passed it off as sneaky if not for the fact you were actively seeking for him to look. You walked closer, grinning widely and continuing to approach him until you stood closely next to where he sat, perhaps too close for comfort. Your hip bone brushed against his arm, something you pretended not to notice—you also pretended not to notice the way he shifted in his seat, trying his best to keep his gaze on the table. 

You popped the cap off the bottle, handing it to Arthur and ensuring he had a firm grasp on it. Arthur thanked you quietly before taking a sip. For the first time since Arthur entered your home, he felt comfortable and almost content as he sipped the beer. He took a large swig, his nerves washed away by the golden liquid as he allowed himself to slump in his chair. It was almost enough to make him forget that you still stood closely by his side, your hip pressed into his tricep at this point. 

Arthur continued to drink, trying to ignore the satisfied smile on your face that bordered on unnerving. He nearly dropped the bottle again when he felt your hand slide onto his shoulder before giving it a heavy and firm squeeze, full of intent. He nearly convinced himself he was hallucinating, hesitant to look up. Was this all just a mirage he had dreamt up, brought about by the scorching heat? But as your hand slid down to his firm bicep, delivering a gentle squeeze, it was confirmed to him that this was real. 

“Miss… What are you doing?” Despite having downed an entire bottle of beer, Arthur’s throat became instantly dry. He finally willed himself to look up at you, a chill wracking through his body when he made eye contact with your icy eyes. Eyes colder than any drink you could offer him, and it suggested that perhaps, you had something that could quench his thirst better than any drink as well. 

“Why don’t we celebrate a little more?” You swiped your tongue over your bottom lip, maintaining that same innocent smile. But the two of you were beyond the point of ignorance for what this was leading to; all it would take for this to escalate was for someone to say it. 

Your other hand slid around his shoulder, both of your hands coming to knead at his shoulders. You skillfully worked the muscles in his shoulders, making occasional comments about how hardworking he must be in order to be this tense. Meanwhile, Arthur sat in his seat, trying to weigh out in his head whether this was okay or if this was already too far. How much farther would this get? Would it go beyond the point of being able to say he didn’t engage in adultery? How long would your husband be gone for? Would he find out? You could say Arthur came onto you and he’d have no reason not to believe you. 

“Miss, I really don’t think I should be here anymore.” He didn’t turn to face you, occupying himself with playing with the bottle. 

“Why not?” 

Arthur was unsure of how to proceed. There was no way he was reading your signals wrong. You were feeling his chest up at this point, and so far, he’d made no movements to get your hands off of him. He’d be lying if he said part of him didn’t enjoy this. But what if he was reading this wrong? But how could he? It couldn’t have been more in his face. 

“Well, you’re… married…” He finally mustered up. Being reminded of your husband at a time you were supposed to be enjoying yourself nearly drove you to anger. You rolled your eyes and scoffed, confirming something in Arthur’s head. 

“Let’s not be dumb here.” There was a sudden seriousness in your voice that made Arthur nervous. “I’m tired of looking dumb to everyone on the farm while my husband goes out and fucks some birds in town.” You squeezed Arthur’s shoulder and moved around his body to face him now. Perhaps it was your honesty or your assertiveness, but not much else needed to be said. There was a sacred moment of understanding between the two of you that did not need to be verbalized. 

When your husband later found out, you wouldn’t have been able to recount to him the details of the time it took to get from the kitchen table to your shared bed. Time sped up the instant you crashed your lips onto Arthur’s, any tinge of hesitance leaving him as he kissed back hungrily. He gripped either side of your button-up and yanked, causing buttons to fly all over the bedroom floor—buttons you never bothered to pick up. You wore no chemise that day, so Arthur got an instant eyeful of your bare breasts. Arthur worked his shirt off while you slid off your skirt and drawers, leaving you completely naked. Arthur himself was only wearing his jeans at this point. 

You wasted no time in pushing Arthur on his back, the same spot where your husband slept; he had a moment of clarity when his head hit the pillow where he realized just how quickly this was moving. But before he could reach the point in his train of thought where he would begin defusing this sexually charged situation, you were on all fours facing him. You lowered yourself onto your elbows as you began undoing his belt buckle, sliding the leather out the loops of his jeans and discarding it next to the bed. You hastily undid his button and zipper, making Arthur feel like he was being pounced on by a panther in the woods, ready to be mauled by your lust and desire. 

Arthur rested his body weight on his elbows and watched you pull his cock out, looking on in amusement as you gawked at its size and held it next to your face in comparison. His breath caught in his throat when you licked up the side of his cock, reaching the tip and spitting a fat glob of saliva, allowing it to slide down his shaft. The two of you watched it in mesmerization before you began slathering his cock with it, swiping your thumb over his tip and circling your pad on it.

You lowered your head onto his cock, your hair coming down and framing your face while you sucked him off like curtains to a show. Arthur eyed the way your ass lifted in the air, curving into a perfect heart shape that was begging to be slapped. You wasted no time shoving his cock all the way to the back of your throat, swallowing around him as you tried to ease away a gag. You salivated around him, your body’s attempt to aid you. You slid your head back up slowly until breathing became difficult, various strings of saliva connecting you to his tip as you sucked in a breath. The strings broke and dripped down your chin, the sight so filthy and lewd Arthur almost didn’t feel bad about this. 

You licked up the side of his cock before reaching the tip and licking down again. You repeated the same motion while maintaining eye contact, smiling widely as you did so. Arthur was utterly debauched, his limbs feeling too jelly-like to continue to hold himself up. He crossed his arms behind his head, relaxing fully and claiming your husband’s spot like he was the new lion that crawled into the den. You began deepthroating Arthur, bobbing your head up and down as you moaned around him. You had never blown your husband with such vigor, and much recently, you had begun refusing to sleep with him. Probably spurring him on to keep seeking out sex work. But you couldn’t care less about his history of infidelity at this moment. You could only focus on the way Arthur's face contorted and tipped back in pleasure, his lips parting to pant. 

You lifted your head from Arthur, wiping your mouth on the back of your arm and eyeing him. The two of you synchronized as you climbed on top of Arthur, his hands taking hold of your own as he guided you on top of him. Arthur watched you take his glistening cock and line it up with your cunt, and in the blink of an eye, you had sunk down fully onto him. 

Arthur’s eyes went wide as he watched you instantly begin to ride him, not taking a second to adjust to the sudden intrusion. Your moans began loudly, throwing your head back as you bounced yourself on his lap. You supposed this was a bigger moment than this was for Arthur. A sense of control washing over you, feeling more powerful than ever. You imagined your husband’s face if he were to walk in. The horror that would cross his features.

“Oh fuck! This is so much better than my husband…” You gasped. You gripped his shoulders and supported yourself on his, the burning in your legs increasing as you continued to ride him. Arthur eventually gripped your hips, moving you up and down with much greater force. Initially, it felt like you were fucking yourself on Arthur, but now it felt like he was the one fucking you. 

Your bodies move in tandem, heavy moans and pants and groans filling the room. The sheer scandalousness of it all tipped you over as you came all over his cock. You continued to ride Arthur, despite having been satiated yourself, set on having him cum inside you. 

“Finish inside me.” You demanded. His thrusts stuttered, a tinge of bewilderment in his eyes. 

“Are you sure? What if-”

“Just do it, dammit.” You said through grit teeth.

After a few more minutes of thrusting, Arthur emptied himself inside you, your cunt now a spent pool of pleasure. It felt as though a deep itch inside you had finally been scratched, and Arthur began to wonder how long you had been planning something like this or if this happened completely by chance. 

Golden rays began pouring in from your bedroom window, indicating a lot of time had passed. To the two of you, it felt so short. Your body shone with the afterglow of sex, the sweat glistening on your skin. You had never looked so heavenly. Arthur allowed you to be his god for the day, his savior. To you, godhood was just like girlhood, begging to be seen.

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Sugar On My Tounge - Talking Heads

[mx-pastelwriting]

RDR2 HC - Running away together & what would it take.

RDR2 x GN! Reader

Summary: Running away together & what would it take for them to.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Established Relationship, Running away, Some Happy Endings

Characters: Dutch van der Linde, Arthur Morgan, Javier Escuella, Charles Smith, Bill Williamson, Hosea Matthews, John Marston, Josiah Trelawny

Dutch van der Linde

- A hard task in itself, prying Dutch away from his power over the gang, it's an almost impossible task. Though echoing Hosea's words to lie low would earn you some time in having a voice over Micah's, he would consider it.

- Nightly talks cuddled up in his arms, imagining life away from the one you have aloud; he entertains it, but not without saying some doubtful scenarios. Having to change your ways, almost manipulating him into taking that life as a real thing.

- Never leaving his side, hearing every thought, not giving Micah a chance to talk to him in private, in turn driving you crazy. Doing anything for that good life, leaving your intentions to change just to get your Dutch safe.

- Every day drained you; all that work had finally caught up to you. Slowly, you lost faith as the gang came into more trouble, making you come to a realization. You made your choice.

- A night of loving Dutch one more time, cuddled up into his arms, then having to leave them. Leaving him in a deep sleep with a final kiss. Taking your horse he had gotten for you a long time ago and what little clothes you had left from all the years of running. Finally leaving in the cold night, not daring to look back.

A year had gone by, and still you dreamt about that day and its many outcomes, but all you could do was smile at the memory of his messed hair loving him for that final night. Telling yourself over and over that it spared the both of you, there was no use to keep trying. Leaving to build your own life, living out your dream that you tried so hard to convince Dutch of so many times.

He would have loved it, just the two of you; he just couldn't see it. Getting up from your bed, dressing up for the day, and having to live off of the small land you fought to get months after. Making your way to the kitchen, readying breakfast before your day of work, but a knock interrupts you from the task.

Grabbing your old weapon, hoping it still worked, then walking slowly to the door, pointing the weapon from your hip. Upon opening the door, your mind and body went blank. Dutch was standing at your front door, looking like shit. "Dear," he says, voice cracking. Even after all this time, he charmed his way into your heart, igniting your love again.

-

Arthur Morgan

- You both have always talked about that kind of life and what it would be like, but it always ended as a joke and never as something to look forward to. Until you really thought about it, hearing Hosea's story of him and his wife fed into your dream.

- Bring it up to Arthur one night, making sure he took it seriously, not knowing what to say, only he couldn't leave the gang just like that. Over time, you pushed the matter, and he always listened but never said anything.

- Being with the gang for a long time, you watched it change as Dutch came into more trouble. Finally, it hit a breaking point when Arthur went missing from the meeting with Colm O'Driscoll. The camp had to calm you down, but it didn't stop the tears every night, fighting your mind to just leave, but it turned to worry that if he'd come back, you needed to be there for him.

- After days of the gang searching, you finally spotted Arthur's house with him on top, thinking you had just gone crazy. Hearing his groans of pain, you ran to him, crying aloud, causing the camp to spring into action, with some having to hold you back so the rest could work.

- After an hour of working on him finally letting you see him, never leaving his side as you waited for him to wake. Hosea brought you something to eat every day, knowing what you had been going through.

Snapping from your exhausted state as a groan came from Arthur, watching as he stirred from his rest. Tears once again spilled from your eyes while grabbing his hand and placing it to your cheek. Waking fully, he whispered your name, running a hand through his hair earning a hum from him as he rested his eyes once again.

"I thought you were dead," you whispered, kissing his hand earning another hum. "Okay," he whispered weakly, making you look at him meeting his blue-green eyes. Taking a minute for you to understand, you nodded, "Tonight." You responded, getting only a weak nod back. Quickly getting up to then plant a kiss on his lips before preparing your leave.

-

Javier Escuella

- Being so loyal to Dutch, as soon as you'd bring that idea of life up, he'd tell you of the time he tried to find that kind of life, with it ending with Dutch saving him, in turn needing to repay Dutch with his life. A life for a life.

- Still, of course, you stayed with him, but it didn't stop you from trying. From mentioning small things, such as telling him to look at the homesteads as you passed them or talking to couples who owned their land, hearing the stories of home life making sure Javier was near you to hear.

- Wishing aloud to love him behind closed doors, but he brought up the suggestion of a hotel quickly you shot it down with wishes of loving him in your own home. Unknown to you, it wasn't till the end that he would change his mind.

- Seeing as he buddied up with Micah breaking your heart, seeing what Micah did to Dutch, there would be no way he would sink his claws into your Javier. Realizing it even more after hearing Arthur's words confirming your Javiers changed, solidifying your thoughts. Having to do the only thing that was left.

- Grabbing a bag, you started to stuff your things into it. Hearing footsteps come closer, you didn't look up, knowing who it was. When asking what you were doing, you told him you were leaving him. Shocked, he begged, but you gave it to him in the end, giving him an ultimatum. You or Dutch.

Pain washed over his face. He looked to the floor, hoping it would have the answer, but you continued packing. "Amor," he begged, but you kept your back to him as much as it pained you. "I can't do this, Javi," you say, tears stinging the brim of your eyes. "Tell me," he says, putting a hand on yours.

"All of this, you hate Micah. What changed?" You asked, making him look away, but you brought his face back softly with your hand. Cupping his face, "I know you see it. He's not well. I'm not going to stick around anymore, Javi," you say, turning to zip up your bag.

"It's your choice," you say before grabbing a few more things. "I can't," he says weakly. "Okay," saying your final words before walking to the horses, putting your things onto yours before hopping onto your horse.

Taking a last look at the camp, not caring who chose to look. Hearing as the horse next to you stirred, looking to see Javier hop on his with his belongings behind him. Smiling at each other, you turned away from camp, taking off quickly to start your new life.

-

Charles Smith

- Having been in the gang for a small amount of time, he had never shut down the idea, though never did he start to make plans on it. Figuring it was from his friendships with Arthur and John or him just settling in having run with him before the gang, you were of course thankful for them taking you both in, but shaking off the idea was never going to happen.

- Taking long rides on the days he got off, hugging his waist while resting your head on his back, talking about many things: camp gossip, your past travels, the future. Sometimes passing by a homestead watching as the people worked away at their land, imagining out loud how that would be, it would be better than always running.

- He loved you dearly; it pained him whenever leaving you to do a job with the gang, but you hated it more when he came to you from a watch stumbling on his tired feet to then crashing into your arms falling asleep before he could even mumble, "I love you.".

