#he sleeps nude or in Arthur’s shirts
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This started as me wanting to draw them as old men and kind of spiralled from there…
#this wasn’t inspired by the Beatles song but as I was finishing it I realised it needed sth extra and the song kinda fit…😳#I am weak for several things#domestic aus being one of them fran wearing Arthur’s clothes being another#like#he sleeps nude or in Arthur’s shirts#no in between#and of course he is going to wear his husbands frumpy sweaters in the hospital because they’re soft and comfy and smell like *him* 🥺#‘you said you’d die before wearing one of my frumpy old cardigans in public’#‘I *am* dying arthur’#cue uncontrollable blubbering from artie and a mom™ hug from fran#my art#francis bonnefoy#hws france#arthur kirkland#hws england#ukfr#aph ukfr#hws ukfr#fruk#hws fruk#hws face family#YES I KNOW the first lyric is wrong don’t @ me it just looked better that way#pretty sure it’s a cover too but I couldn’t upload the original for some reason#and I refuse to link to Spotify
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To Name A Vista
Arthur Morgan x F!Reader
Smut (18+), MDNI
➵ Fic Masterlist
➵ AO3 Link
It's beautiful - this hidden place he's brought you - but you'd have to admit, nature is not the only view you're admiring.
When you awaken, blinking yourself back into the world of the living, it's only a moment before you arch your back against your bedroom that your body becomes your own again.
You yawn, stretching your arms above your head and your legs out straight, the small of your back bowing upward. As you settle back down on the rumbled bedroll, you run a hand down your face, brushing your hopelessly tangled hair from your cheeks.
As you stare up at the pitch of the tent, the morning light filters through the canvas as your hand settles over your stomach. A smile crosses your face.
Your cunt aches sweetly, a dull pain you're happy to feel within the cradle of your hips. A blanket lays discarded, twisted around one of your legs. Otherwise, your skin is bared completely within the tent, gooseflesh prickling as a soft morning breeze pushes through the hanging flap of the tent.
You roll over, yawning again, frowning slightly as you feel the stickiness of dried sweat on your back and something else entirely between your thighs.
Sitting up, you roll your shoulder backward to shake out the sleep from your body. Discarded clothing litters the ground, trousers and shirts, gun belts, and a chemise bunched up in the corner of the tent. A pair of men’s boots knocked over.
Your fingers grasp for the tent’s flap, drawing it open slightly to let the early morning sunlight in, birdsong becoming louder as you squint against the brightness.
It’s certainly picturesque, here along the banks of the Dakota River, tucked away from roads and trails, the gentle waters flowing south to collect in Flat Iron.
You grope for the discarded blanket on the other side of the bedroll and wrap it around your shoulders as crawl out of the tent to stand. Stepping past the campfire that’s been re-lit in the morning, you notice a pot of coffee heating up in that old beat-up percolator.
You’re drawn by some unseen string to the riverbank. Your bare feet slide slowly over weathered river stones to where your toes touch the water’s edge. Pulling the blanket around you closer, you smile as the birds chirp loudly overhead.
Arthur stands several feet out in the water, gently lapping at his thighs as he scrubs at his shoulder idly, staring off into the distance, Mount Shann looming large miles away.
Nude as the day he was born, you are transfixed, gazing unabashedly at your lover’s body. The lines at his neck and elbows where sun-kissed skin meets what’s usually hidden beneath his clothing. Scars, marks, a smattering of dark, wiry hair. That slash on his shoulder from a coach robbery in Colorado. The circular mark on his bicep when he was shot in Arizona. New, pink-red lines scratched into his skin on either side of his spine. No, those weren’t battle wounds, those were love marks - carved into his skin by your blunt nails as he thrust himself inside your body, over and over and over again last night.
A smile creeps over your face as you note a faint pink imprint of your hand on one of his ass cheeks.
He rolls his shoulder, still unaware of your gaze on him. Blading his body sideways, he leans over, cups river water between his hands, and brings it up to his neckline, splashing it to cover his chest, idly scrubbing at wet skin.
You cannot help but stare at his large cock hanging prettily between his legs. Even with how many times the two of you climbed into each other last night, heat flares in your belly as you feel wetness gathering in your cunt. You rub your thighs together absentmindedly as you trace the paths of the rivulets of water down his chest, down the muscles of his abdomen, as it weaves through the dark curls of his pubic hair and drips off of his cock.
You’re smitten, there isn’t any denying it.
This was all fairly new between you - and maybe it’s still those early days of a relationship where you can’t keep your hands off of each other. At some point when the gang was traveling from the west, the simmering tension between the two of you boiled over, and after a night around the campfire and a tad too much whiskey, you awoke in Arthur’s bedroll, thoroughly satiated and adorned with sloppy bite marks and suckled bruises across your décolletage.
That, of course, quickly devolved into sneaking into tents at night, groping behind wagons, and the occasional dalliance in the woods outside of camp.
When things had finally calmed down from the Blackwater mess, he grabbed you without much preamble, led you to the horses, swung you up on the rump of his new mare, and headed out of Horseshoe Overlook, muttering something about needing a break.
Not that last night was much of a break… the night was spent holed away in that little tent, between gasps and moans and cries of each other’s names for hours.
Arthur finally turns around completely and sees you, your hair spilling messily over the blanket you’ve wrapped around yourself. A grin slides across his face as he begins to wade toward you, unabashed in his nakedness.
“Get some sleep there, darlin’?”
You snort lightly as he steps closer to you, his arms reaching toward your shoulders, engulfing them in his large hands and rubbing them affectionately.
“You know me, need plenty of beauty rest.” You roll your eyes with a laugh.
Arthur snorts in return, bemused, “Y’dont need a lick of that to be a beauty.”
Oh, this man…
You give a smile as you let the blanket fall from your body and collect at your feet. You can hear him suck in a breath for a moment, then Arthur’s hands immediately dart to your bared breasts, his palms engulfing them as he squeezes gently. Your hands trail down his abdomen, fingers brushing the wet hair from just below his navel until it spreads out over his pelvis.
He smirks, “That getcha goin’?”
You grasp his cock, solid and warm even when he wasn’t aroused, and squeeze as gently as he holds your breasts, “So gentlemanly,” You stress the honorific by swiping your thumb over the head of his cock, and he shivers in response, blood rushing to his groin as he is coaxed to rigidity in your hand.
With an affectionate squeeze of his right hand to your breast, he quickly moves southward, reaching between your thighs as you begin to stroke him.
You step up on your toes and he leans down to press your lips together, opening your mouth immediately to him as a comforting rumble emits outward from his chest.
Your tongue presses up against his as his fingers slide between the seam of your body, collecting your dewy sheen as he rubs back and forth between that little nub of pleasure and the rim of your aching cunt.
Speaking of which, you jerk backward slightly when his pointer finger slips inside to the first knuckle. He pulls back immediately, hand landing on your hip. He blinks, a concerned look on his face.
“Y’hurtin?” Arthur whispers, patting your hip gently.
“Just a little sore.” You smile up at him and press your lips to his again quickly, “Been a while since we did that. And you ain’t exactly small neither.”
Arthur blushes, and you’re overcome with a fondness for him - for this, he blushes, considering every damn position he had you in last night.
“I-I’m sorry, I don’t ever want to hurt you.” Your outlaw says forlornly, one of his hands moving to cup your cheek as a frown snakes across his face.
“Stop, stop it. You didn’t hurt me. Y’did nothin’ but please me last night,'' You shake your head with a smile, “Now let me please you.”
He cannot suppress a groan as you slowly let yourself down to your knees, the blanket saving you from being directly on the sandy soil.
“Oh honey - y’don’t -”
“You’re all clean and I’m still dirty. Let me.” You whisper in a sultry voice as you stroke his cock languidly. He swallows audibly as his hand moves to cup your jaw.
“Christ, you’re gonna be the death of me, my girl.” His thumb traces the apple of your cheek as you smile, turning your head to kiss his palm.
You move from his palm to the edge of his hip, where the hard-earned lines of muscle collect in a v-shape, tapering from his waist. Slowly, nearly painfully slowly, your lips trail across his body, from the crest of his bone to underneath his navel, where dark, wiry hair starts to curl.
Arthur cannot help but to gently rock forward against you, and you place your chin just below his navel, smiling up at him in complete adoration. He returns that smile as he pushes a strand of your hair behind your ears.
You grasp the base of his hefty cock with one hand and turn your head back to him, drawing the red tip of him to your mouth and kissing it gently before letting your tongue dart out against it. He hisses in pleasure as his fingers thread through your tangled locks to grasp your head. You take that action as permission to take him into the wet cavern of your mouth, inch by inch, tongue pressing against him.
Arthur groans aloud and throws his head back, slightly bowing his body toward you. You suck gently on the head of his cock before pressing forward to take more of him in, beginning to bob back and forth, taking him more and more with each movement. Your hand balances on his thigh, thick and corded with muscle.
He looks back down at you, breathing heavily, while you tip your head up slightly and make eye contact with him. Slowly, near aggravatingly slowly, you take him into your mouth, deeper, deeper, until you can’t look at him anymore, and your nose presses against his pubic bone. You choke slightly as the head of his cock hits the back of your throat, leaking precum
“Jesus fuck,” He curses, unable to stop himself from rocking forward slightly, and you moan around him, pulling your head backward to begin bobbing again.
You’re able to wrench the most beautiful sounds from him: pleads and groans and heavy, needy breaths as you suckle on him, the pain in your knees an afterthought as you continue to pleasure your lover.
“F- fuck-” he gasps, breathless and red-faced looking down at you, “I’m gonna -ngh- where…-?”
Your mouth releases from around his cock with a wet pop , a trail of saliva connecting you to him for a moment before it snaps.
He groans, panting.
“Wherever you want.” You purr.
Arthur whines, actually whines, this outlaw, this hardened criminal, this man hewn from the rough life he lives. His hand flies to his cock and starts pumping, obscene noises loud in your ear as his fingers slide over the wetness your mouth left.
“Lemme… lemme spend on them pretty little tits o’ y-yours.” Arthur gasps out, his hips rocking in time with the hand stroking his cock.
You smile, brushing your hair back over your shoulders and leaning forward as he begins to grunt, his free hand moving from your head to cup at his full, heavy balls as he strokes his cock faster and harder.
A groan spills loudly from his throat as his knees shake slightly, and warm spend splatters across your chest, slowly rolling down the curve of your breasts and between them.
Arthur pants, and with one last slow stroke, the pulsing of his cock ceases, a final lazy drip from the head of his member falls to the ground between them.
He stares at you as he staggers back half a step, trying to catch his breath. “Jesus Christ,” He breathes, a dopey, satisfied grin crossing his features.
Milky spend slowly trails down your chest, and he cannot help but stare. With a gentle shake of his head, he regains both his balance and wits, stepping back toward you and offering his hand to help pull you up.
“C’mon, my lady, let’s get you clean.” You’ve stood up for only a moment before he swings his arms down on either side of you and lifts you beneath your knees and back. You giggle softly as he pretends to exude an air of chivalry, wading slowly back into the river water carrying you like a princess - albeit a ‘noble’ lady with his spend splattered all over your chest.
The morning birdsong blooms along with the sunshine, near perfection in this small wooded area where the two of you are hidden away from the world.
Until your screeching voice cuts across the valley, that is.
“Jesus Christ, Arthur! The water’s cold as shit!”
#red dead redemption 2#arthur morgan#red dead fanfic#red dead redemption#arthur morgan smut#arthur morgan x female reader#arthur morgan x reader#rdr2 fanfic#twolafic
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Powerplay (RDR2 one-shot, Arthur x F!Reader, Modern AU, 18+)
Author notes: So it's been a while. If you're new here, this takes place in the Corrections series, a modern AU where Arthur Morgan is a former prisoner turned construction worker, and you, dear reader, are a prison guard. Got lots of D/s and smutty smut smut for your reading pleasure. Anyway, this little drabble was because I was challenged by @shootybangbang @twola @redwritr and @readingcoco (I'll smother you all in your sleep some day)
Tags: powerfuck play (yes, I know this isn't a common term, but this was the challenge term that was set forth), D/s, modern au, consensual dubcon/roleplay (light), some name calling, CMNF
AO3 link is here, kitten.
Word count: 1,148
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"You sure you want this, darlin'?"
You nodded. Of course you did, you had begged, pleaded, bribed him for it.
Arthur blew out a breath. "Alright, but you tell me 'cherries' if you want me to stop."
"I doubt I'll need my safeword, but I promise I'll tell you if it's too much."
He gave you an incredulous look.
"This is about trust, isn't it?" You touched his arm. "Trust me, just as I trust you."
He finally caved. "Fine."
***
You were laid out on your four-post bed, spread eagle, each of your limbs restrained to its own post. The heat coming from the air vent felt good against your bare skin, and you closed your eyes and just relaxed.
And then Arthur came in, clothed in a prison guard uniform (you had snuck one out of your workplace). It looked good on him, the fabric stretching over his thick frame, his biceps bulging at the shirt cuffs, his package not very well hidden by the canvas pants.
"Looks like someone don't know how to behave," he drawled, sauntering over to the foot of the bed. He stared down at you, his eyes raking over your nude form as if he were assessing stolen goods. "I told you what the punishment was if you didn't listen, didn't I?"
You swallowed. "Y-yes sir."
"And what was that?"
"You'd use me until you were satisfied."
He nodded. "Ayup. And it takes a lot to satisfy me." Crawling onto the bed, he wrapped his big hand around your neck. His other hand lightly slapped your breast. "Yer goin' to take it all, and yer goin' to like it. Ain't that right, sweetheart?"
You nodded.
"Good girl." Releasing you, he knelt between your legs and undid his belt, pulling it from the belt loops slowly, maintaining intense eye contact. Tossing the belt aside, he reached down and ran his fingers along your opening, his fingers coming away with an embarrassing amount of your wetness.
"Dirty li'l thing," he rumbled. "So wet from just this? Like yer beggin' to be used." Slipping one finger inside of you, he used his thumb to brush against your clit while he played with your entrance.
You writhed in your bounds. "S-sir, please, use me!"
"Oh, I'm usin' you, alright. You don't get to tell me what to do." He shoved a second finger inside of you and rubbed you harder. "You'll do exactly as I command."
You only whimpered in submission.
"That's it, show me your helpless face, yes, that's it, good girl."
You felt that coil of pleasure tighten and tighten, until he grabbed your breast and squeezed it, flicking a nipple with his thumb. Arthur knew your weaknesses, and you screamed, your hips bucking as you milked his fingers for all you were worth. His thumb pressed down on your clit, and you could feel your pulse thunder in your ears as the pleasure rode you hard, leaving you breathless.
As you relaxed into the mattress, feeling blissfully like a puddle of jelly, Arthur sat up, rising onto his knees. His cock was outlined on his pants, and you could tell that he was raging hard and ready to take his pleasure. Seeing where your gaze was directed, he touched himself.
"You want this, naughty girl?"
"Yes, please, please!"
He chuckled. "It's like you were bad on purpose."
You looked away. "No..."
Grasping your chin, he forced you to look back up at him. "You lyin'?"
"N-no..."
He lightly slapped your breast. "I don't believe you. But I'll make you confess."
Letting you go, he pulled back and unhurriedly unzipped his fly. Your mouth went dry with anticipation as he freed his thick cock from his pants and held in his hand, stroking himself tantalizingly slow.
You spread your legs wider.
Arthur slapped the inside of your thigh. "Li'l slut," he murmured as he dragged the tip of his shaft along your slit. Up and down, over and over as he stared at you, an arrogant sneer on his lips. "Promise me you'll be a good girl for me."
"I promise, I promise I'll be the best girl for you, I'll be so good for you, please!"
Grinning like a wolf, he gripped your hips and slammed into you.
You screamed, the burn mixed with the heady pleasure of being so filled up by him making you lose your mind. Your hips lifted to meet his as he began to rock into you, his pace steady and masterful, keeping you in check despite your efforts to speed him up.
"You my fuck toy?"
"Yes!"
"Yes what?"
"Yes sir!"
He chuckled. "I'm goin' to release yer ankles. You wrap them pretty legs around me and hang on, you hear?"
"Yes sir," you gasped, admiring the fact that through all of this, he was still fucking you hard, barely losing his breath.
He reached down and undid the restraints at your ankles.
