Summary: Arthur missed you during his travels... 18+ MDNI
Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female Reader
Word Count: 1.0k
AO3 Link | Masterlist
Nothing out there, not the milk white moonlight nor the gentle sway of flowers in the sweetgrass stirred by the breeze, could compare to the softness of the pair of strong hands that held your face. Arthur’s mouth pressed against yours as he sought to satiate an aching hunger that hollowed his fractured soul and had intensified during the hours he was away.
With tender kisses and ‘I missed you so much’ and ‘Promise to never leave me alone again,’ that fell from your lips between those kisses were enough to overflow the hollowness and mend the cracks.
It was clear to him that throughout his travels, the details in the world had reminded him of you, whether in the blush of pink carnations or the glorious sun’s warming descent upon his skin.
In everything, there was you.
He had returned to find you waiting in the same spot, and the weight of his exhausting journey seemed to lift. You never set foot into the house until you saw the appearing form of your Arthur, running to him breathless with your skirts gathering the wind before he even made it past the fence. He dismounted his horse, and the sight of you, flushed with anticipation, had softened the sternness he carried with him. From his saddlebag, he always brought home something that reminded him of you. This time, it was a cluster of dainty wildflowers, and he took one to place behind your ear.
Stumbling footsteps and falling clothes, along with throaty chuckles, filled the room bereft of light. The firm bow of your corset was unraveled with practiced ease from his work-scarred fingers, the troublesome mechanics of its knot no longer an unfamiliar nuisance to him. A creak of the mattress sounded throughout the once quiet space, and the satin sheets creased as you lay upon them. Strands of hair splayed and stuck to the beads of forming sweat on your neck, and you watched as he fully discarded his shirt, revealing his brawny chest covered with a plentiful amount of faded scars. No matter how many times you had seen him undressed, it always stirred you beyond words and rendered you breathless.
With a slow tug pulling him forward, he planted the gentlest of kisses upon your lips and on your jawline, and he enveloped you in his warm touch. The sensation of his weight against you was almost far too much to bear and all that seeped into you was the addicting scent of his natural musk with a faint smokiness of gunpowder, leather, and pine. You pulled him closer, exploring the muscles of his back, tracing the lines of his form.
Arthur only pulled back to gaze into your irises behind half-mast lids to find any hint of reluctance or regret and even asked aloud, but there was nothing in them that spoke of such an idea, and your nod confirmed that. He dwelled dreamily at your parted lips, which awaited his kiss once more and, wishfully, forevermore. The edge of his calloused thumb brushed the side of your face lovingly and down to the seam where shuddering breaths escaped.
He brushed your hair away from your ear, moving down to whisper, “I could spend the rest of my life looking at you.” It caused goosebumps to erupt on your skin from his low and vibrating tones. And before you deliver a quip, the words dissipate as he reconnects with you, and your mind goes vacant.
Smooth, dreamlike moans elicited from your throat as he began moving down to your neck and your sternum. He trailed kisses along the curve of your waist, following the soft dips of your hips. Each kiss had sent ripples of anticipation through you, and you slightly dipped your head back at all of this, closing your eyes and softly smiling. His caresses on your skin left you boneless, while his mouth wandered senselessly, and he smiled to your song.
Ribs flared to that of a bird's wings as your lower back arched, spine curving and bending to the will of want of its ever flourishing desire. His touch glided through your veins, reminding every single cell of this moment. Your fingertips nestled into his hair, and the placement of his kisses fell between slender legs. To the serpent’s apple. Arthur takes his time, savoring every moment and your taste, and he can’t help but shower you with praise.
“Arthur…” You breathed, pressing yourself into him instinctively. Your voice, once so gentle and sweet, was now needy and desperate. He moaned against you, gripping your thighs tighter, large fingers digging into your soft flesh. And you took in a deep breath, coming undone and loosening your grip on the sheets. He looked up for a moment and gazed at the way the moonlight had fallen over you through the gossamer curtains.
And tonight remained similar to the many shared nights between you and Arthur, where he’d continue to show you his love in many ways, ways in which you couldn’t imagine possible, nor would you want it any other way or with anyone else. He’d leave you always in a state of pure bliss that you wished would remain forever, and you were soon wrapped in his arms beneath the sheets, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you into a peaceful sleep with soothing dreams of nothing but him.
Songbirds arise, low and hopeful. Arthur pressed a languid kiss upon your bare shoulder and trailed his finger along the shell of your ear and soon moved down to rest his head between your breasts, inwardly swearing that your chest was his resting place. He was determined to remain in this moment of stillness with you for as long as time would allow. Lying on you like that was one of the few times Arthur could truly feel at peace, and feeling the beat of your heart beneath your sternum and the way your chest rose and fell only further brought his thoughts to an ease.
itS MY (((((22nd))))) BIRTHDAY this weekend so I GET TO DECide whether or not john eats cake wearing that one dave navarro anna sui runway outfit okay this is my gift to myself
"I snuck into this fancy house and acted like a servant girl...usually works. Someone was saying her sister was taking a trip from New York or someplace. Train full of rich tourists, heading to Saint Denis and then cruising off to Brazil!"
— MARY-BETH GASKILL, RED DEAD REDEMPTION 2
If you ever feel like you don’t matter just know there’s a tumblr mutual who thinks about you when they hear a certain band, see a certain color, show, book, or even just see a post that reminds them of something you might like even though they’re across the world from you
a storm of swords, george r.r. martin. / flowers in the attic, v.c. andrews.
the gods heard my prayer, she thought. she felt so numb and dreamy. my skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel.
where was that fragile, golden-fair dresden doll i used to be? gone. gone like porcelain turned into steel-made into someone who would always get what she wanted, no matter who or what stood in her way.
“Across the boy’s shoulders his cloak hung heavy. It was woven of forget-me-nots, real ones, hundreds of fresh blooms sewn to a heavy woolen cape.” Pg. 335, Chapter Eddard VII, A Game of Thrones: Illustrated Edition.
