#Adult Arthur

[adoriels-tears-if]

Wait how would the ROs react to an mc that has INCREDIBLY sensitive ears?

Doing Adult Arthur cause he's the only one you met until now

Arthur's fingers lightly brush your ear, and he smiles as you shiver in response. "Oh?" His voice becomes a low whisper, his lips dangerously close to your sensitive skin. "Are your ears really that sensitive?"

You bite your lip at the risk of giving yourself away more than you already have. But it’s futile. The proximity, the sound of his voice...it already has you undone. At his mercy.

You catch a glimpse of the playful gleam in his eyes, but he doesn't give you time to respond. His breath, warm and deliberate, grazes your ear as his fingers trace its outline, maddeningly slow. "You know," he whispers, his lips brushing just enough to make you quiver again, "I could have a lot of fun with this."

You inhale, heart racing, mouth dry, thirsty for more. You can hear his heartbeat, steady and strong, and the world narrows until there’s nothing but him.

His hand settles on your cheek, tilting your face slightly so you're looking him straight in the eye, that confident, arrogant smile playing on his lips. "I wonder," he says, his thumb trailing lazily along your jaw, ”if they could be even more sensitive… if I really put my mind to it.”

Oh, how you love that part of him. Unbounded. It’s too much. His touch, his voice it’s your undoing.

You open your mouth to reply, but Arthur isn't finished with you yet. He moves even closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Tell me…” he murmurs, words caressing your skin, "what do you feel?" His tongue glides lightly, tracing a line as light as a feather, burning like a wildfire, stirring up your universe, and your breath catches.

That's it, it's over! More than this teasing, his voice is your tomb and your heaven.

You feel the low rumble of his laughter against you. "I thought so," he murmurs softly, teasingly. His hand moves down your neck, his fingers brushing your pulse point. "I could do this all night… or we could see how sensitive the rest of you is, too?"

Before you can respond, his teeth gently nip your ear, and your breath quickens further, your mind venturing into forbidden territory, which only encourages him further. "I love it," he whispers, his breath burning against you. "It's so easy to make you shiver. And I haven't even started yet."

He pulls back slightly, just enough to catch your gaze again, his smile now loaded with mischief and desire. "You're adorable when you're flustered," Arthur says, tracing the line of your lower lip with his fingertip. "It makes me want to keep teasing you. But we both know how much you enjoy it."

Then he leans in again, his lips very close to your ear, and whispers to you, in a voice full of promise, "I wonder how long you'll last before begging me to stop… or asking for more."

More, more, you'll always ask him for more. Because he's your everything.

[l3monsqu33z3]

Chapters: 2/4 Fandom: Arthur (Cartoon), Grown Up Arthur Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Buster Baxter/Arthur Timothy Read, Buster Baxter & Arthur Timothy Read Characters: Buster Baxter, Arthur Timothy Read, Binky Barnes Additional Tags: Male Slash, The adult Arthur series has ideas flowing inside of my head, Arthur (Cartoon) - Freeform, Buster x Arthur, Binky is a big oof and I love it lol Series: Part 2 of Buster & Arthur ❤️ Summary:

Getting away from the city and traveling the countryside together truly enhanced Arthur and Buster’s relationship.

CHAPTER 2 IS HERE :D

[drizzledrawings]

They are his dads ok

[synthwavecryptid]

Kids always ask the wildest shit on roadtrips

[zimtlees]

HIII I love your drawings!! The way you draw everyone especially Orel 😭😭,, they all look so nice,, I was wondering if you could draw Orel interacting with his kids if you don't mind 🙏🙏 Have a great day!!

Oh man.... THANKS, I swear drawing Orel... it's like therapy or something

And well, Arthur is the name of Orel and Christina's son ...Orel was thinking of many names for his son during Christina's pregnancy (GODDD)... but Christina decided that his name would be «Arthur», ah yes, in homage to Orel's grandfather... (Arthur would be ...dead) She knows that Orel loved him, so...uh yes, i just like the idea y'know?

Edit: ***SAMUEL SAMUEL SAMUEL Y'ALL PLS FORGET ABOUT THAT NAME UHHHHH

[im-not-buying-it-ether]

It's always about the Batfamily, or the Superfamily adopting Billy or Diana

BUT WHAT ABOUT BARRY? HAL?? WHAT ABOUT EVEN OLIVER OR ARTHUR?

we need to think outside the box people!

