#jealous arthur morgan
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allthemeniveloved · 3 months ago
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Little Rat
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Summary: Arthur Morgan saves you from an uncomfortable encounter with Micah.
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The fire crackled low in the center of camp, casting flickering shadows against the trees surrounding Clemens Point. Most of the gang had turned in for the night, save for a few stragglers nursing drinks by the embers. You were tidying up your things near your tent, the quiet hum of the crickets offering a small sense of peace—until you heard the unmistakable drawl.
“Well, look who’s all alone in the dark,” Micah Bell said, stepping into your line of sight with that irritating smirk plastered across his face. His eyes glinted in the dim light, and you instantly felt your guard go up.
“Micah,” you said tersely, keeping your tone neutral. “What do you want?”
He feigned offense, holding a hand to his chest. “Now, that’s no way to greet someone, is it? Just tryin’ to be sociable, sweetheart. Seems like you could use the company.”
You shot him a cold glare. “I don’t need anything, least of all from you.”
Micah chuckled low, ignoring your clear discomfort as he took another step closer, his presence pressing in on you. “Now, now. Don’t be like that. I think you and me, we could get along real well if you’d just stop actin’ so high and mighty. Ain’t nobody else around, anyway. What’s the harm?”
You stepped back instinctively, your pulse quickening. “Back off, Micah,” you warned, trying to keep your voice steady.
He didn’t listen. Instead, he reached out, his hand gripping your arm as he leaned in closer. “Aw, c’mon, darlin’. Don’t be like that. I don’t bite.”
Before you could push him away, a deep voice growled from the shadows. “Touch her again, Micah, and you won’t have a hand left to use.”
Both of you turned toward the source of the voice, and there he was—Arthur Morgan, standing at the edge of the firelight. His hat was pulled low, his jaw set tight, and his hand rested casually on the butt of his pistol.
Micah straightened, sneering. “Well, if it ain’t Arthur Morgan,” he spat. “You always gotta stick your nose where it don’t belong cowpoke?”
Arthur didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a slow, deliberate step forward, his gaze locked on Micah with a look that could freeze the blood in your veins. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, but it carried an unmistakable weight. “Ain’t no need to explain yourself, Micah. Just walk away.”
Micah raised his hands in mock surrender, a smirk tugging at his lips, “I was only paying her a compliment, that’s all.”
“You keep your compliments - and yourself - far away from her, or you’ll be eating the dirt under my boots. Got it?”
Micah hesitated, his eyes darting between you and Arthur. He opened his mouth to protest, but Arthur’s hand moved slightly on his pistol, and that was enough to send Micah scowling back toward his tent with a muttered curse.
Once Micah disappeared into the darkness, Arthur turned to you, his expression softening ever so slightly. “You alright?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.
You nodded, though your heart was still pounding. “I am now. Thank you.”
Arthur grunted, his hand falling away from his holster as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to get involved, but
 couldn’t just stand there watchin’ him bother you like that.”
You offered a small, grateful smile. “I’m glad you did. He’s
 persistent.”
Arthur’s jaw tightened again, and he glanced toward where Micah had gone. “He tries it again, you let me know,” he said, his tone sharp with barely restrained anger. “I’ll make sure he don’t forget his place.”
There was something in his gaze when he looked at you—something fierce and protective, but also hesitant, like he wasn’t sure he should let you see it. You didn’t know what to say, caught off guard by how much safer you felt just standing near him.
“Thank you, Arthur,” you said again, softer this time. “I mean it.”
He looked away, his cheeks tinged red beneath his scruffy beard. “Don’t gotta thank me,” he muttered, almost embarrassed. “Just
 don’t like seein’ you get hurt, is all.”
As he started to walk away, you caught yourself staring after him, wondering why your heart felt a little lighter, even after what had just happened. Arthur, on the other hand, kept his back to you, his fists clenched as he cursed himself for not saying more—for not telling you the truth about why he couldn’t stand the thought of Micah or anyone else getting too close to you.
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a/n: I’m feeling so unbelievably productive & creative this week and the thoughts are just flowing but I just know I’m going to crash this weekend or next week and not write again for another 7 years
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rdr2gifs · 1 year ago
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His little bow at the end đŸ„č
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salty-we-never-got-mergana · 15 days ago
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I know this sounds like a horrible thing to say but...I kinda hate Gauis.
Like seriously... it boggles my mind that the fics I've read with Morgana views this man in such a warm light when he not only gaslights her about her magic but blames her for the choices she tries to gain her own autonomy whilst he steals it from her by keeping her in the dark of her own magic.
Like he has the audacity to compare Morgana to Merlin? He's accepting of Merlin's magic and gives him the tools to learn and control his own magic meanwhile Morgana is not only kept in the dark but given no guidance...
And it's her own fault for choosing Morgause.
Honestly out of all the "good" characters I wished died, I wish it was Gaius. I hate that he survives the series.
They should have made him a Roman with loyalties to Lucius Tiberius and then he betrays Camelot reluctantly and then we can see that scene of Gwaine loosing his temper and lopping Gaius' head off. That would've been a joy to see.
Telling Merlin that he did the right thing by murdering his friend because she chose to use her magic wrong, never mind that nobody was helping her in the first place and she was on her own. Never mind that everyone decided to initially gaslight her.
No fucking accountability.
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sapphic-outlaw · 6 months ago
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Asshole. lmao
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synthcatbot · 1 year ago
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My OC and Arthur being cute
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arthurmorganmilk · 1 year ago
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Dutch + Arthur's relationship becomes kind of insane to me when you remember that when Dutch + Hosea took Arthur in Dutch was only 24 and Arthur was 16. And Arthur 'loves Dutch like a father'!!! crazy!!!!! At least Hosea was 36. A 36-year-old looking after a 16-year-old is one thing. But 24??? 24????? That man should have been at the club saloon. Girl that's not a father that's an older brother. There's only an 8-year age difference between them. That might feel like a lot when one of you is 16 and recently orphaned but it's not actually THAT much. and the fact that 20 years later Arthur still views Dutch as a father instead of an older brother or even just a slightly older friend says so much about both of their psyches and I don't think any of it is good
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kaleliashepherd · 1 year ago
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One mans barber can be another mans nemesis.
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serawritesthings · 1 year ago
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hi! Sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language. I don't know if you're accepting requests, if you not, just ignore. But I'm wondering how you would write something related to a jealous Arthur Morgan, high honor of course (with smut or without smut sincerely you know what looks best). the way you write is addictive and passionate, i believe anything you write from this would be great.
OUR DEAR, GREEN LITTLE FRIEND
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Pairing | Arthur Morgan x Fem! Reader Summary | Oh, jealousy. When the thought of you straying too close to the comfort of Charles, the green monster claws its way into Arthur's head. Tags | sexual content 18+ minors dni, tiny bit of angst, description of violence and wounds, fluffy at times, smut Word Count | 10k A/N | Hi everyone! I just HAD to write this request, hope you like it! Also, thank you dearly anon♡
While many found the biting cold of the climate north of West Grizzlies to be bitter–sharp air seeping into your very bones–you saw it oddly liberating despite the current predicament. The circumstance was dire, indeed, and you pondered many times if this would finally be the end for all of you, thinking of the incredible luck you had managed to have so far. Fate, or an astonishingly fascinating knowledge on how to escape the grappling arms of the law with a suspicious amount of people trashing through the roads in utter, sheer panic.
Glancing around you as you huddled closer to the fire, hands rubbing furiously against the wool of your gloves to gain even the slightest warmth to your biting fingers, you were met with the flushed cheeks of your comrades. The skin that now glistened from the melting snowflakes was caressed by the warm, orange glow from the flames lighting up the small hut you had taken residence in. 
The road leading to here had been long, and the time spent in the wagon that did nothing to shield you from the penetrating wind that howled into the night, your thoughts had been entirely focused on the man who now lay dead a few meters away, tucked in some fabric to shield the paling flesh of a corpse. While the thought might not make you uncomfortable, it did its thing on the others who looked weary at the covered man. 
You had done your best to tend to him amidst the severe trembling of your fingers and numbness spreading through you the longer you rode in the worrying storm, finding his blood still staining the cotton of your gloves–a reminder that you had done what you could to help the poor fellow. Despite not knowing him well enough to shed a tear, death was still a death, and a slight melancholy set its claw in all of you as you tried to regain some warmth. 
“Stupid man.” Glancing beside you, you took notice of the dark-haired woman muttering angrily as she held a sleeping Jack close to her body. 
“What’s wrong?” You inquired quietly, curious of her obvious disdain.
“John Marston is what’s wrong.” Blazing heatedly into the fire, you could almost see the depths of hell through her furious eyes. “He didn’t come back with the rest.” Shifting her eyes to yours for a quick moment that, although short, showed the worry hidden beneath her anger. 
Nodding slowly as you leaned against her slightly in comfort, you realized you hadn’t taken notice of the man’s absence until now. Returning with empty hands and another mouth to feed had instead been the case, no Marston as far as the eyes could see as he probably whirred around in the blizzard somewhere.
“Do you think he
” As you spoke, you trailed off, growing unsure of your words while realizing your comments might be prodded into a sensitive subject. 
“No.” Firmly, she sniveled harshly, shaking her head in protest. “No, he wouldn’t leave again.” Although her words were sure, you still felt a lingering doubt cloud your mind, remembering being told of his earlier departure from the gang that caused more scars in their relationships than good–not that it wasn’t faulty from the very start.
As you were about to let your prying win against your common sense, you were interrupted by the door being audibly slammed open, the noisy winds from outside growing louder as snowflakes whirled inside. Walking inside was the prominent figure of Charles, nodding respectfully to its residents as the door shut behind him, once more letting the warmth settle.
“Folks.” He mumbled quietly, treading through everyone huddling by the fire as he glanced curiously at the new woman before settling beside you. You glanced up at him, taking in his snow-covered self before lingering on his hand that rested motionless on his legs, bandages visible under his gloves.
“It’s not too bad; the cold seems to numb the pain.” A slight smile graced your lips at his observance, finding it unique to the man to be so tentative to everyone around him. Letting out a small laugh, you reach to remove your gloves before taking his hand in yours so you could lay it in your lap, unwrapping the bandages to examine the burns covering his skin.
You had given it a quick look-over before you had to tend to Davey, doing the best you could to ease his pain you were sure would be unavoidable. Although the sight was quite gruesome, it didn’t look as bad as you had expected.
“You’re stronger than me, that’s for sure. I would be a crying mess if I burned my hand like that.” Your voice was gentle as you started to rewrap the fabric around his hand, finding it increasingly irritating you didn’t have the tools you usually did that would indeed do a fine job at lessening his pain.
You had managed to gain a slight smile from the otherwise aloof man, probably finding your words humorous. “Let’s hope it’ll never come to that.” 
Sharing a look, you heard the door open once again, the irritated voice of Uncle damning whoever was letting in the cold for the second time. Both you and Charles laughed slightly, and as you looked up, you were faced with a pair of squinting, blue eyes, the icy cold from the outside seemingly enhancing their sharpness although making a welcomed warmth spread through you as they gazed over you in a quick motion–departing to look at the hand that rested in your lap.
“A sad loss, folks,” Hosea stated as he stepped onto the wooden planks, speaking out loudly in the otherwise calm hut, groaning as he helped Arthur lift Davey’s lifeless body, limp like a ragdoll. 
Glancing subtly, you observed him as Arthur’s bulky form lifted easily, unlike Hosea, admiring how he made it seem so effortless. The others called him the camps workhorse, and you didn’t fail to see why, keeping your eyes firm on the man as he carried him towards the door. 
He shrouded you in uncertainty; he did, and you weren’t sure how to behave in his bold presence. You often felt like a goody two shoes, and even though you weren’t the perfect picture of a law-abiding citizen, you could honestly say you were a wimp compared to Arthur. 
You should be embarrassed, you really should, but there was something in his eyes– something that made your heart race. Utterly shameless, yet desperate to lock gazes again despite contradicting yourself and avoiding them every chance you could. Before you could get caught this time, you directed your eyes, focusing on tightening the bandages so they wouldn’t come loose. 
“Try to be careful, will you, Charles?” You spoke quietly while patting his hand, motioning that he was all set to go, but his hand stayed, giving you a grateful look. 
“Thank you.” His soothing voice was hushed as the loud bang of the door slammed shut not long after, ridding you of the tumult after their departure. 
–
Oh, it burned. It burned so deep in his loins that it felt like he would erupt into flames any second. Despite the cold surrounding him, he was sure it could be possible the more he was left with his thoughts. The hushed whispers, the soft touches, and the ever-so-gentle look in your eyes made him want to empty the little food in his stomach. 
“Sneaky little rat,” Arthur grumbled to himself as he shoveled his way through the deep layers of snow. Here he was, out in the cold, tortured by the howling winds of the snowstorm, while Charles remained inside the warmth of the hut, seated next to you, all because of a slight burn. 
He knew what he was up to–what any man would do if it meant getting your attention–and he wasn’t humored. Taking advantage of your good nature was downright uncalled for, bordering on immoral, which Arthur would probably realize wasn’t Charles’s character if his mind didn’t seek to find faults with the man the more his blood boiled.
He scoffed to himself, stabbing the ground maliciously, imagining your warm hands around his instead, the nimble fingers of yours tending to him as you moved in closer, your sweet smell reaching his nose as you gazed up at him, face blushed from the cold with lips begging him to warm them up with his. The thought did nothing more than cover his whole body in shivers, only to be reminded that it wasn’t him that received that attention from you.
“What are you huffing about over there, Arthur?!” Hosea’s strained voice attempted to shout over the loud winds, standing up to rest momentarily.
“Why don’t we just bury him when the storm has settled?!” Annoyance was apparent in his voice, the green jealous monster still wreaking havoc in his mind.
“I told you, the snow will be too heavy tomorrow, so we need to finish it while we still can!” He groaned, starting to shovel once more. “And I’ll be damned, we are going to give Davey a proper burial. He deserves that much!”
As Hosea blabbered on about justice and other forms of respect Arthur had no intent on listening to, he zoned out, feeling sorry for himself as he imagined you might be keeping close to Charles right this moment, warming yourself to his body in a desperate search of bodily heat. Rubbing the melted snow off his face, Arthur damned the heavens above for making him the unluckiest bastard in the West. 
Despite Arthur seeming dead set on you being lovey-dovey with a man you barely knew, Charles had left you after making some small talk, mentioning that he would try and get some well-deserved rest after the tumultuous past few days. Many others did as well, attempting to ease their minds from the constant threat against their back amidst the terrible cold.
Although, as days passed and John being back rid you of Abigail’s constant muttering, the cold only seemed to take its toll on you, unlike the others who quickly got used to the environment. Furthermore, the days only seem to get longer up in the mountains, and you wondered obsessively when you would get the chance to leave–damning everyone who thought seeking out Colm O’Driscoll in your compromised state a good idea instead of moving forwards.
Despite your dismay, you put yourself to use like the others, preparing to help Pearson in the grim act of cutting through the poor deer that had been brought back. While the sight gladdened you, knowing you would finally get a meal in your stomach, the brooding aura of a chestnut-haired, blue-coated man seemed to rain over you endlessly.
What could you have done to gain his stinging glare? It was almost cutting through you entirely from the burning that resided deep in his eyes, watching you ferociously, making your hair stand on edge. When he had returned with Charles, it had been nothing short of unpleasant ever since, although thankfully–despite his glare–his harsh words were directed towards Pearson instead of you, which you were glad for.
“How’s the cold treating you?” Glancing away from the two men bickering, you laughed slightly at Charles’s innuendo, dressed worse for wear as you pulled the thick, woolen scarf tighter around your neck, hugging yourself to keep warm.
“Could be worse, I guess,” you said, clouds like smoke surrounding you as you talked.
“I suppose. Still, I don’t want you freezing your fingers off.”
“Mhh,” you nodded thoughtfully, speaking up after silence. “Who would look after your hand if that happened?”
He chuckled heartily at your unsuspected joke, and you glanced up at him bashfully, a light smile covering your face at his apparent amusement. While your embarrassment of being so easily swayed by the cold, it felt nice having someone take notice of your obvious discomfort, even though you would say you were pretty good at keeping it to yourself. You couldn’t be surprised, though, well aware you and Charles were both tentative to your surroundings, always knowing but rarely telling.
“Here.” Taking off the large gloves covering his hand, no doubt doing an excellent job keeping him warm, he grabbed your trembling hands in his, rubbing them between his pleasant temperature hand and bandage-covered skin before gliding the fabric over yours. 
“No, Charl-” you protested, trying to stop him from continuing. 
“They’ll do you more good than me, I promise. They’re just in the way.” Stubbornly, he planted your hands back into your lap, petting them like you had done to him some nights ago before raising with a huff. 
“Thanks for the help, Arthur.” Charles nodded at the now grumpy man observing him as he rested against the wood of the wooden wall with arms crossed, seemingly ignoring Mr. Pearson’s lecture about the navy he felt so strongly about, only providing a quick tilt of his hat before heated eyes were set on you.
Your gaze faltered, the blush on your face from the cold only intensifying the spread of warmth you felt from gaining his profound stare–something you rarely took notice of. It wasn’t that he didn’t look at you; he probably looked too much at times, but he was never so ardent with it, scrutinizing you under their heavy weight–making you feel ten times smaller under his towering height. 
“Well, why don’t you skin the deer, Arthur? I’ll help you cut them up in a while, miss.” Mr. Pearson’s words were hasty, and you didn’t miss the bottle glistening under the sunlight as he tried hiding it behind his coat, scurrying away. He would, in fact, not be back; you were sure of that much. 
