arthur x female REVERSE COWGIRL or normal cowgirl BUT LIKE SHE WEARS HIS HAT i feel like hes a loud moaner.. just me?
reverse cowgirl riding 𝓐𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒖𝒓 𝓜𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒏 I͙ 🙂↕️
shit-talking sex. reader talked a big game, and arthur is testing her on it. forced creampie, unprotected sex. dubious contexts I͙
“well, c’m on.” arthur said encouragingly, nodding at his lazily undone lap, gesturing towards the obvious. his bulge still sat packed away tightly in his garments, and has been throbbing since it was snug against the denim’s zipper moments ago. “said you was gon’ show me what you were made of.” he continued to comment, pulling at the sides of your hips in an effort of snatching you up and setting you down. arthur didn’t feel like doing any of the work, not this time, but he’d still be sure to set you in your place—literally, your thighs now hung off the sides of his groin, your heated core now grinding into his swollen set. “or was that all talk, too, huh .ᐣ ” he asked once, his back resting against the wooden headboard. “huh .ᐣ ” he beckoned again, expecting an answer. he sat up, rocking his hips back and forth as if he were showing you how to get started. his hands searched, one settled for the curve of your ass, the other was bouncing between the throat of your neck and the strands of hair, choosing where he should begin to grip and grab at. he was sick of your shit, and finally full enough to fail at upholding himself from your teasing temptations and that smart-running mouth of yours.
“would you shut up .ᐣ ” you barked at him, pushing your palm to his chest to return his back against the board. ‘hmm.’ arthur moaned, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. he was right where he wanted to be.
“an’ if i don’t .ᐣ ” arthur said back at you, pulling your face closer to kiss your lips needingly. he was well entertained, enriched and as hard as a rock from the talking tension. his tip was a weeping, leaking mess, but he remained patient; waiting for you to free it from its fabric hold. “you’ll change your mind .ᐣ ” he asked, mockingly. “get yourself off .ᐣ ” he poked at, thrusting upward in between connecting kisses. “i know you hear me talkin’ to you.” his mouth moved to your nape, sucking the skin and sure to leave small bruises for tomorrow.
“arthur,” you fumbled out, the sensation of his tongue dragging along your skin sizzled your thoughts, you needed him off of you to be able to think straight. the second shove sufficed. a loud thud echoed the room as his head smacked into the panel. “there she is.” he said with a laugh and a lustful glimmer in his eyes, he was more than ready to be used.
“come on.” arthur was becoming desperate, but his voice stayed soft in his sarcasm. you slid your hands below your body and into his waistline, raising yourself off of his thighs up enough to let his dick spring free. he groaned at the relief, throbbing instantly with his vocal moan. looking down, you had pooled just enough salvia to spit onto the end of his thickness. you sat again on his now-free weighty sack, your own wetness seeping onto his skin. your toes tucked into the hips of his bones, nestling neatly to keep you secured. leaning over, you held your weight in your hips as you reached over for his hat. it was resting on the bedside table, and arthur always thought his brown and bird-feathered brim looked better on you, anyway.
you placed it on the crown of your head, tipping it towards him with a wink. it was a quick blink, but one he was sure to catch, he was aching underneath you now. before settling in, you swung your legs to twist and turn until your back was flush against his chest. leaning down to grab a hold of his ankles, you showed your whole body to him. he was watching as you moved your ass, shaking it slightly to keep him quiet. his leeching hands split you apart, looking at every last detail; and all of his muscles seemed to simultaneously singe with wicked urges, ready to ram it in if you didn’t hurry up. “christ.” arthur cried out, spreading your legs and humping his best attempt.
you had his swollen shaft in your hold before you were seated again, lining it up with the small slit that sits between your lips. “think i’m full of it, now .ᐣ ” you asked while hovering over him, waiting to hear him out before sinking yourself down own it. “huh .ᐣ ” you said in the same tone he did, cocking your head to the side in waiting for his response.
“still haven’t done it,” arthur spoke into your neck, sweeping your hair out of the way, fighting your pushback to fuck up into your sweet spot. your free hand clawed at his thigh, holding him off but not for much longer. arthur easily overpowered you. “so you tell me.” he said with ease as this wasn’t much of a struggle for him. “are you goin’ to fuck me or not .ᐣ ” he was spitting into your ear, sinking the tip in dangerously with each shove you pushed further away. a tug-of-war, and arthur was winning.
his voice was so dark, demanding even. each taste of it made his growl grow deeper. arthur only sounded like this in rarer occasions, and it was something that could bring you down to your jellied knees for him like nothing else. “when’re you gonna learn .ᐣ ” arthur’s rhetorical words caressed your ear. you had lost, he sank himself into your tight pussy; grunting in heavy breaths as he fucked and filled his way inside— showing that you never truly stood a fair chance, after all. but it was you who was supposed to be doing the work. after a moment, you steadied your hands to arthur’s still-jeaned thighs, clinging onto the material to distribute your weight more evenly.
rocking your hips back and forth, you found a pleasing pace to get used to him with. it always took a bit, never being able to take it all at once, arthur was the perfect anchor to tether yourself to. slowly, you loosened up just enough to enjoy it even more. the position was tricky, painful for you both if you bent against his natural curve too far. arthur slid down the bedspread an inch more, creating a gap for you to fuck your self so faithfully in.
he was able to watch your shallow cunt swallow him halfway whole, dis-and-reappearing with each bob you bounced your ass at in front of him. half his shaft coated in a clear cum, wet from making you work for it. a substance that turned a solid, white cream the more rhythmic your thrusts became.
“shittin’ me, maybe you do know what’chur talkin’ about, girl.” arthur groaned out, his pecks tightening with restricted chords. his veins and vessels were running blood through their tracks faster than any stagecoach or train robbery has yet.
“ain’t seen nothin’ yet, cowboy.” you smiled as you said back at him, dropping to a more comfortable spot, resting on your laid elbows and forearms. here was how you could really throw it, the fat of your ass waving like water, pulling arthur in in more ways than one, up and down, he was entranced.
before he could get over the last set of movements, you had already switched to new ones. he was as stretched as his skin would let him, heat red, and radiating warmth inside of you. rolling your hips, it allowed you to plant your feet— side by side, the balls of your ankle bones sat snuggly into the outside of arthur’s thighs. “come on, honey.” he understood what you were doing, assisting you up in snaking his hand around your lower stomach, dipping his fingers down to where it was drenched. he touched the base of his cock before dragging his fingers along to find your clit. “show me.” he said, matching your speed with his own rhyme to sink the rest of his dick in.
he was so gentle, so sweet in helping you take the stress off of your knees; the two of you were in pure harmony. arthur’s strong arms lifted your thighs perfectly as you pushed your heels into the bed; lunging you up and down on his harden dick. he let go only to watch the weight of your cheeks ripple and rock against his abdomen, trying not to cum from the view.
