#Red dead redemption 2 smut

[grugruel]

Saint, or Sinner.

Parings: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: You've had feelings for Arthur for quite some time now, but little did you know. That he has them for you, too.

After a rowdy night in Valentine, the group flees lawmen and end up in Strawberrys hotel. Whatever will occur?

Word count: 8.9 k

Warnings: Micha being Micah, bar fight/violence, plot with smut, mutual pining, soft Arthur, pinv sex, passionate sex, oral sex (f recieving), praise, pet names (girl, sweetheart), choking, fingering, handjob, creampie, mentioned masturbation.

AN: The words ran away from me, holy shit. It's so much longer than I intended.

Muffled voices argued in the night, soon growing into angry shouts. Rousing me from my sleep, confused, I put my gown on in a hurry. Sleep ridden eyes in a dark tent were not doing me any favors. I pulled the flap to the side and stumbled out of the tent, the voices creating one hell of a commotion.

Just as I did, most of the camp had awoken and joined in on the argument, gladly contributing their own heated opinions on the matter. All except Duch and Arthur, much to my dismay.

My eyes adjusted to the scene before me, the assailants quickly becoming clear. Standing around the campfire, was Micah of course, the center of attention as usual. Stood half shouting at John, who's pot seemed to be boiling over.

Soon after, John unleashed a rant on Micahs stupitidy, throwing in every word he could manage in his steaming anger.

I rolled my eyes, what could that damned fool possibly have done now?

'You piss ridden, moldy rat bastard.' John shouts, seamingly leaving Micah lost for words.

Bill bursts out laughing, slapping his knee at the insult, 'You big fuckin nuthead Micah. . .' He sighs, catching his breath.

Even Hosea snickers, 'Hes right, and that's coming from Bill of all folk.'

I cover my mouth as a giggle leaves my lips, seeing Micah so dumbfounded really sobered my mood. The rest of the girls have a simular reaction.

Micahs eyes narrow on me, 'What are ya' laughing at sweetheart. I ought to teach ya' a lesson.' He snarls, greasy hair hanging over his face.

The camp falls silent, none too appreciative of his choice of words. My mood turn sour again and a chill runs up my spine. The first to call him out was Sadie, 'Someone hold me back.' She spits, Sean stepping in to fo judt that.

Second was Miss Grimshaw, 'The money and now you threathen the girl, have you gone and lost your mind Micah Bell?' disgust evident on her face.

The money? What money?

John took a threatening step toward him, very displeased with Micahs comment, hands forming into fists at his sides. Hosea too, gave him a a bemused look.

'Try anything Bell, and I'll cut your fucking balls off.' I spit, glaring at him, feeling incredible joy in the way his face falls.

Muffled chuckles surround me, 'Thats my Girl.' Sadie laughs, along with a low, approving whistle from Javier.

'Whats goin' on here?' A gruff voice cuts in, looking between me and Micah.

Arthur, flanked by Dutch.

Arthur, shirtless. Flanked by Dutch.

In all my anger, my eyes cant help but sneak a hasty glance at his broad chest. Then quickly averting it, afraid he'd notice. I clear my throat, trying to keep my thoughts in check, 'He threatened me.'

That was enough for Arthur, not doubting me for a second. Fixed himself straight up with murder in his eyes, then walked at the man, readying his fists for a beating.

Butterflies fluttered within me.

Unsurprisingly, Micah cowered. Taking quick cautionary steps backward before Dutch could jump in, throwing his arm in front of Arthur and stopping him in his tracks. John looks at the two men, directing an accusing finger on Micah, 'Not only that, this blasted idiot took our money.'

The moment of joy from Micahs humiliation disappear, turning into anger once again. The camp giving him a mutual glower.

Arthur runs a hand through his hair, 'I ought to kill you.' He speaks, gritting his teeth, and takes another firm step forward. Pushing the limits of Dutch's patience, who strengthens the hold on Arthur.

'Surely, there must be a reasonable explanation for this?' Dutchs says, forcing a smile and shooting Micah an expectant look. Giving him an undeserved chance at explaining himself. Although he didn't show it, he too, was bemused.

'Well- I wanted to invest it, make it grow. I just wanted to help the camp.' Micah preached, his voice sleazy and confident. Telling the sure as shit, bull of an excuse as if he was the one to feel sorry for. Despite the circumstances.

Sighing, 'He god damned gamled it all away.' John reveals, looking ready to kill the man himself. The camp erupts into a loud argument once again, everyone getting a piece in.

I sneak a glance at Arthur, his chest rising and falling in big breaths, trying his hardest to stay calm. 'Bastard.' He mutters under his breath, Dutch giving him a quick warning glance.

'Shut!–' a hoarse voice calls out, '–Up!' Dutch yells, and obediently, we all fall silent. 'Theres no use, standin' around screamin'. You fools are attracting unwanted attention.' Dutch says, hands on his hips, 'Who won the funds.'

'Some rich bastard up in Strawberry.' Micahs sly voice cut through the night.

Dutch rubs his forehead in thought, 'Then he can do without it, go back there and grab it.' An exasperated sigh leaving him, 'Arthur, John, Bill, Charles.' He rounds the men up, 'You go there with him.' He turns to go back to his tent, but pauses and shouts, 'And no!–' dragging the words out, '–Deaths!' He looks at Micah, knowing damn well he'd otherwise murder the mans entire family in cold blood, then points to Arthur, 'That means you too, Arthur.' He says, a tired tone to his words. Clearly insinuating that he wanted Micah alive.

Everyone scatters, going back to bed on edge. But I linger, tucked away behind the tentflap. I watch Arthur come back out of his tent, in full get up. Silently praying that'd they'd be alright, that he would be. I did not care what happened to Micah, I hoped the man would get shot right between the eyes. I would personally love to see to it, I hoped Arthurs hatred for the man would get the better of him. Dutch always went way to easy on Micah, I didn't understand it, but something wasn't quite right with it.

Abigail kisses John goodbye, it made me happy to see them back together and all made up. I watch Arthur leave his tent in full get up, then stride past my tent. He gets on his horse with the rest of them, and ride past the treeline of Horseshoe overlook. No doubt berating Micah all the way to Strawberry.

I laid down in my bed, trying my damndest to sleep. But worry was keeping me up, eating away at me. Something didn't feel right.

He'd heard his words to her, him threatening her. Horrifying images cloud his mind, filling him with rage all over again. No doubt things he'd done before. He glanced a glare at the man, ugly mut.

Had Dutch not been there to stop him, Micah would've found his face beaten bloody and Arthur grinning on top of him. Had he not been loyal to the camp, to his people, to Dutch. Micah wouldn't be returning from this trip. He would conveniently get a bullet to his head, or found on the bottom of a valley, beaten unrecognizable before the fall had caused the killing blow.

He didnt want any harm coming to her. He'd never felt this for a woman, not ever. He'd steal glances, admire her when she wasn't looking. Damn well kill for her. She was the light he had needed for so long, her charming smile could shine brighter than any star he'd ever seen.

'You taken a likin' to her, Morgan?'

John raised his head at that, paying closer attention to the conversation, to Arthur. Knowing the possibility of him flying off the handle.

'Shut up if you know what's good for you Micah.' Charles scolded.

He scoffed, 'The day I listen to–' Micha looks Charles up and down, lingering on the color of his skin, 'The likes of you,' he continues, 'Will be my last.' Muttering the last words.

Ignoring him, Charles didn't do as much as raise an eyebrow. Micah did not deserve a reaction.

Micah was black rot, down to his core. Destorying everything he touched. We all knew it, but all aren't so keen to admit it. Dutch was the first person to come to mind, I couldn't understand for the life of me why he was so defensive of the man.

'I can see why.' Micah spoke again, 'Pretty little thing, isn't she?' He looked at Arthur, 'Got a big mouth on her too.'

John looked between the two men, noting the way Arthur fisted his reins, no doubt knuckles turning white under his gloves. Along with the way he kept his head straight ahead, focused on not killing the man, 'Micah, keep her off your tongue.' John warned, 'I don't care for you, but I don't want the heat from Dutch when you're found dead.' His raspy voice referring to him and Arthur.

Charles looked at the men in silent agreement, he preferred staying out of camp conflicts. But she was a woman dear to the camp, touching her would bode ill for any man.

And ad usual, the big idiot doesn't listen, 'Wouldn't mind takin' her for a ride one of these nights.' He said, the self-righteous smile he bore evident even in his tone. There was no need to look at him to know it.

Bill had been staying out of it, but he could feel the anger radiating off of Arthur. Enough to switch sides, hanging back, then stearing his horse up next to Arthur instead of Micah. Just in case a bullet would come flying.

And wouldn't you know it, Arthur reached into his holster and pulled his finest revolver, aiming it at the sorry excuse of a man. All in one quick motion, he'd been labeled as a dangerous for a reason. John sighed, now he'd done it.

Micah, dropped his reins. Raising his hands in the air, keeping a smug expression on his face. But beneath, he was scared witless.

'Strawberry up ahead.' Charles called, not caring much for the action behind him. Killing Micah would only do the camp good, but a gunshot would give their location away.

'Not another word of her.' Arthur began, 'Touch 'er–' He warns, 'And I'll let her kill ya'.' His voice gravelly and threatening, but Micah scoffed at the notion.

The familiar click off a safety lever sounds out, and the color drains from Micahs face.

'House is just up ahead.' Charles cut in, 'I'd suggest you wait wait with this til we got the funds.'

With a final glare, he holsters his gun and rides up to Charles. Clearing a hill, the house comes into view. Arthur sighs, 'Damn it Micah, you didnt tell us this feller had security.'

'You scared of a little fightin' pretty boy?' Micah mocked.

With a scoff from Arthur, they hitch their horses and pull up their bandanas, setting about proving the rumors of the infamouse Van Der Linde gang.

I anxiously checked my father's old pocket watch. It had been a few hours now. I put it down, tried to think of other things, and then picked it up again. Another 5 minutes had passed. Christ. I couldn't bear losing Arthur, John or Charles, god forbid all three of them. Bill could be sweet, but only when he needed something. I couldn't even dare imagine John leaving Abigail and Jack behind. What would they do? Stay with the gang, of course, but. . . Goodness, what about Arthur? My thoughts were racing ahead of me.

A few more minutes pass, then I hear hoofbeats, relief flods through me. It's hard to count, but theres at least three horses. God, let it be the right three. I emerge from my tent, along with Miss Grimshaw, Abigail, the rest of the girls, and Dutch. I race up to Abigail, holding eachothers hands as we watch the treeline in silence. Relying on each other for support.

Eventually, they break through. All five horses returning with their men on top of them, secretly I curse. One of the could've gotten lost and the world would've been a better place for it. I stroke Abigails back while John sees to his horse, then walks up to us, taking her in his arms and spinning her in a circle. They laugh, and a tinge of jealousy spark inside me. Yet I'm more than happy for them.

I observe the rest of them, they seem to be unharmed. All except. . . Arthur, his white shirt covered in blood. The terror must've been evident on my face, because–

'Hes fine.' John spoke, 'Most of it aint even his.' He said in an effort to calm me.

I nodded, smiling faintly 'Thank you John.' And sqeezed his arm.

'Well–' Dutch called out, 'How'd it go?' He looked at them, expecting nothing but grandeur.

'We got more than we bargained for. . ' John said, grinning. But there was something else his tone.

Bill unloaded his horse and came carrying several saddlebags, throwing them at our feet, money spilling out 'We got what we came for—' He paused, then pulled out two more bags from vehind his back, 'And more!' He burst out in a self-satisfied laugh.

I had to say, they made the best out of a bad situation. And on top of it all, Micah had barely made a sound, he was strangely quiet.

Dutch patted Bill and John on the back, 'Good work, wake the rest. Let us celebrate!' He clapped his hands together, no doubt imagining Tahiti.

I searched for him in the crowd of people as the camp was waking up, and found him talking to Charles and Sadie at the edge of the camp, clutching his side. Worry gnawed at me. They joined us by the campfire while Arthur headed into his tent, not saying much of nothing to anyone else.

The festivities carried out throughout the night, Arthurs lamp remained turned on. Eventually, I just had to check up on him.

I snuck away from the folk, Abigail and John had already turned in, as had Dutch and Molly. Seemed like the singles were the only ones left drinking, and Micah had disappeared to sulk somewhere. Lucky us.

I left them to it and approached his tent, 'Arthur?' I called, but didn't get an answer. I just heard some huffing from the inside.

I risked his reaction and pulled the flap to the side, 'Arth-' I began, but got cut off by the sight. In front of me was Arthur Morgan, shirt pushed up over his stumache, cowboy hat on, stitching up his own wound. Sitting on a stool, his pants were unbuttoned and folded down by the hip, revealing that beautiful "V" shape along with a happy trail of hair leading down toward, well. . . A new cut stretched from his hip to his abdomen, blood covered his hands and side, groaning as he pulled a needle through his skin. Something set off inside me, a yearning that made my body ache. He scarcely even noticed me, not until I gasped.

He looked up, eyes widening, 'You need somethin' Girl?' He blurted out, taken off guard. His state of undress did not help.

'Arthur Morgan. . .' I sighed, slightly offended, 'You shouldve fetched me, you know im good at stitchin' wounds.'

'I know, I know. 'm sorry sweetheart.' smiling faintly, 'Didnt wanna bother you.' He drawled.

I also noticed a mostly empty bottle of whiskey next to him, hoping he used most of it to disinfect the wound. I put my hands on my hips, 'Will you let me help?'

He nodded and handed me the needle, fingers brushing against eachother as I grabbed it.

Our eyes met, briefly. Sharing a glance that was ment to be stolen.

He leaned back against his dresser, the muscle of his upper body changing and rippling with his movements.

I cleared my throat and stepped closer, 'May I?' I asked, pointing at his shirt.

'You may.' He smirked.

I leaned closer to him, unbuttoning from top to bottom. Then pushing the shirt over his shoulder so it'd stay clear from his wound. I kneeled in front of him, his legs spread so I could get closer to the cut, then resting my elbows on his strong thigh to steady my arms.

I tried to focus on the wound, but it proved hard as I was so close to his crotch and how closely he was observing me.

'Might I ask what happened?' I bit my lip in focus, threading the needle through his skin.

'More men than expected.' He answered with a grunt, looking at my lips. Blood rushing somewhere it ought not to, 'One jumped out on me.' He continued, his voice husky and strained.

'He live to tell the tale?' I asked, searching his gaze. Hoping he'd be sincere.

'He did. . .' He groaned, as I finished another stitch. Making the aching settle in my core, a pulse running through me. Every now and then, when I believed him not to be looking. My eyes roamed his chest, studying his strong pecks and biceps.

'You know anything about Micahs sudden tongue-tie?' I ask, locking eyes with him. He lowers his head with a chuckle, a smirk poking out from under his hat.

'I might've. . . Given him something to think about.' He shrugs, the corner of his lip tugging.

Sighing, a smile spreads over my lips 'Youre a good man, Arthur Morgan.' I told him earnestly, 'Better than most.' I finished the last stitch and looked at him, 'All d-' I began, but he cut me off.

His lips greeting mine in a passionate kiss, lasting a whole second. But it was the best second I'd had in years. He pulled back, a horrified look on his face. Immidietly regretting it.

Surprised, I did not quite know what to say. 'Arthur, Im- You- You're drunk. .' I blurted, thinking it was the alcohol taking action. Nothing else.

'I'm–' He looked at me, searching for words 'You're right, I- I probably am. Apologies miss.' He managed.

I cursed myself, why'd he have to be drunk? He'd never remember that this even happened tomorrow.

'No- no. That's fine, don't worry. I didnt-' I tried, I didn't mind it. In fact I loved it, is that so hard to say? 'I should, uhm- let you sleep, you need to rest.' Idiot.

'I s'pouse so.' Was all he said, shock and regret still lingering between us.

'Well, good night. . . Mr Morgan.' I said, and he winced. Quickly, I took my leave.

'Night ma'am.' He called after me.

It felt like fleeing the scene of a crime. Bashing myself for the the formal good night, we were way past such pleasantires. It felt like a blow to even utter the words, even though I usually call him Mr Morgan. But it's always in a teasing way. Never formal and distant like this was.

Goodness gracious, what had I done?

I tucked myself under the covers in my own tent, thoughts circling my mind. I could not tear myself away from the smell of him, his musk, his broad build. Or the way sweetheart sounded as it rolled of his tongue, the way his tongue felt against my own. A hand snaked between my thighs, relieving myself of the ache he'd caused. Then slowly, I drifted off to sleep. With nothing but him on my mind.

You god damned fool Arthur, why'd you have scare her away? Old bastard, he thought to himself. Seeing her by his tent had startled him, but her gentle touch and sweet voice was all the comfort he'd needed. It took the sting right out of the needle. He'd used the bottle to clean the wound, but letting her think he was drunk was easier than the truth.

He'd took a liking to her from the moment he laid eyes on her, but she would never feel the same way. She'd called him Mr Morgan, as if the last year of building a relation with her had disintigrated within a second. It stung, real bad. Worse than a knife ever would. Yet that kiss made it all worth it her soft lips against his, her sweet taste. Feeling her breath on his skin as she undid his buttons, and seein' you like that? Kneeling between his legs, so close to him. It was a memory he would cherish through thick and thin, a memory that would keep him up at night. A memory that made him hard in an instant, he let out a frustrated groan. Silenty taking care of it, pretty images of her occupying his mind as he did. Finally, he began drifting off to sleep. And he only had one thing on his mind. She'd called him a good man, that's all that mattered to him.

A week passed, and we'd had a few shallow interactions. Nothing serious, but resembling the akwardness we experienced in his tent, it made my heart sore. I always found a reason to talk to him, to be near him. So when to opportunity arrived once again, I jumped on it. We'd had a full day of chores, but needed to head into Valentine for a supply run, to stock up on things like ammo and vegetables. And just generally take a look around town, see what else we could find. But I don't have a horse of my own, and since Lenny and Sean were taking the wagon.

I found myself in need of a ride.

The sun had begun its final stretch before setting, meaning the light was golden and beautiful. The warm spring air was gradually turning chilly, but in the most soothing way. I joined the crew by the horses, 'Who's willin' to give a lady a ride.' I asked coyly.

Arthurs mouth fell open, as if he was about to speak, but quickly closed it again. 'I always got space for you, girl.' Sadie winked.

'Stop that. . You ol' charmer.' I smile shyly. Arthur couldn't help but smile, nothing but admiration I'm his eyes for you.

'Well-' Micah began, and I immediately rolled my eyes. Arthur glaring daggers at him.

'Shut it, and shave that overgrown squirell off your face.' Sadie interrupted him, Sean erupting into laughter at the comment.

'Why are we even bringin' him? We don't need that kind of trouble today.' I pointed out.

'Cause I say so, sweetheart.' He leers, smugness radiating off of him.

My stumache churns, my dinner almost catching its second wind, 'Dont call me that.' I turn serious.

Micah laughs, about to respond-

'You heard her.' Arthur stops him, making him reconsider opening his mouth again. Instead he opts to mutter under his breath, no doubt the most vile and cruel things too.

John joins us to help get the wagon in order, then sen dus off. Changing the subject back, 'Arthur got the most space.' John points out, 'I'm sure he wouldn't mind.' He winks at me subtly, and I blush. John Marston, you godsend.

'That okay with you Arthur?' I ask, looking up at him with big eyes.

'Course, c'mon sweetheart.' He jumps out of the saddle, grabs me by the waist, and helps me onto his tall, dark shire.

I yelp, unprepared for his strength. He gets back on, placing himself behind me, then grabs the reins on either side of me, capturing me in his big frame. I can honestly say, that I've never felt safer. A content smile covers my lips.

