#red dead redemption smut

[serawritesthings]

hi! Sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language. I don't know if you're accepting requests, if you not, just ignore. But I'm wondering how you would write something related to a jealous Arthur Morgan, high honor of course (with smut or without smut sincerely you know what looks best). the way you write is addictive and passionate, i believe anything you write from this would be great.

OUR DEAR, GREEN LITTLE FRIEND

Pairing | Arthur Morgan x Fem! Reader Summary | Oh, jealousy. When the thought of you straying too close to the comfort of Charles, the green monster claws its way into Arthur's head. Tags | sexual content 18+ minors dni, tiny bit of angst, description of violence and wounds, fluffy at times, smut Word Count | 10k A/N | Hi everyone! I just HAD to write this request, hope you like it! Also, thank you dearly anon♡

While many found the biting cold of the climate north of West Grizzlies to be bitter–sharp air seeping into your very bones–you saw it oddly liberating despite the current predicament. The circumstance was dire, indeed, and you pondered many times if this would finally be the end for all of you, thinking of the incredible luck you had managed to have so far. Fate, or an astonishingly fascinating knowledge on how to escape the grappling arms of the law with a suspicious amount of people trashing through the roads in utter, sheer panic.

Glancing around you as you huddled closer to the fire, hands rubbing furiously against the wool of your gloves to gain even the slightest warmth to your biting fingers, you were met with the flushed cheeks of your comrades. The skin that now glistened from the melting snowflakes was caressed by the warm, orange glow from the flames lighting up the small hut you had taken residence in. 

The road leading to here had been long, and the time spent in the wagon that did nothing to shield you from the penetrating wind that howled into the night, your thoughts had been entirely focused on the man who now lay dead a few meters away, tucked in some fabric to shield the paling flesh of a corpse. While the thought might not make you uncomfortable, it did its thing on the others who looked weary at the covered man. 

You had done your best to tend to him amidst the severe trembling of your fingers and numbness spreading through you the longer you rode in the worrying storm, finding his blood still staining the cotton of your gloves–a reminder that you had done what you could to help the poor fellow. Despite not knowing him well enough to shed a tear, death was still a death, and a slight melancholy set its claw in all of you as you tried to regain some warmth. 

“Stupid man.” Glancing beside you, you took notice of the dark-haired woman muttering angrily as she held a sleeping Jack close to her body. 

“What’s wrong?” You inquired quietly, curious of her obvious disdain.

“John Marston is what’s wrong.” Blazing heatedly into the fire, you could almost see the depths of hell through her furious eyes. “He didn’t come back with the rest.” Shifting her eyes to yours for a quick moment that, although short, showed the worry hidden beneath her anger. 

Nodding slowly as you leaned against her slightly in comfort, you realized you hadn’t taken notice of the man’s absence until now. Returning with empty hands and another mouth to feed had instead been the case, no Marston as far as the eyes could see as he probably whirred around in the blizzard somewhere.

“Do you think he…” As you spoke, you trailed off, growing unsure of your words while realizing your comments might be prodded into a sensitive subject. 

“No.” Firmly, she sniveled harshly, shaking her head in protest. “No, he wouldn’t leave again.” Although her words were sure, you still felt a lingering doubt cloud your mind, remembering being told of his earlier departure from the gang that caused more scars in their relationships than good–not that it wasn’t faulty from the very start.

As you were about to let your prying win against your common sense, you were interrupted by the door being audibly slammed open, the noisy winds from outside growing louder as snowflakes whirled inside. Walking inside was the prominent figure of Charles, nodding respectfully to its residents as the door shut behind him, once more letting the warmth settle.

“Folks.” He mumbled quietly, treading through everyone huddling by the fire as he glanced curiously at the new woman before settling beside you. You glanced up at him, taking in his snow-covered self before lingering on his hand that rested motionless on his legs, bandages visible under his gloves.

“It’s not too bad; the cold seems to numb the pain.” A slight smile graced your lips at his observance, finding it unique to the man to be so tentative to everyone around him. Letting out a small laugh, you reach to remove your gloves before taking his hand in yours so you could lay it in your lap, unwrapping the bandages to examine the burns covering his skin.

You had given it a quick look-over before you had to tend to Davey, doing the best you could to ease his pain you were sure would be unavoidable. Although the sight was quite gruesome, it didn’t look as bad as you had expected.

“You’re stronger than me, that’s for sure. I would be a crying mess if I burned my hand like that.” Your voice was gentle as you started to rewrap the fabric around his hand, finding it increasingly irritating you didn’t have the tools you usually did that would indeed do a fine job at lessening his pain.

You had managed to gain a slight smile from the otherwise aloof man, probably finding your words humorous. “Let’s hope it’ll never come to that.” 

Sharing a look, you heard the door open once again, the irritated voice of Uncle damning whoever was letting in the cold for the second time. Both you and Charles laughed slightly, and as you looked up, you were faced with a pair of squinting, blue eyes, the icy cold from the outside seemingly enhancing their sharpness although making a welcomed warmth spread through you as they gazed over you in a quick motion–departing to look at the hand that rested in your lap.

“A sad loss, folks,” Hosea stated as he stepped onto the wooden planks, speaking out loudly in the otherwise calm hut, groaning as he helped Arthur lift Davey’s lifeless body, limp like a ragdoll. 

Glancing subtly, you observed him as Arthur’s bulky form lifted easily, unlike Hosea, admiring how he made it seem so effortless. The others called him the camps workhorse, and you didn’t fail to see why, keeping your eyes firm on the man as he carried him towards the door. 

He shrouded you in uncertainty; he did, and you weren’t sure how to behave in his bold presence. You often felt like a goody two shoes, and even though you weren’t the perfect picture of a law-abiding citizen, you could honestly say you were a wimp compared to Arthur. 

You should be embarrassed, you really should, but there was something in his eyes– something that made your heart race. Utterly shameless, yet desperate to lock gazes again despite contradicting yourself and avoiding them every chance you could. Before you could get caught this time, you directed your eyes, focusing on tightening the bandages so they wouldn’t come loose. 

“Try to be careful, will you, Charles?” You spoke quietly while patting his hand, motioning that he was all set to go, but his hand stayed, giving you a grateful look. 

“Thank you.” His soothing voice was hushed as the loud bang of the door slammed shut not long after, ridding you of the tumult after their departure. 

–

Oh, it burned. It burned so deep in his loins that it felt like he would erupt into flames any second. Despite the cold surrounding him, he was sure it could be possible the more he was left with his thoughts. The hushed whispers, the soft touches, and the ever-so-gentle look in your eyes made him want to empty the little food in his stomach. 

“Sneaky little rat,” Arthur grumbled to himself as he shoveled his way through the deep layers of snow. Here he was, out in the cold, tortured by the howling winds of the snowstorm, while Charles remained inside the warmth of the hut, seated next to you, all because of a slight burn. 

He knew what he was up to–what any man would do if it meant getting your attention–and he wasn’t humored. Taking advantage of your good nature was downright uncalled for, bordering on immoral, which Arthur would probably realize wasn’t Charles’s character if his mind didn��t seek to find faults with the man the more his blood boiled.

He scoffed to himself, stabbing the ground maliciously, imagining your warm hands around his instead, the nimble fingers of yours tending to him as you moved in closer, your sweet smell reaching his nose as you gazed up at him, face blushed from the cold with lips begging him to warm them up with his. The thought did nothing more than cover his whole body in shivers, only to be reminded that it wasn’t him that received that attention from you.

“What are you huffing about over there, Arthur?!” Hosea’s strained voice attempted to shout over the loud winds, standing up to rest momentarily.

“Why don’t we just bury him when the storm has settled?!” Annoyance was apparent in his voice, the green jealous monster still wreaking havoc in his mind.

“I told you, the snow will be too heavy tomorrow, so we need to finish it while we still can!” He groaned, starting to shovel once more. “And I’ll be damned, we are going to give Davey a proper burial. He deserves that much!”

As Hosea blabbered on about justice and other forms of respect Arthur had no intent on listening to, he zoned out, feeling sorry for himself as he imagined you might be keeping close to Charles right this moment, warming yourself to his body in a desperate search of bodily heat. Rubbing the melted snow off his face, Arthur damned the heavens above for making him the unluckiest bastard in the West. 

Despite Arthur seeming dead set on you being lovey-dovey with a man you barely knew, Charles had left you after making some small talk, mentioning that he would try and get some well-deserved rest after the tumultuous past few days. Many others did as well, attempting to ease their minds from the constant threat against their back amidst the terrible cold.

Although, as days passed and John being back rid you of Abigail’s constant muttering, the cold only seemed to take its toll on you, unlike the others who quickly got used to the environment. Furthermore, the days only seem to get longer up in the mountains, and you wondered obsessively when you would get the chance to leave–damning everyone who thought seeking out Colm O’Driscoll in your compromised state a good idea instead of moving forwards.

Despite your dismay, you put yourself to use like the others, preparing to help Pearson in the grim act of cutting through the poor deer that had been brought back. While the sight gladdened you, knowing you would finally get a meal in your stomach, the brooding aura of a chestnut-haired, blue-coated man seemed to rain over you endlessly.

What could you have done to gain his stinging glare? It was almost cutting through you entirely from the burning that resided deep in his eyes, watching you ferociously, making your hair stand on edge. When he had returned with Charles, it had been nothing short of unpleasant ever since, although thankfully–despite his glare–his harsh words were directed towards Pearson instead of you, which you were glad for.

“How’s the cold treating you?” Glancing away from the two men bickering, you laughed slightly at Charles’s innuendo, dressed worse for wear as you pulled the thick, woolen scarf tighter around your neck, hugging yourself to keep warm.

“Could be worse, I guess,” you said, clouds like smoke surrounding you as you talked.

“I suppose. Still, I don’t want you freezing your fingers off.”

“Mhh,” you nodded thoughtfully, speaking up after silence. “Who would look after your hand if that happened?”

He chuckled heartily at your unsuspected joke, and you glanced up at him bashfully, a light smile covering your face at his apparent amusement. While your embarrassment of being so easily swayed by the cold, it felt nice having someone take notice of your obvious discomfort, even though you would say you were pretty good at keeping it to yourself. You couldn’t be surprised, though, well aware you and Charles were both tentative to your surroundings, always knowing but rarely telling.

“Here.” Taking off the large gloves covering his hand, no doubt doing an excellent job keeping him warm, he grabbed your trembling hands in his, rubbing them between his pleasant temperature hand and bandage-covered skin before gliding the fabric over yours. 

“No, Charl-” you protested, trying to stop him from continuing. 

“They’ll do you more good than me, I promise. They’re just in the way.” Stubbornly, he planted your hands back into your lap, petting them like you had done to him some nights ago before raising with a huff. 

“Thanks for the help, Arthur.” Charles nodded at the now grumpy man observing him as he rested against the wood of the wooden wall with arms crossed, seemingly ignoring Mr. Pearson’s lecture about the navy he felt so strongly about, only providing a quick tilt of his hat before heated eyes were set on you.

Your gaze faltered, the blush on your face from the cold only intensifying the spread of warmth you felt from gaining his profound stare–something you rarely took notice of. It wasn’t that he didn’t look at you; he probably looked too much at times, but he was never so ardent with it, scrutinizing you under their heavy weight–making you feel ten times smaller under his towering height. 

“Well, why don’t you skin the deer, Arthur? I’ll help you cut them up in a while, miss.” Mr. Pearson’s words were hasty, and you didn’t miss the bottle glistening under the sunlight as he tried hiding it behind his coat, scurrying away. He would, in fact, not be back; you were sure of that much. 

It wasn’t often you found yourself alone with Arthur, and you never strayed too close, finding his presence somewhat daunting. Not that you’ve had many chances to speak amidst all the chaos surrounding you, and being relatively new to the gang meant the trust lacked significantly from both sides. But, the intrigue was always present in every glance and movement.

You felt his gaze fixed on you a moment longer as you stared heedlessly at your hands, rubbing them together anxiously, having no clue what to do with yourself. While you weren’t one to speak the ears of others, you never had any problem socializing with those around you–but Arthur, he was something else entirely. Finally, though, he moved, approaching the hanging carcass.

“How are ya?” His sudden words surprised you, hanging awkwardly in the air.

“Oh, um. Good?” You cringed at yourself, finding the words stuck in your throat as his voice rumbling was loud and confident.

“Cold?” 

“A bit,” you said softly, staring at his back as he heaved the skin away from the animal, movements rigid and harsh. “Charles gave me his gloves, so it’s a little less chilly now.” You stumbled over your words, admiring his strength unabashedly as he hauled the skinned deer over his shoulder, slamming it down the table with a loud bang. He gave you no answer, instead bringing out the knife in his belt to do the job you were assigned to.

“Oh, let me!” Standing abruptly from your seat, you stepped towards him hurriedly in shame, feeling like you were just lazying around while Arthur was doing all the hard work. 

Grabbing his thick coat to let you take his position, you found him staying right where he was, looking down at you when your hand rested on his bicep. It was unusual for him to be so close, and a blush warmed your cheeks as his towering frame became more apparent when standing a short distance from one another.

“S’alright.” He spoke lowly. “I’ve got it.”

Your breath got caught in your throat as he gazed wholly at you, letting you know he had no problem with helping you. It warmed you, finding his action kind–just like the small acts of kindness he reserved for the other girls. You would sometimes glare after them, intensely jealous that Arthur seemed to have a soft spot for them, yet acting like you didn’t exist.

“Anything else I can do to help since you just did my job for me?” A shy smile found you, peering up at him as he sniveled, glancing at you while you sat on the bench again.

“Well, you’ve already done your charity work for the day, so you’re fine.”

“Charity work?” You wondered, staring at him curiously as he cut through the meat. “What do you mean?”

He only sighed heavily, like you should be able to understand his cryptic words. 

“He won’t die from a small burn; it ain’t enough reason to coddle the man like a child,” he grumbled. 

It took you a while to get the gears turning, but when you did, you felt yourself grow shy from his statement. “Charles? His hand isn’t looking too good…”

“Yeah? Well, you shouldn’t be so forward. You’ll give the poor man false hope.” He scoffed, stabbing the poor carcass harshly.

Staring at his back in disbelief at the sudden hatred, you had trouble understanding where it came from and why he suddenly grew so invested in whom you diverted your attention. You and Arthur rarely spoke, only changing quick words occasionally ever since you found yourself staying with the gang, and for that reason, you had failed to understand the reason for his hatred.

It seems all you ever did was look after everyone else, paying attention to their various troubles and tribulations regarding bodily harm. It wasn’t strange to you, and by no means did you give anyone false hope, merely trying to find your place with these people, an attempt to prove your usefulness.

“False hope?” You questioned, baffled. “I’m trying to help; I fail to understand how that is a problem.” 

“It ain’t a problem!” He grumbled, voice roaring hotly in his chest as he resheathed his knife and began to make his way out, repositioning his hat without glancing at you. You followed him, stopping short by the table as you didn’t want to stray too close to the fuming man.

“Well, it is since you are so angry about it?!” If this was how he carried out every conversation, you were glad the exchange of words wasn’t typical between you, more so the simple fact that your company had never seemed to bring him any enjoyment. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Wha-” He stops short, suddenly turning around and stalking towards you in significant strides. Gasping at suddenly having him so close, you backed away; his sharp eyes penetrated you as the warm blue of his orbs turned ice cold, glaring daggers into your own.

“What’s wrong with me?” He spoke dangerously low as his brows raised, grabbing your upper arms as he hoisted you up the table without an ounce of struggle. “I’m not the one taking every small, insignificant chance to take advantage of your good nature.”

“Charles’s not like that. He’s very kind.” You spoke in his defense, leaning back from his prolonged stare that seemed to cut through you deeper the more he stared. You had always pitied the people who got on Arthur’s lousy side, finding his presence at those times unnerving. 

Now, it seemed you were at the receiving end of it, and while it chilled you to the bones, you weren’t sure if your beating heart were because of fear or the thought of him being the closest to you he’d ever have.

You had never quite got to admire his eyes, always hidden under his furrowed brows and squinting eyes. Now that it wasn’t because of the blazing sun down west, it was from the blaring whiteness of the snow surrounding you as you found his eyes glaring at the current climate more often than not–displeased.

His eyes being dead set on you didn’t help as you could hear his breathing grow heavier, the warmth of his breath hitting your cold cheeks as his broad frame blocked the chilly winds from reaching you.

“Kind, huh?” Although momentarily distracted, you recovered as you heard him speak in a low voice, still finding his assumptions wildly out of reach while insulting you and Charles. Times were hard, and if you couldn’t look after one another, it would surely lead to your doom–Arthur, if anyone, should know that.

“Yes, kind.”

Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he backed away from you, shrugging his shoulders while walking away–like your conversation hadn’t happened in the first place.

“Sure.”

–

It wasn’t like Arthur didn’t know how to restrain himself, for he applauded himself for avoiding his apparent anger when Charles had, yet again, stolen away your attention–not that Arthur had any plans on striking up a conversation with you anyway. 

It became clear to him that when you two were left alone, you almost turned into a living statue, barely responding to him. It was unlike you, for the time he had spent observing you, you had no problem talking to anyone else–and although it was usually calm, it never deterred you from gaining the likes of the others and liking them in return.

Why did you cringe away from him and not Charles, he pondered, glaring at the picture that plagued his mind. The reason he knew, deep down, but his stubbornness didn’t let him justify your actions. In all honesty, Charles was a more reliable man than himself, intentions often apparent with a slight sense of, well, goodness perhaps—something Arthur didn’t possess in the slightest.

Goodness, in all honesty, wasn’t something he was too familiar with, and he didn’t doubt one second that you found his character to be callous, seeing as the dirty work no one wanted to do fell upon him; work everyone else found to be too cruel to do themselves. He could almost feel your disapproving gaze when he picked up his slack from Mr. Strauss’s poor victims that he always tried to prolong, and while it wasn’t his most favorable way of lending a hand, sometimes he did it out of spite. 

If that’s what you thought about him, then he couldn’t do much to sway your opinion, finding it much easier to continue with his ways than realize that your sudden carefulness off him wounded him more profoundly than he let on.

And, he was indeed a harsh man in your eyes, and although his company wasn’t entirely unwished for, he was still grim–ignoring your presence like you weren’t there most of the time. It made you wildly unsure of him, but the allure he had kept bringing you back, always wondering when you would see a glimpse of him again. You chastised yourself for it, more so now that you got a taste of his famously sullen mood that pestered everyone around him, but your eyes were still drawn to him when he was nearby. 

Maybe it wasn’t what everyone else would describe him as, but you thought of him as mysterious. Gods, you have stayed with this group for quite some time now. Not once had he spoken to you more than the standard greeting, and you didn’t know much about him besides the sharp-shooting, brutal force of a man who had no problem letting his thoughts be voiced, even though the listeners might be less inclined to its harsh deliverance.

He had been cruel, sure, but you couldn’t help but remember how close you had been before when he spewed words that clung so viciously from his tongue. Faintly, you remembered the deep scent of gunpowder and smoke, something you were certain probably penetrated his skin by now, but also the slightly musky scent hidden underneath. Your head raced in curiosity, wondering how his hands would grab you if it wasn’t in anger. Was he even capable of that, you pondered.

It’s ridiculous you knew those thoughts were born from misconceptions and assumptions. You had heard how he behaved amongst the camp women, forever gentle and careful, and you had sharpened your ear when you’d been told timidly about his earlier flings. He could be more heartfelt than your head let you acknowledge, and the thought made your head spin even more with your endless imagination.

Despite the inner turmoil that filled you from your earlier argument, you had avoided him for some days now, and it seemed to grow easier the colder you got, huddling close to the fire with every chance. It was the only thing keeping your thoughts occupied, wondering when you would get to leave this desolated mining town that grew more covered in snow the longer you chose to stay.

“Do you need help, Hosea?” Just after you spoke, heavy blankets were handed to you, the fabric made from a thick wool that looked heavenly. “Yes, thank you. I take one step outside; I fear that it will be the end of me.” You only stared warmly at Hosea, who patted you on the back. “Don’t you worry, miss. We found more blankets we thought had been lost in that dreadful storm, so we all will sleep warmer tonight.”

“Oh, of course, I’ll help-” Despite the whistling winds that had picked up as the sun shone its last tendrils, you didn’t oppose the idea, but you were interrupted by a mischievous look handed to you by the older man.

“Make sure Arthur grabs one, too; you know how he gets.” Before you could question his meaning, he slunk away, pulling the warm fabric tighter around his shoulders without a glance at you, chuckling merrily. You chose not to ponder too hard on his strange ways, instead making your way to the door, shivering badly as you stepped outside.

Smiles were all you were greeted with as you handed them off, and it was no surprise as it was a welcome sight to everyone to gain some extra warmth to wrap around themselves. Although feeling content by being of help, you couldn’t help but wonder where Arthur could be, a single blanket now left in your hands.

Grumbling to yourself, you stepped out from the hut Dutch and Molly resided in, glancing at a smaller building some paces away, finding the orange glow of a candle lighting up the smaller barn where the horses were kept. A small smile found you, finding it very fitting for him to be where there were fewer people. 

Although slightly fearing what could come to be an awkward encounter, you found yourself being too forgiving many times, and you damned yourself for it. What he said hurt you deeply, making you ponder if you had given Charles other signals than intended. It could be a possibility, yet you had never had too many romantic dealings with men to presume that that was the case, but his eyes held something tender the last few times you spoke as you recalled it.

“Arthur…” As you stepped inside after pulsing through the thick snow, you searched for the blue coat you had grown familiar with in this weather. “Are you here?” You asked quietly, wondering if he could hear you.

You cautiously stepped further into the barn, placing your feet steadily on the ground before you so you didn’t slip and embarrass yourself. It was friendly out here, you could admit, the snow muting every sound and almost making every slight sound caress your ears. 

As you stepped further inside, it turned out he was here, and he took no notice of you as you rounded the corner to gaze at his seated form, seemingly writing something in his journal. It was an unusual sight. Sometimes, you observed him as he wrote in his journal back at camp, yet you didn’t make a habit of it, too shy to question him at the time.

How he didn’t freeze to death in this climate was beyond you, his fingers bare as he scribbled, fingertips red from the cold and dirty from the chalk. You made a motion to speak up once again but found yourself tongue-tied as you took him in, and as you did, the thought struck you that he wasn’t writing but drawing.

How unlike him, you thought, watching his brows furrowed from time to time, fingers moving expertly while the soft glow of the candle beside him almost softened his features. Your presumptions might be harsh, but you had never found him to be a man well-versed in the creative aspect of life, and while the brutal ways of his life spoke for him, you found it to make him slightly more approachable. 

“I didn’t know you draw.” You stated fondly, his eyes fitting into yours the moment the first word left your mouth, growing visibly stressed as the journal was planted into his coat pocket. A rough cough left him as he did, eyes faltering when he saw your observant gaze linger on him unabashedly.

“I don’t.” A small laugh left you at his abrupt words, not teasingly but perhaps warmly, choosing not to bug him since he grew uncomfortable before your questioning eyes. 

