#twolafic

[twola]

Went a bit more existential with this one.

Holy

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

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

You’re beautiful there, spread out on his cot.

Of course, he thinks you’re beautiful everywhere - in the light of the morning sipping coffee; in the golden afternoon as you’re sneaking treats to his horse. In the sparkle of nightfall, where the stars and campfire dance in your eyes.

But here, here, is where he thinks you’re most beautiful. Utterly bare and chest heaving in his cot, the low light of the lantern illuminating the curves and divots in your skin. You’re beautiful here, in the midnight hours, completely his.

Your sweat-dotted skin and tousled hair, pebbled nipples and the dewy sheen of wetness that he can see on the dark hair that shrouds your cunt.

You are the most beautiful, holy thing he’s ever seen as you open your legs farther, smiling up at him as he leans above you, stroking his needy cock as he situates his knees on the sides of your thighs.

If he believed in prayer he would say one in this moment, guiding himself to you.

He presses the weeping head of his flesh against the petal like skin of your folds, rubbing through them as your breath hitches. He collects your arousal on himself, breathing through his nose as his hand grips the base of himself.

A breathy gasp from your lips reaches his ear as he presses the head of his cock through the rim of your cunt.

He cannot help but to watch how your teeth sink into your lower lip, your eyes squeezing shut as he splits you, as he parts you and his flesh enters you.

You whimper as he continues his journey forward.

Another inch.

If there was a god, he must not be but too pissed with Arthur - not with the way he’s feeling now, not with the way the vice of your cunt feels on the head of his cock - wet and warm and so goddamn tight.

Another inch.

Your eyes flutter open as you grow used to his intrusion, and he swears you bat your eyelashes I almost a coquettish manner up at him. Christ, the power you have over him when he’s inside you - you could demand of him anything and by God’s sake, he would do it for you.

Another flighty breath escapes your lips and he cannot help it anymore. He is but a simple, sinful man, and he snaps his hips forward to completely sheath himself within your cunt. Your eyes widen and you whimper again at the movement.

The curls of the hair at the base of his shaft press against your clit, making you shiver, his pelvis flush against yours.

He’s spread out atop you, all twitching muscles and weather-beaten skin. You’re small beneath him, sunken down in the cot with your legs spread wide ‘round his hips.

Your breath comes out in a gasp as he settles himself over you, one elbow keeping the bulk of his weight off of your frame.

He stays still, his flesh within yours, reverent at the intimacy of it all. That you would allow, nay, want him in such a way. That you would choose a man like him to bury himself inside your body. That you would choose him, of all men, to touch you and feel you and climb inside the most special part of you.

The wet warmth of your core makes him shudder, succumbing to the feeling and shutting his eyes as he lays upon you, burrowing his forehead into the curve of your neck. Your arms wind around his neck, your slender fingers gently twining through the short ends of his hair.

His chapped lips press against your neck as a contented sigh escapes you. God, he could stay here forever, draped over your supple frame, all of him holstered inside you - warm and tight and wanted.

“Arthur…”

He grunts softly as he presses up on his elbow, hovering above you to catch your gaze.

The flush in your cheeks is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Your lips spread into an infectious smile that he cannot help but to return.

He swears, for all of the sinning he has done, and continues to do, that some heavenly deity has extended some kind of mercy upon him. For here, tangled up in each other, sheathed so sweetly inside you, this is the closest to heaven that a man like him could hope to get to.

[twola]

Riding arthur and him just putting his hat on you and laughing, I feel like we need more fun smuts yaknow

Your hips splay over his; large, warm hands encircle your waist. Your fingers spread out over the broad planes of his chest, granting you leverage as you undulate atop him.

The sinful sounds of wet skin sliding against wet skin fill the room, interspersed with deep grunts, high-pitched moans, and gasping breath.

Clothes litter the floor, a gunbelt is slung over a chair. The sheets of the too-nice bed are bunched up near the foot of it, while the frame squeaks with the flurried movements of the bodies atop it.

“Tha’s it, you’re such a good girl.”

The deep drawl of his voice goes straight to your cunt, making you moan aloud when your hips come down on his, your knees shaking with the exertion you’re putting your legs through, thighs burning like you’re in the saddle.

A hand moves from your waist up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your spit-slicked nipple and you shiver, your whole body shaking as you cannot help to clench around him.

“Arthur-” you pant.

Laid out beneath you, the outlaw bucks his hips up when he senses your fatigue, and the hand on your breast leaves, moving over to the side table next to the bed. You slow your hips, a questioning look in your eye.

Arthur grins, one hand moving down to your rear and squeezing mischievously. He grabs what he’s reaching for with the other - that old, beat up gambler’s hat.

Before you can ask what he’s doing with it, he pushes that hat down on your head - it’s far too big for you and lands slightly crooked before you right it, finding his face again. He chuckles, laugh lines appearing underneath the sandy brown stubble of his beard.

“Yer a right cowgirl now - y’like ridin’ me, dontcha?”

You laugh, the smile on his face infectious as you place one of your hands upon the hat to keep it atop your head. You lean down and place your lips on his, tilting the brim back as to not impede.

His tongue presses into your mouth, and your hips still as your attention is fully on kissing him, your other hand braced on the bed above his shoulder as his arms wind around your ribcage.

You begin to roll your hips again, and with him buried so deep within you, the both of you moan into each other’s mouths - losing yourself in each other once again.

[twola]

Arthur definitely grips the headboard

Somehow you always had known he could be like this. One doesn’t get the reputation that he does by handing out flowers and being gentle.

Deep down, you had also known that this side of him simmered beneath the surface. Though he has been nothing but a gentleman to you through this courtship, or whatever you’d call it, you knew there would be a moment when he snaps, taut like a rope.

The pillow mercifully muffles your hoarse voice, strung out and breathless as you are completely under his control, pressed down into the mattress as if you were to melt into it.

Thoroughly used and fucked out, your moans and cries have become guttural as you smother them by shoving your face into the pillow, having lost your fight with gravity long ago.

Although you can do nothing more than accept, he on the other hand is still full of energy he is taking out on you. Your arms have gone useless, unable to hold you up for some time now. Having fallen forward into the pillow, your back is arched and hips held up by one of his large hands.

“Tha’s it,” he grunts above you, throwing his hips into yours, mercilessly pumping his cock into your cunt. You groan again into the pillow as he slams into you hard.

“Take it, fuck - take it,” he hisses as he leans further over you, one of his hands leaving your hips and clutching at the headboard of the bed. It’s been banging against the wall for the last several minutes, surely alerting the other guests of the hotel what you were up to.

You mewl piteously. You won’t be able to ride a horse for a week at this point. Your cunt is sopping wet as he pounds into you, bruises from his fingers already blooming across your skin. You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve come; from the second he shut the door behind you in this hotel room, he’s been on you like a man possessed.

Maybe he’s riding the high of the score. Maybe it’s taking frustration out.

“Ngh, Arth- agh - Arthur-”

Hearing his name muffled into the pillow seems to drive him wild, clenching your hips with one hand and pressing you down, down into the mattress as his cock hits spots so deep inside you you swear you’re going to pass out.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl-” he pants as his breakneck pace begins to falter, leaning heavily on the headboard, his knuckles white from gripping it.

“Gonna fill you up, g-gonna-”

His babbling devolves into a low moan as he slams his hips down into yours one final time. He remains still for a moment, breathing heavily as he finds his release deep into your waiting cunt.

Arthur groans as he pulls out, his cock near dripping with his spend and your slick. He flops down next to you in the bed as you slowly roll onto your side.

He breathes out through his nose, and chuckles softly as he turns his head toward you, “Well that was different there, darl-”

“Shit, shit -” his satisfied grin drops as he sees your tear- streaked face, “Oh, oh honey - I didn’t - shit.”

He draws you into his embrace, cupping your cheek as his brow furrows, you can see in his eyes the guilt overtaking him.

“ M’okay-”

“Jesus, what a bastard I am-”

“Arthur-” You press your hand against his sweat-dotted sternum, “I’m fine. Seriously. Maybe just gonna a bit sore riding.”

He clenches his jaw, obviously not thrilled with your answer.

“Christ, I’m sorry. Last thing I ever want to do is hurt-”

You cut him off by surging forward and pressing your lips to his, pressing your tongue inside, throwing your leg over his hip to plaster yourself against him.

He’s breathless by the time you pull away, one arm tight around your waist.

You smile, reaching up and brushing a lock of his hair from his forehead.

“Just warn a girl next time, Mister Morgan.”

His cheeks blaze red for a moment before you lean in and kiss him again.

[twola]

may i request some slow and lazy spooning sex with high honor arthur? with some thorough aftercare at the end?😳

The first vestiges of the dawn creep through the canvas of the tent, the red-purple light from the east spills across a small hole in the fabric. You blink yourself awake, clutching at the old quilt that covers you.

Stretching in the cot, you realize quickly that though the morning chill rolls inside the flimsy walls of the tent, you are warm.

Incredibly warm. Warm and secure and, lord, it’s wonderful. A heavy arm slung over your waist keeps you grounded as you are unable to stifle a small sound as you arch your back slightly.

“Mornin’ there, sweetheart.”

You smile, the arm round your waist tightening as his voice is still hoarse with sleep.

“When did’ya get back?”

His lips press against your neck as he draws you impossibly close, so that all of you is plastered against all of him.

“Late. You were dead to the world when I got back, darlin’.”

“Well why didn’t you wake me up?” You pout softly, threading your fingers through his against your belly.

“Ain’t no reason to wake you up. ‘Sides, you’re a veritable Sleepin’ Beauty there.”

You cannot help but to smile, drawing his hand to your lips and kissing his knuckles. You settle it against your chest, fingers still intertwined.

“You know how much I like you crawling into bed with me,” you laugh softly; and you can feel the chuckle in his chest

“I do. But I think you like wakin’ up like this too.”

Your hand reaches backward to card your fingers through his hair as he kisses at your earlobe, drawing the hemline of your chemise up to bare your rear and hips to him. He groans quietly when he finds that you did not wear bloomers to sleep in.

Sliding his hands between your thighs, your neck arches back into him as you open your legs, letting him softly touch the parts of you only he gets to see.

“Arthur…” you sigh, bliss obvious with how breathy your voice has become.

Underneath that old quilt, his hand works blasphemous miracles, making you swear on the Lord’s name as his fingers dance across your most intimate skin. After moments that leave you whining, knuckles white from gripping the side of the cot, he withdraws, and you want to cry out loud from the loss of his hand.

Arthur tilts your head toward him and leans over you, pressing his lips against yours in a smothering kiss.

With his other hand, he deftly unbuttons his union suit and draws out his cock, pumping it several times under that quilt as his tongue plays with yours.

