Anybody else go about their day and occasionally think about what it’d be like to have Arthur or John there, just tagging along? Not a modern version of them, but rather having to explain the modern world to them.
If y’all don’t do this too you can tell me to shut the fuck up
You stop at the red light.
Arthur looks left.
Looks right.
Leans forward.
“…You stall it?”
“No.”
“Engine broke?”
“No.”
He squints at the intersection. “There ain’t nobody.”
“It’s red.”
He looks up at the light like it personally offended him.
“You stoppin’ for a color.”
“Yes.”
“There ain’t a wagon, a horse, or a drunk idiot in the road.”
“I know.”
“So go.”
“I can’t. There are cameras.”
He goes still. “Cameras.”
“Yeah. They’ll ticket you.”
He leans toward the windshield, scanning the poles like they’re hiding snipers.
“So the street is watchin’.”
“Yes.”
He sits back slowly. “You folks built a world where the lampposts tell on you.”
sooo i need to print a minimum of five or this isn't happening. i am very likely only going to be producing them once. if you would like one of your own pls preorder here on my ko-fi.
full disclosure: he's a lil tiny bit photobashed from official art/a screencap for likeness (and tbh my sanity) but it has been fully integrated for a seamless semi realistic painterly style. this is a fan project not made for profit. revenue goes toward production costs and shipping and handling.
I'm not sure if anyone's gonna see/respond to this, but I wanted to ask any artists with drawing tablets:
Which tablet do you have/would you recommend?
I'd like to get myself a good quality one that will last and i have no specific budget in mind, but I'm having trouble deciding so I'd love some suggestions! Any help is really appreciated! 🧡
A SWEET N TENDEE THREESOME ARTHUR MORGAN AND CHARLES SMITH FIC PLSSSS no general plot or nun that’s all up to u genius :DD pls n THANK U 🧡🧡🧡
(Also ik you’ll laugh if I tell u that on instinct I spelt “charli” instead of Charles 💀💀)
the ending is a little clunky but i think this turned out not half bad 😏 thanks for the suggestion my dearie 🩶 i hope you enjoy x
as always, content below the cut. MDNI !!
“Unh, yeah,” Charles groans as he pushes deeply into your cunt, “Like that, sweetheart.” You wince as Charles’ cock hollows you out, stretching the sticky, pink veil that frames your entrance. Charles takes you from behind, the arch of your back angling just right so that his cock reaches *that* spot so easily.
You feel two fingers tap your chin upwards and are met with Arthur’s cock; thick, throbbing, and crowned with an unruly bush of hair that runs down from a stream in the middle of his stomach. “Mind if I fuck that pretty mouth of your’s, darlin’?” Arthur asks while Charles continues the deep work into your cunt. You nod shyly before Arthur glides the tip of his cock into your mouth and over your tongue.
Charles eases his cock into you as far as it could go as you suck the tip of Arthur’s cock, tasting the pre-cum that pearled at the end. As you rock back and forth fucking yourself onto Charles’ thick cock with one guiding hand on your hips, Arthur entangles a guiding hand into your hair as he fucks your face.
You are completely full of outlaw cock as Charles takes you from behind while Arthur uses your mouth for his pleasure.
Each thrust from Charles’ cock is then counteracted by Arthur’s cock sliding into the back of your mouth, damn near your throat. Just when you think you have run out of stamina for those two, Charles would deliver a playful slap onto your bottom to perk you up.
“Mmm, she likes that,” Arthur mewls while he watches his cock slide in and out of your mouth, “Felt a dribble fall from her mouth. Dirty lil’ thing.”
Charles chuckles before slapping your bottom again, causing a stream of arousal to leak from both your cunt and your mouth. “Yeah, she likes that,” Charles groans, “Felt her quiver around my cock.”
They continue using you up before Charles’ rhythm begins to falter; a sign that he was about to cum. He thrusts a few more times before pulling out to send a load onto your ass with a low groan.
As he gathers himself, he tells Arthur, “Looks like it’s your turn, partner.” Arthur looks down at your deliciously helpless eyes as you suck his cock like an absolute slut. Charles shuffles out of the tent after he is dressed, and Arthur pulls out.
Before you could get too comfortable on the bedroll, Arthur gently pushes you down into the prone position. “Still feelin’ up for the challenge?” he asks while pumping his cock.
You smirk into the bedroll as you say, “Of course.”
You shimmy your bottom a little more upwards so that Arthur could have more access to your cunt. He immerses himself on top of you, one trunk of an arm on either side of you. He slides his cock into the sweet spot of your entrance before slamming inside of you. You squeal before he shushs you gently in your ear from behind.