Sadie chuckles at the two of us, the chuckle turning into pure laughter when she sees Micahs expression. Gritted teeth and narrowed eyes, glaring at us, probably furious by my blatant approval of Arthurs use of sweetheart.

And with that, we begin our journey into town. Lenny and Sean were singing behind us, Sadie leading the way ahead of us. And Micah? I didn't bother finding out where he was.

Feeling Arthurs warmth behind me was all I cared about, his chest and thighs rubbing up against me with every step of his horse. It was doing something to me.

As the sun dove deeper, the cool in the air grew. Involuntary shivers took ahold of my body, 'You cold, girl?' He asked.

I shook my head, 'No, I'll be fine. Thank you though, Arthur.' My voice hackig as a particularly violent shiver shook my body, making my teeth clattered against eachother.

'Dont you lie to me, you're freezin'.' He says, worry lacing his tone, 'Take the reins.' That was an order.

I did and his hands slid between us, unbuttoning his jacket. Knuckles brushing against my back, all the way along my spine, ending at the arch of my back. Sending shivers in waves all over my body. 'Scooch down.' He orders again. Slightly hesitant, I slide backward. My ass tucked neatly again his crotch and my back flush again his chest. With his jacket still on, he wraps it around my sides, nearly covering my entire upper body. Sharing eachothers heat, trapping it between us.

'Arthur. .' I breathe, lust coursing through me. But it must've sounded as a protest because-

'-Dont start.' He said, 'My jacket is big enough for the both of us. Now hand me the reins, darlin.'

Oh you wonderful, oblivious man.

I gave them back to him and tugged his jacket closer around me, leaning impossibly closer to him. Gradually, my shivers disappeared, all thanks to the large, warm bear of a man behind me.

'See? Told ya'.' His body shook gently with a silent chuckle.

'You're somethin' else Mr Morgan.' I sighed and this time, the words felt right.

He smiled, she didnt see it, thankfully. Everything she did, made him smile. She was so close to him, and he had indirectly caressed her back. He could've leaned back and given her space, but he craved her. It was intimate and special. He'd not felt so peaceful since she stitched him up last week. Everything he did was at her service. Now she sat between his legs, grinding up against him. Not to her knowledge though, she just moved her hips to the step of the horse, riding like a woman should. But unbeknownst to her, she was feeding a hunger he fought hard to contain. Head in the lions mouth and all.

'Whats on that mind of yours Arthur?' She asked, 'I can feel you thinkin' from 'ere.' Shuddering against him, is she still cold?

If she only knew, what was goin' through his mind. How he thought of you every waking moment, a sentiment she would never return.

'Nothin' special, you still feelin' cold? I can feel you shiverin' Girl.'

She froze for a second before she spoke, chuckling under her breath, 'No I ain't cold, but thank you again.' He could hear the smile on her lips.

What was it then?

'Is the cut heelin' good?' She asked, concern and something else lingering in her voice. The memory resurfaced in his mind, his blood setting about rushing places. He shut his eyes, trying to clean his mind before he answered. Clearing his throat first, 'Good, 'is gonna be a nice 'n clean scar.' His voice lightly strained.

'Well, I'm glad. You got enough of em' for my liking.' She huffed, annoyed at the notion of him always hurting himself.

He risked it, and leaned his head forward, almost touching her shoulder but not quite. Breathing in that sweet scent of hers. Telling himself that it wasn't such a strange thing to do. 'I'll survive, I always do. With your fine stitchin' It's impossibly not to.'

She blushed, turning her face away from his, a bit shy at his compliment. He loved the way her cheeks turned rosy, 'Thank you.' She said proudly, another shudder against him.

Damn it, wad she still cold or not?

He opted out of asking again. She'd just tell him no. So he took matters into his own hands, quite literally. He moved the reins into one hand and circled the other around her waist, pulling her closer. Figuring he could blame it on rough terrain, that he didn't want her to hurt her pretty self.

But she didn't protest, on the contrary. She made a sound, almost like she exhaled a moan under her breath. Then grabbed his thigh, rough terrain too, perhaps? 'Arthur. . .' She breathed.

'I apologise miss, I shouldn't ha–' He began.

'No, no. You should've.' Firm in her words. 'You, remember much from last week?' She asked.

'I do.' He breathed, a nervous shake to his voice.

'You werent drunk?'

'No ma'am.' He answered truthfully, 'I lied.'

'Why?' There was hurt in her voice, and something broke inside of him.

He hesitated, choosing his words carefully, afraid he'd hurt her more, 'Thought maybe it'd be best, since I stepped over a line.'

She scoffed, 'You didn't step over anything, Mr Morgan.'

'Well I. . .' He paused, 'You didnt seem to like it, thats all. Didnt want you to think I was takin' advantages.' He rambled an explanation.

'I didn't want to take advantage of you Mr Morgan.' She sounded annoyed, annoyed by this whole missunderstanding, 'Didnt want you kissin' me drunk, if it was, just cause you were drunk.' She explained, 'I thought you were drunk. . .' sighing.

Puzzle pieces were finally falling into place for the both of them.

'We're here!' Sadie called from the front.

Dissapointed, I sighed. Yet, relieved, I smiled.

Arthur jumped off, grabbed my waist and helped me down. His touch lingering as our eyes met, searching eachothers gazes for answers. Wondering, where to go from here. We were finally on the same page, and knowing he kissed me from his own free will put a sping in my step.

The group broke up, I headed with Sadie as the men got about their business. We looked at the guns first and foremost, then headed for the general store. I looked for Arthur as we walked from building to building, and saw him heading into the stables. I wondered if he was gonna treat himself to a new saddle. He deserved it.

We went about our list of things to buy, then gathered by the wagon. Collectively, we decided on a bar run before we rode back to camp. Lenny and Sean were particularly excited about the idea.

We ordered whiskey, drank and laughed. Sadie and Lenny stood between me and Arthur, resulting in a whole lot of meaningful glances. Just wishing we could talk some more.

At some point a woman had approached Arthur, laying her hand on his bicep, clearly flirting. And my blood ran cold.

I stood talking with Sean, who noticed my change in demeanour and looked over at them. 'Dont worry yourself girl.' He laughed, and I furrowed my brows. Not sure what he ment.

'You gonna buy a lady a drink?' The woman asked, her voice sultry. Now, my blood boiled.

Arthur chuckeled, 'I didnt know I was talking to a lady.' And glanced at her hand, which she immediately retracted upon noticing.

She scoffed, 'Aint that a nice way to treat a woman. You taken cowboy?' She asked, her eyes narrowing on him.

'Well. . .' He huffed, 'You could say that.'

My heart swelled at his comment.

'Told ye so.' Sean smirked, and I playfully hit him on the shoulder.

The night went on, and as most nights go in a saloon, a fight was bound to happen. Arthur must've been watching me, because within the next half minute. A man had walked up next to me, and was about to touch what wasnt his to touch. But Arthur appeared out of nowhere, his outlaw instics mustve been on high alert. The man did in fact look sleezy enough to attempt such a thing, Arthur grabbed the mans wrist in a bone breaking grib. 'You keep your hands to yourself mister.' He said, his voice low and threatening.

'Or what?' The man spit, and Arthur let go of him. Lowering his head, chuckling. That shouldve been the mans warning, but he didn't know Arthur like we did.

Backing me up, Sean whispered 'Get ready.' to Sadie, Lenny and me. Nodding to a table of thugs in the corner, they were staring at our group intently, watching the scene unfold.

Arthur jerked his head to the side and smirked under his hat, then in flash he gave the man a lethal right hook. Sending him flying backward. The thugs sprung up, heading for us with firm steps.

Holy shit. A full on brawl broke out, everyone lunged themselves on everyone. I delivered a right hook of my own as two guys were ganging up on Lenny. Another man tried getting handsy with me, he snuck up behind me and grabbed me around the waist. So I elbowed him hard in the side and threw my head back. Headbutting him, I turned around and pushed him off me. Taking great joy in the way his nose was gushing blood, I grabbed him by the shoulders and kneed him in the crotch. With a whine, the man fell to the ground.

Even Micah joined in on the action, he'd been sitting still enjoying his whiskey beside us. Until he decided he wanted some fun too, apparently only he could be inappropriate with me. He smashed the glass over the head on the closest man, although im pretty sure he wasn't even apart of the brawl.

As the dust was settling and the lawmen had been called, we flew the coup. Arthur grabbed my hand and rushed us to our horses, not willing to risk leading the law back to camp, we rode hard and fast for Strawberry. Arthur was making a fuss about me on the ride there, asking if I was ok, and I assured him I was. 'Well. . . You got one hell of a hook girl.' He said, and I beamed with pride.

The gang had to act casual as we arrived to Strawberry, which proved futile with cuts and bruises as we asked for hotel rooms. But we ended up conning our way into possession of the last three hotel rooms. Bribing the clerk that is.

Arthur grabbed a key of his own, which nobody disputed. He gave me a meaningful look at and headed upstairs. Sadie grabbed a key and dragged me along with her. Leaving the last three men to argue about sharing a room, 'Shut up Micah, you're sleeping in the hall.' Sean shouted behind us. Turning around, I saw Micah slamming the doors open and storming out.

'I'll find a woman to warm me, dont ya' worry.' He shouted back, muttering under his breath.

We burst out laughing and ran to our room, but before we headed in, I grabbed her arm 'I'm just gonna go check on Arthur real quick.' I said, not thinking much of it.

'I'll not see you til the morning then.' She laughed, our stolen glances had apparently not been so stolen after all.

I rolled my eyes, 'We'll see.' And knocked on his door.

Lenny and Sean walked by, a low whistle accompanied by chuckles as they saw me standing there. But they quickly turned quiet when Arthur opened the door, standing in only his shirt and pants 'May I come in?' I asked, giving him my best puppy eyes.

'Course.' He smirked, and opened the door wider, stepping out of my way. My side brushing against him as I entered. His vest and jacket lay discarded on the bed, along with his hat.

'About before-' I began, my back turned to him. Suddenly feeling his hands slide onto my waist, pulling me into him. I gasped, not expecting it. He leaned into my shoulder, lips gracing my neck, all the way up to my ear. The warmth of his breath fanning over my skin, making me boil on the inside. It made it difficult to think.

'I want you darlin', all of ya'.' He whisperes, 'If you'll have me–' pausing to place a gentle kiss between my ear and jaw, '–'M tired off missunderstandin's.'

In a haze, I turn around and lay my hands on his chest, having to crane my neck upward to meet his eyes. I reach one hand to caress his cheek, brushing at his stubble 'So am I.'

He leans into my delicate touch, nuzzling my hand and placing a soft peck on my palm.

One of his hands sinks its fingertips into the flesh at my hip as the other grabs my arm softly, sliding his hand up to my wrist, gently holding it as he places another kiss there, right on my pulse point. His lips linger, feeling my rapid heartbeat. Gently, he experiments. Sucking and pecking the spot.

A deep ache settles in my bones, fortifying with every kiss he places, deepening with every beat of my heart. And for a second, he feels it too. Meeting my eyes with a smirk, he pulls my sleeve up to cover more ground. Immidietly I feel that my clothes are weighing me down, 'Arthur.' I whisper.

'Hmm?' He hums, focused on kissing what skin he has access to.

Clearing my throat, 'Will you–' I breathe, 'Help me unbutton?'

His eyes meet mine again, searching my gaze for certainty. 'I'll spend the rest of my days doin' your biddin' if it makes you happy girl.'

'It would–' I say, and his hands move to my ribcage, pulling me into his frame. His face an inch from mine as his hands snake around my back, making quick work of each button without batting an eye. 'Oh—' I gasp, surprised by his practiced fingers. 'Should I be jealous?' I ask under my breath.

'No ma'am, none could compete with you.' He assures me.

I feel a blush creep up my cheeks, and in the same moment, he finishes with the last button. Stroking his knuckles over the bare skin along my spine, and sighs. Content. As a shuddering breath leaves me.

Arthur wonders for but a second if shes cold again, until he realises.

'You werent cold, were ya'?'

Immedietly getting what hes reffering to, 'In the begginin' I was.' I tell him truthfully, 'Youre wonderfully clueless sometimes, especially for such a experienced man.'

He chuckles, 'You tellin' me you were all hot 'n bothered for me?'

'You were rubbin' against me, pullin' me close. How could I not be?'

'I wasnt–' He protests, '–You were on me if anythin'.'

'Oh so youre tellin' me you were all hot 'n bothered then?' I throw his words back at him, smirking happily while doing it.

Arthurs mouth opens and closes, unable to think of a comeback.

'Thats what I thought.'

He scoffs a smile, pushing my blouse off of me, leaving me in my undergarments.

His hands move to my arms, sliding upwards, leaving prickled skin in their abscence. He trails them over my collarbones and neck, his eyes following every inch of movement.

I lay my hands on his hips, holding onto him as my knees grow weeker by the second.

Forming his hands into loose fists, he caresses my cheeks with the backs if his fingers. Gently brushing the knuckles over my cheekbones, pushing strands of hair from my face in the same motion. He flattens his hands and cup my face, big hands draping around the sides of my head. Pulling me closer, he leans into my space. Meeting in the middle, his lips ghost over mine.

My breath hitches when he kisses me softly, his thumbs stroking my temples in soothing motions.

I grab onto his shirt, fisting and lightly pulling on the fabric. Arousal taking the reins completley, making it hard to think. I look at him with hazy eyes, admiration clouding every sense I have. '. . 'S your turn mister.' I breathe.

Smiling, he continues kissing me, 'At your pleasure ma'am.'

With a pleased hum, I trace my hands up his abdomen and over his chest, and Arthur groans in response. The aching pulse in my body stiffens at the sound, becoming more compressed. More focused in my core. Kissing him, I easily unbutton his shirt, making quick work of it, and slide it over his shoulders. Now hooked on his arm folds, it hangs around the small of his back. I sigh happily, what a sight it was.

'You expercied taking men's shirt's off?' He jokes, laughing. Then moves his hands to my waist, clawing softly at my skin.

I slide my arms around his neck, up into his hair. Scrathing his scalp tenderly, 'Well–' I begin, but he bites my lip suddenly, warning me. I yelp, accidently pulling on his hair, and a whine escapes him. My core dripping at the sound as I release a shuddering breath, '. .'M a woman Arthur, I have needs.'

'Yeah?' He questions, 'You needin' right now, woman?' The gruffness in his voice making my fingers curl.

'I am. .' Whining, my kisses turn needy, 'I need you Arthur, always.' I moan.

At that he wraps his arms around me, pulling me tightly into his embrace, his fingers digging into my flesh. He kissed me, hard. Hard like he might just die if let's me go.

'Skirt. . .' mumbling against me, 'Needs to go.' He manages. Without another word, I snake my hands behind my back, untying my skirt a let it fall to the floor. Arthur walks forward, forcing me back until my chins hit the bed and we fall onto it. He puts his weight on me, although supported by his forearms. 'Pants.' He orders, but I was already one step ahead. My hands already moving quickly to undo the buttons on his pants as hes kissing his way down my jaw and neck. Focusing on my sweet spot, hes sucks bruises, turning me into a moaning mess under every breath. Meanwhile, I shove my hand into his boxers. He grunts and shoves his forehead into the crook of my neck as I palm him, overwhelmed by my long lusted for touches. His member was already harder than a rock, and leaking juices. I bring my thump to his tip, stroking his seed in circles. He groans breathely into my neck, his warm breath causing further heat to pool in core. He leans onto one arm, sliding the other along the curves of my body. Cupping my breast through my brasier, 'I want to look at you sweetheart.' He groans and unfolds his arm so that hes above me to meet my eyes, 'Can I look at ya'?' He asks, voice pleading.

I nod, '. . 'Course.'.

Waisting no time, he snakes one hand under my back and lifts me up. I gasp, always surprised by his strength. 'Please, ma'am.' He begs, and I take the hint. My hand leaves his his member and move around my back, undoing the brasier. Throwing it on the floor, he sighs in relief, 'Wanted to see ya' for so long.' He breathes, lowering me back onto the bed and himself onto of me. Immidietly taking one breast into his mouth, and palms the other. Squeezing them, playing with my nipples, using teeth, tounge and fingers. Automatically, my back arches. Pushing my abdomen against his, and accidentally making my mound rub against his crotch. He hums under his breath, his hand leaving my breast and slowly slides down my body, then pulls his mouth off of my breast with a pop. 'Now.' He whispers, kissing his way up to my jaw, then leveling his head with mine, 'Wanna se all of ya'.' his free hand cups my cunt. I gasp from the sudden touch, there's no friction, no movement, yet the aching grows stronger from the warmth of his palm alone. I shut my eyes, trying to come up with an answer. But the presence of him takes up my entire mind, all I can manage is a nod.

Not satisfied, he pushes his palm firmly against my core. 'Look at me girl.' He orders, sliding his middle finger over my slit, undergarments creating a barrier. Making my wetness soak into them, and he chuckles when he feels it. Whimpering, I open my eyes to look at him, and he smirks, 'Good girl.' And plants a kiss on my jaw, 'Use your words this time.' He pecks my lips, then slides his finger over my clit. Lately circling it through the fabric, I swallow hard. Jolts of pleasure surge through my body as something finally gives. 'Want. . . You.' I manage.

'Yeah?' He breathes, and I nod. To which he raises his brows, and pushes two fingers against my core in warning.

Another jolt, '!Mmm, meanin'. . .' Humming a stutter, 'Yes–' I pause, '–Please Arthur. I- I want you.'

'Atta girl.' He praises, then begins trailing kisses down my chest, over my nipple and abdomen, ending at my mound, right above my clit.

My back arches, 'Please. .' I whisper, pleading with him. He pushes back, shakes his already half off shirt completley off, and his pants follow. My eyes go wide at the size of him, hello cowboy.

His hands slide up my thighs, giving reassuring squeezes until he gets ahold of my undergarments. Hooking his fingers under them, he gently slides them off, and the both of us gasp. 'Beautiful.' He murmurs, admiring me. Then bends down, kissing his way up my inner thigh. Winding his arms under my legs and grabbing my waist, then hovers over my cunt, giving me one last look before diving in.

He licks one long stripe up my folds, gathering my wetness on his tongue. Then attaches himself to my clit, generously sucking and circling his tongue around it. I'd been on edge since the night in the tent, hyper sensitive from always wanting him, and finally feeling him on me? It's purely magical, I have to bite my cheek to keep from screaming when he shoves two fingers inside me. Thrusting in and out, curling with every withdrawal. I was already close, 'Arthur, 'm so close.' I moan.

He nods, furthering the movement of his tongue, 'Tell me what ya' needin' girl.' He mumbles against my folds, the vibrations of his voice deepness have me gripping my sheets, clawing it them like a wild animal.

'Need you, need you in me.' I blurt out.

He laughs, 'Im already in you sweetheart.' Causing my back to arch again, oh sweet, sweet vibrations. I throw my head back into the pillow, and his hand slides from my hip to my lower abdomen, 'Be good and lay still now.' Then pushing down with his palm. That combined with his fingers, were– were enough. . .

Blinding pleasure surges through me as I come on his fingers, walls clenching, fluids flowing. I breathe heavily as he laps it up, 'In me Arthur, please.' I whine.

'Youre gonna have to be clearer girl.'

I loose my patience, 'Christ, Arthur! I need you cock in me.'

He smirks, 'Well why didnt you just say so?' His hands push my legs over his shoulders and he climbs on top of me, face to face, he kisses me passionately. Tasting of salt.

His tip graces my entrance, 'You sure, aint you?' He asks, kissing my jaw.