It wasn’t often you found yourself alone with Arthur, and you never strayed too close, finding his presence somewhat daunting. Not that you’ve had many chances to speak amidst all the chaos surrounding you, and being relatively new to the gang meant the trust lacked significantly from both sides. But, the intrigue was always present in every glance and movement.
You felt his gaze fixed on you a moment longer as you stared heedlessly at your hands, rubbing them together anxiously, having no clue what to do with yourself. While you weren’t one to speak the ears of others, you never had any problem socializing with those around you–but Arthur, he was something else entirely. Finally, though, he moved, approaching the hanging carcass.
“How are ya?” His sudden words surprised you, hanging awkwardly in the air.
“Oh, um. Good?” You cringed at yourself, finding the words stuck in your throat as his voice rumbling was loud and confident.
“Cold?” 
“A bit,” you said softly, staring at his back as he heaved the skin away from the animal, movements rigid and harsh. “Charles gave me his gloves, so it’s a little less chilly now.” You stumbled over your words, admiring his strength unabashedly as he hauled the skinned deer over his shoulder, slamming it down the table with a loud bang. He gave you no answer, instead bringing out the knife in his belt to do the job you were assigned to.
“Oh, let me!” Standing abruptly from your seat, you stepped towards him hurriedly in shame, feeling like you were just lazying around while Arthur was doing all the hard work. 
Grabbing his thick coat to let you take his position, you found him staying right where he was, looking down at you when your hand rested on his bicep. It was unusual for him to be so close, and a blush warmed your cheeks as his towering frame became more apparent when standing a short distance from one another.
“S’alright.” He spoke lowly. “I’ve got it.”
Your breath got caught in your throat as he gazed wholly at you, letting you know he had no problem with helping you. It warmed you, finding his action kind–just like the small acts of kindness he reserved for the other girls. You would sometimes glare after them, intensely jealous that Arthur seemed to have a soft spot for them, yet acting like you didn’t exist.
“Anything else I can do to help since you just did my job for me?” A shy smile found you, peering up at him as he sniveled, glancing at you while you sat on the bench again.
“Well, you’ve already done your charity work for the day, so you’re fine.”
“Charity work?” You wondered, staring at him curiously as he cut through the meat. “What do you mean?”
He only sighed heavily, like you should be able to understand his cryptic words. 
“He won’t die from a small burn; it ain’t enough reason to coddle the man like a child,” he grumbled. 
It took you a while to get the gears turning, but when you did, you felt yourself grow shy from his statement. “Charles? His hand isn’t looking too good
”
“Yeah? Well, you shouldn’t be so forward. You’ll give the poor man false hope.” He scoffed, stabbing the poor carcass harshly.
Staring at his back in disbelief at the sudden hatred, you had trouble understanding where it came from and why he suddenly grew so invested in whom you diverted your attention. You and Arthur rarely spoke, only changing quick words occasionally ever since you found yourself staying with the gang, and for that reason, you had failed to understand the reason for his hatred.
It seems all you ever did was look after everyone else, paying attention to their various troubles and tribulations regarding bodily harm. It wasn’t strange to you, and by no means did you give anyone false hope, merely trying to find your place with these people, an attempt to prove your usefulness.
“False hope?” You questioned, baffled. “I’m trying to help; I fail to understand how that is a problem.” 
“It ain’t a problem!” He grumbled, voice roaring hotly in his chest as he resheathed his knife and began to make his way out, repositioning his hat without glancing at you. You followed him, stopping short by the table as you didn’t want to stray too close to the fuming man.
“Well, it is since you are so angry about it?!” If this was how he carried out every conversation, you were glad the exchange of words wasn’t typical between you, more so the simple fact that your company had never seemed to bring him any enjoyment. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Wha-” He stops short, suddenly turning around and stalking towards you in significant strides. Gasping at suddenly having him so close, you backed away; his sharp eyes penetrated you as the warm blue of his orbs turned ice cold, glaring daggers into your own.
“What’s wrong with me?” He spoke dangerously low as his brows raised, grabbing your upper arms as he hoisted you up the table without an ounce of struggle. “I’m not the one taking every small, insignificant chance to take advantage of your good nature.”
“Charles’s not like that. He’s very kind.” You spoke in his defense, leaning back from his prolonged stare that seemed to cut through you deeper the more he stared. You had always pitied the people who got on Arthur’s lousy side, finding his presence at those times unnerving. 
Now, it seemed you were at the receiving end of it, and while it chilled you to the bones, you weren’t sure if your beating heart were because of fear or the thought of him being the closest to you he’d ever have.
You had never quite got to admire his eyes, always hidden under his furrowed brows and squinting eyes. Now that it wasn’t because of the blazing sun down west, it was from the blaring whiteness of the snow surrounding you as you found his eyes glaring at the current climate more often than not–displeased.
His eyes being dead set on you didn’t help as you could hear his breathing grow heavier, the warmth of his breath hitting your cold cheeks as his broad frame blocked the chilly winds from reaching you.
“Kind, huh?” Although momentarily distracted, you recovered as you heard him speak in a low voice, still finding his assumptions wildly out of reach while insulting you and Charles. Times were hard, and if you couldn’t look after one another, it would surely lead to your doom–Arthur, if anyone, should know that.
“Yes, kind.”
Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he backed away from you, shrugging his shoulders while walking away–like your conversation hadn’t happened in the first place.
“Sure.”
–
It wasn’t like Arthur didn’t know how to restrain himself, for he applauded himself for avoiding his apparent anger when Charles had, yet again, stolen away your attention–not that Arthur had any plans on striking up a conversation with you anyway. 
It became clear to him that when you two were left alone, you almost turned into a living statue, barely responding to him. It was unlike you, for the time he had spent observing you, you had no problem talking to anyone else–and although it was usually calm, it never deterred you from gaining the likes of the others and liking them in return.
Why did you cringe away from him and not Charles, he pondered, glaring at the picture that plagued his mind. The reason he knew, deep down, but his stubbornness didn’t let him justify your actions. In all honesty, Charles was a more reliable man than himself, intentions often apparent with a slight sense of, well, goodness perhaps—something Arthur didn’t possess in the slightest.
Goodness, in all honesty, wasn’t something he was too familiar with, and he didn’t doubt one second that you found his character to be callous, seeing as the dirty work no one wanted to do fell upon him; work everyone else found to be too cruel to do themselves. He could almost feel your disapproving gaze when he picked up his slack from Mr. Strauss’s poor victims that he always tried to prolong, and while it wasn’t his most favorable way of lending a hand, sometimes he did it out of spite. 
If that’s what you thought about him, then he couldn’t do much to sway your opinion, finding it much easier to continue with his ways than realize that your sudden carefulness off him wounded him more profoundly than he let on.
And, he was indeed a harsh man in your eyes, and although his company wasn’t entirely unwished for, he was still grim–ignoring your presence like you weren’t there most of the time. It made you wildly unsure of him, but the allure he had kept bringing you back, always wondering when you would see a glimpse of him again. You chastised yourself for it, more so now that you got a taste of his famously sullen mood that pestered everyone around him, but your eyes were still drawn to him when he was nearby. 
Maybe it wasn’t what everyone else would describe him as, but you thought of him as mysterious. Gods, you have stayed with this group for quite some time now. Not once had he spoken to you more than the standard greeting, and you didn’t know much about him besides the sharp-shooting, brutal force of a man who had no problem letting his thoughts be voiced, even though the listeners might be less inclined to its harsh deliverance.
He had been cruel, sure, but you couldn’t help but remember how close you had been before when he spewed words that clung so viciously from his tongue. Faintly, you remembered the deep scent of gunpowder and smoke, something you were certain probably penetrated his skin by now, but also the slightly musky scent hidden underneath. Your head raced in curiosity, wondering how his hands would grab you if it wasn’t in anger. Was he even capable of that, you pondered.
It’s ridiculous you knew those thoughts were born from misconceptions and assumptions. You had heard how he behaved amongst the camp women, forever gentle and careful, and you had sharpened your ear when you’d been told timidly about his earlier flings. He could be more heartfelt than your head let you acknowledge, and the thought made your head spin even more with your endless imagination.
Despite the inner turmoil that filled you from your earlier argument, you had avoided him for some days now, and it seemed to grow easier the colder you got, huddling close to the fire with every chance. It was the only thing keeping your thoughts occupied, wondering when you would get to leave this desolated mining town that grew more covered in snow the longer you chose to stay.
“Do you need help, Hosea?” Just after you spoke, heavy blankets were handed to you, the fabric made from a thick wool that looked heavenly. “Yes, thank you. I take one step outside; I fear that it will be the end of me.” You only stared warmly at Hosea, who patted you on the back. “Don’t you worry, miss. We found more blankets we thought had been lost in that dreadful storm, so we all will sleep warmer tonight.”
“Oh, of course, I’ll help-” Despite the whistling winds that had picked up as the sun shone its last tendrils, you didn’t oppose the idea, but you were interrupted by a mischievous look handed to you by the older man.
“Make sure Arthur grabs one, too; you know how he gets.” Before you could question his meaning, he slunk away, pulling the warm fabric tighter around his shoulders without a glance at you, chuckling merrily. You chose not to ponder too hard on his strange ways, instead making your way to the door, shivering badly as you stepped outside.
Smiles were all you were greeted with as you handed them off, and it was no surprise as it was a welcome sight to everyone to gain some extra warmth to wrap around themselves. Although feeling content by being of help, you couldn’t help but wonder where Arthur could be, a single blanket now left in your hands.
Grumbling to yourself, you stepped out from the hut Dutch and Molly resided in, glancing at a smaller building some paces away, finding the orange glow of a candle lighting up the smaller barn where the horses were kept. A small smile found you, finding it very fitting for him to be where there were fewer people. 
Although slightly fearing what could come to be an awkward encounter, you found yourself being too forgiving many times, and you damned yourself for it. What he said hurt you deeply, making you ponder if you had given Charles other signals than intended. It could be a possibility, yet you had never had too many romantic dealings with men to presume that that was the case, but his eyes held something tender the last few times you spoke as you recalled it.
“Arthur
” As you stepped inside after pulsing through the thick snow, you searched for the blue coat you had grown familiar with in this weather. “Are you here?” You asked quietly, wondering if he could hear you.
You cautiously stepped further into the barn, placing your feet steadily on the ground before you so you didn’t slip and embarrass yourself. It was friendly out here, you could admit, the snow muting every sound and almost making every slight sound caress your ears. 
As you stepped further inside, it turned out he was here, and he took no notice of you as you rounded the corner to gaze at his seated form, seemingly writing something in his journal. It was an unusual sight. Sometimes, you observed him as he wrote in his journal back at camp, yet you didn’t make a habit of it, too shy to question him at the time.
How he didn’t freeze to death in this climate was beyond you, his fingers bare as he scribbled, fingertips red from the cold and dirty from the chalk. You made a motion to speak up once again but found yourself tongue-tied as you took him in, and as you did, the thought struck you that he wasn’t writing but drawing.
How unlike him, you thought, watching his brows furrowed from time to time, fingers moving expertly while the soft glow of the candle beside him almost softened his features. Your presumptions might be harsh, but you had never found him to be a man well-versed in the creative aspect of life, and while the brutal ways of his life spoke for him, you found it to make him slightly more approachable. 
“I didn’t know you draw.” You stated fondly, his eyes fitting into yours the moment the first word left your mouth, growing visibly stressed as the journal was planted into his coat pocket. A rough cough left him as he did, eyes faltering when he saw your observant gaze linger on him unabashedly.
“I don’t.” A small laugh left you at his abrupt words, not teasingly but perhaps warmly, choosing not to bug him since he grew uncomfortable before your questioning eyes. 
You were given an expectant look that reminded you of your actual business here as you stepped inside the building, closing the barn door behind you to shut out the wind that somehow managed to find its way through the cracks in the walls. 
“Here, we found some more blankets. Hosea asked me to bring you one.” You met his eyes briefly as you stretched out your arms for him to take the blanket, eyes faltering to it at his piercing gaze.
“Hosea, huh?” A scoff left him, resuming his arms to cross over his chest, shaking his head slightly. “You keep it.”
“No, I-” 
“Nah, you chattering your teeth keeps us up at night. Take it.”
His words should have taken you back since his voice was stinging, but a light laugh left you, knowing he was right. Wrapping yourself in the soft, warm blanket, you surprised Arthur by sitting beside him, heavily clad shoulders touching each other as you did. 
“I don’t understand.” You stated, staring at the large shadows that flickered on the wooden wall before you. “How can you not be cold? I feel like if I spend one more day out here, I’ll freeze to death.”
You turned your head towards him, caught off guard when you felt his gaze already set intensely on you. Your eyes faltered to his chest, growing shy as you always did when you had his attention on you. It wasn’t unwanted, but you didn’t know what to do with yourself in moments like that, unused to the fire that always burned so deep in his eyes.
“Used to it, I guess.” His voice rumbled hotly in his chest, fingers flexing against his will as he took the chance to observe you. He had never had the opportunity to see your face this close. Your wet lashes clung together as you blinked, undoubtedly from the heavy snowfall outside, framing your eyes that Arthur always noticed were so very easy to read, yet at many moments also locked away.
“I don’t believe you.” How could anyone possibly get used to this? It was raw, pure torture. 
You didn’t get an answer, and as you returned your gaze towards the wall, Arthur’s eyes found your features again. He had indeed been cold before you came, but it was his only chance to find a moment of peace; the thought of spending another night in that god-forsaken hut with his dear friend and his lover giggling the night away grew incredibly distasteful.
Here, he could finally hear his thoughts, the solitude of the snow muting every sound heavenly; the only noise was the familiar scribbling in his journal as he wrote about the past few days. Though his head was calmer than before, he still dreamt of your fingers encasing his like they had done Charles, the small, elegant touches rising his arms slowly, making him shiver wildly as the scene flashed before his eyes. 
He knew he shouldn’t think of you like that, and he certainly had no right to be angry at Charles since he felt so unabashedly filthy things about you, but he couldn’t help it. Your every scent, every motion set his blood afire; small deeds of good you always found yourself doing so harshly contrasted his actions he couldn’t help the fact that you intrigued his whole being. 
So good, so
 soft and warm. As he stared at you, all he wanted was to reach out and pull you closer to him so he could feel your shivering body close to him, knowing many ways to warm you up. Sighing, he removed his hat, running his fingers through his hair as the thoughts took a turn he always hated himself for.
“Hey, I uh
” Arthur trailed off, finding the words he wanted to speak stuck in his throat. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way, like I did back then.” He stared before him, yet he felt your eyes heavy on his.
He did feel bad, and it had been the reason for his brooding temper since then, not coming to terms with his wrongdoings until now. He had probably scared you, he concluded, and could only assume he was right as you had done your utmost to avoid him as of late.
“Don’t be,” you said with a light smile, not expecting his apology, even though he didn’t say sorry directly. “It’s a lot right now, I understand. But I still don’t understand why you’re so angry at Charles.” You were briefly met with a light sigh, eyes flickering to yours before diverting the flickering candle. 
“Nah, forget it. Just me being stupid is all.”
“I don’t think you’re stupid. Maybe you’re mean sometimes and grumpy,” you said, giving him a teasing glance. “But not stupid.”
A scoff left him at your words, yet you could see the corners of his mouth chirp up lightly. “You’d be surprised.”
As your snickering died down, you rested your head on the wall behind you, not wanting to leave the quiet comfort you found yourself in nor the conversation that panned on longer than you had anticipated, much to your surprise.
“Why are you out here if you are so cold, girl?” He questioned you, catching a glimpse of your almost blue lips. “Go on inside; you’ll freeze to death if you stay here.” It would be best for you to return because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if his thoughts progressed like they did before in your presence. As he placed the hat on his head again, he glanced down quickly, doing a double take as he found you staring at him. 
Was the cold finally getting to your head, or was it simply being in the presence of the man you were so unsure of but wildly intrigued by? You couldn’t tell, but the warmth spreading in your stomach as he glanced down at you spread ferociously through your stomach, almost warming you to your fingertips. 
Suddenly, Arthur moved his arm slightly, and the motion made you jump, leaning away from him as you unconsciously drew closer to him. You couldn’t tell, but it almost felt like your body sometimes contradicted your mind, defying your sense of morality.
“Are you afraid of me?” He questioned, gazing at you unexplainably. Both of your breaths were audible in the quiet night, blowing like smoke out your mouths as the world around you blurred. It wasn’t like Arthur couldn’t contain himself around women, but you were something else entirely. Only in his wildest dreams did you stare at him like that, like you were expecting–waiting– for him to do something. 
Yet, you looked guarded, like a cornered lam, waiting for the right moment to sprint away. You pulled away, only to lean in further, the cogs in your head turning something so awful in your mind, observing his every move yet not registering your own that reached out to him.
And gods, did he want to do the same; his internal battle proved to be more difficult as your hand gripped his coat tightly, only wanting to warm your blue lips with his own and show you how he could warm you up better than Charles’s damned gloves ever could.
“Sometimes.” You let on, voice shaking from both anticipation and uncertainty.
Leaning down towards you hesitantly, he felt hot all over when he realized you didn’t shy away from him like expected, mouth only parting further as he drew closer. As you did, you felt your breath hitch when a hand was placed on your upper back, Arthur’s weight only making you glide further down the wall until your head was resting in the crook of his elbow.
“Arthur
” He was so close now you could almost feel his heartbeat through the vast amount of clothing, breath hitting your cold, blushing cheeks as he leaned closer, the calling of his name only drawing him in. He was sure you had bewitched him, for not a single thought in his mind was about anything but the woman in front of him, entirely and utterly overtaken by what was solely you.