“Little lady likes it from behind, huh?” Arthur teases as he breathes a low groan into your ear, “You suck a mean cock too.” His hips slam into the meat of your ass as he fills your needy cunt to the brim. You catch glimpses of his arms and the veins popping from his muscles as he sustains his own body weight above you.
“Arthur, I-,” you whimper, “Not sure how much longer I can take.”
You feel his thrusts become more calculated and passionate, he then says, “Wanna finish for me, angel? Don’t want you to feel left out.” You breathe out an acceptance before riding out your high together with Arthur. He slams into you a few more times, each with a tired but satisfied groan into your ear.
You feel him hit the back of your cunt and explode into you as you climax. Your spends mix together into a creamy, sticky messy.
Arthur takes a moment to savor the moment before kissing your shoulders and back, thanking you for such a unique experience.
Hopefully it wouldn’t be talked about amongst the campers tomorrow. ;-;
it surprised him—how sharp and small the sound was, how it cut clean through the room. he remembers looking at you, eyes wide, breath caught between a laugh and something like fear.
“she sounds mad already,” he murmured, voice rough with wonder.
the midwife placed her in his arms a moment later, and john went stiff as a board. he barely dared breathe. she was warm. too light. he remembers thinking she felt like she might disappear if he didn’t hold her just right.
her cry softened when you spoke.
john noticed that before anything else.
later—much later—he would remember how her eyes opened just a crack, unfocused but dark. your eyes. not his. yours.
he never said it out loud, but the thought rooted itself deep and stubborn: she was going to look like you.
those are the memories that come back now, uninvited, as he stands in a room that’s gone quiet in a way it never should.
she hadn’t cried much after that first day.
john had noticed. how she slept too reminded him of jack when jack was sick, not when jack was new. too small. too still. too quiet.
he remembers holding her one night, pacing slow while you slept, counting her breaths like if he kept track of them, they’d keep coming.
jack had been loud. hungry. demanding. alive.
this baby felt fragile in a way that scared him more than gunfire ever had.
now, standing by the empty crib, john feels something cold settle in his gut.
maybe it was always meant to go this way.
the thought makes him sick with guilt the second it forms.
he sits by you when the room clears, memories pressing in around the edges. the first cry. the weight in his arms. the flash of your eyes looking back at him through something so small.
“i should’ve known,” he says quietly, not looking at you. “shoulda seen it.”
his hand finds yours again. grounding. real.
he stays because that’s what john does when everything else fails.
and months later, when he’s able to say her name—when he finally admits she was here, that she mattered—it doesn’t undo the loss.
but it lets him remember her without flinching.
that’s as close to peace as he ever gets.
arthur realizes something is wrong before he even opens the door.
the place is too quiet. not the peaceful kind. the kind that follows something violent once it’s finished.
his hand rests near his gun as he pushes inside.
the smell hits him second.
blood, old and metallic, soaked into the floorboards. overturned furniture. a chair split where it hit the wall.
“Isaac?” he calls, sharp.
he moves fast, heart slamming, already knowing and still refusing to accept it.
isaac had been walking last time arthur saw him. clumsy, stubborn little steps, laughter bubbling up every time he almost fell. toddling after arthur, grabbing at his coat, determined to be part of whatever was happening.
“look at him,” you’d said once, smiling soft. “he thinks you hung the moon.”
arthur remembers scoffing, uncomfortable with the weight of it. remembers lifting isaac anyway, settling him against his hip.
he finds you on the floor.
there’s no mistaking what happened. no illness. no accident.
someone wanted money. someone decided a woman and a child weren’t worth sparing.
arthur staggers. drops to his knees beside you, hands shaking too hard to touch at first.
“no,” he breathes. “no no no…”
his vision blurs. his chest feels like it’s being crushed inward.
he sees flashes he doesn’t want—
you laughing, hair loose, isaac tugging at the hem of his shirt.
the three of you at the small table, sharing food that wasn’t enough but felt like everything.
isaac asleep on his chest, warm and heavy, completely trusting.
arthur presses a hand to the floor slick with dried blood.
“i was supposed to protect you,” he whispers.
the rage comes later.
first comes the burial. slow. careful. he digs until his hands are wrecked, every blister earned. he lays you down like a promise broken. places isaac with you, small fingers curled like he’s just sleeping.
arthur stands there afterward, empty and shaking, hat in his hands.
then he asks questions.
not kindly.
he tracks down the men responsible, one by one. the right names surface eventually. money exchanged hands. a few dollars was all it took.
arthur kills them.
quickly. efficiently. without speeches.
and when it’s done, when the blood dries and the gun smoke clears, the hollow in his chest is still there.
revenge doesn’t bring back warmth. doesn’t quiet the memories.
arthur rides away knowing one thing for certain:
whatever man he might’ve been died in that house with you and isaac.