I bury my hand in his hair, 'Mmh, 'm sure.' And with that, pushes inside me. A breathy moan leaves our mouths simultaneously.

'Feelin' just as sweet as you taste sweetheart.' He whispers against my jaw, nuzzling his nose into my cheek and forehead against temple. The pulls out, to the tip, and shoves himself back in. Hard and passionate, he sets perfect pace. Rocking our bodies with every thrust, going deeper than I ever thought to be possible.

'Christ.' I groan, he's hitting that spot inside me with every motion. One hand moves though his back, scratching at it loosely, pulling on hip to get him even deeper. He grunts, in my ear. Might aswell be music, wouldnt be able to tell a difference. He snakes one hand up my torso, grabbing my throat gently and squeezing just enough. Brushing his thumb over my my jugular. Outlaw indeed.

I pull on his hair, to level his face with mine, I wanted his lips, his tongue. 'Kiss me cowboy.' I order, and he follows.

Kissing me deeply, in rhythm with his thrusts, In rhythm with the aching that was finally dulling in my body. Finally, I had I'm. Truly had him. Bliss flows through me as the knot in my stumache tightens, on the verge of my second orgasm. And telling by Arthurs thrusts, he wasn't far away either. In a few more thrusts we both topple over with a breathy moans, Arthur whispering, 'Good girl.' Over and over as his seed was filling me to the brim, seeping out around his member as he collapses on me. My legs falling to the bed. We gather our breaths in a comfortable silence, just enjoying the closeness of the other.

He lays and arm around me, pulling me close as we fall asleep. Both thinking of the other, just not having to imagine what holding the other would feel like anymore.

At some point during the night, Arthur had rolled me off of his arm and snuck out. I was to tired to think much of it, especially since he returned shortly after. By morning I had all but forgotten it, brushing it off as a dream.

As we got dressed and ready the next day, I handed Arthur his hat. He took it, but looked at me, 'Put it on, wanna see you in something of mine.' He says, smiling.

'Gladly.' I chirp, and put it on.

His smile slants, turning into a smirk, 'Now, girl. You know what that means don't you?'

'Why'd you think I was glad to put it on. If not just to tell Micah to shove it.' I chuckle.

'It suits ya' He ruffles my hair with the hat.

We walked out and fetch our horses, the grup giving us mixed looks as the spot us. Arthurs hat declaring to the public of his intentions, that I was his and that we would have a busy night. Sadie smirked knowingly, winking at me. While Sean and Lenny looked happy for us, Micah was the only one who glowered.

'I got a surprise.' He says as he saddles his shire.

'Yeah, whats that?' I tilt my head.

He nods to Sean who runs off, I quirk my eyebrow at Arthur, 'Whats all this?' I ask.

'You'll see, keep your eyes peeled sweetheart.'

Eventually, Sean comes back into view, leading a horse I don't recognize. A beautiful mustang, tan coat, and white forhead. I don't connect the dots at first, 'Sean got a new horse?' I ask, confused.

'Now why would I surprise you with a new horse for Sean?' He asks, chuckling. And the pieces snap into place.

'For me?' I ask, dumbfounded. A million questions circling my head.

'Got her yesterday, had Sean ride and get her earlier this morning. Since I was. . . Occupied.' He smirks.

'That's why you snuck out in the night, then?'

He hums, 'Mhm.'

'Well I'll be. . Arthur Morgan, thank you.' I smile, hugging him. He wraps his arm around me, holding me tightly, afraid I'd otherwise slip away.

'. .'S nothing.' He pecks my cheek, 'Go meet her.'

As we arrived back to camp, we got busy. Late into the night we spent in Arthurs tent, defining the meaning of cowgirl.

The next few hours we rode next to eachother on our way back to camp, flirting and laughing as Saint and I got used to eachother.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 #rdr2 smut #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 smut #rdr smut #red dead redemption #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic

[emmcfrxst]

Giving Arthur Morgan the sloppiest soul sucking head of his life because that's what he deserves 👏

It’s no secret that Arthur likes you messy.

There’s nothing quite like seeing you covered in his cum; it satiates some sort of primal urge he’s way too embarrassed to ever admit he possesses — out of shame or for fear of being laughed at, he isn’t quite sure. It’s a delicacy he does not always have the privilege of seeing, what with the constant moving around, the never ending jobs, Dutch’s genius “plans” and the difficulties of having any kind of intimacy in a camp full of people— Arthur does not get as much alone time with you as he wishes he would. It’s on rare days like these; ones where he allows himself to be a little selfish as to take you out on a “job” that requires your specific skillset, that he does get to have you all to himself, soft and pliant and wanting. You’re a sight to behold, on your knees all for him, pretty eyes shining with tears as you take him down your throat until his thighs shake.

“Yeah, jus’ like that. Keep goin’, pretty thing.” his voice is raspy, breath catching on a syllable as you swallow around him eagerly, spurred on by his praise. Arthur has to look up at the sky for a moment as to not let himself come so soon, his gut tightening dangerously upon hearing you gag on his cock. Clenching his hands into fists, he chances a look down at you, brows furrowing in pleasure when your eyes meet, a needy moan leaving his parted lips when he notices you rocking your hips against one of your hands, thighs spread obscenely wide in the soft grass below you. He cannot seem to be able to stop himself from bucking forward into your mouth at the sight, making you gag again, a breathless apology on his lips. The action only seems to encourage you further somehow, free hand coming up to fondle his balls, rolling them between your slick fingers. Saliva runs down your chin, trickling all the way down between your breasts in an outrageously filthy spectacle; one that Arthur would pay good money to see more often. His thoughts are cut short by a particularly hard suck to his tip, your lips quickly being replaced by an expert swirl of your tongue, making him curse out loud and grip the bark of the tree he is leaning against. His knees buckle and for a moment he fears he’s going to fall to the ground, feeling your hands move quickly to grab onto his thighs to steady him. The aching desire that takes over his body upon feeling just how thoroughly soaked the hand that was between your thighs has become is almost mind-numbing and he finally lets himself unravel, orgasm carried along to the sloppy sounds of your mouth on him, hearing you moan before you swallow around him one last time, cum leaking from the corners of your lips. Breathing heavily, Arthur helps your gasping form up onto your feet, tucking himself away and putting his gun belt back into place before taking his jacket off and throwing it to the ground, hands moving to grip your hips to tip you backwards onto the grass.

“What are you doing?” you giggle, chest heaving in both exertion and arousal, allowing your lover to lay you down as he pleases, goosebumps spreading over your skin when he moves down your body, calloused hands groping at you.

“Returning the favor.” he replies, winking at you before disappearing between your thighs.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan imagine #rdr2 fic #rdr2 smut #rdr2 imagine #red dead redemption 2 fic #red dead redemption 2 smut #red dead redemption 2 imagine #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2

[serawritesthings]

CRAVE THE ROSE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Your hiding from… the girls?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"They'll see us!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I love you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption smut #red dead redemption 2 smut #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption 2 imagine #arthur morgan imagine #smut

[6emo6zombie6]

RDR2 relationship/sexual headcanons -- F!reader

(Arthur, John, Dutch)

I've been seeing these a lot, and it would be fun to share my own. So, here you go! Warning for NSFW stuff though ;) I might make more of these in the future but I'm out of ideas for other characters at the moment.

__________________________________________________________

Arthur:

Absolute sweetheart, will do anything for you.

Can’t stand to see you crying. Usually, he’s reserved, but around you, he’ll coo softly and hold you in his arms.

“Shh… hey, I’m here. You’re safe.”

Always shares his food when he’s around you. And if there is no food, he’ll share his cigarettes.

He won’t admit it but loves it when you pick flowers for him. Usually, he keeps them in an empty whiskey bottle beside his bed.

Will ask you to help him pomade his hair, though you both know it’s because he likes getting scalp massages.

He’ll somehow always find a way to escort you.

“I’ll walk with you to your horse” “Need me to come with you?” “You sure you’re okay goin’ on your own?”

Not a fan of holding hands, though he’ll have his arm over your shoulders or around your waist most of the time.

Looooovessss hugging you from the back.  

Not opposed to you grabbing his ass once in a while.

Loves forehead kisses, whether it is receiving or giving them.

~~~~~

Not rough in bed—rather thorough. He won’t break the bed or have it slamming against the wall, but he spends a while preparing you. Foreplay lasts an hour minimum until he decides you can take every inch of him.

Will overstimulate himself if it means you’ll cum.

Not loud, but he takes pride in hearing you moan his name.

If he doesn’t have the energy to have full-blown sex, he’ll sit you on his lap and finger you until you’re trembling.

Not the biggest fan of receiving head, since it makes talking practically impossible for you, and he hates silent sex.

Enjoys handjobs while making out, though usually he’ll only accept one if he’s drunk.

Constant compliments.

Lap sex??? To Arthur, there is nothing better than holding you close while you bounce on his cock.

John:

Not all too touchy, but he’ll stare at you like you’re an angel 24/7.

Likes it when you hug his side, especially if you're shorter than him so he can tuck you under his arm.

Will randomly polish your shoes or your saddle.

Never forgets to give you a kiss when he leaves camp.

Usually confused when you’re upset or angry, but he’ll try his best to talk you through it.

Very protective of you, especially around other men. He's constantly worried that you might get hurt.

Stubborn as a bull, though he means well. The two of you always seem to be making up for arguments.

Always the big spoon.

Never skips out on a night of drinking with you.

Lets you sit on his lap, though usually only when he’s tipsy.

~~~~~~

Obsessed with hearing you plead. He’ll make you beg for absolutely anything.

If you’ve misbehaved in any way, he’ll punish you with abstinence.

On the other hand, he praises you for everything you do right.

“Yeah, that’s it, good girl.” “atta girl…” “You’re doing so well.”

Always on top. Probably because his ego is a little fragile.

Likes to switch between quick sex and passionate sex every once in a while. One day he’ll be ramming into you for twenty minutes, while the other he’ll spend the same time just getting you undressed.

Dacryphiliac—he loves watching you cry for all the right reasons.

“You look so pretty like that, sweetheart.” “Look at you, such a mess for me.”

Only loud when you are.

Very courageous in bed, but he gets shy the next morning when the majority of the gang starts teasing him for the marks on his neck or the foul noises they heard coming from his tent.

Dutch:

(This one is for the girls with daddy issues, bear with me.)

Almost exclusively calls you pet names, never your actual name.

Stuff like “Sweetheart”, “sugar”, “My girl”,,, etc.

He’ll make sure everyone knows you’re his, usually introducing you as his girlfriend right away.

Likes picking out your clothes for you.

Tells you about the books he reads whenever he can.

The absolute master at calming you down. Whenever he sees that you’re upset, he’ll take you to his tent and sit you on his lap, then he’ll calmly talk things over with you until you’re calm again.

Yeah, loves having you on his lap.

Enjoys braiding your hair or pinning it into a bun.

Loves hugging you from behind when you’re doing your chores or talking with other gang members.