Once you gave into being just a doll for him to fuck, you lay back and let him use you, wrapping your legs around his waist and going along for the ride. Arthur picked up on your submission and fell upon you, his muscular body crushing you into the bed. His hips rose and fell at an ever faster pace, powerfucking you with wild abandon.
He could not speak, only animalistic grunts and moans as he gave into his feral lust. You were also at a loss for words, unable to do anything other than hold on for dear life. You knew your hips would be bruised and sore in the morning, but you didn't care. Right now, all you cared about was the exquisite rapture of being fucked into subspace by your beloved.
Somewhere along the way, you felt Arthur tense up. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, urging him on.
You didn't think Arthur could pound you any harder, or faster, but somehow he did, nearly crushing you with his mindless need to fuck the hell out of you. He let out an impassioned moan as he released himself inside you, his hips jerking erratically.
"Fuck, yer so fuckin' perfect," he slurred, laying sloppy kisses on your cheek and lips. "I would fuck you all day if I could."
You giggled, breaking character. "I would let you too, if my body could handle it."
"Oh god." He immediately lifted himself off of you. "Are you alright, darlin'?"
You grabbed him and pulled him back on top of you, like pulling up a warm blanket. "Yes, yes, I'll be fine. Just let me enjoy my Arthur-quilt for a little longer."
You felt his smile against your cheek, his stubble scraping lightly at your skin. "Yer so sweet. I love you."
You hummed in agreement and slowly fell asleep, fully at peace with Arthur inside of you, on top of you, all around you.
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End Notes: Hah, I thought I'd never come back to this AU, but here we are. Hope y'all enjoyed this completely unedited, off the cuff smut, cowpokes.
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q: sleep meme / headcanons.
01. type of bed. Since getting her first ever home with Arthur after being freed from Riktor's hold, the bed has been arguably Nix's favourite part of their home. She never had one before, it represents the whole aspect of 'home' for her. Ideally it would be the heart of their home, but that can't be the case for a few reasons. Still, Nix always goes for a big double bed. The previous house had an iron-cast bedframe; with this house she went with a rustic wood frame with a large headboard she up-cycled herself. The headboard's decorated on top with fairy lights, too, because she's Nix, and a painting she commissioned of a nude couple meant to remember her and Arthur holding one another hangs just above. The bed's now very rarely used, unfortunately.
02. number of blankets. One light sheet, a quilt, and a fuzzy blanket on top. Again, it's meant to represented uninhibited comfort. She's no minimalist.
03. number of pillows. Two, ideally. Often times now, however, she sleeps where she falls so, typically none. Arthur can also be swapped in for pillows.
04. type of clothing. Mostly nothing, but if she is wearing something it's a men's shirt that was probably bought for Arthur but never worn by him, or one of his hoodies in the winter. She'll happily sleep in lingerie, too.
05. does it matter where they sleep. Used to years of sleeping in her car, and before that on the floor on her box in Arkham State (she got a cot at Riktor's refinery at a price on occasion), Nix can sleep anywhere, at any time. She treasures the comforts she has now and would love to sleep every night in her bed with her husband, but it doesn't really happen. Comfiest and safest she feels is when Arthur is sleeping, she is sleeping on him, and they're on the couch downstairs.
06. what do they do if they cannot fall asleep? She drinks, she games, she lounges on her man or has her man.
07. frequent dreams, nightmares. Her brain's very active, despite what she thinks of it being an empty space. Her dreams are rarely anything that makes sense, typically whacky and incoherent in a laughable way; she'll dream she's working the farm with a group of anthropomorphic polar bears or something. Her nightmares, however, are less nightmares and more memories. Nix's memory is frighteningly accurate and vivid. She dreams of Riktor, she dreams of Arkham State, she dreams of everything that's ever happened to her. Farming polar bears aren't really a good enough trade for that.
08. when do they sleep. When she's sure she has Arthur pinned under her and he can't go anywhere. She no longer sleeps if he isn't home or certain to stay near and be safe. The certainty's grown rarer, so her sleep is rare.
09. what could wake them. She wishes she was a lighter sleeper on account of the aforementioned, but given her history of just straight passing out after a drug binge or due to injury, she's a relatively heavy sleeper by nature. Her consumption of alcohol makes it lighter, however, and so that's preferred. She wants to be woken if something around her changes.
tagged by. @taitropa, thank-you lovely ! tagging. @jokethur, @wornkindness, @batgeance, @consultingsister, @charmedslugs, @arkhampsych, @cloistress, and anyone who'd like !
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Bathing With the RDR2 Gang
This is 150% self indulgent please forgive me. Im only in like chap 3 of the game haha but i cant resist. rockstar please cant i just give everyone a bath and nicer clothes??? let me give tilly lots of dresses i beg you
In this imagine, you’ll be warshin: Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch van Der Linde, Hosea Matthews, Sadie Adler, Micah Bell, Charles Smith, Bill Williamson, Javier Escuella, Sean MacGuire, Lenny Summers, Kieran Duffy, Tilly Jackson, Mary-Beth Gaskill, Karen Jones
ARTHUR MORGAN
He’s bashful about it at first, even if you’ve been together before, but it doesn’t take long at all for him to relax. He really enjoys the closeness of it, and how intimate and calming something as simple as sitting in water can be. It’s a little cold, which just makes him want to hold you closer. If he’s had an exhausting day, he’ll lean on your shoulder and close his eyes, slowly dozing off as you run your fingers through his hair. You figure you should let him rest, and you wash the rest of him while he sighs contentedly against your wet skin. After a bath, regardless if it’s in a river or tub, he’s always worried you’ll catch cold. He packs an extra jacket or shirt of his for you to wear. If you had a warm bath at the saloon, he’ll be in such a snuggly, intimate mood that he’ll grin as he carries you to the room.
JOHN MARSTON
You’ve never met a man who gets as mangy as he does, and so quickly! You have to drag him to a river to properly wash, since he seems to just splash water on his face and arms and call it a day. John fusses with embarrassment at first and can’t believe you actually brought fancy soaps (any soap is fancy to him), but he quiets down once you strip. Once you’re in the water and lathering him up, he’s bashful from the attention but actually really likes it. He can’t help himself from getting handsy, almost clingy, but he stays obedient and rinses off when you tell him. He’s not so fond of the saloon tubs, even with the hot water, because it just feels too cramped. The openness of a lake or river, along with the bright sun and noise of nature, is just objectively better.
DUTCH VAN DER LINDE
While he loves sharing a bath with you, it’s definitely an indulgence and one you both don’t always have time for. So when there’s time, he makes sure it’s a cozy tub with plenty of hot water. He thinks it’s adorable if you want to wash him and care for him, because he’d rather do that to you. Sometimes he’s chatty and playful, other times he’s tired and thoughtful, but Dutch always likes to just hold you and soak for a bit. He’ll make sure you’re dried off and warm first, and he’ll want to keep touching you, so he’ll want to dress you and escort you to the room. Dutch really can’t get enough of your skin when it’s wet and smelling so nice, so you aren’t going to sleep anytime soon.
HOSEA MATTHEWS
He enjoys bathing out in nature, even if there isn’t always time for a proper wash, so your suggestion to take a dip in the lake amuses him. He’d rather wash you first, enjoying the simplicity of doing something like that for someone he loves. You two often end up chatting and joking about this or that while you just take your time and enjoy the sunny day. Hosea doesn’t mind if the water is a little cold, it invigorates him better than a cup of coffee. He always urges you to dry off and dress quickly so you don’t catch cold, and he’s the one who double checks to make sure you both brought a spare change of clothes. Hosea doesn’t mind a hot bath in the saloon, even if it is cramped. It makes him terribly sleepy, though, he’ll rest his head in the crook of your neck… but he’d rather not fall asleep in a giant porcelain bowl, so he’d urge you to head to bed with him.
SADIE ADLER
Honestly, she’s a little too embarrassed to squeeze in a tub with you, so a quick wash in a river is preferable. Her first thought is to strip down and get it done quick, but it’s a pleasant surprise when you want to sit in the water and help wash her for a bit. Only a bit, she says, but she ends up enjoying the smalltalk and admiring you. She’d rather wash herself, but she wants to help you reach any spots you can’t get. If she’s feeling more relaxed and sentimental, she’ll want to take care of your hair, too. Sadie prefers bathing with you at night, half because it feels more private, half because it feels like you have all the time in the world and you both can just enjoy each other’s company and the stars. It always makes her feel less tense and helps her sleep a little better.
MICAH BELL
Good lord, it’s like wrangling a cat. Your chance of success is significantly higher if he’s drunk and you promise sex afterward. You all but push him into the river, he grumbles and swears the entire time, he can’t believe you have “soap and shit”, also he can’t keep his hands to himself and wants to drag you into his lap. You could’ve washed his hair in just a few minutes, but it takes longer because you keep swatting his hands away and scolding him for nipping at your neck and shoulders. He’d never admit how nice your fingers feel on his scalp, even if it relaxes him to the point where he’s quieter and less handsy. You don’t bother taking him to the saloon for a dip in the tub because there’s no way he’ll give a shit about bathing when you’re squeezed in such a tight spot with him.
CHARLES SMITH
He loves bathing in rivers and lakes with you; he’s the one to casually suggest it first. It’s just such a simple yet private and loving thing for him, he can’t keep the grin off his face as you strip down and join him in the water. He wants to spoil you first, really touch and enjoy every inch of you, but he melts in your hands when you start washing his hair and rubbing his broad back. His favorite time to do it is at night, since you look so beautiful under the glow of the moon and the stars. If you both are feeling more playful, he’ll definitely splash at you or drag you to the deep end to swim around. Once you both are thoroughly clean and tired, he’ll want to fetch your dry clothes for you, and he always packs a blanket in case you want to sit out and enjoy the night.
BILL WILLIAMSON
Well, your offer embarrassed him at first, but then you teased him and playfully dared him and well, now you’re here at the riverbank and he’s stripping down in a huff. You were surprised how shy he was at first, since it wasn’t the first time you’d been naked together. Bill wasn’t sure where he should put his hands (or his eyes) and how deep in the water you wanted to go, but once you cuddled close and started washing him, that all melted away. It’s exciting and fun to him, and he likes the soaps you use on him. Even if they smell girly and flowery, it’s what you use, and it’s nice to have your hands on him. Maybe this is why they’re so soft? Afterward he’d really want you to wear one of his shirts back to camp, and he’s disappointed when the smell of your soap eventually fades off the flannel.
JAVIER ESCUELLA
He jumps at the suggestion when you first make it, and he’s the sort to prefer the saloons and their hot water. First of all, hot steaming water, often with bubbles because of the soaps you bring, and he gets to keep you as close as he pleases and “accidentally” brush against your body at all angles. No downsides here. He dislikes the cold water of lakes and rivers; the sun is rarely strong enough to warm them. He’s very weak to you washing his hair. He’ll lean into your touch and give you all sorts of kisses and praises as you run your fingers through it. He’s in such a giddy, warm mood afterward that he wants to dry you off himself and carry you to the room, grinning like you two are newlyweds. There’s no way he’s letting the night end with just a bath.
SEAN MACGUIRE
Alright, he talks big game when you suggest it, grinning that of course he couldn’t turn down such an offer, and you two won’t be doing much bathing, if you get his point. You just roll your eyes and tell him to follow you. The thing is, once you start stripping down without a care, he starts getting a little red in the ears. By the time you’re both nude and you’re relaxing in the water, he’s flushed to his neck but still trying to make jokes. He’s startled that you actually want to help him wash, and when he does the same, he’s seriously conflicted on where to put his hands. Once he’s relaxed, the “accidental” touches are gonna happen all the time and a splash fight will break out. Once you’re all dried off and heading back to camp, he totally talks big game and wants to kiss on you and brag about your little dip, as if it’s something scandalous.
LENNY SUMMERS
He’s totally flustered at your suggestion but there’s no way he’s not doing it. He’d rather go to the river, especially at night, since it feels more private and something about a stuffy, heated saloon bathing room is a bit �� much. Besides, this way you can see the stars and moon, and be as loud as you want. Lenny’s nerves all but melt away once you both start talking and washing, and he gets in a very content, cuddly mood. He makes a point to remember the soaps you like so he can get more if he comes across any, and he wants to help you dry off so he’s sure you won’t get too cold. He’ll probably suggest sitting by the campfire for a bit, just to be sure (and just because he wants to keep cuddling).
KIERAN DUFFY
This poor man, why are you teasing him like this? He’s so sure there’s some kind of punchline, but you walked with him all the way to the river, and now you’re stripping down … He’s so flushed with embarrassment, but there’s no way he’s not following you into the water. Once you joke around with him and talk to settle his nerves, the tension finally leaves his shoulders. He’ll be a little unsure about you touching and washing him, but he’s glad to do the same for you, trying very hard not to get distracted by the softness of your skin. Once you’re ready to get out, Kieran suddenly worries about you being cold, and he really insists on you wearing his jacket on top of your’s, and that you ought to sit by a fire to warm up. It’s cute how much he frets about this.
TILLY JACKSON
Tilly will pick warm water and a cramped tub any day of the week, and really, it’s not so bad since you’re both ladies and she’s fairly short. She finds the cramped space comical if anything, and you both will be wiggling and giggling while you wash off and just leisurely enjoy the bath. She’s the type who doesn’t like to prune, but she won’t get out until you do. She has a nice collection of soaps and often finds ones you like, and helps you wash after you help her. Afterward she definitely wants to cuddle and probably apply some lotions; you think it’s cute how much she likes feeling so clean and pretty. All that plus the saloon’s mostly cozy bed makes you two feel like fancy ladies living in luxury, and you both grin and recall it for a least a week afterward. A dip in the river is so … unexciting by comparison, you both just sigh and wash quickly before you shiver to death.
MARY-BETH GASKILL
Your offer made the color rise to her cheeks, even if you’d been intimate before. Why hadn’t this occurred to her? It seemed like a private thing, but she was too interested. She always thought a hot bath was the height of comfort, but when you took her to the river, she was in awe over how quiet and cozy it was as the sun set. The colors of the sky and stillness of the water was so romantic! She likes being the one to undo your hair and clothes, although she’s shy about you doing the same and wanting to wash her. Mary-Beth loves having nice soap to wash with and will admire you for having several on hand. She can’t help but be full of giggles and give you lots of kisses while you both sit and chat.
KAREN JONES
She’ll laugh at such a “saucy” suggestion, but she’s game for either a quick dip in the river or a trip to the saloon. When it comes to a warm tub, her usual jokes and fun will peter out as she gets sleepy and cuddles up to you. No matter where you two are, washing her hair and massaging her back makes her tired, and she’ll curl up in your arms and tease you about carrying a nice lady back to her bed. Once you two are dried off, she’ll wake up enough to help tie your hair up and dress for bed or for the day, depending on when you bathed. If it’s the morning, she’ll need just a few kisses and hugs to be energetic again. If she’s still chilly afterward, she’ll borrow one of your jackets and wear it well after she’s dried off.
#rdr2 x reader#rdr2#rdr2 imagines#arthur morgan x reader#john marston x reader#dutch van der linde x reader#hosea matthews x reader#sadie adler x reader#micah bell x reader#charles smith x reader#bill williamson x reader#javier escuella x reader#sean macguire x reader#lenny summers x reader#kieran duffy x reader#tilly jackson x reader#mary-beth gaskill x reader#karen jones x reader
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Cherry Pie
Here’s a request I received on AO3. This one’s for you @batata-elegante 😉
So could you write a modern Arthur, where he got the key to Reader's house recently. Then he found the reader（his girlfriend）has the habbit of sleeping in her birthdaysuit.her body is such a meal and he happily takes her. I just wanna give Arthur a treat 💞
Note: this one is nothing but pure smut!!!!! I need a drink now.
Masterlist
Read on AO3
Arthur parks his truck outside your house, feeling slightly worried about you. The two of you have been texting all morning, then suddenly you went silent. You texted him a little over an hour ago stating you were getting in the shower, but then you never texted back. You never take this long in a shower, he thinks. Being naturally protective, he started to get worried. He silently gave you a time to text back by before he drove to your house. That time went by with nothing, hence why he’s here.
He texts you again, stating he’s outside. Nothing. He then calls you. Still nothing. “A’right, tha’s it,” he says and gets out of his truck. He pulls out his keys, double checking that the one you recently gave him is still there.
