#male arthur

[bitin-and-barkin]

STRONG OLDER MEN. I want to see a man, so rough and tough in the streets actually be a big sweetheart and SO nervous in bed. All flustered and whiney, rutting against your thigh like a one dollar whore. I need to see them overstimulated and crying from pleasure while you suck them off or eat them out. I want to see them be so scared about hurting you while they fuck you oh so gently, SO horny, but so afraid of hurting you. I wanna see one cry and whimper into your neck while they ride you soo well like a good boy <3 you let them cum as much as they want because they're being soo good for you (and they NEED that privilege cause they are soo sensitive and will cum so much) and they eat ALL of your praise up

[adoniseverywheremen]

Arthur Becari by Naur Cavalcante

[koszmarnybudyn]

I found a really good refrence... So Kayne.

Oh also the og refrence under the cut cause i did use it for the background:

[superfinemen]

[golyhawhaw]

Greetings. Here is my rendition of Arthur Morgan from the Red Dead Redemption 2. It's not often I create video game characters so it was a nice change of pace. Download and other information under the cut.

This was a commission. If you'd like to enquire, check out my commissions page.

This download contains:

Arthur Morgan Tray Files

Arthur Morgan Skin

The skin is HQ compatible and the photos were taken with the HQ mod.

Recommended Content:

Gold Standard Body Hair

Chroma Eyes

JDM Hair

Extra Neck Width Slider

Bigby Hair by Johnnysims

I hope you enjoy.

Download(Patreon)

Public Access 19th of May 2024

[eccentricallygothic]

|| The Farmer's Way ||

Description: With the gang gone for good, Arthur had retired and you were his reward. Or so he believed. 

Pairing: Dark!Arthur Morgan | Gender-Neutral Spouse!You. 

Disclaimer: I (sadly) do not own Arthur Morgan or the RDR universe. This story contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact. 

Warning(s): Noncon/Dubcon, gross stuff because that's all I think about while playing the game, age gap, groping, dirty talk, degradation, doggy style, penetration, spanking, biting/marking, sexism, wife kink but it doesn't matter what you identify as because he's gross like that so tw for sure. 

Note: Fair warning, he's a bit of a sicko and I am a mental slut. Also this is kinda my first time with gender neutral smut so I am very sorry if I got something wrong. I am willing to rectify if I did make any such mistake. 

The hot June air blew past you and pricked at your rather pampered skin. You felt a droplet of sweat trickle down your temple as you winced and shielded your face from the sun, the rays now attacking the skin of your arm instead. A grunt escaped you when you willed your feet, which were clad in some glittery pumps, to push on towards the huge barn of your family farm. A string of disgusted curses foxed their way out of your mouth when the smell of dung and hay wafted into your nostrils from the giant red wooden box that was literally radiating stinky heat. 

Your feet halted right outside the heavy double doors and you had to take a long breath to brace yourself before you entered. Your features scrunched in disdain as you tried to hold your breath, clutching the cool jug and glass that you were holding tighter as you slipped inside before the weight of the door caused it to close by itself. Clenching your jaw to focus on the task at hand, you slowly walked forwards and concentrated on your breathing to ensure you didn't inhale any of the barn filth. 

It was a fairly easy piece of work.

Give the lemonade to your husband and leave. 

Simple, right? 

No. 

Not when said husband is Arthur Morgan. 

As his fingers wrapped around your wrists to keep you from leaving after you had placed the jug and glass down, your breath hitched as you felt a bile rise in your throat from pure disgust. The dust and sweat on his fingers was gut wrenching. 

"Fixin' to leave already?" His other hand came up to tangle in one of the two silky ribbons you wore on both sides of your head in half ponytails after he had pulled you against his hard chest, the coarse hairs on his chest scratching the skin of your back. "I was missin' you so much, baby" you uneasily shifted in his hold, goosebumps rising on your skin when you felt his fingers trail up from your wrist to your forearm. "It's almost like you showed up 'cause you read my mind" you could barely suppress your gasp as your body jumped in reaction to his stubbly lips suddenly finding your ear. 

"I…" Your voice was a mere squeak and you had to concentrate to make yourself sound a bit less pathetic. "I left the food on the stove" your eyes fluttered shut before clenching as you suppressed the urge to retch at both the feeling and smell, arm folding to let your elbow press into the side of his torso. The man only hummed as his browned and dirty hands felt you up, basically frisking your barely clad body as his lips pressed rushed kisses against your neck. "A- Arthur!" You flinched when he bit down on a hickey on the junction of your neck, fingers finding your nipples through the sheer fabric of one of the many silk dresses he made you wear. 

The older man did not budge, only grunting when you probed his chest harder, hips trying to wriggle free. "The grub can wait, hush now" your limbs screamed at you to fight. Try and push him away. Hit him with something. Make a run for it. Never look back. "Mmm, baby" your eyes teared up when his other hand slipped from the ribbon to trail down your abdomen and to your nether regions. "If it was up to me, I'd keep ya bare as a jaybird 'round the clock" your jaw clenched at his words but you knew better than to hurl the heavy jug that was in front of you against his head. 

Because you had done stuff like that countless times in the beginning of your forced marriage seven months ago. 

Except, you had no idea how but your husband had somehow trained and kept a number of wolves to guard the property only God knew how. 

No one could come in and you could never leave. 

The punishments that you had been subjected to upon trying to do so were more than enough to keep you on your best behavior. 

