#arthur morgan x f!reader

[grugruel]

hi, can you please write more of Arthur morgan😭I love your writing so much!🫶

Thank you!🫶 It makes me so happy to hear that you enjoy my writing, it really spurred on my motivation!😌 Still, I've been trying to write this for weeks, but ended up rewriting and starting over. Now im finally done, hope you enjoy this too!🥹

You've Kissed Me For Less

Pairings: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: Arthur wants to teach you hunting. But as your effort proves fruitless and the weather fouls, Arthur needs to keep you warm in the cold hours of the night.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: forced proximity ish, pinv sex, sideways sex, cream-pie, petnames (sweetheart, girl, honey, darlin'), fingering, slight handjob, tension, flirting.

AN: The arrow misses. Not proofread!

Knock, draw . . . Hold . . . Aim, and . . .

"That's right . . . Atta girl."

Crack.

The furry beast jerked in surprise. Looking up, it's ears twitched and turned, attempting to determine the source of the sound. It's dark eyes alert and contrasting, standing out from the light snowfall filling the air.

She stood on unsteady feet, the broken twig beneath her boot throwing her off balance. "You're thinkin' to much, girl," he whispered, his warm breath caressing her neck, making her hair stand on end. "Release."

Siddled up to a tree, they were out of sight from their prey. A large pair of hands guided her arms, and a strong chest pressed firmly against her back. In the cold landscape they found themselves in, the reassurance from the heat of his body was duely welcomed.

She inhaled, holding it for steady aim. But restless and unfocused, she moved her weight from on foot to another–the snow crunched beneath her heel.

Her breath caught in her throat as the beast whipped in her direction, and their eyes met.

Release–the arrow pierced the air.

The gentle beast grunted and wheezed, fleeing as it bounced out of sight.

And where it had stood, her arrow struck bark. The shaft now coated in snow as the force of the blow shook the spruce and rid its branches of the bright, clamoring weight.

"Well," he began, attempting to hide the amusement from his tone. "It ain't easy . . . It's only your first."

She chuckled, her bow arm slumping to her side. "We've been at it all day, Arthur. Thats the fourth shot I've missed."

"Plenty of time to work on your trackin'."

She grunted, throwing her head back in frustration.

He'd wanted her to learn hunting so she could fend for herself if the need ever arose. But as long a she had him, it wouldn't. And if truth be told, she preffered it that way. Secretly sighing in relief each time the arrow missed it's target.

That day, they'd awoken with the sun, and been after the same deer all day. Poor bastard. He should really count his blessings, had Arthur been the one holding that bow they'd been heading back to camp within the first hour or so.

But the weather hadn't been a hassel. Soft clouds had sprinkled light snow all morning, only just coming to an end. But the air was clear and hellishly cold, enough so for the humidity in the air to freeze and glimmer as the mid-day sun shone upon them.

"Were in headwind." She shrugged. "And the poor thing darted off into the woods, we could continue tracking it from there," She said, and pointed toward the otherside of the lake. Surface frozen and snowed over, footing wouldn't be a problem.

"That so?"

"Well, yes-- what? What you grinning for?"

"Poor creature," he quoted, jerking his chin to the side. "You've been missin' on purpose."

She scoffed. "You think too highly of me, Arthur. I would gladly miss if I'd had the aim for it. But as it stands, I'm a poor shot with a bleeding heart."

"Nah, I think of you just right, sweetheart. But we needa eat." He pointed toward the treeline. "And the food just ran off."

She sighed heavily. He was right, but that didn't mean she'd be happy about it. "Well, let's go then. But I cant promise we'll be eating deer tonight ."

No," he began, a smirk spreading scross his lips. "But I can." He took the bow from her hand and the quiver from her back.

Alright, there were no more blessings to be counted.

"Your faith in me is lackluster, Arthur."

He scoffed and stepped onto the ice, nodding for her to follow. "First I think to highly of ya, 'n now its lackluster . . . Would you rather have me wither away . . . Starve to death?"

The ice sang beneath their feet as she thought about it, and her eyes automatically turned to his broad shoulders and thick arms. Her mind drifting to that hard chest and strong hands. "No . . . That'd be a damn shame," she said. "But I do have the basics down, would I really have to I could probably find myself some game."

Arthur chuckled, then stopped. "Tell you what . . . We passed a cabin, head back there and set up shelter," he said and looked toward the sky, the sun passing it's peak. "We're too far out, and probably won't be makin' it back to camp before dark. And I'll track down dinner."

"Really?"

Arthur kneeled down by the shore, examining the tracks. "Nah, don't want you to kill unnecessarily."

She was awed. That man possessed such kindness but was so careful with showing it, and she couldn't imagine why.

Her chest warmed and cheeks blushed, she hoped the cold could be played of as an excuse. "Thank you, Arthur. Truly," she smiled at him. But she wanted to convey her gratitude properly, for it was no small favour he did her.

"No need to thank me, honey. I understand."

But that wasnt enough, so- without thinking, she removed her glove and leaned down. Her hand found his jaw, and her lips his cheek. Gently, she pinched the sharp edge with the pads of her fingertips. And gently, she pecked his face with soft lips.

It was supposed to be a friendly gesture, but as her warm fingers met his cold skin and the stubble along the sharp edge tickled her lips–a trickle of longing brushed her insides.

She'd been sweet on him for a while, which woman wouldn't be? He could be soft and masculine, tough and sweet. He was a manly man, broad shouldered and handsome. He helped her lift heavy things, not because he assumed she couldnt do it, but because he wished to be of help.

She could not think of one thing she yearned for more.

So this touch, it must've been her subconscious. How many times she'd thought of brushing his cheek in gratitude, she could not remember. This time was no different.

As the sun shone on his face, and he'd done her this kindness, her mind must've gotten tired of all impulses stopped by her conscience and simply moved for her.

Now there they were, neither knowing what to do next.

Their eyes were locked on eachother, and Arthur's lips were parted as if he wished to say something but couldn't quite.

"I, I'll just-- I'm heading back, then. To that cabkn-" she began to gesture in the general direction, her mind keeping her tongue busy by rambling. "What am I saying, you can track me," she joked, awkwardly laughing, flustered by her own impromptu affection.

"I can . . . I'll find ya'." Was all he said, still kneeling and looking up at her.

Good, good good good. Before she knew it, she'd already turned around and began making her way back. Embaressment prickled her face, a thousand small needle points taunting her, and Arthur's reaction did nothing to ease her mind. She'd been a fool.

-

Night was closing in and the wind was picking up. Heavy snow began to fall, but thankfully, the cabin was abandoned and the roof was intact, protecting them from the weather, but not the cold. She managed to get a fire going in the old hearth, but it helped very little with warmth when the walls were ramshackle, allowing drafts and especially rough wind draw through.

Shivering down to her bone marrow, the girl hugged herself tightly. "Fuck me," she swore beneath her breath. "Ridiculous." The weather had changed within an hour, completley flipping the serene day into a hellish night. "Could think were in the damned arctics."

She'd endured 3 hours by her lonesome, thankfully forging for firewood before the storm set in.

But she couldn't help but worry for Arthur. He was a rugged man, but even he had limits. She kept thinking It'd all be alright once he got back there, to her side. But what could one man to about the weather?

With the cold came the hunger, and the regret not long thereafter. "Damn conscience," she muttered, her stumache growling.

She could barely see the trees surrounding the cabin, the snow doing more to sabotage her sight than the darkness. It was falling so thickly she could barely see between the flakes.

"Sorry for bein' late," announced a voice.

Startled, she turned toward it–the door opening had sounded like another howl from the wind. Trough the heavy curtain of snow, Arthur emerged, flakes swirling around him as he entered the cabin and the glow of the fire embraced him. "Damn tracks got muddled . . . blown over," he said, the overflow of irritation noticeable in his demeanor and tone. He looked weathered, clothes roughed up from the storm, hat collecting a nice layer of snow, cheeks and nose rosy. "Deer would've been too heavy in this shit," he gestured toward the snow and slammed the door shut behind him. "Got us some rabbits instead."

Wearing an incredulous expression, she had to laugh. She'd been worried about him being alone in this shit storm, fearing he might've frozen to death. But no, he brought rabbits, that's all.

"What's so funny," he asked, preparing the animals before placing them above the fire and taking a seat next to her.

She glanced at him. "That's all you got to say? You got some rabbits?"

"I already apologised to ya."

She scoffed, amazed by his resilience.

The annoyance began to melt from him, the heat thawing his mood. "What? I dont get a 'thank you' this time? You've kissed me for less."

She froze, narrowing her eyes on him. Those familiar needles pricking her skin again. "You didn't magically happen upon an extra blanket or so, did you?" She changed the topic, and as if to prove her point, a particularly violent shiver descended upon her.

Arthur shook his head, then removed his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. " 'Fraid not," he said, then handed her the cooked meat.

He wore another jacket beneath, but it was thin and unsufficient, in her opinion.

"Thank you," she whispered, and kissed his cheek once more. But there was no embaressment this time. Their eyes met, silently communicatingas mouths were to occupied with chewing. She suspected there'd been a lack of words even without the chewing. "I've kissed you for less," she agreed, then redirected her gaze into the fire.

-

They spent the next half hour in quiet as they ate, nothing but the howling wind and crackling fire to keep them company.

Eventually unrolling their bedrolls and attempting to sleep, a few short words for communication when needed. It proved difficult, however, for the night wore on and the temperature continued to drop.

She could hear her teeth clattering in her skull, even with Arthur's jacket on.

"You're still freezing."

"A-are you not?" She stuttered. The hearth was cramped with their bodies side by side. " 'M sorry if I w-woke you." She hated the idea of her body shivering so much it cost him his sleep.

"You'll get pneumonia, girl. We need to get you warm."

"H-how you figure t-that?"

"Well, I-- hell, let me warm you up."

She didn't stop to think before she spoke, proving a common theme. "Do it, Arthur p-please. Before my t-t-teeth shatter."

She heard a rustling behind her, and then she felt him slip into her bedroll. It was tight, but enough space for then to move around. "We needa get those off you," he murmured, voice gravelly.

She nodded profusely, feeling the familiar contours of his chest against her back. He removed both the jackets from her shoulders until there were nothing but the two thin fabrics of their shirts between their bodies.

She sighed, it felt like a radiator against her back. "F-Feels better already," she said, her dtutter subsiding and shivers calming.

"Good, you're alright, girl," he comforted, wrapping one arm around her waist as she propped her head on the other. He pulled her closer, leaving no space for the heat to escape.

Feeling his hand on her like this felt . . . Heavenly. As if his large hand was molded just to fit her curves. "I want more . . . Arthur. Warmer."

Without a word, he removed his shirt and got back into position. If freezing to death was all she had to do to achive this scenario, she would've done it earlier. Moving to do the same, she yearned for his heat to seep into her directly, skin to skin.

The body behind her stiffened, suddenly worried. "You don't have to, girl." He stopped her.

"I-I want to, Arthur. Im fine."

With her words of reassurance, he relaxed. His hands found hers, aiding her in the removal. She'd had no time to make it clear that there was no corset covering her since hunting didn't require one.

Arthur's breathing hitched at the revalation, prompting him to clear his throat. And his hands were simply hovering, uncertain where they belonged, where they were allowed.

"First time seeing a woman without a corset, Arthur?" She teased, uncertain where this sudden confidence came from, if it simply wasthe bizarre nature of the situation, or that it was only her bare back he could see.

He chuckled. "No, ma'am. 'S just . . . I dont wanna take any liberties."

"I don't mind, Arthur," she whispered. There's no liberties she wouldn't allow him to take, she thought.

Slowly, the hesitance melted away from him, and his fingers found her ribs. She sighed, content with their feeling. They burned, but pleasantly so. The reaction from her core was the only thing growing unbareable. Gaining confidence, his hand slid lower, following the length of her ribs. Fingers stopping just beneath the hill of her breast, hus thumb stroking small circles over her skin.

She hummed appreciatively, forgetting herself.

"Feelin' good?"

"Mmmh, warmer." She was finally relaxed enough to feel the low heat radiating from the fire, but with the numbness gone, the wind grew more noticeable. At times, a strong gust of wind would seep through the walls and graze her skin. Sending new shivers and goosebumps rippling across her body.

The retaliate and keep her heat up, she nudged herself closer to Arthur, tucking her hips and rear into his crotch. This gained her a low groan, and his fingertips sinking into the skin of her ribs like gentle claws.

"Better lay still now, girl," he warned, breathing onto her shoulder.

"Why's that?" She asked, but just as the words left her lips, she felt something slightly harden against her thigh. "Oh . . ." She gasped. Feeling it through both fabrics of their pants impressed her, salivated her.

" 'M sorry, sweetheart, 'm sorry." His thumb brushed back and forth, suddenly grazing the underside of her breast. She felt a twitch below the hips.

"Sorry, s-- I dont mean to," he breathed hard, leaning his forehead against her shoulder, attempting to focus.

"You can touch, Arthur."

"Now, honey . . . "

"I want you to," she assured him, knowing he might question the circumstances.

He shook his head hesitantly. "Dont wanna go takin' advantage of ya'."

You couldn't ever." She grabbed the hand that rested beneath her breast and guided it atop her, nipple already hard from anything and everything he does. "I want you to touch me."

He relented, andsqueezed her breast, releasing a grunt simultaneously. His lips found her neck, gently placing kisses on her skin.

She pushed back against him, grinding down on his crotch. "I want more than touching, Arthur . . ."

"I don't deserve you," he groaned, hand sliding over her chest to wrap his arm around her torso, bost breasts pressing firmly against his forearm.

The arm her head rested on reached down, brushing down her abdomen and beneath her pants. She gasped as his fingers found her clit. "All of you . . . Please." Her hand reach behind her, working to unbutton his pants as she turned her head over her shoulder, and their lips found eachother.

As the last button came undone and his length was free, her hands wrapped around it, gently stroking him and reveling in the pleased moans he breathed into her mouth.

"Hold on, hold on-" he stopped her. "I'll--" he swallowed, lips stalling against her own. "We only get one chance . . . tonight." He tried to clarify. " 'N I want ya' the right way." His hand momentarily left her chest to brush his fingers over the hand that held his member.

"I want that too," she whispered.

With her go-ahead, he pushed her pants below her ass and lined himself up with her entrance, her ass neatly tucked against his crotch, fitting together like piezes of a puzzle, perfectly matching. "Atta girl," he praised and pushed inside her.

They moaned simultaneously, lips reattaching. His hand were quickly back to work, breasts and clit stimulated by his expert hands all the while he thrusted in an out of her. "Feel so good."

She couldn't help but smile, panting between kisses as her body burned for him, every singel nerve flooding with electrical currents. "Harder, Arthur. I beg you. Im . . . G-Getting close. "

Arthur slowed his pace, arm leaving her clit to hold her torso, exchanging arms so he could hook her leg onto his arm for better leverage, reaching deep, hitting her core.

She cried out.

"C'mon, darlin'." He bit her lip. "Im right here."

"Mm, mhmm," she whimpered, the pressure in her core building, ready to topple over any second. Her vision grew blurry, chest heaving and breathing hard. And then- she came. Pleasure rolled over her, Arthur continuing to thrust into her as he prolonged her orgasm. "Breathe girl, you're alright," he comforted her. Fingers playing with her nipple. "Doin' so good."

She shook, she shivered, but the cold was no longer the reason, Arthur was. "Where-- where can I-"

"Anywhere," she moaned, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Too good to me, youre too good to me," he repeated. "Good girl." He grunted, finally toppling over himself, spilling his seed inside her. With a few final ruts, they collpased in eachothers embrace, sweat coating their skin.

"Is it hot in here or . . . ?"

Arthur chuckled and kissed her shoulder. "You're welcome, sweetheart." He wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Pretty girl."

"Thank you, Arthur," she said, and kissed his cheek.

"I get both now? A 'thank you' and a kiss? What's gotten into you?"

"Well," she held back a giggle. "You did."

"Funny," he said, a grinn on his lips, foolishly proud.

[morning-star-joy]

some sweet ending

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x F!Reader

Summary: A lazy night of domestic bliss.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI Smut. Handjob, v fingering. Domestic life kink, competence kink, praise kink. Sub!Arthur. Vocal!Arthur. Subtle orgasm denial. Premature ejaculation if you squint. Established relationship/marriage. Chubby!Arthur. Mention of past canon-typical violence. Cigarette smoking. Mention of food/eating. Post-Canon, no TB, Arthur Morgan gets a happy ending with lots of love and orgasms. Arthur's POV.

Wordcount: 1.9k

masterlist || ko-fi || updates blog

dividers by @saradika

The unbearable heat of the summer day eases just slightly as it transitions to night, but it still leaves a light sheen of sweat on Arthur’s skin as he lays back on the bed, naked as the day he was born to try and combat the heat.

“Hotter than the devil’s asscrack out there,” he grunts, brushing a hand through his hair, still damp from the bath you’d forced him to take after a long day of hard work out in the sun. 

Not sharing my sheets with a smelly, sticky ol’ cowboy, you’d ordered him towards the bath you’d drawn with a pointed look, and he was off to do what you commanded with little more than a sigh.

You hum beside him at his crude comment on the weather, curled up on your side and facing away from him, turning another page in the new dime novel you’d coaxed him to pick up on his latest run into town for supplies. “Charming.”

“That’s what they always call me,” he sighs out sarcastically, and you do huff a quiet laugh at that. It’s a beautiful sound, your laughter; one that has always been more reminiscent of pure music than something human to him, and it curls a smile up onto his lips.

Arthur leans over to rustle through the nightstand, pulling out a cigarette to place between his smirk. He lights it and settles back into the pillows, and you’re turning onto your back to mimic his movements, propping up against him even when he grumbles in protest at your added body heat.

He makes no real effort to shake you off, though. Not when your hand subconsciously finds his knee, seeking the connection between you, even when he was right here and never going anywhere again. 

Your fingers, just as callused as his from years of running as outlaws, slowly stroke along the inside of his knee. The touch is borne from familiarity of the most primal, most loving kind; the joining of flesh and meeting of hearts; the simple gem embedded into a slim band, glinting in the low, flickering lamplight when your fingers keep retracing the same lazy circle on his skin.

When you reach the end of your page, Arthur watches your brows furrow, your hand clasping at the bottom of the book fidgeting. It takes a moment before he realizes you were trying to turn to the next page without removing your hand from his knee.

The simple, silent act of not wanting to separate from him tugs at the fondness of you that had found a home in his heart years ago, a silent admiration that had turned into love and devotion somewhere along the way.

He holds back a chuckle before he grabs the top corner of the page, tugging it from your grip on the bottom of the novel and turning it for you. Your head ducks further into the pages, but he sees the smile turning up the corner of your mouth, and a huff of amusement blows smoke out around the cigarette still perched between his own lips.

Slowly, your hand slips from his knee and up his leg, the muscles tensing in his thigh when your fingernails graze alongside it. The traitorous twitch of his cock between his legs in the soft moment isn’t lost on either of you, but you continue to draw those same lazy circles on his thigh.

Each stroke draws you closer inwards, until your nails scrape up along the V of his hips and pull a quiet grunt from his throat.

Arthur only lasts a few more passes of your nails up and down that line before he’s mumbling around the cigarette, “Sweetheart…”

You hum again, taking the cue and dragging your fingers up towards his soft belly, rounder from the years of eating well and not running for your lives. He hadn't been too fond of it for a while, but you had certainly found more…unorthodox ways to change his mind about it.

Dragging your fingers through the thick hair that grew more coarse the further down you went, he sucks in a sharp breath when you reach the base of his cock, tracing it with the tip of your trigger finger as the smoke fills his lungs and sends a rush through his head.

He’d watched that finger press down on the trigger of your trusty shotgun for years, watched you take lives time and time again, for the gang and for him. And now you used it to tend to your ranch and undress him and Jesus he was already so fucking hard it hurt, especially with the way you kept—

“Goddamn teasing me,” Arthur grits through clenched teeth, and your laugh is so airy, so wonderfully carefree, because you had all the time in the world now.

No more camps, no more keeping quiet and finishing fast in tents with the flaps sewn closed. 

This house was yours, something you’d built from the ground up together, and you could take all night taking each other apart. You could make him sing, and you would, after so long of making it clear just how much you adored the sounds of pleasure he once was so baffled that he could even make for you.

Another thing he didn’t believe you could actually enjoy, not until he cupped your cunt through your bloomers on one night of making him moan and whimper until his throat was sore, and found you completely soaked for him.

“You still get hard so fast for me,” you whisper, your hand gently wrapping around his throbbing cock until you have it in a tight fist, giving it a tug that pulls a whine from deep in his chest. 

Sweat from the hot night coats your palm, making each stroke and twist easier, and he’s already melting back into the pillows, free hand grabbing around your waist for purchase as his hips thrust up to smack against your closed hand.

“Only for you,” Arthur whispers, eyes half-lidded as he stares up at the ceiling of your bedroom, in your home, taking another idle drag from the cigarette as you lazily jerk him off.

He can hear the smirk in your voice when you murmur, “Good boy,” and he would’ve been lost right then and there if you didn’t wrap your hand around the base of his cock and squeeze.

Arthur’s whimper is choked, hand spreading across your sternum and slipping up to cup the swell of your breast through the chemise that sticks to your skin in the heat. He feels your legs shift beside him, a soft moan leaving your own lips when your thighs rub together, and he squeezes his eyes shut, breathing hard through his nose as he tries to hold on for you.

“Turn my page,” you whisper your order, and his shaky hand is leaving your body in an instant to follow your command. The loss of his palm on you makes you whimper, and he bites his lip when your hand leisurely slides back up his cock to circle that damned trigger finger around the red, leaking head.

Taking these kinds of orders from you, trusting you enough to guide him, had become a sweet relief after years of having to be such a strong, immovable force for everybody who always needed something from him. And everybody always needed something from him.

Where he was now, his life with you—it was the first real choice Arthur had made for himself in…hell, maybe ever. 

You didn’t need him to be here, you would be just fine on your own, as would he. 

But this was what you wanted. It’s what he wanted. When everything went up in flames, you were both left standing together amongst the ashes. 

And once every loved one who remained was taken care of, this was your first choice. The only choice. One you both made together, steps you took beside each other, even if neither of you were sure just where it’d get you. 

That faith his mentor had always wanted—Arthur had always had it.

It just was meant for you.

His fingers hastily push up your chemise, slipping down to drag between the soaked lips of your pussy. All it takes is the way he easily sinks a digit into your wet heat, your walls welcoming him in and sucking him down to just the first knuckle, before he’s spilling in your palm.

You ease him through it, like you always do, whispering soft praises as you lean down to kiss along the inside of his knee, giving gentle tugs of his cock until all the spend you could get out of him mixes with the sweat on his stomach.

Arthur only takes the time to put out the dangerously burned down cigarette before he tugs you back when you try to get a washcloth to clean him back up, replying to your sweet, loving assurances that you would be fine with his own assurances that he wanted this, he wanted you.

Because you were his best girl, his goddamn wife, and he wanted to see that beginning of want in your eyes dissolve into the dazed, relaxed look of complete ecstasy. You may be fine without being returned what you gave, but he never would be.

And so you end up straddling the mess you had made him leave on his own stomach. He pumps one finger into you until you can take two, two until you can take three, and it’s not long before you’re grinding down along his hand, your own name forgotten. 

His large hand palms at your tits before he grabs one, massaging the soft flesh while his fingers curl inside you, and your eyes roll back into your head. Hips rolling desperately, your slick coats his bottomed out digits, dripping down to his wrist until you are coming with a cry of his name, and Arthur grins.

He never really smiled before you.

You smile too, and it doesn’t fade. Not even when you collapse on top of him, and you’re both a mess of miserably hot, sticky limbs, but at least the last tendrils of pleasure linger, tying you together in sweet bliss that makes you hum happily.

Arthur hums quietly along with you, lips finding your forehead in a gentle kiss. He mumbles against the warm skin there, “What was that you was sayin’ earlier? Somethin’ about your husband bein’ a smelly, sticky ol’ cowboy?”

Your palm smacks against the old scar on his shoulder, something that finally doesn’t hurt anymore, and laughter rumbles from his chest as you lay your head on it.

“Shut up,” you grumble, even as you snuggle into him and kiss the healed over skin gently. He welcomes you in close, despite the mess between you.

Then, not a moment later: “I love you.”

Arthur smiles again as he whispers it back to you, and that smile stays when you both get up to gently wipe each other down, crack open the window to let a gentle breeze into the hot, sex-scented room, then crawl back into your bed.

As he watches your face relax with sleep, and feels the call towards dreams himself, he vaguely remembers a time where part of him had longed for the end.

Now, he just can’t wait to grow old with you.

[narcoticv3nus]

Ride or Die ❤︎ Arthur Morgan

Kinktober Day XXVI: Face Sitting

summary: you both have needed some stress relief good thing your man has the perfect remedy tags/trigger warnings: 18+, f!reader, face sitting, cunnilingus, praise, stress relief wc: 2.3k

MASTERLIST

The sweltering heat of mid-summer enveloped you as you stood in your dusty backyard in West Texas. The sun hung high in the sky, its relentless rays pouring down like molten gold, wrapping you in warmth. You balanced precariously on your toes, stretching to reach the wooden clothesline that sagged under the weight of the humid air. With each clothespin, you secured the damp fabric—its fibers still heavy from the wash—hanging them in a colorful line that fluttered gently, eager for the breeze to take hold.

After a long day tackling household chores that seemed never-ending, fatigue washed over you like the dew settling on the grass at dawn. Sweat trickled down your forehead and dripped from your chin, creating a sheen that glistened on your tanned skin. The air was thick and muggy, wrapping around you like a warm blanket, and you could feel the relentless sun creating that familiar weight in the pit of your stomach, urging you to seek shade and a reprieve from the day’s demands.

A sudden chorus of sharp barks erupted into the stillness of the afternoon, cutting through the air like a warning bell. You felt a thrill of anticipation as the rhythmic sound of hooves clattering against the grass reached your ears, stirring a smile on your lips. Rounding the corner, you caught sight of your "husband," Arthur Morgan, as he gracefully dismounted from his sturdy horse. He landed with a soft thud on the ground, letting out a weary sigh that hinted at the long day behind him. His presence, strong and rugged against the backdrop of the setting sun, filled you with warmth and a sense of home.

As you approached, Arthur turned towards you, his soft blue eyes locking onto yours, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Seeing you instantly eased some of the tension etched on his face. He removed his dusty hat, revealing a mess of sweat-soaked brown hair, and ran a calloused hand through the tangled strands.

“Looks like you’ve had a fair share of work yourself,” he said, his voice gruff yet tender. He walked towards you, closing the distance between you two, and brushed a strand of sweat-dampened hair off your forehead, tucking it gently behind your ear.

“C’mon inside,” he offered, his hand resting lightly on your lower back, “I think we both could use a bit of relaxation.” As you entered your home's cool refuge, Arthur took a deep breath, surveying the room.

Guiding you to the small bedroom at the back of the house, Arthur closed the door behind him, allowing the sounds of the world outside to fade into a distant hum. The room was dimly lit by a single candle burning on the nightstand, casting dancing shadows across the wooden floorboards. He moved closer, his gaze never leaving yours.

You gently pressed your palm against his chest, stopping him in his tracks. “Maybe we should wash up first,” you proposed, your voice slow and deliberate. The remnants of sweat clung to your skin, a sticky reminder of the heat, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of discomfort that came with it.

Arthur's gaze drifted downward, resting on your hand gently pressed against his chest. His expression was a mask of stoicism, revealing nothing as his intense eyes locked onto yours. The moment felt charged with a tension that lingered in the air between you.

“I want ya’ now,” he declared, his voice low and intense as he pressed his hand over yours. His fingers curled possessively around yours before he gently pulled your hand away.

Arthur moved closer, a hand resting on your waist as he gently guided you back toward the bed. The softness of the bedding awaited you, creating an inviting contrast to the moment's intensity. His presence felt warm and enveloping, heightening the tension as he leaned in, bringing you closer together.

The need for release and the desire to forget the world's harsh realities had consumed him, even for a moment. Arthur's hands trailed down your arms, his strong fingers gripping your hips and pulling you closer until you could feel the heat radiating from his body. He paused, looking deep into your eyes, silently asking for your consent.

He inhaled sharply, the scent of your skin mingling with the sweat and earthy aroma of the day's work, strangely alluring in its simplicity. Arthur leaned forward, brushing his lips against your neck, his tongue tracing a wet path toward your ear. He whispered huskily, "Let me take care of ya'.” he pleaded. “Let me help ya’ relax." With a gentle push, he guided you onto the edge of the bed, his fingers slowly working on undoing the buttons of your dress.

His actions were unhurried yet deliberate, each touch and kiss filled with a palpable hunger between you two. Arthur's breath hitched as your dress fell open, revealing the skin beneath. He pulled you to stand, sliding the fabric down your arms until it pooled at your feet. He stepped back, drinking in your sight, allowing the heat between you to build further. His hands roamed over your exposed flesh, feeling the goosebumps rise under his touch. Finally, with a low groan, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he guided you back onto the mattress.

The world outside seemed to disappear as his tongue sought yours, a dance filled with promise and passion. Arthur's calloused hands skimmed across your thighs, pushing aside the last barriers between you. He could feel the dampness gathering between your legs, his desire straining against his trousers. Breaking away, he gazed into your eyes.

"I reckon we both need this," he muttered, his voice gruff with want as he stood to undress himself. His fingers worked on his belt buckle with practiced ease, each movement deliberate and unhurried. His shirt came off next, revealing the hard planes of his chest and the tapestry of scars that mapped out his life's story.

Arthur's gaze never left yours, watching the hunger grow in your eyes as he exposed himself to you. Stepping out of his trousers, he returned to the bed, his naked form a testament to the raw masculinity that made up this rugged man. Sliding back onto the bed, Arthur positioned himself between your thighs, his gaze locked onto yours as his hands gently parted them. He lowered his head, pressing featherlight kisses along your inner thighs, teasing your sensitive flesh.

You could see his desire burning bright in his eyes, contrasting his usually guarded demeanor. His warm breath tickled your sensitive area, making you squirm in anticipation. Savoring the sight of your flushed skin and how your chest rose and fell with each ragged breath you took, he didn’t waste any time, diving right in to taste the sweetness he knew awaited him.

His tongue swirled and dipped, eliciting a moan from your lips as he explored your folds. Arthur loved how you reacted to him, your body tensing and releasing as he pleasured you. It made him feel powerful and needed, something he craved deep down. His fingers joined the dance, massaging your thighs before sliding further up to caress your breasts. He kneaded and pinched your nipples gently, feeling you writhe beneath him as the sensations built. Each sound you made only drove him further, pushing him to make you feel even better.

As he continued, Arthur could feel himself getting harder, his need for you almost unbearable. He knew you were close, your body quivering and muscles tensing around his tongue. He redoubled his efforts, wanting nothing more than to watch you fall apart in pleasure.

"Mmm...you taste so good," he growled against your skin, causing you to shudder in delight. His stubbled cheeks grazed your sensitive thighs as he continued to explore your cunt with his tongue, savoring every gasp and moan that escaped your lips. His hands wandered higher, gripping your waist firmly to keep you in place while his thumbs traced lazy patterns over your lower abdomen, heightening the sensitivity of every nerve ending.

