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paperbag880 · 2 years ago

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Arthur Morgan x male reader

Hunted away

I love me some crusty, cowboys. Not only because I want to look like one, but just look at em.

I'm thinking of making this kind of like series type of thing

Summary: Hunting an elk is a one thing, but sheltering a coyote is another.

Genre: fluff?

Warnings: swearing

Series...how long? Idk. Pt 2 is in production = never a good thing to hear from me ✌😗

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Hunter. That's what was your profession in the wild west filled with murder and beauty that's being forsaken. You must admit it's not the greatest job but it keeps your mouth full and the law away.

As a hunter, you came across shady people from time to time, after all, the forests are your second home, but this one seems normal. Normal but... unconscious... His stallion stood in front of him as a shield against you and your mare. "Back off." You said while sliding down your saddle and waving your hands around to shoo the horse away. With a few heads flicks the horse backed away but his ears were down dramatically. Your mare noticed this and went by your side, her own ears down. You've noticed the occasional warning air bites she gave him, you were very grateful for her.

The stranger seemed alright with only a big bump on the back of his head. Someone must have bonked him on the head which made him unconscious but you're not sure if he fell immediately after the blow or rather after he managed to get away. Nevertheless, you couldn't leave him there alone as wolfs are having pups this time around and they're starving.

"A'right, cowpoke let' get ya away from 'ere." You've managed to swing him on your shoulder and set him on your mare in hopes he won't fall off. The guy's station kept protesting and neighing aggressively. You grabbed his rains with slight difficulty but after giving him your apple he calmed down enough. "Come on boy." Whilst clicking your tongue you kicked your mare to move.

You were out there to hunt an animal not to bring an injured one home with you. You really hoped this guy has nothing to do with the law, even if he looks like an outlaw.

Arthur woke up, not in his tent but rather under a wooden roof. He tried to sit up but his spinning head brought him back down on a not-so-comfortable mattress. He could hear faint footsteps tapping around in the other room. His eyes roamed around the room for his belongings which lay right next to him. He sighed in relief as it seemed that everything was still there.

The footsteps got closer and Arthur tried to sit up again. There in front of him stood a man with a plate of food. "Oh...you up." The man said as he froze in his stride. He wasn't expecting him to get up so soon, it hasn't been even half a day and he's up. Gods know how long was he out before you came.

"You hungry?" You've asked him awkwardly. As much as you hated it you're not one for social interactions. Arthur hummed he was quite hungry and by his inspection, you didn't look like a dangerous fellow or one with venom laying around. You gave him the plate and sat down in front of him in an old wooden chair.

"Thanks." Arthur thanked you and dug into the food. His gruff voice put you off guard but not by long as you heard horses coming to your house. You've noticed how your host froze and listened to the sound as well. Your eyes locked with his. Your face held no malice just an unknown disappointment.

Before he could say anything you got up. "Stay 'ere and don't make a sound." Leaving the other man alone you stepped out of your house and as expected, there in front of you stood the sheriff and his two apprentices. The sheriff was about to walk on your porch. "Gentlemen." You've greeted them with a slight bow of your head.

"Ah, Mr. L/n! Sharp ears as always." The sheriff spoke he slowed his walk and eventually stopped in front of your porch's steps. He leaned on one of his legs whilst pressing his side on the closest wooden pillar next to him. His thumbs were stuffed into his belt idly. You haven't said anything but look at the man in his very familiar eyes. "You haven't, by any chance, ran into a scrawny-looking fella with a blue shirt, have you?" The sheriff tilted his head at you, whilst correcting his hat.

You scoffed in disgust. "With all due respect sheriff, I thought you knew I ain't messin' with the law in any way. Not even with the mutt cowpokes, you tryin' 't get." You walked passed the sheriff after you finished your sentence. "Now if you don't mind imma go and cut some logs." You grabbed an axe that was nearby.

"Pretty horse you got. Is it new?" The sheriff said while pushing himself off of the pillar. On the outside, you haven't been fazed by the question but on the inside, you knew what he was trying to make you confess.

"Yes, Mr. L/n, the horse is new. Got 'im a couple days back. What? You interested in 'im?" You turned your head with a questionable look placed on it. The sheriff laughed and looked at his horse who's been quietly standing by the other two horses of the party. He started to walk towards you in a goofy way.

Up on being close enough, he patted you on your shoulder as he kept his hand on it. "As tempting as that sounds Mr. L/n, I don't need another." The closeness of you two felt personal. "I ain't gonna always save you, M/n!" The sheriff whispered so only you and he can hear it.

"Who's the eldest, you or me?" You glared at the sheriff. His concerned face was genuine and held no malice, just like you towards your guest. The sheriff sighed and patted your shoulder again and pulled away.

"A gray stallion? Get rid of 'im as soon as possible. They don't bring fortune." The sheriff said out loud with a smile and tipped his hat at you. You knew he wasn't talking about the horse but rather your guest and the owner of said horse. "Have a nice day, brother." The sheriff, your brother, said as he mount his horse. His two 'little helpers' bid their goodbyes as well. "Come visit me sometime, Edeline would be ecstatic."

Edeline, your niece, sweet little devil. You laughed and tipped your own hat their way. "Till next time brother. Gentlemen." The sheriff smiled at you, and the men and started to gallop away from your home.

Not long till they were out of sight. You didn't wish to go inside, not unarmed at least, so you stayed true to your words and went to chop some logs. "Might as well." You mumbled and prepared your logs and axe. Your hands swung up and we're ready to fall.

"Thanks for not giving me away." You missed the log and almost hit your leg. Your guest's voice being the reason. You looked up at him frustrated, some of your outgrown hair falling to your face. "Oh, sorry partner. Wasn't ma intention."

Your guest had his head poking out of your window whilst leaning on it with his arms. "Wha's your name cowpoke?" You said irritated and collected your posture. You've stuck the axe into the tree stump, you chop your logs on, quite aggressively. You were just done with chopping. Your guest noticed your hostile mood and brought his hand up in defense.

"Arthur Morgan. 'M not a threat." He said in a higher pitch. You nodded at him and grabbed the fallen log to place it back. You've unstuck your axe. Arthur waited for your introduction but never got it. He laughed at your silence before he heard you speak.

"You should be off. Your head ain't hurtin' that much if you up and standin'." You said and finally hit the log from before, slitting it in two. "Before the law comes, 'ere again, you'll be gone!" Your eyes met his as you turned on your heel and went to the horses to feed them. Bored of your axe.

Not long after you picked a bale of hay you heard the door get shut. A little voice in your head nudged you to get your gun out but the other trusted that you are safe. Just in case you held the knife you opened your bale with close, not trusting either side of you.

"Uh... Thanks for not lettin' me die I guess." Arthur said standing in front of your makeshift stables. He watched you work and how delicate you have been with his horse.

"Yeah, you welcome. 'M not expectin' a payment." You said as you patted the beauty of a stallion before your mare got jealous and bit the horse. "H/N!" You exclaimed her name surprised as she bit very close to your hand.

Arthur laughed and leaned on the wood of your stables. "Seems like someone's jealous." Arthur patted your mare. "Easy girl. You have quite the pretty horse." He praised your mare and you felt proud of her. "I once had a mare myself."

This little piece of information caught your interest as you calmed the riled-up stallion and lead him a bit further away from your mare. "Wha's her name?" Arthur followed you and stood next to you.

"Her name was Boadicea. She... passed away, unfortunately." Arthur's voice was sad and you noticed it immediately. You kind of regretted asking.

"Sorry to hear that. Your stallion is quite catchy as well... Protected you from me." You tried to lighten to mood a bit. You could hear Arthur snicker and the gentle pats he gave his stallion. The man looks like a jerk but really now he seems like gentle man who babies his child. Quite endearing.

Arthur coughed to hush the awkward silence away. "So uh... Do you need any hel-" Before he finished his sentence you cut in sharply which made the man raise his hands up in defense.

"I said, 'm not expectin' any payment, cowpoke!"

"Easy there, I'm just tryin' to be nice." He hissed back. Taking offense yet he wouldn't hurt you as he didn't need to. "Look, the head still hurtin' and I can't go back just yet." He pointed a finger at you and frowned. "You're stuck with me so I might as well help ya a little."

You walked closer to him and stood so close that you could easily head-bump him, your eyes dangerously bearing into his. "Do not threaten me on my own land, cowboy!" You said lowly.

"I'm not threatenin' you, partner." Arthur spat the 'partner' out. His eyes never left yours. You must admit you respect the guy.

You leaned back. "Grab your gun." You walked away to the back of your hut as Arthur stood there confused. "We oughta hunt."

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x male reader #x male reader #rdr2 #rdr2 x male reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 x male reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x y/n

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kan-opener · 1 year ago

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Would also like a Red dead redemption 2 fanfic that’s Brokeback Mountain, like Arthur x Male reader

There’s really only one RDR2 Male reader writer and idk if they do requests, if they do and see this, this is my request; Arthur (or really anyone) x Male reader fic.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 x male reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 x male reader

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cptg00s3 · 2 years ago

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Titel TBD

Arthur Morgan was a man of many talents. He could shoot a gun like nobody's business, ride a horse like it was an extension of himself, and he was a natural leader. But perhaps one of Arthur's greatest talents was his ability to care deeply for those around him, especially his fellow gang members.