Will bathe you whenever he gets the chance.

~~~~~~

Rarely ever takes his clothes off, but forces you to be completely naked all the time. It adds an extra layer to the power dynamic that the two of you have In bed.

Bends you over his lap and spanks you whenever he feels you pay too little attention to him.

Also loves fingering you on his lap, though it’s more to tease than to make you cum.

Will go absolutely crazy if you sit on his lap and grin your ass into his bulge. It doesn’t even matter if anyone’s around because he’ll just excuse himself and drag you into his tent.

He wants everyone to know how good he makes you feel. If you’re not moaning his name or whining under his touch for everyone to hear, he’s not interested.

He expects you to follow every order that he gives you. You’re not getting his touch if you disobey.

You calling him “sir” makes him instantly grow hard.

Always leaving scratches and hickeys on you for other people to notice.

Enjoys lightly choking you when making out, just to show what could happen if you were to misbehave.

#arthur morgan #john marston #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 smut #red dead redemption 2 smut #rdr2 headcanons #Dutch van der linde #rdr2 fanfic #Dutch van der line x reader #john marston x reader #arthur morgan x female reader

[holycryptid]

low honour!arthur morgan x virgin!reader

this is really just one long-winded fic idea that i need to speak into existence.

tags: literally save a horse ride a cowboy, afab!reader (feminine pronouns, descriptions, and names used), religious topics/imagery, obsessive!arthur, virginity kink, age gap relationship, loss of virginity, corruption kink

Reader is in her early 20s, privileged to come from a family with wealth from their heritage and inheritance in the oil industry.

The era of cowboys and outlaws has started to become a thing of the past from the shifts in climate and industry throughout the country. Reader has resided in Saint Denis her whole life, never needing to worry about gangs, outlaws, or even cowboys.

She has never even seen a cowboy before, but she’s heard stories; none of them particularly pretty. The presence of law enforcement throughout the streets and the sheer distance of Saint Denis from other towns is enough to deter most of them from causing trouble.

Functionally, she should never be compatible with a cowboy.

Her father has always preached about her waiting for a “good, proper man” that can marry her into another family with obscene wealth. And so, she protects her chastity and innocence just as she is expected to—just as her father expects her to.

Hell, she doesn’t even know how to ride a horse! Her father believes that riding horses is beneath them, so anywhere she wants to go is accommodated by a stagecoach.

Cut to: reader is accompanying her father on a trip to Annesburg to discuss potential investments in the mining industry. He hates leaving her alone. She knows he worries that she’ll get “up to no good”.

Her father has chosen one of their more comfortable, flashy stagecoaches for the longer ride, giving him more storage for his financial documents and whatnot. A perfect target for gangs.

And, inevitably, they get robbed.

The robbers’ faces are all concealed by hats and bandanas, and one of them ties her arms behind her back with careful hands before guiding her to her knees on the wet grass.

The man who tied her up stays close by her side, and she can see her father pleading for his life to another man who’s not listening.

“Are you a cowboy?” Are the first words she says to him, not a note of fear in her doll-like eyes that make her look so fuckable in this position with her on her knees next to him, dress billowing out around her form.

He looks down at her confused. “Uh, once, I suppose.” His voice is a little muffled by the black bandana hanging over his nose and mouth.

She can see that his hair is so long that it starts to curl up and out at the ends under his hat.

“Well, you got the hat. And the horse,” she reasons, wondering if she’s truly meeting a cowboy under circumstances she thought she’d never be in.

He looks to her again, left hand causally hooked in the leather of his belt as he waits for the rest of his gang to finish up. “I guess you’re right.” He tips his head to her in agreement.

“Leave them! These people are leeches. Let the wolves decide their fate.” A man with a deep, booming voice announces atop his white horse.

Now she starts to panic.

She pulls against the rope around her wrists, looking up to the man who tied her as he begins to walk toward his horse. “Wait! Mister, please! Please don’t. Please,” she yells to him.

He looks back to her, then his horse, then back to her again. “Hold on.” He signals to the man on the white horse before walking back over to her.

“Take me home. Please just take me home, mister. I won’t say nothing, I promise, but just take me home and I’ll give you anything you want,” she begs to him.

He sighs, but not out of annoyance or hesitation for her request. He sighs because he has no idea what she has just done to herself.

He places his bandana over her eyes and leads her to his horse. He unties her hands and lets her blindly climb into the saddle, legs shaking from unfamiliarity.

When she settles, she blindly grips onto the saddle horn for dear life, wishing her father let her ride at least once in her life so she wouldn’t appear so delicate in this situation. The man chuckles off to the side before mounting up behind her. She notices the saddle is not quite meant for two as he pushes in tightly against her ass, seemingly not even concerned about it.

This is probably the closest she’s ever been to a man.

“Where to, miss?” The man leans forward against her back to grab the reigns, caging her in with his arms.

She tells him in a quiet voice, and he kicks against his horse, setting them into motion.

When they arrive at her French two-story home on the outskirts of Saint Denis, the man dismounts swiftly, hand circling her wrist before saying, “Swing your right leg over and I’ll help you down.”

She slowly brings herself around, feeling the man lock his hands around her waist to guide her to the ground.

He tugs at the knot holding the bandana around her eyes, and she doesn’t let herself turn around until she feels he’s had enough time to tie it back around his face.

“Thank you, mister,” she whispers.

He tips his hat and leaves without another word.

In the following week, the man watches her after the sun sets. He watches her pray before bed and change into her silk nightgown, waiting for the night he can maybe finally see the more explicit side of her. But it never comes.

She’s perfect.

Eventually they cross paths again one day. The man purposefully chooses to ditch the bandana, too.

“I don’t think my daddy would appreciate me talking to someone like you,” she admits slyly as she continues her trek into Saint Denis.

The man follows beside her on his horse, left arm lazily hanging down by his side. “Someone like me? And who’s that?” he asks, a slight smile also on his lips.

“A cowboy. An outlaw,” she says, sneaking a glance up to him as his horse steps in time with her down the path.

“Well your daddy ain’t here.”

“No, mister.”

“Come for a ride then.”

And that’s how it’s starts for them. He introduces himself as they ride to his gangs camp, and she complains about how sore her legs are when they arrive.

“You don’t ride?” Arthur asks, intending for it to be a joke.

“That was my second time. Ever,” she laughs.

And that’s when he understands what type of lady he’s dealing with, so he goes for it.

“Maybe you should practice on me sometime,” he remarks, untacking his horse.

She wonders if she heard him right. “Uh, mister—”

“Arthur,” he corrects.

In that moment, she realizes he can teach her everything her father has kept from her, show her everything he had protected her from. Throw away the innocence and chastity and truly experience what life should be. But Arthur doesn’t know the entirety of her sheltered life. He needs someone like him.

“Arthur…I don’t think I’m what you’re looking for,” she admits. “I…I’ve never been with no one. Ever.”

“You’re untouched, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir. Just as my daddy said I should be. Until marriage.”

And Arthur makes it his mission to make her experience her own sexuality in its completeness, so he starts off slow.

He would always touch, never breaching her or letting her do anything to him. The focus was always on her.

Her virginity and pureness made him conflicted: he wanted to ruin her in all the ways she has never been, but he wants to tease and rile her up and watch her experience all the sexual frustrations for the first time.

It was cute. The more bold he got with his touches, the more bold she got in trying to take what she wanted. He would take her behind a tree and slowly lift up the dainty material of her summer dress, gathering it in his left hand as he used his right to rub her clit through her underwear while he licked and sucked along her neck, careful not to leave marks.

She would get weak so fast, Arthur could barely handle how virgin her body truly was. She would grip onto the leather straps of the rifles hanging down his back, trying to force his hand harder and faster.

However, the first time he made her cum was an accident.

He confidently placed a gentle kiss on her lips while they were alone in his tent—he just wanted to see how she would react.

She leaned in and returned it, snaking her hands around his neck and pulling him down to her. He pulled her into his lap, laying them down on his cot as they started making out like a long-distance high-school couple.

Arthur mindlessly starts grinding against her, ignoring the clothing separating them. She doesn’t realize what she’s feeling as Arthur’s hard cock slides against her clothed pussy.

Her orgasm just kind of happens.

Arthur watches her shake and twitch under him as he pulls away to see what happened. The wet spot on her underwear is all the evidence he needs.

Ever since, she’s been insatiable. She wants Arthur to show her everything. Teach her everything. She wants to feel everything if that means she can cum like that again.

Around the campfire she’d sit on his lap, tightly circling her hips against him until he’d grow hard before stopping. Then she’d do it again.

Arthur would mostly ignore her teasing. He didn’t want her to know how much she was driving him up the wall, so he’d retaliate in a way that was ten times worse then whatever she did just to prove a point about her innocence, how she knows so little compared to him.

The first time they fuck, he makes the horse riding joke again: “I’m sure this’ll be good practice for you, sweetheart.”

She huffs a laugh, rubbing his cock through her folds as she straddles him. He’s built up her confidence so much, it’s all been leading to this.

He’d guide her up and down, back and forth, testing her body to see what she likes. Seeing what spot makes her tremble.

He finds it. “Fuck, there it is,” Arthur groans.

She can’t even think. She doesn’t know what to think. She’s doing everything her father told her not to.

Premarital sex.

Premarital sex with a cowboy.

“Oh, Lord, forgive me,” she prays, her pussy sliding so perfectly along him as he grips her hips harder.

Eventually, he’d eat her out in her childhood bedroom. Her father sleeping in the room above her own, separated by the thin wood of the floor. She arches against the bed, and her eyes meet the iron cross hung above her bed frame.

She’d often ask him to leave the hat on, and he’d laugh, pleased that she is slowly adopting sexual preferences and interests.

She was his perfect, sophisticated woman that he was free to defile and poison with his desires.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan one shot #arthur morgan oneshot #arthur morgan imagine #rdr2 smut #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 smut #red dead redemption 2 fanfic

[mentally-a-slut]

Staring Problem (Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader)

Rating: M (a little spicy, nothing too bad)

Summary: An innocent staring problem evolves into something out of your most romantic fantasies.

Note: Okay, so I just whipped this up to show y'all what my writing would look like, it's really last minute and unedited so don't expect too much, but I hope you like it! It's a little messy because I just kinda started writing with no real idea, but please leave feedback! Also, if enough people want it, I am open to doing a smutty part two :) enjoy!

You hadn't thought you were being obvious with your staring, but were very quickly proved wrong when Mary-Beth slid up next to you, giggling. "Enjoyin' the show?"

You spluttered and blushed at the young woman's implication, lightly shoving her. "I'm not staring!"

She giggled again and gave you a look. "I don't blame you, I do it all the time. Nothing better to do than watch the men chop wood, especially if I'm supposed to be doing chores."

"Mary-Beth! Where is that girl?"

Mary-Beth gasped. "Oops! Gotta go!"

She scuttled off back to her table, frantically fiddling with the needle and thread to make it look like she was sewing. You sighed as you tore your gaze from her, eyes settling back on the man in front of you.

Of course, you were staring. Pretty damn hard, too. But hey, when Arthur Morgan is swinging an axe in the blazing sun, sleeves bunched up around his elbows, you just have to stare.

You knew you should at least be more subtle about it, instead of standing there uselessly leaning on a wagon, but whenever your eyes snagged on him, it was almost impossible to tear them away.

You'd lost all shame anyway, ever since he sort of confronted you about your crush. It had been an awkward conversation, one filled with stuttering and apologies. He hadn't expressed any discomfort, though, and simply acknowledged the fact that you liked to stare. He didn't outright reject you, but you knew better than to read into things. And even if he wasn't interested, who were you to deny yourself a show if he didn't mind giving one?

You only tore your gaze away when you heard Miss Grimshaw turning the corner, and you hurriedly tried to look busy. It usually worked, and you were back to staring as soon as she was out of sight.

You inwardly sighed when he sent the axe splitting through the last log. Show's over.

Even as he leaned the axe against the stump and turned to leave, you couldn't avert your gaze. The light was hitting him just right, golden rays bathing his tanned skin and making him look like an angel. Your face burned when he turned and met your gaze, and he simply tipped his hat with a smile. Sometimes you wished he would straight up say something about it instead of letting you ogle him. The heat that rushed to your face every time you were caught was stifling.

You had to resist the urge to follow him and see what he was getting up to next, instead settling on joining Mary-Beth. She looked up at you with a teasing smirk when you sat down, glancing behind you at the man who held your attention. "Show's over, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, sighing. "...Yeah."

She burst into giggled at your confession, dainty fingers going up to cover her mouth. "What's so funny?"

You started at his voice, the closeness of it surprising you. You turned to look at him, craning your neck to meet his eyes. You could've sworn there was a knowing smirk on his lips, but you chalked it up to the sun in your eyes. Even though you were facing away from the sun.

"Nothing!" you said too quickly.

"We was just talking about how she was staring at you chopping that wood."

You whipped your stare around to Mary-Beth. She just giggled and shrugged, acting innocent. "I- I wasn't-"

"S'alright, I know you were."

His words only made you want to shrink into yourself, never to see the light of day again. Mary-Beth took her leave, teasingly waving goodbye. She had just left you alone, with Arthur, a blushing mess.

"I don't- you-"

You all but yelped when he sat next to you on the log bench, close enough for your legs to brush. "If I didn't like it, I wouldn't let you do it."

"I didn't mean to stare!"

He chuckled, a low noise that traveled through your body and left goosebumps in its wake. "Yeah, you did."

You tried to come up with a valid explanation that wasn't 'I think you're really hot,' but came up short. "I'm sorry, I-"

"No need. I think it's cute, your little staring problem."

You didn't think you could blush anymore, but there he went, making you lightheaded with his words. "You... me, cute?"

His eyes met yours, and you had to stop yourself from swooning. His eyes were so blue, like shining crystals in the sunlight. "Yes, you. I thought it was obvious."

"What was obvious?"

He rolled his eyes affectionately, calloused hand brushing against yours. "That I'm sweet on you."

All coherent thought disappeared from your brain at that moment. "Huh?"

Your skin tingled as his hand grasped yours, rough fingers intertwining with yours. "I like you, sweetheart."

"Is this a joke?"

He chuckled. "No. I know I didn't really go about it right before, but what I meant to say was that I feel the same. It just... didn't come out right."

Your whole body was on fire, overwhelmed at the feeling of him so close to you. "So... you've liked me back, this whole time?"

"Mhm."

"Oh. That's... good."

"Just good?"

Your eyes found his, shining with emotion. "You know what I mean. I just can't believe..."

He stared at you, eyes shining with what must have been admiration. With his hand still holding yours, he stood, tugging you with him. "C'mere."

You stumbled after him, too awestruck to think. He led you to the spot you liked to stare at him from, the wagon obscuring the two of you from the rest of camp. Your back was to the wagon, his frame towering over you and he stood in front of you. He was close, close enough for you to lean forward and be chest to chest.

"When you stand here all clueless, drooling over me like nobody's watching," the hand that wasn't holding yours came up to rest against your cheek, "I have to force myself to keep working and not march over to you and kiss you til you can't breath."

You let out a strangled sound, breath hitching as he leaned closer. You were now trapped against the wagon, his body resting against yours. It was the best trap you'd ever been caught in.

"And when you look at me with those big, lovestruck eyes, I just wanna grab onto you and never let go."

A sigh that sounded more like a whine escaped your lips, knees threatening to give out beneath you. "Keep going."

He chuckled at your words, brushing his lips so, so close to yours.

"When you're concentrating on something, and you make those cute little noises, all I can think about is how I wanna bend you over and see what pretty little sounds I can get out of you."

"Holy shit," you whispered, eyes fluttering as his lips barely brushed against yours.

With a shaky sigh, you grabbed his collar and pulled him toward you, crashing your lips together. He let go of your hand, gripping your waist and holding you close. His lips were warm against yours, gently molding against yours. You brought a hand up to his hair, running your fingers through his short strands. An involuntary whine slipped from your lips, and it was swallowed by his increasingly desperate kiss. His hand slowly moved to your back, pressing you closer.

When his tongue brushed against your lip, you gasped, and he hummed against you as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You recovered quickly, meeting his tongue with yours with matching desperation. Your fingers closed in his hair, tugging lightly. He groaned softly, and the sound traveled straight to your core.

When he pulled back for air, he kept his face close to yours, blue eyes darkened as he looked down at you. "You're so pretty like this, all whiny and desperate."

His praise elicited another whine from your lips and you pulled him back against your lips. This time he kept pulling away from you in between kisses, chuckling as you chased after him. He mumbled soft words against your lips, each one making you want him more and more.

"Pretty girl."

"So good for me."

"So needy."

You whined in frustration and kissed him roughly, hands running over his body. When his hands ran over your ass and gripped your thighs tightly, you jumped up and he pressed you up against the wagon. The angle was torture, your core level with his, and the heat of your arousal was overwhelming. Your hips struggled to meet his, seeking the friction you craved, but Arthur just chuckled against your lips and held you still. "Not yet, darlin'."

You would have been embarrassed by the whine you let out if you weren't clouded with lust. You continued to wriggle against his grip, whining as he tortured you with slow, passionate kisses.

"Arthur!"

He pulled back with a groan when someone called his name, his forehead resting against yours. "Yeah?"

"Got a job for you!"

He sighed. "Be right there!"

You sighed and let your head fall against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, baby."

You hid your face in his neck, trying to hide the blush his words caused. "S'okay."

He gently set you down, hands settling on your waist. He lifted your face to his, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. When your eyes fluttered open, you were met with his darkened eyes that held a promise for things to come.

"We'll finish this later."

#rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #smut #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2 smut #rdr2 smut #one shot #arthur morgan smut #x reader #fem!reader #x reader smut #azi's creations

[ravengards-rogue]

i lose control (when you're not next to me.)

javier escuella x reader

✧ tags : afab + fem!reader (gendered language + wearing dresses etc), established relationship, religious imagery (maybe sacrilege)takes place in ch.4 of rdr2, submissive!reader, soft dom!javier, some spanish petnames (mi amor mi vida, and hermosa i think), pillowing humping, penetration, very lovesick sex lol, veryy established dynamic, praise kink, written like. sooo explicitly for @nanamimizz, 18+

✧ wc : 5.2k (after editing mind you)

✧ a/n : this is fucking nuts LMAOO. i wrote this like. no bullshit in a day. i don't know how that happened. mentioned in the tags that this is for my beloved best friend but i think it's still okay to post. im losing it a little. i have hw due in an hour

✧ synopsis : javier can't help but feel some ways about the way you miss him. so dreadfully obedient. so apparently needy. how could he not adore you?

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

There’s something a little pathetic in the way you pine after Javier that makes him a worse man than he is. 

He’s good to you though. Always. Down to his bones, the core of him. The soul of him. It’s hard to be anything but good to you. 

In all of his life, across lovers, men and women - he doesn’t think he’s met a single soul who simply likes him as much as you do. Who preens so pretty with so little, who doesn’t need much at all. Never met a woman who tucks and folds herself into corners just to be polite. Never thought he’d find it so fascinating, either - but you prove him wrong often. 

It’s testament to Javier’s adoration that he can’t help but notice you anyway. That even when your featherlight footsteps and darling voice fall off and get caught on the wind and blown away - Javier will still manage to find you. Even with all of your attempts to make yourself small and unrecognizable, his sharp brown eyes will still catch on the linen of your skirts and the threaded gold of your cross necklace. Javier’s own body betrays him in his love for you, in his wanting. 

Even though he’s not interested in pretending he doesn’t love you, his eyes and mouth and hands would look and call and search. They’d never give him the opportunity to be anything but in love. 

It’s important that he makes that known. He’s only ever interested in being a good man to you. Holding you and kissing you and worshiping you until you’re melty between his fingers. Javier loves loving the resistance out of you and you always make it so easy for him. 

He’s a good lover by nature and by practice. Passionate and maybe a little conceited, it’s not his first brush with romantics. He can only hope it’ll be his last. 

Even so, he’s never been liked the way you like him. 

You like Javier in a way you seem embarrassed by when you remember. It causes you to act in ways out of character on the surface, emboldened. Maybe just needy. Enough to bask in his praise and affection once a little liquor has touched your mouth. You like Javier in a way that makes you lovesick and puppylike, all honeyed gazes and pouty lips. He’s never met somebody who likes him the way you do, without grandstanding. Just pure, puppy love. Almost innocent if you don’t look too long. 

Almost being what matters most. 

Javier knows the way you were raised, after all. Knows the intimate ways in which you fold yourself and tuck your wants between the pages of your diary and slip your requests under your tongue. It’s hard for you to want for anything too much because you’ve been told your whole life that wanting at all is a sin. Wanting may even get you killed. A good woman should want nothing but salvation. Anything more than that is indulgence and there’s nothing good about that. It translates in the way you carry yourself. You’ll stop and fumble and shy away before even fixing your lips to ask, like you’re planning on being rejected or told no. 

A good girl like you being told no so often, it’s made you all sacrifice and empty prayers. Javier often feels grief about your lives before each other but nothing makes it so evident as that. A good woman, a beautiful and kind and soft one like you should never hear the words no without the best of reasons. That’s what Javier believes for all of his lovers, but you’re special. 

And that makes it worse. 