He felt your legs tremble, your breaths turning shallow and erratic. Arthur knew you were on the precipice, so he slowed, drawing out the delicious torment. He wanted to savor this moment, to remind himself why he fought so hard to survive each day. He glanced up, watching your face contort in ecstasy as he finally brought you over the edge. Your nails dug into his shoulders as your body convulsed, riding wave after wave of pure bliss.

Arthur pulled back only when your breathing evened out, his chin glistening with evidence of his desire for you. He gave you a smug grin, his blue eyes darkened with lust. "Feelin' better?" he asked, his voice rough and husky. You nodded slowly, a dopey grin spreading across your face as you tried to steady your breath. Your heart raced as you gazed down at him, feeling a mix of exhilaration and affection that made the moment feel almost surreal.

“I want to be on top,” you confessed; gently running your fingers through his damp hair, you pushed it backward, feeling the warmth of his scalp beneath your nails as they glided effortlessly over his skin. The soft strands, slightly tousled from the moisture, slipped through your fingers, creating a soothing rhythm that sent a shiver down your spine.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at your request, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. After switching your positions, he sat back, allowing you to take control, and watched as you positioned yourself over him, straddling his lap.

“Can I…” you began, a warm flush creeping to your cheeks as you kept your gaze locked on him. Your eyes lingered on the curve of his nose, tracing the rugged outline and drifting down to his lips.

He nodded, his smirk growing wider. "Go ahead," he said gruffly, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out to caress your cheek with the back of his hand. His thumb brushed against your lower lip, gently urging it open before tracing its contours.

You swallowed, climbing up his body until your thighs encompassed his face, your bottom hovering over his chest as your hands grasped the wooden headboard, giving you balance and offering support for the pleasure that was to come.

Arthur's hands slid to your thighs, gripping them firmly, guiding you into position. Your wetness brushing against his lips sent a jolt through him. He leaned forward, parting your folds with his tongue, exploring your most intimate spaces with a newfound hunger. He tasted saltwater, sweat, and a faint trace of your arousal—an intoxicating mix that only fueled his desire.

His fingers flexed against your skin, holding you close as he indulged himself. Arthur's eyes fluttered shut, focusing solely on the feeling of your body against his mouth, the soft moans that escaped your lips, and the sweet taste of you. His tongue moved with deliberate strokes, teasing your sensitive spots until your hips began to rock back and forth in response. Arthur's hands tightened on your thighs as you moved above him, guiding you with gentle yet firm pressure. He could feel the tension building within you, each gasp and moan urging him onward. One hand moved up, thumb tracing lazy circles around your clitoris, while his tongue delved deeper, probing and swirling.

"Mmm..." Arthur hummed low in approval, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure coursing through you. His fingers dug into your thighs slightly, urging you closer as he continued to lavish attention on your clitoris. His tongue swirled around it before dipping lower, exploring the wetness between your thighs with an insistent hunger. He savored each moan and whimper, his desire growing with each passing second. Feeling the tension in your thighs increase as your body responded to his ministrations, he pressed a finger inside you, moving in rhythm with his tongue, curling it just to hit that spot that made your breath hitch.

"Ride my face," he commanded, his voice rough with lust as he said your name. He opened his eyes to watch your reactions—the flush spreading across your chest, the way your nipples hardened under the cool air, and the unmistakable pleasure etched on your face. With a sultry moan, you obliged, grinding yourself against Arthur’s mouth, savoring the exquisite friction he created.

He held onto your thighs tighter, adjusting his position slightly to accommodate your movements. His finger steadily moved in and out of you, curling each time to massage that sensitive spot. His other hand found its way to your hip, guiding you with gentle yet firm pressure. He could feel your muscles tensing around him as you rode his face, your moans growing louder, more insistent. Arthur reveled in the sight and sounds of your pleasure—it was like a drug, and he was already addicted.

His mind fogged with lust as he watched your breasts rise and fall with each ragged breath. He increased his pace, tongue, and finger, working together in perfect harmony. His gaze never left yours, the fire in your eyes driving him wild.

"That's it, darlin'," he rasped encouragingly, his breaths growing shallower. He could sense your orgasm building, feel it in the way your body moved against him. With one final push, he sent you over the edge, drinking in your cries of ecstasy as you came apart in his hands. He didn’t stop until every last tremor had subsided, leaving you panting and spent against him.

Reluctantly, he released your thighs, allowing you to slide down his body until you were cradled against his chest. Arthur brushed a stray lock of hair from your face, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as you caught your breath. You yelped and were suddenly lifted into the air bridal style. Arthur carried you into the washroom, his steps slapping against the hardwood floor.

“Let me clean ya’ up,” he grunted, setting you down as he filled the tub with water. “Then I’ll get ta’ have ya’ again.”

main masterlist, rules

[blackcatwriter]

Linger (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

a/n: This is my first actual one shot so I'm super excited to get this out there in our tumblr community! Shout out to my beta reader and editor who prefers to stay anonymous, this post wouldn't exist if it weren't for you.

warnings: angst, slight use of curse words (if you count them), maybe just a tad bit of grammar mistakes, takes place during chap 4 but im taking creative liberties lol, no use of Y/N, use of nicknames

wc: 2.3k (lots of yapping on my end)

summary: After the events of Blackwater, Arthur abandons you. Almost a year passes and you spot him amongst the crowd at the mayor's garden party in St. Denis.

Thanks for reading!

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Almost a year ago, Arthur Morgan had left you behind in the wake of a heist gone wrong in Blackwater. He had promised to meet with you after the robbery, whispering sweet nothings of the life he wished to share with you within hotel room walls.  However, nothing had gone according to plan when Arthur left Blackwater on the run with the Van Der Linde gang to escape law enforcement. Broken hearted, you were left behind along with your hopes of a new life as collateral damage.  

Now, months later you had started a new life in St. Denis. Your father, who was in poor health and had claimed you were in need of a providing husband, had offered your hand in marriage to that of a wealthy businessman who had been visiting Blackwater from St. Denis.  

Too engulfed in your anguish of being abandoned by the seemingly love of your life, you didn’t fight the arranged marriage and left your home in Blackwater for a new life in the progressive bustling city of Saint Denis.  

You had buried Arthur in the back of your mind and instead devoted your time to new hobbies and skills, spending most of your days sitting in the comfort of your fiancé's two-story manor. Most chores were handled by the maids and servants, leaving you plenty of time to do nothing - which is why you so heavily valued the parties your wealthy neighbors held.  

Tonight, you were wandering around the mayor’s annual garden party while your fiancé stayed behind talking business with his fellow co-workers. It was mostly shallow gossiping between the ladies and meaningless conversations with any other guests. Tonight, you were wearing your newly tailored gown, a deep blue silk dress patterned with black lace trims that perfectly hugged your body to extenuate all the right things. Your hair was tucked into a loosely curled bun with stray strands that came undone from your waltzing around. 

You were on your second glass of champagne when, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a familiar face standing on the second-floor balcony accompanied by two other men: Arthur Morgan. 

He stood to the side of someone who you presumed to be a fellow member of the Van Der Linde gang he used to run with. Frozen with shock, your glass slipped from your hand and hit the ground with a resounding shatter. Startling the people around you, they moved away as you sheepishly mumbled a “sorry” to the poor servant that would be stuck cleaning your mess. When you looked back up to the balcony, Arthur was no longer there. The man who had been by his side stared down at you as if you had wronged him in another life.  

You fled the scene, preferring to retreat somewhere quieter in the manor to recover from your embarrassment. With your back to the door, you moved to sit by the windowsill of the room you were in. Quiet footsteps sounded against the door as you sighed. “I’m powdering my nose—" Your words failed you as you took in the sight before you. 

The outlaw who broke your heart stood by the door dressed in a suit you were sure he’d never wear again. Closing the door behind him, his eyes never once left yours. “Darlin’,” he grunted, taking in the breathtaking sight that was you. He had traveled across state lines, ran himself out of every saloon in every town he came upon, but he was sure he had never met another view that was as beautiful as you. 

“I...I’m not your darling.” You gripped onto the windowsill behind you with white knuckles. Arthur brushed the stray strands that had rebelled against the pomade Hosea made him apply earlier and looked to your feet—either too guilty or too nervous to meet your eyes any longer. 

“I know, I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure what to call ya’.” Arthur’s face reddened. He fidgeted with his hands and took a small step toward you. “I was just wonderin’ if you were alright. ‘Heard there was a little accident downstairs, and I was wonderin’ if it was you,” he continued. 

It felt as if the walls were closing in on you as he continued talking. When you first came to St. Denis, Arthur had come across your mind more often than you were willing to admit. You’d imagined he would come back to you and beg for you to take him back. You thought you had built a wall tall enough around your heart to not be affected by the sight of him again, but here he was stumbling over his own words, and you felt the same pang in your heart all over again. 

“Arthur, what’re you doing here?” You spoke softly after building the courage to ask. You wish you had the anger in you to slap him, tell him off, anything else than to just stand there bewildered by the sight of him.  “I wish I could say it’s for you, but I’m not,” Arthur sighed. He may have done all kinds of wrong in his life, but he wasn’t a liar—at least not to those closest to him.  

“I’m here with Dutch and a few other of the boys from our gang. We’re scoutin’ out an opportunity for a potential robbery.” He spoke with a tone of shame in his voice. The exact reason he left you in the first place was what lead him back to you. 

“Oh, Arthur. When will enough be enough?” You groaned, pinching your eyebrows together. “You're chasing after a dream that won’t happen! Can’t you see that?” Fueled by the frustration you felt simmering in your heart and the tears welling up in your eyes, you continued, “The old world is gone, Arthur. You’re beating a dead horse.”  

Arthur shook his head in defiance. “Now I know that, but—”  

“But what? The world is changing. If you can’t change with it, then you’re a dead man walking.” You interrupted him and rushed out the room, leaving behind a devastated Arthur. 

He tried following after you but stopped when he saw you talking to a man who he presumed to be your fiancé by the way you held onto his arm. The man nodded to you before you kissed his cheek and left to the front door. Arthur discretely tailed you until he watched you enter a carriage.  

He shouldn’t follow you. Dutch would disapprove of it; he’d tell Arthur to forget about you. You’re happier now, certainly happier than you would be on the run with him. He should go back to the party and collect information to help the gang, but in that moment, he decided you were more important. You had always been the most important person in his eyes and he was a damn fool to have not risked his neck to come back for you in Blackwater.  

Arthur ran out the front gates and whistled for his horse, Boadicea. He jumped on his horse and trailed your carriage from afar. He would’ve certainly been stopped by one of the many outstanding officers of St. Denis on account of suspicious behavior, but most of they were occupied by the party he just left. 

He stopped at the end of the street where your carriage came to a stop and observed you as you walked inside your home. You had clearly been upset in your carriage and Arthur carried a heavy guilt knowing he had been the bastard that left you feeling that way. Hitching his horse, he snuck down the sidewalk and into your backyard.  

You had changed out of your dress and into a plain nightgown. Dismissing your maids, you were left completely alone in your bedroom. Any other woman would be grateful for all that your fiancé provided, yet you couldn’t help but feel as if you were confined to a gilded cage. You sat at your vanity and dried your tears.  

Arthur Morgan had been your greatest weakness since the moment you met him in a saloon in Blackwater. He had been a drunken fool who managed to chase off every woman that night, except you. Where others found offense in his words you found humor. You took care of him that night and was shocked by him showing his appreciation to you the following morning.  

THUD 

THUD 

Shaken from your memories of the past, you yelped at the noise of pebbles hitting the windows of your bedroom. 

THUD 

Scanning your room, you looked around for anything you might use to defend yourself from this mysterious intruder and grabbed a vase. Lugging it out to your balcony, you looked over the railing and saw it was Arthur who was trying to get your attention. Sighing, you couldn’t help but prefer it was someone else trying to murder you.  

“You plan on attacking me with that?” Arthur joked to defuse the tension. His hair was no longer neatly slicked back, but messy as if he had gone horseback riding. Groaning, you placed the vase down.  

“Did you follow me to my home, Arthur Morgan?” You whisper-shouted at him. If any of your servants saw a strange man trying to talk to you from your balcony, he’d be taken away. 

“I wasn’t done with what I had to say to ya’.” He stood firm with his chest out as he looked up to you. “Can I come up...please?” Arthur was scared you’d say no because he knew he’d have no choice but to respect your wishes. Any sane woman should tell him “no” but you weren’t just any woman. 

“You got an awful lot of nerve, Arthur,” you angrily spat. He took this as a sign you’d never let him anywhere near you again, until you continued, “If you can climb up the balcony without breaking your neck, we can talk.” You walked back into your room leaving Arthur grinning like a fool on the ground.  

He carefully climbed the side of your home, using the vines that grew on your walls as a rope to pull himself up. Hoisting himself over the railing, he removed his coattail and bowtie. “You always make your guests enter the hard way?” He shook the tiredness off his bones and followed after you. 

“Just the ones that aren’t welcome.” You retorted, sitting in a chair by your tea set. The evening bordered into nightfall as the air in the city grew colder. “There ain’t nothing left to say, Arthur. You’ve chosen how you want to live what’s left of your life and so I have.” Your face turned stoic as you poured yourself a cup of tea. 

“I haven’t forgotten what I promised you...and it ain’t gonna mean much to ya’ cause you’re a city girl now with everything you ever wanted, but...” Arthur trailed off as he tried finding the right words to tell you what was on his mind. 

You decided against butting in, even though you very much had things you wanted to tell him, like how he was so very wrong. St. Denis had nothing that you wanted. It was suffocating to be amongst such a high-class society. You missed the days where Arthur and you would run away for the night, choosing to retreat in nature as you confessed your vulnerabilities to him and he the same. Or when words weren’t enough to show your affections so you’d rent out a room at some hotel to show him how much you needed him in other ways. 

“I think we’re close to getting out of here. I know I said that back in Blackwater, but I really mean it this time. It’s selfish of me to want to take you from your new life here, but I’ve never been known for being a good man.” He kneeled down in front of where you sat and brought your knuckles to his lips. “What d’ya think of Tahiti?” He grinned. 

“I’d be a fool to believe your sweet words, Arthur.” You whispered, looking down at him with sadness. “You can be a good man, Arthur. Deep down inside I do think you have goodness, but you’re always fighting it. You’re always fighting it and you don’t let it win.” You placed a hand on his cheek and caressed his face. 

“Darlin’...” He buried his face in your lap as you raked your fingers through his hair. “You’re not gonna say yes, are you?” He turned his head to the side, avoiding your gaze. 

Your silence answered his question. He stood up and grabbed his discarded coat.  In truth, you wanted so badly to agree. You wanted to leave with him, but you didn’t trust him enough not to leave you all over again. This time you’d have something to lose. Here you have a fiancé with a legal and stable job. He provided for you. With Arthur, you’d likely spend the rest of your life sleeping on dirt and running from whatever authorities were chasing you. 

Arthur walked to the edge of your balcony with a stormy look in his eyes. “If you change your mind, we’re staying at an abandoned home in Lagras. It’s right outside the city, I’ll be waiting at the bridge at noon just in case.” Too scared to watch him disappear all over again, you kept your back to him as he climbed down your balcony and faded into the distance. 

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[photo1030]

Anonymous asked:

Heyy , so i had this smut idea for a while now, but bare with me please cuz my English isn’t that good lol . Anyway it’s about arthur and f!reader who’s been teasing arthur with a lot of touches and stares all day. But they were all busy that day so nothing happened. Then at the end of the day arthur finally got to be with her alone to sort things out (if you know what i mean) and confront her.

Ik … not very fluent in English lol , but I really really LOVE your writing so i figured i should maybe request something

Hello again, my lovely Anon!

Thank you for the "ask"! This was certainly a fun one to write out. I wasn't sure if you wanted Arthur and reader to be friends with longing tendencies, or in an existing relationship. I went with the latter. Hopefully that is okay. Either way, it ends up with some steamy goodness. If you need it tweaked the other way, let me know.

LEATHER AND LACE - CLOSE, BUT NOT CLOSE ENOUGH

Summary: You and Arthur have been trying to get some time alone together all day, to no avail. But by the end of the day, Arthur finally gets what he wants.

Warning: 18+ please. Minors - DNI; NSFW

*This is not my image. I have found it posted on multiple pages on Pintrest but can't find the originator. If anyone knows, let me know for specific photo credit.

Masterlist

The early morning sun tries to cut its way into the woods, cutting the dewy mist with its beams of warm, golden light. The burgeoning glow sets the birds into motion, their busy little chirps filling the brisk air around the camp. 

You are dead tired this morning. It was a long, hard day of chores yesterday and when you had turned in for the night, all you wanted to do was rest your weary head on that lumpy pillow of yours atop of that squeaky cot. And with all of the hustling and work lately, Arthur was hoping to have a little “private time” with you last night, too. 

But much to his disappointment, you had already passed out the moment your head hit the pillow, already fast asleep before he could even get his boots off. So with a sigh and just a bit of frustration, Arthur lumbered onto the cot next to you for the night. 

So this morning, you are reluctant to crack open your eyes when the feeling of Arthur’s heavy arm makes its way around your waist, slowly exploring your midsection and creeping up to your breast with his fingertips. His chest is pressed up against your back as he spoons you tightly to him, his skin radiating a comforting heat that sinks down through your skin and into the very center of your body. You can already feel his half-erect cock finding its place against the bottom of your rear. 

In this precious little moment, you are faced with a “difficult” decision:  do you try to get some very much-needed sleep? Or do you give in to the temptation of your beloved outlaw? 

“G’ Mornin’, Darlin’”

His low, raspy voice, cracked with remnants of sleep, floats its way into your ear and breaks through your mind’s thoughts…and that is all it takes for you to decide. A smile slowly emerges across your face without you even opening your eyes. 

“Good morning to you too, my lover.” You playfully reach up to encircle your arm around his head, turning your face back towards his. Your greeting is met with a simple low groan of approval as Arthur’s lips seek out the cuff of your ear. 

You gently roll over onto your back, looking up into his awaiting face. His hair is rumpled from the night and his eyes are still heavy-lidded with fatigue. Yet those eyes still sparkle like the bluest sky as they meet your own. And your heart could burst at how that is the first thing you get to see in the morning.

He leans down to gently catch your lips into a kiss. It’s the first of many to come for the day, knowing you two. You push your body upwards to flatten against his, your leg bending up to entwine with his burly ones. A soft giggle emanates from your throat as you deepen the kiss and run your hand along his cheek and up behind his head to pull him down to you. Arthur is quick to roll himself to climb over you, settling himself between your spread legs. Your lips press together, repeatedly working over the other’s as his hands begin to explore along your chest, grappling at the tender flesh there.

You lift your hips just a bit in invitation as Arthur rocks back and forth ever so slightly. Your eyes roll back as your fingertips drag along the thick muscles of his back, trailing through the soft body hair that scatters across his wide frame. 

“Arthur? You in there?”

Your eyes shoot wide open, instantly snapped out of your blissful reverie at the deep-sounding voice coming from the other side of your shared tent. Arthur seems to be oblivious to the intrusion at first as his motions atop of you do not slow down in the slightest. 

“Arthur?” the voice repeats.

Finally, Arthur collects his thoughts enough to respond.

“Go away, Bill,” mumbles Arthur, pausing in his administrations only long enough to warn the burly man outside the canvas, as he has no intention of stopping right now. 

“There’s a group of us heading out. Got a tip on a stagecoach coming through.” Bill pushes insistently. “Come on, we gotta go.” 

“Not now, Bill!” barks Arthur as he keeps kissing you, his teeth nipping at the tender skin of your neck and collarbone. 

You are trying not to focus on the fact that someone is not only outside your tent at this inopportune moment, but actually having a conversation with Arthur as his erect cock is rubbing against your aching heat, mere moments away from being embedded into the warm cradle between your legs. 

“Well, Dutch is askin’ for you. So what do you want me to tell him, then?” Bill asks impatiently.

“Bill!” you suddenly snap, lifting your head to turn your burning gaze over Arthur’s broad shoulder towards the tent flap. “If you do not walk away from this tent right now, so help me God…!”

“Oh!” Bill’s eyes open wide and his face suddenly turns beet-red as the realization of what he is interrupting becomes all too clear. “Oh, sorry! I’ll..uh…come back, I guess.” He snickers as he abruptly turns to hurry-off back to the waiting group. 

An exasperated sigh pushes out of your nose as your head plunks back against the pillow. Arthur has finally stopped the amorous actions, but still lays overtop of you, motionless and reluctant to move. 

“Well, that just killed the mood,” you huff, noting how Arthur’s face has turned down into a hard frown. 

Arthur takes a deep breath to steady himself. “I know I said I can never leave the gang, but there’s moments like this that I am open to the discussion.”

“Don’t tease me, now,” you warn as a tiny grin creeps its way across your lips. Arthur just rolls his eyes and sits up, playfully pushing your legs to the side so he can sit at the edge of the cot to get himself dressed. 

Back at the hitching posts, Bill approaches the waiting group with a smirk on his face, shaking his head. 

“Where’s Arthur?” asks Dutch impatiently, his gaze looking past Bill’s shoulder when he does not see the man in question in attendance. “You were supposed to go get him.”

“He’s…uh…busy at the moment.” Bill offers this obscure excuse to the men with a quirked eyebrow.

Dutch’s ringed hands land on his hips, his impatience growing by the minute. “Busy doing what, exactly?”

“More like, busy doing who?” chuckles Bill. 

It only takes Dutch a moment to realize what Bill is talking about before his dark eyes roll to the heavens. “Oh, for Christ’s sake…”

—-----------------------------------------

Fortunately, the coach job didn’t take too long. Arthur had begrudgingly pulled himself from your warm and loving arms to drudge over to join his companions. He got a good ribbing from the men, as was expected, but all it did was aggravate his already irritable demeanor. He wanted to spend the morning buried between your legs in his tent, not between Bill and John on their smelly horses.

By the time the men get back to camp, you and the other girls are already embedded into more chores. Seems there is always something to do. In fact, the moment he gets back to camp and unpacked, Ms. Grimshaw is quick to get Arthur to the wood pile, stating that the firewood is already low again. He shoots you a quick glance, your eyes meeting briefly across the camp, before giving her an exasperated sigh as he reluctantly heads over to the ax to get started.  

As you work with your needle and thread to mend shirts and darn socks, you delightfully treat yourself to observe Arthur as he chops the firewood. His strong arms slam the ax down onto the chunks of timber, causing them to splinter in his wake. His muscled arms flex with each blow, his wide shoulders set beautifully with each stroke. His burly legs set into a wide stance, the tendons there rippling beneath the fabric of his trousers with each jarring blow. 

The sight of it makes your heart race so fast that it skips a beat in your chest, knowing that this hulking man belongs to you. Your legs involuntarily cross and squeeze your thighs in an attempt to contain your arousal, a feeling that has yet to be quelled since your abrupt separation this morning. You try to finish your mending as quickly as you can so that you can steal away to go over there. 

“Hey, you,” you call to Arthur as you eventually saunter over, swinging your hips with a cheshire-cat-like grin on your face. 

Arthur lifts his head as he tosses a heavy piece of wood as if it were feather-light. The second his irritable eyes land on your beautiful form floating towards him, the tension melts away from his weathered face. He stands up straight, grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, you.”

You hand him a cup of cool water, which he gratefully accepts as your fingers linger across his knuckles like an ivy vine. You intently watch him as he gulps the refreshing liquid down, observing how his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. God, how you want to plant your lips all over his neck right now. You shift your weight from hip to hip and bite your bottom lip as you watch him.

You step up even closer, bumping your hip into his and giving him that look. Arthur looks at you with intrigue. He swipes the back of his gloved hand across his mouth, wiping away the water droplets that escaped his lips. He dips his head to kiss you, but halts mid-stride when you hear Ms. Grimshaw’s shrill voice hollering for you from across the camp. 

“Y/N! Quit foolin’ around with Arthur and get over here! I ain’t done with you yet!” You and Arthur turn your heads to see the woman standing in the clearing, arms crossed and face twisted up in annoyance.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” Arthur mutters. He turns back to you and the disappointment is plain on your face. You could be off wrapping your legs around this man’s waist, but no. You are needed elsewhere…to stitch holes in socks. 

—------------------------------------

And so it goes for the rest of the day. It's as if the universe is purposely trying to keep you and Arthur apart. But Ms. Grimshaw is shrewd. Normally, you and Arthur can get a lot of work done when paired together. But when the two of you are acting more flirtatious than usual, the only way she can get anything done is to completely separate the two of you. Like wound-up teenagers, you and Arthur are known to play around and get distracted, sometimes even disappearing altogether. So the matriarch has been keen to assign you tasks on opposite sides of the camp. 

Seeing an opportunity to catch you alone, Arthur comes up to you while you’re cooking. You are over at the food wagon, stirring the heavy cast-iron pot for tonight’s dinner when you hear the grass and leaves crunching behind you. You don’t even have to turn around to know he’s behind you, as the scent of leather and cigarettes, mingled with clove, permeates your senses. It’s a familiar fragrance that will immediately set your mind to race, making your blood run hot. 

Arthur pushes his chest up against your back just enough to create that electricity. You suck your lip in between your teeth to silence any wanton noise that would be in danger of bubbling up from your throat. You turn your head slightly to the side, catching the pale blue color of his faded work shirt as he runs a single finger down the length of your arm.

“Ah, Mr. Morgan, there you are! I haven’t seen you all day.” Mr. Pearson suddenly appears out from behind the wagon with an armload of ingredients for you to cut and chop for tonight’s stew. 

“Glad you’re here! Listen, did I ever tell you about the time I got into a fist-fight with a fella from town? He was an honest-to-God boxer. But I was too quick for him, you see. It was a good fight, too.”

Mr. Pearson is so wrapped up in his own story that the disappointed groan that comes from you goes unnoticed. Arthur’s brow settles into a hard, dangerous frown again. If it wouldn’t land him a stinging slap upside the head from Ms. Grimshaw, he’d land his fist in the portly man’s face just to shut him up. On and on Pearson goes, excited to have a captive audience for his rambling. You try your best to be polite and smile and nod along, but Arthur has never been one for social etiquette and quickly finds an excuse to walk away. 

After you suffer through yet another one of Mr. Pearson’s stories and manage to get tonight’s dinner going, you set off to find Arthur again. The sexual tension is building and you can’t wait too much longer to deal with it. You finally locate him over by the horses. 

Arthur is preoccupied with getting Buck saddled up, fixing the straps of the saddle and filling his saddle bags with provisions. He’s bent over at the waist, checking Buck’s hooves for any muck or debris, and you come up behind him, slowly running your hands up his back, pushing your fingertips into the muscle. You can feel Arthur shudder from your touch. But he quickly switches gears, muscles stiffening up under your hands.

“Quit. I can’t be startin’ that now,” he quickly scolds you.

“Oh really?” you purr as you press up against him, thinking he’s playing hard-to-get.

“I mean it. Knock it off.” He spins away from you, putting his hand on your forearm and holding you at arm's length as if you were something offensive. 

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. “Excuse me?” Your arms cross indignantly over your chest in disbelief. 

But he doesn’t mean to be cruel. He has to focus on what needs to be done. He can’t get sidetracked by those improper thoughts of you. And he has so many of those thoughts about you right now. 

He sighs, rolling his eyes. “Look, it ain’t you, alright? I gotta head out. Dutch needs me to handle something for Strauss.”

You give a long frustrated huff. “Figures,” you mumble under your breath, taking a step back even further away from him.

“Don’t get mad at me for it!” he snaps.

“I’m not.” 

His ocean-colored eyes flash at you. “Yeah, you are!”

“Arthur, if I was mad at you, you’d know it,” you snark back.

“Oh, so this look on your face is one of joy, then?” he says with dripping sarcasm as his hand waves inches from your nose. 

You slap his hand down, your eyes narrowing at him. “Don’t be an ass.”

“I ain’t bein’ in ass!” His voice raises in volume as his limits get tested. He drags his hand over his face in frustration. “Nevermind. Can we deal with this later? I got things to do.” He plants his hands on his hips in impatience.

“Of course you do.” You give him an eye roll, your hair tossing in the air, as you spin on your heels to head back to the campfire. 

—--------------------------------------------------

Later that night, you are walking through the camp. Arthur is nowhere to be seen, which is annoying. You grab the water bucket and head over to the edge of camp to dump it, when you hear a whistle. Confused, you follow the noise as it leads you to the tree line. Suddenly, a massive hand shoots out of the shadows and clamps over your wrist. It's Arthur. He holds his finger up to his lips in a shushing motion, tilting his head to indicate to follow him before you can even utter a word. 

You quietly follow as he leads you away from camp and into the dark and awaiting forest, confused as to what in the world he’s up to. When you get to a thick collection of trees, he stops. 

“Arthur, what are you doing-” but you can’t get another word out before he spins on you and roughly grabs your face, crushing his mouth into yours. You can’t even breathe, as he sucks the air right out of your lungs. He backs you up a few paces, hands still clamped around your cheeks, until your backside hits a tree, trapped and unable to move anywhere else.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day, sweetheart,” he whispers. “Can’t wait a damn second longer. I gotta have ya and have ya now.” He grabs at the fabric of your skirt without warning or permission and starts to hike it up, but you are quick to grab his wrists.

“What?! Out here? Arthur, someone is going to see us!” you gasp, shocked at his brazenness. 

“Don’t care,” he grits out as he pins your body to the tree with his own, his lips attacking your neck. He maneuvers your hands away from his own in order to keep pulling at the skirt fabric which is the only barrier between him and his prize. 

“But Arthur-” You try to take a second to try to talk some sense into him, but he silences you again, shoving his tongue down your throat. Your hands shoot up to his shoulders with a feeble push to try to get him to stop. But by releasing your grasp on his wrists, it frees him to reach up further under your skirt and yank your bloomers off, ripping them at the seam. 

The sudden jerk causes you to gasp and it’s as if a switch has been pulled within you. The culmination of pent-up desire has come to a head as you no longer care about the world around you two. You look up at him with hungry, needy eyes of your own, but see nothing but pure lust reflecting back at you, like looking into the face of a wolf.

Your own pupils are blown wide with yearning and briefly flick from his captive gaze to his full lips. And with that brief glimpse of approval from you, Arthur shoves his arms under your thighs and lifts you up off the ground, slamming you back into the tree trunk. The motion causes the wind to briefly knock out of your lungs as your arms wrap around his shoulders to hold on and keep yourself from falling to the ground. 

His hips grind harshly into you as his mouth devours your jawline and neck. You can feel how hard he is under the fabric of his trousers. Your precious little gasps only spur him on faster. Arthur fumbles with the buttons of his pants, pulling out his rock-hard cock. You can feel the tip of him rubbing hotly against your inner thigh, the length of him dragging along the folds of your heat. He seems impossibly rigid at the moment and you take a split second to wonder if it's actually painful for him. The thought of it causes you to desperately whine and moan in anticipation. 

Arthur can be soft and attentive as a lover, and he can also be hot and passionate. But, every once in awhile, he can be just outright insatiable. A downright, dirty outlaw. 

“You like that, don’t you?” he smirks, pleased with your reaction to his thick manhood teasing your sensitive skin. Cocky bastard. 

All you can do is nod, your mouth agape and gasping for air.

“Good. ‘Cause I ain’t about to stop now.” He lines himself up to you and pushes in, burying himself until his pelvis is flat against yours. You cry out with a wanton little whimper, your head thrown back until it knocks onto the bark behind you with an ungraceful thud. Arthur is large between his legs, always a tight fit within you, but you have zero complaints about it. 