- Making his choice after the bank job that had gone wrong, having to bury Hosea and Lenny's bodies, the both of you talked about the decision ending with a kiss and the start of packing your things. Though quickly interrupted by the law, causing you to run once again, making you both stick around the gang a little longer.

- Knowing it put the both of you in more danger, he tried to make it quick by using the gang to help the tribe, only meeting them once by going with him, you understood. Finally, the day came telling only Arthur and John and those closest to you, getting hugs and wishes of luck to your new life.

Waking to the cooing of birds wrapped in the warmth of Charles's arms, hearing him snore softly, kissing his scared cheek, waking him from his slumber earning a smile. Looking at you with tired brown eyes, taking a moment to admire your well-rested faces.

Wiggling out of his arms with an objection as he tightened them, making you both laugh before you headed off to the kitchen in your homestead, but not without getting dressed first from the night before. Having been years since that day, leading to a new life, though the past caught up a year later, causing Charles to go with John just to make Dutch and Micah pay for all those years ago.

Of course, coming back to you with a bullet in the shoulder and a promise to never leave you again, from John's home, you both made it up to Canada, living out your dream of a homestead. Ending your reminisce on the past as Charles wraps his arms around you once more, kissing your neck softly while you readied the morning drinks.

-

Bill Williamson

- It had never been an idea to the both of you from all the years you ran with the gang until going into town. Seeing how a couple talked about their lives after getting that first taste of that kind of life, you never looked back.

- Not telling Bill at first, wanting him away from Dutch a bit before springing it upon him after one of your hotel nights away, he entertained your thoughts, though laughing at some parts until he realized you were serious.

- His first feeling was anger at how he could never do that to Dutch, but you argued that Dutch doesn't control your lives. Finally, he calmed down, telling you he looked up to Dutch. Knowing how he wanted the limelight that Arthur and John had, you convinced him that even if it was painful to say and hear, he would never be them. His obsession can't control him.

- Even though he listened with understanding, even agreeing, he told you the time wasn't right. Giving your understanding back to his reasoning, you stayed with him. But things didn't stay still for forever.

- The bank job had gone wrong with the law running you out of Shady Bell, feeling as if it was years before you got Bill back in your arms after hearing tales of him on Guarma. Having enough, you started to pack your things, causing Bill to freak. Hearing none of it, you gave him a choice. Hoping he would pick the right one.

Standing in front of your horse, holding your bag tightly, "I've hit the end, Bill; I-I can't. I can't stay up every night hoping you're alive; it's not fair to me or you." You choked through your words, causing a scene for the whole camp to see, but you didn't care; you were done.

Seeing his hesitant look back at Dutch, who watched on calmly, you had your answer. His continuous seek for approval from Dutch would never stop, and you weren't going to be around to watch it kill him or you.

-

Hosea Matthews

- Having left before he would hear the idea once again, not shooting it down immediately though ending your talk with how his story ended, right back where he started.

- As time went on, his coughs had gotten worse, as well as his attitude towards it, helping with his cough fits earned a hand wave and a choked-out "I'm fine." But you kept pushing, knowing if it was the end for him, it should be anywhere but running with the gang.

- Bringing it up more, he entertained it a bit more, but other reasons would always pop up after, trying to understand you let it go after every talk. As the gang settled into Shady Bell slowly, you noticed that he became even worse; he barely came to bed, but when he did stumble in, smelling of booze, giving you a slurred "I love you" before snoring away.

- Not waiting for his final say any longer, you slowly packed your things over the days, making sure both of your horses were ready to go in the night. Thankfully, you met a couple who knew of a cabin not too far away at a cheap price. Saving up quickly, you bought the cabin, leaving it to wait for you. Taking note of when the watch shifts change and when the camp dies down for the night.

- Finally, you made your move. As Hosea stumbled into being his familiar drunk self, you went into action, calling his horse over by the back door quietly loading on what little you had left. Then, waking Hosea leading him to the horse with false words, finally, you were ready with Hosea in a drunken sleep on your back, fleeing into the dark swamp.

Riding through the night, keeping Hosea on the horse, with luck, you made it through the swamp and into the forest on your way to the cabin. Not knowing how long this would last not even sure if this was a new life. "Just enough for you to rest," you whispered into the cold night air.

Making it to the cabin, using all your strength to get him in the cabin, laying him on the bed, tucking him. Going back out, taking your things from his and your horses, then letting them rest in the small stable for the next few days.

Waking into the morning still hearing Hosea's snores with his warm arms around you. Slowly, you get up, readying his medicine, hoping he'll understand your actions. Being all for him in the end.

-

John Marston

- Having entertained the idea only came up two times. The first was for one of Hosea's cons, having you and John play as a married couple that lived on a farm just for another couple who actually lived on a farm to come along to buy into Hosea's con.

- As years went on, seeing how the gang dwindled, thankful for not taking your John, but not without a scare and a promise to stay with you. Getting out of the snow, helping John to Horseshoe Overlook, fighting to keep him down, and resting. John made a joke about you being his spouse and having a little farm. That was the second time.

- John wasn't the only one with that joke; being protective over him, Hosea started to joke about how the con act ended long ago, but you were still acting the part.

- Finally, John was ready for jobs again, so you loosened your protection, though you weren't afraid to give it to Dutch if he came back with so much as a small scratch. Furthering that joke in the camp led you two to talk. John agreed to the possibility, but it was different in his mind. You saw it coming sooner than him.

- Sadly, it wasn't until the very end you could live out that idea. The gang fell apart, pushing you both towards Strawberry, but not without making a rule for yourself. Never to live that life again. It was easier said than done. John helped the framer, and you fled, leaving your John behind.

Reading the letter over again as the carriage hit every bump on the road, making your impatience worse. Finally stopping, not wanting to look out the window, needing to see him up close, you hurried out.

Standing there face-to-face with your John, having been gone for so many months, your eyes stinging as you wrapped your arms tightly around him. "It's over," he whispered into your ear, making the threatening tears spill, tightening your hold, not wanting to let him go again.

-

Josiah Trelawny

- Living that dream already in Saint Denis, but unbeknownst to you, Josiah had dealings with a gang. Hearing the name of the gang from officers around town yet not thinking anything of them. Not even questioning his absence at home as his "office work" makes him travel a lot.

- Loving the stories of his travels made you susceptible to listening for things, but never did you think you'd hear about your husband from an officer's mouth on the street. Then the next day, another questioned you on your doorstep, being very hostile and pushing past you just to find nothing, but before leaving, accusing you of dealing with the "Van Der Linde Gang.".

- Hearing nothing from your Josiah in the few passing days got you worried—maybe you didn't know the man you married. Though finally, you saw him as he crawled up the stairs of your Saint Denis home, the sight brought you to tears.

- The damage to him was heartbreaking. He groaned and hissed through his teeth as you cleaned up his bloody wounds, then bandaged them up. Saying nothing, you let the silence fall with his story quickly following, but you didn't let him finish.

- Saying the name of the gang, seeing how his face turned pale. Telling him of what transpired days before, hit you hard speaking of what you knew out loud to him. Starting with a sigh, he told you everything with a voice filled with shame.

"Stop," you said, interrupting his explanation, doing as you said, looking to you. Not being able to handle the sight of him knowing every cut or possible broken bone was because of his deals with the gang. You started to question whether the life you built was even real; was the love you got from him even real?

"Love," he pleaded, placing a hand on yours looking into the eyes you fell in love with so many times. Still, you held your ground. "No more J," you say, making him look down watching as he nodded. Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his upper back and shoulders, hugging him as he sat in your home, where he belonged.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

[margowritesthings]

The Greatest Gift III: She Sleeps

SERIES MASTERPOST

pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader word count: 1017 words warnings: teeth-rotting fluff, tbh this made me cry a/n: just a cute lil drabble for my favourite family in the world

taglist:@cowboydisaster@inkandbloodbound@beea-nie@cloudynoiire@punctillous@missvanderlinde@twola@pine4pple-b0i@alice-vanderlinde@photo1030

The newly appointed Uncle Dutch stays for a little while, admiring his new goddaughter until he and Arthur notice you struggling to stay awake. You’ve drifted off completely by the time Dutch hands Jade back to her father and congratulates the pair of you once more, returning to his tent to gush over the new addition to the gang.

Sleep overtakes you completely and utterly, your body so exhausted from the last nine months you could probably sleep through a riot. That much is proven about an hour later, when Jade stirs in her cot and begins to cry, the very first time in a long, long period of sleepless nights for the three of you. Her little screams pierce the formerly tranquil air, the trauma of waking up in the real world seemingly alone not really agreeing with her.

You’re normally not such a heavy sleeper, where the snap of a nearby twig or Uncle’s less than melodic singing, no matter how far away, is enough to wake you. But exhaustion doesn’t begin to cover how your body aches right now, how it longs for rest and clings onto it with a mighty grip when you finally get it. You don’t even stir.

Arthur, on the other hand, is woken instantly, paternal instincts already setting in ferociously. He looks down to you, smiling to himself when he sees you’re sound asleep, just about managing to untangle his limbs from yours without waking you and pressing a kiss to the top of your hair. When he gets off your shared cot, he makes sure to wrap the blanket back around you. 

“Hey, little lady…” he whispers, almost apprehensively as he walks towards his daughter, hands raised in the air as if he’s approaching a spooked horse. Force of habit. “It’s all right, baby girl… Daddy’s here.”

To Arthur, Jade is made of glass, and he lifts her into his arms as such. His precious, fragile little masterpiece, who makes him feel bigger and more brutish than he ever has before. He sits in the chair at the foot of your cot, Jade settling in his strong arms like she was made for them. She was, Arthur thinks, he just never realised until this moment. That’s all it takes for Jade to stop crying: her daddy, who would lasso the moon for her if it meant she could see the stars a little brighter. 

Even in the dark of your tent, Arthur can see her eyes glistening up at him, and can still make out her tiny features. She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, save for you, of course. 

He thinks of Isaac for a moment, and how he held him like this precious few times, vowing that his memory will live on in the way that he will protect Jade from the evils of the world no matter what stands in his way. He will do for Jade what he failed to do for his son, in his honour. 

Breaking the silence settling around your little family, you moan softly in your sleep, turning onto your side. It draws Arthur’s attention to you again- not that it would ever be too far away- and he smiles to himself, entranced by how peaceful you look, how beautiful you are.

Jade reaches up to Arthur’s chin, pressing tiny fingers against his stubble and capturing his attention once more. The quietest of chuckles escapes his chest, a smile so pure stretching his lips. 

“Ain’t she beautiful, baby girl? I’m so damn proud of her…” Arthur physically winces when he realises he just cursed to a 4 hour old baby, but will later realise he should be the last of his own troubles, what with her having a dozen outlaws for aunts and uncles. “Sorry…” he hums, glancing between his wife and daughter to direct the apology to both of you.

“But I am. Proud of her, that is… We’re the luckiest two people in the whole world, little lady, cause we got her…” 

Apparently finding her father’s chin to be a little scratchy (with Arthur making a mental note to shave first thing in the morning), Jade reaches out into the open air, and Arthur can’t help but reach right back. He adjusts his hold on her, freeing one hand to let her grip her tiny digits around his singular finger. He feels like a giant, but he’ll be damned if his heart isn’t pounding right out of his chest at how happy he is right now. 

“You’ve got the best momma in the whole world, you know that? And I… Well, I’m gonna do everything I can to be a good papa, baby… Everything I can.” 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t terrified. Arthur has owned a fair few front row tickets to displays of how not to be a father, from his own Pa to how easy it has been for Marston to mess up again and again over the years. And hell, he’s never seen anyone raise a little girl before. But as he promises, with his entire heart and soul, he is going to do his absolute best to be everything he can be to Jade. 

“Hey, and I hope you know how loved you are, little one. Your momma and I… God, I can’t even tell ya’, baby… You were a surprise, I’ll tell ya’, but we love you so much…” She’s squeezing around his finger as hard as she can, leaving the tiniest crescent moons from the smallest fingernails Arthur has ever seen. 

“You both did so well today… you were both so brave, huh? My brave girls…” He whispers, his words riding a content sigh. Jade’s eyes begin to flutter shut, her eyelids too heavy for her little self to fight. “You get some sleep, darlin’... I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”

The moon is falling fast, and it’ll soon be sunrise, but Arthur just can’t bring himself to sleep and miss one second of this night, watching his girls and silently promising them the world. 

[cowboydisaster]

On Call

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 800

summary: Arthur picks up the phone mid-coitus

a/n: This is just a little drabble I wrote up. I've been writing a lot of romance lately and needed a change of pace lol.

beta read by @margowritesthings

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni (otp, rough sex)

Arthur's hands have an iron grip on your hips as he fucks you, drilling into you hard. 

"Y'like that, ya little whore?" He growls, and you arch your back from the bed, moaning loudly. Your nails scrape red trails onto his shoulders and back as you dig your heels into him, spurring him on. 

"Yes I like it, fuck- I love it." You mewl, breathy whimpers coming from your mouth.

His hips slap against yours loudly, his thumb tracing lightly over your clit as you shudder. 

"Fuck- don't stop, Arthur. Don't stop." You stutter, shaking and writhing underneath him as you approach a climax. 

Suddenly you hear a vibration, and you glance to his bedside table. It's buzzing against the hardwood table, lighting up as his ringtone plays out. Arthur's hips never relent as he reaches over, grabbing his phone and looking at the screen

"Be quiet. It's work." He orders, hips still slamming into you. Your eyebrows pull together, and you whimper. 

"What? You- you can't just-" You mewl, head falling back as he picks up his pace. 

"I said be quiet." Arthur growls, pressing the little green call button on his screen. You try your best to keep quiet as he rails you, but the task proves to be difficult. 

"Mr van der Linde, how are you?" Arthur asks, glaring at you to shut up as his cock rams into your sweet spot.

"Yes Mr. van der Linde, good to hear." Arthur says loudly, charismatic as he keeps himself in total control. You squint your eyes shut, bucking your hips to meet his as his cock drags in and out of you, bumping your g-spot with every hard thrust. 

"Yes, the wife is doin' very well, thanks for asking." Arthur smirks down at you, thrusting extra hard. You clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans. 