“darlin’’ he warned once. “you gotta—” arthur tried, tapping the warm flesh of your side; his sign of needing a break. he was so close to cumming, and unluckily for him, you were aware of that, too. arthur breathed out, defeated at the sight and feeling; all being too much. just like your pleas had been earlier, his signals went ignored. his hands flew to your sides, lifting you once more in a much more desperate way. you fought with him, clutching to the cloth before you grabbed the pockets of his pants to lock your hips further down onto him. he was going to fill you. “fuckin’” arthur’s voice collapsed in his callout, “hell.” he said a final time as he came. hot, sticky semen filled your sweet and pretty pussy in ropes of white warmth. it was blissful, feeling so full of arthur’s supply.. pent up and bothering him for days now, driving his desire behind his as-of-late, smart-ass remarks. hearing and watching arthur in this state was the very force that drove you over the edge most of the time; nothing could compare to the witnessing of him unfolding. you felt yourself constrict around him, draining him dry of any spare seed that he may have had left for you. your moans were melodic, whining out as arthur stuffed you full.
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Tags: No use of y/n, reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns, medium to high honor Arthur, first time ass eating, tongue-fucking, fingering, and oral sex (f!receiving and m!receiving). If I missed any tags, please let me know!
Word count: ~1.2K
Read on AO3
A/N: My first time writing for Arthur! Shout out to the anon that said "Arthur Morgan ass eating" in my inbox and nothing more. Love your mind. Lightly proofread (by that I mean I skimmed and barely so). All typos/spelling errors are on me. As always, likes/reblogs/comments are appreciated. Divider by @/saradika-graphics.
On the rare occasion that you and Arthur are able to sneak away for a night, he takes his time with you.
First, it was the languid yet sensual touches in the bath. Hands, hidden underwater in dim candle light, roaming aimlessly. Squeezing, caressing, rubbing. You felt dizzy, almost high, from Arthur’s touch, his calloused hands deliciously exploring you like he’s trying to make a map of your body.
Then, it was his cock in your wet, hot mouth. His hand rested gently on the back of your head, guiding you with restraint and patience. You knew he wanted to slam into the back of your throat, but he’d never let himself lose control like that out of fear of hurting you. Instead, Arthur let you take the lead, using your hand to assist where your mouth couldn’t reach. He was whispering soft praise to you as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking with determination. Eventually, he had to pull you off with a pop to stop himself from unloading in your throat.
And now, he’s making a mess of you. With your face pressed into the mattress, Arthur is devouring you. As thoughtful as ever, he pauses to fold a limp pillow and slide it under your belly to make you more comfortable as you become weaker and weaker from his tongue working your clit. You wiggle your ass towards him, begging for him to resume. Instead of giving you what you want, he spread your pussy wide, watching it drip and pulse with need.
“My sweetheart,” he coos behind you. Being this exposed makes your face grow hot. “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Please, Arthur,” you whine, pushing your hips back again to tell him exactly what you’re asking for.
Leaning in, Arthur sucks your clit into his mouth, groaning against you. The vibration makes you feel delirious and pulls a breathy moan from you. That only encourages Arthur who lets go of your clit and drags his tongue slowly down to your opening, dipping his tongue into your entrance. You reach back, tangling your fingers in his hair that’s been getting long, nearly brushing his shoulders now. It’s the perfect length to grip and you use it to push his tongue further in you.
Arthur snakes his hand around your plush thigh so that he can have access to your clit, rubbing tight circles on the sensitive, swollen bud as he fucks you with his tongue. The pleasure is nearly overwhelming and you let your eyes flutter shut, succumbing to the feeling. You’re beyond dazed, lost in it, that you don’t notice Arthur’s tongue leaving your core. Oh, but you notice when he makes contact with your tight ring, the one that’s never been touched by anyone before, circling it with his eager tongue.
You squeak as your eyes widen. “Arthur!”
“‘M sorry,” he slurs, resting his cheek on your ass. “I just”—he experimentally licks you again, fast this time—“wanna taste every part of you.”
Much to your surprise, you find yourself aroused at the thought of Arthur doing something so taboo to you. Something entirely new. In some way, you think it would be an act of devotion, a way of promising yourself to him and him to you. Still, there’s part of you that feels embarrassed, shy even. Maybe Arthur can sense this because he begins to leave soothing kisses on the plump cheek of your ass, the crease where it meets your thigh.
“I don’t know, Arthur.”
“You can trust me, y’know that,” he reassures you. Sliding his thumb from your clit to your entrance, he slowly slips it inside of you and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips. “But we don’t gotta do anything you don’t wanna do.”
Of course you know this. Arthur has never once pushed you to do anything—sexual or otherwise. As his hot breath fans over your hole and his sweet words echo in your hazy mind, you decide you do want this. The embarrassment, the shame seems to go out the window. It’s just Arthur. Your Arthur. Hard on the outside, brutal with others, but ever so loving with you. It makes your chest tight with affection.
“Okay,” you all but whisper, voice impossibly small and timid. It’s unlike you, but this whole situation is unlike anything before. “You can…do that.”
Arthur peppers your backside with kisses, finger entirely still within you. “Are you sure?”
“I am. I-I..want to try it,” you admit sheepishly.
Immediately, he obliges, letting a string of spit fall from his lips onto your asshole before fully committing. Arthur licks and laps at you with the ferocity of a starving man. Your whole body is tense as you try to adjust to the new sensation. With his unoccupied hand, he massages your hip. It’s like a gentle command, urging you to relax. When that fails, he replaces his thumb with his index finger and begins to fuck your cunt in earnest. The feeling of his tongue on your ass and his finger prodding at that sweet spot deep inside of you is divine.
Bucking your hips, begging for more with your body, seems to send Arthur into a frenzy. He quickly inserts another finger and fucks you hard, dragging moans from you that interrupt your panting. A particular loud whimper earns a groan from Arthur and he tightens his grip on your hip. Reaching back, you place your hand atop of his and squeeze in encouragement.
This must embolden him, the non-verbal praise, because he slips his tongue into your hole.
“Oh!” you cry out, shocked by the intrusion, but not at all upset. “That feels—oh my god—so good, Arthur.”
Fucking you with his tongue and fingers, Arthur brings you closer and closer to the edge. It’s not long before he coaxes an orgasm out of you. Your pussy clenches around his fingers while your asshole tightens around his tongue. Not for a moment does he stop, working you through your orgasm until you’re squirming away from him, too overwhelmed to handle anymore. With a shameless moan, he pulls away and leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses from your ass to your neck, burying his face there before flopping next to you.
Arthur gathers you into his arms, all loose-limbed and pliable, and kisses your temple. “Weren’t expecting you to like that so much,” he whispers. Ear pressed to his chest, you can feel the quiet rumble from his soft chuckle. “You did good for me, darlin’.”