With a light push, he turns you fully back on your side as he grasps your hip, burying his face in your unbound hair as he presses the head of his cock through the rim of your cunt. Your hand flies to grasp the side of the cot again as you squeeze your eyes shut, biting your lip. Taking your lover is always a stretch, the girth of him pushing into your body burns for that first moment.

But he is gentle. For a man so practiced in violence and force, when he splits you with his flesh, he coos sweet nothings in your ear, rubs at your hip, kisses up and down your neck. Praises you, his love, with all the sweetness of a man smitten and drowning in affection.

By the time he is fully sheathed, his hand leaves your hip to draw your hair back so that he can press his cheek against your temple, looming over you with his much bigger frame. Arthur rocks his hips once, experimentally, within the confines of his cot, and you let out a breath raggedly as the column of him withdraws and fills you again.

In the solitude and quiet of the morning, the chill creeping in from outside, under the blankets he gently thrusts his hips into yours, cocooning the warmth of your bodies together as you lay side by side in the cot.

“One of these days, “ he rumbles, whispering in your ear as he moves against you, “I’m gonna stay, I’m gonna fill you ‘nd god, you’re gonna be so perfect all swollen up with my child.”

You mewl, unconsciously clenching down on him, making him gasp raggedly as he slows down. Breathing out harshly through his nose, he grits out his response, “Ain’t gonna last if you do that.”

“Ar-Arthur- god, y’ cant just say that-”

With a barely concealed groan, he thrusts himself into you hard before retracting his hips in the nick of time, his spend splattering hot on your ass as he pants in your ear. You shudder, your cunt drenching as you come also, wishing desperately that he could have stayed where he was.

Your fingers remain tightly wound against each other as you come down, he pants into the back of your neck for several moments before slowly unwrapping his hand from yours and and leaning the other direction, extricating himself from you to get up from the cot and grabbing his black neckerchief from the small table against the side of the tent.

He returns and wipes his spend gently from your skin, pulling you to lay down on your back as he dips the cloth between your legs, your slick smeared between your thighs that he quietly cleans from you. Arthur smiles fondly down at you as he draws his hand away, tossing the neckerchief in a pile of dirty clothes next to his shaving stand.

With one knee on the cot, he leans over you to press his lips against yours for a quick kiss, but you pout and throw your arms around his neck, trying to pull him down back to the cot. The idea of you pulling him down was laughable, but you try nonetheless.

“Lay with me.”

Arthur frowns, “I should really get the day goin’…”

“Please.” You whine, tugging at the neckline of his union suit, and his frown melts away as he chuckles softly, moving to lay down next to you once again. You nearly squeal in delight, scooting in the cot to give him room. You turn to lay on your side, facing him, as he does the same. Throwing your leg over his hip, you once again thread your fingers through his hair as you pull his lips to yours once again.

As the morning light invades the tent, it finds the two of you there, wrapped up in each other, staving off the day for at least one more moment.

[twola]

saw a tweet saying fingering is a lost art and it’s kinda true sooo how about arthur making reader come over and over again with just his fingers 👀

“Yer such a good girl.”

You’d smack him if you had your wits about you.

But the only reply you can manage is a smattering of syllables that sound like his name - melting into a throaty moan, needy and high pitched.

He chuckles, deep and warm and rich, as you clutch with both hands at his bicep, your fingers unable to circle it completely.

“Ar-ngh- Arth-”

He shifts his arm and your eyes go impossibly wide, your head falling back as your entire body jolts, your eyes water over as he continues his ministrations.

“Yea, that’s right - gimme more o’ that.” He rasps as he leans over you, his voice hoarse in your ear. You whine as you raise your head again, looking down to where his hand is under your skirts, the movement visible under the fabric.

His other hand clamps down on your hip as he moves to trace your earlobe with his tongue. Tears have begun to stream down your cheek as you pant, out of breath as if you’ve been running for miles.

“Arthur-”

He smiles against your neck, and moves his hand again, and you wail in response, digging your nails into his solid arm.

“Y’can take another.”

He slides a third finger next to the other two, pushing past the rim of your cunt, stretching you, making you mewl as he continues thrusting as he had before, obscene wet noises coming from beneath your skirts.

“There’s my girl - so wet ‘nd warm for me. Comin’ every time I ask.” His honeyed voice groans into your hair, dripping praise as much as your cunt is currently dripping with your slick.

“How about another one, sweet thing?” A thumb presses down on your clit and you shake, sobbing, a delirious mess of overstimulation as he coaxes yet another orgasm for you, your body feeling spent, your head light and your limbs feeling like jelly.

Arthur smiles as he finally removes his hand from under your skirt, and you lay boneless atop the smooth rock in the clearing along the creek, hopefully far enough from the road that no one could hear the pitiful sounds you were making.

Your slick is smeared between your thighs, obscene, and you pant as you lean up your elbow to look at him.

Before your hazy gaze can truly center on him, the sound of his gunbelt hitting the mossy ground makes your cunt clench around nothing.

[twola]

pls pls pls can we have a little drabble of arthur eating reader out 🧎🏻‍♀️ i can’t stop thinking about him hidden underneath her skirts so she can only feel his lips on her

It’s certainly not ladylike, these noises that you’re making - gasping, moaning, wailing-

“Arthur please-”

Begging.

But no, the outlaw beneath your skirts would not give you mercy, licking and sucking and squeezing. He had crawled in between your thighs as the two of you lounged in the mountain meadow, bright red poppies scattered on the hillside.

Your breath hitches as he nibbles at the the sensitive skin of the jointure of your thigh and cunt.

He licks one long, slow stripe up the seam of your body, tongue parting your folds, and a broken sound of pleasure escapes you as your dig your fingers into the dirt beneath you.

He groans against you, thick with arousal himself, and swirls his tongue around that bud of your pleasure, warm and wet and overwhelming.

As much as you want to watch the bobbing of his head covered by your skirts, you have to throw your head back and keen when he moves downward and finally pushes his tongue past the rim of your cunt.

“Shit- Arthur-”

He grunts in response, his hands pulsing on your thighs like a livewire. His chapped lips are rough against the sensitive skin of your folds, as he shoves his tongue deeper into your cunt.

You draw your skirts up, slowly revealing his shoulders, his neck, and finally his shorn hair, you’re unable to stop yourself from running your fingers through those honeyed strands.

His eyes refocus on yours, his mouth fully over your cunt. He stares, those blue pools deep enough for you to drown in, takes a breath through his nose, and without wrenching his gaze away, he sucks.

Your reaction is immediate, a high, keening wail as you come. His hands tighten around your hips as you buck into him.

He draws away, his mouth and chin glistening wet with your slick. You pant, incredulous as you’re barely able to keep yourself upright.

“Perfect little thing you are.” Arthur rumble, a smile creeping across his face. He sits up on his knees.

There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he reaches toward the buttons of his pants.

[twola]

i know arthur is a giver but sometimes i think he’d like being cruel. i have this image of him leaned back in a chair taking a drag out of his cigarette with reader writhing on his lap with tears in her eyes practically begging for him to do anything to her while he watches with feign indifference

Hooo boy. Okay, this is my first shot at a true low honor Arthur.

Lookin' for Trouble

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

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

The afternoon light was more than enough for you to finally get to reading after getting Grimshaw’s list of chores done. Finally, you’d be able to crack open this book that Hosea lent you all those weeks ago.

All of a sudden, the light is obscured over the pages of your book, and when you look up, you place a hand over your eyes to see the mountain of a man before you, peering down at you with a cigarette hanging off his lips.

“Oh, Arthur, I didn’t realize you’d be back so quick.” You smile up to him, closing the book and moving to your knees to stand up.

An outstretched hand juts into your view, “Ain’t nothin’ interesting in that backwater town.”

You take it and allow him to pull you up, but you frown up at him and don’t let go, turning both of your hands so that his knuckles face the two of you. The skin is broken and oozing a small amount of blood.

“Oh dear, let me clean that up for you in your tent.”

You drop his hand and he follows, smoking that cigarette without a reply. On its head, it must be a funny sight, the grizzled outlaw following your small frame back to his tent so dutifully. 

He pulls the canvas down after the two of you enter the tent, tall enough being built off his wagon. The perks of being the enforcer of the group. You make yourself busy looking in the chest at the foot of his cot for some alcohol as you pull a handkerchief from the pocket of your skirt.

Arthur sits down on the edge of the cot, taking that old black hat from his head and dropping it atop the pillow that had seen better days.

“Here we go,” you dab your handkerchief with a bottle of god-knows-what and move back toward where Arthur sits.

He places the still-lit cigarette in the little glass tray at his bedside, the end of it continuing to smolder as he blows smoke toward the top of the tent, away from you.

You frown, twisting your head to change your view of his outstretched knuckles. “It’s an awkward angle, I-”

He cuts you off by making you yelp as his free hand shoots around your hip and pulls you down, your rear colliding with his firm thigh, his hand on your hip balancing you as you regain your composure.

“Oh… thanks…” you blush slightly, having been caught off guard. You return to dabbing at the broken skin of his knuckles, his large hand outstretched and dwarfing yours, as you perch upon his thigh, your back flush to his barrel chest.

“How did this happen?” You ask softly as you pick at the dirt in his inflamed, broken skin. 

“Y’know, a bit of this, bit of that.”

You sigh, “I really hope you ain't out pickin’ fights, Arthur.”

Arthur hums dismissively in response, jostling you slightly on his thigh. He props the cigarette between his teeth and his free hand moves forward and begins bunching your skirts up, the hem of your dress being pulled higher and higher.

“Arthur-” You go to scold, but his searching hand gravitates right over where he’s looking for, pressing against your cunt through your bloomers. You give another yelp as his finger digs at the cotton, prodding and stroking and petting.

“A-Arthur, I’m tryin’ to-”

As you go to grip his forearm with both hands, his injured hand darts downward, grasping both of your wrists and holding them away from your body, essentially binding you and leaving you unable to stop his ministrations.

A low, satisfied noise rumbles out through his chest as you pant, his fingers edging the leg of your bloomers open and touching your bare skin. Just barely touching, teasing, as you squirm in his lap, his hold on your wrists as strong as iron. 

You honest-to-god whine, tears welling behind your eyes as you squirm in his lap, trying to break free of his hold on your hands, trying to jut your hips into his hand more.

“A-Arthur- god, please-” you gasp aloud, squeezing your eyes shut tightly as you beg. He removes his hand entirely and you nearly sob at the loss.

Cracking your eyes open, you see him pull the cigarette from his mouth and place it in that glass tray, mashing the butt into the ash as he puts it out. He bounces his thigh as his hand returns to your cunt, chuckling darkly as you continue to squirm.

“Ain’t you just the prettiest little thing when you’re all needy like this?”

A fresh set of tears burst from your eyes as his hand snakes into your bloomers again to rub at you.

“P-please-”

“Please what, what d’ya need darlin’?”