You were given an expectant look that reminded you of your actual business here as you stepped inside the building, closing the barn door behind you to shut out the wind that somehow managed to find its way through the cracks in the walls. 

“Here, we found some more blankets. Hosea asked me to bring you one.” You met his eyes briefly as you stretched out your arms for him to take the blanket, eyes faltering to it at his piercing gaze.

“Hosea, huh?” A scoff left him, resuming his arms to cross over his chest, shaking his head slightly. “You keep it.”

“No, I-” 

“Nah, you chattering your teeth keeps us up at night. Take it.”

His words should have taken you back since his voice was stinging, but a light laugh left you, knowing he was right. Wrapping yourself in the soft, warm blanket, you surprised Arthur by sitting beside him, heavily clad shoulders touching each other as you did. 

“I don’t understand.” You stated, staring at the large shadows that flickered on the wooden wall before you. “How can you not be cold? I feel like if I spend one more day out here, I’ll freeze to death.”

You turned your head towards him, caught off guard when you felt his gaze already set intensely on you. Your eyes faltered to his chest, growing shy as you always did when you had his attention on you. It wasn’t unwanted, but you didn’t know what to do with yourself in moments like that, unused to the fire that always burned so deep in his eyes.

“Used to it, I guess.” His voice rumbled hotly in his chest, fingers flexing against his will as he took the chance to observe you. He had never had the opportunity to see your face this close. Your wet lashes clung together as you blinked, undoubtedly from the heavy snowfall outside, framing your eyes that Arthur always noticed were so very easy to read, yet at many moments also locked away.

“I don’t believe you.” How could anyone possibly get used to this? It was raw, pure torture. 

You didn’t get an answer, and as you returned your gaze towards the wall, Arthur’s eyes found your features again. He had indeed been cold before you came, but it was his only chance to find a moment of peace; the thought of spending another night in that god-forsaken hut with his dear friend and his lover giggling the night away grew incredibly distasteful.

Here, he could finally hear his thoughts, the solitude of the snow muting every sound heavenly; the only noise was the familiar scribbling in his journal as he wrote about the past few days. Though his head was calmer than before, he still dreamt of your fingers encasing his like they had done Charles, the small, elegant touches rising his arms slowly, making him shiver wildly as the scene flashed before his eyes. 

He knew he shouldn’t think of you like that, and he certainly had no right to be angry at Charles since he felt so unabashedly filthy things about you, but he couldn’t help it. Your every scent, every motion set his blood afire; small deeds of good you always found yourself doing so harshly contrasted his actions he couldn’t help the fact that you intrigued his whole being. 

So good, so… soft and warm. As he stared at you, all he wanted was to reach out and pull you closer to him so he could feel your shivering body close to him, knowing many ways to warm you up. Sighing, he removed his hat, running his fingers through his hair as the thoughts took a turn he always hated himself for.

“Hey, I uh…” Arthur trailed off, finding the words he wanted to speak stuck in his throat. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way, like I did back then.” He stared before him, yet he felt your eyes heavy on his.

He did feel bad, and it had been the reason for his brooding temper since then, not coming to terms with his wrongdoings until now. He had probably scared you, he concluded, and could only assume he was right as you had done your utmost to avoid him as of late.

“Don’t be,” you said with a light smile, not expecting his apology, even though he didn’t say sorry directly. “It’s a lot right now, I understand. But I still don’t understand why you’re so angry at Charles.” You were briefly met with a light sigh, eyes flickering to yours before diverting the flickering candle. 

“Nah, forget it. Just me being stupid is all.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid. Maybe you’re mean sometimes and grumpy,” you said, giving him a teasing glance. “But not stupid.”

A scoff left him at your words, yet you could see the corners of his mouth chirp up lightly. “You’d be surprised.”

As your snickering died down, you rested your head on the wall behind you, not wanting to leave the quiet comfort you found yourself in nor the conversation that panned on longer than you had anticipated, much to your surprise.

“Why are you out here if you are so cold, girl?” He questioned you, catching a glimpse of your almost blue lips. “Go on inside; you’ll freeze to death if you stay here.” It would be best for you to return because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if his thoughts progressed like they did before in your presence. As he placed the hat on his head again, he glanced down quickly, doing a double take as he found you staring at him. 

Was the cold finally getting to your head, or was it simply being in the presence of the man you were so unsure of but wildly intrigued by? You couldn’t tell, but the warmth spreading in your stomach as he glanced down at you spread ferociously through your stomach, almost warming you to your fingertips. 

Suddenly, Arthur moved his arm slightly, and the motion made you jump, leaning away from him as you unconsciously drew closer to him. You couldn’t tell, but it almost felt like your body sometimes contradicted your mind, defying your sense of morality.

“Are you afraid of me?” He questioned, gazing at you unexplainably. Both of your breaths were audible in the quiet night, blowing like smoke out your mouths as the world around you blurred. It wasn’t like Arthur couldn’t contain himself around women, but you were something else entirely. Only in his wildest dreams did you stare at him like that, like you were expecting–waiting– for him to do something. 

Yet, you looked guarded, like a cornered lam, waiting for the right moment to sprint away. You pulled away, only to lean in further, the cogs in your head turning something so awful in your mind, observing his every move yet not registering your own that reached out to him.

And gods, did he want to do the same; his internal battle proved to be more difficult as your hand gripped his coat tightly, only wanting to warm your blue lips with his own and show you how he could warm you up better than Charles’s damned gloves ever could.

“Sometimes.” You let on, voice shaking from both anticipation and uncertainty.

Leaning down towards you hesitantly, he felt hot all over when he realized you didn’t shy away from him like expected, mouth only parting further as he drew closer. As you did, you felt your breath hitch when a hand was placed on your upper back, Arthur’s weight only making you glide further down the wall until your head was resting in the crook of his elbow.

“Arthur…” He was so close now you could almost feel his heartbeat through the vast amount of clothing, breath hitting your cold, blushing cheeks as he leaned closer, the calling of his name only drawing him in. He was sure you had bewitched him, for not a single thought in his mind was about anything but the woman in front of him, entirely and utterly overtaken by what was solely you.

And through those few moments between frustration and desperation, all senses of logic disappeared as the skin of your lips conjoined, drawn together like magnets that snapped together like they never wanted to be apart again. Eyes grew shut, the only sound now the deep humming in Arthur’s chest as your hands found his cheeks, caressing the chilly skin under your palm with your thumbs.

It was ragged and scarred, a deep contrast to your own that had never tasted the metal of a gun and the blood of a foe, and the thought made a gasp rise in your throat as his weight fell heavier onto yours, pressing you into the hay-filled, snowy ground. 

“Tell me to stop.” He grunted against your now wet lips, only taking a second before joining them again. He was covering your entire body as he lay above you, resting his weight on his elbows as your head rested on his arm. 

“No…” You mumbled, words almost not audible against his desperate mouth, feeling just as affected by the desire as he did. You felt his face scrunch up almost painfully before he took the hand that rested on your back to glide under your coat, resting it on the side of your waist as he stroked gently, feeling the curves that hid underneath the damned fabric.

It was torture. It was an unexplainable torture that you would freeze to death if he removed the clothes that covered you, and he would surely go insane if he couldn’t feel the skin he imagined would be so very soft under his rough fingers. Just a taste, he thought sinfully to himself, slowly lifting the fabric of your shirt from under your skirt’s waistband, worming a freezing hand inside to feel the warmth that hid underneath.

You gasped at the sudden sensation but were quickly silenced as his tongue massaged your own, and the slight moan that left you only made a groan rumble loudly in his chest. The feeling of his cold hand rose your skin, stroking every bit it came across as if memorizing it to his brain, mapping out every single inch. 

It was too much for you, the sheer desperation and want, not knowing what to do with yourself or how to dampen the intense feelings that nailed your firm to the ground. Every bit of you grew into static, and every touch from Arthur sent shockwaves through your body as his fingers caressed you.

“Come here.” Opening your eyes, you found his, although lidded with desire, gentle eyes gazing into yours, pulling his hand reluctantly from your waist to help you sit up. “I won’t let you lay on the ground.” 

You only stared at him as he seated you on his lap, chest flush against his as his hands stroked along your arms as if to warm you up, tightening the blanket around your shoulders. You felt your heartbeat pick up at his actions, your stomach fluttering fiercely as he ensured you stayed warm.

You could tell he grew wildly unsure as you remained silent, clearing his throat as if he had been in a daze before speaking. 

“If you’ll have me, that is.” You didn’t give him a chance to say more, hands finding sanction in his hair as the motion knocked off his hat, exposing the sandy locks he always kept hidden underneath it.

“Stupid question.” You mumbled softly against his mouth, pressing yourself closer to him as your fingers started fiddling with the buttons on his coat. You could already feel the heat emitting, and your fingers grew hasty as you tried to move faster, the motion of your lips faltering against his eager ones.

You would have been ashamed if it weren’t for Arthur being just as stressed about getting the buttons of your coat loose, hands wounding their way around your waist and pressing you closer to him the moment they became undone. Likewise, you wormed your arms under his shoulder, gasping as you felt the heat buried underneath the fabric, hugging him close as you placed your face into the crook of his neck. 

Breathing in your scent, Arthur revealed in the way you nuzzled against him, feeling a warmth spread in his groin when the thick coat didn’t keep the pressure of your middle away from him any longer. It was heaven, he concluded, trailing his hands down to your backside as he caressed the curves, pushing you flush against his.

Oh, how he reveled in it. He was selfish; there was no denying it any longer, but he craved you so profoundly it would eat him up bit by bit if he couldn’t have you. It wasn’t about Charles any longer; it was about the fact that you had never spared him a glance, almost bordering on fearing him, deciding that everyone else company had been much safer than his own. 

He knew it and had seen it in your eyes countless times. Arthur wasn’t unfamiliar with the look of utter horror plastered on people’s faces, for he faced it every day, and he wanted nothing more than to show you that you had no reason to feel that way with him, for he would never put a single finger that was unwished for on you.

And he couldn’t possibly hold it against you, for he wasn’t a good man, quite the opposite actually, and every lingering touch made him hate himself even more, wishing you would find it in you to push away from him–let him know that if he ever touched you again, you would kill him. 

But, he would find that you didn’t, instead only pressing yourself even harder against him in the cold of the night, breath shaking something so terribly as he moved your lower region against his in a gentle movement. It only fueled his want for you, hands struggling their way up your skirt, caressing your stocking-clad legs as he did, reaching your undergarments with a content sigh. 

His touch lighted a path up your legs, the cold nothing but a memory now even though the brisk air found its way underneath your skirt, following his hands that caressed your inner thighs in soft motions.

It was suspenseful, waiting for the skin to touch the skin, for his strong hands to wound around you as he had already wormed himself around your heart. And as he did, the coil in your stomach grew so incredibly tight you felt like it was too much like his touch alone wounded your every fiber, but instead of hurt, it was an undeniable pleasure that hit you tenfold.

The hand that had crawled its way inside your undergarments stroked alongside your tender parts, never touching you where you wanted him the most–the place that longed for his touch. He had to be teasing you; there was no other explanation as he smiled softly at your expression, gasping for air as you gripped the sides of his arms, trying to push against his fingers. 

“Ah, sweetheart.” He only cooed at you, gripping your wrists with one hand as his other finally glided over the wetness of your heat, gazing directly into your eyes with his sharp gaze, admiring your pleasure-filled face that begged him to give you more, to provide you with his all. And, as he spread your folds with his fingers, the filthiest whimper of pleasure left you, laying its noise into the quiet night with no worry about anyone hearing, only fools deciding to stray outside in this bleak, frigid night. 

Falling into his arms yet again, you let him enter a finger into your warm cavern, gasping desperately for air as the unfamiliar stretch widened you, dragging wonderfully against your clenching walls. It was vile, the way Arthur reveled in how tight you felt against his finger, and as he pondered on how you would feel when he pushed it you. The thought made a striking, white pleasure shoot through him, making him grunt out against your neck.

“That good?” He spoke out, adding another finger into you while placing wet, hot kisses against your blazing neck, wanting nothing more than to hear your heavenly sound of approval. 

You attempted to nod, but the motion was interrupted by the increasingly more extensive stretch from both of his fingers; gasping like a madwoman as you moved against his hands, wishing to pull his fingers even deeper into you, dissatisfied when you realized it didn’t do the job.

He could only groan when he realized your intention, slipping his coated finger from your warm heat, bringing them to his mouth quickly while his other hand found the zipper of his jeans, fumbling in a stressed fashion to get rid of the constraint.

A dissatisfied moan left you as he did, wishing for nothing more than to feel the delicious stretch yet again carry alongside your walls. But, as he fumbled with his zipper, you quickly got your senses together. You helped him undo his suspenders, then slipped underneath the fabric to trail your hand alongside the apparent bulge that stretched underneath, finding his groans to fuel your actions. 

For a short while, your eyes met amidst the hurry your bodies experienced, and the moment slowed down to a halt as your lips found each other once more, moving against one another like starved men. You couldn’t be closer to him, and he couldn’t possibly be closer to you, and while you earlier had pondered that this was a good idea, you couldn’t imagine anything else at this moment.

And, as your hand wrapped around him momentarily, Arthur could feel his brain’s short circuit, like he had never been able to hold a single thought in his mind his entire life. You had to have bewitched him, for he complied to your every touch, body moving against your every move like your hand was glued to his body.

“God,” he mumbled against your lips that massaged his own, thrusting against your hand as you stroked him tenderly, gasping against him quietly. It wasn’t hurried but warm and slow, basking in each other’s presence like you had never before discovered the feeling of another’s touch against your own.

“That good?” You replied teasingly, mimicking his earlier words as you smiled a toothy smile, feeling him chuckle lowly at your apparent teasing, giving you a playful slap on your behind as his breathing picked up.

Suddenly, you felt a hand encase your own. As he removed it from his throbbing member, he only grabbed you closer, wounding his arms around your back as he pulled you into a hug, the feeling of him underneath you wonderful as you glided along it–moaning wantonly as the friction shot sharp streaks of pleasure up your body.

“Come on, sweetheart. I’ll warm you up.” As he spoke, he could feel himself shudder as your wet lips encased his tip, groaning audibly as he thought you rubbing against him. You were illegal, he concluded, for nothing could ever be allowed to feel this good–it wasn’t possible.

“Please,” you gasped against his lips, moving your hips slightly as you felt his hands circle your waist. “Please, Arthur.” 

He hushed you quietly, finally feeling you wrap your lips around him as he slowly entered your warm cavern, the walls fitting him snugly as a grunt left him unexpectedly, lost in the pleasure you brought him. 

While it felt too good to imagine, you could only keep your mouth open at the sensation, wondering how something could ever fill you up quite as good as this. Without a single thought, you sat down entirely, feeling him stretch you wonderfully as you wrapped around all of him, wounding your hands around his neck. 

You didn’t need to move much, for he thrust up into you when you had gotten used to his size, feeling yourself being hitched up to his body as the motion made your whole body rise to then fall back down on him, once more filled to the brim. His grunting in your ears filled your senses, and while the slight consciousness entered your mind, wondering what you were doing, you pushed it far back, relishing in how your body responded to his.

Despite the cold that was surely creeping into your bones the more you stayed out here, the sound of skin against skin filling the empty spaces around you made you feel more connected to each other than you had ever felt with anyone else. 

You started to move with him, bringing down your hips to meet his while he thrusts into you, growing more desperate by the minute. You found the hands hugging your waist, circling their arms around it, pushing you even further against him as you rested your hands on his cheeks, having no choice but to stare into his lidded eyes as he grunted roughly underneath you. 

God, how he wanted to push you down onto the ground and drive into you, damning the snow that covered the ground. Instead, he glided down further from the wall, feeling your weight press against him more as your head found sanction in his neck, feeling his thrusts grow more in power as he pistoned into you harder from the new position.

“Arthur.” You breathed out, feeling the stretch of him grow as the position made him reach even deeper inside you, one arm reaching down to grab your bottom so he could hold you firmer against him.

“I know, honey.” He murmured, head growing dizzy as you clenched around him so wonderfully, mewling sweetly into his ears as you let him take control. 

Did it make him an evil man for reveling in what he knew Charles would never gain from you? Maybe it did, but those thoughts were placed far back in his mind as your lips found his, small moans now muted as you grew desperate for his affection, growing insatiable to once more feel the fondness that laid in his every touch.

He had been so angry that someone else had gained the courage to do what he couldn’t, realizing he had been too late. Yet now, as you remain unknowing above him, it only made his lips plant themself firmer against yours, determined to make you understand that nobody could make you feel this way except him.

Grabbing the blanket off your shoulders, he threw it down towards the ground as you gasped, stroking your waist tenderly before slowing his movements. 

Your breath heaved something so terrible, your voice shaking as you spoke. “Don’t stop, Arthur. Please.” He felt his stomach coil at your words, throbbing inside you as he moved to a seated position.

“I ain’t stopping, sweetheart,” he let on, leaning you backwards lightly. “Lay back for me, okay?” You did as he said without a protest, the cold now gone as your legs spread from him.

He almost groaned from the sight, taking a moment to observe you as you stared at him through lidded eyes, blushed cheeks so wonderfully red against the whiteness of the snow you almost looked like an angel–your hair spread like a halo around your head where you laid on the blanket.

Crawling over you quickly, he grunted as he felt your hand encasing itself around him, stroking slowly as you guided it to your clenching hole. For a moment, he felt a relief spread through him at the feeling of your walls surrounding him before the sheer and utter desperation set in, beginning to move into you at a faster pace than before. 

Your breath hitched at the sudden movement, yet you gripped his arms to keep him there, not baring the thought of him stopping again. Being over you gave him more control, and his primal instincts set in as the coil in his stomach shot burning flashes throughout his body, wanting nothing more than to feel your warm walls around him forever. Maybe it was the desire talking, but he swore that the thought of you being like this with any other man than him would make him heave.

Encasing his arms around you as your hands found his hair, he felt your legs wrap around his waist, now so close he was grounding into you relentlessly. Rough yet tender, he moved into you with care, but you could feel that he was holding back as he panted above you.

“Don’t stop!” You begged him once more amidst his thrusts, pulling on his strands as his lips found the softness of your neck. Why you were begging, you couldn’t say, oblivious to the words leaving your mouth in utter bliss.

“Hm?” He mumbled, smiling lightly from hearing your ruined voice beg him. He felt like a sick man gaining pleasure from it, but his mind was too hazy to take notice, longing to hear those words leave your sweet mouth once more. “What was that?”

“Don’t stop,” you voiced breathlessly as his hand found your breast, rolling the nub softly between his rough fingers. Despite your begging, for his own sickly twisted pleasure his hips ceased their movements, moving torturously slow as he raised his elbows to stare at your tear-filled eyes.

They shot open as he slowed his pace, displeased he didn’t listen as you already felt shameful for sounding so desperate. You couldn’t help it, for it felt too good, and now that he had stopped, you wished he never had. Was he teasing you? The thought made you blush from embarrassment and annoyance, pleading with your eyes.

“No…” You mumbled, trying to move against him, yet his hands held you firm against the ground.

“Say it.” Arthur’s voice was coarse as he spoke, grabbing your hand to place tender kisses on it as your displeased sounds reached his ears. He only got a confused look, smirking slightly at the longing and apparent dissatisfaction plastered on your face. A biting shadowed lust replaced his usually sharp eyes as he watched you, carnal written deeply in his eyes.

“My name, sweetheart. Let me hear you say it.” Suddenly, he pistoned his hips against you, driving up your wet walls as a mewl left you from the sudden force. You felt his intense eyes on you as your eyes shut momentarily, and through your blurred vision, they didn’t stay open for long.

“Arthur,” you moaned, eye-rolling into the back of your head as your back arched, a wave of pleasure shooting through you at his demands. He held the same controlled yet sensual pace, knowing he’d slip out of you if he went any harder. Still, his accuracy was wicked–hitting the right spot with every move.

“That’s it,” he praised you, placing another kiss on your palm as his thrusts increased, grunting roughly as your walls squeezed him tightly. You break into sobs as you reach out to grasp his arms, tilting his head up just enough to let you know he’s watching you, his hazy gaze roving over the devastation on your face. 

The snow around you mutes the sound of skin hitting skin as he sets a brutal pace. “I didn’t tell you to stop, sweetheart.” The deep rumble in his chest as he spoke the words laced with possessiveness made your heartbeat pick up faster than it already was, the light ringing in your ears increasing as your body was hoisted up with each of his thrusts.

You call his name like a prayer amidst the pleasure, and satisfaction at hearing his name come so sinfully from your mouth made his eyes roll back, knuckles turning white from gripping the ground so harshly. Oh, you had no idea that every noise you let out from his advances made his heart soar with pride, feeling the softness of your skin under the palm of his hands.

Arthur feels the abrupt stop of movements from your hand, gripping tightly on his arms as you spasm around his cock, clenching tightly as the pads of his fingers come down to rub at your swollen nub as your orgasmed, a loud whine leaving you at the contact. It’s too much for you, the sensation too unfamiliar yet devastatingly addictive–not knowing if you wanted to drive your hips away from his brutal assault or enjoy him even more profoundly. 

Even if you had decided on the prior, he didn’t let you, pushing you firm against the ground as he twitched inside you at the noises you let out, groaning lowly as he came inside your warm walls, planting himself deep inside you. 

“Christ-” He grunts out, teeth clenched as you feel his cock throb inside you, cum gathering at the base of him as his hips slow to deep thrusts, grinding into you in sheer pleasure as the knot in his stomach unleashed, feeling you placing small kissed on his neck.

The slight motion made him smile amidst his pleasure-filled mind, caressing the curves of your waist as he nestled his head into your neck, still panting heavily. As you both calmed down, it didn’t take long for your hand to find his, fingers wounding themselves around the others in the blissful aftermath.

As you opened your eyes after catching your breath, you found a pair of blue ones already gazing at you. You didn’t speak for a while, both of you trying to digest the situation as tiny snowflakes could be seen falling from the sky through the cracks in the walls. It reminded you of how cold you should have been, but with Arthurs’s broad chest covering you, it felt like you were clinging to a furnace.

“Shit, you must be freezing.” He suddenly let out, shaking his head slightly as if in a daze before rising to pull you with him. As he pulled your skirt down your legs, rubbing them between his hands to warm you up, you could only stare at him in quiet wonder.

“What?” He grumbled out, sniveling lightly as he glanced at you. Had you not wanted this, he wondered, doubt starting to fill his mind. You were too quiet for his liking, only staring at him as he tried to prolong touching your soft skin, fearful of the hurtful words that were sure to come. 

“Are you jealous of Charles?” 

If crickets had been this far north, they would surely be the only thing audible as Arthur stopped. Bear of a man, hardy and stubborn to many, yet a faint blush could be seen rising to his cheeks as his face lowered–wishing so dearly he could find his hat that had seemingly disappeared so he could hide.