"Oh, darlin', you taste mighty fine" you were flipped and easily backed into one of the many stables. "Now, let me try out that pretty little mouth" your eyebrows scrunched as you craned your neck backwards to get away from him. The reverberations of Arthur's chuckle buzzed through your chest as he pressed into you and left you trapped and helpless. "Ain't ya just a foolish little thing? Thinkin' you can get away from your old man?" His rough palms cupped your face as he dipped his head in, chasing your lips with his own and snickering when you tried to move. 

When you had seen this mysterious cowboy turn up to buy your family farm off of your useless brother seven months ago, you had not thought much of it. Sure, you were angry that his gambling had ended him up in so much debt that he had no choice but to sell off your family legacy, but you had bright plans with your scholarship program at a prestigious college, and you had been so ready to leave this life that you had never liked much in the first place behind for one of revolution and modernity. 

Only, when all of your documentation as well as your brother and his family disappeared the night before your final departure, the then stranger and now your husband revealed that you had been part of the deal. 

As Arthur fucked into you on your wedding night -as he had promised your brother that he would not take you before that-, the man had confessed how lovely you had looked resting on a tree branch as you chewed on your lip, completely engrossed in your book. 

You knew alcohol and the colorful powders that your brother loved to use had done his mind in, but handing you off like merchandise to a man with no regard for your orientation or taste was something you had never expected from him. Not after he had been your legal guardian for so long. 

But then again, he never understood your ways and thought revolution was a blasphemy. 

In your brother's world, you either did the hard work on the field or became a field worker's home runner. 

And your open disdain for the farm work had earned you the latter. 

The irony was laughable, because he probably thought he was protecting you by choosing a secure future for his baby sibling. The right thing. 

Your spark had always scared him, and so he suppressed it once and for all under the mundaneness of the farm by locking you up in his own kind of a gilded cage and handing the keys to the man who was all over you at the moment.  

'Excitement is a double edged sword. It is thrilling and promising but it can also be dangerous.' That you couldn't deny.

The thrumming in your nether regions was proof. 

Frightening, shameful, repulsive proof.

"Arthur…" You whimpered as your vision zeroed in on his rough lips that brushed against yours soon before pressing into them. 

The man moaned, rubbing his crotch against yours as he deepened the kiss by tilting his head to the side and forcing his tongue in your mouth, the taste of cigarettes and coffee making you cringe and try to move away but a tight squeeze to your ass with his coarse hand made you gasp and hence open your mouth. Then his tongue was down your throat. 

Everything was rough and dirty about him. 

You hated it.

Sometimes he purposely rubbed his filth against your clean clothes and body to add insult to injury. He would laugh as you would hold your breath and try to get away only to be trapped between his strong body and some surface. Arthur would then watch you squirm and struggle until you ran out of breath and had no choice but to inhale his scent. 

"Dang it, I can't hold back no more" Arthur was panting when he finally broke off to let you both breathe, one of his hands bolting down to his belt while the other one held you steady. "I need ya right now…" The kiss had flushed your lips and you could feel the change in size as you ran your tongue over them to accumulate some moisture. "You gonna be good and take it for me, darlin', won't ya?" And while your brain screamed at you to know better, you squeezed your legs and whined, taking deep breaths as one of your fists bunched some of his sweaty shirt in it. 

"Arthur…" A small smirk made its way on his face while he hurriedly relieved himself of all decency. He recognized that tone. 

"Now ya know better than to call me that, baby" heat spread across your cheeks as you whimpered, biting your lip before you lowered your head and reached for his hand that was pinching one of your nipples through your sheer dress. "Go on now, you know my preference" your eyes fluttered shut as you took a shaky breath, massaging the hand that was toying with your chest and arching your back. 

"... H- Hubby…" Arthur cursed under his breath like he always did whenever he got you to call him that. Then he reached out for your other hand and brought it to his erect cock, the feeling of its thick veins against your soft fingertips causing your hole to clench around air. 

"Aw, shit, darlin'" he guided your hand up and down his twitching cock. "Can ya feel it?" His body pressed against yours. "This here is what ya do to me" the tip of his organ released some hot precum and you couldn't help but shudder at the memories it triggered. 

Memories of how it felt inside you. 

Before you knew it, as always, reason was out the window before you could grab onto it and your mind had decided shame could come later. Who knew when or if you would ever make it out of here and Arthur was way too good at making you feel strange things that kept you giving into him for more.

"Please, hubby" you whispered, unable to hold back anymore as you worked your wrist to please him. "Please…"

"Please, what, baby?" He pecked your lips over and over before moving down to the corner of your mouth and then further along your jaw. "Use your words for me" his lips locked around a patch of your delicate skin as he sucked, causing you to bend your back outwards. "Get, now."

"P- Please take me…" You shuddered as the sound of his lips forming yet another bruise along the expanse of your neck grew louder and louder in the air. "Please… please…" You couldn't get yourself to utter any more obscenity than that. 

"You mean you want me to fuck you?" Your heart dropped at the bluntness of his words, the feeling of his stubbly lips curling against your skin almost making you want to retreat, but only almost. 

Besides, you couldn't leave on your accord even if you wanted to. 

Though you really didn't want to leave this barn anymore. 

Not before the ache between your legs was relieved. 

When you didn't respond verbally, Arthur clicked his tongue as he came back up to face you and reached for his hat before placing it on your head. He loved to take you like that. "Come on, darlin'. You know I ain't gon' do nothin' 'til you say it for me" but then one of his hands creeped between your legs to caress your intimate part and your legs trembled in reaction; body submitting at once. 