“C’mon, baby, let me hear ya,” he coaxes in your ear. He immediately starts to pump into you, quick and desperate. Your back begins to drag along the tree as he ruts into you. The tree bark cuts into your skin, even through the fabric of your blouse, but you couldn’t care any less. 

“Jesus, Arthur,” you moan. “Right there…(gasping) just like that…just like that.” You try to lean back, pushing your hips towards him and he grunts with a devilish grin. 

“That’s right, girl”.

The beautifully lewd symphony that the two of you create could be heard by anyone in the area if they are close enough. Moans and stifled screams wrap around the wet sounds of tongues and lips clicking, while the unmistakable sound of skin against skin vibrates throughout the ring of trees that encompasses you.  

Arthur lets your one leg drop down so that he can use that hand to reach between you. The pads of his fingers find their way to that sensitive bundle of nerves nestled within your folds and he begins to curl and rub. His other arm that is still hooked under your knee pulls your hip up, opening your gait even more, allowing his cock to ram into the back wall of your cunt with full force. 

It's too much. You loudly cry out at the additional stimulation, your breath gasping as your hands pinch into the meat of his shoulders. 

The sight of you coming undone before his eyes is enough to melt his mind. You lean forward this time, burying your head into his shoulder and letting your whole body go limp in his arms like a rag doll, giving in to sweet pleasure and just letting him have his way with you. 

When you cling to him, he immediately pulls his hand away from your heat and lifts you back up again to get better leverage. He pounds into you even harder, chasing that euphoric ending. You are completely at his mercy now, mercy which will never come. The sexual tension that has been building all day like the pressure of a tea kettle boiling some water has finally been released. And like that scalding hot water, Arthur’s lust burns you.

“Baby, I’m…I’m close…” he sputters, his forehead digging into your temple. You can’t even form coherent words to give him a reply. In fact, you couldn’t care any less about anything he is saying right now, only about what he is doing. 

Your climax is a tidal wave as your hands dig into his shoulder like the claws of a bobcat. The painful sensation of your fingernails cutting into his flesh is enough to push him over the edge as he quickly drops your legs, pulling himself out of you before his spend is sent hurling into the grass at your feet. Lightning clouds his vision as Arthur lets out a loud moan of release, not even bothering to try to hold anything back. His rough hands clasp the rough bark of the tree behind you, snapping pieces of it off in his palms as he braces himself for his own overstimulation.

As his large body comes down from its high, Arthur hangs his head, leaning it against your collarbone, his chest heaving for air. Your legs are shaking, trying to keep upright as you bring your hands up along the sides of his face, cupping his cheeks. Your thumbs begin to stroke his cheekbones to calm him and you press light kisses to his temple as you catch your own breath. 

He slowly pulls his face back to look into yours. Both of you are left speechless. That feral beast that drug you off into the woods to be devoured is no longer in front of you. The man you recognize and love oh-so deeply is back, that sweet grin on his lips. 

“What the hell was that?” you pant out in surprise.

“A man’s got needs,” he smirks with that devilish grin. “And I needed you.” He shakes his eyebrows suggestively at you as he kisses your still-trembling lips. 

“I guess so."

[cowboydisaster]

Christmas countdown request:

Have you ever sat in a hot tub while it's snowing? It's a magical experience. Your top is chilly, your bottom half is so warm, and if you look directly up at the falling snow it looks like the stars are floating down around you.

Anyway, Arthur should take reader skinny dipping in a hot spring and it starts snowing and they get to enjoy that magical moment while cuddling naked in the hot spring 😁

* ˚ ✦ Nightfall * ˚ ✦

pairing: arthur morgan x f!reader word count: 1.9k a/n: OKAY-- i have experienced this and i LOVE it. I couldn't help myself from writing the smut, really. Smut in a hot spring is too good. I'm obsessed with this. warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, thigh riding, inexperienced reader, cowgirl

cowboydisaster's christmas countdown: TWO days 'till christmas!

christmas countdown┊main masterlist┊rdr2 masterlist

The breeze is cold against your bare skin, the snow soft against your feet.

“Are you sure this won't hurt?” You ask again, eyes flickering over towards Arthur. He chuckles as he unbuttons the bottom of his shirt, slipping it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the rocky ground. 

“Yes, I'm sure.” He says, amused. 

“Why did we have to wait ‘till nightfall?” You ask, teeth chattering, hand running up your bare arm, over the goosebumps that are appearing. 

“You’ll see. C’mon, darlin, before ya catch a cold.” Arthur whispers, hand on the small of your back as he leads you across the flat rocks, towards an unknown destination. 

He’d wanted to surprise you, had planned this little trip weeks ago. Your horses eye the landscape curiously, not daring to leave the forest and venture out onto the strange, warm rocks. A nervous smile rests on your lips, a slight anxiety resting in your stomach. Arthur doesn’t miss the shudder in your breathing, nor the beating of your heart in your ears. Wishing to quell your hesitation, Arthur reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently in his own.

“You trust me?” He whispers, green eyes searching yours, and you nod. Hand in hand, you both venture across the rock. Arthur smiles for the way you marvel at their heat. The snow melts away from them, and small bubbling puddles of water rest at your feet. You raise an eyebrow, never having seen anything like it. 

“Where are we?” You ask, looking down, seeing more water, ponds and pools of it, hot and steaming. The warm pools are crystal blue, and seem to glow in the pitch black of night. 

“Cotorra Springs.” Arthur smiles.

Your eyes go wide, taking in the beauty and the wonder of the hot springs. Arthur leads you towards a particularly large one, and you study it. The way the water steams, warmed by some forces in the earth, the way the moon reflects in the strangely clear waters, the halo of light that shines out from the circle in the earth. 

Arthur watches your curiosity with loving eyes. He knows that you were very sheltered, and he’s trying to show you as much of the world’s beauty as he can. The wonders of nature are something that he often takes for granted, but not you. Every flower you come across, every landscape and every animal you meet is met with deep wonder and appreciation. Seeing the way you study, how your eyes light up at something new is… enchanting for him.. 

“Is it magical?” You whisper, your eyes filled with stars reflected from the water. You lean down, running your fingers through the spring, pulling away quickly at the warmth. You look to Arthur for reassurance, relaxing when you see him stepping down into the water. 

“Reckon it might just be.” He hums, extending a hand out to you. You take his calloused hand, letting him help you. Your toe meets the water first, and you pull it back, hesitating. 

“S’alright, sweetheart. I gotcha.” Arthur whispers, and trusting him wholly, you step in. 

The warm water envelops you, chasing away the chill that had been sinking into your bones. Arthur sits on the naturally carved ledge in the spring. You hesitate, but he nods– signaling that you’re okay– and you follow.

“Incredible, ain’t it?” Arthur whispers, head tilted back, looking up at the stars. The snowfall combined with the bright stars enrapture your attention, and you stare at the sky, wondering if it’s the snow falling onto your tongue, or the stars themselves. 

“It’s beautiful.” You murmur, brushing your hair back with wet hands, extending them to the sky, catching snowflakes that promptly melt against the warmth of your skin. 

Arthur is sure that in all the things he’s seen, all the places he’s gone, he’s never seen anything as beautiful as you. Your wet hair falls in tangled waves down your back, your smile is brighter than the stars above as you try and catch the ones that sprinkle down to you. The wonder in your eyes. That wild streak in your heart. Arthur could draw you day and night in his journal, and never truly capture your glow, or the way your smile brightens a room, the way your laughter heals broken hearts. 

Sometimes he wonders how you do it. How does someone with so much pain– so much trauma– stay so optimistic? So grateful for life and for people? In all that Arthur endured, all it ever made him was an angry fool. But you. You’re a phoenix. 

Arthur’s hands grip onto your waist, pulling you into his lap, your legs sitting across his own as he holds you wedding-style in his arms. 

“How’d I ever get so damn lucky?” Arthur whispers to you, green eyes laden with emotion. 

Your smile picks up all the cracked pieces of his heart, the liquid gold pouring out from your soul glues it back together.

“Karma.” You answer quickly, “Because good things happen to good people, Arthur.” 

Your legs are toasty warm in the water, but your chest and shoulders shiver lightly in the cold breeze. You cuddle closer to Arthur to make up warmth, laying against his chest. 

“I ain’t a good m-” 

“Shh.” You say into his ear, lips remaining there for a moment, pressing a slow kiss to his cheek. 

“You are a good man.” You whisper, turning in Arthur’s arms to face him, straddling him, “and…” You press a soft-as-silk kiss to his neck, “I love you for it.” 

His breaths grow a little quicker at the contact, and suddenly you become all too aware of the position you’re in.

“Too good to me.” Arthur whispers in between open mouthed kisses to your neck. His hands find your waist, fingers digging into your soft flesh, gripping you tightly. 

You whimper, breath shuddering as he pulls your hips down, grinding your core against his leg. 

“Arthur we’re–” You take a breath, “What if someone comes along?” 

“No one will come along, darlin.” Arthur reassures, thumbs trailing up your torso, pressing circles against your firm, sensitive nipples. 

Despite your sheltered childhood, you struggle none with this. When you were eager, Arthur had shown you– again and again– what you could do to make yourself feel good, to what you could do make him feel good.

“Keep talkin’ to me, sweetheart. Tell me how it feels.” Arthur’s voice is like velvet against your ear, his lips locking on to your lips, your jaw, your collarbone. One of his fingers continues massaging your swollen, pink nipple, and the other travels lower, teasing your thigh, stroking your hip. 

“Please, Arthur.” You whisper, hips rocking gently, waiting for friction.

“Jus’ wanna touch you, sweetheart.” Arthur groans, pulling your hips down against his leg, helping you to rock them, to fuck yourself against his thigh, your warm bodies still half submerged in the spring. The temperature does something for you all on its own. Your breasts are exposed to the cold, only warmed by Arthur’s touch, but your lower half is heating all on its own, and combined with the hot water, it's almost overstimulating. 

“Just like that-” You gasp, head tossing back, hair dipping back into the glowing water. Snowflakes flutter about, landing in your hair, on your face, and your breasts, scattered white specks that Arthur picks up with his trail of kisses. Your hips keep their steady pace, and Arthur continues teasing you, featherlight fingertips trailing down your legs, ghosting over the backs of your knees. 

“Easy, sweetheart.” Arthur’s voice reaches your ears in a strained huff. 

He wants to pull you down onto his throbbing cock, to roll his hips up into you, watch you rock yourself, fuck yourself on his length. He wants to watch those beautiful eyes roll back into your head over and over, wants to hear his name coming from those pretty, plump lips. He wants to mark you, kiss you, make you his. He’s not sure if at heart he's a good man. However, he is sure that you make him a very bad one. His cock is straining against his stomach, and every rock of your hips is rubbing against him, and jesus, he can’t take it much longer. 

It’s selfish, purely selfish as he dips his hands below the water, pulling you up. Your face wrinkles in pleasure when he slides you down onto his cock, and the gesture nearly sends him to heaven. Your soft skin goes tense, muscles tightening, cunt gripping him, pulling groans from his cracked lips. 

The glow of the water shines impossibly brighter, illuminating you. Your face is flushed, your breasts bouncing with every one of your rocks.

“Oh–” You moan, hands gripping onto his sturdy shoulders, “Arthur!” 

“Tell me what’cha need, darlin.” Arthur grunts, squeezing your ass in his hands. 

You reach for his wrist, grabbing it tightly, and shoving it down between your bodies. Arthur smirks against your skin as he nips at your earlobe, sending waves of pleasure through all the pressure points in your body. His thumb makes a steady pace on your clit, and when you toss your head back in pleasure, snowflakes spot your eyelashes. 

“Feel good? Gonna cum for me?” Arthur groans, cock twitching inside you, pushing up into you. You press your chest to Arthur’s, the added stimulation of your nipples against him creating an influx of sensations.  

“Good… Good, there you go.” Arthur praises, feeling the stutter of your hips, noticing the whine of your voice. 

“Cum for me, sweetheart.” Arthur kisses your neck, and your stomach clenches down on him, “C’mon, baby. Cum for me.” 

Your hips stutter, voice growing louder, strained as you rock against him. Arthur curses as your walls tighten around him, squeezing out every bit of self control that he’s clinging on to. Your orgasm works through you slowly, building and building, like a dam cracking before it bursts. 

“There, there, just–” Arthur groans, “Jus’ like that, darlin’. Doin’ so good. I’m– nearly there wit’ ya–” 

You shudder and gasp, fire erupting in your abdomen, spreading over your limbs. A few unrhythmic, upward thrusts and Arthur is there with you. His hips grind up slowly, pumping his cum into you, filling you full as he groans, hands tearing into your hips with their force. He thrusts again, slow, breathing deeply as you both come down. 

“That–” You shiver, sweat clinging to you, cold from the temperature. 

“I know.” Arthur finishes for you, pulling your body against his chest, keeping you mostly in the water for warmth. His arms wrap around you, fingertips trailing slowly up and down your spine as tingles spread through your limbs, little waves of aftershock hitting you now and again. 

Arthur doesn’t pull out, just keeps you in his lap, holding you, kissing your head, praising you. 

The falling snow lands in your hair, and as Arthur looks up at the vast expanse of stars, he's sure you’re one of them. An angel, come down as a star. Something divine, surely.

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony @twola @calcarius445 (send an ask to be added/removed!)

[bimrsadler]

hello, i was wondering if you were down and vibing to do some tired and sleepy arthur sneaking into f!readers bed late late at night after being away from camp for a long time? ty!

Goodnight and Goodmorning

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female reader

Word count: 1,000

Warnings/tags: fluff, high honor Arthur, mutual pining, first kiss

Notes: I absolutely vibe with it! Since you didn’t specify I went ahead and just made it good ol’ fluff, if you had more in mind like smut (or if anyone wants a smutty part 2) feel free to let me know!

ETA: part 2 is here

Sleep didn’t come easy for you when Arthur was gone, not for lack of trying. Tossing and turning, the emptiness beside you and the constant worry of if he was safe kept rest at bay. You wondered if he was somewhere in the The Heartlands under the stars, worrying the same about you.

There was a mutual desire that hadn’t been spoken aloud. Arthur was surprisingly shy for a man of action, you found, and you didn’t want to push him because of this. It happened naturally in moments of solitude away from the others, around the fire when neither of you could sleep, on the outskirts of camp when you found excuses to run into each other. It became more with your head on his shoulder as you drifted off against a tree, his hands on yours as he taught you to shoot even though you already knew how.

Eventually you found your way to his bed on a cold night. Diverging to head to your own tents your gazes lingered and walking slowed; finally hinting to Arthur that there was no harm in wanting company. It was endearing to watch as he stammered a nervous, “I ’spose,” placing a gentle hand on the small of your back.

For a man who kept company at arms length most of the time, he held you close that night. Reassurance was needed before he felt comfortable of course, wanting to hear that you were okay with it multiple times over.

“Promise I won’t do anything untoward.” He must have said that and other iterations of it at least five times before you placed his arm around your waist yourself and confided how much you trusted him.

And it was true. Though Arthur was intimidating, angry and tough as nails; he always made you feel safe. You’d been around “gentlemen” who were perfect on paper but predators behind closed doors.

You’d been in the company of many lecherous and pushy men — some even in the gang, but Arthur? He would put them in their place and apologize to you with their blood on his knuckles.

You always missed his presence in camp but it was a far worse struggle now that you shared a connection.

Drifting in and out the time of night was indiscernible each time you briefly woke, the sound of chatter and guitar steadily replaced by crickets and the dying fire.

As the night wore on the familiar feeling of Arthur’s rugged hands on your bare shoulder roused a fluttering jolt in your stomach. It took his shifting weight behind you and warm chest against your back to convince you you weren’t dreaming.

Peering back the faint moonlight breaking through the canvas revealed Arthur gazing down at you with a grin. “M’sorry, didn’t mean to wake ya.”

“Was worried you weren’t coming back, big guy,” you murmured only half-joking, voice heavy with sleep.

“I’ll always come back darlin’, just hopefully a little sooner nex’time.” He pulled flush to him, “now try’n get some more sleep.”

“Gonna hold you to that,” you stretched underneath his bulky arms with a yawn.

The unexpected feeling of Arthur’s lips pressed gently to your temple made a warmth blossom in your chest, spreading to the rest of your pining body.

Slowly rolling over to be face to face you saw an anxious expression highlighted by bruises and cuts along Arthur’s cheekbones. “I missed ya sweetheart,” he admitted softly while rubbing his thumb delicately along your shoulder.

You inquired worryingly with a gesture towards his face, “what happened?”

“Eh, weren’t nothin’.” He shrugged, brushing it off as usual.

“Sure looks like something.” Propping yourself up on your elbows you reciprocated the comfort and allowed your lips to meet Arthur’s skin for the first time. Lightly wetting them you pressed gentle kisses to each bruise, his breath hitching before he let it out in one long, relieved sigh.

He looked at you with a reverence that was almost overwhelming, how a man as rough and wild as him could radiate such softness for you.

“Guess I needed that, thank you.”

“Maybe you need a proper one Mr. Morgan?”

“Huh?” Arthur’s eyes darted, not quite catching on as you smirked with anticipation. “A proper wh—oh!”

Blushing at the realization that you meant a proper kiss, he swallowed hard. “Well uh, if that’s somethin’ you wanna give me…I’d be a damned fool to say no.”

Brushing a lock of hair off his brow, you leaned in and parted you lips for his. Arthur met you the rest of the way and locked them tenderly, staying still together to savor the moment.

He moved back slightly to peer down at you for any sign of hesitation — finding none of course. Cupping the side of your head with his sizable hand he pulled you close for long, languid kisses, accentuated by his tongue gingerly meeting yours.

The moment was soft and sweet and everything you never thought you’d have with Arthur Morgan. The light whimpers with smiles in between, the ever so subtle urging of your hips wanting more but unsure of how far to take it. It could have easily been a dream you’d had in days past.

As Arthur slowed he pressed his forehead to yours with eyes closed, peaceful and unworried. “This is the only place I wanna be right now…”

Gently adjusting you to lay on your back, Arthur tucked the blankets around you before resting his head on your chest and draping his arm across your midsection.

“Let’s sleep darlin’, we’ll take our time in the mornin’ too…”

It was a gift to know Arthur was this comfortable with you. He wanted to talk to people, to let his guard down and be vulnerable. You were sure he wouldn’t admit it and hadn’t noticed that you had noticed, but it was clear as day in his quieter moments.

Whatever happened on whatever mission Dutch had sent him on, he was battered and tired. If Arthur made you feel safe then you could be his safe haven too.

Running your nails along the expanse of his back and broad shoulders, you watched his head rise and fall with your breaths as he drifted off. The warmth of his skin on yours meant you were sure to follow suit, relieved to have him back and looking forward to what the morning might bring.

[obsessivelullabies]

hii!! I love youre writing sm and I was wondering if I could request a yandere/obsessive Arthur Morgan or John Marston (you decide!) with a fem reader who is like the doctor of the gang? she's always responsible for taking care of injuries, and stocking up on herbs and tonics for the camp. Maybe she's a little quiet and keeps to herself anytime they have a party or just in general but is super sweet and calm once you get to know her? Thank you so much and have a great rest of your day <33.

due to the time period, arthur always thought you were interesting. a woman doctor was rare. it made sense why you joined with the gang.

when arthur had gotten a rather minor injury on his arm, he decided to ask you about it. he almost interrogated you about yourself as you patched him up.

when he asked why you chose your career, your answer stuck out. “i just like to help people.” at first, he didn’t believe you. when he talked to you more, he knew it was true.

arthur felt an overwhelming urge to protect you and your sweet nature. it was a rough world, he knew that. he knew, or assumed, you couldn’t survive on your own.

the more he learned about you, the more fixated he became. he’d take the tiniest injury as an excuse to come visit you. he felt so warm and fuzzy, like he was a boy whenever your soft hands patched him up.

you two become close friends with how much time he spends in your ‘office’. he’s always asking if you have any troubles, whatever it is, he can handle it.

no other man in the gang should dare to be rude or make snide comments to you. arthur would immediately defend you, whether is be verbally or physically. he wouldn’t let anyone even roll their eyes at you.

it gets to a point where he’d constantly follow you. or strange coincidences where you two end up in the same place.

arthur just wants to help you, the way you help him. he’ll escort you anywhere, help you grind herbs, help you get tonics, anything for you.

expect constant gifts from him. if he sees or finds anything he thinks you’d like, he’ll come back with it.

he actively discourages the other men from going to you. he’ll look at their wound and scoff, “it ain’t that bad. don’t waste ‘er time.”. he wants to be the only one you take care of.

arthur just wants to protect you. one day, he wants to take care of you without anyone else bugging you two. he adores you. you’re the perfect woman for him.

i don’t know much about john yet!! i only just started rdr2, so hopefully i know more of him soon

masterlist! | comments and reblogs appreciated. | unedited.

[margowritesthings]

The Greatest Gift III: She Sleeps

SERIES MASTERPOST

pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader word count: 1017 words warnings: teeth-rotting fluff, tbh this made me cry a/n: just a cute lil drabble for my favourite family in the world

taglist:@cowboydisaster@inkandbloodbound@beea-nie@cloudynoiire@punctillous@missvanderlinde@twola@pine4pple-b0i@alice-vanderlinde@photo1030

The newly appointed Uncle Dutch stays for a little while, admiring his new goddaughter until he and Arthur notice you struggling to stay awake. You’ve drifted off completely by the time Dutch hands Jade back to her father and congratulates the pair of you once more, returning to his tent to gush over the new addition to the gang.

Sleep overtakes you completely and utterly, your body so exhausted from the last nine months you could probably sleep through a riot. That much is proven about an hour later, when Jade stirs in her cot and begins to cry, the very first time in a long, long period of sleepless nights for the three of you. Her little screams pierce the formerly tranquil air, the trauma of waking up in the real world seemingly alone not really agreeing with her.

You’re normally not such a heavy sleeper, where the snap of a nearby twig or Uncle’s less than melodic singing, no matter how far away, is enough to wake you. But exhaustion doesn’t begin to cover how your body aches right now, how it longs for rest and clings onto it with a mighty grip when you finally get it. You don’t even stir.

Arthur, on the other hand, is woken instantly, paternal instincts already setting in ferociously. He looks down to you, smiling to himself when he sees you’re sound asleep, just about managing to untangle his limbs from yours without waking you and pressing a kiss to the top of your hair. When he gets off your shared cot, he makes sure to wrap the blanket back around you. 

“Hey, little lady…” he whispers, almost apprehensively as he walks towards his daughter, hands raised in the air as if he’s approaching a spooked horse. Force of habit. “It’s all right, baby girl… Daddy’s here.”

To Arthur, Jade is made of glass, and he lifts her into his arms as such. His precious, fragile little masterpiece, who makes him feel bigger and more brutish than he ever has before. He sits in the chair at the foot of your cot, Jade settling in his strong arms like she was made for them. She was, Arthur thinks, he just never realised until this moment. That’s all it takes for Jade to stop crying: her daddy, who would lasso the moon for her if it meant she could see the stars a little brighter. 

Even in the dark of your tent, Arthur can see her eyes glistening up at him, and can still make out her tiny features. She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, save for you, of course. 

He thinks of Isaac for a moment, and how he held him like this precious few times, vowing that his memory will live on in the way that he will protect Jade from the evils of the world no matter what stands in his way. He will do for Jade what he failed to do for his son, in his honour. 

Breaking the silence settling around your little family, you moan softly in your sleep, turning onto your side. It draws Arthur’s attention to you again- not that it would ever be too far away- and he smiles to himself, entranced by how peaceful you look, how beautiful you are.

Jade reaches up to Arthur’s chin, pressing tiny fingers against his stubble and capturing his attention once more. The quietest of chuckles escapes his chest, a smile so pure stretching his lips. 

“Ain’t she beautiful, baby girl? I’m so damn proud of her…” Arthur physically winces when he realises he just cursed to a 4 hour old baby, but will later realise he should be the last of his own troubles, what with her having a dozen outlaws for aunts and uncles. “Sorry…” he hums, glancing between his wife and daughter to direct the apology to both of you.

“But I am. Proud of her, that is… We’re the luckiest two people in the whole world, little lady, cause we got her…” 

Apparently finding her father’s chin to be a little scratchy (with Arthur making a mental note to shave first thing in the morning), Jade reaches out into the open air, and Arthur can’t help but reach right back. He adjusts his hold on her, freeing one hand to let her grip her tiny digits around his singular finger. He feels like a giant, but he’ll be damned if his heart isn’t pounding right out of his chest at how happy he is right now. 

“You’ve got the best momma in the whole world, you know that? And I… Well, I’m gonna do everything I can to be a good papa, baby… Everything I can.” 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t terrified. Arthur has owned a fair few front row tickets to displays of how not to be a father, from his own Pa to how easy it has been for Marston to mess up again and again over the years. And hell, he’s never seen anyone raise a little girl before. But as he promises, with his entire heart and soul, he is going to do his absolute best to be everything he can be to Jade. 

“Hey, and I hope you know how loved you are, little one. Your momma and I… God, I can’t even tell ya’, baby… You were a surprise, I’ll tell ya’, but we love you so much…” She’s squeezing around his finger as hard as she can, leaving the tiniest crescent moons from the smallest fingernails Arthur has ever seen. 

“You both did so well today… you were both so brave, huh? My brave girls…” He whispers, his words riding a content sigh. Jade’s eyes begin to flutter shut, her eyelids too heavy for her little self to fight. “You get some sleep, darlin’... I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”

The moon is falling fast, and it’ll soon be sunrise, but Arthur just can’t bring himself to sleep and miss one second of this night, watching his girls and silently promising them the world. 

[annasinterests]

ARTHUR MORGAN RED DEAD REDEMPTION 2

hello! it's been a minute since i've posted a set from my gameplay, so here's another :)

much love to you all, always. 🩷

- anna xx

**if you see something you like and want to save it, by all means do so! nothing makes me happier than knowing that someone else enjoys the content i post! but if you reupload or want to use it, just ask! :)**

[viceofdionysus]

Watermelon Moonshine

Arthur Morgan x F!reader

Word Count: 6.3k Rating: 18+

Summary: When Arthur finally finds the courage to ask his crush out, the evening goes better than he ever could have imagined. Especially with a little help from Peterson's famous Watermelon Moonshine.

Contains: Drinking, teasing, hair tugging, making out, dirty talk, fngering, PiV (unprotected), biting, multiple orgasms, wrist holding, manhandling, one ass slap, cumming inside.

A/N: This was heavily inspired by Lainey Wilson's song Watermelon Moonshine. Divider is from @saradika-graphics

After a several sharply cool days, the morning dawns with the soft promise of spring. You step outside your bungalow door and tilt your face up to the early morning sky. It's still cool, but the weatherman is calling for it to warm up. Abigail calls out a welcome from the neighboring bungalow and you return it with a smile. She hoists Jack onto her hip and starts up the path that leads to the big house. John comes out a few minutes later, heading in the opposite direction. You take one more deep breath and the head off in the same direction. While John continues on the path, you take the diverging path to the barn.

You press the side door open and step into the cool dark. A norse nickers softly as the door shuts behind you. The scents of hay and dust swirls around you, undercut with new leather. You breathe deeply, letting the smells settle in your nose. The dirt under your feet is hard packed from years of treading over it. You bid good morning to each horse as you pass their stall and each greets you in their own way.

In the early morning quiet, you work peacefully, parceling out food and water for each horse. As they crunch through their feed, you cross to the front of the bar and unlock the double doors. You roll one back and then the other and then take a moment to stand in the open and take a deep breath. The mountain air fills your lungs as it dances playfully past you. There's a joyful whiny from behind you as the breeze reaches the horses. You turn and find Merlin, the youngest of the horses, prancing in anticipation in his stall.

“Alright boy, I'm coming.” You laugh at his antics.

One by one you let the horses out and they make their way to the paddock. You follow them out, watching them closely for any potential issues. You make a mental note that Old Boy is ready for new shoes. At the doors, you take a minute to watch them roam the paddock. The Count leads them, regal and proud, the rest of the horses falling in behind him.

After your moment, you turn back to the barn and square your shoulders. The rest of your chores are less demanding, but no less important.

🐎

Arthur leans against the section of fence he's just finished pounding in and takes a sip of water. The clouds have burned off and the sun is relentless in its gaze. He takes a moment to consider and then peels his shirt off. The fabric clings briefly to his sweat soaked shoulders before it pulls loose. He tosses it in the general direction of his toolbag, unconcerned with where it lands. As he turns he hears the bright sound of laughter and turns towards it instead. When he spots you, he feels the same clutch in his belly that he always feels at the sight of you.

He watches you lead a lean horse around the paddock, laughing as it tries to stick its head in your various pockets. He’s too far away to hear what you say, but he watches the way your mouth moves, pulling into a smile at the end. The horse shakes its head at you, but seems to resign itself to not getting treats. He smiles at the scene, so distracted that he doesn’t hear the approaching footsteps.

“Well now, that is quite the pretty sight.”

Arthur startles and whips around. He levels a glare at John and sneers. “And what is it you want?”

“Finished my side,” John grins, “Figured I’d come see if you need any help, seeing as you’re so old.”

“If I’m so old, how is it that I've finished two and half sides in the time it took you to do one?”

John shrugs, mischievous glint in his dark eyes, “Maybe you’re rushing, trying to get done so you can go talk to the Horse Mistress.”

Arthur flushes, heat rising rapidly to his cheeks. “M’not rushing.” He leans over and shoves John, but John just laughs. “Go start over there.” Arthur points.

He sees John consider picking at him some more, but then he just shrugs and swaggers over to where Arthur pointed. Arthur turns his attention back to the section he was working on and tries to put you out of his mind. It works for a little bit, but then he hears you laugh again. The hammer that he was midswing with misses the nail, but not his thumb. He drops the hammer with a swear and pulls off his work glove. It’s a little red, but it doesn’t look like there’s anything broken.

“Distracted Arthur?” John calls.

“Shut up.” Arthur grumbles, but not loud enough for John to hear. He looks up and meets your gaze. He can’t tell what your expression is, but he hopes it might be worried. He raises his uninjured hand in a wave. You wave back and then turn back to the horse.

“Oh, you’ve got it bad.” John sing-songs.

Arthur turns around and offers a very different hand gesture to John.

“You should ask her out.”

Arthur ignores him, turning back to the fence, until he feels a hand on his shoulder. He sighs and turns to look at John. John meets his gaze and offers a crooked smile.

“C'mon, Arthur, ask her out. You deserve to have some fun.” He says softly.

Arthur shakes his head and John frowns.

“I,” Arthur stops himself and reconsiders, “She wouldn't want to go out with me.”

“How do you know that if you haven't asked her?” When Arthur remains silent, John shakes his head, “And you say I’m the stupid one.”

Arthur lashes out, quick as a viper, and wraps an arm around John’s neck. He drags him down and gives him a noogie, “That’s because there ain’t nothing but pebbles rattling around up here.”

John laughs and tries to wiggle free, but Arthur’s grip on him is firm. John wriggles again and it quickly devolves into a good natured wrestling match.