One such member was (Y/N), a young man who had joined the gang not too long ago. He was tough and resilient, but he had a kind heart and a gentle spirit that Arthur couldn't help but admire. Over time, the two of them had become good friends, and Arthur found himself growing more and more fond of him with each passing day.

It was during a routine train robbery that (Y/N) was injured. They had been caught off guard by a group of lawmen, and bullets had been flying everywhere. Arthur had been busy trying to get the gang out of there safely when he heard a scream. He turned around to see (Y/N) clutching his leg, blood seeping through his fingers.

Without a second thought, Arthur rushed to his side. He tore off a piece of his shirt and used it to apply pressure to the wound. (Y/N) was in a lot of pain, but he managed to smile weakly at Arthur.

"Thanks," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't mention it," Arthur replied, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. "You're going to be okay. We just need to get you some help."

They managed to make it back to camp, where (Y/N) was quickly attended to by the gang's resident doctor, who cleaned and stitched up his wound. But even with the doctor's care, (Y/N) was still in a lot of pain. He spent the next few days lying in bed, unable to do much except rest.

Arthur spent most of his time by his side, bringing him food and water, and making sure he was comfortable. He even went out of his way to find some books for him to read, knowing that he would get bored lying in bed all day.

As the days went by, (Y/N) slowly started to recover. His wound began to heal, and he started to regain his strength. Arthur was there every step of the way, encouraging him and cheering him on.

One day, as (Y/N) was sitting outside, enjoying the fresh air, Arthur came to join him. He sat down next to him, his shoulder brushing against his.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Better," (Y/N) replied, smiling at him. "Thanks to you."

Arthur chuckled. "I didn't do much," he said. "Just took care of you like I would anyone else in the gang."

(Y/N) shook his head. "No, it was more than that," he said. "You were there for me, even when you had other things to worry about. You took the time to make sure I was comfortable, and you even found me some books to read."

Arthur shrugged. "Just trying to help," he said.

(Y/N) turned to him, his eyes serious. "You know, Arthur, I think you're one of the kindest people I've ever met," he said. "You always put others before yourself, and you never hesitate to help someone in need. I don't think I would have made it through this without you."

Arthur felt his cheeks grow warm. He wasn't used to receiving compliments like this, especially from someone he cared about so deeply.

"Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

(Y/N) smiled at him, then leaned in closer, his gaze never leaving Arthur's.

"I mean it, Arthur," he said softly. "You're one of the best people I know."

Arthur's heart was racing as he looked into his eyes. He could feel a warmth spreading through his chest, and he realized with a start that he was starting to feel something more than friendship for (Y/N).

Before he could say anything, (Y/N) leaned in and pressed his lips against Arthur's. The kiss was soft and sweet, but it sent shockwaves through Arthur's body. He pulled away, his eyes wide.

"I...I don't know what to say," he stammered.

(Y/N) smiled at him, his hand reaching up to cup Arthur's cheek. "You don't have to say anything," he said. "I just wanted you to know how much you mean to me."

Arthur's heart was pounding in his chest as he looked at him. He could see the affection and tenderness in his eyes, and he knew then that he felt the same way. He leaned in and kissed him again, this time more passionately.

From that day forward, Arthur and (Y/N) were inseparable. They spent every moment they could together, talking, laughing, and enjoying each other's company. They went on horseback rides through the countryside, sat by the campfire under the stars, and shared stolen kisses whenever they could.

Even though the gang was still facing danger and uncertainty every day, Arthur and (Y/N) found solace in each other's arms. They knew that they could face anything as long as they had each other, and they were determined to make the most of the time they had together.

As the weeks turned into months, Arthur and (Y/N) grew closer and closer. They talked about their hopes and dreams for the future, about what they wanted to do once the gang was disbanded. They knew that their time together was limited, but they refused to let that dampen their spirits.

In the end, it was (Y/N) who decided to leave the gang first. He had found a small homestead where he could live a peaceful life, away from the violence and danger of the gang. Arthur was sad to see him go, but he knew it was for the best.

As they said their goodbyes, Arthur took (Y/N) hand and looked into his eyes.

"I love you," he said softly.

(Y/N) smiled at him. "I love you too," he said, then turned and walked away.

Arthur watched him go, his heart heavy with longing. But he knew that (Y/N) was doing what was best for himself, and he was happy that (Y/N) had found some peace and happiness.

In the years that followed, Arthur often thought of him, wondering how (Y/N) was doing and what he was up to. But no matter what happened, he knew that (Y/N) would always hold a special place in his heart, and he would never forget the time they spent together.

#arthur morgan x male reader #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 x male reader #red dead redemption 2 #male reader

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bitin-and-barkin · 6 months ago

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Intertwined Fingers

What would the aftermath of your so called death look like?

Warnings: Arthur Morgan x Reader, Gender neutral reader, he's going a bit insane ngl, implied self harm, dog symbolism, smut, fun fact: Pomade was commonly used as lube in the 1800s, Dom reader, sub Arthur, soft sex (I finally did the soft sex thing), No mentions of your genetalia, you just jerk off Arthur because you wanted to take care of him tonight, sorry probably not what the people were looking for but its fine, weirdly described sex to the point where it's not even porn, just an art piece, more yandere shit in the next part but you can smell the start of it here, overuse of the word Intertwined

READ MORE UNDER THE CUT + Pt 2 to another story, Pt 1 here, Pt 3 here

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That night in the hotel room, Arthur sheepishly asked if he could stay with you for the night.

You, of course, accepted.

After climbing into bed, he couldn't keep his hands off of you.

Well, he usually can't, always clinging to you like a koala bear. But especially not tonight.

Rubbing his hands up and down your chest. Feeling the grooves in your skin. The curves and marks. Wrapping his arms around you, nuzzling his nose into your neck.

Making sure all of his touches were gentle, as not to cause you pain.

Feeling your stomach rise and fall as you slept peacefully. Hearing your heartbeat.

Still softly sobbing, keeping it quiet so you could sleep, not daring to let go.

He felt like sinking into you in that moment.

For the first time in ages, Arthur slept peacefully. He could sleep for ages with your hands intertwined with his.

When you tried to get up in the morning, he pretended to be asleep so you'd stay with him for longer. When you tried to get up anyways?

He pretty much begged you to stay with him.

You ended up laying in bed for another hour before you finally were able to leave.

While taking you back to camp you told him about the doctors. How you already went to the one in Valentine, but they could only do so much.

He said he was gonna get a doctor to come here and properly check you out again, as he knew one that owed him some favors.

Worries of discreetness be damned.

Once you had gotten back to camp, people stared at you like they were looking at a ghost.

In fact, Sean fainted when he first saw you. They thought you were dead.

You even looked the part.

Hours had passed and it was sundown. Arthur had brought in a doctor named "Alphonse Renaud." By now, he had been in there for hours, Arthur right by his side.

His hands were soaked in blood, helping the doctor deal with everything they did to you.

The sick fucks had put nails in your legs.

Nails.

Your back was ripped to shreds, with some marks looking even like they came from whips.

They were irritated too, and Dr. Renaud guessed that they had poured whiskey into your wounds.

He was wondering how you managed to let him hold you the night before without wincing and whining out in pain.

Just imagining how much pain you must've been in, when he thought that he needed to hold you?

How much pain you must've been in when he was asking you on the ride back home if you felt okay?

He felt like the worst shit on earth.

Alphonse estimated you'd live a lifetime of numbness and pain on certain, scarred parts.

At least you weren't in pain right now.

You were currently passed out from Morphine after Arthur yelled at Swanson to help alleviate your pain, when he heard you whimper as the doctor worked.

He silently cried into his hands next to your bedside after he heard your shallow breaths.

He was scared. So fucking scared.

A 3 days passed, with Arthur watching your every movement like a hawk. He was around you 24/7. All other priorities just seemed to fade into the background.

You were fading in and out of consciousness. Going through fevers and hot flashes, scaring everybody at camp.

Whenever you were awake, you seemed to be in a trance. Muttering about things that weren't there, unable to recognize anybody. Not even your husband.

Arthur hadn't slept in that time either. Afraid that if he looked away for one second, the O'Driscolls would swoop up and take you away from him again.

He didn't even think of letting Kieran near you, your horse, or the tent you were in.

He got antsy when you got home, gaining an even shorter fuse to match. Doing everything to make the place more comfortable for you. Cleaning your bedsheets, changing your bandages. Gently talking to you about his day and asking about yours while you were asleep, that way if you woke up you wouldn't wake up alone.

Hosea insisted he needed rest. But every single time he went to bed, he couldn't sleep. Wracked with anxiety. Knowing you were just 15 feet away, safe and sound in your tent, yet still wondering where you were.

Wondering where his darling was.

He snuck into your tent later that night and sat down next to you. Coming down here just to make sure you were still breathing.

Watching your chest rise, your breaths were still as shallow as ever.

He had just gotten you back and he was already losing you again.

And with his coddling and touching, he had only made it worse.

He'd give anything to go back to the way things were.

Before you went on that shitty sniping job, god, what in fucking hell made Dutch think that was a good idea?

He'd give up all his things. He'd kill every O'Driscoll known to man. He'd break his own legs. He'd trade places with you. He'd kill himself.

Just for you to be okay.