Taking in a deep and shaky breath, you braced yourself before mumbling out your words, hoping and praying they were enough for him because you knew as well as you knew it was day that you didn't have any more indecency in you to talk the kind of filth he could with a straight face.

"P- Please fuck me, hubby…" One of his eyebrows raised as he leaned in closer. 

"I'm sorry, what was that there?" You almost choked his cock between your fingers but you knew better than hostility. 

"I- I said…"

"You said?" 

Your jaw clenched in annoyance because you were so needy all thanks to his dirty hands and now he was not helping. 

"I said p- please fuck me, hubby" you said as clearly as you possibly could, tone almost blunt. 

He finally seemed intent. "Your wish is my command, darlin'" the man had you flipped and bent over the stable before you could even register it. 

Your gaze settled on the little pony in front of you as you felt his stiff tip prod your entrance, the foreplay having lubed his cock more than enough. Since you weren't allowed to wear underwear, the lack of it granted him easier access to you and Arthur was sliding in with a grunt a moment later, squeezing both your ass cheeks at the same time as he cursed. 

"Fuck, baby. You're the tightest little thing I've ever laid down with" your fingers gripped the stable as you jumped when he landed a spank to one of your cheeks, slowly moving through you to get you to adjust. "Shit, look at you. Such a pretty little farm wife, baby" your face scrunched up in both discomfort and sensory overload due to how sensitive you felt down there. 

"Please…" Your mouth always betrayed you in moments like these despite your best efforts to stay as quiet as possible. 

But it felt even better when you let it get the best of you and drown you completely, the vile words coming out of your own mouth adding to the pressure between your hips before stars exploded in your vision. 

"Please what, sweet little thing?" You felt his chest drape over your back as he rubbed his stubbly cheek against yours, hips starting to find a rhythm as the speed of his thrusts increased. 

"Please… more" you couldn't help but lean your face against his to withstand the sensitivity, eyes fluttering as you chewed on your bottom lip in concentration, your velvety walls sheathing his veiny cock with every push. 

Arthur's chest reverberated against your back. "Ya act like you're too good for all this, but deep down you're just a horny little hussy, ain't ya darlin'?" You whined loudly as you clenched around him, starting to move your own hips against his now. "Jus' look at you, whinin' and squeezin' 'round me in front of li'l Sally like a silly 'lil jezebel" that was what you had named the pony that stared at you with her curious eyes. "But ya love that deep down, don't ya?" Your eyebrows furrowed when his words started to crack the haze that had formed in your mind, making you lower your head to cancel him out and focus on your relief.

But you could never win with Arthur. 

"You can go on ahead and deny it all you want. But this trashy li'l hole of yours tells me all I need to know everytime, honey" his lips bluntly moved against the shell of your ear as he gathered one of your knees in his hands and pushed it up against the frame of the stable before finding its way to your nipples again, other hand gliding down to the quivering organ between your legs. 

As Arthur's hips sped up and your body started to rock back and forth against the wooden frame with each powerful thrust, the sound of skin clapping against its like filled up the smelly barn. His hat fell over your eyes and you knew you were in for a long day. 

[cryvelv3t]

Hi friend, could I request Arthur Morgan with praise + overstim? Smth soft, I'd like to take good care of him :)

Oh hell yeah

Warnings: Vanilla, Overstimulation, Praise, Semi-public (you're in his tent and believe me they aren't helpful)

"Kiss me please." Arthur whispered to you as he closed the tent flap "You sure darling? You don't want to go find a spot?" "No, I want you now. Please darlin'" He walked to you and cupped your face "I love you." You whispered as you slotted your lips together. The kisses were slow and passionate unlike the moments where you two search for a clearing away from the camp. You missed him, his lips, his soft skin, his beard, everything. "Please darlin'." he whispered against your lips "Please what?" "Don't make me say it." You smiled as you pulled away "But hon, I don't know what to do if you're not specific." "Fuck, please touch me. Please love." "of course, my love." Your kisses travelled lower, making their way across his jawline and neck. Arthur's hands found a spot on the back of your neck "Don't stop, please don't stop." Your hand slowly trailed down his body, slipping your hand under his pants you could feel his cock rise to full hardness. "So hard from a couple kisses, so desperate for me." He whimpered quietly at the teasing.

You dipped your head down, your hands lifting his shirt above his belly button and the other pulled his pants down. You kissed from his belly button down to his happy trail "So beautiful, my pretty boy." You whispered relishing in his small groans. You landed an open-mouthed kiss to the tip of his cock; you began sloppily kissing down his cock till you reached the base. You stuck your tongue out and gave one long lick along his dick from base to tip. "Fuck~" He groaned out, his back arching slightly. "Please, please." Arthur's hands found purchase on the back of your head. You slowly bobbed your head up and down his length, his cock felt heavy on your tongue. The weight was comforting almost like a warm hug. You loved Arthur, and you loved his body. You got lost in thought before a loud moan brought you back to your senses. "I'm gonna cum, so good." Soon enough his warm spend filled your throat, you groaned softly at the feeling. You pulled off with a slight cough "You did so good, god you're so perfect." You praised as you leaned back down to kiss him. "You're so handsome." He whispered against your lips. You could feel his body stretching to grab his pack. He handed the oil to you "You want to do it, or should I?" "Give it to me." you stuck your hand out towards him. "Thanks love." He laid back down giving you full control.

