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pinescent-and-gingerbread · 2 months ago

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✧ Fantasies in the dark

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader ✦ Summary: In which Arthur catches a glimpse of your intimacy, the vision driving him into madness until he finally decides to give in to his urges. ✦ Warnings: SMUT 18+, MDNI! Masturbation, nudity, voyeurism (reader not aware he's staring), self-depreciation, and lots of shame from this poor man. Arthur's pov. ✦ Words: 2,7k Arthur's pic is mine, others are from Pinterest. And as always, as English isn't my first language, prepare for some possible misspellings. Read on AO3

Lately, Arthur had a problem. An incessant, disturbing, haunting problem.

He couldn’t sleep at night.

This could have been related to the gang’s precarious situation, being hunted down by the Pinkertons and surrounded by enemy gangs, O’Driscolls and Lemoyne raiders everywhere. Or even because of some older wounds, the loss of Eliza and Isaac amongst others, reminded almost every day by the complicated family portrait John painted with Abigail and Jack. Or the hurtful thought of the life he never had with Mary that was always following him since he had seen her again near Valentine. Life doomed from the start by his inherent violence and the mountain of corpses he was responsible for.

Arthur had plenty of reasons not to sleep at night. But this wasn’t because of any of that.

He couldn’t sleep because of you.

Not that it was your fault. In fact, you didn’t even know about any of that and Lord have mercy, he was praying that you’ll never find out; because he would never be able to look at you in the eyes then.

A few weeks ago, the gang had settled at Clemen’s Point. A rather pretty spot just near the lake, and not so far from town. But it wasn’t exactly the place that was causing him trouble. It was the unexpected view he was having from his tent.

For some unknown, mystical reasons, Miss Grimshaw while deciding the camp’s ajancement had decided to place your tent right next to his. Not so big of a problem at first sight, right?

Except that you were a night owl combined with the suffocating warmth of the place. Making you get to bed naked.

Oh, Arthur knew you do, because every night, every single one, you let a candle lit to read, or write, or God knows what before sleeping. The light casts your shadow against the tent’s canvas. The shadow of your very much nude body.

The first night Arthur had noticed, he had come back exhausted from a job in the middle of the night and laid on his cot without even taking the time to remove his boots or hat. A very usual and typical slice of his life, which lately felt more and more like a terribly used one. As if all these slices were repeating again and again. An accumulation of jobs and missions and robberies and fights; deceiving, lying, stealing, killing. Over and over again, going round and round. At night, he was reduced to a slumbered mind in a spent body, that was definitely becoming old and rusty. Already half asleep, mud and twigs surrounding his tired limbs, his thoughts all tangled up like a ball of wool, he had turned his head to his left, reaching from instinct for his pack of cigarettes on the little table next to his bed. Another slice of bad habits from a bad life.

That’s how his eyes had met with this quite erotic shape displayed on your tent.

Said eyes had grown so big that it had fully woken him up all of a sudden, as quickly as if someone had dumped a bucket of iced water on his shocked face. After half of a second of pure stabbing surprise and incomprehension with his hand hanged in the air, his breath stuck in his throat as if really being punched in the gut, he instantly turned his eyes back to the ceiling of his own tent. Cheeks burning red, heart pounding, as if someone had caught him in the act of doing a terribly shameful thing. Exactly as if he had really seen you naked.

He had feverishly grabbed the cigarette pack without looking at it, gaze refusing to turn again, these two blue diamonds locked on the ceiling of his tent, and had messily pulled one out of it, his shaky fingers fumbling, almost spilling everything on the ground.

He must have looked so damn ridiculous.

The smoke helped him to calm down, its soothing and comforting feeling spreading and burning through his lungs. He had fallen asleep, turned to the other side facing the wagon, trying not to think too much about the peek of your intimacy he had witnessed, telling himself it probably was going to be an isolated incident.

But of course, of course the Lord had to torment him even in the rare moments of peace he could have enjoyed.

Turns out this was apparently a habit of yours.

To be honest, he probably deserved to be tormented. But this was years from what he had in mind when it came to the Lord's punishment for his life of crimes.