For you he’d do anything. No price he wouldn’t pay, no place he wouldn’t go, nothing that’s too far out of his reach. He thinks maybe he’s so eager to give it to you because he knows you don’t have it in you to take it yourself. You won’t whine greedily even if Javier tells you too, so Javier’s giving is only a partial virtue. It’s mostly pride, after all. It hurts his ego a little when you refuse to bask in the love he so enthusiastically wants to drown you in. 

Despite his complaints though, it’s a part of you that makes him so weak to you. That you want with such desperation but don’t allow yourself to take - so it makes you pliant and willing and terribly, adorably pathetic. You’re so weak for Javier. Just for him, you always say. Always with a hand in his, or wrapped around his bicep. All yours, Javi. Always his. 

That’s the thing. Javier wants to give everything in the world to you. He wants to be good to you, and he so often is. But you do things sometimes, all collapsed under the weight of your own desire that drive him insane. Make him act in ways he normally wouldn’t dream of doing. Depraved and filthy and unromantic in all senses of the word. 

It’s really not very polite for Javier to stand and watch you at his door - humping his pillow with weeps and huffs. It’s not kind to embarrass you. He’s a good man, and a good man would cover you with his coat and maybe smile about how much you care for him. 

But there’s just something about the look on your face when you do it, something about the tear stains in your lashes and the way your cheek is pressed in his jacket. Something about that needy, incessant little ache in your voice as you call and call and call for him. As if you’re hoping you’ll answer despite him not being there.

Javier is a good man to you. Maybe he could be better. Maybe he’s not good enough.  

He stands in the doorway of your shared bedroom with a soft, gentle grin. There’s no question he’s behaving a worse man than he is. Than he ought to be. 

He’s quiet as he shuts the door, balancing his weight to remain noiseless. 

Javier doesn’t particularly like being all the way out in Saint Denis nor is he fond of intel missions. The city is loud, the people unfriendly - though he likes the music and art. He prefers staying in camp if he can help it, but this big bank heist has everyone busy. He’s at least thankful that it’s given him an excuse to be with you. Your knowledge of herbs and poisons and the like have been helpful to gathering information. Been a lot of slipping things in drinks and making people forget. The sort of dirty work he’s accustomed too, while also getting a chance to be with you in a place with four walls and a bath. A dream for the future, maybe. 

It’s been nice, but he’s been out now for two days - out in the streets gathering information about Bronte’s people. A bunch of lowlifes just like them, but with their hands in the pocket of the city. He’s only been gone for two days, so there’s no reason you should miss him this much. And yet he hears it anyway. And it pleases him, truthfully. 

He takes off his coat as he listens to you at the doorway. Shrugs the middle-weight material of his sheen suit jacket over his shoulders and lays it on a chair, takes off his wingtip-gaiter shoes, undoes the yellow puff tie from around his neck. Nothing but a white linen dress shirt and the dark black slacks he’s been wearing for days now, some parts covered in bloodstains he only barely managed to wash out in the river not long ago. 

He’s thankful he took a bath before getting in now, listening to you moan. His hands being clean feel like a blessing - just his luck. 

He manages to remain quiet as he steps into the main room - a single bed in the center. Javier finds you there in a heap as he rests his body along the wall of the entrance to his right. He crosses his arms over his chest as he takes a minute to take in the scenery, admiring the soft lowlights and the way they cast shadow on your body. 

The wooden bed frame creaks slightly as you rut your hips. You’re out of it, Javier can tell, since you’ve yet to sense the fact he’s come in. The paintings along the back wall click against soft red walls themselves, over and over in an arrhythmic tic. Javier tries not to laugh. Gives himself a minute to admire the moment for what it is, the vulnerable desperation of your lust. He has to get over the disbelief, too. Over the fact your face is buried in the open part of his bluecoat and that you’ve got a hotel pillow(his hotel pillow) between your legs. One that you’re humping so frantically he can’t help but feel sorry for you. 

You’re making a mess.

You are a mess. The way the white chemise falls over your back and hips, and the lack of finesse in your gestures. If Javier had to bet money on it - he’d bet money on the fact you probably didn’t start this way. He figures you nested with his coat and pillow to go to sleep and then worked yourself into something senseless and desperate. And he’d figure if he didn’t show up, you wouldn’t cum at all. You’d go to bed all frustrated and tired and just wait for him like always. 

Any man would be pleased by it, he thinks. And a good one would never embarrass you about it. Javier tries his best. Weighs his options, but the words slip from his mouth before he can think to stop them. 

Pure elation in his words wrapped up in a smug delight. “Aye, hermosa - you’re gonna ruin my things you know?” 

Your reaction is what he expects. You jump out of your skin first, sitting straight up. Javier bites back a laugh as you do, big wide eyes like a deer caught in the scope of a rifle. You look around the room, worried you’re imagining him. Once you’ve come back to reality enough to realize he’s real and tangible - all the neediness washes right back into your expression. 

“Javier,” You sniffle and god. Javier hopes the heavens are more merciful to him than he is to you. “Javi,” 

“I’m home,” He voices in a partial tease, walking towards you. He can tell you want to run to him. To crawl into his arms and lap and collapse there forever, but the dull throbbing between your legs is stopping you. “I would ask if you missed me but, somehow I get the feeling you did.” 

You let out a soft, sniffly whine as Javier sits in the bed next to you. He turns his body to face you a little better but keeps distance. You turn your face towards him. Javier cups your cheek in his palm, eyes tracing your features. Your lips are bruised like you’ve been biting on them to keep the noise down and your eyes are wet with tears, red stained in the waterline. His thumb brushes along the thin skin of your lower lip, clicking his teeth at you. 

“Look at you,” He reprimands, his voice tender as he leans in to give you a little relief. You kiss Javier too eagerly, impatient and lacking your usual timidness. It’s how he knows how far you’ve fallen. How simple and easy your reactions are. “You’re going to hurt yourself pushing so desperately,” He laughs again, a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Does it feel good, at least?” 

“It’s better when you do it,” You admit, falling forward. Javier doesn’t let you drop, but he doesn’t comfort you right away either. He laughs and lets a hand rest on your lower back, relishing in your reaction. You shiver, sensitive and overstimulated with so little at all. 

“I know,” He coos with as much faux-sympathy as he can manage. “Couldn’t wait for me a little longer? I’m hurt.”

“Nooo,” You draw the words out, pitiful and upset “I’m sorry. I missed you,” 

“It’s okay,” Javier says, knowing he wasn’t mad in the first place. Not even a little. “Ahh, what should I do with you now, do you think?” 

It’s hard not to laugh at the immediate noise of disapproval. He’s sure you’d be able to ask him for what you want if he coaxed you into it. One whispered word of tell me what you want, and you’d be begging for his cock with ease. Filthy words from such a pretty mouth, he likes the idea. 

But he’s feeling… something. Something on the border of sadistic and loving that has him instead thinking. 

Pretending to think. 

“Maybe you should keep going, hm? You’ll think clearer once you’ve let it out, don’t you think?” 

“I can’t,” You bemoan, pleading with him. “I’m trying but it’s—it’s not enough, Javier, please.” 

He shakes his head. “Oh, man. What am I gonna do with you? Should I help you, mi amor?” 

You nod your head rapidly. As if he’d ever leave you out to dry when you look all pretty helpless. He doesn’t mention it to you. “Please,” 

“Yeah? I’ll help you then.” He offers, taking your hand and guiding you to his lap with his legs stretched out. He sits you over his thighs, glancing back at his jacket and pillow, brows raised when he sees how sticky they both are. Your habit of drooling and your cunt soaking his pillow case, he laughs just a little seeing the state of them. You must notice because you hit his shoulders weakly. “So needy,” 

“Javier.” 

“Alright, alright,” He laughs again, kissing your cheek as he brings you to him. You frown but comply with his handling of you, strong hands pulling you over his thigh. He sits you down until your bare cunt is pressed against the clothed muscle. It dawns on you what he’s doing as he’s doing it, a noisy little whimper sounding as Javier pulls you close. Close enough to wrap your arms around his neck. He puts a hand on the back of your head, encouraging you to bury his face into the space of his shoulder. He can feel the relief in you when you do, slumping into him a second time today. “You have to move on your own, you know? I won’t help you.” 

“You’re being awful,” You say with no real malice or bite. 

“I’m a little hurt, that’s all. And I’m helping you aren’t I? Is that not what you want?” 

You groan against the skin of his neck. “I want your…ngh,” 

He hums against you, decides to be merciful since he’s teased you plenty and he’s going to tease you more. 

“Wanna feel me right here, don’t you?” He puts a hand between your bodies, pressing the back of his hand into your stomach. “I know, I know. But I want you to cum like this first.”

“Can’t do it by myself,” You sniffle. Don’t even try to push back, so obedient and willing. Javier hums sympathetically. 

“I’m here right? I’ll help you, mi vida. I’m not that mean, am I?” 

You shake your head no. He most definitely is, but maybe he can keep that a secret from you a little longer. 

“Here,” He says. Javier pulls your chemise up until it’s pooling at your waist. Strong, tan hands hold at your hips, squeezing the soft skin with a warm sigh. You keen immediately. He pushes his thigh up just slightly to give you the right kind of friction. Hiccuping in his lap, he sets a pace for you to grind yourself on him. A slower back and forth. When you get too wet, too needy - you get sloppy. Sometimes he can give it to you hard and fast but you’re sensitive. Sensitive to the point it’s easy to make you hurt, make yourself hurt if you’re too clumsy. 

You’re always chasing pleasure but you don’t know anything about build-up. For a girl who tends to keep to herself and is always so meticulous - there’s something about seeing you get so sloppy that turns Javier on. When you’re wet and can’t think straight “Not too fast, okay? You’re sensitive, need it slow at first to make it feel good if it’s like this. Did you forget?” 

You nod, then moan hotly against his throat. Javier shivers at the way your tune changes. He can feel you breathe in his scent and relax as he guides your hips. He eventually stops touching you. Lets you take control of the pace just like he shows you. You manage to pace yourself despite how much you want to cum. Javier can feel how pent up you are. The fabric of his slacks going sticky, tacky from cum and arousal. 

You smell nice and soft, like baby powder and something floral. 

Javier’s been hard since he got in the door, but it’s starting to fog his mind up. Feeling your tits press against his chest, feeling your skin against his. Soft and pliant and beautiful. He kisses against your shoulders as you slowly start to build your orgasm up again. Not that it’s hard. 

You pull away from him, briefly - and your face makes his dick twitch. You’re always pretty but you’re especially pretty like this. Drool drips from the corners of your mouth, eyes lidded and barely blinking.

“Javi,” Your words are slurred. Javier laughs but doesn’t clean you up. “Kiss me,” 

“Sure,” He replies, though he’s all too happy to do it. Javier kisses you with tongue. He knows it’s what you want. Your hands curl up at his chest as he brings his own to cup your head and pull you to him. His tongue in your mouth is invasive but precise, knowing all the ways you want him to nip and kiss and suck on your mouth. You whine in complete pleasure, drunk from the sensation and he’s hardly touched you at all. 

He thinks of how he’ll fuck you as he kisses you. He’ll touch you more than he is now and you’ll fuck like lovesick rabbits until sunrise. It’s less something Javier decides and more something he knows. Like once he opens the door to pleasing you like this, it’ll be tough on him to close it again. 

“Javi,” You keep calling his name. It might be the only word you remember. Always seems to be when you get like this. “It feels so good. Feels so good when you touch me,” 

Javier kisses against your bare shoulder and neck, teeth scraping soft against your clavicles. “Mm. You’re doing well. A very good girl today,” 

You shudder at the praise, all the hairs on your neck raising from the drop of it. Javier laughs. You whine his name again but he doesn’t reply. He can feel you more than he can see you. Your body is twitching against his thigh and your muscles are tight where you hug against him. Javier calms you. 

“Gonna cum soon, huh?” 

You nod over and over, but can barely keep your head up to do it. And he laughs, full of fondness and affection as he peppers your face with kisses. He doesn’t have it in him suddenly, to tease you about it any more. He encourages you instead, hand on your hips to give you more friction as you start to grow erratic in your breathing. You pant hard against his ear, like you’re chasing something. Little bunny rabbit, he thinks. Your voice is little more than a croak. 

“Oh,” You moan, loud and helpless and needy as you cling to him. Your hands fisted in the back of his shirt as you cry out his name one more time. A prayer, maybe. Or a curse. Something in between. “Javier, oh,” 

“Shhh, that’s it. Just like that. Good girl. You’re so good to me.” 

You weep into his neck as you cum, your whole body tightening before breaking out into aroused shakes. You’ve completely lost it in front of him. On the brink of insanity with nothing but pleasure filling your empty-head. You hump against him thoughtlessly as you ride out your high, then finally lean against him when you’ve managed to reach the end of it. You don’t move. Javier can feel how big the wet patch of his pants has grown and tries not to laugh. 

You’re only barely coherent when you’ve finally pulled away. Your pupils are blown out and your face is flushed, sweat making your hair stick to your skin in the places it’s not tucked away. Javier laughs at the state you’re in, brushing his thumb along your cheek just beneath your eyes. 

“Are you with me still, do you think?” 

You nod, seemingly exhausted. He laughs again and kisses your temple. 

“Want you,” You say, despite your state. His eyes widen again at how soon after you’re asking him. He was planning on taking his time, but that plan might just be out of the race. He’s not above you begging him so sweetly. “Please, Javi. Need you, need you so bad.” 

You sound like you’re about to cry. He speaks in soft murmurs. “I thought you’d be too tired to keep going right away.” 

“No,” You mumble and shake your head. “Please. Please, want you so bad.” 

“You’re exhausted, mi vida.” 

“Please,” 

He chuckles. “Okay. Okay, don’t cry. Whatever you want, remember. Unbutton my shirt for me, mi amor.” 

You sniffle, your hands shaking as you fulfill his request. You’re exceptional at listening. Javier smiles at you, your eyes meeting as you do. You flush and pout, only barely managing to maintain his gaze without looking away. You unbutton his shirt dutifully. He puts a hand on your arm and rubs it soothingly. “You must’ve missed me a lot, huh.” 

You nod. “It’s bad, you know? Two days shouldn’t feel so long. It didn’t use too.” 

“Just means we love each other,” Javier assures, a safe place for you to express your neediness. “That’s nothing bad,” 

You nod, pressing your forehead to his. “That’s true,” 

“See? And it’s nice you know. Having someone miss me. Wait for me. Makes me want to come home instead of, I don’t know.” He feels his throat tighten at the sincerity but pushes through anyway “Dying for the cause. Or even just because.” 

It’s the first time you’ve smiled all day and god. Might be the only thing that’s ever mattered. Above all forms of love prior and past. Above revolution. Above god. Just you. You smile, happy and elated and keep unbuttoning his shirt with a coquettish-ness to you. Comfortable and safe. 

You help Javier out of his shirt, and wait for his approval to go after his pants. Undoing the buttons, you free his cock from the confines with a soft gasp. Javier laughs at the reaction, cat-like grin on his features. 

“Nothing you haven’t seen before.”  

“It’s so big,” You say, your hand wrapping around it briefly. Javier swears, head against the headboard. 

“Careful,” He warns, laughing thickly. “I’m pretty pent up too,” 

“Want it inside me,” You say so easily it startles him. You blink up at him through your lashes, too pretty for your own good. “Please?” 

“Should open you up a little.” 

“Want it to hurt,” You reply instantly. Javier feels his breath hitch. 

“Oh, fuck.” He breathes, trying to keep himself from cumming in your hands. “We’ll go slow.”

You nod quickly, not wanting to wait any longer. Javier curses himself for not being more polite. 

He guides your arms around his neck, his own arm around your waist as he lays you down on your back. You look up at him, surprised by his handling of you but not upset by it all. You mumble something he doesn’t catch, but it sounds pleased. 

Javier finds that he’s fond of missionary. He didn’t think he was the type, but there’s something about seeing you laid on your back that he likes. Likes being able to look at you and be close to you, to whisper sweet nothings in your ear as you curl into him. He lays you down gently on his spine, laughing at the way your legs wrap around his waist the second you’re comfortable. His hands go up under your knees but don’t push you too far. You spread your legs for him naturally, eyes fluttering with exhaustion and leftover stupid want. He looks down at you and smiles. 

“One more, okay? Just the one.” 

“I can’t,” You whine “Too sensitive. Just want you to cum on me,” 

“Are you doubting me?” He challenges, only partially. Your eyes widen and he chuckles. “Of course you can. One more,” 

You whimper, suddenly realizing you had no choice in the first place. But you nod, relenting to him like you so often do. Javier kisses you. It means more things that he’s comfortable telling. Means thank you, and that he’s sorry, that he loves you. He kisses you one more time after that, and smiles at how happy you seem because of it.

Finally, when Javier lays you down on the sheets beneath you - it feels like finding religion all over again. The loose material of your chemise has given up on covering you, exposing the soft mound of your chest and hardened nipples. He can see your neck and shoulders and everything else above and below. You’re so beautiful his cock twitches again, hard. 

He sits back up on his knees and takes a deep breath as he lays his cock against your puffy folds. You breathe soft, an aching sound from the back of your throat as you pull your skirt up to give him better access. He laughs gently at that, examining how nearly seven inches measures up to you and feels a little dizzy in the process of it. He’s done this with you so many times now, practically trained your body to take him without too much trouble. A welcome change from when you could barely fit the tip, too inexperienced to do it but even more determined. 

Even still some part of him worries about it. It’s not enough to stop him though, not nearly. His cock twitches against hard, wanting for you. He looks down at you and sees you stare up, admiring his figure. He laughs. 

“Like the view?” 

You nod. “Mm. Uh-huh.” 

“I’m glad,” He replies, then adds “Deep breath,” 

So you take a deep breath, and Javier pushes the tip of his cock into you with a loud grunt. You’re so soft. Wet, and pliant and soft around the swollen head of his cock, he can’t help but shudder with relief and desire. Can’t help but grit his teeth and grip onto your hips to steady himself. 

You breathe like the air has been punched out of your lungs, saying his name dreamily. “Oh, Javi,” 

He swears under his breath, something incoherent as he pushes the tip push into you evenly. It’s not easy. The resistance is there, but you don’t whine in pain right way - so it means it’s not too hard on you. Perhaps loosened by the previous orgasm, or simply so needy that it doesn’t bug you. Still, Javier makes sure to keep himself tight. He rocks, back and forth, ignoring the agony of that sensation to keep him from thrusting up into your soft, welcoming cunt. If he listened to what he wanted, he can’t be confident it wouldn’t make you ache. He already knows you will with this much. 

It takes a few minutes, and some whimpering from you before he finally manages to bottom out. 

You feel good. God, you feel good. 

He can’t imagine heaven, but he thinks being inside of you might be close enough. There’s certainly all the makings of religion when he makes love to you. You, a soft and loving deity, and him - a man laden with sin who longs to be saved. It makes sense to compare you that way. And it feels just as euphoric as the always described, being wrapped in you. Being part of your completion. What's religion without worshippers, anyway? 

Javier groans as he bottoms out inside of. When he manages to peel his eyes open and look at you, you’re debauched. He’s debased you this completely and he doesn’t know if you can even tell. He laughs, leaning down to kiss your neck and run pecks against your jaw. 

“Feel good?” 

“Feels so good,” You moan, then hold him tighter. “I love you. Love you Javier,” 

“Me too, mi amor. Para siempre. ” He hums, kissing your forehead before looking at you. “Can I move?” 

“Please,” 

“Touch yourself for me,” He tells you patiently. “Make yourself feel good.” 

You nod, dazed - a hand between your bodies as Javier sets a pace to fuck you. He knows you in and out. At least well enough to know exactly the ways to make you feel good. Only a few thrusts for him to find the perfect pace, perfect rhythm, perfect spot. You make a noise like a songbird, deep in the back of your throat and Javier can feel you pulse around him in pleasure. 

You stay like that, with him. Javier fucks you to his hearts content in deep, long thrusts - angled against the softest parts of you and wanting to make you feel good. He whispers sweet nothings as your nails dig into the muscle of his back. You feel good for him. You are good for him, wet and perfect. It takes all of his strength to fuck you consistently, the bed rocking underneath you both as he gives it to you hard. 

“I’m close,” You whimper, not seeming to believe yourself despite. “I’m so close, oh god, Javier.” 

“That’s it,” He whispers, chuckling against your skin “One more. Just one more and I’ll give it to you.” 

It’s the promise of his cum that drives you over the edge. You gasp and groan, shuddering as Javier pounds you through your second orgasms. He groans as he feels your pussy spasm and tighten around him, practically begging him to put it inside. He’s nearly lost his sense enough to do it, unhelped by the way your sweet voice begs him for it. He practically has to pry himself away from you, out of you to keep himself from cumming inside as deep as he can possibly go. 

He manages, barely, to stave off his own orgasm. Long enough pull himself out of you with a broken gasp and cum outside of you. Making a mess of your stomach and your soft, swollen cunt with his seed. He paints you in thick ropes of whites as he swears loud in the process, euphoria rumbling through him uninterrupted. 

“Fuck,” He moans, finally getting to the end of it. A little embarrassed by how much of a mess he’s made right along with you. “You do something crazy to me, you know that?” 

You stare at him, bleary eyed and giggly despite your exhaustion. “I know. Me too. I missed you,” 

He laughs, and can’t find the words to say anything but the same back. Of course Javier is a worse man when you’re around. 

Any man loved this much is bound to be a little ruined. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#javier escuella x reader #javier escuella smut #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 smut #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 smut #rogues love letters

[cal-tastic]

Two Shots Down

Pairing: arthur morgan x fem!reader

Wordcount: 1,600+

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

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

____________________________________________

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

“What can I get you, Mister?”

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

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

“Evenin’..”

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

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

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

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

“Welcome to Valentine. You got a name?”

“Arthur.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you live in town?” He finally asked

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