Your finger slowly circled his hole loving the way he whimpered. "Come on, don't make me beg. Just do it!" You laughed slightly before doing as he asked. You're finger slowly pumped in and out of his ass, slowly you added another. He looks so beautiful writhing under you, "God you're so beautiful. I love you so much, such a good boy." You smiled down at him as you added a fourth finger "Doing so good." You pulled out grabbing the oil again to lube up your cock and poured a small amount on his hole. Slowly you entered him, his hands pulled you down to him. Arthur slotted your lips together in a needy, passionate kiss. He let out a wince and a few groans as you bottomed out. You moved perfectly in sync, two lovers in a perfect in a perfect harmony. "Doing so good for me." You repeated the praise from earlier, Arthur groaned in response. His hole gripped you like a vice "Start movin'." You pulled away from the kiss while pulling his bottom lip with your teeth. Your hips rocked slowly and gently; Arthur's moans were soft. "So handsome, my beautiful boy." You praised in his ear, the rocking of your hips becoming harsher. His moans grew louder and louder "Shit, hon." You groaned. Your hand moved to his cock, you stroked him quickly bringing him closer to his release. He was already a little overstimulated from you sucking him off. "Fuck~" You groaned. You reached your release deep inside him, his spend ending up all over himself. You kept pumping to prolong both of your orgasms, Arthurs moans out in a mix of pain and pleasure, "t's to much, too much." His back arched. "Okay baby, okay.". God you love him.

[arthur-lesters-left-arm]

yeah, i’m really into podcasts- what. what is an alpha male podcast. what do you mean the guys don’t whimper and cry? what the fuck is “beta male behavior”

…and there’s no murder? not even aggravated assault? or cannibalism? WHAT DO YOU MEAN “DOES HUMAN TRAFFICKING COUNT?”

[eroshaven]

[issdisgrace]

I sat around a table at the Garrison with the Shelby family chatting, playing poker, and drinking. Well, everyone was drinking except for Arthur. Arthur had his nightly cut off. Noticing my glass was empty, I set down my cards and poured myself more whiskey.

“You know, I never asked where you got this, Tommy.” I say, taking a drink from my now full glass. 

“Solomons. It was a gift for coming to a deal with him.”

“Solomons as in Alfie Solomons.”

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t realize you knew him.” 

“How do you know him?” 

“I’m banging him.” Tommy chokes on his drink, John spits his drink out on Arthur, and Polly laughs, giving me a pat on my back. 

"For fuck's sakes John." Arthur says raising his voice, pushing his chair back before stomping off to the bathroom before anyone can say anything.

“WhAt?” Tommy lets out.

“I’m banging him. You know fucking him.”

“DAMN.” John says loudly. Polly gives him a look, and he quickly follows by saying,

“Sorry, I didn't mean to say that out loud, but damn.”

“It's ok, John. I guess it's not every day that you hear someone that's practical family is fucking the King of Camden.”

“You know Y/n I want to ask how you manage to get yourself in that situation, but I don't want to know.”

“It's better if none of you do know, Tommy. But just so you guys know, it was a crazy situation to say the least.”

[readngandweepng]

quick nsfw thoughts about bottom rdr2 boys ft. arthur kieran and charles

contains amab sub top reader. ftm rdr2 men. no pronouns for reader but male implied. first time writing for these boys but hopefully not the last.

imagine arthur tying your hands together with his lasso and having his way with you; bouncing on your lap in a steady rhythm, one hand on your stomach while the other rests at his side. he looks like a true cowboy, his head tilted back as he takes you to the hilt, groaning and muttering beneath his breath. as he gets nearer, his free hand goes up to his hat, keeping it steady on his head as he rolls his hips into yours. when you both cum he gives you a half-lidded smile and takes his hat, placing it on your head alongside a charming kiss on your lips to top it off.

your slow pace is torture for kieran. he’s on his stomach, your chest pressed against his back as half your cock slides in and out of him. you both know if you go too fast and too deep he won’t be able to keep quiet, but he can’t help himself to move back into you as best as he can, his teeth sinking into his coat sleeve to stop his moans from tumbling out of him. eventually you tire of having to hold back and give kieran the entirety of your cock, not even slowing down to let him catch his breath. 

charles asks you to go hunting with him one day. confused, you find yourself in an empty forest with what seems like no animals at all. when you look over at him you see his face is dark and he bears a familiar glint in his eyes. you’re not surprised when he pushes you against the nearest tree, tilting his head to kiss you. its gentle, yet deep. you can’t find it within yourself to tease him when his hand slips past your belt. a thought crosses your mind about what you’ll tell the others back at camp when they ask why you’ve returned empty-handed, but a kiss to your neck and a grip on your cock has your mind suddenly blank knowing you won’t be thinking about anything else but charles for the next couple of hours. 

you and ftm!arthur hitch your horses for the night, throwing down some bedrolls and deciding to lay low. you roll out one and then the other, feeling an arm slink around your waist. arthur kisses your neck, the ticklish feeling making you softly push him away. he pulls you down with him onto one of the bed rolls by your belt loops, locking you in place between his legs and already he begins to press up against you, using the friction of your clothes to his advantage. you don’t argue, angling your hips to make sure your clothed dick connects perfectly with his pussy, his low groaning telling you all you need to know about how well you’ll sleep tonight.

