Synopsis: A morning of heavy, sun-drenched love between you and your boyfriend Arthur.
paring: Arthur x fem reader
warnings: tiny SMUT. no use of y/n, uses of darling, established relationship, kissing, dry humping.
wc: ~1.2k
Shady Belle is ugly, dilapidated, and stinks of humid air and sweat. But that doesn't stop Arthur. He is a sucker for a good sunrise.
Arthur stands at his window in his small room. The heat of the rising sun spreading across his face and his bare chest. His suspenders hang from his waistband, as he took a break from dressing for the day to take a moment to revel in the peaceful sun.
He takes his cigarette out of his mouth, letting a cloud of smoke fill the empty room. He didn't know where you were, probably outside with the rest of the gang, where he should be.
You walk up the stairs in search of Arthur. He usually never sleeps in, and the absence of his guff, but nonetheless morning greetings at the coffee percolator had felt like a missing piece of his morning. You assumed if Arthur was not outside with everyone yet, he must be in the room you share.
The grand staircase of Shady Belle groans under your weight, the wood soft with rot. You're afraid that one of these days it's just going to give up and someone will fall from the second to the first floor.
You reached the door. You slowly and quietly opened it, not wanting to wake Arthur if he was still sleeping.
But, you weren't expecting the view you were going to get.
You fully opened the door, seeing Arthur basked in the sunlight. His bare back contoured with the warm light.
The sight of him steals the air right out of your lungs. The muscles of his back, the expanse of his shoulders tapers down to a narrow waist, morning light catching every scar. He looks like a statute carved from the oak from the trees outside.
Arthur took one last puff of his cig and put it out on the small nightstand next to him, the smell of charred pin momentarily cutting through the stagnant swamp air.
He turned around, instantly face with you. He jumped slightly, his hand to his heart.
"Jesus." Arthur let out a small chuckle, his voice still having that gravelly, morning register that always made your knees feel a weak. "Didn't know you were there, darlin'."
The chuckle he lets out is deep, a low rumble that vibrates in the small, humid room. He doesn't immediately reach for his shirt that was draped on top of the bed. Instead, he just stands there, the morning light now surrounding him like an angel.
"Sorry, Arthur. I didn't know you were asleep or not." You answered.
Arthur shrugged. "Don't apologize sweetheart." He walked over to you, the floorboards making the same groan as they did when you made your way up the stairs, and placed his hands on your waist.
"I was just looking for you." You looked up into his eyes. "Coffee's ready. Thought you might've slept in."
Arthur let out a low, huffed breath that was almost a laugh. The heat radiating off his bare chest like a furnace, making the already thick air in the room feel electric.
"Slept in?" Arthur repeated your words as if they were a foreign concept.
His grip felt your soft cotton of your skirt, rubbing the fabric in between his fingers. Arthur didn't seem in any hurry to go get his coffee.
"Coffee and everyone else can wait a minute," he murmured, his head titling just enough to cast a shadow over your face. One of his hands slid from your waist, his large palm coming up to cup your cheek. His thumb, rough from years of handling reins and revolvers, trace the line of your jaw with aching slowness.
"You look real pretty in this light," he rasped. "Makes it hard for a man to think about anything else."
"I always look pretty." You retorted, your smile slowly growing.
Arthur laughed. "Yer right."
Arthur's gaze dropped to your lips, his breath hitching. He was waiting, not because he was unsure because you both kissed all the time, but because he was giving you every second to tell him if you wanted him to stop.
You looked up at him giving him a small nod.
Arthur let out a small exhale and closed the distance. He pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as he just leaned into you, savoring the quiet.
"Sometimes," he whispered against your skin, "I wish we could just stay right here. Let the world go on without us for a while. Just for today."
Arthur finally founds his way to your lips that promised more than just a "good morning". Behind him, the sun continued to climb, turning the room into a haze of gold, but for Arthur, the only light that now mattered was right in front of him.
The kiss was slow and deep. You tasted the tobacco of the cigarette Arthur had just smoked, and the sweetness that only ever seemed to exist within these small, four walls of your shared room.
Arthur's hands moved with a sudden, restless urgency. One slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair to hold you steady, while the other pulled you flush against his chest.
Without breaking the kiss, Arthur grabbed you, turning the both of you and backed him up until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed. Arthur sat down, guiding you on top of him. Your skirt draped over his legs as you straddled him.
He moved you back and forth, creating tension between your hips and his. The friction was a slow, agonizing burn through the layers of fabric.
Arthur's hands were everywhere. One was tangled in your hair to keep your mouths fused together, the other clamped tight on your waist to guide the rhythm.
Amongst your soft, muffled moans, Arthur let out a low, muffled Goran against your lips, a sound of pure need. Every time you shifted against the heavy denim of his trousers, Arthur's breath hitched.
He bucked upward slightly, meeting your movements with a desperate, rhythmic pressure that made your head spin. The heat radiating off his bare chest was staggering, and you could feel the frantic, heavy thud of his heart against your own.
"Darlin'..." Arthur gasped into the small space between your lips.
The bed groaned beneath the two of you, the rhythmic CREEK, CREEK, CREEK keeping in pace with the frantic movement of your bodies.
Just as you both reached a fever pitch, a heavy pounding rattled the door in its frame.
"ARTHUR! ARTHUR!"
It was Bill. And he sounded like he was standing just outside of the thin wood door.
"Dutch is yellin' for ya! Somethin' about that bank robbery! Get your hide out here!"
Arthur froze, his forehead dropping onto your shoulder with a heavy, defeated thud. His chest was heaving, his skin slick with a fine sheen of sweat.
"Alright Bill, be out there in a second."
He didn't move for a long moment, his hands still gripping your hips as if he were trying to memorize the feeling before he had to let go.
"I'm gonna kill him," Arthur muttered into your neck, "I'm truly gonna kill that man." You let out a laugh.
He squeezed your waist one last time, a lingering press that promised this was far from over, before he leaned back, looking up at you with a wry smile.
"Reckon duty calls," he rasped, "but don't you think for a second I'm forgettin' this. Tonight, when the moons out, and there ain't no Bill Williamson."
a/n: a quick little somethin somethin. the next chapter of My Mouth Is Clean, My Hands Are Dirty is coming next weekend!