"Oh she's takin' it real good- all the change with the new job, I mean." Arthur smirks at you again, watching as your breasts bounce with each of his thrusts and your eyes roll back in your head. 

He adjusts the phone between his ear and shoulder to free up his other hand, and he rubs his finger over your clit in time with his thrusts. You breathe heavily under your hand, struggling to hold your cries back. 

"Arthur-" You mewl, not loud enough for Arthur's boss to hear, but for extra safety, he clasps his own hand over your mouth, pushing yours out of the way. 

"Yes sir, I'll be sure to do so when I'm in the office next." He says, breath coming hotly from his nose.

Arthur's hips are tantalizing, putting you in a  delirious state as you whimper and moan under his hands. He knows you're close. 

"Yes, thank you Mr. van der Linde." He says, almost wrapping up. You can barely keep quiet anymore, a full mess under his hand as your orgasm approaches. 

"Okay, yes, perfect. Thanks again, I'll see you shortly." Arthur says, humming and nodding before he hangs up the phone and tosses it somewhere on the bed. 

The moan that you immediately release when his hand comes up from your mouth is ear piercing.

"Real good job. You can be loud for me now, let me hear it." Arthur says, and you do exactly that. 

Your orgasm tears through you, sending waves of pleasure and shock over your body that have you bucking your hips, moaning, and gripping him with all the strength in your body.

"Arthur-!" You cry out, eyes rolling back as you arch off the bed. You curse, grinding against him as he keeps pace, fucking into you relentlessly. 

"Yeah, good girl. That's it, take it." Arthur growls, groaning as a tightness grows in his balls. 

You whimper with every breath, coming down just as Arthur slips out of you. He pumps himself a few times before groaning deeply and cumming all over your chest. 

"Shit, darlin." He groans, catching his breath for a moment before getting up from the bed to get you a towel.

"Your boss?!" You ask, panting as he comes forward to wipe you up. 

"Yes." Arthur says plainly, cleaning you up thoroughly. 

"What if he heard me?" You ask, suddenly horrified. 

"With the noises you make? Hell sweetheart, he'd promote me." 

Arthur chuckles, and you roll your eyes as he tosses the towel in the hamper before crawling back overtop of you. He kisses your forehead, pulling you into his arms for the rest of the morning, wondering if an opportunity will come up like this one again.

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow

[pascalpvnk]

march fic recs list

hello beautiful people! i’m sorry i’ve been absent recently, there’s been a lot going on behind the scenes and i haven’t had much time to be here :’) regardless, i hope everyone is well and enjoy the lineup we have for this month. fan art is now a part of the list and hopefully will expand in the months to come. thank you all for sharing your work!! and a very special happy birthday to the man, the myth, the legend, pedro pascal xx (divider by @saradika-graphics)

this is also my contribution to @the-blind-assassin-12’s march fic madness 2024!! :)

HOW TO SUPPORT PALESTINE // IMPORTANT FOR TLOU READERS & WRITERS

heed all warnings according to each fic. if there's something on here that isn't your cup of tea and you don't want to read it, then scroll past. thank you!

fic rec masterlist // main masterlist // most recent fic

a * denotes smut (18+ MDNI!!)

drabbles

a little joel drabble* - @suzdin (pre/no-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader) desperate old man (affectionate)* @bubble-tea-blossom (joel miller x younger!afab!reader) joel interrupting you while you're touching yourself* - @kiwisbell (joel miller x f!reader)

oneshots

Joel Miller

between two lungs* - @ozarkthedog (j.m. x afab reader x tess) amateur* - @ezrasbirdie (j.m. x f!reader) sweet days of summer* - @ozarkthedog (no-outbreak!j.m. x f!reader) i'm starving, darlin'* - @me-and-your-husband (j.m. x f!reader) wildflower and barely* - @yellowharrington (j.m. x f!afab!reader) rise - @sp00kymulderr (joel miller x afab!reader) lunch box* - @polaroidpascal (j.m. x f!reader) we shouldn't* - @alwaysmicado (fwb!j.m. x f!reader) bite my tongue* - @cherubispunk (j.m. x afab!reader) knuckles deep* - @ozarkthedog (j.m. x afab!reader) wet nights* - @shellshocklove (bfd!j.m. x f!reader)

Frankie Morales

object of my affection* - @mrsmando (bbf!f.m. x f!reader) imbued* - @morallyinept (f.m. x f!reader) dial drunk* - @schnarfer (young!f.m. x f!reader)

Javier Peña

some fools fool themselves* - @freelancearsonist (j.p. x f!reader) whatever my wife wants* - @javierpena-inatacvest (husband!j.p. x wife!reader)

Lucien Flores

this high of you & me - @kedsandtubesocks (l.f. x f!reader) like a moth to a flame - @ozarkthedog (l.f. x f!reader) mutual* - @luxurychristmaspudding (l.f. x f!reader) i was fixed on your hand of gold* - @freelancearsonist (l.f. x afab!reader)

Din Djarin

solace* - @endlessthxxghts (d.d. x afab!reader)

Arthur Morgan

some sweet ending* - @morning-star-joy (a.m. x f!reader) arthur teaches you how to ride him* - @angelltheninth (a.m. x f!reader)

series

declined* [part I*] [part II*] [part III*] - @alltheirdamn (mechanic!joel miller x afab!reader) like it's the last time* [part I*] [part II*] - @aurorawritestoescape (j.m. x afab!reader) the rite of movement* [drabble*] - @tightjeansjavi (pornstar!husband joel miller x f!pornstar!reader)

art

hypnosis - @immarocketman (javier peña) mando monday! - @knopes-waffles (din djarin)

[roseghoul26]

Chapter 2: Grieving For The Living

Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy? Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny, Emotional Manipulative Relationship (not with Arthur)

Author's Note:  i feel like i gotta say that i do not condone cheating…. but arthur morgan <3 also, this story does describe a very emotionally manipulative and abusive relationship, so please be mindful when you’re reading. the way the husband treats the reader is not right, in any instance, and cannot be tolerated.

Taglist: @ultraporcelainpig @lokiofasgard12

Chapter List

The first thing you noticed when he turned was that he had blue eyes.

Strikingly blue eyes, the kind that got lighter when the sun hit them, dazzling like diamonds. They widened comically when they saw you, a flash of panic crossing his features. So he did remember you. 

You smiled warmly at the group of men. “Good mornin’, gentlemen.”

The bearded man responded with a ‘good morning’,  and the well dressed one walked forward to meet you, extending a hand out to you. He was practically oozing with charisma, kissing the back of your hand when you grabbed it with a saccharine smile. “Well, good morning, ma’am,” he drawled, and you swore you saw the bearded man roll his eyes behind him.

“You remember Hans?” Leigh asked, and the man holding your hand led you into the small circle that had formed at the base of the stairs, bringing you into the conversation. “This here’s his wife. Been married for, what is it, two years now?”

You nodded, hiding the sadness that sentence made you feel. 

Leigh continued on. “Did y’all know she’s the daughter of the tobacco farmers up north, the Van Buren’s. Wealth practically runs in her blood!”

That seemed to get the mens’ attention, but the black haired one seemed especially interested. You couldn’t help the small sigh that escaped you; of course they only cared about your wealth. You highly doubt Leigh even knew your first name. All that you are to him is an extension of your husband.

“Is that so?” The black haired man asked, turning to look at you. Begrudgingly, you nodded, and you watched the three newcomers pass looks to each other. 

Leigh, ever the observant man, didn’t notice this. He continued to talk about your family, how it shocked everyone when you and Hans got married, and other things that you blocked out. Your attention was solely on the man beside you, the one with the hat and blue eyes.

Much like his voice, you weren’t expecting to see that beautiful of a face under the bandana. He was rugged, sure, but still quite pleasant to look at. God, why did he have to be handsome? He wasn’t the kind of handsome that you’d see in the high reaches of society, or plastered on a giant sign. No, he was the kind of handsome that you’d see from across the street, haunting your thoughts after one glance. 

With tanned skin and a small clustering of freckles across his cheeks, he had a short beard, trimmed and very clearly taken care of. His nose was crooked, a broken nose that was never set right, and the slight creases on his face told you that despite appearing to be on the younger side, he had a tough life. A black bandana similar to the one he wore last night tied around his neck, and he had swapped his blue shirt for a red one, the top two buttons undone. You flushed when the bandana shifted and exposed his chest to you, tufts of hair peeking out.

Leigh was still talking, spinning some tall tale of sorts, you’re sure, but you cut him off. “What did you say their names were, Sheriff Gray?” You knew damn well that he hadn’t introduced them to you, but you were tired of hearing about your own life from the lips of a liar. 

The sheriff faltered for a moment, before gesturing to the black hair man beside him. “This here’s Dutch,” he began, and you reshook his hand. The once too-sweet smile had turned into something more cunning, making you feel like you’d just walked into some elaborate trap. 

Trying to not feel too worried, you turned to the next man as Leigh introduced them. “This is Bill.” Like with Dutch, you shook his hand.

“It’s a pleasure, ma’am,” you heard Bill say, and you smiled politely.

Finally, Leight turned to the final person in the small group, the man’s whose eyes, you noticed, had barely left you during the entire discussion. “And this is Arthur.”

Arthur. The name echoed in your mind as you shook his hand. He was staring at you warily, and you realized that he had no idea if you knew who he was or not. It almost made you laugh. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all, gentlemen.” Arthur nodded, tipping his head forward slightly in greeting. 

“Now, forgive me if this sounds rude,” you began, “but what’re you three doin’ here in Rhodes?” It had become apparent quite quickly that Dutch had some sort of authority or power over the two other men, and you figured that he must’ve dragged them along to the town. 

Leigh spoke before the three others could. “These men here are goin’ to be the new deputies of Rhodes, Mrs. Kerrigan.”

You had to bite back laughter. Sure, Leigh was dedicated to protecting Rhodes, but he couldn’t see a ploy even if they spelled it out for him. “Oh, are they now?” If only Leigh knew that one of his new deputies had broken into your house last night. It was hardly noticeable, but Arthur stiffened his posture after you spoke. 

Leigh nodded, a proud smile on his face. “The town's in safe hands now. Well, not that it wasn’t before…” Leigh quickly backtracked.

“Do you think they’ll be able to help me with my problem?” You asked almost conspiratorially, making sure to keep an eye on Arthur. 

“Your… problem? Mrs. Kerrigan, I had no idea you were having-”

“It’s new,” you cut him off again. “See, I’ve been havin’ issues with break-ins lately. Normally we scare them off, but I’d like for someone to scare them off permanently, you know?”

It was Dutch who responded this time, nodding earnestly. “We can take care of that, don’t you worry, ma’am. How ‘bout one of you boys-”

“I’ll do it.” For the first time since you joined in the conversation, Arthur spoke.

The bearded man, Bill, tried to interject, but Arthur silenced him with a look.

With an expression that said that he expected Arthur to do this, Dutch clapped his hands together, before turning his attention to you. “Now, Mrs. Kerrigan, Arthur’ll fix this problem of yours in no time, mark my words. In the meantime, I would love to get acquainted with your husband.”

Of course. “He’s in the bank right now,” you explained. “You can wait outside for him, but I can’t tell you how long that’ll be.”

“I don’t mind waitin’. Bill, come with me to meet Mr. Kerrigan. Arthur, you go ahead and talk with this wonderful woman and see if you can’t solve her troubles.” You felt Dutch clasp your hand between his. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kerrigan. I sincerely hope this isn’t the last time we meet.”

“I hope so, too.”

Dutch began to walk away soon after, and after nodding to you one last time, Bill followed after Dutch, the two of them heading to the bank side by side. You knew Hans was gonna get quite a fright when he left; two heavily armed men demanding to speak with him. You almost wanted to stay outside just to watch. 

It was only you, Leigh, and Arthur remaining, and the sheriff quickly excused himself to the office, offering you a quick ‘have a good morning’ before disappearing, finally leaving you and Arthur alone. 

Glancing up at him, he looked back expenctantly, like he was just waiting for you to run back inside and spill everything to Leigh. He was visibly stunned when you turned away from the office and started heading back to the store, gesturing for Arthur to follow you. Funnily enough, you were able to hear his spurs this time, clinking against the dusty ground with each step as he followed behind. 

“You really ought to wear a less recognizable hat,” you teased once he was close enough, turning your head over your shoulder to look at him. You watched him take his hat off, examining it with scrutiny. Golden browns locks tumbled freely, more softer looking than you anticipated. Everything about this man surprised you.

“So you did recognize me,” Arthur muttered, and you laughed.

“No offense, but I think anyone in my shoes would be able to recognize you.”

Scoffing, you watched Arthur plant the hat back on with a little too much force than was necessary. He moved up so that he now walked alongside you, keeping a good foot between your bodies. “Your voice also gave you away,” you added, smiling when exasperation clouded his face. 

“I know that. I wasn’t plannin’ on speakin’ last night, but I wasn’t plannin’ on havin’ someone run into me.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be breakin’ into people’s houses in the middle of the night.”

He couldn’t come up with a response to that, so he just shook his head, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “You got me there,” he sighed. “So why didn’t you turn me in?”

“I’m askin’ myself the same question.”

“Well, if you change your mind,” he moved further away from you, keeping his hands up, “I won’t stop you from runnin’ straight to the sheriff.”

The rational and sane people would, first, not even be in the situation, having already turned Arthur in, but secondly, would also be taking him up on his “offer”. You decided that at that moment you were neither rational nor sane, so you continued to make your way to the general store. 

After a few more beats of tense silence, you finally reached the entrance. Turning with your hands on your hips, you fully faced Arthur, within distance to touch him if you so tried. Up close, it really put his size into perspective, the man towering a good couple of inches above you. He was broad shouldered, with a similar body type to someone who worked on the farms, which was a complete opposite of the frail physique of Hans. 

“Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot,” you stated, and you heard him hum in agreement. “Let’s start over.” Sticking out your hand for him to shake, you introduced yourself with your name. Not Mrs. Kerrigan. Not Miss. Van Buren. Just you.

Your name sounded awfully nice coming from him, you realized as he repeated it back to you. “Arthur Morgan,” he responded, giving your hand one last shake in his much larger one before letting go. 