making your shy, flustered ftm!kieran ride you, letting him go at his own pace. he’s hesitant with every move, not quite sure if what he’s doing is right. his inexperience is proven enough just by how tight he is but he’s uncoordinated, messy with every experimental bounce and sloppy with his hips. he whispers for your assistance, desperation clear in his voice. you place your hands on his waist, guiding his movements just enough for him to learn on his own. ever so slowly he figures it out and soon his clumsy humping turns into a somewhat consistent bouncing. you're so proud of him, drawing circles on his clit with your thumb and rewarding him with an earth-shaking orgasm that keeps him bed-ridden a little too long for dutch’s liking.

ftm!charles is more confident than you expected him to be. you’re closed off in your tent, on top of charles who’s on top of your now untidy bedroll. his legs are wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him so tightly there’s no chance you’ll slip out even with how wet he is. he’s never been loud, whether by choice or by instinct you’re not quite sure, so the only concern you’re ever left with is if the others can hear the sound of your balls slapping against his skin. he always takes you so well, always leaving you to be the one completely breathless afterwards. his pussy always grips your cock with such vigor and robustness, you wonder if he does it on purpose just to see you fall apart.

side note. i can only imagine how many men in this game would use the “is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” joke. also man i'm not even into bondage but i want arthur morgan to tie me to a tree so bad

[adoniseverywheremen]

Arthur Becari by Naur Cavalcante

[lottiies]

one of his many journal entries about you

arthur morgan x fem!reader and male!reader <33

i won’t lie…i have 45 hours on the game and i’m not even past chapter 2 (っ- ‸ – ς) why progress when i can save myself the pending heartbreak and instead admire this pretty man and his journal sketches?

anyways…love all you arthur morgan kissers ♡

“my body doesn’t feel right as of late. my hands are too rough, my face is all wrinkled up, and my voice isn’t all that pleasant. if only i could sound as smooth as i write.

never been the most confident of men, but well, this body’s what i’m stuck with. used to go months on end without shaving until i realized my beard looked like bills. how embarrassing. miss grimshaw, the strong-headed woman she is, knocked some sense into me too. well…more like slapped me.

shaving makes me look more approachable, and that’s not really a good thing with my reputation. but, i did it anyway and spent a pretty penny on the barber up in valentine’s…had to pay a bit extra because of the drunken ruckus lenny and i caused there last time.

if my heart hadn’t been captured, maybe these worries of mine wouldn’t even exist.

oh, the ridiculous things love does to a man…”

꒰ fem!reader ꒱

“about as beautiful as the stars above; a woman so otherworldly that sometimes I have to look away. she shines too brightly for these tired eyes of mine. i suppose that’s for the best, ain’t it? a man like me, the walking embodiment of sin, isn’t worthy of such a loving lady.

but that doesn’t keep her away. she often asks me to recount some of my adventures, and i hesitantly do so, fearful she’ll think me a bad man. craziest thing is, she looks more worried than anything else whenever i do as told. telling me to be more careful with that honey-like voice of hers. could listen to it all day. it’s like a balm to the soul.

can’t keep myself away from her either. doesn’t matter what she’s doing, i always find myself wandering over to her. i don’t usually have trouble sleeping, i’m like some rock when it comes to it. but she’s occupied my mind too much lately, falling asleep is difficult. like right now. should be sleeping, but i’m not. just up wondering about the ifs and hows.

i’ve been saving up some money so i can go get her something real nice, maybe a pretty dangly necklace. could just steal one, but i want to prove myself to her. she deserves the best, not something that belonged to some other stranger.

god knows i’d do whatever i can to keep her safe and sound. i’d die for her. funny thing is, i considered myself to be a selfish man before breathing the same air as her.

i can say with absolute certainty that i would give up everything for a future with her.

if she’d have me.

…

now, this fool’s about to try and sketch her.

not sure if i can encapsulate her beauty onto a page, though.”

꒰ male!reader ꒱

“i fear I’m going mad. i never thought i’d feel this way about a man before. then again, pursuit of romance has never been a priority in my life. he’s one of a kind, something about him makes my palms feel all clammy.

he never leaves my head, every inch of this brain of mine is consumed with thoughts of him. his grin, the way his hat perches on his head, the stories he shares ‘round the campfire.

i’ve come across many men on all my journeys, but his handsomeness is unmatched. and he’s different. doesn’t nag me like dutch or get on my nerves like micah, but he isn’t just a brother like some of the other folks here.

i’ve been a bit too scared to drink these days. you know me, i spill my guts out and say stupid things like a damn fool when i get like that. wouldn’t know what to do if i were to sputter out how fine of a fella i think he is, or how grateful i am for him. is this only a special friendship? no, i don’t know how to describe this.

well, yes i do, actually.

love.

my fingers trembled while writing that.

some may call this spark a sin, but going down an altar with him would be a taste of heaven itself. that wish is too far-fetched though.

all i ask for is a sign. just one. maybe i’m misreading the glimmer in his eye, or the way the bastard slings his arm over my shoulder and sings after he downs some moonshine.

weird how life works, isn’t it?”

[bitin-and-barkin]

Loving Someone

What would the healing process be like after your so-called death?

Warnings: Arthur Morgan x Reader, Gender neutral reader, mostly just filler and going into the mind of Arthur, he's so goddamned anxious, paranoid too, tw: talks of suicide, execution, death, and other bad stuff, no smut, mostly just arthur having a mental break, probably out of character, he's starting to go yandere, tw: yandere-esque behaviour

READ MORE UNDER THE CUT + Pt 3 to another story, Pt 1 here, Pt 2 here

__________________________

Arthur had lost people before.