Humming at the praise, you nuzzle your face into his solid chest that’s peppered with hair that looks golden in the candlelight. Arthur strokes your arm with the sweetest tenderness. The experience was nothing like you expected. No, it was so much more. The vulnerability has instilled a new trust between the two of you, you think.
“Arthur?”
“Hm?”
“Can we do that again?” you ask.
He laughs softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Sure we can, but I think y’need some rest after that.”
Though you don’t want to agree, you feel your eyelids grow heavy. Arthur drapes the blanket over both of you. Before you know it, you’re asleep in your outlaw’s arms.
Summary: Eddie and his inability to get his words right. Or, three times Eddie was way off.
WC: 3.3k
Warnings: lots of flirting, use of the word ‘cummies’, mentions of blowjobs, mentions of sex, Steve, idiots in love, Buffy the Vampire Slayer references because I can’t help myself, mentions of homosexuality, mentions of oral sex (fem receiving), Eddie thinks girls kissing is hot because he's a 20-year-old boy, reader dreams about Eddie because she's down bad, but he's also down atrociously, Eddie banter 10/10 here.
A/N: Asks are open, pls come talk to me about Eddie!!!
Masterlist
Eddie is not the brightest bulb in the bunch, he smoked a lot of his best brain cells away. Only left with an encyclopedic knowledge of nudie magazines, Dungeons & Dragons, and metal music, the rest of his mind is cobwebs, empty filing drawers that never seem to fill, and one stray marble rolling around for when he gets bored during Mrs. O'Donnell's lectures.
He has this awful knack for forgetting words, misfiling definitions in his mind, and reading a little too fast which only leads to confusion. Like the time you were filling out your worksheet for Career Day.
Career Day was this stupid shindig the high school put on where all the seniors would fill out arbitrary information on a sheet, turn it in, and the school would come back with your future career. Then everybody would go off into groups with real people in those careers and shadow them for a day.
All of it was like a really shitty crystal ball, except this was more inaccurate than a crystal ball. This was Hawkins High, famously known for pumping out Einsteins and Steve Jobs', telling 18-year-olds what they'd be good for. That would be like listening to your hammered uncle at Thanksgiving say, "I'm gonna go for a drive," and going, "You know what? That sounds like a real good idea, let me come with you! I'll make sure not to put on my seatbelt and everything!"
So, no, Eddie is not filling out a sheet. He figures there's nothing Hawkins High could come back with that would be anything other than Gas Station Attendant or Garbage Man. He'll save himself the public embarrassment, thank you very much.
Plus, he’s enjoying watching you try to fill out the sheet, grumbling and dramatically sighing every thirty seconds like you have a list of better things to be doing running through your head. You’re sitting in the cafeteria hunched over the paper while he leans on the arm you’re not writing with, his head laid on your shoulder watching you scribble answers. This is his happy place, not school- hell no, no, it’s you. Getting to watch you do mundane things while also being in your personal space, that’s heaven right there.
Finishing up, you answered all the stupid questions, not enjoying this inane ritual very much either. You even answered the one asking if you like bushes, to which you defaulted to Eddie for clarity.
"What in the world could they gain from my answer to this?" You frustratedly ask, this was getting ridiculous. He straightens up as you turn on him to point to the question.
"Well, either you're religious or you're free spirited," he shrugged, shoveling more of your pretzels into his mouth. Thief. He’s like a little raccoon, always hungry and digging for food in other people’s stuff. You never tell him, but you pack double of everything for lunch, knowing he’ll be eating yours. He likes to leave at least a little left so as to act like he didn’t just bogart your snacks, ah yes, because three pretzels and some crumbs are just enough for you. If he knew you packed double of everything he’d be getting into your backups in no time, so that will remain a mystery, you’ll continue to eat lunch in study hall.
Scoffing and checking the ‘no’ box, no 'I don't know, freaks' option available.
"And by free spirited, I mean 70s bush type of free spirited," he grinned, proud of his ability to get a vagina reference in conversation. Ever a teenage boy at twenty.
"Yes Eddie, I know, I got that," you sighed, exhausted by his presence already. You're choosing not to give him much more attention than that, still looking over your paperwork. Being his only girl friend was hard work, on good days, you would call it a labor of love, on bad days…the meter would lean more towards “I’m going to smack the shit out of this stupid idiot boy.’
"Vagina…vagina bush," he's having the time of his life antagonizing you while you pretend to focus, he considers the day a win if he A) mentions a vagina at least once, B) annoys you, or C) all of the above. And he's going for gold today, he'll take Vagina's for 500, please.
"Wow Eddie, you've really mastered the single-entendre there."
-
When you get your results back, he peeks over your shoulder after the many, 'What'd you get?''s go unanswered. In bold letters at the top of the page it reads 'THE RAPIST.' The printer must've jammed midway through inking the word, you got the gist, though. Eddie, on the other hand, did not.
He rips the paper from your hands looking at it hurriedly, "What the fuck?! You should've said ‘yes’ to the bush question! Oh my god!" He's yelling in your face, utter shock and horror in your honor.
"Wha-? Eddie!" You rip the paper back from his large hands, knowing exactly how he read it, opting to point to the misread word like a school teacher reading a picture book to second graders, "No Dingbat! It says 'THERAPIST.' The printer must've fucked up or something."
"Oh thank god! I was not going to let you shadow whoever that was! What kind of psycho shit..." His voice is a mumble under his breath by the end of the sentence, shaking his head, scolding the school for the mistake.
-
You know he has trouble with words sometimes, not a walking dictionary, that one. Because of this, you’ll purposefully use big words to hide what you’re talking about. You don’t mean to exclude him, it’s only for things you don’t want him to get going on. For instance, X-rated commentary must be spoken in purely anatomical terms.
You’re talking with Robin while she enters returned VHS’s back into the system at Family Video after school. Eddie is there just wandering around, pulling out tape after tape, reading the backs while walking, and leaving them on the nearest shelf when he’s done. Steve’s following behind him, like the exasperated mom of a two year old who needs to touch everything, putting each of them back in their rightful place. Blissfully unaware of his entourage, Eddie works his way through the horror section, moving on to the science-fiction movies.
Eventually, Steve gives up and joins you at the customer side of the counter. “Why do you bring him here? He’s like the Tasmanian Devil, whirling his way through and leaving the place a mess.” He’s beyond frustrated at this point, his tone conveying just how over it he is, and by it, that would be Eddie.
You smile, seeing the beginnings of sweat on his voluminous hairline, “Well, I know you could use the workout, gotta keep the ladies knocking down your door,” you tease.
Robin snorts, “Yeah, as if. I get more women than him!”
“Well it certainly doesn’t help that you take them all!” Steve’s like a petulant child in his response.
Cutting off their argument, getting back to the original question, “Plus, he needs enrichment, so I like to let him loose here. It’s a nice enclosed space, people he knows, it’s the closest thing to an Eddie Park we have.” You shrug, smugly smiling at Steve’s disapproving glare.