He reached down, tracing his finger against scars that weren't there before.

He started talking softly to your sleeping body,

Saying how later he'll take you to the city and get you anything you want. He'll take you out dancing, or to the saloon, or to one of those new picture shows if you feel up to it.

How later he'll shoot Colm for what he did. Make his death slow, make him feel every ounce of pain you did. Doubled. He'll make Colm beg for mercy, then leave him to rot to death in some shithole.

How later, if that stupid Tahiti dream ever becomes realized, he'll settle down with you. Have a kid or two if you feel like it. As long as he can raise them with you.

Only you. Nobody but you.

How later, he'll build a mansion for you and you'd never have to be afraid of anyone hurting you ever again.

How he's so sorry that you had to come find him.

That you'd kill him if you died.

He heard the bed creak as he nervously chatted on and on.

Felt your fingers intertwining with his.

He turned to you, smiling.

You had awoken, and reached out to him.

He tucked your hair behind your ear.

There you were.

For the first time in a long time you were coherent. Aware. Unafraid.

And for the first time in a long time, you saw him clearly.

He took your hand and raised it to his lips, gently kissing your bruised knuckles. Asking how you felt as he did.

He looked... tired.

There were scrapes on his palms and hands, deep cutting scars. Going up and along his wrists and forearms.

Now that you think about it, when you first saw him again, his sleeves were rolled down.

He never rolled them down.

There were new gashes on his face. Along his lips and jaw. He was starting to look like John.

His cheeks were gaunt, and he had deep eyebags. As if they've been festering for months.

His hair was longer, a bit tangled too.

You're used to him being so broad, and while he still is, he looks almost underweight.

You took your other hand and reached up to his cheek, gently stroking it.

He leaned into your touch. He looked exhausted.

God, What had happened while you were gone?

He was resting his face on your hand as he held your other.

You gripped his jaw and pulled him close, softly placing a kiss on his lips.

And placing his free hand on yours, he returned it.

Bodies intertwining like a jigsaw puzzle.

He tried to pull away, wanting to give you air, but you pulled him even closer.

God, you were gonna be the death of him.

He pushed his hands under your shirt,

with you hastily undoing his belt.

Whispering to you,

"Darling, you're so pretty it hurts."

Pushing you to the bed,

placing kisses on your scars.

You pulled your hand away and placed them on his jeans, groping him through his pants.

His head whipped back, letting out a shaky moan.

Whimpering something unintelligible.

You were toying with his tits through his shirt.

Biting down, leaving hickeys along his neck.

Continuing to grope his dick, making him sport a tent in his pants.

And just looking into his eyes, and he had the look of a kicked puppy.

Just begging for you to properly touch him.

Unzipping his fly, his dick sprung out. Slapping against his stomach.

No wonder he had that look in his eyes. He'd follow you like a dog, and worship you like god. At least, it looked like he wanted to tonight.

You took his dick in your hand, pumping him up and down. Pressing your forehead against his, telling him to just relax, that you wanted to take care of him. Helping him take his shirt off as he whispered "Are you sure?" Asking you if you felt well enough to do this.

His breath hitching, he fumbled to untie his bandana before resorting to just rip the thing off entirely.

Peeling off his shirt just to feel you more. To touch you, as you pulled him close. Asking him to tell you just how much he missed you as pre-cum seeped out of his dick, slicking your palm.

You pulled forward and gently kissed his collarbone, licking your free hand and playing with his chest as you stroked him at a steady pace.

Biting down on his neck, his flesh soft between your teeth.

Only yours though. Only yours.

He slotted his head into your shoulder, and began to mumble, kissing your neck up and down.

Cradling your head in his palm.

Running his fingers across your bones, licking stripes against healed wounds.

To whimper and to whine, just like he did the day before.

Like a dog doing all the tricks it knew.

Fucking like two instruments playing in tune.

His eyes were glossed over, his hot breath puffing like smoke, and his words weren't making any sense anymore.

The sensual turning the sexual into the unintelligible, just repeating over and over,

I love you,

I love you.

People in camp always talked shit about Arthur, how he was "Van Der Linde's Bitch." His dog, broken in like a wild horse. Obedient, pliable, perfect. But they're giving credit to the wrong man.

It was all you. Only you, Only you.

He arched back on the bed, crying your name as he came. His seed splattering across his stomach, into your hands.

Begging you not to leave him ever again.

Not even once,

Not even once.

Pleasure sparked behind his eyelids like a gunshot.

You hushing him with silent kisses, telling him to quiet down.

Letting him rut and sputter into your hands like putty until he finally came completely undone, and the only noise was his labored breathing, panting.

His hands trailed up your thighs, eager to return the favor. But you gingerly grabbed his palms and brought them up to your lips.

Oh so gently kissing his knuckles, just like he did for you.

His eyes were still red from crying. Months of grief released in a week.

You pulled his face close, kissing him on the cheek.

Pulling him down into bed, slotting your hips in between his.

Sleeping together,

with your hands intertwined.

Should I keep this story going???

@yyiikes

#rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #dom gn reader #dom reader #dom!reader #male yandere #sub men #rdr2 smut #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #smut #dog symbolism #soft sex #rdr2 dutch #rdr2 x you

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miguel-owhora · 4 months ago

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Micah's so arrogant and cocky, desperate to be better than everyone, so when the nearest town gossips about a 'werewolf' coming and taking their men away, of course he gets the gall to hunt them down.

Only for him to find the werewolf—that's right, an actual werewolf—with a big fat dick and an appetite for man pussy. Which is how Micah finds himself deep in a forest, pushed onto all fours like a common street bitch and fucked like there's no tomorrow. He'd be scrambling to find purchase on the ground, nails caked with dirt and drool dribbling down his chin as all he can do is lay there and take it.

Your cock is fat and hot inside his cunt, swollen tip kissing his cervix with every feral thrust. Your heavy balls smack against his cunt, thighs slapping against his, easily hunched over his body. You're hairy all over, strong, too, and yet weak when it comes to Micah's pussy. The way it just grips you, how slick it becomes with each thrust; it all goes to your head and makes your instincts scream at you to knot and breed him, to impregnate him.

And, well, when have you been one to deny your nature? Your claws grip his hips tightly, thrusts becoming harsh and erratic as you all but force Micah down, face flushed against the dirt as he all but squeals when he squirts around your swelling knot. How the bulbous thing catches on his lips and either one of you from pulling away, a low growl tumbling past your lips as you pull him down onto your cock and cum inside him.

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grave-z-boy · 10 months ago

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Arthur Morgan x Male!Reader

A/n: Tumblr straight up deleted the original ask :/ also the ending is kinda rushed cuz Ive been working on this for too long.

Request: if ur taking requests, can i request a arthur morgan x male reader where the reader gets kidnapped by o’driscolls, gets injured a lot, and arthur comes, pissed asf, screaming, “where is he” and shit, basically rescues reader, and comforts him later after they set up camp and basically start making out which the leads to sex, but arthur is super gentle, and very careful and isn’t sure if they should because of readers injuries but they do and he’s super sweet and, making sure reader is ok and stuff. (already were in a relationship prior to kidnapping) if this is way too much i get it lmfao. i like your writing a lot!! ~anonymous

Summary: Arthur rescues reader after he's been kiddnapped

Word count: 3,442

Warning: torture, murder, reader gets shot, bruises and scars, guns in general, passing out, smut, bottom!reader, top!Arthur Morgan, hurt/comfort, short smut.

A stray bullet flew so close to your ear that you could hear it cutting the air. The oozing hole in your leg only spit out more blood as you crouched down behind a tree, your shoulder pressed hard against the bark as you tried to keep your head from spinning. You whistled for your horse, only to hear a sudden pained whiny from her somewhere across the O’Driscolls camp, you swore under your labored breath. Another bullet flew past you.

Using the tree you pushed yourself up, the old, sharp bark tearing the skin on your palms. Breathing in, you tried to block out the searing pain in your leg. It worked just enough for you to peek around the tree and aim your pistol at the O’Driscoll. Squeezing the trigger, the man fell back, you hit him square in the chest.

He wasn’t the only one though- this camp was chock-full of O’Driscolls, and they were all looking for you. You spotted another man, hunting rifle in hand, slowly creeping into the tree line, you aimed, but he was faster, shooting you in the shoulder. It hurt like hell, you yelled as you hit the ground. He crept closer- he was fast, but he wasn’t a good shot, you could tell as he nervously reloaded his gun. The shot wasn’t enough to kill you, even if you let it sit and fester. Before he could aim again you raised your pistol and shot him, once in the chest, and when he didn’t go down you shot him between the eyes.