When Eliza and Isaac had first died, he was only able to ever see their graves. Already buried, a cross put up. One moment they were there, and the next? 

They were gone. 

When he lost his Pa, he was young. Small and feeble. Sitting in the crowd, silently attending his own father's execution.

His Pa hanged him in front of him.

He wasn't sure how to react when it happened. Whenever someone was hanged there was always someone crying at the stands or nobody there who knew them well enough to weep for them.  

But when he looked at his dad, there wasn't much of a father there to mourn. Just bits and pieces of one.

When his Mama died, he wasn't there to see it. Only the aftermath. Her throat leaking red, and her eyes glossed over.  A certain shade of purple on her neck and face. The sun shone off her blood like something holy was done.  

He was much younger at that time, so he didn't really understand what happened. Death, that is. Nobody had ever bothered to explain it to him. It had always been a part of his life. 

In the wolves howling at night, mauling a buck, leaving its insides on its outsides and in the sunlight to rot. 

In the knobby, motionless, dogs on the side of the streets and in the quiet, grey toned graveyard in town.

So he could tell that something was wrong. He just didn't have a name for it.

He could see it though.

That there was some sort of new emptiness inside of her.

He had always carried that emptiness with him. An unspoken thing, it was the burden he bore.

People had come and gone. As time passed, it grew bigger and bigger. 

And so he filled it with money, and heists, and grand plans and demands from others. 

Alcohol and blood, his own and others among other things.

As he got older whenever he thought back to his mother he wondered if she really birthed a baby boy and not just a hole that would never fill. 

Always wanting more and more.

Always hungry, swallowing everything down. Every complaint and request, finishing them. Handing it to them on a silver platter. 

Never spitting anything out, but always coming back when others' plates are full. 

Nobody ever really said anything. It was convenient. Having a yes man, a loyal one, a Johnny on the spot. 

You had realized this behavior a long time ago. He's always choking on his food but saying he could handle more.

But when you walked in, for once he was full. 

For once he was loved.

And although he wasn't made for intimacy, nothing was able to take that away from him.

During the day he could feel your love underneath his fingernails and in the clothes that you sewed up for him and in the bird songs you'd always stop to listen to.

You were always a constant for him. He loved you like a fire loved its hearth. With enough love to make it home.

You gave him life.

And he knew he didn't deserve his.

He knew he wasn’t a good man. 

There was always a hope that some way the bad inside of him would be able to serve the good inside of you.

And that maybe one day he could make himself worthy of being in love with you. 

He always cared for you in the only way he knew how.

With bruised knuckles and busted lips, 

Slow dancing into the night with you and the blood in his mouth.

Acting and your sweet darling and as your perfect killer and as your rotten soldier. 

Doing it all if it all meant you would still smile at him in the mornings and nights.

Doing it all if it meant you would fill that void inside of him and stop it from swallowing him whole.

You had grown used to it.

He was protective, that was it.

He was the protector. Doing the sinned slaughter that would save the people.

And you couldn't say you didn't appreciate being prized by him.

Prized more than anything else in the world.

But this? This was something entirely new.

You didn't know much about loving others, your life hadn't afforded you it, and neither did Arthur.

But you knew this wasn't what love was supposed to be like.

Acting like a wild animal in a way. Backed into a corner by life itself.

1 week in and Arthur had practically snarled at Sean when he tried to drag him away from your bedside to a job.

2 weeks in and he had bashed a couple of Bill's teeth in for making a joke about you.

Commenting about how your love seemed to be one only made so you could lick each other's wounds.

He called it unsightly. The blood on his face afterwards wasn't too pretty either.

The way he was acting proved his point, though. Like everyone was your enemy and the entire world was too, too much.

He was finding his vices in you.

Only you.

Not in the normal way, the way a woman would look for her wife at the end of the day.

It wasn't in the sex or the looks or the meaningless chatter or even the comforting familiarity.

It was the edges of your fingertips, and in the rasp in your voice.

It seemed to be just you in its entirety.

Like a breath of fresh air.

The point is, a month had passed since you came back. You were healing. Arthur wasn't.

And now you had a problem.

You wanted to get back to jobs. Sure, it was a bit early. There was a odd ache in your arms here and there and when you bent over, you swear there would still be a phantom feeling of blood and Guarma Rum dripping down your back.

It was the O'Driscolls favorite after all.

But mostly, you were healed. Dutch had even cleared you for the smaller jobs. You knew, he knew, everybody in camp knew.

Except Arthur. Except him.

Approachable wasn't the way to describe him.

At least for anybody but you.

He had killed hundreds over the years in the name of Dutch's ideals.

But you were always so soft in his arms despite it all.

You trusted him.

But you're not sure if he trusted you.

With this, in specific. With your life.

You weren't sure how he'd react when you approached.

It was nearing 11 PM when you finally came.

Wolves howling at the moon miles away, people singing and swaying at the campfire after a long day.

Arthur was among them.

You told him you wanted to meet him there, that you needed to finish something up.

In reality you just needed a moment to think of a way to do something impossible.

To convince him that you were okay.

He was sitting there waiting for you.

You quietly walked over.

He was drinking at the campfire, his leg bouncing up and down. Trying to play it cool, but you could see through it. He was getting antsy.