“A pleasure, Mr. Morgan.”

“Call me Arthur,” he responded, that raspy drawl music to your ears. 

“Alright, Arthur. Then you don’t get to call me Mrs. Kerrigan. At least, in private,” you added with a glance around. There was no one else around, everyone either far enough away to not hear, or preoccupied with something else. For the moment, you didn’t have to keep up appearances. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he responded playfully, and you rolled your eyes. Walking in, you pretended to not feel the way your heart fluttered.

The bell chimed as the door swung open, and a familiar face greeted you as you entered, Arthur following in behind. “Good morning, Mr. Banks.” So much for not having to keep up appearances. 

Balding with a large handlebar mustache, A.J. Banks had been the sole operator of the general store in Rhodes for as long as you could remember. “Hello, Mrs. Kerrigan!” He chirped out, eyes nearly disappearing behind a smile. Out of all the shop owners in Rhodes, he was your favorite. “Who’s this?” You heard him ask, gesturing to the man behind you. 

“His name’s Arthur. Leigh’s appointed him as a deputy.”

Mr. Banks hummed with indifference. If it wasn’t about the feud between the Grays and Braithwaites, or about the general store, then he didn’t care. “Well, you know where everything is. Holler if you need somethin’!” And with that, he disappeared into the storage room behind him, once again leaving you and Arthur alone. 

“You’re quite popular,” you heard Arthur comment, and you shrugged as you picked up one of the sacks to fill with goods, slinging your own bag over your shoulder.

“I mean, I’ve known both of them for a good while now…”

“I ain’t just talkin’ about them.” Arthur stood beside you, absentmindedly examined various canned goods on the shelves, putting them back with thinly veiled disgust. “Probably every head on the street turned when you walked by. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice that.”

“I try to block them out,” you admitted, grabbing a few assorted cans of fruits and vegetables. “I have to.”

Arthur didn’t respond to that, and so you moved to the fresh produce, grabbing a variety of items, not really paying much attention to it. You had no idea if you actually needed any of these items, but it would be suspicious if you went to the store claiming you needed items and then leaving with hardly any. 

You could feel Arthur’s eyes on you as you shopped, likely teeming with questions, but he kept his mouth shut. “Do you need anything?” You asked, nearly laughing when you realized how similar it was to the question you asked last night. 

Arthur also seemed to realize this too, and you heard him chuckle, barely even loud enough for you to hear. “Nah, I’m good.”

You were about to let it go until an amber colored bottle caught your attention. It wasn’t the best whiskey in the world, but something told you that these men didn’t drink alcohol for the taste. Without a second thought, you snatched it up, adding it to your now heavy bag. It was a short walk to the store counter, but you still felt your arms hurt as you brought it over, having to use both to carry it, and they hurt even more so when you lifted it up onto the counter. 

The loud noise alerted Mr. Banks, who appeared around the corner within seconds. As he began to count up the total, you leaned against the counter facing him. “So, would you say my problem is solved now?”

Arthur barked out a laugh, and you watched the corners of his eyes crinkle up as he genuinely, truly smiled. It was a divine sight, one that had you sucking in a gasp. “I think so, darlin’.” You don’t think you’ve ever heard someone talk to you like that, voice dripping with pure honey. 

So that he wouldn’t see how dark your cheeks had gotten, you turned back toward the counter. In your brain, you were scolding yourself. You were a married woman, for God’s sake. You should not be acting this way over another man. Even if you really didn’t love your husband, and he wanted as little as possible to do with you, you were still married to him. That had to mean something, right?

But you still found that you would do anything to hear him call you darling again, if not to feel like you were truly beloved by someone.

Mr. Banks reading out the total snapped you from your solitary pity-party. $17.35. Sliding him five five dollar bills from your bag, you went to try and pick up your sack of goods, but Arthur stepped in before your fingers could even touch the rough fabric of the bag. “Looks like you gave him a bit too much,” Arthur nodded toward the cash that Mr. Banks was now putting into the register. 

“No, I know, but thank you. Have a great day, Mr. Banks,” you called out as you headed out the door, a very confused Arthur following behind, holding the sack of goods effortlessly with one hand. 

“You’re a strange woman,” you heard Arthur say behind you as you began to walk toward the carriage that was still parked outside of the bank. You had never been called strange before. You were always the perfect one, the golden star, the prime example of what every eldest daughter should be. It was a mask, you knew that, forced to put on a false personality in order to charm and amaze.

For the first time in a very long time, you had been yourself, cracking jokes and talking back and everything that high society hated. Even though you’d been doing it for less than fifteen minutes, it felt like an impossible weight had been lifted from your chest. And it was all thanks to the man that broke into your house. 

What an odd turn of events. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Arthur.” Now that you were closer to the carriage, you were able to see that it was currently empty, except for the driver who sat atop it who tipped his hat at you when you got close. Opening the small storage area attached to the back of the carriage, you gestured for Arthur to set the bag there, the wood creaking when he set it down. “Thank you, Arthur.”

“It’s no problem at all, Mrs. Kerrigan.” And he remembers things, too. Where did this man come from?

Before you could forget, you grabbed the whiskey bottle from the top of the bag, and you presented it to Arthur. “It ain’t much of a surprise, but I figured our new ‘deputies’ might like a little gift.” In the back of your mind, you had an inkling of suspicion that Arthur and his presumed friends weren’t actually going to be deputies, but like before, appearances need to be kept up. 

“Well, ain’t that mighty kind of you,” his voice went lighter, moving to take the bottle from you gently. “Thank you.” You tried not to react when his fingers brushed against yours, sending shocks through your body. 

“Of course. It’s-”

Loud laughter from the bank had you both turning, then having to move around the carriage to see what the commotion was all about. Dutch and Bill were laughing heartily, with a very confused yet entertained Hans chuckling lightly. You had to give them props; it was hard to make him laugh.

Dutch saw you first, becoming you over with a broad wave of his hand. Hans glanced over to where he was looking, and as soon as those dull eyes landed on you, you felt that mask creep back up. Your once natural smile turned forced, and you quickly made your way over to the men, leaving Arthur to walk up slowly on his own. 

You stood beside Hans, and even though he didn’t touch you, you felt your muscles stiffen as if someone had just rested their hand on your back. “Hello, dear.” You heard Hans say.

“Hello.” Your voice that was just filled with joy sounded lifeless. 

“Did you get what you needed from the store?” You nodded, and as Arthur sauntered close, his eyes scanned over you, like he was searching for the person he was just talking to. “Have you met these fine men?”

“Leigh had the pleasure of introducing us,” Dutch piped in, his dark eyes narrowing as they bounced between you and Hans. 

Please don’t question why I was so close to the Sheriff's Office, you repeated in your mind, relieved when he didn’t speak.

“Where’d you get that, Arthur?”

Everyone’s eyes followed where Bill pointed, and you felt a wave of nausea-inducing anxiety crash over you. He was pointing at the whiskey bottle in Arthur’s hands, and the man holding it shifted uncomfortably, not expecting everyone to suddenly be watching him with wide eyes. “This?” He asked, holding it up slightly.

Bill had a disbelieving look on his face. “You bought whiskey, Morgan? Out of everythin’ you could’ve gotten-”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t have bought it yourself,” he huffed. “It was a gift from her!” Arthur explained, gesturing to you with the bottle. 

Now it was your turn to have everyone’s eyes on you. A majority of them were kind, gratitude filling them as they thanked you. You could barely hear them. Your ears were ringing too badly, and you could feel holes forming where Hans stared at you.

“Is that true?” Hans’ voice was even. Why was it always even? It would be so much better if he just screamed at you, like anyone else would. 

“Yes,” you whispered, looking down at the dusty skirts of your dress. 

“I can pay you back,” you heard Arthur offer, and if you weren’t so mortified, you would’ve thanked him. But even you knew that it wasn’t about the money. Not this time.

Hans ignored him, continuing his verbal reprimanding of you. “I never said you could buy gifts. You were only allowed to get what we needed for the home. I-” he sighed, “I don’t know how long it's going to take for you to learn.”

Like I’m some damn dog. “I’m sorry,” was what you said, keeping your head down. Because of this, you missed another set of looks the three men swapped, some amused, and some angry. 

Hans sighed again. “Go wait for me in the carriage. Besides, a lady shouldn’t be sitting in on conversations about business.”

Like a child being sent into timeout, you were cast away. Shame burned your cheeks, and you felt embarrassed tears threaten to spill from your eyes. Humiliation wasn’t something new when it came to Hans, but the sting of it hadn’t dulled over the past two years. 

You didn’t even look up at Arthur as you walked past, not wanting to know what he thought of the whole situation. You didn’t know what would be worse to see in his eyes, pity or enjoyment. You heard Hans make a comment at your dispense, and you heard only two voices make any sort of responding statement. 

Finally reaching the carriage, you slumped your head against the door, not quite wanting to get in yet. At least out here you felt like you could breathe. You were so caught up in your own emotions that you didn’t hear the sound of Arthur’s spurs as he approached you. “Mrs. Kerrigan?” 

You jumped, and you turned to face him, the tears delicately holding themselves in your eyes falling because of all the movement. “Yes, Arthur?” You quickly wiped away the falling tears, and you took a few steps away from the carriage and towards him.

“Are you… alright?” He cringed at his own question, as it was blatantly obvious that you weren’t. Still, you found his concern endearing, and you smiled as best you could.

“I will be. It ain’t the first time,” you chuckled humorlessly, and you saw a flash of something in his eyes. “You’d think I would’ve grown thicker skin by now.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

You sighed. “I know.”

“So why are you-”

“I can’t go.” You shut down that question fast, the one that you pondered every single day. “It’s just… I can’t.” You weren’t about to dump your issues on the poor man.

Luckily he seemed to realize there was a bigger situation at play, but you could tell he wasn’t happy about it. You were about to say something until you heard the closely approaching voice of Hans, with Dutch adding in his own points intermittently. 

Faster than you could register, Arthur was slinking behind you, opening the carriage door for you, and extending a hand for you to take. The whiskey bottle sat upright beside the rear wheel, setting it down to help you. 

Even though Hans had done this for you hundreds of times, this felt completely different. It felt like it came from genuine want rather than a role he had to play, the role of the doting husband. As you set your hand in his rough palm, you felt those same sparks again, and you swore he felt them too. 

Once you were situated back in the carriage, you watched him pick up the whiskey bottle before handing it back to you with an apologetic look on his face. “Keep it,” you held your hand up, “I’ll be happy if I know you three are enjoyin’ that tonight. And, for what it’s worth,” you glanced behind you, making sure your husband still wasn’t in the vehicle, “it was nice meeting you while you weren’t trying to rob me.”

Another one of those beautiful smiles graced his face, and it momentarily made you forget your woes. “I can say the same, darlin’.”

Your heart soared. 

“If you don’t mind me askin’,” you said quietly, “why were you at our house last night?”

“Money.” He shrugged half-heartedly. “I was told there’d be no one home, too.”

“Well, I’m afraid whoever told you that is a liar.”

He scoffed. “You think?” The two of you exchanged light laughter. “I guess I can’t complain, though.”

“Why’s that, Arthur?”

“Because-”

The other carriage door opening caused Arthur to fall quiet, giving you a small smile before taking a step back. “See you later.” You kept it from sounding like a question, but Arthur still nodded. And with that, Arthur closed the door, the air becoming oppressive as soon as it latched shut. Keeping your gaze averted, you pretended to look out the window, rather than on Arthur, eyes locked there until he became a blur on the horizon. 

You swore he did the same.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

The ride back home was done in complete silence.

It was awkward and tense and you wanted nothing more than to just curl into a ball on the carriage floor. You kept your eyes locked on the window, even when Arthur was long out of sight, not able to bring yourself to look at Hans. 

It wasn’t until you were halfway back when he finally spoke, clearing his throat before doing so. “I’ll be leaving in a few days.”

That had your head turning, looking at him with confused eyes. It wasn’t unusual for him to leave, gone for days or weeks at a time, but it was never this sudden. “Oh… where?”

“Tumbleweed.” He practically spat out, clearly not excited to go. You wouldn’t be either, if what you heard about it was true. It was practically run by outlaws, and with cruel desert weather that inhabited even crueler animals. But the thing that struck you as odd was that Tumbleweed was practically a ghost town, falling into ruin a few years back. You had no idea why he would even be going there.

You didn’t bother to ask, knowing he wouldn’t give you an answer. So you fell back into tense silence, relieved when you saw the familiar woods surrounding your house. When the carriage came to a halt, Hans left first, and like he always did when he was upset at you, he left you to get out on your own, furthering the humiliation you felt. 

The chittering of animals helped to distract you as you got out, the feel of the soft dirt beneath your shoes further helping to ground you. Grabbing the goods from the back, you said a soft thanks to the driver before making your way inside, with some difficulty, the bag awkwardly heavy. And to think Arthur was carrying it with such ease.

Hans was already upstairs, and you heard the door to his office click shut. Standing in the entrance way, you almost let the bag drop, but you carried it over to the nearby kitchen counter. You dumped it and your personal bag unceremoniously there, and some of the produce rolled out, but you didn’t care.

After grabbing a bottle of wine, you slumped one of the chairs in the attached dining room. Alcohol was never in shortage here, and Hans didn’t drink wine, so you didn’t have any fear of being reprimanded again. 

The cork went missing, but you doubted you were going to need it. Pressing the bottle to your lips, you took a hearty drink, the taste of raspberries and orange barely noticeable to you. In your mind, you were going back over the trip to Rhodes, washing away the shame you felt with expensive wine.

But despite your embarrassment, you found that you couldn’t stop thinking about Arthur. Everything about him stuck out in your mind; his eyes, his voice, his body, his smile. 

Surprisingly, you felt a bit of guilt, causing you to take another big sip. You felt guilt for thinking about the other man like this, because despite your tense relationship, Hans was still your husband. You’d never be unfaithful to him… but not out of any moral reason. You didn’t want to risk losing something good for your family.

But you also felt guilty because it felt lecherous to think of Arthur like this. Here you were, grasping at the first man to show you any semblance of human connection like a fool. He wasn’t there to be your escape; he didn’t exist to solve your problems. 

You took another swig. 

And another. 