If he had been looking at you, he would have seen the toothy smile covering your face, a tender laugh leaving you as your assumptions became reality. You had to give him credit, though, for he had you completely and utterly fooled. 

“No.” He stated firmly, rising on his legs to pull up his pants. He found himself unable to, though, your hand grabbing his suspenders to pull him back down. The same heat that had lessened in his stomach came back as he felt your nimble touch caress him through his pants, gaining a mischievous look from you as you widened your legs. 

“Don’t worry, Arthur. I’ll give Charles his gloves back if you stay here and keep me warm.” 

Oh dear, that would do it. Whatever thoughts that filled his mind flew out the window, wholly consumed by you as your hands caressed his back, staring expectantly up at him. 

“Only me, right?”

“Only you, stupid.”

[reaveries]

▬  a warm place for numb fingers (18+)

summary: after a conversation with a friend, tension arises between the reader and arthur. action is ultimately forced into her hands... or fingers, more like.

pairings: high honor!arthur morgan x female!reader

warnings: mature content (18+)// explicit descriptions of fingering, cunnilingus, and some good ol' fucking

word count: 5.7k (estimated 23-minute reading time)

a/n: this goes out to all the cold and horny girls out there. i see you and i salute you. enjoy the fic

masterlist archive of our own

The chill was an inescapable thing and it followed her closely wherever she went. It burned her face red whenever she emerged from the mining town cabins. When she’d been forced to ride against it in fierce storms, it possessed her hair to lash violently across her cheeks in a blinding fury. And once those storms passed, it continued to insatiably lap at any skin left exposed to its gnawing teeth. Numbness in her fingertips became commonplace, leaving her defenseless as her trigger finger trembled beneath thin leather gloves. Like a starved coyote, the chill searched for any scrap of flesh it could find and devoured it to the bone. It wasn’t forgiving, as nature often isn’t.

She draws her coat closer to her body now, but the little winds continue to hungrily nip at her cheeks and dust them pink. What once ravaged her has become meek since they’ve descended the peaks of the Grizzlies. But it’s still there, and will continue to be until spring thaws the world. 

“Can’t believe I’m lookin’ at one of the most wanted outlaws this side of the Dakota.”

She looks up from her feet and sees Karen smiling, holding a cigarette between her fingers. She brings it to her lips and draws out the smoke.

“God, if the Pinkertons knew how big of a baby you really are, maybe they’d have tried their luck in Colter,” she says with a cheeky grin.

“That’s the only way those fuckers could’ve taken me down,” the outlaw says, laughing bitterly into her scarf. “I’ve never done well in the cold. Every day that I wake up and can’t feel my toes, I’m closer to packing up and fleeing to New Austin. Thinking of building myself a house made of cacti.”

She walks through the frost-laden grass to where her friend stands, overlooking the Dakota river.

“You’re fulla shit,” Karen says, rolling her eyes. “The day you leave this bunch will be the day God, himself, shoots you off your horse. Got too much love in your little heart for the lot of us.”

The woman chuckles dryly, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Got too much love for you, Karen,” she says in a sickeningly sweet tone and leans in, tilting her head dramatically to the side as if to give her a sloppy kiss.

“Get the hell away from me!” Karen screeches and fumbles to push her away. 

The outlaw stumbles backward lazily with her head thrown back in laughter.

“You play around too much, you know that?” Karen says, shaking her head, but the forceful tug on the right side of her lips gives her away. 

She smiles down her nose at the blonde woman, “Yeah, that’s what I keep hearin’.”

Once they both settle down, Karen extends the cigarette to her, offering whatever she can manage as it quickly dies out. She takes it between her forefinger and thumb and lets the smoke warm her from the inside.

“You know what I overheard some of the workin’ girls sayin’ when I was in town?” Karen speaks up as the smoke escapes the woman’s throat. 

She hums in question. Words out of the mouth of a working girl can hardly ever be taken for truth, but damn if they weren’t entertaining.

“Apparently, the number of clients they get skyrockets in the winter months. Somethin’ about men subconsciously wantin’ to be warmed up so they seek out activities that make ‘em break a sweat.”

She nods, “I guess that makes enough sense.”

Karen shakes her head, “That’s not all. The girls were also sayin’ that as it gets colder, the men are more and more riled up. Almost like it’s something with the moon, but instead of turnin’ into the dogman, they just wanna bury themselves in a woman real bad. But all I’m hearin’ while these girls are sayin’ this is that we got ourselves a bunch of fools too dumb to think clearly down in that little town.”

She stomps the life out of the cigarette with the toe of her boot, her spurs jingling as she drives it into the dirt. 

“Ain’t no way that’s true,” she says with a sardonic smile. “That last part, sure, but the moon’s got nothin’ to do with it.”

“Well, somethin’s gotta explain it,” Karen says and crosses her arms defensively across her chest. “I can tell ya, once it gets colder the men start lookin’ at ya different. I never noticed the link ‘till now but it kinda makes sense.”

She has to fight the laugh rising in her chest as she tries to seriously process the idea that men are becoming more aroused due to a giant orb in the sky. It takes everything in her not to but Karen sees right through her.

“It ain’t that ridiculous, you know. You can’t tell me you ain’t never noticed Arthur actin’ different.” 

The amusement rapidly drains from her face and is replaced by a look of bewilderment. 

“What are you talkin’ about Arthur for? Arthur and I are just friends, we ain’t like that,” she sputters out. 

“Oh, sorry,” Karen says, putting her hands up, “I forgot you was still on that.”

Her flustered reaction surprises even herself, causing a creeping warmth to crawl its way to her cheeks. A biting retort fumbles dumbly in her mouth.

“I’m not on anything. Don’t know what got in your head but it ain’t never been like that between Arthur and me.”

“It ain’t just in my head, honey. Everyone here knows it. You think folk ain’t seein’ the way you two touch up on each other the way you do? How neither of you goes nowhere without the other? Get real. It’s plain as day to everyone but yourself.”

She tosses a quick glance over her shoulder, hoping no one is near enough to hear their conversation. Instead, she sees that the camp has slowly come to life while she’d been distracted by Karen. Folk have begun their morning chores, migrating from washboards to clothing lines or splitting logs of wood in two. Her eyes flit across their faces until they land on the one she’s searching for. He’s far enough away, speaking with Pearson by the food supplies wagon. The cook waves his hands around animatedly but he’s turned away from her so she can’t tell what they’re speaking about. Arthur looks past the man and meets her eyes. He smiles and nods at her, to which she returns with a forced thin smile of her own. 

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Karen,” she mutters, and without turning to say goodbye, walks away.

And yet, Karen’s words burrow themselves deep within her mind and linger in the spaces between each normal thought as the day continues. Surely she'd been exaggerating and not everyone in camp suspects her and Arthur to be intimate with each other. Karen just thinks she knows more than she does sometimes. It was very much like her to be overly confident about certain things, proclaiming them as fact even past the point she knows she’s wrong. Then again, that also wasn't the first time someone had mistaken their closeness for something more amorous in nature. Dutch, having watched her throw an arm around Arthur and share from his bottle, assumed the pair had made themselves official. This prompted some proud fatherly spiel wherein he clapped Arthur on the back and congratulated him. It was vague enough that neither of them knew what he was referring to until later. Once they both realized, it gave them a good doubled-over, tears-from-the-eyes sort of laugh. But Arthur quickly cleared it up with the man, assuring him that there was nothing of that sort going on. Apparently, Dutch remained unconvinced.

As she sharpens her knife, an interesting thought intrudes past the others. For a moment, she wonders if Arthur might be an exception to this phenomenon the working girls were talking about. He never spoke of women the way that most men did. So, if he’d ever been interested in that sort of way, she wasn’t privy to it in the slightest. But, he’s still a man and he isn’t immune to the desires of men. Could it be possible that Arthur wishes for a woman to warm his bed at night? Or perhaps, on the coldest nights, a woman to warm himself inside?

Her blade slips against the whetstone and nearly slices her hand open as depraved imagery flies behind her eyes. She curses loudly and the knife drops to the dirt with a muffled thud.

A horse gallops and skids next to the hitching post beside her and the rider quickly flies off the mount, hitting the earth with heavy feet. She looks up from her hand and it’s him. There’s a pristine buck carcass flung over the back of his mare from a hunting excursion he must be returning from. 

“You alright?” He asks in a raised voice, meeting her with a walk that holds no patience. He looks down at her hands, likely expecting to see them covered in blood. His shoulders drop in relief when he can’t find any.

“I’m fine,” she says, standing up quickly and brushing dust off her pants. She forcefully clears her head of the intrusive thoughts, worried he might be able to see them if he looks too close.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack, woman. Don’t know what I’d do if you went and chopped off your trigger finger,” he says, running a stressed hand through his hair.

“You’d have to find a new riding partner, that’s for sure,” she quips unenthusiastically.

A breath of laughter leaves his lips to tell her she’s being ridiculous.

“Naw… There ain’t no replacin’ you. Ain’t a single person here has what it takes to put up with half the shit you and I do. We’d just have to teach ya to shoot with four fingers.”

His tone is lighthearted but there’s a hint of sincerity to his words that makes her cock her head in intrigue. He notices the change in her expression and quickly backpedals.

“Ah, don’t let that get to your head, now! I can barely tolerate ya most days. There’s just… no denyin’ you’re one of the best shots here,” he says, avoiding her eyes.

She smiles smugly and pats his chest.

“Tell me something I don’t know, cowboy.”

“Like I said, I can barely tolerate ya,” he says, swatting her hand off him. “Anyways, you mind takin’ that buck to Pearson? I need to have a word with Dutch about tomorrow.”

“Sure thing,” she says and slips past him to retrieve the fresh game. 

She hoists the buck over her shoulder and nearly gasps from the unexpected weight. The animal is nowhere near light and it’s a wonder he managed to cleanly take down the thing. He looks over his shoulder at the sound of her boot scuffling in the dirt as she steadies herself. 

She stumbles over to Pearson’s wagon and throws the carcass down on the ground. The cook is nowhere to be found so she figures she’ll save him the trouble and put her sharpened blade to good use. The knife cuts cleanly through the skin like warm butter, separating the hide from tender pink insides. As she’s making the final incisions, she looks up from the gruesome sight and sees Arthur talking to Dutch outside his tent. He seems relaxed enough, his hands resting on the buckle of his gun belt while he talks. It’s something he does often, just like someone might stuff their hands in their pockets for the sake of keeping them occupied. An endearing little action. And yet, for some reason, the common and utterly insignificant act of him doing this makes her forget herself. 

Maybe it’s the suggestion of him holding a different object hidden beneath the confines of denim, right below his loose grip. Because the longer she looks, a vision of him taking himself into a fisted hand begins to overshadow her mind. He’s lying in his cot, and while everyone else huddles together for warmth in their makeshift beds, he’s fucking his hand in the darkness of his tent. His eyes are screwed shut and his mouth is parted slightly, but no noise escapes his lips to save himself the mortification of someone walking past and overhearing. He quickens the pace of his pumping hand and breathes out a quiet, ragged moan as he coats his stomach with ropes of sticky seed. His chest heaves, then slows to normal before he wipes the evidence away with a worn shirt.

Arthur looks at her with a confused look on his face. He waves a hand slowly in mock greeting to rouse her from her dazed state. Dutch, mid-sentence, turns to look over his shoulder, but she averts her eyes before they can meet his. 

“Holy shit,” she whispers. She frantically finishes skinning the deer with her chin to her chest to hide the furious blush tormenting her cheeks. 

Once she’s finished, she practically sprints back to her tent before Arthur can ask her what her deal is. She closes the flaps hastily and goes to sit on the edge of her bed to collect herself. 

It’s not like she’s never fantasized about a person before, and she’s taken people to her bed more times than she can remember. This flustered feeling isn’t rooted in some virgin-like innocence, and yet she might as well be a pastor’s daughter with the way she’s blushing over it.

It’s because it’s him. He’s her partner. Her friend. Someone who’s grown to understand her better than she understands herself. She’s been the same person for him ever since they crossed paths in Montana all those months ago. Many feelings, albeit platonic, have come and gone since that fateful encounter, but lust? Lusting after a friend may be the most foreign feeling she’s stumbled upon in all her years of living. 

A griminess so thick and so palpable enshrouds her, weighing heavily, filthily, on her skin. And there’s only one solution that comes to mind.

She straddles the firmness between her thighs as it bounces rhythmically beneath her. A moan unintentionally escapes her lips in response to the merciless feeling down below. Her blouse sticks to damp skin and plasters itself lewdly against the curves of her stomach and chest as her hips rock back and forth. Another moan. This one more pained than the last.

Her thighs have always burned something fierce whenever she’d mount her horse directly after a bath. Soft, herbal-scented skin would grate against thick cotton of riding trousers, eliciting the pained gritting of teeth. But this time, the minor uncomfortable sensation is preferable, simple, compared to the complexities of her consuming thoughts from earlier. A hot bath was her saving grace as it turned out. It cleared her head and made her feel like her normal self again. Whatever thoughts she’d been having of her partner had been washed away and left behind at the bottom of the steel tub like some tainted baptism.

She rides through the trees that fringe the perimeter of camp and calls out to Javier, who stands guarding the entrance. He gives her a short wave, and nothing else. The two of them haven’t talked much, despite having ridden together for over a year now. Most of the men in camp tend to keep to themselves, she’s noticed. It’s a shame the talkative Irish man went and got himself killed in Blackwater. He knew how to have a good time. He always claimed the two of them were kindred spirits, but she heavily denied it each time since it read like an insult. 

She swings herself off the saddle and, like a moth to a lantern, migrates toward the fire to warm herself. The sun has sunk beneath the horizon and with it any amount of heat it provided, leaving her a shivering mess. Dinner bubbles inside the stew pot, prompting her to grab a portion before taking a seat on one of the logs.

The fire is reduced to glowing embers that do little to warm her bones. She nudges the logs with her boot but they just shift and plume ash. Sighing, she tugs closed the lapels of her coat and brings a spoonful of venison stew to her lips. The steaming broth slides down her throat and settles in her belly, making a furnace of her stomach. It’s a nice feeling, one that quiets her mind.

Suddenly, the log shifts as someone sits beside her. 

“Where’d you disappear off to?” He asks. “I couldn’t find ya anywhere.”

Arthur settles to sit hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees, a bowl of stew in his hands. He’s wearing a dark long-sleeve shirt and a light jacket, but not much else to protect him from the cold. In fact, when she looks around, no one else seems to mind the chill as much as she does. Maybe Karen was right in calling her a baby.

“Nowhere special. I just had to go into town for a bit,” she says, taking another sip of the stew. 

He nods his head, “Had to go into town and get yerself a bath, huh?”

She turns sharply to look at him, her brows drawn together in confusion.

“I could smell the lavender oil the minute ya hitched yer horse,” he explains. “What’s that about? Are ya plannin’ on finally actin’ like a lady or somethin’?”

She shoves his shoulder with her free hand.

“Shut up Arthur. You act more like a lady than I do,” she accuses. “Also, it might do ya good to take a bath for once.”

That last part she says a little lower than the first. Sometimes when they’d be out on extended errands they’d bathe in the river together. But no matter how much he scrubbed his skin, the stench of cigarette smoke and sweat would linger in the closed tent when she lay beside him in her bedroll at night. She always put up with it though because it likely meant she didn’t smell much better.

“The hell’s that s’posed to mean?” He asks, looking visibly taken aback.

“It means you smell like—”

“Naw, not that. Whatchu mean I act like a lady?”

“Oh. It means you’re goin’ all soft, big guy. Take it as a compliment,” she says, trying to suppress a smile.

“Great. First Dutch, now you. I ain’t goin’ soft, girl. And I sure as hell ain’t turnin’ into a woman,” he says, looking away from her and shaking his head. “As if you even knew what it meant to be one. Look at yerself!” He adds with an indignant wave of his hand that gestures from the top of her head to her feet.

She doesn’t need to look. Her coat is crafted from bear and bison pelts, made to fit a man larger than herself because the trapper lacked the expertise to tailor one for a woman. It keeps her warm enough, which is all that should matter. Wearing clothes that flatter her figure ranks relatively low on her list of priorities when every day is a fight to not freeze to death. On top of that, folk have always been mighty eager to remind her of her femininity whenever she dared step outside the docile role of her fairer sex. Which, in her line of work, was often.

“I’ll have you know I consider myself an expert on the matter… ma’am.”

She starts to snicker but when she looks over at him his jaw is set and he’s giving her a side-eye that makes the noise die in her throat.

“Keep callin’ me a lady and see where it gets ya, woman. Y’ain’t gonna be laughin’ when I’m forced to prove myself to ya.”

If there was ever any heat being produced in her body, it's all gone and rushed to her face just now. She stares at him, unblinking.

“What?” 

“Mm, s’what I thought,” he says, bringing a spoon of potatoes and broth to his lips. “Now, if you’re done foolin’ around, are you comin’ with us tomorrow or not? Dutch said you might but I know you’ve got a lot on your plate as is.”

He said he’d prove himself to her. Prove that he’s a man. There’s hardly any innocent way to interpret that.

“Tomorrow?” She asks. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

He looks at her all funny-like, slightly annoyed even.

“Did you drink the bathwater or somethin’? The O’Driscoll told us they was all holed up in some cabin not far from here. Mentioned Colm is with’em. I only told ya about it a handful of times.”

She hears him but isn’t really listening. The phrase repeats on a loop in her head. She wants to ask him what he meant by it but the moment’s passed and she knows there’s no real answer. If asked, he’d just say he was teasing her and there’s nothing more to it. 

He calls her name, bringing her out of her stupor. She opens her mouth to say something but the wind picks up. A bone-rattling shiver possesses her, making her shrink inside herself. He stares at her, unphased by the chill but with concern etched into his handsome features.

“Sorry, Arthur. I- I don’t know where my head’s at,” she says through clenched teeth.

“S’Alright,” he says, looking her over. “I forget how sensitive you are to the cold.”

He sets his bowl on the ground and brings his hands to cup around his mouth, heating them with hot breath. He then takes her hands into his and clamps around them, transferring warmth to numb fingers.

“Jesus, you’re freezin’,” he says.

He brings her hands close to his mouth and repeats the same action, trying to warm them back to life with his breath. He presses into her palms, massaging heat from the pads of his fingers into hers.

Had he done this simple gesture for her yesterday, she likely would’ve just felt grateful to feel her fingers again. But today isn’t like yesterday. Yesterday, she wasn’t acutely aware of the ever-present moisture nearly dripping down her thighs or the dull, aching pain at her core as it practically begs to be filled by a man. Yesterday, she didn’t envision that man to be Arthur. She didn’t envision herself blissed out and bouncing on his cock, being guided by his hands gripping her ass and forcing her all the way down on him every time. She also didn’t visualize their sweating naked bodies pressed against one another as he hoists her legs around his waist and fucks her relentlessly against the side of his wagon. Yesterday was, without a doubt, much easier than today. Today she’d thought of all these things and more.

She watches attentively how he holds her slender fingers in the thickness of his own. Those hands have snuffed out the lives of many, brutally at that. She’d seen them wrapped around the necks of men, crushing their windpipes and severing their spines when he’d been provoked on the wrong sort of day. Lots of blood on those hands. But there’s just as much on hers and in this moment, those blooded hands are so tender towards her. 

If these same hands could kill without remorse, yet be so gentle when the time came for it, then by God, what else were they capable of?

She slips her hands out of his faster than she intended to.

“Thank you, Arthur,” she whispers, looking away.

“Sure. Maybe that’ll help ya to start actin’ normal again. Get the blood flowin’ to yer brain and such.”

If only he knew it was doing the opposite. Blood is flowing elsewhere and she’s the furthest from normal she’s been in a long while.

She stands up, leaving the bowl of stew unfinished on the ground.

“Here’s hoping,” she says, her hands clasped together to preserve his heat. 

Her boots crunch ice-bitten dirt loudly beneath their heels as she makes her way through the quiet camp and to her tent. She doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath until the flaps close shut behind her. 

“What… What is wrong with you?” she asks no one. Her tent is empty, and even though she wants to be alone, this is no comfort.

Her palms dig into the concave of her eye sockets, rubbing them furiously to wake herself up. She groans and shrugs off her coat, letting it collapse onto the floor. Her boots are kicked off her feet and her shirt is made quick work of before it’s thrown violently across the room. Her pants meet the same fate, being unbuttoned and kicked off, then kicked again so they lie atop the other garments. She collides with her mattress in a huff and lies there to stare at the ceiling of her tent, chest rising and falling rapidly.

She’s not going to be laughing when he’s forced to prove himself to her. 

Why is that phrase repeating over and over in her head? More importantly, why is she closing her eyes and slipping her hand beneath the waistband of her combinations?

She pauses. It’s wrong to do this. So wrong. To touch herself with visions of him in her head is sick. But she needs it so badly, so desperately she needs this to be taken care of. The throbbing at her core ultimately wins over her conscience, and forcefully pushes guilt to the side.

Her fingers slide between the delicate folds down below, the slick moisture coating her digits easily. She imagines it’s his hand. Large and warm, playing with her and teasing out moans by dancing around her clit. He asks her if it feels good, but only incoherent noises leave her lips. 

He chuckles and the breath of his laughter hits her center as he dips his head between her thighs. Lips replace fingers, sucking and leaving open-mouthed kisses heavy with tongue, ravishing her like a starved man. Her thighs clench around him and her calves tremble against his bare back. She whispers praises to him when she can find the words. 

Please keep going. You’re doing so good. So good.

Both of her hands tangle themselves in his hair. She can’t help but pull on the strands the minute he slides his thumb inside her all the way to the knuckle. Her back arches off the cot at the sudden sensation but he pulls her back down, locking her in with a hand wrapped around her thigh. She can feel him smile against her, momentarily letting up the relentless forces of his mouth. He’s loving watching her squirm beneath him, because of him. 

But the combined sensation of his thumb fucking her and the concentrated movements of his tongue at her clit nearly drive her to the edge. She squirms and brings her knees up around him, causing him to pull away and leave her empty.

Ya have to keep still, darlin’.

He coaxes her legs back open, spreading them apart with firm hands. But before he can return, she whispers desperate words that fall sweetly on his ears. He changes direction and begins to kiss his way north, traces of her still on his lips as they press wetly to her stomach, then her breasts, and then her neck. While he trails up her jaw, she tugs down his union suit from where it gathers at his hips. He assists her clumsily by shaking it off his legs and kicking it to the floor, where it now lies atop her own discarded clothing.

Before he takes her, he hovers on rested elbows and searches her face for any sign of reluctance. Only half of his features she can see clearly as warm oranges and yellows flicker across it from the lantern at her bedside. The fringe of his hair tickles her forehead, teasing her into closing the distance between them. With a hand on the back of his neck, she brings him down to her level and connects their lips. Their mouths move roughly against one another, their noses squishing and bending against the pressure of their touch. 