Best not to keep him waiting.

Sitting next to him, he softly smiled the moment he saw you.

A quiet smile, one that only you could fish out of him.

Only you.

Placing his hand on and over yours.

Carving his fingers between yours.

He didn't say anything as he did. It was second nature.

"Arthur."

His eyes flicked towards yours, turning away from the campfire.

"Hm?"

You breathed out.

The smog from the campfire still dancing in the air.

"How are you?"

"I feel fine." He hummed. He seemed satisfied with you by his side.

You smiled.

"Good." He slung his arm over your shoulder, pulling you in just a little bit closer.

You guys talked for a little bit. About your days, what you did.

It was nothing exciting, but it meant the world to him.

His head was filled with honey. You words lazily coating his brain, sinking him into the ground as everything else faded into background noise.

Just you and him.

"I just wanted to tell you that I'm going on jobs again."

Now? His thoughts ran silent.

His lips pursed, cutting off his breath. He looked around camp.

It was such a quick difference, like lightning and thunder. A crackle through the air. Nervous electricity still coursing around.

Scanning the area with his eyes for he didn't know what. A reason, maybe.

Everybody was still laughing at little nothings, but it felt like they were jeering at him.

He turned his eyes back to you. He was nervous, that was to be expected. Just tell him you would be fine, and he would be fine too.

Except it wasn't that simple.

"Why?"

You raised your eyebrows at this. He kept talking, never meeting your gaze.

"You don't need to go out, especially not so early after you got back,"

He nervously chuckled.

"I mean, is Dutch really nagging you that much?"

You weren't sure how to tell him you brought it up to Dutch.

Stuttering over his words, he kept talking.

"Do we really need money that much?"

"I heard of this stagecoach up near Flatneck Station, from what I've seen it's always something expensive they're carrying. Could make an easy pretty penny for us, real easy."

"Just yesterday you were tellin' me that your back hurts, and we're still changin' out your bandages every single day."

"You really oughta just stay here. Really."

His head was turned away. He has stopped talking after he kept stumbling over his words. His voice changing into meaningless hums.

Thoughts running through his head like an electrical current. Or maybe more like a bullet in the barrel of a frictionless gun.

You placed your hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him.

At any other time he would've muttered something sweet but clever or placed his hand back on yours and pulled you forward into his arms.

But now his head shot back like it was an order.

Looking at you, his face was indescribable.

Wild eyed. Ashamed of something.

Afraid even.

You were scared. You were both scared.

Was something more or less scary if you were next to someone who was equally as afraid walking into it?

You couldn't imagine all the bad things that could happen. Having to walk into a town of Raiders and Outlaws.

You weren't fragile.

You were scared, but..

It was like an open wound for you at this point. Painful and gaping, but slowly healing.

You still suffered for it every day, an ache at the back of your head. But you were healing, making good, no great process.

You were talking and walking and had come so far from before.

He had pushed you to stay home while healing, tearing others a new one for trying to even just put you on guard. Looked like he was gonna have a heart attack when you were "straining your back" by just carrying hay.

Looking into his eyes now, there was something new in them. Confusion. Abandonment. Hurt.

He didn't understand why you were doing this.

You were moving past it.

You knew he loved you but,

Why did it still seem like the entire world to him?

You brushed your hands against his stock-still face as he stared far past your gaze.

Was he okay?

"Are you okay?"

He didn't say anything.

There was a certain ringing in his ears as you spoke. More like a flatline than anything.

He was silent. Didn't respond.

But what was he supposed to tell you?

He knew he was overreacting, that he was being dramatic and controlling but he couldn't shake the feeling that...

How was he supposed to tell a knife there was nothing funny about spilling blood?

He didn't see any blood but he could feel himself bleeding.

His grip on his pants tightened. He tried to drag the conversation away, simply saying you guys could talk about it in the morning. That you were both tired. That you could discuss it with a clear head later.

You seemed hesitant at best. You said there was nothing to talk about later. Almost seeming confused.

For 6 months he couldn't bear the idea of you being dead. And so many times he woke up he prayed this day would be the last. So many times he stared at the gun, the knife, the rope. Sitting by your tent waiting for you to show up like old times.

You were going to be fine. You were going to be fine on your own. Weren't you?

Were you?

It was irrational, really. Overdramatic, stupid, a million other labels. Primal, even.

He could not make you understand. He couldn't make anybody else understand what he was feeling whenever he saw you. He couldn't even understand it himself.

What was he supposed to say? That he never could've done anything he did without you? That he'd never forsake you? That he needed you to support him? That you were the only person in his entire life that loved him? That you were his only friend? That he only loved you? That he didn't know how to love you in a way that mattered? That he didn't know how to love you in a way that made sense? That he didn't love himself?

How was he supposed to say he never understood intimacy or lust until he met you? That he had never felt want like how he wanted your skin against his?

Like how he had never felt fear like he did now, now that you were pulling away from him?

What was he supposed to say to you?

It was stupid, only a fool, a real fool would feel like this.

But all his insecurities were swallowing him whole and it felt like you were proving every wrong thing about him right.

You were the dull blade that he twisted inside himself. Keeping a wound from closing but keeping it clogged at the same time.

The only thing stopping his guts from spilling onto the ground.

But his guts were already contained in that cabin where he found your finger, when you first went to that stupid parley, when he cried in Hosea's arms after you left him.