Letting out another breath, you pushed yourself onto your knees. Only to feel warm metal against your neck, before you could even swear, you were hit with the butt end of the gun, your vision blurring to nothing in a matter of seconds.

~~~~~~~~~

“He should of been back by now..” Arthur said for about the fourth time this hour.

“Y/n’s a strong man, he’ll be fine. Probably just…camping out again.” Karen, who’d had to listen to him complain about four times this hour, muttered, her hands and mind more focused on mending a pair of Sean’s pants.

Sitting with Karen tended to comfort Arthur more than it should have, but right now her presence only made it worse. Her husband was out there with you and yet she wasn’t worried. She sat idly sewing like death couldn’t come to her man at any time. Arthur knew all too well how death could sneak up on a person. Especially you, who have had at least a dozen near-death experiences this year alone, and dozens more in the years before that, and that's with Arthur around to try and keep you breathing, he doesn't like to think about the shit you’d gotten yourself into before you met. Some of your little stories, stories you told so casually, made him sick at best and unbearable angry at most. You were everything to him and to think of what people had done to you made his blood boil beneath his skin.

“Look there, it's Sean, Y/n shouldn't be too far behind.”

Looking up, Arthur watched Sean nearly fall off his horse, leaving his lead untied, then bolting straight towards Arthur.

“They got him!” Sean shouted as he ran through camp, “Those fuckers got Y/n!”

Arthur was on his feet faster than he could process, grabbing Sean by the collar, forcing the frantic, fidgety man to stay still- at least a little so he could explain himself.

“Who has him?” he asked through clenched teeth, he knew he shouldn't be mad at Sean but he was. Whatever happened, they were supposed to be watching each other.

He felt Karen's hand on his shoulder but paid it no mind.

“We were just riding around, found some O’driscal camp out North. I swear I didn't mean to leave him, but we were surrounded and I thought he’d get out on his own-”

“You left him?!”

“I heard a horse bolt and I thought he was on it-”

“Bullshit, you're a goddamn coward, Sean-”

“Arthur!” Karen shouted from behind him.

Arthur's grip on Sean loosed enough for Karen to drag him away, muttering comforting words to him.

Arthur was out of camp in less than a minute, pushing his horse to the limit, blowing past trees, towns, and other riders until he came across your horse, standing in the middle of the road, dried blood covering its left side.

He breathed out slowly, hopping off his horse, taking slow, careful steps towards the spooked thing, hesitating for a moment before petting him.

“That's it..” he muttered, listening to the horse whiny, “I know, I know. I'll find him..”

Arthur caught a glimpse of something moving out of the corner of his eye, just beyond the tree line. He took the lead of your horse and guided him off the road, carefully watching the barely hidden man. The only thing keeping Arthur from seeing him was the shadow cast by the trees and the rapidly falling sun.

With his hand hovering over his pistol, he gave your horse one last look before a sudden shiny glint caught his attention. He didn't think, whipping his pistol from its leather holder and firing, watching the glint disappear and the shadowy figure falls back.

Letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding, he walked forward into the treeline, glancing down at the body, and the gun in its hand, then stepping over it.

~~~~~~~~~

Your own senseless muttering was the only thing keeping you awake, pain searing across every part of your body, blood pooling beneath you, dripping from your wounds, down to your feet, and into the waiting puddle below. The quiet dripping of your blood had become too soothing, too rhythmic- in your exhausted form it had begun lulling you to sleep.

You knew you couldn’t, you weren’t stupid enough to let that happen. You’ve seen guys twice your size with wounds yards milder than yours take little naps and never wake up. You weren’t going to risk it.

You blinked in the darkness, you’re husband will be here soon. Sean rode out like his ass was on fire, camp was only a couple of miles away, Arthur will ride in here, ready to blow the whole damn camp- and every O’Driscoll he sees- sky high. You laughed at the thought, wincing when the slight move aggravated every open wound, as well as the robe burns around your wrist.

The door behind you slammed open, the pitch-black room was suddenly flooded with the warm, mid-day sunlight.

Heavy footsteps thudded behind you, getting louder and louder as they came towards you. Without warning, your hair is pulled back, your scalp flared with pain, but subsides quickly. You locked eyes with the man, tall and pale, yet so strong, as you had learned over the past few hours.

“How many times do I have to tell you to shut up?” he growled, a forced glare on his face.

You opened your mouth to respond, something hurtful and defiant, just as all of your other words had been. But you couldn’t, your throat was dry, and the bruise on your cheek was sweltering. So you just stared at the man.

There was a sudden thud from outside, then another, and another.

You blinked hard, the tall man let go of you, hand on his holster, creeping towards the door. He peaked around the door, glanced at you with that same forced glare, then back out the door. When breathed in deeply, then jumped into the doorway, whipping his gun out as fast as he could. It was in his hand maybe half a second before he was shot at least four times, falling back when the first two hit him square in the face, the other two must have just been for fun, once in the neck, then in the chest.