After unlocking and opening the door, he looks around. You’re not in the living room or the kitchen. He searches a bit and then sees your bedroom door is partially closed, so he opens it and his eyes immediately widen.
You’re asleep and completely nude, lying on top of the sheets except for a corner of your bedspread trailing over your stomach. Your hair is slightly damp, signalling you did in fact take a shower. Perhaps you came in here and passed out afterwards.
Arthur knows he should look away, this is an invasion of your privacy. He can’t though. You’re just too beautiful. A crack in your curtains allows the sun to stream in, striking up a streak across your chest. One of your nipples glistens in the light, stiff and perky. His eyes trail down your stomach and between your legs. His tongue flicks out to moisten his lips as he feels himself stiffening.
Despite the knowledge that he should not be in this room without your knowledge, he walks further in. He’s only seen you naked twice. However, both of those encounters were in dark rooms as you were shy. You’re definitely not being shy now, lying on your back and completely exposed. Those times he’d made love to you before, he had desperately wanted to see you, but he didn’t want to push you. Now here you are, inches from his fingertips.
Arthur’s eyes wander around your bed and he suddenly sees something just barely poking out from beneath the sheet. He lifts it and sees a personal pleasure toy. Had you been using it right after the shower? You must have. He wonders if you’d been thinking of him while enjoying the pleasures of the toy. He likes to think so.
He suddenly realizes that you’d still be wet from your self-pleasuring and the thought drives even more desire through him. As he stands and continues to examine your delicious body, he can feel himself straining through his jeans, begging to be released.
Unable to hold himself back, Arthur kneels onto your bed next to you, being gentle enough to not wake you up. He watches your chest rise and fall with your breathing, his eyes raking over your nipples. He licks his lips again.
As though his body is tired of waiting for him to make a decision, his hands suddenly reach out and envelope your breasts. He sighs, enjoying the way they smoosh beneath his grip. He lets them go and watches them bounce back into shape, the nipples even perkier from the stimulation of his touch. You sigh in your sleep, but don’t move.
Feeling more confident, he gently pinches your nipples, loving the way they stiffen even more in his fingers. Then he bends down and takes one into his mouth. Nothing is more pleasurable than to feel you in his mouth, to taste your skin and suck on the stiff nub of your breast. He sucks more and more, enjoying the act.
You shift a little in your sleep, a small groan escaping your throat. His lips suddenly leave your nipple and he examines your face, waiting for you to wake up. He knows that your breasts are an excellent form of foreplay as you’re incredibly sensitive there. However, you settle right back down into sleep.
Arthur suddenly gets a wicked idea. How far can he push you before you finally wake up?
With that idea, Arthur slides his hand from your breast and down your body as slow as he can. He smiles when he sees the goosebumps on your skin erupting beneath his fingers. You’re obviously subconsciously aware of him.
Finally his fingers reach the patch of hair between your legs. He runs his fingers through the hair, enjoying it. Then he feels your slit. Oh, you’re wet alright, and it’s fresh. Despite your slumber, you must know there’s something sexual going on. He presses his fingers into your slit, stroking your clit and then drawing over your opening. You sigh heavily again, as though you enjoy it.
With a grin on his face, Arthur rubs you more and more, making you even more wet. Still though, you’re not waking up. This encourages him, and he removes his fingers and places his hands on your thighs, spreading them. After lifting your knees up to spread your folds more, he gazes at your exposed slit. God, you could not look more delicious than you do at this moment.
After glancing at your face one last time to see if you’re responding at all, Arthur dives down beneath your legs. He uses his tongue to slip into your folds, tasting how very wet you are. Once he reaches your clit, he begins to suck. God, he’s been wanting to do this. The last two times you’d had sex, he’d wanted to do this. Just the knowledge that he could get you to come for him is one of the greatest honors, but he wanted to prove he could get you to come with no penetration. However, you’d been shy about it and had gotten incredibly embarrassed, so he didn’t. Now though, he’s got you pinned and he’s pleasantly sucking away.
Arthur feels the heat emanating from your slit and thighs growing. You’re so turned on by this, he can tell, so he keeps on sucking and licking. Little does he know, you’re dreaming of him. You’d been dreaming of him even before he’d come into your home. The two of you had been doing nothing of any real importance, then you’d dreamt that you’d spilled something on your breast.
In your dream, you’d taken your shirt off to dry off your breast, allowing Arthur to see you. Now your dream self is lying on her back and there’s a strange but pleasant and hot sensation between your legs. It’s vibrating your clit. Shit, you’ve never been turned on this much in your sleep. Even in your slumber, you feel the bubble signalling that you’re about to orgasm grows in your stomach.
That bubble suddenly travels down to your clit and just as your eyes open, it bursts. You let out a guttural moan as your toes curl. Your hips lift and your eyes roll back. Damm, you’ve never orgasmed from a dream before. Wet dreams? Sure, you’ve had those, but never one intense enough to make you come.
As your orgasm begins to fade, you realize that the sensations you’d been feeling between your legs in your dream are still here, only they’re more intense. You also feel something gently tugging at your clit. Your eyes go down and you see Arthur, his face between your legs. His eyes meet yours and you can see his cheeks lift as he grins at you.
“Arthur…?” you say, but he responds by licking your clit again before he lifts his head.
“Hey, darlin’. Hope you don’t mind.” He explains he was worried when you didn’t answer and then he saw you lying like this. “I just wanted to show ya how sexy I think you are.”
“Oh! I, uh… that was a pleasant surprise. Almost a shame I missed the beginning of it.”
He lifts himself up a bit and smiles. “You ain’t mad, are ya? I, uh, didn’t really ask for permission.”
You smile and reach down to stroke his cheek. “I don’t mind at all, babe. To be honest, I was trying to take care of myself and I was using you to get me there. This is infinitely better.”
He smiles and kisses your palm. “That’s good, darlin’. So…. you say you’re sad you missed the beginning?”
You smile and nod a bit.
“Well, then. Let’s rewind this.” Arthur suddenly dives right back down to between your legs to taste you.
“Oh God,” you say, collapsing back onto the bed. Your hands come up to play with your breasts since Arthur’s hands are preoccupied with your knees and his tongue with your clit. The stimulation on so much of your body is too much and it’s only moments until you’re howling his name. God, if you’d known that oral could be this good, you would’ve accepted Arthur’s previous offers.
Arthur lifts himself up and wipes his chin dry. “Good girl,” he growls.
You smile back at him. “Well, come on, big boy. Let me exchange the favor.” You grab him and flip him down onto his back before ripping his shirt open. He’s taken by surprise and hasn’t had the chance to move before you’re licking his nipple. He sighs and then his hand goes down to his bulge, undoes his pants, and releases his stiff cock.
Just as he does, you leave his chest and begin sucking on his erection. He takes in a sharp breath, he’d not been expecting you to do this. Your lips slide up and down his shaft as you bob up and down, then you slide him out enough that you can just suck on his tip.
“Shit, darlin’,” he growls as his hands tangle into your hair. With hardly a warning, he suddenly explodes just as you slip him out of your mouth, watching him stream up into the air.
“Damn,” he says as he comes down. “That was amazin’, darlin’.”
You smile and reach up to kiss his lips, not caring that you can taste yourself. Before long, the two of you are fully fucking with him burying himself into your center, plowing deep and hard into you. None of your sexual encounters amount to this one, and you’ll definitely be feeling it later.
Just as Arthur’s getting close again, he dips his fingers into your slit and squeezes your clit. As he rolls it between his fingers, you come so suddenly that you feel an eruption of liquid escape from you. Only a second after, you yelp sharply and he squeezes your clit again.
“Come on, girl, do it again.”
Fuck, you’ve never squirted before, and now Arthur’s trying to get you to do it again. He bucks hard into you, spreading your walls and brushing your spot. His fingers tickle and pinch your clit. The entire bed is moving with the force of his thrusts. Just as he squeezes you again, your back arches, your hips lift, toes curl. One of his hands comes up and tickles your nipple. Fuck, fuck fuck! With his cock brushing your spot, his fingers pulling on the nub in your slit and his other hand squeezing your nipple, you feel another release of moisture between your legs.
“Arthur!”
Your brain is completely fogged by the overstimulation, but Arthur finally releases your nub and your clit. He begins focusing on chasing his own high and doesn’t last long before he shoots his seed deep inside of you.
“Ah,” he growls, “good girl. You’re a’right.” He then plops down onto the bed next to you and invites you in to cuddle and you take it, collapsing down onto his chest.
“Arthur,” you mumble, feeling tired. “Promise me that’ll happen again.”
“I guarantee it, darlin’.” He kisses your head, his arms wrapped around you. “Now, how about we get another shower goin’?”
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Diamonds
Requested by anon: hey !! i was wondering if you could do something based off the song 'diamonds' by talia mar with tommy or michael , thanks ♡
Pairing: Michael Gray x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Swearing, angst, mafia, murder, manipulation?, fluff, indications of smut, nudity not smut
Song: Diamonds by Talia Mar
Note: I didn’t really know what to do with this song but I showed my thoughts to some friends, they agreed, and I finally finished it! I hope you like it! I’m so sorry if this isn’t what you wanted or if it doesn’t make sense ack
Lyrics = Bold + Italic | Memories = Italic
Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace, @simonsbluee, @peakysputain, @fandom-puff
Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist
He wraps you in his riches and diamonds so you can see through the pain, Clothes you in all that you are worth, See your call, see sunshine from rain. But the hail, the wind, it's all too much, wanna bail again, You fail, he sins, It's your call, but thought you were too broke to mend.
Somewhere, in New York, Michael was having the time of his bloody life. He was more than happy to leave Birmingham, and now, he didn’t really want to come back. With the girl he’d been sleeping with every night and the money he was making, he really believed he was living the life.
That was before the crash, then being warned by Arthur to leave New York, and then being caught by some random people on the boat. He married Y/n L/n on the boat, and planned to meet up with his family, but they didn’t believe a word he spoke. He felt they didn’t deserve to meet the girl who’d stolen his heart claimed it, along with his body, as her own.
Like most couples, they had their challenging times. He found loopholes, even if he didn’t like the way he handled the arguments, he was happy to still be with her. With each fight came a new item to her jewelry box.
He knew it was wrong and didn’t feel any better about it, but he was head over heels for this girl, as she was for him. However, what he didn’t know, was that she worked with the Italian Mafia in New York.
Her heart, too, really did belong to the Gray boy, she just knew, as soon as she met his family, that at some point she’d have to go against him in a battle to the death.
Even if she didn’t want to, one day she’d be going against the love of her life. The Mafia’s leader held anything and everything he could against her, so there was no way out.
Regret filled her, but the more random gifts showed up on her doorstep, the more she felt the eagerness return. She really, really, did love him, but work and family was a bit more important than new earrings or diamonds.
Run your mouth, 'cause the other day he told you, He wanna fight but you give in to all you do. Your bold words come from a weak mouth, Baby's not much to brag about. Runnin' your mouth as he picks up another bill, You tried to fight with no power, no will, And you will give in to, uh-huh.
Runnin' away 'cause you know that worked once, You tried again, but this time he let you run. Your bold words are coming from a strong mouth, And I think you need a way out. Givin' in 'cause you don't know better, You never learn if you can just never Admit you're wrong, Pack up your bags yourself and get gone.
Luca showed up in Birmingham, Y/n disappeared more often. It was giving Michael slight panic. Unbeknownst to many, aside from the Changretta family, Luca Changretta was a very distant relative of hers. It was he whom she continued meeting with.
“Hello. I see you’re married now, huh?” His English words, drowned in his thick accent, flooded her ears, almost startling her.
“Luca. Yes, he loves me, is kind, smart, strong, caring and he-...he tends to buy me stuff...a lot...though... He doesn’t give it to me personally.”
The Italian scoffed with a laugh following shortly, “Doesn’t sound like much to brag about, sweetheart. How’s the family doing? Do they know about your position?”
“No. Not even close to figuring out, however, Michael is getting suspicious. I have a feeling he thinks I’ve found a conquest.”
“I suppose our meetings could die down, as long as you keep us updated, alright L/n? ...Or are you going soft? Like a little bitch, eh?” He smirked, watching her as she hesitated before she nodded. “You’re falling for him, no?” His smirk only grew as the tears began to form in her eyes.
“Michael..”
“Do you love me, Y/n?” They lied together, naked yet clothed in the warm embrace of one another. He studied her face, hoping that not even an ounce of hesitance to appear.
“Yes. I love you more than you could fathom.” She kissed him gently. “Do you love me, Michael?”
“More than I have ever loved anyone.”
They both told the truth. Their hearts soared with each kiss they shared, even nude they were ever so deeply in love. She married him full of happiness, but learned she’d have to make a deal with him or kill him with sorrow.
“That’s none of you damn business, Luca. I’ll get you your information, alright?” Y/n shoved past him, bumping his shoulder with hers as a wordless warning.
She left him alone in that room, his cocky smirk still lying on his face as he adjusted his hat, walking outside and continuing his day as if their conversation never happened.
He wraps you in his riches and diamonds so you can see through the pain, Clothes you in all that you are worth; See your call, see sunshine from rain. But the hail, the wind, it's all too much, wanna bail again, You fail, he sins, It's your call, but thought you were too broke to mend.
And then he
Covers you in diamonds, Blinds you with his riches, Clothes you in his words just to Take away your senses. Showers you in gifts, All with his dirty funds, All these words of guilt but you buy them. Just like he buys diamonds. Just like he buys diamonds
Her disinterest was all but too visible. The way she sipped her wine carelessly, refused to smile or speak unless the attention was on her, Michael felt sorry. He stood up, announcing their leave as he grabbed his coat and draped it over Y/n’s shoulders, “You ready to go, love?”
She inhaled deeply, breath shaking slightly yet not enough for Michael to notice, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
As they made their way down the street, Y/n’s hand reached for Michael’s and squeezed it as tight as she could. He looked at his wife with concern lacing his furrowed eyebrows, “What’s wrong?”
“N-nothing... I just... I’ve missed you.” She didn’t tell him about the Italian walking on the other side of the road, mirroring them while waiting with his gun hidden in his coat pocket.
“I’ve missed you too, Y/n...what do you think about ‘catching up’ back home?” His grin was one she’d missed, and one she would miss when she had to off him.
All Y/n gave him was a nod, rushing to their place before the spy could follow them. That night was the best she’d had since she’d left New York with him, and it reminded her that she wasn’t prepared to let him go. Not Yet.
The night went on after they’d had their fun, with her cuddled into his side, basking in his warmth and comfort, she finally slept peacefully. Y/n didn’t have to worry about killing any of her loved ones or being killed by them, or any other things involving Luca’s Vendetta.
Happened once, The first time you blamed him For what he did. But, of course, you let it happen again, Because your bold words are coming from a weak mouth, It's all we ever hear about. Happened twice, The second time you blamed you For what he did because he got the best of you. You say your side, Just say you're done, We are gonna re-run
"Why’re you even protecting him?” Luca mocked, laughing next to the door of the hospital. “He hurts you all the time, Y/n/n, so why don’t you try-”
“No, Luca! You hurt me. You drag me into this, tell me to hurt my husband, tell me to murder my husband, then blame him fo-” He grabbed Y/n’s cheeks with one hand, the other brushing away any stray hairs in her face.
“Tsk tsk, I’m just protecting you. What both our parents would want. Learn to be fucking grateful, or I’ll go in there and put an end to your precious little husband’s life myself.”
Y/n gulped, nodding slowly and walking into the hospital with the mafia following slowly behind her. She was their decoy, whether she liked it or not. As they neared Michael’s door, the nurse ran out with his gun and Luca grabbed Y/n, putting his gun against her head.
“Let her go!” Michael wheezed, struggling to stand. He checked his injury, looking back up to see his lover fidgeting in Luca’s grasp, genuine worry on her face while she watched Michael lift his shirt slightly, revealing his bleeding wound.
Luca locked the door, turning to face Michael, Y/n still in his arms. “No can do.” He looked at the hospital bed, shaking his head at the sight, “Uh-uh uh-uh, where I’m from, hat on the bed is..unlucky.” He stepped forward, pressing he gun harder into her head.
She began to grab at his arm, the pain becoming too real than what they’d agreed on.