You want to get back to your conversation with Robin so you do your best to shoo him away in the only way you know how, “Oh my god, did Eddie just pull the film tape out of Fast Times at Ridgemont High?” You put on a worried voice, looking over Steve’s shoulder.
Steve, of course, whips around muttering a stern, “Oh no you don’t, Munson.” He’s off to go stop Eddie, who is still looking at the back of The Outsiders tape, completely unaware that you just used him as a distraction.
Robin chuckles, the fake distraction clear to her, but Steve is too busy thinking about the possibility of not having easy access to Phoebe Cates’ pool scene ever again.
“Anyway, as I was saying,” you pause to locate Eddie, making sure he’s not near you, “Heather wasn’t in fifth period because apparently she got detention for getting caught under the bleachers…,” lowering your voice conspicuously, “performing fellatio on her boyfriend, Chris.”
Before you have a chance to gauge Robin’s shocked reaction at the obvious high school faux pas, Eddie’s voice over your shoulder makes you jump nearly out of your skin.
“Romeo’s best friend?” He asks, extremely confused, not knowing Hawkins was doing Romeo & Juliet this year for the school play. He thought it was Oklahoma, the only reason he knows any of that is because he’s forced to share the drama room after school with the theater club during rehearsal season. A bunch of theater kids playing Zip, Zap, Zop for an hour straight really grates on one’s nerves, especially when he’s trying to transport his Sheepies to Middle Earth.
“Jesus Christ! We need to put a bell on you!” He was literally across the store not two seconds before you said it, how the hell did he sneak his way over to stand directly over your shoulder, far too close for comfort, especially given the subject matter you’re talking about.
“Ooo,” he coos, shimmying suggestively, “I could be into that, would you put your name on the collar?” He grins, biting his bottom lip, leaning into your personal space even more than he already was. He looks like a smug bastard, but he also looks like he’s one more flirtation away from eating you out up. His leering eyes raking up and down your body, playing up his joke, but it certainly doesn’t feel like a joke when he looks like that. You’re leaning back, matching the amount he leans forward, forcing a look of repulsion on your face.
Before you can reprimand him for his dirty mind, Robin cuts in, reminding you of his original comment.
“Also, no, that’s Mercutio.”
“Woah, gesundheit, Buckley.” He chuckles like she just said the most ludicrous thing he’s heard all day. At the same time, he straightens up, giving you a reprieve from his familiar scent- Marlboros and Old Spice to try to cover up the Marlboros. It’s the same scent you smell in your dreams, the one that makes you wake up missing him, more than a friend should miss another friend. You love Robin deeply, but you can’t say her scent has made its way into your dreams, let alone her being a star in them herself. Meanwhile, Eddie is at the top of the call sheet in your dreams.
“Wha-no?” It comes out more as a question, the real question being how the hell did he get from point A, fellatio, to point B, Mercutio? “That’s Romeo’s best friend-,” You try to correct him, but you’re quickly cut off.
“Who is?” He’s completely oblivious.
“Mercutio!” Okay, you’re starting to get frustrated here.
“I thought you said that was Fellatio,” his brows are drawn into a frown, trying to make sense of the mess that is this conversation.
“No, that’s a blowjob,” Robin throws the towel in, giving up on trying to hide the original conversation that started this mess in search of clarity.
“You rang?” Steve pops up beside you and Eddie so quickly he probably left a cartoonish cloud of dust when he Road Runner’d over to you, he’s looking incredibly interested in this conversation.
Eddie turns to Steve like he was just offered a beer, “I wouldn’t say no to one…” Steve nods in agreement before they both look at you.
“Oh, I give up!” You throw your arms up in exasperation before you’re dropping your head harshly onto the counter. Robin rubbing your head in sympathy.
“So no head?” Eddie asks, so genuinely that if you weren’t so frustrated, you would find it endearing despite the subject matter.
All you can muster is a glare and ignore the beating of your heart in your ears.
-
Despite Eddie’s lack of firing neurons, he still loves to accompany you to study sessions with Robin. Steve shows up too, but that’s just because he has no other friends. Unless, of course, you count a bunch of 14-year-olds, of which he does not. See, friends aren’t as mean as those 14-year-olds, hell, they’ve got him hiding under the counter every time they bust into Family Video, Robin having to cover for him, “Sorry, he just left.”
You’re currently cramming for an AP World History exam, Robin is holding up the flashcards you made to quiz yourself. Eddie takes a break from planning for the next leg of his D&D campaign to look at what you’re up to. He’s sitting beside you on a couch at the Hawkins library, a place he’s never set foot in before you. But you’re like a bonded pair of cats, not to be separated under any circumstances. So he gave his best innocent smile to Ms. Marissa, the librarian, when she recognized the town hooligan upon his entrance with you into her fine establishment. Her library had been safe from his loud rants and pranks thus far, so she’s wary of his newfound presence in the small building.
You were signing in at the front desk as they shared an exchange, Eddie stood right next to you, his leather clad arm brushed against your body. You could still feel the warmth it brought even now.
“Mr. Munson.” She curtly greeted, letting him know she knew exactly who he was, lest he try any funny business during his stay.
With a shit-eating grin, he leaned forward to rest both arms in front of him, his hands clasped together, and said, “Oh please, call me Eddie. Mr. Munson was my mother.”
Ms. Marissa frowned in confusion and you were pulling him away to where Robin and Steve had set up camp.
“Behave,” you implored.
“Yes ma’am,” He answered with a salute.
That was two hours ago, two hours too long according to Eddie. He sees that you’re still working with the flashcards and sighs dramatically, choosing to play-faint onto you, practically crushing you with his body weight.
“Eddie! Stop, I’m trying to study!” You whine, your ribs practically closing in on you as he lays on your balled up body.
Robin puts the flashcards down to take a break, she knows this is gonna take a minute to resolve. She leans over to see Steve in the book stacks flirting with a girl, she shakes her head. ‘He would flirt with a man in a wig if the guy had pretty enough eyelashes,’ she thinks.
“Need…attention…” Eddie croaks out like he’s parched for your attention, alone in the hot desert of your disinterest.
You maneuver your elbow out from under the pressure of his body just enough to shove it back into him to try to get him off, the shove itself won’t do the job, but maybe if you aim it right your elbow will dig into his ribs and cause him to yelp off of you. It doesn’t work, but luckily he gets off of you on his own accord.
“I have a quiz question for you,” he says with enthusiasm, ready to challenge you, “who in history said, ‘Give me attention or give me death!’?” He says it like he’s reenacting it, an orator speaking to a bustling, interested crowd, not just Robin with an eyebrow quirked, and a frustrated you.
“That’s not the quote.” It comes out in a monotonous admonishment, looking at him with your head tilted, you’re a teacher waiting for the problem-student to be quiet so you can move forward with the class.