Unnecessary, rageful- more thuds came from outside, shouting, screaming, gunshot. You closed your eyes, letting your head hang low, finally relaxing your strained neck. You were being rescued.

~~~~~~~~~

The O’Driscoll camp wasn't hard to find, from afar, it looked normal, a couple of guys sat in an unhorsed wagon, drinking, and laughing, a couple more were cooking around a fire. Two were standing guard outside the door of a shack, the only permanent building in the camp, all holding guns. Every last member of the O’Driscoll camp.

Arthur breathed out, he wanted to think this out, he wanted to be reasonable, he wanted to sneak you out the back, a quiet escape. But it was too peaceful here, they were having too nice of a day and you were somewhere, hurt- or…worse- and they didn't care or better yet they were happy about it. About your pain.

Arthur checked his gun, then his knife, it's all he needed.

Then, he charged.

The first man to notice him didn't even get to get a word out before being met with a bullet, the next four followed the same fate. The last man from around the fire made a perfect hostage. Young, the whole crew jumped when he was grabbed. Arthur held a gun to his head, one arm around his throat, glaring at the others as they closed in around him.

“Let ‘im go!” one of the men shouted, gun trained on Arthur.

He wouldn't shoot, it was too close of a shot.

“I'm only gonna ask once,” Arthur yelled, the man shrunk away from him, “Where is y/n!”

Silence.

Arthur pulled the hammer of his gun back.

“We don't know no ‘y/n’, whoever the hell he is, he ain't here!” the same man as before shouted.

Arthur blinked, then pulled the trigger. The man hung limply in his grip for a second before he let him crumble to the floor. A bullet flew past Arthur's ear a second later.

Somebody here is fast- a shame he can't aim.

Arthur shot the five men down before anymore could pull their guns.

The camp erupted into a mix of shouting orders, and screams of pain as Arthur made his way through the camp. His gun was holstered in exchange for a knife and his bare fist.

Another man, also young with dark hair, watched with wide horrified eyes as Arthur practically tore a man open with his knife, then set his sights on him. Running didn't work, he didn't get very far. Jerked back by the back of his collar, turned around with so much force his legs gave up on coordination and ended up in a heap. Arthur held him by his rumpled, red shirt.

“Where is he?!” Arthur said through gritted teeth, his voice deep and guttural, panting from the force he'd used on every man in this camp who stood in very similar positions to the man he was holding right now.

“The shack-” the man nearly cried, choking on his own breath, “it’s-it’s where we keep our meat.”

Arthur shoved the man to the floor, his back hitting the ground with enough force to crack it.

In the short moment he had- he could hear more members of the camp coming- he reloaded his gun.

Two O’Driscolls came from behind a large tent. Arthur got them in one shot, straight through both mens chests, they collapsed on top of each other in a soon-to-be rotting heap.

The rush of O’Driscoll’s was brought to a quick and brutal end. The last line of defense for the meat shack- for you- was a tall, pale man.

With bullets to spare, Arthur emptied the barrel of his gun into the man, storming into the shack. It was dark, the soft light the sun provided wasn't enough, old wood creaking beneath his boots as he took slow, careful steps inside. Vague figures, six, hanging from the ceiling.

Even in the dark, he recognized you immediately. His heart sank as you hung there, unmoving.

A sudden deep breath broke the silence, then a groan. You shifted slightly against the rope around your wrist, muttering something as you did.

Holstering his gun, he sped over to you, putting both hands on your face, and even in the impossibly low light he could still see your eyes staring straight into his.

Cutting you down and carrying you out was a blur, he didn't look at you, your body, he didn't think he could, not with how he was now. He knew you were hurt, you'd hissed painfully when he picked you up, and despite his attempts to keep his eyes off of you, he could see that your shirt, at the very least, was torn and stained with blood.

He felt like he was burning, even with the camp extirpated and you safe in his arms. He still felt a furor building in his chest as he searched for your horses.

Your head rested against his chest, eyes just barely open, vision entirely blurred.

Unaware of your surroundings, you let Arthur’s familiar presence take you over. Listening to his ragged breath and pounding heart.

You don't remember being brought to camp or dozing off, but you felt better, your arms felt lighter and your head had stopped spinning, you could feel bandages on your shoulder, stomach, and leg. You blinked, looking down at yourself, your clothes had been changed, they were mismatched but comfortable. Resting your head back against the cot, glancing around the little camp Arthur had set up.

Kneeling by the fire, swearing under his breath as he stared into the hanging pot.

Pushing yourself up, you realized how sore your wrists still were, but you pushed passed it. Finding your barrings, you walked over to him, feeling dirt and twigs crunch under your boots. Arthur, staring so deeply into the pot, so frustrated with everything and everyone, did not hear you coming.

You sat behind him, wrapping your arms around him, squeezing him tight, feeling his warmth envelope your aching body.

“Hey, Hon..” you muttered into his neck, your throat was a little sore, you realized.

His hand found yours quickly, but they lingered on your wrist, over what would soon be scars. You breathed deeply, setting your head on his shoulder.

“Rope burn ‘s no joke”

You heard him breathe out.

“I was so…” he started, trying to find the word.

Enraged, pissed, livid, angry-

“..scared. With Sean riding into camp the way he did I couldn't help but think the worst.”

Sighing, you moved carefully to sit next to him. Your bruises ached, your cuts and gashed burned, and the bullet wound in your shoulder felt like hell, but you smiled.

“You know I'm not going anywhere, not without you. If I'm going to hell you bet your ass I'm taking you with me.”

Hd smiled softly, “I know, I know,”

Stirring the pot a bit, he said “Food’s not gonna be done for a while.”

“How long?”

“‘Bout an hour.”

You hummed, leaning your head on his shoulder, a moment passed, you pressed a kiss into the leather of his coat, another moment passed, you kissed his neck, right under his jaw. You felt him shift his head to the side.

A few more moments and a few more kisses later he pulled away. He was already hesitant to reciprocate, he'd seen the extent of your injuries when he was cleaning you up, it was a hard sight to see. So many cuts and bruises that no matter how hard he tried he couldn't keep track of them all.

The second he reciprocated, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him, kissing you slowly, his hand curling around your hip- he pulled away when a small, pained noise left your throat.

Guilt immediately flooded Arthur, his heart clenching, then dropping into his stomach when you moved your pants down to reveal a deep purple bruise. Still fresh and no doubt painful.

He mumbled your name as you checked out the bruise, then fixed your pants, looking back up at Arthur like nothing had happened.

“I’m okay,” you said, your mood clearly not phased the way Arthur’s was.

“I’m sorry..”

You hummed, getting close and leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Don’t be.”

“You know I can't help it..”

You pressed a short kiss into the crook of his neck.

“Then make it up to me.”

It was a well known fact that Arthur was wrapped around your finger, you knew it, he knew it, and all your friends at camp knew it. So it didn't take much begging, despite his better judgment.

His brain was screaming at him- you were hurt, covered in bruises. Sex would not make you better, it would actually make you worse.

Yet here he was, kneeling on the cot with you laying in front of him, a relaxed smile on your face as he popped each button on you pants open. You spread your legs, hanging them over Arthur’s hips. He hesitated.

Your hands found his in a moment, pulling them up to your lips and kissing from his wrist all the way up to the tips of his fingers. He sat there silently admiring you, every touch of your lips stinging him with a feeling of both guilt and need.

You stopped with a bite, taking the tip of his thumb in your mouth, biting with just a little bit of pressure. Then you kissed it like you had done all the others. It brought to mind a rougher memory, with you at his mercy, with him doing nothing while watching you writhe, pleas falling from your lips rapidly.

He blinked and the memory was gone.

Arthur let out a slow, unsteady breath. Then leaned down, burying his face in your neck, listening to your breath, feeling your pulse, kissing your exposed skin. Hearing the relieved sigh you let out, he began to grasp just how much you wanted him.

With practices ease, he blindly unbuttoned your shirt, moving from marking your neck to marking your exposed chest.

As gently as he could muster, he ran his hands down your sides, feeling the hard, hot bruises that littered your body.

You breathed out as he went farther and farther down, from your neck, to your chest, all the way down to your barely exposed hip. His fingers in two belt loops, slowly tugging your pants lower and lower. He kissed every inch of your skin, and every time he exposed more, he devoured it.

Pulling back to take your pants all the way off, nearly disturbing the now healing cut that went across your thigh. Your already hard cock rested against your stomach. Balling up your pants and setting them to the side. Resisting the urge to run his hands across each scab that had formed on your skin. A deep-seated urge to soothe and comfort, but he knew he couldn't do much more than he already had.

He pressed into you slowly, holding your hip steady in his hands, your thighs flinching several times, bitting down on to your lip as the pain of being stretched open lit every nerve in you body. Letting out a rigid, stuttered breath as he slowly pulled out after a moment of waiting- your hand squeezing his arm, giving him permission to move.

He did, holding your body close to his, reveling in every little whimper and moan, no matter how small. His praise boundless and constant as he thrust into you. You could feel him holding back, you’ve been with Arthur far too long to no know- he’s doing it for your well-being- you probably couldn’t handle more that what he’s giving you now.

Your body clung to Arthur’s as you came, your own shattered breath was the only sound you could hear for a long moment. Slowly releasing Arthur from your crushing grip, you blinked as your vision - which you hardly even realized was skewed- became clear again, and the mildly worried face of your lover came into view.

You couldn't help but smile- not that you wanted to let help it- especially as relief flooded his rigid figure.

“‘You okay?”

You nodded, shutting your eyes for a moment, finding that opening them became harder with every second that passed. You could hear Arthur talking, small mutters to you or to himself, your words only came out as a quiet, incoherent noise. You were exhausted, but quite happy. Even as your body settled and new pains set in with the old ones. You were happy.

#male reader #male!reader #x male reader #male y/n #arthur morgan x male reader #arthur morgan x male!reader #red dead redemption 2 x male reader #red dead redemption 2 x male!reader #red dead redemption 2 #✮ — z boy

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issdisgrace · 2 years ago

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Sean: Truth or Dare

Y/n: Dare

Sean: I dare you to walk by Dutch, say something about his ass, then slap it

Y/n: What the fuck. You trying to get me kicked out of the gang or something?

Sean: Don’t be such a pussy. I doubt Dutch would kick you out of the gang

Y/n: Fine, I’ll do it. I ain’t a pussy

Sean: Well, go on then.

Y/n gets up contemplating why they said yes to playing truth or dare with Sean. Causally walks by Dutch, who is talking with Arthur

Y/n: *Whistles* Nice ass *Slaps it and walks away*