He cups your cunt fully and helps you roll your hips over his thigh bone, and it’s all you can do not to sob loudly at the frustration.

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Arthur please, please god, please touch me.”

“I am touchin’ ya’.” He responds, pleased with himself as you struggle against his grip, iron-like in its strength.

“In-inside-” you pant, continuing to squirm against him.

“Hmm, like this?”

You are able to bite back the scream you nearly let out as Arthur slides his trigger finger into your dripping cunt. He curls it with a practiced precision, and you buck in his lap, throwing your head back against the curve of his shoulder. Your temple brushes against his days-old beard before he leans in against you.

“There’s my girl,” he nips at your earlobe with haughty pride, fully taking satisfaction with the way you writhe atop him, “Makin’ them noises like a whore.”

There’s no snapping back at him, no retort back at his dry, teasing humor. You are able to do nothing but give a breathy sigh, almost agreeing with his statement.

Arthur grabs your hips and hoists you up to stand, quickly following and pushing you two stumbling steps to the table where a few of his guns are spread out. One sweep of his arm and the guns clatter into the grass before you're abruptly bent at the waist and spread out on the table.

“Arthur-”

One of his large hands splays across your lower back as he fiddles with the buttons of his pants. Essentially keeping you pinned down on the table, you have no option but to lay there and take whatever he is going to give you.

Arthur pulls your skirts up, tossing them over your hips before yanking your bloomers down and over the swell of your ass. His hand is between your legs quicker than you can sputter in indignation, and you bite your lip to keep from moaning as he strokes his thick fingers in and out of your wetness. Your eyes tightly shut as you breathe out your nose, and for a moment, you’re empty as he pulls away.

The hot, blunt head of his cock prods your entrance before he pushes himself inside you, in one strong thrust. Your fingers clamp on the edge of the table as you clench your teeth at the intrusion, fluttering on the edge of pain as his thick cock stretches you. It’s always like this, he’s not much of a gentle man. 

“Tha’s it, what a good girl you are, takin’ everything I give ya.” Arthur drawls as he begins to buck his hips forward into yours, unflinchingly setting a rough, fast pace.

You’re unable to last after all the stimulation before, and it’s not long into the slamming of him into you that you begin to get that feeling that your release was imminent.

“A-Arthur-” you gasp out as you reel toward completion, the table squealing beneath you as he rocks his hips into yours faster, harder - punishing - all six foot of him hunches over you as he fucks you into a wet, messy orgasm, you pressing your forehead into the table as you clench around him.

He grunts, jerking his hips backward as his hands clamp harshly around your hips, squeezing so hard you’re sure there will be bruises in the morning. You feel the hot splatter of his spend on your rear as he lets out a long breath through his nose, trying himself to be quiet within the confines of the tent.

You pant, still bent over the small table, your skirts flipped over your hips as your knees shake. You hear Arthur fiddle with his pants before returning to you, his hands grasping at your thighs greedily before pulling at your skirts to right them.

He swats, albeit gently, at your rear before your skin disappears under your skirts. 

“You gonna let me finish cleaning you up?” You ask, leaning over slightly to pick up your discarded bloomers from the ground, tucking them into your pocket.

Arthur sits back on his cot, his pants still unbuttoned and open unapologetically, as a sly smile creeps across his face.

“If yer really gonna clean me up, I think there’s a lot less clothing involved.”

[twola]

ahehehm.

i get scared when making requests but like .. soft makeup sex w arthur 🧎‍♀️

“i’m sorry baby. i know, i didn’t mean it.” UGHH this man makes me crazy

If there is one talent that Arthur Morgan has - its accuracy. With a gun, a throwing knife, any kind of weapon really.

And his words - He knows what to say to make it hurt, to stab at your chest as if he was physically driving the knife into your heart.

Your eyes cloud over with tears as you quickly turn away from him and walk in the opposite direction, nearly dashing into the woodline away from your shared tent.

Arthur remains where he stood, scowling, fists still clenched. Fine - if that’s the way you’re going to be, go run off for all he cares. He turns on his heel and goes back into the tent, yanking the canvas shut before angrily pulling the hat from his head and throwing it to the ground. He runs his hands through his hair, trying to assuage his aggravation.

Grumbling, he kicks his boots off and throws himself down in the cot, pulling his hat over his head in an exaggerated manner to try and get some rest.

He awakens much later, in the small, quiet hours of the night, and the small space in his cot next to him is still empty. His stomach drops.

Shit, were you still out there? He figured you would have crawled back into bed after calming down. He shoots up, tossing the blanket to the end of the cot and swinging his legs over the side, groping for his boots in the darkness. He shoves them back on before venturing outside, teeth clenching against the cold.

It doesn't take him long to find you, curled up against a tree a little ways away from camp. Your head is in your knees as you wrap your arms around them.

“Sweetheart.”

You raise your gaze upward, and Arthur frowns as he can at least see the glistening of tears in your eyes.

“Why would you say that to me?”

Guilt washes over him like the tide coming in. The heat of the argument earlier has subsided and he drowns in the shame of hurting you.

“Darl-” he sighs, trailing off before stripping his jacket off, stepping closer to you and draping it over your shoulders as you shiver. He stoops down next to you to sit, pressing his side against yours, and after a moment, looping his arm around you to draw you closer.

You shiver in the chill of the night, but after a moment, you lean into him, resting your head against his collarbone.

His hand rubs up and down your back gently, “ ‘m sorry - I didn’t mean it.”

Your hand slowly emerges from under his jacket and spreads out over his chest, above his heart.

“You say things like that and it makes me think you don’t want to be with me anymore.”

“Shit- I ain’t…” Arthur sighs, pulling you even closer against him, “You know I’m just a miserable ol’ bastard. I shoot my mouth off…”

You remain silent, but your fingers tighten at his shirt.

God, he’s such a fool.

“C’mon, let’s get back inside. You’ll catch your death out here.”

You let him lead you back from the woodline toward his tent, his hand tight around your waist the entire time back to his tent strung up against his wagon.

He pulls the canvas of the tent shut tightly against the chill of the night. You stand awkwardly within the confines of his tent, rubbing at your arm as you sniffle. He turns to you, reaching toward you as if he were trying to calm a skittish horse.

“I ain’t- I ain’t good at this.” Arthur whispers, his thumbs gently sweeping the tracks of moisture collecting on your cheeks.

“Me either.” You hiccup, leaning into his touch.

“Suppose that makes us both fools.”

You hum in agreement as you press forward to lean into his embrace fully, your arms moving from his chest around his back as his encircle you as well. You feel him place his chin lightly on the top of your head.

“Lemme show you then.” He rasps, pulling away from you slightly, his hands pressing against your back to pull you up to him into a kiss.

His tongue presses into your mouth as his grip around your waist tightens. You moan softly, and he returns the noise, one hand moving to squeeze your rear.

Laces and buttons are gently undone, cotton rustling as he rids you of your dress. He slowly pulls the straps of your chemise off your shoulders, and the fabric flutters to the ground, pooling at your feet as his fingers trace down the curve of your spine. He reaches the waistband of your bloomers and pushes it down over the swell of your ass, leaving you completely nude in the soft lantern light of the tent.

You reach for the buttons of his union suit and thread them through their eyelets as you feel his eyes upon you. It is not until you have unbuttoned him past his navel that you look up, catching his gaze and holding it as you lift your hands to his shoulders, sliding the cotton down his arms.

That too pools at his feet.

It is only a moment before he pulls you flush to him, his skin touching yours, all of you pressed against all of him. He recaptures your lips as he maneuvers the two of you toward his cot. Far more gently than an outlaw like him should be, he lays you down.

Arthur leans over you, one knee on the edge of the cot, and as you gaze down his body, you see the evidence of his need, his cock hard, jutting forth proudly from his pelvis. Leaking from the tip, swollen and glistening for you.

You can feel the moisture gathering between your legs, he’s yet to trail his hand there, but when he does, he finds you wet and wanting. A low rumble emanates from his chest as he parts your folds with a gentle press of his fingers.

You suck in a breath as he does so, your eyes fluttering shut as he rubs at you. Moving downward, he slides a thick finger into your cunt, and you gasp his name in feverish desire as he climbs atop you, pressing your legs apart with his own, settling his hips closer to yours. When Arthur removes his finger, he brushes the wetness off on his leg before his hand smoothes up your body, searching for yours. When he finds it, he interlaces your fingers as he wraps his other hand around himself as he moves toward you.

The blunt, girthy head of his cock presses through the rim of your cunt and you gasp, a high and flighty noise, as he begins to push himself inside you, sheathing the column of him within your warm channel.

When his pelvis blessedly is flush against yours, he lets out a long, sated breath as you squeeze your eyes shut against the feeling of being parted, getting used to the shape of him within you.

Arthur remains still, his free hand rubbing gently at your hip as he waits for you. When your eyes flutter open, he is peering down at you with adoration in his eye. You squeeze the hand you have interlaced before unwinding your fingers from his.

Words remaining unspoken, you reach up to him to wind your arms around his neck, and he immediately gets down on his elbows, surging forward to lock his lips to yours.

And then he moves. A long, slow, gentle stroke in which his pelvis leaves yours for a moment before returning. You moan as he does it again, and he takes a moment to hear that flighty sound before pressing his lips over yours.

Your fingers card through his shorn hair as he slowly, gently pumps into you. You receive him headily, your core getting wetter by the moment.

The emotion of it all spills over - he seems incapable of words as he gives himself to you. The cot squeaks in the night: the gentle slap of skin on skin, the wet sound of bodies coming together fill the tent.

He reaches between you to rub at that bundle of nerves right above where he stretches you, and you clench your teeth against the pleasure as you come.

He is able to stay inside you for a moment more to enjoy the constriction of your body around his, but not much longer as he quickly extricates himself. He only needs to wrap his hand around his length and pump himself twice before his spend splatters upon your heaving belly.

Arthur pants, giving his cock a final squeeze as it drips more of his release upon you. Within a moment, he reaches down to the pile of clothes at the side of the cot, pulling his bandana from the pile and wiping your skin clean.

Your eyes start to close as you feel him slide into the space next to you on the cot, gathering you against him.

He presses his lips to your forehead as you drift off, but before you do, you hear his whispered voice in the night.

“I love you.”

[twola]

can we please see something w the high honour arthur overstimulating reader 🥹 if thats ok !!!! love ur writing !!!

He swears your high and flighty cry is the prettiest damn thing he’s ever heard. Spread out completely nude on the hotel bed, you’re such a slight for sore eyes. Gasping, panting, whining - sweat dotting on your collarbones.

“A-Arthur-” you grit out, your eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched.

He’s been dreaming of this for the past several days he was out on a job - the pretty flush your skin gets when you’re aroused, the way your lower back arches and Christ, the way you sigh his name. It’s so much better in person than his imagination, which he was confined to for the past several nights. It’s so much better for you to be laying next to him than the empty space next to him in his bedroll as he jerked himself off at the thought of you.