And through those few moments between frustration and desperation, all senses of logic disappeared as the skin of your lips conjoined, drawn together like magnets that snapped together like they never wanted to be apart again. Eyes grew shut, the only sound now the deep humming in Arthur’s chest as your hands found his cheeks, caressing the chilly skin under your palm with your thumbs.
It was ragged and scarred, a deep contrast to your own that had never tasted the metal of a gun and the blood of a foe, and the thought made a gasp rise in your throat as his weight fell heavier onto yours, pressing you into the hay-filled, snowy ground. 
“Tell me to stop.” He grunted against your now wet lips, only taking a second before joining them again. He was covering your entire body as he lay above you, resting his weight on his elbows as your head rested on his arm. 
“No
” You mumbled, words almost not audible against his desperate mouth, feeling just as affected by the desire as he did. You felt his face scrunch up almost painfully before he took the hand that rested on your back to glide under your coat, resting it on the side of your waist as he stroked gently, feeling the curves that hid underneath the damned fabric.
It was torture. It was an unexplainable torture that you would freeze to death if he removed the clothes that covered you, and he would surely go insane if he couldn’t feel the skin he imagined would be so very soft under his rough fingers. Just a taste, he thought sinfully to himself, slowly lifting the fabric of your shirt from under your skirt’s waistband, worming a freezing hand inside to feel the warmth that hid underneath.
You gasped at the sudden sensation but were quickly silenced as his tongue massaged your own, and the slight moan that left you only made a groan rumble loudly in his chest. The feeling of his cold hand rose your skin, stroking every bit it came across as if memorizing it to his brain, mapping out every single inch. 
It was too much for you, the sheer desperation and want, not knowing what to do with yourself or how to dampen the intense feelings that nailed your firm to the ground. Every bit of you grew into static, and every touch from Arthur sent shockwaves through your body as his fingers caressed you.
“Come here.” Opening your eyes, you found his, although lidded with desire, gentle eyes gazing into yours, pulling his hand reluctantly from your waist to help you sit up. “I won’t let you lay on the ground.” 
You only stared at him as he seated you on his lap, chest flush against his as his hands stroked along your arms as if to warm you up, tightening the blanket around your shoulders. You felt your heartbeat pick up at his actions, your stomach fluttering fiercely as he ensured you stayed warm.
You could tell he grew wildly unsure as you remained silent, clearing his throat as if he had been in a daze before speaking. 
“If you’ll have me, that is.” You didn’t give him a chance to say more, hands finding sanction in his hair as the motion knocked off his hat, exposing the sandy locks he always kept hidden underneath it.
“Stupid question.” You mumbled softly against his mouth, pressing yourself closer to him as your fingers started fiddling with the buttons on his coat. You could already feel the heat emitting, and your fingers grew hasty as you tried to move faster, the motion of your lips faltering against his eager ones.
You would have been ashamed if it weren’t for Arthur being just as stressed about getting the buttons of your coat loose, hands wounding their way around your waist and pressing you closer to him the moment they became undone. Likewise, you wormed your arms under his shoulder, gasping as you felt the heat buried underneath the fabric, hugging him close as you placed your face into the crook of his neck. 
Breathing in your scent, Arthur revealed in the way you nuzzled against him, feeling a warmth spread in his groin when the thick coat didn’t keep the pressure of your middle away from him any longer. It was heaven, he concluded, trailing his hands down to your backside as he caressed the curves, pushing you flush against his.
Oh, how he reveled in it. He was selfish; there was no denying it any longer, but he craved you so profoundly it would eat him up bit by bit if he couldn’t have you. It wasn’t about Charles any longer; it was about the fact that you had never spared him a glance, almost bordering on fearing him, deciding that everyone else company had been much safer than his own. 
He knew it and had seen it in your eyes countless times. Arthur wasn’t unfamiliar with the look of utter horror plastered on people’s faces, for he faced it every day, and he wanted nothing more than to show you that you had no reason to feel that way with him, for he would never put a single finger that was unwished for on you.
And he couldn’t possibly hold it against you, for he wasn’t a good man, quite the opposite actually, and every lingering touch made him hate himself even more, wishing you would find it in you to push away from him–let him know that if he ever touched you again, you would kill him. 
But, he would find that you didn’t, instead only pressing yourself even harder against him in the cold of the night, breath shaking something so terribly as he moved your lower region against his in a gentle movement. It only fueled his want for you, hands struggling their way up your skirt, caressing your stocking-clad legs as he did, reaching your undergarments with a content sigh. 
His touch lighted a path up your legs, the cold nothing but a memory now even though the brisk air found its way underneath your skirt, following his hands that caressed your inner thighs in soft motions.
It was suspenseful, waiting for the skin to touch the skin, for his strong hands to wound around you as he had already wormed himself around your heart. And as he did, the coil in your stomach grew so incredibly tight you felt like it was too much like his touch alone wounded your every fiber, but instead of hurt, it was an undeniable pleasure that hit you tenfold.
The hand that had crawled its way inside your undergarments stroked alongside your tender parts, never touching you where you wanted him the most–the place that longed for his touch. He had to be teasing you; there was no other explanation as he smiled softly at your expression, gasping for air as you gripped the sides of his arms, trying to push against his fingers. 
“Ah, sweetheart.” He only cooed at you, gripping your wrists with one hand as his other finally glided over the wetness of your heat, gazing directly into your eyes with his sharp gaze, admiring your pleasure-filled face that begged him to give you more, to provide you with his all. And, as he spread your folds with his fingers, the filthiest whimper of pleasure left you, laying its noise into the quiet night with no worry about anyone hearing, only fools deciding to stray outside in this bleak, frigid night. 
Falling into his arms yet again, you let him enter a finger into your warm cavern, gasping desperately for air as the unfamiliar stretch widened you, dragging wonderfully against your clenching walls. It was vile, the way Arthur reveled in how tight you felt against his finger, and as he pondered on how you would feel when he pushed it you. The thought made a striking, white pleasure shoot through him, making him grunt out against your neck.
“That good?” He spoke out, adding another finger into you while placing wet, hot kisses against your blazing neck, wanting nothing more than to hear your heavenly sound of approval. 
You attempted to nod, but the motion was interrupted by the increasingly more extensive stretch from both of his fingers; gasping like a madwoman as you moved against his hands, wishing to pull his fingers even deeper into you, dissatisfied when you realized it didn’t do the job.
He could only groan when he realized your intention, slipping his coated finger from your warm heat, bringing them to his mouth quickly while his other hand found the zipper of his jeans, fumbling in a stressed fashion to get rid of the constraint.
A dissatisfied moan left you as he did, wishing for nothing more than to feel the delicious stretch yet again carry alongside your walls. But, as he fumbled with his zipper, you quickly got your senses together. You helped him undo his suspenders, then slipped underneath the fabric to trail your hand alongside the apparent bulge that stretched underneath, finding his groans to fuel your actions. 
For a short while, your eyes met amidst the hurry your bodies experienced, and the moment slowed down to a halt as your lips found each other once more, moving against one another like starved men. You couldn’t be closer to him, and he couldn’t possibly be closer to you, and while you earlier had pondered that this was a good idea, you couldn’t imagine anything else at this moment.
And, as your hand wrapped around him momentarily, Arthur could feel his brain’s short circuit, like he had never been able to hold a single thought in his mind his entire life. You had to have bewitched him, for he complied to your every touch, body moving against your every move like your hand was glued to his body.
“God,” he mumbled against your lips that massaged his own, thrusting against your hand as you stroked him tenderly, gasping against him quietly. It wasn’t hurried but warm and slow, basking in each other’s presence like you had never before discovered the feeling of another’s touch against your own.
“That good?” You replied teasingly, mimicking his earlier words as you smiled a toothy smile, feeling him chuckle lowly at your apparent teasing, giving you a playful slap on your behind as his breathing picked up.
Suddenly, you felt a hand encase your own. As he removed it from his throbbing member, he only grabbed you closer, wounding his arms around your back as he pulled you into a hug, the feeling of him underneath you wonderful as you glided along it–moaning wantonly as the friction shot sharp streaks of pleasure up your body.
“Come on, sweetheart. I’ll warm you up.” As he spoke, he could feel himself shudder as your wet lips encased his tip, groaning audibly as he thought you rubbing against him. You were illegal, he concluded, for nothing could ever be allowed to feel this good–it wasn’t possible.
“Please,” you gasped against his lips, moving your hips slightly as you felt his hands circle your waist. “Please, Arthur.” 
He hushed you quietly, finally feeling you wrap your lips around him as he slowly entered your warm cavern, the walls fitting him snugly as a grunt left him unexpectedly, lost in the pleasure you brought him. 
While it felt too good to imagine, you could only keep your mouth open at the sensation, wondering how something could ever fill you up quite as good as this. Without a single thought, you sat down entirely, feeling him stretch you wonderfully as you wrapped around all of him, wounding your hands around his neck. 
You didn’t need to move much, for he thrust up into you when you had gotten used to his size, feeling yourself being hitched up to his body as the motion made your whole body rise to then fall back down on him, once more filled to the brim. His grunting in your ears filled your senses, and while the slight consciousness entered your mind, wondering what you were doing, you pushed it far back, relishing in how your body responded to his.
Despite the cold that was surely creeping into your bones the more you stayed out here, the sound of skin against skin filling the empty spaces around you made you feel more connected to each other than you had ever felt with anyone else. 
You started to move with him, bringing down your hips to meet his while he thrusts into you, growing more desperate by the minute. You found the hands hugging your waist, circling their arms around it, pushing you even further against him as you rested your hands on his cheeks, having no choice but to stare into his lidded eyes as he grunted roughly underneath you. 
God, how he wanted to push you down onto the ground and drive into you, damning the snow that covered the ground. Instead, he glided down further from the wall, feeling your weight press against him more as your head found sanction in his neck, feeling his thrusts grow more in power as he pistoned into you harder from the new position.
“Arthur.” You breathed out, feeling the stretch of him grow as the position made him reach even deeper inside you, one arm reaching down to grab your bottom so he could hold you firmer against him.
“I know, honey.” He murmured, head growing dizzy as you clenched around him so wonderfully, mewling sweetly into his ears as you let him take control. 
Did it make him an evil man for reveling in what he knew Charles would never gain from you? Maybe it did, but those thoughts were placed far back in his mind as your lips found his, small moans now muted as you grew desperate for his affection, growing insatiable to once more feel the fondness that laid in his every touch.
He had been so angry that someone else had gained the courage to do what he couldn’t, realizing he had been too late. Yet now, as you remain unknowing above him, it only made his lips plant themself firmer against yours, determined to make you understand that nobody could make you feel this way except him.
Grabbing the blanket off your shoulders, he threw it down towards the ground as you gasped, stroking your waist tenderly before slowing his movements. 
Your breath heaved something so terrible, your voice shaking as you spoke. “Don’t stop, Arthur. Please.” He felt his stomach coil at your words, throbbing inside you as he moved to a seated position.
“I ain’t stopping, sweetheart,” he let on, leaning you backwards lightly. “Lay back for me, okay?” You did as he said without a protest, the cold now gone as your legs spread from him.
He almost groaned from the sight, taking a moment to observe you as you stared at him through lidded eyes, blushed cheeks so wonderfully red against the whiteness of the snow you almost looked like an angel–your hair spread like a halo around your head where you laid on the blanket.
Crawling over you quickly, he grunted as he felt your hand encasing itself around him, stroking slowly as you guided it to your clenching hole. For a moment, he felt a relief spread through him at the feeling of your walls surrounding him before the sheer and utter desperation set in, beginning to move into you at a faster pace than before. 
Your breath hitched at the sudden movement, yet you gripped his arms to keep him there, not baring the thought of him stopping again. Being over you gave him more control, and his primal instincts set in as the coil in his stomach shot burning flashes throughout his body, wanting nothing more than to feel your warm walls around him forever. Maybe it was the desire talking, but he swore that the thought of you being like this with any other man than him would make him heave.
Encasing his arms around you as your hands found his hair, he felt your legs wrap around his waist, now so close he was grounding into you relentlessly. Rough yet tender, he moved into you with care, but you could feel that he was holding back as he panted above you.
“Don’t stop!” You begged him once more amidst his thrusts, pulling on his strands as his lips found the softness of your neck. Why you were begging, you couldn’t say, oblivious to the words leaving your mouth in utter bliss.
“Hm?” He mumbled, smiling lightly from hearing your ruined voice beg him. He felt like a sick man gaining pleasure from it, but his mind was too hazy to take notice, longing to hear those words leave your sweet mouth once more. “What was that?”
“Don’t stop,” you voiced breathlessly as his hand found your breast, rolling the nub softly between his rough fingers. Despite your begging, for his own sickly twisted pleasure his hips ceased their movements, moving torturously slow as he raised his elbows to stare at your tear-filled eyes.
They shot open as he slowed his pace, displeased he didn’t listen as you already felt shameful for sounding so desperate. You couldn’t help it, for it felt too good, and now that he had stopped, you wished he never had. Was he teasing you? The thought made you blush from embarrassment and annoyance, pleading with your eyes.
“No
” You mumbled, trying to move against him, yet his hands held you firm against the ground.
“Say it.” Arthur’s voice was coarse as he spoke, grabbing your hand to place tender kisses on it as your displeased sounds reached his ears. He only got a confused look, smirking slightly at the longing and apparent dissatisfaction plastered on your face. A biting shadowed lust replaced his usually sharp eyes as he watched you, carnal written deeply in his eyes.
“My name, sweetheart. Let me hear you say it.” Suddenly, he pistoned his hips against you, driving up your wet walls as a mewl left you from the sudden force. You felt his intense eyes on you as your eyes shut momentarily, and through your blurred vision, they didn’t stay open for long.
“Arthur,” you moaned, eye-rolling into the back of your head as your back arched, a wave of pleasure shooting through you at his demands. He held the same controlled yet sensual pace, knowing he’d slip out of you if he went any harder. Still, his accuracy was wicked–hitting the right spot with every move.
“That’s it,” he praised you, placing another kiss on your palm as his thrusts increased, grunting roughly as your walls squeezed him tightly. You break into sobs as you reach out to grasp his arms, tilting his head up just enough to let you know he’s watching you, his hazy gaze roving over the devastation on your face. 
The snow around you mutes the sound of skin hitting skin as he sets a brutal pace. “I didn’t tell you to stop, sweetheart.” The deep rumble in his chest as he spoke the words laced with possessiveness made your heartbeat pick up faster than it already was, the light ringing in your ears increasing as your body was hoisted up with each of his thrusts.
You call his name like a prayer amidst the pleasure, and satisfaction at hearing his name come so sinfully from your mouth made his eyes roll back, knuckles turning white from gripping the ground so harshly. Oh, you had no idea that every noise you let out from his advances made his heart soar with pride, feeling the softness of your skin under the palm of his hands.
Arthur feels the abrupt stop of movements from your hand, gripping tightly on his arms as you spasm around his cock, clenching tightly as the pads of his fingers come down to rub at your swollen nub as your orgasmed, a loud whine leaving you at the contact. It’s too much for you, the sensation too unfamiliar yet devastatingly addictive–not knowing if you wanted to drive your hips away from his brutal assault or enjoy him even more profoundly. 
Even if you had decided on the prior, he didn’t let you, pushing you firm against the ground as he twitched inside you at the noises you let out, groaning lowly as he came inside your warm walls, planting himself deep inside you. 
“Christ-” He grunts out, teeth clenched as you feel his cock throb inside you, cum gathering at the base of him as his hips slow to deep thrusts, grinding into you in sheer pleasure as the knot in his stomach unleashed, feeling you placing small kissed on his neck.
The slight motion made him smile amidst his pleasure-filled mind, caressing the curves of your waist as he nestled his head into your neck, still panting heavily. As you both calmed down, it didn’t take long for your hand to find his, fingers wounding themselves around the others in the blissful aftermath.
As you opened your eyes after catching your breath, you found a pair of blue ones already gazing at you. You didn’t speak for a while, both of you trying to digest the situation as tiny snowflakes could be seen falling from the sky through the cracks in the walls. It reminded you of how cold you should have been, but with Arthurs’s broad chest covering you, it felt like you were clinging to a furnace.
“Shit, you must be freezing.” He suddenly let out, shaking his head slightly as if in a daze before rising to pull you with him. As he pulled your skirt down your legs, rubbing them between his hands to warm you up, you could only stare at him in quiet wonder.
“What?” He grumbled out, sniveling lightly as he glanced at you. Had you not wanted this, he wondered, doubt starting to fill his mind. You were too quiet for his liking, only staring at him as he tried to prolong touching your soft skin, fearful of the hurtful words that were sure to come. 
“Are you jealous of Charles?” 
If crickets had been this far north, they would surely be the only thing audible as Arthur stopped. Bear of a man, hardy and stubborn to many, yet a faint blush could be seen rising to his cheeks as his face lowered–wishing so dearly he could find his hat that had seemingly disappeared so he could hide.
If he had been looking at you, he would have seen the toothy smile covering your face, a tender laugh leaving you as your assumptions became reality. You had to give him credit, though, for he had you completely and utterly fooled. 
“No.” He stated firmly, rising on his legs to pull up his pants. He found himself unable to, though, your hand grabbing his suspenders to pull him back down. The same heat that had lessened in his stomach came back as he felt your nimble touch caress him through his pants, gaining a mischievous look from you as you widened your legs. 
“Don’t worry, Arthur. I’ll give Charles his gloves back if you stay here and keep me warm.” 
Oh dear, that would do it. Whatever thoughts that filled his mind flew out the window, wholly consumed by you as your hands caressed his back, staring expectantly up at him. 
“Only me, right?”
“Only you, stupid.”