“Is that so?”

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

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

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

“You got a wife, Arthur?”

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

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

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

“What are you implyin’, Miss?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure ‘bout this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A-Arthur.. I need you..”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Such a good girl..”

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

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

“H-Harder…f-f..fuck..”

Sure enough, he listened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption two #red dead 2 #red dead redemption arthur #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 smut #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 fic #red dead #red dead smut #red dead arthur #red dead arthur morgan #red dead redemption #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption 2 smut

[cowboyfromh3ll]

Hi! I loved your fics (specially with Charles and John) and i was thinking about making a request

Could you do a Charles x reader smut. Maybe with the reader has a big thing for doing it dangerously and poor Mr. Smith has to deal with his girl

Closer

(Charles Smith x Fem!Reader Smut)

This was so fun to write, it was very free flowing/not structured, so it was new

Warnings: smut, asphyxiation, public sex, impact play, just risky sex lol

The bulk of Charles reminded you of what it was like to be strong. You’d huddle into his robust arms, he’d wrap them around you, dwarfing you completely, and you’d hear the familiar breathing of your lover. His morale and strong nature never dwindled, and he would pick you up when you were down (both literally and metaphorically). But Charles’ stature especially served as a source of comfort for you, his strength was remarkable, capable of defending you from anything and anyone, and he was competent in everything he did. Especially in loving you. The fortuitous exultation he felt seeing you rely so heavily on him: having you ask him for acts of service, ask for advice, or have you ask him to teach you something. And he got pleasure out of beating the daylights out of anyone in your name.

And more than anything, the two of you loved the sheer size difference between you two.

Charles outweighed you by at least fifty pounds, if not more. His biceps alone were nearly the size of your head. His massive back and torso would cover you completely when he was on top of you; his arms caging and protecting you, blotting out the outside world. And in prudent hesitation, he would shakily wrap his arm around your neck and squeeze upon request. For a while, Charles did not understand your obsession with being put in a chokehold. He could not fathom you getting any sort of pleasure from it, but when he heard your shaky breaths, whimpers slipping in between, he would be roused to squeeze harder. And when he saw your increasingly reddening face, both from pleasure and asphyxiation, he couldn’t keep his own cock from twitching.

Charles loved you more than anything, and his tenderness with you would bleed into many aspects of your relationship. Especially sex. He was well aware of his strength, as were you. And Charles would quickly discover, to his surprise, how much you enjoyed being shoved into pillows before sex, slapping your tender skin where you asked, yanking your hair multiple times at varying levels of strength until he got it right up to your standard, holding you down on the bed, grinding away at delicate bones too hard until he felt them shift, all just the way you liked it. And you happily took every bit of it. You’d have your fevered and bruised skin to show, flaunting the deep purple marks around camp so blatantly a few of the gang members would worry for you.

Your moments of sweet cessation around camp together would be delicately intimate, a rare shred of privacy allotted for the two of you, which would inevitably be interrupted by some gang member’s bumbling maundering over something or the other. The cutlery and mugs would look pocket-sized in his grasp, his hands in gargantuan proportions compared to your own. On a more pure occasion, you’d reach across from where you'd be sitting together and trace the curve of his cheeks with the back of your hand, reminiscent of the way he would before slapping you in bed.

Before bed, Charles would occasionally ask you again and again why you enjoyed it so much, what part of you was satiated by the practices. You would simply say you didn’t know why, it was just enjoyable. He would continue to ponder the question as the two of you laid in his tent, your body flipped away from him and your back pressed to his large chest. His arm would drape over your body along with the blanket, his body working as a furnace and providing more heat than the blanket ever could. His breath warm against your neck, goosebumps rising as his lips ghosted the sensitive, downy nape of your neck.

And just as his breath was evening out and slowing down, under the belief that the two of you were finally settling in for the night, you’d guide his hand to your lap, bunching up your nightgown until it was flipped over your hips. He’d blink away sleepiness, his eyes adjusting to the darkness around you, barely registering what you were doing before you hiked your leg up and behind his massive thigh, stretching your legs wide so his palm could cup your pussy.

Charles would become hyper aware of what was happening, especially around him: He’d take notice of the distant chattering coming from the bright camp fire from across camp, the sleeping bodies that were only a few feet from you, the people wandering around the camp entrances acting as guard who’d be more alert than anyone else.

“(Name), what are you doing?” He’d ask in a hushed tone.

Your only response would be a stifled whimper as you ground your pussy against his hand. And even though every fiber in his body would tell him to stop, to keep your intimacy private and dignities intact, he would drag his calloused fingers along your pussy, his rough pads circling your sensitive bud. The hair on the back of your neck would stand as you listened to his heavy breathing against your ear, grinding your ass back on his semi erect cock. You’d guide his hand under your bloomers, raking through your soft curls until he reached your folds, parting your pussy and exposing your clit. You’d urge him to rub harder, pressing your hand into his as he rubbed vigorously.

You’d be moaning openly into the air if not for the arm wrapped over your mouth, his bicep muffling, virtually silencing you completely. You’d cover his arm in drool, occasionally dragging your tongue over the skin tentatively. The pleasure was overwhelming, washing over you like cresting waves. Eventually, he’d sink a finger into you to the hilt, curling the finger and feeling the way you twitched and jerked in his hold. You’d grip onto his forearm, sinking your nails into the steel rod that was his arm and leaving behind crescent shapes.

The two of you would become keenly aware of the body next to you, rolling and mumbling in their sleep, and you’d go stiff in fear of being discovered. But the fear was enthralling, and it would encourage you even more to grind down on his fingers, eyes rolling back as you moaned louder into his arm.

Hair stuck to your forehead with sweat, and he’d slide a second, even a third finger inside you, curling and pumping in and out of you. He’d smirk when he’d hear the muffled squelching coming from in between your legs, getting awfully caught up in the moment and forgetting there were people around you that could potentially hear.

Eventually, his hand would clamp over your mouth as tight as he could, bordering on covering your nostrils. His other hand would clutch your hip hard, staring intensely into your quivering back as he slid his large cock into your tight hole, stretching you so wide he’d feel your back arch and legs tense. He’d use his strength to pin you in place as he fucked you hard. Your skin would be iridescent with sweat, muscles taut and pulled tight as violin strings, your bodies moving in sync.

“Fuck me, Charles.” You’d gasp quietly, attempting to move your hips back in time to meet his thrusts. You’d whine in frustration if Charles even dared to stop if someone passed your tent, not caring that they were only a few feet away. Charles' chest would rumble lowly in a growl as he thrust all the way in, balls deep as his hips slapped against the fatty flesh of your thighs and ass. And you would gasp in satisfaction as your lover lovingly impaled you, deliciously, again and again.

Charles would be hesitant, but he’d always cave into your wants and desires. How could he ever deny his precious lover? Shaky hands would wrap around your throat, tightening each time as you whimpered how it wasn’t enough. And he’d have to be the one who got reassurance, making sure he wasn’t hurting you.

Your affinity for risky sex had the poor man sweating, but again, how could he turn you down? You’d insist he eat you out in broad daylight, only paces away from camp in the woods on a log, where anyone in the gang could peer over and see his tongue rolling flat over your clit. How you insist he take a bath with you in the lake after a long day of work, just barely out of sight from the camp, lazily tracing your tongue over the sweat that clung to his muscles as he fucked you in the water. How you’d request he pinch your nostrils closed as you throated his cock completely, your throat constricting as you struggled to take in a breath. And you would not allow him to let go until your vision was spotted with black. How you insist he finish inside you every single time, pumping you full of cum, round after round, until a halo of white formed around his base as he fucked the rest into you.

Poor Charles, some would say. Being pushed to his limits each and every time as his boundaries expanded with each passing day with you. Seeing the satisfied glint in your eye afterwards was always worth it, and how you’d allow him to clean you up and take care of you. Feeding you food and wiping you down between your legs, rubbing your belly as he wondered when would be the day.

Charles was strength, he embodied it. But he was gentle, delicate. He was benign.

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Closer - Nine Inch Nails

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption community #van der linde gang x reader #writing #red dead fanfiction #charles smith x reader #charles smith #charles smith x reader smut #Charles smith smut #smut #red dead redemption smut #red dead redemption 2 smut

[sky-is-the-limit]

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

(gif cred: @itspapillonnoir)

#I'm legit losing it. The things I would do for this man? The things I would do to that man?!?!?! #I'd have him stretch it so wide that he could take a dive in it. It's pulsing his name in morse code at this point. #need his dick so fucking far up inside that my bellybutton would start to worry #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 smut #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader

[grugruel]

Big Iron

Pairings:

bounty hunter!Arthur Morgan x outlaw!f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: She's escaped a robbery, and bounty hunters have been sent out after her. They'd made no problem so far– that said, the notorious Arthur Morgan set upon her trail.

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: Arthur Morgan, pinv sex, rough sex, soft sex ish, lap/bulge-riding, praise, petnames (girl, sweetheart, ma'am), creampie, overstimulation.

AN: 3rd person pov, trying it out. Not yet proofread!

The campfire blazed in the night, casting a warm glow over the small, temporary hideout as smouldering flakes of ash rose in swirls above her.

Her face lit up, the sizzling embers of spent coal entrancing her.

The soaring fires of a bright building shouldered It's way into her mind, stealing space from any other thoughts.

The trees around her rustled. She leaned back against the wall of the overhanging cliff. Sliding down into a sitting position and slanting her head in ponder, slipping deeper into the memory.

Money was all she had needed. But the simple, well practiced heist escalated. Attempted arson had suddenly been added to her list of offences, robbery another one among them. Which she could admit to, and proudly so.

But the fire. . . Now the fire, was not her fault.

And not only was the law after her, but they'd sent out money hungry, bounty hunters aswell. She'd already tied two of them down yesterday, big brutish men they were. All muscle and no brains. Still, they proved quite the nuisances, but wouldn't be a problem anymore. . .

. . .Unless they died of starvation, and then she would indeed be guilty of murder. Lovely! She gritted her teeth at the memory, rolling her eyes interanally.

But she doubted it, seeing as they were curently tied to the fence of the sheriff's office.

Which left only one real threat.

One man, one singular man; a notorious outlaw himself. He was the sheriff's most resent hire. Big, deadly, tall and muscled. From long days of hard work killing and robbing she imagined.

She'd actually seen him in person once, and she could admit, he looked dangerous, and devilishly handsome. The rumors had been right about that, she was only hoping that his volatile reputation along with the Van Der Lind gang's would turn out to be folly.

She shivered at the thought, shaking her to the very bones. If it were from the thought of him or the cool of the night, she did not know. She closed her arms around herself, stroking them for warmth as she pushed the unpleasant thoughts away, her gaze snapping to the treeline beyond. She was back to reality, and suddenly accutely aware of the black darkness that lingered between its stems, but her vision was good and she was quite hidden after all. No one would be sneaking up on her–

'Ma'am.'

From the shadows, a man appeared at the edge of the campfires domain, vaguely illuminated by its warmth. Broad and tall in frame, the deep night clung to his back. His sudden prescence was the only evidence of his arrival, he'd made no sound nor been seen before he'd needed to be.

Her eyes snapped in his direction, widening with recognition, the eerie sense divulged itself to her body. Like poison, it spread quickly, crawling into every blood vessel and turning them ice-cold along its journey.

'Mister' she greeted, doing her damndest to stay calm.

His hat covered his eyes, but the smile he gave her was unmistakable. 'Theres quite the bounty on you girl.' The drawl of his accent sunk into her skin like the warmth from the fire.

'There's no doubtin' that,' she nodded in admittal, slowly moving away from him, 'Although im only worth half of it, I assure you.'

She sat still, eyes meeting his as they poked out beneath his hat. He tilted his head to face hers, regarding her silently. Eyes flickering over her, the way her hair fell over her shoulders, and how her blouse revealed the hills of her chest. '. . . 'S that so?. . .' He took a step closer, the rope in his hands now excruciatingly evident to her.

She got to her feet in one swift motion, hesitantly gesturing for him to stay calm. 'Mister, I'm not a murderer. Crimes I did not commit have been written in my name. The sheriff framed me!' She took a few steps to the left, placing the fire between them.

'I belive ya' ma'am.' His hands pulled on the lasso, adjusting its length. Gripping it roughly from time to time, trigger fingers readying themselves for any sudden movement. 'But the law can be a crooked thing sometimes.' His eyes narrowed in on her, then shrugged nonchalantly. 'But a bounty 's still a bounty girl.'

The birds sang above them, and the world blurred around her, her knees suddenly week. And unfortunately for her, he would be there to catch her when she fell. In a sense too literal for her liking.

'And I can say the same for myself ma'am, I'm a bad man. . .' His voice imposed, yet, the gravely tone vibrated perfectly well in her ears.

Gulping her nervousity, she assessed her options. . . And then ran.

Trees rushed past in peripheral whirls as she made her way along the cliff wall. Rope flexed behind her, threads wringing against eachother as it was swung and thrown with a woosh.

The air caressed her cheeks, pulling tears from her eyes and whistling in her ears. She gave it all she had, but it wasn't enough to stop the lasso from capturing her with deadly accuracy. It fell over her shoulders and tightened around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides.

The rope pulled taunt– and the world stopped moving for a short second, with a yank, her body whipped forward and her feet was swept from under her– then just as sudden, it sped up again.

As a tree cut down for its timber, she fell. The ground rushing up to greet her face as she stumbled to the ground with a hard thud. She panted, smelling the earth and feeling the wet grass tickle her face as she struggled against her entanglement; wriggling and thrashing like a stranded fish.

Well-used leather chaps groaned behind her as he stalked closer, winding the rope up as he did. Its sound of hot friction against fabric made her stumache churn. She rolled onto her back to get a better layout of the situation. And there he stood. Just by her feet, looming over her. With his back to the fire it cast a glow around him, framing the big man as he filled her sight. Fear and desire fought for the helm, conflicting her mind terribly.

He crouched down, bending over her as he circled the rope around her, securing his bounty tightly. He grabbed the knot and pulled her up diagonally, pulling her flush against his body so he could level her head with his. '. . .And I've done bad things.' He whispered, lips brushing against her ear. A dull pulse appeared where there ought to be no pulse. She screwed her eyes shut, lust for this man was the last thing she should be feeling. But oh. . . How his breath raised goosebumps, having it spread over her skin like wildfire.

He straightened his legs and stood back, taking her with him while keeping her close to his chest.

Her breath fanned over his lips as they stood a mere inch apart, one bound and the other free. A smirk made its way onto his lips, his hands sliding along the tied rope until they were at her waist, and in one strong motion threw her over his shoulder.

She yelped, 'You brute!' kicking wildy in hopes of getting free. But one of his arms circled around her legs and gripped the back of her thigh to keep them still, while he laid the other on the small of her back to stop her from falling. 'You keep your hands to yourself Mister!' She shouted, struggling against his bullish strength.

'Yes, ma'am.' He assured as he began walking, not paying her futile thrashing much mind.

She cleared her throat and huffed, expecting more of a reaction. She didn't quite know what to do in this situation, she hadnt planned this far ahead. She didn't think she'd ever be properly cought. 'Well, good.' She said curtly, calming herself. Being a nuisance and making the situation worse would be a bad idea, and she'd not made any progress nonetheless, his grip was solid steel. She'd have to settle on feeling his strong back beneath her instead and revel in the feeling of his hand on her thigh.

He stomped out the campfire before moving to where he'd hidden his horse, 'Sittin' or layin'?' He asked, being nice enough to hand her to options of sharing his saddle or to be stored over his horses ass.

She huffed, 'What a gentleman, take a guess Mister.' She muttered.

He nodded, 'Sittin' with me it is.' his hands moved to her waist, easily transfering her from his shoulder to the saddle. She scoffed for the sake of scoffing, eyes narrowing as she looked down on him, and if it had the power to, her look would certainly have killed him. 'Quite presumtions of you.'

With a low chuckle and a shake of his head, he gripped the saddle before climbing on. Placing his hands on either side of it, on hand on the pommel and the other on the cantel. Which just so happened to be between her thighs, and just behind her ass. Almost grazing her on both sides as he braced himself against it, eyes meeting hers with a satisfied smirk, 'Much more attitude from ya' girl and I'll have to take meassures.'

Shock sprung itself on her, feeling dizzy all over again. The knuckle of his thumb was an inch away from brushing against her cunt. Her eyes widened at the fact, and the implications his words carried. Her loins burned, it took everything in her power to stop from rocking her hips forward. But she simply cleared her throat and neutralised her expression, 'Id like to see you try.' And faced away from him, turning her nose upward.

He climbed onto the horse, placing himself close intil her and leaned over her shoulder. 'I will if you let me ma'am.' He whispered in her ear, and then spurred his horse. Shivers shook her at that, her entire body vibrating with a dull sense of need.

They rode silently for a long while, and she wanted to sass him, she wanted it terribly. But was both afraid and hoping he'd take action, just as he'd stated. The miles wound on, oh it felt never ending. Especially with the man behind her, rutting his hips against her with every step of the horse. He was a blessing against the cold, but pure torture as his heat soaked into all the wrong spots of her body.

But finally, it came time to rest. They'd ridden nonstop from the morning of her capture to the next night. If that werent enough, a heatwave had been raging the entirety of the day aswell, and the setting of the sun had barely made a difference.

He set her on the ground, binding her feet and hands before starting on the camp. Making quick work of the fire and tent as she sat down on a rock, silently watching the man work, and very much enjoying the show.

His skin was slick with sweat, much like herself. The cool light of the moon and the warmth of the fire made him glisten in every sense of the word, and oh. . . the way he toiled away.

He had removed his vest and chaps as he got to work, then rolled up the sleeves of his shirt which now stuck to his skin. A nuisance for him to be sure, but a dream for her, she could practically see the muscles of his chest rippling.

A drop of sweat trickled down her temple, tickling her skin and drawing focus away from the view. Her eyes widened as she realised how she stared at the stranger and shook her head, attempting to clear it.

God, focus. She needed to hatch a plan. Running would do her no good, he would be too fast. He wouldn't accept bribes either, and was very hard to persuade. No attempts had been succesful so far, he didnt even want the money she'd stashed away.

At that thought, unavoidably, abashedly her eyes snapped to him as he pulled his shirt off and reached for a new one in his saddlebag. She clenched her jaw to keep it from falling, his strong chest was adorned by hair, trailing down his abdomen and disappearing under. . . The waist of his pants. In that moment, she wanted nothing else then to see where that trail ended. She wanted to trace her fingers along it, or perhaps lick it, all the way down. . .

Her jaw began aching, she fought herself to tear her eyes away from him. Managing to direct her gaze at the ground instead, waiting for him to put a fresh shirt on.

After a short while, she dared to look up again. He'd pulled a log to opposite side of the fire and sat down, a cigarette placed between hid lips and was breathing in a long drag of it. Tilting his head back, he released the cloud of smoke with a sigh.

Her eyes followed his movements intently, studying them as she hoped that perhaps he'd notice her and offer one–

'Want one girl?' He nodded toward her, gesturing with the match box.

'I do, yes.' She answered expectantly, holding her hands out for him to untie.

But to her surprise, he scoffed, then stod and walked around the fire. He crouched on one knee infront of her, his arm bracing against the other. 'You'll have to do better than that.' He said, only a feets distance between them. Then picked the cigarette from his lips and offered it to her, holding it an inch from her mouth. She hesitated, observing him with disdain, 'Go on.' He nodded. But reluctant to follow his orders, she met his eyes, making sure he knew how unhappy she was about it, and then leaned in despite herself. Closing her lips around the cigarette, she sucked the toxic smoke smoke into her lungs like it were air, keeping her eyes locked on his. She swore something glint in his eyes as he studied her pouting lips. A plan struck her suddenly, but–

'Good girl.' He hummed.

Again, shock gripped her. The praise rose right to her head, sending waves of heat cascading through her body. Then she coughed, the smoke settling wrong in her airways. She pulled back, letting him retrieve his cigarette as she regained her composure. 'You alright there sweetheart?' He asked with a grin, and patted her back before replacing the cig between his lips.

'Fine.' She hissed, still reeling from. . . Everything. 'You got anything stronger? Whiskey, bourbon?'

He nodded, and pulled out and old bottle of bourbon from his bag, 'Could you?' She held her hands out to him again.

He studied her, stroking his stubbled jaw in thought. 'Got somethin' for me then?'

Insinuations led her down a path of all kinds of possibilities, but she instead opted for a simple, 'Please?' Instead, attempting it cheapishly.

His hands slipped down to his hip, pulling the knife from its hilt, 'Thats more like it.' He mumbeled with his cigarette clad lips.

And cut the rope around her hands and feet, stopping at the rope around her waist and met her eyes. 'Try anythin'. . .' He raised his eyebrows, and lowered his voice to a mocking tone '. . . run, hurt me' his eyes narrow as a corner of his lip tugs. 'And there'll be a steep price to be payed.'