Synopsis: At the mayor's party, Arthur has one job: Look for valuables. But when she catches his eye, his objectives get blurred.
paring: Arthur X Mayor's Daughter Reader
warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUTTTT. Porn with plot. No use of y/n, uses of: "dirty/good/bad girl", "evil woman", "sweetheart", age-gap mentioned (everyone's 18+ of course!), flirting, cock worship, cock slapping, handjob, come eating, brief oral M receiving, rough P in V, squirting.
wc: ~4.6k
"Remember why we're here, fellas," Dutch's voice was low and gravelly, "look for any opportunities, as well as anything we can stash in your pockets."
Bill let out a low chuckle, but Hosea and I stayed quiet. I felt that Hosea had the same churning in his stomach as I did.
Dutch had recently gotten us friendly with Angelo Brontë, an intelligent, quick-witted Italian businessman. I couldn't blame Dutch for that, we needed to rub elbows with Brontë to get Jack back.
But getting invited to the mayor's party and actually attending? To me, this was overstepping a boundary I would rather not cross.
All Dutch saw was open doors and money signs, of course at the expense of his men. He's been different, not the same man that I once knew, not the same man that I considered a father.
We were guided to the gardens of the mayor's mansion. It gleamed under the sparkling golden porch lights. The room buzzed with pompous conversations between pompous men and women that held glasses of champagne that were probably worth more than my life alone.
I fought hard to hide my disgust, but what can I say? I turn my nose up at arrogant rich people like they turn their nose up at me.
Dutch sidled up to Brontë doing what he does best, schmoozing. That's one thing that hasn't changed about Dutch.
I rolled my eyes before getting back to what I was here to do. Steal, which is what I do best.
I stuffed my hands in my pant pockets and tried to exude the same important demeanor I saw the other men here have, but I knew I couldn't fool anyone. I slowly strolled through the party-goers on the terrace, looking down so I didn't step on any fancy shoes or somehow ruin their elegant tuxedos and dresses.
But then, as I looked up from the ground, I saw her.
It was like the thick pollutant air became thin. Like the bright, sparkling, golden lights became brighter than the sun. Almost like a spotlight at the theater.
And I stood there like an idiot.
She looked like she belonged, adorned with elegant gown and heels like the other women here. Her hair was pinned in a neat updo, not a single strand falling out of place. She stood by the grand staircase with an effortless grace, smiling at something a man who was talking to her had said. I saw the people congregated on the terrace gazing at her and whispering to their friends and spouses.
Then it dawned on me:
You belonged because you were part of the wealthy and powerful. Your family were the ones on the tippy-top, along with the other people who were at the top, but you probably didn't bunch yourself with the brutes of the middle-high class.
Nonetheless, a prime target for me.
I found my in when the man that was talking to her walked away. I noticed her disgust and her eyes rolling to the back of her head when the man was gone.
I sidled up to her like Dutch to Brontë. I felt my nerves tingle with...fear? No. With...well, I don't know. In these moments where I am surrounded by people who had more worth in their fingernail than me I felt my tongue twist and the words in my brain getting tangled in that tongue twist.
I cleared my throat moving closer to her. "Evenin'." I gave a slight nod.
She gave me a small smile, looking up at me. "Evening." Her eyes glanced up and down my attire which was the equivalent to a costume to me. "I haven't seen you around here before."
I shifted under her gaze, becoming stiff and consistently more aware of how out of place I must've looked in my suit that was too tight across my chest and shoulders and too striking for my taste, but Dutch swore I should have it. Jesus...
But something about your gaze was different from the rich assholes that were here. Instead of clutching your purse close to your body or turning the other way, you were intimidating me. You were sizing me up.
"N-no, this ain't my usual sort'a...event." A breath that was strangled within my lungs slipped out in a painful sigh.
"I can tell." She admitted, which did not make me feel any more confident. "But don't worry, most of these fools don't care to notice, even if they make sure to show it."
I cocked my head, my brow rising. "You think so?"
She nodded knowingly. "They're either too drunk, or the men are face deep into a women, who aren't their wives, pussy."
A rough bark escaped me. I was pleasantly surprised by her bluntness. All of the rich women here would never dare to speak her sentence, let alone stay around another woman who was so unapologetic.
I glanced around to see if I can see what she meant. And once her sentence filtered through my head I could see it, like it was a secret message that I was just waiting for.
For instance, a very important man, probably a politician of some sort, letting his hands ghost another woman's hip, before sauntering over to his unknowing wife by the fountain.
"Yeah," I muttered dryly, "place is full of snakes."
She swirled her glass gently. "So tell me, are you a man of infidelity, or are you a drunkard?"
A slow smile spread across my face as I shook my head. "Neither. I ain't got a woman waitin' for me and I'm not drunk. Yet."
Her smile grew wider. "You're one of the few then."
"Guess I am." I took a step closer, a step that I wouldn't have dared to take a couple seconds ago.
The noise of the party seemed like it faded, even though I knew the reality was that it was the same volume. But the orchestra, the whispers and laughters from other attendees, none of that mattered right now.
Even though I don't know her, I could tell that my assumption of her was wrong. She has status, but doesn't act like she does. Which is weird, but refreshing.
"You know," I started, but without thinking of the words that were coming out next, "you ain't like these people either."
It felt like us, two strangers from completely different worlds, realizing they speak the same language.
She was now the one who cocked their head. "And how so? You don't know me."
"Yer right," I admitted, "I don't know you. Still most folks here? Seems like they talk with their mouths full of white lies. Without knowin' me you spoke your mind, without all that sugarcoatin' bullshit. It's admirable."
She smiled, but I continued. "And you ain't starin' at me like I'm dirt under your shoes just 'cause I'm not wearin' gold cufflinks, or...somethin' like that." A beat of silence passed before I finished my sentence. "So yeah, different."
She let out a warm chuckle before taking a sip of her champagne. I watched her lips pressed gently to the rim of the glass and how she probably wouldn't even flinch at the champagne's price tag.
All of Dutch's nonsense, the stealing, the opportunities, all vanished. I was just...talking. Talking to you.
A waiter carrying a serving tray passed by us and I, without thinking, reached out a plucked a fancy-looking sandwich from it. It was a poor excuse of a sandwich, if I could even call it that. It was basically a crumb of bread with a slice of cucumber on top.