And Arthur, even though a hardened man in many ways, able to lock lips during torture, kill men with bare hands, and stay emotionally strong in any kind of situation, was still only, after all, a man. A man with needs.

Filthy, disgusting needs.

He had tried to resist. Had tried not to let his eyes slip in your direction like that first night. Sometimes he would allow himself a quick glance, just to check if you were wearing any clothes for once, like a normal person. And maybe the night after would be different? Every evening spent at camp, his pupils would end up brushing the sinful silhouette in just a soft, slight sight, as if not to scare you, as if not to feel too bad about it.

But it was getting harder and harder not to stare. The easy lies about just checking on you or looking at anything else in the same area as your tent to have the chance of winning a glimpse of you would soon not be enough.

Just the mere fact that he knew you were completely bare, only a few meters away from him, singly the thin and superficial fabric of the tent between the both of you, was getting him hard and sweaty, and making his blood boil as a virgin teenage boy would. He could almost physically feel it, like a burning presence in his back when he was sleeping head against the wagon's wall.

The Human mind may be well designed for a lot of things; it forgets an event too hard to carry or can trick you into thinking you're not experiencing any physical pain in extreme situations. But Arthur had learned that it was extremely poorly made when it came to ignoring something. The more he was trying to not think about his unholy urges, the more he ended up being plagued with them. As sure as the seasons always turned in circles, you would come back to his effusive psyche.

And Oh, he was ashamed. Ashamed and revolted by himself. This was absolutely not in his habits, all the contrary. Yes, he was an old miserable bastard who had killed and plundered. But for God's sake, he had never acted obscene towards a lady before.

But the shame wasn't enough for him to stop. On the nights when the guilt was at its lowest —when the tediousness of his days was nibbling at his patience, he had let his eyes wander to your sinful figure, telling himself that maybe if he did, he could just go on with his night and finally rest. Just a quick taste, not too long.

But it only made things worse. It made him dream of you.

Dream of you stripped, his imagination taking the lead of what the tent’s fabric was preventing him from seeing. Dream of you moaning, taking him so tightly, welcoming him in your warm body and into your arms. Dream of the feeling of your skin under his fingertips, of the sight of your naked body squirming with pleasure. He would now often wake up frustrated and angry, if he had succeeded in sleeping at all, his member hard and throbbing on its own, his heart beating powerfully in his chest as if it had been real. His pants and blanket had even been damped one or two times.

What was he, a fifteen-year-old boy again? He was so angry and mortified by the physical obsession his body was having with you that he was constantly in a foul and fiery mood; bitter with everyone, his tension leaking into every movement and every word he spoke. He started missing targets when shooting, getting even more reckless and hot-headed during jobs, jobs often ending up missed or taken care of negligently, yelling at people when they weren’t fast enough, or clever enough, or silent enough, breaking things, breaking rules. The lack of sleep was making his deadly efficiency fade away, replaced by sloppy and messy gestures, stopping enemies from falling dead at his feet like his lethal skills always did, castrating the only thing that was left of his masculinity.

And yet, he couldn’t stop watching you from afar during the time he was at camp, telling himself he knew, or at least had an idea, of what you looked like without these clothes on; feeling a twisted sensation of pride imagining he was the only one who did. On top of that, your sweet personality and beautiful face weren’t helping him at all with his addiction. Filthy old bastard, stop it- he had to mentally slap himself to prevent staring at you for too long, especially staring at your chest that this goddamn dress you had chosen to wear wasn’t covering at all; or your ass these goddamn pants were fitting way too well.

Tonight, Arthur is avoiding going to bed too early. He knows he would just lay in it waiting for you anyway. Instead, he goes for a walk along Flat Iron Lake’s shores, bringing his journal with him. Two entire pages are already dedicated to your shadow. He had no idea a picture exclusively made of black and white flats on a sheet could have such a powerful erotic effect. Or maybe he is a complete degenerate —which, he is sure, is more and more true.

He has to be honest with himself, he could just go to a hotel, or out of camp for a few days to sleep under the stars, and the matter would be settled.