And more, until the bottle was empty, and a pleasant buzz filled your senses, your head feeling like it was stuffed with cotton. Getting up was a challenge, and you used the counter for support as you made your way to the goods, slowly putting them away. 

But despite your pitiful attempt of drowning your thoughts, your treacherous mind kept going back to the rugged man, and those blue-eyes that had butterflies erupting in your stomach. It was almost juvenile, the way you had a crush on this man, and you’d only met him once. 

Well, twice, but you wouldn’t consider the first time a proper meeting.

A small piece of paper fell out the bag, falling like a feather would, before it settled near your foot. Bending down, you felt the blood rush to your face as you did so, and you investigated the paper. It was clearly ripped out of a journal of sorts, and the handwriting was quick, like whoever wrote it only had a few seconds to do so. 

Only two words adorned the page. Thank you. 

More blood rushed to your face. You were so screwed.

[twola]

In the French Way I

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link ➵ Next

Châtenay gives you some advice on pleasure. Arthur never sees it coming.

cw: anal play, cowboy recieving.

“What? No. Ain’t no way -”

“Cherie. Let me tell you, there is nothing - nothing that will make him go wild more than that.”

You scrounge your nose.    

Châtenay rolls his eyes, grabbing your shoulder and pulling you to the side of the gallery where his works of art are displayed.

“Let me tell you something. I have fucked and have been fucked - mon dieu, I know pleasure like you close-minded fools could never even dream of.”

You raise your eyebrow, “You sure? I just need to-”

“Is this my wife?” A shout from the center of the room.

“Is this my mother?” Another shout. The people milling around the gallery start to become agitated, and Châtenay leaves your side to dart into the middle of the room.

The next thing you know, there is a squirming pile of men on the floor, punches and kicks thrown. You wince as you realize that Arthur is the one adding men to that pile.

You sigh in exasperation before following the group of women and older men toward the entrance to the gallery and waiting impatiently for the raucousness to die down.

“There she is.” 

Arthur moves through the throng of people to reach you near the stairs back down to the street. His large hands find your shoulders and quickly usher you downstairs amongst the hubbub on the gallery floor. Châtenay follows right behind Arthur, looking over his shoulder several times as the three of you spill into the street.

“Mon dieu - you Americans are so repressed.” Châtenay rubs at his mustache, exasperated. He rolls his eyes as Arthur chuckles.

“You best lay low there for a while,” the cowboy drawls, to which Châtenay throws up his arms in a huff. Sputtering curses in French, the artist stalks in the other direction, turning down another alley and out of sight. 

Arthur continues to chuckle as both of you watch people grumble streaming out of the gallery.

He places a large hand on the small of your back and leans over your shoulder to whisper in your ear.

“How’s about we get a room here tonight?”

His hand creeps from your back around your waist as you smile and lean back against him.

A room sounds nice.

-

The second that the door latches in the room he’s rented for the night, he’s on you, his large arms wrapped around your waist, his lips on your neck, pulling you against him completely as you squeal in delight.

“Ar-Arthur-!”

He nips at the bare skin of your neck before kissing up to your ear, “Been thinkin’ of this all day.”

“Oh yeah? Thinkin’ bout this looking at everyone’s mother in Saint Denis painted natural?” You tease, pressing your hips back into his, where even through the layers of fabric separating you, you can feel him harden.

“Hush, woman. Only person I want to see natural is you.”

Arthur takes the opportunity to untuck your blouse from your skirt and start to pull it over your head as you laugh. He chucks it over his shoulder, where it lands on a chair, quickly followed by his hat.

You turn around in his embrace and your hands quickly find their way to the leather of his gun belt, unfastening it and letting it fall to the floor in a clutter.

“Bed,” Arthur rasps before leaning down to press his lips against yours, to which you immediately open your mouth and moan as he presses his tongue against yours.

In some jumble of limbs and a near fall, your shoes lay discarded on the floor as he walks you backward, untying the strings of your skirt. You laugh into his mouth as you nearly stumble as the cotton falls from your body. You can feel his smile on your lips as he gropes at your rear as you reach the bed. 

You pull your chemise up and over your head, dropping it to the floor, as Arthur’s eyes land squarely on your breasts as he rips his suspenders down his arms and feverishly unbuttons his work shirt.

With a smile, you slide onto the bed, just out of reach of him as he struggles to get his boots off. Leaning back, you lay out on the crisp sheets, clad in only your lacy bloomers.

“Could draw y’ like this.” Arthur rasps, unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down, baring himself completely to you.

“You could. But I’d like you to join me ‘fore you do that.” You reply, reaching toward him as he climbs into the bed next to you, one of his large hands immediately gravitates to cover your breast before he presses his lips to yours again.

It’s several moments there, getting reacquainted with each other’s bodies for the night. His calloused fingers move down from your breast down your belly. He slides your bloomers down your thighs, tossing them to the floor after he works them down your legs. 

Arthur means to climb on top of you, but you press his shoulder back as he starts to move.

“W-Will you let me try somethin’?”

Arthur quirks his brow before pulling you closer to him, sprawled out on the fresh sheets, your nude frame tightly against his. A smile creeps across his face as his hands settle on your body, one at the curve of your waist, one squeezing your rear affectionately.

“Darlin’ girl, I’d let you do anythin’ to me.” He nuzzles against your ear, rocking his hips forward, his hard cock pressing against your pubic bone.

“Y’sure about that?” You whisper, unsure if he’d really let you do what Châtenay was describing.

“Course, darlin’,” He nuzzles his nose against your own and leans forward to nip your bottom lip.

You immediately press your lips hard into his, throwing your arm down over his hip. He eagerly returns the kiss, moaning into your mouth as you feel him buck against you. Your hand inches slowly across his hip, dipping lower and lower until one of your fingers slips between his cheeks.

His eyes widen as his whole body jerks in surprise, “ Whoooah there - w-what are you doin’?”

“Tryin’ something. It supposed to make you feel amazin’….” You trail off, blushing as you’re unable to meet his eyes.

Arthur’s eyebrow quirks, his lips pursed like he’s about to ask a question, but instead, he lets out a breath slowly. 

“This gonna make you feel good?”

“I want to make you feel good.” You reply, completely serious.

“Alrigh’...”He responds by burying his face into your bosom and allowing you to continue, your finger moving back to circle the puckered skin. You slowly slide the tip your pointer finger inside that ring of muscle and he shivers, sucking in breath through his teeth.

By the time you’ve gently worked your finger into the knuckle, he’s squirming, unable to lay still. You’re certainly losing hope that you’d be able to bring him any sort of pleasure out of this. You curl your finger back toward yourself, losing hope that you’d bring him any satisfaction, trying to remember how Châtenay explained where to press.

Arthur is still squirming against you as you prod within him, you’re getting nothing but signs of discomfort - you should really stop-

His whole body jolts as a desperate noise leaves his lips that couldn’t have possibly come from him. You pause, taking the pressure off suddenly as he pants.

“Wh-wha the hell was that?” Arthur sputters into your skin.

“Do you want me to stop?” You whisper into his ear, feeling terrible that this was nothing like Châtenay was explaining.

“Keep goin’.” He hoarsely whispers.

“ What ?” You are flabbergasted.

A gentle push of his hips backward makes you blink in disbelief. But you press your finger against the small spot within him and he groans in a way you’ve never heard.

“F-fuck.” He pants as you keep pressing against him, and his curses fall into pants as you start to move your finger in a circle around that spot.

You lean up on your elbow, over him, looking down upon your lover to find him flushed, cheeks tinged red as he bites his lower lip, unable to hold back the needy moans bubbling up from his chest. Arthur’s eyes are squeezed tightly closed as he breathes loudly through his nose as you swirl your finger within him.

You press against that spongy spot a little harder and Arthur whines , his hips bucking involuntarily as his eyes shoot open.

“Dar-agh, darlin- I’m-” He pants and you take the opportunity to press harder again and you gasp as you feel him spasm around your finger.

Arthur moans unabashedly, needily, and higher pitched than you figured his low voice could reach. His hips jolt forward and you feel his cock twitch between your bodies as hot spend splatters against your bellies. He’s panting, completely out of breath, red-faced, and flustered as you gently retract your finger from his body, resting your hand on his hip. 

Finally raising his head, Arthur grunts as he pushes you underneath him, and you yelp in surprise. He settles in on his elbows as you blink up at him.

“Where the hell did you learn that?” He grumbles, leaning in and nipping at your earlobe.

Relieved, you giggle softly, your eyebrows creasing as you feel his spend cooling sticky on your skin. One of his hands moves between your legs and you realize he means to return the favor.

You turn and whisper in his ear.

“It’s somethin’ French, I think.”

[cal-tastic]

Two Shots Down

Pairing: arthur morgan x fem!reader

Wordcount: 1,600+

Synopsis: a one-night stand after meeting in a dusty saloon.

Warnings: mdni!! porn with plot, one night stand, rough sex, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), dirty talk, alcohol consumption.

____________________________________________

The parlor door of the saloon rattled as footsteps approached from the entrance. Alert, as always, your eyes shot up to the door, watching as an unfamiliar face made his way to the bar.

“What can I get you, Mister?”

“Nothin’ just yet. Just takin’ a rest before I head back South.”

The man, clad in traveling clothes, pulled the stool in front of him out before taking a seat. It wasn’t long before his gaze met yours, causing you to look in the opposing direction.

“Evenin’..”

His breath was a pungent whiskey— bourbon, perhaps; the kind that burns your throat. You were certain if this man kissed you it would burn yours, too. Maybe that’s what was so enticing.

“Evening. Haven’t seen you around before.. Small town, I remember a face once I see one.”

He gave you a shrug as he took his hat off, setting it on the countertop. “I’m just the same, Miss.. my first time comin’ round these parts.”

He had a stature unlike anyone you had met before— he held himself with certainty, like he had seen it all before

“Welcome to Valentine. You got a name?”

“Arthur.”

He took a look back over to the bartender before turning his attention back to you. “You drink?”

“I’m at the bar, aren’t I?” You said, nodding to the place in which you both sat.

Arthur shook his head, laughing under his breath. Even his laugh was gruff. He placed two coins on the bartop, sliding them over to the bartender. “Two shots of Brandy.”

The man placed a shot in front of each of you, Arthur taking his while you took your own.

The two of you downed the spirits, placing the glasses back upon the counter for the worker to gather.

“Do you live in town?” He finally asked

“Not at all. I don’t live in any town, to be quite honest with you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yessir. I’m a travelin’ gal, I don’t belong to no town.”

He seemed to get a kick out of that— a low chuckle leaving his lips as he leaned against the bar. “We’re just one in the same, aren’t we?”

“S’ppose so.” You grinned, admiring the man before you. Something was so different about him, so unique, yet you just couldn’t place it. Being on the road, you never had time to find attraction to anyone, but sitting here in this bar, you found yourself entertaining the thought.

“You got a wife, Arthur?”

“Never had time to marry. Nor the interest.” He admitted with a shrug, tapping his fingers against the wood of the counter.

You weren’t sure what had come over you, whether it was the booze or the fact that you hadn’t gotten laid in months, but something was nagging at you to give it a shot with this man.

“There’s a hotel just next door.. I’m certain neither of us will be here in the morning.”

“What are you implyin’, Miss?”

“Let’s just say we could save a little cash if we shared a room.”

He reckoned with his thoughts for a moment before glancing back to you. “I don’t uh.. I don’t usually do this, but I’m sure once wouldn’t be no harm.”

A fire burned at your core with just the idea. This wasn’t like you at all.

As you stood to make your way towards the parlor door, so did he, revealing to you just how much larger he was than you. Even in your boots, he was still nearly a foot taller.

He followed behind as you led the way— it was clear that he was surveying the area for trouble. Before you could even reach into the pocket of your skirt, Arthur placed a coin on the table in front of the innkeeper. The man gave you a key to your room, Arthur leading the way up the stairs. With each step closer to the room, a slew of nerves and desire washed over you. By time he finally got the door unlocked, you grabbed him by the collar, pulling him down to kiss you. Whether it was the shock or the need that got to him, you weren’t sure, but it was enough to cause him to holst you up, resting his hands under your thighs as your legs wrapped around his waist.

He stumbled back towards the bed, your figure settling in his lap as his kisses become hasty.

His hands danced along your sides, sliding from your waist to the outer edges of your legs, squeezing them gently as a low groan left his lips. Beneath you, his groin rushed with blood, hardening with each slight movement you gave.

Arthur breathlessly broke away from the kiss, his eyes half-lidded as he met his gaze with yours.

“You sure ‘bout this?”

“I’d be damned if I’m not.” You laughed, your hands resting on his shoulders.

Without another question about it, he kissed you once more. It was as if he had been starved— deprived from the touch of another.

His hands worked to undo the buttons of your blouse, pulling it open. It was a matter of seconds before he opened the front of your corset, pulling it off of your frame.

Arthur cupped your breast with his large hand, leaning down to kiss your neck tenderly. You felt as heat grew between your legs, a timid moan slipping out of you as he squeezed your breast. You were quick to undo the buttons of his shirt as he kissed down your shoulder. By time you had undone his shirt, he flipped the two of you over, your back now resting on the bed.

He slipped your skirt down, eager to take you in. Once he finally discarded your undergarments, he pulled away, admiring you stripped down before him.

“Jesus..” He grinned, taking in the sight.

“What? What is it?” You asked, sitting up slightly.

“Nothin’ at all, Miss.. Just haven’t had a look at a woman in a long time.. ‘Specially not one of your caliber..”

He leaned down, pushing your legs over his shoulders as one of his hands gripped your hip. “Look at that.. All a mess, just for me..”

Finally, he brought his lips to your heat, pressing a kiss against the mound just above your swollen clit. He swirled his tongue slowly around the bud, his free hand finding its way to your folds, slicking his fingers with your arousal. Your hips bucked forward with a whine, your hands grasping his hair in a clenched fist.

He hummed against your cunt, his fingers slowly pushing past your entrance. He thrust his fingers into you, a slur of moans leaving you as your back arched.

He kept a steady rhythm, his tongue working to please you just the same.

As he picked up the pace, you yearned for more— his fingers weren’t enough. You needed to feel him inside of you.

“A-Arthur.. I need you..”

