#arthur morgan x y/n
Text
A Job Well Done
pairing: Arthur Morgan x reader (f)
word count: 4944 words
warnings: 18+ minors dni, sexually explicit, oral (f giving), rough oral, a little choking, a touch of voyeurism, explicit language, it's pretty much a blowjob fic
authors note: idk what to say... this started as a little drabble because me and my fiancé love having a little smoke together at night and.... well, here we are I guess?? i hope you enjoy you lovely lot, and if you've asked to be tagged and you're not please let me know!! I have a new system for keeping track of my taglist and I may have lost some requests in the transfer
taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries @delilah-grimes @mrsarthurmorgan7 @twola@the-marsh-harrier @wildfloweroutlaw @photo1030 @luvliewriting@pine4pple-b0i *if i've missed you please let me know!!!*
You pull Arthur’s jacket tighter around your shoulders, settling into the old wooden chair while it creaks beneath you. Thanks to being in the middle of the Lemoyne swamps, it isn’t too cold despite the moon hanging so high in the sky above you, the jacket is more for comfort. From where you sit, you can see near the whole camp, watching lanterns flicker off incrementally as each member of your makeshift family retires for the night. A few of the boys stay up, drinking by the fire, their voices muffled and distant in the thick air.
It’s been a week to the day since you last saw Arthur, before he left to track a rather sizable bounty down and attempt to cushion out the camp funds, and God do you miss him. The days feel so much longer, nights so lonely you’ve considered saddling up and finding the bastard yourself just to bring him home sooner. Comfort can be found, though, in the ways Arthur’s presence has bled so deeply into your life that his physical being doesn’t even need to be here.
His smell lingers on the jacket he left (the one he wore every day before he had to leave just so you could wear it when you missed him), that perfect mix of tobacco and whiskey and something so ineffably Arthur that you soak up every time you wrap it around your frame.
He’s there in the routines you've built your lives around, intertwined as they are, the ones you can’t shake even if he’s not beside you. The cup of coffee in a morning, his so much better tasting than yours but you try anyway. The first morning after he left, you made two, ending up giving the extra to a very grateful Abigail to save face.
There’s a nightly routine, too. The one where you get ready for bed, then climb through the window to meet him on your balcony. He’s always there waiting with a cigarette hanging from his lips, patting his lap ready for you to crawl on. He’ll drag a match across his boot, (or sometimes the bottom of yours, if you’re still wearing them) lighting up the smoke before handing it to you. You’ll pass it between each other, catching up on your days, limbs entangled just how they should be as you watch Shady Belle fall asleep around you.
Without him, those routines bring you comfort, grasping onto the remnants of your cowboy until his safe return. That’s why you’re sitting in this spot, pulling a cigar out of the little tin stash box Arthur left behind. Normally it’s just a cigarette, you could never survive a cigar a night and have the throat to tell the tale, but there’s something inexplicably Arthur about this brand of smokes, something you’re seeking tonight.
You pluck a match from the tin, striking it against the table beside you, never having gotten the knack of igniting the thing on your boot as effortlessly as Arthur does, and light the cigar between your lips. The all-familiar woody essence dances across your tongue, your tired muscles relaxing from the first few tokes.
It’s just you, the moon and the crickets as you sit on the balcony, Arthur’s smoke between your lips. You wonder what he’s doing. He should be sleeping, but knowing him he’s probably up planning, or doing exactly what you are right now. You pray he’s safe, hasn’t been gotten by the law or worse, gotten himself killed. You can’t let yourself even think about that, the very idea bringing a tremble to your limbs. To combat the sudden spike in anxiety, the next time you bring the cigar to your lips you drag in just that bit more smoke, letting it soak down your spine. Not nearly as experienced in smoking as Arthur, you cough a little, but you recover much quicker than you used to.
Memories of that first time, of Arthur offering you the little brown stick and you nervously nodding, bring a little smile to your face. Oh, how you spluttered, Arthur giving you his drink on instinct, only realising that the whiskey burn would do the opposite of help once it was too late. You’d have been in your right mind to be embarrassed as hell, but by the way he chuckled as he rubbed circles around your back told you that he found it nothing but adorable.
You sit there for a few minutes, basking in the precious peace so seldom found nowadays and taking a drag every now and then, the smoke riding a sigh from your lips. Your eyes slip closed, trying to shut off as many senses as you can to really connect with that smell and taste, imagining him emerging from your bedroom window to be here with you.
He’s much less graceful than you are, often catching some part of his person on the windowsill when he climbs out onto the balcony. So many nights spent patching up little holes in his pant legs, right where that out sticking nail used to be in the frame before he ‘bested it in combat’ (i.e. pulled it out with a hunting knife and threw it ceremoniously in the lake).
Manifestation is a powerful tool, you’ve always believed that, but you still nearly jump out of your skin when you feel a large hand grasp your shoulder just as you imagined, Arthur’s gruff, hushed whisper tickling the words “hey, sweetheart” into the skin of your neck. It takes you a second to catch your breath, heart racing from the shock before everything registers and reality sets in.
“Arthur?”
He’s here.
“C’mere, darlin’.”
You fly out of your seat, the rickety old thing nearly splintering under the force, launching yourself into his open arms to burrow yourself into him. Every part of him consumes your senses and you drink it all in like an addict. The smell, the real thing, much more of that Arthur essence than the whiskey or cigars, probably because he forewent breaks in his journey for those little pleasures to get back to you sooner.
He seems to be taking you in as much as you are him, inhaling long through his nose and sighing it out contentedly, feeling whole again after so long without you in his arms.
“I missed ya’, beautiful.” He says softly into your hair, holding you tight against him, his knuckles brushing up and down the small of your back through layers of clothes you’ve stolen from him.
“I missed you so much…” You mumble into his shirt, hardly able to breathe through the wall of hard chest muscle you’re pressed against, caring even less.
It’s only then do you remember the cigar, forgotten and abandoned, smoking away on the table propped up on a jar lid turned makeshift ashtray. Most of the boys don’t bother with one, and neither did Arthur, until a fateful night a few months before you started dating when you first handed him the jar and told him you read something about birds and rabbits eating the butts of cigarettes. He kept the little piece of junk right next to his bedside, waiting for you to find it after that first night together.
Arthur spots your momentary pull of attention, pulling his chest away to raise a brow down at you with a little chuckle rumbling his chest.
“Having a fancy smoke of a night, are we?”
A cheeky little smirk- Arthur’s favourite, actually- tugs at the corner of your lips, waiting patiently for him to kiss it away.
“The smell reminds me of you…” you play coy, earring yourself that kiss when Arthur lifts you up to his height, kissing you softly, letting his world and yours fall back into place together.
“Well I’m here now, angel. Wanna sit? Could do with a nice cigar with my girl to celebrate a job well done.”
You’re eager to nod, heart fluttering at the prospect of getting to sit with him and hear all about his trip. He untangles from you to sit down first, patting his lap for you to crawl into. You fit perfectly together (you should do, you were made for eachother), head resting on his shoulder, legs splayed over his thighs with your arm draped over his shoulder. The cigar has gone out, so Arthur strikes a match so expertly on his spurs before shaking it out and placing his hand on the small of your back for support. You lean into him, watching him take puffs of the cigar and feeling the tiniest bit of tension leave his joints. He looks so natural with a smoke between his teeth, commanding an air of power with each movement he makes. Smoking doesn’t suit just everyone, you think, but God, does it suit him.
“We’re celebrating? You got the bastard, then?”
“Sure did,” he says, smoke spilling from his lips with each syllable. Arthur looks you over again, drinking in the dearly missed view, before kissing you on the forehead and flipping the cigar between his fingers to offer it up, “Eventually found him up in Fort Brennand, but he weren’t alone. Nearly lost a damn eye, but luckily only Woffard had to be brought in alive, so I dropped the other bastards and ran.”
You hang on his every word, your hero. You know he’s downplaying the fight, the danger of it all, but he does it so that you don’t worry every time he’s gone. It never works, and you always do, but you love him for trying.
“Oh, Arthur, I’m so glad you’re alright…” You coo, pressing a hand to his cheek, feeling the weeks worth of stubble scratching against your palm. He nuzzles into your touch, not unlike a cat, and your find yourself keeping your hand there to mindlessly play with his hair, tipping his hat off to put on your own head. He chuckles, reaching to adjust it on you.
“Course I am, couldn’t leave you here all alone with this buncha’ fools, could I? Besides, someones gotta bring home the bacon around here, and you know Marston’s too trigger happy to bring a bounty in alive.”
“So you got the full price?” Your eyes gleam, the proudest smile on your features as Arthur nods and shifts both your weights for a moment to pull out a stack of bills and smack them on the table dramatically.
“You’re damn straight I did, baby.”
Of course he did. Arthur never fails, and God knows how much the camp needs this right now, freedoms diminishing by the day as Dutch makes more enemies and plans jobs that just seem to keep going wrong. But you don’t want to think about that right now. Right now, there is only you and Arthur, and the promise of a whole night spent with him uninterrupted. You hand him the cigar back, along with a stolen kiss, and he takes another mesmerising drag. The way he holds it, every so often tipping the ash into the first gift you ever gave him, it does things to you that you just can’t explain. It’s just a cigar, and yet you’re pressing your thighs together tight to futilely subdue the tightness coiling between them.
“I’m so proud of you… I always am.” Unkempt locks of hair are twisted between your fingers, your face so close to Arthur’s you can pepper his cheek, temple and lips, whenever not occupied, with little kisses, Arthur’s hat sometimes tipping up against his forehead on your head. The two of you are always like this after a few days apart, unable to get enough of each other or keep your hands off one another. You shift your weight to access him better, catching his bottom lip between your teeth to press a long, tender kiss there. He hums under you, hand splaying under your jacket to grasp at your shirt. It’s seconds before you feel it, that hardening that nudges up against your thigh, prodding and reminding you just how much Arthur has missed you.
You pull away from the kiss, just enough to raise a teasing brow at how sensitive your cowboy is to your touch. He shrugs, unashamed, with that cheeky grin and those glistening eyes directed right at you.
“What? I missed ya…” His words are accompanied with a pinch of your ass, which makes you writhe on top of his stiffness, the friction dragging a low growl from deep within his chest.
“I can see that, cowboy… I missed you too. I missed you more.” You emphasise, nipping at his lip again and splaying your fingers across his chest. He rises to your touch, and you feel him stiffen more so under you. It takes a second of manoeuvring, but you’re soon straddling him, hovering above him like the angel he sees you to be. From this angle, with the moon behind you, you’re glowing.
“You absolutely did not, you little siren…” He growls again, pulling at the flesh of your ass so that you’re grinding against him, the friction of denim against denim igniting you both and burning so wonderfully.
“Oh, yeah? I can prove it.” There’s a little cock of your head, a raise of one teasing brow as you start to slide off him. He looks confused, disappointed, even, until your knees rest on the planks of wood on the balcony floor and he instinctively spreads his legs to give you the space between them. Your fingers splay across his thick thighs, and they tense under your touch, as does Arthur’s jaw. He’s starved after a week without you, clearly trying to reign in a control he’s struggling to possess. There’s no wonder, having his girl knelt before him like this.
“You wanna take this to the bedroom?” He growls out, abandoning the still smoking cigar in the jar lid. You look up at him, peeking out from under the rim of his hat.
“No.” You reach for the cigar, taking a few drags yourself before flipping it in your fingers just like he did and placing it between his teeth, “Finish your smoke.”
A distant laugh captures Arthur’s attention for a second, reminding you both just how close you are to the other gang members. You’re somewhat hidden by the railing, but if they looked in your direction, Arthur is fully visible from the chest up. A simple bob of your head- and you’re planning on plenty- would bring you into view.
The look Arthur gives you when he quickly diverts his attention back from Marston and the others is downright feral, especially when your hands reach for his belt buckle. Nimble fingers make quick word of the obstruction, and you’re soon pulling Arthur’s thick, long length out from his jeans. He groans at your very touch, involuntarily bucking his hips up into your hand.
You laugh, the sound a tempting little giggle as you tell him “Patience, cowboy…”
He almost snarls in response, clearly having been goddamn patient enough over the last week where all he could do is fuck himself with your name on his lips and the thought of you knelt just like this between his legs at the forefront of his mind, always.
Just as you lean in, when your soft lips trace over his rosy, swollen head, he pulls you back by plucking his hat from atop your head and throwing it to the side. He rests the cigar between the fingers of his free hand to free his mouth to speak to you.
“Need to see you while I fuck that pretty little moutha’ yours, angel…”
His words soak through you (and soak you through), and you just can’t wait a second longer, needy to have his cock deep down your throat, desperate for the burning of your lungs and the stinging in your eyes when he loses that control he so often vehemently clings to.
Unable to wait a second longer, you run your tongue from base to tip, feeling every vein pulsing under your muscle and eliciting a deep groan from Arthur. When you finally take him in your mouth, his hand reaches to cup your cheek, following you down as you take as much of him as you can.
“Fuck.” He groans, fingers reaching to tangle in your hair, scratching at your scalp. He’s probably louder than he should be, your eyes flickering to the general direction of the others as a warning, but they soon snap back to your cowboy, an intense eye contact burning at your skin as the head of his cock bumps the back of your throat. Arthur never takes his eyes off you, guiding you up and down his length and bringing the smoke to his lips. The tip of the cigar flares a deep, fiery orange, and smoke billows from his mouth with each laboured breath you coax from him. The way he’s sitting, fingers of one hand pulling at your hair, controlling your movements, and the other limply holding the smoke, he exudes a power many seek to master but never quite get. It makes your heart swell and your cunt throb for him, knowing on your knees before him is the only place you ever want to be, knowing only you inhabit it.
You can taste Arthur, his salty essence leaking from the pure ecstasy you’re providing and spit pools in your throat, mixing with it and dribbling down your chin. Arthur catches it with his thumb, guiding you off his cock to push the digit into your mouth and let you suckle from it. You do, hungrily, adjusting on your knees to better take Arthur deep down your throat and-
“Arthur! That you?”
Marston.
For eyes widen at each other, Arthur instinctively pushing you a little lower by your shoulder to keep you out of sight. John hasn’t seen you, and you’d like to keep it that way, being in the incriminating position you are between Arthur’s legs.
You spot the irritated sigh, the twitch of Arthur’s jaw as he plasters a fake friendliness onto his features and peers over the balcony to see his brother standing on the clearing below.
“Sure is. Whatchu’ want?”
Straight to the point.
“We didn’t hear you get back. How long’ve you been here?”
All that tension you’ve worked so hard to dissipate comes back to Arthur’s form with a crashing force. You can almost hear his plea for just one second a’ goddamn peace, merely by the way he sighs before answering.
“Not long, thought I’d try and sneak past you fools and get some shut eye.”
Subtle, cowboy.
Ever oblivious, or simply not caring, John continues, “How’d it go, then? You got the bastard?”
He has you pressed against his thigh to hide you from sight, cock standing to attention right beside your face. It’s too tempting, especially with a none the wiser Marston stood right below. When your tongue darts out, hovering above Arthur’s twitching, aching cock, his eyes flick down to you, warning residing deep in his eyes. You take it as less of a warning, more a challenge.
You wouldn’t.
Oh, but I would.
And you do. You lift up, just enough to fit the head of his throbbing cock past your lips and slide the whole length in. It bumps the back of your throat, but upon hearing Arthur’s strangled, poorly hidden groan, you can’t seem to stop yourself.
“Y-uh… Yeah, I got ‘em…”
It’s impressive, how he can just about hold a conversation despite his cock being so far down your throat his balls rest on your chin.
You can’t see John, but you can only imagine how his head must tilt and his brows must pull together at the strange response from Arthur.
“You alright, brother?”
He won’t be.
You blink up at Arthur, feigning an innocent, near angelic expression as you inhale through your nose and push him even further into you. You hum, low and quiet, letting the vibrations pass through him. Arthur whimpers, instantly knocking any and all sounds you’ve ever heard from top spot and replacing them as your favourite in the whole world.
“I-I’m fine. Just tired.” He tries to hint again, to no avail. His fingers are digging into your shoulder with a bruising force, that control slipping bit by bit with every passing second, every little movement. Tears prick at your eyes, that burning in your lungs you’ve been reaching for finally igniting. You’re stuffed with him, feeling so full that it’s hard to breathe. When you go to release him, to be able to gasp for precious air, you realise you can’t, Arthur’s huge hand holding you right in place with his palm flush against the back of your neck. Revenge.
“Where’s the Mrs?”
A raise of a brow. You’re not married, but everything is so naturally right between you and Arthur that the gang just seem to have defaulted to that. It makes you beam, wanting nothing more than to be this man’s wife, the kind of wife that makes him cum down your throat while he has a menial conversation.
