#also no this was absolutely not just an excuse to gif the NS kiss in a new way

[fanfiction-inc]

Can you do a NS/FW HC about Arthur being told what to do by his usually submissive female S/O? Like him being really surprised but also turned the hell on? (Sorry if this is very specific!)

Thank you so much for requesting, my dear!

((A.N: As a general disclaimer, this is NS/FW, and everything in this HC that is NS/FW will be under the cut.))

Arthur had been gone for many nights since the last stagecoach heist, being persuaded by Dutch to go along and rob the carriage with him since the passengers were "high in the aristocratic hierarchy".

He had promised he would be back that night, but it's been three days, and you were worried sick about the man.

What if he had been injured?

What if the Pinkertons caught up to him?

So when he came strolling in, that grin on his face and at his mentors side, you were pissed.

He acted like he hadn't promised you that he would be back that night, like he didn't worry you to death.

He acted like a man who had the best three nights of his life.

But the moment he caught your gaze, arms crossed over your chest and jaw set, he knew he was in trouble.

Big trouble.

"Go be with ya woman. I'll let Hosea know how things went." Dutch excused him from their conversation, giving a tip of his hat to you.

You were not amused one bit by such, only glaring in turn at the man who made Arthur come along in the first place.

Arthur comes up with an uneasy smile, hand coming to take your own, reeling back when you jerk your hand away.

"Three nights. Three nights, Arthur Morgan." You hissed. "Three nights I thought ya were dead!"

"I wasn't dead-" He started, trying to explain his absence.

"Clearly." You huffed.

When you turn your back to him, he follows with concern.

Did he really hurt you that badly?

Did he make you worry to the point of anger?

"(Your name)." He tries, watching you when you angrily remove the dress overlaying your corset and bloomers.

"What?" You snapped in turn, turning to him as he takes a step forward.

"How can I make it up t'ya?" He questioned softly, his gruff tone soft when he takes hold of your arms in his big hands.

He watched when you looked angrily into those puppy dog eyes, watched how your cheeks adorned color.

It was hard to place if it was because of the gaze he gave you or the anger in your chest.

He just wanted to make you happy, make you see that he wasn't leaving any time soon... but you weren't in the mood for that.

You were gonna put Arthur Morgan in his place.

The tension slowly melted from your muscles as you stand before him, gaze slowly softening but a clear strain between calm and tense still evident.

Then he saw the gears turning behind your eyes, saw your mind working.

He was in for one hell of a shock.

"I want you on your knees, Arthur Morgan."

Now this startles him.

His blue eyes stare at you in absolute shock.

Was his woman really asking him for something like that? And in such a tone that left his stomach fluttering with butterflies?

When you raise a brow expectantly, he swallows hard, moving down with a soft huff and sitting before you on his knees.

Those same blue eyes stay connected with yours, watching you.

Savoring how you looked at him in a way he hasn't seen before.

Your gaze was almost.. Hungry. Like a predator circling their prey.

He recognized that the demand wasn't shaky on your tongue, this not exactly being what he expected with you.

He knew that you were usually the one to softly be told to lay or be on his lap.

That you were usually so...submissive.

He would be damned if he said it out loud right now, but Arthur liked this new side to you.

And the tent in his trousers gave away just how badly.

"Want me to take these here bloomers off..." He pauses, considering something new that he could bring to the table. "Ma'am?"

He watched how you shivered at such a title.

"Yes, nice and slow." You mumbled in turn, hearing the audible noise he gives out when his fingers hook in the waistband.

"Makin' me make it a show then, yeah?" He questioned, hot breath fanning over you as he slowly dragged them down your legs.

"One we both'll like. Now hush and let that mouth of yours do the talkin' somewhere else." You retort, fingers slowly coming to tangle in his hair.

He savored the feeling, knowing it all too well when you shared kisses behind the tents or on runs.

He knew it when you sat together, relaxing during winter days or hot summer nights. How your fingers would play there when you were lost in a book or being lulled to sleep by his voice.

But most of all, he knew it in moments like these when you laid sprawled out on the bed, at the mercy of his tongue.

His eyes flutter and darken when your grip tightened, bringing his face closer to where you need him.

His beard lightly scratched at your inner thighs, lazy, open mouthed kisses trailing up further and further.