As you take the bridle off of Freya, movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention. You turn in time to see Arthur pull John down and rub his knuckles over John’s head. You laugh to yourself and shake your head. For all that they deny they’re brothers, they act more like it than some blood siblings you’ve known. Freya trots off as you lean against the fence, watching them wrestle. John manages to slip loose and dances a few steps back, his mouth already running. You can’t hear what they’re saying from here, but knowing John, it’s something that’ll get him in trouble. He’s still yapping when Arthur bum-rushes him, taking them both to the ground. Arthur makes quick work of it, pinning John with a knee between his shoulder blades. Suddenly your mouth is dry and your imagination is running rampant.

Before you can get too distracted by images of Arthur pinning you down, there’s a nudge at your side. When you look over, Freya is looking back at you. You nod, at a loss for words, and walk her back to the barn. If you stop and steal another glance over your shoulder, that’s no one else’s business, but your own.

Freya trots into her stall and then looks at you expectantly. You laugh at her and go to retrieve the grooming tools.

“You’re such a primadonna.” You tell her when you return.

She just snorts at you and tosses her head. You offer her an apple before stepping into the stall with her. While she’s happily crunching away, you set to work. It’s good methodical work for letting your mind wander. Unfortunately your mind wanders right back to Arthur.

“Oh alright.” You sigh and let your mind indulge.

You work intently, curry combing and brushing Freya’s sides before moving on to pick her hooves. She stands calmly for you, letting you work without issue. When the door to the barn opens, your fingers are wrapped in her mane, braiding the hair tightly.

“Just a second.”

You finish the braid and tie it off. You look up and feel your thoughts scramble.

“Arthur, hi,” You manage.

“Ma’am.” He answers, “Dutch said that you had something for me to look at?”

“Yes! Of course.” You step out of Freya's stall, shutting the door behind you, “Right over here.”

Arthur looks up in time to see you walk away. He tracks the movement carefully, committing it to memory. He looks up and meets your eyes.

“Sorry.”

“No worries. I saw you working out in the sun earlier, you must be exhausted.” You hesitate, “This doesn’t have to be done today, it can wait.”

“No ma’am.” Arthur answers instantly, then rubs a hand over the back of his neck, “It’s just…it’s better to take care of it now.”

“Okay. It’s these stalls here, the dividing wall is starting to lean.”

Arthur walks over and stands next to you. He looks at the wall and the steps into the stall and squats to get a better look.

“I should be able to get this fixed up today. No problem.”

“That’s great news! We have some new horses coming next week and I wasn’t sure where to put them.”

Arthur watches you smile and idly thinks it's the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Do you want to go out with me?” The words are out before he even has a chance to think about them. He’s stuck between wanting to take them back and wanting to hear your answer.

“I’d love to.” You bite your lip, “When, where?”

He has no idea, and he’s saved from answering by the door banging open. John stumbles in and shoots you a boyish grin.

“Hey Arthur! Need a hand?”

“No, I got it.” Arthur grumbles, “Go be unhelpful somewhere else.”

John offers a half hearted salute and bangs his way back out of the barn. You glance over at Arthur and laugh at his perturbed expression.

“Where were we?” You ask, “Oh yeah, you were asking me out.”

Arthur blushes and ducks his head, “Well now.”

A bold feeling takes over your mouth, “I already said yes, Arthur. You figure out where we’re going and you let me know. Now, I’ve got to get a move on, Jack's got a riding lesson today.”

He watches you walk away and shoots to his feet.

“Five o’clock, I’ll pick you up.” He calls.

You look over your shoulder and nod, “I’m looking forward to it.”

The door swings closed behind you and he leans heavily agaisnt the wall.

“Well shit.” Now that he's followed his impluse, he has no idea what to do next.

🐎

“No.”

“Please!”

“I'm too busy for this nonsense Arthur. You asked her out, you figure it out.”

“Mrs. Grimshaw.” He waits until she turns towards him, then he pulls out the puppy dog eyes she can't resist. “Please.”

She hurumphs and spins on her heel, “Wait here and do not touch anything.”

Arthur slides his hands in his pockets and glances at the clock. He can just squeeze in a shower, but he'll have to skip the shave. Tilly breezes into the room and smiles.

“Well hey, Arthur. Rumor has it you finally bucked up and asked our horse mistress out.”

“Yeah.”

Tilly nods, “Good. You won me $20.”

Arthur laughs, “Glad I could help.”

Tilly plants her hands on her hips and looks him up and down, “That what you're wearing?”

He shakes his head, “No.”

“What are you wearing then?”

“I don't know?”

She shakes her head, “You should wear the blue shirt, the one you wore to the wedding. She liked you in that.”

Arthur perks up, “She did?”

But Tilly's already across the room. “I hear Mrs. Grimshaw, I gotta skedaddle.”

She slips out one door as Mrs. Grimshaw comes in the other. A picnic basket swings from one hand. She marches over to Arthur and thrusts it at him.

“You treat that girl nicely tonight,” she pokes him in the chest, “And you let yourself have some fun. Now get outta my way.”

“Yes ma'am!” He doesn't have to be told twice.

She plants her hands on her hips and watches him dash out of the house. She rolls her eyes and turns to where Dutch is standing at the foot of the stairs.

“Word is Arthur has a date.” He says.

“Word would be correct. It's about time, I was starting to think I'd be gone and buried by the time he plucked up the nerve to ask her out.”

Dutch just laughs, “We'da hassled him into it long before that, but I'm glad he came to it on his own. Come on Susan, let's have a drink in honor of our boy.”

While Arthur sprints back to his bungalow, picnic basket in tow, you're pacing your small bedroom.

“I said yes! Why did I say yes?”

“Because you've been saying yes to that man since you got here.” Abigail answers from your closet.

You sink onto your bed, head in your hands. “What am I going to wear? Where are we going? What if we don't have anything to talk about? What if I make a fool of myself?”

Abigail leans back to look at you past the closet door, leveling a stern look at you. “You aren't going to make a fool of yourself. You and Arthur will have plenty to talk about. You're not going to worry about where you're going. And you're going to wear this.”

She steps back from the closet, a few clothes draped over her arm. She drops them in your arms and nods with satisfaction.

“I happen to know that he loves when you wear that color.”

“Yeah?” A soft feeling wraps around your heart, “I’m really overthinking this aren’t I?”

Abigail laughs, “Yeah, but if it makes you feel better, so is he.”

“That does help.” You sigh and smile, “I just really want this to go well.”

“It will.” Abigail sits next to you, “Tonight is going to be great.”

You lean your head on her and take a soothing breath. She wraps an arm around you and tugs you closer.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. You can babysit Jack next time I manage to talk John into a date.”

“I’d love to.”

Abigail looks down at her watch and pushes to her feet. “C’mon, you gotta get ready! Go shower while I look through your accessories.”

“Alright, alright, I’m going!” You laugh and leave her to it.

When you come back into the bedroom after your shower, there’s a few accessories waiting for you on the edge of your dresser. Wear these and have fun!, the little with them says. You smile and start getting dressed. You finish just as there’s a knock on the door. Taking a deep breath, you turn and look in the mirror and then give yourself a nod.

You cross the small bungalow to the front door and pause. You take another deep breath and then open the door. Arthur stands on the other side, a bouquet of wildflowers in his hand. You feel yourself go soft at the sight of him.

“Hi.” You say, feeling your face warm.

“Hey.” He answers. His eyes flick down to the flowers and he raises them quickly, “I didn’t have time to get you a real bouquet, but I saw these flowers by my bungalow and I thought they looked nice.”

“They’re beautiful.” You take them from him and smile, “Let me put them in some water real quick. Come on in.”

He follows you and shuts the door behind him. He looks around the bungalow and notes how you’ve decorated it and made the space feel like you. His eye catches on an art print on the wall and he walks over to it. He takes it in, appreciating the lines and the colors.

“That was a housewarming present when I got the job here.” You say, “I love looking at it.”

“It’s beautiful work.”

“You do some art yourself, don’t you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, “Rough sketches mostly.” His mind wanders to the pages filled with your face, the studies he’s done of your various expressions. Idly, he wonders if you would sit for a full portrait for him.

“I’m sure they’re great. I saw you sketching Jack and Merlin the other day.”

Arthur chuckles at the memory, “Yeah, they were having so much fun. It was a great moment to sketch.”

“You’re sweet with him.”

“Ah, he’s a good kid. His father’s a bit of a dumbass, but he’s trying.” Arthur shakes his head, “Are you ready?”

“I am.”

You take his offered hand and cross the short distance to the door. Arthur looks over as you open it and sees the flowers in a little vase, centered on the kitchen island. He smiles, knowing you’ll see them there and think of him.

Outside he leads you to his truck and opens the door for you. He shuts it and circles around to slide into the driver’s seat.

“Where are we going?” You ask as he starts the truck.

“It’s a surprise.” He shoots you a grin and you smile in response.

“Alright, Mr. Morgan, but I’m trusting you.”

He turns left on the dirt road that runs past the farm, and takes you closer to the mountains. You watch the scenery pass for a few miles before shifting your gaze to track over Arthur’s form. He’s wearing the shirt that you like so much. Your eyes trail over his shoulders, appreciating the way he fills out the shirt. He flexes as he adjusts and your mouth waters as the material pulls tight across his bicep. He looks over at you and his brow wrinkles in concern.

“You alright? Do we need to turn around?”

“No!” You clear your throat, “No, sorry, just lost in thought for a minute. I’m okay.” His concern doesn’t seem to lessen, so you reach over and grip his bicep, “I’m really okay.”

“Alright then. We’re almost there anyway.”

And true to his word, a few minutes later, he pulls off the road and onto a small side road. The truck bumps down the road for a bit before Arthur turns off into the brush. He drives for a few more minutes and then you gasp. A beautiful pond comes into view, edged by a pretty meadow.

“Oh Arthur! This is amazing.”

He smiles, pleased by your reaction, “I found it a few weeks ago. I wanted to come up and sketch, but I haven’t had the time.”

He hops out of his side and quickly makes his way around to open your door. When you start to get out, he grabs your waist and lifts, his muscles flexing deliciously. When he sets you back on your feet, you grin at him, feeling a little distracted by the feeling of his hands on you.

“Thank you.” You said, suddenly feeling a little bashful.

“Course.” He smiles down at you, “Let me grab the basket.”

You offer to help him carry the picnic basket and he shakes his head adamantly, “No ma’am. Mrs. Grimshaw would have my hide if I had you carry something.”

“She doesn’t have to know.”

“She always knows.” Arthur answers, “Always.”

You laugh, the sound ringing pleasantly through the meadow. Arthur crooks his arm and you slide yours through it. He guides you through the meadow to the base of a beautiful weeping willow, her branches reaching down gracefully. He sets the basket down at his feet and snaps the blanket open. He adjusts it after it falls and then moves the basket to anchor one corner. He looks over at you and offers his hand. Smiling, you accept and let him help you onto the blanket. Arthur holds your hand as you lower to the ground, helping steady you before sinking down next to you.

“Is this okay?” He asks softly.

“It’s great.” You answer, “You did good Arthur.”

A pleased smile crosses his face, “Good. I’m glad you like it.”

There’s a sparse few inches of charged space between you and Arthur. You shift towards him, feeling like a moth to the flame. He shifts closer, closing the space even more. You meet his eyes and see something flash through them before he clears his throat and pulls away.

“Mrs. Grimshaw packed us a picnic.”

“Well, let’s see what she packed us.”

Arthur reaches past you and snags the basket. He’s so close you can feel the warmth pouring off him. It’s tempting to lean in, but you remind yourself that the way to calm a horse is to let it come to you. He settles next to you, the basket in his lap. He flips the lid open and pulls out the container on top.

“Fruit.” He sets it on the blanket and pulls out the next one, “Cheese. Vegetables. Chicken Salad sandwiches. And,” He pauses, his brow furrowed.

“What is it?”

Gently Arthur extracts the mason jar from the basket, “Peterson’s famous Watermelon Moonshine.”

The light reflects a faint pink from the jar as you look at it. Slowly you raise your eyes to meet Arthur’s.

“Well, she certainly wants us to have fun tonight.” You say and see Arthur smile.

You reach out for the jar and Arthur hands it over easily. Slowly, you roll it between your hands, watching him.

“What are you thinking Arthur?”

He hesitates and then decides to stop reigning himself in, “I’m thinking how pretty you look and how I should have asked you out a lot sooner.”

“Well.” You shift towards him, “We’re here now.”

Keeping your gaze steady, you reach past him and snag one of the containers. You draw back past him, brushing your arm over his bicep. You hear his deep, unsteady breath at the contact and barely manage to keep from smiling.

“This fruit looks amazing. So…juicy.”

He tracks your movements as you select a piece of fruit and bite into it. Your moan has him feeling hot under the collar.

“What’s the matter, Arthur? Aren’t you hungry?”

“Darlin.” He’s not sure if he’s warning you or pleading with you.

You bite your lip even as you smile, “Do you want me to stop?”

“Yes. No. Dammit.” He frowns at you, “I can't think straight when I'm around you.”

“Okay,” You smile at him. He watches as you scoot around to face him, your knees bumping his, “Let's do this.”

“Do what?”

“Ask me whatever you want to know and I'll do the same, but we drink for every question we ask.”

He grins, “You sure?”

“Absolutely,” You shoot him a wink. “Hit me with your best shot.”

He ponders for a moment, the silence stretching easily between you.

“Alright, I got one.”

“Fire away, cowboy.”

“Why'd you say yes?”

“Because I've been stupid about you since I got here. I remember getting out of the truck that very first morning and you were carrying lumber and berating John about something.” You smile at the memory. “You were so exactly like I'd imagine cowboys to be. Tall and broad and handsome.”

He ducks his head, but you can still see him watching out of the corner of his eye. He sips the moonshine before looking back at you. You motion for the jar and he hands it over easily.

“Why'd you ask?” You ask and then sip. The alcohol burns sweetly down your throat.

Arthur takes a moment, his thoughts tumbling over themselves. “Because I saw you that first morning and it was like watching the sunrise after a long night.”

“Arthur.” You sigh.

He flushes and looks away, “Well, you know, since we’re being truthful.”

You wait him out, until he turns back towards you. You hold your hand out to him and he takes it, curling your hand into his larger one.

“Got another question?” You offer him the jar with your other hand.

He keeps his eyes on your face as he lowers his mouth to the jar and drinks. You feel the heat spike in your core.

“Why horses?” He asks, his tongue darting out to collect the droplets of moonshine on his lips.

“They’re majestic and wild, even when they’re tame. And they’re so good at picking up on who we are as people. If a horse likes a person, I know I can trust them. Your horse, for example, you adore her and she adores you.”

“Ah, she’s a good girl. Best horse I’ve ever had.”

“The love shows. She would follow you into hell if you asked her to.”

“She’s fond of you too. I’ve never seen her take to one of our horse handlers like she has with you.” He gently nudges the jar back to you.

You take it, and ask your next question. It goes like that for a while, passing the jar, answering questions, taking your pick of the food. But then you take the half empty jar from him and ponder your next question. You take a drink, deeper than before, and let the alcohol sit on your tongue before swallowing.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“Yes.” He looks almost surprised by how fast he answers.

You take another sip and then set the jar aside. Arthur watches as you shift to your knees, your hands slowly sliding up your sides. Awareness settles sharply between you and him as you wait. You think for a moment, he's not going to take the offering, but then he shifts forwards and his hands splay wide over your hips. Carefully, he drags you forward until you can straddle his legs. He reaches one hand up and gently traces the lines of your face, the sensation sending shivers down your spine.

“Arthur.” You whisper.

“You're absolutely incredible, you know?” He answers, “The Greeks couldn't have done better.”

And then he kisses you. He starts softly, teasing your lips gently, pulling back and dipping carefully back in. His hands slide into your back pockets and he gently kneads your ass. Your hands come to his shoulders, his shirt soft beneath them. He finally pulls back enough to break the kiss and you can hear the ragged edges of his breath. He rubs his cheek over yours softly before kissing the spot beneath your ear.

“Absolutely magnificent.” He whispers in your ear.

He doesn't give you a chance to respond before he's diving back in. He draws you deeper this time, kissing you until you can't tell where you end and he begins. His hands are firm on your ass, giving you nowhere to go but further into him.

Slowly, one of his hands slips out of your pocket and his fingertips trace up your spine. He swallows your moan with a smile. His hand wraps around the base of your neck and gently he pulls you even deeper.

You respond with a slow roll of your hips, pressing down against the hardening outline in his jeans. He groans against your lips, so you do it again. Even your best fantasies have never come close to sounding as good as he does right now. Without realizing it, your hands sink into his hair and grips gently. Easily, you tug at his hair. He moans, low and long, at the sensation.

He sucks your bottom lip and gently sinks his teeth into it until he hears you moan. Your hips move against him, his bucking up in response. You tug his hair again, a little more firmly, and he presses his aching bulge against your clothed core.

At your whine, he shifts up to his knees. His mouth continues to explore yours as he raises you up. His muscles flex beneath you as he gently lowers you to the blanket. He pulls back and raises back to his knees to look at you.

“Now that's what I'd call a feast.”

You shiver under his gaze, feeling for a moment like a lamb being surveyed by a wolf. He lowers himself slowly, pressing against every inch of you until he's face to face with you again.

“Arthur.” You say softly.

His eyes trace over your face, taking in your kiss swollen lips and heavy eyelids.

“Got a question for you, darlin.” He keeps his eyes on your face, “You want me to eat that pussy?”

Warmth blooms over your face even as electricity jolts through you.

You think about it. His mouth on your pussy, his tongue doing amazing things with your clit. It's a beautiful thought and one you'd like to think about more.

“Darlin?” He asks, drawing you back from your thoughts.

“Not tonight, but I'll put your mouth to use soon enough.”

He grins down at you and then kisses you. It's hard to tell if it's Arthur or the moonshine that has your chest feeling warm, but the answering heat in your core is all Arthur. Above you, he shifts his weight to one elbow and traces his fingertips down your body with the other. When he reaches your breast, he pauses to cup it, to tease your nipple through the fabric. Your whine has him smiling and he continues on. He pauses again at your waistband, teasing the skin there gently.

“Arthur!” He chuckles and pops open the button.

The sound of your zipper seems loud in the clearing, but maybe that's because everything else seems to have fallen silent. You're distracted from that thought by Arthur fingers sliding into your underwear. He parts your lips gently and slowly strokes through them.

“This all for me darlin?”

“Yes.” His finger sinks into your aching pussy, “Arthur!”

He smirks and withdrawals his hand from your underwear. He sucks his finger into his mouth and moans at the taste of you.

“Darlin, you're the best thing I've ever tasted.”

His hands come to the edge of your jeans, the fingers curling under. He looks up at you, his eyes questioning. At your nod, he tugs your jeans and underwear down to your ankles in a smooth motion. He leaves them tangled around your ankles and lifts your legs. You let your legs fall open to accommodate his broad frame.

He keeps his gaze on your face as he unzips his jeans. Your eyes flick down and watch as he shoves his jeans down, his cock springs free. Your core pulses at the sight of it as your mouth waters. He lets his cock rest on your stomach for a moment, letting you feel the weight of him, before he shifts forward. He takes your mouth in a flash of lust. Gently he bites your bottom lip and revels in your answering moan. Without thinking about it, he ruts against your stomach, the length of him dragging across your sensitive skin.

“Arthur! Please!”

Arthur stops and pants over you for a moment before he draws back. He slides his hands under your thighs and lifts your legs higher around his waist. You let your tangled ankles come to rest against his back. He watches you as he slides his cock through your folds, collecting your wetness.

He leans forward and cups your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. You meet his gaze, his blue eyes heavy lidded.

“You ready darlin?”

“Arthur, I've never been more ready for anything in my life.”

He chuckles and shifts his weight backwards. Gently he nudges your opening with the head of his cock. He listens to your quiet moan with a smirk. Your eyes slid closed as pleasure sings across your senses.

“Eyes on me darlin.” He says.Your eyes snap back open, meeting his.

Slowly, he presses forward, your wet heat pulling him in.

“Darlin.” He groans, “You feel so good.”

“Arthur!”

He takes his time, pressing in slowly. Inch by inch, he slides in until you're full of him. Your hands grip the blanket tightly as he fully hilts himself.

“You good darlin?” He asks, his voice sliding into husky.

“So fucking full.” Your hips grind against him, heated pleasure curling through you.

“Darlin.” He groans. “You're going to drive me crazy.”

You manage to grin at him, “Maybe we should drive each other crazy.”

He pulls back slowly, dragging his length along your sweet spot. You gasp, your head falling back, exposing the line of your throat. He falls forward, his cock pressing back in, and sinks his teeth into your shoulder. Pain sizzles into pleasure, your hips bucking wildly against him.

One of your hands splays across his back, the other cradles the back of his head, your fingers carding through his hair. He lets go of your shoulder and turns his head to kiss your neck. You gently tug his hair and you can feel his answering laugh vibrate through you.

He tucks his face into your neck and slowly rolls his hips. He listens to your sounds, letting them guide him.

There's stars in your vision and they're not all from the night sky above. Everytime Arthur rolls his hips, he drags his cock along your sweet spot.

“Arthur.”

“Let it come darlin.” He murmurs, kissing your shoulder. “Want to feel you come on my cock.”

You can feel yourself clenching around his cock, your orgasm rapidly building. He keeps rutting, getting lost in the feeling of your pussy. When your orgasm explodes, pleasure snapping through you, your legs tighten, drawing him closer. He groans as your pussy tightens around him.

“Well damn darlin.” He says softly in your ear.

He shifts his weight to his elbows and looks down at your face. You open your eyes and smile at him. You cup his face and kiss him. You can feel him shifting above you, his hands taking hold of your wrists and gently drawing your hands down. He guides your hand above your head and clamps one hand down on both your wrists. He looks down at you and you nod at the question in his eyes.

He grinds his hips slowly and then pulls back halfway before pressing in again. Slowly he starts to thrust faster, harder, not letting you have any time to breathe.

The sound of skin on skin and both your accompanying moans break the silence of the night.

Arthur lets go of your wrists and instead grips your waist. He hauls you up without apparent effort and settles you across his lap. He thrusts up, setting a demanding pace. His hands stay on your waist, gripping you firmly and pressing you down. You wrap your arms around his neck and hold on.

“Love feeling you around my cock darlin.” He says, “You're doing so fucking good for me.”

“Arthur. Arthur. Fuck.”

He chuckles, “You gunna come again for me?”

You nod frantically. He kisses you, one of his hands coming to your ass. The slap on your ass has you gasping into this kiss. His chest rumbles as he laughs. The hand on your ass comes to rest on your lower back as his other cradles your neck. He kisses your forehead and then presses his forehead against yours.

“Come on then darlin. Let me feel you.”

He presses his hips up, filling you completely and you can feel the brush of his pubic hair across your clit. He rocks his hips without pulling out and pleasure overwhelms you. Your scream sends several frogs splashing into the pond. You hear Arthur groan and then you feel his cock twitching. Your walls flutter around his cock as he comes.

You leave one arm wrapped around his neck, tracing his face with your other hand. He turns and nuzzles your wrist before pulling you down for a kiss.

Slowly he lays you down on the blanket before pulling out. His cock glistens with your combined juices as he pulls his jeans back up.

“Wouldn't have pegged you for the commando type.” You say.

He chuckles, “I was thinking about more important things earlier.”

He pulls your jeans back up and then stretches out beside you. His fingers trail over your side as he watches your face.

“I'd like to draw you like this.”

“Spread out on a blanket by a pond?”

“Blissful.”

You smile and snuggle into him. “Any other ways you want to draw me?”

“Every way you'll let me.” He dips his head and kisses you.

You hum, “That could be arranged.”

He kisses you again. The world around you settles softly as the crickets chirp and the frogs croak.

“Should we get back before everyone starts to wonder?”

“Darlin, they were already wondering, let's really give 'em something to wonder about.”

“I can support that. I'm too comfortable to move anyway.”

You reach your arms overhead and stretch.

“Do you know the constellations?”

Arthur slides down to lay on his back beside you, his gaze on the night sky.

“Sure. That's Dutch's tent and that one's John being thrown from a horse. And that one over there is real special, that's Pearson's soup pot.”

You laugh, the sound carrying over the water.

“What about that one?”

“That one?” He looks at the North Star for a moment, “That's the one they'll always guide you home.” He looks down at you and kisses you.

As he settles back on to his back he makes a mental note to ask Charles for a book on constellations.

“You see that one?”

You follow his finger, “Yeah.”

“That's Trewlaney fleeing the sheriff.”

You lay your head on his shoulder and laugh. He revels in the sound, already thinking of new ways to get you to laugh.

“Hey,” he waits for you to look at him, “I'm real glad you said yes.”

“I'm real glad you asked.” You answer, imitating his accent.

He gently grasps your chin and kisses you. You let him tilt your head and deepen the kiss.

The water laps quietly nearby, the frogs croaking a symphony. The moon finishes her rise, spilling soft light over the clearing. But your focus never shifts from Arthur. He kisses you until he can't taste the moonshine on your lips anymore and then he kisses you some more.

[morning-star-joy]

room for three

Pairing: joel miller x f!reader x arthur morgan

Summary: When Joel and Arthur get caught in a storm and need a place to stay, they weren't expecting to find you—a temptress who offers them shelter in your cabin, and wants nothing more than for the two rugged cowboys to keep you warm.

Warnings: 18+ Explicit Smut MDNI Porn With Minimal Plot, Threesome (MFM, some MMF dynamics), oral (f receiving), v fingering, unprotected p in v, the boys take turns with you, multiple creampie, cumplay/eating, so much dirty talk, praise kink, ma'am/sir kinks, brief breeding kink. Red Dead universe, Cowboy!Joel. Lowkey getting throuple vibes so...we'll see if there's more parts to come.

Wordcount: 10.3k

A/N: thank you @joelsversion you made my brain rot just from mentioning joel x reader x arthur, this one is for YOU!!! And ty for being the devil on my shoulder for it and letting me spam you with snippets and thoughts in DMs hehehe ILY! also ty @cupofjoel for being another pair of eyes on it and giving me feedback & encouragement I needed!

When Joel teamed up on hunting down a bounty with Arthur, this was not how he expected it to go.

Halfway to the town where their target was last spotted, they’d taken a break from riding right as the sky opened up above their heads and a light drizzle started. Joel had gestured up towards the dark, angry clouds, insisting that they should ride harder to get to town before a storm started, but Arthur had brushed off his concerns, insisting that they’d be fine finding a place to hole up for the time being.

Then they were trekking through a more densely wooded area as the rain began to fall harder, the only thing stopping them from being completely soaked was the thick branches above their heads, leaves protecting them from being drenched as much as the hats on their heads.

Joel was letting out unhappy grunts every now and then as they continued to walk, searching for some cover with no avail, and Arthur groaned, tilting his head back to roll his eyes before glancing at his friend.

“Quit your moaning, will ya?” Arthur grumbled, and Joel’s eyes narrowed, shooting an irritated glare towards the man leading the way across the wet forest floor.

“Not moaning,” Joel muttered, the whole situation only reminding him why he was a lone wolf, and avoided every invitation extended to join the Van der Linde gang like it was the plague. Arthur was the only person he’d ever consider teaming up with, and only ever temporarily.

But now he was wishing he wouldn’t even do that, aching for a glass of whiskey and the conversation of Ellie, the little spitfire outlaw girl he’d recently taken under his wing back in the town they had just rode out from.

“Shoulda kept riding,” Joel mumbled, and Arthur’s head sharply turned so he could glare back over his shoulder at the comment.

“Well, not much to do about that now, is there?” Arthur shot back, the two men continuing to glare at each for a moment before Joel broke the gaze, shifting his glare out at the trees all around them while the rain continued to fall harder, and Arthur sighed. “Just keep looking, alright? There’s gotta be some cover ‘round here.”

A few more minutes of trekking that got increasingly more difficult turned up nothing, until the rustling of branches off to the side caught the attention of both men, who each whirled around quickly towards the sound, unhampered by their wet clothes as hands flew to revolvers in their respective holsters.

And that was when you appeared.

You were a pretty little thing, something that Joel was too embarrassed to ever admit was the first thing he noticed about you—which, in retrospect, was a very tame thought considering what was in store for the three of you that night.

A simple blouse and lightweight skirt clung to your frame due to the rain that had steadily begun to pour, a hunting rifle held steady in your grasp, though you weren’t pointing it at either of the outlaws. Instead it was pointed casually towards the ground, clearly intended to be used for hunting animals and not men, but the way your fingers twitched and tightened around the gun let both men know that you wouldn’t hesitate to aim it at either one if they reached fully for their own weapons.

Arthur was the first to slowly drop his hand, his silent show of meaning no harm no surprise to Joel—his friend had always had a soft spot for a pretty face, going so far as to make a fool of himself for a lady on more than one occasion (even if most of the time that was for just one lady).

Joel’s fingers hovered in the air around his revolver for a few moments longer, but as your eyes—sharp, calculating as they flickered between both men to gauge their intentions—followed Arthur’s hands as he raised them in the air to further show he had no ill will, your grip relaxed on your rifle, stance relaxing from its tensed position to draw if needed, and Joel finally let his hand fall back to his side as well.

“Howdy, Miss,” Arthur was also the first to speak in this odd situation they had found themselves in, facing the sudden appearance of a woman in these goddamned woods Arthur had gotten them trapped in, his hand coming up to tilt the brim of his drenched hat towards you in greeting as the rain beat on all your forms.

“Howdy there, cowboys,” you replied, leaning back slightly as your face relaxed from the sound of the man’s low rasp, glancing between both of the strange men a few more times before settling on the other one who hadn’t spoken yet.

“Evenin’,” Joel muttered, giving you a slight nod, revealing another deep timbre rumbling from an equally broad chest, and you looked back and forth between both men again.

Slowly, a brightness entered your eyes, joining that sharpness to create a gaze as enticing as the tiny smirk that curled onto full lips as you asked slowly, evenly, as if trying not to spook a horse or perhaps testing the waters, "And what are you two gentlemen doing out here all on your lonesomes?"

Arthur’s hands moved slowly then, trying equally as much not to spook you with any sudden movements as he rested them on his hips, adopting a more casual stance even as the rain continued to fall around you while he replied, “Got caught out in this frightful weather, I’m ‘fraid. Just lookin’ for somewhere warm and safe ‘till it passes over.”

"Oh?" you arched an eyebrow, that smirk twitching up to spread those pretty lips just a bit wider, before glancing back further in the woods. "Lucky for you. I got a cabin a little ways away, if y'all need a place to dry off and warm up.”

When you looked back at them, there was a mischievous twinkle in your eye now, your smirk shifting into something knowing, something that caused a flame to lick inside of Joel’s veins that he was fairly certain shouldn’t be there, but it was stoked higher as you added, “It's small, though. Hope there’s room for three.”

And then there was a wink from you after those words—a tiny, inconsequential thing. Could have meant anything.

But it sealed the fate for the three of you that night, and looking back at it now, Joel thinks you all knew it at that moment.

Something in the humid air shifted, a charge like that before thunder striking sparking to life between each of you, an addicting magnetism as Joel glanced towards Arthur from the corner of his eye, hoping to find something grounding in the man to deter his quickly wandering thoughts at that comment.

But just one look at his friend showed that he was probably far worse off than Joel. A smirk was slowly curling up half of Arthur’s lips as he gazed at you, thumbs moving to hook on his belt as he shifted back on his feet before turning his head slightly to meet Joel’s gaze.