“S-She’s- fuck…” When he grips harder at you, you gag around his length, tears now streaming down your cheeks and mixing with your spittle and the little bits of precum that leak out from Arthur. “She’s in bed. I-I better go check on her, a-actually.” He whimpers again, fingers now gripping into your hair to keep you in place. You’re not sure how much longer you can last like this, struggling to breathe, overflowing and, God, so wet for him.
John sounds unconvinced. You’d giggle, if you could.
“Alright… Well, g’night, brother.”
Arthur barely manages a grunt, and you can feel his thighs tensing and twitching from the sheer effort of not bucking his hips up into you and giving the pair of you away. He stills, most likely waiting for Marston to fuck off already, before he rips you away from him and pulls you to your feet, gripping your aching jaw with force enough force to keep it open.
“You goddamn siren.” He isn’t mad. He’s trying to be, but you know Arthur far too well, and he’s burning with a fire far hotter than mere anger. Need.
The mischievous glint in your eye is all you can offer for response, what with his iron grip on your face, but you do manage to slip your tongue out and lick the pad of his thumb, tasting the mixture of fluids still lingering.
It’s all getting too much, knowing what you just did and who you did it around, hearing Arthur unable to string a sentence together because of you. You don’t think you’ve ever been so turned on in your life, so desperate for a release that you’re pathetically writhing in Arthur’s hold. He notices, forced anger on his features replaced with a cockiness that only comes from knowing he’s regaining the power in the situation.
Your cheeks tingle when he releases you, sitting back in the seat and leaning back, one elbow resting on the arm of the old wooden chair and picking the cigar back up. God, you could ride him in that chair till morning, if you thought the wood wouldn’t splinter under the force.
“You gonna finish what you started, my little siren?” He asks, taking an especially long toke from the smoke while he waits for you to drop to your knees before him. Your cunt throbs, screaming out for his attention, but it would seem your antics have earned you punishment.
Your knees hit the wood with a force, though an involuntary whimper escapes you, hips grinding pathetically against nothing. Arthur notices, smirking like a goddamn cheshire cat at his little wanton whore.
“Patience, angel.” Your own words echo back to you like a slap in the face. You definitely deserve this.
The grip you had on the power in this game you’re playing with Arthur officially disappears when his hand snakes around the back of your neck, grasping at your hair and winding it around his wrist like a leash. You have to tilt your head so the tugging at your scalp is a mere burn rather than a sharp pain, but that’s just where he wants you.
“Now, little siren, I’m gonna teach ya’ some manners, and you’re gonna finish what you started, alright? And if you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll think about getting that sweet little cunt of yours off…”
It’s all it takes, the promise of Arthur’s fingers deep inside you while he sucks on your clit just how you like it, lapping up your juices like a man starved, and the defiance in your eyes dissipates. Arthur bends you to his whim, messy, sloppy putty in his hands as he drags you onto his weeping cock. You’re all but drooling for him, leaking out of the corners of your mouth when he slips into you. Your scalp tingles with the pull, especially when Arthur involuntarily tightens his grip with a hiss of his breath. His tip bumps the back of your throat, but he doesn’t stop even when you’ve fit all of him in that you can.
“Fuck, good girl, just like that baby girl…” he groans, and when you open your eyes to look up to him, he is watching you with a gaze so intense you feel like it could tear you apart. The tension burns between you, coiling so tight the chirp of a nearby cricket could snap it.
There’s an unspoken question in your eyes when you start to nearly choke on his length of when you’ll be released, but his eyes darken, “Come on, baby, you can take more, can’t you?”
He seems to register your fear, but it phases him little. It seems more a challenge, really, coaxing him into rocking his hips into you, pushing you even further onto his cock until you feel it start to breach past your throat in a way you didn’t even know possible. You splutter, wriggling and writhing as you try your hardest to breathe through your nose.
“Shh… good girl,” he coos, a ravenous look taking over your usually so lovable cowboy. You’ve pushed him, and God do you live for it. “Not much further… wanna see you take all of my cock, alright? You gonna do that for me, angel?”
You can’t nod, but it isn’t much of a question, not much choice available with your limited movements and the way Arthur has completely commandeered your body. You’re irrevocably his, body and soul.
It doesn’t feel possible to fit more of him in, your throat burning for relief that won’t come until Arthur is satisfied, but when he bucks his hips into you, you feel his base press against your nose. He groans hard, the noise initially from the sensation of having your throat wrapped around his cock, but when he sees the sight of you, tear stained and gagging on him, the moan is pulled out into a noise of pure ecstasy.
“Good girl… my good fuckin’ girl.”
His thumb rubs lovingly over your wet cheek, a sensation you cling to as the corners of your vision get fuzzy. Fuck, you’re not sure how much longer you can hold out, but you’re so desperate to feel Arthur’s spend trickling down your throat, feel him lose control and moan just for you that you’d honestly be willing to die for it.
Your expression, complete with lust-fogged, watery eyes, and beautifully flushed skin, teases the last of Arthur’s restraint like a razor thin blade against that final thread. When it finally snaps, you’re allowed one gasp for air, before he’s thrusting back into you hard. You can feel him stiffen, even more so than before, as his hips splutter into your mouth and he starts to tumble over the precipice into that realm of pleasure that only the two of you share.
“F-Fuck, sweetheart, I’m gonna-” But he interrupts himself with a visceral, primal groan, the vibration of it shattering the both of you. You take advantage of his practically inebriated state to regain some of your own anatomy, managing to swirl your tongue around his pulsing head inside your mouth. The hot, salty spend blooms across your tongue at that, Arthur guiding you by the cheek to bob up and down on his cock while he paints your throat white. His moans are a melody you’ll never tire of, animalistic and vulnerable all the same.
It feels like it never stops, Arthur’s spend filling your mouth up and leaking out from the corners of your lip. You can hardly stay still, writhing your needy cunt against your own heel, desperate for a reward you’re earning when you look him in the eye and swallow it all down. Pride blooms across Arthur’s features, saturated with a love that warms you from the inside out. His thumb caresses your face softly, wiping the tear tracks as you finally release his cock from your mouth and he guides you to your feet, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then nose, then lips.
“My good girl…” He coos, barely above a whisper as you breathe each other in, both as breathless as the other. Your throat aches, your jaw burning, but you’d do it a thousand times over to experience what you just did all over again.
“Now…” He splits the sentence with another kiss, catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “Get on inside, sweetheart, I think you’ve earned yourself a reward.”
#arthur morgan#arthur morgan x reader#rdr2#arthur morgan imagine#arthur morgan rdr2#arthur morgan x y/n#arthur morgan x you#rdr2 fanfic#rdr2 fanfiction#arthur morgan fanfic#arthur morgan smut#arthur morgan fanfiction#red dead redeption 2#red dead 2
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Christmas countdown request:
Have you ever sat in a hot tub while it's snowing? It's a magical experience. Your top is chilly, your bottom half is so warm, and if you look directly up at the falling snow it looks like the stars are floating down around you.
Anyway, Arthur should take reader skinny dipping in a hot spring and it starts snowing and they get to enjoy that magical moment while cuddling naked in the hot spring 😁
* ˚ ✦ Nightfall * ˚ ✦
pairing: arthur morgan x f!reader
word count: 1.9k
a/n: OKAY-- i have experienced this and i LOVE it. I couldn't help myself from writing the smut, really. Smut in a hot spring is too good. I'm obsessed with this.
warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, thigh riding, inexperienced reader, cowgirl
cowboydisaster's christmas countdown: TWO days 'till christmas!
christmas countdown┊main masterlist┊rdr2 masterlist
The breeze is cold against your bare skin, the snow soft against your feet.
“Are you sure this won't hurt?” You ask again, eyes flickering over towards Arthur. He chuckles as he unbuttons the bottom of his shirt, slipping it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the rocky ground.
“Yes, I'm sure.” He says, amused.
“Why did we have to wait ‘till nightfall?” You ask, teeth chattering, hand running up your bare arm, over the goosebumps that are appearing.
“You’ll see. C’mon, darlin, before ya catch a cold.” Arthur whispers, hand on the small of your back as he leads you across the flat rocks, towards an unknown destination.
He’d wanted to surprise you, had planned this little trip weeks ago. Your horses eye the landscape curiously, not daring to leave the forest and venture out onto the strange, warm rocks. A nervous smile rests on your lips, a slight anxiety resting in your stomach. Arthur doesn’t miss the shudder in your breathing, nor the beating of your heart in your ears. Wishing to quell your hesitation, Arthur reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently in his own.
“You trust me?” He whispers, green eyes searching yours, and you nod. Hand in hand, you both venture across the rock. Arthur smiles for the way you marvel at their heat. The snow melts away from them, and small bubbling puddles of water rest at your feet. You raise an eyebrow, never having seen anything like it.
“Where are we?” You ask, looking down, seeing more water, ponds and pools of it, hot and steaming. The warm pools are crystal blue, and seem to glow in the pitch black of night.
“Cotorra Springs.” Arthur smiles.
Your eyes go wide, taking in the beauty and the wonder of the hot springs. Arthur leads you towards a particularly large one, and you study it. The way the water steams, warmed by some forces in the earth, the way the moon reflects in the strangely clear waters, the halo of light that shines out from the circle in the earth.
Arthur watches your curiosity with loving eyes. He knows that you were very sheltered, and he’s trying to show you as much of the world’s beauty as he can. The wonders of nature are something that he often takes for granted, but not you. Every flower you come across, every landscape and every animal you meet is met with deep wonder and appreciation. Seeing the way you study, how your eyes light up at something new is… enchanting for him..
“Is it magical?” You whisper, your eyes filled with stars reflected from the water. You lean down, running your fingers through the spring, pulling away quickly at the warmth. You look to Arthur for reassurance, relaxing when you see him stepping down into the water.
“Reckon it might just be.” He hums, extending a hand out to you. You take his calloused hand, letting him help you. Your toe meets the water first, and you pull it back, hesitating.
“S’alright, sweetheart. I gotcha.” Arthur whispers, and trusting him wholly, you step in.
The warm water envelops you, chasing away the chill that had been sinking into your bones. Arthur sits on the naturally carved ledge in the spring. You hesitate, but he nods– signaling that you’re okay– and you follow.
“Incredible, ain’t it?” Arthur whispers, head tilted back, looking up at the stars. The snowfall combined with the bright stars enrapture your attention, and you stare at the sky, wondering if it’s the snow falling onto your tongue, or the stars themselves.
“It’s beautiful.” You murmur, brushing your hair back with wet hands, extending them to the sky, catching snowflakes that promptly melt against the warmth of your skin.
Arthur is sure that in all the things he’s seen, all the places he’s gone, he’s never seen anything as beautiful as you. Your wet hair falls in tangled waves down your back, your smile is brighter than the stars above as you try and catch the ones that sprinkle down to you. The wonder in your eyes. That wild streak in your heart. Arthur could draw you day and night in his journal, and never truly capture your glow, or the way your smile brightens a room, the way your laughter heals broken hearts.
Sometimes he wonders how you do it. How does someone with so much pain– so much trauma– stay so optimistic? So grateful for life and for people? In all that Arthur endured, all it ever made him was an angry fool. But you. You’re a phoenix.
Arthur’s hands grip onto your waist, pulling you into his lap, your legs sitting across his own as he holds you wedding-style in his arms.
“How’d I ever get so damn lucky?” Arthur whispers to you, green eyes laden with emotion.
Your smile picks up all the cracked pieces of his heart, the liquid gold pouring out from your soul glues it back together.
“Karma.” You answer quickly, “Because good things happen to good people, Arthur.”
Your legs are toasty warm in the water, but your chest and shoulders shiver lightly in the cold breeze. You cuddle closer to Arthur to make up warmth, laying against his chest.
“I ain’t a good m-”
“Shh.” You say into his ear, lips remaining there for a moment, pressing a slow kiss to his cheek.
“You are a good man.” You whisper, turning in Arthur’s arms to face him, straddling him, “and…” You press a soft-as-silk kiss to his neck, “I love you for it.”
His breaths grow a little quicker at the contact, and suddenly you become all too aware of the position you’re in.
“Too good to me.” Arthur whispers in between open mouthed kisses to your neck. His hands find your waist, fingers digging into your soft flesh, gripping you tightly.
You whimper, breath shuddering as he pulls your hips down, grinding your core against his leg.
“Arthur we’re–” You take a breath, “What if someone comes along?”
“No one will come along, darlin.” Arthur reassures, thumbs trailing up your torso, pressing circles against your firm, sensitive nipples.
Despite your sheltered childhood, you struggle none with this. When you were eager, Arthur had shown you– again and again– what you could do to make yourself feel good, to what you could do make him feel good.
“Keep talkin’ to me, sweetheart. Tell me how it feels.” Arthur’s voice is like velvet against your ear, his lips locking on to your lips, your jaw, your collarbone. One of his fingers continues massaging your swollen, pink nipple, and the other travels lower, teasing your thigh, stroking your hip.
“Please, Arthur.” You whisper, hips rocking gently, waiting for friction.
“Jus’ wanna touch you, sweetheart.” Arthur groans, pulling your hips down against his leg, helping you to rock them, to fuck yourself against his thigh, your warm bodies still half submerged in the spring. The temperature does something for you all on its own. Your breasts are exposed to the cold, only warmed by Arthur’s touch, but your lower half is heating all on its own, and combined with the hot water, it's almost overstimulating.
“Just like that-” You gasp, head tossing back, hair dipping back into the glowing water. Snowflakes flutter about, landing in your hair, on your face, and your breasts, scattered white specks that Arthur picks up with his trail of kisses. Your hips keep their steady pace, and Arthur continues teasing you, featherlight fingertips trailing down your legs, ghosting over the backs of your knees.
“Easy, sweetheart.” Arthur’s voice reaches your ears in a strained huff.
He wants to pull you down onto his throbbing cock, to roll his hips up into you, watch you rock yourself, fuck yourself on his length. He wants to watch those beautiful eyes roll back into your head over and over, wants to hear his name coming from those pretty, plump lips. He wants to mark you, kiss you, make you his. He’s not sure if at heart he's a good man. However, he is sure that you make him a very bad one. His cock is straining against his stomach, and every rock of your hips is rubbing against him, and jesus, he can’t take it much longer.
It’s selfish, purely selfish as he dips his hands below the water, pulling you up. Your face wrinkles in pleasure when he slides you down onto his cock, and the gesture nearly sends him to heaven. Your soft skin goes tense, muscles tightening, cunt gripping him, pulling groans from his cracked lips.
The glow of the water shines impossibly brighter, illuminating you. Your face is flushed, your breasts bouncing with every one of your rocks.
“Oh–” You moan, hands gripping onto his sturdy shoulders, “Arthur!”
“Tell me what’cha need, darlin.” Arthur grunts, squeezing your ass in his hands.
You reach for his wrist, grabbing it tightly, and shoving it down between your bodies. Arthur smirks against your skin as he nips at your earlobe, sending waves of pleasure through all the pressure points in your body. His thumb makes a steady pace on your clit, and when you toss your head back in pleasure, snowflakes spot your eyelashes.
“Feel good? Gonna cum for me?” Arthur groans, cock twitching inside you, pushing up into you. You press your chest to Arthur’s, the added stimulation of your nipples against him creating an influx of sensations.
“Good… Good, there you go.” Arthur praises, feeling the stutter of your hips, noticing the whine of your voice.
“Cum for me, sweetheart.” Arthur kisses your neck, and your stomach clenches down on him, “C’mon, baby. Cum for me.”
Your hips stutter, voice growing louder, strained as you rock against him. Arthur curses as your walls tighten around him, squeezing out every bit of self control that he’s clinging on to. Your orgasm works through you slowly, building and building, like a dam cracking before it bursts.
“There, there, just–” Arthur groans, “Jus’ like that, darlin’. Doin’ so good. I’m– nearly there wit’ ya–”
You shudder and gasp, fire erupting in your abdomen, spreading over your limbs. A few unrhythmic, upward thrusts and Arthur is there with you. His hips grind up slowly, pumping his cum into you, filling you full as he groans, hands tearing into your hips with their force. He thrusts again, slow, breathing deeply as you both come down.
“That–” You shiver, sweat clinging to you, cold from the temperature.
“I know.” Arthur finishes for you, pulling your body against his chest, keeping you mostly in the water for warmth. His arms wrap around you, fingertips trailing slowly up and down your spine as tingles spread through your limbs, little waves of aftershock hitting you now and again.
Arthur doesn’t pull out, just keeps you in his lap, holding you, kissing your head, praising you.
The falling snow lands in your hair, and as Arthur looks up at the vast expanse of stars, he's sure you’re one of them. An angel, come down as a star. Something divine, surely.
taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony @twola @calcarius445 (send an ask to be added/removed!)