He’s warm, so warm. His mouth is hot against her tongue and the points on her body where the two of them meet are ablaze with a fire that spreads down, and down, until it rests in a sweltering mess at the apex of her thighs. She needs him, were the words she’d whispered. And she needs him now. She reaches down between their two bodies to where his cock grazes against her legs and with a sure hand, takes hold of it and guides it to her entrance. She can’t see it but it feels thick in her grasp; her hold not permitting thumb and forefinger to meet. 

The head slips gently inside and opens her up to him with a slow, shallow movement of his hips. He removes his lips from hers and rests his forehead against her own, looking down and indulgently watching himself disappear inside of her inch by inch. It fills her deliciously, stretching her open until he eventually bottoms out and their pelvises lie flush with one another. She lets out a sharp exhale at the contact, knowing he’s sheathed fully inside of her. Before he moves again, she brings her legs around his waist and crosses her ankles so his movements are limited to being shallow and forceful. 

The cot squeaks beneath them as he pulls out and thrusts back in, slow at first. He quickly picks up the pace, pistoling his hips to give short thrusts that fill her to the hilt each time with a near-bruising force. One hand wraps around the meat of her thigh and another hand starts rubbing furious circles at her clit. She throws her head back with a wide-opened gasp at the explosive euphoric sensation of being filled by him and the simultaneous attention given to the sensitive nub. He goes even faster when he sees how close she is, and within seconds she unravels beneath him. 

She notices through her clouded gaze his brows screwing together and lips parting as her soft muscles throb around the swell of his cock. It’s too much for him. He hurriedly pulls out and releases himself on her belly, coating it with spurts of his seed. He looks at her breathlessly through hooded eyes.

The two of them lie panting, him still stationed between her legs with a heaving chest and weary gaze. He leans down and places a chaste kiss on the inside of her thigh before slumping beside her and laying there in his nakedness.

She cums hard against diligent fingers. Hot and tingly ecstacy spreads from her core throughout her limbs, fluttering her eyes to the back of her skull and leaving her a panting mess. Once that passes and the drowsiness that always follows a dumbing climax sets in, she realizes she’d conjured a strange ending to her fantasy. It was one of genuine intimacy, not driven by the carnal desires of her body. 

Thankfully, sleep takes over before she can begin trying to process whatever that means. She drifts off as remnants of pleasure buzz beneath her skin and warm her beneath ticking sheets.

Morning comes quickly, and the accompanying chill of a new day forces her off the cot in search of heavier clothing. She pulls fleece-lined chaps over jeans and buttons them at the waist before throwing on the bear coat she’s worn every day since Colter. As she slips her arms into the clothing, she thinks back on last night. There’s no reason to make a big deal of it. Surely men get off with much worse ideas in their heads about the people they know. She hopes all of that is behind her now that it’s been forced out of her system.

But this is not the case. 

This hope is massacred in vain shortly after being conceived. For the day is ablaze with yearning, shame, and raging inferno. 

Accompanying Arthur to the hideout was soon realized as a mistake. Every small, inconsequential thing he did served to stoke the fire blistering her loins. Every word whispered atop the secluded hillock, every incidental brushing of skin, and every intentional one too. It all fanned incessantly at consuming flames.

She rides back to camp alone with heavy pockets and a heavier conscience. And as she approaches the grounds, she sees her friend, the blonde woman, standing guard outside. Without thought, she throws her reins and swings herself off the horse, hitting the earth hard and swift. A blustering storm brews inside her, fighting against fire and losing. She approaches Karen, treading heavily over branch and stone, a wild look in her eyes.

“Karen!” She calls out.

The woman turns to face her, her rifle lowering just as quickly as it’s raised.

“Oh, it’s just you. You here to tell me I don’t know what I’m talkin’ about again? If so, you can keep on walkin’, bigshot.” 

She sighs and runs a frustrated hand through her wind-tangled hair.

“No! No, I- I didn’t mean it,” she says, with an unmistakable sound of desperation in her voice. “Karen, you were right.”

Karen’s tensed shoulders sink beneath her coat and her features soften. She doesn’t seem to understand, but she’s no longer angry. It’s difficult to be when her friend stands before her, uncharacteristically vulnerable and fumbling with words.

Whatever forces are at work here, be it the chill, the moon, or an unknown third thing, it can be certain she is out of her depth, adrift in deep ice waters. And he is calling to her like a siren’s song but she knows it is an illusion she has conjured up and there is no solace allowed to be found there. He cannot take her like she needs so deeply to be taken by him. It would ruin them, for certain. Because they are not a wholesome people, and despite that, their bond has been forged by goodness. Something like that is uncommon for folk like themselves. It should be held closely, protected from whatever may destroy it, even if it is from herself. It’s for that reason she withdraws her hand, rides alone, averts wandering eyes, and tries her utmost best to quench the flames.

And yet, it has been only a day. 

“You were right.”

[eddiesleftbuttcheek]

I want this man so bad 🤭

All of these pics were captured by @kaphzzz so go and show them some love rn for capturing these 😩

There isn’t enough nsfw headcanons on him and that upsets me 😭

[mykneeshurt]

Daddy

Arthur Morgan x F!reader

Warnings - 18+, minors DNI, explicit smut

Not overly proof read because I cba x

——

Sitting in your chair by the fire you concentrated on your needle work. Your father was away for the night on business, he reared and sold thoroughbred horses. In turn you looked after the house, helped to clean the stables and helped to break in the horses when they were old enough.

While you loved the horses you hated your father. He was mean, abusive and cruel. Your mother died when you were young and you were an only child, it felt like a punishment for something you’d done in your past life.

As you focused on a particular stitch there was a knock at the door. Not expecting anyone you pulled out the shotgun from a chest, it felt heavy, the cold trigger kissed the warm skin of your fingers.

Opening the door you kept it hidden at your side, peeking through the crack you saw a tall broad man. A cigarette hung from his lips as he rested his hands on his belt. ‘Can I help you?’ You asked meekly, trying to portray the helpless damsel.

‘You got the money?’ He asked, inhaling the cigarette, the orange glow only slightly illuminating his face.

‘Money? You’ll have to speak to my daddy. Ain’t no money here sir.’ Flashing your doe like eyes up at the man praying he’d leave you alone. ‘Your daddy?’ He asked, a sinister smirk spreading across his lips. ‘Yeah. He don’t take too kindly to strangers knocking on the door this time of night.’ Your voice more stern and forceful than before. ‘So I suggest you leave.’

He moved closer to the door leaning on the frame as he rested his hand on him gun holster. ‘Your daddy ain’t here. Now. You got the money?’ He growled.

Shit.

The German man you’d borrowed money off in town, you thought you’d have more time. You only needed it to top up money you’d been saving to leave your fathers home. Chewing on your jaw you tried to push the door shut, but he was quicker than you.

Bursting through the door his body slammed into yours causing you to drop the gun. It fell to the floor with an almighty clatter, noticing the gun he stifled a chuckle. He pushed you up against the wall, boxing you in between his huge arms. ‘What’s a pretty lil thing like you doing with a gun like that?’

‘Protection.’ You snapped, he was stood so close to you, he smelt of sage and gunpowder. ‘Protection from what?’ He asked as he took a step closer to your body, so close you were almost touching. The breath in your chest seized, your thighs clenched as you got lost in his musk.

‘From people like you’ you sneered, desperately trying to prove you weren’t intimidated by him. Smirking from under the brim of his hat he grasped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting your gaze to his. ‘Now that ain’t very nice sweetheart’ he drawled ‘I’m thinkin’ you don’t have the money do you?’

You squirmed under his grip, he was beautiful and you berated yourself for thinking so. Eyes as blue as the ocean with flecks of green, sandy blonde hair with stubble to match. A sharp jaw line, broad stature with a small waist and he was tall. So tall.

With his grasp still firm on your chin you finally managed to find an answer, ‘no.’

‘I didn’t think so. Mr Strauss wants his money.’ He lowered his head to your neck, his breath fanning ever to gently over it ‘how do you propose we fix this hm?’ You practically felt your pupils blow wide, your cunt clenched in your bloomers as you swallowed hard. Fucking an outlaw would certainly be payback for how your father treated you. Even more so if you fucked him in his bed.

Resting your hand on his wrist you whispered ‘follow me.’

Leading the outlaw up the creaky wooden stairs he held your hand, it was gentle. You entered your fathers room and instantly he clocked it, ‘this ain’t your room is it?’ Throwing him a devilish grin you shook your head as you pulled him into you by his belt buckle. His body collided with yours, you bit your lip as you looked up at him. Placing your arms around his neck you pulled him into a kiss. His lips were so soft, he snaked his hand to the back of your head, twisting his hand in your hair.

Moaning into his mouth you swiped your tongue along his lip, begging for entry. Allowing you this he deepened the kiss as he walked you backwards towards the bed. Once the backs of your knees hit the bed he guided you to sit down, as you did he helped you onto your back, never once breaking the kiss. Slowly he crawled on top of you as he slid his knee between your thighs, pulling a moan from the back of your throat.

His knee grazed your clit as he settled between them, sighing into you. As you pulled back you nipped his lip smiling as you did so. ‘Well darlin, I wasn’t expecting this when I knocked on your door this evenin’ he said with a crooked smirk. ‘Mmm, I’m full of surprises’ you purred while kissing his neck.

Pulling him back in, your lips met, the kiss was deeper and sloppier this time. Wet. Tongues tangled around each other, lips moved in tandem, breath intertwined as you swallowed each others moans. Slowly he trailed his hand down your torso, grabbing your breast he massaged it gently. You sighed softly into him causing him to break the kiss. ‘You want this?’ He asked, concern suddenly evident in his eyes.

Eyebrows raised you smiled ‘oh so now you’re a gentleman. Didn’t ask permission to burst into my house did you?’ Dropping his head he let out a hearty laugh before moving a stray piece of hair from your face. ‘Oh darlin. I always ask permission before makin a lady scream my name.’ Your jaw dropped as a delighted giggle burst from you.

Pushing your hip up you forced him onto his back so you were straddling his hips. Tilting your chin you looked down at him whilst drumming your fingers on his broad chest. ‘Oh you’re gonna make me scream your name huh?’ He nodded. ‘Well Mr outlaw, you’re gonna have to tell me it first.’ Gripping your hips he began to move you, forcing you to grind your hips on his hard cock. ‘Arthur.’

‘You best take these close off then Arthur’ you grinned. He sat up and slowly removed each layer of your clothing delicately, his hands were soft despite the calluses which littered them. His fingertips kissed each part of your skin as he mapped it beneath him. His arms were defined, strong and muscular.

You made fast work of his buttons, peeling his shirt off him as you made your way down to his trousers. Soon enough you were both naked, led next to one another, gazing into each others eyes. ‘Beautiful’ he sighed. Feeling a sudden heat in your cheeks you buried your head into his neck, but he pushed you back ‘naw, I wanna see that smile.’

‘Mmm Arthur, you gonna keep kissin my ass or you gonna fuck me?’ Your confidence caught him off guard, trailing his fingers down your back he pulled your leg over his hip. He then trailed it along your slit ‘oh darlin, you’re so wet. That all for me?’ You hummed at his touch, it had been so long since a man had touched you. ‘Don’t tease me Arthur … please.’

With that he plunged a finger into you, stretching your pussy open with a smooth motion. Biting your lip you nodded as you gripped into his shoulder, digging your nails in. As he moved and worked you open he slid in another, coughing you to his between clenched teeth. ‘You ok sweetheart?’

You nodded furiously ‘yes … yes … shhh don’t stop.’

He moved his fingers inside you, rubbing your spot exactly the way you needed. Your face contorted with each movement, with each thrust of his fingers. You whined and moaned into him, your chest heaved with each breath. Then suddenly he removed them, causing you to groan in anger. ‘Fuck!’ You yelled, not knowing whether to cry or laugh.

Instead he started kissing your neck, nipping your collarbone, before moving down to your abdomen. He spread your thighs and kissed the nest of hair that decorated your pussy. His breath tickled. His tongue however felt heavenly, with small languid licks he worked his way over your clit. His blue eyes peeked up at you as he worked his jaw, you felt him smile against you. No one had ever done this to you before.

You rolled your hips, gripping the bed sheets with one hand, the other buried in his sandy blonde hair. He held you down with one arm, inhaling your scent, devouring your moans as you writhed beneath him. You were getting close. So very close.

And he knew it.

‘That’s it pretty girl, lemme hear you. Sound so good’ he drawled, his voice thick and husky. ‘Feels so good’ you whined. With one final lick he moved himself back on top of you, lowering his lips to yours. You could taste yourself as he kissed you. Just as he slipped his tongue into your mouth he pushed his cock into you. Both gasping as he did. You felt so full. So so full.

The stretch was agonisingly beautiful, he slowly worked his cock into you. Grazing that sweet spot. He started slow at first, allowing you to get used to him. When you relaxed into him he upped his pace, whispering sweet praises in your ear. His pubic bone hit your clit with every thrust, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Lifting your legs he placed them on his shoulders, kissing and caressing your calf muscles, your ankles. This new position allowed him to go deeper, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix, a dull but not painful feeling. Sweat began to gather on your bodies, gasps and moans mingling in the dull light of the fire. ‘Play with it darlin’ he gasped at he looked towards your glistening pussy.

Dropping a hand you rubbed your sensitive bundle of nerves. Arthur’s eyes widened, he chewed his jaw as he watched. You felt yourself begin to tighten. So did he. ‘That’s it, just like that sweetheart, lemme feel yah.’ Screwing your eyes shut, back arched, toes pointed you came, pleasure rushed through your soul as you rode your high. ‘Oh fuck Arthur!’

‘Where you want it?’ He asked breathlessly, strands of sweat soaked hair framing his face. ‘Fuck, anywhere, I don’t care’ you panted. With that he pulled out, letting his cum decorate your soft skin, it felt warm as it hit your breasts, abdomen, chest. Using a finger you gathered some before licking it off, a wicked grin on your lips.

‘Oh darlin.’ He smirked ‘I ain’t ever lettin you go.’

[cowboyfromh3ll]

Can you do a part 2 for “Say yes to heaven?” Maybe where the mother actually finds someone whom the reader could marry and she tells Arthur about it and he gets angrily possessive and fucks her rough😇

Say Yes To Heaven (Part 2)

(Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader smut)

This shit is 8 pages long and is absolutely FILTHY I did not hold back. This is my magnum opus.

As the title suggests, there is a part one here. It's not absolutely necessary to read but it provides a lot of context.

Warnings: Smut and implied age gap

Your mother was not one for indecision. In fact, she often found the decisions you made to be puerile and childish. And with your twentieth birthday around the corner, she often asked herself where she went wrong, and why you hadn’t been married off yet. And especially now, why you weren’t showing any interest in any boys. At least to her knowledge. Your mother knew you were growing up, and she couldn't hold onto you forever, so she thought she might as well prolong her grasp for as long as possible.

But you lived in two worlds, as many young girls your age did. On one hand, you worked at the local saloon because your mother practically demanded you do. Your bar service was barely adequate but you made just enough to help your family and support your weekly trips to the general store. But that was one world. And the line between your two worlds would blur occasionally. The saloon is how you met Arthur after all, and being fucked up against the back wall of the saloon some days after your shift sure did help you come home in a lighter mood. Not to mention the rides you got. That was your second world.

Your mother's idea of proper courtship involved you in tight silky dresses, corsets cinched so tight you swore your organs were being pushed up your torso, sleeves so puffy it was embarrassing, and a skirt wide and puffy enough to not show any of your natural curves. The make up she once again did for you was modest, light. A dust of pink blush on your cheeks and a deep red lipstick; the lines of your eyeliner tracing round your water lines. Your outfit was hot and suffocating, and you stared at yourself in your full length mirror, your face scrunching up in disapproval. You pulled at the fabrics hugging you, but not too much, or else your mother would hound you for it. Your mother’s outfit choices for you seemed to be as suffocating as her grasp on you and your life.

“(Name)! Are you almost done in there?! You gotta hurry, they’re almost here!” Your mother called out from the kitchen.

“In a minute Momma! I’m just… fixing myself up a bit…” Your tone quieted at the end, afraid of the absolute reign of terror she would send your way if she knew you were changing the look she arranged for you.

Much to your horror, your mother had arranged your meeting with a boy from a wealthy family in Saint Denis. Something about his daddy owning steel mills. How she even managed to arrange something like this with people like that was beyond you. And they were to arrive any minute now.

You sighed in dissatisfaction, sitting down on your bed. You clasped your hands in your lap as you glanced pensively down at the skid marks on your wooden floor. You pursed your lips to suppress a smile, before breaking into a full on grin. You bit your bottom lip to prevent any giggles as you reminisced on the previous Sunday. Memories of your encounter with Arthur came flooding back, and you felt a sudden warmth blossoming between your thighs. You settled your gloved hand on your left breast, feeling your hardened nipple beneath the layers of fabric of your shirt. Slowly, your hand traversed lower, following the same path Arthur previously would have taken about a hundred times or more. Your hand came to settle on your inner thigh, gently sliding further in towards your clothed center. Your eyes slid closed gently as you imagined Arthur in your stead, and your pussy began to pulse as you rubbed yourself through the fabrics of your skirt, attempting to imitate the same roughness of your lover’s hands. Your breath hitched, goosebumps racking through your body— until there was a banging on your door.

“(Name), for the love of god, hurry up!” Your mother yelled from the other side of your door, audaciously interrupting you.

You came back to reality and rolled your eyes.

“In a minute!” You called back again.

You eventually burst out of your room, having rubbed on the same blue eyeshadow you favored; as well as adding more eyeliner. Your mother took one look at you and sagged her shoulders in defeat, sighing with all her pent up stress and frustrations behind it. It certainly served to piss you off, yet you got satisfaction out of it.

"Whatever, now, (Name)," she stepped forward and grasped your shoulders tightly, a vice grip on you to emphasize the seriousness of her words.

"Don't fuck this up for us." She spoke through her teeth, a dead serious look in her eyes as a shadow cast on her face. You almost laughed at her impertinence, shocked by how blunt she was. She walked past you towards the door, and you scrunched up your face behind her, wanting nothing more than to yell and hit her.

But proper ladies did not hit their mothers. And proper ladies did not contain any violence and anger within them. Proper ladies stood and looked pretty, and took the cards dealt to them. And if proper was what would get you through this painstaking meeting, you would kiss the dealer's ass and get through this quickly.

They arrived shortly in a horse drawn carriage, and you plastered on the best obligatory smile you could. You kept your hands crossed before you; in politeness or defensiveness, you could not tell the distinction.

"Good afternoon Mister Carter, we are so happy to have you over! Please, meet my lovely daughter, (Name)." Your mother nudged your forward, prompting you to walk up to the man before you. He looked at you with an interest that bordered on abnormal, his gaze curious and as soft as cold butter. Yet his smile was one of infatuation. And who could blame him. You were gorgeous. The money you spent on yourself was well spent; several strongly scented shampoos and perfumes along with makeup of all kinds. Even the way you did your eyeshadow had its own charm.

"A pleasure to meet you" He said, tipping his hat. And he had that terrible posh accent you hated. It was equivalent to nails on a chalkboard for you, much preferring gruffness in one's tone.

"The pleasure is all mine." You nearly choked on your own words, hating the taste it left on your tongue. It tasted of the bitterness of lies and the sting of forcefulness. A combination you were all too familiar with, yet you refused to become accustomed to it.

His parents followed him out the carriage shortly after, and introductions were carried out in full. The whole time, you wanted nothing more than for Arthur to come and metaphorically save you from this dumpster fire of a meeting.

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

You stormed out your front door, stomping on the wooden steps of your porch so harshly the wood groaned and creaked. You were beyond livid. Your mother followed out, but remained at the door frame, leaning on it and crossing her arms. She narrowed her eyes at you and stared, a sourness to her gaze that had a harsh bite to it. And you felt that bite. You felt every sinking tooth in your back.

The wagon was long gone from your front yard. The meeting has been over for hours. And yet, you and your mother had been at each other's throats since then. It began with a comment on how you weren't polite enough, to how you kept saying all the wrong things, even going as far as to call your makeup ugly. And it didn't help your case that you called Carter and his family stuck up snobbish pigs.

"Look what you fucking did, (Name)." Venom dripped from your mother's every word. And you were willing to spit some back.

"We were THIS close to marrying you off, into a rich family no less, and you fucking BLEW IT." She spoke down on you, both literally and metaphorically. Her anger was beyond disappointment for this one instance, it was an amalgamation of all the things you've done over the years that she did not approve of.

"You saw how his parents looked at me! Him too! He was such a creep! They looked down on us! On me!" You yelled back. You didn't care if your neighbors looked over, in fact, you hoped they heard.

"You keep ruining our lives!" She cried.

"Stop living vicariously through me! Fuck your dreams!"

With that, you stormed off to the nearest saloon, a place you knew you'd find your refuge.

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

Arthur welcomed you with open arms, even buying you a few drinks. The warmth of whisky was comforting for you, and so was your lover's embrace. When you first approached Arthur, you did not speak of what had transpired, preferring to let the sweet buzz of alcohol to lull away your adrenaline. The two of you left the saloon eventually, walking arm in arm to the nearest room and board. The familiar roads of your town sickened you; gaslit nighttime streets, sordid and suspicious alleyways, same dusty wooden buildings with faded and peeling paint, gossip obsessed mothers and girls your age who gave you sidelong glances, and the men themselves were short of eldritch.

You sat down on the plush bed of the room, taking in a deep breath as you looked around. The largely wooden interior of the room was cozy, the soft yellow glow of the oil lamp on the table providing a comforting finish to the room. A large full body mirror reminiscent of your own stood in the corner of the room; it also had the same wooden floors (you wondered if you could provide the same skid marks). The room was eerily similar to your own, but the knowledge of being away from home was much more relaxing.

“Room’s real homey.” You commented, attempting to start a conversation. A conversation that wouldn’t involve you telling him what had happened earlier today.

“Yeah, reminds me of yours.” He commented, a lilt in his voice at the end.

You sucked on your bottom lip as you observed Arthur remove his prized gun belt; the same belt he prided so much in it bordered on obsessiveness. Along with his bandolier, which you so desperately wanted to try on one day. He eventually sat next to you, the bed dipping significantly from his weight. His proximity to yours was so close, you could feel the warmth emanating from his body. You naturally leaned into him, smiling gingerly at each other.

"So, sweetheart," he began. "Can you finally tell me what's got you so worked up?"

You took note of the way his large hand slid over your thigh, his thumb rubbing soothing circled. You felt your pussy begin to throb from the small gesture. That's how much power he had over you. You pouted your bottom lip as you spoke. As much as you didn’t want to have this conversation, you would feel wrong keeping this from Arthur. You wanted to be transparent.

"Oh, Arthur. Momma wants to marry me off already. I met the man today." You told him. His grip on your thigh significantly tightened, bordering on painful, and the fabric bunched up in a fist.

"And how'd that go?" He asked. A metaphorical shadow cast over his face, and he looked at you expectantly for an answer. You could sense the fire you lit in him, which made you apprehensive.

"Well I… I hated it for one. It was so awkward." You turned your body to face him better, the hand on your thigh never moving. He looked at you in anticipation, waiting for more details about the meeting.