“Oh, no you’re right, that’s my bad. Who said, ‘Give me cummies or give me death!’?” He tries to give the same reenacted energy as he did the first time, but he struggles to keep a serious face, too busy breaking out into a laughing grin.
Steve is sitting down on the couch opposite you, next to Robin, phone number on a scrap of paper that was clearly torn from a spiral notebook. He looks amused at what he just walked in on.
“EW! Eddie, don't be gross!” You smack him on the shoulder, to which he flinches, hand rubbing where you hit him as if it actually hurt.
“Ow! Jeez, okay, sorry. But to answer my own question, it was me, I said that.” He’s grinning again, proud, not exactly a vagina joke, but he got to say the word ‘cummies’ which he knows you despise, so he’s happy. Plus, he gets a fun little tingle every time he says something you deem naughty and he gets to watch the realization of what he’s said wash over you. He’d watch you forever like that, it’s his favorite show. His sweet best friend bristling at the word ‘cummies’, it’s as close to sex with you he’ll ever get. At least that’s what he thinks.
“It’s true, he did say that. I was there. Fantastic public speaker by the way,” Steve says it with such confidence that if it wasn’t such an outlandish statement, you would believe him. It’s like he’s trying to recommend you go to one of the fake events Eddie seems to speak at.
“Okay! Back to work!” Robin’s clapping her hands before you get the chance to go off on both of them for being such boys, you’re making no effort to hide the disgust on your face.
‘Cummies’ is a horrendous word, but Eddie’s comment does put two things in your head, the root word ‘cum’ and his shit-eating grin. A lethal combo that makes you feel like the room is a thousand degrees. AP World History, Ap World History, AP World History.
Robin held up her notes, trying to think of things to quiz you on, “Okay, how about this, what version of humans came after homo-neanderthalensis?”
“Easy, homo-sapiens,” You’re proud of how quickly you got that until Eddie cuts in.
“That’s like Robin, right?” He’s genuine in his question, just wanting to be included in the conversation at this point.
You’re confused by what he means, “Y-yeah, I guess, I mean- that’s like all of us.” You’re looking at him with a question in your eyes.
“Uhh, I don’t know about all of us, maybe Steve, for sure,” he leans close to you, one hand coming up to cover his mouth from Steve and Robin’s confused gaze as he speaks through only one side of his mouth, “can you say compensating much?”
You pull your head back from his stage whisper looking at him with the most confusion you might have ever displayed in his presence.
“What?”
“I mean- it’s cool if you are. I mean- that’s honestly kind of hot, actually. You still like guys too, though, right?” He goes from smooth criminal, imagining you and Debbie Harry making out, to suddenly nervous that he actually has no shot with you.
“Okay, requesting clarification for all who are me,” you quip, you’re beyond lost at this point, he might as well be talking to a wall. The conversation would look the same, too.
“You know what, it’s cool, you tell me when you’re ready.” He brushes it off wanting to get out of this conversation already.
Everybody is looking at him like his head starting spinning 360 degrees. He looks like he’s just waiting for everybody to get the memo and move on already.
That is until Steve interrupts, seemingly the only one who caught up, “Wait, do you think I’m gay?!”
-
So, yeah, Eddie is not the brightest bulb in the batch. But it makes for some truly entertaining conversations, and you wouldn't have it any other way.
A/N: Please like, reblog, and leave a comment if you like it! It encourages me to continue to write, and usually other people's enthusiasm gets me excited and in the mood to write even more stuff.
Absolutely need ( if it’s okay!) a young Arthur Morgan x fem reader who are dating and maybe 14 year old John having the biggest crush on her maybe Arthur n the gang teasing him about it but the reader thinks it’s cute plzzz❤️❤️
puppy love — arthur morgan x reader
synopsis: you’re arthur morgan’s girl, but that doesn’t stop fourteen-year-old john marston from nursing the world’s most hopeless crush on you
a/n: stop this is so cute 😭 I love them they’re so silly <3 also.. wouldn’t be opposed if I got one or two Marston requests….
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Evening rolled in soft and gold over the hills. The light stretched long, casting tall shadows that danced with the sway of trees. Somewhere down the valley, a pack of coyotes howled at the first sign of twilight. The gang’s camp flickered to life like it always did—fires crackling, pots clanking, voices weaving in and out of laughter and sharp tongues.
You were settled on a crate outside the main fire circle, needle in hand, working at the frayed hem of your dress. Arthur’s coat hung around your shoulders, sleeves nearly swallowing your hands. It smelled like saddle leather, tobacco, and faintly of cedar soap—his smell. You’d stolen it straight from his tent.
Arthur was off by the horses, brushing his gelding and muttering to it like it was an old friend. He hadn’t been back ten minutes before he started bickering with his stirrups.
From where you sat, you could see just about everything—Tilly helping Susan boil coffee over a flame, Dutch standing on a crate giving an unnecessary sermon to nobody in particular, and just across the fire…
There he was.
John Marston.
Fourteen years old, lean as a fencepost, and still carrying the unfortunate signs of youth that hadn’t quite grown into itself. Ears a little too big, front tooth chipped, jeans rolled at the ankle, collar half-tucked and half-hanging. He was sitting on a log, legs spread like he was trying to imitate Arthur’s usual pose, arms crossed in what was supposed to be a look of quiet authority.
He wasn’t watching the camp.
He was watching you.
Again.
You pretended not to notice, but the way his eyes flicked up from his boots to your face and back again made it painfully obvious. His face turned red when you smiled at someone else. He tugged awkwardly at his shirt collar whenever you laughed and he nearly fell off the log the moment you glanced at him.
Behind you, you heard a loud snort. Arthur had returned.
He leaned down and planted a kiss to the side of your head. “Enjoyin’ your audience?” he muttered.
You didn’t have to ask what he meant.
You tilted your head toward him. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, darlin’” Arthur chuckled low in his chest and dropped down next to you, hands stretching behind his head, long legs sprawled out like he owned the land beneath him. “Kid’s been starin’ at you like he’s in church.”
“He’s just being polite.”
“He’s mentally pickin’ out your wedding dress.”
You swatted his arm.
He grinned, then leaned close and whispered, “Look—there. He’s fixin’ his damn hair now. He never fixes his hair. Looks like he’s greasin’ it with stew.”
Sure enough, across the fire, John had dipped behind a barrel and was hurriedly licking his palm and slicking down his hair. You’d seen wild dogs do it better. He straightened his shirt, walked halfway in your direction like he had something important to say, then stopped and made a big, unnecessary show of tying his boots tighter.
Arthur nearly howled.
“Oh for Christ’s sake, boy!” he called across the fire. “You want me to ask her out for you?”
The entire fire circle went quiet.
Dutch froze mid-dramatic monologue. Tilly spat coffee. Hosea dropped his harmonica. Karen leaned forward with a gleam in her eye that said this is gonna be good.
John turned so red it looked like he’d caught fire.