#divider by cafekitsune#arthur morgan#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan x you#arthur morgan x female reader#red dead redemption 2#rdr2 fanfic#arthur morgan fanfic#arthur morgan x f!reader#arthur morgan x y/n#arthur morgan smut
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fwb with arthur morgan..
arthur morgan is not your boyfriend, yet every time you come around, he feels his heart hammer in his chest and his face gets all red
arthur morgan is not your boyfriend, yet he holds you like you'll disappear whenever you get hurt or you've been away for a long time
arthur morgan is not your boyfriend, yet the way he kisses you at night by a bonfire, sitting all alone with him and your hands gripping his neck keeps you awake for nights after
arthur morgan is not your boyfriend, yet he keeps you tucked under his arm the nights you're together, feeling his breath in your hair and his arm around your waist with your legs tangled with his
arthur morgan is not your boyfriend, yet the way he kisses you like it's the last time makes you feel like he is. every kiss is so passionate, you'll tangle your hands in his hair and he keeps you close, his hands
arthur morgan is not your boyfriend, yet he always requests your cooking, you make him all the food he wants, he gathers you fresh ingredients and you cook him up something to keep him fuelled for the day, he'll eat up everything you cook
arthur morgan is not your boyfriend, yet you yearn for him when he's away. every hour without him you'll sit anxiously wondering if he's okay, if anything's happened or when he'll come back to you. the reuniting kiss always makes it worth it, longing for his scent after it slowly and eventually fades from his pillow
arthur morgan is not your boyfriend, yet he keeps coming back to you. you watch the ladies leave his room by the morning time, always wondering if one day he wanted to keep one for himself. he never meets those ladies again, considering it a one-time thing, yet you keep making your way back to him over and over again
arthur morgan is not your boyfriend, yet he's so defensive when your name gets mentioned. talking to a group of gals who happen to have noticed how close you are with arthur? if they even THINK about talking dirt to your name or calling you a whore for it, he'll never ever let anyone make up false accusations about you
arthur morgan is not your boyfriend, yet you wish he was. you wish and you wish every night, yet all you do is keep each other on your toes and hold each other tighter at night than friends do
i do apologize if this seems a little rushed bc it was 🥲 i'll always make time for arthur tho🫶
#simonsomeriley#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan x you#arthur morgan x y/n#arthur morgan imagine#arthur morgan fluff#arthur morgan#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#arthur morgan headcanons#fwb!arthur morgan
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Incorrect Quotes - Arthur Morgan x Y/n Edition
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿
Y/n : "That sounds amazing! Doesn’t that sound amazing, Arthur?"
Arthur : "...No."
Y/n : "I think I speak for both Arthur and I, when I say that it sounds amazing!"
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿
Y/n : "If you don't stop talking bullshit, I'm going to jump out of that window."
Arthur : "...We're on the ground floor, Y/n."
Y/n : "I know but I want a dramatic exit."
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿
Arthur : "Why do you think I don’t like you? Of course I do. I would kill for you."
Arthur : ...
Arthur : "Ask me to kill for you."
Y/n : "...First of all, calm down-"
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿
Y/n : "Did you really have to stab them?"
Arthur : "You weren’t there. You didn’t hear what they said to me. "
Y/n : "What did they say to you?"
Arthur : 'What are you going to do, stab me?'
Y/n : "I guess that's fair."
#arthur morgan#red dead redemption 2#red dead redemption arthur#rdr2#rdr2 arthur#reader insert#x reader#gn reader#y/n#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan x you#arthur morgan x y/n#fanfic#fanfiction#incorrect quotes#incorrect red dead redemption quotes#incorrect quotes red dead redemption edition#i want to Jumanji into this game so I can marry this man#i love him#low honor arthur morgan#high honor arthur morgan
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Don't You Shiver | Arthur Morgan x gn!reader
『••✎••』
↳ ❝ you already know what’s up. arthur morgan x gn!reader
"Do you want your hoodie back?" "Keep it. It's yours."
but instead of hoodie it’s one of arthur’s jackets? pls and thank u mwah mwah ^_^ - @mockerycrow ❞
: ̗̀➛ Arthur cares a lot about you, so it's no surprise that he does what he can to help when you come back to camp less than happy.
: ̗̀➛ swearing, smoking
•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•
Your hands smelled of cheap cigarettes and whisky as you wandered back into camp behind Charles, a little bit embarrassed that you had wasted his time on fool's gold.
You thought it had been a perfectly good lead at the time, and with Charles’ skills complimenting your own, you figured that the two of you would have had it done and dusted by noon the same day. But now it was dusk, you were shivering, and you felt like an idiot.
You kept your head down and your gaze on the ground, not even trying to talk to Charles even though he reassured you time and time again that he didn't mind - he enjoyed the nice day out with you.
It wasn't often that the two of you had much time to spend together despite your strong friendship, and even though you had been an idiot… you did admit, you appreciated his company at the very least.
Before he left you for the evening, Charles pulled you aside, and once again told you that he didn't mind; it happened, sometimes leads didn't work out and even he had had his fair share of bad luck here and there. He wasn't going to hold it against you.
However, you felt terrible when you snuck into Arthur's tent, going through your clothes as he sat on his cot and watched you for a moment, his head tilted slightly to the side.
It wasn't until he saw you shiver that he put two and two together and frowned; he got up and grabbed his semi-decent brown hunting jacket, and gently pressed it into your hands as he smiled.
“It's warm,” he told you quietly. “It'll help.”
You tugged it on, pressing your face against the collar of the coat for a moment and humming under your breath; you were always stealing Arthur's clothes, if you were honest, but he never minded.
He liked to see you wearing them, mostly because he knew that most of his coats were a lot warmer and a lot better for cold climates than your own. But he also… admittedly, he liked to think that everyone would realise that it was his jackets, and they would know that you and Arthur belonged to one another as well and that they couldn't do anything.
He ushered you out of the tent and over to the scout fire, letting you sit with your back against his chest and his chin on your shoulder, his arms around you tightly. He hoped that it would aid in warming you up, maybe even speed the process a little bit.
You didn’t even flinch, leaning into him and doing your best to steal some of his warmth as you sighed and swallowed thickly; you brought the thick brown leather to your face, pressing it against your mouth and nose and inhaling the scent for a moment as you closed your eyes.
You were a little warmer now, but you still couldn’t shake the icy feeling deep within your bones and in your shaking hands as you grumbled softly and shook your head.
Arthur turned to look at you, frowning as he gently tugged you a little closer. “I’ll get you some coffee and-”
“Wait,” you murmured softly, almost under your breath as you tugged at the sleeve of his blue denim-coloured shirt. “I don’t wanna be alone in the cold.”
He sighed, nodding as he settled back down; he did his best to think of a few ways to get you to warm up, but unfortunately for him, all of them would mean leaving you, and you didn’t seem so keen on the idea.
So he pulled out two cigarettes, lighting them before handing one to you and doing his best not to smile at how you tried to get closer to him, almost straddling his waist as you squirmed. He grumbled, his grip on you tightening as he kept your back steady against his chest and shook his head.
You stopped shivering eventually, pulling away from him so that you could shrug the jacket off, holding it in your hands as the flames seemed to follow you wherever you went.
“Do you want your jacket back?”
“Keep it. It’s yours, now,” Arthur told you with a short shake of his head. “Looks better on you anyway.”
You rolled your eyes as you smiled, a glint of something mischievous in your eyes. “You say that about everything of yours that I borrow.”
He shrugged, leaning back slightly to get a good look at you; with the flames so close, Arthur could have sworn that you looked just like something out of an old folktale.
A great, fair king; beloved by his people and as just as he was humble. He wanted to grin and to laugh at the thought, but he could only hum as he pulled out his journal and held it up for you to look at for a moment.
“Mind if I…”
You shook your head. “Not at all, where’d you want me?”
Arthur balanced his journal on his knee as he looked up at you, the tip of his tongue pointing out of the corner of his mouth. “Just stay there.”
You did as you were told, running your thumb across the lapel of Arthur’s jacket as you stood patiently. You could hear the scratch of his pencil against the paper, and how he hummed under his breath as he stole a look at you every now and then.
It was never uncommon for Arthur to draw you, you caught him doing it often enough that you knew he had pages of it; yet every time he actually asked, every time he told you to stay still so that he could do it, you couldn’t help but to feel rather giddy.
To know that you would forever be immortalised by his fair hand, to know that he loved you to the point of creation. You bit at the inside of your lip, doing your best not to grin in case it spoiled his latest masterpiece.
#mlem writes#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan x you#arthur morgan x yn#arthur morgan x y/n#arthur morgan x gender neutral reader#arthur morgan x gn reader#arthur morgan imagine#arthur morgan fanfiction#arthur morgan fanfic#arthur morgan fic#arthur morgan fluff#arthur morgan oneshot#arthur morgan one shot#arthur morgan#rdr2 fanfiction#rdr2 x reader#rdr2 x you#rdr2 x yn#rdr2 imagine#rdr2
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[STRADDLE]- Arthur Morgan
A/n: Here is smutty little blurb for our sluttly little cowboy.
Prompts:
[STRADDLE]:my muse sits down in your muses’ lap.
[HAIR]:your muse pulls on my muses’ hair.
Arthur Morgan never thought that he would ever fall for a rich man’s daughter, yet here he was. The plan was that he was supposed to steal your family blind but meeting you, seeing how kind you were. Well it was hard not for him to fall.
And now here he was, sprawled out on the bed with you straddling his hips. He did his best to focus on how soft the mattress was but it was getting hard with you grinding down on him.
“What are you doin darlin?”
Letting out a hum you slipped your fingers under his shirt. “Well what does it look like Mr.Morgan?” Leaning in you let your lips trail his neck with soft kisses. “I’m trying to seduce you.”
A deep rumble escaped his lips as he clutched your hips tightly pushing you down against his hard on, a gasp escaping your lips. “Well darlin. I think you’re doing a good job at it.”
Shuddering you dug your nails into his chest, your eyes glazed over with lust. “Well what are you waiting for Mr. Morgan? Are going to make me a proper woman?”
A laugh escaped his lips as he flipped you, now hovering over your smaller frame. His hands slipping under your skirts. “With all do respect beautiful. I am not sure I can find a proper thing about you now.” He teased.
Scoffing, you gave him a playful smile as your fingers weave through his hair giving it a harsh tug.
“Ass.”
Cupping your breast he gave it a squeeze then ripped the material away, your body shudder as the cold air hit your nipples. Arthur’s fingers gliding over your bottom. “Does your daddy know what these sinful lips of yours do?”
Giving him a smile, your eyes darkened with lust as you took one of his fingers in your mouth sucking the digit. Your eyes fixated on the man as he messages the bulge through his pants. Letting his finger go through a pop you then liked your lips. “Are you going to fuck me Mr.Morgan…or should I take the matter into my own hands.”
Chuckling deeply, he clutched his belt buckle undoing it. “Since you asked such nicely, how can I deny such a request….now try not to scream so loudly miss.”
#drabbles#drabble#arthur morgan#arthur morgan x you#arthur morgan x reader#Arthur Morgan x y/n#red dead redemption ii#red dead redemption 2#rdr2#rdr#rdr x reader
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The One and Only Gal
Part One of this story is from my kinktober (day two: thigh riding)
Pairing: Arthur Morgan x You (F!Reader)
WC: 5.3k
Summary: After a passionate moment shared between you and Arthur in the woods, you head back to camp together and the painful situation with Jenny still remains. She stole the job you put together and claimed it as her own. What else will she try to steal from you?
Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI Please! Jealousy & Drama from Jenny. Frustration & Anger from Reader and Arthur. Angst - with happy ending ofc. Smut. Mentions of Thigh Riding and Male Masturbation (from the 1st chapter). Fingering. Thigh Job (non penetrative sex). Oral (F receiving). Overstimulation. Praise Kink. Use of 'Good Girl'. Lots of fluff. If I have missed anything in the warnings, please let me know and I will add it in.
AN: Oh, I've been needing to visit my kinktober and write a whole lot of part 2's for some of the stories I wrote. Since I have a oneshot for Arthur in the works right now, I took a break from that story and started writing this one. I hope you enjoy, my loves!
Deep panting breaths could be heard echoing throughout the woods from you and Arthur, the sound of you both so exhausted and completely spent after multiple rounds of self-pleasure. He still had his hand wrapped around his length as your grinding movements over his thigh gradually came to a stop. The mess you left between your legs and the mess he had made all over his stomach and the inside fabric of his jeans was a testament to your mutual sense of satisfaction.
You’re tired – both of you are, and pleasure still courses through your burning sex with overstimulation despite not even feeling the man inside of you yet. That’s a whole different form of pleasure to feel some other day, but right now, you need rest and so does he. You’ve been out here for a while now and it’s only a matter of time before someone comes looking for you both, the sight of you sitting on Arthur’s lap with a blissed out expression not something you want people to see. It’s a private moment only for you and him to share.
The idea of riding his thigh never occurred to you before. You’ve only ever dreamed of him taking care of you in other ways; such as using his fingers, mouth or cock. Would you do it again though? Yes. Yes you would. It's an intimate experience you’d love to try out again in the future with Arthur, but this is the first time you’ve ever been intimate with him. You don’t know what this means or how it changes things between you and the man, and before you go any further with him, you want to know where he stands.
“Arthur,” you call his name in a whisper, your voice sounding small and timid with a fear of rejection. “I really liked what we’ve just done together, but is that all it will be between us?” You ask, noticing the slight disappointment in his eyes as he furrows his brows, indicating that he’s not understood your question quite as you intended. You reiterate: “I want this to be more. I really like you and I don’t want this to be a one time thing.”
Instantly, his shoulders relax with a sigh of relief slipping past his lips, “Me too,” he breathes, “I want more more too, sweetheart. I’ve liked you for a long time now,” he smiles deeply, the crows feet around his beautiful eyes displaying the joy he felt when hearing you say those words.
Both of you felt that weight disappear from your shoulders. There was no more uncertainty. You had a strong feeling that he was attracted to you, but you never could be too sure and didn’t want to wrongfully assume. But now that you know for certain, you lean in the plant a kiss on the man's lips — the first kiss.
Moaning together as one, you feel his tongue slide along your bottom lip requesting entry and respond by deepening the kiss. You tilt your head to the side, your fingers slipping through his slightly dishevelled hair and feel that his skin hot to the touch. The man holds you tightly, his hands finding purchase on the globes of your ass with a groping squeeze that just draws out the most prettiest sounds you could make. It was music to Arthur’s ears. You’ve whined and whimpered for him plenty in the last thirty minutes, yet he’s feeling eager to hear more; to hear just how loud you can moan his name.
Suddenly pulling away at the sound of a branch snapping, you turn your head toward the treeline and immediately relax when seeing it was just a fox. You shake your head at yourself, giggling as you turn back to face Arthur. “Sorry. I don’t want anyone from camp seeing me like this, or… you know,” you look down to his crotch, emphasizing that he’s still very much exposed and covered in creamy white ropes of his spend. “We should clean up and head back before they send someone out looking for us.” You suggest, to which he agrees, but gently holds the back of your head to lean in and plant a chaste kiss on the corner of your lips.
When he pulled back, he looked at you with so much affection in his eyes that he almost looked drunk. It’s as if you were intoxicating, and the fact you made the man feel so satisfied without even touching him brought you great pride. He reached into his satchel and retrieved a couple rags, using the items to clean himself off as much as he could, although it couldn’t quite get rid of the wet patch you left on his thigh, or the damp spot he left inside of his jeans either.
You rolled your lips together to hide the amusement on your face. It’s funny watching Arthur try to clean himself of the mess he made and it wasn’t doing a damn bit of good. “You really need a change of clothes,” you let out a giggle, and the man agrees as he laughs with you. “I know. This isn’t working as well as I hoped,” he says, then turns his head away to save your ears the discomfort as he whistles for his horse before turning back to face you again. “I keep a couple spare sets of clothes on Bo. I’ll get changed then we’ll head back.”
“O-Ok,” you stutter hesitantly, not particularly loving the idea of heading back to camp so soon. Your night had begun with betrayal because of Jenny and what she did, and even though you feel much better than what you did earlier, it still doesn’t change the fact that she stole the job you put together. It still hurts that she did this to you.
Arthur noticed the slight change in your demeanour, but didn’t have the chance to question it as Boadicea came galloping out the treeline, tearing his attention away momentarily. You rise to your feet and move toward her, stroking her mane as he rose to his feet too and moved toward his saddle bags. After taking out a fresh set of clothes, he starts undressing, and you look him up and down with praise in your eyes.