“Tha’s it,” he coos, and looming over you, he swears you could melt into him right now. God, you’re beautiful here next to him, thrashing on this mattress with his fingers buried in your warm cunt.

He crooks his arm to change the angle and you can’t keep the cry you give quiet, your eyes going wide and mouth hanging open as his thick fingers work between your legs, pumping in and out of you.

“Ooh. God, Ar- too much, too much-” You pant, squirming as he presses his thumb against the bundle of nerves above your cunt.

“Never. Never too much for my girl.” Arthur smiles above you, reclined on the bed on his side next to you, his skin clammy with his own arousal. He can feel that pull in his gut that without even touching his cock, he was nearing his own end. Dripping his arousal onto the sheets, his cock is near painfully hard, but this wasn’t about him. Not today, not right now.

You squeeze your eyes shut once again and keen, clenching around his fingers as he groans appreciatively. Your orgasm makes your back arch even higher, your hips thrust, your slick running down over his hand. And yet, he does not stop his motions as you mewl, tears bursting from your eyes as he continues to thrust his fingers in and out. As he continues to pleasure you, his hips rocking forward as he presses his cock against your thigh, just to get some friction.

You’re the prettiest damn thing he’s ever seen, all helpless and strung out in bed next to him. As he continues to press against you, you babble deliriously, and it is sweet music in his ears.

[twola]

Cartography

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

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

You bite your bottom lip to stop the moan bubbling from your chest out into the room - with the broken windows and rotting walls of the old plantation house, there was little doubt of noise carrying. You shudder at the stimulation occurring in your core, stretched delightfully around several inches of hot, hard flesh.

Arthur grunts in appreciation of your tightening around him, “Look at you-” he half whispers in the bright light pouring in from Lemoyne outside.

The quiet of the morning is serene, interspersed by the lazy chirping of birds outside - but within the room, it’s heralded by deep breaths and choked-off moans, the wet slapping of skin on skin.

You arch your back, pressing down on your forearms on the table, sighing in bliss as it changes the angle of where your lover spears into your body ever so slightly. You’re rewarded by a groan and the tightening of his warm hands around your bare hips, the only part of your skin bared to the world.

It was supposed to be an early morning, and indeed, the two of you had gotten out of bed, dressed, ready to get on with the day. Until you leaned over the table on one elbow, scrutinizing the map of several states spread out on it. Evidently was far too much for Arthur, and before you knew it, he was upon you, nibbling at your earlobe as he worked your pants and bloomers down your thighs, pushing them down just enough to access your dampening cunt.

With one hand pressing against your core, the other worked at his own pants, fishing his cock out of his union suit and pressing the swollen head against you with a speed and necessity akin to breathing.

“Wer- ahh- weren’t we supposed to be goin’ somewhere?” You stutter as his hips bounce against yours, your forearms spread over the Kamassa valley, and your fingers draw into your palms to make fists just south of the Ambarino line.

“Later. ‘M fine right here.” Arthur puffs, continuing to thrust into you, his cock ramrod hard and covered in your wetness. He breathes out loudly from his nose, like a beast, and one of his hands creeps around your hip to pat at the little nub of your pleasure, fingers tangling in your dark pubic hair.

Your mouth hangs open, eyes wide as he continues to rock into you, the head of his cock pressing so deep into your body you swear you feel it in your guts.

Trying not to scream, your eyes flit to that old map spread beneath you, and your hands splayed out on the table again.

Your pinky brushes against the far north reaches of the Lanaheechee.

“A-Annesburg?” You groan out, the text of the town’s name underneath your wrist.

He grunts out in the negative, “Naw, too dirty - mmph, all that coal dust.”

“No Van Horn neither then-” You breathe out before gasping as he thrusts his hips into yours with a little more force.

“No Van Horn.”

You glance down again, knowing how much he hated the large city on the map hidden by your breasts - Saint Denis was out of the question.

“R-Rhodes,” underneath your elbow.

“Not after that shootout - oh darlin’-” Arthur grunts out, panting as he spreads his legs a little further to ground himself as he rocks into you.

The mountains past your pinky finger, “Strawberry? Gonna, mmph, go to that fancy hotel finally?”

“Not this time-”

Closer to your wrist, “Not back to Val-”

He cuts you off with a punishing thrust, and you drop your question and can simply mewl in response.

Arthur grunts, folding himself over you completely, smothering you against the table, framing his forearms on either side of yours, his breath in your ear as his thrusting slows into a full, slow rocking, the table squealing underneath the movement of your bodies.

“H-here,” he taps empty space north of Wallace Station with his forefinger. 

“Wha- oh god - what’s there?” You whine as he presses completely into you, his hips pressing hard into yours, pinning you to the table completely.

“A cabin ‘m gonna lock us in for the next week.” He grunts out beneath gritted teeth, and you moan at the thought, loudly before his other hand moves to your chin and tilts it to the side to give himself access to shove his lips against yours.

His hips stop their languid rolling, and a grunt charges up from his chest into your mouth as his cock spurts his release into you, the warmth blooming in your cunt sending you over the edge, clenching around him, making him gasp as your body milks his for all he’s worth.

You shudder, taken by your orgasm and the feeling of him buried so deep inside you, stretching you to the dual threshold of pain and pleasure.  The room’s spinning slows as you and he both catch your breath.

Arthur hisses as he pulls out, and you wince slightly at the dribble of him that starts to trek down your thighs before he yanks his neckerchief off and presses it against your cunt, stymying the flow of his spend from between your legs.

As you catch your breath and lean back up on your forearms, you glance down at the map where he said the two of you were going. 

“That really what we’re doin’?”

Arthur pats the fabric against the rim of your cunt again, blotting against your wet skin. Tossing the dirtied fabric to the floor, he leans over you again, pressing his lips against your temple as his arms frame yours once again.

“Reckon we can take the scenic route there too.”

[twola]

might i add damsel in distress with reader never having seen arthur angry before and certainly never seeing him beat the shit out of anyone but witnessing it for the first time when he saves her 🤭

You slide down the back wall of the saloon, wild eyed and terrified at the scene unfolding before you. The neckline of your blouse had been torn, buttons askew and your curve of your breast barely hidden by your chemise. The curls you had pinned your hair up into fell limply and messily over your shoulders.

You could tell a bruise was going to form where he had hit you across the face when you tried to push him away. You barely got a scream out before he slammed you back against the wooden wall, one arm pinned across your collarbones and the other one moving to hike up your skirts - evidently this man hadn’t taken kindly to your flattery trying to empty his pockets. The arm against your collarbone moved south and the tearing of your pretty blouse echoed in the night, while the man’s dirty, rough hand brushed against the inside of your knee.

You readied your lungs to scream again - but before you can, your attacker was ripped from you and handily thrown across the alley between the two buildings.

As you catch your breath, you clutch at your torn shirt as you take in the scene in front of you. Indeed, your mark was thrown into the dirt by a hulking, shadowy figure that it only takes you a moment to recognize the black gambler's hat and worn leather jacket. It's Arthur, who had come along with the group into town.

Arthur strides with heavy, measured steps over to the crumbled body of the man, reaching down with one hand to grab his collar. He hoists the man partway up, his shoulders lifted off the ground, and slams his other fist across his face. You gasp at the noise the man makes, but Arthur pays no mind.

The outlaw brings his fist across the man’s face again. And again. And again. Blood bursts from his mouth and his nose cracks out of alignment. A tooth falls out of the man’s mouth as he loses consciousness.

You huddle against the wall as you watch Arthur beat this man, blood staining his knunckles as he continually slams his fist into the man’s face. You knew, obviously, that this line of work likely required this kind of skillset from Arthur, but it was a different thing entirely to see it in action. Terrifying actually.

After so many blows you’ve lost count, and are unsure if the man is dead or not, Arthur drops him to the ground, a bloody pulp, as he wipes his knuckles against his pants and turns toward you, completely nonchalant.

Arthur holds his hand out in front of him, offering it to you. You take his hand and allow him to pull you up, stumbling slightly as you try to hold your blouse up to salvage at least a bit of your dignity. Arthur immediately pulls his jacket off and lays it upon your shoulders, winding an arm around you to help you walk toward his horse. You curl into his body, large and warm and strong.

He’s gotten you up to his horse, lifting you as if you were nothing.

“Y’alright?”

You nod, still thunderstruck about what you witnessed before. His hands linger on your hips, one of his thumbs rubbing a comforting circle. How is this man the same brute that beat that other one bloody?

“Sorry you had to see that, I know you ain’t used to seeing it.”

“It- it's okay.” You mumble, pulling his jacket around you tighter, your gaze wrenched away from his, falling upon a bloody spot on the collar of his blue shirt. Your hand unconsciously moves to wipe at it, but his hand catches yours midair.

Your eyes slowly make their way back to his. Arthur’s large, rough hand places yours gently upon your thigh.

"Ain't no need for you to be gettin' any blood on you on my account."

"But it's alright for you to get bloody for me?"

He tilts his head down, his eyes hidden by that hat, and he taps your hip before letting you go. You immediately miss the warmth of his hands on you.

"Always, darlin’. ”

[twola]

Your latest reblog of Arthur shaming himself in the mirror made me think of how badly I wanna jump his bones in front of one 🪞🪞

Mirror Image

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

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

“Ugh, you ugly bastard….”

God damnit. You’re sure he thinks you can’t hear him from the open door to the balcony, but the self-deprecating muttering he is doing under his breath reaches your ears and you sigh. Gripping the wooden railing overlooking Strawberry, your eyes flutter closed for a moment and you curse all those who came before you that made him think this way.

“No wonder they all leave you…”

“You know something I don’t?” Your voice cuts across the room, making his shoulder jolt and catching him off guard, something you’re surprised by, gunslinger that he is.

Arthur turns away from the mirror, scratching at the back of his neck sheepishly, knowing he’s been caught.

You don’t let him spiral any further, crossing your arms over your chest in a huff, “Are you ending this between us?”

“What -no…sweetheart-” He sputters, his cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red.

“Then why are you talking like that? I ain’t leaving you.”

Arthur looks down at the floor, “You will-”

“I won’t.” You step closer, the small heel of your boots thumping on the floor as your brow sets, narrowing your eyes as you raise your voice, “Why… why do I feel like I have to constantly prove to you that I’m not going anywhere?”

“Cause you deserve better than a sour-faced idiot like me,” Arthur snaps back, realizing his tone only after the words have spilled out, seeing you wince slightly at the outburst, “Sweetheart…”

You sigh again, and let your arms down from your chest, looking at the floor for a moment before pursing your lips in frustration. After a moment, you march pointedly toward him, catching him off guard again as you press your frame against him, hands maneuvering his large body in a quarter turn so that the two of you are prominently displayed in the reflection. 