I popped it in my mouth like I belonged, pretending it was a normal dinner fair instead of rich people silliness. It tasted sad, but free food, right?
"So, how do you find yourself here?" She asked me, her eyes looking up at me through her eyelashes.
I chewed slowly, buying myself time to quickly conjure up an answer.
The truth? Dutch, yeah THE Dutch Van Der Linde, sent me and some of his other men to rob the shit out of you rich folks.
But I couldn't say that, of course.
So I swallowed and leaned one shoulder against the marble handrail of the terrace's balustrade, feigning the casualness like this was any other social gathering for me.
"Got invited, " I shrugged like it was no big deal, "Friend of mine's connected." I am not exactly lying, but I'm starting to become one of the rich men here telling white lies.
I shrugged again. "Never been to one of these things before. Figured...why not?"
She raised her eyebrow at me. You saw right through my bullshit. "You know someone here?"
Ouch.
I hesitated. "Yeah. Know someone who knows someone." My voice dropped to a quiet register. "Sorta."
"Hm." She took another sip of her champagne. I watched her fingers curling around the stem of the glass with elegance. The way her eyes traveled down me yet again made my skin prickle.
I shifted on my feet. This social tension? Worse than any standoff or bullets that grazed my head.
The silence stretched for what seemed like days before I exhaled through my nose and decided to take a gamble. "Yer gonna ask if I'm here to steal or somethin'?"
What came over me?
Maybe guilty conscience?
I am talking to this gorgeous woman, in her gorgeous dress, at this...godforsaken party, here to steal from people like her.
Her face twisted into one of confusion. Shit. "Now why would I ask that?"
"W-well..." I trailed off. I felt my ears get hot and my cheeks get rosy and even hotter.
A smile broke onto her face. "But you'd be stupid if you didn't come here to steal something."
Oh?
You were right. But I wasn't thinking about the abundance of items and paperwork to steal right now.
"Maybe I'm not going to steal," I began, "or maybe I just haven't decided yet."
I tilted my head, now taking my time to study her. "Why? Yer gonna turn me in?" That sentence sounded intimidating in my head, but when it came out of my mouth it was laced with flirtation.
But her smile never wavered and parroted back. "Maybe. I just haven't decided yet."
You were playing with me. That smile, the glint in your eyes that I couldn't ignore, the teasing lilt in your tone. You were flirting back with me. You dirty girl.
I leaned in and lowered my voice so only she could hear. "Well then, better keep me entertained so I don't actually steal somethin'."
"Or if you do make up your mind, I'll just pretend I didn't see." She takes another sip and held her eye contact with me above the rim of her glass.
You would cover for me? And that lustful gaze with your sinful eyes. You're a bad girl. A very bad girl.
All of a sudden I felt like I didn't have control of myself. Once she finished drinking, I reached out and took the champagne flute right from her hand and took a sip myself, right around where her lush lips had been.
My eyes burned holes into hers as I drank. The look of pure shock on her face turned into one that was...intrigued? It was hard to tell in the moment, but I saw the smirk on her lips and heard the low chuckle escape from her sweet lips.
The champagne tasted sweet, or maybe that was what I imagined your lips tasted? Anyway, what mattered was your reaction and that I didn't make a complete ass out of myself.
The action repeated in my head as I continued to drink. It was awkward and odd. No one does that. But I'm glad she didn't seem to mind.
She was holding my stare with no fear or judgement painted on her face. Just...amusement, like maybe something hotter was brewing underneath.
I lowered the glass and handed it back to her without breaking eye contact.
"You're fun." She smirked. "I've never had a man tickle me this much before."
You think I'm fun just 'cause of this? I haven't even showed you my full potential.
"You ain't so bad yerself." I murmured before quickly adding. "I mean, you got taste."
She raised a brow. "Just 'cause I find you fun?"
"Well...I mean...no. No, that's not what I meant." I stuttered and stumbled over my words. Jesus Christ, pull it together. "Yer just funny. And pretty too."
Her face lit up just like the twinkling lights on the terrace. "There it is."
I blinked. "Huh?"
"Answer me this, did you come here to steal or just to flirt around with the mayor's daughter?"
THE MAYOR'S DAUGHTER?!
My face might as well been translucent. I probably look like a corpse standing there dumbfoundedly while all the blood from my cheeks pooled to my feet. "Well, I-I didn't know you were the mayor's daughter." I wished I could've just disappeared into the night sky.
I saw her smile again. She grabbed my hand and started to lead me. I didn't know where she was dragging me off to, probably to her daddy so she can see me swing.
"Can I ask where yer takin' me?" I peeped out, scared to know the answer, and possibly my inevitable fate. She led me inside the mansion and into a hallway that greeted us with a long, narrow staircase.
She looked back at me. "You wanted to steal something, well in that case I want something too."
"W-What? What do you mean?" My voice was barely above a whisper.
Once up the stairs, she ushered me into a small study. Next to the door, there was a desk with stacks of papers and books upon books strewn across the top. I could practically hear them scream my name. I glanced back at her, my heart was slamming against my ribs. She closed and locked the door behind us, shutting out the party below.
She stepped forward, blocking me from the view of my treasure. "You want things of value, big boy," she purred, a wicked smile spreading across her face, "well then you need to fuck me."
Fuck you? You want me...to fuck you.
"What?!" I sputtered out.
I don't think I even could. I mean, I haven't laid with anyone since, well, since Mary. I wouldn't be up to par with the high-class men you hang around with. What if I finish too fast? What if I don't make you come?
She looked up at me with pleading eyes. "Are you gonna fuck me or not?"
"I don't...I don't even know yer name."
"Is that really that important? I have what you want, and I can tell you don't pass up a pretty lady." She wrapped her arms around my neck. "And, here I am, a pretty lady throwing myself at you."
I let out a shaky breath and let my hands hover over her waist. She pushed me up against the door with a soft bump.
"Have you had sex before?" She asked bluntly.
"Yes."
She smiled. "Good."
"Good?" My hands were shaking and my legs felt like jelly.
She lowered herself down to her knees, letting her hands trail down my body and finally gripping onto my hips once her knees hit the ground.
She looked up at me with those big, innocent eyes and rubbed her face against my growing arousal. I huffed, biting my lip and looking up at the ceiling.
If I look at you I'm gonna come, and I cannot come yet. We just started and you would most likely kick me out. I'd have to kiss everything goodbye.