You adore the way Arthur looks, fully clothed or completely in the nude, but this is the first time that you’ve seen him fully nude and his body is most tempting to gaze upon. He watches you watching him, a bashful smile on his lips as his cheeks begin to burn with flattery. Putting his jeans on first and concealing his most private area, you jokingly pout from the loss, already missing the sight of his dick laying heavy and semi-hard against his thigh. He laughs at you, his voice deepened with affection.
Putting his arms through the holes of his shirt however, you shook your head and reached your hand out to stop him. “No – wait. May I?” You ask, offering your assistance with the buttons. He doesn’t deny your request and takes your hand to swiftly pull you into his embrace. “Sure, darlin’,” he replies with a thick drawl, “Go ahead.”
Your body pressed against his bare chest was stirring something fierce in your nether regions. He’s a big guy, muscular and cushiony, thus making you feel intimidatingly small. You grin under his wanton gaze, then begin buttoning his shirt from the bottom upwards, your knuckles grazing against his skin with a featherlight touch. It made him shudder and close his eyes, a heavy exhale escaping his lips as he fully relaxed his shoulders.
You’ve reduced the man to something pliable like soft putty in your hands, the expression on his face speaking of nothing but satisfaction and contentment. Once you had finished buttoning his shirt, he slowly opened his eyes and looked at you again, his hand sliding up your spine to hold the back of your neck. He held you in place as he leaned in to kiss you, slowly this time, his lips moving in tandem with yours passionately.
It took a while for you and Arthur to finally make your way back to camp. He couldn’t keep his hands off you, nor could you keep your hands off him, but once you emerged from the treeline and approached the gang huddling around something, reality quickly settled in and all of those bothersome emotions came racing back. Jenny was still receiving praise for the job she stole from you. Everyone was talking to her about it. You could even hear the girls complimenting her now, and the sound of Karen applauding her efforts made your blood boil.
Arthur noticed for a second time that something changed in your demeanour, and now that he didn’t have any distractions this time, he pulled you close and asked point blank: “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You’re squeezing my hand.”
“I am?” You turn to face him, then let go of his hand and quietly apologize for squeezing him. You didn’t even realize that you were, but you tried to hide the furious look in your eyes. You’re not really a hot-headed person. Whenever you get so angry like this, you put distance between you and the issue before returning with a calm mind, but nothing about Jenny and the gang commending her was making you feel better. “I um. I don’t really want to get into it, Arthur. It’s stupid and not worth the hassle anyways,” you reply, your eyes downcast.
“Hey,” he whispers, placing his finger under your chin to lift your head and look at him, “It is worth the hassle and it’s not stupid, sweetheart. I won’t push, but you know you can talk to me, right?” You hold his line of sight, your eyes darting between his with the temptation to tell him everything about Jenny. What could he do about it anyway? Would anyone believe you? And what if it just creates a bigger problem? You don’t want to be the cause for creating problems. You’d much prefer to just let it go, even though you’ve done nothing wrong.
“I know,” you nod to the man, choosing to not say anything about it instead. “Thank you, Arthur. I promise to not let it bother me too mu-” you’re cut off with impeccable timing as the sound of Jenny’s voice shrieks behind you. “Oh, Arthur! There you are!” She says, and you move to stand at his side as she approaches you both with speed. “I was wondering where you went. Come on, we have lots to discuss about robbing the saloon tomorrow,” she glances at you briefly before her eyes focused on the proximity between you and Arthur, “Y/N, you don't mind, right? We need to go over the details. Hosea, Arthur and me. Just the three of us,” she grins, and it pisses you off, but you bite your tongue and agree wordlessly with a nod.
Arthur turns to you now, smiling obliviously, “I shouldn’t be too long. Wait for me in my tent, sweetheart. I ain't finished with ya yet," he winks.
“Okay. I’ll see you soon,” you force a smile before turning away and walking briskly across camp. He was completely unaware of Jenny’s actions just now. That shit eating grin on her face is what annoys you so much. You didn’t think there was any spite behind her reasons to steal your job. You don’t even know for sure why she stole it, but you thought there had to be a good reason at least, and now you think she’s just doing it to be malicious and nasty.
Or perhaps it’s because she wants Arthur. You saw the way she looked at how close you stood next to him. You noticed the way it depleted her smile for a moment, and just out of curiosity, you looked over your shoulder to find the woman doing the exact same thing. She walked alongside the man, her lip curled with disdain as she looked at you with loathing eyes. You held her eye contact and didn’t back down, not until she broke first. It was a small victory, but you didn’t feel any better about this whole situation and the way she switched up her persona with a beaming smile as she spoke to Arthur and Hosea only confirmed your suspicions. She wants the man you wanted — the man you now have.
You made it to Arthur’s tent and sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for him. He didn’t take long. No less than ten minutes later, he returned to you, but he came back with a mean look on his face. You couldn’t describe it exactly, but he looked as if he’d just been told something quite upsetting. You immediately rose to your feet and tried to calm him down, but he held his hand out to stop you. “This job with the saloon tomorrow. Was this your idea or Jenny’s? Don’t lie to me,” he said with vexation in his tone.
You immediately became silent, a gloomy look washing over your face that ultimately answered the man's question. He turned away from you, palming the scruff of his neck as he tried to calm himself down before turning back to you again. “Is this what’s been botherin’ ya? Did she steal that idea from you, or did you give her this job?” He asks, and you shake your head, your brows knitting together tightly with confusion as to what’s got him so worked up in the space of ten minutes.
“No. She stole it from me. I told her about it in confidence,” your lip trembles as you hold back the urge to cry. You’ve never seen Arthur so angry like this before – well, not in your presence at least. It was alarming and scary. You’re not scared of him, or worried for your safety. You’re worried for whoever he is angry with.
“God. I am so sorry, girl,” he apologizes, even though he didn’t need to. He had nothing to be sorry for as he’s done nothing wrong to you, but the man simply couldn’t stand the look on your face and felt the need to apologize regardless. You tried to fight the tears welling up in the corner of your eyes, too many emotions all at once proving to be too much for you to handle. He strode towards you, taking you in a warm hug and wrapped his arms around your back tightly. “I’m really sorry for raising my voice like that. I wasn’t mad with you, I promise,” he swears, rubbing his hands up and down your back reassuringly. “I'm mad at Jenny. She just tried to kiss me.”
“Oh my God - Really?” You pull your head back to look into his eyes, your brows still furrowed together with confusion as to what the hell happened since he left you earlier. “What happened?” You ask, and he pinches the bridge of his nose, laughing humorlessly. “You weren’t there. That’s what happened,” he shakes his head, “I know she wouldn’t have tried that shit if you were there, but I should’a seen this coming… Fuck. I’m really sorry, sweetheart.”
“It’s not your fault, Arthur,” you reply in a reassuring tone. He moves towards the opening of his tent and closes it, sealing you both with some much needed privacy before moving toward the bed with you to sit down. He held your hands and you could sense his worry in the way he was holding onto you.
“Jenny mentioned something about my journal, something I’ve only ever told you before,” you gasp with that, knowing exactly what he’s referring to as you shared a piece of information with her. It’s not some big secret. It’s just a job that he and Hosea did a while back. He continues to explain. “I knew something wasn’t right the moment she started talking about that job. She noticed that I was onto her, and when I began questioning how she found this saloon job for tomorrow, she tried to kiss me.”
“That doesn’t really surprise me. I had a feeling she wanted you,” you admit, to which he responds with certainty in his tone, “Yeah well, she can’t have me. I’m already spoken for,” he looks directly into your eyes with that statement, smiling, “Will you stay the night with me, sweetheart? I really don’t want ya going out there to face whatever she has to say about me rejecting her. We can deal with it tomorrow if ya want.”
“Honestly, I really like the sound of that,” you nod to the man, then lean into his side and rest your head against his shoulder. “I’ll stay with you, Arthur. I’d prefer that anyway. It’s too cold in my tent some nights.”
“It’s ‘cause you don’t have me there to keep ya warm, girl,” he chuckles, and you agree with him silently. You wouldn’t be so cold during the night sometimes if you had him laying with you. Even now as you lean into his side, you can feel the heat emanating from him and it makes you feel so cozy that you could fall asleep right here, right now.
When you begin to yawn though, and cause him to yawn too, he leans down to remove his shoes, and afterwards, he moves on to removing your shoes too, the gentle touch of his hands causing your skin to pimple with goosebumps. Once your shoes were off, he began dragging the pad of his fingers across your ankle, smiling mischievously.
“S-Stop,” you stutter between laughter, “I’m t-ticklish there. Arthur, stop… It tickles,” you giggle uncontrollably, the sound so sweet and euphonious to his ears that he didn’t want to stop just so he could keep hearing you laugh like this. It warmed his hear to hear you happy again.
Showing you some mercy and easing up on the tickling, he stood to his feet and began taking off his clothes, getting himself ready for bed. “I hope you don’t mind, but I like to cuddle,” he says.
“Not at all. I like to cuddle too,” you begin removing your clothes as well, but remember that your undergarments are still damp from what you and Arthur did earlier. “Um, Arthur?” You look at him with a bashful expression, feeling nervous all of a sudden. “I can’t wear this for bed. They’re uh… They’re still wet. Do you want me to go get another pair of bed clothes?”
“Nah, darlin’,” he shook his head softly, his eyes glossed over with desire, “I can give you one of my shirt’s if ya want? Or you can sleep without any clothes. Whatever you're most comfortable with, I don’t mind either way.”
Instead of answering him with words, you started pulling down the straps on your shoulders and let your undergarment fall to the floor, completely exposing yourself for the man's eyes to admire. He gulped audibly when dropping his gaze to your chest. You watched him bring his hand around to palm his crotch, no doubt feeling the blood rushing to his member.
“Would yer mind if I remove my clothes too?” He asks sweetly, standing with nothing but his leotard on. You shake your head and let him know that you’d actually prefer him to remove his clothes, opting to sleep together nude instead.
Once he had fully undressed, he pulled the covers back on his bed and climbed in first, making sure there was ample room for you to lay down and get comfy. The moment you felt the warmth of his chest pressed against your back however, you let out a deep hum of satisfaction and scooted back to be even closer to him.
“Is this ok?” He asks another question before going any further, his hand resting on your hip with the desire to wrap around your front. You don’t even answer the man. You just grab his hand and pull it around your stomach, a smile splayed across your face.
Arthur carefully leans over you and blows out the candle beside his bed, casting his entire tent in complete darkness before settling back into his position. Only this time, he nestled his chin into your neck and pulled the blankets up to keep you both wrapped up securely. The heat was already working its magic with helping you unwind and become sleepy. You held his hand and rubbed his knuckles with your thumb until you eventually slipped into a comfortable deep state of slumber.
Sometime later, you awoke first at the sound of Arthur snoring softly in your ear, the sound was hushed and calm, as if he were trying to be quiet even in his sleep. You could feel your body sticking to his because of how hot it was under the blankets. And, your forehead was damp with sweat and so was his hand over your stomach.
“Arthur,” you call his name, your voice barely above a whisper as it was still dark outside. He stopped snoring and hummed reply, not fully awake but conscious. “I’m too hot,” you say whilst pulling the blankets down a little to feel the cool night-time breeze on your skin. It was an instant relief and you closed your eyes again, falling asleep within seconds.
In the morning when you awoke again, the blankets were placed back over you and Arthur still had his chest pressed to your back. He wasn’t snoring anymore though, and you could feel his fingers rubbing your knuckles now. He’s awake, but rather than letting him know that you’re awake too, you subtly pushed your ass into him, enjoying the little grunt slipping past his lips.
He smiled against your neck, responding to your actions just now by rolling his hips forward. You could feel his cock pressing into your lower back. It was painfully hard, making your legs squeeze together with a palpable pulse in your nether regions.
“Are you awake, sweetheart?” He mumbles, and you reply with a barely noticeable nod, your lips slowly turning upwards as he lowers his hand to your sex. Your mouth falls open with a soft gasp when the pad of his finger finds your clit and begins rubbing it in a circular motion.
You drop your hand to hold his, urging him without a need for words that you want more, and he grants you wish eagerly. Now, he uses two fingers to slide through your folds, using your slick as a natural lube to breach your entrance. “Ohh,” you moan into the pillow, the cushion doing very little to keep you quiet.
“There you go. Let it all out, darlin’,” he praises you, growling into your ear, “Atta girl-” you rut back and forth, fucking his hand, “-Keeping going, just like that.” Your breathing begins to pant as he penetrates his fingers deeper, curling them into a come hither motion to caress that sweet spot inside.
You whine for him, the sound like a reward as he starts groaning in your ear, his cock rubbing against your back to get himself off. “Arthur wait-” you squeeze his hand, shaking your head, “-Use your cock instead. I want to feel you rub yourself between my legs like that.”
Carefully, he removes his fingers from your cunt and you moan from the loss. He slips his hand between your bodies and lifts your thigh to notch the head of his between your folds. “Like this?” He asks while rolling his hips forward then backward, the tip of him stimulating your clit blissfully.
“Yes – yes,” you breath heavily, your skin burning with lust, “God yes… keep doing that,” you beg and he lowers your thigh to hold onto your hip for leverage. You arch your back, the angle giving him plenty of room to glide through your folds as your desire soaked his cock and your thighs. He buries his face into your neck and groans deeply, his voice shrouded in pleasure.
Keeping his thrusts gentle but quick, you feel your orgasm approaching and warn him. “I’m gonna cum,” you say, and he wraps his arm around your stomach, pinning your body to his as he grunts. “Me too, sweetheart.”
Kissing your neck as he breathing begins to stutter and choke, you listen to all those sexy noises he made and slipped over the edge together, reveling in the plentiful creamy warm ropes of his spend coating your pussy. You feel his cock twitching as he thrusts a couple more times, as if releasing every drop he could possibly give before finally relaxing behind you, though his breathing was still heavy as he gradually came down from his high. “Fuck. I’ve never done that before,” he murmurs, his voice laden with exhaustion.
“Me neither,” you laugh, “I just thought it would feel better for you than rubbing yourself against my back.”
“Oh, it did feel better,” he chuckles breathily. You lay together in silence for a few minutes, relishing in the post-coital bliss of your love making. It’s yet another act of pleasure you’ve both enjoyed without penetrative sex. You know when the time comes to feel him inside of you it’s going to be out of this world, but up until yesterday, you’ve never been intimate with Arthur. Suppose you’re just easing yourselves into the pleasure, not jumping right into it with sex first. You like this approach. It helps getting to know his body and what he likes.
Leaning over your body carefully and retrieving yet another rag from his satchel, he wets the fabric with some water from his canteen and cleans off the mess between your legs, the action making you whimper when he touches your sensitive area.
“Lay on your back for me, kitten,” he requests, and you oblige, laying on your back for him as he moves down your body, situating his face between your thighs. “Think you got another orgasm left in ya?” He asks, his eyes darting at your clit, “Mmm. I want a taste of this pretty cunt of yours.”
“Maybe,” you answer honestly whilst spreading your legs for him, “I’m still feeling sensitive, but as long as you take it slow, I should be okay, hon,” he smiles with the term of endearment, his cheeks blossoming a rosy pink in colour. “Of course, kitten,” he whispers reassuringly, a promise in his tone to take things slow.
He leans in and plants a kiss on your inner thigh first, his beard and moustache working wonderfully to tickle your skin in the best way. You shudder beneath him and feel his lips dragging up your leg, nearing your burning heat.
“Oh, look at you,” he growls mockingly, “Clenching around nothing, girl. Mhmm…and that ass looks so tight,” he touches you there, touches you where no one has ever touched you before — not even yourself. Your body jerks away from him naturally as you shake your head, and he reassures, “Don’t worry, darlin’. Only when you’re ready.”
“But what if I’m never ready, Arthur?” You let out a nervous laugh, to which he leans in to kiss your inner thigh again, mumbling against your skin. “Then it’s ok, sweetheart. You don’t gotta do anything outside of your comfort zone with me.” You look down at your body, gazing into his eyes with a warm appreciative smile on your lips. You appreciate that he isn’t like other guys who would try to persuade you to try anal, even though you never once thought he would be persuasive like that anyways, but you appreciate it nonetheless. He sees and feels your hesitancy, and that’s all he needs to know that you’re not so keen on the idea.
“Can I…” he trails off in a daze, looking at your pussy before looking back into your eyes, “Can I kiss your pussy, sweetheart?” He asks, and you love that he’s asking your permission beforehand. You nod feverishly, watching him with focus as he leans in to press his lips against your clit, the sensation making your eyes close instantly with a whimpering moan slipping past your lips, the sound giving him a boost of confidence to continue. You feel his tongue slipping between your folds, circling your clit a few times before finding the right rhythm that gives you the most pleasure – left and right rapidly.