Swallowing, she nodded enthusiastically, 'I just wan't a sliver of freedom before im locked up, you could understand that right?'

He nodded, 'S'pose so. . .' And began cutting, '. . . difference is girl' the rope snapped and slid down her sides, 'I'd never get caught.' He gathered the rope from her sides, his fingers accidentally brushing against her hips.

Her breath hitched, and her skin tingled desperatley for more of him as fluttering wingbeats set of in her stumache. Such a small thing, turning into such a big reaction.

He cleared his throat, handing her the bottle as he threw the rope into the fire. He sat down on another log, not as far away form her this time. Leaned back against the tree behind it and spread his legs wide. His bulge was enough to make her salivate, 'It's not easy you know, for a woman like me, when there's men like you Mr Morgan.'

Arthur quriked an eyebrow in question, 'You know me?'

'I know of you.' She corrected, taking a big swig of the fluid, then handed it back to him for him to do the same.

He nodded silently, a sigh escaping under his breath. 'All bad I guess.' He took another swallow, not to bothered by her statement. Probably used to hearing it by now.

She shook her head, taking the bottle and another gulp. 'Many of the ladies say you're handsome.'

At this he looked up at her, chuckling. 'Well, I don't know 'bout that.'

'It's true. . .' another sip, followed by a hiccup. 'They say you can be quite the gentleman too.'

His eyes bore into hers, his tone serious but expression joking as he humours her. 'Depends on the lady.' He reaches for the bottle, and she stands up to give it to him. Walking closer, she hands it over, fingers brushing against eachother in the motion.

His eyes meet hers, and she brushes her hand under his chin, 'You know what else they say Mr Morgan?'

'No, what do they say about me sweetheart?' A smirk tugged at his lip, the liquor starting to affect the both of them.

'That you're good in bed. . .' She steps between his thighs, her hand falling from his chin to his neck, scratching at the nape gently.

He hums appreciatively, then takes another sip of the bourbon and sets the bottle aside. His hands reach for her, coming to a rest on either side of her thighs, pulling her closer to him and squeezing them at his pleasure. 'They're only rumours girl.' He tilts his head backward against tree to get a better look at her, eyes fastening on her lips.

With her other hand, she hikes her skirt up, revealing her thighs as she step over his legs, one at a time, slowly sinking down onto his lap as his hands automatically slide to her hips.

She placed herself on top of his bulge, and he grunted from the pressure. The pulse within her began strumming at her nerves, turning them jittery.

'I doubt it Mr Morgan.' She whispered, 'Women do not lie to eachother of such things.' his bulge beneath her grew harder, luring a hidden smile from her, but she wills it from her lips so that it only reaches her eyes. 'They say you're rough, or gentle. Dependin' on your mood.' As she says that, she swears she detects the faintest red creep up his cheeks. Arthur Morgan. . . Blushing? Now, she couldnt help herself as the smile reaches her lips. Hes quite endearing.

The man cleared his throat, acting as if it had never happened. 'That's told of me in everythin' I do girl.' He smirks, the grip on her hips hardening, knuckles turning white.

'But you're always sweet 'n caring.' She continues, her own words were building the lust within her, making the pulse ever stronger. It was becoming hard to focus. She needed to release some of the pressure building inside her. Evaluating the consequences, she rocked her hips downward. Grinding into his bulge.

Simultaneously, she whimpered and he hissed. She leaned against him, her lips brushing against his ear as she nuzzles his cheek. 'Apparently, It's also true what they say 'bout ridin' cowboys–'

'Girl.' He interrupted with a chuckle, 'I know what you're doin'.' He breathes, 'Seducin' me.' With the tight grip on her hips, he helps rock her hips against him, the rough fabric of his pants grinding against her core.

With a gasp, one of her hands shoots out to burry itself in his hair. Then she leans into him, the other hand grabbing his shirt for support as she rests her head against his shoulder. He nuzzles his cheek against hers, and mutters, 'You use your sweet talkin', then get me drunk 'n run off, that your plan girl?'

Her eyebrows furrow, hips grinding down harder, her ruts becoming more frantic, needy. She screws her eyes shut from the copious amounts of pleasure washing over her. All she can do to answer him is hum in admittal as shes straining hard to even stay contious.

He chuckles. 'Easy girl. . .' His voice commanding, low and raspy as he slows her hips, but keeps the pace hard. 'Use your words.' He orders, loving the way shes falling apart for him.

She nods hastily, hoping it would satisfy his request. But he pinches her hip through the fabric of her skirt, and her eyebrows furrow in pain, however not having the energy to even make a sound. Her thoughts were a blur, she couldn't tell what to keep secret anymore, 'Yes– yes. . .' She sighs, the coil inside her tightening impossibly hard.

'Mmh, thought so.' He breathed, the words curt on his tongue, but lust evident in his voice. His hands leave her hips, one arm snaking around her waist, his hand placing itself at the small of her back to push her against him.

Then he stands, drawing a whine from her. She did not quite understand what was going on as the loss of movement gradually undid all the progress she'd made. 'Mr Morgan?' She inquires, hesitantly wrapping her legs around his hips.

He walks them to the tent, 'Arthur.' He corrects, carrying her with ease. He pushes the flap to the side and kneels, bending over her as he lays her on the ground.

'Arthur.' She smiles, worry seeping out as she realised he was making them more comfortable.

His knees slide apart, hooking her legs upon them as they spread. Her hands shoot up, grabbing onto the collar of his shirt to pull him closer, close enough for his lips to hover over hers. Their eyes meet, 'Please. . .' She whimpers, one hand sliding downward. '. . .Please.' She says again, fingertips trailing down his abdomen, suddenly grabbing hold of his bulge with a firm hand, his member rock hard. 'Outlaw or gentleman?' She asked, smiling a wicked smile.

He grunts, lips brushing over hers. 'Neither.' And grabs her wrist, pulling her hand away from his crotch, catching the other in the motion. His free hand reached over her head, and the hauntingly familiar groaning of strong rope sounded above her. She shook her head, 'Arthur, please. . .' Panic moved into her voice, the repeated words carrying a completley different meaning this time.

He held both wrists with one hand and tied them together with the other, the rope burning her skin in the motion.

She cried out unhappily.

But he chuckles, in a matter of factly kind of way. Stroking the burn gently as ge corrects her, 'Should've behaved.' And when done, he sits back. Observing her as she lies tied up, legs spread infront of her, circled around his hips. Much to his dismay, he wouldn't be enjoying the sight as much as he wanted to. 'It's late.' He grunts curtly, then stands and walks toward the flap.

'Arthur. . .' She pleads, trying one last time.

He turns his head just enough to see her in his peripheral, 'Get some sleep, you got a long day ahead of you tomorrow.' He flashes his eyebrows smugly, 'Night, sweetheart.' Then exits the tent without another word.

She huffed, unbelivable. Nuzzling herself into the bedroll.

Sweetheart. . . But how could she be annoyed when he calls her such a thing. She dreamed herself away, with imagines of a shirtless Arthur Morgan and the feeling of him inside her. But she'd not given up, make no mistake, he would fall asleep and she would leave. . .

The night carried on and the temperature finally began dropping, a shiver shook her pleasantly. It was a welcome change. Her body strained as she raised her neck to get a look of the outside. Through the flap she saw Arthur, sitting, snoring, hat covering his face as he leaned back against the tree he'd previously been sitting on.

Now, she needed to get rid of her restraints. Rolling over, she crawled toward the opening, her eyes never leaving Mr Morgans sheathed knife.

The fire had been reduced to embers at this point. Crackling and sizzling lowly as the cool moisture in the air riddled the grass with dewdrops, dampening her hands and skirt as she approached her goal. She sat on her knees, then moved to grab the knife carefully, gnelty sliding it out. The sound of it unlatching nearly had her yelp.

No movement in Arthur.

Shallow breaths, she exhales. Relief flooding through her begoee she began working the knife against her entangled wrists with her fingertips. Carefully regarding the vicious man for any signs of waking. But her thoughts slid, perhaps, if he caught her, he would be kind. Or would he be angry? She could truly not decide werther which reaction she'd most prefer–

The rope snapped, and exhilaration filled her. Gaze snapping between her free hands and the hunter, imagining her prospects. She stood quietly, holding her skirt tightly around her to keep the fabrics from rustling. Slowly, knife still in hand, she backed away. On careful tiptoed steps she faded into the night, the fire dwindling in the distance.

The darkness made it hard for her to see much of anything, at its height the tree-crowns silhouette were visible against the blue summer sky. Branches moved, leaves swished in the gentle wind. She grew paranoid, head snapping in every direction, reacting to every little noise around–

A branch broke behind her, she jumped, turning around so fast she almost ripped– a Buck. She froze, a god damned buck? She had expected it ro be Arthur, but she seemed to have ogtten the better of him. The animal looked at her, ears twitching as it chewed on grass– suddenly hopping away. She sighed and turned back.

Only to collide with something hard. Her thoughts raced, she knew, she knew. She looked up, eyes tracing along his body until they met his, half hidden under his hat. Reflexes prepared her to run, but before she had as much as taken a step back, a hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her back to him. Again, she thumped into his strong chest. Held against him with the familiar iron grip, she fought, as usual; but to no avail, as usual. He snaked an arm around her waist to hinder her from breaking free, yet she kicked and punched violently with her free limbs. But it made no dent in the man. He couldn't even spare her a reaction as he half carried, half dragged her back into the low light of the burnt out fire. He spun her around and pushed her up against the cliff wall, grabbing the wrist closest to him and pinning it above her head. 'I warned you, girl.' He snarled, the look in his eyes doing just as good a of job pinning her to the wall as his hands. He reaches for the second–

When something sharp digs into the soft flesh of his throat, he froze. His chest was the only thing moving between the two of them, heaving breaths of annoyance.

'Thrid times the charm.' She smirked.

He raised his eyebrows and chuckled, 'That so?' His voice mocking, and before she could comprehend what had happened, he'd captured both wrists with one hand and slammed them above her head and into the wall. And the knife had appeared in his free hand, she noticed this because it was now held against her own throat. 'Repeat that for me girl.'

Her lips struck a thin line as she attempted a neutral expression, although fuming on the inside. She shrugged her shoulders, 'No.' Was all she said, but stubborn in tone.

He nodded, looking her up and down, studying the buttons on her blouse. 'Ought to teach you a lesson sweetheart.'

She cleared her throat, deciding that to act nonchalant was her best option. 'Yeah? What ya' gunna do, huh? Ravage me?' She asked half joking, but still hoping there'd be some truth to it.

At this, the corner of his mouth turned up, a wicked grin developing on his lips. 'I just might.' He breathed, tracing the tip of the knife downward, along her collarbone and then along the front of her blouse, coming to a stop at the first button. She gulped, feeling the knife poke through the thin fabric against her chest, making goosebumps run amock in reaction and the pulse reheating in her core. He leaned forward, pushing his body against hers until there was no room left between them, his head hovering just above the crook of her neck. 'May I do with you as I please?'

This was it, the sweet balance between a hardened outlaw and a tender gentleman. 'Yes– yes, Arthur please.' Her voice near a cry, it took everything in her to control her tone–

Her blouse ripped, from top to bottom he cut it open, and she wasn't wearing a brasier. Her chest laid bare before him, and he groaned happily at the sight.

With her go-ahead he wasted no time, he let go of her hands and cut her skirt too. Cutting a slit as far as he reached with the knife then threw it to the side, and the tore the rest. She gasped, every nerve in her body on edge. In an instant, his lips were upon hers. Hungry, hungry lips devouvered her as hands roamed her body, groping and grabbing wherever they got purchase. Her own hands greedily searching for a steady hold in his hair, she grabbed a fistful and pulled gently. He moaned at the feeling, such a beautiful sound. His hands slid over her breasts, squeezing them, then pushed the remains of her blouse off of her shoulders.

Except for her undergarments, she stood completley exposed for him. She could practically feel him salivating when he cupped her clothed mound, and finding her clit with expertise and rub it through the fabric.

She tore herself free from his kisses, she had to breathe. A deep gasp brought oxygen to ger lungs once again, allowing her to whimperand moan in equal measure as he worked her clit. The pressure made her knees week, she wriggled, attempting to rut against his hand. But she was too unsteady to make progress. Noticing her difficulties, his other hand slid behind her back and held her steady. Allowing her to chase her pleasure. And left with no lips to kiss, he latched onto her neck instead, to suck at her sweet spot.

She hummed appreciatively, unable to keep a big smile from her lips as pulses of pleasure washed through her. She slid her hands from his hair and unbuttoned his shirt, running her fingers along his strong chest and abdomen, gingerly feeling all of him as her hands worked themselves lower. Finally unbuttoning his pants. She did no longer have to wonder were his happy trail dissapeared too, she bit her lip. He was huge. She stuck her hand into his pants and stroked him eagerly. 'Need ya' Arthur, please.' She panted.

He let out a strained grunt against her shoulder, and his hand left her clit. She whined, but didn't have to stay displeased for long.

Both his hands slid down her sides, and she tried to breathe steadily, but it proved hard. The feeling of his calloused hands on her skin was too heavenly. Suddenly, he lifted her. Pinning her against the cliff wall with his arms and the weight of his body, allowing her to wrap her arms and legs around him. She hadn't known, but he had wordlessly obided her request. He pulled her garments to the side, and line himself up with her entrance. 'Sure about this?' He asked, a final reassurance.

'Yes.' She purred, no hesitation in her answer.

And so he pushed inside her, the sheer size of him was making her want to scream–

'Good girl.' He moaned, and directed his eyes to hers. She repressed a moan, biting her lip hard to hinder it as heat flashed through her. It was two words, yet she could've come undone from them alone, when said by him alone.

He gazed upon her softly, one of his hands left her thigh to gently stroke a strand of hair from her face. She smiled, and so did he. He was just giving her time to adjust, but her heart soared at the simple gesture.

God how could she feel so strongly for a stranger?

Her hands retangled in his hair as Arthur slid out of her, she furrowed her brows– but in a rough, quick thrust. He shoved himself back inside of her, filling her to the brim. He set a cruelly pleasurable, unrelenting pace. Any trace of gentleness gone.

She felt the pressure tightening within her, building snd building until she was on the verge of coming once again. Her hands sunk to his back, clawing and scratching because she did not know what else to do, he was too much, too good, too big. He overstimulated her with his mere prescence. And he knew when her walls tightened around him, adding extra pressure onto his already throbbing member. 'You close girl?' He grunted, his gruff voice breathed against her ear and his hand squeezing her thigh roughly beneath her. God it was sublime.

'Mhm. . . So- close.' She murmurs, her words coming out jagged as her body rocks with Arthurs thrusts. Pushed closer to her release with each thrust, once again, she shut her eyes and spots speckled her eyelids. Breathing turns frantic, she could no longer tell who was who as they mixed, moans and curses spilling from them both.

With a flash of pleasure, searing hot it soured through her, making her whimper uncontrollably. His thrusts slow, holding her securely, caressing her face and kissing her lips as she rides out her high. 'You're alright girl.' He breathes reassuringly, 'Well done Sweetheart.'

Overstimulated tears roll from her eyes, 'Oh Arthur, you sweet, sweet man.' She sighs happily, and he comes a mere second later. His seed filling her and oozing out.

They'd clean themselves tomorrow, since tiredness plagued them currently. He backed away from the wall and she clung to him, desperatley not wanting to part with him.

He carried her back to the tent, this time not bothering to tie her up as they laid down facing eachother. Arthur, grabbed her chin between his index and forefinger. Studying her thuroughly before they finally succumbed to sleep. She could escape if she wanted to, he wouldn't stop her this time. Her plan had worked, they both knew it. But they felt something else too, and they both knew it.

Hooded eyes blinked, blushing at Arthurs intent eyes and searching gaze. Her eyelids weighed down by exhaustion, It'd been a long few days, and before she knew it–

The light dawns, rays of dusty sunlight shone through the flap of their tent as the morning wakes. Bringing warmer tempratures and calm birdsong.

He opens his eyes, and immediately meet hers. She'd just been admiring him. 'Surprised?' She asked, biting her lip and stopping herself from reaching out to touch him.

He smiles, 'Naw, I was hopin' I'd wake up to you girl.'

#arthur murgan #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan imagine #rdr2 #rdr2 smut #rdr2 arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 smut #rdr2 fanfic #rdr smut #red dead redemption #arthur morgan fanfic

[emmcfrxst]

the only heaven i’ll be sent to (is when i’m alone with you); arthur morgan x reader

word count: 2K

warnings: smut!, afab!reader, religious themes (kinda. a bitch loves blasphemy<3), oral (f!receiving), body worship (arthur worships the ground you walk on), multiple orgasms (again, f!receiving), expressively asking for consent because that’s sexy! also yes the title is a hozier reference! feedback is appreciated as always <333

!!!!!MINORS DNI!!!!!

The wind blows softly over the half-closed lapels of the tent you and Arthur had set up somewhere around Dewberry Creek, your old, rusted lantern creaking as it sways with the night breeze. The flickering light does not seem to bother your companion, however, as he flattens his tongue over the seam of your cunt, moaning greedily into you. Arthur’s eyes flutter closed in ecstasy as your fingers tangle in his hair, giving the honey brown strands a sharp tug when he delivers a particularly hard suck to your pulsing clit. Your legs close around his head instinctively, trapping him between your thighs, tense muscles flexing against the sides of his face. A soft, breathy apology leaves your swollen lips, the pressure disappearing soon after as your lover pins your body down with calloused hands, brushing off your apology with a chuckle against your skin. You do not have anything to apologize for; Arthur Morgan, a man who has escaped death more than once, would gladly let himself be smothered by your cunt if it came to it. What a way to go that would be, he thinks. The closest to heaven’s gates he will ever get. And although Arthur isn’t a man of religion, he is more than willing to spend every day and every night praying at the altar that is your body, worshipping every inch of you with his eyes, his lips, his hands. Every kiss, every mark you leave on his skin is a holy reminder of the love shared between the two of you; of the passionate nights where Arthur can forget all about his sins and fully allow himself to be bathed in the sacred light of your affections.

“There you go, beautiful. Come back to me.” he coos at you, pushing hair out of your teary eyes, a tender grin on his face. His thumb gently runs under your eyes, wiping away the moisture there as you come back to your senses, focusing on his form above you. The sight of him is like a punch to the gut; blue irises swallowed up by fully dilated pupils, lips swollen and shining with the evidence of your previous orgasms, his beard is soaked through and his breathing ragged. You let your eyes wander down to where his bulge is straining against his union suit, biting your lip. The effect is immediate— his cock twitches under your sultry gaze, a soft groan leaving your lover’s throat.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that.” Arthur warns lowly, calloused hands running over the bare skin of your thigh. You giggle, lifting yourself up to brush your lips against his, your hand running down his chest, feeling his muscles flex under your touch.

“Like what?” You ask innocently, the teasing curve of your smile betraying your oblivious act. Arthur glares at you playfully, hand coming down to squeeze your inner thigh.

“Like ye wanna do real bad things t’me.” He mutters, voice raspier than usual, dripping with arousal. Suppressing a grin, you sit up, letting your hands slide all the way down to cup him through his clothes, thumb gently pressing against the wet spot on his underwear. A sick sort of satisfaction fills you at Arthur’s reaction —pretty blue eyes fluttering closed, his lips part in a strangled moan, hips jutting forward, seeking more pressure. You allow him a few moments to bask in your touch, swirling your thumb around his tip through the fabric and cupping his balls, before taking your hands off of him, leaving him breathing heavily.

“Maybe I do wanna do real bad things to you, Mr Morgan.” you whisper against his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses over his pulse point. A satisfied little giggle leaves you when you hear him cursing under his breath, hips bucking upwards of their own volition. Your victory is short lived, however, as your lover pinches your clit in retaliation, making you cry out. Satisfied, a smug grin on his face, he finally bares himself to you, making your breath hitch. It isn’t the first time you see Arthur in all of his glory —far from it, really, but the sight of how strong, how capable he is always manages to steal the breath right from your lungs. Freckles adorn the robust planes of his shoulders, ascending all the way across the broadness of a back toned from years of hard work; a petite waist and powerful hips curve out into muscled thighs and chiseled calves— Arthur Morgan is truly a sight to behold. He flushes under your heated stare but says nothing —how wise of him, you think, for he knows by now that you would never allow him to look down on himself, not even under the pretense of a joke. You deserve better than the way you treat yourself, you’d told him a million times. And you’ll spend the rest of your life proving it— that he’s worth it, be it through words, comfort, actions or through the passionate entangling of your bodies and souls. Because sex is more than just that to the two of you; it is a way of communicating the love and the needs you have for one another— Arthur, so painstakingly touch starved before you came along, now revels in the physical familiarity you two share. From fleeting touches to lingering kisses, he simply cannot seem to get enough of you; he does not believe the longing in his heart could ever be quelled completely.

Trembling gasps leave the two of you as Arthur slides his cock between your folds, coating himself in your slick. Jolts of pleasure thrum through your body every time his tip bumps against your swollen clit, your soft cries of pleasure causing Arthur’s cock to twitch.

“Sweetheart, if you keep makin’ all them pretty noises it’s gonna be over b’fore it even starts.” His accent is thick and his voice is shaky, excited little tremors running through his body at your state of undoing —all because of him. He’s made a real mess out of the two of you; drenched, sweaty and needy — thick strips of your wetness clinging to Arthur’s lower abdomen, precum pearling over the tip of his cock and gliding down his length; yes, your lover is more than willing to drown himself in your shared desire, to indulge in the carnality of your bound. Wrapping a hand around himself, he groans behind clenched teeth, sensitive to the touch, fingers quickly getting wet from how thoroughly turned on he is. He, however, remains unashamed, having accepted long ago that he will never be in control when it comes to you —he has never felt so connected with another human being, be it physically, psychologically, mentally or emotionally and he no longer bothers trying to hide the way you make him feel.