But he doesn’t want to. Because deep down inside, his urges are winning, making him feel like the most foolish and weakest man alive. He enjoys watching you. He enjoys seeing those forbidden plumped curves cast on this canvas. He feels like you're not leaving him any mercy, pitiless, his days dictated by the wait for his taboo rendez-vous, his nights by your sensual apparitions in his dreams.

He is trapped, you have completely tamed him, and irony of it all, have absolutely no idea you are making him feel like this.

This woman is drivin' me insane.

After a few hours on the cold shore's sand, his fingers only capable of creating quick little sketches and scribbles, his feet lead him back to camp. What a surprise. He finds most of the gang's members already asleep, apart from the ones on guard duty and some late campfire enjoyers talking about life, about love, grief, the future, the past. He briefly nods at them without a word and walks to his private space. He already knows what’s waiting for him there, your tent looking like it’s still illuminated, his thoughts and body avid for it.

No, don’t be a fool, Morgan.

He sits down on his cot. Mumbles to himself orders and curses to try and stay reasonable. Takes off his hat, runs a hand through his hair, sticky with sweat and dirt from his busy day, as all the other ones, as always. Scratches his beard and his ears with a sniff, tells himself he needs to take a swim into that lake. That he’s as dirty on the inside as he’s on the outside. Pulls down his suspenders before stretching his shoulders, a pained groan escaping him. A cigarette joins his lips, a match lights it, and he breathes in slowly. He tries to calm down, focusing once again on this homey feeling it brings him.

But his brows furrows. His lips tighten. He knows he won’t be able to hold on much longer. He needs to sleep properly. Even being the all-mighty Titan he is, he still needs a good night of sleep from time to time to keep the engine of his body turning, and you have kept it from him for days.

He lies to himself promising this is only for his health.

That this is the only way for him to stay focused during the day; the only way to rest properly and be at his best again tomorrow.

That this will be the only time he’ll do that.

His only moment of weakness.

The still-lit cigarette and his good conscience fall to the ground as he lies on his cot, settled on his left side, his right hand already roaming on his lower belly.

His eyes drop on the scene he had fantasized about for what seems like years to him at this point.

Lord have mercy…

Your shadow looks so perfect. He takes his sweet time to notice every detail of it, enjoying to the maximum his sinful behavior, now that he had succumbed to it. How you’re laying on your back, reading your book with your legs crossed. The curvaceous shape of your body looks divine to his insatiable gaze. Your hair messily tangled around your head. The silhouette of your chin and throat making him hungrier than any feast he could have attended. Your belly, rising and falling with your chest and breasts, gives the shadow an organic appearance. Your delicate legs, from the base of your thighs to your calves, to your feet, your toes mindlessly curling as you get lost in your story. And of course, the blurry outline of what was between them…

Damn it.

His hand quickly reaches his belt, unbuckles it, fiddles with his pants, opens them carelessly in an urgent grip. He spits in his palm, lashes out at himself when the desire of it being your wetness instead crosses his mind, and slips it between the buttons of his union suit. It finally wraps around his desperate shaft, gorged with blood, and he wonders if he already had been this hard before.

The moment he feels the pressure of his own fingers around it, he can’t help but sigh deeply through his nose, and has to physically block the groan he was about to let out.

Make no noise, moron.

He bites his lips to stop any other immoral sound from crossing through his mouth. Last thing he needs right now is to get caught. He slowly rubs one languorous time from up to down, then up again, his fingers brushing his swollen head right where he needs to. He instantly knows he won’t last. He had dreamed about this, about you, both during days and nights. His eyes are locked on your tantalizing silhouette, this deiform delicious flesh. Goddess of the night, Queen of his desires.

His hand rubs once again and his muscles tighten. He starts to stroke in a rhythmic pace, his moves are efficient, messy, careless. He masturbates the same way he takes care of himself —quickly, roughly, as if matching his disgust towards his own self. The exact opposite of what he would do to you if he could. This is pure physical relief.