Okay, delving into it (LEAP)

So, Billy is just more put together than them, canonically when he isn’t straight up homeless he has his own job and apartment. Realistically with Hal, downgrade, with Barry idk bc I keep getting him and Wally mixed up so I don’t feel confident commenting there

For the vibes and fun?

Ollie and Dinah (package deal to me) rolling up with Billy makes me very happy. Ollie and Billy could talk for hours (read; days) on saying screw authority and Dinah letting Billy tag along for one of her gigs as a singer during which Billy flexes his guitar skills (canon thing) and delights one night at getting to play with his new mom. He absolutely does a crowd surf if they’re hyped enough, it’s the best night of his life.

Also, I headcanon Billy as doing a lot of really thoughtful magic gifts so he gets Dinah some fancy tea sirens or other vocal magical creatures use to help with their throats to help with hers cause of the strain her powers can cause, so Billy is just really sweet to her like that too.

Arthur speaks up about wanting to adopt his coworker and Billy’s like “I can’t breathe underwater tho…” so Arthur and Diana commission another set of Water Breathing jewelry from Hephaestus (Diana has a pair of earring for underwater visits) so Billy gets a sweet pair of earrings and undergoes a quick skin treatment to not constantly prune up in his new home. He’s gets along great with his new royal family, learns a lot of Atlantian magic because look me in the eyes and tell me this kid isn’t another weird “I love magical worlds” nerd who absorbs every magic he can get his hands on as Champion, loves every creature he comes across, and delights at having two parents again! Plus Tawny joins by turning into a catfish or something similarly appropriate bc shapeshifter Tawny agenda must be upheld.

[necrobratz]

dont u just love babies

[rosalette-roxburgh]

Anime onlys concurring that laios isn’t necessarily ’horny’ so much as he is just Weird completely miss the omake where he says he’d totally fuck another guys wife and thats tragic isnt it

[kanrix]

do you think that if clay and orel had been kids at the same time (and somehow got to meet and become friends) clay wouldn't have killed his mother?

if orel would've had a good influence on him and got him to be less selfish (i just want something good to happen to those people once. i crave joy)

I don't really think Orel would have helped much, at least not at that age.

[junosmindpalace]

FOR YOU, FOREVER AGO

🎧 take a piece of my heart and make it all your own.

pairing: arthur morgan x gn!reader

wc: 1.7k

synopsis: arthur, and the notes he leaves in the books he gifts you. who could have figured love can transcend time?

content: established relationship, reading, reading and some more reading (together), soft and playful love, fluff with some angst at the end (arthur's death mentioned). reader is briefly said to be wearing a chemise.

a/n: i said i wouldn't write him again and here i am. writing him again. because this game has taken up so much of my writing headspace...

There’s an old saying that Arthur has heard retold in various different ways, and it went along the lines of “an idle mind is the devil’s playground.”

It derived from Proverbs 16:27: “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop,” something he later found out upon overhearing the phrase from the Reverend’s mouth during one of his rare sermons. Arthur doesn’t believe much in any sort of sacred text, but he could, to an extent, believe in that phrase. 

It’s a belief Dutch and Miss Grimshaw hold in especially high regard, and their incessant nagging to do away with him loitering about in the camp proved that. And while he agrees that it is necessary for everybody to do their part, Arthur spends much of his time out involving himself in all kinds of tough and weary business, and like anyone else, sometimes the enforcer needed a break. 

Though it seemed so to quite many people, Arthur’s mind was not solely fixated on his life of crime. Like many other people he was a man of love, who enjoyed reveling in Mother Nature’s beauty, and memorializing its likeness in his journal in gorgeous detail, too. He enjoyed lingering in on conversations that took place around him; mundane things like about rumors and town happenings, though they weren’t always pleasant. And above all else, he enjoyed being around you. 

Scare was the time to enjoy such leisure with your responsibilities, however. Often, he would return to camp well into the dead of night or during wind down time you had permitted for yourself (because Lord knows Grimshaw wouldn’t) to entertain your mind. Borrowing from the collections of books around camp was one of few forms of amusement you relied upon for some sort of satisfying stimulation.

Arthur couldn’t help but sometimes be jealous of this. To enjoy the leather cover of a book against his fingertips and the patches of sweetgrass and lavender enclosed around him like a makeshift bed was a luxury he could rarely afford. Yet still, he found ways to incorporate his own amusement to look forward to when he did have the off time to enjoy it.