Oh, the noises he made were sinful and impure, grunting and groaning into your cunt like a man starved as he slurped on your desire. You started to moan and didn’t stop, your pitch gradually getting so high that you had to bite the back of your hand and silence yourself. That only fuelled Arthur’s playfully sadistic nature. He wanted to make you scream and cry his name to the high heavens above, for the whole camp to hear you being pleasured like no one else has ever pleasured you before. He held the back of your thighs and lifted them up in the air, the angle giving him more room to suck on your clit now and ease two fingers deep inside of you, massaging your g-spot.
“Arthur!” You sob. Gripping his hair by the handfuls, he groans with you, the vibrations of his voice blissful and electrifying. Your thighs begin to shake violently, your toes curling as you see stars. It all happened so fast, yet your orgasm was prolonged as he didn’t stop licking and sucking on your bruised clit until it became too much for you to bear, the lower half of your body jolting away from him with overstimulation. He eased up and moved his head away, teasing you with chaste kisses on your swollen nub and watching the way you spasm with aftershocks of pleasure.
“Feel good, kitten?” He asks upon noticing the tears falling from the corners of your eyes. You nod to him and mewl pathetically, looking at him with a blissed out expression on your face. “Yes baby,” you say between panting breaths, “Y-yes… It f-feels so g-good.”
“That’s a good girl,” he praises with a devilish smirk on his lips, “Think you can give me another one, beautiful?”
“Arthur,” you bark out a laugh, shaking your head at him. He laughs with you and plants one last kiss on your cunt before moving up your body. If you could handle another round or more, he’d happily spend hours between your legs but you’re completely spent and the cramp in your lower abdomen needed time to ease off.
He rested his weight on you evenly, his forearms placed in the mattress at either side of your head as he leans in and closes the gap. You sample a taste of your own desire on his tongue, moaning together in unison as his cock presses against you before he pulls back to ask: “You wanna head out today? I’ll take you somewhere nice. Just the two of us.”
“I would love that, but what about the saloon job?” You ask, hating that a beautiful moment between you and the man is ruined with the remembrance of what happened last night with Jenny. You didn’t want to let her ruin your mood and tried to stay positive, and what Arthur told you next made you feel ten times better.
“I’m not doing it without you, and since Jenny wouldn’t step back to let you come along when I asked her, I told Charles to take my place,” he said, and you stared into his eyes with a lot of love and appreciation. It meant a lot that he would pass up the opportunity to do something he really enjoys with Hosea. It meant a lot that he would do that for you.
Once you both had eventually peeled yourself away from each other, got cleaned up and dressed, you exited your tent and made your way to the horses, hearing your names in the whispers. You and Arthur were the talk of camp. People seemed to be excited that you two were finally together, and in the middle of it all, stood Jenny with a regretful look on her face not only fucking up one friendship, but with two.
Maybe one day with some time and patience, you and Arthur will forgive her. After all, he is an exceptionally handsome man and you can’t really blame any woman for finding him so damn attractive.
However, there’s no doubt in your mind that you are his one and only gal.
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Cowboy Like Me
Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader
Chapter 1
TW: Mentions of bl00d and canon typical weapons. Literally nothing else.
A/N: Okay, I’ve had this idea swirling around for a while, so this should be fun. Buckle up, hoes.
Never had there been a town so poorly named as Valentine. It was far too romantic, far too sweet for the drunk addled pigsty that lay before Arthur Morgan.
He’d never liked going into towns. The judgmental passersby. The beggars. The hookers. The adulterous fools stumbling drunkenly out of saloons with them. Not to mention the sheriffs and bounty hunters lurking in the shadows. The ones that always seem to be searching for a face on a poster that looks an awful lot like him.
His feet sink a good inch or two into the mud that makes up the ground in Valentine as he makes his way to the general store. If he had enough money to buy nice boots, he would have been annoyed at the way the grime sticks to them. But, it’s just another addition to the layers of dirt, grass, and blood that adorn the leather.
Clouds cover the sky, leaving the whole town darkened, only adding to the unfortunate scenery before him as he walks up the wooden excuse of a sidewalk to the store. He’s not here to buy anything, of course. No, he’s here to find something.
A target.
A good hit. It’s what Dutch has been talking about for months now. Just one good hit. That’s all they need. A jackpot in the world of thieves and liars. And of course, in a town like this, lips are loosened by easy trust. A foolish belief that nobody around them could possibly be listening. Watching. Waiting.
Except, that’s exactly what he plans to do. Sit on a bench with a hat over his eyes and wait. Wait to hear about some rich uncle not to far away, or a train from down South full of land owners ripe for robbing.
It’s not his favorite way to spend his days, far from it. Arthur’s only hope is that the payoff from whatever he finds will make up for it. As he steps up the first stair to the patio of the general store, a small can rolls past his feet. He bends down to grab it quickly, standing back up straight and seeing you.
And because as much as he might look in the mirror and see an animal, he is still a man, he notices. Admires the fact that you’re the prettiest thing he’s seen in a long time.
And because he is not only a man, but a man easily charmed by your pretty smile and bright eyes, the faintest blush rises on his cheeks as you bid your thanks in a soft voice.
“‘Course, ma’am.” He manages to keep his voice steady for those two words as you take back the can.
And because you are a woman, you look, and you admire. Admire his cerulean eyes, and the small smile that plays on his chapped lips as he looks down at you.
Before he knows it you’re walking away, leaving his eyes to trail after your figure before remembering the task at hand. He quickly clears his throat, embarrassed for no real reason. Maybe just because he acted like a person instead of the threat Dutch has so carefully carved him to be.
It doesn’t take very long for the image of the pretty girl with the plaid dress to leave his mind when he hears a couple of women discussing exactly what he’d been looking for.
A rich man named Mr. Mallory that just moved in not to far away, buying up a house that’d been vacant for years since nobody could afford the enormous property. But, the land was profitable, and the house was large. Perfect for a single man eager to flaunt his wealth.
And the perfect target for Arthur. He’d never felt particularly bad about robbing the rich. They’ve got plenty to share, and most don’t come about their money in the kindest of ways. Especially not men from out east, which is exactly what this one sounds like.
He holds back a judgmental scoff as he hears one of the women detailing the directions to the house, as the other plans on welcoming him to the community. And if Arthur knows people, which he does, her visit is probably in hopes of marrying him. Not for love, of course. For money, more of it than somebody will ever need or use. And for status. The two desires Arthur hates most.
What a fool. He thinks to himself as he adjusts on the bench, sunlight finally peaking out from behind the clouds.
Except he’s become a fool too, of his own kind. Because the thing Arthur doesn’t notice is the other person lingering nearby. Listening. Watching. Waiting. He doesn’t notice the way her ears perk up at the sound of a good payoff. Of a guiltless robbery.
He doesn’t notice you.
……………………………………………………………………………………..
Normally you would have stayed in the town for longer, soaked up the sunshine of the unusually warm spring you’re having. But today is not just any day. Today, you have work.
The windows of your small house are flung open to allow in the crisp air as you lay the food you bought onto the table hurriedly. You only notice the can that rolled onto the floor when it occurs to you that it was the same one as earlier. The one the man with the pretty eyes had picked up for you.
The coincidence is disregarded quickly as you pick it up, tossing it back onto the table before hurrying to your room. It’s getting late, and you need time to plan before you head out. You’d already ridden out to the house, and a rough sketch of the layout sits in your notebook.
Unlike Arthur, the man you don’t yet know, you were listening to the women long before any rich man was mentioned. The accents they spoke with caught your attention, clearly some kind of eastern. Their voices came with a certain coldness that you’ve yet to find out west.
Either way, that coupled with the quality of the clothes that adorned their bodies told you they were wealthy. And you were right.
You always are.
And if you’re assuming correctly, which you almost always do, the man they spoke of is also from out east. Meaning Mr. Mallory doesn’t yet know to lock his doors and keep a rifle beside his bed. Even if he did, the rich bastard probably wouldn’t know how to use the thing.
But you, you do. And if he happens to wake up while you work, he’ll learn that soon enough. You quickly change into a blouse and pants, leaving the dress you’d worn into town today abandoned on your bed.
The plan is finished quickly enough, as there’s plenty of entrances into the house to choose from if the front door’s locked. Now comes the part you hate the most. The part where no matter how rich the man you’re about to rob is, no matter how perfectly fine he’ll be despite the loss, guilt sets in.
This is when you wait. Because a woman riding on her own horse, in her own pants, with a mask over her face in broad daylight isn’t a sight that goes without notice.
It’s not as if you wanted this life. But, between selling your body and thieving, you’d choose the latter again and again. Of course, you could get married. Settle down. Have children. And that all sounds so pretty, so sweet in your mind.
If only the husband wasn’t necessary. The oppressive, aggressive, boring, utterly vacant husband that every married woman seems to be saddled with these days. That reality, over everything else. That, you refuse.
Day shifts to night as you leave your house, climb onto your horse, and set off to pay Mr. Mallory a visit.
……………………………………………………………………………………..
Arthur sits, crouched in the grass as he waits for the light to go out in Mr. Mallory’s window. The robbery was going to be easy, that is until he realized that his target happens to enjoy late nights. It’s damn near one in the morning, and the bastard is still up doing God knows what.
A sigh slips from Arthur’s lips as his attention shifts to the horse tied to the porch railing. It’s a bit odd that the steed was just left out front for anybody to steal, and if it seemed to be a valuable one, Arthur would have done just that.
But, it’s simple. Looks to be a Kentucky Saddler, nothing he couldn’t find a few miles out, grazing in a field. Also odd, considering how much money this man seems to have. The peculiarities leave his mind in an instant as the front door creeks open, a small, lithe figure slipping out.
A figure that most certainly isn’t Mr. Mallory. It’s a woman, quick eyes darting back and forth to check for anybody watching. Her gaze eventually lands on Arthur, and a finger comes up to her masked face in a “shush” motion. His mouth falls open slightly as the stranger mounts her horse and rides away, a sack filled with all the riches Arthur missed out on slung over her shoulder.
A twinge of prideful envy hits him as he realized he’s been beat. He watches the mysterious woman as darkness engulfs her, trying to place the sense of familiarity he felt as her eyes met his.
……………………………………………………………………………………..
There’s a smile on your face as you spend a bit of your well earned money in town the next morning. Not just from the wildly successful robbery that you’d managed to pull off while Mr. Mallory was awake. No, the image of the man waiting still lingers in your mind.
It was the man with the pretty eyes, the one whose chivalry had made you blush mere hours before you bested him at his own sport. A cool breeze hits you as you step out of the general store into the warm air, a bag with a new vest and pair of boots slung over your arm.
Arthur walks across the street, still brooding about the robbery that’d been stolen from him the night before. The worst part is the sense of admiration he can’t help but feel. Mr. Mallory had been awake, walking around, and still oblivious to the fact that he was being robbed.
That takes skill, one that Arthur isn’t even sure he possesses. It’s the very reason he’d waited outside, all but letting you do the job for him.
A small bell rings as you leave the general store, and Arthur’s head turns in the direction of the noise. Recognition flickers in his eyes as he takes you in, first as the woman that he’d picked up the can for, and then…
“My God…” He whispers to himself as you smirk at him, crossing the road to stand in front of him, pride coming off of you in waves.
Bright eyes look up at him, the same ones he’d admired in the day, and the ones that he’d recognized for only a moment in the night, too short for him to realize who it’d been. Your lips curl into a smile as your hand reaches up to touch his broad should while you walk past him.
Words escape him as you lean up, your lips close to his ear as you whisper. “Better luck next time.” You walk away promptly, only looking back once to throw that dazzling grin his way again as he turns around to watch you.
He should be annoyed. Angered at your pride. At your gall to rub salt in his wound by acknowledging what you’d both already realized.
Yet, the smallest of smiles that appears on his face defies all that should be true, the breeze seeming to replicate the sound of your voice in his ear as he watches you until you’re a small blip in the distance.
A/N: Okay, this is really long, but first chapters always are. Hope y’all enjoyed, I’ll probably have the second one up pretty quick.
- di <3
#fanfic#fanfiction#fanfic writer#rdr#rdr1#rdr2#rdr2 arthur#arthur morgan#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan x you#arthur morgan x y/n#red dead redemption#red dead redemption 1#red dead redemption 2#rdr2 fandom#rdr2 fanfic#arthur morgan rdr2
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Cowboy
Masterlist | Red dead redemption masterlist |
Requested : no
Based on character ai { athur morgan by @/squishysushii }
(i'm spending too much time on that someone help)
Pairing : Arthur Morgan x female reader
Pronouns : she/shes
Type : fluff
Word count : 1.4k
Warnings : Swear words, friends to lovers, mutual pinning, slightly ooc <3
Have a great day !! <3
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They'd both stumbled into the hotel after hitching the horses in the newly built stables out the back of the hotel, trying to escape the snowstorm before the worst hit. They'd both had to share the only room left, too tired to worry about the single bed at that moment in time, wanting the heat to thaw their frozen bodies.
They'd both taken a steaming hot bath and gotten changed into clean, dry clothes - Arthur insisting on paying, saying it was on him. It must've been half an hour since then, she was sitting huddled by the fireplace, legs pressed to her chest as she tried to fight the shivering.
"Well isn't this just great?" she grumbled, feeling her heart skip a beat as she heard the familiar deep chuckle. He groaned, leaning forward in the chair as he set his hot coffee down on the table, sighing. "No denying it, but I'm not ready to trek back in that." he shrugged, shivering at the thought. "A nice place to spend some time, wouldn't you think?" he asked, looking around and admiring the room. It wasn't decorated to the max, but it was still nice and way warmer than back at camp.
"That is true, it could be worse." she admitted, sighing as she held her hands near the flame before rubbing them together. A small smile planted itself on Arthurs's face as he watched her, chuckling and looking out the window, seeing the snowstorm raging. "Definitely, we could be out there, in the middle of the woods with snow up to our ankles. Or some other unfortunate place. This's a godsend." he huffed, sitting back down on the sofa. "Or stuck with Micah." she suggested, knowing that he felt the same about that man.
He sighed, rubbing his face with his hand before picking his drink up and taking a gulp. "Just the thought of that makes me shudder. He'd probably have lost his cool from the snow and the cold by now and started ranting at us both. He's just unbearable." he claimed, recalling the time he was stuck with Micah and John in the snowy mountains a few months ago, due to a mistake Micah had made - he refused to take any accountability. She had moved into the armchair, stirring a spoon in her mug around. "Probably would've killed me, he's already mad at me." she stated, a deep sigh leaving her.
He looked up, meeting her eyes as a little concern was evident in his. "Mad at you? What on earth for? Surely he doesn't just hate you out of the blue. If he does, I'll have to give him what for." Arthur questioned, feeling his anger at the man grow with the news. It wasn't a secret that Arthur was slightly protective over her. She'd practically grown up with him and John, and the outlaw had grown to have a soft spot for her. He'd always look for her when returning to camp, bringing her back little presents or just checking she was okay. Whenever she was helping out with a robbery or raid, he'd always make sure to be near her, helping with shooting or covering her.
Darting between the floor and his eyes, she gave in, knowing he would not let it go anyway until he knew. "Rejected him." she started, a chuckle leaving her lips as he groaned, putting a hand over his face. "What's that fool gone and done now? He just can't take a no, no matter where it comes from or who it's directed at, can he?" Arthur grumbled, looking at her as he waited for the explanation. There was something different about his gaze but she couldn't figure out what.
"Asked me out, I said no. Proceeded to say he could 'show me a good time' and I called Dutch on him." she shrugged, a small grin on her face as she remembered how scared he looked. Arthur's eyebrows furrowed at her words, taking a deep breath. "Jesus Christ. Why does he think that's acceptable? To go and harass one of his own, and one of our two women in the camp no less?" he sighed, shaking his head. "But, to be fair, I'm not surprised. He's never shown his respect to the women in the gang, has he?..." Arthur trailed off, his face softening as he looked at her.
"Don't think he's capable." she grinned, earning a smile and a shake of the head from him. "No, I highly doubt it. It's like he lacks any human decency whatsoever. Maybe his mother dropped him as a child. That may explain some things." Arthur dug, chuckling as he heard her laugh, taking a sip of his coffee. "Maybe one of these days he'll get a smack across the face, if not worse." he commented, his tone dark as a glint of hatred was in his eyes. "Already one step ahead of you." she grinned, winking at him as he raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"Have you? Why, how did he react? Did he try and fight you?" Arthur interrogated, a small smile on his face as he seemed...proud of her? "He went to until he saw Dutch stood there." she smirked, Arthur nodding as he knew where it was going. "Ah, that makes sense. A bit of self-preservation on his part. Did Dutch get angry at him for disrespecting one of his own?" he made sure, his face softening as he saw her nod. "Had a whole go at him - never seen Micah so red." she giggled, missing how Arthur's eyes gleamed as he heard her melodic laugh.