Yes, God, yes…

Your name turns in his mind between blasphemous curses as he pleasures himself, stroking faster and faster, delightful warm sensations spreading through him. Finally. The burning is no longer in his back or mind; it's right there around his erection, flames licking all around it.

He wants to be able to join you there, so badly. He wants to discover the tone of your bare skin in those places you never show to anyone. He wants to whisper sweet things in your ear and you to sigh back, your voice high and softly shaking from pleasure. He wants the lewd intimacy, the shared tension and the electric, exciting touch of two foreign skins discovering each other for the first time. He wants to see your hardening nipples he can only have a glimpse of through the fabric.

He wants to have you, to take you, consume you, all to himself. He wants you to think about him the same way he is now, wants you to come while thinking of him, only him, your mouth to moan, whimper, scream even, all thanks to him.

He wants your hand instead of his, around his cock right now, pressing harder, moving faster.

Yes, yes, jus’ a bit more darlin’… -

A movement from you, a real one, makes his pace slow down and his heart stops, afraid you might have by some sort of divine knowledge understood what was happening. But you’re just shifting in your bed, positioning yourself on your belly with your book open against your pillow, and Arthur’s balls spasm; he now has the most perfect view of your ass, its gorgeous, decadent round and plumped contour making his member twitch in his fist.

Ahh, shit… So god damn perfect…

Pearls of sweat leak from his forehead to his neck. His ears shut close to the outside world, his surroundings completely disappearing. Now, there’s only you and your perfect back beautifully arched ending with your perfect bottom and him, and no one else’s on Earth. His breath is jerky, his entire face completely crimson, his fingers pumping so hard and fast he’s basically fucking his hand —your hand, with those wet and unmistakable noises filling the air.

His breath speeds up as Arthur feels his deliverance coming, blood rushing in his veins. He sees himself behind you grabbing fistfuls of your cheeks, he sees his erection diving deep between them. And it's the last straw. His brows are crunched in an exquisite expression of pure sexual delight, jaws so tensed he’s about to break his teeth, your pleasure-filled voice screaming his name in his head, dragging every sensation out of him. His orgasm hit him with the strength and speed of a thunderstorm, lightning bolts of satisfaction striking every fiber of his body.

Yes! Yesss —Damnit!

He comes hard with a low and throaty growl he forgot to —or couldn't repress, silently repeating your name again and again, his lower lip almost cut open from how hard he had bit himself, an enormous vein on his forehead where sweat covers his skin. His thick, hot cum spills messily in an indecently large amount, the aftermath of having held himself back for so long, leaking on his pants and fingers and staining his cot; a dash of white contrasting with the darkness of what he just did.

He’s praying to the Lord and the Devil, any mystical forces known to man, that nobody had heard his final relief sound, especially not you. It was louder than what he would like to admit.

Shit, so damn good…

Using his black bandana, he roughly cleans himself then tosses it somewhere on the floor, his cock finally softening as he shoves it back under his clothes, balls empty. And it feels good. So good a wave of shame and guilt crashes onto him once more. What a pig he was for jerking off while ogling you. What an old bastard he was to mingle you and his filth. But at the same time, he feels like his muscles are thanking him, his restless flesh satisfied, even though he almost hurt himself with how fast he had stroked, lost in his haze.

His bittersweet and contradictory feelings accompanied him as he took a last glance at your tent before drifting off to sleep, his breathing still a bit raspy as if he had run for hours. You had closed your book and taken the candle between your hands to blow on it, the little flame flickering before fading. And then, darkness.

The curtains falling on the stage at the end of this private decadent act.

Eyelids heavy, Arthur knows he will finally sleep tonight.

But he also knows this isn’t the end of his torments at all; the conflicting thoughts paint his mind just as the sun pierces through the dark ebony clouds of a thunderstorm, creating those abruptly dazing shapes and color, pitch black laced with blinding light.