The habit, at first, was a means of compensating for his long absences. It was almost his way of giving you a piece of his heart to hold to your chest, fill your mind, make your own with your wild imagination while he was away for sometimes frightening days at a time. 

Arthur provided you with literature of all sorts, from dime novels to hardcover books, when he encountered them on his travels. Mythology retellings, exaggerated tales of the fictionalized Wild West, dramatic historical fiction with royalty, castles, and dragons, and the sort of philosophy books Dutch enjoys reading passages aloud from that critique civilization. Each one, though unique in content, held a message with consistent love that made your heart swell and your lips stretch into a pleasant smile at the intent behind them. 

Couldn’t resist. 

Thought you’d like this one. 

All my love. 

Thought of you. 

For you to enjoy when I’m away.

To keep you preoccupied while I’m gone.

To make up for lost time. 

It's late when Arthur finds time to enjoy the stories with you, propped up on his side in the while his other arm is draped loosely around your waist as you lay in the same position, holding the book the two of you were enamored with in one hand. The firelight illuminates the pages for him to read from over your shoulder, his fingers brushing over your stomach and arms absentmindedly as he immerses himself in the world along with you. 

“This gentleman sure is a character.” 

“Ain’t he?” you snicker, taking the comment as an indicator to turn to the next page. “Almost reminds me of someone.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” he raises a brow at you, observing your expression with a tilt of his head.

“Nothin’ at all.” you hum innocently, pretending to fix your attention back onto the pages. He catches your bluff when he teasingly curls his arm around your waist and presses you closer against his chest, invoking a squeal of laughter from you as he ruffles your chemise. 

“Just turn the page.” he chuckles with a slight shake of his head and a roll of his eyes, but when you meet his playful gaze with one of your own, any further teasing dies on his tongue as his breath becomes lodged at the sight of your glow in the firelight. 

“Okay.” you tut with a raise of your brows, resituating yourself and leaning further into his grasp, to which he responds by hugging you closer. 

When your time wasn't spent under the stars, it was in your tent. Accompanied in your shared bedroll was a book from a marketplace stand you had picked out together when scouting around town. One of Arthur’s hands holds it on his stomach with his fingers at the bottom, while his other holds your shoulder soothingly. You lay your head over his heart, listening to its steady pulsing, and following the small text with tired eyes to lull you to sleep. 

Sometimes he read to you, when your eyes grew too heavy to look up at him, and your brain was too exhausted to form coherent enough thoughts, let alone conversation. He'd read with his free hand, voice gradually becoming husky with thick exhaustion of his own the more he read on. 

“Why’d you stop?” you murmured to him as you lulled you head up to look at him, briefly slipping into fuller consciousness when taking note of the absence of his voice amidst the evening chill.

“Thought you’d fallen asleep,” he replied, rubbing a hand up and down the side of your arm before planting a kiss on your forehead. You only shook your head.

“A little more?”

Arthur peered outside through a crevice in his tent to the pitch black, redirecting his attention back to you with a sigh. “Alright. But only a little.”

Sometimes you read to him, when he returns to the campsite with his brain scrambled from the hat and madness of his travels, and longs, almost on autopilot, for your presence and an extended period of rest. With his arms wrapped firmly around your waist, legs tangled on your sides and head snug against your stomach, you propped up one of the books you had borrowed from Mary-Beth, a romance that you could always rely on to knock Arthur out, with one hand, while the other carefully threads through his locks of brown hair.

“That sounds like a nice place to live, don’t it? In a house with a white picket fence and a beautiful garden.” You had asked him quietly one of those nights, looking down at his still figure, who merely hummed in response against your stomach. “Maybe outta the country.”

“And go where?” he replied drowsily, peering up at you through small eyes.

“I don’t know…surprise me.” you teased, and Arthur chuckled.

“Maybe someday, sweetheart.” he placed a kiss on the fabric of your night wear, letting out a sigh as he adjusted himself against you again. “Maybe someday we’ll go somewhere real nice.”

Amidst ever changing lives—periods of transition and transformation and hard feelings and new hopes and dreams—you made sure to often revisit his little notes kept in between the first few pages of a book picked out with you in mind and written with all the care you had to offer to one another. Nights apart we’re spent tracing the loving words with your eyes, running a nail through the loopy font. It reminds you that you lay under the same stars, the both of you wishing to reunite sooner than later upon one of the billions that twinkled in the sky. 