He was so lost in the moment of pleasing you, that he couldn’t pull himself away. You pulled his hair back, forcing him to look up at you. “I need your cock.. C’mon, baby, I need it..” You begged.

It was clear he needed you just as bad when he sat up, undoing the belt of his pants, pulling his trousers off, his briefs tugged down with them. His length sprung out, hardened and engorged.

“I’ve got to warn you, Darlin’.. I’m not too gentle..”

Quite honestly, that was the least of your worries. You needed him any way you could get.

You leaned back against the bed, your legs spread for him as he settled himself between them. A low groan left his lips as he pushed his girth into your opening. He gripped your hips as he slowly pushed himself in farther. “Fuck..”

You gripped his biceps as he began to thrust into you, his hips rolling forward. Yet another moan escaped you as he grew faster in pace

“So tight.. and so goddamn wet.” He murmured, his speed increasing as his grip tightened on your sides. Just as you felt yourself getting lost in the pleasure, he slipped himself out of you, flipping your body over against the mattress

Without warning, he slammed himself into you, causing a loud yelp from you

Your hands gripped the sheets of the bed as his thrusts became relentless, his hands holding your hips.

“Such a good girl..”

The harsh thrusts of the man above you were enough to leave you speechless, nothing but small whimpers leaving your mouth.

Arthur reached up, his hand grabbing the bedpost to stable himself as he fucked into you. He took a handful of your hair, pushing you down into the pillows

“H-Harder…f-f..fuck..”

Sure enough, he listened.

As your hand reached down to circle your clit, he pounded into you harder and faster than ever before, his own moans edging you closer and closer to finishing.

A wave of pleasure shocked through your body, breathless moans leaving your lips as your legs began to shake

It wasn’t long before Arthur slipped himself out of you, his warm seed coating your lower back as a low moan erupted from him.

You laid below him, too fucked out and tired to move as you caught your breath. When he finally overcame his climax, he reached for his hankerchief, cleaning his essence from your skin.

“Goddamn, woman.. You’re somethin’ else..” He huffed, collapsing beside you. He pulled you close to him, his skin glistening with sweat.

“You weren’t wrong when you said you were rough..” A breathless laugh followed your statement as you leaned into his touch. Someone who had just been so vigorous was now so gentle, pulling you close to him and kissing your forehead gently.

You knew this wouldn’t last, but you’d give anything for just one moment longer.

[softrozene]

Doing the little romantic things for their s/o

Anon asked: Welcome to the rdr2 community!! May I get some fluff hc for Arthur Charles and John? Them just doing the little romantic things for their s/o? Thank you ♥️

rdr2 masterlist

Omg yes and thank you! I hope you like these, anon!

These are probably on the shorter side since it’s the first request and first time writing them!

Originally published on January 10, 2020

Arthur, Charles, John x Reader (Gender-neutral/nonbinary)

Warnings: Just Fluff

Arthur Morgan

-

Romance isn’t his strongest suit but when he tries it is so dang obvious to everyone

He goes out of his way to make sure you know how much you mean to him

You get extra servings off his own plate

If you feel like someone is watching you- It’s him and he will do it straight-on, no shame at all

Sends you that small charming smile that makes your knees all weak

He’d be the doting wife everyone hears about

I’m not kidding either, he’ll act like he’s not or that something you want is a hassle but don’t worry, he’ll get it for you

He’d be the one to oil your guns without you asking

If you’re the type that needs to hear it, he’ll say he loves you

If not, it should be said all through his actions

Since he’s not one well for words- all the little things will be through awkward but sweet, sweet, gestures and materials

Charles Smith-

The motherfucking King of romance

He likes to be near his partner at all times

Even if he’s one for silence he’ll love to listen to your voice

He’s the hand-holder, he’ll want to hold your hand all the time

He doesn’t keep his eye on you all the time but it surely relaxes him whenever he sees you

He’ll pick flowers and plants for you first thing in the morning

Looks after your horse when you can’t

1000% takes you on nature rides just to be in your presence in peace

If you don’t know how to hunt he’ll teach you the basics and watch as you grow to be a better hunter

He doesn’t go to sleep until you do

He’ll always be willing to teach you or learn from you

Since he’s already a hard worker around camp, he’ll try and do your chores too

Will always profess his love before missions

John Marston-

He probably has some kind of PTSD from his relationship with Abigail ngl so he’ll be more like Arthur

He’s not sure what to do or how to act like but he’ll always keep an eye out for you

Makes sure you are stocked with ammo/knives just to be on the safe side

Gets you only the best jewelry/watches he manages to steal

He is not good with words so he’ll relay his love to you through actions

Always cracks a joke with you- especially if he knows it’s not your day

If you ask him for something poor boy would probably ask a million questions out of habit with Abigail but he’ll get it for you in a heartbeat

Use a gentle tone with him- He’ll be so soft and gentle with you

Most of his affection will be shown while you’re asleep, he’ll play with your hair, caress your face, make sure you aren’t too cold or too hot- It’s just easier for him

[brownsugarwrites]

Magnolia.

❥ pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

❥ warnings: none, fluff, suggestive (if u squint).\

❥ wc: 1.5k

It was the hottest day of the summer, and of course, your mother planned for your family’s BBQ to be hosted today. 

Sitting at the vanity, you applied blush to your cheeks, sighing as you gazed at your reflection in the mirror. Setting the makeup down, you put the white bow your mother made for you in your braids before raking a hand through them.

“Honey, the guests are arriving! Come down ‘ere and help me take the food out,” your mother called. 

Telling her you were coming down to help, you slipped on some white heels before leaving your bedroom. 

The sounds of your shoes could be heard as you descended the steps into the kitchen to help bring out the small finger food outside to the garden. 

“You look beautiful sweetheart,” your mother praised, eyes brightening at your attire.

Giving a thank you, you picked up the platter to bring outside.

He watched as you brought the platters full of food out to the garden as everyone congregated. The sky blue dress clinging onto your hips with the white bow holding a bunch of your braids together. 

He knew exactly who you were. One of the sweetest girls in this little town the two of you live in. Watching as you bring out the magnolia bouquet to your mother to show her gardening club friends her newest accomplishment. He would think you’re as sweet as those flowers you're holding. 

Drinking from his glass of whiskey he listened as your father boasted about his oil company and how business was booming as the sweat dripped from his forehead.

“Here's some water, Daddy,” you said coming up to the group of men intruding into the conversation

“How sweet of you, sweetheart, thank you. I'm sure everyone knows my daughter. Just turned 21 not that long ago,” he beamed as he introduced you to all the men. 

Waving shyly, Arthur watched as the sun beamed onto you and a slight orange glow radiated off you. Eyes trailing down to where your pearls sat right above your breasts that were enunciated by your strapless dress.

My, were you a doll to him…Your pink glossed lips with the red blush adorning your cheeks. 

“--and this is Mr. Morgan, sweetheart,” your dad said introducing you formally to him.

“Pleasure to meet you, beautiful,” he said flirtatiously, bringing your dainty manicured hand to his lips as you blushed at his gesture. 

Hearing your dad scoff under his breath, he smirked in response. 

“I'll be back gentlemen. Have to tend to the wife real quick,” your father said to the group of men before leading you away to take you inside 

Watching as you looked back at him as you were being dragged away, he sent you a wink. Feeling your cheeks warm in response you turned back around before walking into the house 

Finishing his whisky, he sat his glass down before going to talk to the other partygoers. 

As the night went on he watched as you sat close to your mother as she mingled with the other wives. You sat idle checking your nails occasionally as you listened to the mothers talk about their sons and how they would love to meet someone as gorgeous as you. 

You looked uninterested and very bored with the conversation at hand. Scanning the garden full of partygoers you locked eyes with Arthur as he drank from his glass.

Looking away shyly you excused yourself abruptly from the group of women before walking away to make your way to the front of your estate. You walked to the front where all the carriages were parked as you walked over to the fountain. 

“‘Cuse me, miss,” you heard a deep voice ring

“Oh, well, good evening,” you greeted shyly, turning around to see Mr Morgan descending the porch steps.

Making long strides to get to you, he stopped right in front of you before tipping his hat at you 

“It's pretty dark out ‘ere, doncha think, sunshine,” he asked, looking into your chocolate eyes.

His voice was so alluring you had to fight to keep the conversation alive 

“Well yes, I suppose. I just needed to escape all the gossiping mothers,” you said before giggling. 

As the two of you made small talk he got a generous whiff of the gentle scent of the vanilla perfume oil that adorned your body. The rushing of the wind aids in your perfume filling his nose. 

“What do you do for your work Mr.Morgan,” you asked curiously. 

Biting the inside of his cheek, he thought of a good enough answer to tell you. Knowing your father probably told you something different than what he does to scare you away from him.

“I do a little bit of everything, sweetheart,” he said with a smile.

Giving a ‘hm’ you let it go for now. 

“You mind if we sit down by the fountain,” you asked wanting to take the pressure off your feet that heels gave 

Inviting you to lead the way the sound of the heels clacking on the pavement as you walked to sit on the marbled edge of the fountain before swinging your legs to the side and crossing them. 

Locking eyes with the handsome man in front of you with the scruff facial hair and dark, mysterious eyes you began to grow the slightest bit of nervous. Your father instructed you not to speak to him but here you were in your family's courtyard talking to the man you weren't supposed to be conversing with. 

It was thrilling.

All the men your mother brought around weren't as mysterious as the man sitting in front of you. You wanted to learn more about who he was. 

“Might I say, you’re gorgeous.” he complimented breaking you from your thoughts 

“Why thank you, Mr.Morgan,” you said shyly before playing with your loose braid looking down as your cheeks heated in embarrassment

“You can just call me Arthur, sugar.” he corrected you before putting his hand under your chin so that your eyes could meet again

Gulping in nervousness, you avoided his gaze not wanting to get under whatever spell he was trying to put on you. He was a gorgeous man, and he knew it. You were captivated by him.

“No need to be nervous sweetheart I won't hurt ya” he laughed noticing your wandering eyes before scooting closer to you 

Hearing your breath hitch under your breath he smirked. You were adorable, seeing how you got shy under his gaze made him want to test the waters with you. Not caring what your father had to say 

“Hey, look at me,” he said gently but with some bass in his voice 

Eyes flickering up quickly at him your eyelashes fluttered and you peered into his dark eyes. Bringing his head closer to your neck he laid gentle kisses on your supple skin hearing the low mewls you gave of satisfaction. 

“M’daddy said ‘m not supposed to be talking to you, Mr.Morgan.” you hiccuped.

“I told you to call me Arthur sweetheart and aren't you old enough to make decisions for yourself?” he responded as you felt his breath fan over your neck 

“Well yes, but I dont wanna get in trouble, sir,” you explained before clearing your throat

Grunting softly at you calling him ‘sir’ he asked if you would like him to stop his teasing ministrations 

The thoughts about your father flew out of the window. To hell with him. 

Whispering a no you felt him attack your neck before kissing down to get to your collarbone. Leaving light kisses along it, you sighed in pleasure feeling his soft lips upon your skin. 

Pulling away he looked into your shimmering eyes that captured the moon before bringing your face towards his to kiss you

“Sweetheart are you out here-?” you heard your father's strong voice ring out 

Eyes shooting open you quickly came back to reality before standing up and fixing your dress

“‘M right here Daddy what's wrong,” you asked curiously 

“Your mother told me you’d been gone for a moment. Just was checking on ya.” 

Seeing Arthur still sitting along the edge of the fountain he looked back at you in confusion

“He’s not messing with ya is he sweetheart?” your father asked becoming protective over you

“No, Daddy he's not. He came out to check up on me” You reassured your father 

Giving him a side eye he left it alone before telling you that you needed to come in soon as the party was dying down for the night. Telling him ok you quickly waved him off before going back to Arthur 

“‘M sorry bout that Arthur-” you apologized

“‘'s fine, I should get going, sweetheart,” he said while fixing his hat on top of his head 

Swiftly giving you a kiss on your lips your eyes fluttering in response you kissed him back before throwing your arms over his neck and propping a foot up as you felt his rough hands go down to your hips to keep you steady 

Pulling away, you gave a shy giggle before bidding him goodnight.

“Write me some time, ya hear?” he chuckled before letting you go and kissing you on the cheek 

“I-I will!” you exclaimed with a big grin on your pretty face. “Good night, Arthur!” 

He watched as you scurried as fast as your heels took you back into your estate before looking back sending a shy wave and closing the front door.

[immajustvibehere]

Winter Cowboy

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

oneshot: fluff

summary: Arthur returns cold and shaking from his ride with Dutch. In the meanwhile, you had been warming up in Colter and readily provide some warmth for your favourite cowboy.

Pre-established: You and Arthur are both aware of being sweet on one another, you are still acting a bit weird around each other, but you are both getting slowly accustomed to the growing intimacy.

masterlist

1000 words, less than 10 minutes reading time

You watched from the inside of the hut how Arthur, Micah and Dutch came back from scouting the area. The men had a woman with them, barely clothed and clearly disheveled. The gang had arrived in Colter barely three hours ago, everything had been set up and the huts were slowly warming up from the flames that were crackling in the fireplace. The heat was barely sufficient, the buildings were so old and beaten down that the wind and snow sneaked through the rotten wooden boards, creeping up everyone's back when they weren't in close proximity to the fire. But it was better than no shelter, better than out there in the snowstorm. You watched as the group dispersed and Arthur approached the house you were waiting in.

You had helped set up his room. It wasn't too cozy, more like the opposite: it was dirty and disgusting. You had spent a good half an hour on sweeping out old leaves or arranging every kind of fabric you could find on the bed, so that it wouldn't be too uncomfortable to sleep on. In front of the fire, you had spread out two woolen blankets and one of Arthur's warmer jackets. As the door opened and Arthur stepped in, a gush of cold wind and snowflakes fought their way indoors. Arthur's blue eyes immediately found you standing at the window. For a second you couldn't decide what was colder, his ocean-colored eyes or the fresh air he brought with him.

"I'm glad you're back", you smiled, looking a bit worriedly at the shivering cowboy. Patches of snow rested on his jacket and hat, his cheeks a mixture of painful red and freezing blue. He looked exhausted, and you couldn't blame him.