“I—what?! No, I wasn’t—I didn’t—shut up, Arthur!”
Arthur leaned back smug as a cat. “Ain’t no shame in it, Johnny-boy. She’s a pretty thing. Course, she’s mine. But I admire your taste.”
You shook your head, fighting a grin, but the others were already piling on.
“Ohh, Johnny’s in loooove,” Karen sang, kicking her boots in rhythm. “He’s gonna write her poetry!”
Tilly joined in with a faux-serious tone. “Better get him a ring made outta horseshoe nails.”
Dutch, always one to stir the pot, puffed on his pipe. “John, son, if you’re gonna court a lady, you gotta have a plan. Flowers. A fine meal. A pistol duel with the man she’s spoken for.” He looked Arthur up and down with a grin. “Though I wouldn’t advise that last one.”
“I AIN’T IN LOVE!” John bellowed, standing up so fast he kicked over the log he’d been sitting on. “I was just—I was—I was checkin’ the fire!”
Arthur raised his cup. “She’s smokin’ alright.”
“Arthur!”
“You’re worse than Micah” John spat, storming off toward the far side of camp.
“You take that back!” Arthur yelled, almost offended. “Don’t ever compare me to Micah again!”
Laughter rolled like thunder through the trees.
Later, when the teasing died down and most of the gang was scattered—some half-drunk, others snoozing or sharpening blades—you and Arthur stayed near the fire, his hand warm around your waist.
“I ever tell you what he did when we first met?” Arthur asked, chin resting on your shoulder.
You smiled. “What now?”
“First time I brought you to camp, he came knockin’ on my tent flap with flowers. Dandelions. Dirt still on the roots. Said it was for the lady.”
You tried not to giggle.
“And I said, ‘She ain’t a lady, she’s my lady.’ You know what he did?”
“What?”
“Looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘Well, we’ll see about that.’”
You burst out laughing, nearly dropping your sewing. “He did not!”
“He did. Swear on Dutch’s fancy shoes.” Arthur sat up straight, mimicking John’s high voice. “‘Someday I’m gonna be taller than you and then we’ll see who she wants.’”
Arthur was howling now. “He don’t even come up to my belt buckle.”
You leaned into him, eyes shining. “Poor kid’s trying his best.”
“He’s tryin’ my patience,” Arthur muttered, though his tone was fond. “Wrote a song once. I caught him singin’ it into the horse brush. Only words I remember were ‘your hair like the sun’ and ‘Arthur is dumb.’ Real poet.”
You wiped a tear from your cheek, breathless.
Arthur pulled you close, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone.
“If that little runt ever tries to kiss you,” he added, “I’ll lock him in a barrel.”
You laughed. “You’ll have to fight him first.”
Arthur cracked his knuckles. “I ain’t above beatin’ up a fourteen-year-old.”
Across camp, behind the wagon tarp, John sat curled up in his bedroll, scribbling in a pocket journal by moonlight.
“Someday she’ll see me, and I’ll save her from danger, and she’ll kiss me right in front of Arthur Morgan and he’ll be so mad. I’ll probably grow a beard by then.”
He looked up toward the fire, where you leaned into Arthur’s chest, his arm wrapped tight around you.
John sighed dramatically, clutching his journal to his chest.
Premise: During Sean’s return party, you and Arthur hide away from the chaos and get to know each other pretty well.
Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader
Tags: Oral f!receiving, piv, first time together, very fluffy, kinda strangers to lovers
Words: 3.7k
18+ Minors do NOT interact!
You sat on a log and sipped the beer you had brought over with you, when a burst of loud, raucous laughter sounded out behind you. The camp of horseshoe overlook was rife with cheer and laughter, something which you privately didn’t understand - the gang was supposed to be lying low and this noise would surely attract some attention.
The reason for the somewhat impromptu party was that the camp’s fiery Irishman, Sean Macguire, had been rescued from bounty hunters and returned to the gang where he belongs.
“An’ don’chu worry Miss Grimshaw, you old crone! I’ll keep them girls in line…if I have to whip ‘em, I will!” You heard him call out, his thick Irish accent providing a sort of comfort.
“I’d like to see you try!” A higher-pitched voice responded - it must have been Tilly, she loved to tease Sean and took every opportunity to do so.
The voices seemed to die down after that, although you could still hear the odd word or two if you listened hard enough. You secretly longed to go and join in on the festivities but something held you back - call it anxiety, call it just being boring, whatever.
You had only been in the Van Der Linde gang for about three months and had joined only just before the fiasco in Blackwater. You didn’t know these people very well, and didn’t want to intrude on the celebration of the return of one of their beloved gang members.
You continued to sip on your beer until a light fuzziness began to cloud your brain, not enough to be drunk but enough to make you slightly tipsy. You sat alone for a while, watching the fireflies flicker in and out of existence when a branch snapped and made you jump and turn your head around to face the person intruding on your daydreams.
A familiar black hat with a frayed rope attached to it caught your eye and you relaxed. Arthur Morgan. He was a strange but not unwelcome sight. He had a sort of hold over the camp and everyone -excluding Micah- seemed to respect him, you included. You’d heard how he’d been part of the gang for seemingly a lifetime and he was, truthfully, one of the only men in camp you felt comfortable being alone with.
He didn’t make cruel, rude comments like Micah, he didn’t stare at the girls in their underwear like Dutch and he always took the time to make sure the women were okay or if they needed anything after he’d come back from a trip.
In his hands were two beers - one for him and one for you. He had a soft look on his face and you knew that he must have snapped the branch intentionally, to let you know he was here.
You smiled and patted the log you were sitting on. He gave you a small smile and sat down next to you, careful to not press right up against you as he did. He held out the opened beer bottle to you and you took it with a smile - your old one was nearly empty and had been opened long enough for the drink to go rather flat.
He then took a swig of his own beer and wiped any residue off of his face with his arm. He seemed to hesitate before saying, “Not enjoyin’ the party, huh?”
You shook your head, “It’s not that - I just…I don’t think I’ve known everyone long enough to intrude on their celebration.” He looked rather shocked at your admission.
“Wouldn’ be intrudin’. Karen was askin’ after ya earlier. Though now,” He leaned in like he was a schoolgirl sharing a secret, “I think she’s a bit preoccupied with Sean. Saw ‘em sneakin’ into John’s tent earlier.”
You chuffed, Mary-Beth had told you the gossip earlier that day, about how Karen and Sean were often involved - however much she denied it and acted like she didn’t like him. You’d seen it firsthand too. While doing laundry earlier that day, Karen began to complain about Sean and wished that they wouldn’t go and get that ‘Irish bastard’ as she’d called him but her face lit up and she couldn’t contain a smile as the redhead strolled back into camp as though he’d never left.