"I mean, I called him and his family stuck up pigs…" You trailed off, hoping that was the answer that would satisfy Arthur. He moved his arm around you, tenderly pulling you closer and placing his hand on the small of your back. You blushed like a schoolgirl when his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb smoothing over supple skin. The two of you were so close that your breasts were smothered into his side. You wanted to lean forward and kiss him, but his grip shifted to your jaw, tightening.

"Arthur…" you whimpered, his grip on your jaw becoming vice-like. And then he began to squeeze. He began to force your mouth open, the flesh of your cheeks squeezed by his fingers as he did so. It was forceful, painful, and so fucking hot.

"That's a good girl." You felt his chest rumble with every word he spoke. "But next time she brings another fool around you, tell me so I can kill him." You began nodding happily, smiling even in your state.

He spat in your mouth, letting your jaw go so you could properly swallow. You did so instinctively and opened your mouth afterwards to show him.

"Good fuckin' girl." He muttered before leaning forward and capturing you in a kiss. There was nothing gentle about it. Arthur was never gentle with you when it came to sex. And you preferred it that way. It was a stark contrast to how he treated you outside the bedroom, treating you as the most delicate, docile thing he was sent to protect. Like you were a porcelain doll he had to handle properly. You were like a heaven sent gift for him, wrapped in the most alluring wrapping paper and tied together with pretty bows that punctuated your enticement. And in the bedroom, you were his to tear away at and use. You might as well have had the words “tear me open” scribbled all over your clothes.

Your lips were shoved against one another, a sloppy exchange of tongues taking place. The hand on your back began to pull at the laces of your corset, undoing each one and loosening it. You breathed a deep sigh of relief, the release of the constriction downright pleasurable. Your poor sides ached, and Arthur quickly moved to rub your sides soothingly after popping off the corset.

"Poor girl." He breathed against you, shoving his tongue back into your whimpering mouth. You keened contently from the massage, allowing yourself to slump over, and in doing so, you heard a few pops from your back. You attempted to giggle but Arthurs tongue was so far down your throat you could barely do so. Your lips were surely bruised and busted, and it did not help that he kept biting down harshly on your lips. Your mother would definitely ask you about it later, but you couldn't be bothered to come up with an explanation now. Or at all.

Arthur grasped the hems of your cotton button up and yanked it open, buttons flying everywhere. You didn’t even complain, more invested in the way the veins on his arms popped at his show of strength. Before you could even realize, your chemise had been slipped off of you by Arthur, gasping at the feeling of Arthur’s calloused hands playing with your pert nipples. You sucked in a breath, involuntarily moving your body away. Just the sight of you squirming made Arthur's cock jump.

“A-Arthur..” You became frisky at the softer touches, the sensitivity of your nipples paired with the feather soft touch of Arthur’s rough thumbs was exhilarating. But his gentleness was short-lived, as he fisted your breasts with both hands, kneading and pushing them together for his own enjoyment. And you couldn’t help but whimper in masochistic delight at the way he slapped your tits. The way he rubbed your cheek before slapping it. And especially the way he hurriedly unbuckled his belt and unlooped it, using that same belt to tie your hands behind you. The leather of the belt dug into your skin, the tightness of it allowing you to even feel your pulse. And it was in feeling your pulse that you became acutely aware that your life was in this man’s hands. And you were more than willing to hand that over to him.

He moved you to stand, commanding your every move. If he told you to blink you’d blink, if he told you to stop breathing you’d stop at once, and if he commanded you to somehow stop your pulse, you would use every bit of strength in your body to will your heart to a macabre cessation.

He yanked your skirt and underwear down in one swift motion, leaving you starkly naked infront of him, standing in all your glory. As day turned to dusk outside, the orange glow of the sun and lamp combined gave you a gentle brightness. You moved to step out of the pile of clothing pooled at your feet, pushing it to the side with your foot. You looked at him hopefully, waiting in arousal. Meanwhile, he took his time looking you up and down, committing the image to memory as he had done hundreds of times before.

He stepped forward and moved his hand between your legs, landing a few slaps on your cunt before rubbing you teasingly. At this point, the throbbing between your legs was unbearable to the point you ached in pain. He snaked his arm back and over your hip (Arthur’s favorite handles), giving the bone a squeeze before reaching further and groping your ass. The mound of flesh filled his palm beautifully, the skin squeezing through from between his fingers. But Arthur was greedy, and he'd continue to attempt to grasp your ass cheek whole in his palm. He gave you a stinging slap on the ass before forcing you onto your knees.

"That is what I like to see." He chuckled darkly. You watched in anticipation as Arthur undid his zipper, shoving his underwear down before fishing his cock out. You took a moment to admire the happy trail you loved oh so dearly; trailing from his belly button down to his cock, surrounding it in a thick tuft of dark brown hair. It was second nature for you at this point to open your mouth up at the sight of it, and he chuckled at how well he had trained you.

"Atta girl." He growled, gripping your hair before guiding your head down his cock slowly. The two of you held eye contact the whole time, and you felt him twitch inside your mouth because of it. It was customary for you and Arthur to skip the cock teasing, immediately jumping to you throating him.

Arthur clicked past tonsils, sliding deeper into your throat as it went into peristalsis. You closed your lips around the base finally, leaving a ring of red lipstick around him, a sort of trademark that you left on Arthur. You hollowed your cheeks the most you could, attempting to accommodate the size of his fat cock. Your mouth began overproducing saliva in an attempt to ease the intrusion into your mouth.

Arthur watched with a sadistic grin on his face as he watched you choke on his cock; as you struggled to suck in a breath through your nose. You squeezed your eyes shut as tears streamed down your face, and you felt Arthur shove a thumb into the side of your mouth to help you accommodate for the size.

"Look at me." He demanded. And you did just that. Your bleary eyes, tear filled and watery as they were, looked up at him through soaked lashes.

"Such a pretty girl." He purred, stroking the side of your face. He hadn't begun to move, simply enjoying the sight beneath him. You were completely his. And he could do whatever he wanted with you. You blushed at being called pretty, even though you knew you looked like an absolute mess right now. Your eyeliner was surely smeared by your tears, not to mention the mascara that was definitely running down and spotting your cheeks. Arthur was never a man to put much thought into art, but he believed you were art personified. His god given canvas that he could paint and fuck up as much as he pleased.

After a moment of admiration, Arthur gripped your hair once more, and pulled you back from his cock. You kept your cheeks hollowed, sucking as hard as you could to maximize pleasure for Arthur. And you were rewarded in the form of deep, guttural moans. Though Arthur would not stick to the slow pace of moving your head for you, nor would he allow you to do the work. Instead, he began to thrust his hips in and out of your throat. The feeling of his engorged cock being hugged by warm, wet tissue was almost too much to handle.

You sputtered for air, sucking in jagged breaths through flared nostrils. The lascivious shlucking of your throat made your face warm with embarrassment, and more saliva than your mouth could handle spilled over your lips and dripped down your chin. For a moment you choked particularly hard, causing you to cough around Arthur. But that did not stop him, he was far too enamored by the way your mouth hugged him. You willed it away by swallowing, and you felt him shudder with pleasure. But his shudders were an all too familiar sign to you that he was close to cumming.

Suddenly, he sheathed his cock from your mouth; a sheen of your saliva cascading down it. You gulped in as much air as you could, panting heavily as you felt Arthur slap his sopping wet cock on your forehead, then rubbing it all over your face thereafter. As you caught your breath, you looked up at him and smiled, total adoration in your eyes.

“I love you.” You gasped.

“I love you too, doll face.”

When you stood up to move to the bed, your knees were sore and stung from being scraped against the wooden floor. Flecks of blood spotted your knees, but you paid it no mind when Arthur lifted you up off your aching legs and into his arms with ease.

“I’ve got ya, girl.” He reassured, kissing the side of your wet cheek. Your heart fluttered as he settled your weight on the plush mattress. Arthur unbuttoned his shirt, and his cock stood so hard and high that it bobbed. You felt shivers go up your spine in anticipation of having it inside you. Arthur settled his back on the mattress, legs spreading wide as he patted his pelvis as an invitation. You loved riding Arthur. And even though you were on top, he continued to be in complete control over your body.

You climbed on top, back facing away from him to give him a good view of your ass. He wasted no time in gripping your ass and shaking the flesh, giving it a swift smack as you began to position yourself. Arthur did not want to move slowly and guide you down, no. Instead, he shoved you down in one swift motion, allowing you to swallow his cock completely with your pussy. You could not help screaming in pain and pleasure, shimmying on his cock as you tried to find your comfort. You planted an arm behind you on Arthur’s downy chest to steady yourself, gasping when he immediately began thrusting up into you.

Arthur wrapped his arms around your hips and held you in place while he rammed into you from below. The impact of his hips smacking into your ass caused the skin to ripple just like he liked it. You let out one long, continuous moan while Arthur fucked you. His thrusts became frantic, absolutely losing himself to the pleasure of your soaking cunt. His jeans subsequently became stained and ruined by your slick, something he would cherish rather than complain about.

“You’re such a good girl.” He moaned. He tilted his head back and allowed his eyes to slide shut, relying on his sense of hearing to visualize you. You looked completely disheveled, face smeared with sweat, tears, and saliva. Your makeup was absolutely ruined, your body sweaty and exhausted. But you kept going. The wet slaps of skin on skin bounced off the walls and made Arthur shudder in pleasure.

You felt Arthur’s body shudder once more, realizing he was close. But before Arthur could release, you ended up cumming all over his cock, trembling violently as you did so. Your back arched where you sat, feeling Arthur still under you as you came down from your high. The two of you remained in the same spots, and you were able to realize now just how thick and suffocating the air had become. The windows themselves had fogged up.

“You made a mess all over me, girl, and good girls clean up after themselves.” It was a gentle command, yet one you would follow nonetheless. You climbed off of his lap, noticing a dampness on your ass from all the slick; you didn’t even want to imagine how Arthur’s pants felt on him right now.

You grunted as you leaned over his cock, taking a hold of it. Exhaustion overtook every limb of your body, but you wanted to make Arthur cum nonetheless. Your hand became sticky and wet, and you lowered your mouth onto Arthur’s tip and sucked. At the same time, you pumped his shaft, twisting your wrist in time with each stroke. The exhaustion became all worth it as you heard him moan and whimper, and you willed yourself to lick a swath up his cock from his balls as if you were cleaning it.

You took him deep in your throat a few times until you felt him shudder one last time, releasing into your mouth seconds later. Rivulets of cum spurted down your throat, some of it even running down the side of your mouth. You pulled yourself off to prevent yourself from choking, swallowing what you could and watching as he finished cumming on himself.

“You did good, sweetheart.” Arthur sat up and pulled you towards him by your arm, feeling just how worn out you were as you went limp against him.

“You sweet, sweet girl.” He continued cooing sweet nothings into your ear, slowly lulling you to rest. “I won’t ever let anyone take you from me, you understand?”

You nodded sleepily in response, your head resting on his shoulder. He pulled you to lay on his side, the skin on skin contact making both your stomachs flutter. Soon enough, you’d have to bring Arthur home to your mom and show her what a real man looked like.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Good lord

.

Say Yes To Heaven - Lana Del Rey

[twola]

Seven Deadly Sins - VII

PAIRING: low to mid honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader

Because if one thing is true, it is that Arthur Morgan is a sinner. Pure, organic, non-GMO smut. A continuing series.

Warnings: Smut, Violence, Low to Medium Honor Arthur (and all that entails)

Pride: a feeling of deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one's own achievements.

➵ AO3 Link

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It is not even a question, nor even a suggestion, of where you sit high atop Arthur’s horse. Slotted against him, pressed back into his chest, one arm securely holding you to him. There are no jokes or witty retorts this time. One of your hands rests lightly above his, splayed across your stomach.

It is not some hidden thing as you traipse through Rhodes, the dusty red dirt blowing in the wind as townsfolk watch his horse slowly walk through.

Something akin to pride surges through you as men collecting on the hotel’s porch look upon you and then avert their eyes, so as not to garner attention from the gunslinger behind you. His arm tightens around your midsection each time you pass a man, and you’re sure that the look he gives passersby is a dark, threatening glare.

This man, who can tear any other one apart with his bare hands, has decided that you are the thing that captivates him. That he desires above all others. That he will worship and satisfy and murder for you.

You’d happily do the same, of course. While killing rivals may not be as easy for you as it is for him, you’ve noted the way women look at him in saloons and bars, and you can’t wait to sit upon his lap, draping yourself over him, in public as if to stake your claim.

All of the muscle and sinew and strength that make up this man - it belongs to you.

You lean back against him, your head against his collarbone, and sigh contentedly.

His fingers tighten gently on your belly, and you feel him lean into you. He presses his lips against your cheekbone lightly. For all to see.

Yours.

-

The sun has set by the time the two of you reach the old plantation house, the fire blazing up the way as he guides his mare to hitch her for the night. He swings himself down from the saddle and ties the reins to the post. You swing your leg over the saddle and he grabs your waist, guiding you down gently.

You glance toward the camp, where people have gathered around the campfire, laughter, and discussion wafting through the warm air. Arthur places his hand on your lower back, pressing you gently toward the group.

“C’mon, let’s get back to 'em. You know you’ve missed Pearson’s cooking.”

You roll your eyes but smile all the same. The two of you make your way past the horses and mock fortifications that have been built to the gang, where you are welcomed and immediately asked about the take - which Arthur is able to artfully craft and excuse on why you’re coming back empty-handed. One that didn’t involve locking yourselves in a hotel room for multiple days.

The tale is believed, and you take your seat on the ground next to Mary Beth, who hands you a bottle of beer with a smile. Dutch beckons Arthur toward the decrepit fountain to talk in a hushed tone.

The night rolls on, with Javier playing his guitar, men reciting bawdy jokes, and Uncle and Hosea telling stories of old. Arthur and Dutch return to the fire after some time, the latter lighting a cigar and holding the match up for Arthur to light one of his own before they both take seats on chairs around the fire.

At some point, you stand up, stretching your back, which was sore from being in the saddle all day. You lean backward, hands bracing your spine, and wince a little before stepping around the circle and toward the house. After the last several days, all you can think about is going to sleep - curling up in your spot in the downstairs room of the house, where several of the other girls have made their sleeping arrangements as well. You round behind Arthur and he turns his head toward you.

“Darlin,” Arthur grunts, the cigar smoking between his teeth, “C’mere.”

He yanks your arm toward him, and you stumble slightly, his other hand grabbing your hip and pulling you into his lap. Javier, fortunately, does not miss a beat as he strums his guitar, though his eyebrows raise in amusement. Mary Beth stifles a giggle, while both Hosea and Dutch smirk into their respective drinks.

Arthur does not seem to care at all, one hand securely on your hip, the other pulling the cigar from his mouth as he exhales a plume of smoke in the other direction from you. You take the opportunity as it's given, draping your arms around his neck and leaning into his solid warmth.

Javier continues to play in the warm night. 

You’ve started to doze off, sitting there on his lap, head laying on his shoulder. He notices and taps your rear, “Y’can head up to my room. I’ll be up in a little.”

You nod, blinking back the drowsiness as you move to stand up from his lap. Before you can move away from the campfire, however, Arthur grabs your hand, and yanks you back toward him, nearly pulling you to the ground as you jolt in surprise. 

He tuts disapprovingly as he rights you, one hand on your hip, “Ah-ah, not without a proper goodbye.”

A lopsided smirk crosses your face before you lean into him and press your lips against his. He holds you in place for what seems to be an absurd amount of time before drawing back.

“Go on now.” He drawls lowly, his lips hovering inches away from yours. You stand up to your full height, acutely aware of the eyes that have settled upon you. Without acknowledging the stares of the men around the fire; you walk away, toward the house and away from the gathering.

A bottle is chucked at Arthur’s feet. He turns back from watching you to scowl at where it came from.

Micah opens another bottle of beer at his seat on a crate across the campfire. He sneers in Arthur’s direction, pointing the neck of the bottle at your retreating figure.

“ ‘S that why you’re in such a good mood, Morgan? Finally gettin’ your cock wet?” 

Arthur smirks. “Ain’t no fault of mine you can’t get any you don’t pay for.”

Micah scowls back at him, “Least I can please the ladies, old man.”

Arthur snorts dismissively but doesn’t push the conversation back, instead taking a long pull of whiskey from the bottle in his hand and staring into the flickering flames of the campfire.

-

It’s even later by the time he clambers up the stairs of the old plantation house, each creaking under his weight as he makes his way up them. He opens the door to his room slowly, peering in to find you on his bed, facing the wall, under a heap of blankets.

The lantern is turned low but throws moving shadows throughout the room, and you stir from the bed, rolling over to face him. Completely rousing from slumber, you whine softly as he makes his way around the room, pulling his gun belt off and placing it on the table opposite the bed, hanging his hat on an old dresser. 

“Arthur,” you purr, with the vestiges of sleep still evident in the hoarseness of your voice, “come to bed.”

He smirks, pleased with himself in the needy scratch of your voice, as he turns back toward you to take you in.

You’re tangled in the threadbare sheets on the bed, in only one of his unbuttoned work shirts. 

“Hm. Think that’s mine.” Arthur snorts, amused as he places his hands on his hips in mock annoyance.

You smile deviously as you edge the hem of his shirt up, up, over the swell of your thighs, the cotton slowly passing over the thatch of dark hair that hides your cunt. 

“Come here, Arthur.”

You open your legs, showing him your glistening folds. 

Is this what it’s like?  

Coming to wherever he laid his head every night to a warm bed and a woman who wanted only him? Arms to embrace him and a slick, hot cunt to bury himself in night after night? To wake up tangled in limbs and skin on skin instead of rough spun sheets?

God, now he understood why Dutch always had a woman in his bed.

“My lady.” 

His boots rumble to the floor as he sheds them.

“I like hearing you say that,” you sigh happily, reaching toward him.

“I’ll say it t’ya every night if this is the way I find you in my bed.” Arthur pulls his suspenders down and begins to unbutton his shirt. You sit up and start unbuttoning his pants, smirking as he juts his hips forward into your touch, his cock hard and swelling beneath the denim.

He sheds his shirt quickly, peeling it from his arms and tossing it to the floor. You’ve unbuttoned his pants and shove one of your hands down them, grasping for his cock, and he grunts through gritted teeth as your fingers encircle his flesh.

Arthur’s hands find their way to the collar of his shirt on your shoulders, the open ends barely hiding your nipples as he starts to draw the fabric apart. He steps back, pulling away from you and your hand to peel down the sleeves of his shirt from your arms, stripping it from you and throwing it unceremoniously on the floor. 

Still a step away from your bare form, Arthur shoves his pants to the floor, where they pile at his feet as he steps out of them. His hard cock bobs heavily as he steps closer to the bed, and you sit up on your knees, meeting him as he dives in to press his lips against yours.

His arms snake around your warm body as he presses his tongue against the seam of your lips, which you quickly acquiesce and open to him. You run your hand down the plane of his chest, down his stomach, almost reaching his cock before he pushes you back, hard, and you yelp as you bounce slightly on the old bed. Before you can utter a word of complaint, Arthur climbs on top of you, pressing you into the mattress, and slots his lips against yours as his hips shimmy between your legs, his cock rubbing against your most tender flesh.

He knows his mouth tastes overwhelmingly of whiskey. He’s not drunk, not a bumbling mess who can’t see straight… But he has had more than enough to drink to be dangerous .

You gasp into his mouth as one of his hands moves to knead roughly at your breast, the other one looping under your lower back, pressing your hips up against his. His hips roll back and forth against yours, the friction of his cock parting your folds and rubbing against your clit makes you whine in pleasure.

He thinks, vaguely, at this point you’ve gotten the hint. It's one of those nights. He’s near smothering you under his large frame, and his tongue pushes against yours fervently as low sounds reverberate from his chest.

Arthur pulls back, and your bewildered gaze has turned into something more feral, more needy. You let your legs fall open farther as you pant, he looms above you, stroking his cock that’s covered in your slick after rocking against you for many moments. 

“Gonna fuck y’ now.” He drawls, and as soon as the words leave his mouth, you’re standing there, in the middle of Flat Iron Lake, moonlight dancing on your dewy curves.  

And he is gazing from the shoreline with near unquenchable need.

“ Yes -” you moan, and you thrust your hips up to get closer to him, “ Fuck me , Arthur.”

Arthur can’t press into you fast enough, sinking in ‘til his hips are flush against yours, groaning out in pleasure as your tight warmth constricts around him. He can only bear to give you a few moments to get used to him before he pulls back and thrusts himself forward with a vigor that makes you moan loudly. Your sweet cry is music to his ears, and he finds a punishing rhythm that keeps you gasping for more.

He braces one of his arms against the wall as he bears down on you harder; faster. He’s enjoying this, just watching your eyes nearly roll back into your head, your panting, whining voice mewling with every thrust.

He wants Micah to hear you from goddamn Rhodes . 

“C’mon darlin’,” he grabs your chin and you groan as he forces you to look up at him, and with a growl, he pulls back completely from your hips, leaving your pulsing cunt to clutch around nothing, “They can’t hear ya.”

Arthur, in one smooth, fast, bruising stroke, slams his cock back into your cunt and you shriek , screaming your pleasure into the room and out the open window.

“Tha’s it- c’mon now…” He throws his hips into a punishing rhythm, one of his hands spread wide around the globe of your rear, clenching hard enough that you’d have purpling marks from his fingers come morning.

He can see the tears collecting at the corners of your eyes, and your mouth hangs open as he continues to pull the sweet sounds from your mouth. But he wants more, more.

“ Let ‘em know who’s fuckin’ you .” He snarls in your ear, the bedframe clanging against the plaster wall in the room as he slams his hips into yours, and a piteous wail erupts from your throat, volume high as he hits a spot in your cunt that makes your body sing.

Finally, like ambrosia dripping from your blessed lips, his name escapes out into the night as you convulse beneath him, your cunt clenching near painfully around his cock.

“ A-Arthur-!”

That, that did him in. Every man for goddamn miles would have been able to hear that, the high-pitched screech of his name, breathless, satisfied. It’s only four more strokes he can get in before a loud groan tumbles from his throat, he squeezes his eyes shut tightly as his cock pulses stream after stream of spend into your warmth.

He’s breathless - you’re breathless. Maybe he did have a bit too much to drink, considering the most he can do right now is collapse to the side of you, drawing you in closer to him, before sleep overtakes.

-

The birds chirp softly in the morning light. The humidity of south Lemoyne is smothering in its heaviness, even this early in the morning, the cicadas are loud even as the sun rises. Shady Belle, her glory days long behind her, sits as a testament to times long gone, the death of a way of life extinct in this modern age.

If one stands at just the right place, under the awning of the side porch, they’d be able to hear a muted noise of wood knocking against plaster. It was probably a good thing that no one was actually standing there.

In the room above, you and Arthur are wrapped around each other.