6K notes · View notes
midnighvtm4ss · 1 month ago
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Oh you sweet, poisonous thing
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summary: just Arthur yearning and being jealous of reader and Javier. EnjoyđŸ˜œ
pairing: arthur morgan x fem!reader
content: fluff, jealousy, a hint of angst maybe ?? idk
wc: 1,8k
a/n: *taps into the mic* heyy,,, how y’all doing *voice echoes, crickets can be heard in the distance* so i kinda disappeared from tumblr ik. I went through a rough period and I thought a lot about what to do with this account. I lost all motivation to write for a while ngl, but after some thinking i decided that no matter what I’ll keep writing and posting here. After all this was and still is my little safe space where i can just forget about my life and post silly things about cowboys sooo yeah have some Arthur yearning because we should bring back yearning in 2025. ok i yapped enough bah byee
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The cracking sound of the campfire travels softly in the center of camp, casting long, flickering shadows that stretch and shift over the familiar faces of the gang, dancing on their features to the sound of the soft music leaving Javier’s guitar.
It had been a rare, uneventful day—the kind where, surprisingly, nothing went wrong, and the world seemed to hold its breath afraid to burst the serene and quiet bubble that engulfed all round the camp. The stillness settled over the gang’s members like a balm, soothing old wounds and lifting everyone’s spirits. By evening, an easy carefree air had taken root, boosted by a few shared drinks and Javier’s guitar.
You sit near the fire, sandwiched between Karen and John, the blonde slouched lazily at your side, her cheeks flushed from the too many whiskey glasses she downed. Javier is in a contagious good mood, sitting on the ground near John strumming another lively tune as he leans toward you, his bronze skin glowing in the campfire’s light and he’s grinning like at you like the charmer he is.
“Why don’t you sing with me, cariño,” he says, his voice playfully teasing. A chorus of groans and exaggerated complaints come from around the campfire, the gang all too eager to tease you about the first and fortunately the last time you sang around the campfire in Horseshoe Overlook after you had too many to drink. You remember waking up the morning after with a terrible headache and the sweet memory of laughter shared around the warmth of the campfire.
You laugh at their reaction, shaking your head. “I think I’ll save everyone’s ears this time, thank you.”
Javier chuckles and with that resumes playing, his voice low and smooth. His energy is infectious, pulling easy smiles and a few soft laughs from everyone. But in the back of your mind, you can feel that there’s a subtle shift in the air—a pull, a presence that tugs at your attention like a ping you can’t ignore. It’s faint at first, almost imperceptible, but it grows stronger, undeniable, familiar. You glance toward the edge of camp, and as suspected there he is.
He’s leaning against one of the wooden posts near the horses, half swallowed by the shadows, the dim firelight barely reaching the brim of his worn hat. His broad shoulders are hunched, arms crossed tightly over his chest like he’s trying to protect himself, to keep something away though you’re not sure he even knows what it is. His aqua eyes are sharp even in the shadows, and they’re fixed directly on you.
As the weight of his gaze settles over you like a heavy fog, thick and tangible, despite the distance between you, a shiver runs down your spine. Your chest tightens, as if the very air around him has thickened with unspoken things.
You’ve known him long enough to feel a quiet storm building in the depths of his quiet, unshakable composure. It’s not indifference nor anger. It’s something else—something raw and unspoken but you can’t, and maybe won’t, put a name on it.
When Javier nudges you playfully, you force yourself to focus back on him, offering him a smile that you hope conceals the tension swirling inside of you. Still, the weight of Arthur’s gaze doesn’t leave you, not even as the evening stretches on.
As the night deepens, the fire crackles low. One by one, people begin to drift off, leaving just you, Tilly, Lenny, Javier, and Karen around the fire. Tilly, who had joined your little circle a few hours earlier, is lively chatting with Lenny about some gossip she’d overheard in town, her voice bright with excitement seemingly unphased by the late hour. Meanwhile, Karen has fallen asleep with her head resting on your shoulder, undoubtedly drooling a bit on your blouse. This leaves you and Javier alone, the conversation between you two flowing easily, until he eventually sets his guitar aside with a stretch, breaking the comfortable atmosphere.
“Already going to bed ?” you tease, nudging him gently on the side. “Won’t you play me another song before you go to sleep ?”
He smirks, shaking his head with a wink.
“Tomorrow.” He promises winking at you. He stands up and disappears into the shadows of the night. After a few minutes Karen stirs awake, mumbling something about needing another drink before bed, lazily getting up on her feet, shuffling toward the camp’s supply.
After that it’s just you, Tilly and Lenny sitting near the dying fire. From your peripheral vision you can see the dark silhouette of Arthur sitting at the worn wooden round table under the tall tree in camp. You don’t look at him, not directly, but you feel his presence like a thread pulling between you. You sit there, looking at the fire contemplating if approaching him or calling it a night.
When you finally stand, your feet move before your mind can catch up with your actions. You carefully walk towards him, finding him hunched slightly over the table, his broad shoulders tense as he stares down into the nearly empty glass in his hand.
“Mind if I join you ?” you say pausing a few feet away. The sound of your voice softly filling the cold air around you both.
Arthur doesn’t immediately look up, his focus still fixed on the amber liquid swirling in his glass. You nearly contemplate leaving when after a long moment, he tips his head in a slow, deliberate nod. “Suit yourself.”
You take a seat across from him, your hands folding in your lap playing with a few loose threads as you settle into the quiet. For a long moment, neither of you speak. The noise of the evening has faded away, leaving the camp wrapped in the soft rustle of trees and the distant sound of crickets.
“Tired ?” you finally ask, your voice hesitant, breaking the silence.
Arthur huffs a low breath, his eyes never leaving the glass. “Long day,” he mutters, a simple response that tells you nothing.
You nod, though his answer feels like a wall, a quick, easy way to avoid revealing something deeper. There’s something bothering him, and maybe it’s the alcohol in your system or maybe you simply care too much for him but you’re determined to find out what.
“Javier kept everyone entertained tonight,” you say lightly, your words casual, trying to spark a conversation, though you’re watching him closely.
Arthur’s grip on his glass tightens just enough for his knuckles to go pale against the clear glass. “Yeah,” he replies, his tone flat. “He’s good at that.”
The space between you feels heavier now, filled with something unspoken, a tension that neither of you acknowledges directly. You lean back in your chair, letting the silence settle between you, but you can’t ignore the flicker of his eyes as they meet yours, then quickly shift away like he’s afraid of what might show if he stares at yours too long.
“What’re you drinking ?” you ask after a moment, breaking the quiet.
“Whiskey.”
“‘S that the good whiskey Pearson’s been hiding, or the usual watered down crap ?”
Arthur’s lips twitch, almost imperceptibly, clearly fighting a smile. “Usual crap,” he murmurs. “Pearson ain’t that generous.”
You laugh softly, the sound easing some of the tension that’s built between you. But still, it lingers, just beneath the surface, like something you both know but can’t put into words.
“You seemed quiet tonight,” you say after a pause, studying him closely.
Arthur shrugs, lifting his glass to his lips, the movement slow, as if every motion is carefully measured.
“Didn’t feel like talkin’.”
You watch him, your gaze tracing the line of his jaw, his wet lips and the way his fingers absently trace the rim of his glass. He’s not being completely honest—that much you know, but you’ve learned to read between the spaces of his words.
“Or maybe you just didn’t like the company,” you offer, your tone playful but with an edge to it.
Arthur’s eyes snap to yours, sharp and unmoving. “I didn’t say that,” he replies, his voice low, almost a growl.
He holds your gaze a beat longer than necessary, and you feel the weight of it settle deep in your chest, making your breath hitch. There’s something in his eyes, something raw, vulnerable that makes your heart stutter. You’re not sure if he sees how your composure falters, but he’s the first to look away, tipping his hat lower over his brow to shield his expression.
You’ve always hated when he does that—you’ve always hated the way he uses it to put a distance between you, but now more than ever you hate it because it feels like the wall between you is growing thicker and you’re not sure if you can get through anymore.
“You’re a hard man to figure out Arthur Morgan,” you say softly, the teasing edge gone from your voice. He doesn’t answer right away, and when he does, it’s in a voice barely above a whisper.
“Maybe that’s for the best.”
You bite your lower lip in frustration but then you force yourself to swallow down your disappointment. The conversation shifts then, moving toward more trivial things like the weather, the horses, Pearson’s latest disaster with the stew. But even as you talk, you know that there’s another conversation happening in the spaces between words, in the glances you exchange, in both your body language, in the way the silence sometimes wraps itself around you both.
You don’t speak of it. You don’t name it. Neither of you can, but you know it’s there.
“Good night Arthur,” you say, your voice quieter than you intended. You give him a sweet smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, before you stand, the weight of your own tiredness forcing you to seek the sweet embrace of your bed.
He doesn’t reply right away, just gives a slow tip of his hat. “Night.”
As you start to take a few steps away from the table, you feel his gaze on your back—steady, unwavering. It feels like it’s burning into your skin.
You glance over your shoulder, just once, and meet his eyes. For a moment, they’re distant, almost lost, like he’s somewhere far away in thought. But as your gaze lingers, you catch something else, something in the way his eyes soften, the barely perceptible softening of his eyebrows. It’s not a look of anger or frustration that he gives you, no, he’s looking at you with something deeper, something raw.
It’s the kind of look that makes your chest tighten, a sweet warmth settling between your ribs. He doesn’t need to say anything, you can feel it in the glance between you—the weight of all the things neither of you will dare to speak aloud.
In that brief moment, you understand. And it’s enough to leave you walking away with butterflies storming in your stomach and the strange sense that you’ve just shared something deep, something fragile with him without ever needing to say a word.
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millieisawriter · 3 months ago
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Workin' girl
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arthur morgan x reader
summary: the one where arthur pulls a john — falling in love with a working girl. it was never supposed to happen, yet it did, and now arthur is left with two choices. either he, again, walks away from a woman that loves him, or tries to fight for her.
wc: 2k
all pics taken from pinterest
♡this wasn't requested, but if you wish to request something you're more than welcome♡
a/n: i see this happening in blackwater in case i decide to write a 2nd part, but when i started writing i imagined saint denis, didn't see any town/city names mentioned as i was proof-reading, lmk if you see something i missed <3
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Life has never treated you kindly so eventually, as soon as you could leave your family home, you turned to the oldest profession in the world. Even if that kind of life was better, it still wasn't ideal, but it was the best you could do. Eventually, you started to like it because even with its issues and dark sides it wasn't that terrible. Some would even dare saying it was 'easy money', which you actually knew wasn't true.
Luckily for you, you ended up in one of the more expensive brothels. Maybe it was the 'splendor' of the place, the luxurious interior, that made you feel somewhat safe. Safer than you would feel in some cheap saloon where the patrons consisted of drifters with a questionable past.
You had your regular patrons, ones that you got along with well — one of the reasons why they were your regulars. These were the men that could stay a bit longer after the service itself was done without making it awkward. Ones that you could have a conversation with, ones that saw you as another human being, not just an item to relieve their frustration.
It was a normal evening, the building was neither empty nor full. You didn't have that much on your hands, you and a fellow working girl were entertaining a group of men. They sat by a table, a drink in one hand, a cigar in the other, and two of these men had a companion in their lap — you and your friend. Ending the evening in the bedroom wasn't certain, for now you were just trying to make them spend as much money as possible on the drinks.
Then, Arthur walked in. One of your regulars, one you were particularly fond of. The chemistry between the two of you was so strong sometimes you wanted to tell him he didn't have to pay.
His eyes immediately found you, and he would be lying if he said he didn't feel jealous seeing you in the man's lap. But you, as if on command, turned to look at Arthur and as you noticed your favorite patron, you excused yourself from the table.
"Mister Callahan," you beamed, approaching the man, "so good to see you again."
He tipped his hat to you, his lips curling into a soft smile. "Evenin' darlin', thought I'd stop by again. You been keepin' busy?"
The way he always called you darling, every time, made you feel so warm and bubbly. Of course, he wasn't the first man to do that, but when it came from him, it felt almost sincere.
"Busy enough," you replied, glancing over your shoulder at the table of men you just left, "but I'll always make time for you, mister."
"Well, reckon I'll take you up on that. How bout we find a quiet spot?"
"Your wish is my command." Giggling, you took Arthur by the hand to lead him upstairs where your room was. Even if he already knew the way well enough.
Your room was just like any other room in that brothel — furnished with the most luxurious-looking furniture, tastefully decorated with expensive ornaments, every little detail taken care of.
As the door to your room clicked shut behind you, the world outside seemed to fade miles away. In that moment right there it were just the two of you, bathed in the dim light by the fireplace's glow.
Arthur's hat found its usual place on the small table by the door and he turned to face you, "I can never stay away for too long." Shortly, his hands landed on your waist, resting on the corset of your dress.
"Then maybe you should visit more often..." You suggested, your own hands finding their way to the man's shoulders.
"I'm afraid it ain't a good idea, darlin'. I always look forward to seein' you. But sayin' goodbye..."
"I get what you mean," you chuckled, "so what's it gonna be today? Just the regular service, or you want something extra? It'll be on the house."
Every time Arthur visited you, it was both blissfull and painful for him. You were so good at what you were doing it felt like a religious experience, but the attachment he held for you left a hole in his heart each time he had to say goodbye.
He had always wished he could just ask you to leave this life, and join the gang, but which woman would agree for this? Your current life, your current job, as oppressing as it was, couldn't be worse than living on the run. In Arthur's eyes at least.
In the brothel you had your own room, a wardrobe with many dresses. You had a somehow stable income, it didn't seem as if money were any issue to you. All this, compared to what you could have in the camp, was much worse. And you didn't even know his real last name, there was no reason for you to leave this life you had for a criminal.
Why did Arthur even fall for a working girl? The exact same thing happened to John, which Arthur would often make fun of him for. Maybe life just decided to pull a joke on Arthur now. But he just couldn't control himself, from the first time he saw you, you were different. With other women it didn't take long to notice they're just playing a role, but you... from the first time you even smiled at Arthur, he was drawn to how genuine it looked. And now, you had become not just a pretty face to entertain him, but someone he felt at ease with.
This time, as many times before, Arthur didn't hurry to get dressed and leave the room, return back to camp after getting what he wanted. Instead, he stayed under the covers in your bed, smoking a cigarette as you kept going on about something that happened a few days ago.
He didn't mind, he could let you yap his ears off, your voice was such a calming sound. It was almost hard to believe you weren't just a hallucination he made up. How could such an ethereal being just lay there, next to him, head propped on your palm as you lay on your stomach, talking about whatever nonsense? How could this happen to a man like Arthur Morgan?
"...so then," you paused to take the cigarette from Arthur, take one puff and hand it right back, "you'd think a man like him would have some sense, right? Well, no, he was so damn thick in the head, she just told the guard to throw him out!"
Arthur chuckled, exhaling a stream of smoke. "Bet he didn't see that comin'. I'm glad I ain't made it onto your list of thick-headed fools yet."
"Yet!" You playfully reminded him. "You seem to have more sense than others, although I can't say I'm some weak little girl. I don't even need a guard, but the madam insists it's for safety."
A thought lingered in the back of Arthur's mind. It was weird, in a sense, to know there's a guard right outside your door whenever you had a man up there. Even right then.
"I don't doubt you could handle yourself, darlin'," Arthur smirked, taking one last drag from his cigarette, "but it don't hurt havin' someone lookin' out for you."
You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. "Guess you're right, mister."
Arthur stubbed out the ciragette into the ashtray that stood on the bedside table, knowing what it meant. His time was up, he extended the time of his visit as long as he could. Now that his usual cigarette was finished, it was the time for him to go.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed to stand up. You watched as he reached for his clothes that had been thrown onto the floor, and for the first time a single tear started to burn the corner of your eye.
With his jeans already on, and his shirt for now unbuttoned, he reached to the pocket, retrieving the usual payment. You wiped the tear away as it escaped your eye. It was always the same routine, but it didn't make it any easier to watch him go.
"Here it is." He said almost robotically, placing the money next to the ashtray, throwing in a little tip.
You looked at the money with sadness in your gaze, then your eyes shifted to look at the man. "You know, you shouldn't have to pay, because you don't make it feel like work."
There they were, the words Arthur was so afraid to hear. Him having a more romantic kind of attachment to you was one thing. However, knowing that you reciprocated the feeling, made it more difficult.
"Good," he nodded, "cause you don't make me feel like the bastard I am," as he buttoned up his shirt.
You sat up on the bed, pulling the sheets harder around you, since you were still naked. "Arthur..." You sighed, the rest of the sentence dying in your throat.
The fact that for the first time you had used his actual name instead of calling him mister as always, made it only more difficult.
"No, darlin', don't."
"You know you don't have to leave, right?"
Oh, he had to leave. If he overstayed his welcome too much, the guard at your door would become highly suspicious. And that would only cause issues for you.
"I have to, don't wanna make it harder." Arthur replied.
"Harder for who? I know a man's nature well enough, and I can tell there's something more in the— the way you fuck me, Arthur."
He thought maybe playing dumb would help him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that if you were to ask me to... to abandon this life for you... I would."
Arthur gulped. It was just what he wished for, but what he couldn't allow to happen. "I've got nothin' to give you. I live on the run, it ain't somethin' you wanna be a part of, trust me."
"You think I'd rather keep fucking strangers to survive, than travel the world with a man I lo—"
"You don't." Arthur interrupted you. "You don't know what you're talkin' bout." Love was a word of huge weight, there was no way it was what you felt for him.
You insisted. "I know what I feel, and I know what you feel, I see it in your eyes, I feel it when you're in my bed, Arthur. I wanna leave this life for you."
"It ain't gonna be no escape, though, just another kind of trap. You deserve better than fuckin' strangers to get by, but you also deserve better than runnin' and not knowin' which day will be your last."