She moaned softly into my clothed, pulsating cock, begging to be free. I let out a shaky breath before looking down at her. "Take me out..."
"Mmm, but I'm not done yet." She groaned into my cock. My head shot up again, leaning against the door.
I thrust my cock into her face, just desperate to get more friction. I was embarrassingly hard, uncomfortably hard.
I felt my precum leak out onto my pants. She let out a surprised gasp, before giggling softly and unzipping my zipper and letting my heavy cock spring free.
I looked down at her admiring my cock, examining it like she didn't know what she wanted to do first. Her eyes were wide and sparkling as she took my base in her hands, her grip firm against my hardness.
I let out a low, ragged hiss between my teeth as she began to stroke me, her hand sliding up and down the length of it with a slow, agonizingly steady rhythm.
I was right. You are a very dirty girl. A very dirty girl rubbing your pretty face on my big cock, stroking my big cock with your cute feminine hands.
Every stroke, up and down, pulled a tight shudder right out of my chest. I tried to look away, tried to anchor my hands...anywhere, but my eyes kept dragging themselves right back to her on her knees. Watching her delicate hands moving in unison against my thick heat was intoxicating.
You were ruining me in the middle of your daddy's study, and you love every minute of it.
"You like that, huh? You like when I stroke your big cock, yeah?" she purred, her thumb tracing over the slick ridge of my head, catching my leaking precum and smearing it down my shaft to make her strokes smoother.
"Ah...f-fuck." I growled. My hips jerked forward instinctively, chasing the friction of your palm. My whole body was wound up like a spring, my muscles shaking from the immense pleasure. "You...you gotta slow down there..."
"Why? You're gonna come for me, huh?" She looked up, not slowing down.
"If...if y-you keep going at m-me like this." I responded in weak breaths.
"Don't come unless I say, alright?" She tossed back her hair and took me in her mouth, using one of her hands to stroke the rest she couldn't fit.
I moaned in response. I couldn't form sentences without me sounding like a complete, stumbling idiot.
She came off my cock with a pop. "Don't come..." She sang. She replaced her mouth with her other hand again.
My jaw clamped shut, a desperate grunt caught in the back of my throat. I am an outlaw who spent his whole life running from the law, but right now, I was completely paralyzed and pinned to the door by a direct order from the mayor's daughter.
You're torturing me. You know exactly how close I am. You evil woman.
I felt a rush of pleasure fluttering in my lower stomach as I began to thrust more frantically in her hands. I moaned and whimpered in an embarrassing manner.
And I came.
Then she stopped.
The warmness of her hands, instantly gone from my throbbing cock. My head shot down to her.
"I told you not to come."
Smack!
The sharp, stunning slap against my sensitive, throbbing cock made my head shoot straight back against the door. A loud, breathless groan ripped from my lungs, my teeth grinding together do hard I'd thought they'd shatter and fall out.
She slapped it again and I felt like my legs were going to buckle underneath me. I tried to keep my footing, my knee shaking like leaves.
You're slapping my cock, watching swing back and forth. You're punishing me...like I'm some sort of animal. Is that how you see me? An animal?
"I give you an order, and you just take what you want anyway, huh?" She smiled up at me, despite the abuse she had endured on my cock.
"I...I told you..." I wheezed out, my voice rougher than gravel, "I couldn't...couldn't help it."
She let out a soft mocking chuckle, then licked my come off my head and my shaft, glancing up at me to make sure I was watching.
And I was sure as hell watching. I couldn't have looked away if the building was burning down around us. Or even if her daddy walked in.
My mind completely short-circuited. The sheer audacity of it, the absolute filth of her, a woman who was supposed to be the mayor's pristine daughter was doing to me, made my still-hard cock even harder, if that was even possible.
She sucked the come off her fingers, her tongue swirling around her digits, making sure she didn't waste a single drop.
I need to fuck her now.
I lifted her up from the ground, earning a gasp from her. I wrapped my arm around her, and with my free one, wiped off the papers and books off the desk and placed her down on her back.
"I need to fuck yer pussy," I grunted, "come on, pull up yer dress for me." She laid there on her back, a smirk spreading over her pretty face as she looked up at me.
She didn't hesitate. I could see her hands trembling slightly, but she reached down, grabbing the hem of her expensive gown and bunching the heavy fabric up around her waist, exposing her lace undergarments and the soft skin of her thighs.
I didn't waste a second. I hooked my fingers into the lace, ripping the delicate fabric right down the center with one violent tug. She let out a sharp gasp, her fingers digging into the edge of the desk behind her as I wedged myself between her knees, forcing her legs to open wide.
"Yer cunt is drippin' for me, sweetheart." I gently spread her cunt open with my fingers. Her legs trembled slightly as she let out soft whimpers.
"Yer ready for me? Ready for this big cock, huh?"
She nodded eagerly and wrapped her legs around my waist to pull me in. I lined the head of my cock right against the opening of her wet cunt. Her breathing turned shallow and frantic as she felt me pressing to get in. She whimpered like it was some sort of a plea.
I didn't give her a chance to do anything. I gripped her hips with force and buried myself inside of her in a sharp, deep thrust.
A guttural, animalistic sound tore from the back of my throat as her cunt completely encased me. It was a total eclipse of my senses.
I didn't give her a second to adjust to the size of me. I drove into her again and again and again, each time harder than the last, my hips slamming against her making loud smacking sounds of our skin slapping together.
The mahogany desk creaked violently beneath her, shifting a few inches against the floorboards, but I couldn't care even a little if the piece of furniture shattered under us.
She let out a loud, high-pitched broken cry as I continued to pump into her with relentless rhythm.
I panted, barely able to speak. "Yer tits...mmm...yer tits bouncing each time I pound into ya..." I let out a ragged laugh.
"W-wait...I'm...!" She choked out, her hands flying to my chest, her fingers digging through my suit jacket.
"No." I growled and pinned her wrists against the desk on either side of her head, locking her in place.
"You dirty girl...takin' me on yer daddy's desk." I growled as I felt my thrusts become sloppy. "You like that don't you? Huh? That yer daddy will sit here tomorrow and not even know what you did. Hm?"
She didn't answer, just moan and cry out as she dug her nails in my hands. Her legs began to shake and I felt her cunt pulse on my cock.