“What’re you doin’-”

Arthur audibly groans as you sink to your knees, gazing up at him as your hands move to unbutton the fly of his trousers, and then the lower buttons of his union suit as his pale skin becomes visible to you. 

“Darl- you don’t-”

You cut him off further by pulling his burgeoning cock from his pants, coaxing it to fullness as you continue to look up at him. His hands curl into fists at his side, and with a glance toward the mirror, his eyes follow yours to see the reflection of the two of you. As he breathes out heavily from his nose, you return to your ministrations, pumping him until he stands rigid and blood-filled. His gaze is locked on the mirror as you lean toward him, taking his member into the warm cavern of your mouth.

You suck at him, bobbing back and forth on his shaft as one of his hands finds its way to your head, his fingers pulsing as your tongue pressed against the head of his cock before you take him completely into the warm cavern of your mouth again.

Pulling off of him with a wet sound, you find his gaze in the mirror, slack jawed and panting, his free hand’s knuckles white at his side from trying to hold restraint.

You lean in and press your lips to the underside of his cock, making all six foot of him shiver, before standing to your full height. 

“Jesus, woman-” Arthur pants, his hand flying to his cock to stroke it, but you bat his arm away with one hand as the other wraps around his spit-slicked cock. 

“Why is it so hard for you to think you deserve good things?”

He frowns, about to open his mouth before he has to bite his lip as you catch him on a downstroke. You give his cock several more pumps before moving half a step back, pulling your blouse out from where it is tucked into your skirt. He’s unable to do anything but watch you in that mirror as you quickly disrobe - your blouse is tossed to the side. Your skirt pools at your feet. You kick your boots off somewhere behind you. You pull your chemise overhead and throw it to the floor. Your bloomers join your skirt around your ankles.

“Look at me.” You order, and his eyes snap from the mirror and back to you, lust-blown and wide with surprise. 

“You deserve to fuck me.” You state with force, grabbing one of his hands and shoving it between your legs, where moisture gathers, “You deserve to warm your cock in me and fuck me til you can’t anymore.”

He is completely flustered, only able to rub at your folds after a moment of gathering himself, breathing heavily as his other hand rubs his neglected cock.

After several moments of enjoying him touching that sensitive skin, you turn around, pressing your back against him, wiggling your hips against his pelvis for a moment before leaning forward, laying your arms upon the dresser as you gaze upon him in the mirror, your bodies side-profile in the reflection.

“Take what you deserve, Arthur.” You whisper, bent over at the waist in front of the mirror, and in an instant, he’s rushing that half a step forward as he unhooks his suspenders, his pants shoved to his knees as he guides his cock into your waiting cunt.

He slides in almost embarrassingly easily, and when you feel his hips press against your rear, he groans, holding still for a moment, his hands flying to your hips as he tries not to come simply from the rhapsody of being sheathed in your warmth.

You give him that moment to gather himself before throwing your hips back, urging him to move, and he grunts in surprise before taking the hint, quickly finding a rhythm of thrusting himself into you, staring at the two of you in that mirror, a full reflection of the carnal joining of your bodies.

“Say it.” You keen, arching your back to take him deeper still.

“Say -god- say wh-what?” He grunts out between thrusts, his hands tight around your hips as he watches his cock piston in and out of you, well glossed with your slick each time he pulls out.

“That you deserve t-this-” Your composure falls as the head of his cock hits that spot within you that makes your knees shake. 

“S-sweetheart-” Arthur grunts as he tightens his grip on your hips as you nearly stumble, whining as you grip the dresser for dear life.

“Say it, goddamnit-” you nearly yell, your mouth hanging open as you pant, one of your hands snaking between your legs and rubbing yourself above where he spears into you.

“Fuck - Jesus…” Arthur throws his gaze to the ceiling before breathing out heavily through his nose, trying to recenter himself, “I-I deserve this.”

“You deserve m-me.”

“God, darlin’. I d-deserve you.”

“You, agh- you deserve to fill me up.”

That, that, is something he is not able to articulate into words. He lurches forward, groaning loudly, his entire body crashing into yours, emptying himself into your velvet core, gasping like a damn fish out of water.

You’re bent over the dresser, panting, your nakedness covered by the six foot frame of your beloved, whose forehead rests on the curve of your neck as he comes down from his release. After a few centering moments, he grunts as he extricates himself from you, and you cannot help the whine that escapes you at the loss of his flesh. The space that he carved for himself within your body is now empty, the warm drip of his release down your inner thighs the only evidence of your joining.

“Y’gonna -” you breathe out heavily as you push yourself to stand, your knees shaking slightly as you wince, continuing to lean over the dresser, “Y’gonna stop with that bullshit now?”

Arthur doesn't respond, and as you clench your teeth to lecture him again, you catch the view of him in that mirror - he’s completely stricken, his gaze unable to be drawn from the reflection of the wet streaks of him that trail down from your inner thighs. He stands there, breath still heavy and full, pants at his knees and cock hanging as it softens.

You close your eyes and let a long breath out your nose, and figure you’ve lectured him enough for the day. Getting him to truly believe that he’s deserving of good things… it’s going to take more than just today.

His fingertips surprise you, sliding between your thighs to trace where his spend stains your skin. It’s gentle, the way he touches you, until his large hands grasp at your thighs and lifting you up and into his embrace as you yelp in surprise.

“Bed- ain’t done with y’."

[twola]

I’m back! After a road trip and some time off, here’s another little smut piece for you. I am also still working on requests, if you have one in!

Cleanliness and Godliness

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

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

One can’t write Arthur smut without using the overdone bathtub trope.

taglist: @pinkiemme

“Jesus Christ, Arthur.” You look at him with a pained expression - and he sheepishly stands in front of you in the alley - covered in mud, blood, and god knows what else.

The sweet smells and sights of Valentine after market day, of course. The sun had begun to set over the peaks of West Elizabeth in the distance.

“Ain’t me who started it.” The outlaw grumbles, taking his worn leather hat from his head and shaking flakes of drying mud off of it before slapping it back onto his head.

You cringe in disgust, seeing that he did not do a thorough job of cleaning the hat.

“C’mon. Let's get you a bath over at Saints.” You sigh, hitching up your skirts as you walk past him into the muddy street, stepping toward the one hotel in this cowtown the gang has stumbled into.

“Woman-”

“No. Don’t you woman me, Mister Morgan.” You turn around, dropping one side of your skirt and pointing at him with your finger, “You’re covered in horse shit. Take a damn bath. I don’t want you anywhere near me til you do.”

The man frowns, and you cross your arms over your chest with a loud humph. There’s even mud in his beard - his hair, everywhere.

“You go take a bath and I’ll get us a room tonight. How’s that for a proposition?” You say, tapping on the ground impatiently with your foot.

A smile starts to appear on his dirty face.

“A room, y’say?” He steps closer to you, at which you very quickly pedal backward before he can grab you.

“After,” you raise and lower your finger at his frame, “You go and clean yourself up. Got it?”

“Yes ma’am.”

You smile as you turn and gather your skirts from the muddy street and make your way to the hotel.

-

Arthur was a man of the outdoors. Riding and sleeping under the stars. Civilization be damned.

But he was not going to complain about how good this bath felt, water steaming hot, his muscles relaxing after a fight, his weary bones finally at rest.

He ran his bruised knuckles through the hot water, wincing slightly as the water burns a small spot of broken skin. Arthur was able to steal a glimpse of his face before stepping into the tub - his three-day-old beard was unable to hide the darkening bruise along his jaw.

The bastard got lucky with a swing, that was all.

The latch of the door slowly unlocks, and Arthur sits up in the bath, torn from his thoughts.

“Y’need some help in there?” A soft voice calls through the crack in the door.

He smiles, reclining again.

“Hmm, maybe.”

The door opens and a female figure slides in. You stand there with a playful smile on your face as Arthur greets you with one of his own.

“I don’t remember payin’ no wash girl.” Arthur drawls, turning his head toward you, a lazy, relaxed smile on his face as he leans back in the tub.

You close the door behind you quietly.

“On the house, Mister.” You smile at him as you start to unbutton your blouse, “Want me to give you the whole experience?”

Arthur raises his eyebrow, nodding dumbly as he sits up in the tub. You smile back at him, heart warmed, as you step closer to the tub.

Buttons thread through eyelets in the steamy room as your skin is bared to him, stripping your blouse and dropping it to the floor. Your chemise leaves little of your chest to the imagination, gauzy in the candlelight. The drapes on the windows are partially drawn, leaving the room in a dim hush.

“You sure are handsome, mister.” You laugh as you sit on the rim of the large iron tub, one of your hands landing on his shoulder and squeezing lightly. Your thumb works in a circle over his shoulder blade and he hums in appreciation.

“Then you must get some ugly fellers comin’ in here.”

You frown lightly before reaching down into the water and checking its temperature.

“Lemme get you cleaned up.”

You gather suds in your hand and stand up, leaning over the tub and him to reach his arm on the opposite side of you. Rubbing gently at his skin, you snicker to yourself as you notice where his gaze has settled: directly in front of him, where your chemise top hangs low and your breasts sway gently with your movements.

Arthur’s hand raises from the water, his fingers grasping at the lace trim of your chemise and slowly pulling it down as you lean over him, your breath stuttering slightly as the fabric brushes over your nipples before he frees one breast to the open air, only inches from his face.

You’ve stopped bathing him, your hand bracing yourself on the side of the tub as you lean over it, gooseflesh breaking out over your skin, even with the warmth of the steaming water beneath you.

Arthur looks up at you, for one moment, his fingers still on your chemise, wetness spreading out over the cotton and lace.

You’re throbbing between your thighs, wanting to lean further and press your sensitive nipple to his mouth - your breathing getting faster as he pulls at the neckline again, your other breast freed from the fabric.

He leans forward and blessedly takes one of your hardening, pebbled nipples into his mouth and sucks it with a gentle pull from his lips. His hand moves to the other breast, kneading it slowly alongside his slow suckles.

You cannot help but to whine aloud as you feel his tongue lave around your peaked skin, his rough and calloused fingers enclosing on the opposite one, gently squeezing to replicate the pressure of his mouth on your skin.

The water in the tub sloshes as he sits up further, pressing his face into your breasts even more as his other hand begins to work himself under the surface. You moan aloud as you steal a look over your shoulder, the soap-covered surface of the water breaking and you can see his hand stroking up and down his hardening length.

Your bloomers are damp as the fabric clings to your skin, the hand closest to you moving to press your fingers against yourself through layers of fabric, moaning needily aloud as Arthur sucks hard on your breast.

He’s panting underneath you, pulling away from your breast as his eyes trace your arm down to where you press against yourself fervently.