"I don't want better!" At that point you didn't care if the guard outside will hear. "I want you, Arthur!"
"I want you too, darlin'," he admitted, his voice breaking slightly, "but... you're safer here. I can't sentence you to a life of eternal wanderin'."
His words had a final tone, but as well as you could read his eyes, you could tell he regrets saying what he had just said. You could have had a roof over your head, and locks in your door, but it wasn't safety. It was survival.
You stepped closer, reaching out to grab Arthur's hand. You knew he didn't want to leave, you were sure he wants you just like you wanted him. "Arthur..."
His heart ached when he saw the way your beautiful eyes looked at him, but still he decided to kiss you. It only made it worse, making another cut in Arthur's already damaged heart.
"I gotta go." He stated, freeing his hand from yours.
"No." You refused as if you had any say in that matter. You could demand he takes you with him now, wherever he's headed, but what would it do?
"I can't make promises," he continued, putting his boots and jacket on, then his hat, "but I'll figure somethin' out."
You stayed silent, watching him leave the room, not knowing if he's going to keep his word. All you had now was the money, that you didn't even want from him, and the promise that could have been empty.
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allthemeniveloved · 3 months ago
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It took me 3 years to realize that my posts weren’t getting any attention because my account was private and unsearchable. 😭 I feel like an idiot. Lol
More stories to come! <3
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twola · 6 months ago
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Can we have something with possessive/jealous Arthur Morgan? I can never get enough of this plot.
or...something with a pregnant reader? I don't know, I'm in my fertile period. đŸ™‚â€â†”ïž
ÂżPorque no los dos? Here is a little one~
Seething
Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI
➔ Fic Masterlist ➔ AO3 Link
The match sizzles as it hits the water.
Arthur runs his hand down his face, blinking at the match sink under the lake’s surface, not even interested in the unlit cigarette between his fingers. He shoves it back into his satchel as he loosens a long, worried breath.
Of course - he had known that this was possible. That this could happen. That he could be this stupid again. The worried look on your face when you came to him. The darkness under your eyes. The slipping out of his cot in the early morning you’ve been doing the last couple of weeks.
God damnit, Morgan.
Thoughts of a young waitress and a sandy-haired boy invade his thoughts. Regret, anger, fear, they rage in his gut, a maelstrom of repressed emotion threatening to boil over.
“Leave me alone-”
Your voice cuts through his wallowing like a sharpened knife. Immediately, all sense of his nervousness and pensive thought are gone - replaced by a burning rage - who could be making you yell out like that, threatened, aggrieved? 
“Come on now - honey, you know you want a real man to keep you warm at night.” A slimy, rough voice echoes from the glen where Arthur is quickly moving to. He’s gotten his answer, and as his hand closes on the smooth grip of his revolver, a natural motion whenever he senses danger.
Micah stands far too close to you for any man’s liking, and you scowl up at him from where you have gotten up from your seat on a fallen tree trunk.
You narrow your eyes as his hand closes around your bicep, “Let go of me, Micah.”
Micah smirks, his grimy hand moving up toward your neckline, “Morgan’ll never know -”
Before you can raise your voice at him further, Micah is yanked away from you, his hand around your arm jolts you forward before he lets go, but not before your blouse tears at the shoulder, the seam ripping along your neckline. You yelp as you regain your footing and clutch at the fabric of your blouse, your chemise and the swell of your breast visible before you can scramble to cover yourself.
“Tha’ fuck-?” Micah yells as he is drawn backward in surprise. You stumble a few steps back, the shadowed figure who pulled Micah from you visible now in the afternoon light.
Arthur grabs Micah by the neck, throwing him to the ground with relative ease. Swinging his leg over Micah’s chest, he leans over the man and sneers as he tightens his grip around his throat.
“I ever see you come near her again, I will rip your goddamn throat out.” Arthur threatens, unconcerned as Micah begins to gasp and cough under his iron grip. “You hear that?”
“Morg- ack- Morgan..-” Micah struggles, his hands around Arthur’s forearm, but he cannot move the larger man atop him.
“Arthur-” 
Arthur looks up, his heart racing in the way that a job gets him going - the thrill of the hunt, the joy of the kill. 
You look horrified, clutching at your ripped shirt over your breast.
“Arthur, stop. I’m fine - he - he ain’t worth it.” You breathe out. Arthur scowls in return.
“We’re getting outta camp f’r the night. Come on.” He seethes, dropping Micah as the blonde man gasps for breath on the ground.
-
Arthur does not say a single word to you the entire ride into town. Not when he stomped back to your shared tent. Not when he readied his horse. Not when he lifted you onto the mare’s rump, not when you arrived in town at the hotel, not when he gruffly requested a room and tossed a few coins at the poor clerk. 
Not when he closes the door behind you.
“Arthur.” You finally work up the courage to confront him, your hands clenching the fabric of your skirt at your sides.
He lets out a long, aggravated breath before turning around, pulling that old leather gambler’s hat, and tossing it onto the dresser next to him. He steps closer to you, but again, does not speak.
“Arthur, talk to me.”
“I-...” His hand slowly floats forward to lightly lay upon your belly, the softest, smallest swell beneath your skirts. It’s barely there, but your lover - he knows, he knows the changes in your body. The rounding of your breasts, the thickening of your waist. That swell; cradled above your hips. His child, growing there within you.
“I’m alright.” You try to calm him, covering his hand with your own and pressing it to your belly, “Nothing happened, Arthur. It’s all okay.”
“He touched you. He touched you and you’re
 you’re
” He seethes.
“I’m yours.” You breathe, understanding what it is he’s stumbling over getting out, “I’m yours, Arthur. I’m yours and we’re gonna have our baby and everythin’ is going to be okay.”
“Let me
” He whispers roughly, reaching toward the shawl you wrapped over your shoulders to cover your ripped blouse. You shrug the shawl from your frame as he pushes at it gently. 
You’re drawn into his embrace forcefully, yelping slightly before he crushes his lips to yours. Your hands finally land on his biceps, steadying yourself as you return the kiss. At some point, Arthur gets impatient, grunting into your mouth as you feel his hands pull at the ties of your skirts. The fabric flutters to the floor as you start to work your ruined blouse off, gasping as his mouth moves to your neck, nipping with his teeth slightly before he lets you go to undress yourself, the blouse joining your skirt in a pile on the floor. You kick your boots off.
You pull your chemise from your frame, over your head, and throw it aside, and push your bloomers down your hips until they too fall to the floor with the rest of your clothing.
Arthur’s eyes darken, and those huge hands of his reach toward your naked frame. Those hands that murder and maim and steal and shoot.  But you know, as wound tightly as he is right now, those hands of his would never touch you with anything but gentleness.
You’re right, of course, as the back of his pointer finger lightly brushes a lock of your long hair back over your shoulder before his big, warm hand cups one of your breasts. You let out a breath of relief as he squeezes gently, pressing his lips against your forehead.
His other hand smoothes gently over your belly, moving down to that thatch of hair at the apex of your hips, his fingers slipping between your legs and finding your core with all the practiced knowledge of a lover. 
A swipe of those fingers along the seam of your body and he bites his lower lip against a groan when he finds you wet. “C’mon, hows about you lay down in that bed?”
You nod, backing up a few steps to sit on the hotel bed, watching him start to unbutton his work shirt as he kicks his boots off. You lay down as he rids himself of his pants, of his union suit. All six feet of him, scarred and muscular, paces toward the bed, a man on a mission.
Your arms snake around his neck as he climbs on top of you, bracing his weight on his forearms as he gently notches his cock between your folds. He has to stifle a growl at the gasp you make as his cockhead catches the rim of your cunt.
“Y’okay there?” Arthur rumbles, waiting for a response. You nod, opening your legs a little wider for him. He presses forward, the hot, hard inches of him sliding into your body - never forced, just enough pressure to make you throw your head back on the pillow.
Arthur doesn’t smother you, doesn’t plaster his larger body against yours as he usually does, keeping himself up on his forearms and bearing his weight on his knees. As much as he wants to pound into you, to stake his claim, to make you scream his name to prove to the world that you’re his - he doesn’t. He’s gentle, he’s slow.
You sigh contentedly as your fingers work through his hair, your hips moving in tandem with his as he thrusts into your heat. His heady, full rhythm has you nearing completion imminently.
Your heels dig into the base of his spine, and he knows you're about to come. Three more heaving thrusts and his name falls from your mouth as your orgasm licks up your spine, your hands clutching at him desperately as he rides out your high. He dips his head down next to yours and angles his hips downward, completely filling you, and one long exhale finds him releasing into you.
Moments pass, and in the room, the slowing of both of your breaths is the only sound
“All right now?” You pet his sweat-dampened hair before he grunts, extracting himself from you and laying on your side.
He doesn’t respond, not with words, at least.
You take his hand and press it against that soft, small swell of your belly as you close your eyes. You feel him moving next to you and when you feel his warm lips press upon your temple, you know, at least for now, he is all right.
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geneviveleocardius · 2 months ago
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arthur morgan romantic headcanons
extended
to the loml..
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Arthur isn’t the type to fall in love easily, but when he does, it hits him like a freight train. He fights it at first, thinking he doesn’t deserve you or that his life is too dangerous. But once he accepts it, his love is unwavering.
Arthur’s love language is rooted in action. He’ll sharpen your knives, mend your clothes, and leave little surprises in your belongings—a flower he picked on a ride, a small drawing tucked into your satchel. These gestures are his way of saying..
“I’m thinking of you.”
Arthur would walk through hell and back for you, no questions asked. If anyone so much as looks at you wrong, they’ll be met with a cold, steely glare—and if the situation escalates, Arthur won’t hesitate to step in.
Arthur notices everything about you—how you like your coffee, the way your eyes light up when you laugh, the small things that bring you comfort. He stores this knowledge away, using it to make your life easier without drawing attention to himself.
Arthur finds it hard to express his feelings verbally. When he tries, he stumbles over his words, his cheeks flushing red. Instead, he’ll write you letters or let his actions speak for him. The few times he does manage to say “I love you,” it’s raw, heartfelt, and unforgettable.
Arthur is big, strong, and often a bit rough around the edges, but he’s incredibly gentle with you. His touch is always careful, his words soft, and he treats you like you’re something precious in a world full of chaos.
Arthur has a deep respect for you and your ability to hold your own, especially in the harsh world you both live in. He’ll often tell you, “You’re tougher than most folks I know. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
Arthur cherishes the rare times when it’s just the two of you—sitting by a campfire, watching the stars, or riding side by side in peaceful silence. These moments are what keep him going when life feels too heavy.
Arthur doesn’t get jealous often, but when he does, it’s subtle—a tense jaw, a quiet grumble, or a pointed look. If someone flirts with you, he’ll casually sling an arm around your shoulders and mutter something like, “Don’t think they know you’re already spoken for.”
Arthur loves to sketch you. He’ll pretend he’s drawing landscapes or animals, but you’ll often find small doodles of you hidden in his journal. If you ever catch him in the act, he’ll act bashful, muttering, “Just drawin’ what I see..”
Arthur’s protective nature runs deep. He knows the world is dangerous, and he’ll do anything to shield you from it. At the same time, he trusts your strength and doesn’t try to control you—he just wants to be there when you need him.
Arthur believes in being upfront with you, even when the truth is hard to hear. He doesn’t want to hide anything, especially from someone he loves. His honesty might be blunt, but it’s always rooted in care and respect.
Arthur doesn’t expect perfection from you. He knows everyone has their flaws, and he loves you not despite them, but because they make you who you are. He’s always quick to remind you, “Ain’t nobody perfect, least of all me. But you? You’re just fine the way you are.”
Arthur dreams of a better life for the both of you—maybe a little farm, far away from all the chaos. He’s hesitant to share these thoughts at first, afraid they’ll sound foolish, but when he does, his voice is full of hope.
When life gets overwhelming, Arthur is your rock. His presence is steady, his voice reassuring, and his arms feel like the safest place in the world. No matter how bad things get, you know you can always count on him to stand by your side.
Arthur loves to poke fun at you in the gentlest way. If you trip over something or make a small mistake, he’ll smirk and drawl, “Reckon I should start callin’ you Grace.” But if anyone else tries to tease you, he’ll immediately shut them down, saying, “That’s my job, not yours.”
Arthur’s a nickname kind of guy. Whether it’s “darlin’,” “sunshine,” or even something a little more playful like “trouble,” every nickname he uses is laced with affection. If he’s in a particularly good mood, he might tease you by saying, “What’d I do to get stuck with someone like you?” only to follow it up with a soft smile and a quiet, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Arthur’s got a sharp sense of humor, and he’s not afraid to use it. If you’re being stubborn or overly dramatic, he’ll cross his arms and grin. “Oh, so that’s how it is now? I’d better get outta your way before you start runnin’ the whole gang.” He knows exactly how to get under your skin in the most endearing way.
Arthur loves a little friendly competition, whether it’s a shooting contest, fishing, or even racing horses. He’ll mock you playfully the entire time: “You sure you don’t want a head start, darlin’? Hate to see you lose so bad.” But if you beat him? He’ll act all grumpy before grinning and saying, “Alright, alright, you earned that one. Don’t get too used to it.”
After a round of playful banter, Arthur always makes sure you know he’s kidding. He’ll pull you close, brush his thumb over your cheek, and murmur, “Y’know I don’t mean half the nonsense I say, right? Just like seein’ you smile.”
Arthur’s life hasn’t left much room for softness, but he finds ways to be romantic in his own understated way. He’ll carve your initials into a tree, braid wildflowers into your horse’s mane, or bring you little trinkets he finds on his travels. If you ever call him out on it, he’ll shrug and say, “Just seemed like somethin’ you’d like.”
Arthur has a habit of pulling you into sudden dances when there’s music around the camp. He’ll take your hand with a teasing grin and say, “C’mon, we ain’t got all day. Let’s see if you can keep up.” Even if you’re terrible at it, he’ll just laugh and say, “Guess we both got somethin’ to work on.”
Arthur’s protectiveness often shows up in his actions rather than words. If you’re out riding together, he’ll always place his horse slightly ahead, shielding you from any potential danger. If you call him out on it, he’ll grumble, “Ain’t nothin’. Just keepin’ an eye on things, is all.”
When you’re feeling unsure of yourself, Arthur’s softer side shines through. He’ll tilt his head, his voice low and earnest: “Ain’t no one like you, and don’t you dare forget it. World’s better ‘cause you’re in it.”
Arthur can’t help but stare when you laugh. Whether it’s a soft chuckle or uncontrollable laughter, it always tugs at his heart. He’ll grin and tease, “Reckon I should make you laugh more often. Suits you better than that serious look you like to wear.”
Arthur’s flirting is subtle but effective. He’ll lean in close, his voice dropping just enough to make your heart skip a beat: “You keep lookin’ at me like that, and I might start thinkin’ you’re sweet on me.”
After a long day, Arthur treasures the quiet moments with you. Sitting by the fire, he’ll wrap an arm around your shoulders, occasionally breaking the silence to tease you softly: “Think you could stand another day of me? Don’t answer too fast, might hurt my pride.”
Arthur isn’t just your partner; he’s your anchor. Whenever you need comfort, he’s there without hesitation. He’ll hold you close and murmur, “Ain’t nothin’ we can’t handle. Long as we got each other, we’ll be alright.”
Arthur doesn’t brag much, but he can’t help himself when it comes to you. If someone comments on how lucky he is, he’ll smirk and say, “Damn right I am. And she’s lucky I’m lettin’ her stick around.”
When things are tough, Arthur’s voice carries a weight of quiet determination: “Whatever happens, I ain’t goin’ anywhere. You’re stuck with me, like it or not.”
pretty boy
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messrmoonyy · 11 months ago
Text
- The gilded cage
Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader
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Request- how about some of the girls going along to the mayors party in Saint Denis. Have you seen the cut content of Molly when she was meant to be at the party? So Dutch takes Molly along, Arthur takes reader? And what if Arthur gets a a little jealous of reader mingling and then they sneak away for some smutty time together

A/N- this is my first Arthur fic so he may be a lil out of character whilst I get to grips with writing him. I also have not written straight smut in like 2 years. But we vibe. Enjoy
Also shoutout to @devnmon for supporting and enabling my rdr2 brainrot. You’re a real one
Warnings- 18+ | smut: unprotected p in v, semi public sex ( wc - 7.7k )
Masterlist / AO3
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Saint Denis was a little too rich for your blood. You’d only ventured into the city a handful of times, but the times you had you’d decided you didn’t really like it. You felt too
 common. You never had liked the wealthy, flaunting their security and safety that was wrapped up in dollars and gold. 
But. You loved money. God did you love money. And as much as you hated the residents of the city, you sure loved robbing them blind. You always had had a knack for making the rich mysteriously lose their dollars and their watches, it had been the sole reason you’d ended up in Dutch’s gang in the first place. 
You’d even tried picking his pockets at first.
But you were on best behaviour tonight. Under Dutch’s orders. And you figured as boring as that sounded, you’d oblige. Simply because the men rarely let the girls get involved with any of the interesting stuff in camp. There was only so much laundry you could do before your brain truly went numb from boredom. Only so much listening to Miss Grimshaw nagging at you to do some work or Micah antagonising someone over something stupid. 
So even with Dutch’s strict orders to behave and your dislike of the city, you had jumped at the chance to come along to the party. 
“ i can practically smell the money “ you sighed as you took Arthur’s hand to step down from the coach, already hearing the bustle of the party happening somewhere out the back of the mansion in front of you “ you sure I can’t go pickin? Just a lil “ you were half joking, half not. On the times you had wandered into the city, the stuff you’d gathered picking your way around the saloons and back alleys had been a decent haul. The stuff some of these people carried around on the average day was enough to fund the food for the whole of camp for a couple days or more. 