"Yeah come for me...doesn't mean I'll stop." I growled out and forced my thrusts to become as rough as they were when we started.
She didn't answer with words. She couldn't. Only with cries and broken moans.
"Rub yer clit for me." I demanded. "Come on, be a good girl a rub yer swollen clit."
Her hands were shaking as I released her wrists, allowing her to reach down between our bodies. Her delicate fingers found her clit right near where my shaft of my cock was still driving inside her.
The second her fingers touched herself, a piercing cry left her throat. She started rubbing in a desperate rhythm, matching the pace of my hips.
Look at you. I wish you could. The mayor's precious little girl, fucking an old, perverted outlaw.
The sight of her undone state against the creaking desk sent a massive wave of heat straight to my gut. My thrusts became deeper and the smacking sound of our skin meeting was bouncing off the ceiling of the silent study.
"Yeah, just like that." I growled, hitting her deepest spot over and over. "Make yerself come all over my cock."
Her fingers moved faster as she pushed herself closer and closer to the edge. Her walls were clamping down on me again like a vice. She was breathing in short hitches, her head tilted back, her chest rising and falling.
"I'm coming...I'm coming!" She screamed out like a helpless surrender.
Her hips jerked upward against mine. I could feel the intense pressure inside her, a heat that began to pool right where we joined.
"Come on, sweetheart." My hands squeezed the meat of her hips so hard my fingers sank deep into her skin. "Give it to me."
With one final, frantic circle of her fingers, her whole body went rigid. Her eyes rolled back, her legs locked tightly against me, and a wail escaped her mouth.
A sudden torrent of fluid erupted from deep inside her, a soaking rush that drenched my cock, as well as the front of my pants and the desk under her. The force of her release gushed over my skin, a wave of wetness that made her cunt slick. The fluid began to pool under her lower back, some dripping onto the papers I'd thrown on the floor.
The spasms of her squirting cunt wrung the absolute life out of me, dragging me right over the edge before I could even draw another breath. I let out loud moans, my jaw locking so hard my teeth clicked together. I drove myself into her one last time, bottoming out completely against her pelvic bone.
My own release tore out of me in massive white-hot pulses, shooting deep into the very depths of her womb. I pumped myself empty into her pulsing cunt while she lay there completely breathless, her hand dropping limply away from her thigh, weeping and trembling.
"So." Her voice was timid.
"So." I repeated back.
It was silent for a moment before we both burst into quiet laughter.
"That was fun." I said quietly.
"I knew you were fun."
I smiled. "Yeah, you knew."
I pulled out of her earning a moan from both her and I. She slid off the desk and straightened out her dress before moving to the door.
"Wait!" I called out.
She looked at me with a smile. "I'm gonna change. Take whatever you want." She unlocked the door and walked away.
So I was standing there, in the mayor's study where I fucked his daughter and made her come so hard she marked her territory. I gathered some of the books off the floor and picked up the wet papers and stuffed them in my pockets.
Before I left, I looked down at my clothes. I couldn't do anything about the wet spot soaked into my pants, but I couldn't care. I was wearing the mayor's daughter.
a/n: I had so much fun writing this! :) Chapter 12 of My Mouth Is Clean, My Hands Are Dirty should be coming out next week!
Synopsis: You and Arthur have a romantic getaway at the hotel in Strawberry
paring: Arthur x fem reader
warnings: SMUT and fluff. porn with a plot, no use of y/n, uses of sweetheart/my girl/love/honey/darling, body worship, praise, fingering, F oral receiving, massage
wc: 10.7k
"I'm excited, Arthur!" You exclaimed. You sat on the back of Arthur's horse, wrapping your arms around his waist.
"Yeah? I am too, sweetheart. Finally a break away from camp." Arthur promptly looked back at you, shooting a wide smile your way.
"And to Strawberry at that. It's so quaint." You rested your head on his back. Arthur looked back at the trail.
"I thought we both needed a break from bustlin' towns. Campin' by Saint Denis is only bringin' us more traffic we ever saw."
"Do you like Shady Belle?" You heard Arthur sigh before he answered.
"No, if I'm being honest. It's swampy and humid, and the alligator's eyin' us like we're their next meal isn't too appealin'."
Arthur continued. "But, I do like havin' a roof over our heads. It makes my life feel more domestic than it is."
"Mr. ruthless, infamous outlaw likes the feeling of domestic life?"
Arthur smiled at your wit. "Oh come on, yer sayin' you don't?"
You shrugged. "As long as it's with you."
"Oh, please." Arthur looked back at you once more, his smile from before never left his face. "Yer tryin' to charm me ain't you?"
You let out a quick laugh. "What? It's true!"
Arthur turned back to focus on the road. "I wouldn't mind a peaceful life with you in the future. A small cabin deep in the woods, away from everyone."
"Sounds nice." You commented.
"Oh it is. We would sleep and wake up in a bed, not worry about if we have to make a quick decision in the middle of the night and flee for our lives."
Arthur reached down and grabbed your hand that was resting on his stomach. "And, even though we aren't used to livin' like, well, normal folk, we would make it work, like we always do."
Your hand turned and grabbed his. "Like we always do."
The town of Strawberry appeared in the distance. Townsfolk were busy doing what they do in their domestic lives, not showing any worry about having to make a decision in the middle of the night to flee, like the two that were just now riding into the quaint town.
But for right now, that's what you and Arthur look like. The citizens don't pay any special attention to the two of you, not knowing what you have to do, or have gone through within the past months.
In fact, they probably thought the same things that you thought of them. Maybe something along the lines of, "Look at this sweet, innocent young couple (that definitely doesn't have a criminal record)."
The couple arrived at the hotel. Arthur swung off Boadicea and tied her to the post out front. He then grabbed your waist and hoisted you down from the horse's back.
Arthur held out an arm and you instinctively grabbed it, wrapping your arms around his own, and leaning your body close. He began to lead the both of you up the steps of the hotel.
While some people would assume that being an outlaw's lady would mean the outlaw acting like a big, macho man, who:
1) wasn't a gentleman, and
2) didn't know a lick about affection.
Which was not true, at least not for Arthur. He treated you like a prized trophy (which he should, obviously). Matter of fact, he was obsessed, and he wouldn't have a problem admitting it either.