Arthur is only able to deliver another kiss before another tug sends him closer, tongue darting out to lick a long stripe up your folds.

"Oh- Fuck." Your own curse brings a soft chuckle from his lips, then he refocused on the task at hand.

His eyes flicker up to your own when he takes your bundle of nerves between his lips, suckling and flicking it with the tip of his tongue.

How your face contorted with pleasure when he brings your legs over his shoulders and probes with his tongue.

How your soft noises begin to fill the air, making his pants strain further.

He's infatuated with you, especially when your control over him doesn't slip despite the pleasure being given.

A groan leaves his lips when you pull him by the hair after a few moments, making him face you.

His beard and lips were decorated with your slick, pupils lust blown and half-lidded.

His hair was a mess when you removed your fingers from the locks, trailing down to cup his cheek.

You've never seen him so disheveled before, so...used.

And yet he cracked a smile, delivering a kiss against your palm that remained slick and sticky against your skin.

"I jus' wanted a look at ya." You whispered into the air, the man's smile shifting to a smirk when you leaned forward.

"Is that all, darlin'? Not because y'want an apology kiss?" He murmured against the skin of your palm, moving up to give that kiss he talked about.

He was testing how far your new demeanor was going, seeing if it would slip after a few minutes of eating you out.

"That's ma'am to you, boy." You corrected, watching him shiver at the new name. He then gasped when you grabbed his chin, making him stop and stare when you kept him in place.

He wasn't getting control so easily tonight.

"If I recall correctly, Mr. Morgan, you're not done." He shivered once more at the near purr in your tone, licking his lips at the idea of being between your thighs again.

"Yes ma'am." He replied with a soft hint of need.

He's brought back down, eagerness in his being as he worships your core.

Quick licks at the bundle of nerves that grew more sensitive with each passing moment towards climax.

His suckling and the rumble of his groan against your skin at the flavor that coats his tongue and runs down his chin.

He's like a man dying of thirst, just wanting the levee to break and the waters to rush.

He watches when you bite down on your lip, attempting to silence yourself when that edge comes closer, when his hair is held in a white knuckled grip.

That's when he brings down the final nail in the coffin, leaving you to tremor and shake.

The moment is lost in a blur, his lips connected around your bundle and fingers buried deep, hitting that spot that makes you jelly.

He works you through your high, aiding in bringing you what you wanted until you're letting him go and pulling away.

You were far too over sensitive for him to continue, and he didn't want to push you too far.

As you pant, he rises up over you, stealing that kiss that he wanted earlier on, making sure you taste yourself on his lips.

It was almost like a 'thank you' from his part, for seeing a power shift that he hadn't thought would happen.

At least not quite like this.

"Do ya accept m'apology, darlin'?" He questioned softly. Huskily. "Or should I keep callin' ya ma'am?"

You give a soft laugh at his question.

"I s'pose so...boy." You breathed out in a pant, his eyes brimming with need when the term is used again.

Arthur wasn't a man to usually beg for things that he needed. Not at all.

But he still needed to be taken care of, to release the tension in his pants.

"Ma'am, please." He begged softly, grinding himself down against your hip, hand coming up to cup your cheek.

He watched the consideration in your gaze, then the resolve that followed when your hand came to cup him.

Then there was a shift, and his heart sank.

"I don't think you deserve that tonight, Mr. Morgan. Y'really upset me." You then separate from him, standing.

He watched with a gaze that damn near screamed need in the purest of forms, ready to reach out and beg.

He never begged before.

"Ma'am, please, m'beggin' ya." He damn near choked on the words as they left his lips.

This wasn't his forte by any means, being the one left yearning for more.

At least he was fair with his teasing, giving in when you begged.

He watched when you're unstringing your corset, how it fell and left you completely bare to him.

Then he sees you sigh, hears the soft sound before your voice even reaches him.

"Dammit, I can't stay mad at ya when you're lookin' at me like that."

He groaned when you cupped him once more through his trousers, giving a jerk through them.

"Thank you, ma'am." His tone is strained as he says such, feeling your bare skin around his shaft when you release him from his pants.

From there, he's left to your mercy.

Slow when you want it, faster if he asked nicely.

Stopping when he's too close and finally giving him what he needs when he's looking at you with those eyes that scream every desire the man had.

Maybe he should mess up more often if this is gonna be the result.

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