"Me too", Arthur agreed with you, "it's hell out there. Jus'...without the heat I guess..." Arthur approached the fire and got rid of his gloves to warm his hands.

"Did you find something to eat?", you inquired, walking closer to him and brushing snow off his coat.

"A bit...not enough to last us for long", Arthur sighed, then pulled out a can of oatcakes and handed it to you. The can was so cold, it hurt your hand that had taken hours to warm up in front of the fire. "We met some O'Driscoll's. They were having a delightful time in a homestead. Killed its owner and widowed a wife. Cruel bunch...", Arthur recounted the happenings of before.

"That's the woman you brought?", you asked, struggling to open your can of cakes.

"Yeah, Mrs Adler."

You finally succeeded in getting an oatcake out of the can, but as you bit into it, you found it too frozen to enjoy and left the can on the ledge above the fireplace. In the meanwhile, Arthur struggled to light a match, as his were too humid to catch fire.

"Here you go", you took a matchbox that was resting on a chair nearby, you figured that Hosea had left it there, and lit a match in front of Arthur.

"Thank you, darling", his lips curled into a smile as he let you light the cigarette between his lips. After he had opened his wet coat, he offered you a place on his lap, which you happily accepted. You enjoyed observing Arthur when he was smoking, the way he balanced the cigarette on his lips, barely ever using his hands, felt captivating, though you never smoked yourself. "Has John returned?", Arthur asked leisurely, his arm around your waist.

"No, not yet. Abigail is real worried", you answered, your gaze sweeping the floor and landing on the fire. "Yeah, well. The bastard will be back sooner or later", Arthur said, acting as if it didn't matter that Marston would spend a night outside while it snowed so heavily. "Let's hope so...", you mumbled, resting your head against Arthur's shoulder, which he welcomed with a happy sigh and a tighter grip around you. Before the cigarette was fully smoked, Arthur flicked it into the fire. "Wanna go to bed? I need some hours of proper sleep." You nodded desperately, by now Arthur's eyelids weren't the only ones battling gravity.

It was an unpleasant task; getting up from Arthur's lap. You had become rather comfortable and wouldn't have had any problems falling asleep right then and there. You took a blanket, and Arthur took the other one as well as his warmed-up jacket, which he gratefully thanked you for letting heat up in front of the fire. He switched into it, letting his wet coat in the warmer room before heading after you into his private chamber.

Arthur lied down first, settling for a half-sitting position, with a pillow as comfortable padding between his back and the wall. The bed was small, but Arthur was probably aware that your other options, besides sharing it with him, was sleeping on the floor with the other ladies in a packed room. Both you and him preferred this alternative. When he had found a comfortable position, you settled next to him. He readily embraced you, letting your head rest on his chest, right underneath his chin. With the limited space, you both did your best to tug yourself in, Arthur almost covering you completely with the blankets.

"Do you think we'll be fine?", you asked hesitantly. You weren't even sure what exactly you were referring to...the gang and the Pinkertons, you and Arthur, you sleeping despite it being dangerously cold. Arthur sighed, but his voice was warm and soothing: "For now, yeah". His answer brought out a tired smile on your lips and you looked up, trying to catch Arthur's eyes. You freed one hand from the prison under the blanket and cupped Arthur's cheek. It was still cold from his trip outside, but you gladly provided your accumulated heat to warm it a bit. "You comfortable?", Arthur asked, his exhaustion audible in his voice.

"Very much", you whispered back.

Arthur turned his head a bit, pressing a shy kiss on top of your head before he let out a long content sigh.

[goodmorgan]

Perfect Strangers

Chapter 2: A Debt To Repay

(Chapter 1)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

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

Chapter Summary: When Arthur keeps his promise and returns, he's determined to repay his debt to you in more than one way.

Word Count: 5.4K

Tags: NSFW. MDNI. 18+. Smut, Porn With Plot, Oral Sex (f! receiving), Fingering, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Infidelity, Arthur gives reader a pet name

AO3 Link

A/N: The chapter has spoilers for the first one obvs. For the sake of the story, I have given reader a last name. However, Arthur decides to give her a pet name all of his own...

"To my dearest wife, Mrs. Brooks,

I hope my letter finds you in agreeable health and blithe spirit. I am fortunate to write this in the same state of body and mind.

I am writing to inform you that my return home from Annesburg has been regrettably delayed again. Mr. Jameson has instructed me to remain as bookkeeper for the upcoming months, expressing modest satisfaction with my employment. I do not know yet when I’ll be able to visit you.

I hear whispers that the head bookkeeper, Mr. Muller, my superior, might be retiring by the end of this year, which would make me a potential candidate for his position. I plan on proving my worth in the meantime so that I might be given preferential treatment when the time comes for his replacement. I would like to discuss this in greater detail with you on our next meeting.

Business is flourishing despite minor mishaps at the mine hindering our profit. The papers have callously depicted the pristine working conditions of our miners, whom I assure you are treated and provided for in the most respectable manner. Please refrain from reading such worthless gossip and know I am secure from bodily or spiritual harm.

Mr. Jameson has generously provided compensation for postponing my visit. I trust that you will able to retrieve it at the Valentine Savings Bank, like on previous occasions. Please be mindful to spend it wisely and sparingly.

I bid you farewell with the optimism that we will see each other very soon. In the meantime, I'll see you in my most tender dreams.

Be well and let bygones be just that.

Your doting husband,

Stanley Oliver Brooks"

It has always struck you as appropriate that your husband's initials are S.O.B.

You can't think of a more fitting term for him, even after the last letter he sent, his words leaving you again sick to your stomach as you reread them. While you sigh of relief for his foreseeable absence in the next few months, you're disgusted by his artificial affection and concern for you. If only the man of his letters were real.

You close shut the drawer containing his correspondence with a thud, hearing your wedding ring clang inside. You haven't worn it in months, preferring to not wear a constant reminder of him on you.

You go into the kitchen to find something useful you can do, keeping your mind and hands busy with toil usually helps forget him. You decide to bake a pie with the rest of the apples you have left.

You reach for the flour in your cupboard when you hear the distant sound of horses approaching, making you turn around sharply, grabbing the shotgun by the door. It's now a mechanical instinct for you, having done it hundreds of times since you've lived out here alone. Nothing has passed during that time to upset the peaceful life you lead, so you mostly do it out of precaution. The only major cause of concern happened a few days back when you saw a strange man wander into your front yard, picking one of your apples. Luckily, he was the best thing that happened to you in a long time.

You don't dare risk your luck again so you step out onto the porch quickly, getting ready to ward off any intruder. It's only when you have him in your line of sight that you see the approaching target.

It's Arthur Morgan. At last.

It has been five whole days since he left with your mare Amber. His promise to return hanged in the air since like the sun rays that get you up in the morning, sweet and inviting. You would have never imagined you'd miss someone this much, let alone someone you only knew for a few spellbinding hours.

The man you met intimately last week is now riding a powerful brown stallion, an adequate choice for him, both of them equally imposing to the eye. Amber gallops by their side appearing smaller but just as graceful and well-kept, her golden coat shining in the morning sun. Arthur slows down both horses to a trot as he enters your front yard, letting out an "Easy now" as he pulls on the reins. The closer he gets to you, the better you can see the quiet tender smile on his lips, one too unseemly for such a big man riding such a big horse.

Arthur looks much improved since the last and only time you saw him, now wearing clean clothes that highlight his threatening physique. A polished, perhaps new, slightly too tight, blue shirt brings out his eyes as they shimmer under the shadow of his familiar hat. The bruises on his face have almost healed and you can see the scar on his chin more clearly now that he has trimmed his beard. The satchel you gave him is still draping the same shoulder he hung it on and an impressive gun belt sits on his hips, two heavy weapons anchoring him. Your eyes can barely register all of this as you keep ogling his scene-stealing smile.

"You greet everyone with that shotgun of yours or just me?" he quips from atop his horse as he prepares to dismount. Hearing the soothing lilt of his voice again fills you with unabashed joy.

"Just men I have over for dinner. Or men who take my horse. Or both."

Arthur lets out a few chuckles as he stomps on the ground, heading towards the rails of your porch to hitch his horse. You head toward Amber, petting her forehead to say hello and she neighs back, saying she missed you too. You give her some more attention before you feel Arthur standing behind you, waiting his turn to get your sweet attention too.

"Was she a good girl?" you ask him when you finally turn around and meet his enigmatic gaze, his face barely a few inches from yours. His smile seems to be stuck in place.

"Yeah, she's a swell ride. Didn't work her too hard, I promise."

"And who's that?" You nod towards the brown stallion now grazing your lawn.

"That's Titus. He's new. Still a little jumpy."

"Well, I'm sure you'll tame him in no time."

"Yeah, I'll get him there."

When your spoken conversation halts, your unspoken one continues as you keep eyeing each other. There's a magnetic push forcing you together, an invisible pull holding you apart. Small wrinkles appear and dissolve on your faces as fleeting hints of your nervousness. Your heartbeats are a little faster than their resting rates. Your eyelashes suddenly work overtime. The breeze cools your sweaty temples as you both sway in place, waiting to see who will make the first move, who will be the one to break off the impasse. Make or break. Push and pull. A seductive stalemate.

"How’ve you been?" Like a hesitant player with a winning hand, you fold.

"Just fine. Better. Alive, thanks to you."

"I'm glad." You feel your cheeks move to form an unstoppable smile.

"I've come to repay my debt, as a matter of fact."

"Oh, really?" You pretend to have forgotten all about it, like it hasn't occupied your mind every single waking hour for the past few days. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

"I have something in mind. But first I'm gonna need your help with something.”

You watch as he moves back to his horse and you follow him, hitching Amber next to Titus. Arthur removes a brown bag from one of his saddlebags. "Here, hold this." It's heavier than you expected. He moves to the other side of the horse to retrieve a smaller bag. "Grab this one too.” You steady yourself as he hands it to you and you start to struggle with the weight of both bags. "Get those inside, would ya?"

“Mr. Morgan, what is this?"

"Just get them inside. I'll show ya."

You're already climbing the stairs to head inside when Arthur finally unropes the big package that was stowed on the back of his horse. By the way he holds it, it seems even heavier.

When you finally place the two bags down on your kitchen counter, Arthur's already right behind you, setting down the package next to the bags. He opens one of them and reaches inside, handing you a potato the size of his fist.

"Thought I'd bring back some things you might need. To replace all the food I ate the other day."

You watch as he starts to empty the bag on the counter, first reaching for potatoes, carrots and onions and then for handfuls of green beans and peas. He retrieves a few shucked corncobs, some turnips. You peek inside the other bag to see that it has a few loaves of bread.

"Now, the only thing I didn't get you was apples, but I figured you might still have a few of those."

"This is too much." You finally express your surprise.

"Well, I did eat too much."

"Not this much, no!"

"It's nothing, really. Why don't you open up the rest for me and I'll get the game I hunted?"

You watch him leave before you finally open the big boxed package. Laying on top you find a few red tins of biscuits and half a dozen chocolate bars. You lift them to find cans of coffee, beans, peaches and salmon. You spot the neck of a bottle of whiskey, an expensive kind by the look of it. A small wheel of cheese is stuck in a corner.

You're still deep in astonishment when you see him walk back in, a couple of rabbits hanging from one hand and a duck from the other. You can't help but laugh at the image. "You steal a grocer on the way over here or something? How much do you think I eat?"

"Just trying to make sure I do right by you, miss. Don't want you thinking I'm so kind of grifter."

"But I didn't give you any chocolate. Or biscuits!" You raise one of the tins in incredulity.

"Oh, that's something I thought you deserved."

Your heart flutters at his words. "Well, you better be staying for dinner because there's no way I can eat this all by myself!" It's only when the words are out of your mouth that you realize how eager you are to replicate the other night.

"I'd be happy to." He accepts your invitation without a fuss. There’s a certain easefulness in your conversation now that you're better acquainted and you both know your attraction is mutual. It doesn’t surprise you that he says yes.

You look back to the goods now cluttering your counter and wonder if you have space in your cupboards to keep it all.

"I was actually hoping you'd let me borrow some of your tools, so I can settle my debt like I promised."

You turn around surprised once again. "Isn't this the repayment you had in mind?" You gesture toward the supplies on the counter.

"No, ma'am. I was thinking I could help you fix your stable. I went to get Amber the other day and I saw that some of the walls need mending and the roof needs fixing. I'd be happy to do it if you let me."

You've been meaning to hire someone to do that for months. It's touching that Arthur noticed and wants to help you out. You don't see a reason not to let him.

"That would be fine, Mr. Morgan. I have some tools here." You reach for your toolbox under the kitchen sink. "There's more of them somewhere in the stable. I'm sure you can find them. Are you sure you don't mind? I don't want to impose."

He takes the toolbox as you hand it to him. "I'm more than happy to help, miss." He gives you a reassuring smile. "I'll get started right away if you don't mind."

“Sure. I'll fix us some lunch later. I'll come to get you when it's ready."

"Thank you." He nods politely before he excuses himself and you watch through the kitchen window as he stops to pat Titus before heading to the stable out back.

You are now stuck with the ordeal of putting away all of the food Arthur brought, rearranging the cupboards to fit it all. You smile as you store the biscuits and the bars on a shelf, wondering what kind of man brings so much chocolate to repay a lady. Something I thought you deserved, he said. But it's not just chocolate, it's a whole array of goods, including meats he took time to hunt and skin to purposely bring to you. You realize he's been thinking of you as much as you've been thinking about him, even though a week ago you were just complete strangers. Your thoughts are interrupted once you hear sudden loud rhythmic hammering outside, the continuing of Arthur's restitution.

Everything is in its place once you remember you were going to bake an apple pie before you were so delightfully interrupted. You think it's an even better idea now that Arthur is staying over for dinner. And lunch. Somehow you've captivated him enough to spend the whole day here with you. You hope he'll be spending the night too.

It gets harder to focus on the pie as you recall the night of intimacy the two of you spent the other day. Your chest rises and your breath hisses at the thought that you might be repeating it tonight. As you mix and mold the dough on your steady hands, you think of his large ones caressing you once again, first through your clothes and then on your skin, leaving his mark again on your faltering hips as he gives into you for the second time. You'll be sure to ask him to let you finish around him first this time, the idea having plagued you since then.