“My family,” He stepped closer, “say it brings death.” Luca studied Michael, the small smirk returning to his face. “Maybe...maybe that’s what happened. Last time my men were sent for you, you got lucky.”
Y/n yelped as Luca shoved her harshly into one of the men he’d brought with him. He pointed the gun at Michael’s face, “And now,” it’s cold touch was felt on Michael’s skin, “your luck’s run out.” He coked the gun. Fired it. Fired it. Fired it. Fired it.
With each pull of the trigger, he walked backwards. Finally, he grabbed a hold of Y/n again. This time, his grip was too much. “Stop it Luca! You’re hurting me!”
Michael’s face contorted with confusion at her plea. “You know his name?”
“Know my name? Michael. Michael Michael Michael, she knows more than just my name. After all, she’s from New York and knows how to handle a fucking weapon.” He brought Y/n in front of him, ignoring her small squeak of pain, “Oh, and uh, tell your mother we have a deal.”
With his finishing sentence, he pulled Y/n out of the room with him, rushing out without a second look. His work had been done for the day, but Y/n’s was just getting started.
He wraps you in his riches and diamonds so you can see through the pain, Clothes you in all that you are worth. See your call, see sunshine from rain. But the hail, the wind, it's all too much, wanna bail again, You fail, he sins, It's your call, but thought you were too broke to mend
And then he
Covers you in diamonds, Blinds you with his riches, Clothes you in his words just to Take away your senses. Showers you in gifts, All with his dirty funds, All these words of guilt but you buy them; Just like he buys diamonds
After forcing her identity to Michael against her will, Luca kept her with him. Almost like a victim. A hostage. Pretty soon and easily, she found a way to break free of his control. She didn’t have to worry about Luca’s threats and bribes. The way he offered up fortunes just for her to help him out.
“That house you’ve wanted? Since you were a kid? I’ll sell it, but perhaps I can make a deal with you and you’ll be the person to get it?” When he held her dream home hostage.
“Remember the time you and I used to dance around my mother’s living room? You dressed in her pearl necklaces and oversized heels, me in my father’s tuxes? We can do it again, ya know.” That was when he bought her a variety of pearl necklaces and expensive heels.
“Y/n. I know you’ve been eyeing that dress. You can have it, you know...of course, like everything, it does come with a price.”
“I could just sell it... or?”
“I’ll buy it for you, all you have to do is agree.”
Then one day, she went broke. Ran from Luca to avoid his anger that would reign as soon as he’d found out of her losses. That was when she met Michael. First they shared their bodies, in exchange for a few things of cash. It happened again, then again, and again.
They fell in love.
Luca heard of the news, teasing Y/n when she returned the next day. He didn’t tell her that he knew exactly who her lover was, instead, he used hurtful words, taunting her with guilt and feeling nothing for it. When she began to fade away from the mafia, he tricked her back in.
With the necklace that once belonged to her now dead mother.
The bastard threatened to pawn it.
And she fell for it.
All the games, all the lies, In exchange for a dime. All the times that you fell on the floor, And he left you there to die. All of the bad, all of the sad, You would just let him take it back. Forget the pain, forget the rain; 'Til it happens again
Each night passed her by. She felt the emptiness. Her arms bare at the times of night and day Michael and her would be holding each other. It was all falling into place. The reason she felt overjoyed to be with another person other than the bloody mafia.
“Luca...” The girl bowed her head, full of guilt. She need help. Actual help. The stupid mafia work was taking over her mind, she was having flashbacks, it was too much, and she need a break.
“What do you want?” She didn’t answer, but continued sobbing. “What the fuck do you want?!” Y/n flinched, backing away from Luca as he continued.
“I need therapy, Luca.”
“Therapy my ass.” He laughed, walking back to his desk and staring her down. “If you want help, go. No one’ll want to help you, foolish girl.”
“And why is that?”
“Who’d want to help a sad, soft, broken girl who’s from the mafia? No one, Y/n. They’d laugh in your face. That’s what they’d do. So go ahead, try. Give it your best shot. Just don’t come crying back to me when they tell you to fuck off.” He flashed her one last smirk, walking out of the room and leaving her in it’s dark, cold, almost haunting, void.
Luca Changretta was the problem. It was never Michael. It was the bastard who manipulated her every step of the way. The one who claimed he was doing what their parents would’ve wanted, when really, he was doing what he wanted.
When she begged for help, he left her until she returned without any talk of needing help or leaving the business. Just like he wanted.
Y/n inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. It was time to get what she wanted for once. She exhaled and opened her eyes. Nothing could stop her now.
He wraps you in his riches and diamonds so you can see through the pain, Clothes you in all that you are worth See your call, see sunshine from rain. But the hail, the wind, it's all too much, wanna bail again, You fail, he sins, It's your call, but thought you were too broke to mend
And then he
Covers you in diamonds, Blinds you with his riches, Clothes you in his words just to Take away your senses. Showers you in gifts, All with his dirty funds, All these words of guilt but you buy them; Just like he buys diamonds
His body dropped to the ground, smoke blowing from her gun, gin escaping the barrel behind where he previously stood. Y/n had just killed Luca fucking Changretta.
“Y/n... help- me..” He spat blood, begging for the help he refused to give her.
Tommy moved to point Luca’s gun at the woman, before she shot him a look, aiming her gun back to the Italian on his knees.
“You can’t buy me like you buy your fucking bribe gifts anymore, eh Luca?”
That’s when she shot.
When the look of realization hit his face and the smirk he previously paraded around her jumped from his mouth to hers. When Michael noticed her presence. When she finally broke free of his manipulation.
Michael took her into his arms, squeezing her in a bone crushing hug. “I- I’m so sorry... I almost...”
“No. Michael, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you about Luca. I should’ve helped you and your family prevent this... I could’ve...”
“Luca was controlling you. You had no way of letting me know without risking your own life.” He nodded towards his family. “They might not trust you for a bit, but Y/n, I trust you with my whole damn life. What can I do to make this up to you?”
“Anything as long as it’s not buying me fucking jewelry. I’m really over that now...” They shared a chuckle.
Y/n ripped the necklace from her neck, the one Luca had gifted her before she joined Michael on the trip to Birmingham, and threw it next to his lifeless body. “I don’t need your dirty money, Luca. May it rot in hell with your pathetic self.”
She looked back to her husband, cupping his cheek and connecting their lips again, “I think I’d prefer more physical making up.” She could feel the grin beginning to form on his lips, “not that type, handsome. I’m thinking we just lie in bed for the rest of the day. We’ve earned it.”
“That we have.” Michael’s eyes connected with hers. Both could agree wordlessly; it sure was good to be back.
Covers you in diamonds, Blinds you with his riches, Clothes you in his words just to Take away your senses. Showers you in gifts, All with his dirty funds, All these words of guilt but you buy them; Just like he buys diamonds. Just like he buys diamonds.
#i'm sorry lol#michael gray x reader#michael gray#michael gray imagine#finn cole#finn cole x reader#finn cole imagine#peaky blinders#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinders x reader#luca changretta#luca changretta x relative!reader#talia mar#diamonds talia mar#diamonds#x reader#reader insert#imagine#all readers#zodiyack#song fic
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There’s a knock at the door. And there’s a policeman behind the door, hat held in his hands. Softly, he shares with Lance that there has been an accident. His nephew, Arthur, was involved in a real bad accident. A drunk driver was driving on the wrong side of the road. Arthur couldn’t avoid the man in time. And his nephew.. was dead.
There was a startled gasp as Lance found himself jolted awake by the sudden nightmare. Taking deep gasps of air as he tried to collect himself, a shaky hand running through his hair as he tried to calm his nerves.
“Feckin’ nig’tmare...”
The old mechanic sighed before swinging his legs over his bed and leaning his arms against his knees. Blue eyes glancing at the clock that read 1am, a grumble escaping his lips. He was definitely not going to be able to get to sleep tonight for sure.
With that he stood and grab pants and a t-shirt to cover himself, having a habit of sleeping in the nude, and headed out of his room. Taking a quick peek into Arthur’s room with a sigh and small smile of relief on his face when he saw his nephew sound asleep for once.
Leaving him to his rest, he went down to the shop. Time to find something to do since there was zero chance he’d be going back to bed anytime soon.
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Could I request an arthur x reader when the reader gives him nudes (like polaroids they took since 80s lol)? Like how he’d react :) either hc or fic?
Sorry this took so long to get out, sadly my creative burst came alongside me getting sick. But writing this cheered me right up, so thank you anon!
Content warning: Nude pictures (not described), anxiety, insecurities/self doubt and briefly alluding to NSFW.
Gender neutral reader!!!!
—–
Since you and Arthur had been together he had been nothing but complimentary about every aspect of your body.
At first you had shaken off the flattery with an ingrained sense of insecurity, not allowing yourself to think positively about your physical form.
But recently, you found your mindset changing. You knew that you would always feel unworthy of the compliments, but if Arthur found you beautiful, you thought you owed him to try and accept them.
It was a subtle change, one that you hadn’t noticed until a few days ago. It was your one year anniversary today and you had decided one afternoon when Arthur was at work that you would give him something.
You had agreed on no gifts due to both of you being so short on money, but this would cost hardly anything. It was more than lewd photos, you knew. Being able to pose for pictures with nothing on was something you would never have dreamed of doing before meeting Arthur. But he had helped you so much to find even the smallest bit of beauty in yourself. This was a thank you.
Now, three days on, you had awoken lazily to the sun filtering through the curtains in your shared bedroom. Arthur had taken the day off of work to spend it with you, however you both pleased.
You had a pretty good idea of how the day might start.
You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, and nervously glanced over to your bedside table. The Polaroids were hidden in an envelope titled ‘For you, my darling Arthur’ and laid in the drawer next to you.
With a nervous shaky breath you rolled to your side to face Arthur, still asleep next to you. His hair was messed up and falling slightly into his eyes. He breathed softly and you watched the rise and fall of his chest beneath the sheet.
He was so beautiful like this, anxiety and weariness stripped from his face. He was peaceful, angelic. It was rare to see him like this, usually he woke up before you either to head to work or to make you coffee before you rose. He was so considerate, so gentle and love swelled in your chest just from looking at him.
You reached over slowly, brushing the strands of hair out of his face. He sniffed and rolled over to face you, eyes opening and closing slowly to adjust to the light. You smiled gently at him as he awoke and he smiled back sleepily. You could see from the soft look in his eyes how much he adored you and it reassured you for what you were about to do.
“I’m sorry my love, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” You whisper, pressing a kiss to his forehead and stroking his cheek softly.
“It’s okay, I want to spend as much of today looking at you as possible.” He replied, completely genuine.
You can feel a blush tint your cheeks and you take a deep breath, reaching over to the bedside drawer and pulling out the envelope.
“Speaking of looking at me…” You trail off, turning back to face Arthur who looks slightly confused at what’s going on.
You hand him the envelope: “Happy anniversary, darling.”
You study his face nervously as he opens the envelope, not daring to look at the pictures in case you regret the decision instantly.
His eyes widen, at first with shock and then with amazement as he takes in the first picture. He takes his time with each one, pupils blown wide and a small grin resting on his lips.
You look down at your hands, fiddling with the duvet to alleviate your anxiety. You knew he would never say anything bad about the pictures, but what if he didn’t like them? What if he felt he had to lie in order to please you?
“I just wanted to show you how much you’ve helped me grow in confidence. Before you, I would feel sick at the thought of doing anything like this. But, you’ve helped me feel like maybe I am beautiful.” You whisper, still avoiding his gaze.
“And I wanted to tell you that I’m yours. I’m all yours Arthur.”
He puts a finger under your chin and gently tilts your head so that you’re looking at him. His eyes are brimming with tears, looking at you with such adoration that you become even more shy.
“You.” he whispers “You are the most beautiful, angelic person I have ever known. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I am never letting you go.”
He leans in to kiss you and you feel all the tension melt out of you. You place your hands in his hair, as he trails kisses down your neck.
Suddenly he pulls away and kisses you all over your face and you giggle, trying but failing to push him away.
“I love you” he whispers between each kiss.
“Happy anniversary Arthur” you say as he again trails kisses down your neck and collarbone, lifting off your shirt slowly.
“Happy anniversary, baby” he replies before turning his attention back to you.
The morning starts just as you had hoped.
#Scarlett writes stuff#arthur fleck x reader#arthur fleck fluff#arthur fleck imagine#arthur fleck fic#arthur fleck headcanons#joker#joker 2019#joker x reader#joker fluff#joker imagine#joker fic#joker headcanons
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day 2. | arthur morgan x reader
The life of an outlaw doesn’t allow you to live in the lap of luxury all the time. Roll through the dirt, piss, and shit, caked in such a thick layer on your clothes, under your nails and onto your skin that you don’t know why Molly even thought of giving the riches up. Fuck the adventure, you’re old, exhausted, and just want to relax.
But you can’t just drop the game, so you put up with it for however long you can until you finally settle the hell down- the arid desert and forest don’t make for a good backdrop, but you have to make do- and are allowed into the nearby town.
‘Good and honest work’ your aching ass. You’re fixing for actual food (fuck you, Pearson), a shower (God knows you need one), and a bed (a real bed, not that shit you sleep with Arthur on), and you even robbed a couple of poor saps to get it done.
You booked a room in the nearest and cheapest hostel you could find that had a functioning shower, with soap, hot water- the whole shebang.
Now, you think as you kick off your boots, peeling every single piece of nasty ass clothing off your body, where the hell is my husband?
“Arthur!” You hear him grunt affirmatively in the room over, and, still in the buff, you walk over to the arching doorway, the door already swung wide. His face is baby pink, then gets redder than any tomato you’ve ever seen, but you don’t know if that’s from your nude or the sweltering heat. You assume it’s the latter, he’d seen you naked plenty of times before.
“Get yer swamp-ass in here! I think ya need this shower more than I do.” You sniff under your arm and immediately regret that decision.
“I think we both deserve this after all, yeesh.” You do a 180 and walk back into the room, thinking to get the water at least lukewarm before you take a dip. Arthur doesn’t walk in stark, but he’s about halfway there. He took off his hat, coat, and suspenders, currently unbuttoning his shirt. He’s thick and stocky, a classic frontman if you’d ever known one. He’s a bear, covered in hair, trailing up and down his chest and stomach, bicep and forearms- you swoon a little more, remembering how he kept you warm all those months.
You whistle unabashedly, and while he doesn’t stop his movements, he seems the littlest bit offset by being stared at so obviously. Had you no decency?
It seemed that way.
“That’s my boy. C’mere.” You groan as you immerse yourself in the relatively small tub, the wound spring in your stomach uncoiled in the warm water, using two fingers and beckoning Arthur over.
“I ain’t no boy, goddamn it.” He snorts, and follows suit, grabbing some linen and some of that fancy, clear soap they sold over in London.
There’s little space, but it only allows for more intimacy.
“Wash me.”
The linen feels softer than the clothes that rub against your back, so you have no complaints as Morgan scrubs you clean, listening to his gentle humming next to your ear, scratchy beard, tickling the back of your neck. You chuckle wholeheartedly, startling him the slightest bit.
“You know I love you, right Morgan?” There’s silence, then a breathy sigh on the shell of your ear.
“That I do. An’ I love you too.” As the noon sun filters in through dusty windows, you share a kiss.
“Mmh.” You suck your teeth. “Your breath smells like shit y’know, tastes worse.”
Arthur fakes his offense, puffing up his chest. “Why I ought’a-!”
You laugh. “What’re you gonna do? Drown me?” The grunt behind you makes your skin tingle.
“I just might.”
“Arthur!”
#mod stanley#x reader#reader insert#self-insert#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan/reader#red dead redemption 2#rdr2 x reader#rdr2 imagine#rdr2#fluffvember 2k19#arthur morgan#rdr2 headcanons#rdr2 fanfiction#red dead redemption 2 x reader#gender neutral reader
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Circus Act - 5
WARNING: CONTAINS SEXUAL CONTENT/ATTEMPTED SUICIDE
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
Dennis had left with his friends. A few hours prior, Sandy and Dennis were in a huge fight. That had been the breaking point for Sandy. They had been fighting for five years. It was a loveless relationship.
"You're nothing without me, Sandy." Dennis yelled. "No one will take your shit like I do."
"I don't care anymore, Dennis. You've used me for the last time. You've broken me." Sandy cried.