If he could, he'd shower you with gifts every waking hour. Lavish, extravagant things, as extravagant as a vagabond's like would allow, of course. Trips and surprises like this one to Strawberry were common with him, but somehow they always managed to feel special and reserved. Just for you.
You and Arthur step foot into the building, the hotel clerk standing at the front desk.
"Why hello there, welcome in. Need a room, or a hot bath?"
You let go of Arthur's arm as he rested on the desk to talk to the clerk. You walked away from the two men and looked at the decor of the lobby area. A big taxidermy bear presented in the corner by the fireplace caught your attention. It was gaudy sure, but for some reason it fit. You thought to yourself that you would assume a richer place would put such gaudy pieces in a place of business.
Then your thoughts wandered about the domestic life Arthur had teased on the ride over. You thought about having a gaudy piece, like that bear, in your small cabin in the woods and you nearly grimaced. You would kill Arthur if he brought a taxidermy anything into the house.
"One of your best rooms, and a nice hot bath for my lady."
The clerk nodded and slid the room key over to Arthur, as he paid for the room. "Here you are, sir. I'll prepare the bath and let her know when it's ready."
"Thank you." Arthur nodded, and sauntered over to you, your back still turned to him, eyes still inspecting the bear.
"Creepy ain't it?" You turned your head to Arthur's voice.
"Yeah. Gross too."
"Here's the plan-" Arthur started.
"Oh God, I don't want to hear about 'plans'..." You groaned.
Arthur let out a chuckle. "I ain't Dutch sweetheart. Now listen, I'm goin' to head over to the store across the street. I'm gonna get somethings for tonight."
Arthur grabbed your hands, placing the room key in one of them. "What I need you to do is to take a nice, relaxing bath. And if I'm not back, when yer done, just wait for me in the room."
You cocked your head as a smile grew on your face. "You got me a bath?"
"I want my lady feelin' the most beautiful she can feel. Lord knows you've earned it."
Your eyes sparkled. "I love you."
"I love you more. I'll be back, now."
Arthur walked out of the hotel. You could see him through the hotel window, crossing the dirt road and disappearing into the store.
"Ma'am?" The hotel clerk skipped down the steps. "Your bath is nice and warm for ya."
"Oh, thank you so much." You smiled. The clerk handed you the key to the bathroom and returned to his place at the desk.
You climbed up the steps, wondering if yours and Arthur's small cabin in the woods would have any steps. Probably not, if it was truly small. But what if there was a tiny upstairs? Maybe that's where their bedroom would be. Or even a small attic? Now, that would be nice.
One thing was for certain: your small cabin in the woods wouldn't nearly have as many steps as this hotel.
Once you reached the top, you immediately spotted the door labeled in big letters, "BATH". You slipped the key into the keyhole and entered, locking it instantly behind you.
A bath. You haven't had one for months, and it probably showed. But when you're surrounded by people who rarely bathe, at least not as regularly as most, you don't notice it until you're suffocated in civilization. Which, now you are.
You slipped off your blouse, then your skirt. Next came your corset, which you made a mental note to tell Arthur it needed replacing. The fabric was fraying, and the boning was slowly falling apart. Then your boots, then finally your combinations.
With your clothes discarded on the floor, you stepped into the bath and nearly had an orgasm at the sensation.
The warm water lapped up your legs, your torso, and caressed your chest. It was almost like the warmness of the water was in your bones and your blood. You sank deeper, letting the soothing heat wash over you.
You slipped further in, only your nose and eyes peaking out of the water. You hummed, closing your eyes.
You wondered if the bath in yours and Arthur's small cabin in the woods would feel like this. You couldn't help but imagine having the privilege of taking a bath whenever you wanted.
You couldn't help but imagine what the possibilities of having a bath could bring. Of course bathing alone was nice, but what about bathing with some company of your fella? Maybe a sexy massage from your beau? My, that would be even nicer.
You could almost feel his chest pressed against your back, his beard scratching against your neck. And even though you hated the feeling of the scratchiness and had complained about it before, you didn't care in this moment.
You could feel his hands gliding up and down your biceps and shoulders, digging into your soft skin. Then, continuing their path down your breasts, where he would pinch and roll your nipples, which you felt had grown hard.
His hands would then, of course, find their way to your cunt, rubbing the places he knew you liked. The places he knew made you react the way he loved to see you react.
It's embarrassing to say the least. Pathetic, even. He wasn't even here, and yet here you were, imagining that the warm water surrounding your bare body, your bare pussy, was him.
Deciding you'd gone far enough in your fantasy, you grabbed the soap that had been quietly watching your daydream unfold from the tray in front of you.
As you were scrubbing the dirt, dust, and sin away, your mind was still on your thoughts about your bath in your small cabin in the woods. More specifically how you were imagining those dirty things, all the while Arthur was across the street, and the hotel clerk sat just below you at his desk, probably picking at his teeth or twisting his mustache.
And Arthur didn't know what you had been thinking. And when he comes back, he still won't know. But when you look at him, you'll know that the version of him in your head touched you in the bath.
You had scrubbed until you were literally squeaky clean. You stepped out of the bath, grabbing the towel that was lying on the chair in the corner of the room. You wrapped the warm cloth around your dripping body, carefully drying yourself off and making sure to get every curve and crevice.
You slipped on your combinations once more, along with your skirt and your blouse. You didn't bother to slip on your boots or your corset, only to take them off once in your room.
You exited the bathroom and saw Arthur sitting on one of the loveseats, a bag placed beside him. His head turned to look out the small window
"Hey, you. Enjoyed shopping?" You asked.
Arthur turned to look at you. "Yep. Got you something too."
"Ooo! Really?" Your face lit up.
"Yes, but let's go into the room first." Arthur smiled, standing up from his spot and grabbing the bag, holding it in his arms. "It's the one right here." He motioned his head to the door to the right of him.
You nodded, unlocking the door and walking into the room. It was large, but cramped with furniture. There was a mirror up against the wall near the dresser, two nightstands that were decorated with lamps and an ashtray placed on one.
There were doors out to the connecting balcony that showed the setting sun, and the winding down of the town of Strawberry.
It made you think of what the view would look like at yours and Arthur's small cabin in the woods. Would the view just be all trees? Or would it be facing West, towards the setting sun where Arthur dreamed to rest eternally?
"Come on," Arthur broke your thoughts as he lead you more into the room, "you starstruck or somethin'?"