He huffed, a small smile on his face as he hummed. "I'd like to have been there for that. Nothing pleases me more than to see him get his comeuppance. Hopefully, that'll be his last attempt to ask you out." he commented, clearing his throat as he fought the rush going to his cheeks. "Better be, told him I was interested in someone else." she mentioned, moving from the chair and sitting on the sofa next to him. Arthur raised an eyebrow at the words, curiosity taking over him. "Oh really? Who's that then?" he smiled curiously, her blush noticed by him.
"Just...someone else in camp." she tried to play off, silently hoping he couldn't notice her getting flustered. He chuckled at the reaction, nodding his head as he thought about it, deciding not to make it too obvious he knows. "Fair enough. But, if you don't mind me asking, what's his name?" he continued, a smug smile plastered on his face. She could tell he knew on his face, he just wanted to hear her say it out loud. "Don't think you know him." She joked, feeling her face heat up even more as he nodded, his smile growing and eyebrows raising even higher. "Tell me, missy. Come on, what's his name?" he asked.
She thought about it before responding, a playful grin on her lips. "Tacitus Kilgore." she confessed, Arthur's smile going even wider as he hears the confirmation he was looking for. "Tacitus Kilgore, eh? I've heard of him. You like him then, do you?" he wondered, eyes full of love as he looks at her. She grinned at him, face softened as she saw a different side to him, one that wasn't on show very often. "Very much, sir." she played along.
"A handsome man, he is. And a kind one, too. You've got a good taste in men, then, miss." he complimented, looking smug as he drank the rest of his coffee. She moved closer to him, the gap between them on the sofa now gone, thighs against one another. "What about you, cowboy?" she smirked, her voice soft as Arthur felt a fuzzy feeling in his head when he heard the nickname.
He chuckled, putting the mug down. "Me? Well, I'll tell you. I'm still tryna find a nice lady who might take notice of me. That said..." he paused. He leaned in closer, a smile plating on his lips. "I'm always open to suggestions from the most beautiful girl in the gang." he winked, his face only centimetres away from hers. "Are you a fan of cowboys, missy?" he asked, his hands pressed to her waist as he moved her into his lap. "Well, I am a fan of a certain one." she smirked, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"Oh really?" he raised an eyebrow, his voice now a whisper in her ear. "Care to tell me which one in particular?" he continued, making circles on her hips with his thumb. "The one right in front of me." she whispered back as he moved closer, leaning forward so his lips barely grazed hers.
"Prove it."
#rdr#rdr2 arthur#arthur morgan#rdr imagines#rdr x reader#rdr oneshot#red dead redemption#red dead redemption x reader#red dead redemption imagines#red dead redemption oneshot#arthur#arthur x reader#arthur x female reader#arthur imagine#arthur oneshot#arthur morgan x y/n#arthur morgan x you#arthur morgan x female reader#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan imagines#arthur morgan fluff#arthur morgan fic#arthur morgan imagine#arthur morgan oneshot
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Arthur Morgan x male reader
Hunted away
I love me some crusty, cowboys. Not only because I want to look like one, but just look at em.
I'm thinking of making this kind of like series type of thing
Summary: Hunting an elk is a one thing, but sheltering a coyote is another.
Genre: fluff?
Warnings: swearing
Series...how long? Idk. Pt 2 is in production = never a good thing to hear from me ✌😗
[1][2]
Hunter. That's what was your profession in the wild west filled with murder and beauty that's being forsaken. You must admit it's not the greatest job but it keeps your mouth full and the law away.
As a hunter, you came across shady people from time to time, after all, the forests are your second home, but this one seems normal. Normal but... unconscious... His stallion stood in front of him as a shield against you and your mare. "Back off." You said while sliding down your saddle and waving your hands around to shoo the horse away. With a few heads flicks the horse backed away but his ears were down dramatically. Your mare noticed this and went by your side, her own ears down. You've noticed the occasional warning air bites she gave him, you were very grateful for her.
The stranger seemed alright with only a big bump on the back of his head. Someone must have bonked him on the head which made him unconscious but you're not sure if he fell immediately after the blow or rather after he managed to get away. Nevertheless, you couldn't leave him there alone as wolfs are having pups this time around and they're starving.
"A'right, cowpoke let' get ya away from 'ere." You've managed to swing him on your shoulder and set him on your mare in hopes he won't fall off. The guy's station kept protesting and neighing aggressively. You grabbed his rains with slight difficulty but after giving him your apple he calmed down enough. "Come on boy." Whilst clicking your tongue you kicked your mare to move.
You were out there to hunt an animal not to bring an injured one home with you. You really hoped this guy has nothing to do with the law, even if he looks like an outlaw.
Arthur woke up, not in his tent but rather under a wooden roof. He tried to sit up but his spinning head brought him back down on a not-so-comfortable mattress. He could hear faint footsteps tapping around in the other room. His eyes roamed around the room for his belongings which lay right next to him. He sighed in relief as it seemed that everything was still there.
The footsteps got closer and Arthur tried to sit up again. There in front of him stood a man with a plate of food. "Oh...you up." The man said as he froze in his stride. He wasn't expecting him to get up so soon, it hasn't been even half a day and he's up. Gods know how long was he out before you came.
"You hungry?" You've asked him awkwardly. As much as you hated it you're not one for social interactions. Arthur hummed he was quite hungry and by his inspection, you didn't look like a dangerous fellow or one with venom laying around. You gave him the plate and sat down in front of him in an old wooden chair.
"Thanks." Arthur thanked you and dug into the food. His gruff voice put you off guard but not by long as you heard horses coming to your house. You've noticed how your host froze and listened to the sound as well. Your eyes locked with his. Your face held no malice just an unknown disappointment.
Before he could say anything you got up. "Stay 'ere and don't make a sound." Leaving the other man alone you stepped out of your house and as expected, there in front of you stood the sheriff and his two apprentices. The sheriff was about to walk on your porch. "Gentlemen." You've greeted them with a slight bow of your head.
"Ah, Mr. L/n! Sharp ears as always." The sheriff spoke he slowed his walk and eventually stopped in front of your porch's steps. He leaned on one of his legs whilst pressing his side on the closest wooden pillar next to him. His thumbs were stuffed into his belt idly. You haven't said anything but look at the man in his very familiar eyes. "You haven't, by any chance, ran into a scrawny-looking fella with a blue shirt, have you?" The sheriff tilted his head at you, whilst correcting his hat.
You scoffed in disgust. "With all due respect sheriff, I thought you knew I ain't messin' with the law in any way. Not even with the mutt cowpokes, you tryin' 't get." You walked passed the sheriff after you finished your sentence. "Now if you don't mind imma go and cut some logs." You grabbed an axe that was nearby.
"Pretty horse you got. Is it new?" The sheriff said while pushing himself off of the pillar. On the outside, you haven't been fazed by the question but on the inside, you knew what he was trying to make you confess.
"Yes, Mr. L/n, the horse is new. Got 'im a couple days back. What? You interested in 'im?" You turned your head with a questionable look placed on it. The sheriff laughed and looked at his horse who's been quietly standing by the other two horses of the party. He started to walk towards you in a goofy way.
Up on being close enough, he patted you on your shoulder as he kept his hand on it. "As tempting as that sounds Mr. L/n, I don't need another." The closeness of you two felt personal. "I ain't gonna always save you, M/n!" The sheriff whispered so only you and he can hear it.
"Who's the eldest, you or me?" You glared at the sheriff. His concerned face was genuine and held no malice, just like you towards your guest. The sheriff sighed and patted your shoulder again and pulled away.
"A gray stallion? Get rid of 'im as soon as possible. They don't bring fortune." The sheriff said out loud with a smile and tipped his hat at you. You knew he wasn't talking about the horse but rather your guest and the owner of said horse. "Have a nice day, brother." The sheriff, your brother, said as he mount his horse. His two 'little helpers' bid their goodbyes as well. "Come visit me sometime, Edeline would be ecstatic."
Edeline, your niece, sweet little devil. You laughed and tipped your own hat their way. "Till next time brother. Gentlemen." The sheriff smiled at you, and the men and started to gallop away from your home.
Not long till they were out of sight. You didn't wish to go inside, not unarmed at least, so you stayed true to your words and went to chop some logs. "Might as well." You mumbled and prepared your logs and axe. Your hands swung up and we're ready to fall.
"Thanks for not giving me away." You missed the log and almost hit your leg. Your guest's voice being the reason. You looked up at him frustrated, some of your outgrown hair falling to your face. "Oh, sorry partner. Wasn't ma intention."
Your guest had his head poking out of your window whilst leaning on it with his arms. "Wha's your name cowpoke?" You said irritated and collected your posture. You've stuck the axe into the tree stump, you chop your logs on, quite aggressively. You were just done with chopping. Your guest noticed your hostile mood and brought his hand up in defense.
"Arthur Morgan. 'M not a threat." He said in a higher pitch. You nodded at him and grabbed the fallen log to place it back. You've unstuck your axe. Arthur waited for your introduction but never got it. He laughed at your silence before he heard you speak.
"You should be off. Your head ain't hurtin' that much if you up and standin'." You said and finally hit the log from before, slitting it in two. "Before the law comes, 'ere again, you'll be gone!" Your eyes met his as you turned on your heel and went to the horses to feed them. Bored of your axe.
Not long after you picked a bale of hay you heard the door get shut. A little voice in your head nudged you to get your gun out but the other trusted that you are safe. Just in case you held the knife you opened your bale with close, not trusting either side of you.
"Uh... Thanks for not lettin' me die I guess." Arthur said standing in front of your makeshift stables. He watched you work and how delicate you have been with his horse.
"Yeah, you welcome. 'M not expectin' a payment." You said as you patted the beauty of a stallion before your mare got jealous and bit the horse. "H/N!" You exclaimed her name surprised as she bit very close to your hand.
Arthur laughed and leaned on the wood of your stables. "Seems like someone's jealous." Arthur patted your mare. "Easy girl. You have quite the pretty horse." He praised your mare and you felt proud of her. "I once had a mare myself."
This little piece of information caught your interest as you calmed the riled-up stallion and lead him a bit further away from your mare. "Wha's her name?" Arthur followed you and stood next to you.
"Her name was Boadicea. She... passed away, unfortunately." Arthur's voice was sad and you noticed it immediately. You kind of regretted asking.
"Sorry to hear that. Your stallion is quite catchy as well... Protected you from me." You tried to lighten to mood a bit. You could hear Arthur snicker and the gentle pats he gave his stallion. The man looks like a jerk but really now he seems like gentle man who babies his child. Quite endearing.
Arthur coughed to hush the awkward silence away. "So uh... Do you need any hel-" Before he finished his sentence you cut in sharply which made the man raise his hands up in defense.
"I said, 'm not expectin' any payment, cowpoke!"
"Easy there, I'm just tryin' to be nice." He hissed back. Taking offense yet he wouldn't hurt you as he didn't need to. "Look, the head still hurtin' and I can't go back just yet." He pointed a finger at you and frowned. "You're stuck with me so I might as well help ya a little."
You walked closer to him and stood so close that you could easily head-bump him, your eyes dangerously bearing into his. "Do not threaten me on my own land, cowboy!" You said lowly.
"I'm not threatenin' you, partner." Arthur spat the 'partner' out. His eyes never left yours. You must admit you respect the guy.
You leaned back. "Grab your gun." You walked away to the back of your hut as Arthur stood there confused. "We oughta hunt."
#arthur morgan#arthur morgan x male reader#x male reader#rdr2#rdr2 x male reader#red dead redemption 2#red dead redemption 2 x male reader#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan x y/n
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"The Other Woman" | Arthur Morgan x F! Reader
a/n: i'm going through a break-up so here's some angst, enjoy!
summary: you have a secret relationship with arthur, and it's getting to the point where you want more from him.
warnings: swearing, sexual content, cheating, angst, minors DNI
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You woke up to the sound of constant knocking at your front door. You glanced over to the clock, seeing that it was nearly midnight. Getting up from your bed, you put on your robe and went to open the door. You didn't bother looking through the peephole to see who it was, the only person that would be here at this time would be...
"Arthur," you said, "I thought you weren't coming for another week."
Arthur grinned, stepping into the apartment and closing the door behind him. "Change of plans," he said, "I also missed my girl."
'My girl.'
You smiled weakly, "Did you want something to drink?" You didn't bother to wait for his answer, already going into the kitchen and pouring him a glass of whiskey.
You felt a pair of hands on your hips, gripping them tightly from behind. Arthur brushed your hair to the side, pressing his lips against your neck. Your eyes fluttered close, leaning into his touch. It's been weeks since you've last seen each other and Arthur couldn't wait any longer.
He slid off your robe, dropping it to the floor so you were left in your night gown. His hand snaked its' way underneath the gown, touching you where you needed him the most. The other hand groping your breast as his mouth left hot kisses along your neck.
You turned around to face him, your hands reaching for the buttons of his shirt, un-doing them in haste. Next was his belt and the buttons of his jeans. You both clumsily discarded your clothes.
"Let's go to the bedroom, Arthur," you said, breathless as you pulled away from his lips.
Arthur picked you up with ease, carrying you into the bedroom and laying you on the bed. He hovered over you with his hips in between your legs. He reached down, rubbing your cunt slowly as you buckled your hips forward.
"Such a good girl," Arthur praised, licking a strip of your neck as his fingers pumped in and out of you.
He removed his fingers, grabbing a hold of his member, aligning himself, and slipping himself into you. You let out a small gasp at the stretch.
You could never get used to his size, and whenever he's away, you forget how much he stretches you out.
Arthur continued to kiss you as he moved his hips, picking up the pace as he went. Your hands clawed at his back, feeling the knot in your stomach already forming.
You were nearly there until...
"Fuck, Mary," Arthur moaned.
Arthur stopped and realized what he had just said. He looked down at you as you stared up at him in disbelief.
"y/n, I'm sorry, it just slipped-"
You pushed Arthur off of you, getting up from the bed and going back to grab your night gown. Arthur followed you behind.
"I'm serious, I don't know why I said her name."
You turned around, now irritated with the man in front of you. "Because she's your wife. You said her name because that's who you're married to, that's who you fuck when you're not fucking me."
Arthur was taken aback, now feeling defensive. "Why are you getting so riled up? I said her name, it was my mistake but you don't need to bitch at me about it."
"You ever say my name when you're in bed with her?" you shot back, taking a few steps closer to get in his face. "When you're in her, does my name fall out of your mouth by mistake?" You were testing him.
"No because-"
"Because you're more careful with her than with me. I'm just some mistress that you can talk about your marriage problems with and how the sex is alright with her. When you go home to her, you bring her souvenirs and tell her tales of the city you visited."
Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, "Where is this coming from?"
When you met Arthur, it had been at one of the bars in the city, and you found him to be handsome. You spent the entire night, talking and flirting, and by the end of it - Arthur confessed that he was married. You should've walked away and forget about him. Yet, you thought you weren't going to develop any feelings, you were just in it for the sex.
What a damn fool you were.
Here you stand in front of Arthur, the man who you fell in love with. You wanted him all for yourself.
"Because Arthur," you started, feeling the lump in your throat forming. "Because I want more."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"It means that I want you to myself, okay? I want you to leave your wife and... be with me." You looked into Arthur's eyes, searching for any sign that he wants the same.
Instead, he said, "I shouldn't have came here."
You watched as Arthur picked up his clothes, and put them back on. You grabbed at his wrists, trying to stop him. "What have I said wrong?!"
"You're asking me to leave my wife," Arthur snapped. "I made a vow, y/n."
"You can't use that excuse when you've been with me for months!"
"It's complicated! I thought we made an agreement, you knew what you were getting into."
He was right. You kept convincing him that it would never go further than it should be. It didn't stop you from falling for him though.
Arthur was dressed, his jacket in his hand and he walked over to the door. You moved in front of the door, blocking his way.
"Arthur, please," you pleaded. "Please don't go..."
"y/n, I need you to move." Arthur's voice was low and firm, almost threatening.
"No, you look me in the eyes and you tell me you don't feel the same way."
Arthur lifted his head up, looking you in the eyes. For a moment, he doesn't say anything. A bit of hope for you.
"I love my wife," Arthur said, "I will never leave her. Not even for you."
You felt your eyes water and your chest ache at his words. You stepped away from the door, not wanting to look at him anymore. Arthur let out a sigh, reaching over to you, and kissing your forehead.
"Goodbye, y/n."
With that, Arthur walked out of the apartment, and out of your life.
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a/n: it's been a while since i've written so it's quite rusty, but i hope you enjoyed some angst.