“Christ - get in here before I pull you in -” he rumbles out as he yanks your chemise up from your skirt, untucking it as you pull away and stand next to the tub. You quickly shuck it from your frame, pulling it over your head and tossing it to the floor as Arthur gazed upon your chest, your nipple damp and shiny with his saliva as you begin to untie your skirts.

You look up from untying your skirts to see Arthur laying back in the tub, languidly stroking his cock in the water, eyes trained on you, gaze unblinking. His mouth hangs open as he pants, and god, if he isn’t the most beautiful sight you’ve seen.

Finally, the knots are untied and you let the skirts pool at your feet, slipping your shoes off as your fingers dip into the waistband of your bloomers. You push them downwards, revealing to his hungry eyes the curve of your ilium, the starting of the dark thatch of hair at the apex of your thighs, until finally, those too pool at your feet.

He smiles up at you, the wonderful man, bruised cheek and all, and takes his hand from his cock to reach toward you, the warm bath water tracing down your skin as his thumb gently glides along your hip.

“C’mere, darlin’.”

You lean back over the tub to take his lips with yours, smiling into the kiss, before drawing back and lifting one of your legs to climb into the tub. His hands immediately clamp to your waist to pull you in, and with little further movement from you, you’re straddling him in the tub, lowering yourself into the warm water and settling astride his hips.

Both of your hands float southward, grasping his cock and he hisses in pleasure, his hips jutting upward in the tub against yours.

You raise up on your knees again, holding the base of his cock with one hand, while the other moves up his chest to his bruised cheek.

“You’re so handsome, even with half your face black and blue.” You whisper playfully into his lips before kissing him deeply.

He grunts back against you, “May wanna get your eyesight checked.”

You pout again for a moment, biting your tongue as the thought flees your mind. Arthur is slowly, gently pulling your hips down onto him. You take the hint and press your hips downward.

“Oh, oh-”, you whine as you lower yourself onto him, his cock carving out that space in you that you always long to have filled, “God, Arthur, you're so good.”

Your hands fly to the lip of the tub behind his head as he pulls you down all the way, the stretch of him always painfully sweet.

“You’re the o-only one I want.” You gasp as you bottom out, your rear landing on his thigh.

“Terrible judgment you’ve got there.” Arthur laves his tongue across your earlobe with his hands spread over your hips as you move yours to his shoulders.

“I love you.” You whine against his temple as you roll your hips once, and the groan of pleasure that escapes his lips is the only reply he can give for several moments.

The sound of water sloshing fills the room alongside heavy panting and barely concealed moans.

“Christ, woman-” Arthur juts his hips upward, turning his head inward to catch your earlobe again, “I love you so damn much.” He groans into your ear and you mewl, leaning backward to take more of him.

His lips return to your breast, sucking at your nipple as you roll your hips over his in the tub, both of his hands sure on your waist, aiding in your movement. You whine as you feel him start to buck his hips up in time, meeting you with thrusts that force him deeper, deeper into your tight cunt.

“Arthur-” You cry out, head falling back as you come, muscles seizing and cunt clenching hard around him. He grunts in response and continues thrusting up into you, his mouth hanging open as the water sloshes up the side of the tub.

You’re coming down from your high when you return to him, gasping like a fish out of water as he fucks up into you, your forehead pressing against his as your fingers curl around the lip of the tub again.

His teeth grit, trying to suppress a moan as his powerful arms move you, pulling your hips up and off of him as he closes his eyes and breathes out through his nose, and looking at the reddening of his chest and the noises he’s trying to stifle, you know he’s coming in the warm water.

He comes down from his high panting, cheeks and chest flushed from both exertion and the bath water. You press your forehead against his and smile, breathing heavily yourself.

Your hands move from the lip of the tub to cup his cheeks, and you lean down once again to press your lips to his, which he heartily accepts. Your tongues press against each other sweetly, his arms tight around your waist. Nothing could ruin this moment.

Unless…

“You need some help in there, mister?”

Normally, the girls have the sense to wait for a response, but for god knows what reason, this one simply unlatches the door and begins to step in.

“Oh!” The girl’s eyes widen as you move to cover your breasts, crying out as Arthur sits up and draws you into his embrace, one hand around your back and the other tucking you into his shoulder.

“No- no, ‘m fine.” Arthur grits out, trying to move to cover you decently.

After a moment of recovery, the bath girl groans and rolls her eyes, pulling the door shut as she grumbles under her breath.

“Ain’t they supposed to wait until you tell them to come in?” You grit into his shoulder, arms still wrapped around your chest, as you sit up, warily eyeing the door.

Arthur shrugs, one finger moving under your chin and pulling you back toward him.

“Well, we know she ain’t coming back anytime soon.”

[twola]

Hiya! Lemme start of by saying, I’m a HUGE fan of you and your commitment to bringing our sad cowboy infinite orgasms. Out here doing the lords work. I was just wondering, if you’re still doing requests, could we get some cock warming? Idk why the idea of that makes me so feral. I just need it. Do what you wish with it, should it strike your muse. I do prefer HH Arthur… 👀. I jus love your writing and hope you are doing well!

Snowbound

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

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

“I d-don’t know w-why you thought this was good idea.”

A gruff snort is your response, and you can do nothing more than bury your wind-chapped face into the back of his heavy coat, your arms around his waist as the horse beneath you struggles through the snowdrift. The scarf wrapped around your head barely takes the edge off the biting chill.

Follow up on a lead about some abandoned riches in the mountains, it couldn’t still be snowing up there, he said. So goddamn sure of himself.

“Th-this is de-decidedly the m-most unromantic t-thing ever, Arthur M-Morgan.” Your muffled voice cracks against the fabric of his coat.

“Alrigh’, alright. Arthur huffs, his breath visible in the cold air, “There’s a place round the other side of the lake we can get outta the wind.”

An icy gust blows across the frozen Barrow Lagoon and you squeal miserably as you tuck yourself in behind Arthur once again. He curses as he leads the horse over to that abandoned cabin.

The mare slogs around the lagoon’s shoreline, finally reaching the cabin as Arthur extends his arm to help you slide off from her rump. He follows, landing heavily in the snow. You slowly make your way into the cabin as Arthur leads his horse to a covered area on the side of the small abode.

By the time he has the horse settled, you’ve started a small fire in the cast iron stove, long abandoned. You stand in front of it, rubbing your hands furiously.

“I’m so c-cold…” you whine, your voice cracking as you huddle into yourself. This abandoned cabin on the lake’s shore did little to stave off the cold outside.

He shrugs the coat off and wraps it around your shoulders; it dwarves you as you frown, looking up at him.

“Arthur -“ You scold, trying to bat off the coat.

He frowns, “C’mon, sweetheart. You ain’t got enough meat on your bones to keep warm, ‘m fine.”

You succeed in pulling the coat off, and shove it back at his chest. Before he can respond, you point toward the floor a few feet away from the stove he had gotten lit. “Sit down. We can share the coat.”

Arthur grumbles under his breath, but acquiesces. He grunts as he lowers himself to the floor, crossing his legs as he pulls the heavy coat around his shoulders, holding it open for you to crawl into his lap.

“Well, ain’t we sharin?”

You nod, taking the two steps closer to him, but to his surprise, you don’t turn to sit in his lap with your back toward him. In one fluid motion, you hitch your skirt up and spread your legs on either side of him before lowering yourself down, facing him.

You situate yourself, your legs winding around his hips, your chests pressed together, your skirts parted around him. It takes him a flustered moment to settle his hands at your waist, looking up at you with a blush blazed across his cheekbones. You give him a sly smile back as you wind your arms around his neck, sitting fully in his lap, a head above him as you settle down.

His eyes blaze even wider as you roll your core against his rapidly filling cock. Before he can say anything, you press your lips hard against his, his hat falling down the floor. It takes him several surprised seconds before he returns the kiss and tightens his grip around you.

You cannot help but to grind yourself against him, and his hands move down your back to cup your rear, holding you tighter into his embrace. It seems that he has finally gained his confidence as he squeezes the globes of your rear hard.

He pulls away from your lips and pants slightly, frowning, “As much as I want to, don't think its a good idea to take our clothes off.”

You roll your hips over his again and he digs his teeth into his bottom lip to stop himself from groaning, “D-don’t need to -” you trail off as you start to pull at the hem of your skirt, bunching it up at your waist.

Arthur gets your drift immediately, leaning backward and unbuttoning his pants and union suit as you lean up on to your knees above his lap. You grasp at your bloomers, pulling one leg open as Arthur draws his hard cock out from where he had unbuttoned his clothing. One of his hands reaches to your hip to brace you, as one of your hands rests on his shoulder to do the same.

He grasps the base of his cock as you hold your bloomers to the side, and you slowly lower down onto him, sucking in a breath as the hard column of his flesh pierces you - stretches you. After a few moments, you are able to take him fully, and the backs of your thighs rest in his lap.

“J-just stay there,” you breathe, one of your hands gently moving from his his back to softly trace his jaw, “Let me keep you warm.”

Arthur’s eyes flutter shut as he leans into your touch. His large arms wound around you tighten as he leans his forehead against yours.

There's an odd sort of pride you have in this moment - where he had been wrapping you in his coat, in his arms, trying to keep you warm - you can at least do this for him. For all the time his strength and size had been used for you - protecting you, providing for you, keeping you warm - you cannot help to smile as you note the tenseness of his jaw subside. You can give him this.

Wound so tightly between each other, you press your lips against his before playfully clenching the muscles of your core. Arthur’s eyes shoot open and he cannot stifle the groan that escapes from his chest, deep and low.

“D-do that again.” He pants, nuzzling his cheek against yours, his arms pulling you against him tighter.

He squirms against you, his hips bucking up a little as you clench against him. He draws his arms around you tighter - you're smothered in him - and groans aloud as he buries his face into your bosom.

“God, darlin’, you’re so warm-”

You tighten your legs around him, pressing your face into the curve of his shoulder. He jolts against you as you clench down on him again.

“Could you come like this?” You breathe into his ear.

He pulls back, his pupils blown wide and rimmed only slightly blue. He nods, almost dumbly, pleasure-addled and unable to speak.

The two of you drown in the intimacy. At his silent answer, you swear you gush a little, your cunt so full of him that you swear you'd never feel so complete again. You thread your fingers through his hair, his hands sweep lovingly around your back.

“Come for me.” You whisper, cupping his cheeks in your hands, tilting his head back slightly recenter his gaze into your eyes.

Arthur breathes out heavily, squeezing his eyes shut as he shudders beneath you, and you feel warmth blossom between you - he fills you with his need, his devotion, he fills you with himself.

Overwhelmed by it all, you tuck your head into his shoulder as he pants against your collarbone. You whine softly as you come also, a soft, gentle tipping over the edge, shuddering around him for a moment. The two of you come down from your highs, wrapped tightly around each other.