She locked herself in the bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror. Her lip was busted and bruised. Her nose was bleeding. Her eye was swollen, and she had a bruise from her cheek to her ear.
And, just like that, Dennis left.
Sandy didn't recognize herself anymore. She didn't recognize the person she saw in the mirror. The nightgown she was wearing was a present she had bought herself, that hit just below her knees.
Her tears dried on her face. She forgotten how long she'd been crying. She felt empty. She looked over to a pill bottle with a loose cap. She opened the cap, and poured the pills in her hand. Sandy closed her hand, holding the pills, about to pour the pills in mouth.
She stopped as she heard a knock at her door. Sandy placed the pills back in the bottle, as she rushed to the door.
To her surprise, as she opened the door, it was Arthur. He was wearing his clown makeup, and his nose was bloody.
"Arthur? What are you doing here?" Sandy asked.
Arthur studied her face. He gently placed a hand on her bruised cheek. Sandy closed her eyes as Arthur's cold hand soothed her heated face.
He leaned in, kissing Sandy's lips gently. Sandy stood there in shock, but soon leaned into the kiss, leading Arthur into the apartment.
Sandy closed the door, as Arthur started kissing her neck.
The silence between them spoke volumes. Sandy completely forgot about Dennis. Arthur was all that she focused on.
Arthur smirked. Sandy noticed something festering down in Arthur. He seemed more smug, more confident. He seemed to ignore all her warnings.
"I love you, Sandy." He whispered into her ear. He whispered 'I love you' like it was a mantra.
Sandy melted into the touch, his makeup smeared all over her body.
Arthur fiddled with the straps of Sandy's nightgown, slowly taking them off. Arthur tossed her gown to the floor. He had never been this intimate with a woman before. Sandy sat there on the couch, fully nude.
Arthur took off his pants, unbuttoning his shirt, and crawling on top of Sandy.
Sandy moaned as Arthur positioned himself into her.
Arthur's thrusts went in slowly at first. He was fairly new to this all. It was hard to believe that this was real to him.
Arthur grunted, getting close to his edge. Sandy placed a hand on Arthur's chest.
"Thank you." She whispered as she shut her eyes tight from the warm feeling inside her.
Arthur came, falling on top her chest, exhausted from the impact of his orgasm.
He fell asleep on Sandy's chest, feeling her breath fluctuate while she drifted to sleep.
Taglist: @princessgeekface, @memory-mortis, @joker-flecked-me, @gloomyladyy, @jokerflecker
#joker arthur fleck#joker film#joker x reader#joker movie#joker 2019#joker fanfiction#joker x oc#oc: sandra dolere#arthur fleck#arthur fleck x reader#arthur fleck headcanon#arthur x sandy#arthur x oc#arthur x reader
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Seven Deadly Sins - VI
PAIRING: low to mid honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader
Because if one thing is true, it is that Arthur Morgan is a sinner. Pure, organic, non-GMO smut. A continuing series.
Warnings: Smut, Violence, Low to Medium Honor Arthur (and all that entails)
Sloth: disinclination to action or labor.
➵ AO3 Link
➵ Previous | ➵ Next | ➵ Fic Masterlist
A rooster crows distantly, its call reverberating through the valley as the sun rises in pink-purple hues.
Strawberry is a sleepy town, quiet in its solitude and tranquility in the mountains. The Welcome Center looms large in the center of town, providing rooms to weary travelers and vacationers alike.
Or recovering outlaws.
In a room upstairs, dirty boots are scattered on the wooden floorboards, mud caked on their soles near the door.
A shotgun lies propped against the fireplace, which has long gone cold from the night.
A gun belt is slung over a nightstand, gleaming revolvers tucked into the leather holsters.
Various items of clothing are scattered throughout the room, a bloodstained shirt hung over the mirror, a pair of pants in a pile on the floor. A blouse, also covered in blood, strewn haphazardly over a chair.
A chemise on the floor.
Arthur Morgan awakens with the morning light, blinking as his eyes get used to the room. For the first time in a very long time, he wakes up rested in a large bed.
He wipes down his face with his free hand, working his jaw slightly as he stares at the ceiling, mind at work already on the job he had been putting off.
A soft sound draws him back. The warmth of skin on skin lulls him into a sense of security. You’re tucked into his embrace, possessive in your sleep, not allowing him to get up.
Arthur draws lazy circles on your lower back, barely touching your skin, as you continue to doze against him. Curled against his body, your head is pillowed on his chest, your hand resting gently on his ribcage.
He could stay here forever. You’re both stripped of everything, skin salty with dried sweat from overnight. Laying tangled up in each other in a bed, nude and satiated, a luxury that you hadn’t been able to have yet.
The sheet is balled up by his feet, but he’s warm enough in the room with you pressed against him, his arm wrapped around your frame.
Arthur peers down at your temple, shrouded by your loose hair, and very softly moves his hand up to tuck your hair behind your ears, inspecting the wound he cleaned last night. The skin is red and irritated, but dry. His hand moves down again to rest on the curve of your hip, as he closes his eyes to sleep again.
-
Arthur tosses an extra coin at the bewildered attendant as the young man looks the two of you up and down.
You could hardly blame his shock, this poor boy, the overnight attendant in the sleepy Welcome Center.
You’re both covered in blood.
His shirt, normally blue and usually dirty, is stained nearly black up the sleeves as if he were skinning a wolf. Dried blood cakes the side of your face, dripping down from the wound on your temple. Arthur snatches the key from the desk and mutters a quick thanks before placing his hand on your lower back and urging you up the stairs. His brown leather jacket is pulled over your shoulders, and you grasp it tighter to yourself as you slowly make your way up the stairs.
He unlocks the door and pushes into the room, letting you step in before closing it behind him. You let the jacket fall from your shoulders and toss it over a side table, stepping toward the large mirror to inspect the damage to your person.
“Lemme see your head.”
You scowl into the reflection, making eye contact with Arthur behind you as he pulls his hat from his head, tossing it over his jacket on the table.
“ ‘M fine.” Your eyes return to the reflection, your fingers moving toward the gash at your hairline. You wince as you touch it gingerly.
“Come here, woman.” Arthur’s voice is low, and you can tell, he’s not politely asking.
“Ain’t yours to order around, Arthur.” You snidely retort, still aggravated from earlier in the night.
His eyebrows furrow, nostrils flaring as he turns around, walking with heavy steps toward a side table where a pitcher and bowl of water rest. He dips one of the white cloths folded on the table into the water and wrings it out gently before stepping back toward you.
"Knock it off.” You push his hand away as he reaches toward your head, and he returns your scowl.
“Stop fussin’. Let me clean y’ up.” Arthur pushes his hand back toward your head, and again, you bat it away.
“Don’t-”
“Look, if y’ want to fight me, fine, but I’m warnin’ you, pretty sure I can hold you down just fine.” Arthur overrules you, grabbing your hand with his free one, holding it down as he presses the damp cloth to your cheek.
You simmer, chastened, and allow him to gently wipe the crusted blood from the side of your face.
“No, you ain’t mine to order around. Knowing you, you’ll never be anyone’s to order around.”
His other hand lets your wrist go and moves up, up to gently tug at your chin, forcing you to look at him, “But I do want y’ to be mine.”
Your eyes dart downward as he presses the cloth to your cheek again. “My cunt’s already yours.” You mumble.
His finger nudges under your chin, making you catch his eyes again.
“That ain’t what I want.”
You raise your eyebrow, he gently pulls your hair back to look at the cut that produced all of the blood. Pressing the damp cloth to it, he pulls it back and inspects it, pleased when it does not come back bloodstained.
“Well,” he coughs lightly, clearing his throat, “That ain’t all I want.”
“Then what do you want?” You ask, voice low enough that it’s nearly a whisper.
He presses his lips, rough and chapped, against your forehead.
“Wanna sit ‘round the fire with you on my knee.”
His lips move to your brow bone. One of his hands grasps your skirt at your waist and the fabric bunches between his fingers.
“Wanna be able to kiss you whenever the hell I want.”
He leans down and presses his lips to yours, hard, and needy, and his beard scratches against the skin of your chin. Arthur’s hands move lower, lower, and clenches on your rear roughly. You yelp as your hands fly to his chest to steady yourself.
“Wanna be able to touch you whenever the hell I want.”
His hands move up your back, and he’s unlacing the ties of your skirt at your waist. The heavy cotton falls to the floor. You can’t do anything but stare into the deep blue of his eyes, ensnared by the rough timbre of his voice.
“Don’t want to hide you anymore.”
You let him unbutton your blouse, and shrug your shoulders to help him peel it down your arms, and it too joins your skirt piled on the floor. Callused fingers dust up your arms to the straps of your chemise, all that hides you from him.
“Want you in my bed every night.”
Your chemise flutters to the floor. You are bare in the dim light of the room. Your breath hitches as he moves his lips to yours, and he nips at your bottom one.
“ ‘Nd I wanna wake up with you naked in my arms every mornin’.”
You moan, unabashedly, and throw your arms around his neck, pressing your mouth to his and your tongue presses against the seam of his lips.
“Arthur,” you gasp into his mouth as his arms wrap around your back, “Take me to bed.”
He grunts in approval, his large hands move over your hips and rear to the backs of your thighs, and he heaves you up. Your legs immediately wrap around his waist as you whine into the warm skin of his neck. It feels so unlike your first impassioned rendezvous, outside of Clemens Point weeks and weeks ago.
He carries you, sure-footed and strong, to the bed, and gently lies you down on the soft mattress, your arms and legs unwind from him and he presses his mouth to yours again as he leans over you.
Arthur’s hands move back to his body, and he’s furiously pushing the buttons of his shirt through their eyelets. He pulls his suspenders down and they swing loosely near his hips as he unbuttons his pants. He shucks the clothes from his body and lets them crumple on the floor as he climbs on top of you in the bed.
You open your legs as he slots his hips between them, pressing against you as he places his elbows on either side of your head, bracketing you securely beneath him.
His cock parts your folds, and with a roll of hips, his shaft fits snugly along the length of the seam of your body. He kisses you, tongue dancing in your mouth against your own, and gently thrusts his hips back and forth, his cockhead rubbing against your clit.
You moan into his mouth, your arms slung round his neck, and meet his thrusts with the rolling of your hips. After several moments, his shaft is coated in your slick, and he moans back at you before drawing himself up on his knees.
With one hand, he grasps the base of his cock, stroking it a few times before he looks back at you, spread beneath him, open and wet and waiting to be filled.
“Do you wanna be mine, sweet girl?”
You sit up to lean on your elbows, and he leans over you, one hand back to the bed to keep him upright.
“I’m already yours, Arthur,” you smile before reaching up to kiss him, “Just was hopin’ you’d ask.”
Arthur rolls his hips once more, catching your entrance with the weeping head of his cock, he slowly, gently presses inside.
He keeps his eyes trained on yours, and his mouth falls open with each passing inch of himself that he slides into your warmth. A flighty moan escapes your mouth as he seats himself fully within you, and he has to close his eyes to the feeling.
“God, woman, I always wanna be inside you.” He grits out, lowering himself to his elbows as you wrap your open legs around his hips.
“Good thing ‘m yours then, 'cause you can be inside me whenever you want.” You smile as you catch his jaw with an open-mouthed kiss.
“Shouldn’t say that, how am I gonna get any work done if I’m always in ya?” He rolls his hips slowly, and gently, and you murmur a soft sound of delight.
“Mm- Arthur-” You moan out as he presses slowly back into you, and you can feel the ghost of his smile against your temple.
“Always wanna hear you say my name like that.” He whispers, and when he draws his cock back, he presses forward faster, harder, and you’re beyond the point of continuing the conversation.
Frankly, he is past that point as well, and the room is filled with the cacophony of sex - the slap of skin on skin, the whine of the bed frame as he presses you into the mattress. The high mewls from your throat and the low groans from his.
The careening of the human body toward its ultimate pleasure: La petit mort, the French call it. Or whatever the hell Chatenay said in Saint Denis.
Hands everywhere, hips rolling against each other. Sweet nothings whispered in ears and names gasped in cloying breaths.
It’s different, this time, he knows. You know. It’s not the frantic, hurried dalliances you usually share. It’s a slower, fuller rhythm that he grinds you into the mattress. Your hips rock against his every stroke, and he pulls his cock nearly out of you before pushing all the way back in.
Your orgasm surprises you, cresting the wave as Arthur continues to thrust slowly into you, his rasping voice in your ear as you whine out your pleasure.
He stills, sliding his hips against yours as far as they can go. His breath hitches as you feel his cock twitch, and he floods your cunt with his warm spend. The feeling sends you over the edge as well, and your nails dig lines into his back as your hips seize in pleasure.
You both come down from your highs, entangled in limbs and skin and refusing to break the connection between you. Arthur is draped over you, his elbows and knees keeping the bulk of his weight off of you.
His lips touch your forehead gently as you unwind your legs from crossing over his hips, letting them fall open on either side of him.
One of your hands moves to cup his cheek, and with that crooked smile you find yourself falling in love with, he leans down and opens his lips to yours. For a moment- actually- many moments, you kiss, safe and secure underneath him, in this bed in a low-lit room in the middle of the night.
His cock remains buried within you, and neither one of you is eager to lose that connection.
-
Sunlight pours in through the linen curtains, the morning light finally causes you to wake. You stretch, arching your back as you awaken, pushing your front against the solid form of Arthur next to you.
“Mmph.” You moan into his skin, waking yourself up little by little.
Arthur presses his lips against the crown of your head as your fingers press against his sternum, “Mornin’ there, sunshine.”
“Mornin’ cowboy.” You lean into him happily.
“Whatcha doin’ there?” Arthur says with a sly drawl as your fingers dust through the wiry hair of his chest.
“Just admiring the scenery.” You reply, as your hand moves down over his belly, down the hard line of his muscles toward where his hips narrow.
Your fingers weave through the coarse curls above his pelvis, pressing against the skin underneath, not moving any further downwards, not touching his straining cock as it hardens, so close, but yet so far away for him.
“Look at you, gettin’ so excited and I’m not even touching your cock.”
He grunts in response, his hips flexing upward as he squeezes his eyes shut tightly. His right hand clenches the sheet of the bed for dear life, his left grasping the globe of your rear hard enough to leave a mark.
“Mm, what do you want, sweetheart?” You purr, enjoying thoroughly the control you have over this situation, “You want my little fingers around all of this?”
“Darlin’- please-” he groans, a look of pure desperation on his face.
You continue to card through his pubic hair, but press your whole body against him, your lips hovering next to his ear.
“Say it again,” you whisper.
“ Mmph-” he grunts, his hips straining upward, “Say what-”
“Call me darlin’.”
He turns his head towards you and presses his lips against yours as he groans. As he pulls back slightly, his eyes flutter open.
“ Darlin’ ,” he breathes, “ My darlin’ girl-”
His words melt into a needy sound as your fingers finally wrap around his cock.
“That’s it, c’mon sweetheart…” you whisper in his ear as you twist your hand slightly as you pump his considerable length. Your hips rock in a little bucking movement against him, and each sound you’re able to wrench from the mountain of this man going straight to your core.
“Lemme… lemme-” he reaches his free hand toward your hip, your aching cunt his obvious destination.
“Nu-uh.” You whisper, stroking him faster, and a grunt tumbles out of his mouth when he can’t finish his sentence.
You lean over him, slotting one of your legs over his thigh, and gently press your lips to his cheek before moving down toward his ear.
“I want you to come for me.” You whisper as you roll your hips against his thigh, and squeeze tighter around his straining cock.
His eyes shut tightly as his hips buck into your touch, “Darl- fuck - I’m comin’, I’m comin’ ”, he grits into your ear and your fingers are covered in thick spend as he does just that.
Arthur is gasping, breathless, as you slowly stroke his cock through the end of his orgasm. It takes him a moment to open his eyes again, but he slowly does, turning his head toward you as his breathing slows.
“Jesus, sweet thing. You’re gonna kill me one of these days.”
You smile, tucking your hair behind your ear as you sit up, taking in his sated form, reclined on the bed. He looks happy. He looks calm. The workhorse of this gang, always moving, always working, always stealing and robbing and shooting. For once, he looks like the weight of the world was not on his shoulders. The crow’s feet at the edges of his eyes seem not to look as severe.