Who knew what kind of goodies they’d have on them in their finery. 
“ no miss “ Dutch’s stern voice sounded, but he was sporting a small look of amusement “ keep those talented hands of yours to yourself. This is about business. We steal nothing. That goes for all of you. Steal. Nothing. Unless it’s information “ 
“ don’t worry. I’ll keep her in check “ Arthur spoke with a small chuckle, placing a hand lightly to your back. 
“ this is why we shouldn’t have brought the women. They always cause trouble “ Bill complained, as he stepped out of the second coach with Hosea, making you scowl. 
“ I hope you aren’t grouping me into that Mr Williamson “ Molly piped up with a disapproving scowl of her own as she stepped out of the coach, seemingly more mad at Dutch for not helping her out more than at Bill though. Arthur offered her his hand instead, helping her step onto the path without breaking her neck in her extravagant dress. 
Always the gentleman. 
She looked wonderful and you had begun to wonder if she had owned that dress all along or had gone out and got it special. Maybe Dutch had picked it up for her. It wouldn’t surprise you if she had been lugging it around from place to place, waiting for some perfect moment to pull it out. She always did look more put together than the majority of camp. Though you really didn’t understand how she could walk in the dress she was currently wearing, skirts full and you guessed pretty heavy too. 
“ no need to bring you “ Bill continued. 
“ I ain’t even causin’ trouble “ you piped in, throwing your own scowl Bills way again “ When did you last contribute to the box anyways huh Bill? I don’t see you doin’ nothin’ but sit around all damn day. No need to bring you I say. Jus’ cause you ain’t got no lady on your arm you’re complainin’ bout me and Molly “ 
“ what? A lady like you? I should be damn lucky I ain’t “ 
“ why you- “
“ Bill I suggest you leave it “ Arthur murmured lowly, planting himself between you and Bill before you did in fact cause some trouble. Bill grumbled something, spitting on the floor with a look of disgust and turning away from you. 
Dutch sighed heavily, looking increasingly pissed off at the group in front of him and held his arm out to Molly. 
“ Miss O’Shea “ It pained you a little to know he was probably only being nice to her tonight for appearances sake. He’d been practically ignoring her recently. And wasn’t doing Molly any good. You hoped a night out of camp would do her well “ now would you all just calm. Down. We, are simple distinguished gentleman, here for business. So start damn acting like it “ you scoffed at that, making a pointed look in Bills direction as you did 
“ distinguished my ass “ 
“ play nice now “ Arthur said quietly, but you heard the smile in his tone as he did. He then offered you his arm as Dutch had done to Molly. But unlike Dutch the act didn’t feel performative, a way to blend in and appear far higher class than they actually were. Arthur actually was a gentleman. For the most part anyways. 
“ why thank you mister “ you said in a cheery tone, throwing him a coy smile and slipping your gloved hands into the crook of his elbow. 
It did feel a little funny to be walking beside him like that. All dressed up and in clothes that weren’t smeared with gun oil, dust or god knows what else. It made your mind drift a little to what life could’ve been like. 
Your group crossed the street, promptly being stopped at the gates 
“ gentleman “ the guard greeted, taking the invitation from Dutch’s hands “ the mayor doesn’t allow guns at official functions “ the way he looked at Dutch and the others was almost demeaning. Like he knew you were all riff raff and of course would be the sort to attend such an event armed “ Not after last years incident “ none of the boys seemed particularly thrilled to be handing over their firearms. Arthur in particular sighed heavily beside you as he handed his pistol over. 
He didn’t like being unarmed. Especially when he was out with you. You usually also had your gun belt permanently fixed at your waist. But it wasn’t exactly fitting with your current attire. 
Though you did note the guards didn’t even spare a glance to you or Molly, which in turn made you all the more smug knowing you had your knife tucked into your boot. Just in case of course. 
“ Luca here will take you gentleman to Mr Bronte. I believe he is expecting you “ 
“ I know you got that knife in yer boot “ Arthur said lowly so that no one else would hear. 
“ he ain’t said anythin’ about knifes. Only guns “ Arthur smiled and shook his head slightly, placing his hand over yours for a moment. 
“ that’s my girl “ 
You walked up the neat cobbled path to the mayors house then, unable to do anything but look in awe at the huge house in front of you. You’d thought Shady Belle was something spectacular, had walked around every room imagining what it had looked like in all its glory. Amazed at the vastness of the place and all the rooms it had. 
And yet it was nothing compared to this place. This was real money. 
“ I look okay? “ you asked, suddenly feeling ever so slightly nervous, smoothing your hand over your skirts. Even in your attempts to look as clean and put together as you did, some part of you felt like everyone would see you were a walking sham. 
All in all you knew you probably did look fine. The dress was the most lavish thing you’d ever owned, you didn’t even want to guess how much it had cost Arthur. It was still on the simpler side, skirts not quite as full as Mollys and not as detailed. But it was beautiful. Pale pink and ruffled shoulders and details on your skirts, gloves up to your elbows in a material so soft you’d sighed when you’d first pulled them on. 
It all made a nice change from the usual simple clothes you wore, hips weighted by skirts rather than your gun belt. And skirts that didn’t have a million holes darned over. 
And Arthur had picked it all out. Had picked it himself especially for you. 
It did make you smile to imagine him in the tailors, completely out of his depth when it came to women’s fashion but determined to find you something nice. Your big, tough cowboy staring blankly at fabric swatches and fancy hats. 
“ gonna be the prettiest girl here “ you smiled warmly at his words, hand smoothing over your dress again. 
He’d turned up that morning into your shared room of shady Belle, finding you hiding away from Miss Grimshaw on the balcony, the dress draped over his arm along with some fancy suit and tie get up for himself. He’d looked almost sheepish as he’d shown you it, promising to go get you something else if you hated it. Which of course you hadn’t. 
You’d practically jumped with joy at being able to go out on a job. The boys so rarely let the girls do anything meaningful other than tend to camp. Though this particular outing you knew Dutch had only brought you and Molly along because it would make your group seem a little more agreeable. Something about women making them look a little less intimidating. And of course Dutch and Arthur’s partners were the most obvious of choices. 
Much to Mary-Beth and Karen’s dismay. Though they had very quickly changed their mind at the idea of having to hang off Bills arm all night. 
It wasn’t exactly the reason you wanted to be brought along. But you took it. 
The inside of the mansion was as glorious as the outside, it almost made you angry that people had such wealth. That these people could sleep in a new room each night of the week if they felt like it, when people were starving outside of their gates. 
“ Hosea, Bill. Take the ladies out and enjoy the party. We’ll join you after we pay our respects to signor Bronte. Arthur, with me “ Arthur gave a curt nod 
“ I won’t be long “ he assured, hand slipping down around your back and leaning down to your ear “ hands to yourself “ you scoffed as he said it, looking up at him as he stepped away from you. 
“ I can’t promise “ you caught his smile as he walked over to Dutch and the staff. Disappearing up the stairs. 
“ it’s just this way “ one of members of Lemieux’s staff spoke, gesturing the four of you in the direction of some doors leading out into the party. 
“ let’s go ladies. You fancy a drink? “ Hosea said cheerfully, following closely behind you and Molly as you headed outside. You were ushered out into gardens, a mass of the rich and wealthy of Saint Denis all crowded around. Drinking and laughing at things you were sure were not as remotely funny as they were making it out to be. 
Bill quickly made himself scarce, disappearing into the crowds to do lord knows what, much to your joy. 
“ right. Champagne? “ Hosea excused himself to collect some drinks and you stood on the back porch looking down at the groups of people. 
So far removed from what you were used to. You wondered how they’d react knowing you and your little group were currently sleeping in a barely standing plantation home, half of you out under the stars. That you were frauds. Not glamorous and wealthy like them. 
In your experience the rich liked to pretend the poor didn’t exist. Unless they were hiring them as help. 
“ oh I missed this “ Molly said beside you, almost dreamily in tone. And seemingly more to herself than to you. It was quite possibly the happiest you’d seen her look in days. 
She fit right in. Her gorgeous dress rivalling that of some of the other woman down in the courtyard, her hair piled up on her head and her fancy jewellery that was actually hers. Not something stolen from an unsuspecting lady in town. This was Molly. Money and wealth. It still baffled you how she had ended up with Dutch, how she could leave that all behind for a life wandering. 
“ you go to party’s like this a lot? Before Dutch I mean “ she gave a small shrug, searching in her small purse for a moment before placing a cigarette between her lips. You could imagine an even younger Molly, a bright eyed teenager done up all fancy and weaving her way through a party just like this one. 
“ sometimes “ her eyes were scanning the crowds, practically sparkling at being surrounded by the upper class again “ wonder what kind of people are here “ she seemed to be talking more to herself than you again and very promptly dismissed herself, heading down the stairs and gliding between the guests. Like some true social butterfly, decked out in her finest. 
Hosea returned with three glasses of champagne and a slightly confused look noticing Molly had vanished. 
“ eh more for me “ he said with a smile, handing you your glass before promptly finishing his own and moving onto what would’ve been Mollys “ I’m going to do some snooping. You’ll be alright? “
“ I’ll be jus’ fine Hosea “ you said with a smile and watched him too disappear down into the crowds. 
It was interesting to watch them, to see them behave as if this entire event was a normal evenings activity. Maybe for them it was. But it all felt so
 false. People who appeared to be friends but didn’t seem to even really like each other, some silent competition between everyone to have the better dress. The better hat. The biggest house. 
You’d take your creaky cot under the stars with Arthur any day, would much rather sit around the campfire getting tipsy and singing. Surrounded by real family. Real friends. Relationships built on loyalty and protection. Not on trying to out do each other. 
You walked between the small crowds, eavesdropping on conversations in hopes to find something useful. Something to take back to Dutch to prove bringing you along wasn’t a useless endeavour. But it was mostly women discussing their elaborate hats, sharing stories of the terrible jobs their maids did, or complaining about their husbands poker habits. Or gossiping about how they had heard one of their friends was in delicate condition. 
You heard mentions of Leviticus Cornwall, but nothing concrete enough to warrant telling anyone about. 
You tried hunting down Molly, simply to have a friend to stand beside and not feel so
out of place. But she had vanished into the crowds somewhere. So you planted yourself on the side of an ornate water fountain, simply hoping Arthur would return soon. Maybe he’d dance with you, or take you walking around the vast garden laid out ahead of you. 
You two never really got the chance to do things like that. Romantic things. Arthur had his ways, of course. He’d take you out riding or sit with you on his lap by the fire, telling you about whatever interesting thing he’d discovered that day. He’d bring you flowers he’d pick from time to time, find you interesting things when he went wandering, let you read aloud to him with the excuse he wanted you to get better at it. When in reality you had seen him confess to his journal that he simply just liked to listen to your voice. 
He was far softer than he appeared. With you anyway. And as much as you didn’t like the kinds of people in attendance, you thought it might be nice to pretend for the night. To be two wealthy young oil tycoons, dancing and drinking champagne together, gushing about your money and your jewels. 
You made your way through another flute of champagne before he returned, interrupting your frivolous daydreaming. 
“ there she is “ you turned your head with a beaming smile at his voice, relief at a familiar face “ been lookin for ya “ he sat down beside you, looping an arm around your waist “ you behavin’? “
“ course I am. Ain’t took as much as a pearl “ you said quite proudly, though decided not to mention that the temptation had truly been hard to deny. Not only were these people rich, they were getting drunker by the second. They were practically begging to be robbed. 
“ good girl “ 
“ it go okay with ugh.. what’s his name? “ you asked, turning to face him. He looked just as uncomfortable with the entire situation as you did. This wasn’t his scene. It never had been. He’d grown up just as poor as you had. 
Arthur robbed the rich, he didn’t fraternise with them. 
“ Bronte. Yeah. Fine. Dutch he’s tryna find the mayor or somethin “ he ran a finger between his neck and collar of his shirt, clearly growing uncomfortable with it. It made you laugh a little. 
“ you ain’t cut out for the finer life “ 
“ no. I ain’t “ he was looking around at the guests in a similar way to you. With a mild sense of disgust “ saw some woman back there, hat so big she were topplin over “ you smiled and leant your head against his shoulder, he tucked you in closer to his side and dropped a kiss to the top of your head. 
“ was daydreamin whilst you were with Dutch “ you mused. 
“ yeah? About what? “ 
“ playin’ pretend. Bein’ fancy for the night. Y’know dancin’ and pretendin’ we got buckets of money “ the small sigh Arthur let out made you wonder if he thought that was a life you pined for. It wasn’t. Not really. Yeah, you liked money but.. you just wanted to be comfortable. Little ranch or a cabin some place quiet. Not poor. Not rich. Just. Existing happily “ ain’t us though “ 
“ you and me we
 we ain’t like these people. We ain’t ever gonna be like these people “
“ we don’t gotta be. Me, you. Some pokey lil farm someplace out west? Now that’s the dream cowboy “ he chuckled and nodded, dropping another kiss to your head 
“ that’s the dream darlin’ “ you both sat quietly for a short while longer, watching the rich get drunker and more foolish. The odd person acknowledged your presence, greeting you as they passed or tipping their hat. But mostly they left you alone. It was at the point that one man drunkenly stumbled into a bush a few feet away that made you speak up again. 
“ never thought I’d miss that damn swamp. But lord above
 these people “ Arthur scoffed as he too watched the fool try and right himself again, leaves sticking to the pomade in his hair 
“ yeah. I think I need a drink “ he patted your side lightly so you’d stop leaning on him and stood up “ champagne? “ 
“ oh well ain’t you just so kind sir “ you said in your best attempt a dramatic upper class drawl “ and you gonna dance with me after mister? “ you asked with a teasing smile and he rubbed a hand at the back of his neck for a moment looking almost sheepish. But he was smiling, the sweet genuine kind he only really seemed to show around you. 
“ sure darlin’. But I’m definitely gonna need that drink for that “ he ventured back into the crowds then and you stayed put, continuing to watch the guests laugh and talk about how incredible their lives were. 
“ I don’t recognise you “ an inquisitive voice spoke, tinged with that accent that the wealthy had started latching on to in some attempts to make themselves sound more superior. Smarter. Whatever. You thought it was quite ridiculous. You turned your head to look at the man, seeing if he was in fact talking to you. 
“ talkin’ to me mister? “ he was eyeing you up and down like he was somewhat intrigued but amused by you at the same time. A stupid top hat on his head adored with plumes and the chain of a pocket watch hanging from his pocket. It almost made you laugh at how your brain immediately began thinking about how you could steal it and how much it was worth. 
“ I am indeed miss “ he stepped closer, puffing on his cigar and not taking his eyes off of you for a second “ I have frequented many of the mayors parties but you
 I do not remember you “ a small wave of panic flushed your skin but you remained calm. Not recognising you was far easier to work your way out of than if he had recognised your face. 
“ I’m new in town. My
 uncle. He’s friends with Mr Bronte “ the man hummed, sitting himself down beside you. 
“ so you’re here with your uncle? “ you shifted slightly at his closeness but remembered you needed to keep up appearances so forced a smile onto your face 
“ yeah. And my husband. He’s around here someplace “ the man’s eyes immediately darted down to your gloved hands, probably noting the lack of a ring on your finger. You and Arthur weren’t married. But you may as well have been. He often referred to you as his wife, and he as your husband. 
He’d ask you one day. 
“ a lucky man “ the man said, blowing smoke in your direction and still looking you up and down. You decided at that moment you very much wanted to steal his watch. Dutch be damned. Having to put up with the likes of slimy rich men for more than ten seconds
 well you figured that warranted you at least getting something shiny in return. 
“ oh well ain’t you just a charmer “ you said with a smile, placing a hand to his arm “ you here with your wife mister? “ the man laughed and shook his head, scooting a little closer to you.  
“ I’m more of a
 free spirit “ you gave a small laugh, trying not to crinkle your nose at the smoke blowing in your face again. 
Arthur often smelt of fresh smoke, both cigarette and fire, and that fresh air smell that clung to your clothes after being out in the open air for hours. And you loved it on him, because it was well
 him. The smoke from this man was far from appealing. But that watch

“ ohh I see. You ain’t one to be tied down huh? “ your fingers inched closer to the man’s pocket, wrapping lightly around the chain. 
“ everythin’ okay here? “ Arthur appeared behind you, a glass in each of his hands.  
“ ah is this the fine man that brought you along? Well aren’t you lucky sir “ the man spoke and you noted he didn’t even glance in Arthur’s direction as he spoke, you were now looping the chain of his watch around your wrist. Just one small tug

“ Mr Callahan “ Arthur murmured, handing you a glass and standing behind you with a hand to your shoulder
“ wonderful to meet you sir. Me and your wife were having a delightful conversation weren’t we dear? "The pressure of Arthur’s fingers increased as he spoke the sweet name, though you weren’t entirely sure it wasn’t because he’d noticed the man’s watch was now safely hidden in the fabric of your skirt. 
“ oh yes. Wonderful mister “ the watch discreetly made its way into your boot and you were ready to get away
“ where’d you find a beautiful thing like this sir? I may need to frequent the place myself “ he placed a hand onto your arm and finally looked up at Arthur rather than at you. He made your skin crawl. You didn’t hold a single ounce of remorse for the stolen watch 
“ oh no where you’d like “ his tone was a little snippy, the kind when someone was starting to piss him off but he was trying to keep his cool. And Arthur kicking off in the middle of the mayors party wasn’t exactly a part of Dutch’s plan. 
“ now I am so sorry but i believe my husband did promise me a dance “ you rose to your feet, sipping your champagne before placing the glass down and taking Arthur’s from his hands “ ain’t that right my love? “ 
“ yeah
 need ya to come with me “ he said lowly, offering you his arm. His face had gone slightly dark, not entirely able to read him, you frowned slightly. But let him lead you away from the man, completely bypassing the area with couples twirling to the music. 