Cue a very stunned Dutch, then cue Arthur just laughing his ass off in pure disbelief of what had just happened

#never play truth or dare with sean #he comes up with crazy ass dares #sean macguire #dutch van der linde #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #sean macguire x male reader #sean macguire x reader #dutch van der linde x male reader #dutch van der linde x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 x male reader #ryans incorrect quotes

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eccentricallygothic · 9 months ago

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|| The Farmer's Way ||

Description: With the gang gone for good, Arthur had retired and you were his reward. Or so he believed.

Pairing: Dark!Arthur Morgan | Gender-Neutral Spouse!You.

Disclaimer: I (sadly) do not own Arthur Morgan or the RDR universe. This story contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact.

Warning(s): Noncon/Dubcon, gross stuff because that's all I think about while playing the game, age gap, groping, dirty talk, degradation, doggy style, penetration, spanking, biting/marking, sexism, wife kink but it doesn't matter what you identify as because he's gross like that so tw for sure.

Note: Fair warning, he's a bit of a sicko and I am a mental slut. Also this is kinda my first time with gender neutral smut so I am very sorry if I got something wrong. I am willing to rectify if I did make any such mistake.

The hot June air blew past you and pricked at your rather pampered skin. You felt a droplet of sweat trickle down your temple as you winced and shielded your face from the sun, the rays now attacking the skin of your arm instead. A grunt escaped you when you willed your feet, which were clad in some glittery pumps, to push on towards the huge barn of your family farm. A string of disgusted curses foxed their way out of your mouth when the smell of dung and hay wafted into your nostrils from the giant red wooden box that was literally radiating stinky heat.

Your feet halted right outside the heavy double doors and you had to take a long breath to brace yourself before you entered. Your features scrunched in disdain as you tried to hold your breath, clutching the cool jug and glass that you were holding tighter as you slipped inside before the weight of the door caused it to close by itself. Clenching your jaw to focus on the task at hand, you slowly walked forwards and concentrated on your breathing to ensure you didn't inhale any of the barn filth.

It was a fairly easy piece of work.

Give the lemonade to your husband and leave.

Simple, right?

No.

Not when said husband is Arthur Morgan.

As his fingers wrapped around your wrists to keep you from leaving after you had placed the jug and glass down, your breath hitched as you felt a bile rise in your throat from pure disgust. The dust and sweat on his fingers was gut wrenching.

"Fixin' to leave already?" His other hand came up to tangle in one of the two silky ribbons you wore on both sides of your head in half ponytails after he had pulled you against his hard chest, the coarse hairs on his chest scratching the skin of your back. "I was missin' you so much, baby" you uneasily shifted in his hold, goosebumps rising on your skin when you felt his fingers trail up from your wrist to your forearm. "It's almost like you showed up 'cause you read my mind" you could barely suppress your gasp as your body jumped in reaction to his stubbly lips suddenly finding your ear.

"I…" Your voice was a mere squeak and you had to concentrate to make yourself sound a bit less pathetic. "I left the food on the stove" your eyes fluttered shut before clenching as you suppressed the urge to retch at both the feeling and smell, arm folding to let your elbow press into the side of his torso. The man only hummed as his browned and dirty hands felt you up, basically frisking your barely clad body as his lips pressed rushed kisses against your neck. "A- Arthur!" You flinched when he bit down on a hickey on the junction of your neck, fingers finding your nipples through the sheer fabric of one of the many silk dresses he made you wear.

The older man did not budge, only grunting when you probed his chest harder, hips trying to wriggle free. "The grub can wait, hush now" your limbs screamed at you to fight. Try and push him away. Hit him with something. Make a run for it. Never look back. "Mmm, baby" your eyes teared up when his other hand slipped from the ribbon to trail down your abdomen and to your nether regions. "If it was up to me, I'd keep ya bare as a jaybird 'round the clock" your jaw clenched at his words but you knew better than to hurl the heavy jug that was in front of you against his head.

Because you had done stuff like that countless times in the beginning of your forced marriage seven months ago.

Except, you had no idea how but your husband had somehow trained and kept a number of wolves to guard the property only God knew how.

No one could come in and you could never leave.

The punishments that you had been subjected to upon trying to do so were more than enough to keep you on your best behavior.

"Oh, darlin', you taste mighty fine" you were flipped and easily backed into one of the many stables. "Now, let me try out that pretty little mouth" your eyebrows scrunched as you craned your neck backwards to get away from him. The reverberations of Arthur's chuckle buzzed through your chest as he pressed into you and left you trapped and helpless. "Ain't ya just a foolish little thing? Thinkin' you can get away from your old man?" His rough palms cupped your face as he dipped his head in, chasing your lips with his own and snickering when you tried to move.

When you had seen this mysterious cowboy turn up to buy your family farm off of your useless brother seven months ago, you had not thought much of it. Sure, you were angry that his gambling had ended him up in so much debt that he had no choice but to sell off your family legacy, but you had bright plans with your scholarship program at a prestigious college, and you had been so ready to leave this life that you had never liked much in the first place behind for one of revolution and modernity.

Only, when all of your documentation as well as your brother and his family disappeared the night before your final departure, the then stranger and now your husband revealed that you had been part of the deal.

As Arthur fucked into you on your wedding night -as he had promised your brother that he would not take you before that-, the man had confessed how lovely you had looked resting on a tree branch as you chewed on your lip, completely engrossed in your book.

You knew alcohol and the colorful powders that your brother loved to use had done his mind in, but handing you off like merchandise to a man with no regard for your orientation or taste was something you had never expected from him. Not after he had been your legal guardian for so long.

But then again, he never understood your ways and thought revolution was a blasphemy.

In your brother's world, you either did the hard work on the field or became a field worker's home runner.

And your open disdain for the farm work had earned you the latter.

The irony was laughable, because he probably thought he was protecting you by choosing a secure future for his baby sibling. The right thing.

Your spark had always scared him, and so he suppressed it once and for all under the mundaneness of the farm by locking you up in his own kind of a gilded cage and handing the keys to the man who was all over you at the moment.

'Excitement is a double edged sword. It is thrilling and promising but it can also be dangerous.' That you couldn't deny.

The thrumming in your nether regions was proof.

Frightening, shameful, repulsive proof.

"Arthur…" You whimpered as your vision zeroed in on his rough lips that brushed against yours soon before pressing into them.

The man moaned, rubbing his crotch against yours as he deepened the kiss by tilting his head to the side and forcing his tongue in your mouth, the taste of cigarettes and coffee making you cringe and try to move away but a tight squeeze to your ass with his coarse hand made you gasp and hence open your mouth. Then his tongue was down your throat.

Everything was rough and dirty about him.

You hated it.

Sometimes he purposely rubbed his filth against your clean clothes and body to add insult to injury. He would laugh as you would hold your breath and try to get away only to be trapped between his strong body and some surface. Arthur would then watch you squirm and struggle until you ran out of breath and had no choice but to inhale his scent.

"Dang it, I can't hold back no more" Arthur was panting when he finally broke off to let you both breathe, one of his hands bolting down to his belt while the other one held you steady. "I need ya right now…" The kiss had flushed your lips and you could feel the change in size as you ran your tongue over them to accumulate some moisture. "You gonna be good and take it for me, darlin', won't ya?" And while your brain screamed at you to know better, you squeezed your legs and whined, taking deep breaths as one of your fists bunched some of his sweaty shirt in it.

"Arthur…" A small smirk made its way on his face while he hurriedly relieved himself of all decency. He recognized that tone.

"Now ya know better than to call me that, baby" heat spread across your cheeks as you whimpered, biting your lip before you lowered your head and reached for his hand that was pinching one of your nipples through your sheer dress. "Go on now, you know my preference" your eyes fluttered shut as you took a shaky breath, massaging the hand that was toying with your chest and arching your back.

"... H- Hubby…" Arthur cursed under his breath like he always did whenever he got you to call him that. Then he reached out for your other hand and brought it to his erect cock, the feeling of its thick veins against your soft fingertips causing your hole to clench around air.

"Aw, shit, darlin'" he guided your hand up and down his twitching cock. "Can ya feel it?" His body pressed against yours. "This here is what ya do to me" the tip of his organ released some hot precum and you couldn't help but shudder at the memories it triggered.

Memories of how it felt inside you.

Before you knew it, as always, reason was out the window before you could grab onto it and your mind had decided shame could come later. Who knew when or if you would ever make it out of here and Arthur was way too good at making you feel strange things that kept you giving into him for more.

"Please, hubby" you whispered, unable to hold back anymore as you worked your wrist to please him. "Please…"

"Please, what, baby?" He pecked your lips over and over before moving down to the corner of your mouth and then further along your jaw. "Use your words for me" his lips locked around a patch of your delicate skin as he sucked, causing you to bend your back outwards. "Get, now."

"P- Please take me…" You shuddered as the sound of his lips forming yet another bruise along the expanse of your neck grew louder and louder in the air. "Please… please…" You couldn't get yourself to utter any more obscenity than that.

"You mean you want me to fuck you?" Your heart dropped at the bluntness of his words, the feeling of his stubbly lips curling against your skin almost making you want to retreat, but only almost.

Besides, you couldn't leave on your accord even if you wanted to.

Though you really didn't want to leave this barn anymore.

Not before the ache between your legs was relieved.

When you didn't respond verbally, Arthur clicked his tongue as he came back up to face you and reached for his hat before placing it on your head. He loved to take you like that. "Come on, darlin'. You know I ain't gon' do nothin' 'til you say it for me" but then one of his hands creeped between your legs to caress your intimate part and your legs trembled in reaction; body submitting at once.

Taking in a deep and shaky breath, you braced yourself before mumbling out your words, hoping and praying they were enough for him because you knew as well as you knew it was day that you didn't have any more indecency in you to talk the kind of filth he could with a straight face.

"P- Please fuck me, hubby…" One of his eyebrows raised as he leaned in closer.