He runs his hands through his hair, pushing the ends of it from his forehead. His eyes trail from your hand, covered in his milky spend, back down to his cock, softening and also covered in his spend. He frowns and scrunches his nose as you laugh, moving off the bed and over toward the pitcher of water. You pour water into the bowl, and take a fresh towel, wetting it before wiping your hand clean. Dipping the cloth back into the bowl and wringing it out, you toss it at Arthur, who catches it to start cleaning himself.
“We should probably get up and back to camp.” You start to gather your unbound hair over your shoulder, trying to tame it from the muss of sex and sleep.
“Paid for the room another day.”
“Oh really? That’s pretty convenient..”
“You ain’t gettin’ out this bed, woman. Get back o’er here.”
-
Hours pass. Maybe. Time is of no meaning locked away in this room, where Arthur keeps to his word, you do not get out of bed. The morning bleeds into the afternoon and into the golden-hued beckoning of the evening.
Time is punctuated by hours of sleep and wakefulness.
And sex, of course.
“Mm- keep goin’.”
You whine softly into the crown of his head, your fingers digging into his back as he grunts into your skin, closing his lips over one of your hardened nipples, sucking on it gently. His hand kneads your other breast slowly, rolling your nipple between his fingers.
You feel him harden against your thigh, his torso splayed over you as he suckles at your breasts, his mouth moving around your pale skin and leaving red-purple marks upon your chest.
His fingers splay over your belly as his hand moves lower, lower, and you recognize the game he’s playing as his hand stops over your mound, fingers running through the thatch of dark hair there.
“Maybe a little payback, you little minx.” He chuckles as his fingers weave through your pubic hair, not moving any closer to where you throb.
All you can do is whine as he kisses up your chest and your neck.
“Oh, my girl, I ain’t a cruel man. Not nearly as cruel as you.”
He slides his pointer finger between your folds, brushing up against the little nub of your pleasure before pressing into your weeping cunt, and your hips buck up to chase the feeling further.
“A-Arthur, please- please-” your begging is cut off as he starts to thrust that finger back and forth, leaving you mewling into the skin of his shoulder.
“I’ll give ya everythin’ you want, darlin’.” He grunts into your ear as you can feel him press his hardening cock against your thigh. His middle finger slips inside your cunt as his thumb presses on your clit, and your head falls back against the pillow as you keen.
Arthur presses his cock against the side of your hip, “ Fuck , ‘nd everything I want too.”
“H-how do you want me?” You sigh breathily, as he removes his glistening fingers from your body.
He sucks your slick off of his fingers before returning to lean over you. You moan as you watch him.
“On yer hands and knees, beautiful.”
You scramble up to your knees in front of him, and with a sly, seductive smile, you turn around and shimmy your hips as you lean down on your hands, your rear on display for his greedy eyes.
“That’s it.”
His palms fan out on your lower back as he pulls you closer gently. You press up on the bed, steadying your hands and knees. You feel one of Arthur’s hands leave your back as the other one rounds your hip.
He grunts softly as he pumps his cock several times before he aligns his hips with yours and presses the head of his cock into your folds. You mewl piteously as he slides in, slowly, until his pelvis is pressed against your rear.
He starts to move, his hands guiding your hips back to meet his thrusts. Arthur finds a punishing rhythm and you bury your face in the pillow as he fucks you into a moaning mess.
One of his large arms settles next to your shoulder, and he’s leaning over your back, covering you with himself, his head turned in toward yours as he nips at your ear. The other hand swings beneath both of your hips to press against that spot of your pleasure while his cock is pressed into you as far as he can go.
He gently pinches your nub between his fingers and your arms fail you, you sink into the pillow with your hips raised, legs spread on either side of him. You groan loudly into the cotton.
“Oh, my girl-”
You can do nothing but whine in response as he starts to rub at your clit as he gently presses his hips back and forth into you, remaining spread out on top of you.
Oh god, it’s so much. You’re going to die, you’re going to have a heart attack, every muscle in your body is going to wring inside out. You’re gasping like a fish out of water, whining high-pitched, needy sounds against the cotton of the pillowcase.
“Oh god-” you’re able to gasp out, begging for mercy because your body is clenching and you’re definitely coming and he’s not stopping. You're stretched taut around his length, buried deep in your core, as he rubs roughly at your clit, “Stop, stop, I’m gonna-”
“Gimme more, c’mon-” he rumbles, his breath hot in your ear, “I know you got more-”
You cry out, loudly , and it feels like your body is bursting at the seams. A gushing wetness covers his cock within you and he grunts happily as it seeps out, covering his balls and thighs and your rear in your slick.
“Tha’s it, oh darlin’-”
You’re crying, the overstimulation is too much . Arthur blessedly pulls his hand away from your clit, pushing himself up and grasping your hips again. He starts thrusting into you, his cock steel-hard.
You whine, “G-give it to me-”
A grunt of satisfaction spills from his throat, as he grips your hips hard, a wild pace that is obviously close to a stuttering end.
“Yer so good- Christ , god- you’re so good, my darlin’, my girl-”, his thrusts punctuate the words spilling from his mouth, “Gonna give you everythin’, gonna give you all of m-me.”
Everything is so wet, so slick and his glides so smooth as he pounds into you. After your blinding orgasm, your body feels boneless, and you’re helpless to do anything but let him use you for his own satisfaction. The outlaw groans his stuttering end with a final thrust into your hips, his fingers digging into your skin.
You collapse onto the bed, laying on your stomach as he gently extricates himself from your hips, leaning back on his knees as he catches his breath.
You vaguely feel the bed creak under shifting weight and hear his footsteps pad toward the side table with the pitcher and bowl of water. You murmur softly as you feel the cool brush of linen on your back. He gently wipes the washcloth over your thighs, cleaning it of your slick as he leans over and kisses your shoulder blade. Arthur steps back, moving back toward the side table, and cleaning himself with the washcloth.
You stretch your legs out in the bed a bit while you watch him, unabashed in his nakedness, as he squeezes out the cloth into the bowl before draping it over the side to dry out.
You smile to yourself as your gaze scans his skin, his back pale where the collar of his shirt begins. Red-pink lines sweep across his freckled skin, and a wave of joyful possessiveness flows through you as you recognize those lines coming from your blunt nails in the throes of passion.
Arthur turns back toward you, and the crooked smile he gives makes your heart flutter.
“Are we heading back?” You ask, arching your back slightly as you continue to stretch your body out. Laying on your belly, you prop your chin up on your forearms.
“Tomorrow,” Arthur replies as he gets back into the bed, pulling you into his embrace again.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow sounds good.
#rdr2 fanfic#rdr2#rdr2 fandom#red dead redemption 2#red dead fandom#red dead fanfic#rdr2 smut#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan smut#ao3#arthur morgan#arthur morgan x female reader#red dead redemption#red dead redemption fanfiction#seven deadly sins#twolafic
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Soft asks: cherry, caress, ivory, silk, dimples, buttery, cupcake, watermelon
Hello thank you bb!!!! 💕💕💕 Per usual, my answers are really fucking long lmaoooooo
cherry - what is your sexuality?
I’m straight, but also just kinda like “if I find you attractive, and you find me attractive (and/or if there’s a connection, sexual or romantic) then yeah let’s do it”. So... I guess some people would say that I’m pansexual, or heteroflexible, but I’ve also only been attracted to two or three people who don’t identify as male, so I’d just say “I’m straight but whatever happens, happens”
caress - do you like to snuggle?
YES OH MY GOD! Okay, quick disclaimer: I’m a virgin in every sense of the word. Like, the furthest I’ve ever gone with someone is holding hands (except for the time that I touched a penis, but that’s another story), and even then it only happened once. So, I’ve never snuggled someone other than my mom when I was a kid. BUT I LOVE snuggling my animals, and the idea of being wrapped up in someone’s arms, just feeling safe and warm and loved, sounds so nice.
ivory - describe your pajamas?
Nine times out of ten it’s an oversized t-shirt and nothing else lmao. Sometimes I’ll wear boxers with them, though. Also, most of the time I sleep nude, but...yeah, giant fuckin t-shirt
silk - do you like k-pop?
I’ve never really listened to k-pop, but I fucking love k-pop stans. They are just so fucking powerful. Even if some are problematic (which, come on, every fandom has some problematic people in it), they have done so much for BLM, and are just such supportive and kind people. Basically, I stan k-pop stans lmao
dimples - most attractive features of a person’s face?
Oof, idk...my first thought is the eyebrows, because of how much emotion they can express, and I think they’re such an under-appreciated part. I also love lips and cheeks. And eyes. And a cute nose is always so nice. Honestly, I think it varies from person to person which facial features I find most attractive. Like with J, my favorite parts are his lips (this includes the scars, of course), his jaw (specifically where it curves up to meet the ear, I always love the corner a jawline makes), and his eyes.
buttery - favorite snack?
Healthy: okra chips; Unhealthy: ruffles sour cream and cheddar. Both are fucking amazing (though I don’t think nearly enough people put the right amount of salt on okra chips)
cupcake - are you a good cook?
Hell yeah, but I’m also very messy! I also have ADD, and I don’t take medication for it because it fucks with my creativity, BUT it does become a huge problem when I try to cook. More often than not I have to backtrack (or even restart) whatever I’m making because I get distracted, or my brain starts going too fast for my body to keep up so I’ll skip steps. But I can make AMAZING red velvet cake, pumpkin bread, sweet potato casserole, sour cream pound cake, cornbread...a lot of bakery goods and southern food.
watermelon - do films ever make you cry?
Yes omg, 100%. I cried at Joker (which I think was the last movie to make me cry). I cried because 1) I related so much to Arthur’s pain, and I just felt like they had just showcased so many things I suffer with when it comes to mental health, and 2) it was just such a beautiful movie, like the first time I watched it and it got to the scene where Arthur is dancing on the cop car I just started sobbing, and it wasn’t even because I was sad! I was still reeling from the fucking intense chaotic scene where he killed Murray, and to see him dance on that cop car, finally taking control... I just loved the movie so much, I had spent months constantly rewatching the trailer because I was so excited, and when it was over I felt like the breath had been knocked out of me. So, ugh, yeah, I cry at movies lol (super long answer for that 😅)
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A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 33)
Back Down To Earth
Arthur and reader return to camp after their wonderful night together, and quickly remember that the rest of their lives aren’t so peachy. Some tension and conflict in this one. Hope you enjoy!
(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)
-
Waking up without a tender ache in my hip was a very nice change, the soft bed giving me an appreciated restful night. Arthur was still sleeping when I opened my eyes to him; laying on his front, his head resting on his folded arms. I sat up and stretched, feeling oddly vulnerable in the light of day sat atop the bed completely nude. Of course, Arthur was just as naked as I was and I struggled to resist letting my eyes wander down his spine; all of those masculine ridges of muscle at his shoulders, the dips in his lower back above his backside, his backside, looking soft and round and cute. I very nearly pinched myself, wondering how on earth I'd been lucky enough to end up with such an attractive man.
I turned onto my side, tucked a piece of his caramel coloured hair behind his ear; it'd gotten real long, stopping just above his shoulders, parted at the side and swept over, looking like some sort of prince. Goodness he was handsome. How was he so handsome?
I retracted my hand and moved away from him, stopping myself from gushing over him any more. Poor man deserved his undisturbed sleep. I decided I'd get up and have myself a bath, it'd been so long since I'd had a hot bath and I stayed in there for as long as I could. Even so, Arthur was still sleeping when I got back to the room to collect my things before heading out, just like I said I would the previous evening. I left him to sleep, figuring he deserved a lie in, and left him a note to remind him where I'd gone off to.
So I took a short trip into Saint Denis. I was curious about how the place had changed and had planned on having a wander around before carrying out my main objective, but stepping outside and walking up two streets had been more than enough exploring for my evolved tastes. I remembered when I was a youngster, trips to the city were exciting to me; the busy, modern, fast-paced atmosphere was something I didn't experience in any other place. I grew up in the swamp, in a small house with no neighbours for a good twenty minute walk in all directions, it was always so quiet and uneventful and as a child, boring.
Growing into adulthood and losing my family, spending time alone wandering from place to place and mostly avoiding civilisation for the sake of my hunting success, had certainly changed the way I viewed the city. Just that short time outdoors during the day, with so many people passing by, acknowledging me only to size me up… well, I felt incredibly anxious.
So, I headed straight for the place I wanted to visit, pleased that it still existed, and made a purchase I had not made in years.
Letting myself back into the hotel room was a pleasant relief. By the time I had done what I needed to do, Arthur had woken up and appeared to have taken a bath himself; he was sat on the bed with a towel wrapped around his waist, a second in his hands scrubbing at his hair.
"Morning," I greeted him, watching as he pulled the towel free from his head to look at me, his hair was sticking up all over the place and I couldn't help but smile at the sight of it.
"You're back," he seemed pleased, "done what you needed to do?"
"I have," I grinned at him, coming to sit next to him on the bed with a cardboard box on my lap. "I trust you slept well, you were out like a log when I left."
"I sure did. Haven't slept so well in years," he smiled, standing up to gather his clothes. He tossed them on the bed when he turned back to me, dropping the towel around his waist unceremoniously.
I felt myself flush and averted my eyes only after getting a good – though accidental – look at his naked body. I heard Arthur chuckle.
"Sorry, sweetheart, I thought you wouldn't mind," he said, his voice a little teasing.
"I certainly don't mind," I said, feeling warmth bloom in my belly, "but warn a lady next time, won't you?"
"I surely will, never meant to catch you by surprise, ma'am," he said, picking up his union suit and stepping into it.
I allowed myself to look at him, my eyes immediately going to what was between his legs purely by accident, or perhaps it was curiosity, or human nature… whatever it was, Arthur didn't miss it and when I met his eyes he appeared amused, though with a healthy splash of colour in his cheeks.
"You're a fine man, Arthur Morgan. You can't go 'round flaunting it all so suddenly, you'll make my head spin," I giggled, watching as he buttoned up the suit and covered himself up.
Arthur didn't seem to know how to respond to that, looking surprised.
"You don't realise just how fine you are, do you?" I queried, tilting my head at him. He breathed a bashful laugh and pulled on his jeans and his shirt, tucking it in and pulling his suspenders up over his shoulders. "You always laugh like that when I compliment you," I noted.
"Do I? I guess I just ain't used to hearing that sort of thing from a lady such as yourself," he murmured, coming to sit back down on the bed next to me. "I don't know where it comes from, truth be told."
"Comes from looking at you," I twisted and wrapped my arms around his neck, scooting closer. "I'm a lucky girl, getting to be this close to a man like you. I reckon my mama'd say I've done mighty well for myself."
"You think so?" He snorted, not seeming to believe me but putting his hands on my waist anyway. I brought one hand to cup his cheek, my thumb drawing down and across the bottom of his mouth, tracing under his lips.
I leaned in and pecked his lips, they were so soft and plush under mine I could've done it again right away, but I held back. Instead I kissed his cheek, then his jaw, slowly, tenderly.
"It's no secret I always thought you were easy on the eyes," I whispered to him.
"It's no secret I've always been confused about it," he said and the corner of his mouth lifted; I kissed it. "After all, look at you."
I pulled back minutely.
"You're an incredibly beautiful woman, I don't even have the words for it," he said to me, his voice all low and silky in my ears. I pulled back a little more to look into his eyes.
"Goodness, Arthur," I breathed a quiet laugh, "you're making me blush."
"Was that too silly? Sometimes I worry things'll sound silly coming from me."
"No!" I grinned, kissing him again then pulling him in tight for a close hug. "God, last night was perfect. Everything is perfect with you. You make me a very happy girl."
"Well, if I can make you happy, that matters a whole lot to me."
I gave him a final quick peck on the lips, then pulled away and presented the cardboard box I had in my lap to him.
"For you. Or, us," I shrugged.
Arthur looked down at the box with interest, it was a plain white thing, not very big, and when he lifted the lid, he chuckled.
"A little treat. I went to the confectioner's. Pa used to take me and my brother there every time we visited the city and he'd treat us to a cake. We'd share one between the three of us, but I figured I'd buy us one each today, since I'm in such a good mood," I smirked at him.