Arthur pulls that blue coat tighter around the both of you - and as the snow falls outside, you are warm and content in each other’s embrace.

[twola]

idk if this is too vague, but arthur/f!reader in the classic trope of, oh my god I can't believe we both almost just died sex? did they both almost drown? Was there a fire? did he save her life? who knows! i feel like arthur would sees the woman he loves almost die and immediately fuck about it

Okay this has been in my asks for WAY too long and it’s such a good one and I wanted to do it justice.

Left Unsaid

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

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

When he think's he's almost lost you in a run-in with a rival gang, Arthur quickly gets over his nervousness in approaching you.

The bloodcurdling scream jolts him from sleep, making him stumble up from where he was sitting on a rickety chair in the main room of the old cabin. At first, he thinks it's a dream, but when the sound of breaking glass pierces the night, Arthur shoots up; the chair falling to the ground in a clatter as he quickly shakes the vestiges of sleep from his mind.

This abandoned cabin off of Eris Field seemed the perfect place to spend the night instead of making the trek all the way back to Shady Belle tonight - your yawning from behind him on his horse had him chuckling as he made the decision to stay - doing the gentlemanly thing and giving you the bedroom with the old single bed. As much as he’d like to be sharing it with you - he remained externally aloof - proclaiming that he’d sleep on the chair in the main room. He certainly did not dare to ask to share your bed - not now, probably not ever. 

But the rustling and thumping behind the door where you sleep has his heart racing - his hand flies to his revolver as he readies himself to throw his shoulder into the door and shoot whatever it is that is making that noise, but the door bursts open before he gets the chance.

A man stands on the threshold - dirty, and grimy, with a faded gray woolen military uniform and a yellow bandana around his neck.

Of course, goddamn Lemoyne Raiders.

The raider holds up his knife in front of him, and in the din of movement and chaos around them, Arthur can see the liquid sheen over the steel in the man’s hand.

The knife, dripping with blood. The man, seemingly unharmed. The door, slightly ajar, to the bedroom where you slept.

A cold stone settles in Arthur’s gut as he puts the pieces together. In an instant, he snarls, diving toward the man with little regard for his own person, tackling him to the ground and ready to rip him apart with his bare hands for what he’s done to you. As Arthur mounts himself on the man’s chest and begins to strangle him, the movement knocks the oil lantern off the table, crashing to the wooden floor and immediately bursting into flame.

The man’s neck snaps between Arthur’s hands and he immediately leaps up, moving toward the bedroom where you were sleeping.

Another body crashes into him, a Lemoyne Raider dressed like he is straight out of a Civil War battle tackles Arthur to the ground, the two of them tumbling along the floor and breaking through the rickety door to the porch. Arthur rolls backward, unsheathing his hunting knife as he grits his teeth, ready to slice this damn bastard into shreds.

Of course, the wannabe soldier is no match for the hardened outlaw. They sure as hell don’t make them like they used to. Arthur easily dodges a swing of the man’s fist and throws his weight forward. He sinks his knife into the raider’s gut, and immediately shoves him to the ground. He gurgles blood from his mouth as Arthur rushes over him, back toward the house.

The flames burst out the windows as he barrels back toward the door, grabbing at the handle and cursing aloud as it burns him. 

The constriction in his chest has settled into a churning in his gut as he prepared to kick the door in. At this point would he be finding your charred, lifeless body, having bled out on the floor because he couldn’t protect you?

“Arthur-!”

He steps off the porch, not sure if he is lightheaded or hallucinating, but you move toward him, hitching your skirts, blood covering your blouse, your hair wild.

“Jesus-” He crashes into you, having nearly leaped the final few steps, crushing you into his chest, nearly causing you to stumble.

He yanks you back, large hands on your shoulders, and looks you up and down, eyeing the blood patch on your blouse.

“N-not mine.” You breathe, but he does not move his hand from your ribcage. It presses inward, against the wet cotton, splaying across your side as if he did not believe you, checking for where the knife would have marred your flesh.

“Arthur-” You whisper, your hands tight on his biceps, “I’m alright.”

His eyes dart back up to yours, searching, pupils dilated, breathing heavily.

“Ar-”

You’re cut off completely as he pulls you against him and presses his lips desperately against yours, muffling your surprised yelp as his tongue demands entrance into your mouth. After a moment of shock, you melt into his embrace, fingers tightening on his shirt sleeves as you open your mouth to him.

He kisses you like you are the air he breathes. Like you are some kind of salvation… like he thought he almost lost something.

Arthur pulls back, breathing heavily, a flush having taken over his face, “Christ-” he goes to unwind his arms from you, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

It’s his turn to be cut off as your hands immediately travel to the collar of his shirt and you pull him down to your lips to kiss him again, needy as you moan into his mouth.

His arms immediately recircle you, hands moving down from your ribs, down, down to your waist, your hips, your rear. Hooking his arms around the back of your thighs, you’re lifted up, squealing in surprise into his mouth as you wrap your legs around his waist. 

Continuing to press into each other's mouths, you barely notice him walking the two of you back, further from the flaming cabin, into the woodline, and finally against a tree trunk a safe distance away. He pulls back, panting as you recline against it, his arms tight under your thighs.

He gazes upon your kiss-swollen lips; your heaving chest as you breathe heavily, your pupils blown wide in arousal. Arthur takes the opportunity to roll his hips once, his hardening cock pressing against your cunt, and your eyes flutter closed as a needy, breathy whine escapes your lips.

“Arthur-”

He does it again, maybe for his sake as much as your own, the blood rushing to his groin and filling his cock properly. He grits his teeth as the rolling becomes rutting, your gasps driving him insane.

Before he gets to the point of no return, he slows his hips and leans over to recapture your lips in another kiss. As he pulls his 

“Thinkin’ you was dead back there-” He pushes his lips to yours again, “Christ- I… I never told you-” 

One of his hands leaves your thighs, but you have no fear he’s going to drop you. He buries it in layers of cotton, pulling at your skirts to move them from his way, reaching your bloomers and pressing against your cunt, watching your face intently as you moan, the cotton separating you quickly dampening against his fingers.

He leans in again and groans against your neck. Grabbing the cotton tightly, he yanks until he feels the seams give way, the tearing sound ringing in his ears as he delves within the ruined fabric to your soaking folds. You jolt against him and whine loudly as he slides his fingers along the seam of your body.

Arthur covers your mouth with his own as he sinks his fingers into you, working you open as you clutch desperately at his shoulders.

After you’ve cried out several times in the night, his hand leaves you and you sigh at the loss, he shushes you gently as he works at the buttons of his trousers, finally freeing his cock from his pants after moments of fiddling. His hand returns to your thigh as he adjusts you in his arms. The head of his cock presses gently against the rim of your cunt.

Your hands move from his shoulders to cup his face, your thumb tracing his lower lip gently before he sucks the tip into his mouth, his eyes trained on yours.

He pulses his hips and his cockhead slips inside you. Your brows crinkle with the first vestiges of the ache of penetration, and he leans forward again to press his lips upon your forehead.

“What did you never tell me?” You whisper as he holds you on the cusp of joining, the precipice of sheathing himself into you.

One of his hands leaves your thigh, though you are completely unafraid of falling with your legs wrapped around him and the strength of his other arm. His fingers brush back a strand of your hair from your forehead, tucking it gently behind your ear before his rough and calloused palm rests on your cheek.

“You’d have died and I woulda never told you I’m in love with you.”

Your eyebrows raise in shock as you clutch at him, and while you remain silent, after a moment, you pull him closer with your legs, nudging his back with your ankles, and he slowly slides himself inside you, inch by inch, until your hips touch and you mewl with the stretch. He hums softly before slowly, gently, rocking his hips, starting a slow rhythm as you get used to him.

His powerful arms keep you suspended against the tree trunk with each roll of his hips, each glide of the inches of him in and out of you, well glossed and hot with your slick.

Arthur’s lips press to yours incessantly, muffling your gasps and whines as he presses into you. After one particularly deep thrust, you throw your head back in ecstasy, bumping against the trunk of the tree.

“Careful there, darlin’,” Arthur slows his hips, and tightening his grip on your thighs, he pulls you away from the tree, you yelp and tighten your legs around his hips. He chuckles softly as he walks you, still joined, a few steps from the tree and slowly lowers the both of you to the ground on a patch of grass. Spreading himself out over you, he buries his head against your neck as he lets go of your thighs, his forearms on either side of your shoulders, rocking his hips into yours again.

The staccato whine of the syllables of his name escapes you as you hook your ankles around each other over his back. Carding your hands through his hair, your fingers interweave between his honeyed strands, his hat long gone in your desperation to join yourselves.

He presses himself up above you as his thrusts become more erratic, his breathing loud and heavy as he pounds you into the ground.

“God-” you cry out as your hands grasp his shirt, “Arthur, yes-”

He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, looming over you as he careens toward completion.

You arch your back, your thighs wrapping tighter around him as you begin to babble - “Yes- Arthur… I love you too-”, another gasp as he hits that spot within you, “God - I love you so much-”

That’s it. There it is, stripped bare and bleeding out like an open wound, his heart catching in his chest at your confession, and his amazement leaves him speechless as he thrusts into you once more, holding himself as deep as he can possibly get into you, feeling you pulse and clutch around him, wailing your pleasure into the night. It’s only a moment more before he has the wherewithal to yank himself from you, in the nick of time as he spurts his seed over your cunt, dripping white into the dark curls at the joining of your legs.

He’s gasping, you’re gasping, and he groans as he settles himself to the side of you, barely able to hold himself up with the exertion. Your legs hang open as you pant, flushed from your cheeks down your neck.

One of his large hands spreads out over your chest, against your racing heart, and you turn your head toward him, breathing out through your nose as a smile graces your lips.

“Probably should get outta here before any more stragglers find us.” He says, out of breath as he removes his hand to tuck himself back into his trousers. You nod and sit up, pulling your skirts down over your legs.

“D’ya think…” you trail off as you watch him rebutton his pants before he pushes himself to stand. His hair is ridiculously ruffled from the amount of times you've run your fingers through it.

“Mm?” He holds out his hand to you to help you up. 

You take it, and he pulls you up into his embrace, his hand secure on your lower back.

“Was wondering if we could spend the rest of the night in Rhodes or somewhere instead of heading all the way back to camp…” You ask as you lay a hand on his chest.

He squeezes you closer to him. 

“Sounds mighty nice… certainly wouldn't mind a stay in a hotel room tonight.”

[twola]

Sorta got carried away with the prompt list…(I must be ovulating because DAMN the pregnancy prompts got me going)

But #161, 154,151,140,125- where the reader is preggo and miserable walking around camp so the gangs giving out ideas (sexy time) and Arthur’s like ;) then later on the reader is like ya know what get over here.

Do with it what you will.

You do the best with anything you type!