The bastard must have seen what Joel was thinking just from that shared look, as Arthur’s smirk twitched into a dangerously wicked grin, one he quickly tried to cover up by rubbing a large hand over his chin, covering up his mouth with his palm to compose himself before glancing back towards you.

“That’d be mighty kind of you, miss,” Arthur drawled, giving you a deep nod to show that he did mean the words, even as the hints of that wickedness didn’t completely disappear from his face when his hand dropped. Though the grin had melted back into a tiny knowing smirk as he met your own mischievous gaze straight-on. “We’d both be nothin’ but a couple of fools to deny such hospitality right about now.”

“I believe you would be,” you replied easily, and Joel suspected both he and Arthur knew they were in for it when your eyes were just as knowing, smirk just as wicked while you turned to begin to head through the trees, gesturing with a nod of your head for them to follow as you introduced yourself.

“Arthur Morgan,” the outlaw introduced himself, still taking the lead in this conversation as he walked after you first, and Joel followed, helpless but to follow this tantalizing force of gravity, the growing tension in the air that was just as heavy as the storm that was brewing while they followed you to your home that you were offering to them for shelter. “This is my friend, Joel Miller.”

“Friend’s a strong word,” Joel spoke up finally for the second time since meeting you, and he was surprised by the bright laughter that left your lips to echo through the air towards where they were dutifully following behind you, sending a tingle down Joel’s spine, his gaze straying down your drenched form and locking in on the way your hips swayed while you expertly led the way through the forest.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintances, gentlemen," you said, your entire presence one of casual confidence, though there was something almost...seductive, some hidden innuendo in the way you called them gentlemen.

Like you knew they weren’t.

Like you knew exactly what they were thinking.

And when you shot another smirk back over your shoulder when the three of you broke through a clearing, a small cabin plainly in view—Joel realized that you weren’t just aware of the energy shift between you three, but that you were feeding it.

"Well?” you said with a sigh once you reached the door, tugging it open and offering the tempting promise of not being pelted by rain, and something even more satisfying when you shot them both a considerably suggestive smile. “Coming?”

Arthur’s hand found his face again, long fingers stroking across his chin as he glanced from you to Joel, that wicked smile dancing across his lips again, and heat coursed through Joel at the sight of his friend’s knowing grin, one that he felt himself slowly returning.

"Don't mind if I do,” Arthur murmured, keeping his gaze locked with Joel for just a moment longer, something unspoken passing between the two, the same way they always communicated before Arthur followed you into the one-room residence, and Joel followed, the two men allowing themselves to be swept up in the heat of your not so subtle flirtation, and whatever was to follow.

You closed the door behind the two men after they entered, leaving the three of you very much alone until the worst of the storm had passed.

Glancing back between the two broad-shouldered, rough and tough cowboys in your small home, you couldn’t help but hope that the storm would last all night.

"Thank you greatly for the kindness, ma’am,” said the more talkative one—Arthur Morgan, he had introduced himself, the man holding a tad more amiability than his friend, but just as equally rugged as his more silent, surly companion.

Were you a fool for inviting these two total strangers in like this? 

Oh, absolutely.

Did you care when they were both taking turns not so subtly looking at you like you were the sweetest thing they’d seen in weeks, and they were nothing but a couple of starving men dying for just a taste?

Not a bit.

"But of course," you smiled at them both as they found spots in the center of the small cabin, being so kind as to set their weapons down on the tiny table you used for dining, still exchanging little knowing looks here and there that sent your pulse racing, head swimming with dark desire. "Couldn't leave two cowboys out in the woods when there's a storm brewin’."

You moved towards your quaint dining table to rest your own hunting rifle there—and if the path you took led you to brush your shoulder across Arthur’s sinfully broad chest, so be it.

The quiet, sharp intake of breath from the man as you grazed him was a very, very good sign, and you smirked to yourself as you peeled your jacket from the rest of your wet clothes, draping the clothing over the back of a chair before turning back to face the two.

Perhaps you were the lucky one.

“Now, gentlemen,” you started with a sigh, pushing your wet hair over to one shoulder, revealing the slope of your neck and the rain drops lingering on the skin there, your blood running hotter when the attention of both men snapped right to it at the movement. “There’s plenty of ways to warm up from the chill. I could get a fire going for y’all, if you please.”

There was another smile slowly slipping onto Arthur’s lips, and your heart was racing now, pounding in your chest as your eyes lingered on how surprisingly soft those lips looked before glancing over to his friend.

Joel’s eyebrow arched, his gaze dragging down how the layers of your clothes clung to your skin, openly appreciating the way it accentuated your curves as his low voice caressed your ears with a leading, “Or…?”

You smirked, glad he had taken the bait, and you kept your gaze locked with Joel’s when he looked back up at your face, even as you took a step closer to his friend while you repeated, “Or…”

Your footsteps stopped in front of the other man, chests brushing dangerously close as you pulled your eyes away from Joel to look up at Arthur, raising your own eyebrow as you took the opportunity to give an appreciative glance over the way his clothes stuck to his strong frame as you whispered huskily, “We could always see if there is room for three.”

With a tilt of your head to the side, you let Arthur’s gaze slip past over your shoulder to the small bed in the corner of the room, referencing your same sentiment you had alluded to with a wink earlier, your intentions then perfectly clear now with your sultry words.

A low rasp of a chuckle emitted from Arthur’s chest, and you could almost feel the vibrations of the sound with how close your chest was to his, and you found yourself leaning in closer, brushing your bodies together slightly and biting your lip at the feeling of the coarse fabric of his shirt rubbing against the drenched thin fabric of yours, nipples already hard through the fabric of your blouse and chemise at the hint of gentle friction combined with the previous cold.

“Mm,” a throaty hum echoed the chuckle, and you did feel the vibrations that time, pressed deliciously against your sensitive nipples as you pressed your chest further against Arthur’s as his eyes snapped down towards yours, gaze darkening as he surely felt the peaks of your nipples through his own soaked shirt. “Mr. Miller, I believe this pretty girl may want the both of us.”

There was an answering hum somewhere nearby, closer than where you had seen Joel standing before, and your breathing picked up a bit faster than before, chest continuing to brush against Arthur’s with each inhale and exhale as you heard his friend reply in a delicious murmur of that heady drawl, “I think you’re right about that, partner.”

“That what you want, Miss?” Arthur asked, keeping your attention glued to him even as you heard Joel’s boots echo against the ground with each slow step towards you. “A couple bodies to keep you warm tonight? Keep the chill outta your bones?”

You nodded slowly, tongue slipping out between your lips to wet your mouth, heat pooling in your veins and starting to coil in your lower stomach as Arthur watched your tongue closely until it disappeared back inside your mouth, but still his gaze was fixed intently on your lips as you murmured, “I suppose I do.”

Your lips curled into an innocent smile then, a purposefully sharp contrast to the lewd words that slipped from your wet lips next, "Will you and your handsome friend keep me warm tonight, Mr. Morgan?"

“Well, if that’s really what you desire, miss…” Arthur’s large hand grazed against your waist, and you sucked in a breath, eyelids fluttering when the heat of his palm enveloped your hip, long fingers dragging along where the soaked fabric of your blouse tucked under the hem of your skirt. “Then we’d be more than happy to keep you warm.”

Arthur’s head ducked down, lips grazing against your ear as he whispered in a dark rasp that sent contrasting feelings through you, a shiver through your body and a heat that made your thighs clench together, “For your hospitality, of course.”

“Of course,” you murmured, licking your lips again as a soft sigh of anticipation left them when Arthur’s lips grazed across the shell of your ear down to the lobe, pulling it just between his lips, keeping it pressed between them before grazing his teeth against it, and your eyes finally moved over his shoulder to find where his friend had ended up.

Joel was closer now, a foot or two away, his gaze darkened with an unspeakable primal need as he watched Arthur’s hand shift from your hip to slide across your back, finding the small of it to tug you fully against him, and the gasp that left your mouth when you felt Arthur’s body pressed to yours made Joel stiffen, hazel eyes flaring with a desire that kept getting darker, as deep and sinful as yours while you smirked at him.

"I think your friend likes watching us, Mr. Morgan,” you whispered, lowering your head to hover your face over Arthur’s neck, mouth parting slightly to brush your plump lower lip across his pulse point, earning a delicious groan from the man that was echoed by a quieter one from Joel as he stared at the point where your lips met Arthur’s skin. “Should we give him a show?"

Your hand curled around Arthur’s neck as his head lifted, fingers drawing languid circles where your lips had just been, and you watched as he glanced back over his shoulder, following your line of sight to Joel, and you felt a rush of dampness between your thighs as Arthur winked at Joel while whispering to you, “I think you may be onto somethin’, darlin’.”

That was all you needed to hear, smirking up at Arthur as he turned back to you before pulling him down, your lips meeting his in a slow, sensual kiss that exuded temptation and seduction. Your fingers stroked up and down the strength of his neck, licking along his lips before slowly slipping your tongue into his mouth, dragging it along his own tongue, kissing him deeply with the electrifying weight of Joel’s gaze on you both as you locked into a heady, passionate embrace.

It was exhilarating, being caught up in the arms of this ruggedly handsome stranger, liplocked in a soul damning way with such a captivated audience. So distracted by the heat of the kiss, you didn’t hear the footsteps getting closer until another hand was on your waist, taking the spot where Arthur’s hand was just before.

You moaned into Arthur’s mouth when you felt the caress of more strong fingers on your hip before they grabbed you tighter, Joel urging you towards him for his own turn, and you pulled your mouth from Arthur, eyes half-lidded as you only gave yourself enough time to find where Joel was standing next to you before leaning up to him. 

Your lips met his now as you kissed Joel next, one hand still around Arthur's neck to feel the muscles tensing in it as your other hand went to wrap around the wet fabric of Joel’s shirt where it stuck to his collarbone, tugging him down further into the kiss that was just as hot and desperate as the one you shared with Arthur.

Now there was the intoxicating feeling of Arthur’s gaze on you as your tongue danced with Joel’s, the taste of both men mixing together on your lips. You moaned into Joel’s mouth this time when you felt Arthur’s hand slip down your back to your ass, grabbing a handful of soft flesh through your wet skirt and squeezing, your hips bucking up into Joel’s at the sensation.

“Needy little minx,” Arthur murmured as his fingers dug into your ass tighter, guiding your hips up to Joel’s again in a slow grind that pulled moans from both of your mouths, swallowed by one another as the kiss became even hotter, greedier as Joel’s palm found your other cheek, both men now lifting and pushing you up to grind against where Joel was hardening in his rain soaked pants.

When Arthur’s hand dropped from your rear, you almost whined from the loss of his touch until you felt the strong length of his body press up against your back, large hands on your hips to keep you between the two men. Arthur’s lips descended on your neck to lick along the length of it before softly biting down, pulling another moan from your mouth that Joel greedily swallowed before pulling back to suck on your bottom lip at the same moment Arthur wrapped his own lips around the skin he had just bit to suck a mark to form on you.

“Fuck,” you gasped when Joel’s lips released yours, letting your head fall back onto Arthur’s shoulder while he began to grind his hips into you from behind, matching the pace Joel had set grinding against your core.

You were near goddamn delirious from the feeling of being pressed between two clothed erections when Joel’s hand that was still squeezing your ass released it, his palm turning between your rear and Arthur’s hips pressed against it, and the answering grunt from Arthur that fell right against your ear let you know everything you needed to about what that hand was doing now.

“Christ, Joel,” Arthur's gruff voice grunted out against your ear, his lips finding the lobe to tug it between his teeth again while you felt him grind his hips against Joel’s palm, the faster pace of his bucking sending your own hips rocking against Joel’s faster, the three of you already deteriorating into moaning messes, finding a rhythm with each other that brought a build of equal pleasure, even with your drenched clothes still stuck to your skin.

As soon as the realization of still being completely dressed crossed your mind, your fingers were rising to the top of your blouse, trembling slightly from excitement as you began to unbutton it.

Your actions pulled a deep rumble of laughter from Joel’s chest, vibrating against your nipples that now only had the thin, transparent fabric of your chemise to cover them when you pulled your blouse out of the way, sending a delicious shockwave against you as you bucked your hips against his harder.

“Well, goddamn,” Joel rasped, his hand not trapped between your backside and Arthur’s rolling hips finding where your chemise was tucked into your skirt, quickly tugging the fabric out of the hem. "Look at you, pretty girl."

His palm slipped under the last layer of clothing to find your sternum, pressing flat against the exposed, damp skin. His long fingers began to trail up, tracing the curves of the undersides of your breasts as he murmured, “You’re just so desperate to be fucked, aren’t you? Desperate for us to ruin you together.”

Joel’s calloused palm slipped underneath one of your tits, cupping it gently as his thumb brushed against your hardened nipple, pulling a wanton whine from your throat, the sound pulling a devilish grin on his face. He repeated the stroke across your nipple a few more times before mumbling to the other man still behind you, “Take her other breast. Gotta warm her up before we have our way with her.”

“Yes sir,” Arthur submitted to the order immediately as Joel pushed your chemise above your breasts, bunching the fabric up in his large fist and ducking his head down to lap one of the sensitive buds into his hot mouth, and you gasped, body melting further back into Arthur’s while he lifted his own hand to completely envelop your other breast in his large palm.

The combination then of Joel’s tongue swirling around one of your nipples while Arthur rolled the other one between rough fingertips pulled the most sinfully desperate whimpers from your mouth, the dual stimulation on your breasts stoking the fire that was making your pussy pulse in time with your heartbeat until you were desperately trying to lift your leg around Joel’s waist to find more friction against his hips, whining again as the heavy fabric of your wet skirt got in the way.

“You need this off, sweet girl?” Arthur murmured against your ear, hot breath fanning against your face as he looked down at you, and you met his bright gaze to see it darkened with the most sinful desires, already nodding even as he continued to tease you, “You need some relief, don’t you? Need a release from that ache deep in your pretty little pussy.”

Joel groaned around the mouthful of your breast he had before detaching his lips from your nipple, a string of saliva stretching from it to his lips until it broke when his head lifted to look down at Arthur whispering his seduction to you.

“Mm, bet it’s such a pretty pussy,” Joel whispered, thumb stroking along your bottom lip, pulling it out to slip his thumb into your mouth as Arthur’s own thumb rubbed tight circles against your nipple, and you sucked Joel’s digit into your mouth, swirling your tongue against it in your haze of pleasure as he groaned to his friend, “Fuck, get her skirt off and take her to bed, Arthur. Need to see her all spread out for us.”

Arthur nodded, mumbling another “yes sir” as his hands moved to your waist, stepping back and gently tugging you with him, pushing the blouse off your arms, followed by your chemise over your head to be forgotten on the ground before your skirt quickly followed. 

You were left you in only your dainty drawers, the fabric already sticking to where it covered your wet core where Arthur’s hand slipped to cup your sex through the thin cloth, pulling a moan from your kiss swollen lips as his rough drawl rumbled into your ear while he tugged you back towards the bed, “We’re gonna take such good care of you, sweetheart. Gonna take turns making you come until you can’t handle it no more.”

“Oh Lord, please,” you were mumbling as Arthur laid you back on the bed, eyes fixed on the way his rough fingers deftly popped open the button of his jeans, adjusting his pants to be more comfortable, his deep groan from the little bit of relief for his straining erection pulling a needy whine from your own throat.

“Don’t think He can hear you in here, miss,” Arthur mumbled as he slowly pulled off his suspenders and rolled up his sleeves, revealing the strong corded muscles in his arms before crawling onto the bed after you, hungry eyes following the rise and fall of your naked chest with each fast breath of anticipation you took. “Not over that storm keepin’ a couple dirty ol’ cowboys in with ya, and certainly not over all the moanin’ you’re ‘bout to make.”

His last few words fell between the valley of your breasts before his lips pressed there, leaving a searing hot path of desperate wet, open-mouthed kisses down it before licking a stripe back up, turning his head to lap up the breast Joel had just had in his mouth a moment before.

“Mm,” Arthur moaned around your nipple as he sucked it into his mouth, grazing his teeth over it and making your hips jerk up with a wanton moan, his chuckle sending vibrations and further pleasure up and down your spine before he pulled back to mumble, “Can taste you on her, Joel.”

“That so?” the other cowboy murmurs low, and you looked up through half-lidded eyes to see him approaching, shirt discarded to leave a toned chest and big arms that you were reaching out to touch, fingers deliriously swiping through the air for him as he chuckled at your reaction before leaning in closer, letting you have a touch when he came to stop beside your bed.

You couldn’t help but wonder in the back of your mind if there really was room for both of these big, strong men in your small bed with you, or if it would be broken and you’d all be moaning messes still chasing all your pleasures on the floor before the night was through.

Your fingers found Joel’s chest, and you bit your lip at the feeling of those muscles bunching up under your hand, dragging your touch up and along his collarbone, over his shoulder and down his arm, squeezing his bicep with a gentle dig of your nails into his muscle, pulling a grunt from the man before he leans over to gently pull you up.

“Make room for me, sweetheart,” he huskily commands you in a surprisingly gentle whisper, and you do as he says, sitting up and scooting forward, forcing Arthur to pull off of your breast with a wet pop and a grunt, though he also moves back until Joel is able to slide in underneath your body, the two men carefully adjusting around you until you were all relatively comfortable, with your body soon pressed between theirs once again.

Joel’s fingers found your chin, gently grasping it to turn your face and direct it up so he could kiss you again, a bit slower this time, but just as deep, almost teasing with the glide of his tongue over your top and bottom lip, making obscenely wet circles on your mouth with his saliva before slipping his tongue inside your mouth, drinking in your moans as Arthur leaned back in to suck your other nipple into his mouth and give it the same treatment as the first.

“You think she’s wet yet, partner?” Joel asked as his lips pulled back from yours, running the slope of that scarred nose across your cheek in an almost tender action before glancing towards Arthur, who was now peppering kisses down your exposed stomach to the top of your drawers, nose pressing against the wet fabric covering your cunt, inhaling deeply with a groan before his tongue darted out to lick a stripe up the drenched cloth covering your entrance.

“Fuck, she’s soaked, Joel,” Arthur rasped, fingers curling underneath the banding of the fabric to pull it down enough to be out of the way, groaning when he saw how dripping you already were for them, rough digits finding your folds to gently spread you for him, breath fanning against your hot cunt as your hips jerked with a desperate whine.

“Good girl,” Joel was whispering into your ear as Arthur pulled your drawers down your legs, and you swear you saw him ball them up and tuck them in the back of his faded jeans, but you were too distracted by his large palms enveloping your thighs a moment later, your eyes nearly rolling back into your head as Joel kept murmuring to you, “So ready for us, your pretty little pussy dripping and aching to be filled with us, hm? You just can’t wait for us to take our turns with you.”

Arthur’s palms find your inner thighs as Joel edges you on with his words, spreading you further apart for him as he scoots down the bed to settle between your thighs. His lips find your inner thigh, kissing and nipping at the soft skin there as Joel’s hand presses against your stomach, pulling you back against him further before slipping it down to run the rough pads of his fingers over your clit.

“Oh!” you gasp, trying to buck your hips up against his touch, but Arthur keeps you pinned to the mattress in between Joel’s strong thighs with his hands on your thighs, leaving you happily merciless to both men as they descend upon your pussy to give you the greatest night of pleasure of your entire life.

Joel’s rubbing slow, tight circles on your clit, playing with that low simmering heat in your stomach, building it up at a leisurely pace as Arthur’s fingers drag across your folds, collecting your slick before parting them enough to begin to sink a finger into your tight heat.

“Patience, sweet girl,” Joel murmurs against your ear as you try and roll your hips to meet his fingers on your clit and Arthur’s moving in and out of your pussy when he slowly starts to add another, pulling another wanton gasp that nearly turns into a strangled cry from you at the sensation of thick, rough fingers from two men on your pussy. “We’re gonna give you what you need. We’re gonna give it to you so many times, you won’t even know who you’re begging for.”

A cry definitely did leave your swollen lips that time when you feel a hot tongue find its way between your folds, licking along your pussy before slowly sinking inside to replace Arthur’s fingers when he pulls them out. His hands move to cup underneath your thighs, directing your hips to roll right up into his mouth as he slowly fucks you with his tongue, Joel’s fingers moving in a way that he’s already learned makes you writhe the most, picking up the pace as the heat in your lower stomach coils tighter, faster, hotter.

Joel grabs your hair with his other hand, tugging you back so his lips can descend on your mouth again, sucking your moans into his mouth when you suddenly feel the loss of his fingers on your clit. You were about to start crying, not wanting your orgasm to fade out of reach when it had just been so close, when you felt a hot tongue replace it.

You gasp, lips pulling back from Joel to look down, seeing his fingers tangled in Arthur’s hair, shoving his friend’s face down against your pussy. Arthur’s fingers slip back inside your cunt, thrusting up into you quickly as his tongue swirls around your clit, sucking it into his mouth as Joel keeps Arthur’s face pressed there with the hand grabbing his hair, and it only takes a few strokes of his tongue against your clit, flattening against the swollen bundle of nerves to rub against it quickly for you to be coming around his fingers.

“Fuck, look at that. So eager,” Arthur groans when he pulls his mouth back to give your clit a few more licks, watching greedily as you soak his fingers with your cum, continuing to thrust them into your pussy throughout your high with obscene, wet sounds each time they move in and out of your fluttering walls. “So fucking needy, coming for us so fast like that.”

“She wants a cock so bad, don’t you, baby?” Joel’s whispering in your ear, and you can feel his gaze on where Arthur keeps fingerfucking you, watching just as hotly, just as intensely as you soak his friend’s rough digits in your release, your thighs twitching from the aftershocks of the white hot orgasm. “Wants it so bad she needs two cowboys to fuck her so she’s truly satisfied.”

“More than happy to please ya, doll,” Arthur’s voice rumbles proudly from his chest as he finally slips his fingers out of your cunt, lifting them to his mouth to suck his soaked middle finger into his mouth, moaning at the taste before pulling it out and offering his index finger to Joel.

Your head falls back against Joel’s shoulder, glancing sideways with a whimper to watch Joel suck Arthur’s finger coated in your release into his mouth, beautiful hazel eyes fluttering shut with a moan around his friend’s rough digit. You watch Joel suck hard, hot desire coiling in your stomach again when Arthur grunts loudly at the sight and feeling.

When Arthur pulls his hand back, he reaches eagerly to his jeans, grabbing the waistband to tug it open further and push it down, working the damp fabric down over his strong thighs, and your lips part with need when you see his cock freed from its fabric constraints at last, tip leaking with precum, so big and ready to fuck you until you couldn’t think straight.

“Oh my god, yes,” you were murmuring deliriously as you watched Arthur reach down to stroke his cock, running his fingers covered in his and Joel’s saliva as well as your slick over it, spreading it along his twitching length before directing it to slide past your folds, notching the head against your entrance as you both began to breathe heavily at the imminent joining. “Please, please, pl—fuck!”

You cried out, back arching off of Joel’s chest before he quickly pulled you back against him, holding you steady as Arthur began to slowly sink into you with increasingly labored breaths, interspersed with long groans and raspy mumbles under his breath at how good you felt.

“I—oh, Christ, Joel. She’s so tight,” Arthur moaned as he continued to inch himself into you, stretching you out for what felt like forever, your pussy adjusting to his girth and length as you reached up to grab Arthur’s shoulders, digging your fingers into his shoulders for purchase and eliciting a louder grunt from the man filling you up.

“Gotta warm her up for me, partner. Stretch her pussy, make it fit.” Joel’s head ducks down next to your ear, lips brushing against it as his voice becomes softer when addressing you, a deep rumble shooting straight to your throbbing core while Arthur slowly fills it, gently encouraging you, “That’s it, take it, darlin’.” 

You moan at his seductive rasp right in your ears, leaning back further against his chest as your thighs parted further, accepting Arthur in further by reflex, overwhelmed by the feeling of his cock inching into you while Joel whispered deliciously lewd things in your ear that would make even a whore blush.

“Yes, that’s it,” Joel sighed, his large palm finding one of your thighs to press you apart further, letting Arthur bottom out in you with a groan, nestled perfectly against your thighs, his pelvis rubbing against your clit and making your hips jerk up with a gasp. “Spread your legs for him, let him take you. Good girl.”

Lips parting, your head fell back onto Joel’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as you moaned in time with Arthur when he pulled out a few inches to thrust back in, bottoming out once more before doing it all over again.

And again, again, again, the cowboy on top of you slowly thrusting into you with quiet grunts of exertion, filling you up over and over with small rotations of his hips in a way that felt deliberate, as if he was carefully following Joel’s orders to stretch out every inch of your tight cunt completely in preparation for his friend’s cock after he had had his turn with you.

The thought of there being even more to come after this made you moan again, your hips rolling up to meet Arthur’s thrusts as they became quicker at your movements, his own strong hips punching forward to fuck into you hard enough to steal the breath from your lungs each time. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders to pull him down further until the three of you were a moaning heap on your bed, Arthur fucking into you with earnest desperation as you could both feel Joel’s hot gaze narrowed in on where his friend’s cock filled you over and over with each strong thrust.

“God, look at you…the way you fill her up, fuck, Arthur. Seeing your big cock in that pretty little pussy…” Joel moaned, burying his face in your neck as his hips begin to roll up into you from behind, clothed erection pressing to your ass as he begins to grind against you, watching Arthur thrust into you with heavy lidded eyes to find the same rhythm that Arthur was fucking you with.

Arthur fucking whimpered at the praise, his lips finding your shoulder to start kissing, biting and sucking at the soft skin there, moans muffled against your skin as he bottomed out again to grind his pelvis against you, creating delicious friction in your clit combined with his cock twitching impossibly deep inside of you. Joel kept rutting against you from behind, his hand reaching around to thread through Arthur’s hair as both men moaned from the feeling of you stuffed in between them, the three of you using each other for hot, unspeakable pleasure.

“You want our cum, sweetheart? Want both of us to pump you full until you’re fucking stuffed?” Joel rasped into your ear as Arthur bucked into you with louder moans that felt hot against your skin, and you gasped, nodding desperately at the thought of being completely ravaged by both men, claimed by them both in the most primal, depraved way. You didn’t care about the consequences, you needed it. “You’ll have us dripping down your legs for days, that pussy is gonna remember our cocks when we’re gone. Won’t even know who's the daddy if we get you knocked up.”

The orgasm came suddenly at those filthy words, gripping your body and causing it to writhe between the men, pressed between the two broad bodies as you cried out their names one after another, your own climax immediately pulling Arthur into his own.

He tumbled into ecstasy after you, crushing you with his weight as he grunted and groaned into your ear with each pulse of his cock inside of you, filling you with his spend as your thighs twitched in time with his, your orgasms prolonged by the feeling of the other wrapped up in carnal bliss with you.

Joel was murmuring sweet nothings into your ear, praising you for how good you took it, how beautiful you look filled up with Arthur’s cum as his hand loosened in Arthur’s hair, stroking through the strands in a soothing manner as he took the time to also assure his friend that he was doing just as good as you, filling you up so well, that you both looked so pretty coming together.

After a moment to catch his breath, Arthur pulled his face up from your shoulder, skin flushed from the exertion of fucking you as he leaned down to press a few chaste kisses to your lips while he slowly slipped out of you, pulling your combined release with him. It trailed down your thighs, and Joel swiped his fingers along it, coating it along the puffy lips of your already thoroughly fucked pussy in the same moment Arthur also collected your slick and his cum from your other thigh.

“Lemme see your cock, Joel,” he grunted, and Joel’s head tilted back against the headboard of your bed with a moan, shifting underneath you to pull his jeans enough to free his own cock, and you gasped at the feeling of its hot, throbbing thickness pressed against your back before he slid it down between your folds, and Arthur gently took it in hand to cover it in his and your release.

“Mm, fuck,” Joel groaned, his hands finding your hips to rest your pussy against the head of his cock now, lips finding your ear to whisper in a deep rasp, “You ready for me next, darlin’?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered, and something about the phrase must have set him off, because Joel plunged into you in one stroke with a loud grunt, easing in completely with no resistance from all the preparation they had given you and Arthur’s cum still coating your walls.

“Christ, you should see how you look right now,” Arthur groaned as he kept your thighs apart this time, watching Joel fuck up into you, hardly taking any time before setting a fast and brutal pace, and you were sure Arthur must have quite the view indeed. 

Your eyes were wide and glazed over as they met his, teary from multiple orgasms as your breasts bounced freely from Joel’s rough thrusts up into you, his cock filling you again and again so easily with Arthur’s cum still dripping from you.

As much as you wanted to keep watching the lingering heat in Arthur’s eyes as he watched Joel fuck you, the sensation of being this stuffed was too much, your eyes fluttering shut as you leaned back into Joel’s strong embrace as he just kept fucking you faster and faster, the bed creaking, headboard smacking against the wall of your cabin with each intense thrust.

“Just like that, good girl, fuck. So tight, keep doing that, ohh, Jesus…” Joel was gasping and grunting now as he fucked up into you from behind, arms circling around your front to grab you and press you back into him, and the feeling was already almost too much, only becoming more overwhelming when you felt a tongue find its way between your thighs.

“A-Arthur,” you moaned, mouth falling open as you felt the other cowboy kissing his way up your cum-slicked thighs to your clit, licking over it before sucking it into his mouth, and you cried out, body trying to thrash from reflex from being so completely surrounded by pleasure, but Joel was holding you tight to him as he bucked up into you mercilessly. “Joel…Arthur…ahh, fuck…”

You hardly registered another impending orgasm, not understanding how your body could take even more, but the walls of your pussy were starting to tighten anyway, Joel whimpering into your ear at the feeling of it.

“Oh fuck, ‘m not gonna last if you keep clenching around me like that darlin,’” Joel moaned into your ear, his hips rolling unevenly, thrusts sloppier as he panted the words, “Arthur, I’m ‘bout to cum. Gonna fill her up, stuff this pretty little pussy even more.”

“Do it, Joel,” Arthur rasped as he pulled back from your clit to place his hand there to keep stimulating you, his other hand shifting from where he was keeping your thighs apart to grab onto Joel’s thigh as they began to twitch, digging his dull fingernails against the tough skin of his friend’s muscular leg, causing Joel to buck up hard into you with a loud grunt. “Cum in her for me. For both of us.”

“I—Arthur—” Joel was trying to say something but utterly failing, yours and Arthur’s names falling from his lips in broken, stuttered moans as he grabbed your hips tightly, pulling them back against his hard enough to bruise as he snapped up into you, head falling back against the headboard with a groan as he came hard, filling you up to the brim just like his friend told him to until you were overflowing, three combined releases leaking from your stuffed pussy to coat his cock, stomach and your thighs.

You felt his release coating your walls as they fluttered around him, and your own head tilted back as well, trapped between Joel’s bucking hips as he came and Arthur’s fingers still working at you, no thoughts running through your mind other than the fact that you were now filled with the cum of both these strong, rugged men, and your mouth opened in a silent cry as another orgasm washed over you so completely that you think you blacked out for a few seconds.

When you came back to, your vision was blurry, blinking stars away from your eyes as you focused on the handsome face above you, Arthur gazing down at you with a faint hint of concern as his rough hand caressed your cheek.

“You okay there, darlin’?” he murmured, thumb stroking along your cheekbone as you met the surprising softness of his gaze, and you nodded slowly, a lazy grin forming on your lips as you felt Joel slip out of you, letting all the cum seep back out of your pussy onto the mattress.