“That doesn’t surprise me,” He gave you a confused look and you explained, “Mary-Beth told me about their history earlier, and Karen couldn’t hide how glad she was to have him back if she tried. Anyway, I’m told we have you to thank for getting him back. Broke back into Blackwater, I heard.” You lifted your beer bottle before taking a swig, as though toasting to Arthur. He let out a soft laugh.
“Yeah. Charles forced me to rescue ‘im. To be honest though, I do kinda like that kid.” He admitted and you nodded, “Don’t tell ‘im I said that.”
You breathed out a rush of air that could be considered a laugh.
“So what are you doing over here Mr Morgan? Shouldn’t you be celebrating the return of old ‘deadeye Macguire’?” You asked, brow raised and a smile on your lips. Arthur rolled his eyes at the name Sean gave himself.
“Ah, I’ve had enough of partyin’ for one day,” He joked, “I’m an old man now. Can’t stay up as long as these damn kids.”
“You aren’t old. You’re like what? Thirty-something?” You protested and he waved you off.
“Summin like that. But no, I saw you all by your lonesome and thought I’d come over an’ say ‘hi’.” A warm feeling made its way to your heart and you tried to contain a smile. Despite his constant protests and self-doubt, Arthur was a very handsome man and you were slightly infatuated with him along with, as Tilly had told you, the other girls before he politely but firmly rejected them. You’re sure you would be no different but, what was the harm in just looking?
“That’s very kind of you.” You managed to get out eventually. You’re sure he caught you smiling but when you went to look at him, his eyes were averted to the ground below you both.
He waved you off once more, “I ain’t a kind man, miss. Just doin’ what’s decent, is all.” You furrowed your brows but otherwise ignored the comment. He probably wouldn’t listen to you if you protested that anyway.
You took another swig of your beer, this time the tipsiness definitely getting to your head. Your cheeks warmed the more you drank and, like any other time you drank, you began to lose your filter.
“You know I’ve always found you really handsome.” You admitted, then straightened. You had meant to say that in your head and now Arthur was looking at you with a strange sort of expression, one of shock, which was to be expected, and one of something that you couldn’t quite place. His cheeks flushed and he once again averted your eyes.
“You’re kind in saying that miss but, I know I ain’t. Just an ugly, old man.” He murmured bitterly and scowled into the neck of his beer bottle before taking another swig. You didn’t want to protest, you’d already embarrassed yourself enough for one evening.
Then he did something that shocked you.
“But. Y’know. I always found you very…I always thought you were real pretty.” He admitted and then once again averted your eyes. You looked at him, shocked. From the stories the other women would tell, whenever they tried to express their feelings they were met with rejection and an awkward excuse before leaving them alone. But he didn’t do that now.
His eyes darted back to you, took in your expression and then softened slightly. He gripped the neck of his beer bottle and twisted it awkwardly in his hands, fidgeting as he awaited your response. His cheeks had once again flushed, although they were much darker now and his brow was furrowed - as though expecting rejection.
You cleared your throat, “T-thank you, Arthur. That’s really…that’s really sweet.” And it was. Whenever men had called you pretty or beautiful before, it always seemed like they expected something in return - ‘I complimented you, so now I can do what I want.’ But with Arthur, it didn’t seem like he was truly expecting something back, just that he thought you were pretty and should know that.
He smiled an awkward smile but looked relieved.
You were now sat mere inches apart from one another, having moved closer subconsciously. You leaned into him, your shoulder pressed against his. Your faces drifted closer and then time seemed to stand still. Piercing blue eyes locked onto your own, conveying so many emotions and looking for any hint of not wanting to do this - but he found none.
Slowly, Arthur's lips touched yours. Testing the waters, gentle and brief. When you didn't pull away, he kissed you again, stronger and more passionate. You responded in kind and reached around to grab the back of his head, tugging lightly on his hair and eliciting a soft groan out of Arthur.
Another round of laughter from the camp behind you made the both of you, reluctantly, pull apart. Facing one another, you both let out a soft laugh, the nerves of potential rejection disappearing from the both of you.
Arthur stood up and held out his hand.
“C’mon, let’s go somewhere more private.” He suggested, in that deep, slightly southern drawl you loved so much. You took his hand and nodded.
He led you deeper into the forest, eventually arriving at a little clearing far enough away from camp but also close enough that people wouldn’t send out search parties for you both.
You both sat down in the grass and then returned to kissing one another. Arthur’s lips were chapped, as was to be expected, but they still had a softness to them. Of all the people you had kissed, Arthur was definitely your favourite. He seemed to savour the kisses and did it so gently, sharing the pleasure with you in contrast to the other people, who would kiss you rough and hard and seemed to only care about themselves. But not Arthur.
He kissed you again and again, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss. Soft noises left the clearing, along with both of your rough breaths. You were both getting rather hot and heavy at this point and a dull ache began to grow between your thighs. His hand held your face as though it were delicate china and his other hand rested against your back, always there but never moving.
His lips then travelled from yours and he descended to your neck, pressing butterfly kisses to your skin and his lips travelled your neck.
The scratch of his stubble stung deliciously against your softer skin and you let out a soft moan as he finally found where your shoulder and neck met, and began to kiss it in earnest.
He pressed open-mouthed kisses to your neck and you tilted your head back to give him better access.
His hand then began to descend. Your cheek was warm from where it once rested and you missed the comfort his hand provided, although you swiftly forgot about that as his hand made its way down your body. Gently and softly roaming the expanse of your torso, until it reached your breast and stopped there to give it a light squeeze. You moaned once more and wrapped your one arm around the back of his neck, your other arm holding you up.
Enthused by your response, he gently squeezed again - though this time a little firmer, prompting another moan to leave your lips. His mouth curled into a smug smile against your neck but you couldn’t be bothered to respond to it, not when it meant him potentially stopping what he was doing.
His hand kept wandering down your body and soon landed on the crease of your hip and thigh. By this point, the arm holding you up was weakened by his actions and you succumbed to the weight of Arthur on top of you and gently lowered yourself to the floor. He followed you down and his hand then crawled up your skirt and began to caress your soft, sensitive thighs. You moaned again, this time a little louder and his head then began to follow the same direction his hand did.
He lifted up your skirt and pushed it into a rumpled mess on your stomach. Your hand grasped his hair and urged him on further. He kissed up your calves and pulled down your bloomers until you were fully exposed to him. He lay open mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs and you had to restrain yourself from snapping your legs and squeezing them around his head.
His stubble burned deliciously against your sensitive thighs and he laved every bite with a soft rasp of his tongue. He got closer and closer to where you wanted him the most and he seemed to slow down the closer he got - teasing you.
When he finally reached your hot, wet centre, he slowed and looked up to meet your eye.
“You okay with this?” His voice was hoarse and he wet his kiss-ruined lips with a swipe of his tongue. You shuddered at the thought of that tongue doing the same thing but to you instead.