"I'm sorry, what was that there?" You almost choked his cock between your fingers but you knew better than hostility.

"I- I said…"

"You said?"

Your jaw clenched in annoyance because you were so needy all thanks to his dirty hands and now he was not helping.

"I said p- please fuck me, hubby" you said as clearly as you possibly could, tone almost blunt.

He finally seemed intent. "Your wish is my command, darlin'" the man had you flipped and bent over the stable before you could even register it.

Your gaze settled on the little pony in front of you as you felt his stiff tip prod your entrance, the foreplay having lubed his cock more than enough. Since you weren't allowed to wear underwear, the lack of it granted him easier access to you and Arthur was sliding in with a grunt a moment later, squeezing both your ass cheeks at the same time as he cursed.

"Fuck, baby. You're the tightest little thing I've ever laid down with" your fingers gripped the stable as you jumped when he landed a spank to one of your cheeks, slowly moving through you to get you to adjust. "Shit, look at you. Such a pretty little farm wife, baby" your face scrunched up in both discomfort and sensory overload due to how sensitive you felt down there.

"Please…" Your mouth always betrayed you in moments like these despite your best efforts to stay as quiet as possible.

But it felt even better when you let it get the best of you and drown you completely, the vile words coming out of your own mouth adding to the pressure between your hips before stars exploded in your vision.

"Please what, sweet little thing?" You felt his chest drape over your back as he rubbed his stubbly cheek against yours, hips starting to find a rhythm as the speed of his thrusts increased.

"Please… more" you couldn't help but lean your face against his to withstand the sensitivity, eyes fluttering as you chewed on your bottom lip in concentration, your velvety walls sheathing his veiny cock with every push.

Arthur's chest reverberated against your back. "Ya act like you're too good for all this, but deep down you're just a horny little hussy, ain't ya darlin'?" You whined loudly as you clenched around him, starting to move your own hips against his now. "Jus' look at you, whinin' and squeezin' 'round me in front of li'l Sally like a silly 'lil jezebel" that was what you had named the pony that stared at you with her curious eyes. "But ya love that deep down, don't ya?" Your eyebrows furrowed when his words started to crack the haze that had formed in your mind, making you lower your head to cancel him out and focus on your relief.

But you could never win with Arthur.

"You can go on ahead and deny it all you want. But this trashy li'l hole of yours tells me all I need to know everytime, honey" his lips bluntly moved against the shell of your ear as he gathered one of your knees in his hands and pushed it up against the frame of the stable before finding its way to your nipples again, other hand gliding down to the quivering organ between your legs.

As Arthur's hips sped up and your body started to rock back and forth against the wooden frame with each powerful thrust, the sound of skin clapping against its like filled up the smelly barn. His hat fell over your eyes and you knew you were in for a long day.

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nevadancitizen · 2 months ago

Text

-> CH. 1: SOMEWHERE (FAR, FAR) EAST OF THE MOJAVE

synopsis: you wake up in some cabin, half-frozen to death. a man named arthur finds you and decides to have mercy on you, as do his associates.

word count: 3k

ships: Arthur Morgan/Modern!Reader, Van der Linde Gang & Reader

notes: if anyone wants me to start a taglist just lmk <3!! also there's a PROLOGUE before this, please read it before reading this :)

THE OLD SOUL OF AMERICA MASTERLIST

It’s cold. Above everything else, it’s fucking cold.

You screw your eyes shut tighter, curling in on yourself. You’re vaguely aware that you’re on your side and in a fetal position.

There’s a light, faintly, somewhere behind you. You let out a hiss that tapers off into a groan and draw your arms over your head.

“Hey!” A voice shouts. It’s growly and abrasive-sounding. There’s the sound of a revolver’s hammer cocking. “Turn around. Face me.”

You prop your forearm on the floor and push yourself up with more effort than you think would be needed. You pant softly, and your breath mists in front of your mouth. You manage to hold yourself up with both hands on the floor and turn your head to look at the man.

He’s tall in a way that makes him look down his nose at you. His silhouette is stark against the door – there’s snow outside. You don’t remember it to be… snowing. It’s May in southern California. It doesn’t snow in May in southern California.

The man looks you over, his revolver still pointed at you. His hand is unwavering.

“I’m sorry,” you say. You don’t know why. “Is this your house?”

“No,” the man says simply. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“I’m…” You look down at your hands, the way they’re braced against the floor. “I don’t know. I think…”

Your arms shake, then collapse. Your jaw hits the floor with a dull thud, and your eyes screw shut on instinct.

“Shit,” the man drawls under his breath.

“W-wait! Wait,” you say quickly. “I’m not on anything. I – I’m stone-cold sober. Like Steve Austin.”

You force a laugh and manage to open your eyes to look at the man. He looks confused – maybe a little disgusted? It’s hard to tell.

“Like, the wrestler?” You say. “Stone Cold Steve Austin?”

The man lowers his revolver, just a little, so that it’s not pointed at your head, but still in your general direction. It’s obvious he doesn’t know what you’re talking about, in any capacity. Maybe he won’t shoot you if he thinks you’re insane? (Or maybe that would just give him more of an incentive to kill you.)

“Just – just ignore me,” you say. (Again, you don’t know why. You don’t want to be ignored – you’re very obviously in bad shape.) “I don’t know where I am. I remember being in California, just north of Los Angeles.”

The man scoffs and checks over his shoulder, like he’s checking he’s not being duped. He looks back at you. “California? Really?”

“Yes,” you say softly. You wrap your jacket tighter around yourself the best you can with the way that you’re laying. “South. Right near Mexico – Tijuana.”

The man tilts his head and takes a half-step closer. “You’re bleedin’.”

“I am?” You manage to move your arm and see dried brown blood on your jacket laced with redder, fresher blood. “I am.”

“I just…” You shift, curling in on yourself further. Now that he’s pointed it out, you do feel some type of dull pain in your abdomen. “I’ll be okay. Don’t call for a doctor, or an ambulance. Please don’t call an ambulance. I – I’ll get to a hospital on my own.”

The man shifts on his feet. Was it always this cold? It’s… it’s so fucking cold. And no matter how much you curl in on yourself, there’s no warmth.

The black returns.

There’s snippets of conversations you can pick up on over the sound of feet shuffling and the sound of wind blowing outside. One woman gives a few demands to others, while another woman announces that “Davey’s dead.”

You can feel yourself being lifted and laid on something that’s hard against your back. You groan and try to open your eyes and sit up, but can’t.

The voices grow quieter. There’s a man making some sort of speech – you can’t make out the words.

You know you’re wavering in and out. There’s the warmth of a man’s hand on your shoulder, and a murmuring voice, still fading in and out: “I commend you… your Creator… who formed you from the dust… angels, and all the saints…”

It takes all your strength to lift your hand and grab him – some part of him. You can barely open your eyes and can’t make out a lot. “Not… dead yet. Fucking pr…preacher.”

Black again. There’s a repetitive, stinging pain in your side.

Awake, again. Somehow. A woman, her face worn but still beautiful, hovers over you. Her wrinkles are stark in the lantern light.

“Hello?” You say, your voice a bit slurred.

The woman turns and calls another woman over – this one much younger than her. “Miss Jackson, get Dutch. Let him know Arthur’s friend is awake.”

Miss Jackson turns and walks off with a “Yes, Miss Grimshaw.”

“Arthur?” You interject. “Is that the man who found me?”

Miss Grimshaw turns back to you. “Yes, Arthur’s the one who found you. I don’t know why he didn’t shoot you.”

You wait for her to say something more. She doesn’t.

“Where am I?” You try. “I remember being in California, just outside of the Mojave. But the Mojave doesn’t get snow in May.”

“That’s because you’re not in the Mojave,” Miss Grimshaw says. “We’re in the Grizzlies.”

“Th…the Grizzlies?” You echo. “Like, Appalachia?”

“Somewhere in there, yes,” she says. “You been out a few days now. Reverend read you your last rites a handful of times.”

You try to sit up, but groan and lay back down. She pushes you down as well, a scowl on her face.

The door opens with a gust of cold wind. A man steps in, then quickly shuts the door behind him. He hurries over, rubbing his gloved hands together.

He looks you over, then drags a nearby chair over and sits. “What’s your name, friend?”

You give him your name.

“My name is Dutch,” Dutch says. “Dutch van der Linde. I think you know by now that you’ve caught us at an… inconvenient time. And you’ll forgive us for not trusting you right away.”

“No, I get that,” you say. “I just… I need a map or something. I need to get back home.”

Dutch beckons for Miss Grimshaw to bring over a map. He opens it and holds it out to you.

You sit up, slowly, making sure not to do anything too sudden. When you’re upright, you take the map from him and look it over. You don’t recognize anything on the map, but one point piques your interest – the date. The year reads 1891.

“Sir, I don’t mean to be rude, but…” You point to the year. “This map seems a little out of date.”

“It’s just eight years,” Miss Grimshaw says. “Most everything is the same.”

You glance up at her, then at Dutch, then at the people around the cabin. Your fingers twitch and crumple the map a bit.

This is a dream! I’m in a coma! Your mind shouts. I’m in a medically-induced coma because I was shot and holy hell – how the fuck did I go from 2024 to 1899?!

“Right, right,” you say instead. “Sorry. I’m just being nitpicky.”

“Where’re you from?” Dutch asks.

“California. Near the Mojave,” you say. “Out west.”

“And you would leave all that… virgin paradise…” Dutch laughs and gestures vaguely around him. “For this?”

“I don’t know how I got here,” you say. “I’ve been saying that since I woke up. I don’t…” You shake your head.

“Well, I’m sure we can get you back to your home,” Dutch says. “We’re persevering folk. Do you recognize anything – anything at all – on that map?”

You look down at the map again. It’s all unfamiliar. “No. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, my friend,” Dutch says, reaching a hand out like it’s meant to soothe. “You’re a soul in need. I’m sure we can figure something out somehow. Can you at least tell me what your home is like?”

This is a coma, you remind yourself. I can just make something up. I’m not some person that couch-surfed for half my life. I can be whoever.

“I… it’s odd,” you say to buy yourself some time. You say the first thing that comes to mind. “There’s a few tribes that live in Zion Canyon – the Dead Horses and the Sorrows. I was a courier delivering goods to the Dead Horses. There were two men there that convinced me to stay.”

A Black man – broad, intimidating, with long, dark hair – perks up at the mention of tribes. His dark (almost black, honestly) eyes find yours, then he looks down at the floor again.

“None of it rings a bell,” Dutch says. “But, these men – what’re their names?”

It’s in that exact moment that you realize you just prattled off part of the storyline of Fallout: New Vegas. Then you realize that, if this really is 1899, no one here would know what you’re talking about.

“Joshua Graham and Daniel,” you say. “They’re white – they work with the natives and help them trade. Joshua’s acting as the Dead Horses’ war chief and Daniel is a healer that works with the Sorrows.”

Yes. You’re totally friends with Joshua Graham and Daniel and the Dead Horses and the Sorrows. And from the way Dutch nods solemnly, you think he believes you.