Never in this life or the Other he will forget the form of your naked body, no matter how wicked he feels. Because when it comes to you and only you, Arthur Morgan is, indeed, a very weak man.

tagging : @a-court-of-valkyries and @zae-heeyyy

#hello I'm not dead #I hope you'll like this one its a bit filthy #honestly I was inspired by this very specific art piece from the wonderful Attckher if you know you know #Also should I write a little something more in which reader catches Arthur in the act? 🤭#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan rdr2 #pinefic #rdr2 fanfiction

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deadratdonoteat · 2 months ago

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The crew is on a mission to get information about this warlock. Someone needs to go undercover, in disguise, and get intel. That someone was chosen to be you. Needing to wear an outfit that wasn’t entirely your style

Tags- mostly fluff :D

W.C= 1.6k

Luffy-

-Doesn’t really react

-Not like he isn't affected but he doesn’t see that big of a difference, You're still you just wearing something different, Why would he react differently?

-He did like that color on you

“Well, what do you think,” you asked while doing a twirl for the captain. Luffy put a finger to his chin, as if in deep thought. His eyes scanned your body. Your face felt a little hot with his eyes on you. Then when he met your eyes he grimaced. You had let Nami do your hair and makeup, which she did an excellent job. Judging off the face he made at your face told you that he didn’t like it. Your heart sank. You knew you shouldn’t care what others thought but you at least wanted your captain to like you.

“What's with that stuff on your face?” He asked bluntly. You could hear Nami yell insults at him. That seemed to confuse him more. His brows raised at your disheartened expression.

“I like your face much better without that stuff,” He said without care. As if what he said was no big deal. What he said was no big deal to everyone, but not you. He just confessed to liking your face.

-Even though he didn’t express much change to your outfit his body language definitely changed

-Luring eyes were on you as you walked through the town

-That seemed to bother Luffy, his arm rested on you waist

-Some poor drunk guy made a move on you, he didn’t get a chance, a fist was smashed into his face instantly

The drunk man withered on the floor, cradling his bloody nose. Luffy’s arm returned to his side. This other arm never left your waist, if anything the grip tightened.

“Luffy, You didn’t need to do that,” you voice your concern for the stranger. Luffy pushed you to his chest. Stepping around the passed out drunk.

“He was going to touch you, only I'm allowed to do that,” He said so proudly. Your face heated up. Today was so strange your captain was confessing all these things to you. He stopped walking and slightly pushed you away to see your face.

“Right?” he asked with such puppy eyes. Your heart skipped a beat. He was basically begging for you to tell him. Tell him that he’s the only one allowed to touch you. Not that you were complaining.

“Of course, Luffy,” You said, looking away shyly. You could basically feel his beaming smile. He grabbed your hand and continued walking.

-All in all he won't express his interest but he’ll be a bit more protective over you. You just look too good for him to not get greedy.

Zoro-

-His eyes go wide, immediately scanning your body

-His face visibly turned a slight red

-Clears his throat and acts like he doesn’t care at all

“Well, what do you think,” you asked while doing a twirl for the swordsman. His lips formed a thin line. His eyes looked everywhere but you, cheeks pink.

“You look fine, let's just go,” He said hurriedly. Anyone else would have assumed he didn’t care or like your outfit but you knew. You knew that he liked your deep green dress. You were fine with him not telling you. While everyone else was getting dressed in dark clothes, you and Zoro waited. The two of you are leaning on the ship's railing. Your hands dangerously close. Deciding to be brave, your hand covered his. His body tensed. As the palm of your hand covered the back of his hand, you intertwined fingers. He looked at your hands then met your gaze.

“W-what?” He mentally cursed at himself for stuttering. You smiled sweetly at the swordsman. His head immediately looked back to the crew. You weren’t used to seeing him so nervous and flustered, you were milking it. You squeezed his hand, making him turn to you again.

“You look good, Zoro,” You confessed with cheeks growing hotter. His eyes widened a little. He was just wearing all black. Yet he still looked so handsome.

“You too,” He mumbled, looking at your touching hands. His fingers caressing yours.

-That was the closes you were going to get to him complimenting you

-Once the crew was dressed the mission started

-Standing outside of the bar you were going into alone, you froze

-You were going into a bar alone, wearing something a bit revealing, You were nervous

-Zoro seemed to notice your hesitancy

“You ready?” the green haired man asked. The rest of the crew was in position to spy on the warlock. You just needed to ask him some questions and hope that he’ll comply.