Xoxo

Oh - trust me, I am into this.

I'm also eight months pregnant myself so I am SUPER into this. Am I projecting something here? Perhaps…

Pain Relief

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI, Pregnancy Sex, Breeding Kink

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

You are very over it at this point. Really. Very over it. It’s a struggle to get yourself out of the cot that you and Arthur share. 

The morning sun beats down on the worn canvas of your shared tent, and you know it's by some divine providence that Miss Grimshaw hasn’t summoned you to work yet. Or maybe it was Arthur snapping at her when he saw you struggling to carry a basket of laundry.

That must be it.

But a laze you are not - even now, when your swollen stomach makes any kind of movement difficult - when your sleep is nearly non-existent and the pains and swelling and overall discomfort are driving you crazy.

Pushing yourself up, you huff, annoyed that seven months ago you were chasing down bounty hunters on horseback and now getting up out of a cot makes you lose your breath. 

God, this was terrible. Finally getting around to standing up, you glance at yourself in the small mirror Arthur uses for shaving. Your chemise stretched taught over the swell of your belly. The dark circles under your eyes from lack of quality sleep. Sighing, you run your fingers through your long hair to tame it, or at least attempt to. After fighting with the fabric of your dress to cover your frame, you shove your feet into your boots and breathe out heavily as you sit back on the cot to tie the laces. God damn everything is a struggle with how swollen your belly is.

By the time you make it out of the tent, the midmorning sun beats down, and you shield your eyes for a moment before you feel a small tug on your skirts. You look down to see Jack give you a toothy grin, one small hand fisting the cotton of your skirt and the other clutching the most recent toy Charles had carved for him.

“Auntie, you’re so big! You look ready to pop." Jack pipes up excitedly.

You laugh as you hear a cluck of disapproval as Abigail follows in her son’s footsteps, “Jack - that’s very rude of ya - shouldn’t make comments about ladies like that.”

“It’s alright, Abigail,” You smile at her as she frowns down at the boy, “I do feel ready to pop.”

“Y’look like the baby’s dropped… ain’t long now.” Abigail’s eyes trail down to your belly as she shoos Jack off to play elsewhere.

“Too long in my opinion.” You roll your eyes and Abigail chuckles in return.

“Ladies!”

Susan Grimshaw’s voice cuts through the peace of the morning. Abigail’s gaze looks past you to where the sharp disappointment came from, and you frown as you hear footsteps stomp ever closer before the camp matriarch pushes into your view.

“There’s laundry to be done,” Susan eyes you up and down, “You can certainly sit and still do the washing. C’mon, get to it.”

She waves her hands at you dismissively, Abigail rolls her eyes and starts to head over toward where the other women have started doing the day’s wash.

You scowl at Grimshaw’s retreating figure, rubbing your aching lower back as you too make your way over to the edge of the camp, where the large tub is filled with soapy water and the pile of men’s shirts seems to be overflowing. You sigh tiredly, finding the stool 

Mary-Beth places her hand on your back slightly over your own, massaging gently as you sigh in a moment of temporary relief. 

"Try walking, I hear it helps. Tilly and I will cover for you for a few minutes.”

You thank her quietly and slowly make your way to the woodline of camp, taking a few minutes to walk back and forth before giving up and sitting down on the stool, letting out a long, labored breath as you wince in pain.

“Y’know….”

You open one of your eyes to see Karen across the tub, a mischievous look on her face. Cocking your eyebrow, you wait for her to continue.

Karen smirks, "You should try having sex."

Well - volume was never her strong suit. Across the camp, the men’s conversation falls silent as several pairs of eyes glance at you.

You flush from your hairline to your chest as you dunk a shirt into the tub, trying to ignore the stares you know you're getting as Karen merely chuckles.

“Aye, Arthur- sounds like you're needed elsewhere.” Javier chuckles and you're mortified.

You spare the quickest glance up in his direction, the man who got you into this mess in the first place. You can see Arthur’s smug grin from under the rim of his hat.

-

You silently scrub at the rest of the laundry load, handing shirts to Tilly for her to wring out and hang on the line.

“Don’t let her get to you, you know how Karen is. Tilly places a hand on your shoulder and squeezes gently to assure you before returning to the laundry. You sigh, taking another shirt and dunking it into the water.

A pair of boots land in your vision before a hand reaches down toward you. You look up to see Arthur ready to pull you up to stand, a gentle smile on his face.

“C’mon now sweetheart.” 

You sigh and take his hand, secretly grateful for the assistance to stand up. He steadies you before pulling your hand to his lips and pressing them to your knuckles.

“How’s about you lay down for a little.” He offers, holding his arm out to you as you wind your own around it, letting him walk you slowly to the tent, holding back the canvas for you to step inside. 

You let out a long breath, bracing your lower back with both hands for a moment before sighing. There was just no getting comfortable at this point.

“C’mere, let me help you.”

Arthur stoops down on one knee and loosens your bootlaces enough that he can pull them from your feet one by one. You let a breath out once both boots are off, unable to deny it felt good to get your swollen feet out of them.

“Better?” He looks up at you for a moment and you nod, your hand moving from his shoulder that you were balancing on to your lower back again, idly rubbing at near-constant ache that has settled there. 

Arthur stands up and places a kiss to your forehead before turning around and taking his hat off, placing it on the small table where he kept his shaving kit.

Karen’s suggestion echoes in your mind as you watch him run his fingers through his short hair absentmindedly.

You roll your palm over your distended abdomen, frowning.

“You don’t have to lie and tell me you want me.” Your voice cuts through the silence and Arthur swings around to look at you, puzzled.

“Darlin’, it ain’t a lie. It’s never a lie.” He responds softly, taking a step closer to you.

“Really? Lookin’ like this… it does something for you?”

Arthur blushes before looking down at his boots. “Well, I… uh... Yes?”

You quirk your eyebrow, placing your hands on your hips, “I’m a goddamn watermelon-”

“You’re pregnant-”

“Literally swollen up like a damn cow-”

“C’mon now darlin’-”

And damn, if you can’t hold back the tears from collecting on your eyelashes as you spin away from him.

His broad arms wrap around your swollen waist, pulling you back half a step and against his large frame. One hand spreads wide over your belly as you feel him press his lips to the top of your head.

“I… ain’t the woman you was chasin’ after anymore.” You admit with a cracking voice, the tears spilling down your cheeks as your hand falls upon his over your belly, “Who knows when I’ll be able to ride or shoot or do anythin’ like that again.”

His lips move from the top of your head down to your earlobe, where he nips gently. Arthur’s low voice rumbles in your ear, causing a delightful shiver down your spine.

“Whole world knows you’re mine -” He pulls you another half backward and you gasp as you feel the long, hard line of him against your rear, “Christ, you’re the most beautiful thing alive, all big with my child.”

“A-Arthur - ” You whine as one of his hands cups a swollen breast through your blouse.

“Have half a mind to keep you like this.” Arthur continues, his other hand moving downward to slide between your legs and the needy sound that escapes your throat is loud enough to make him shush you as he presses at your core through layers of cotton.

Your hands fly to grasp his forearm as he gently gropes at your breast, and you turn your head up toward his and he greedily pushes his lips upon your own, tongue pressing inside your mouth as you moan into his.

You have no idea how long it is you spend wrapped up in his arms - your hips pressing back into his, his hands groping at your breasts and cunt, your knees shaking as you pant into his mouth. 

Those damned hands of this, they keep you under his spell as somehow, he unlaces your skirts and they fall to the ground in a heap around your ankles. He spins you around in his embrace, and his lips fly to your neck as he opens the buttons of your blouse. You let him pull the sleeves down your arm, leaving you in just an old cotton chemise stretched tight over your belly. The seam of your bloomers, soaked, chafes delightfully against your cunt.

It’s only another moment before he’s shrugging your chemise down over your shoulders to free your breasts.

“What’s gonna be the best for you?” Arthur whispers into your ear, his warm, somewhat rough palm engulfing your breast, squeezing it gently.

Your head tips backward as you lean against him, a high and flighty moan bubbling up from your chest. “On- on my side-”

Your chemise flutters to the floor, along with your bloomers, his hands pushing the cotton down of your body.

“Go on, get in the cot and get comfortable.” Arthur nips at your ear again and gives a playful swat to your rear.

You nod, eyes falling from his face to his hands as he pulls his suspenders down his arms and begins unbuttoning his work shirt. You back up two steps to the cot, slowly sitting down upon it, your gaze refusing to leave him as he strips himself down.

With the speed of a man on a mission, he rids himself of his boots and the rest of his clothing and stalks the few steps to the cot.  You turn yourself over to lay in it, burdened by your stomach as you let out a long breath as you finally settle down on your side, facing the wagon that makes up the side of the tent.

Arthur slides into the small cot next to you, that warm, big hand finding its way to your belly as he situates himself behind you, pressing all six feet of his frame against you, his body hard, hot, and wanting.

“You tell me what feels good, darlin’.” He mouths against your neck as his hand retracts behind your hip to stroke his cock.

You moan lowly and press your hips back against him, you can feel his smile on your skin as he guides himself to your entrance. The blunt head of his cock presses into the rim of your cunt, and his hand moves to sling your thigh back over his, opening you to him more.

“Mm, that feels good.” Your voice strains as he slides himself deeper into you, a deep, satisfied rumble coming from his chest when his hips press fully against your rear, fully sheathed in your cunt.

His arm swings across your hips, pulling your thigh backward even more as he languidly rolls himself into you. His fingers find that small bundle of nerves as he nibbles on your earlobe.

You mewl aloud at the stimulation, panting as he continues to press himself into you. His low, rough voice whispers in your ear, vacillating from sweet nothings to filthy utterances. The slide of his cock into your cunt is the constant, grounding thing as his fingers that rub at your clit speed up and slow down.

“A-Arthur-” you pitifully whine, gasping as you huddle toward that precipice. He grunts into your ear as he slightly picks up the speed of his hips rolling into yours, still gentle. He pinches at that nub and you’re gone, your legs shaking and hips seizing as you meek through your release, your slick glossing his cock and dripping from your body, even with him filling you.

“Tha’s my girl…” Arthur slurs as his hand moves up to cup at your lower belly, “Christ, I ain't ever gonna be able to stop fillin’ you-”

His murmurs fade into a groan as he presses forward one final time, burying himself deeply in your warmth as he shudders his release into you.

You sigh in contentment at the feeling, warmth blooming from your joined hips. His lips touch the back of your neck as his large hand rubs gently at your hip as he catches his breath.

Arthur gently pulls out, you gasp slightly at the feelings of the loss of his flesh and the dripping of his warm spend from your body. He shushes you with a kiss over your jaw, rubbing circles over your swollen belly.

“Feelin’ any better?”

Your hand covers his over your belly as you lean back fully into his embrace.

“Much better.”