“ where we goin? “ you asked with a small laugh, latching onto his arm again and having to take quick steps to keep up with his purposeful strides “ Arthur?”
He didn’t answer immediately, simply led you away from the crowds and around the side of the mayor's house. 
“ You mad cause I took that watch? Look he deserved it- “
“ ain’t mad “ he mumbled, still leading you along. 
“ okay
 so we stealin’ somethin’ else? “ you asked with excitement filtering into your words, already trying to figure out what it could be “ need me to act like a maid? I can do that real good y’know. Is it money? Papers? Oh, is it jewellery? Gold? “ Arthur chuckled at your excitement and shook his head, bringing you to a halt between some elaborately trimmed bushes and trees in planters. 
“ we ain’t stealin’ a thing “ you pouted with a mild disappointment and he chuckled again, advancing on you and backing you up against the wall behind you “ don’t gimme that look “ he tucked his fingers under your chin, nudging your face upwards to look at him. He was a god few inches taller than you, but he always made you feel ten times smaller when he looked down at you like that. 
“ what’s gotten into you? “ you asked with a giggle, hands slipping under his jacket to slide over his waist. 
“ just wanted some time alone with you is all “ 
“ behind some trees? You are a strange man sometimes Arthur Morgan y’know that? “ he gave a heavy sigh and brushed his thumb across your cheek softly, watching you intently. He always looked at you like you like you were the only woman on the planet “ you sure you ain’t mad about the watch? “ 
“ no. I ain’t mad. Feller flirtin’ with my woman and only loses his watch sounds like a good deal to me “ he grumbled, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips. 
And a light bulb suddenly pinged on in your head. 
“ are you jealous? “ you asked, unable to hide your complete utter joy and amusement as the realisation hit you. He grumbled some kind of an answer and tried to kiss you again but you turned your head to the side, so he settled for your neck instead “ why Arthur Morgan. You are jealous “ 
He didn’t answer you again, simply tilted your head so he could get at your neck more, his other hand splaying over your lower back to tug you close against him. A mischievous streak ran through you and you chewed on your lip for a moment deciding whether or not to push his buttons. 
“ he was kinda nice to me y’know. He seemed a nice feller “ Arthur’s teeth grazed your skin at your words and your smile grew bigger “ kept me from bein’ so lonely with you gone “ 
“ he wanted to do more than keep you company “ your fingers ran through the long strands of his hair, sighing softly as he continued to kiss your neck 
“ you think? You gonna keep me company now? “ 
“ oh I’ll keep you company “ you had said it only really to tease. Thinking that actually, a sordid little moment with your lover behind the bushes would be an incredible improvement on the evening. 
But it was hard to simply just kiss Arthur. He had wandering hands, had lips as addictive as whiskey. Even when you assumed he wasn’t particularly trying to work you up, he did. But the way he was tugging at your body to keep you pressed against him, the way his lips were burning a trail along your neck and across your jaw

“ Arthur
 y’know anyone could come round here “ 
“ stay quiet then and they ain’t gonna be none the wiser “ your skin prickled with heat at his words and your hips involuntarily rolled against him. Maybe it was the thrill. Maybe it was the fact that he was so
 needy. Desperate to remind himself that you were his and not some stupid rich man in an equally as stupid hat.
He groaned against your hot skin as you pressed against him, the sound igniting something deep in your bones. Flaring up through your veins and cursing like lava through your veins. 
Your hands found themselves back under his jacket, fingers tugging at his shirt to free it from where it has been neatly tucked into his pants. You knew you couldn’t get it off of him but you still wanted to feel. 
You hummed softly when your fingertips met his skin, as hot as you knew yours must be. He loved to feel you touch him, loved when dragged your nails across his back, sunk your teeth into his shoulder to quiet your moans when you were dangerously close to other members of camp. 
You wished you could do it in that moment. Wished you were back in your room, truly the only good thing to come out of Shady Belle was the fact that you had a room. 
But Arthur didn’t seem keen on waiting. Seemingly having some point to prove to himself. And you were more than happy to let him. 
His hands drifted down to the floaty material of your skirt, reluctantly pulling himself away from your neck to frown at the material in front of him. 
“ why you gotta have so many damn skirts? “ he grumbled, fumbling with the layers of fabric hanging from your waist. 
“ you picked the dress “ you reminded him with a smile, chasing after his lips again. Desperate to kiss him properly now that he had stopped his assault on your neck. He kissed you with a energy that demanded your attention, that drew you in and locked you in place. Hot. Wet. Addictive “ least it ain’t as big as Mollys “ you said when you let yourself pull away. 
“ yeah well I weren’t plannin’ on keepin’ you in it when we- god damn there’s enough fabric here to dress the entire camp “ you couldn’t help the giggle that fell past your lips, watching him try to figure out how he was going to play out whatever sordid thoughts were running through his head. 
Your own mind had quite ungracefully fallen into the gutter itself, realising exactly what Arthur wanted. And your constant desperation for the man in front of you overruling all your concerns at the location. 
He seemed to be getting a little agitated with your dress and you held back the urge to giggle at him. Instead opting to try sooth the frown lines worrying at his forehead, reaching forward to palm at him through the material of his pants. In hopes it would be some kind of incentive for him to hurry up as well. 
As much as you needed him as badly as you needed air, you were also still aware of exactly where you were. And how long it would take until Dutch came looking. 
“ c’mon Arthur “ you whispered, desperation beginning to fill your words “ ‘fore they notice we’re gone “ it had been his idea to take you away, and yet you were seemingly the more desperate of the two of you now. But how could he or anyone else blame you? When he was all gussied up like he was. In truth you liked his normal attire a little more. Liked him a little more
 rugged. But lord did he look handsome in his suit, his hair and beard all neat and tidy. 
Arthur’s breath audibly caught in his throat from your touch and it seemed to effectively spur him on. 
“ yes ma’am “ He spun you around with strong hands to your waist, your own hands bracing yourself against the wall. The next moments were a flurry of his hands hitching your skirts over your hips, grabbing at your undergarments before a strong arm looped around your waist to pull you back against him. 
His hand disappeared under your bunched up skirts making you gasp softly as his fingers dipped into the warmth between your thighs. 
“ this all for me darlin? “ you could hear the smirk in his words, feel it as he brushed his nose against your cheek. The short stands of his beard tickled at your skin, sending a shiver snaking along your spine. 
“ course it is “ the sound of a lady drunkenly laughing a little too close by made you freeze, hand reaching around to grab at Arthur’s arm. 
He didn’t seem discouraged by the idea of someone stumbling upon you both, simply moved his hand up to grasp gently at your jaw, turning your face towards his to kiss you. His other hand was still between your thighs, and you sighed softly against his lips as he drew a thick finger between the wetness of your folds “ oh Arthur
“ 
Your cunt clenched around nothing. As if silently begging for his fingers to just push inside of you, take you in a way you had always found so much more personal than just sitting on his cock. His fingers that held his guns, that he used to beat people to death more times than either of you could care to count. Those same fingers working you open, covered in the slick evidence of your desire for him instead of gun oil. Fingers that cause pain and damage, but also sent you spiralling into mind blowing pits of pleasure. 
And paired with the current location? It just felt
 dirty. Erotic. You felt no better than a common whore loitering in a saloon for custom. You wanted him so desperately, needed him. 
“ Arthur “ you sighed, pushing your self against his hand as he toyed with your swollen clit. 
“ tell me what y’need pretty girl “ he said softly, tickling your skin with his beard and dragging his tongue across your neck before sinking his teeth into the flesh, making you whimper. 
“ you- Arthur. You. Please “ his hand continued its gentle movements as he worked at your neck. You pushed your hips back against him, grinding against the hardness still trapped by his pants in a way that couldn’t be comfortable. His breath shuddered against your skin as you did, holding you flush against him to let you wiggle your hips in a silent invitation to just take you already. 
A smashing glass drew your attention briefly away from him again. And as much as you could let him do that all evening, you were still hyper aware of your surroundings. 
You silently wished he’d just waited until you were back at camp, could take his time with you on that shitty little bed in the privacy of your room at Shady Belle. 
But there you were. And there were hundreds of others only a few feet away too. 
“ stop teasin we ain’t got the time “ at any other time he’d have worked you into a mess with his fingers, even dropped to his knees and disappeared under your skirts, have you coming on his tongue over and over again just because he wanted to. But he hadn’t planned the situation well at all, and you weren’t exactly in the best of locations. If anyone so much as peaked around the corner of the building a little too far you were certain you’d be spotted. 
And wouldn’t that be a tale. 
“ ain’t you bossy “ you opened your mouth to snip back at him, but your words evaporated into nothing but a soft whimper as Arthur followed your demands, pushing past his desires to take his time with you. Truly it was his own fault that he couldn’t though, as he withdrew his fingers and fumbled with the buttons on his pants. 
“ Arthur “ you whimpered softly, breath stuttering at the feel of his swollen tip brushing between the wet folds of your cunt. 
“ quiet now darlin’ “ He pushed in slowly, in the way he so often did. Making sure you felt every single devastating inch, your back arching against his chest as your body flushed with warmth. Even after so many times the stretch was still a lot, a deep burning ache that eventually melted away into a blinding hot pleasure that burnt its way through your veins. 
He pressed on until he was flush against you, the material of his opened pants scratching against your soft skin as he held you there a moment. He exhaled slowly, his breath warm against your skin. 
It was never fucking with Arthur. Not very often anyways. It was love making. Soft. And slow. And a brutal pace that made sure you remembered he’d been there the next morning, but oh so drawn out. He was gentle. Tender. It had always shocked you how violent he could be and yet become so careful and soft with you. And even there, concealed by a few perfectly trimmed bushes and planters, he was taking his time. Reminding you that you were his. And maybe reminding himself of the fact too. 
Reminding himself that maybe there were men only a few feet away that wanted you. That would pay for the pleasure of your company. But only Arthur could have it, that he was the only one you would ever offer it too. 
That this deep rooted instinct to protect what was his wasn’t entirely necessary but god was it wanted. That his desire made your blood boil with lust, skin burn under his touch. 
“ That’s my girl “ he whispered, tone low and steady as he set himself into a bruising pace, still tightly holding onto you as he did. His face had fallen to your neck again, lips latching onto every inch of exposed skin they could. 
You were certain you were going to walk back into the party looking like you’d taken a dip with some leeches. 
You tried your best to be quiet, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in some hopes that mixed with the sounds of the party happening only a few feet away you wouldn’t be heard. But it was so hard to be silent when he was fucking you like that. So determined, so strong, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in hard. 
Your hand was still gripping at his arm, blunt fingernails digging at his skin through his jacket. His pace increased a little, settling into a steady rhythm that carved a devastating stretch inside of you. 
“ y’know I think that feller- that feller back there. He wanted you like this “ you couldn’t help the smile that pulled its way onto your face, still flushing with joy at his jealousy. You knew Arthur desired you carnally. Always had done and always would. But a reminder like the present one was always nice. 
“ y’think so? “ 
“ I know “ he grumbled, his pace increasing a little more, clearly attempting to take out his frustrations with the handsy man. But also maybe simply trying to assure himself in the process too. 
Arthur didn’t like to admit it but he was a little self conscious. You’d heard him talk down to himself in the mirror countless times, had seen the way he spoke about himself when you peaked over his shoulder at his journal. Had an almost crippling fear of abandonment that sometimes he did need to be reminded that you wanted him. 
“ poor feller “ you said with a small sigh before pushing lightly at Arthur’s arm so he’d let you go. You winced slightly as he pulled out, immediately missing the heavy feel of him there, and spun around tugging him back towards you by the lapels of his jacket “ ain’t got nothin on you “ you hitched your skirts up in your arm and wrapped your spare hand around the now slick length of his cock making him stutter a breath. 
His face was flushed, bottom lip shiny from kissing you. You wanted to absolutely devour him, strip him of his fancy clothes and remind him just how much you wanted every part of him. 
The look in his eyes was almost primal. Desire and lust burning so brightly it made your chest ache, to feel so wanted. To feel so desired. 
To have a man so usually controlled and put together, be reduced to not being able to even wait until you got home. That he had to have you there. Right there in that moment. He couldn’t wait. 
You needed him to pull you apart. To worship every inch of you in the way he so often did. 
But the side of the mayor's house was truly not the place for such a thing. 
“ no one could make me feel the way you do “ you whispered, stroking him softly in your hand as you tried to stoke the fire under his ego. Make him realise he truly had no reason to be jealous “ and him back there? He thought he could huh? Poor feller “ 
“ poor feller “ he echoed, sliding a hand over your leg and hitching it over his hip, sliding back into you with a welcome ease that made your head fall back against the wall. 
“ Thinks he could fuck me better than this? Man must be damn crazy “ you said with a smile, breathless as he fucked into you. You were practically dripping around him, the lewd sounds between you enough to make your skin flush. 
“ you’re mine darlin “ you nodded immediately. Not a single doubt in your mind on the matter. You were his. And he yours. That was how it would always be “ all mine, you hear? “ 
“ all yours Arthur. Ain’t no man in this whole damn country could replace you” 
He moved with more determination, thrusting into you harder in a way you knew was going to bruise your back from rubbing against the wall. His all too familiar deep, hard pace. You pulled him down by the back of his neck, muffling your whimpers with his mouth cautious again that you were getting a little reckless. 
“ that good? Makin me feel so good darlin’ such a good girl “ the entire thing felt almost animalistic. Desires so strong they couldn’t be withheld. Dirty. Filthy. Perfect. 
“ God Arthur “ the look on his face alone made you clench around him, never wanting him to leave, needing to feel the heavy bruising sensation as he split you apart for the rest of your life. He hitched your leg higher, hitting some new devastating part inside of you that made you see stars. Eyes rolling to the back of your head and unable to contain the sounds escaping your throat any longer. 
“ There she is, jus’ like that darlin I got ya” his grip on your leg grew restless, fingers dancing over your skin and trying to pull you as close to him as he could get you. He always wanted you close. Always wanted to feel your skin against his own. A moment later his thrusts became sloppier and you knew he wasn’t far off. Though quite frankly neither were you “ so pretty for me like this ain’t ya? My girl “ his words only pulled you closer to the edge, knot twisting tighter. 
“ Arthur I- “
“ I know. I know darlin, can feel it “ he almost cooed, lifting a hand to cup your face gently “ that’s it look right at me. That’s a girl right at me “ with his gaze so intense you couldn’t hold it any longer, biting down on your lip as you attempted to conceal your sounds of ecstasy as you came over his cock. 
He was barely a second behind you, a stuttered groan of a sound leaving him as he dropped his forehead against yours, painting your slick walls with rope after rope of come as you clenched around him. Holding him in place so that not a single drop of him would go to waste. It was a risky business letting him finish inside of you, truly it was. But in your sex drunk haze you didn’t care, couldn’t give a damn because it simply felt too good to give up. 
He nudged his nose against yours, brushing his lips against your own and kissed you softly. So tender and gentle, his hand carefully lowering your leg back down, slipping his softening length out of you making you wince. He kissed the crinkles it caused to show at the corners of your eyes, whispering a gentle sorry. He soothed his hands over your waist with a care very few men had for women those days. 
“ my girl “ he murmured, littering kisses across your cheeks and nose. 
When he pulled back you couldn’t help but smile. The dopey, soft kind. He was looking far less put together than he had done when you’d arrived, the pomade in his hair no longer serving its purpose after your fingers had gotten to it. He’d broken a sweat too, his forehead shiny. His skin flushed. 
The smugness was overwhelming though, could see it in his eyes. In the small smirk pulling at his lips. He seemed incredibly proud of himself. 
“ you are somethin’ else “ he mumbled as he finished readjusting his clothes, reaching forward to slip the ruffled strap of your dress back up your shoulder from where it had slipped. Pressing a kiss to the skin there for good measure. 
“ I ain’t the jealous one “ you teased as you combed your fingers through his hair in some attempt to tidy it. 
“ ain’t jealous. No idea what you talkin about girl “ he said with a small clear of his throat in some attempt to hide the obvious lie, you simply smiled again and pressed a kiss to his cheek 
“ mhm sure “ 
There was something about having to go back out into the party with the light ache between your legs, with the evidence of Arthur’s jealousy slowly dripping down your thighs. And Arthur seemed to think so too 
“ now. I believe you wanted to dance? “
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saintgoths · 7 months ago
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᎛ᎇᎇ᎛ʜ
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ᎀʀ᎛ʜ᎜ʀ áŽáŽÊ€ÉąáŽ€ÉŽ, ÉąÊœáŽêœ±áŽ›, ʟᎇᎏɎ ᎋᎇɎɎᎇᎅʏ ᮀɮᮅ ꜱᎏʟÉȘᎅᎇʀ ʙᎏʏ.
ʙᎀꜱᎇᎅ ᎏɎ ᎛ᎇᎇ᎛ʜ ʙʏ xxxᮛᮇɮᮛᮀᮄÉȘᎏɎ; "ʜᎇ ᮄᮀɮ'ᮛ ꜰ᎜ᎄᎋ ʏᎏ᎜ ʟÉȘᮋᮇ ÉȘ ᮄᮀɮ."
jealous men hearing that their ex is in a new relationship.
P!LINKS!
wasnt read over
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ARTHUR MORGAN
You had gasped, your partner had been in the next room, had been asleep, in thought that you had been taking care of yourself in the baths or feeding your horse. If your partner had known you had been in the room next to his being fucked by Arthur Morgan, he’d prepare to have the town chase him out.