"Or something." you replied. "This is amazing, Arthur."
"Only the best for you, sweetheart." Arthur pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to your temple. He walked past you and set down the bag at the bottom of the bed, plopping down next to it.
"Wanna see what I got ya?" Arthur's boyish grin made you chuckle.
"Of course." You smiled, sitting down on the opposite side of the bed. You set your boots and corset down onto the floor.
Arthur pulled out various items from the bag. Chocolates, a bottle of gin, cigarettes, Sweet Almond Oil...
Oh.
Maybe that sexy massage from your beau was becoming reality...
... and a deep red dressing gown.
"I know you've been talkin' about wantin' one of these...uh..."
You smiled. You did. He listened, like he always does.
You've been wanting a dressing gown to wear around camp over your combinations, feeling too exposed just being in your undergarments in front of the others. You've been mentioning this to Arthur for months. He remembered.
You grabbed it, running the silky, thin fabric under your fingers. "How much was this, Arthur?"
"Eh, you don't need to worry about that." Arthur brushed it off, making you think that it was more than two dollars.
"Do you like it?"
You smiled, taking the gown and hugging it. "I love it."
"Great. Now try it on. I wanna see!" Arthur's giddiness made you chuckle.
"Alright, alright. Close your eyes."
"Why?" Arthur whined. "I've seen all of ya before!"
You laughed. "Because, I want it to be a surprise. Now shush and close your eyes."
Arthur reluctantly closed his eyes, muttering under this breath about not seeing you change. You slipped off your blouse and skirt once more.
To throw a bone to your fella, you decided to take off your combinations. Usually, dressing gowns were worn over your undergarments, but you knew Arthur wouldn't mind either way.
The dressing gown easily wrapped over your body effortlessly. It was perfectly loose and flowy, but tight and snug in the places where it should be. The color complemented your complexion, like Arthur was imagining you wearing it when he was purchasing it.
You turn to appreciate yourself in the mirror, turning and spinning around to see every angle of you.
"Can I open 'em, now?"
You turned back around, laughing softly. "Oh! Yes sorry..."
Arthur's eyes shot open, his blue irises sparkled. "Wow...sweetheart..."
Your face hurt from how wide you were smiling. The price of the gown wasn't on your mind anymore.
Your mind was now full of all sorts of things, like how Arthur now stood up and was towering over you. How he's wrapping his hands around your waist, and his gaze was dancing down your body, noting that your naked body was underneath the see-through fabric.
Your mind was also full of thoughts of yours and Arthur's small cabin in the woods. In your bedroom upstairs, or downstairs if the cabin didn't have any stairs at all, the two of you would share intimate moments like this one.
Or maybe it didn't have to be in your bedroom, since of course, it's your own small cabin in the woods. These intimate moments could be anywhere you two wanted them to be. For instance, like in the kitchen, on the couch in the living room by the fireplace. Hell, even on the porch. It's a small cabin in the woods, no one will see us.
And even if they do, who cares.
"Not wearin' anything underneath..." Arthur's cadence was playful throughout his whole observation. He dragged his hands down your torso, close to that bare pussy you were thinking about him touching in the bath.
Your face was beaming red, your smile never wavered. You shrugged and he laughed softly.
"You're so beautiful."
His hands travel to your bare ass as he plants a big kiss on your lips. If an artist, like Charles Chântey, was here painting this moment it would be lustful and lewd, with your sinful, naked body underneath the dressing gown, Arthur's hands squeezing and rubbing up and down your ass, his kiss on your lips.
You knew that the narrative of that fake painting would be untrue. Arthur's motions, with his hands and his lips were dirty, but was full of pure love.
In fact, if you compared Arthur's acts to the acts of some, disgustingly rich man in Saint Denis with probably his fifth love affair that month, Arthur would appear as a "respectable man".
Arthur broke the kiss. "I want tonight to be just for you."
He walked back to the bed and grabbed the almond oil that was still lying on the bed. "I got this...'sweet almond oil'. The man at the counter said it's good for the skin. Not that your skin ain't good already, but -"
"Why else did you get it?" A smirk spread across your lips.
Arthur looked away, his mouth turned into a smirk that matched yours. "Well..."
"I don't know..." Arthur's boyish grin appeared again as he looked back up at you.
"I reckon you do."
Arthur shrugged. "Maybe I'll show you." He placed the oil back into the bag. "But after. I want to take care of you first."
"Take care of me?" Your cheeks are now hurting.
"Yeah. Come here."
The moon has now risen. Her glowing light, that was equally bright as the sun, shone over the town of Strawberry. You looked out the window and wondered if the moon would shine like that over yours and Arthur's small cabin in the woods.
Arthur grabbed your hand, leading you out to the balcony, moving you in front of him, placing you between the bars and wrapping his arms around your waist. His face leaning on your shoulder, looking out at the town. The townsfolk have retreated back to their houses, their own houses.
"It's a pretty view ain't it?" Arthur's voice cut through your thoughts of a far away future.
"Yeah. It's gorgeous."
"Not as gorgeous as you." Arthur's head turned to you.
You shook your head and smiled. "You're silly."
Arthur shook his head, looking back to the town. "No, I'm tellin' the truth."
Silence fell between the two of you. Silence that would be at the small cabin in the woods, especially in intimate moments like this one.
The silence was broken by a quiet chuckle from Arthur.
"What?"
"What if we...started out here?" Arthur turned his head back to look at you.
You smiled, turning your head to him. "I don't mind where we start."
"That's my girl." Arthur praised.
He pulled you back to your chest, you instinctively grabbing the cold, iron railing in front of you. You felt his arms wrap around your hips, bunching up the dressing gown in his left hand as his other danced around your cunt. He peppered kisses on your jaw and neck as right hand move flawlessly on your body. He knew what to do.
He wasn't inside you, nor was rubbing in the right spots just yet, but the thought of him getting ready to do so could make you come right then and there.
"Stop teasing me..." Your voice came out barely a whisper.
"You need to be patient, honey." Arthur rebutted. His hands teased your entrance, You would feel the tip of his finger swipe your entrance. You squirmed in his grasp.
"Shhh...you're alright." Arthur whispered in your ear as he continued to kiss down your neck. His beard tickling your cheek, just like you had imagined in the bath.