He didn't understand why he was so afraid. It was fear then anger then bared teeth at anybody who approached.

Like a body hitting the ground, like a rat running a maze.

It all had to end eventually. You were gonna leave him eventually.

All alone again, with a dying father and a killing leader and a lucky brother who he hated yet loved.

Alone again.

He knew time had to pass. That his time was long gone, that yours was going down with his soon.

Hand in hand.

So soon.

But why did it have to be so soon?

And why did it have to be you?

He sharply swallowed. He was looking at the floor now. He doesn't remember himself turning his head down.

Dipping down, almost as if to cry.

Your hand was still on his shoulder. You quietly repeated your question.

He silently nodded.

Patting him on the shoulder, you stood and walked away. Telling him to get some sleep.

As you stepped and staggered, he could see a limp in your walk.

He desperately wanted to get up. To tell you something, anything that'd get you to change your mind.

But he was frozen in place. People were still talking and laughing like the world hadn't just collapsed in on him.

Classical music wafted out of Dutch's tent. He turned his gaze to it. It was still lit up, the flaps still open.

He silently stood up and began walking towards it, almost as if in a trance.

You weren't going on any jobs.

You weren't well enough.

He knew that. And he was going to make sure Dutch knew of that too.

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So the results on my last poll were pretty split down the middle, so I'm doing both of them. He'll run away with you soon, dw. Prolly kill Colm while he's at it. Sorry for taking so long, I was buzy🙏 rise and grind brothers

@photo1030

[miguel-owhora]

Arthur Morgan probably smells and tries to shoo you off him whenever you get a craving for him, arguing that he smells bad and hasn't bathed yet. But you're 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 and just ignore him, pinning him against any nearby surface before pulling his pants down and just stuffing your face into his ass.

His musk is soo strong and it makes your mouth water. We all know he's hairy, and this includes his ass. It's covered in a thin layer of coarse blonde hair that gets darker and thicker as it slips inside his ass; curly and inviting you to get a taste when you spread him open.

I don't think Arthur's that audible; he probably just groans and gasps, but resorts to trying to muffle himself so the others don't hear. He gets red in the face and becomes overwhelmingly warm, sweating and panting as you eat him out like a starving man. He probably locks a leg around your head to keep you in place, reaching down to jerk himself off until he's coming all over his hand. Only then will he let you go, and you'll pull away with a chin dripping with your spit, your tastebuds heavy with the taste of Arthur.

[leosxrealm]

ʜᴏᴍᴇ

pairing(s): prince! Arthur Leclerc x male! knight! reader

warning(s): hurt/comfort, mentions of injury, mentions of death, royal au! forbidden romance(?)

(a/n): kinda inspired by hozier :) changed the lyrics a bit. a short drabble for my fav leclerc

!not proofread!

"No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to you."

"Your Highness," you manage out through gritted teeth, "you shouldn't get your hands dirty."

He says nothing, silently applying the green paste he made using different medicinal herbs, across your middle. "My prince," you try again. He doesn’t respond, his eyes trained on your body, careful not to hurt you.

"Arthur," your voice is soft, almost like a whisper. He looks up, his ocean eyes clashing with yours.

"I told you not to go," he whispers, a hint of betrayal. He goes back to focusing on your wounds. You smile ever so slightly. "Your Highness-" his eyes snap to you, daring you. "Arthur," you say softly, "I do not have a choice in such matters. I have to go when I am called."

He chews the inside of his cheeks. There has to be some way he could prevent you from going to battles. He was a prince after all, wasn't he? "This is what I was raised for," your voice cuts off his thoughts. 

"No," he says sharply, preventing any further discussion. He gets up from where he was kneeling, using a gauze to wrap around your wounds. He moves to stand in between your legs, still careful to not hurt you. 

He's close. Right within your reach. You could feel his breath across your shoulder. His body heat, warming up your naked torso. He moves the gauze over your back, taking a step back to tie it up.

He ties the final knot, his fingers grazing over your body. They're shaking, you notice. "Arthur," your hand reaches to cup his cheek, guiding his eyes to yours. "I'm here," you utter softly, "I'm fine."

"You're fine," he repeats after you, barely audible. His lower lip wobbles. You pull him in, holding him tight. 

"You're fine. You're fine. You're fine..."

"My prince," you press a lingering kiss to his forehead, "breathe. Breathe with me."

He clings onto you, his arms wrapped around your broad shoulders, his face buried in the crook of your neck. He breathes, following you. In and Out. In and Out. Slowly.

He pulls away, his eyes moist. "You should lie down," he gently pushes you back on the bed. "Rest," he says. He tucks you in, leaning down to press his lips to yours.

"Stay," you catch his wrist, "Please."

He takes a seat on the bed beside you, leaning against the bed frame. You move, trying not to let out a groan. You rest your head in his lap. His hands find their way to your hair, gently playing with the strands.

"What's wrong?" you question, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Of course, you can read him like an open book. He doesn't respond, his fingers mindlessly playing with your hair.

"My love," you hold his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, "Talk to me."

"One day," he whispers, "I fear, that one day, you won't return home to me."

You say nothing. How could you? He wasn't wrong. It was a possibility. Soldiers die on the battlefield every day. And one day, sooner or later, it would be your turn. 

You bring his hand to your mouth, leaving small kisses every where you could reach. "No grave can hold my body down," you murmur against his knuckles, "I'll crawl home to you."

A look into your eyes, and he knew it was the truth. You'll always come back to him.