“Just a bit nervous, what if it doesn’t go according to plan?” You questioned. Looking up at the swordsman. Your round doe eyes affecting him more than he’d ever admit. It was getting closer to the time you needed to enter the bar. Zoro leaned down, his mouth right next to your ear. You could feel his hot breath.

“I’d never let anything happen to you,” he whispered. His deep voice sent chills down your spine. Heat covered your body, the chilly night air no longer bothering you. You nodded at him.

While questioning the warlock your mind was elsewhere. Slightly hoping something would happen so then Zoro would come save you.

-All in all he’ll try and act tough but his eyes linger on you for as long as possible. You were never out of his sight.

Sanji-

-Sanji is floored

-His eyes are hearts, basically drooling like a dog

-His jaw hit the floor (You could have sworn you saw him readjust his pants)

“Well, what do you think,” you asked while the cook twirled you around with his hand in yours. His hands rest on your waist. He leans back to get a good, long, look at you. His eyes staying in some places longer than others.

“You look amazing, as always my dear,” Sanji’s tone was drawing in sweetness. He likes this outfit a lot more than you thought. He was biting his bottom lip while he scanned you again.

“Absolutely amazing..” he somewhat mumbled to himself. Your face was growing hotter with his eyes raking your body. The dress was a bit revealing with a leg slit and your cleavage being showcased. Actually you should’ve guessed he’d like it. You looked into his eyes, which were already staring at you. His smile softened and his eyes closed, then he started moving…He started to lean in for a kiss!! You laughed at his forwardness, covering his mouth with a hand.

“Darrrlinggg,” his voice was muffled due to your hand. His hand reached for yours, pulling it from his mouth to intertwine your fingers. His other hand went to the small of your back and pushed you to him. Your chests becoming flushed together.

“Soon?” he asked. You giggled, wrapping your free arm around his neck.

“Soon,” You replied with a smug smile. His face reddening from your answer.

-He does not leave your side

-Glaring at anyone who dares to look at you for too long

-He was very touchy (not that you minded)

-Always kissing your hand or an arm around you

-Your word “Soon” echoed through his mind all day

-Once everyone was in position and the warlock was sitting at the bar it was time to strike

-You sat at the bar next to the man

“Would you like something to drink, ma'am?” the bartender asks, his voice was so soothing. Looking up to see the bartender, you were met with Sanji. He was dressed in a suit and vest, he looked so good. As you scanned his body, you completely forgot about the mission. The urge to flirt with this handsome bartender was eating at you. Clearing your throat, turning to the Warlock. His eyes glanced at you from the side.

“I was hoping someone would offer me a drink..” You said while leaning on the counter, showing off your revealing chest. The warlock smirked. After smooth talking to get a free drink, the mission was set to start. Sanji was forced to watch while making drinks or cleaning glasses. He watches as his beautiful darlin flirted with this random man. Sanji broke a few glasses from cleaning too hard. His teeth gritted everytime the Warlock would order another round for you two.

Once you got all the information out if the drunk warlock you were safe to leave. When you tried to, the now handsy warlock grabbed your wrist. Which didn't last long when someone gave the man a swift kick to the stomach.

“I quit,” Sanji shouted as he grabbed your hand and left the bar. A few people from the warlocks crew ran after you both. Sanji quickly pulled you into an alleyway. He pinned you against the wall.

“I hated this mission, we're never doing this again..” Sanji whisper shouted. You just smiled at the blonde. Putting your arms around his neck and pulling him in closer. His eyes darted to your lips, his face turning pink.

“You look good in this suit,” you said in such a sweet tone. Sanji's body visible shuttered. He leaned closer.

“What are you doing to me?” His voice was low, breath on your neck. You giggled at the ticklish air hitting your neck. His eyes dropped to your lips again. Who were you to deny this handsome cook. You finally leaned in to meet his lips. Sanji sighed. He had been waiting for this.

-All in all, Sanji is floored by how stunning you look. He’s a drooling mess around you

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