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BITE ME
pairing: Vampire!Arthur Morgan x Human!f!reader
word count: 4091 words
warnings: 18+ minors DNI, explicit sexual content, explicit language, piv intercourse, fingering (r receiving), biting and blood play, vampire feeding
authors note: happy halloween my loves! this is a day late, but time isn't real anyway so we can all just pretend it is yesterday... right?? anyway, this au is now living rent free in my mind. i'm obsessed.
taglist:@cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries@delilah-grimes@mrsarthurmorgan7 @twola@the-marsh-harrier @wildfloweroutlaw @photo1030 @luvliewriting@pine4pple-b0i @sickvictorianangel
beta read by @cowboydisaster, divider by @saradika
The wooden panels nailed to the broken windows of the manor allow for tiny slats of moonlight to invade onto your skin, bathing you in a white glow. Peering through the gaps, you can see the distant campfire those bastard Pinkertons set up down by the swamp, but you know they’re surrounding you, boxing you into Shady Belle like fish in a barrel.
It’s been three days of a stalemate, the Pinkertons keeping their distance, brave enough to come with guns and firepower but just cowardly enough to not advance towards the monster they’ve heard only legend of, lest he rip their throats out and drain their life away. No, they’d rather wait around until they can drag his starved body out and be hailed heroes.
That “monster” sits mere feet away from you leaning against the wall, pale skin paler still, his chin tilted upwards as he fights the weight of his own skull. It’s killing you, watching your Arthur grow weaker by the hour. Three days of hiding out in Shady Belle, unable to leave for fear of being hunted for sport, but it’s been much longer since he last fed. They have you trapped, completely and truly. If Arthur held even half his usual strength, it would have been so easy to escape. He’d have overpowered them in seconds, no matter their numbers or firepower. But for that, he’d need to feed on the blood of another, which has made things much harder.
You try to relax your worried features when you see him start to wake, rubbing the crease out from between your eyebrows formed by the frown you hold whenever you watch him sleep, too scared to look away in case he stops stirring.
“Arthur…” You whisper on an exhale, quickly moving to sit beside him on the little bed. As always, his skin feels like marble, cold enough to seep through his shirt and scatter goose pimples over your arms. You’re used to the cold, what you don’t like is the thin layer of sweat coating him. Vampires shouldn’t sweat, but they also shouldn’t go so long without feeding, and the thought of this being a symptom of time running out terrifies you more than any number of monsters out camping in those woods.
“Hey, sweetheart…” Arthur shuffles to make room for you, guiding you to rest your head on his hard chest. There’s normally more muscle here cushioning you from his ribcage, but with Arthur so sick you can feel every bone beneath you.
“You get any sleep?”
There’s always the option to lie so he worries less, but Arthur knows you too well for that, so only the truth will have to do.
You shake your head, “Was keeping watch. They haven’t moved, think they’re still shit-scared of you, actually.”
Absent-mindedly, Arthur’s hand gravitates to the top of your head, stroking your hair in such a way that sends tingles down your spine. Even now, in the midst of perhaps the most danger you’ve ever been in together, his very touch has the power to calm you instantaneously.
He huffs a laugh, though you notice the slight wheeze to his breath when he does and another pang of worry hits you, “Course they are. Call themselves goddamn hunters, couldn’t catch a cold in Colter…” A pause, where you fill the silence with that tiny little laugh you’ve barely been mustering lately, then, “You should get some sleep, darlin’.”
“Not tired.” You protest, almost childishly, burying yourself further into Arthur’s chest. In truth, you’re exhausted, and even though he already knows it, you won’t admit it. You can’t tell him that you’re too scared to fall asleep in case you wake up alone, that there’s no point anyway because nightmares of him withering away to nothing here beside you will drag you back awake soon enough.
You both know this can’t go on for much longer. Something has to be done, and you know you have to be the one to do it. It’s just the convincing…
“C’mon, baby…” He starts, but you won’t hear it. You’re not going to sleep. You’re going to fix this.
“You have to feed on me.” You blurt out, glad to be nuzzled into your beloved’s shirt so you don’t have to see whatever expression your statement has pulled from him.
It’s not spontaneous, no sudden solution that has sprung into your mind this very moment. You’ve suggested it before, albeit never so forcefully, Arthur brushing you off like the idea is unfathomable. Explaining that he would never feed from you, terrified he’d lose control and hurt you. He could never hurt you. If there are such things as absolutes, that is one of them, you know it.
“No.” He’s blunt, clearly hoping his tone had enough force to end it there. But you’re strong, your will to keep fighting for him an everlasting force enough to match his.
“Arthur-” You unravel from him to sit up and meet his eye, yours pleading, his hardened.
“Darlin’, I said no. I mean it. I promised you I would never hurt ya’, and shit have I broke a lot of promises in my life… but not that one. N-Never that one. No.”
“You’re going to die, Arthur. If you don’t do this you’re going to die and you’re gonna leave me all on my own to face those bastards a-and,” Dammit, when did you start crying? “And I can’t do it without ya, Arthur you know I can’t-”
“Yes you can-”
“Well I don’t want to!” You shout, bursting the bubble of quiet around the Manor, your echo riding the wave of birds flocking out of the trees. Sobs threaten to break your strength, but you have to say this. It’s the very last card you have to play. After a few moments, tension between you growing palpable enough to cut with a knife, Arthur closes his mouth, letting you continue.
“Arthur, you’re all I have left… You think I’m a sharp enough shooter to get by them? Fine. But say I kill ‘em all, then what? Find somewhere to live and carry on? I ain’t… I can’t lose you, Arthur. But I can save you, if you let me. Please.”
Time feels as though it stops entirely when you see Arthur actually considering your words. Tears streak your cheeks, but your boots could ignite right on your feet and you might not notice in this moment. He looks so tortured in thought, no doubt imagining the life you would lead if you left him behind. He’s sure you’re strong enough, he knows you can do anything, but his heart breaks thinking of you all alone.
You reach for Arthur’s hands, feeling his cold skin tremble.
“I… What if I lose control? What if I hurt you? Sweetheart, you know what I get like when I-”
“But you won’t. You know how much blood I can afford to give you, and I know you, Arthur. You’d never hurt me.”
You elect not to tell him that any blood that runs through your body belongs to him already, your heart pumping it through your veins only for him.
You don’t tell him you’d die for him, because you know he’d never let you.
He’s silent, contemplating.
Please.
Please.
“...You start feeling faint or anything, you fuckin’ tell me, alright?” His tone holds an attempt at sternness, but it bothers you none. You can hardly hear him for the rush of relief flowing over you.
“I-I will. I promise.” And you mean it. The two of you are two entwined souls, neither trusting the other to have enough will to keep fighting if anything happened to them.
Arthur takes a deep breath in, almost like he’s giving himself an extra few seconds to back out of this, before sighing it out.
“Alright.”
The breath that hitched in your throat an age ago releases and you wipe your tears away hurriedly with the back of your hand.
“Oh, thank you, Arthur…” You’re so ecstatic, so grateful that he’s letting you save him that all you can do is launch yourself over to him, kissing him with all the passion the universe has offered you to gift him. Your hands fall to either side of his face, caressing his marble skin in a way that emits a tiny groan from him. Over the last few days, you’ve cuddled up to him a lot, but there hasn’t been much contact like this. Needy and wanting, loving and layered with everything from I Love You to Let Me Save You. Arthur is a starved man, but not just for blood. For you, body, blood and soul.
Arthur snakes one arm around your waist, even with his reduced strength still able to pull you over to straddle his lap. You’d have protested, citing that he’s too sick to be holding your weight like this, but now that this is really happening you’re getting kind of nervous, and the thought of being so close to him, arms wrapped around your frame while he feeds on your blood, comforts you hugely. And there’s no backing out, not from this, so straddle him you will.
Despite everything, Arthur’s cool touch sets you aflame. He trails his fingertips up and down your spine, his other hand firmly gripping your ass. His tongue teases your bottom lip until you open up to him, tasting him as he does you. He tastes…like Arthur. He might argue that he’s some monster, committing evil acts in the name of survival, but you know better. He’s your Arthur, he always has been.
The world melts around you, leaving just you and Arthur, loving each other, saving each other. That one long kiss breaks into smaller ones, until Arthur is peppering your lips, cheeks and nose with tiny kisses, glistening red eyes welling with emotion.
“It was always gonna be you, wasn’t it? You were always gonna save me…” He whispers, almost like he doesn’t quite believe it’s real.
“Always. And you’re gonna save me right back, cowboy. But first…” You look down between your two bodies, to the arm you’re holding out to Arthur.
“Are you ready?”
“Does it hurt?” You surprise yourself with your answer to his question, though you stand by it. You’re not scared, you could never be scared with Arthur. But nervous?
“A little. But I’m right here with you. And if you need to stop or take a break or you start feeling off, tell me or tap my arm.” You nod slowly, placing your hand into Arthur’s, “I need a yes, sweetheart… I can’t do this to you unless you’re sure.”
“Yes, Arthur. I’m sure. Please.”
There is one final, apprehensive glance in your direction, which you reply to with another tiny nod. He raises your flesh to his mouth, flashes of his white fangs visible now in the moonlight as he parts his lips.
It’s… strange. A small scratching feeling when his teeth puncture the skin of your wrist that pinches your brows together. There’s a second of nothing, before Arthur starts to feed and steals the breath right out of your lungs.
It’s like you can feel every vein in your body, all connecting and tugging your lifeforce through to your wrist for Arthur to feast on. You can tell the second the first drop hits his tongue, the shudder that wracks through his shoulders and down his spine. His eyes roll back in… pleasure? You’ve seen him feed before, usually such a violent affair, but this is different. You feel vulnerable to him, and as though you hold every ounce of control all at once.
When he groans, deep carmine eyes locking onto yours, you feel it all over, your thighs clenching around your suddenly wanting pussy.
… An unexpected side effect.
Maybe it’s the adrenaline, or the blood rushing around your body, or even the downright ravenous way Arthur is looking at you while he feeds on your blood, but you seem to be physically squirming on the bed, desperate for any kind of friction you can get. Fuck, you’ve never seen anybody react to being fed on like this… Then again, you’ve never seen feeding look or feel like this.
From even the smallest drop of you, what little colour that remains after his change has returned to Arthur’s skin and he looks much closer to alive than just minutes before. He looks himself again, right down to the cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. It does maddening things to you, not at all helping your growing state of arousal.
When his teeth sink out of your wrist, you watch crimson beads pool at two tiny punctures. Without breaking eye contact with you, Arthur lifts your hand back up to him, running the very tip of his tongue agonisingly slowly over the skin, pulling an honest to god whimper from your parted lips.
“You did so good, my good girl…” Arthur coos, an undeniably pleased look upon his face. He’s told you before, that with his heightened senses, Arthur knows when you want him. You also know how energised he gets after feeding, and how all of these factors are leading to a tension so intense between you you’re almost scared of the outcome.
There’s a smudge of blood on Arthur’s lip, one that you reach out to rub away with your thumb. Quick as the predator he is, he grabs your wrist before you can pull away, slipping your thumb into his mouth and sucking the blood gently off. Upon release, he drags one sharpened fang across the pad of your thumb and you shudder, craving that feeling of the bite more than you truly understand.
“A-Arthur…” You whimper, shuddering in pure anticipation and need.
“I know, sweetheart… Christ, I knew you’d taste good, but this? Fuck, you’ve ruined me, baby…”
You can’t wait a second longer, certain you’ll perish unless he is kissing you in the next moment. Entangling your grip into his collar, you find Arthur only too malleable to your touch, all but pouncing on you, locking your lips together. His tongue demands entrance as he easily positions you to be laying under him, Arthur covering the entire length of you and thensome.
“How do you feel, angel?” He asks between kisses, large hands roaming your body, tugging your clothes out of being tucked into each other to make it easier to take them off, “Y’alright? Don’t feel faint?”
“I’m okay. I just- I-I need you, please.” You’re pleading again, this time for very different reasons, “Did you get enough?”
“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you, sweetheart…” He growls, pulling the buttons of your shirt open feverishly. And then his lips are back on your skin, kissing your neck, licking at the skin whilst his hands work your zipper. You moan again, some wanton part of you wishing he would bite down again, marking you all over.
Arthur is losing control in the best way, growling and grinding his erection against your leg as he tries to pull your jeans down. With a little help, he manages, tugging your undergarments with them so you’re completely bare for him.
“So fuckin’ beautiful… my perfect little feast. Fuck, I’m tortured by every second I’m not buried deep inside that weeping cunt of yours,” At that, he runs a finger over your slit, drenching the tip of his finger in your slick, “but I think you deserve a treat for being such a good girl for me…”
There’s no time to consider his offer as he plunges two thick fingers deep inside you, curling them, curling them to hit that sweet spot he knows so well. You scream, absolutely loud enough for any Pinkerton vampire hunters to hear.
“That’s it, huh? That what you needed? That pretty little cunt filling?” He taunts, thumb swirling over your already soaking clit. You can’t speak for crying out, but you manage a nod, feeling yourself stretch around a third finger in a way that has your heart racing even faster.
With your pulse pounding, you can really feel the wounds on your wrist starting to ache and burn. It's a strange sensation, but one that seems to blend into everything else in some twisted bout of pleasure.
Arthur must notice your eyes flickering to it, as he guides your hand back up to his lips with the hand not inside you, pressing the softest kisses over the holes in your skin.
“Look what you did for me… My saviour, my perfect girl…”
“I’d die for you, Arthur.” you confess, the sweetness of his kisses and the languid circles of his fingers pulling you so close to the edge you can feel tears forming behind your eyes.
“It’d never come to that, beautiful. I’d burn the world down before I let your life ever hang in the balance.”
You believe him, too, and the emotion is suddenly too much. You’re hurtling towards an orgasm and you need him closer and all you can seem to think to do is untangle your wrist from his grasp and slip your thumb into his mouth.
He knows what you’re asking for instantly, and you swear you see his inky pupils blow until his eyes are nothing but a reddened void.
“Oh, my pretty little feast…” He groans, pricking your thumb with a fang and sucking gently at the blood. It isn’t nearly as intense as your wrist, but you still feel that tugging everywhere and you can’t stop the lewd moans that fall from your lips as you come undone.
Writing, screaming his name, you feel Arthur suck harder on your thumb, moaning himself at the taste of you. It’s not nearly as much as he was taking before, but enough that your blood blooms over his tongue and fills every one of his senses. He is a man obsessed, and it’s the most beautiful sight as you cum for him.
The waves of euphoria crash over you, each more intense and wonderful than the last. Arthur orchestrates your orgasm through his own pleasure, drawing perfect patterns on your clit in time to his thrusts.
When you come down, he’s there, releasing you from his fangs again to free his lips for yours. Your lips lock together, his body crushing yours into the mattress. You love the feel of all his weight on you, especially when you can feel every pulse of his throbbing cock through the denim of his jeans. Jeans that must go, so you snake a hand into what little space you can between your bodies to reach for his buttons. Arthur helps you, and he’s soon naked on top of you. Wrapping nimble fingers around his shaft, you run your thumb over the rosy head of his cock, swiping at the bead of precum already leaking. He’s desperate for you, and it drives you wild.
You’re already guiding him to your soaked entrance, grinding your hips pathetically, needily. Arthur chuckles softly, taunting you with the smallest of hip movements to slide his tip into you, but stopping there.
“Arthur.” You whine, eyes pleading, cunt dripping for him. Your hands roam the expanse of his back, feeling each muscle twitch under your touch, scratching at the cool skin like a cat in heat.
“I know, baby, I know… I’ll make it better.” He purrs, finally sliding the entire length of his cock into your heat. It stretches you in that beautiful way only he can and you moan, deep and visceral. Your nails leave white scratches across Arthur’s back as your hands float up to cup his cheeks, pulling him into a deep kiss as his groin presses hard into yours.
“Oh, my beautiful girl… I’m gonna fuck you so hard they’re gonna hear you up in Saint Denis… them Pinkertons out there are gonna think I’m draining every last drop of that sweet blood out of your precious little body.”
Such a violent image, but somehow… you enjoy the thought. You’d bleed for him till the end of time, gladly… you’d lay down your life on a slab and be Arthur’s for the taking.
You can’t think of the words to tell him how much you want what he’s telling you, letting the passion guide you to bite down on Arthur’s lower lip. A taste of his own medicine. He has no blood of his own to give, but you’re biting down hard enough to have drawn some if he did, dragging another feral grown from the depths of his throat.
True to his word, with just a few perfectly timed thrusts, you’re screaming his name, cunt fluttering around his thick cock and squeezing every inch of it. That full feeling is so wonderful, so bone-deep and euphoric you’re on the precipice of another orgasm in seconds. He can tell, slowing down and hanging you right over the edge with a wicked grin on his face. You whine and whimper, clawing at the back of his neck to pull him even closer.
“What do you want, little feast? Use your words.” He pushes, still dragging his cock up against your walls in the most torturous of ways.