Your leg is thrown over his hip as he muffles your sighs with his lips. His large hand is spread wide over the swell of your rear as he rocks his hips into yours, slowly, gently. His fingers cover over darkening signs of his need for you from last night. Under a blanket the two of you undulate in unhurried motions, his cock slowly sliding in and out of your cunt as if he had nothing else to do in the world.

His tongue dances with yours, as your fingers dig into his shoulder blade, your arm wound underneath his.

You give a little cry when he hits that spot within you.

“ There’s my girl.” He whispers against your lips, his low voice husky as he squeezes your rear, rolling your hips against his own.

“ Arthur- ,” you whine out, trying desperately to keep yourself quiet, unlike last night’s session.

“Mm, darlin -” he drawls into your mouth, his hips moving faster as your cries become higher, louder, needer. After one sweet gliding thrust, you gasp, your mouth hanging open as your fingers grip around his arm tightly.

“You gonna-” Arthur’s whispered question is cut off as his eyes screw shut, a barely concealed moan escaping from him. He’s brought to that precipice also here under the blankets. You take the opportunity to surge forward and catch his lips, which he greedily accepts and presses his tongue against yours.

Your blunt nails leave crescent marks in his skin as your cunt clenches around his hard cock, and not a moment later, his hips buck forward further into you as he comes, hot and fast, into your wet warmth.

Muffled sounds of lips meeting each other, soft sighs, deep, low rumbles fill the room, though outside the window, the noises of the camp coming alive stream in - the clanging of Pearson’s pots, the crackling of the fire, the murmured greetings of men lining up for their morning coffee. The whinnying of the horses.

Arthur pulls his lips back from yours, and his hand moves to your cheek, brushing back to your hair as his azure eyes scan your face. You smile, your hand pressed against his chest, under the muscle and bone you can feel the strong thump of his still-racing heart.

“Much as I’d like to stay ‘ere all day,” He presses another quick kiss to your lips, just enough that his scruffy beard scratches your chin, “I gotta get goin’ on this job.”

You frown for a moment, but the curve of your lips is playful, you know too, that he has to go. He slowly extricates himself from your embrace, and as you grab the balled-up blanket to cover your nude form, he starts to dress, kicking dirty clothes around on the floor before opening the chest at the end of the bed. You certainly don’t mind the view, the man is hewn seemingly from cut stone, solid and muscular from his head to his toes.

A small sense of regret flushes over you as you watch him pull on a nice pair of suit pants, as the object of your pleasure is hidden from your view as he buttons them up. He snorts, watching your face fall, and a small smirk appears on his face.

“Eager there, aren’tcha?”

“Shut up.”

He laughs to himself as he pulls on a fresh white dress shirt, feeding the buttons through their eyelets.

“Why, ain’t you just the sophisticated gentleman.” You giggle before stretching your arms above your head in the bed as he ties a silk scarf around his neck.

He mutters something under his breath. Probably cursing Saint Denis and the high society trapping it entails.

Arthur pulls on his jacket as you roll to face him fully, tangled up in the worn blanket, your hair mussed with sex and sleep. The fabric does little to shield you, your breasts high and on display to him, he can see the fading bruise he made with his teeth the week prior when he had you up against a brick wall in that Saint Denis alleyway.

Possessive pride surges within him as he steps closer to your form. You smile up at him, a tired, tender look on your face before he leans over you and the bed.

He taps on the bare skin of your décolletage with his middle finger. 

“Much as I like this view… you deserve somethin’ beautiful here. Gonna get you a fancy necklace after this job.”

He leans down and kisses the hollow of your neck, and you smile as his beard tickles your skin.

You laugh, pushing his hand away. “C’mon now, I’m just a lowly thief. Women like me don’t wear fancy necklaces.”

“Y’aint just a lowly thief. You’re my lady. Let me spoil ya.” He drawls lowly into your skin, leaving trails of wet imprints from his lips as he moves downward. Arthur laves his tongue over the swell of your breast, closing his lips around one of your peaked nipples and suckling gently.  A satisfied whine, soft and gentle, leaves your throat, and Arthur smiles against your skin as he presses his lips back up your neck before pulling away from your warm body.

You sigh in contentment as he pulls the blanket up and over your chest, keeping you cocooned in a semblance of warmth as he needs to leave your embrace.

“Y’know, I’m sure you can just steal one.” You laugh as he steps toward the table and grabs his gun belt, wrapping it around his hips. The revolvers glint in the sunlight streaming in from the open window.

“Naw. I’ll have plenty of money after this job. Can buy you anythin’ you want. Anythin’ that looks good round that pretty little neck of yours.”

“Oh?”

“Sure, ain't every day we’re robbin’ the Lemoyne National Bank.”

-

[dutchsbigolhands]

Heart of Thorns

Chapter 3

Word count: 3.7k

tags: nsfw, smut, sex, mirror sex, bdsm, shibari, rope, bondage, spanking, fingering

Cover page

Read on AO3

“I’m not sure I see the point,” you said, watching yourself in the mirror as Dutch pulled a rope around your torso. You, of course, didn’t mind letting him tie you up in this harness of sorts, but you weren’t sure you understood why.

“The same point as everything else we do,” Dutch explained, his hands grazing your bare skin as he pulled the rope tight across your body. “For pleasure.”

“You find this pleasurable?”

“I do,” he stated as a simple fact. “The same pleasure an artist gets from painting or an author from writing.” You hummed at him, beginning to understand and relaxing into his touch a bit more.

You followed his hands as they expertly wrapped the rope around you. He tied the knots swiftly and decisively. You were mesmerized watching his deft fingers drift across your skin with the rope.

He extended the harness downwards, bringing the rope to shape your hips and wrap around your thighs. You gasped softly when his warm hands grazed over the soft skin of your inner thighs. It was becoming much more clear to you why he enjoyed this, but you grew more confused as to why you did.

When he finished, he ran the back of his hand down your back, no longer grasping the rope. You admired yourself in the mirror, following the rope around your form. The red fabric stood out against your skin, coming down from your shoulders to a point just below your breasts. You lost yourself in your reflection and you almost missed Dutch matching your actions. His eyes scoured your body with rapture. He admired his work with the confidence of a skilled painter.

“Now if you’re looking for a more practical use…” he paused, pulling an armchair up to the mirror. You stood still, watching him as he sat down in the chair behind you. He ran his fingertips over your ass to your hips, making you shudder at his touch.

Suddenly, he grabbed a hold of the rope gracing your hips and yanked, pulling you down into his lap. You yelped, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you felt his breath hot against your ear, “Leverage.”

You shivered, your heart racing from being, quite literally, swept off your feet. You found yourself in the mirror again, noticing your face flushed with red.

“Do you like it, my dear?” He asked, rough fingertips grazing your exposed skin. You turned to look at him. Not the him in the mirror, him.

He looked up at you with parted lips, his face unusually soft. His dark eyes stared into yours, freezing you in place like a deer in the headlights. You nodded silently at him, your mouth suddenly dry and unable to form words. Dutch blinked a few times and you noticed the ever-so subtle curl to his lips.

He grabbed your chin gently, and you genuinely expected him to kiss you. To pull you in and kiss you hard. But instead, he redirected your gaze away from him.

“Keep your eyes on the mirror, darling,” he said softly. When you saw yourself in the mirror again, wrapped up in rope, those longing thoughts creeping into your mind quickly dissipated. You didn’t want to linger on them for too long anyways.

The hand on your chin released and slowly made its way down your body. As it approached your middle, you parted your thighs, spreading yourself open for you and Dutch to see. You gasped softly when a finger grazed over your folds. He slowly drug that finger through your slit, causing you to let out a soft groan.

“Already wet…” Dutch mused, his low voice rumbling against your back. “I guess you really do like my work.”

You hummed in response, willing your legs apart through Dutch’s teasing. He always seemed to know exactly how to get you warmed up. Between his smooth tongue and clever hands, you’d be dripping by the time he was ready to take you.

Your mind began to grow hazy as he worked lazy circles around your clit. As you watched his hand work you in the mirror, you began to take a good look at the tattoos you could see on his forearm. From what you’ve seen, both of his arms were absolutely covered, but you hadn’t gotten a good chance to look them over. Your eyes traced a snake that wound around his forearm then disappeared behind his sleeve rolled around his elbow. You caught a glimpse of an intricate pattern on the back of his hand that worked you, but couldn’t quite make out what it was. You made a mental note to try to look at it later.

Your admiration of his tattoos ended abruptly as he slipped two of his fingers into you. You yelped and grasped onto his forearm. Your nails dug into the skin that bared the ink you’d been admiring seconds ago. You expected him to scold you, to stop or something, but he didn’t. All he made of it was a shuddered exhale that made your hair stand on end. Out of aggravation? Or out of satisfaction? You could never tell with him.

You found yourself grateful he didn’t make you release his arm as you relished the feeling of his hard muscle flexing under your fingertips as he slid his fingers in and out of you. His other hand ghosted up your torso and wrapped around your throat gently. It forced your eyes to yours in the mirror, but you had to look away, the sight of your expression too flustering to look at.

Dutch’s hand squeezed your throat and snapped your head back to your reflection. “Keep your eyes on the mirror,” he commanded, voice deep in your ear. Your face flooded with heat, finding your eyes in the mirror again. “Watch what I do to you.”

The sight overwhelmed you as you watched your blissful expression: lidded eyes, arched back, parted lips. The way Dutch’s arms wrapped around your body only graced by lines of rope wasn’t unlike the way that dark snake wrapped around his forearm. A true spectacle of what Dutch did to you.

That image would forever be ingrained in your memory.

He continued to work his fingers, even stretching you further with a third. Anytime your eyes would drift away from the mirror, he would guide you right back, making sure you saw exactly what he did. You lost yourself in the sight of your own pleasure as an orgasm crept up on you.

“You want to cum darling?” Dutch played into your ear, picking up on your quickened breath and increasingly loud moans.

“Ah- yessir,” you squeaked, legs trembling and hands clutching onto his arm. He slowed just enough to make sure your climax was just out of reach.

“Beg,” he growled. You whimpered, desperate, but not quite enough to beg.

“N-no, I-”

“No?” Dutch interjected. He suddenly removed his hands from you, making adrenaline shoot through your veins. He’d been so soft with you tonight your clouded mind had forgotten who was in charge. And you’d just told him no. How could you have been so stupid?

You were just about to mutter your apologies before Dutch shoved you out of his lap and kicked the armchair away with a screech. You caught yourself with your hands on the, thankfully, soft rug. He got to his knees behind you, that normally submissive gesture seeming commanding when he did it. He pushed your neck down, forcing your cheek to meet the rug. The soft plush against your cheek provided a small bit of comfort to your racing heartbeat.

“Stay like this, don’t move,” Dutch ordered gravely.

“I’m sorry-”

“Too late sweetheart.” He took the hand from your neck and sat up. You craned your neck to watch him in the mirror from your position. He towered over you, even on his knees. His large hands splayed over your back, smoothing over your skin and the rope around it down to your ass.

Then he smacked, hard. You cried out, eyes squeezing shut. The sting wasn’t bad after a second, but then another smack came to make it worse. Then another and another.

You whimpered, every strike feeling worse than the last. He didn’t do too many, no more than ten, but it felt like he’d never stop. When he finally finished, though, your ass felt horribly sore, the cold air of the room only adding to it. Then his warm hands came to smooth over your sore skin, soothing the sting with what had just caused it.

“Learned your lesson?” Dutch asked with a hint of playfulness to his voice. For a second, you debated saying no again, just to see what would happen. But then anxiety surged through you as you realized you shouldn’t test your luck like that. You always had a way out, you knew that, but you’d rather not have to be rescued from a deep hole you dug yourself.

“Yes sir,” you whined breathlessly. “I-I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.” Dutch laughed, continuing to rub your sore skin.

“I don’t think I believe you,” he said, removing his hands from you. You whined and wiggled your hips, beckoning them back as the sting returned. You heard him undo his belt and froze, suddenly burning with desire.

“Somehow you always seem to break my rules,” he mused, his hands returning to the still-sensitive skin of your ass. “Three simple rules you insist on breaking.” He leaned over you, his voice hovering right over your ear. “But how can you break my rules if you can’t even think, my dear?”

“Ah- please,” you whined, face flooded with embarrassment and desperation.

“Oh, now you want to beg…” he taunted, leaning back on his knees. “I don’t want another damn word out of you unless it’s my name or sir, got it?”

Your heart raced, feeling the effects of his words through your whole body. You nodded your head slowly, trying to comply with his wishes. His cock soon prodded at your entrance and you willed yourself to relax for him.

He slowly pushed himself into your overly wet cunt with a tight grip around your waist. As you gasped and entangled your fingers into the rug, you watched his tightly knit eyebrows in the mirror. He didn’t waste any time after fully sheathing himself in you. He hooked his fingers through the rope gracing your hips and slowly pulled you back and forth on his cock. You mewled as you listened to his shortened breaths as he took in the feeling of your walls around him.

But that slow pace soon grew unsatisfying for him, so he placed his palms on the rug on either side of your head and slammed his hips forward. You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face into the softness of the rug as he thrust himself so deeply within you. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and forced your head back up to meet your own reflection in the mirror.

“Oh look at you darling,” Dutch teased, his hard thrusts making your jaw hang open and your eyes roll back. “So so beautiful.”

Your heart tightened at his words, expecting anything but beautiful. But you didn’t have the capacity to mull it over as his pace only accelerated, his cock hitting you deeper and deeper, making you moan into your reflection.

You found Dutch in the mirror and noticed how his eyes were fixated on yours, watching your every reaction to him with rapture. His jaw clenched tightly, his teeth bared into a snarl almost. He had a horrible, wild look in his eyes that went straight to the pressure building in your core.

You moaned his name over and over, as if it was the only word you knew, and at the moment it probably was. This only encouraged him further, chasing his own release as yours was just within reach. With only a few more hard thrusts, an orgasm ripped through you, making you shake and your walls flutter around his cock.

“Mmm, such a good little whore,” he growled at you, pace unrelenting through your intense pleasure. He’d never called you that before, and it honestly did something horribly twisted to you. You were sure no one else could call you that and live to tell the tale.

It wasn’t long before he was cumming deep within you, filling you with what you craved. You continued to whimper and moan as he stalled and let out his own growls and shuddered breaths. As he came down, that primal look in his eyes faded. You practically melted into the carpet as he pulled out slowly and ran a gentle hand over your back.

“You alright darling?” He asked, picking up on your silence.

“Mm, yes,” you responded, squirming a little. “Just wanna stay here a minute.”

“Sure,” he said gently, running his fingers slowly through your hair. “Take as much time as you need.”

You didn’t stay as long this time, but not because you didn’t want to. Dividing your time between work and school was never easy, but it was especially hard to choose school this time. Dutch untied your rope harness, muttering small praises as he did, and every brush of his hand beckoned you to stay. But reluctantly, you left, leaving behind the comforting atmosphere you would have shared on the couch.

Even as you sat in your cramped, messy apartment, you felt as if you were still there. As if Dutch was a few feet away, watching you type your paper. You had to look behind you, just to confirm he wasn’t, in fact, there. You knew he wouldn’t be, but a sigh (one of relief or disappointment?) left you when he wasn’t. You shook your head as you looked back at your laptop.

As you were typing away, trying to get out of your own head, you jumped at the sound of your phone buzzing. Your heart leapt, immediately assuming it was Dutch asking you to come back. You wanted it so badly to be, you fumbled with your phone to see the message. You exhaled as you saw it was just Mary

Can I crash at your place tonight?

It wasn’t uncommon for her to ask you this. Her parents were quite cruel to her, holding her up to a golden, impossible standard, so she needed to get away for a while sometimes. Of course, you were happy to let her stay. Her parents must have been pretty damn bad if she wanted to sleep in your shitty apartment instead of an actual mansion.

Yeah, no problem

You put your phone back down and wrapped up the paragraph you were on before stowing away your laptop. You tried to clean up a bit since you didn’t exactly live the cleanest. It was hard to keep an already cluttered apartment looking clean anyways, so why try? Between work and school, you didn’t find much motivation to clean anyways.

Within the hour, Mary was at your door. She looked much different than she usually did. Her hair easy tied in a loose bun and her eyes looked tired and lost. The makeup she’d been wearing earlier was also wiped from her face. You were sure not many others got to see her so vulnerable.

You offered her a warm smile as you welcomed her in. She thanked you and plopped down onto your old couch that would be her bed. You don’t know how she slept on that thing, but she found a way.

“There’s no way that couch is better than your bed,” you said with a laugh, sitting down across from her on your bed. She laid down, resting her head on the armrest and let out a deep sigh.

“It is because it’s miles away from my parents,” she said with a cynical tone.

“What happened this time?” You asked, offering a careful ear. You felt it was the least you could do.

“Just the usual ‘we raised you better’ and ‘good luck finding a real job’,” she said, making you frown. God, her parents were harsh. You knew for a fact she worked harder than anybody in that damn school, but to her parents it was never enough. And it hurt to know that her parents didn’t want her to end up like you.

College was the only way to get a “real” job now. If you didn’t do that, you’d fall into the drug empire, sex work, or some other highly dangerous gig. They weren’t really illegal, nothing was as long as you made money. However, it still wasn’t the average person’s ideal profession.

And it wasn’t yours either, of course. You just needed a way to pay for your horribly expensive college and rent. Unlike Mary, you didn’t have anyone to rely on for money, so you found it yourself. Once you finally finished college in only two short years, you’d quit and become a nurse. Hopefully then, you could move out of your shitty apartment and get a better place. God you hoped…

“That’s messed up, I’m so sorry Mary,” you said, trying to offer your sympathy. She sighed again.

“I know, thank you,” she said with a little more warmth in her voice. She was silent for a moment before speaking again. “I’m sort of worried about them…” There was a sadness in her voice that strained your heart.

“Worried?” Why’s that?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

“The robberies… I’m afraid my parents may end up being a target,” she said. You knew what she was talking about, there’s been far more robberies lately attacking some of the larger corporations and their branches. Some banks even, despite the heavy security that guarded them.

It was strange, you thought. There were plenty of other ways to make money, especially in the drug business, so why result to stealing it? Were they just that greedy? Or was there some sort of ulterior motive?

“I think they’re hitting Cornwall Co. and the other huge brands. I don’t think your parents are quite rich enough for them,” you said with a soft laugh.

Mary returned your laugh and shrugged, ”you’re probably right, it’s just in the back of my mind.” She looked up at the ceiling in thought and the two of you fell silent again. A mutual, comfortable silence.

“I think I need a distraction,” she said, sitting up and looking at you. “Tell me about that person that keeps distracting you.”

The edge of her lips turned up into a smirk as your heart skipped a beat. Shit.

“Uhmm,” you started, your face turning red with embarrassment. For a moment, Dutch didn’t exist, but now you had to think about him again. You had to tell her something, you didn’t want to prolong it even more especially when she already was having a shitty night. But you couldn’t tell her the truth. At least not the whole truth.

“I guess I’ve been seeing someone,” you started. Wasn’t a lie yet, you have been seeing Dutch, just not in the typical way people see each other.

“Oh?” She teased. “Who is it? Is it serious?” Your hands fidgeted nervously with each other.

“You wouldn’t know him, I met him at a bar,” you said, still not lying. “And it’s not serious, not really. I’m not sure I want it to go anywhere.”

“Are you kidding?!” She asked with a laugh. “Your face goes red every time you get a text from him, and even just talking about him–you’re nervous. That means you like him.”

Your heart accelerated. She was onto your anxiety, but of course, was wrong about the reason. But you could work with that. You didn’t like Dutch, of course, not in the way she suggested. She made it sound like you had a schoolgirl crush, which couldn’t be further from the truth. You enjoyed his presence and your mutual activities… but nothing more than that.

“I-I just can’t be in a relationship right now,” you answered. It was the truth too. Commitment meant no work, which meant no money. So even if someone came along that you did like, it couldn’t happen.

Mary shrugged, looking at the floor. “I guess that’s fair, but sometimes you need to take a chance. You should chase those feelings, see where it leads you.” Her statement did make you think for a moment. Right now, your relationship with Dutch was purely transactional with a few added bonuses, and to include your complicated feelings would ruin what you had. And you didn’t intend on losing that.

“I don’t know…” you said with a sigh. “Maybe you’re right, but I’ll have to think about it.” And perhaps you would think about it. You knew it was easy to misread things with how deeply he pleased you then offered you several courtesies afterwards. Maybe it actually meant something considering he was the only one who did that for you.

“Just keep me updated… I’ve never seen you show interest in anyone,” Mary said with a small giggle.

“Because I don’t want a relationship!” You retorted, growing flustered. Mary laughed back at you, only adding to the red on your face.

“Love finds a way…” Mary said, making you roll your eyes.

“Whatever, I’ll keep you updated, just don’t make a big deal out of it… because it’s not a big deal really.”

Mary laughed again before, thankfully, steering the conversation elsewhere. You both grew more tired as you talked about your shared classes before soon deciding to go to bed. Within the next hour, you were both asleep to the noisy sounds of the city.

And it seemed that not even in sleep could you escape Dutch, as you dreamt of him.

[grugruel]

hello friend! i was wondering if you or your followers could help me find a fic? it's been a very long time since i read it but ive been thinking a lot about it recently.

a short summary of what i can remember: it's arthur morgan x fem!reader and they met up in cotorra springs. i know it's very vague but that's all i can remember because it's my fave location in the game 😔 it's possible that reader was attacked by wolves and arthur helped clean her up and they shared a tent but im not sure if im making that part up or not LOL. also i read it on ao3 but i figured it couldn't hurt to ask here :')

like i said it's been a long time since i read it but if anyone knows what im talking about i will love you forever 🫶🏻

thank you for your time!

Ofc girl!🫡 I've read a fic called "Nightfall" by @cowboydisaster, where they bathe in the springs. There's no wolves in it though! So its possible its another fic entirely.

If you guys know which fic they're otherwise talking about, do comment!

[sweetums0kitty]

✨Requests are open!!✨

Hello loves! I’m opening up fanfic requests! I’m keep it kinda short maybe 500-1000 words is the minimum.

✨characters I write for✨

Paul Dano’s (Burt Fablemen, Edward Nashton, Percy Dolarhyde, Eli Sunday and Brian Wilcox (18). Platonically will write for Alex Jones

DC Rouges: Riddler, Batfamily (bonus points for Jason Todd. Platonically For Damian. Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, Jervis Tetch, Two Face.

Red Dead Redemption: Arthur Morgan, John Marston.

NSFW is okay! I won’t write like scat or incest or pedophilia. But I am down for sexual themes. CNC Is okay but nothing too graphic. Yandere is also allowed!

Please understand that I may take a while to get to your requests but I’m gonna do as many as I can.

[teashellscape]

I’m taking requests!

I’m not 100% sure how people usually do it, whether you do it through dms or in the comments of a post but either way, leave me some suggestions. I do smut and fluff! And for those who don’t know I have a masterlist of characters I’m currently writing for or planning to write for. I’m open to writing for other characters though if I know said characters, so yeah! Go ahead leave me some requests and I’ll do what I can!