You had tried to keep your moans low, face against the pillow as you bit against the fabric, your body had been tense, cunt tight around his as he easily slipped and pushed himself inside of you. His thick fingers dug into your hips as he held you close against him, one had travelled to the locks of your hair and gripped tight as he dug deeper, the girth of his cock stroking the soft and sensitive cores of your pussy as it dribbled with its nectar, you were so close, so fucking close and he knew.
The twitches and whimpering, the weakening of your body as it slumped, allowing Arthur to take control of your body.
“Come on baby girl,” he grunted, the skin of his slapped against yours, his other hand pulled away from your hip to smack your ass, and you flinched, the tight motion had your heat pulse. You had gritted your teeth as you could feel cold tears slip down your cheeks, you couldn’t do it anymore, you couldn’t hold it in. “Moan for me,” he encouraged and you did, you had cried out his name while your body tingled ready to peak.
“Arthur! Arthur! Arthur!” You had repeated as your ambrosia coated his, the movement of his hips appeared to slow down, and he pulled out, in response you had whimpered to the loss of fullness, but had pressed your chin against the bed, relieved as the hot ropes of his cum slipped against your back.
Softly, Arthur leaned against you, his wetness he released on your back stuck against his chest, but he didn’t care. He moved his lips against your ear and then gave your neck a quick kiss. “Get yourself cleaned up, you don’t want him to see you like this, don’t you?”
REFERENCE ONE
SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY
Your eyes watered, you don’t know how long you’ve been on your knees, but all you could do was stare up at him. He was so thick, but the number of times he had used your pretty lips had help you get use to your size, his hand was dug into the strands of your hair, your locks messy as your saliva slid around his cock and spilled out of your mouth.
He had pushed your head so down you had fought to not gag. He wasn’t always so rough with you, but seeing you be touched by a man that’s not him---he thought he’d be able to control himself, but he couldn’t. When Prince invited you to his home party, he had thought you’d be alone, there was whispers from both Soap and Gaz that you were with someone else, but Ghost had been to adamant to believe it.
He didn’t think you’d move on so quick, but you did.
“Take it,” Ghost gritted, his voice cloaking over the music that played outside of the small room he had pulled you into. You had hoped your make-up wasn’t smudged, but Ghost had been reckless, shoving his hips forwards and holding your face like you were a fuck-doll. “Take it princess, I know you can,” he encouraged, he had been teasing you throughout this, making fun of how small your current lover must be for you to be gagging around his dick.
“Good girl,” he patted once he allowed you to move your head away, you took in a deep breath, thumb gently shadowed the tip of his cock which had twitched after your touch. You weren’t finished, so you licked his head and listened to the way he moaned, the song of his cries made you so wet, and with your eyes closed you continued to lick and suck, to please him and have him cum down your throat.
“Good girl, good girl,” he repeated with his eyes closed, his body shivered and that’s when you knew he was close. He continued to call you his pet names, his mind empty as his cum milked down your throat. He had tugged his lips behind his teeth as he fucked your throat a few times, and when he was done, he released a relieved laugh.
You who had once swallowed his cum wiped your mouth with the back of your hand as Ghost did a motion with his finger. “Take off your panties and sit on my lap,” he ordered, and like the obedient doll you was, you brought yourself to your feet and sat on him.
REFERENCE ONE
LEON KENNEDY
Leon rarely liked to say he was a jealous person, if someone pointed it out, he’d dismiss it with a “it was nothing”, but this time, perhaps he was already in a bad mood. Seeing you at the bar the two of you had first met, and seeing you talk to another person who has no information on.
That time he didn’t know if you knew he was there, but he had waited, had waited until the person you were with had left to get drinks to come to you. The talk the two of you had was short, but all you know that what he had said, had caused the two of you to be in a stall, hand over your mouth as he fucked you.
Leon was barely a person who made noise, but he had missed you, and so did his dick.
Your back was against his chest, ass leaned against the hardness of his balls as he used you. One hand slipped under your shirt and the other hand having two of his fingers in your mouth. You had moaned, eyes wet as you attempted to keep yourself down.
“Right there!” You moaned around his fingers, you had sucked them, licked them as if it was his cock filling your mouth. You had yearned for his taste, talking to other men couldn’t cover what Leon could give you. While he had grunted in your ear, you had moved your hand towards your swollen clit, eyes rolled to the back of your head, you felt your legs shake, you were so close, your body hot as you had then moved on your own, bounced on his cock as if he were your own play-thing.
Relieved, he had leaned himself back, he knew you got like this when you were about to cum. So dominant and controlling. “Right there Leon!” You whined as a sharp pleasure pushed through your body, your fluids began to squirt against the floor, mixing with his as he leaked himself inside of you, he had eventually pulled his digits away from your lips and slumped against the stall door just as he pulled himself out of you.
“I have to go now,” you whispered and Leon looked at you, speechless, but you know he had so much to say, so, you kissed him. “Message me,” you said as you pulled on your clothes and left the stalls.
REFERENCE ONE
SOLIDER BOY
You thought Solider Boy was dead, so within this life of erratic circumstances occurring, having Ben’s face between your thighs was the last thing you had expected to happen.
You don’t know how long he has been on his knees, and you had lost the number of times he had made you cum, but whenever you’d move after you’d finish, he’d hold you down and use his tongue. Your pussy throbbed, eyes blurry, the capability to think or even remember your name had vanished.
You felt the texture of his tongue swirl around your clit again, and you cried out again, fingers locked around his hair as he took you in. He had looked at you, with those gorgeous green eyes of his, a smirk on his face as he watched the way you had jerked and shudder under his touch. His beard coated with your juices, Ben went deeper with his tongue, fucking you with it having you hold onto the thin lining of sanity you had left.
You were so glad the boys were gone, if Butcher had saw what you had been up to, he’d never let you hear the end of it. You had become close with him, and Ben didn’t like it. Didn’t like the lingering stares the two of you shared with each other and the soft touches, it drove him insane. He knew he couldn’t voice it, show his care, his weak-spot so quickly, so when you were assigned to look over him when the squad was gone, was when the door of Solider Boy’s arrogance opened.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” You cried in pleasure as you could feel yourself cum again, you had dropped against the table the moment he eventually pulled himself away from you. You had panted over and over again, aware of the noises of the zip of his trousers had been undone, you had looked up at him in question.
“The feeling of your tight little pussy around my tongue got me hot,” he smiled as he then pulled you to stand up. “You thought we were finished?” He teasingly questioned, quickly, he had brought one leg over his shoulder, eyes bore down into your as he levelled his cock against your opening.
“I missed you,” he muttered against your lips, and before you could say anything to him, he had kissed you, rough and deep as if he had wanted to consume you. “You thought,” he kissed as he slid himself inside of you, and as kickback as moan from the back of your throat slipped out. “That I wouldn’t be able to tell baby?”
With doe eyes, you had looked at him, breathless to speak. “That I wouldn’t be able to tell he fucks you? Huh?” He rambled, his next words more obsessive and intense than the last. You couldn’t help but feel your cunt throb at the sound of his possessiveness. He was the biggest you had, and he knew how to use it.
You could feel the curve of his cock slip and lick the sensitive texture of your pussy, so you had bit your lip, your heat sensitive from the previous climaxes, your area had begun to throb around him. Your cunt tight as he continued to break through you, reaching deeper than no one else had, and you had whined. Whined at his roughness, his size and his dirty words. “No one fucks you like I do,” he continued, his obsessive rants hot against your ear as he continued to fuck you like the beast he was.
“Fuck!” He growled as he continued to jerk his cock inside of you, he had looked into the ceiling, his movements faster as his shaft throbbed inside of you, his hotness spilling inside of you, filling you up and painting your walls white with his cum, his last pushes aggressive as he encouraged you to release around him, arrogant that he had marked you as his again, Ben held you tight against him, petted kisses against the sharpness of your jaw once the both of you had finished.
REFERENCE ONE
REFERENCE TWO
REFERENCE THREE
REFERENCE FOUR
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spongeyspot · 1 year ago
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Toxic Traits/Red Flags HC
Characters: Arthur, Javier, John, Lenny, Dutch, Micah, Charles, Sean, Hosea, Mary Beth, Abigail, Tilly, Karen, Sadie, Molly
(A/N): WE WERE JUST TALKING ABOUT THIS DAWG. I LOVED @cowboyfromh3ll 's take on that shit sm and these hcs have literally been swimming in my head for weeeeeeeeks bro
Edit: some of these were kinda hard because there's not a lot of bad in the characters themselves... I had trouble with specifically Charles, Lenny, Mary Beth, and Tilly. Sorry if they may be OOC. IM EVEN DOING THE GIRLS BECAUSE IM IN A SILLY GOOFY MOOD
Content Warning: female reader, jealousy, self hate, narcissism, gaslighting, physical abuse, verbal abuse, mental abuse, mentions of murder and violence, mentions of infidelity, mentions of sex (Sean, Micah, Sadie kind of) (MINORS DNI)
Not edited btw
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The boys
Arthur Morgan
- Honestly, I feel like Arthur would have this insane, crippling fear of rejection, especially when it comes to dating. - His self hate/deprecation plays a huge part in this, and quite honestly, him and Mary not working out probably also probably contributed to it. - Very emotionally distant. Has a hard time expressing his feelings openly due to that same fear of rejection.đŸš© - Bottles shit up until he feels like he's gonna explode đŸš© - His impulse control is almost nonexistent đŸš© - Will resort to saying things that he doesn't even mean. He just says things when he's angryđŸš© - Will hate himself even more if he makes you cry - Won't hesitate to run away from camp for a while to cool off. This isn't necessarily a bad thing per se, but he usually takes his time away to overthink the fuck out of everything - Prone to acting violent. (not to someone he cared about, but to other people, absolutely)Also due to his poor impulse control. đŸš©
Javier Escuella
- Has a flirty personality, but around women, it just seems to get worse. đŸš© - Tells you you're overreacting if you tell him it bothers youđŸš© - Overprotective of you. Always has his eyes on you, and practically orders you to stay in camp where it's safe. - As if you step one foot outside the camp without him, you'll spontaneously drop dead - Jealous asf. Are you laughing at what Bill just said? It wasn't even that funny. Why are you standing so close to him? You should be at least 6 feet away from him, not 5 and a half. đŸš© - Also has a problem with how you dress sometimes. God forbid your shirt is ever low cut. He'd probably ask you to change. đŸš© - And if you get offended or upset, he'll lie and tell you it's because he can't stop staring at your chest, and he'd like to focus of whatever it was he was doing.đŸš©
John Marston
- Stubborn as all hell. Doesn't listen to anybody for anything.đŸš© - Commitment issues up the ass - Says mean things out of anger and sometimes actually means them đŸš© - Won't apologize half the time. He thinks kissing it better actually makes it better đŸš© - Regularly ignores his own bad habits instead of actually facing them đŸš© - Will run away from problems like Arthur, but worse. He'd be gone a really long time.đŸš© - Gets annoyed with you if you get angry at him for leaving and staying away for a while. He told you he needed space, didn't he? What else do you need from him?? đŸš© - Ignorantly clueless half the time. Head empty, no thoughts.
Lenny Summers
- Not assertive in the slightest, and usually, respectfully, keeps to himself. -Takes orders without verbal complaints but inside he's annoyed as fuck đŸš© - Even if he hates doing something he'll probably just go "Okay" and do it anyway, and he'll sulk all day afterwards - Refuses to tell you what's wrong because he thinks he'll sound childish.đŸš© - If you push the issue, he might snap at you out of annoyance like "Would you just let it be??" - Immediately feels guilty and shameful, and he'll hide away until he's ready to apologize and face you again - Also kind of a know-it-all... He'll correct you a LOT. It would get annoying đŸš© - Would blatantly tell you you're wrong before correcting youđŸš© - Not necessarily an asshole about it but he still tends to get under your skin sometimes
Dutch Van Der Linde
- The BIGGEST Narcissist you'll ever meet.đŸš© -He loses another piece of his mental state with every breath he takes. Slowly but surely losing his mind.đŸš© - King of gaslightingđŸš© - How could you even think that about him? He could never do anything wrong! You must be crazy...đŸš© - Tries to recite his "pretty words" from Evelyn Miller to try and sound smarter than he actually is đŸš© - Expects you to just feed his ego without him actually doing anything to earn itđŸš© - Will try to correct you even when he's wrongđŸš© - Refuses to admit he's wrong. He can never be wrong. That word isn't even in his vocabulary unless he's talking about literally anyone but himselfđŸš©
Micah Bell
- Where do I even start with this guy - Not above putting his hands on you if he doesn't get his way. Let's be honest here.đŸš© - Mega Narccisist, almost as bad as Dutch đŸš© - Will brag and share every sexual encounter you've ever had with him like he's talking about the weatherđŸš© - VERY prone to Violence đŸš© - NO impulse control. Murders people for fun.đŸš© - Backhanded and borderline abusive compliments 24/7 "You'd look so good if you weren't so fucking fat..." đŸš© - Selfish lover. Thinks just sticking it in will do the trick, and it does, for him at least.đŸš© - Little to no affection. What are you? His girlfriend? Wait...đŸš© -If he actually does show you affection, and you react in surprise, he'll tell you to go fuck yourself, and that that's the last time he ever does anything nice for you.đŸš©
Charles Smith
- Impossible to read sometimes - Like Arthur, Charles tends to keep a lot of his emotions bottled up until he feels like he's gonna pop đŸš© - Like most of the men in the Van Der Linde gang, Charles is also prone to acting violently. I mean, he started a bar fight with a fucking chair, and he fights in street fighting rings, let's be real for a second.đŸš© - He's incredibly quiet and reserved a lot of the time, and sometimes you just assume that he's listening to you when you talk, but a lot of the time, he's lost in his own thoughts. - Will do everything anyone asks him to at the expense of his own free time and energy, and sometimes he works himself to exhaustion just to try and please everyone.đŸš© - In doing so, he sometimes doesn't have time for himself at the end of the day. It also seems like you spend time together less and less as the days go on. - If he ever got himself hurt and you tried to help him, he'd decline any help with anything to save his own pride. The last thing he needs is you thinking he's weak. đŸš© - Extremely Overprotective. Like to the point where he'd beat the shit out of anybody you asked him tođŸš©
Sean Macguire
- An AlcoholicđŸš© - horny 99% of the time, but half that time he probably has whiskey dick. Still asks you to try but doesn't understand that it's like trying to play pool with a rope... - If he can manage to be sober enough to actually get it up, and you're not in the mood, he'd get pissy and annoyed with you for "wasting his boner" đŸš© - Will probably also brag about having sex with you to everyoneđŸš© - Needy as all hell - Bro sulks on purpose - Low key loves the attention you give him when you continue to ask him what's wrong, but he never actually tells you and constantly says "I'm fine..." or "It's nothing..." đŸš© - But then sighs dramatically and continues sulking and dragging his feet so you keep giving him more attention đŸš©
Hosea Matthews
- Ignores his physical health until he's practically dying. You've told him to get that cough looked at for literal years and he just says "I will" and does nothing đŸš© - sometimes talks to you as if you're a child especially if he's around Dutch -low key gaslights you sometimes đŸš© - and he says it with such a gentle tone, its hard to catch it đŸš©
The girls
Mary Beth Gaskill
- Daydreams way too much - Likes to live in her romance novel fantasy land rather than face reality đŸš© - Cries a lot - Tries to be angry but can't help but cry instead - If crying makes you feel bad for her, she'll probably do it on purpose so you comfort her and give her attentionđŸš© -If you're in a fight, she'll turn on the crocodile tears to get you to stop being angry with her or whatever it is you're arguing about.đŸš©
Abigail Roberts
- She can be verbally abusive if she's pushed far enough đŸš© - Holds in a lot of her emotionsđŸš© - Neglectful of her own personal needs to make sure you or Jack are fully provided or cared forđŸš© - a lot of the time, when she's upset with you, you're probably given the cold shoulder and the silent treatment - incredibly protective. Not necessarily a bad thing, but she can sometimes be super overbearing.
Tilly Jackson
- Tells it how she sees it, sometimes accidentally sounding a lot colder than she means to đŸš© - Too sarcastic for her own good đŸš© - Laughs a little too much sometimes when you tell a joke, and you can often tell it's actually incredibly fakeđŸš© - gets irritated really easily, especially if she's bothered while doing her chores. The last thing she needs is Grimshaw on her ass again.đŸš© - irritable a lot of the time, unintentionally becoming short or snapping at you - like john, she also believes that kissing it better is better than actually apologizing
Karen Jones
- An alcoholic đŸš© - picks fights with you for fun, finds it entertaining to see how red your face can get from anger đŸš© - Screaming matches are a regular occurance between you guys, and she starts it almost every time đŸš© - Pretty jealous when it comes to the opposite sexđŸš© - Has self doubt and believes that she can't give you everything a man probably could
Sadie Adler
- The nosiest woman in America. No chill. She reads everyone's mail. - Makes a lot of loose threats đŸš© - Anger issuesđŸš© - Low impulse controlđŸš© - Can be a little too rough sometimes đŸš© - If she's upset with you, she'll either yell or storm off. Sometimes both. đŸš© -(She tends to walk away a lot more often because she's actuall self aware that her anger issues are a problem) - She'd never admit that to you though.
Molly O'Shea
- Even more jealous than JavierđŸš© - Glares at and envies anyone you talk to that isn't herđŸš© - Has immaginary conversations with people in her headđŸš© - Rubbing her hands together when the real life conversations are following the script she had planned out in her brain - Needs constant reassurance - "D'you even love me anymore?!"đŸš© - Overthinks everything đŸš© - Paranoid as hell about infidelity - Gets mad at you when she dreams about you cheating on herđŸš©
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