“I want… I-I need… I-I… urgh!” You cry out in frustration, each syllable leaving your lips earning another thrust that dizzies you to the point of cock-drunk stuttering. Fuck words. You’ll show him.
With a strength you didn’t even know you possessed, you pull Arthur closer, guiding him to the crook of your neck.
“Angel, I don’t know if I can control myself if I taste you agai-”
“Please…” you whimper, rocking your hips up to meet Arthur’s movements, clit grinding deliciously against his pubic bone.
Arthur’s eyes meet yours and you’re lost in them, convinced you’ve never been held so close to climax for so long before, but your body knows what it wants, what it needs to get there with Arthur.
“Fuck, if I could die, you’d be the death of me…” Are the last words he speaks before sinking his teeth into your neck, in perfect time with a deep thrust of his cock. You scream, in pain, in pleasure, all of it, finally falling over that cliff and crashing into the waves below. You drown in your orgasm, dragging Arthur down with you as he sucks the sweet ichor out of your veins. With your blood on his tongue and his name on your lips, you cum together. The vibrations of his carnal moans tickle your neck, layering yet another juxtaposing sensation onto you.
He releases, only to whisper sweet words of praise into your bleeding skin, “Look at you, giving me this… you’re doing so good for me, ain’t ya? My little angel, my good girl…”
And he’s biting down again, and you’re chanting his name, legs wrapped tight around his hips, tears you don’t remember shedding streaking down your cheeks. It feels like you stay there for an eternity, connected mind, body and soul. You would stay there for an eternity with him, if he’d only let you. But that’s another story…
It stings a little when Arthur unleashes his teeth from you, and you wince. His hand is there instantly, caressing the surely reddened skin as his brows pull together, “You okay? I didn’t go too far, did I? Y’feelin’ alright?”
You shake your head softly, a blissful smile gracing your lips, “I’m perfect.”
“Damn straight you are.” He remarks, slowly sliding out of you and lowering his weight onto the bed beside you.
“What about you? How are you feeling?” You ask, entwining your fingers together and holding them up into the moonlight. There's a streak of your blood crossing over a few of Arthur’s knuckles. It suits him.
“Never better.” He says honestly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Thank you, darlin’. I’ll never be able to thank ya’ enough for what you did, but I promise you I’ll get us out of here alive. Well… y’know what I mean.”
You giggle, sure you may never get used to the fact that the love of your life is dead.
“You don’t need to thank me, Arthur. You’ve given me your life a million times, it’s only fair I get to do the same.”
And you mean it. You would do it a thousand times over, giving your life to Arthur while he gives his afterlife to you, saving each other until the end of time.
#arthur morgan#arthur morgan x reader#rdr2#arthur morgan imagine#arthur morgan rdr2#arthur morgan x y/n#arthur morgan x you#arthur morgan fanfiction#arthur morgan smut#arthur morgan x female reader#red dead redemption 2
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Hey could you write a little fic about Arthur hearing fem reader crying and comforting her? Really pile up the fluff if you decide to write please 🩷🩷 love your stuff so much xxx
A Shoulder to Cry on
pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader
word count: 1000
a/n: Thank you for this sweet prompt, nonny! I was looking to write some fluff and this was perfect.
beta read by @margowritesthings
You feel foolish for even crying, but you can't bring yourself to stop the glistening tears from streaming down your face. You’re petrified, miles away from your former camp, stuck up in the Grizzlies. The Pinkertons are on your tail like a cat on a mouse, and you know it’s only a matter of time before they inevitably catch you. Your time is running out. You’ve had a good run with the van der Linde gang, but it’s time is nigh on done. It's a daunting realization, especially after losing so many folks back in Blackwater.
Because of your position in the gang, you’ve been given your own bedroom in the same cabin as Arthur, Dutch and Hosea. It's a cold room, but better than what most of the gang have. The wind whistles outside as thick snowflakes land on the roof, causing ice cold water to drip repetitively from the ceiling above. The wind and the leak intertwine with your cries, forming a sad, sad song.
You sit on the bed with your knees hugged to your chest, sobbing into them with no sign of stopping. You try to keep quiet as your breathing comes in shudders, and your shoulders shake violently. There is an ache in your ribs from the sobs erupting from your chest, but it pales in comparison to the ache in your heart. You hiccup, catching your breath, and unknowingly alerting Arthur who is walking by to catch some shut eye.
With his eyebrows pulled together in worry, he gently nudges your door open. You don’t even look up, and he stands in the doorway for a moment, glancing over your curled up, crumbling form. Of course, he knows what's wrong, and his heart shatters at the sight of you looking so broken. His heart– it’s been longing for your own for so long, and seeing you like this breaks him.
“Oh, darlin…” He murmurs, stepping forward in only a few strides. You hear his boots clicking against the floor before the bed dips under his weight, and then his big, warm arms are around you.
“I'm so sorry.” He whispers.
There’s something about his arms around you. They are sturdy and unmoving, and yet piece by piece, they begin to build your broken heart back together. There’s so much safety and comfort in his arms, you’re sure that he could protect you even from the storms raging in the Grizzlies with his hugs. You wrap your arms under his, hands on his back as you sniffle and cry into his shirt.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Arthur asks quietly, swaying you lightly in his arms as he shields you from your pain and the cold. Arthur doesn’t push you. He knows exactly how you feel, and opening up about these things is far from easy in his own experience. The gang– it’s coming to an end, and you both know it. Now you just have to find a way to exit peacefully, hopefully taking those that you love with you.
"Shh, shh. You're okay." He coos, tucking your head under his chin.
Arthur is radiating with warmth, and you feel the frostbite leaving your nose as you nuzzle into his chest. His thumb reaches up to wipe away a fresh tear as he frowns lightly at the sight of you so upset. Your skin is soft against Arthur’s calloused hand, and your eyes slip closed as you savor the feeling of his touch.
“I’m scared, Arthur.” You admit, lip trembling as silent tears slide down your frozen cheeks.
“I know you are, I know, but I will get you out of this mess. I promise you.” Arthur swears, resting back against the headboard as his mind runs rampant. He can’t let you die for this gang, and he’ll get you out safely if it's the last thing he does.
“You just rest now, alright? You don’t gotta worry no more. I gotcha now.” Arthur murmurs, laying down with you nuzzled into his side. You cuddle against him as tightly as you can manage, placing your head on his chest as you nod your head. For the first time since Blackwater, the trails of tears from your reddened eyes cease.
Arthur’s hand runs soothingly up and down your back as he makes sure you’re comfortable and taking deep breaths. He wishes he could take this pain away from you, but he knows he can't. All he can do is hold you.
Your eyes slip shut as you nuzzle against his blue wool coat, your cries dying down to soft sniffles.
"Feelin' any better?" Arthur asks, watching as your breathing settles back to normal. Your cheeks are red from the cold, and your lashes stick together from sticky tears. Arthur pulls the blankets up over the two of you, not wanting you to catch a cold.
"I am now that you’re here." You whisper, feeling a heavy tiredness fall over you. Arthur is so comfortable, and you feel safe enough to fall asleep in his arms. Arthur can tell you're drifting off, and he wraps his arms around you tighter for it.
"It's okay, get some sleep. I'll still be here when you wake up." Arthur murmurs. Seeking more of his comfort, and taking another step towards telling him how you feel, you unwrap one of his arms from your body. Arthur's eyebrows pull together, and at first he's worried that he's crossed a line until you intertwine your fingers with his own and hold your joined hands against his chest.
Arthur smiles down at your hands, watching your face relax as you finally drift to sleep. He'll hold you the rest of the night, making sure you're okay.
"I'll get you outta this mess." He reiterates, "If it's the last thing I do, I won't let you die for these fools."
He hopes that you'll go with him, run away to some place far. Arthur's never been one to daydream of pleasantries, but you make him want a home, a family. He'd leave the gang for you, he'd buy a home and work an honest job just so he could come home to you. He'd make you proud.
But for now, all he can do is hold you, comfort you from the storm outside alongside the one raging in your mind. Now the only sounds in the room are the leaking roof and your light snores as you take comfort in the first safety you've felt in days. Arthur will always be that comfort for you.
taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony
#arthur morgan#arthur morgan x reader#red dead redemption two#rdr2 fanfic#arthur morgan x you#arthur morgan x female reader#red dead redemption 2#arthur morgan x y/n#arthur morgan x f!reader#rdr2 arthur#rdr2#rdr2 fandom#arthur morgan fluff
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You know you’re down bad when you start thinking about doing domestic things with fictional characters
#arthur morgan#arthur morgan x reader#dean winchester x reader#red dead redemption 2#supernatural#rdr2#dean winchester#dean winchester x female!reader#arthur morgan x y/n
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A Quick Sketch
✿ Arthur Morgan x gn reader ✿
Warnings : Use of Y/n, Violence?? (Reader hits Arthur with his journal), fluff, fluff and more fluff
Author's Note : Just a quick read of an idea that popped into my head, I'm currently in my Arthur simping era so enjoy 💙
Summary : You catch Arthur trying to draw you.
"Are you drawin' me, Mr Morgan?" You raise your brow in question as you smile, watching Arthur carefully as he lets out an awkward cough before glancing up to look at you.
"I-uh." He closes his journal quickly. "Just keepin' track of the camp funds, is all."
"Camp funds?" You hum softly; standing up from the log you were sat on and making your way around the campfire, dusting off a small crate beside Arthur before you sit on it. "Can I help at all?"
"Easy enough to keep track of, I'm fine." He nods, turning to face you. "Thank you, for offering."
"You are a terrible liar, Mr Morgan."
"Me? I would never lie to you!" He replies, his gaze is now set on the flames in front of him.
"You just did!" You grin.
"I did no such thing!"
"Oh really?" You laugh gently, holding your hand out towards Arthur. "Show me."
"Show you what?"
"Don't go acting all dumb on me now, Morgan." You motion at the journal on his lap. "Show me." He sighs, taking his journal in his hands.
"Fine, here." He flips through the many pages of his journal and stops to hand it to you; you take it from his grip, nodding as a thank you.
"Oh, Arthur..." You gleam, running your fingers over the charcoal sketch that he had been drawing prior to you questioning him about it. "You have amazing talent." You state.
"Sure, whatever you say." He hums.
"I'm bein' serious, Arthur!" You scold him, closing the journal and hitting him up the side of his head with it.
"Jesus Christ!" He hisses, snatching his journal back from your grasp. "Ain't no need to get violent."
"Y/n is right, Arthur. You have a gift." You grin, spinning on your heel to face Charles.
"How long have you been listening?" Arthur groans.
"Long enough." Charles shrugs. "It's not like you two were having a quiet conversation between yourselves."
"See though, Arthur." You point to the journal in his hand. "I ain't the only one who thinks you got talent."
"S'nothing special." Arthur says. "Thank you though, both of you."
"You're very welcome." You smile, facing Arthur again. "Now, finish that drawing- I want to see the end result."
#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan x y/n#arthur morgan x you#arthur morgan#red dead redemption arthur#rdr2 arthur#red dead redemption 2#fanfic#x reader#gn reader#fanfiction#arthur morgan x gender neutral reader#reader insert#red dead redemption two#drawing#arthur morgan fluff#x gn reader#platonic#romantic#i want to marry this man#hes so babygirl#charles smith#red dead redemption#red dead redemption charles#charles red dead redemption#charles smith rdr2
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Apprehensions | Arthur Morgan x gn!reader
『••✎••』
↳ ❝ i miss arthur morgan dearly. it’s so bad. i humbly request arthur morgan x gn!reader (male!reader works too, idrc) w/ the prompt “get inside, you’ll catch a cold”!!! kisses mwah - @mockerycrow ❞
: ̗̀➛ Arthur's good to you, it's a shame that he doesn't really allow himself some grace.
: ̗̀➛ nudity, smoking, swearing, scenes of a sexual nature
: ̗̀➛ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•
You and Lenny had been out hunting, which came as a surprise to no one, as the two of you did often wander away for a few hours; you worked well as a team, as one of you would chase whatever you were hunting, while the other took the shot. It worked every time, and you often had a good haul to bring back to camp; at least, today you did.
Although that didn’t mean that the weather had not been cruel.
Heavy, pounding rain had caused many of the open fields and pathways to become deeply flooded and slick with mud; your boots squelched with each step, and your clothes were so sodden that they were heavy to lumber around.
You were shivering, soaked to the bone and quite literally dripping, by the time that you started to approach the campfire; but a sharp whistle caught your attention, and when you looked over, you saw Arthur standing under his tent as he gestured for you to go over.
You did so a little too eagerly, surprised when he caught your elbow gently and pulled you under the small shelter; he was never rough with you, he made it a point not to be, and he was quick to pull the fabric of his tent down to protect you a little more from the rain.
One quick look at you, and he frowned.
“You need to get inside, you’ll catch a cold,” he told you quietly, letting you go and rummaging through his trunk. He pulled out a shirt and a pair of trousers, tossing them onto his cot. “This should do it… shouldn’t be too bad.”
You swallowed thickly, taking off your hat and clearing your throat. “Thank you…”
He looked up at you, his mouth falling agape for a moment. “D’ya want me to wait outside?”
You shook your head, shrugging as you hummed softly and started to unbutton your shirt. “No, I mean… it’s not the first time you’ve seen me naked, so…”
Arthur sat on his cot, facing the wall as he lit a cigarette; he didn’t mean to look, he really didn’t, but when he heard your boots clatter to the side and the thud of your trousers… he did steal a quick look, blushing as he was unable to move.
You were fucking magnificent; he swallowed thickly, biting at the inside of his lip, but he was too slow to look away, and when you caught him looking, you grinned.
“Arthur?”
“I’m sorry, I-”
“You can look,” you told him quietly, shaking your head. “You can touch if you want, too.”
The blush on Arthur’s features deepened as he watched you get closer; he slowly put his hands on your hips, pulling you to stand between his legs. One hand travelled up, exploring your chest with rough and clumsy fingertips before he stood up, audibly gulping.
“You, erm, you look real good,” he whispered, voice hoarse and heavy.
You put your hands on his chest, tugging at his shirt slightly. “So do you, Mister Morgan.”
His adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he reluctantly pulled away, clearing his throat; it wasn’t that he didn’t want to touch you, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to kiss you and to make you moan his name… of course he wanted all of that and more, but he was well aware that because of what you both did for a living, it would never last.
He was an outlaw, you were a gunslinger that Dutch had brought in not even a year ago… it was never going to work. He didn’t want you to feel the pain that he knew would inevitably come along. He really didn’t.
You were too good for that, you could have gotten out of the life; settled down, had a family, made something of yourself. He could never do that. He would die an outlaw, but you… you had a chance.
“Arthur?” You sat down beside him on his cot, shivering a little as the cold air blew through and hit your naked skin. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No,” he shook his head, sighing heavily. “I just… can’t do this, not with you… you ain’t gonna die an outlaw, you ain’t… you don’t want me… it’s only gonna end bad.”
“Oh, Arthur,” you whispered, putting your hand on his shoulder and giving it a little squeeze. “You… I do want you, and whatever the fuck happens… I can handle it. Trust me, I’ve been through a lot of shit. I can handle it.”
“You can get outta here, y’know,” he told you. “You have a chance to have a life… I’m gonna die an outlaw.”
“And I’m gonna die a gunslinger,” you admitted. “I mean, for fuck’s sake, it’s all I’m good at - it’s all I know… I’m not getting out of this life, either.”
He spared a glance at you, chewing at the inside of his bottom lip. “You oughtta get dressed. Y’might catch your death if you keep your clothes off.”
You leaned over, daring to sweetly kiss his cheek; you didn’t mind that he watched you get dressed, in fact, you quite enjoyed the attention. You just wished that he would actually let go a little; that he wouldn’t be so staunch about not hurting you.
You had survived the life of a gunslinger for years before you had met Dutch and Hosea, you would survive a little heartbreak if anything were to ever go bad for you and Arthur. But you knew it wasn’t that easy, so you sighed, sitting down beside him again and leaning your head against his shoulder as you sighed.
“What if we take it slow?” You asked him. “Take everything at your pace.”
Arthur glared at you for a moment before he nodded. “Y’sure?”
“Absolutely.”
He thought about it for a moment; you were so eager, so wanting, and although he wanted it so badly, he still had his apprehensions… but then he saw how you were looking at him, and he sighed. “Then, yeah.”
#mlem writes#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan x you#arthur morgan x y/n#arthur morgan x yn#arthur morgan imagine#arthur morgan fanfiction#arthur morgan fanfic#arthur morgan fic#arthur morgan#rdr2 x reader#rdr2 x you#rdr2 imagine#rdr2 fanfiction#rdr2 fanfic#rdr2 fic#rdr 2 fanfiction#rdr 2#rdr2
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