Masterlist -

[serawritesthings]

CRAVE THE ROSE

summary: you were Arthur’s own slice of heaven in a world where it felt like everything he did brought him a step further to hell. pairing: arthur morgan x fem! reader tags: content 18+ minors dni, unprotected piv sex word count: 6.1k

a/n: hello, lovelies! I'm finally done with my first fic; I hope it's worth a read. Please let me know what you think; I would much appreciate it!♡

Most nights at Horseshoe Overlook were quiet, ignoring Uncle's snoring and the girl’s quiet gossiping. Often, you joined them, finding their conversations amusing. You discovered that Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen had a wild imagination and a wilder sense of humor.

Unfortunately, they decided you would be the object of their gossip lately. More so, you and Arthur. Your relationship appeared to be very interesting to them, and they weren’t shy of making it known as they teased you for the man’s apparent infatuation with you.

Because of that, you remain behind a tree by the horses, mulling. You had no interest in speaking to the girls tonight, scared they would bother you. You didn't wish to be the center of gossip instead of the one chitchatting.

Sitting alone for the first time in a while allowed your thoughts to take over. You worried for him immensly, just like you always did when it came to Arthur. It wasn’t like your concern came from nothing, finding that trouble always followed him.

More times than not, he came home bloodied and bruised, and sometimes he didn’t come home at all. It made you feel useless to only stay in camp and think of every what-if that could happen to the unpredictable man, but you couldn't help it.

There was a lingering feeling of certainty when you met Arthur. You knew you were the same - you bruise a little easier than most, though in different places. The hurt manifested somewhere far inside of him, a place where his walls were so high you weren’t sure even he could put a crack in it. But something about him wormed itself into your heart and manifested the passage that led to your deepest thoughts and feelings.

"Whatcha doin' out here, honey?" A voice strapped with roughness spoke out behind you, surprising you. You glanced at Arthur towering over you, granting him an exasperated stare, although your heart sang at the sight of him in one piece.

"I'm hiding." He raised his eyebrow, looking entertained, settling his hands on his belt. 

"Now, what are you hidin' from?" A smirk appeared on his lips while he shook his head.

"The girls." A melancholy expression appeared on your face.

"Your hiding from… the girls?"

"Well, yes. It seems gossiping about us has become their favorite amusement." To speak about it made you scrunch your nose. You knew it was childish, but you were too irritated to care.

"I guess women never change, eh?" He studied you with a knowing smile while crouching down, touching your knee tenderly. You only scoffed at him.

"You gonna stay cooped up here like an angry little ball of fire all night?" He offered you his hand, snickering.

"Yes." Peering forward with sharp eyes, you avoided his hand.

Arthur chuckled as he gently placed his hand under your chin, gazing into your eyes. Your pout made him frown, and swiftly he tossed you over his shoulder and began walking.  

"I ain't lettin’ you linger out here all night. " You gasped, eyes facing the ground, feeling his shoulder jab into your stomach with every step.

"Now, just what do you think you're doing?!" A screech escaped you while Arthur only laughed, giving your rear a playful slap. 

"They'll see us!"

"They're drunk and asleep; calm your horse's missy."

Your eyes grew small at his comment, and you tried thinking of a way to make him release you. Lifting your hands, you grabbed the back of his pants, trying to push them down his hips. He chuckled at you and kept walking.

"Now, what do you think you're doin´?" He readjusted your squirming frame against his broad shoulder.

"It's okay, though; I like you a little feisty." 

"Oh, I'll show you feisty." You continued trying to push his pants down further.

You kept bickering on the path to Arthur's tent. He was correct; there wasn’t a single person awake. You could see the smug smirk on his face when he realized he was right, but he focused on keeping his pants up, which proved futile. What a sight you two were. 

He chuckled as he placed you on his bed, standing tall over your small frame. Amid your anger, now forgotten after your lighthearted bickering, you had failed to remember how much you missed him. Arthur had been away for a long time, leaving you to worry about him constantly. It made you feel useless, never knowing where or what he was doing. But he was here now, which instantly lifted your spirits.

Raising the corners of your mouth into a soft smile, you looked up at him through your lashes, grabbing his gun belt and bringing him closer to you till you felt the chilly surface of his buckle against your cheek. Putting your arms around his waist, you rested your cheek against his middle and sighed.

"Are ya done trying to pull my pants down now?" Arthur only raised his eyebrow, wondering where the feisty girl went.

"Mm." The fabric of his jeans silenced your voice as you relished in what was solely Arthur.

"I missed you so much." Your tone suddenly wavered, and you wrapped your arms tighter around him. It felt like he would disappear from you.

Feeling his coarse hand land softly on your head, he ran his fingers through your hair that was soft under his palms. Arthur wasn't good at feelings and often found himself tongue-tied when you spoke to him like this. His heart churned at your sudden display of emotions.

He missed you more than you could possibly know and spent most of the chilly nights in the wilderness, missing your soft voice and warm hands he had grown accustomed to. Before you, it didn’t matter where he was since his home was where he put his bedroll.

Now, though, his home was in your warm embrace. The ghost of your eyes tormented his every move, prodding him to return to you so the glimpses he thought he caught of you would become a reality. 

How well you knew your Arthur. He was always quick with words but never with you. When you started paying attention to one another, dragging the words out of him required much effort. Stubborn as a mule, he was.

"Ah, I missed ya too, honey." His voice grew rough as he looked down at you. A warm feeling coursed through you at his words, pressing your cheek further against the cloth of his jeans, face illuminated by the lamp on the worn bedside table. The light bounced off the closed tent, creating a warm atmosphere.

Keeping close to Arthur, you looked up at him and staring back at you was a man with warm, soft-blue eyes and tousled honey-blond hair escaping his hat, looking slightly longer since you last saw him. Your chest tightened at the look he gave you, making you feel like the most precious thing he had ever seen. 

Now, standing between one of your legs, you felt small beneath his tall frame. He felt many things watching you beneath him, face resting on the side of his hips, face too close to his guns for his liking, but he didn't move away. He felt all his limbs grow heavier when he observed you, finding only you to have this effect on him. 

Your palms grazed the guns at his sides, being careful when lifting them from the holsters. They were heavier than you expected, not familiar with holding the weighty metal of a gun. The coarse leather of his gloves grasped your hands and lifted them with you, putting them on the bedside table.

A shrill ran through you, watching him grab them. He looked intimating, handling them like second nature compared to your unsure hands. It reminded you of the kind of man he was, or rather the man he had to be.

He could tell you felt wary; a familiar feeling of protectiveness he always directed towards you surging through him. You smiled slightly and stared at him through your lashes, palm stroking his thigh gently. He could feel himself melt at your behavior, realizing you were teasing him; testing the waters.

Most times, being intimate together went about the same way as you were inexperienced, and Arthur not wanting to make you uncomfortable. But he could feel the air had changed, making him stiff with intrigue and curiosity.

The tension in the tent was searing as you unbuckled his belt, letting it fall to the floor with a heavy thud. You were used to him taking control, but you felt unusually bold in his presence this night. Suddenly, Arthur suddenly lifted you to stand on the bed, making you tower over him as a breathless laugh left you.

Putting both of your hands on his stubby cheeks, he wrapped his arms around your middle, breathing in your sweet scent as he pulled you closer. Your stomach churned at having him this close, feeling his warm breath fan over you, making your nipples stiffen against the closeness of his mouth.

Slowly, he enclosed his mouth around your nipple, covered by the fabric of your blouse–being this close it proved hard for him not to. You closed your eyes at the sudden feeling, thumbs gently stroking the scruff of his beard as he grazed his tongue over your clothed bosom wantonly.

You lifted your trembling leg to rest at his side, his arm immediately coming to rest on your backside, bringing you closer to him. He caressed you tenderly as you felt him press his tongue over your thin blouse, making you moan slightly under your breath. 

Opening your eyes, you looked down at him, the sight more erotic than anything you have ever seen. He held your gaze through hazy eyes, his reddening lips glistening slightly with saliva, resting on the now wet patch on your shirt. You lifted your hands, grabbed ahold of the hat almost falling off his head, and dropped it to the ground.

Running your fingers through his tousled hair, you brushed the wild pieces behind his ear, unkempt by his hat. He rumbled appreciatively at your action and you felt the rough leather from his gloves sneaking under your shirt that was folded into your skirt, finally touching your skin.

You were always so soft, and most of the time, he felt undeserving to touch something so perfect with his rough, unlawful hands, roughened by the hardship his life had brought onto him. Never should anyone who has done such malicious things put their hands on you–yet here he was, soiling you.

Your soft skin felt heavenly under his rugged palm as if delicate hands sculpted it with adoration so stout there couldn’t be a more beautiful creation than the one standing before him. He felt shameful but didn't have the strength to pull away; he never did. It felt too good to touch you, almost bordering on torture, the way he kept crawling after you like a starved man never getting enough.

Arthur tightened his grip on you, paying attention to your other side with his mouth, moving slowly as your breath hitch. You let your head fall over him, resting your cheek on the top of his head that you now cradled, enjoying the moment while wishing you could be in his arms forever.

Running your hands over his broad shoulders, you suddenly felt something wet touch your fingers. You perked up, looking at your hands. Covering your fingertips was a dark red substance. It was sticky like it had been there for a while.

"Arthur." You murmured, a light worry detectable in your voice. He didn't answer you, instead grabbing your thighs and hoisting you up his waist, burying his head in your chest. You wanted to giggle at him and probably would have if concern didn't seep into your mind.

"Arthur" Your voice was low, this time sounding more collected. 

"It ain't my blood, darlin’," he mumbled, voice muffled by the fabric. You felt yourself relax, content no one had hurt him, but it left you wondering whose blood it was. "Don't you worry your pretty little head bout that," he said, like he could read your mind. 

Arthur sat on the bed and it creaked under his weight, keeping you on his lap with your legs at either side of his thick thighs. He pushed your hesitant hips snugly against his, letting out a hum of appreciation, finally feeling your weight where he wanted you most.

Lifting his head from your chest, he gave you a look-over, and what a sight you were. Blush covered your cheeks as you looked at him with blissful but still worrisome eyes, a slight pink shade running down your neck into the cleavage of your blouse.

You brought your face close to his, feeling the roughness of his beard scrape against your cheeks as you leaned in, the worrying thoughts long gone as you felt his large hands slither into your skirt, kneading the soft flesh harshly under his palm.

You squeaked quietly, surprised by the sudden contact, your lips pausing, barely touching as you breathed in each other's air as your head spun in anticipation. The feeling of Arthur's warm hands so close to your exposed core made heat form in your lower belly and in your moment of bliss, you suddenly felt his lips on yours.

"Arthur." You whimpered against his mouth. Hearing his name from your mouth so pleadingly made the ache in his chest cramp at his heart, feeling the familiar warmth of pleasure spread. Amid his tongue massaging yours so sweetly contrasting the harshness of his hands, you lowered your hips softly.

The roughness of his jeans touching your center made a shockwave of rippling pleasure spread through you, making you choke out a mix between a moan and a cry. You lifted your chest slightly, leaning your head backward, making your hair fall in waves behind you.

Hugging Arthurs's head to your bosom, you felt his mouth on your breast once again. The feeling was too much, making your whole body tense as you tried to bring him closer. He hastily grabbed your blouse, dragging it out from the top of your skirt, and seeing he couldn't lift it over your head without unbuttoning it, he held the fabric in the middle, ripping the buttons quickly and exposing you to him. You wanted to complain, but feeling his mouth wrap around your now-bare nipple made you lose your train of thought.  

They grew hard under the assault of his tongue; Arthur was sure he would’ve bitten them if he didn’t control himself. You were breathing frantically over him as his mouth moved against you, and he could hear how fast your heartbeat was.

He nuzzled the soft flesh, teeth grazing on the round bottoms of your breasts until he sucked on the peaks. You unknowingly motion your round hips in his lap, clearly getting worked up from his touch. His hand engulfed your hips, helping you rock back and forth on his lap.

The added pressure his hands brought made the rough material against your undergarments feel delicious as he moved his hips with yours, pushing you down every time you met his pelvis. The action was desperate, a silent plea for the bittersweet pleasure you sought within each other. His hands ran up your back, caressing the soft skin that shivered. Despite the chilly night, you were warm under his hands, calling for him to put his hands on you. You were beckoning him closer.

The moment was tender but filled with desperation that always seemed to linger around you. You ran your hands over Arthur's back, feeling the rough fabric of his worn-out shirt you knew so well. His broad shoulders bulged under your soft caresses as you could see his muscles tighten at your touch, his movements growing bolder as he once again placed his hands under your skirt, letting the fabric rest above your hips, exposing you to him. You felt him knead the warm flesh under his palms as he pushed you against him harder than before, pushing his crotch into yours, feeling the delicious warmth of your core against his bulge that strained against his pants. You could feel him under you, your face growing hot as his prominent member sat hard against you, pushing against its confinements. 

"Oh," You could not help letting out a quiet moan as heat traveled through your body when you felt him. He stopped and looked up at you, leaving a string of spit between your breasts and his swollen lips. The look in his eyes made your breath hitch, his eyes hazy with a glint of warmth in them. 

"Something wrong, honey?" His voice was low, almost sultry, and his hands softened against your bottom, no longer continuing his harsh treatment. The blush warmed your cheeks, realizing how exposed you were next to the fully dressed man. Having been lost in the moment, you hadn't noticed. But you did now. Arthur did, too, and praised the almighty; he didn't care if Colm O’Driscoll himself came and shot him right at this moment because he could die happy. 

"No, I…" You tried to explain, but he seemed more focused on removing the ruined blouse from your arms, unable to help himself as he placed a few more kisses on the underside of your breasts. “I… uh…” The words were stuck in your throat, turning your brain into mush. 

He took your hand, placing it on the lower side of his stomach, showing where he wanted your touch. You were timid, careful, and softly caressed the part over his waistline. You could tell he was growing impatient. His hands returned to your backside as he placed more kisses on your neck, slowly inching closer to your warmth while lifting you slightly, leaving room for your hand to travel further down. Cold fingers ran along the sides of your throbbing heat, teasing you and making you stiff with anticipation. Reaching your mouth, he placed his chapped lips on your soft ones, humming as he claimed you in the kiss. Thinking he would finally touch you, he suddenly lowered his hands and caressed your inner thigh, running his hands up and down. He then grabbed your hand, fitting it against his rigid member.

A relieved sigh left his body as he felt your small hand finally touch him. The relief only lasted so long before he felt the immense pleasure striking through his body at your soft caresses, hands leisurely moving up and down. They were unsure as they caressed him, but oh, they felt so good. Arthur felt his body go limp, almost like his muscles turned into heavy stones, as he rested his head in the crook of your neck.

You let out a breathless giggle as you grew more confident when you saw his desperation for your touch. Hugging his head to your chest with one hand embedded in his hair, the other continued to move against him. Slowly, you took one finger and stroked the tip that strained against his pants. A heavy groan left his throat when you touched the sensitive spot, although the feeling felt muted from the layers of clothes.

You looked down beside his head to unfasten the suspenders holding up his jeans. You let them hang over his shoulders as your hands unzipped his jeans, unbuttoning a few buttons on his union suit so you could wriggle your hand inside.

First, your fingers touched a patch of hair under his belly button that led down to his member, the muscles tensing in his stomach. You followed it down, feeling Arthur’s warm breath against your shoulder. 

"Christ alive!" The words wormed their way from his throat, sounding strained. You had winded your nimble fingers into his pants, fingertips feeling over the ridge beneath his cock. The touch alone sent a white flash of pleasure through his whole body. Smiling sheepishly, you rubbed your thumb up against the frenulum of his member, coaxing harsh noises from the man.

His head lay limp on your shoulders as his now sweaty hair tickled your skin, your actions turning his brain into mush. Your hand leisurely pumps his cock, going as slow as he can take it as you feel something warm start sliding down the back of your hand.

Curiously, you tried to look between your tightly knit bodies, leaning slightly away from Arthur for a moment. Although you didn't get the chance to look before his arms wound around your waist, bringing you closer to his broad form yet again. He lifted his head like he had woken from a deep slumber, lids heavy as he spoke.

"What kind of spell do you have me under, woman?" He rolled his hips up to meet your hand as it descended at the base of his cock. You readjust on his lap, scooting back slightly to gain more leverage for moving your arm. Arthur's eyes shut tight; his brows furrowed as you brought your other hand to his cheek, caressing it lovingly with your thumb as you gazed at him with warm eyes.

Being this close made you see him more clearly: the slight sunburns on the tall places on his face from being out in the sun all day, the lines on his forehead permanent from his constant frowning, and the thin layer of dirt covering his skin from the endless hard work he put up with. Too focused on what you were doing, he didn’t notice your stare, but his eyes found yours already looking at him when your hand slowed down. 

At that moment, his lust drowned in his love for you.

Sometimes, he found you looking at him like that, and it was safe to say it baffled him. The tenderness in your eyes made him tense, unsure. He wasn't used to your affection, but your every move was an act of pure fondness for him. Although it puzzled him, he craved your attention at him at all times and boasted at having such a woman at his hands. A woman no doubt many men surely dreamed of for the rest of their lives if they ever got the chance to lay their eyes on you. 

He felt your hand release the grip on his member, letting its now red, swollen tip rest against his stomach. Nimbly, you unbuttoned the other buttons on his union suit, your other hand sneaking under the fabric to touch the revealed skin, caressing his chest slowly as you reached the last button.

Running your hands from his chest to his shoulders, you let the fabric fall on his arms as you stroked over the broad muscles of his thick arms, appreciating their size. He noted that your wandering hands had grown bolder and relished in your touch. You leaned into him, his arms tightening around you to help you closer as you scooted up in his lap so you could reach his neck with your lips.

You heard Arthur grunt as your exposed cunt made contact with his cock when you raised your hips slightly, dragging your wet folds to his tip, letting it rest there as your warm lips put nimble kisses on the sweaty skin under his jawline. His shaft twitched when the muscles in his stomach clenched, the tip dripping precum on his skin as he felt his sack tighten.

"Do you want to kill me?" Breathlessly he spoke to you. Smiling through your kisses, you relished the power you seemed to have over him. "Maybe." You giggled against his skin, continuing to place timid kisses along his neck and pretending to bite him with your teeth. He scoffed at your playfulness, grabbing your bottom and grinding you over his swollen head.

A startled moan left your wet lips, surprised by the sudden contact. The pleasure that shot through your body was sweet but laced with a sharpness that made you quiver in his grasp. It felt delicious; the anticipation of the movement filled every inch of you with deep shivers that racked through your already shaking body.

Your mouth was left gaping against his shoulder, your lingering kisses paused by Arthur pushing you against him in small motions so he could feel the delicious friction your swollen lips created against his rigid member. 

"You want me to touch you, darlin'?" His gruff voice spoke. You mewled against him, all traces of the dominance you thought you had for a second go, and he didn't even have to try. It made you realize he only let you because he wanted to.

Calmly, his fingers eased toward your wetness that now almost seemed to drip down your thigh in complaint at being untouched for so long. Two of his fingers parted to stroke either side of your lips, almost throbbing as you clenched around nothing. The strokes continued, never touching you where you wanted him to. You were going crazy. How could he tease you so?

"Arthur." Your voice was quiet and begging, an undertone of wholehearted want seeping through. He hummed against you, lifting your head to place his lips on yours as his fingers finally disappeared beneath your wet folds, gliding toward your clit and resting there. He began drawing small circles that blur your vision as your eyes rolled back, letting out ungodly sounds muted against his lips. His lips continued to move against you, but when he noticed yours weren't, a low chuckle escaped him. Seeing you sitting on top of him with your blouse discarded and skirt lifted to reveal the tempting flesh to his eyes, as your face showing nothing but pure pleasure, drove him mad. The pads of his fingers are rough against your delicate parts, only adding to the bliss surging through your body. As he stroked you gently, your back arched as your hands frantically grabbed his arms. You feel your hands shake, your grip tight on his biceps as his two fingers sink into your hole. You gasped at being filled, clenching your walls tight around his fingers. The stretch burned, his fingers thicker than yours.

Sweet moans reach Arthur’s ears as he moves against your spongy walls, the squelching sound of him entering you filling the quietness of the night. Knuckle deep in you, he bends them expertly, causing your breath to hitch, making you spread your thighs wider for him as you grind down on his hand. His motions were rapid as he dove deep into your heat. Your thighs contracted as you felt your whole body tense, his arms moving underneath your touch.

“Oh, Arthur, please.” You spotted his warm eyes staring into yours when you turned your gaze up at him. Your eyes were pleading with him to take you, tears brimming at the intense feelings he filled you with. He knew what you wanted but had to ensure you were ready, knowing you would hurt otherwise. 

“I know, honey, just a little more.” Arthur caressed your hair softly as his jaw clenched, sweat dripping down his forehead as his eyes were stuck on you. He felt hopeless when you looked at him like this. You could get him to do whatever you wanted when looking at him like that; hell, Arthur would even kill for you if you asked. He was wet with your slick, his fingers jamming inside you as you lifted your legs, trying to escape his assault. The sudden change of pace made the pleasure unbearable. Not a single sound left your mouth as your eyebrows furrowed and your mouth hung open. He grabbed your hips, bringing you down against his fingers so you couldn’t escape.

Arthur hoisted you up, fingers leaving your dripping heat as he placed you over his throbbing head. Feeling your wetness wrap around him made his vision blur, ears ringing from the blood that rushed from his head. You leaned back, placing your hands on his knees as his hands found your hips. You sank slowly, watching his member disappear between your folds. The unison makes your heart swell, the thought of your body becoming one running through you like warm whisky, setting your blood afire. 

Arthur’s breathing was heavy, his hands shaking slightly from the intenseness of the moment. Every movement was a silent plea for the moment never to end, wanting to stay connected for all eternity in each other’s embrace. The world disappeared around you,  becoming a blur. The only thing you saw was each other as you moved over him, feeling him lift you to the top to lower you so you could hug him warmly. Your walls clamped down on him, his mushroom head prodding deep inside your spongy walls, eliciting whines from your open mouth. Arthur was used to being quiet, but you were struggling, terrified someone would hear. You wouldn’t be able to stand the humiliation if you were.

“Come here, darlin’.” He placed his brawny arms under your thighs, his member leaving you as he stood up and laid your back gently on the bed, his hand under your head. Always so careful. Your arms reached for him, seeking his solace and safe embrace as he returned to you, putting his weight on you as close as he could without hurting you. He entered you again as his head rested in the crevice of your neck, panting. He stuffed you full, fuller than you’ve ever been. Your cunt stretched obscenely around him, lips sealing around his cock with a snug, velvet grasp. He set the pace this time. His muscular frame was going slow, but his strokes were hard; your body was being pushed up the bed from the harshness of his thrusts. He brought you deeper into the mattress whenever you felt him dive back inside. Your legs found their way around his waist, bringing him closer to you. Arthur loves how you cling to him, helping you by holding you close as he prods you deeper. He takes your hand, bringing it to your chest and placing it between your breasts as he murmurs something in your skin. You’re too blissed out to hear what as his voice melts like honey at the base of your neck. 