A sigh slipped from your lips as you sank back into Joel’s chest as his hands rested gently on your thighs, his own calloused thumbs rubbing circles on your soft skin while Arthur ducked down to place his lips over yours in a kiss more gentle than any you had shared so far.

“Such a good girl,” he muttered through a soft exhale that you sucked into your own lungs through the kiss, his low rasp of praise making you feel all warm inside after how hard they had worked you, pleased with yourself that you had made them both feel as good as they made you feel. “Sweet, sweet gal. You did so well for us.”

“Mm, that’s right,” Joel murmured into your hair, nuzzling his face into your neck as you and Arthur kissed languidly. “What a perfect, pretty little thing we’ve found out in these woods. Gonna be hard not to keep you all to ourselves, ma’am.”

You laughed softly at that, humming into Arthur’s gentle kisses as Joel peppered his own soft kisses up and down your neck and to your shoulder. Somehow, you didn’t mind the thought of them keeping you to them that much. In fact, you quite enjoyed the idea of being their girl, the thought of them continuing to share you was…exhilarating.

Arthur pulled back from you, shifting to push himself off the bed, tucking himself away and doing his pants back up as you frowned, not even realizing how tired you were until you slurred out a quiet, “Where you goin’, mister?”

The cowboy laughed, a gentle, low chuckle that rumbled from that broad chest as he smiled back at you before moving over towards where you kept your wash basin.

“We wouldn’t be such upstanding gentlemen if we didn’t clean you up afterwards, would we?” he teased with a wink, and you bit your swollen lips, giggling as you turned yourself around, chest pressed to Joel’s to see he had his own little smile while he gazed at you.

You took your time kissing Joel then, making soft, content noises into his own swollen lips, wrapping yourself up in him in a languid, content way until Arthur returned and gently pulled you back to lay on the bed.

There was a moment of relief from not being pressed to Joel anymore, your sore muscles sinking into the mattress as Arthur set about wiping you down carefully with the wet cloth. Joel’s fingers would follow in the path of damp skin left by the rag, long fingers tracing and gently caressing you, soothing any marks either men left on you and laughing when Arthur would grumble in gruff annoyance that his friend was getting in the way of his work cleaning you up.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you knew that both men were still with you when you did. 

When you woke up, however, neither was anywhere to be seen, and you lifted your head from your pillows, glancing around the empty room with a growing frown.

If it wasn’t for the deep ache in your bones, the way you were naked underneath a blanket and the large dried cum stains still on the mattress underneath you, you would have thought the whole thing was some wild, feverish wet dream.

You stared at the blanket that slipped off you as you moved, a small smile curling on your lips as you realized one of the men must’ve laid it on you, even as both were now nowhere to be seen. The smile quickly faded as you lingered on that last thought, sighing as you struggled to push yourself up, your muscles exhausted and not working quite properly after the night before.

While you were in the midst of trying to sit on the edge of your bed, the door to your cabin opened, and your brain didn’t even have time to begin to panic about your vulnerable state as you quickly recognized the frame of who was standing in the doorway.

“Mornin’, sweet thing,” Arthur greeted you with a sly half-grin, and you found a smile tugging back onto your lips, a rush of what almost felt like giddiness at seeing him the morning after filling you as he strode into the room.

That was when the rich scent of a dark roast hit you, and you were already nearly moaning from the smell of the coffee before the rugged cowboy passed the tin cup to you.

“Joel’s not a fan of sharing his coffee but, well,” he shrugged, leaning back to hook a hand on his belt buckle, leaning back casually with a small smile as he glanced over you inhaling the steam before taking a sip. “Figured it was the least we could after working you so hard last night.”

“You say that like I didn’t want it,” you teased, both of you knowing that you were the one who had wanted it the most, the mischief twinkling in Arthur’s eyes—eyes that you were just now really looking at, finding yourself caught between calling them blue or green, but they were shockingly stunning nonetheless—matching your own as his gaze moved back down your body, lingering on your naked breasts, perky in the air with how the blanket had fallen to your waist.

“Oh, we know how badly you wanted it, sweetheart,” he murmured, licking his bottom lip slowly, and despite being so sore you were nearly in pain, you couldn’t help but lean forward, longing to know what other ways he and his friend could have you.

But then Arthur was leaning back, tearing his gaze from you as he reached up to adjust his hat, tugging the brim down to cover his eyes.

“I deeply apologize for having to run out on you like this ma’am, but…” he sighed heavily, boot scuffing as he tapped the toe against the ground a couple times, and you were surprised to see the man you had only seen as self-assured so far seeming suddenly…awkward? Or maybe ashamed? “We actually were on a job, and have a lot of catching up to do ‘cause of that storm.”

“Oh,” you said softly, giving a nod, because you did understand. This entire encounter had been a strange fever dream, but it only made sense that they had to get back to their lives, as you had to get back to yours. “‘Course. I understand, Mr. Morgan. I wish you both safe travels.”

“Mhm,” Arthur hummed, giving a nod as he shifted back, leaning back on his heels with the brim of his hat still covering most of his face with the way his head was turned down.

Both his hands had moved to his hips, and he stared at the ground for a moment, his silence pulling a frown on your face as you opened your mouth to speak before thinking, “Arthur—”

Before you could even blink, he was in front of you, leaning down with those rough palms grasping your face, pulling you up into a bruising kiss that stole the breath from your lungs.

You moaned into it, mind spinning from the sheer intensity of it as your lips locked, Arthur’s head turning to kiss you deeper, thick fingers slipping up into your hair as he swallowed your small, needy sounds of passion.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, sighing softly as he murmured your name, pulling your own sigh from you as you whispered his own name back to him before he pulled himself away.

“Hard to leave you, miss,” he said slowly, not hiding his face under his hat this time as he moved away, letting you see the conflict flash across his features as he pulled himself away from you. “And damn impossible to forget.”

You laughed, lifting a hand to try and cover the stupid little satisfied smile on your swollen lips, watching as Arthur leaned back out the door and barked out, “Hey, asshole! Say goodbye to the lady.”

“I’m going to,” the other deep voice responded in blatant irritation, and you tried to smother your giggle with your hand, but Arthur still glanced back at you, catching the sound and giving you a cheeky little wink in response before he was gone.

You had sipped a bit more coffee, gathering enough strength to finally stand, even as your knees were wobbly while you set about gathering your discarded clothes from the floor around the bed.

The sound of the door opening back up didn’t escape your attention, but you didn’t look over yet. Instead, a wicked smile grew on your face as you bent over to pick up your blouse, wiggling your ass for your other visitor, the smile only growing as you heard the quiet growl followed by a light smack to your left cheek in response to your teasing when he approached you.

“Little vixen,” Joel murmured as he took your elbow and pulled you up to face him, your chest colliding with his as his arms wrapped around your still naked form, holding you tight as his lips met yours much in the same way Arthur’s just did—hot, passionate, with a need that still lingered even after the wild night the three of you had shared.

You smiled up at him when you parted, pulling your blouse on, pleasantly surprised when Joel’s fingers found the hem of the cotton, thick fingers deftly buttoning up the shirt with quick precision.

“Mm, you do this often, Mr. Miller?” you purred, arching an eyebrow as you glanced over his face, liking the way the scar on his nose looked when his face pinched together slightly with amusement at your teasing. “Dressing up the girls after you ruin them for any men other than you and your handsome friend?”

His eyes met yours then, and even with the sly smirk curling up one half of his mouth, there was almost an uncertainty in that gaze, just a hint of that same self-conscious look you had seen from his friend moments before.

“You really gonna remember us after we’re gone, sweetheart?” Joel asked when he finished buttoning up your blouse, fingers curling around the collar and brushing against the soft skin of your neck as he leaned down closer to you, his hot breath mingling with yours, the smell of coffee on it invading your senses. “You gonna pine after the dirty old cowboys who found their way into your bed for a wild, stormy night?”

A soft laugh left your parted lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, stomach flipping slightly at the choice of words as you shrugged a shoulder.

“Perhaps I will, sir,” you whisper, letting your lips graze against each other with each word you spoke without pressing them together fully, teasing a final kiss without making the move to seal it, knowing he’d be off to god knows where afterwards, probably to never see you again. “It’s not often you meet a couple of big bad men who know how to be perfect gentlemen.”

Joel paused, face pulling back from you slightly to gaze down at you with a frown at your adept observation.

“Bad—” he cut himself off, brows furrowed as his eyes darted over your face, seeming to struggle to find the right words before he finally came right out and asked, “How did you—”

“I’m not holed up in this cabin all the time, Joel Miller,” you said softly, trying not to spook him as your fingers danced along the beard on his chin, a bit longer than his friend’s, and you were glad you were successful in softening the blow of your revelation when he sank into your touch. “Your faces were familiar, but I recognized your friend’s name when he gave it. The Van der Linde gang aren’t exactly subtle.”

Joel sighed, shaking his head to himself as he mumbled something under his breath you didn’t catch, but his gaze returned to yours as he asked with an arch of his brow, “And that didn’t scare you away?”

You shrugged, a wicked grin crossing your face as your fingers ran through his hair, mentally tucking away his quiet grunt of pleasure from the feeling as you whispered, “Well, I have always wanted to fuck an outlaw.”

A laugh left Joel’s lips then, loud and genuinely amused, followed by a look of surprise on his own face after he made it.

You were curious as to why he was so surprised at his own laughter, but you didn’t want to waste another moment, leaning forward to capture his lips in yours in another kiss that went from hot and fast to something slower, tender almost, the feeling of his lips against yours lingering even after he pulled away.

When he did tear himself away from you, he did it with a smirk that lit a fire in your soul, one you didn’t think would ever burn out while he replied in a sly, almost smug voice, “Or two.”

Your own smirk matched his as you grazed your fingers across the scar on the bridge of his nose, then down his face before you pulled back to let him leave, though not without your own final say of, “Well, I guess there was room for three after all.”

taglist: @darkroastjoel @thetriumphantpanda @cupofjoel @dinsdjrn @cavillscurls @tightjeansjavi @sinsofsummers

[narcoticv3nus]

Catch a Ride to Heaven ❤︎ Arthur Morgan

Kinktober Day IV: Virginity

summary: rebellious reader is a sinner for her cowboy tags/trigger warnings: 18+, f!reader, virginity loss, p in v, praise, fingering, religious symbolism, cherry popping, midhonor!arthur, smoking, dom!arthur, sub!reader, rough sex, a bit of degradation, pet names, author attempts at accents wc: 5.7k

MASTERLIST

“Ma’am”

You looked up from your bible sitting on your lap, noticing a rather large man standing before you. His shoulder-length brown hair cascades down, framing his rugged features and intense blue eyes. A short beard adorns his handsome face, emphasizing the scar on his chin. Despite his rugged appearance, his smile reveals straight white teeth, complementing his sun-kissed skin with charming freckles. His well-worn cowboy hat had seen better days, colored black with a weathered rope tied around the middle and what looked to be claw marks running down the sides.

“Good morning, mister,” you answered, fiddling with the cross around your neck, trying to tame the sinful thoughts running through your mind. You had come to notice this man from afar. He would stop by your little town now and again, whether that was to buy guns or sell a suspicious amount of items at the fence nearby. Your eyes always followed him. You couldn't help it, although you tried to pray the feelings away many times. God never answered your prayers.

Your daddy was the local pastor. He was always smiling and friendly, claiming he prayed for every person he came across. He was a good man, always going out of his way to serve others. It seemed God had given him the gift of spreading his love all over, yet it seemed to run out when it came to you.

Your daddy had always been hard on you after your mama passed. Your brain was too young to remember much of her, but you could still remember the sound of her voice in your ears and the soft, comforting scent of her clothes.

Daddy said it was because he loved you; he was so strict, which you never really understood. Anytime you made a mistake or a mishap, Daddy would sharpen you back into shape, sometimes going to extreme measures. The bruises on your behind still stung when you sat down.

He never permitted you to be alone around other men, claiming you had to stay pure in the eyes of God or else you'd burn in hell for all eternity for spreading your legs for no-goods. He said men only wanted one thing, but he never specified what. It didn't take you long to figure it out. You were a smart girl. At least, that's what everybody said.

You didn't feel smart now as Daddy’s teachings drifted from the back of your mind like a cloud of smoke, thoughts of purity and maidenhood be damned. God knows you tried to resist them, and you really did. To push those thoughts aside, burn them, shut them out as much as you could.

But wouldn't he have answered your prayers if God were all-loving? Heaven knows you wanted to be a good girl. You did, truly! But there was something about this man that had your body growing warm, his deep southern drawl reaching into deep parts of you you never even knew existed. He had your voice growing shy, your hands feeling clammy as your thighs pressed together, desperate to soothe that sweet ache between your legs.

Sometimes, he would compliment you, saying he liked your dress or how you style your hair.

“May I say you're lookin’ lovely' today, little lady.” You swallowed deeply, your lips parting as you gazed up at him, eyes wide. “Thank-thank you, mister,” you stammered, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“You…you're awfully kind.” You continued, not being able to help yourself. How could you stay away when you yearned for him so deeply?

“I ain’t really,” he answered bluntly, his eyes boring deep into yours, the corners of his lips twitching into a grin. You've seen that same look on many men before, but only he had your heart racing with want.

“Maybe just to pretty ladies like yourself,” he continued, his hand reaching up to scratch his stubble chin.

If your face wasn't on fire before, it sure was now. You didn't know what to say as you began to stutter, sweat building between your legs and inside of your bodice. “I don't—” Your fingers curled around your cross, praying to God to give you strength or show mercy.

“What’s your name anyway?” He spoke up for you, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a pack of premium cigarettes. He placed the stick between his lips as he held the lighter close to his face, raising a brow when you lacked a response.

You gave him your name. Your eyes were bashful as they looked down at his shoes, noting the quality of the leather and his metal spurs.

“Ain't that lovely,” he responded, gray tendrils of cigarette smoke escaping his nose, his eyes never straying from your face.

“What’s yours?” you asked, fighting to keep your voice steady as your subconscious body seemed to float away, high into the sky and never to be seen again. You've never felt so euphoric. If it was wrong, how come it felt so right?

“Arthur,” he answered, tapping the ash from the end of the stick away into the dirt. “Arthur Morgan,”

“Well, it… it's very nice to meet you, Mr. Morgan,” you said politely, part of you hoping to appease him. It seemed to work as his grin grew wider, his teeth poking out from behind his pink lips.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his eyes looking you up and down. “You too,” he said, emphasizing your name before exhaling another cloud of smoke. You bit your lip to hold back the whine building in your chest. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it. I just wanted to put a name to a face s’all.”

You wanted to tell him, no, to please stay, just a little longer. And yet you only watch in silence as he dipped his hat to you before turning and striding in the other direction. You watched him go, eyes drifting low to his backside, appreciating the natural sway of his hips as he left.

My Lord, please give me strength.

You and Arthur had met several more times after that. He'd sometimes saunter up to you after church, asking about your day and flirting with you right in front of the house of God, sometimes even in front of your Daddy.

Daddy had given you a good whooping after that, reminding you to stay away from that man if you know what's good for you. But you just couldn't, no matter how hard you tried. Lord knows you did.

But like Eve and the serpent, Arthur offered you the tastiest treat you couldn't refuse. Why did it feel so good if these feelings were so condemned? You started questioning your faith the more Arthur lingered around, and you started to fear for your sake. Maybe he was no good after all. Perhaps this was all a test.

But no horns were sprouting from the outlaw’s head, no devil’s tail swaying mischievously behind his back, he had no red eyes, and no white fangs. And despite what the poets might say, he had no slimy forked tongue. And you would know, counting how many times your eyes had fallen to his mouth as he spoke. Each time his tongue ran over his lips, yours would do the same.

There came a time when he placed a hand on your shoulder, leaning close to your face when he asked to buy you a room somewhere for the night. His cold eyes burn through you. You knew you should've said no, refused the forbidden fruit, and asked him to leave you alone for good. You were a child of God, blessed without sin, and designed for purity. But those would all be lies. No one is without sin. You thought as you nodded, your breath shaky and your cheeks stained red.

Daddy will raise hell. You reminded yourself, but it was already too late. You sealed your fate when you decided to shake hands with the devil.

As Arthur led you up the stairs, his hand entangled with yours, his heavy footsteps echoed throughout the hotel, the wooden floors creaking under his weight.

He opened the door for you to enter the small and empty room, the hair rising on the back of your neck as he followed close behind you. “Arthur, I—” you stammered when it dawned on you, realizing what you were about to do.

“Shh, don't be nervous,” he soothed as a heavy hand rested on your hip, sliding up your waist. “I’ll take good care of you,” he reassured, gently removing his hat and placing it on the night table beside the bed.

Like a predator circling its prey, he stalked around your body until he stood in front of you, both hands on your hips as he smiled down at you. He was so close. You almost let out a whine of fear, eyes glued to his teeth to ensure he didn't have fangs, just in case.

“I promise I don't bite,” he chuckled, almost like he could read your thoughts. Maybe he could. He leaned close to your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Unless you want me to.”

You couldn't hold back the whimper that escaped you, anxiety and desire twisting and churning in your stomach, leaving you speechless.

“I've never…” Your voice trailed off, the words getting lodged in you as Arthur hummed in response, seemingly unsurprised.

“I figured,” he chuckled, confirming your suspicions. “Sweet, innocent things like you usually are,” he grinned, flicking the cross against your chest. You weren't sure what to make of that.

“We just won't tell ‘em, ay?” he let out a huff of amusement, reaching back to unclasp the necklace around your neck.

“Wait,” you halted him, gazing at his confused expression. “I…I want to leave it on,” you murmured, eyes drifting downwards, hoping you hadn't disappointed him. You weren't sure why you wanted it to stay; it didn't make sense logically. He was right; you should put it away, considering what you were about to do—what you were about to let him do to you.

However, something about it gave you a sense of peace or reassurance: even though you were betraying everything you were ever taught, everything you've ever known, God was still there, and he still loved you. Maybe giving in to your deepest desires could reconnect you to him in some way, that finding pleasure in the most sinful of ways wasn't sinful at all. Wouldn't he want you to feel good if he really loved you? To take what you want?

He was silent momentarily before he removed his hands from your grasp. Here it comes. You thought, eyes shutting, waiting for his disapproval.

His fingers grasped your chin, tilting it upwards, his thumb rubbing softly over your bottom lip. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.” his voice cutting through the silence. “You can do whatever you like, darlin’.” his low, warm voice was gentle and consoling, offering comfort instead of pain.

“Thank you,” you breathed a heavy sigh of relief, your eyes gazing up at him with adoration, yet your hands continued clutching your dress, unsure of where to put them.

He hummed again, taking your small hands in his much larger ones, gently urging them towards him. You gasped as your fingers made contact with his skin, like it was the most lewd thing you've ever done. It might as well have been.

“I should be thankin’ you,” he responded, lifting your right hand to meet his lips, kissing your knuckles with a sweet softness you've never known. “Ain’t every day I meet a pretty girl like you.” he charmed, stepping closer towards you, your body stiff with nerves.

“I thought you said you were always nice to pretty girls.” You recollected, thinking back to the time you were first properly introduced.

“Well, I might've lied. Just a bit,” Arthur smirked, chuckling at your shocked expression. “They're not always as sweet as you,” he whispered, his face inching closer to yours. As your noses brushed together, he tilted his face to the side, one hand reaching up to guide your face to do the same in the opposite direction.

“Arthur, I don't know–” “It's alright,” he hushed, his breath hot against your lips. “Just follow my lead, alright?” You nodded slowly, taking a deep breath when he requested you to. “Close your eyes,” he whispered, the thin hairs of his beard tickling your cheeks. “Now, breathe out. Slow.”

As the cool air inside your chest unfurled from your lungs, his mouth pressed against yours. You squeaked in surprise, squeezing your eyes shut as his lips moved against yours. His hands smoothed down your lower back, pushing you closer until his erection was pressing up against your stomach.

You moaned into his lips, your body set ablaze as you struggled to kiss him back, your movements stiff and uncoordinated. He pulled away, a deep chuckle leaving his chest, causing you to squirm in shame.

“Just relax, sweetheart.” he purred, the fingers undoing the top buttons of your dress. “Don't be so nervous,”

“Easy for you to say,” you huffed, watching as his hands descended to each button, opening it with practiced fingers. He laughed, kissing your forehead with a smile. “I know, but just trust me.”

Trust me.

This was the most trust you've ever put in anyone you've ever met in your entire life. Here, this man was undressing you so calmly, like it was the most casual thing in the world. It probably was, to him. How many girls has he been with? You thought almost bitterly, jealousy spiking at him cherishing any other woman like this.

Every man you've ever met has bragged about how many girls he's bedded, whether they were modest wives or working whores, it didn't matter. It didn't matter if the man was handsome or ugly, rich or poor, dirty or clean. They all had the same goal in mind. Maybe Daddy was right. You thought anxiously as your dress fell into a pool around your ankles, leaving you in your bodice. Perhaps you were just another notch under Arthur’s belt. Even Daddy would stumble home with his clothes undone and lipstick stains adorning his neck.

Maybe Arthur is different. Maybe he's a good man.

“What's goin’ on up there,” Arthur asked teasingly, yet concern still laced around the edges of his voice. “If you don't want this–”

“I do!” You interrupted quickly, hands latching onto the front of his shirt, your lips puckering in embarrassment. “Sorry, I–I'm just nervous s’all.”

“I know,” he said, his arms resting against your upper arms, rubbing his calloused hands over your soft skin. “I understand. We’ll take it slow.” He promised, leaning forward to capture your lips in another kiss. He held his lips against yours this time, letting you adjust to him as his fingers deftly coiled around the strings of your bodice, slowly unlacing them one by one.

“S’been awhile myself,” he admitted, hoping to soothe you in some way as he took his time undressing you until you were left in only your bloomers, standing still with your face hot and your lips chewed raw.

“You don't…” you hesitated, wondering if you even wanted to know the answer. “…do this often?” You finally inquired as his eyes filtered over your exposed form. “Nah…” he answered, hands running all along your body.

“Well… once upon a time, maybe.” he grinned at you wickedly, his white teeth gleaming underneath his self-satisfied smirk. He laughed, finding the expression you subconsciously made amusing.

“Don't get all jealous now. It ain't like that anymore.” He promised, unbuttoning his clothes this time, undoing his vest, and taking off his short sleeve. “I wouldn't take advantage of someone like you,” he reassured, undoing his suspenders until he was left in nothing but his pants with his gun belt still sitting heavy over his hips and gun holster attached to his side.

Your eyes roamed to a large expanse of his chest, thick, coarse hair sprouting from his skin and leaving a path down into his pants. “Now,” he started again, your eyes snapping back to his face.

“Go sit on the bed for me,” he commanded, his tone firm yet tender, a heavy hand smoothing over your head. After letting his words sink in, you did as you were told. You knocked off your shoes as you sat at the edge, trying to avoid his gaze. With a simple click, he pulled the gun belt from around his pants and set it down near his hat, his holster following suit.

“Take ‘em off,” he instructed, his eyes studying your face as he undid his belt, waiting for you to undress. You clutched the warm off-white fabric of your clothes, your breaths coming in shaky, knowing you were about to expose your body to a man; you've never felt so vulnerable.

“I won't ask you again,” he threatened, his lips tightening as his eyes narrowed. “I have no problem takin’ you back home.” Just the thought of home had fear swirling in your gut. You'd instead take this than face your daddy. You knew it was unavoidable, but you'd rather it at least be worth it.

You nodded your head swiftly, standing back up to shed yourself of your underclothes until you were left in nothing but a necklace sitting on your naked chest. The cold surface of its metal and the cool air caused your skin to rise in goosebumps, your nipples perking in response.

“Good girl,” he purred, eyes drinking in your naked form with a dark hunger you've never seen. The spurs of his boots clicked as he reached forward, carefully sliding them off before setting them aside.

As you sat back against the bed, your fingers reached up again, clasping your cross, letting its sharper ridges poke against your skin.

“Don’t be scared now,” you gasped as his pants fell to the floor, his cock finally springing free mere inches from your face. Your jaw practically dropped to the floor as you stared. You've never seen one before. Do they all look like that? Are they always this big?

“You okay?” he laughed, strutting towards you, his cock bobbing between his thighs, hanging low towards the floor. Up close, you could see every vein protruding from underneath his foreskin, a strange liquid shining at the tip.

“Um…” you were at a loss for words, unable to look away. “What if it doesn't… y’know,” Arthur tilted his head to the side as he neared, hands on your waist as he urged you back further. “…fit?” You finished with a squeak as your head hit the pillow below, and your hair splayed out behind you.

You peered up at him, curious as his cheeks dusted into a dark shade of pink. Was he embarrassed? Did I offend him? “It’ll fit,” he said, looking away almost bashfully. “Gotta prepare you first,”

Prepare me?

He leaned forward until his forearms rested against either side of your head, trapping you underneath his body. Soft brown hair strands framed his face as he leaned closer, and front pieces fell over his thick brows.

You gazed into his clear blue eyes, deep as the sea, with a warm yellow ring around his black irises, reminding you of the sun’s rays casting light across blue skies. His eyes flickered between yours, seemingly searching for something before his lips connected to yours once more, his hairy chest pressing against your breasts.

Reaching up with shaky hands, you entangled them into his hair, resting them gently in fear of maybe hurting him. “That’s it…” he encouraged, his hand finding yours, interlocking your fingers, and pressing them to the bed.

“Just breathe,” he reminded before kissing you again, his cock twitching against your thigh, subtly rutting against you. You did as you were told: in and out. You thought to yourself as you practiced slow breaths until your heartbeat slowed to a semi-normal pace. “You got it,” he smiled into the kiss before continuing down your neck, rubbing his lips over sensitive skin.

You whimpered, your hand tightening against his as he lowered even further, reaching your chest. He let out a deep groan as he pressed his face against your breast, taking a nipple into his mouth to suck.

You looked down at him in shock, unsure what to do as he began rutting harder against you. Is this what people do? You were so confused, your thoughts racing a mile a minute. He let go with a slow suck, his heavy eyes meeting yours once more.

“Have I sprouted three heads?” he chuckled, worrying his lip with his top teeth. You shook your head, one hand gripping his shoulder to balance yourself.

“I don't… am I doing this, right?” As you whispered, your face flushed with warmth, and you squeezed his hand tightly, seeking comfort.

“You don't gotta worry your pretty little head over nothin’,” he said as his fingers dipped between your bodies, tracing over your thighs before nearing your pussy. You could feel its dampness trickle between your legs and into the sheets, your little pearl throbbing with need.

“You're perfect,” he murmured, his gaze softening into an emotion you've only seen flicker in his eyes and disappear as if it was never there. But this time, it stayed; it settled for you.

You didn't know what to say, so you opted not to speak; the silence spoke for itself as you stared back. The hand in Arthur’s hair cupped his stubble cheek, urging him closer before kissing his lips. He grunted at the contact, his tongue prodding the entrance of your mouth, forcing it to open before it slid inside.

No fork. The thought popped into your mind as Arthur’s tongue slid against yours, massaging the wet muscle with flicks of his own.

The hand against your leg reached underneath your thigh, lifting it around his waist before dipping back between your legs. You gasped into his mouth as his thumb reached underneath your hood, finding your pulsing clit and pressing down, moving in slow and deliberate circles. You moaned out; never once had you felt anything so amazing in your entire life. You had never touched yourself down there before; shame always held you back, and now you regret it.

All those times you refused your aching body with release almost seem abusive looking back now.

“Oh, Arthur,” you gasped into his mouth as he continued, your hips lifting to try and chase the addicting sensation.

“It feels so…” You couldn't even find the words to describe the feeling. It would be useless to try to explain it now.

“Like that?” he groaned, picking up the pace of his movements as his other fingers teased your entrance, coating his calluses in your essence. You nodded, mouth still open as broken whines and whimpers escaped your wet lips. You arched your back, your face falling to the side as you squeezed his hand, nails biting into the flesh of his skin. Arthur didn't seem to notice; if he did, he didn't show it, fully enraptured by your sensitive flesh.

“Christ, you're so wet.” Arthur didn't mean anything by it, but the mention of a name so holy during a time like this had your thighs closing around his forearms, trapping his hand against you.

He was also right. You don't think you've ever been this wet in your entire life. “Don't stop, Arthur.” You pleaded, trying to reopen your legs to give him more room.

“Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart,” came his husky reply. You sighed at his words, more so the thickness of his voice.

“Wider, darlin’,” he grunted, his middle finger catching onto the rim of your hole. “Gotta stretch you nice and proper, so you can take my cock.”

“Arthur!” you whined, embarrassed by his words, throwing an arm over your eyes. He laughed breathlessly, his movements slowing down. “Thas’ what you want, ain’t it?” He urged his finger, slowly inserting itself as you bucked upwards, trying to chase the dwindling pleasure.

You whimpered in reply, opening your legs further, allowing him to slip his finger in deeper. It was so thick and so warm, your pussy welcoming him with wet pulses as he slowly moved it in and out. The pain was sharp but was slowly replaced as his finger curled deeper, reaching places you weren't aware even existed.

“There’s a girl,” he rasped, eyes glancing between your face and your slippery cunt before adding a second finger. He wasn't deterred by the small amounts of blood coating his digits, only focused on making you feel as good as possible while preparing you to take him.

“You're doing so well.” he sighed, twisting his fingers before spreading them into scissoring motions, completely enraptured as your pussy convulsed around him, spilling more and more slick as his fingers quickened their pace.

The only sound in the room was your deep moans and the sloppy sound of your wet pussy getting fucked by his hand. Arthur shifted his wrist so the edge of his palm rubbed against your sensitive button, curling his hands deep against your G-spot and smirking in triumph once he found it.

“There it is,” he chuckled as he gazed upon your expression. Your thighs slammed closed around his wrist as you arched your back deeply, feeling your spine ache in protest, but you didn't care.

“Ah! Right there!” You squeezed his hand with all your strength as a new sensation built in your stomach. Something was coming.

“Arthur!” You whimpered; your free hand reached towards his wrist, which was now twisting with more force as his fingers pumped faster, harder.

“Wait! It’s—I’m,” Arthur was quick to silence you with another deep kiss, yet you couldn't kiss him back as much as you wanted, your mouth struggling to stay closed as whorish noises forced their way out.

“Just let go, honey,” he groaned, the heel of his palm digging deeper. “It's alright, just let go.” His voice was so thick and coarse, so warm and so rich, so deep and so guttural you couldn't help but fall victim to his spell.

With one final wail, you felt something rush out of you, something liquid but didn’t quite feel like pee. All you knew was that it felt good.

I hope this is what heaven feels like.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your voice growing tight as Arthur continued his pace, helping you ride out your high before eventually slowing, dragging out your orgasm for as long as he could.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he moaned, taking in your debauched state with a proud smile. Your hair was in disarray, strands sticking to your sweaty skin as your eyes fluttered, lashes resting against your darkened cheeks, and your eyebrows drawn close. Your lips were wet and rubbed red from his kisses, drool lewdly sticking to the corners of your mouth. Your naked chest heaved, your cross still sitting in between your breasts.

“You alright?” Arthur chuckled, slowly removing his fingers from your wet heat and wiping the mixed residue on the sheets.

“I never wanted it to stop,” you whimpered at the empty feeling inside you.

“I know that's right,” he agreed with a chuckle, squeezing your hand one final time before letting it go. You gazed up at him sheepishly, your hands reaching out to grab his forearms, letting your hands feel the warmth of his skin.