The oven is already hot once you absentmindedly finish assembling the pie, the apples now carefully stuffed inside the crust. As it bakes, you get working on lunch, made with some of the ingredients Arthur brought, a simple soup with plenty of potatoes and some sandwiches. You remove the pie from the oven and leave it to cool on the window sill before you go call Arthur for your meal.

When you reach the stable you find him crouched on top of the roof, nailing down some pieces of wood to cover a hole. He’s working shirtless and the late morning sun is making him sweat profusely, deepening his permanent tan. He’s so focused on his task he doesn’t see you approach. “Mr. Morgan, lunch is ready!”

Your voice is loud enough to make him turn to see you. “I’ll be right in, miss.”

When you’re nearly back at the house, you watch from afar as he climbs down the ladder, reaching for a bucket of water to refresh himself, scrubbing off the sweat with a damp rag. You leave when you see him buttoning his shirt, tucking it into his pants, priming himself for another meal with you.

By the time he gets inside, you’re already serving two bowls of steaming hot soup. “This looks mighty fine, miss.” He gives you a satisfied grin before he stops in his tracks and turns around to peek inside the kitchen, having caught the smell of your freshly baked treat. “Is that pie?”

“Yes, it’s cooling so you’re going to have to wait for dinner, I’m afraid.”

“I look forward to it.” He sits down on the same chair he did last time, just as anxious to dig in as five days ago. But this time he’s not as hungry, so he engages in lively conversation with you.

He mostly tells you what’s new in Valentine, curious happenings that have gone down in the past few weeks, things he’s heard around town and seen in the papers. He even gossips with you about a well-known cattle rancher caught having an affair with the butcher’s wife. The story seems to delight him immensely since apparently they ended up slimed in the rancher’s own pigpen in the middle of the town.

You would find the story amusing if it didn’t remind you that you too are a wife with your own infidelity now. The idea of ending up in a pigpen after being exposed for your transgression seems incredibly bleak. You busy yourself with the dishes to dispel the thought from your mind.

But when Arthur raises from his chair, letting out a long sustained breath, stretching out his enormous body inside your small cottage, you are reacquainted with the lust you have for the man. As you recall the intimate actions that make up your infidelity, your first thought is to wonder how soon you will be able repeat them. The hope that it will be tonight makes you weak with excitement. Maybe ending up in a pigpen isn’t so bad.

“Well, I best get back to it if I’m gonna finish today.” He stops before he crosses the threshold, returning his hat to his place. “The food was very tasty, miss. Thank you.” You both smile briefly at each other.

While he resumes fixing the stable, you return to your chores until you are suddenly left drowsy by the afternoon heat, deciding to rest your eyes for a moment in the comfort of your sofa, the sound of Arthur’s hammer lulling you to sleep.

It's late afternoon when you wake from your nap and you notice how quiet it is, the hammering having stopped. You figure it’s best to go see if Arthur needs any help, bringing with you a pitcher of lemonade to refresh him from a sunny day’s hard labor.

You find him still working inside the stable, his shirt, hat and gun belt hanging on the hooks where you keep some ropes. This time he hears you approach with the pitcher and two glasses in hand.

“Thought you might be thirsty, Mr. Morgan. Got you something to drink.”

“That’s very kind of you, miss. Just give me a second.”

You watch as he picks up a few bales of hay on the other side of the stable and he places them on top of the others, finishing setting them up in a neat pyramid by where you’re standing.

"I think that about does it,” he says.

You survey the small stable as you notice the impressive result of his craftsmanship, every hole now covered and every wooden board now in its place. He even went to the trouble of tidying up the space, neatly arranging everything to make it more functional. It looks like a brand new stable.

You serve him a glass of lemonade as he joins you. “The stable looks wonderful, Mr. Morgan. I’ve never seen it so tidy!”

“I’m glad you like it.” He sits down on a bale as he finally rests for the day, sipping half a glass in just a few gulps.

You serve yourself and put down the pitcher, sitting on a nearby stool, continuing to admire his handiwork. Amber will surely enjoy living here again, you think. It takes only a few seconds before your eyes circle back to where Arthur is and you notice he’s staring at you. You stare right back.

There’s a slight breeze coming in from the windows but neither of you is swaying in place now, sitting perfectly still as you observe the other. You are once again victims of a push and pull, a make or break. That goddamn seductive stalemate.

Except this time, it’s him that breaks. “Come here.” Arthur’s voice suddenly sounds deeper as he sets his glass on the floor, his other hand reaching out for you. You leave your own glass on the stool as you hold out to touch his palm.

When he finally holds you in his hand, you feel yourself being pulled closer to him, forcefully landing on his lap. Your faces remain somber as you’re now close enough to inspect each other’s irises, continuing that wordless exchange you’ve been having all day. The standoff ends when Arthur chases your lips with his, finally free to crash into each other like you’ve been so hungry to do. Nothing about it is tender as the kisses you share turn ravenous, no longer restricted by the pretense of propriety. You have slept together, after all.

It takes a while until both of you are satisfied, decreasing the intensity of each kiss as you pause to look at each other’s eyes, basking in the glow of being wanted so deeply by the other. Soon his warm lips rub against yours more softly, delicately even, and his tongue stops chasing yours. He settles down by placing short pecks on your chin and jaw, as you gently caress his back and neck. You remain in his embrace as you lean your forehead onto his and he gently removes loose strands of hair from your cheeks.

"I'm sorry I was selfish the other night,” he murmurs. You respond to his apology by lifting your head in confusion. “I was in such a hurry I didn't let you finish first." The fact that he cares about it makes you ache with renewed desire.

"That's ok. It looked like you needed it more than I did.” You pause as he reaches quickly for your lips again. “And, boy, did I need it!” He lets out a few soft chuckles in that drawl of his.

His gaze is suddenly serious. "Let me make it up to you."

“Now?”

He nods. “Now.”

He reaches for the warmth of your thighs underneath your skirt, the ones he’s been fondling this whole time. He squeezes them tightly a few times before he suddenly pulls at your drawers and slides a hand inside, reaching your core with a couple of fingers. You feel them slide between your folds and rub the spot where your slick is. “Good, you’re already wet.” You feel a jolt of ecstasy through your entire body at the brief maneuver so when he removes his hands from you it feels physically devastating and you let out a small whimper.

“I’m gonna take care of you, don’t worry. Just take off your clothes for me, would ya?” Arthur suddenly reaches for his glass of lemonade.

“Here?”

He nods. “Here.”

It’s a rather odd moment when you realize that somehow you trust this semi-stranger, barely-acquaintance drifter completely. He’s asking you to get naked for him in the middle of your stable, in broad daylight, and yet you don’t even bat an eye. You’re quick to grant his wish as you start unbuttoning your simple blouse, soon exposing your chemise to him as he takes a few sips of his drink. You drop your top on the floor as you get up from Arthur’s lap to remove your skirt and throw your drawers to the side, with only one piece of clothing left to remove.

Arthur rises from his seat and soon hovers over you to plant another kiss, this one more forceful as he parts your lips with his, slippery from the lemonade. He lingers a while before retreating, forcing himself apart from you to swoop up your chemise as it passes between your bodies. He takes a moment to look down at you and you’re very aware that you are now standing there naked and barefoot. “You’re so beautiful.” He sees you wince at his compliment. “Really, you are.” He softly caresses the side of your arms before leaning in for another demanding kiss and you feel your bare breasts touching his bare chest, his warmth enveloping you as you shiver from his touch and the light breeze entering the stable.

He lets go of your mouth to plant sensual kisses on your jaw, slithering steadily down your neck, quickly reaching your collarbone. He then trails further down as he reaches one of your breasts, lingering his tongue on your nipple, making you steady yourself on his shoulders. He slides further down to your belly, then to your navel, stopping just as he hits your mound, planting soft kisses there. His last one is right above your parting of the folds, making your whole body shudder. He gets up again to look you in the eyes. “So beautiful.” A final kiss lands on your upper lips.

He pauses before he asks his next question. “You have any neighbors, miss?”

You are completely surrounded by the woods. There isn’t another soul for miles. “No, why?"

"In case you get loud."

You watch in place as he goes to retrieve his shirt and for a moment you think he’s going to get dressed. Then he heads to the bales of hay he had been sitting on, unfurling his shirt on top. He grabs your hand and beckons you: “Sit.” You’re confused by his intentions and it shows. “Sit here, come on.” He pats the fabric of his shirt, tugging your hand with his other one. You slowly do so, still not understanding what he wants.

Once you sit down, your bare ass lying on top of Arthur’s shirt, you follow his lead and he grabs both your knees gently, making you turn to the side. You watch as he suddenly kneels himself down in front of you, moving his hands down to your calfs, lifting your legs up. Without any warning he starts pecking one of your knees, placing the other on his shoulder. “You gonna be loud for me, beautiful?” His beard lightly scratches you as he switches legs. “You gonna be loud while you come around my mouth?”

His words make you inhale sharply as you realize what he’s going to do to you.

“Is that a yes, miss?”

You nod, shaking with anticipation. “Yes.”

He pulls your body closer to him, positioning your hips at the edge of the bale, making you lean on your elbows, fully lying on the comfort of his shirt.

His light kissing on your legs starts out feeling like gentle tickling but soon becomes sensual smears as he starts working on your inner thighs. The kisses then get longer and bolder as he closes in on the meeting of your thighs, forcing you to breathe more heavily. He starts using more tongue too, which increases the feeling wildly. By the time he reaches the apex of your thigh, you’re completely dizzy with his teasing, involuntarily closing your eyes as your breath hitches.

“Christ, darling, I haven’t even sucked you yet.”

You watch as Arthur lowers his face once more, a smirk disappearing behind the shape of your mound. He kisses the bridge between your thigh and your slit, which distracts you from his other hand as it sneakily reaches the meeting of your folds. He parts them slowly with a single finger, starting at the top of the clit and only stopping at the bottom of your entrance. You let out a prolonged loud moan, which makes him raise his head, watching your face as he then slides the same finger all the way back up, smearing your slick along its path. You get louder as he pauses directly on your clit, swirling it a few times. After so much teasing, having direct contact is so intense that your head finally hits the hay.

The reaction suddenly feels premature once you finally feel him start what he’s set out to do. Arthur lowers his head again, only this time his lips land right on yours, circling your clit in the gentlest kiss of the afternoon. Your whole body shakes at his subdued but blinding touch.

The coil inside your lower abdomen starts to wind as you feel the tip of his tongue make direct contact with your bud, its surface now angled perfectly to drive you wild. He continues the motion even as you writhe under him, now clutching his hair to ground yourself, your legs pressing his body down onto you as your back begins to curve. Rather than pull away from your tight embrace, he sinks deeper into you, holding your hips steady from their bucking as he continues to lap you lewdly, the sound only muffled by your own salacious moaning. His tongue is relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure and you think you won’t last very long.

The obscenity of the moment is not lost on you, as you lift your head momentarily to see what is happening. There is a tall handsome cowboy down on his knees for you, using his whole mouth to draw from you the most perverted noises, on the verge of making you crumble to the most erotic thing anyone has ever done for you. In the middle of your stable, of all places. You thank the heavens you don’t have any neighbors. You thank the devil for keeping your husband away.

And then you feel two of his fingers enter you.

You settle your head down again as you become a complete mess under him, too far gone to care about keeping it together, especially now that he rubs the sweet spot inside you. You’re barely able to discern that his free hand has now reached his pants but you hear the sound of his buckle opening. Finally free from his constraints, he strokes himself a few times and you feel him vibrate on top of you as he finds some needed relief. Despite this, his tongue and his fingers never let up, working you mercilessly. You soon feel moans of pleasure leave his mouth, reverberating directly on your core, a feeling too lascivious for you. That’s when you finally come undone.

Your whole body convulses as you experience the greatest climax you’ve ever had, feeling the waves of pleasure reach every inch of your body, maybe your soul. As you come, your core pushes upward against Arthur’s face, telling him to stop, but he does not relent, continuing his lapping, wringing every ounce of ecstasy out of you. You’re beyond overwhelmed as you moan uncontrollably, your hips sinking and rising erratically, your hands still pulling his hair. After a few moments, he begins to slow his licking, removing his fingers from you, placing his hands on your forearms, giving you smooth caresses as he helps you come down from your high. When you’re a little more tamed, he removes his mouth completely.

“That sure was loud, miss.”

You’re so wrung out by the orgasm you barely hear him, nor do you feel when one of his hands leaves your arm. When you’re more grounded, still reeling from the aftershocks, you’re delighted to hear he has resumed touching himself. By the increasingly loud panting, he sounds to be close already. You don’t lift your spinning head until your curiosity finally defeats your exhaustion. You watch as he pumps his cock with his mouth open, eyes closed, on the verge of toppling over. His beard still glistens with some of your wetness.

When you’re strong enough to lift yourself on your elbows he hears you stir, prompting his eyes open. The gaze he gives is one riddled with lust, accompanied by a brief licking of his lips as he sets a faster pace. You continue to gawk at him, which is all it takes for him to unravel, making him grunt deeply as his spend begins to land on the ground by his knees.

You wait for him to finish his release before you tease him. “You know, you’re not so quiet yourself, mister.”

He laughs lightheartedly as he rises from his knees, tucking his cock inside his underpants, pulling his pants up before he sits down next to you by your hips, still catching his breath. He softly caresses the side of your belly with one of his thumbs. “How was that, miss?”

"I think you’ve repaid your debt in full, Mr. Morgan.”

He bends down to kiss your lips lightly as you both giggle, shining in your shared postcoital bliss. “The name’s Arthur, miss.”

"Well, the name’s Y/N, Arthur.”

“I like ‘miss’ better. It suits you.” He lowers his lips again, this time reaching for your neck.

“You ever heard a ‘miss’ scream like that for you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I might’ve heard louder than you.” He moves his thumb to teasingly play with one of your nipples.

“I very much doubt that.”

“Well, you can always prove me wrong.” Arthur hovers over your lips threateningly. “Besides, the day ain’t over yet, missy.”

You smile at his new pet name for you. It's certainly better than being called Mrs.

-

A/N: I already have most of the remaining chapters planned out, so hopefully the rest will be published a little faster. Chapter 3 coming soon with the rest of the day!