When Arthur had passed under the dying night sky, the menial, but important, declarations of love became lost to you. 

Focusing on anything outside of survival seemed impossible afterward, and the grief was all too fresh and thought consuming. Most of the time was spent rebuilding your life to the best of your ability, something not quite what you had envisioned in hopeful late night conversations with Arthur, but more bare minimum. No beautiful porch with a nice garden, no homey furnishings. Only a simple bungalow with a creaky bed and a bag of few possessions you managed to snag in your abrupt departure.

At the bottom of the bag one day, you find something, no, many things, you had not laid your eyes upon since before the hope of a new dawn was extinguished within you. 

It had been the first time you had felt an urge to be productive. For most of your days were spent in melancholy and anxious paralyzing thought that kept asking, what’s next?

You held them in your hands carefully, turning them over before opening them curiously, only to have your breath hitched when your eyes landed on the front.

Couldn’t resist.

You scrambled for another.

Thought you’d like this one.

Another, and then another. All of them until the reminders brought you to tears.

All my love.

Thought of you.

For you to enjoy while I’m away.

To keep you preoccupied while I’m gone.

To make up for lost time.

The rest of the night became dedicated to remembering all that you once had, and that you were once determined to have. Reading stories that always seemed as fantastical as your dreams of a sweeter life, perhaps where they even derived from. The inspiration and hope they fuelled gradually returned with each memory you recounted of your shared dream with Arthur.

He had given it to you in the end. Taken you some place nice, even if he wasn’t there himself to enjoy it with you. He’d given you a piece of his heart all those years ago, and you made it your own. Given you the resources—just enough money and a whole lot of love—to help you realize a life you always wanted. He was there; in the blooming flowers, in the magnificent dawn and dusk, in the pages of books you held carefully between your fingers. And you’d remind yourself of it every night with a trace of your fingers over his scrawled messages of adoration.

return to masterlist.

[reddorkredemption]

stupid red dead text posts - 5 / too many

[adoriels-tears-if]

Who would you say is worst Arthur or S? Since they both seem to love to make Mc flustered and what not. 🫣 Bc I have read some of the lil stories or ask and they both can get up there lol

between the two I think it's S because they struggles to let go of control whereas Arthur is not at all against it on the contrary he likes to change, to experiment. he likes to be in control but he also likes it when MC is in Control.

Arthur wants him and his partner to be equals in their relationship, not that S doesn't want them to be, they can't imagine anyone other than Mc walking beside them, but it's more difficult for them.

[eonian-nightmare]

My partner and I are doing a deal. He's listening to Malevolent podcast and I'm gonna play Disco Elysium.

He is decently into the podcast now, and I love his summary.

[jessread-s]

✩ 💜🐸Book Fanart:

📖: Trystan and Evie from “Assistant to the Villain” by Hannah Nicole Maehrer

This post is in collaboration with my sister @binjobo.0, who drew this lovely masterpiece as a birthday gift to me 🤩

Please click this link to show their art account some love.

Cross-posted to: Instagram | Amazon | Goodreads | StoryGraph

[blanche-elizabeth-devereaux]

Imagine the aftermath of the gang breaking down or Arthur's death for little Jack. He's young. He's confused. The bare sense of stability he had for the 4 short years of his life has just been violently uprooted. Maybe he keeps asking his parents where everyone is? When do they get to go home?? In the same innocent tone that he asked Arthur when they were gonna return to the camp in Blackwater. Perhaps Abigail tries to explain things in a way he'll understand, but at the end of the day he's still too young to grasp it.

Maybe the first time Jack asks where Uncle Arthur is, Abigail has to excuse them both from the room?? Because she knows John won't want his son seeing him breakdown or cry.

But he's a little kid, so he keeps asking. Where's uncle Arthur? Where's uncle Hosea? Where's uncle Dutch? He wants to go home (what home is there?) until the questions eventually just... stop.

Did everything sink in? Does he finally understand? Probably not. Abigail realizes that it's not Jack's curiosity starting to fade - it's his memory.

[zimtlees]

I would say this drawing is a bit old... but I still like it so it will be my first post here, god, I loved drawing these two a lot..