He hoisted your hips upwards, wrapping your thighs around his waist before leaning forward, his palm cupping your cheek before slotting his mouth against yours. Your eyes fell closed as you lost yourself in the kiss, unaware as his hips shifted forward.

With one hand around his cock, he pumped it generously, coating his dick in precum as he guided it toward your entrance.

“Big inhale for me, darlin’,” he requested one final time. You did as you were told, breathing in a large gulp of air before you felt something catch against your rim and push inside, filling you inch by inch as the air caught in your throat.

“And out,” he grunted, pushing his cock to the hilt, forcing himself deep inside, cursing as you clamped around him. He swore he'd felt traps looser than this.

Your exhale was probably closer to a sob. You've never felt so full in your whole life. Although the stretch wasn't nearly as painful as you imagined it would be. There was just so much pressure.

“You're doing good, fuck, just keep breathing.” he panted, barely even able to pull back with how tight you were clutching him. You nodded when trying to focus on his words as his cock throbbed inside of you.

“Good?” he grunted, his face twisted into something akin to pain, his heavy brows pulled forward, his face creasing as his eyes threatened to squeeze shut despite his resistance to keep them open. He sucked on his lower lip, struggling to concentrate as your wet heat pulsed around him.

“It feels… full.”

He groaned in response, thrusting up into you until his pretty cock punched against that spongy spot, causing you to kean, your body squirming, unsure if it wanted to pull away or chase the feeling.

“It's too much,” you whimpered, your hands pushing against his abdomen before he took your wrists in one hand, forcing them above your head as he rocked against you, fucking his cock in and out in slow yet deep thrusts.

“Take it,” he practically growled, his warm gaze turning cold as he towered above you, one hand enclosing around your hip as leverage, manipulating your body up and down in time with his thrusts.

“God, fucking take it,” he accentuated each word with a powerful shove, your skin slapping loudly each time they met. You couldn't even use anything to stabilize yourself, his fist wrapped firmly around your hands, holding them down with ease.

You were forced to take the onslaught of pleasure, tears welling up in your eyes as you cried out with movement, each jamming of his cock against your sore, sensitive pussy.

“Arthur!” you sobbed, your body squirming desperately underneath him, attempting to run away from his battering hips that grew faster with each minute that passed.

“Yeah, say my name,” he moaned, his eyes falling shut as his lips parted, deep pants escaping his chest with every movement. “Go on, say it again,” he reopened his eyes, glaring down at you with a look of something fierce.

“Arthur!” You moaned, pleading with your eyes for him to slow down. He smiled wide, letting go of your wrists, urging you to wrap your arms around his shoulders as he leaned in close, chest to chest.

“Am I being too rough?” he teased, pecking your lips tenderly as he slowed to a softer grind, allowing you a bit of grace.

“It's okay,” you panted, nails digging into the hard muscles of his back, closing your eyes in bliss as his thick cock ruined you for anyone else. “You can go faster… if you want,” you gripped him by his arms, burying your face in his neck, shyly kissing the expanse of his throat.

He let out another deep groan, his hand resting behind your head, pulling you closer as his other curled into the sheets below you, fucking up into you at a steady pace. You held onto him tightly, knowing you wouldn't last much longer.

“It's coming again,” you warned, your voice high-pitched and airy as you struggled to breathe, feeling as though he was fucking into your lungs.

Arthur leaned upwards, letting you fall back onto the bed as he took hold of your waist, his unoccupied thumb pressed down against your clit, rubbing fast circles as he urged you to finish.

“You’re almost there,” he grunted, watching as his cock reappeared before disappearing back inside you, the base coated in your milky arousal.

“You got it, c’mon,”

You reached behind you, fingers curling into the sheets below as you arched in his touch, gasping for air as the sweet pleasure built quicker, coming in faster and harder. “M’so close, Arthur.”

“Yeah, I know,” he cursed, fucking himself deeper, trying to get as much of himself inside as possible.

“I can feel you squeezin’ me,” whines began to escape his lips, sounds you never thought you'd hear him make.

“Does it feel good?” you asked, barely holding on as the thread threatened to break. You watched Arthur’s shoulders shake with what looked to be laughter, his thrusts stuttering before picking back up again.

“Yes,” he dipped his head to the side with a hiss, his thumb pressing harder against your delicate pearl. “Feels so fuckin’ good, sweetheart,”

Something about the nickname did it for you. It was said with affection and lust, smooth as silk and sweet as strawberry wine. Arthur’s voice was thick and rich, slipping into your ears and knocking around in your brain.

You came with his name on your tongue, crying to the heavens above, knowing that even if God has turned back on you now, at least you’ll suffer knowing you were loved in some way by someone. You felt his nose nuzzle into the side of your neck, his hips slowing into something almost romantic.

You felt him place a kiss on your shoulder, almost as a silent apology, before drawing back and slamming forward, fucking you so fast and so deep the frame of the headboard knocked against the wall over and over. You held onto him for dear life as he used you for his pleasure, groaning uncontrollably in your ear.

“Almost there, fuck,” he whimpered, his hold on you tightening to something almost painful before he pulled out swiftly, pumping his cock at an inhumane pace before shooting white ropes across your stomach. He came loudly, teetering near a shout. Every time you thought it was over, more and more kept coming out, eventually spilling onto his hand and running down his length.

He glanced down at the cross, rising and falling with every movement of your chest. He smirked, holding it up in his clean hand, his thumb smoothing over the protruding patterns.

At least now he can say for certain where he’s truly going.

“C’mon, darlin, let's get you cleaned up.”

main masterlist, rules

[blackcatwriter]

in the blink of a crinkling eye (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

a/n: Here's a short lil blurb because I'm in my Arthur Morgan phase rn and still figuring out pt 2 of my other fic. Honestly, I tried my best to be historically accurate regarding the camera so if it's not that accurate I'm sorry 😭 ♥︎ thank you to my pookie for beta reading this one too! ♥︎ enjoy!

warnings: angst if you squint?, no use of Y/N, no physical descriptions of reader (correct me if I'm wrong), use of nicknames, pretty much fluff

wc: 900

summary: You manage to get Arthur to come with you for a photograph of the two of you.

credit to @plum98 for the divider!

You had been begging Arthur the last few weeks to get your photograph taken together. He always managed to dodge your request, claiming “Sorry sweets, Sean and I are robbing some homestead”, or “Dutch has been on my ass ‘bout bringing in more money”, much to your disappointment. 

However, today was different. You somehow steered him out of camp with the excuse of “needing his gun expertise”, although he doubted Ms. Grimshaw had put you up to such a task. 

Once you conned him into taking you to town, you led him away from the gunsmith to a building that looked like it had nothing to do with what you were supposed to be doing. You had successfully fooled the cowboy into your schemes and walked through the door before he could say anything. Feeling obligated to follow after you, he did so. You had already begun introducing yourself to the photographer by the time he caught up. 

“Darlin’, why the hell are you so goddamn insistent on gettin’ this done?” He grunted lowly as the photographer readied his camera.  

“You get to draw me whenever you want in that journal of yours. I ain’t even got a quarter of your talent to draw you and I... I want to be able to look at you when you’re away on them missions of yours.” You sheepishly admitted, feeling yourself flush under his intense gaze. 

Coming to understand your reasoning, he realized you were right, when you first caught him drawing you, you had been self-conscious but grew to appreciate it. He would always be observant to capture all the little details about you. Whenever he was away doing whatever the hell it was that Uncle or Micah managed to drag him into, he’d open his journal and look back at the portraits he made of you.  

He’d look fondly at the time he drew you by campfire. You had been singing along to the tune of Javier’s guitar with the rest of the gang. There was another drawing of you when you had been learning how to read. Most of the time you hardly noticed when you were the subject of his art, but when you did there was a twinkle of delight in your eyes Arthur would make sure to capture. 

Now here you had been wanting the same—a memento of him to keep you sane whenever he was gone and you’d have no idea if he had been killed or captured. Taking this in, Arthur felt an immense guilt weighing on his shoulders. Arthur Morgan had been a complete asshole to you. 

“M’sorry sweetheart, I didn’t know it meant that much to ya’. Should’ve taken ya’ the first time ya’ asked.” He looked down to your feet apologetically, too embarrassed to meet your eyes.  

Shaking your head with a smile, you took his hand in yours and squeezed. “S’alright. We’re here now.” You pecked his cheek and walked over to where the photographer had stationed his camera. 

Arthur stood frozen in his place. You’d always been understanding to him—far more than he deserved at times. He’d always wondered when you’d finally come to your senses and leave him in the dust. 

He watched you stand in front of the camera and gesture for him to come with you. You were busy brushing the stray strands of hair that were in your face and fixed the collar of your blouse to sit nicely. 

In his eyes, you were perfect as in. Your hair had been tousled around by the wind from riding horseback and your blouse had stains from playing in the mud with Jack back at camp. You certainly didn’t look “picturesque” as society would deem it, you were dressed much too informally but Arthur adored how you looked. You looked like the truest version of yourself, the you that he had grown to love since you first joined the gang. 

He’d only dreaded the day that you saw the ugly bastard in him that he saw whenever he looked in a mirror. There was nothing special about him nor was he the most handsome fella around. Sure, he was useful when it came to intimidating people into paying off their debts to the gang, but who was looking to love a bully?  

“Come on, Arthur. We’re waiting on you.” You smiled at him.  

Little did he know you had already seen him for what he is. He was a good man at heart who did bad things to protect the people he loved. He had a long past of doing bad things, but so did you and you accepted him—all of him. Shaking off his nerves, Arthur made his way to your side and offered his arm. 

You happily accepted, beaming up at him with that one-of-a-kind smile of yours. He mirrored the love that shone in your eyes, not wanting to look away from you even as the man counted down. 

“Ah, I see you lovebirds were not paying attention. Let us try one more time!” The man placed your photograph to the side and counted down once more. 

This time both of you looked at the camera. Unable to fight your contagious energy, he let a small grin slip on his face. After the flash, while you went to happily collect the picture from the cameraman, Arthur took the first photo and folded it inside the breast pocket of his jacket.  

[photo1030]

Leather and Lace - Chapter 20: All The Little Things 

Summary: Arthur takes note of all the little things you do for him and tries to decide if he’s ready to take your relationship to the next level. 

Warning: 18+ please. Minors - DNI; NSFW - This one is a bit longer than I planned, sorry!

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*This beautiful images comes from the always stunning @foundynnel

*Beta-read by the wonderfully supportive @readingcoco (Thank you for herding in my thoughts, my friend!)

Tag List: @rivetingrosie4​ @bimbo-dollz​ @pine4pple-b0i​ @redwritr​ @kuri-chans-blog​ @queer-sadie-adler​ @joelmillerswifey​ @gimmethosedaddymilkers​ @pcotarelo​ @delilah-grimes​ @maemortem​ @wistfulwisteriawitch​ @lilacxxdreams​ @mentallyillfrogs​ @absolutegeek​ @spurz​ @sophiaj650​ @uniqueclodzinevoid​ @lookingformaurice​ @pawoui​ @randomidk-123​ @yyiikes​ @eddiemetalheadmunson​ @twola​ @kmartkiddieisle​ @red-dead-simp @regwishesshehadmagic​  @rhehr241​  @earwen-x​ @akariver75​ @djennty​ @nervousmumbling​ @xliliths​ @unbotheredbeeeee​ @onnetonprinsessa​ @kittiowolf210​ @ezrynn​ @suhiss @arthurmargon​​ @codnerd1999 @queer-sadie-adler​​ @alice-vanderlinde​​ @sweetandstoned21​​ @j4llyf7sh @spooky631​​ @m0r4rx @ilovrxats​​ @i-69-urmom​​ @ddbluesie @ivuravix @nervousmumbling @sickvictorianangel @tirededuxhours @ezzythereal1 @chloepluto1306 @ivys-valentine @spiritcatcherxo @lea-khena @brccklynbaby1 @foundynnel @readingcoco @carmelamontezlikr @ultraporcelainpig @sofiaa-xcx

*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know. There are a few that would not let me link, so I apologize if this doesn’t ping some people. 

It’s been a few weeks since you and Arthur proclaimed your affections for each other and you have quickly settled into a comfortable routine. With Arthur being a senior member of the gang, and with you as his woman, you feel that you need to step up and contribute more to the Van Der Linde Gang. And Dutch and Ms. Grimshaw couldn’t be more thrilled. 

The gang must always come first - that is what Arthur has instilled in you and it’s what you have come to adopt as your own adage too. You feel that same sense of belonging and responsibility for these people and finally begin to truly understand Arthur’s unrelenting loyalty to them. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link, and as long as the gang does well, the people within it will prosper. 

You are quickly becoming more embedded into this rag-tag group than you had ever thought you would. It’s not just a group of random individuals or a place for you to hide for safety, they are your family now, just as they are Arthur’s. These are the people who comfort you when you need it, and protect you as one of their own. They laugh with you; they yell and stomp angrily with you. You affectionately think of them and pick-up little gifts that will make their day, and you are rewarded with their love and appreciation in return. This is what Arthur is devoutly devoted to, this sense of belonging. For this is much more than a gang of lawbreakers. These people chose each other, which is a bond tighter than most blood relatives. 

The sun is just climbing into its zenith in the autumn sky, desperately trying to break its radiant beams through the gray, overcast clouds to shine down upon the earth below. You and Tilly rumble into camp on a wagon, having just come back from town with a load full of supplies. Mr. Pearson greets you as the old wooden vehicle creaks to a halt. He waddles over and peers his chubby face over the side. The cook is thrilled, seeing an extra crate of potatoes, two more tins of lard and a sack of grain more than he expected you to return with. 

“I guess battin’ those eyelashes of yours at the store owner goes a lot further than I thought,” the portly man teases you as he grabs some of the items from the back of the wagon. 

You beam back at him with a smile of pride as you hike up your skirt into your hand and climb down from the wagon seat. “What is it they say? ‘Catch more flies with honey than vinegar?’”, you hum.

“Well, don’t be surprised if I start sending you out more often, then. We’ll probably get further along with your pretty face than mine.” Pearson’s round figure vibrates slightly with the laughter of his own joke.

“Just let me know what you need, I’ll be happy to help.” Suddenly you halt dead in your tracks, realizing that you’ve just repeated one of Arthur’s sayings. Tilly is right:  you and Arthur are already starting to act like an old married couple. The phrase causes you to shake your head before moving back to the wagon to grab more of the items to unpack.

You pick up one of the smaller boxes and turn to head over to the tables where the men lazily sit about, discussing random topics and enjoying a brief moment of peace and quiet. Arthur and Hosea sit, each relaxing with a cigarette in hand, listening to Dutch carry on about something that he's read recently. He’s been obsessed with “An American Eden” by Evelyn Miller lately and takes it upon himself to “preach its teachings”, as it were, to whomever is within the sound of his voice to hear it. The small group of men currently around him are not what you’d call “high-brow” and his philosophy lessons tends to fall on deaf ears sometimes. 

“Hello, boys!” you sing as you saunter over, being met with a collection of head-nods and grins of acknowledgement.

As you grab their attention, you proceed to hand-out a few thoughtful extras that you pilfered in town. You toss a package of new guitar strings to Javier who snatches them out of the air with one of his nimble hands. 

“Gracias, mi amor!” he beams happily as he examines the small bundle in his hands. “Where did you come across these?”

“Don’t you worry about it. I have my ways,” you smirk with an accompanying wink.

You reach over to hand a new book to Hosea with a smile, and offer a premium cigar to Dutch, who gratefully accepts your gift with appreciative eyes. Placing the empty box on the table, you look over at Arthur. “Oh, and by the way, Arthur, I think I saw that jack-rabbit you’re chasing in town today.”

Arthur’s head perks up right away. “The Petersen bounty?”

“Yeah. He was over by the brothel. By the looks of it, he’ll be holed up there for a while,” you say nonchalantly as you pull an apple out of your skirt pocket and rub its red skin against your sleeve before biting into the crisp, juicy fruit. 

“Well shit, why are you just telling me this now?” Arthur huffs impatiently as he quickly gets up and starts moving towards the horses.

“Like I said, he’s in no hurry.” You shrug. “Do I get a finder’s fee for my part?” you call after him with a grin as you watch him pull Buck from the hitching posts. 

Arthur just waves you off as he slides his dusty boot into the stirrup and hastily slings up into Buck’s saddle, taking off for town. 

—---------------------------------------------------

The flames of the evening’s campfire pop and crackle softly as they roll and crawl over the slightly damp wood. The aroma of heady oak permeates the air and the smoky plumes rise and dance up towards the night sky. You and Arthur sit alone on the ground by the fire, leaning back against a log with a blanket wrapped over your legs. The night is quiet as the stars sparkle overhead. Most people are playing cards at one of the tables, or have drifted off to their tents for the evening. 

The fire offers its warmth and golden glow, creating a soft ambiance. Arthur pulls you in for a gentle, absentminded kiss, and you find yourselves wholly content with each other, forgetting that the rest of the world exists as lovers often do. Your lips run languidly, with no urgency or demand as if working of their own accord. You start to gently rake your fingers across Arthur’s chest, slowly flexing to curl around the worn fabric of his faded brown shirt and occasionally reaching up to caress along his neck and chin. The feeling of his skin radiates through your fingertips and down into the palm of your soft hand. Eyes rolling shut, you smile into his mouth in blissful happiness as his arms lovingly and protectively envelop you. 

Arthur’s strong hand sits on your hip, lightly grasping at the supple flesh hidden under the fabric of your skirt. He loves the feeling of your skin on his, it doesn’t matter what the scenario is. Whether it’s his fingers grazing yours when he hands you a cup of fresh-brewed coffee, or when his hips are pounding into yours in the throws of passion, or even just as it is now when the softest of kisses land upon his chapped lips: the feeling of you against him is like electricity pulsing throughout his entire body, bringing him to life, just like that weird story by Mary Shelley that you read to him.  

It’s a rare thing for the two of you to be left alone in camp like this. Usually you have to hide away if you want any sort of privacy. But truth be told, the rest of the gang is respectfully giving the two of you some space. It’s nice not having a bitter and angry Arthur around all of the time. Ever since you publicly claimed him in the middle of camp as yours, he hasn’t been as snarky or barking at people like he usually does. And of course, people will do anything for you. The demands of daytime chores and responsibilities are one thing, but the calm evenings are left for you two. Sure, not every night is as peaceful as this, so you revel in the rare moment of solitude when the two of you can get it. 

Arthur’s lips eventually part from yours to leave a trail of delicate kisses under your jaw and down your neck, hitting that favorite spot of his. The place behind your ear is where the softest skin he has found on your body is hidden. That spot always tastes so heavenly to him and draws that little breathless noise from you that drives him wild. 

Arthur’s nose buries into your hair, picking up the floral notes of the soap you use to wash it with. You giggle and nuzzle him as your hands come up to cradle his head, your fingers entwined into the locks of his hair, hugging him to you as your nose wrinkles in merriment when his beard stubble delightfully tickles your sensitive skin. 

And suddenly, as you roll your body closer into his, before you can even think twice about it, the words just float from your lips like a dandelion seed being carried on a summer breeze. 

“I love you, Arthur.” Your voice is a breathless sigh of utter contentment, a melody singing through the air.

You haven’t seen his face yet, but feel his movements halt as his whole body goes rigid against you. Arthur slowly pulls his face from your neck and looks at you, speechless, with shocked and confused eyes, face flushed a shade of scarlet to rival the fire in front of you.

But you quickly place your fingers over his lips as if to hush any sort of protest he may have. “Now before you go crazy, Arthur, you don’t have to say it back. I simply said it because I wanted to, because it felt right just now.” You give him a soft and reassuring smile, amused by his reaction as he continues to stare at you, blinking quietly. You can tell he wants to say something in return, but can’t find the words as his mouth begins to work, but no sound comes out. 

“It’s okay, Arthur,” you giggle. “Really. I didn’t tell you that to hear it back. I just wanted to make sure you know it. And you can say it if, and when, you’re ready.”

You pause to give him a moment to answer, to make sure he understands that you have no demand of him, but you can see that he is still troubled and finding it hard to articulate what he needs to say. You honestly do not need him to say it back to you. How he treats you is how he feels about you, regardless of words stated or not. Words are used to manipulate people. His actions show you everything you need to know. So thankfully, you put him out of his misery by leaning over to kiss the corner of his mouth as he continues to look at you dumbstruck.

“Don’t get too worked up over it, Arthur.” You pat his cheek affectionately as a look of empathy sits upon your face. “I don’t need you having a heart attack over it. Like I said, you don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to know where my heart lies.” 

Arthur’s forehead creases as he watches you stand up, brushing the dried leaves out of your skirt before reaching down for your blanket. You bend over to catch his scarred chin in your fingertips. “Goodnight, Arthur,” you whisper and kiss him again. You give him an impish little grin before heading over to your tent for the night. 

You leave Arthur still sitting speechless on the ground, a troubled look settled upon his handsome face as he watches your lovely form fade into the darkness of night before disappearing from view altogether as you close your tent. 

—-----------------------------------------------------

In the days that follow, Dutch announces that he is going to move the camp again. You are all sitting around the fire when he proceeds with an impassioned speech about moving south just outside of a town called Blackwater. 

You watch Dutch as he presents himself to the group, noting how he carries himself in front of others. He is charismatic and passionate, a natural-born leader. Since you have known the dark-haired devil, he has always had a dramatic and commanding presence, drawing his people to him with his idealism and wit. 

You find it amusing how Dutch’s boldness and optimism is a perfect compliment to Hosea’s skeptical wisdom. The two of them together make quite the dynamic duo, two sides of the same coin. Sometimes you wonder at the true nature of their relationship. Are they “brothers”, just as Arthur and John are, or is there more there, smoldering under the surface like hot coals left after a raging fire has burned down? Both men had their lady-loves in their lives, and both were left devastated when these sparks of light were extinguished in their otherwise dark lives. But you can’t help but wonder if there was ever more to Dutch and Hosea’s relationship than meets the eye. The “curious couple and their unruly sons.” The very idea of it makes you regard them with a softer spot in your heart.

The gang is preparing to go to work and the new location has some hot tips emanating from it. The camp is abuzz with packing and planning with everyone sprinting about and working on their assigned tasks. Arthur and Hosea are discussing a real estate tip around West Elizabeth, while Micah and Dutch have their own plan��something about a ferry boat. 

Arthur and Hosea wander to sit at one of the campfires, away from distractions, and are busy discussing their tip and planning for the new move when Hosea casually asks Arthur about you.

“So…how’s things going with (Y/N)?” He gives Arthur a sly smile with that twinkle in his eye. Hosea has been silently observing the budding courtship from the beginning, carefully watching for any signs of discord that would need to be nipped in the bud before trouble brews. 

A slight pink dusts Arthur’s face at the older man’s inquiry, visible even under his week-old beard. A sheepish little grin tugs at the corner of his mouth as he purses his lips in thought. 

“Have you ever wanted to listen to every word someone says, even about the smallest thing in the world just so you can see their face light up and hear their voice?” 

Hosea gives a light-hearted chuckle as he brings his cigarette to his wrinkled lips. “Yeah, that girl broke down those walls of yours without you even noticing she was doin’ it, didn’t she?”

But the smile slowly drips from Arthur’s face as a dark cloud settles over his features. A deep and sad sigh pushes its way from his broad chest under his worn beige jacket. His eyes relax their focus and stray to look out over the camp as he absentmindedly chews on his bottom lip. Hosea notices the change in mood and immediately fears the worst. 

“Ah, shit, what did you do?” accuses the old man in disappointment.

“Nothing!” Arthur counters defensively as his face snaps back to Hosea’s attention. But he is met with the clever fox’s skeptical scowl. Arthur hesitates to share what’s on his mind, afraid that once he verbalizes the phrase again, it will become all too real. 

“She…she told me that she loves me,” Arthur admits quietly, before letting his gaze float to the worn leather of his boots, his toe poking at the grass.

Like a switch has been pulled, Hosea’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Well, that’s great news, my boy!” He claps Arthur on the shoulder in congratulations. “Although I could’ve told you that after the first week she was here with us.” But when Arthur doesn't return his friend’s enthusiasm, Hosea’s smile quickly turns down again in confusion, eying him up cautiously. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know.”

“What, are you tellin’ me that you don’t love her?” Hosea asks incredulously, his face drawing up in disbelief. 

“No, I wasn’t sayin’ that at all,” pouts Arthur. “‘Cause I do,” he says with a slight, yet definitive nod. The man fidgets slightly, his hands suddenly sweaty and shaky as he finally admits outloud what he’s known internally for awhile. A short, yet sharp exhale escapes him, as the statement is now out there, exposing his fragile heart for the first time in a long while. 

“Well, then I fail to see the problem,” presses Hosea with a flippant wave of his hand in exasperation.

Arthur fidgets with the cigarette in his fingers, slowly rolling it between his thumb and index finger. “What if she realizes that she doesn’t? Love me, I mean?” He catches Hosea’s eye. “What if she wakes up one mornin’ and decides she don’t want me no more?” He turns his gaze outward, focusing on nothing again. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Arthur cringes when he hears his own voice whining about being loved, bitching about the same thing he said to Marston a few weeks ago. Yes, it’s sooo horrible to have a wonderful woman love me. He thinks sarcastically. God, I’m pathetic.

“I suppose I see your point.” Hosea nods his head in understanding, as Arthur’s worry becomes all too clear. “So what if she does one day? Hmm?” The old man waves his hand dismissively in the air. “But, what if it turns out that (Y/N) wants to be with you forever?” Hosea squints at Arthur. “Don't you think she’s worth the gamble?”

Arthur turns his pained eyes back to his old friend. “I can’t go through that again, Hosea. I just…I can’t do it.” He leans out on his elbows onto his thighs, head swimming with ever-present self-doubt, coupled with the desperate yearning for the love and acceptance he’s craved since he was a child. 

“Arthur, if (Y/N) tells you she loves you, you better believe her.” Hosea points his weathered, crooked finger at Arthur, poking him in the chest. “Don’t be afraid to start over. You may like your new story better this time around. (Y/N) ain’t like that other one,” he grumbles, his jaw clenching slightly without even needing to mention Mary by name. 

“No, I suppose you’re right. She surely ain’t.” Arthur sits quietly for a moment, mulling over Hosea’s words. Hosea always has a way of getting him to see reason, always had since Arthur was a kid. Hosea could quiet his mind with just the simplest words. Arthur takes another deep drag of his cigarette before that roguish little grin pops up again. “You know…if I somehow manage not to screw this up, Hosea…I’m gonna marry her.”

The admission makes the old man’s heart almost burst with happiness as he huffs out a laugh and pats Arthur’s shoulder again in approval. “God willing, I’ll live long enough to see that.”

The two men share a soft chuckle between them. They have been through so much together to get to this point in their lives and the idea of hope and love in the future gives them a feeling of contentment that is rare for their kind of life.

Arthur wants you, of that, there is no doubt. After Mary and Eliza, ‘love’ was just a word to Arthur, some meaningless string of letters that he’d hear from Mary-Beth as she read her silly stories. Four little characters that created an empty and almost cold feeling for him. L.O.V.E

But now, the word has taken a whole new form in you. You are his definition of desire. Arthur never knew how engulfing the flames of love could be until now, until you uttered those three simple little words to him. You are the only thing that could have brought him back to life with your hands, your lips, your soul. Arthur would journey to the ends of the earth to keep you in his life. He misses you from the moment you separate. All he knows is that nothing else makes as much sense to him as loving you. This is what it feels like to fall and not know, or care, where you land. 

You have no idea the depth of how you affect Arthur, how you calm the chaos in his head and still the tornado of thoughts that threaten his sanity. When he holds you in his arms, you become the eye of his storm, the center that is safe while the gale rages wildly around him. 

When two souls fall in love, there is nothing else but the yearning to be close to each other. The very presence that is felt through a hand held close, a voice heard drifting into one’s ear, or even that slightest smile that you know is only for you. Souls do not have clocks or calendars; they do not function with the idea of time or distance. Devoted souls only know it feels right once they have found each other. Like a magnet to steel, beloved hearts will always be drawn to each other with that force of nature that is undeniable. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------

“Uh oh”, whispers Abigail. Her brunette head pops up as she watches with trepidation from where you both pack supplies into one of the wagons. 

You lift your head to follow her sightline and see Micah and Arthur arguing again. The two of them have been at it for the last few days as the plans to move out of the area are beginning to be set into motion. You wonder how Dutch could put his trust in two men who are so drastically different. It follows suit that Micah will run his mouth with Arthur getting a few verbal, sarcastic jabs in here and there. But it usually ends with Arthur simply towering over the much smaller man until he shrinks down into submission in fear of an iron fist landing into that filthy mouth of his. 

This latest fight seems to be in regards to the competing jobs which have been planned for once you all move down towards Blackwater. Arthur wants nothing to do with this ferry job that Micah is pushing, citing it to be reckless and overreaching. The gang has been in the law’s cross-hairs for some time now and he and Hosea both think sticking to smaller, more reliable jobs is best right now. But Micah has been pitching a more grandiose scheme, arguing that the gang needs to strike bold and quick, garnering as much money as you can so you can start to move away from the civilization that is slowly strangling the gang. Unfortunately for Arthur, Micah seems to be like an earworm, burrowing into Dutch’s brain and playing on his already inflated ego.

You and Abigail observe with baited breath to see how far this current argument will go. But it appears Micah is not backing down this time, continuing to push Arthur to the limits of his patience. Suddenly, in a bold move of newfound courage, Micah steps up right in Arthur’s face, almost nose to nose. The cool autumn air is sucked sharply into your lungs as you gasp and your whole body freezes in apprehension, adrenaline like a knife suddenly thrown into your belly. 

“(Y/N)…” Abigail warns, placing her hand on your forearm. But you are already ahead of her, quick to stride over to the feuding men. As you get closer, a small group begins to gather as the yelling continues to escalate. 

“I’d take a step back and reconsider myself if I were you, Micah,” John smirks with a half-hearted warning from where he sits off to the side, sharpening his knife. John knows full-well that it is only a matter of time before this gets physical, as Arthur has little patience. He has seen Arthur pummel men into a pulp for less offensive actions. But truth be told, John would love to see Micah get his ass beat by Arthur. Hell, he’d even consider paying for it. 

Arthur isn’t saying much but you can tell by the heaving of his chest and the scowl etched into his face that he’s a bomb seconds away from exploding. His broad shoulders set hard as stone as Arthur stands even straighter, towering over Micah. His large hands slowly curl into themselves, fists clenched tight like boulders at the end of his pulsing forearms.

Carefully, you approach the two men from the side, watching them closely and trying to gauge how much time you have before Arthur’s fuse burns to the end of the powder-keg. The tension in the air builds uncomfortably, causing a knot to settle in your stomach. 

“Arthur?'' You call his name softly, trying not to startle him. You tilt your head to look up into his face, trying to catch his attention, but Arthur’s icy stare is trained only on Micah. But then you notice that Micah’s hand is hovering at his side, fingers flexing over his gun in its holster. 

This has now elevated to a precarious situation that needs to be diffused quickly and delicately. You don’t understand why no one else is stepping in to break this up, but assume it’s probably to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Out of everyone in the gang, these are probably the two men that you absolutely would not want to tangle with. 

Dutch, conveniently, is not around for this show, which may be why Micah is suddenly so bold to openly challenge Arthur like this. While he likes showing off for Dutch, Micah knows he can push the envelope when the leader of the gang is not around, as if trying to insert himself into that coveted role. Over Arthur’s dead body, that is. 