Inside the box there were a pair of individual little sponge cakes, layered with strawberry preserve and thick servings of cream, lots of powdered sugar and a pretty spiral of sliced strawberries on top. The things were a few inches tall, the cake to filling ratio being at least fifty-fifty. It was the same cake I had as a kid, and I remembered carving a small spot in heaven every time I sat down to eat my helping. I would close my eyes and take the tiniest of bites, making it last, savouring, licking my fingers and plucking the crumbs off my skirt to eat them as to not let a single piece go to waste. Though, I hadn't eaten anything like it in years.
"This is… you know, about all I've eaten for as long as I can remember is meat and canned vegetables, and whatever Pearson puts in his stew. Sweet stuff like this just doesn't come my way. Angel, this is one hell of a treat," his smile was wide, and it was such a pure, untroubled smile that it touched my heart.
"Well then, eat up. Nothing like cake for breakfast, huh?"
Arthur and I moved on the bed, scooting back and turning to sit facing each other, cross-legged, with the box between us. We each took a cake and wasted no time in tucking in, both of us letting out appreciative hums at the first bite. The cake was so fluffy and moist, sweet and decadent and every bit as delicious as I remembered from my childhood. Cream squeezed out and coated my tongue and Arthur caught some of his own in his palm before it dropped down the front of his shirt. They were messy to eat but I'd argue it only added to the experience.
"Christ, that's good," Arthur groaned with his mouth full, then licked away the cream on his hand. I giggled, nodding in agreement.
The sound of chewing filled the space between us, along with the odd noise from the street outside; horses hoof beats, chatter, the bump of wagon wheels over cobblestones. Arthur and I were quiet, though. Nothing like tasty food to shut people up.
About half way through the cake I quickly began to wonder if it was such a good idea to eat a whole one to myself, it was becoming very sickly. That didn't mean I stopped eating, though, it was far too good and the treat was far too rare for me to want to let any of it go to waste. So I pushed through and stuffed my face, licking up the cream that had escaped onto my fingers and my lips. I had to admit to feeling a little sick after the whole thing, but it was worth it, I'd say.
"What're we doing today, going back?" I asked and Arthur turned his nose up a little before composing himself.
"Do you want to?"
"Do you?" I countered and Arthur let out a small sigh.
"No, I don't reckon I do," he said quietly.
"Well, I'd be happy to stay away for as long as you want, but…" I began, looking down, "ain't you worried what folks will think if we stay away too long?"
"Not really, wouldn't be the first time I've spent a few days away from camp without announcing it to everyone."
"Yeah but, it ain't just you this time."
Arthur was quiet for a few moments. "You worried about what people'll think we're up to?"
"No, though I assume they'd think we're doing exactly what we did last night, whether it was the case or not. I'm more worried about Dutch thinking I'm–" I stopped, second guessing whether it was a good idea to speak my mind on the matter.
"Dutch? What you worrying about Dutch for?" He frowned lightly, concerned. I kept my eyes focused on an embroidered tulip on the bed sheet as I thought.
"Maybe it don't matter."
"No, it does. Has he said something to you?" His hand reached out to cup mine.
"Jus' something I overheard when you was with the O'Driscolls. I don't know what he meant, really," I shrugged.
"Talk to me."
"Well, when they came back without you, and Micah said he didn't know where you were, I panicked. I was askin' Dutch what he was gonna do, and he weren't being all that helpful with his answers– he was pissed off, understandably so. I reckon he was worried about you, but he was talking about not doing what Colm expected–" I shook my head and stole a look up at Arthur, his eyes were dead set on me but unreadable.
"Anyway, he wanted rid of me, and Hosea, bless him, took me away and calmed me down. But as I left, Micah told Dutch I had a crush on you," a small laugh escaped me at that, "and Dutch goes; that's all we need, or something like that. He didn't sound happy about it."
Arthur stayed quiet for a moment longer and I felt compelled to carry on.
"Then he kinda brushed me off when you got back, I don't reckon he knows about us. At least not the full extent. And I guess I've just been worried that he and some of the others might think I'm distracting you or taking you away from the gang," I admitted.
I met Arthur's eyes, both of us remaining quiet for a few seconds before Arthur seemed to snap out of a stupor and he cleared his throat.
"Well, you ain't distracting me, not from what needs doing. I've been doin' all I'm supposed to, so nobody can moan at me for that," he muttered.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to piss you off," I began, sensing a tension in him that I didn't like.
"No, you haven't. You did the right thing, telling me what you're worried about. I assure you, though, you ain't taking me away from nothing. And if anyone gives you trouble, you let me know," he said, his voice deep and intense, sending goosebumps rising on my arms.
"I will," I nodded.
"And I ain't going back now to keep them lot happy, they can live without me for one night and one day. We can have today and go back this evening, if you want."
"I'd like that," I smiled at him.
"The gang," he started, pressing his lips together in thought before continuing, "they're like my family. But lately, certain things have reminded me that while that may be true, they ain't all that matters."
"Yeah?"
"Listen, I can see Dutch has doubted you from day one. At first I could understand; you were new, everyone's cautious around the new person. But the thing is, you've been here long enough now, shown enough loyalty, done enough for us, for him to start treating you like one of us. God knows he was pattin' Micah on the head sooner than this," he spoke monotonously, a little harshly. He was definitely pissed off.
"I don't mind. Truth be told I don't care all that much for the man," I exhaled in a hollow laugh, unable to let go of his inaction when Arthur was in trouble, his reasons be damned.
"Yeah well, I care for you a whole lot," he said firmly, "and if Dutch, the man I'm supposed to blindly follow, makes you feel like you ain't on the same level as the rest of us, then I do mind."
I stared at him, eyes wide. Arthur cupped my cheek and pulled me in for a harsh, fiery kiss.
"I tell you one thing, I ain't keeping this a secret from nobody no more. You're important to me, and Dutch and everyone else is gonna know about it," he murmured against my mouth before kissing me again, barely giving me a moment to catch my breath, pushing me down onto the bed and blanketing my body with his. My head spun and I opened up for him, letting him smother me in his need and affection.
We made love again, not emerging from our room until hours later, both of us finding it incredibly difficult to pull ourselves away from one another. I was completely, undeniably infatuated with him.
-
We rode back to camp after sundown, Sadie was on guard duty and she smirked at us when we arrived, though didn't say anything other than a polite greeting. We dismounted from Jet and I took the chance to give Rayna some love before Arthur and I walked into the main camp. It looked like people were finishing up with dinner as Susan was washing some dishes and everyone else was lazing about the place, the atmosphere felt flat in comparison to the previous night when everyone had been partying. It seemed the novelty of the house also wore off pretty quick considering most people were sitting outside.
Arthur and I helped ourselves to the last of Pearson's stew and took seats at the table. Susan had her eyes on us from the moment we arrived and it wasn't long before she said something.
"You pair can wash your own dishes, considering you both got out of helping with the clean up," she said snarkily.
"What clean up?" Arthur asked.
"From the party, of course," she chuckled. She didn't seem all that annoyed, thankfully.
"Oh, well neither of us made the mess, in all fairness," Arthur said.
"Oh, so you snuck out last night, not this morning?"
I wasn't going to say anything, but Arthur did.
"Yeah," he said, "though I wouldn't call it sneaking out. Charles knew where we was going."
"And where was that?" Susan asked.
"Saint Denis," Dutch strolled over from his spot by the fire, eyes focused on Arthur, "don't worry, son, Charles told me where you were just as soon as I started worrying you'd wandered off with the O'Driscolls again."
"You were worried about that?" Arthur asked, voice rising in pitch. "Come on, Dutch, I leave camp all the time."
"Truth be told I don't know what riled me more, thinking you'd been taken by those bastards again, or knowing you'd waltzed right back into Saint Denis not ten minutes after being searched for by the law," Dutch's overly pleasant tone made me nauseous.
"John and I got away without being seen, they didn't know it was us. 'Sides, we went nowhere near that cemetery, didn't even stay on the streets long," Arthur muttered. I cocked a brow; cemetery?
"So where did you go, son?"
"Ain't that obvious?" Arthur said. I felt Dutch look at me, and kept on eating my stew to distract myself from my growing anxiety. "You're thinkin' it, don't make me say it."
Dutch hummed to himself, his eyes still on me. "Just, think with your brain, Arthur. We don't need any complications," he said, patting his shoulder once before sauntering off.
I met Arthur's eyes and his were apologetic. I didn't say anything for quite some time and after a stretch of silence, Arthur dropped his fork and stood up.
"I'm gonna explain to him–" he began, but I grabbed his wrist.
"Explain what?" I hissed.
Arthur looked at me in surprise. "That it was my suggestion to go to Saint Denis and it ain't nobody's business if we were there or not, anyway."
"Oh, just leave it. He's dropped it, be thankful," I shrugged.
"He's got no reason to be mad about it, if I wanna go to Saint Denis I'll go to Saint Denis," his voice raised, both in pitch and volume, the way it did when he was irritated, I was quickly understanding. "Never cared all that much before when I disappeared, so I understand."
Oh.
I stared at him for a moment, thinking back to the O'Driscolls. I never stopped to think whether Arthur actually felt anything about the way Dutch handled that; I knew that it pissed me off to no end but Arthur had always been so understanding and accepting of these things when it came to Dutch. Though, I hadn't exactly helped the situation by relaying what had happened that night to him.
"Arthur, it might just be in our best interests to let it go," I said quietly, sensing stares from around the campfire. One glance there had me catching Charles' eyes. "Eat your dinner, you ain't had a proper meal today."
Arthur's eyes dropped to his food and after a moment, he slumped back down in his chair heavily. We finished our food in silence and when I went to gather our plates to wash them, Arthur got up and told me he was going to get an early night. It broke my heart, watching him walk away towards the house without me, left on such a sullen note. I had no idea where things had gone wrong, I wished that Dutch had left us alone, that Arthur hadn't taken what he'd said to heart.
We'd had such a beautiful time together away from camp. Why did it have to come crashing down as soon as we returned?
Charles silently sidled up to me when I was washing the dishes to help me dry them. He didn't say anything at first, but eventually, he spoke in a low, even tone that was difficult for even me to hear, let alone anyone else around us.
"I can't help but feel responsible for that," he told me, "I'm sorry. I felt I had to tell Dutch when he started looking for Arthur this morning."
"God, Charles, no. Don't feel responsible, you ain't. Whole reason we told you was so people wouldn't get worried if they realised we were gone. It's okay," I reassured him, "if anything, I'm sorry. We put that on your shoulders. Of course, didn't really anticipate this turning into a drama."
"Me neither."
"Don't worry about it. I think I said something above my station today, soured Arthur's mood a bit."
"You two have an argument?"
"No, we didn't argue," far from it, I thought. "I don't think Dutch likes me very much."
"Why not?"
"Well, I'm stopping Arthur from being capable of using his brain, apparently," I snorted.
"Arthur isn't dumb."
"I know he ain't. Doesn't stop Dutch from treating him like he is, you saw what happened just then. Worst part is, I can't tell who Arthur's mad at; him or me," I turned to Charles, wiping my hands on my skirt and leaning my hip against the table.
"Only one way to find out," he shrugged, gesturing with his head towards the house.
-
I entered Arthur's room, poking my head around the corner first to see if he was asleep. The lantern was still lit and he was sat up on his bed, writing in his journal. He looked at me and waved me in, and I crossed the room and sat down on a storage crate.
"Sorry for leaving you like that," he spoke first, surprisingly, "needed to get my thoughts in order."
"That's alright," I nodded. Arthur sighed loudly and snapped his journal shut, putting it away in his satchel before looking at me head on.
"I didn't mean what I said about Dutch not caring about me going missing. That was dumb of me, I know full well him coming after me would've been a bad idea. Heat of the moment, and all," he shrugged his shoulders. "I ain't more important than the rest of those folks out there."
"Well, if it's any consolation you only said how I've been feeling about it. Maybe I'm just selfish because of my feelings for you, but I weren't happy with Dutch over that," I admitted quietly, squeezing my hands together in my lap.
"Don't let it bother you, he did the right thing."
I shrugged, neither agreeing or disagreeing.
"He ain't been making all the right decisions lately, but that one needn't come into it. All that shit with the Braithwaites and the Grays, though…" he shook his head and laughed drily. "What a mess. None o' that felt right to me from the start."
"I know," I nodded.
"And now look at us, camping right outside of Saint Denis, closest we've ever been to civilisation. I don't know why we aren't heading west already, taking our chances getting by Blackwater, only so we can get back to more open lands, regain a little freedom. But what do I know? That's probably a bad idea, too."
"This life is relatively new to me, I've never had to run from the law. I couldn't tell you what that idea was, good nor bad. You having freedom, though, is all I want," I sighed, staring sadly at him. I hated seeing him this way; so sullen and conflicted.
"It seems like we're just getting involved with more and more bullshit. You know, Dutch wants us to go to a party at the mayor's house. We've moved up from working with sheriffs to schmoozing with high society, when we're wanted all over the damn place. It's like he's forgotten how to do subtlety," he narrowed his eyes, shaking his head incredulously. He was speaking very quietly, now.
My brows raised and I tried to imagine Arthur and Dutch rubbing shoulders with the likes of Saint Denis' mayor. "I see why that puzzles you," I laughed humorlessly.
"I know that we need money. I know that we need to look for leads. I know that I should trust Dutch 'cause he knows what he's doing. But… I just don't like this shit. But I ain't got the ideas myself to counter with, so what's the point?" Arthur sighed heavily, gnawed on his lip for a moment and I waited for him to continue, it looked like there was more to come and I wanted him to get it off his chest.
"I've always just followed Dutch. Been with him since I was a boy, everything I know he's taught me. In a way he made things easy for me, I always knew what to do cause he always told me what to do, I never questioned it. But now I find myself questioning and I– what do I do?" He looked up at me, and my heart thudded at being put on the spot.
"You've never had to think for yourself before?" I wondered, hastily adding, "no offense."
"None taken. You hit the nail on the head," he shook his head.
"Well, what changed?"
"I don't know. Things feel different, with the gang I mean, we've gotten sloppy. Maybe Dutch is just feeling the heat, or maybe it's Micah; things were fine till he joined. I don't know. I just don't know. Running off to Saint Denis with you was the clearest my head has felt in weeks, I thought I was just permanently messed up by my run in with the O'Driscolls, but no. Turns out it's being here, I don't know what to think no more."
"You ain't upset with me, then?"
"You? Why would I be? All you've done lately is make me happy," he swung his legs off the edge of the bed and leaned towards me, taking my hand in both of his.
"I don't want to drive a wedge between you and Dutch."
"You ain't," he shook his head.
"I've never had much, but these last couple of months I've spent with you, they… it's like nothing I've ever known before. Happiness comes easy when I'm with you," I mumbled, feeling embarrassed by the words leaving my mouth, but wanting to be honest with him. "I just wish that things were simpler."
"Me too, princess. All I can hope for is one day being able to give you somethin' better than this. And maybe it's a little selfish too, Lord knows I'm happiest when I'm with you," he admitted, and it touched me.
"Don't you worry about Dutch. And don't feel responsible for the way he acts, things ain't been going too well for a while now. You know about Blackwater, Hosea; he tried to warn Dutch that it weren't a good idea to do that job, but he never listened. Listened to Micah instead," he grumbled out the last few words, "I guess I'm just in a weird place right now, I need– I don't know what I need."
"Arthur, you know I want to support you no matter what. I care about this gang, and I'll do all I can to help these folk and I'll always pull my weight. But my loyalty lies mostly with one person, and it ain't Dutch. Just know that," I gave him a direct look. Arthur nodded his head slowly.
"I guess I'll… let's see what this party is all about at the mayor's place, see what Dutch pulls outta his sleeve. I'll tell you one thing, though; I am not looking forward to it," he huffed, shaking his head then pulling his hands away to run them through his hair. "I won't lie, my stomach twists itself in knots just thinking about it."
"What if I asked Dutch if I could come, too?" I suggested on a whim, and Arthur looked up at me in surprise, "it's to look for leads, right? All those rich people there. Dutch knows acting is my forte, I could fit right in at a fancy soiree."
"You'd fit in a damn sight better than me," he laughed.
"I'll ask. Worst he can say is no, but maybe he'll see it as me making myself useful and like me a little more," I smirked, "that's if me being there'd give you a little moral support, and you fellers don't plan on shooting the place up. 'Cause then, no promises I'll be any use at all."