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Felt like combining two of my interests so that I could practice drawing both! (And develop a style with lineart because that's something I'm still getting used to lol). Wanted to add some explanations for each choice too in case you guys were curious!
Arthur and The Shire | Yutyrannus
I wasn't entirely sure where I wanted to go with him at first. High honor, low honor - in these cases he might have something different - but I wanted to make the dinosaur somewhat 'universal.' Since I started playing Rdr2 for a third time, my choice was definitely influenced by the general Ambarino environment. But it was also determined by 'first impressions.' What did Thomas Downes think when first seeing Arthur? What about Jimmy Brooks? While you can redeem (haha) Arthur later on, there's no denying he's a bit more intimidating/aggressive at the start of the game. I went with the Yutyrannus based on that - he's the gang's scary muscle (allll those Strauss missions), and he would need a dino of a similar type to match that!!
Bill and Brown Jack | Ankylosaurus
While I was thinking about Bill too, I knew EXACTLY which dinosaur I wanted to go for when I looked at Brown Jack. That horse would've been an Ankylosaurus in another life.
Charles and Taima | Styracosaurus
Charles was easy - I knew I wanted Taima to be within the Ceratopsidae family (they felt kinda similar to bison, in a way?), and I landed on the Styracosaurus because I really wanted to draw those fun horns :D
Dutch and The Count | Quetzalcoatlus
OKAY YES NOT A DINOSAUR. But I NEEDED Dutch to have a Quetzalcoatlus. Dutch would want something flashy (thinking about how you have to upgrade his tent first before anyone else's for 'morale'), so I know for a fact he'd go for the largest flying reptile ever... maybe getting to Tahiti isn't a crazy idea after all.
Hosea and Silver Dollar | Maiasaura
Maiasaura means 'good mother' (lizard) - pretty self-explanatory I'd say :')
Javier and Boaz | Maip Macrothorax
UH. Honestly. I don't know why. This one was purely about vibes and these were the vibes I went with.
John and Old Boy | Carnotaurus
Carnotaurus means "meat-eating bull" - I was thinking a bit about the epilogue (farming for beginners), and John trying out ranching in general. Also! I think it fits Old Boy too.
Karen and Old Belle | Stegosaurus
I love Karen SO MUCH. She's a little prickly on the outside, but with her reaction to Molly and some of her conversations with the other girls - idk. I felt like a spiky herbivore was the best pick for her.
Kieran and Branwen | Parasaurolophus
His was what started this whole thing! (Can you tell he's my favorite I draw him so much). I knew I wanted to draw him with a Parasaurolophus so quickly that I had to make searches like 'duck-billed dino with horn thing?' 'duck-billed dino that makes noise with head?' Don't ask me wtf those searches are, I completely forgot the name, I only had the vision LOL.
Lenny and Maggie | Gallimimus
I wanted something that felt playful? For Lenny. And while we don't know how "playful" dinosaurs were, they're animals, animals are playful, and I know that I can watch birds do whatever the hell they want all day, so I went with a dinosaur that felt a bit closer to its later evolutionary counterparts - the Gallimimus!
Micah and Baylock | Utahraptor
Yeahh this one was easy too. I just kept thinking about which dinosaur would encapsulate that blue-eyed stare. I love Baylock too, nearly as much as I love raptors in general, so I had to match them up.
Sadie and Bob | Dilophosaurus
I felt like she'd have a smaller carnivore of some type - swift and fierce. I also think Bob, the horse, worked really well as a Dilophosaurus? He was one of the easiest ones to draw because the patterns of the horse were SO pleasing to work with.
Sean and Ennis | Spinosaurus
I debated what to do for Sean A LOT. Then I thought about his interactions with Arthur and how his choice of dinosaur might be influenced by that - sort of a, following in his footsteps thing.
Trelawny and Gwydion | Kelenken
He would 100% travel around with his terror bird and put on (con) shows. I figured he'd accessorize Gwydion a lot too, make him flashy and unassuming to any of his future targets.
Uncle and Nell II | Deinocheirus
He needed a dinosaur that would laze about with him and I thought an older-looking Deinocheirus would be PERFECT. Honestly any dinosaur that could provide Uncle with shade was a potential choice LOL
would LOVE more arthur with plus size reader. anything nsfw that you’re feeling! i think he’d love a girl with a little meat on her bones and he’d make sure she knows it 🙈
Every creak of the four poster betrays you. Sympathies for your neighbors subjected to the rhythmic thumping of the headboard, incessant knocks on the shared divide where the abuse of wood has worn a line in the damask.
Nevermind you, you mewling thing.