When Arthur still doesn’t answer you, you inch even closer. Carefully, your arm lifts and moves fluidly across Arthur’s chest to lay your hand against his cheek. You calmly say his name again, “Arthur.” 

The simple act cuts to the outlaw instantly as he blinks out of his angry trance and turns to look at you, confused as if he hadn’t even noticed you were standing there. 

Once you catch his attention, you offer Arthur the softest of smiles, your eyes bright and sparkling, distracting him from the weasel that is his ire at the moment.

“Come with me, please.” Your request is quiet yet authoritative.

“What for?!” he snaps, the fury radiating off of him as you can feel how his whole body is flexed and rigid.

A slow and deep exhale emanates from you as you intensely hold his gaze. “Would you rather go for a walk with me..alone…by the river where it’s peaceful and quiet? Or sit here and argue with Micah Bell?” 

You can see Arthur’s mind trying to process your words, his anger and frustration wrestling with your simple logic.

 “Fine,” he barks, not really directing his venom at you.

Arthur reluctantly lets you snake your arm around his and turn him away from Micah. It’s like trying to pull a tree out of the ground with your bare hands. But Micah will not be dismissed so easily. His eyes narrow as he stares you down, just as you begin to maneuver Arthur away. 

“Oh sure, run and hide behind a skirt!" Micah teases. “Pretty damn sad, Morgan!”

“Shut your damn mouth, Micah, or I will shut it for you. Permanently!” Arthur’s voice booms through the camp as his finger points in Micah’s direction to accent his point. Arthur’s eyes lock coldly with Micah’s as he cranes his neck to shoot Micah one last heated glare before he continues to walk away with you.

“Come on, you,” you delicately chide Arthur, your arm and hands tightening around his bicep just a bit more, eager to get the two of them separated as fast as you can. 

Behind you, Micah stands pouting as the two of you walk away. A pain clicks in his chest as he watches how you handle Arthur. He sucks his lip between his jagged teeth, jaw clamping down on the tender skin. He’s irritated to no end with Arthur, but even more so, with your infatuation with the man. A pang of jealousy cuts deep into Micah as his fists clench open and closed as they still hover over his holster at his side.

“Micah’s got a point. Looks like Arthur’s gone soft on us,” Bill snarks as he stands with his thumbs hanging on his gunbelt.

“I’d like to see you tell him that to his face, Bill,” John quips. 

“Mock all you want, gentlemen,” adds Javier, waving his hand towards Micah and Bill. “But the fact of the matter is, that man is taking that woman to bed tonight.” And he points in your direction. “You two have fun all by yourselves in your tents later.”

“Shut up, Javier,” mumbles Bill. But Micah only stands in angry silence before spinning on his heels and heading off in a huff to get a whiskey bottle from one of the supply wagons to sulk.

The wind kicks up a bit, biting at your cheeks as you walk down the path out of the camp. Arthur is heatedly silent as you walk. It is little wonder to you why so many find him so intimidating and fearsome. 

Passing by the hitching posts, your gray Gypsy gets antsy, whinnying and stomping the ground in a tantrum at the possibility of being left behind. “Ugh, are you acting ornery today, too?” you huff as if scolding a child. “Alright, come on. You can come along, too.” You quickly grab Blue to follow, as he’s been pent up quite a bit lately and is itching to move about. 

You lead Arthur, with your horse in tow, as the path takes you down to the river’s edge. The soft lapping of the water against the sandy edge of the bank offers a calm and welcomed change of scenery. And it is here that you turn Arthur loose, letting him vent loudly, while you simply agree with everything he says, replying occasionally with “I know” and “I get it”. 

“Goddamn fool! Don’t know his ass from a hole in the ground!” shouts Arthur, waving his arms around.

“I know,” you reply calmly as you rub your hand along Blue’s nose and face. The horse nickers softly and nudges into you, like a cat purring in your hands as you watch Arthur pace back and forth in frustration like a wild animal in a cage. 

“And Dutch is gonna go along with it?! Just like that?” He flashes his intense blue eyes at you. 

“I know, it’s crazy,” you shake your head at him.

“Are they even thinkin’ ‘bout the rest o’ us?”

You just shrug. “I don’t get it, either,” you say calmly.

Arthur momentarily stops in his ranting and looks at you, finally taking a moment to breathe. Why you are not as heated as he is is beyond him. “Is that all you’re gonna say?” 

“Well, I figured I’d let you carry-on and wear yourself out and when it’s my turn to yell, you just point and then I’ll go.” You cross your arms over your chest and give him a little smirk. 

But Arthur’s face holds anything but amusement, as he firmly plants his hands on his hips in frustration. “I ain't in the mood for jokes, (Y/N),” he grits out slowly. 

A grin creeps its way across your face. “I bet I could get you to laugh.” 

“I doubt it,” he grumbles with a slight eye roll.

Squinting slightly in challenge with a teasing look, you walk over to him, placing your hands on his ribs before letting them slowly drift down to his waist. He raises an eyebrow at you but is quickly disappointed when your hands divert from his waistline to reach into his satchel and dig around until you pull out his leather gloves. Confused, Arthur’s eyes follow you as you saunter over to Blue and step up towards his great head, stopping to place each glove over one of the horse’s ears. As your horse twitches his ears, the gloves appear to be hands waving back and forth at you. 

“Huh…Huh?” You point at Blue, a huge grin erupting over your face, clearly pleased with yourself and your childish little distraction. 

Arthur just stares at you blankly, totally taken aback at your adolescent behavior. “You’re ridiculous,” he snorts with an eye roll to the heavens.

“Oh, come on, that’s funny and you know it!” you snicker, hugging Blue’s neck affectionately. 

Arthur rolls his eyes skyward once more, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head at your nonsense as he finally ambles over to you. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” he huffs. 

Knowing he’s been beaten, Arthur sighs with resignation, wrapping you up against his barrel chest and bear-hugging you tightly. Your glittering laugh gets muffled by his chest as your arms hook under his to return his embrace. Arthur pulls back for a moment, collecting your happy little face into his giant hands, and looks down at you. But all he can do is shake his head once more before hugging you again, placing his chin atop of your head. 

Amazingly, you were right: he has forgotten all about Micah Bell. 

Later, after you’ve gotten Arthur to calm down enough to safely be around other people again, the two of you are tucked away in his tent. He sits on the cot, scribbling something in his journal, as you stand in front of his shaving mirror, unpinning your hair and getting ready to retire for the evening. 

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, I found something for you!” Your face lights up with excitement as you spin around back to his table and pick up one of the items sitting there. You eagerly shove a small aluminum tin into his face, hardly able to contain yourself. Arthur peers inside, curious what it is that has you so worked up. 

“Cherries?” he questions, surprised to see the little jeweled fruit inside. 

“Yeah! I found a cherry tree that the birds hadn’t gotten into yet, so I picked some for you. I remember you telling me that your mother used to make cherry cobbler for you as a kid. So I was going to try and make you some.” You look down at the tin of deep red fruit, shaking it a bit and watching them roll about. “I’ll have to mix these with some that we’ve jarred up, so it probably won’t be as good as hers,” you admit, mouth twisting a bit in disappointment, “but we’ll see.” You look back at him with a simple smile and shrug before turning to set the tin back down on the table. 

Arthur stares at you, thinking back to the other night at the fire when you whispered those lovely little words to him. His mind rolls over how you treat him, how you care for him, how you’ve made him your focus like no one ever has before. 

“Hey, you”, he mutters softly. 

You lift your face back to him, eyebrows arched awaiting him to continue. “Hmm?” 

The outlaw reaches out with his calloused hand and gently wraps it around your bicep, pulling you over to him. You stand between Arthur’s knees as he holds your hips and stares up at your angelic face. You lean over and kiss his forehead, his eyes fluttering closed as you run your fingers through his hair. After a moment, his eyes slowly open again, drinking you in. And Arthur realizes as he stares into your beautiful eyes that he has fallen in love with all of the millions of simple little things that you do, things that you do all of the time, and don’t even realize you’re doing them. 

“I love you, (Y/N).” 

You smile brightly down at him as his gravelly voice utters those amazing words so softly from his lips. You observe the seriousness in his face, so earnest in his declaration, as if he is trying to convince you of it. Arthur waits for your reply, hoping he hasn’t taken too long to tell you, fearing you’ve had second thoughts. 

After a brief moment you lean forward and kiss the tip of his nose. “I know,” you whisper, raising an eyebrow with that smart look you get. 

“I mean it”, he insists. “I never wanted more ‘til I had you. And I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.” His hands grasp a bit tighter as if he’s afraid you’ll walk away from him. “I suppose I was just too afraid to let myself go there again.” 

“It’s not love that you’re afraid of, Arthur. It’s that the next person that you love will be like the person who left you broken.” You cup your hands around his face, your thumbs drawing against the weathered skin of his cheeks. “I promise, I won’t do that to you.” 

Arthur’s eyebrows crease even further, that shadow of worry cascading over his face again. “(Y/N), I can’t give you the life you want, the life that you deserve.” 

“Are we doing this again?” you ask with a tinge of admonishment. “Arthur, I don't want someone who will promise me the world. I want someone who will hold me when I need it; who will bring me coffee in the morning; who will pull the blanket over me on cold nights when I’m sleeping. I want someone who will love me the same as I love them: madly, uncontrollably, inconveniently, and, yeah, maybe even foolishly.” A bright smile illuminates your face. “And I think you’re just the fool I’ve been waiting for.”

This makes a small chuckle break from his stern face as he shakes his head.

You pull his stubbled face in closer to yours. “I don’t care how complicated this gets, Arthur. I still want you.”

He lifts his hands from your hips and wraps them around your wrists as you continue to hold his face. “Maybe I’m afraid because you mean more to me than anyone ever has. I don’t want to mess that up.”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing, and you won’t mess it up, Arthur.”

You watch the idea of it settle over Arthur, wrapping him up like a warm blanket and just as comforting as one, too. The tension in his shoulders ebbs away and his eyes soften and twinkle, making them rival the bluest ocean. 

He smiles up at you again. “Say it.” 

“What?”

“Say it again for me, would ya? Say you love me.” Arthur beams up at you as he wraps his arms completely around your hips, pulling you in and holding you tightly.

“I love you, Arthur Morgan. More than you can ever know or even comprehend.” You lean your face in close again, hovering sweetly over his. “We can do this, Arthur. I promise.” 

“Yeah, we can.”

—--------------------

The next day, Arthur, Charles and Javier have gone into town to get more supplies and stop for a round of poker and a quick drink. A quick drink soon turns into many. And many drinks turns into an argument with the locals. One that ends with the boys coming home victorious, but pretty banged up. Even as drunk as they were, the Van Der Linde gang is not a group of men to be messed with. 

Charles and Javier come back with mostly superficial wounds, black eyes and bruised ribs. Arthur, of course, always seems to carry the brunt of the trauma in these situations. If he’s not taking on the largest brawler, he’s dealing with more than one man at a time. Either way, Arthur is always the one to come home more torn up than the others.

But thankfully, you now have Arthur safely in your med tent, stitching up a shallow knife laceration in his side as he sits quiet and guilty. Arthur sheepishly avoids your eyes, as you are unusually silent about the situation, a clear indication that you are not happy about it. You tug on the thread of his stitches a little too aggressively as short huffs emanate from your nose in frustration.

“What if you get tired of this?” Arthur grumbles as he watches how you carefully pull the thread through his red and inflamed skin, wincing slightly as the needle pushes into his flesh over and over again. 

“Of what? Patching holes in you that you get from being reckless and stupid? Or seeing you without your shirt on? Because those are two totally different things,” you quip as your eyes briefly dart up to meet his before going back to your handiwork.

“You know what I mean.”

“Well, I do hate seeing you all busted up and bleeding,” you frown. Your delicate fingers dance across the damaged skin, deftly folding the thread around your fingertips with expert precision.

“It ain’t so bad. If you think I look bad, you should see the other guy’s knuckles,” Arthur jokes.

“Funny,” you deadpan.

“You ain’t the only one who’s funny, you know.” He pokes his long finger into your ribs in jest, making you squirm as you try to keep your hands steady.

“Point taken.” You continue to fuss, cleaning his wound and scrutinizing the stitchwork. “I will always take care of you, Arthur. I promise.” 

“And I will always be reckless and stupid,” he snickers. 

An exasperated sigh escapes you. “That wasn’t the point.” 

“Nope, can’t go back on your promise now,” he gloats.

—--------------------------------

You wake in the middle of the night in your tent, cold and lonely. Arthur was still out of camp when you went to bed tonight, but you miss him terribly. Sometimes when you are separated, you get this overwhelming feeling of emptiness without him. Maybe it is the ever-impending threat of danger that you live in. Or maybe it is that you just love him so much that it hurts to be apart. 

Still half asleep, you meander out of your tent and quietly pad over to Arthur’s, hoping to find him there. When you get to his tent and pull back the opening, you find him asleep on his cot. He still has his boots on, too, which means he came home and just plopped down and passed out. (Usually he will stop by your tent upon returning to camp, but you figure he was either too tired or didn’t want to disturb you.)

You smile with a great sense of relief and slip inside the tent, affixing the tent door down behind you again in privacy. You tiptoe over to the cot and carefully crawl onto the bedding. You snuggle-up next to Arthur’s side, lifting his arm and wrapping it around yourself as you rest your head on his chest. Once settled, you breathe out a sigh of contentment, nuzzling your face into his chest and eager to feel the warmth that radiates off of him. Within moments, you are back asleep, tucked safely under Arthur’s arm.

But while you fall back to sleep, Arthur is awake for the next hour that follows. He stirs at the feeling of your delicate hand around his wrist when you settle in next to him, but he has a hard time going back to sleep now. As you lay there together, Arthur listens to your peaceful breathing and inhales your flowery scent. He relishes the feeling of your weight on his chest and your feline-like body up against him. As he lays in the soothing darkness, his gaze lands on your gently sleeping form laying upon him. He observes how your chest steadily rises and falls with each delicate breath. He notices how you have carefully entwined your leg around his own, and your fingers gracefully splay across his beating heart. Arthur realizes that he has in his grasp what he’s always wanted:  someone to come home to, someone waiting for just him. And he doesn’t want to miss a single moment that he gets to hold you like this. 

When Arthur eventually shifts his weight, it causes you to stir from your comforted slumber. A large and deep yawn escapes you as you roll your eyes up to meet his blue orbs gazing down at you. A sleepy grin blooms across your face when you see that he is awake. 

Arthur softly runs the back of his dirt-stained knuckles against your cheek. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, it’s alright. I should probably be getting up anyway.” You sigh with a slight pang of disappointment as you roll yourself up and stand off the cot. 

“Aw c’mon, stay with me,” Arthur whines, catching your hand and holding it tightly. 

“All night?”

“Yeah, all night,” he insists. “It ain’t like people don’t know what we’re up to in here. And either way, it’s none of their business anyway.” He rolls onto his side, propping his head up with one hand as he continues to hold yours, playing with your fingers and drawing his thumb over the back of your hand.

“Do you really want to roll over and wake up with my face smashed into yours?” you tease.

“More than anything.” Arthur tugs you back down to him and kisses the corner of your eye, making you giggle. ”I’ll make it worth your while,” he utters out in a sultry tone, causing your knees to go weak. Your only response is a flutter of your eyelashes and a deep kiss to his pillowy lips as you climb back onto his cot. 

Arthur shifts his body and wraps his muscled arm around you to usher you back down, pinning you under him. A quiet hum escapes into the quiet, still air as he quickly deepens the kiss, his tongue pushing past your sweet lips. You hungrily reciprocate his affection, your hand gliding from his cheek to the back of his head as your fingers card through his hair. The feeling of your fingernails gently scraping along his scalp sends shivers throughout his whole tired body. Slowly, your knee bends, rubbing your leg against his much larger frame, indicating that you want more. 

Arthur’s hand roams freely and greedily over your sumptuous body as his palm firmly clamps over your breast, massaging the tender flesh before his mouth encompasses it over the thin cotton of your nightgown. Your chin floats back at the feeling of him touching you, your mind already lost in an incoherent fog. He works his way from your breast to your sternum, and proceeds to leave a trail of kisses and caresses down your figure. And as things go, your heat begins to tingle and ache with dire need. The anticipation is wreaking havoc with you, drawing soft whines and moans from your throat. 

The delicious sounds emanating from you set Arthur ablaze inside. He quickly sits up onto his knees as he begins to impatiently pull at your nightgown. But instead of just pushing it up, he yanks the obstructing article up and over your head. With the top half of your body exposed, Arthur makes quick work of your bloomers, folding your legs up in front of him so he can work the fabric down your lovely calves and over your feet. 

You are now completely bare to him, your large, shining eyes staring up at him as he looms over you like a predator. Arthur’s own eyes are filled with a divine mixture of love and lust, just for you. Your arms stretch out to him as a silent plea for him to continue. With a smirk, Arthur is quick to pull his shirt over his head and undo the buttons of his trousers and union suit underneath. You reach up and clumsily tug at the sleeves of his undergarment, exposing his chest to the cold night air. He has no time to strip himself down completely, as once his hard cock springs free from its confines, it is very clear he is ready to get things moving along. 

Arthur covers your body with his own once more, slowly rocking back and forth with a hypnotic motion. Your leg snakes around his backside in response, your heel digging into his thigh. Hot, steamy breaths cover each other’s faces from the barrage of wet heated kisses as the intimacy quickly escalates. Arthur’s hand drifts down between your two bodies to seek out your tender folds. A sharp moan jumps from your lips as the pads of his fingers sublimely rake across the delicate skin between your legs and your pelvis jerks up to grind against his palm. 

“Christ Almighty,” Arthur pants with his lips crushed against your temple.

“I know”, you sigh in agreement. 

A deep and guttural groan erupts from his chest, filled with want and desire for you. Feeling how your slick coats his fingers already, Arthur reluctantly withdraws his fingers to give himself a few quick pumps of his cock, using your wetness to lubricate himself. He rolls his hips to align his large body at your entrance, looking down at where your hips conjoin. Your hands find their way under his arms and grasp tightly to the flesh of his back, urging him to move forward and to do it quickly. Arthur’s chin lifts to meet your gaze, finding your mouth gaped and eyes heavy-lidded with wondrous longing as his name falls as a whimper from your kiss-swollen lips.

He hastily pushes himself into you, his usual slow and careful pace forgotten about. The feeling of his thick cock being roughly shoved into you makes you cry out, but you are quickly muffled with his scorching mouth over top of yours. Arthur is quick to start a fast pace, as his hips snap sharply into yours, rutting deeply into your core. The velvety walls of your cunt flutter tightly around him when you feel his length twitching inside you. The grinding is euphoric, sending waves of pleasure shooting throughout your bodies. The way the two of you sync up in the throws of passion is glorious, transcending any pleasure either of you have ever known. 

Arthur proceeds to sit back up onto his knees so he can fully take in the vision of you, your body shuddering beneath him from his force. The cot creaks beneath you as the very strength of its joints is being tested. He wraps his hands around your soft thighs for leverage as he observes how his cock glides in and out of you. Your back lifts off of the cot, arching to angle your pelvis towards him, eager for him to fill you even more, if that is even possible. Your hands seek out his thick wrists, slightly pulling yourself towards him to match his motion. When your head drops back against the canvas of the cot again, Arthur immediately falls forward to suck on your exposed jugular, leaving slight bite marks that pinch your overly sensitive skin. 

“You are so fucking amazing,” he garbles into your skin. “I don’t ever want to leave this tent.”

His burly body covers yours once again, encasing you under his muscled limbs as his arm snakes around your head, his face tucked tightly into your neck. 

“Then we won’t,” you whisper. You turn your face towards his, your bottom teeth dragging across the plump skin of his earlobe, your panting hissing in his ear as he continues to rock into you. You can taste the saltiness of his skin and the faint notes of earthy musk from being out all day in the elements as your tongue flicks at the bare skin of his shoulder as you attempt to muffle your moans into the muscle there. Your whole naked body feels as if it’s on fire with every inch of it touching him right now. The sound of your beloved outlaw grunting lustfully into your ear erases any and all other outside distractions or thoughts. And as his torso lurches back and forth over you, you feel that oh-so lovely lightning barrling its way towards your climax. 

“Whatever you do, don’t stop now,” you whine. Your arms encircle Arthur even tighter as you await that rapturous feeling that you know is coming. 

As usual, your whole body clamps down around him when your climax hits. Your wanton squeaks and moans are a bewitching melody in Arthur’s mind. The already-tight walls of your cunt restrict around his hefty cock, drawing out a brief whimper from him, pushing him to his own orgasm as he pulls himself out of you and rubs himself against your stomach in search of that friction needed to finish. 

Arthur instinctively clutches you to himself when he climaxes with an almost bone-crushing pressure. You tremble slightly, more from the overstimulation than from the damp night air encompassing you. You curl up into him, clinging desperately to his frame. Your fingertips dig into the valley of his spine, the soft chestnut colored hair that decorates his back sticking to his skin with a thin layer of sweat. The two of you have been together quite a few times by now, but every damn time it is exquisite, just as if it was the first time all over again.

The feeling of Arthur’s chest rapidly rising and falling beneath your arms mesmerizes you as you feel the very life of him coursing through your hands while you lay there wrapped up in each other. You can feel his heartbeat against your cheek as you nestle your face into that coveted space where his massive shoulder and neck meet. The weight of Arthur on top of you is so comforting. Where some may consider Arthur’s sheer bulk smothering, you find it calming. You wonder how he could ever think you are not safe when you’re with him, as that is always where you feel the most secure.

Your hips are always a bit sore after making love to Arthur, not used to opening up so wide to accommodate such a large man, but you snicker as you tell yourself that you’ll just have to do it more often to get used to it. The more you are together, the more comfortable and relaxed you become, giving in to the sweet intoxicating feeling of the other. The societal shame and guilt that often gets attributed to the act of sex have long been discarded. You two are no longer self conscious about being too loud, and are no longer hiding your bodies from each other in fear of rejection. Playful giggles of excitement, needy and eager hands, and exploratory kisses are the norm for you two now. 

Both fully expended and exhausted, Arthur hands you one of his towels to clean your stomach of his pearly spend that scatters across your skin. Once you toss the soiled linen to the side, Arthur shifts his body lower so he can lay his head onto your chest and pulls his blanket up and over the two of you. Your lips lay against the crown of his head as you play with the thick waves of hair while your fingertips drag along his forearm that tightly holds you to him. And within moments, you are both fast asleep again. 

—---------------------------------------------

After breakfast, you finish washing up the last of the dirty dishes, drying your hands on your short apron as you head over to the horses to give them the vegetable scraps. Arthur is already over there, throwing down some grain and fresh water for the lot. He catches your eye as you approach, giving you a smile and nod as you return his gaze with a blushing grin, the memory of last night still fresh in your mind as well as between your thighs. 

Arthur watches you as you toss the greens into the horses’ buckets, laughing lightly as they push each other to get to you. “Alright, piglets, hold on. There’s enough to go around.” You lovingly pat Taimia on the neck, as she is the best behaved out of all of these “spoiled children”. Arthur draws on the cigarette that hangs from his mouth, his eyes hovering over you. He squints slightly as he fidgets with the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, his thoughts kicking around in his head since last night.

“Hey, so I’ve been doin’ some thinkin’...” he starts nervously, his voice hesitant as he tosses the butt into the grass. 

You look over your shoulder back to Arthur as you try to keep Blue from nipping at your pockets, looking for treats. “Yeah?”

 “When we setup the new camp in a few days, what if you put your things in my tent?” He averts his gaze from yours for a second, unsure of how you will react to his suggestion.

But you simply give him a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

Arthur takes a tentative breath before he elaborates. “You know, move your things over and, um…stay there.”

It takes a moment to register, but the idea of it causes a huge smile to slowly spread across your face from ear to ear. “Arthur Morgan, are you asking me to share your tent with you?” Your cheeks flush like a brilliant rose and you nibble your bottom lip with excitement.

Arthur reciprocates with a big grin of his own. “I kinda like the idea of waking up next to you every mornin’.” He swaggers over closer to you. “Although you do snore, though.”

“I do not!” you exclaim in playful offense, your hands planting onto your hips.

“Yeah, you do. It’s cute, though,” he snickers. “Like a cat meowing.” He proceeds to imitate a snore/meow sound as he pulls you to him by your waist. 

You slap his arm as you playfully scowl at him. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot.” Arthur arches an eyebrow at you as he ducks his head to kiss under your jawline. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” smirking as you roll your eyes. “I'm kind of already invested in you and all.”

“It kinda works out nice that way. You’re mine and I’m yours.”

Your effervescent giggle makes Arthur’s heart melt. “I’ll take that deal.”

Arthur cups his hand around your cheek, his thumb pushing your chin up so he can look into your glittering eyes. “I’ll ride with you through all the bullshit, Y/N, just as long as you don’t bullshit me. Fair?”

Your delicate hands run up his chest and push over his strong shoulders where your fingers lace together behind his neck. “I can only make you two promises, Arthur:  That I will never hurt you in the way that I, myself, have been hurt, and that I will love you in the ways that you, yourself, have never been loved.” 

You stare into those sapphire eyes of his, trying not to get distracted by the full-range of emotions he has dammed up behind them, emotions that you have only just begun to unleash. “I don't want to just be with you, Arthur. I want to live and love with you. I want to experience every single thing, stupid or great, that our time on this Earth is willing to give us together.” 

A deep and relaxing breath is pulled into Arthur’s lungs and released, taking with it any of the anxiety and doubt that he’s been fostering over this new thing, this new beginning that you have gifted him and that he cannot wait to start.

“Just be with me now and we’ll figure out the details later, I suppose,” he hums. He leans down to catch the rose petals of your lips into a delicate kiss. Your eyes float close and you smile into his mouth. The kiss is not too short, nor too long, but just perfect, as it carries all of the affection you both hold within it.

Arthur pulls back from you, and cradles your face in both of his large hands, staring down at your happy, sparkling expression. 

“In my life full of wrongs, Y/N,  you’re the thing that’s right in it. And I don’t want to miss a minute of it.” 

[cowboydisaster]

Hey could you write a little fic about Arthur hearing fem reader crying and comforting her? Really pile up the fluff if you decide to write please 🩷🩷 love your stuff so much xxx

A Shoulder to Cry on

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 1000

a/n: Thank you for this sweet prompt, nonny! I was looking to write some fluff and this was perfect.

beta read by @margowritesthings

You feel foolish for even crying, but you can't bring yourself to stop the glistening tears from streaming down your face. You’re petrified, miles away from your former camp, stuck up in the Grizzlies. The Pinkertons are on your tail like a cat on a mouse, and you know it’s only a matter of time before they inevitably catch you. Your time is running out. You’ve had a good run with the van der Linde gang, but it’s time is nigh on done. It's a daunting realization, especially after losing so many folks back in Blackwater. 

Because of your position in the gang, you’ve been given your own bedroom in the same cabin as Arthur, Dutch and Hosea. It's a cold room, but better than what most of the gang have. The wind whistles outside as thick snowflakes land on the roof, causing ice cold water to drip repetitively from the ceiling above. The wind and the leak intertwine with your cries, forming a sad, sad song. 

You sit on the bed with your knees hugged to your chest, sobbing into them with no sign of stopping. You try to keep quiet as your breathing comes in shudders, and your shoulders shake violently. There is an ache in your ribs from the sobs erupting from your chest, but it pales in comparison to the ache in your heart. You hiccup, catching your breath, and unknowingly alerting Arthur who is walking by to catch some shut eye. 

With his eyebrows pulled together in worry, he gently nudges your door open. You don’t even look up, and he stands in the doorway for a moment, glancing over your curled up, crumbling form. Of course, he knows what's wrong, and his heart shatters at the sight of you looking so broken. His heart– it’s been longing for your own for so long, and seeing you like this breaks him. 

“Oh, darlin…” He murmurs, stepping forward in only a few strides. You hear his boots clicking against the floor before the bed dips under his weight, and then his big, warm arms are around you. 

“I'm so sorry.” He whispers.

There’s something about his arms around you. They are sturdy and unmoving, and yet piece by piece, they begin to build your broken heart back together. There’s so much safety and comfort in his arms, you’re sure that he could protect you even from the storms raging in the Grizzlies with his hugs. You wrap your arms under his, hands on his back as you sniffle and cry into his shirt. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Arthur asks quietly, swaying you lightly in his arms as he shields you from your pain and the cold. Arthur doesn’t push you. He knows exactly how you feel, and opening up about these things is far from easy in his own experience. The gang– it’s coming to an end, and you both know it. Now you just have to find a way to exit peacefully, hopefully taking those that you love with you. 

"Shh, shh. You're okay." He coos, tucking your head under his chin.

Arthur is radiating with warmth, and you feel the frostbite leaving your nose as you nuzzle into his chest. His thumb reaches up to wipe away a fresh tear as he frowns lightly at the sight of you so upset. Your skin is soft against Arthur’s calloused hand, and your eyes slip closed as you savor the feeling of his touch.

“I’m scared, Arthur.” You admit, lip trembling as silent tears slide down your frozen cheeks. 

“I know you are, I know, but I will get you out of this mess. I promise you.” Arthur swears, resting back against the headboard as his mind runs rampant. He can’t let you die for this gang, and he’ll get you out safely if it's the last thing he does. 

“You just rest now, alright? You don’t gotta worry no more. I gotcha now.” Arthur murmurs, laying down with you nuzzled into his side. You cuddle against him as tightly as you can manage, placing your head on his chest as you nod your head. For the first time since Blackwater, the trails of tears from your reddened eyes cease.

Arthur’s hand runs soothingly up and down your back as he makes sure you’re comfortable and taking deep breaths. He wishes he could take this pain away from you, but he knows he can't. All he can do is hold you. 

Your eyes slip shut as you nuzzle against his blue wool coat, your cries dying down to soft sniffles. 

"Feelin' any better?" Arthur asks, watching as your breathing settles back to normal. Your cheeks are red from the cold, and your lashes stick together from sticky tears. Arthur pulls the blankets up over the two of you, not wanting you to catch a cold. 

"I am now that you’re here." You whisper, feeling a heavy tiredness fall over you. Arthur is so comfortable, and you feel safe enough to fall asleep in his arms. Arthur can tell you're drifting off, and he wraps his arms around you tighter for it. 

"It's okay, get some sleep. I'll still be here when you wake up." Arthur murmurs. Seeking more of his comfort, and taking another step towards telling him how you feel, you unwrap one of his arms from your body. Arthur's eyebrows pull together, and at first he's worried that he's crossed a line until you intertwine your fingers with his own and hold your joined hands against his chest. 

Arthur smiles down at your hands, watching your face relax as you finally drift to sleep. He'll hold you the rest of the night, making sure you're okay. 

"I'll get you outta this mess." He reiterates, "If it's the last thing I do, I won't let you die for these fools." 

He hopes that you'll go with him, run away to some place far. Arthur's never been one to daydream of pleasantries, but you make him want a home, a family. He'd leave the gang for you, he'd buy a home and work an honest job just so he could come home to you. He'd make you proud. 

But for now, all he can do is hold you, comfort you from the storm outside alongside the one raging in your mind. Now the only sounds in the room are the leaking roof and your light snores as you take comfort in the first safety you've felt in days. Arthur will always be that comfort for you. 

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