“Oh god!” You cry out between his thrusts, moonlight seeping through the folds of the tent and splashing his skin. His palms tremble against you from the effort. He cooed at your noises, shushing you by capturing your lips with his. You had messed up his hair in your blissful frenzy, and his eyes were glossy with lust. His hands ran down the side of your body that arched underneath him, grabbing your thigh and pushing the plush skin up to rest beside you so he could bury the whole cock inside you. You almost felt him in your guts as he prodded against your flesh, leaving you to mumble nonsense into his mouth between the gasps that escaped you from the force of his thrusts. The slide of his length against the silky, slick clench of your cunt is nothing less than ambrosial.

Arthur breathes heavily between clenched teeth as you tighten around him. He slowed his pace to draw himself almost entirely out of you before filling you again with a languid thrust. The coil inside him was tightening, threatening to snap. He was holding you so close now, shielding you from the world as you lay underneath him, eyes glazed with a faraway look. Each caress from his hand said the words his sex-addled mind couldn’t make his mouth form.

I love you

He wrapped his arm under your waist, supporting your arching body, pistoning you now with brutal efficiency. Still, affection lingered in everything he did. He never gripped you too hard as his rough hands remained gentle. For you. Only for you. His hands slipped down the planes of your stomach to apply gentle pressure to the hooded bundle of nerves, sending a shock through you like a burst of electricity. Whatever words you tried to speak came out as little more than a garbled cry as he teased furious circles over your still swollen clit, arms tight against his neck.

“Please.” Lust-filled sounds left you as you begged. You didn’t know what for, his assault leaving your thoughts in shambles. He doubted there was a more beautiful sight than the woman he loved unraveling under the force of his thrusts. Your walls clenched around him, contracting as you sucked him more profoundly into your cunt. 

“I love you!” You cried into his ear; Arthur’s eyes shut tight as his hips spluttered, pumping deeper inside you, noises he let out erupting from his lips in a sound that could only be likened to a primal whine. With a final uneven snap of his hips, the coil inside him snapped, and his release spilled inside you. His forehead rested between your shoulder blades as he trembled, your hands resting in his hair lovingly amidst the tremors running through your body. Arthur’s hips snapped up into you one last time, pushing up into you as far as possible to continue feeling the warmth and tightness of your cunt. His cum spurted out, coating your walls and escaping your entrance that he was stuffing with his cock. He gripped your thighs, moving his hips languidly, basking in the sharp pleasure running through him as his vision faded.

You could feel him relaxing in your grasp, heavy breathing leaving him as he gently kissed your trembling skin. You hummed over him at his touch, a pleasureful little sound that, despite being wholly spent, had him wondering if he could muster up the energy to retake you as his head lifted to claim your lips, tongue flickering lazily out to tangle with your own. Arthur grabbed your thighs that were wound tightly around his waist as he scooted down the bed, pressing them to flush against the mattress. He spread you wide, your body covered in sweat and cum, exposed before his eyes as he wasted no time putting his mouth on your puffy cunt. His tongue was warm as he entangled it in your wetness. Your hands tried to grip your hair, sheets, and headboard to find stability until they rested in Arthur’s hair. He could feel you pull on his roots, the feeling making him groan against you. The sound created vibrations against your sensitive clit. It felt like his mouth was eating you whole as he nuzzled as close as he could, sucking ferociously on your tender flesh. His tongue entered you, making you dizzy as blood buzzed in your ears. You looked down at him, breath hitching as you found his hazy eyes already on yours. It felt sinful to keep eye contact with him as he performed such a sensual act on you, but his admiring eyes left you searing with pleasure. You couldn’t look away, not yet. You felt him wind his arms under your thighs as he gripped your inner thighs, sitting up so he was resting on his heels. 

“Arthur!” You exclaimed at the sudden motion. Your head rested on the bed as Arthur lifted you off it, his arms wrapped around your stomach, hugging you tightly against him as he buried his head further into your cunt. The air left you from his actions, your legs hitting his back to escape the frenetic torture he put you through. Wet noises filled the tent, Arthur’s dark eyes gazing down at you. You looked sinful, he thought. Usually so innocent, but at this moment, with your hair spread out on the messy sheets, a pink flush covering your cheeks, and dazed eyes staring up at him, you looked like he had corrupted you and filled every inch of you with pure ecstasy. He lifted his mouth from you, the lower part of his face glistening wet as his fingers found your clit. They stroked you gently as he hummed at your quiet mewls.

“Gettin’ close, honey?” Arthur cooed as you stared up at him with glistening eyes, brows furrowed in pleasure. Your expression told him enough, so he lowered his head again and extended his tongue inside you, massaging your walls. It felt good, so good that high-pitched whines started leaving you. His one hand found your mouth, muffling the sounds. Your hips began twitching, moving against his mouth as you struggled between putting distance from his lips and pulling him closer. His fingers were relentless, rubbing you faster to where you heard ringing in your ears from the searing pleasure you felt coursing through you. The fire pooling low in your abdomen started spreading, leaving a burning trail as it flowed through your every vein. Your head rolled back against the sheets, mouth open wide, but no noise left you as hot tears fell from your eyes. The world slowed down, your orgasm shattering your body. Rippling through you, it made you tense up, your walls pulsing around Arthur’s tongue as he slowly massaged your insides, intensifying your orgasm. Your hips started jerking against him, his arm holding you still as he hummed against you while observing you underneath him. 

The world before you was blurred when your eyes slowly opened, the ringing now faint as you felt Arthur kiss the inside of your thigh, his hand rubbing your stomach soothingly. He lowered you onto the bed as your eyes gained focus. He could feel you gaze at him as he lifted you to lay your head on the pillow, caressing your cheeks. It was quiet; the only thing cutting through the air was your frantic breathing, both of you trying to catch your breath. Your eyes locked, a silent understanding between you as your trembling hand brushed his sweaty strands behind his ears. 

“I love you,” He mumbled against your skin, eyes peering up at you. There was a look in his eyes you hadn’t seen before, and it took a few seconds for you to recognize it. Remorse. “But I don’t deserve you.” He sounded defeated, eyes staring absentmindedly like he was off somewhere else. It was a rarity for him to be this honest with you, but his words rang true. He didn’t deserve you; he knew it, you knew it, and everyone around you knew it. But he had you, body and soul. He had every part of you, even the parts you wanted to shield from both him and the world. His arms wrapped around you, covering you in his safe embrace, and your heart ached inside you when gazing at the man in front of you.

Before you could speak, he placed his lips against yours. There wasn’t much to be said anymore, your hearts speaking the words your lips couldn’t utter.

[mamahex]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston Characters: John Marston, Abigail Roberts Marston Additional Tags: Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Cunnilingus, Squirting Orgasm, Squirtng, Crying, Crying After Sex, Desperation, Need, Stupid man Series: Part 4 of Conversations about self-pleasure Summary:

Abigail gets some time to herself, and seeks out the only person she ever wanted to be alone with.

[sky-is-the-limit]

𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢, 𝚍𝚘𝚐𝚐𝚢, 𝚌𝚘𝚠𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕, 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚙𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚠𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕, 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚍𝚘𝚐𝚐𝚢, 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢, 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚗, 𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚑𝚘𝚐, 𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚘, 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚐𝚐𝚢, 𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍, 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚕𝚎, 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛, 𝚕𝚘𝚝𝚞𝚜, 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚕𝚢, 𝚋𝚞𝚕𝚕, 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛, 𝚙𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚞𝚜𝚑, 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚘𝚙, 𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚎, 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚜, 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚡 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚝, 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚐 𝚞𝚙, 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚜 𝚞𝚙, 𝚞𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚍, 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛, 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎, 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚗, 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑, 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎, 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚎.

(gif cred: @itspapillonnoir)

[mykneeshurt]

Cat and Mouse

Image - KC on Pinterest

Medium honour Arthur Morgan x F!reader

Warnings - 18+, minors DNI, explicit smut

A/N - starting to feel inspired again. I love this pixelated man so much omfg. Not proof read. Just a quick fic I did today x

The night was humid and suffocating as you snuck up on the old plantation house in Shady Belle. The camp was alive with the distant warm glow of oil lanterns, music danced on the thick Lemoyne air as a guitar strummed in the distance. Hushed laughter and talking echoed amongst the trees that littered the small field.

That was until a familiar click of a revolver loading rang through your ears, as a cold steel barrel was forced into your temple. ‘Told you not to follow me’ a thick southern accent drawled into the darkness. Without even moving you sighed ‘hello Arthur.’ His gun was still pressed firmly into your skin as he turned your body, slamming you into the decaying stone wall.

The brim of his hat hid his eyes from view, a menacing smirk danced across his lips. ‘What chu doin here?’ His voice was low and firm, he told you clearly in Saint Denis not to follow him, but your curiosity got the better of you. So you tracked him. Through the city, through the swaps and to Shady Belle.

Looking up he peered at you, from under his hat, contempt written over his features. But with a hint of curiosity. He looked menacing in the darkness, the silver moon made his eyes glisten and shimmer. ‘Came to get me an outlaw. An expensive one at that, gonna lower your gun?’ you smiled, swiping your tongue across your teeth.

He regarded you for a moment, this wasn’t your first meeting. Not by a long shot. The two of you had been playing this game of cat and mouse for months. Slowly he lowered the gun and slipped it back into his holster. ‘That so?’ He lowered his head, his lips teasing the skin of your neck ‘bad men in these here woods miss. I ain’t the only thing you should be scared of.’

His breath traipsed along your skin, moist from the suffocating heat. Swallowing you clenched your thighs together, desperately trying to tame the ache that began to emanate from your cunt. ‘No? What else should I be scared of Morgan?’ Your breath hitched in your throat as you clenched your fists by your side.

Slowly he brought his hand to your face, running his calloused thumb along your lips. Pulling down gently your jaw dropped open, breathe getting caught in your chest. Which by now was heaving. Humming he placed his lips against your neck ‘hmmm, wild boar … snakes … crocodiles … raiders’ he trailed off wrapping his arm around your waist. Moaning softly you replied ‘ain’t none of them scare me.’

He smiled into your neck, pulling you closer ‘big brave girl huh? … well one of em should scare you sweetheart.’ Rolling your hips into him your arched your back off the wall ‘oh yeah? Which one?’

‘Me.’

Within a flash his hand was around your throat pulling your lips to his in a feverish kiss. Wrapping your arms around his neck he lifted you onto his hips, immediately locking your legs around him. The kiss was a flurry of teeth, tongue and saliva, both of your fighting for dominance. You nipped at his lip causing him to growl into your mouth. Inhaling it like the finest drug it drove you further, scraping your nails along his neck.

Breaking the kiss for air your smirked at the tall handsome outlaw before you. ‘Take em off’ you ordered ‘fuck me Arthur.’ A cough of disbelief burst from his chest, normally he was the one in charge. Dropping you down he quickly undid his trousers, letting his thick veiny cock spring out. It never ceased to impress you.

Spinning you round he pushed your cheek hard into the stone wall. Unbuckling your jeans be pulled them down just to your knees, before firmly smacking his hand against your ass. ‘Fuuuuck I missed you’ he admitted between clenched teeth. ‘Yeah? Show me Arthur. Show me how much you missed me’ you whispered into the darkness. ‘Oh I’ll show you darlin’. I’ll show you …’

With that he ran his fingers along your slit, not surprised to find you soaking. You were always so wet for him, always so responsive. A groan of approval left his lips as he slipped a finger into you, stretching you ever so slightly. Hissing through your teeth you braced your arms against the wall.

He moved his fingers in and out, slowly at first before building into a rhythm. Feeling every fibre of your aching pussy, feeling how wet you were, feeling how your body responded to his touch. Quiet gasps left you with each movement, screwing your eyes shit you let the heavy night air swarm over you. He added another finger making you arch your back, weaving his hand into your hair he pulled you back into him.

‘Good girl.’ The praise slipped off his tongue like it was the devil himself speaking to you. Gritting your teeth you gave yourself over to him, succumbing to his every will, his every need. Putty in his hands.

In one swift motion he removed his fingers placing them in your mouth, you sucked them eagerly. Feeling his every growing erection poking into your ass. He revelled in the feeling of his fingers in your mouth, the silky feeling of your tongue on his fingers knowing you were getting off on tasting yourself. ‘Wan me to fuck this pussy of yours sweetheart? That what chu want?’

Nodding furiously you sucked his fingers clean, savouring your own justices as they danced along your taste buds. Spanking your ass once more he nipped your ear ‘spread your ass for me.’

Leaning back against the wall your pressed your shoulders into it, using your hands to spread your ass open for him. ‘Damn’ he whispered to himself, lining his cock up to your hole he pushed himself in. Your wet pussy drinking him in instantly, both of you moaned in unison as he filled you completely. The tip of his cock kissed your cervix as he fucked you against the wall.

His grip on your hips was deadly, bruising, all consuming. He slammed his body into yours, it was brutal, over and over again. You both moaned into the night as he dominated your mind, body and soul. Releasing one of your cheeks you reached down and played with your clit. ‘That’s it, jus’ like that darlin. Fuuuck’ he drawled, you could hear how close he was. His voice was wavered and tense.

‘Arthur … don’t stop … fuck’ you hissed biting your lip. Your muscles tensed under your moist shirt, pulling you closer and closer to oblivion. ‘Cum on my cock darlin’ … I got chu.’ He words of praise pushed you further and further, the way his voice growled in the darkness like some unknown deity from long ago.

Feeling yourself tighten you moved your fingers faster and faster. ‘Oh … fuck … Arthur right there.’ With one final thrust you fell into void of complete and utter pleasure, your hearing muffled and your throat went hoarse as you rode out your high. Bucking and clenching over his cock you rode out your high, biting into your hand to muffle your moans.

Arthur’s breath began to falter, catching in his chest as he neared his orgasm. Placing his hand on your shoulder he tried to stabilise himself as he pulled out. Shooting his cum all over your ass and back. Bending down he rested his head on your shoulder as he caught his breath. He chest heaved into your back, you could feel his heart thundering in his chest.

Humming to yourself you reached behind and cupped the back of his head ‘always a pleasure Arthur.’ He chuckled against your back before standing up, placing himself back into his trousers. He grabbed one of his gun rags from his pocket and cleaned you off before helping you stand.

Once you had tucked yourself in you placed your hair in a messy bun offering him a warm smile. Cupping your chin he kissed you firmly on the lips before staring into your eyes, ‘strangest bounty hunter I ever met.’

Placing a strand of hair behind his ear you giggled ‘only for you Mr Morgan. I could take you in if I wanted. But I like this game more than the money. Till next time’ you winked as you hopped up onto your horse, before galloping off into the Lemoyne night.

[cowboyfromh3ll]

Ik you said resquests are close but my oh my, I'd love to see your relationship/sex hcs for the GIRLS

Mary-Beth, Karen, Tilly, Abigail, Molly, MAYBE EVEN MRS.GRIMSHAW IF UR FEELING QUIRKY

Relationship/Sex HC For VDL Gang Girls

Thank you anon for requesting something with the girls. Also I didn't include Sadie bc I wrote for her already previously in another post

Warnings: smut

Mary-Beth Gaskill

Very affectionate and loves showing you off

Lowkey writes short romance stories about the two of you but uses different names

Loves asking for your opinion on her outfits

Very shy with her writing but allows you to read em

Tries to recreate scenes the romance novels she reads with you

Plays with your hair and tries to style it for you

I can imagine her making flower crowns

Is so lovestruck, she definitely believes y'all are together FOR LIFE

NSFW

I just know she reads smut in her books

She'd probably ask to try out a few of the things she reads about

Comes off as docile or vanilla but would be surprisingly kinky, huge expiramentalist

Bottoms for sure

Would unintentionally grind into your face or shove you in while eating her out

High pitched moans or gentle mewls

Squirms and moves around a lot, just cannot sit still for the life of her

Karen Jones

She'll put on a tougher front but she needs a lot of reassurance

Very sweet in private

Gets flustered with PDA but still does it with you

Loves it when you hold one another closely especially around the camp fire

She'd become very vulnerable with you

Especially when she's drunk

She'd feel as though you're the only person who can see the real her, and that just makes her feel even more in love

When she's unable to take care of herself you do her hair for her

Asks to dance with you randomly

NSFW

As we saw in-game, cries during sex

Feels extremely vulnerable during the act, but instead of sadness it's more of an overwhelming feeling of love that brings her to tears

Super clingy, holds you close during

Wants to stimulate every sense, bascially smothering you

Loves kissing all up and down eachother's bodies while fondling and just holding

Also enjoys hand holding during sex

Likes to start off gentle but things get progressively wilder

Tilly Jackson

She's a playful, yet altruistic lover

Puts you before herself all the time

She could be bleeding out while you have a papercut and she'll insist they tend to you first

Constantly fixes things for you or just generally takes care of things just so you don't have to do them yourself

I hc that whenever she falls asleep on you she drools A LOT

Because she gets really relaxed

Likes sitting along rivers and lakes with you and feeding ducks or skipping rocks

Super short so she's gotta go on her tiptoes to kiss you; constantly cranes her neck to look at you, even gets taller boots

NSFW

Like in other aspects of your relationship, a giver

She knows just what you want, and is more than happy to provide

I feel like she'd be real skilled with her tongue and hands as a result, skill born out of practice

Kinda likes riskier sex so she'll opt for more scandalous locations or situations

Y'all could be doing chores together and the next thing y'know y'all are sneaking off behind a nearby tree

I feel like she'd top, but she's down to switch

Abigail Roberts

She's a good, honest woman

And she's got standards for her lover

Constantly has your back, and is very patient with you as you two grow with eachother

Constantly encourages said growth and improvement in oneself

Loves seeing you put effort into improvement or work!

She just wants a calm, stable life, so if you're able to provide that for her, even if little by little, she'll be happy

Very affectionate with you, one of her favorite things to do is to sit down and have deep, intimate conversations with one another while chilling

Doesn't care how many or mundane dates are, as long as the effort is there

NSFW

She's got demands, and they will be heard

Loves recieving head, or being the main focus of sex as you provide for her. Will hold your head in place

Likes telling you what to do, definitely a dom hehe

Into kinkier stuff so maybe tying you up or even spanking

LIVES to see you cry or to embarass you

She'd probably make you bark for her

Will top or bottom, doesn't matter to her as long as she's taking the lead

Likes passionate sex so she takes her time with every detail, especially foreplay, rather than speeding things up

Molly O'Shea

She falls HARD

The most lovestruck, romantic girlfriend ever

Writes love poems for you

Likes it when you show eachother off

Her favorite types of dates are when the two of you go out together and try new things

Like a new restaurant, a new spot, a new show, etc

Cue that meme of one girl sitting on another's lap while she does her makeup

Yeah that's her

Loves asking for your opinion on her makeup, greatly values your opinion in general

Constantly tells you she loves you, gets sad if you dont say it back

NSFW

Will ask you to be gentle but like rough passionate sex

Moans loudly and shamelessly

Definitely a pillow princess, this is cannon

She'd communicate lots with you about what she likes and what she wants you to do

In a modern setting I feel like she'd wear lingerie or sexy outfits for you

Probably likes roleplaying

Also a huge expiramentalist! Likes trying next and exciting things, including in the bedroom

Susan Grimshaw

This woman keeps you on your toes constantly

Probably a little high strung but it's easy to tear her walls down!

Good at setting and respecting boundaries, while also reminding you of her own

Knows the time and place for affection, so when y'all are working, wants to keep it to a minimum.

But during down time, loves to dance, talk, kiss, and play games together

She's super hardworking and she loves real hard

Good at grounding you and keeping you in check

Like many things in her life, puts so much effort into the relationship and will never let you down or make you feel neglected.

NSFW

Like Abigail, has demands that will be known

Though she'll make sure to pay special attention to you as well and not just focus on herself

I feel like she'd like to be called mommy LMAO

Loves taking care of you and the name during sex would definitely do things for her

She has lots of experience so you'll always recieve the most mindblowing orgasms

SHE KNOWS WHAT SHE'S DOING AND SHE KNOWS WHAT WOMEN WANT

Has like a mental map of your entire body imprinted into her mind at this point

Also hands, I feel like she'd be into anything hands

[angelltheninth]

Arthur Morgan Teaches You How to Ride Him

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, dick riding, guidance, encouragement, inexperience, age-gap

A/N: Can we all agree that he is the hottest cowboy dilf?

"You wanna sit on there nice and slow sweetheart. Know you're eager for it but don't hurt yourself now." That was funny coming from the man who was just in a bar fight. You can still see the bruising on his knuckles and see where his lip was split. "Did seeing me fight do it for you? So wet down there, I'm thinking it just might've."

"It's not the fight I promise you." Maybe a little but more of it was Arthur's charm and boldness. And how delicately he treated you. Sure you knew he could give you a rough pounding, enough to potentially break the bed but he was set on teaching you something new today.

Today was a riding lesson. Dick riding to be exact.

You tried to take him in right away, which proved a little painful even with how slick you were. You balanced yourself on your knees above his hips, your pussy touching the red tip of his cock, hands on his chest, feeling the chest hair and the scars from knives and bullets. This sounded much easier then it proved to be when he suggested it.

"I might not be as young as I used to be but I'll still throw my fists for a pretty young lady's honor." Arthur wanted to protect you as much as he wanted to corrupt your mind with all sorts of sinful ideas, such as meeting him night after night, sneaking out just to fuck him, "Besides I reckon none of those wannabe tough guys back there could teach you half the things I know. Ain't that right baby?" His hands pushed you down with the right amount that you felt the pressure, but not enough to bruise as the cockhead pushed just past your entrance. "There we go, right where my cock should be. Now I want you to start rolling your hips downwards, slowly, until you're able to fit the whole thing inside there."

Your hips started moving, breath hitching with every inch of his cock that you managed to take. You've taken it plenty of times in the past but you were never the one on top, and even with this newfound control you had over the movements you thought it better to listen to Arthur's advice then take him all at once. Instead on the feeling of lust you focused on how his cock stretched you open more and more, causing you to tighten and release around him, looking at his smile which grew wider and wider until settling on a permanent grin when you took his whole length.

"Atta girl." With his feet firmly planted on the bed Arthur folded his arms behind his head to enjoy himself to the fullest. "Gotta say I'm real comfy like this."

"Yeah? Am I making you feel good, Arthur?" A big, satisfied smile split across your face. Your hips were still touching him when you tried wiggling around a bit, feeling every inch of his twitching cock, perfectly angled to hit your deepest spots, "Can you tell how good you make me feel too?"

"I'd be worried if I didn't. You're gonna need to go up slowly, repeat the sliding until it goes in smoothly for you, then you can start to pick up the pace. Be sure to keep your balance too, because sometimes," He pushed his hips upwards, making you moan his name along with a deep whimper, "you might get yourself a surprise or two."

Nodding you let his body settle back down and you on top of him again, filled with his cock and the new found confidence that you could make him feel just as good as he made you feel.