You hold out the map and he takes it back, folding it neatly.

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” you say. “I’ve never even been this far east before.”

“Don’t worry,” Dutch says. “You can stay with us, for the time being. At least until we get to some… some town, or city. Let you rest your feet while you recover. We’re a gang of… violent criminals and degenerates, but we care. I can’t say the same for the rest of America.”

Your hand instinctively goes to your side, where you felt the stinging, repetitive pain earlier. “Right. My side doesn’t feel as bad as before. Thank you for that.”

You look around and slowly swing your feet over the side of the table. A lightning arc of pain shoots down your leg, causing you to gasp and tense. As with everything else, you force through it and stand.

“I need to get some air,” you say. Dutch just nods. You walk (shamble, really) to the door and open it, slipping outside.

The cold is even worse out here. There’s footpaths in the snow. You stick your hands under your arms and walk one. It leads to a man standing by a fire in front of a cabin, dressed in a winter poncho with a gun in his hands.

You hold your hands out towards the fire and rub your hands together. It doesn’t replace the warmth you had while you were inside, but it’s still something.

“What’s your name?” The man asks. He shifts the rifle in his hands, but doesn’t move to point it at you. (An improvement, if a small one.)

You give him your name. “What about you?”

“Javier,” Javier says. “Javier Escuella.”

“Where are you from?” You shift your focus to the fire. “Not trying to be rude. It’s just that there’s a few ‘Javier’s where I’m from.”

“Northern Mexico,” Javier says. “You?”

“I’m originally from the South, but I live in the Mojave. I moved to the Frontier to be closer to my sister,” you say. “So I guess we weren’t that far off from each other.”

You look up at the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow. It’s the man from way earlier – Arthur. You look back at the fire instead.

Arthur nods at Javier and spares a glance at you before entering the cabin. People are talking inside, and you catch a snippet of voices before Arthur closes the door again.

“It’s too cold to be May,” Javier says. You can tell he’s trying to be polite by making conversation. “I’m not designed for this snow.”

“I know, right?” You laugh under your breath. “Neither am I. I’d go back inside, but I don’t want to intrude. Any more than I already have, anyway.”

“It’s below freezing,” he says. “Everyone needs shelter. Come on.”

With that, Javier turns and walks into the cabin, holding the door open behind him for you. You thank him and follow him inside.

Inside is a group of men and the overwhelming smell of cigarette smoke. You tense when they all turn to face you. Most of them are, in fact, smoking. You nod politely and tuck yourself into a corner, next to a man with a blond mustache.

A hefty man is sitting across from the blond man, and a much younger Black man is sitting on a table next to him. Javier is by the door, and you try your best to ignore Arthur’s huge presence beside you. You can see him throw a small log into the woodstove out of the corner of your eye.

The man sort-of across from you looks at you, then returns his gaze to the man sitting beside you. “I guess folks miss them… that fell.”

“Well, when I fall, I don’t want no fuss,” the man beside you says.

“When you fall…” The young man waves his hand, which is holding a lit cigarette. “There’ll be a party.”

“A party!” The hefty man echoes, laughing. “Hah, probably.”

You feel the beginnings of a smile start to cross your face. You don’t know these people, and while they aren’t exactly doing their best to welcome you, they aren’t exactly making you feel unwelcome, either.

The man beside you holds out a bottle to you. You hesitantly take it, even though you’re confused. “I don’t want this.”

He pays you no mind and stands, looking down at the man. “That funny, huh?”

“Sure,” the man says, the remnants of laughter still in his voice.

One man strikes another, and it’s loud, absolute chaos. On instinct, your eyes snap to the door. Unblocked. An exit if needed.

Arthur and the young man are holding the hit man back, and the blond man speaks. “Maybe I don’t feel like being laughed at by the likes of you two!”

It’s going to escalate. You can get to the door. Dutch was right – this is a gang of violent criminals and degenerates. One you want nothing to do with.

But Dutch bursts in with a gust of cold wind. As soon as he sees what’s going on, his face twists. The men dissipate from their tight proximity and distance themselves from each other.

“Stop it!” He snaps. “You fools punching each other when Colm O’Driscoll’s needin’ punching – hard! You wanna sit around, waiting for him to come find us?”

Arthur slips out of the door as Dutch continues. “All of you, we got work to do. Come on.”

The men turn and start to file out of the cabin. You can hear Arthur and Dutch talking outside. By the time you’re outside, most of the men are over by the horses or on one of them.

Dutch is talking quietly to Arthur while they’re both mounting up – you couldn’t hear them if you tried. He straightens up on his snow-white horse and shouts. “Mister Matthews, Mister Smith, Mister Pearson, would you please look after the place? There are O’Driscolls about!”

With that, he snaps the reins and his horse darts off. The rest of the men from the cabin, now all on horseback, quickly follow.

You resign yourself to following another footpath. This one leads to a partly-sheltered, partly-dilapidated garage-type-thing with something like a kitchen inside. There’s a deer hoist against the wall, but it’s empty.

Your eyes dart to some sort of cauldron-looking pot hanging over a fire that’s mostly coals. You walk over and hold your hands out to it, trying to get warm again.

“You’re new.”

Your head snaps up to see the broad Black man from earlier. He still has that impassive look on his face.

“Yes, sir, that’s right,” you say. You introduce yourself. “What’s your name?”

“Charles Smith.” Charles walks and stands beside you, mirroring you and putting his hands out towards the fire. “You were talking earlier about tribes.”

“Yeah,” you say. “What about them?”

“I’ve never heard of the ones you were talking about,” he says. His voice is deep and smooth and calm. (You try your best not to latch onto that sense of calmness. You now know how quickly things can turn.)

“The Sorrows and the Dead Horses?” You rub your nose as you try to think of an excuse. “I wouldn’t expect you to. They live in Zion Canyon – in the Mojave. They’re fairly isolated, but they’re good people.”

Charles hums and his eyes return to the fire. You try to think of something to keep the conversation going.

“Who’s Colm O’Driscoll?” You ask. “I’ve heard his name a handful of times.”

“A rival gang leader,” he says. “Runs the O’Driscolls.”

“Oh. Yeah.” You scratch your cheek. “That makes sense.”

A silence settles over the two of you again. Charles must be comfortable with it. Unfortunately, you’re not.

“Is there anything people need done?” You ask, glancing at him. “I don’t like being idle for too long.”

He looks over at the empty deer hoist. “We need food.”

“I’m no good at hunting.” You look at the fire and rub your hands together again. “Sorry.”

“You apologize a lot,” Charles says. His eyes flick to you. “You know you don’t have to do that, right?”

You bite back another apology and force a laugh. Your breath mists in front of your face. “Force of habit.”

Charles hums and his focus returns to the smoldering coals that make up the fire. A nagging thought in the back of your head tells you that you made him mad (even though he’s given literally no indication you’ve done so).

You follow his lead and look at the fire. There’s nothing else to do in this kind of cold, anyway.

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cryvelv3t · 6 months ago

Note

Hi friend, could I request Arthur Morgan with praise + overstim? Smth soft, I'd like to take good care of him :)

Oh hell yeah

Warnings: Vanilla, Overstimulation, Praise, Semi-public (you're in his tent and believe me they aren't helpful)

"Kiss me please." Arthur whispered to you as he closed the tent flap "You sure darling? You don't want to go find a spot?" "No, I want you now. Please darlin'" He walked to you and cupped your face "I love you." You whispered as you slotted your lips together. The kisses were slow and passionate unlike the moments where you two search for a clearing away from the camp. You missed him, his lips, his soft skin, his beard, everything. "Please darlin'." he whispered against your lips "Please what?" "Don't make me say it." You smiled as you pulled away "But hon, I don't know what to do if you're not specific." "Fuck, please touch me. Please love." "of course, my love." Your kisses travelled lower, making their way across his jawline and neck. Arthur's hands found a spot on the back of your neck "Don't stop, please don't stop." Your hand slowly trailed down his body, slipping your hand under his pants you could feel his cock rise to full hardness. "So hard from a couple kisses, so desperate for me." He whimpered quietly at the teasing.

You dipped your head down, your hands lifting his shirt above his belly button and the other pulled his pants down. You kissed from his belly button down to his happy trail "So beautiful, my pretty boy." You whispered relishing in his small groans. You landed an open-mouthed kiss to the tip of his cock; you began sloppily kissing down his cock till you reached the base. You stuck your tongue out and gave one long lick along his dick from base to tip. "Fuck~" He groaned out, his back arching slightly. "Please, please." Arthur's hands found purchase on the back of your head. You slowly bobbed your head up and down his length, his cock felt heavy on your tongue. The weight was comforting almost like a warm hug. You loved Arthur, and you loved his body. You got lost in thought before a loud moan brought you back to your senses. "I'm gonna cum, so good." Soon enough his warm spend filled your throat, you groaned softly at the feeling. You pulled off with a slight cough "You did so good, god you're so perfect." You praised as you leaned back down to kiss him. "You're so handsome." He whispered against your lips. You could feel his body stretching to grab his pack. He handed the oil to you "You want to do it, or should I?" "Give it to me." you stuck your hand out towards him. "Thanks love." He laid back down giving you full control.

Your finger slowly circled his hole loving the way he whimpered. "Come on, don't make me beg. Just do it!" You laughed slightly before doing as he asked. You're finger slowly pumped in and out of his ass, slowly you added another. He looks so beautiful writhing under you, "God you're so beautiful. I love you so much, such a good boy." You smiled down at him as you added a fourth finger "Doing so good." You pulled out grabbing the oil again to lube up your cock and poured a small amount on his hole. Slowly you entered him, his hands pulled you down to him. Arthur slotted your lips together in a needy, passionate kiss. He let out a wince and a few groans as you bottomed out. You moved perfectly in sync, two lovers in a perfect in a perfect harmony. "Doing so good for me." You repeated the praise from earlier, Arthur groaned in response. His hole gripped you like a vice "Start movin'." You pulled away from the kiss while pulling his bottom lip with your teeth. Your hips rocked slowly and gently; Arthur's moans were soft. "So handsome, my beautiful boy." You praised in his ear, the rocking of your hips becoming harsher. His moans grew louder and louder "Shit, hon." You groaned. Your hand moved to his cock, you stroked him quickly bringing him closer to his release. He was already a little overstimulated from you sucking him off. "Fuck~" You groaned. You reached your release deep inside him, his spend ending up all over himself. You kept pumping to prolong both of your orgasms, Arthurs moans out in a mix of pain and pleasure, "t's to much, too much." His back arched. "Okay baby, okay.". God you love him.

#dom male reader #top male reader #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader

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