“Yes.” With that affirmation, he descended onto your by now drooling heat and made a long, deliberate swipe of his tongue from your entrance to your sensitive clit. You squealed and made to close your legs from the pleasure but Arthur wrapped his arms around your thighs and held them open with his hands.
He gave another lick, preparing you, before he began to devour you like a man starved. The air was filled with pants, moans and unintelligible sentences as he pleasured you. Arthur focused on your clit the most and you had to press a hand against your mouth to stop a loud moan from escaping you.
He stopped licking your wet heat for a moment before he gently clasped his lips over your clit and began to gently suck. A squeal escaped you and your free hand grasped at his hair, urging him on. His stubble burned and tickled your most sensitive area and only seemed to add to the pleasure as he continued to suck. Your hips writhed and bucked up into his mouth, chasing the high that he seemed to promise you.
Never before had someone done this with you. Never before had a man actually taken the time to pleasure you fully as Arthur was doing now. You had heard stories about this of course, mainly from the other women at camp, but you never imagined a lover of yours would be so selfless.
Your moans stuttered as Arthur pulled away and began to press kisses onto your heat. Your clit thrummed as he kissed you and you knew that an orgasm wasn’t far away.
Arthur could tell this too, and returned to sucking and licking at your clit as your moans grew higher and higher pitched.
Finally, you reached a crescendo and your eyes rolled to the back of your head and stars danced in your vision. You felt a coil untightening as you came and all your worries seemed to float away as you came back to the land of the living. Your chest heaved with heavy pants and sweat coated your forehead.
Arthur looked up, a smug smile on his face but his eyes were wide - he was glad he had been able to make you feel as pleasured as possible. You gave him a smile and huffed out a laugh.
“Tha-that was amazing,” You praised, “thank you.” You sat up and faced where Arthur was leaning over you to give him a quick kiss.
He hummed in response and continued to kiss you. Your back once again met the forest floor, the grass now warm from where you had been laying in it. He moved up until he was leant over you and your hands descended to his belt buckle, where you began to undo it.
Your hands, still shaking from your previous orgasm, fumbled around with his trousers and eventually Arthur took pity on you and sat up on his knees to undo his belt buckle and pull down his trousers. His cock stood to attention, the hot, red tip already leaking pre-cum.
He went back to leaning over you and kissed you once more, “Sure you wanna do this?” He asked and you nodded and wrapped your legs around his waist to try and urge him on. He slowed though and began to unbutton his shirt, revealing the soft muscles of his stomach and large pectorals, both coated in chest hair. Your hands immediately went to his chest and gently threaded through the hair there.
His hands then went to your own shirt, “Can I take this off?” His voice was quiet, and soft. You smiled and reached up to unbutton your own shirt, but he gently slapped your hand away to do it himself. He unbuttoned your shirt slowly, popping off each button with controlled lust, until, finally, your corset covered chest was bare to him. He then slowly undid that too, until your chest was bare and heaving with excitement.
He leant down to your chest and enveloped one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and flicking the sensitive bud with his tongue. You moaned and squeezed your legs from where they were wrapped around his waist.
Arthur took the hint and slowly pushed himself inside of you. Your hot, wet walls enveloped him and he let out a constrained groan as he pushed deeper and deeper into you.
When he finally bottomed out, you let out a long, soft moan and your walls squeezed instinctively, forcing another groan from Arthur.
He released your now wet nipple with a ‘pop’ and began to lavish the other one with attention, all the while slowly thrusting in and out of you. Your hand went to his hair once again and you tugged at the roots.
His thrusts were slow, but deep - passionate as if you had been together for years. He gently scraped your nipple with his teeth and accentuated the new feeling with a deep thrust into you. You let out a hiss of air and bucked your hips up to meet his thrusts, allowing him to go deeper and deeper until his tip finally reached that spongy spot inside of you that made your eyes roll back and a low moan escape you.
He chuckled under his breath and released your nipple, instead burying his head between your shoulder and neck, peppering the soft, sensitive skin there with light feathery kisses. He kept his thrusts deep and managed to hit your g-spot everytime he thrust back into you.
You clapped your free hand over your mouth to keep in your lewd moan and Arthur lifted up his head until you could feel his warm breath against the shell of your ear.
“Wanna hear yer pretty sounds darlin’.” He murmured and laid a kiss on your ear lobe before he went back to your neck, biting and sucking and leaving plenty of bruises that you would have to cover up in the morning - lest anyone know what you two were up to.
His hands moved from where they gripped your breasts to your hips.
The air in the clearing was filled with your moans, his deep groans, the sound of skin on skin and the wet noise of him fucking you. Your breasts bounced with each thrust and he lifted up his head to watch as they moved. His heavy balls slapped against your ass and your hands went to clutch at his biceps.
Your moans once again went up in pitch as you neared your peak, and from the restrained look on Arthur’s face, he wasn’t far behind. One of his hands left your hip and went to make gentle circles on your clit.
With the added stimulation, you arched your back and let out a few more lewd moans before the wave of ecstasy crashed into you. Once again, stars lined your vision and a low, drawn out moan escaped your throat. Your walls convulsed around his cock and he let out a loud groan before he pulled out and came over your stomach, coating it in sticky white fluid.
You both began to breathe heavily, catching your breaths as the reality of the situation crashed back into you. You went to grimace, you’d just had sex with someone in the middle of the forest for crying out loud, but Arthur’s warm arm wrapped around you and he fondly kissed your forehead and all of those thoughts went away.
He grabbed his shirt from where it lay forgotten in the grass and wiped away his spend. In silence, he helped you get redressed before getting redressed himself. He seemed awkward, like he didn’t know what to say. You helped him along.
“That was amazing, Arthur.” You smiled and kissed him softly, “Thank you.”
He chuckled, “No need t’thank me miss. I enjoyed it just as much as you did.” His arm once again wrapped around you and the two of you lay together, cuddling in one another’s arms as you looked up at the night sky.
“I-I hope, that this won’t be a one time thing?” He asked cautiously, his voice so soft you could barely hear it but you turned to him and smiled.
“I don’t want it to be.”
“Then, how would you like to go on a date with me tomorrow, miss?” The corner of his mouth lifted up in a half smile and he looked more at peace than you had ever known.
“I’d love that.” You accentuated your statement with another kiss and he smiled, fully.
You couldn’t wait for that date tomorrow.
Thank you so much for staying patient with me during my unexpected absence!! Also this one-shot was literally so hard to write. I had to restart it and rewrite it like 10 times until I actually liked it. But I am actually really proud of how it turned out!!
i need help finding a neteyam x human!reader fic, the reader had like escaped the rda or smth (??) and then norm took her in and jake slowly started allowing the kids to go and see her, but neteyam refused cause he thought she was some filthy sky person (he was the one who found her once she escaped the rda), and i remember some joke loak made about cockroaches???
the title was something like ‘eywas will’ or ‘the grace of eywa’ or something along those lines
pleaseee 🙏 🙏 help me im so desperate it was such a good fic