Understood. Respected. Appreciated. Loved. Alive. He’d never felt so many emotions prior to meeting you. Had never felt so alive; had never wanted to keep going as much as he has since you walked into his life. You make it worth it.

Letting his lips brush along your brow line, Arthur curls the fingers of his free hand around one of your thighs, spreading you open for him.

“Ye still good? D’ye want me to stop?” He asks, blue eyes roaming over your bare form with tenderness, trying to assess the situation. Even with you soft, pliant and soaked underneath him, Arthur Morgan would never dare to make assumptions about your desires, would never be so single-minded as to claim you without expressed consent from your part. He needs to know you want this as much as he does, wants this to be good for you— he thrives on your pleasure and your pleasure alone; can only feel good if you are. It is one of the many reasons why you love him so deeply, but in your lusting daze, you find yourself too strung up to fully appreciate it.

“Arthur Morgan, if you stop now m’gonna kick your sorry ass—oh!” Your voice breaks off into a pitiful little whimper when his cock teases your entrance, a low, rumbling laugh leaving him.

“As you wish, m’lady.” He allows himself to be playful for a few moments longer, basking in the frustrated little furrow of your brows and your pouting lips before pushing inside in one smooth glide, aided by your shared arousal. Arthur curses under his breath as your cunt flutters around him, trying to adjust to his girth. The blunt ends of your nails leave crescent marks onto the broadness of his shoulders and Arthur clenches his jaw, doing his best to stay still and allow you a moment of reprieve from the sensations that overtake your body. Busying himself with leaving marks onto your skin, he soothes the spots where his teeth have dug into, lips moving feom your neck to your chest to take a nipple into his mouth. The loud, broken mewl you let out at the action makes him shiver, goosebumps spreading all over his skin at the sound, but he continues to stay still, waiting for you to give him the permission to go on. It’s only when your legs wrap around his waist that he does finally let himself move, pulling himself almost all the way out before sliding back in with a quick snap of his hips. Another cry leaves your lips at the action, although this time sounding strangled, your cunt clenching around your lover’s cock at the delicious friction he provides you with. Your foot presses into the meat of his ass, encouraging him to go faster, deeper— a silent demand he is quick to indulge in. A series of loud, wet noises begin resounding around the two of you, only motivating Arthur on to thrust harder; your back arching up into him when he starts battering that one spot inside of you, rough fingers coming down to rub circles onto your clit. The moans pour freely from your mouth and into his as he kisses you, tongues tangling together in a messy, sloppy fight for dominance. You’re vaguely aware of the spit trickling down your chin but are far too gone to care; the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter with every powerful snap of Arthur’s hips into yours. Already sensitive from your previous orgasms, you rake your nails down his back, trying to warn your lover of your impending climax. Alas, gargling moans are the only thing you can manage before you finally snap; vision going white, body going rigid under his, you repeat his name like a prayer as waves after waves of pleasure wash over you. Arthur isn’t far behind you, spurred on by your own release, a long, incredibly deep moan rumbling through his chest before he pulls out of you, sticky cum splattering across your stomach. Coming down from your high, you tuck a few strands of hair behind Arthur’s ears, fingers lingering on his face lovingly. He leans into your touch immediately, turning his head to press a gentle kiss into your palm, his body trembling with the aftermath of his own orgasm.

“Was…” He clears his throat, rolling off of you and pulling you along to rest on his chest. “Was that good f’r ya?” The gravelly tone of his voice cannot conceal the genuineness of his question, his fingers running down the length of your spine. It makes you smile— he makes you smile, your sweet cowboy. Shifting to look at him, you kiss him right over his heart, fondness warming your features.

“It was. It always is, with you. I love you.” And despite it not being the first time you utter those words— far from it, really— emotion still takes over Arthur’s heart and features, eyes shining with a sheen of tears.

Love. You love him.

No, Arthur Morgan may not be a religious man, and he remains unconvinced of God’s existence, but he does know one thing; you are his little piece of heaven on Earth.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fic #rdr2 fic #rdr2 smut #rdr2 imagine #arthur morgan imagine #red dead redemption 2 fic #red dead redemption 2 smut #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2

[serawritesthings]

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

OUR DEAR, GREEN LITTLE FRIEND

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cold?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, kind.”

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

“Sure.”

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you jealous of Charles?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Only me, right?”

“Only you, stupid.”

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption smut #red dead smut

[angelltheninth]

Arthur Morgan Teaches You How to Ride Him

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, dick riding, guidance, encouragement, inexperience, age-gap

A/N: Can we all agree that he is the hottest cowboy dilf?

"You wanna sit on there nice and slow sweetheart. Know you're eager for it but don't hurt yourself now." That was funny coming from the man who was just in a bar fight. You can still see the bruising on his knuckles and see where his lip was split. "Did seeing me fight do it for you? So wet down there, I'm thinking it just might've."

"It's not the fight I promise you." Maybe a little but more of it was Arthur's charm and boldness. And how delicately he treated you. Sure you knew he could give you a rough pounding, enough to potentially break the bed but he was set on teaching you something new today.

Today was a riding lesson. Dick riding to be exact.

You tried to take him in right away, which proved a little painful even with how slick you were. You balanced yourself on your knees above his hips, your pussy touching the red tip of his cock, hands on his chest, feeling the chest hair and the scars from knives and bullets. This sounded much easier then it proved to be when he suggested it.

"I might not be as young as I used to be but I'll still throw my fists for a pretty young lady's honor." Arthur wanted to protect you as much as he wanted to corrupt your mind with all sorts of sinful ideas, such as meeting him night after night, sneaking out just to fuck him, "Besides I reckon none of those wannabe tough guys back there could teach you half the things I know. Ain't that right baby?" His hands pushed you down with the right amount that you felt the pressure, but not enough to bruise as the cockhead pushed just past your entrance. "There we go, right where my cock should be. Now I want you to start rolling your hips downwards, slowly, until you're able to fit the whole thing inside there."

Your hips started moving, breath hitching with every inch of his cock that you managed to take. You've taken it plenty of times in the past but you were never the one on top, and even with this newfound control you had over the movements you thought it better to listen to Arthur's advice then take him all at once. Instead on the feeling of lust you focused on how his cock stretched you open more and more, causing you to tighten and release around him, looking at his smile which grew wider and wider until settling on a permanent grin when you took his whole length.

"Atta girl." With his feet firmly planted on the bed Arthur folded his arms behind his head to enjoy himself to the fullest. "Gotta say I'm real comfy like this."

"Yeah? Am I making you feel good, Arthur?" A big, satisfied smile split across your face. Your hips were still touching him when you tried wiggling around a bit, feeling every inch of his twitching cock, perfectly angled to hit your deepest spots, "Can you tell how good you make me feel too?"

"I'd be worried if I didn't. You're gonna need to go up slowly, repeat the sliding until it goes in smoothly for you, then you can start to pick up the pace. Be sure to keep your balance too, because sometimes," He pushed his hips upwards, making you moan his name along with a deep whimper, "you might get yourself a surprise or two."

Nodding you let his body settle back down and you on top of him again, filled with his cock and the new found confidence that you could make him feel just as good as he made you feel.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 smut #rdr2 x female reader #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption x female reader #smut drabble #smutember 2023 #x female reader

[hihomeghere]

Fakin' it | Arthur Morgan/Reader

Word Count : 3k Summary : After a botched robbery, Arthur and you take refuge in a hotel, hiding from the O'Driscolls outside your door. When they do decide to search for you two, how will you throw them off your track? Warnings/Tags : Enemies to lovers <3, unprotected piv sex, guns, cursing, reader has female gentailia, fingering, one bed, fake marriage

Of course the job that went bad had to be with Arthur. Why Dutch had put you two together was beyond you. Everyone around the gang knew that it was volatile anytime you two were together. But, you were cunning, quick minded in a pinch. Arthur was strong, easily able to take down a man twice his size, not that someone of that caliber came along often. To put it simply, you were the brains, he was the brawn. As much as you hated to admit, you made a good team on jobs. This time however, a simple robbery had turned into dozens of O’driscolls around every corner. You two had barely made it into a hotel unscathed. 

“One room.” Arthur said, setting down some coins on the table top as you watched the door. Your hand resting against your gun in your dress pocket.

“Name?” The man asked with a smile.

“Callahan.” Arthur said looking back at you. “Mr. and Mrs. Callahan.” He said, turning back to the clerk. You heard footsteps outside of the hotel, you turned quickly grabbing Arthur’s arm.

“Sweetheart.” You cooed, internally cringing as you called him by that name. You looked at him with wide eyes, “Come on.” You said with a nervous smile.

“We’re newlyweds, a bit excited if you can’t tell.” He chuckled, turning back to the clerk, his arm wrapping around your waist.

“Of course.” The clerk said with a knowing smile, you wanted to barf as Arthur squeezed your waist. “Up the stairs to the left.” He said, handing Arthur a key.

“Much appreciated.” Arthur said his hand on the small of your back as you two climbed the stairs. As soon as you turned the corner you nearly ran to the door, Arthur slid the key in the lock and turned it, ushering you inside. As soon as the door was closed behind you, he was locking it just as fast. 

Once you got in the room you moved away from Arthur’s side, letting out a sigh as you looked around the room. One bed, of course, you two were acting as a couple.

“Mr. and Mrs. Callahan, really?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you turned to look at Arthur. 

“Less eyes on us if we’re a couple, not cause I wanna play house with you.” He said with a grunt, barely raising his head to look at you. He walked over to the bed, moving to take his boots off.

“Less eyes.” You scoffed, looking around the room, walking over to the window. You pulled the blinds back, peeking out to the streets below. 

“The hell you think you're doing?” Arthur hissed, his hand wrapping around your wrist.

“Looking.” You said glaring up at him. “Is that a crime?”

“Do you want to give away our position?” He growled, his eyes dark.

“I think it’s pretty damn clear we’re in one of these shops, now we have to wait it out until they’re gone.” You said pulling away your arm from his grasp. He let out a deep breath, his jaw clenched as he looked away from you.

“How many are out there?” He asked, holding his hat as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know, maybe a dozen?” You said crossing your arms.

“Dutch said to keep a low profile,” He muttered to himself, “We can’t go out there guns blazing.” He said, setting his hat down on the bedside table. 

“That’s obvious.” You said, shaking your head. He scoffed, looking up at you.

“Are you trying to piss me off, or is that just one of your special talents?” Arthur said glaring at you.

“Oh I have lots of talents.” You say, stepping closer a scowl on your face. 

“If only one of them was keeping your mouth shut.” He growled. 

“God, what is your problem?” You huff looking away from him.

“My problem?” He scoffs getting up from the bed. “You’re my problem." He said, his chest almost touching yours as you looked up at him.

“Feelings mutual.” You huff, glaring up at him. He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as you walked away from him. 

“We’re gonna have to wait it out.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“The hell are we gonna do?” You asked throwing your hands up. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m gonna take advantage of this bed.” He said laying back down on the bed, placing his hat over his face. You bit your cheek looking at him as he crossed his legs. He did have a point, the bed looked a whole lot softer than your cot back at camp. You mulled it over for a second before sitting down on the edge of the bed. You unlaced your boots, laying back on the bed. Your eyes quickly drew heavy, the adrenaline of the chase finally wearing off. 

The sun was setting when you woke up, the light slowly disappearing behind the horizon. The room was quiet except for Arthur’s breathing. You sat up in bed, looking over at him. His hat had fallen off his face when he rolled over sometime during his sleep. He looked so peaceful when he slept, it was like seeing a completely different side of him. It’s at this moment you really appreciate how beautiful Arthur truly is. The bridge of his nose is high, broken one too many times. His plump lips parted slightly, like two petals. His sandy brown hair falling over his forehead. 

You wanted to reach out and move it out of his face, but thought better of it. You didn’t want to disturb him and it wasn’t often that you saw him without a furrowed brow. 

Just as you were laying back down you heard heavy footsteps up the stairs. By your guess, four, maybe five men. You sit up quietly, feeling your heart pound against your rib cage. Arthur sprang up in bed as soon as they kicked open the first door. They must have turned right when they went up the stairs. The yell of shock sounded farther down the hall. He turned to you, his eyes wide. He reached for his gun belt on the floor but you stopped him. Your brain was running through all the situations. Four or five men, sure you and Arthur could take them, but that’s not exactly a low profile. 

Against your better judgment you picked the solution with the least amount of bloodshed. You swung your leg over Arthur’s waist.

“The hell are you doing-“ Arthur hissed before you covered his mouth with your hand. Your fingers started working on the buttons of your blouse as you rolled your hips forward. Arthur looked up at you with a wide eyed expression, his bright eyes frantically moving between his gun belt on the floor and the door. His stubble lightly scratched your palm as you held your hand over his mouth, his plump lips almost kissing your palm.

You forced a high pitched moan as you moved your hips faster on the bed, the bedframe hitting the wall. Creating the illusion you two were having sex.

The gears slowly started to turn in Arthur’s mind, his hands gripping your hips as he propelled you faster. The bedframe was now rocking against the wall, as you pulled your arms out of your blouse, leaving your chest bare. Your nipples hardened from the cold air as goosebumps sprung up on your skin. Arthur’s eyes were closed as he turned his head, forcing a low groan. Although you knew his groans were fake, the way his body reacted to your touch was more than real. You kept up with your moans, trying to put on a good enough show.

The door was soon forced open, as two O’Driscolls entered  the room with their guns raised. You scream, Arthur is quick to pull your chest down to his. You were pressed tight against him, his warm hands keeping you flush against him, all of him. His work shirt rubs against your nipples in such a fucking delicious way, it doesn’t help tbe adrenaline coursing through your veins. You can’t see anything, your head buried into Arthur’s neck, his stubble now rubbing against your cheek.

“Get the hell out of here!” Arthur yells, hidden by your upper half.

One of them clears their throat before exiting the room, closing the door behind them. You hold your breath waiting for their footsteps to retreat down the hallway. You let out a sigh of relief as they meet back up with the other men, walking down the stairs.

Hesitantly Arthur moves his hands off your back, you sit up covering your breasts with your arms. Arthur, however, was staring up towards the ceiling. His jaw clenched as he avoided looking at you.

You moved off of his waist, grabbing your blouse before slipping your arms through the sleeves. You buttoned it up, swallowing thickly as Arthur cleared his throat. 

“Now uh-“ Arthur said letting out a sigh, “I want you to know that I didn’t see nothin’.” The bed whines slightly as he stands up. 

“I know you felt something.” You said, shaking your head as you blush from head to toe. 

“Now-“ Arthur sighed, running a hand through his hair as you turned to face him, his eyes flicking around the room before settling at your feet as he held up his hand. “We can just pretend this never happened, it was a matter of life and death.”

“I understand that.” You looked at him, fully looked at him. His gaze was low, his chest rising and falling quickly, his cheeks flushed. God, he looks wrecked.

Your eyes trailed over his body as he stood there, his hand on his hip as he popped his knee out. Your eyes moved down further, almost popping out of your head as you see how painfully hard he is pressed against his pants. 

“Are you-“ The words fall out of your mouth before you can think to stop them.

“Jesus.” Arthur sighed looking down, his hand rubbing his eyebrows.

“You are.” A nervous chuckle leaves your mouth as your eyes trailed up and down his body. You felt heat begin to spread between your thighs as he met your eyes. Your heart is still pounding against your rib cage from the encounter with the O’Driscolls. 

“I’m-“ He started throwing his hands up, “I’m sorry, alright but you can’t expect me- I’m only a man.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

“Nothing to be ashamed-“ He cut you off, shaking his head, “There is plenty to be ashamed of, I shouldn’t be getting so… so worked up over you.” He said motioning to you. You couldn’t help that you were also getting worked up, you subtly rubbed your thighs together. Trying to get any friction where you needed it most. Heat bloomed in your stomach as the tension in the room only got worse. He furrowed his brows, studying you.

“Wait,” He chuckled, shaking his head, “You feel it too.” He said, crossing his arms.

You scoffed, looking off to the side. “You wish.” You said, hating the slight tremor in your voice. Arthur strode across the room, stopping in front of you. He reached towards you, tilting your chin so you would have to look at him. 

“Tell me you don’t want this.” He said softly, his other arm encircling your waist pulling you flush against him. You stayed silent, looking up into his blue eyes. Slowly a smirk worked its way onto his face, “That’s what I thought.” He chuckled, cupping your cheek. He leaned forward brushing his nose against yours. Giving you the option to pull away if you wanted, his eyes softening as he looked into yours. You took the plunge, capturing his lips against your own as you threaded your fingers through his hair.

A groan rumbled through his chest as his hand tightened around your waist. You felt dizzy as his lips moved against yours, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip. You opened your mouth allowing his access as he pressed into you deeper. He rubbed himself against you, his hips pressed against your lower belly. 

You pulled away, breathing hard as you looked up at him. His face was flushed, his mouth parted slightly as his chest rose and fell rapidly. You unbuttoned your blouse for the second time, just as feverishly as the first time, but now for a completely different reason. Arthur followed your lead, pushing his own suspenders down, his skillful fingers unbuttoning his own shirt. His eyes returned to your body as he ripped his shirt off of his shoulders, settling onto your breasts. He stared down at you, an almost predatory expression on his face. He closed the distance between you, his hand wrapping around your waist as the other kneaded your breast. You let out a soft gasp, which quickly turned to a moan as he ran his thumb over your perk nipple. 

“Arthur.” He stared down at you, his eyes darkening as he watched you shiver against him. He flipped you around, his hand pressing you down onto the bed. His other hand flipped your skirts up, before pulling down your underclothes. He let out a soft groan as his eyes connected with your almost dripping pussy.

“This all for me?” He cooed, swiping his finger through your folds. You gasped, nodding as your hands gripped the quilt. 

“Yes.” You breathed, “Yes all for you.”

“Good girl.” You could hear the smirk in his voice as he sunk a finger into your heat. You gasped as he slowly started pumping his finger inside of you. He leaned over you, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “Yeah you like that don’t you?” He said nibbling on your earlobe. Your breath hitched in your throat as he added another finger, scissoring them inside your walls.

“Fuck Arthur.” You melwed, pressing your forehead against the slightly scratchy quilt underneath you. “I need you.” You huffed, your walls clenching around his fingers.

“I’m gettin’ there.” He chuckled, pulling his finger out of you, you sighed at the loss. You could hear the rustling of clothing behind you, the distinctive metal on metal as you pulled off his belt. His warm calloused hands ran up your backside, gently spreading you before the head of his cock met your entrance. 

Jesus Christ he was big. 

He spit into his palm, pulling away as he spread his spit over the head of his cock. 

“What the hell is taking so long?” You asked impatiently, turning your head to look at him. His eyes met yours, a wicked grin on his face as he forcefully shoved his cock through your folds. It was like all the air had been knocked out of your lungs as you were propelled forward onto the bed. His hands pulled your hips back and speared you onto his dick. 

“Arthur!” You yelped, your fingers gripping the quilt as he thrust his pelvis flush to yours. 

“Christ woman.” He groaned, laying his forehead against your bare back. You moan as he pulls his hips back before thrusting back into you. “You sound even better when you ain’t faking it.” You can feel the chuckle rumble through his chest more than you can hear it as he speaks. 

“Arthur, Jesus." You pant, almost drooling over the way his cock hits that spot inside you over and over again. 

“Mmm.” He moans, tight lipped as he tilts his head back. You push back against him, meeting every one of his thrusts “Yeah, atta girl.” His praise only spurred you on, your thighs shaking as you pushed your ass against his pelvis. “You close?” He whispered, his warm hand moving down your thigh between your legs. His thumb circling your clit was enough to send you over the edge. You were grateful your upper half was supported by the plush bed as your legs gave out under you. A high pitched moan worked its way out of your chest as you all but collapsed on the bed. Your walls fluttered around him, milking his cock. 

“Shit.” He panted his breath fanning on your back as his forearms caged you in, his hips stuttering as he released his seed inside you. He groaned, resting his forehead against your back as he collapsed on you. His sweaty chest sticking against your back. He pulled out of you, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He whispered. 

“S’okay.” You said breathing hard, his cum seeping down your thighs. He kissed down your spine, his hand lovingly squeezing your hips. 

He grabbed a towel from the dresser, cleaning your thighs off. 

“Who would have thought you’d known about aftercare.” You chuckle softly, your heart rate slowly coming back to normal.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me sweetheart.” He huffs, a small smirk on his face as he tucked himself back into his pants. He reached down, pulling your bloomers back up over your hips. 

“Oh yeah?” You chuckled, grabbing your blouse as he grabbed his shirt off the floor.

“Yeah, Mrs. Callahan.” He smirked walking towards you, buttoning his shirt as he stood in front of you. You rolled your eyes, buttoning your blouse. He wrapped his hand around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.” He said, his hand trailing down your jaw. 

“Alright, fine. Mr. Callahan.” You huffed, a blush covering your cheeks as you rested your hands against his broad chest. 

“Next time,” He tightened his grip on your hips, his lips against your ear, “You’re riding me.”

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[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.

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