“This is — harder — than it looks." You pout, your dampened brow drawn with focus. The warm rasp of Arthur's laugh, layered like a full-bodied bourbon with notes of smug mockery, makes desire war with indignation in your core. But the feel of him as you ride — so deep as to stipple your vision with stars — favors desire.
“You’re doin’ good, sugar. Real good.” He soothes, roughened palms making plush indents in the fat of your ass as he spreads you, wetting his lips, watching himself vanish and reappear from within your tight, gleaming rim. “Christ, look at’chu…”
You’ve never found yourself in this particular position before, but you can understand the visual appeal — for him. All you have to look at are his well-muscled legs and your own panting, disheveled reflection in the mirror opposite—
You grimace and shut your eyes.
Arthur was your first. And you were his first in... well, in longer than a man cared to admit. He took you in a bed of moon-dipped lavender; nervous; gentle; attentive to the point of apology. You cried and laughed and bless him, he didn't run. But you quickly learned that while you wore your shame as a second skin, his was like a shackle, and though your heart sank when he told you he shouldn't, couldn't be with you, it was not with surprise.
The surprise only came when he chose you anyway.
Not over the gang — that, you'd never presume. But despite his burdens he makes time for you, and you both seem to accept the quiet accord that you'll cling to this goodness until its inevitable end. It's all either of you have.
Huffing with effort, stamina drained, you still — as does the headboard, much to the relief of your neighbors, you're sure — and lean your weight on your hands in capitulation to the roaring protest of your thighs.
“Woah now, you ain’t done ‘til I say.” Arthur teases, rendering a light spank to the apple of your rump. And though you can’t see him you just know your whimper makes that maddening, crooked grin of his curve slow above his chin scars. “C’mon, cowgirl — up y’get. Put them pretty hips to work.”
“I — I’m tired, Arthur.” Then, with a bit more honesty, “I’m… not good at this one, I don't think.”
He’s quiet, smoothing his hand over the lingering sting. “Y’need a minute?”
You nod. You slide off, a dull, achy void where his cock belongs. Silently cursing your gracelessness, you shift with limbs like gelatin to lay beside him instead. You don’t meet his eyes, and perhaps with mercy on his mind, he doesn’t insist. Just rolls so his chest is flush against your back, drawing you close with arms fit for hoisting hay bales, hauling his hunt, full of strength to lift grown men as heavy as their crimes over his shoulder — yet for the gnawing pit of your swiftly-spiraling thoughts you can’t fathom why they’d ever bother with holding you.
"Talk." He prompts without ceremony.
You swallow. "S'nothin'."
"Liar." He snorts softly. "I keep tellin' you, princess, you lie about as well as—"
"Oh, fine." You groan, curling away from him on instinct as if recoiling from your own impending truth. "…I kept looking at the mirror."
In the silence you can hear his understanding. He sighs heavily.
“Want you to feel good…” His voice on the shell of your ear is as tender as his touch, big hands cradling your belly, your softened fullness like baker’s dough rising between his fingers. “Wish I could — I don’t know… let you borrow my eyes, or somethin’, if it’d help y’see yourself different. Like how I do.”
Your throat tightens. “Thank you, Arthur. That's kind."
Another wash of air on your neck as he huffs in dismissal. “Shut up. I’m tryin’ to tell you—“ He pauses, lifting his head to better see your face, the lines around his eyes creasing with something like determination. “To hell with me. I wanna hear you say it.”
“Say what?”
“Say you’re pretty.”
You scoff but his hand finds your chin, tilting it back towards him with gentle insistence. “You heard me, woman. C’mon. Let’s hear it.”
“Arthur…”
“Christ alive, just — do what I tell ya.”
You purse your lips, the sentiment false on your tongue as you flatly acquiesce, “…I’m pretty.”
“That’s it.” He murmurs approvingly, pressing a scratchy kiss to your temple. “Again.”
“I don’t—“
His hand slips below your belly, massaging your clit between the calloused valley of his first two fingers. Your voice catches on a breathy sigh. “I’m… pretty…”
“There y’go… now say it like y'mean it...” The soft sounds of him playing in your mess reach your ears as your hips roll to his touch. The phrase doesn’t ring quite so hollow this time and so you repeat it, seeking his praise.
“Now you’re gettin’ the idea.” He rumbles, curving those two fingers inside you with ease. You steal breath with a soft gasp, lips parted, pleasure flourishing outward from his touch like wildflowers set aflame. You reach back, fingers carding through untidy tawny locks as you draw him into your kiss.
"That's right... don't gotta look at no mirror... just me."
And as you stare into his half-lidded eyes, full of tenderness rarer than the gemstones that envy their hue, the only word you can conjure between the heated press of your lips is, "Pretty... pretty... pretty..."
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