"Somehow I don't think we have to worry about that," he smiled, then moved to lay back down on his bed, "but I reckon having you there might be nice."
"Yeah? Alright then," I rose to my feet.
"Get Hosea on your side, first. He's the voice of reason, when Dutch'll listen," he advised.
"Will do. I'll leave you to get some sleep," I approached him and bent down to kiss him. Our lips lingered for a few moments, dancing together and leaving us breathless when we finally parted. "Goodnight," I whispered.
"Goodnight, my darlin'."
#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#arthur morgan#fanfiction#arthur morgan x reader#atink#arthur morgan x female reader#reader insert#rdr2 fanfic#dutch van der linde#charles smith
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SanSan Secret Santa in July
For @mynameisnoneya1991 !
Prompt: “Don’t you dare walk away.”
Ao3 Link
Sandor is lying on the sofa, Sansa’s head against his chest when he feels her starting to drift off to sleep. Her book is abandoned on the table in front of them, face down on the wood to remember her place, spine cracked in two. She had been reading something about the history of King Arthur when she’d suddenly set the book aside, and snuggled in close to him.
“Do I make a good pillow girl?” Sandor asks her, running his hand through her hair. Normally Sansa has it braided, thick heavy plaits that you could whip somebody with. Now it’s loose around her shoulders, feeling like silk between his fingers.
“Mmm.” Sansa replies, rubbing her cheek against his grimy shirt. “Yes.”
It’s the first night that Sansa has stayed over at Sandor’s apartment. Sure, they’ve visited each other, but Sansa has prying housemates and Sandor usually works early. Tomorrow morning, however, he has the day off, which explains why he has a beautiful girl trying to sleep on his chest.
“I’m not lying on this sofa all bloody night.” Sandor tells her. “Go to bed.”
Sansa attempts to bury her face into his armpit. “Take me there.”
“Carry you?” Sandor asks, and Sansa doesn’t reply. “Like a knight taking his lady love to the bedchamber?”
Sansa raises her head finally. “You’d look very handsome in a suit of armour.”
“I’d look like a walking tin can.” Sandor complains. “Fucking soup come to life.”
Sansa laughs. “You can be the Knight of the Soup, and I can be Lady Broth.”
“Lovely.” Sandor says, deadpan, and then prods her. “Come on. You’re a dead weight.”
“Are you calling me fat?” Sansa asks, pretending to sound annoyed.
Sandor looks at the remains of the takeaway they ordered for dinner. “You ate a lot of my fucking food.”
“You let me!” Sansa protests, but she’s smiling. “It was nice of you to pay. Thank you.”
Sandor grunts, and carefully pushes her off him so he can stand up. He always offers to pay for Sansa’s things, even though he knows she comes from money. What Sansa receives as allowance from her parents is the same as three month’s wages for Sandor.
He stretches, clicking his shoulders, and notices Sansa’s eye on the strip of stomach exposed as his shirt rides up. He pulls his shirt down, not wanting her to see the scars that litter his skin.
She hasn’t seen him naked yet. He’s seen her, god she sends him photographs of herself that drive him fucking wild, Sansa in pretty lingerie with an innocent look on her face, head tilted to one side at the camera. He can’t wait to unwrap her like a present, have her naked and mewling underneath him.
But Sandor doesn’t want her to see his horrific body. Sansa deserves her knight in shining armour, not a man more scar tissue than skin. He constantly keeps his shirt on around her, doesn’t even risk shorts that expose his hairy shins, he knows that the moment Sansa sees him for what he truly is, she’ll leave.
Sandor is not a man for romantic sentiment, but he thinks he might just love this girl.
“I brought pyjamas.” Sansa yawns, standing up.
She reaches out towards him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him in close. Sandor lets himself be dragged forward, resting his chin on the top of her head. He can feel her smiling against him, the warmth that radiates from her.
“I bet you have matching pyjamas.” Sandor tells her. “With little kittens on.”
“Of course I have matching pyjamas.” Sansa replies, indignant. “I’m not an animal.”
Sandor rolls his eyes. “Your fucking mother probably buys you a new set every Christmas.”
“They’re good presents!” Sansa protests. “I want to see your pyjamas.”
“I don’t own fucking pyjamas.”
“What do you sleep in then?” Sansa asks, raising her eyebrows.
Sandor opens his mouth to say naked, and then stops himself. He can’t sleep naked beside Sansa. She doesn’t want his snoring nude body beside him at night.
“Fully clothed.” He replies instead.
“Fully clothed?” Sansa repeats, laughing. “Jeans on, and everything?”
“Yes.” Sandor says, and Sansa covers her face with her hand, giggling.
“You’re an idiot.” She tells him, and then takes him by the hand. “Let’s go to bed.”
.
Sansa’s pyjamas don’t have kittens on, but they do have disgustingly cute birds and flowers on. She shows them off to him, standing in the middle of Sandor’s bedroom, striking a pose.
“What do you think?” She asks, flicking her hair back.
“I think you look fucking ridiculous.” Sandor tells her, from where he’s lying on the bed, still dressed.
“Thank you.” Sansa strikes another silly pose, and then pauses. “You aren’t laughing at me.”
“I’m laughing on the inside.” Sandor says, gruffly.
“Normally you’d be laughing out loud at me.” Sansa pouts, and then climbs onto the bed. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” Sandor says. “Go to sleep.”
“You can’t just order me to sleep.” Sansa says. “I’m not a computer, I don’t have an off switch.”
“Wish you fucking did.” Sandor grumbles.
“Oi.” Sansa says, leaning closer to him. “What’s the matter?”
“Just go to sleep Sansa.”
Sansa raises her hand, cupping his burnt cheek. “Is it me?”
“It’s not you.” Sandor says, wondering how the hell she can stand to touch him.
“Then what is it?” She asks. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Sandor says firmly, and moves his head sharply so Sansa stops touching him.
He clambers off the bed, ignoring the wounded look that Sansa shoots him. It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t deserve to sleep next to a man like him.
“Get into bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa.” He rasps, “Safer that way.”
“Hey,” Sansa calls out to him, “Hey! Don’t you dare walk away from me!”
Sandor turns in the doorway. “You don’t fucking get it, do you?”
“No, I don’t!” Sansa says. “I thought you liked me?!”
“I do fucking like you!”
“Then why don’t you want to share a bed with me?!”
“You want to share a bed with this?!” Sandor gestures to himself, “This fucking thing? Are you insane?”
“What are you on about?!” Sansa asks despairingly, and Sandor pulls off his shirt roughly, throwing it to the floor.
“Look at me!” He growls, “I’m scarred, and burnt, and bruised, and you fucking want to lay next to me at night? You want to see this?”
Sansa is staring at him in shock.
“I knew it.” Sandor spits out. “I knew that the moment you saw me, the real me, you’d be fucking disgusted.”
Sansa says something so quietly that Sandor cannot hear.
“What?” He snaps, and Sansa tilts her head up to look at him.
“I’m not disgusted.” Sansa says softly. “I could never be disgusted with you.”
“You’re a bad liar.”
“I’m not lying to you.” Sansa presses her hand over her heart. “I swear it. Would I be here, in your bed, if I didn’t like you?”
Sandor looks at Sansa’s earnest face, and her stupid matching pyjamas, and how she has slotted into his life so easily, like she was made for it.
“I want to see you naked.” Sansa says, and then blushes. “I like seeing you, when your shirt rides up, or when you send me a selfie in bed and you think I don’t realise you’re just in your pants. I want it. All of it.”
Sandor doesn’t say anything. He realises that he’s standing in the doorway with his shirt thrown on the floor like a child.
“Come back to bed?” Sansa asks, her voice pleading. “Just… Come back?”
Sandor silently walks back to the bed, and sits down on the edge of it. Sansa runs her hand along his arm, squeezing the muscle slightly. She then moves her hand across his chest, and then down to lightly touch his stomach.
“Like what you feel?” Sandor asks gruffly.
“Yes.” Sansa says plainly, and smiles up at him. “Very much.”
She leans upwards and kisses him on the mouth. Sandor reprociates, but lets Sansa take control, letting her bite gently at his lower lip.
“I love your body.” She whispers against his mouth, and then slides her hand lower, into Sandor’s jeans. “Let me show you.”
Maybe sharing a bed with Sansa won’t be so bad after all.
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Sorry to bother but I am dying over your alpha Arthur headcanons. They’re perfection. Low honor Arthur got me feelin some kind of way. 😍 was wondering if u could write some more for that? Preferably with a omega reader????
you’re good anon! a lot of people have been really enjoyin’ themselves some alpha Arthur. he’s pretty wild— and in general ABO has been some fineeeeee work on him.
like damn son, G I D D Y U P.
alrighty sooooo we’re gonna make some magic as we did of this last time— high and low honor alpha!Arthur hc’s comin’ up! ;)
—————
A L P H A A R T H U R
Low Honor
has a neck thing. def a biting kink. but he loves marking your throat up, not just as a possessive gesture, but because he likes the way it riles you up. it’s always his go-to to get you feeling right, and how he likes you best— pliant and floating.
(also low key into collars but the surface is all we shall skim today, class—)
THICC. APPRECIATION. he loves him an omega that’s packin’. thicc thighs are what he wants— he likes soft, pillowy thighs more than anything else, and if you got ‘em? gonna be like Moses parting ‘em too. expect A LOT of beard/scruff burn.
no doubt into dominance play and some obedience “exercises.” he likes to take complete control in bed more often than not, and you’re left to his whim. he’ll ask you if you’re a good omega. and if not? well, he’s just gonna have to do something about that ain’t he?
usually tops, but he does let you too from the bottom or occasionally will bottom for you. but you have to earn that shit, you best believe. ;)
you wearing his clothes. sets. him. off. he comes into his tent and see you in nothing but his blue shirt? you’re gonna see more than just a vein bulge in his forehead, m’kay?
(and if you wear his neckerchief????? he’s done for)
loves to show you off. around the campfire, in town, to Dutch or Micah or anyone who remotely showed/shows any interest in you. you’re HIS omega, and he’ll let them know by practically making you mewl in front of them.
(at the campfire he’ll have you sit on his lap and just widjwixjwkfje)
his gifts to you are often clothes, jewelry, or something extravagant. how it was sourced or found is none too important, but damn don’t you look good— and damn if Arthur won’t show you just how much he appreciates the view.
obsessed with your heats. he keeps track of that shit, and sometimes knows your cycles better than you do. can also tell when it’s coming on before you realize what’s up.
loves your scent, especially when in heat. you’re like a siren to him, and any time he smells even just a trace of it on you? it doesn’t matter what honor level he’s at, he’s going buck wild
he knots you in Dutch’s tent once, after the man pisses him off. it enraged the man for days but the only time Arthur gives a fuck is when he’s laying into you. :)
will surprise you with random trips out into the wilderness. not for anything in particular except that it’s pretty much just to worship you while you’re out there. plus, he loves to have you walk around naked, and the camp doesn’t exactly appreciate it like he does
(not that it’s also a bad view, but it usually leads to Arthur fighting Micah or some shit bc he stares)
(also can just envision him laying out a fur on the ground and just laying you there on it, grabbing quick sketches for his special o t h e r journal)
loves pinning you to things. the wall, a table, the floor/ground. gets you by the wrists, your neck, holds your hips. he’s always got a hold on you, one way or another.
whenever you wake, you’ll always find him ready to truly get you up with the way he kisses you and let’s his hands wander
touches you whenever he can— he can’t get enough of you physically, and he’s constantly running his fingers down your sides, loves to pinch your skin lightly in his hands. he studies your body like he’s holding the right bumper
angry. sex. you best believe it’s a thing between the two of you. he’s always a hothead, even without ABO, and when his temper is riled? when you keep pushin’ him? it looks like he’s going to snap but he will literally just grab you by the nape and he’ll work it out by workin’ you up. 9 out of 10 arguments are solved this way.
doggie style is his favorite position ;)
he talks a lot during sex— like expect him to not shut up. he’ll tell you how you feel, how good this is, how good you are. he also growls a lot and he is NOT quiet.
gives you a necklace or something to adorn your neck that rests by his mating bite— it’s all to draw attention there, and this is his form of a ring to announce it.
loves it when you tell him how good of an alpha he is, and how much you love being his omega. he takes pride in that, and the way he can take you apart so easily underneath him. it’s a talent. ;)
into watching you. whether you are feeling promiscuous or he’s in the mood, he enjoys watching you do certain things like undress, bathe, or feel yourself. you pop one button off and he’s immediately like 👀
definitely has Charles Châtenay paint a nude portrait of you. shit is worth more than a pile of gold bars to the man.
High Honor
has Jack make a flower crown for you when he takes him fishing, and he puts it on you as soon as he gets back to camp
he tries his hand at cooking with you, and I mean really tries. he’s not awful per say, but unless it’s in a can or can burn over a fire he is really at odds ends with himself.
(can make coffee like a pro tho)
he always rises before you, and you usually wake to him bringing you breakfast among other things. he also loves to surprise you with gifts then— the way your face goes from sleepy to wide-eyed is his favorite
loves you in any way you come. he doesn’t care, as long as you’re happy and you give him the honor of loving him back :,)
S O F T. everything about Arthur is cuddly and welcoming, despite the tough facade he puts up. he is a rugged cowboi, but he MELTS when you snuggle up next to him. he is a bear, but the teddy kind, much to his dismay
(he sometimes acts like he doesn’t want to cuddle or doesn’t like being sweet, but you can tell he loves doting on you and being gentle— he’s tactile after all)
(you also get the man to sleep on more than just the damn ground or a table bc like??? seriously??? this man could literally sleep on fucking train tracks like his name is Thomas.)
(^^ when you introduce this man to the novelty concept of, I dunno, a BED, you also show him the magic of blankets and how it’s really nice to wrap yourself up in one. it quickly becomes his favorite thing to do.)
(^^^ you find Arthur literally wrapped up to his nose in a blanket cocoon one day, and you have no idea how to handle it)
(You: Did you use literally all of our blankets? Arthur: *nothing but his eyes visible from the mound of cloth heaped into your bed* . . . no.)
some nights he just holds onto you. there’s no funny business involved, but he tugs you close, puts your foreheads together, and simply exists with you. that’s all he really wants
loves it when you tell him how happy you are— he loves seeing you smile, and he’ll go out of his way to keep one on your face
also tries to get you to laugh to the point of snorting
(and he decks Micah when he jokes that you sound like a pig and then goes right back to making you giggle)
if you have a bad day or someone in camp was rough to you, Arthur will try and cheer you up or tell that person off. the last thing he wants is his omega upset.
puts you first, always. even if he needs something more, if it costs him, if he’s got to go as far as saying no and disobeying Dutch, you’re his number one concern.
and around the times of your heats? Arthur is like a chicken with his head cut off. he panics sometimes, fretting that things won’t be safe, that you’ll need this and that— he stresses himself by trying to make it easy for you, and drives himself up the wall in an attempt for perfection
(he doesn’t believe all you need is him alone to have it be that way, he’s just that obtuse)
any Arthur in bed means you will hear a lot of stuff from him— he is never quiet. but, this one will whisper praise into your ear, will tell you how much he loves and adores you. it is all emotional and sweet. :,)
he makes sure you’re comfy, and always worried he hurts you when he knots you. his concern always gets a loving giggle out of you, especially when he blushes after you tell him just how nice it is
takes you on small trips to do things like stargaze or to just be alone with you.
he gets you a ring for when your mates. call him pine, because he’s a sap like that
always puts his jacket on you when you’re cold. legit it can be like Chapter I: Colter outside and Arthur would give you his entire outfit bc he’s a loving dumbass like that
sometimes, when he genuinely doesn’t know what you’re saying, he pretends to understand even though he’s got no damn idea what’s going on
(You: Have you tried spaghetti? It’s good! Arthur: uh... I’ve tried huntin’ one once, with my bow.)
(^^ he goes and tries to read books to learn more about shit bc he’s never been so mortified in his lifeeeee)
has Albert Mason take a beautiful photograph of you. he keeps it by his bedside, framed and loved.
#alpha arthur morgan#arthur morgan#arthur morgan headcanons#headcanons#omega reader#alpha / omega#abo#abo!verse#rdr#rdr2#rdr2 headcanons#ask#anon ask#submission#read dead redemption 2#red dead redemption
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