You thought it would take him till the turn of the century to finally press a finger into your cunt, then two. His thumb found your clit in a steady motion as he slowly and carefully moved in and out of your pussy.
A restless tension began to tighten in your lower belly, and a burning feeling bloomed down your thighs. You've been waiting for this since Arthur had mentioned taking you out just a couple days ago.
Your nipples were hard too, just like how they were in bath. The cold air brushing against them was adding to pleasure, sending a shiver through you.
You let out a soft gasp, leaning your head back onto his shoulder behind you. Arthur soaked in the expression on your face, your closed eyes, your open mouth.
"Tell me when you want me to go faster, darlin'."
The dichotomy of his sweet names and his dirty actions never failed to make you hot. You wondered if when you and Arthur were living in your small cabin in the woods, if his sweet words and dirty things he does to you would only grow stronger. The thought of him, not as an outlaw, but as a man, making love to the woman he most admired in his own small cabin in the woods, made your head spin.
"Faster."
He followed your orders, rubbing your clit and fingering your pussy. In and out, in and out. Arthur circled your clit more swiftly, and his skilled fingers were moving in harmonic pressure. Your moans were quiet and sing-songy, and your hips began to hitch in time to his symphony.
"Arthur..." You groaned out. You grabbed his bicep to steady yourself, as your legs were wobbly and you were conscious about the not so sturdy balcony bars that you were using for support.
"You're taking my fingers so good..." He moved his kisses to the back of your ear, suffocating himself in your now clean hair.
"Can I take this off?" Arthur began to pull off your dressing gown.
You got knocked out of your current state and grabbed his hand from pulling it down further.
"Wait, wait..." You said breathlessly. "We're out in public, Arthur."
"You're now worried about that?"
You lifted your head off Arthur's shoulder and saw that the town has now gone to sleep, making it seem like you two were the only ones awake.
"I don't have to take it off if you don't want me to. But darlin', your body is already on display."
This was true.
"You're right. Take it off."
Arthur smiled as he slipped off your gown, exposing the parts that were surrounded by the warm water in the bath. Your chest, your torso, your legs. The dressing gown pooled around your ankles.
"Turn around for me." Arthur ordered.
Your bare back was now leaning against the wobbly, iron bars of the balcony. Arthur dropped to his knees, looking up at you giving a genuine smile. A man who truly loved his lady.
He was still clothed, not bothering to take off his own clothes, at least for this moment. Your naked body over his clothed one brewed a strange sense of power in you.
You returned his loving gaze and reached down to caress his face. He leaned into your touch, kissing the palm of your hand with a devotion that made your heart swell. But the fire he'd started was still swirling low in your belly.
You pulled your hand back to grip the top of the railing of the balcony, the cold metal was a shock against your palm that was just warm with Arthur's kisses.
"Lift your leg a little for me." You did, and Arthur removed the gown from your ankle. "And now the other one, darlin'." He discarded the gown off to the side of you two.
"Arthur..." You mewled, a challenge and a plea all at once.
Arthur grabbed your leg, draping it over his broad shoulder. Simultaneously, his other hand grabbed your waist to secure you. Just like he did on your neck, he started to kiss the inside of your thigh, his lips traveling closer and closer until he found himself face to face with the very thing he'd been dreaming about since the trail.
When his tongue finally made contact, a broad, wet stroke that mapped you from bottom to top, you let out a cry that echoed down the quiet streets of Strawberry. Arthur wasn't rough, remembering his promise to "take care of you", Arthur was agonizingly patient.
He started with soft, fluttering kisses against your entrance. His breath hitching as he felt you tremble. Arthur's tongue flicked against your clit, in a gentle, swirling motion.
The same mouth that had been so sweet and chaste against your lips and your temple in the hotel room was now licking and slobbering against your heat. You looked down, your fingers curling around the iron bars that had began to ache.
You saw the top of his head, his hat had been discarded, probably somewhere in the room. You lifted one hand off the bar, and ran it through his hair. He groaned into your pussy as a response.
His tongue's dance got more intense, messily burying his face into your snatch. You pant out, your song becoming louder than when his fingers were deep in you. Your body was slipping down, your hands getting tired from using all your might to keep you and the bars up.
Arthur breathlessly pulled himself out, wiping your slickness from his face. "You okay, sweetheart?" The vibration of his low voice against the inside of your thigh sent a new wave of heat through your core.
"Can we move inside?" You asked, your voice was sweet as honey.
"Of course." Arthur responded, almost instantly. He stood up and retrieved your gown from beside him. Arthur held out his hand for you to grab, and the two of you walked back into the room.
Once the door to the balcony was closed shut, Arthur's lips returned back to your neck, and down your shoulder. His kisses moved down your arm, then ended on your hand.
"God, I love you." He commented. That was a common sentence that Arthur had said to you. "Do you want me to finish what we were doin' out there?"
"You better."
Arthur smiled before lifting you up, and gently placing you down on the hotel's queen-size, soft bed. You wondered about yours and Arthur's small cabin in the woods. What kind of bed would you have? If it was truly small, then probably a small bed.
Arthur lightly pressed you down onto the bed, but he didn't just start where he left off. He began where he started, kissing your neck that he loved so much, then down your breasts that he loved even more, until he reached your bare pussy. The same one that he touched in the bath, the same one his fingers and tongue were just buried in.
Arthur now knelt on the bed, lifting both of your legs over his broad shoulders. As his mouth made contact with you again, he worked with the same gumption that he had outside, the same soft licks and suction that was focused entirely on your pleasure.
His large, calloused hands gripped your thighs, rubbing and massaging them as his sounds of him licking and slobbering mingled with your cries and moans.
"You're...you're so good to me, Arthur." You moaned, gripping the sheets next to you.
He moaned into your pussy in response, his sound vibrating inside of you. You squirmed and writhed. Every moan you let out seemed to give him more passion, his thumbs tracing small circles into the skin of your thighs and then your hips.
You wondered if this would also be Arthur in the small cabin in the woods; in the bedroom, in the kitchen, on the couch by the fireplace, or on the porch. You wondered if his motions would be different, if his tongue would suck on your swollen clit with the same desire.
As your moans grew louder, Arthur knew what was soon coming, literally. A familiar tight coil of heat brewed in your lower abdomen, your legs tightened.
So, he adjusted himself. Arthur moved back to your swollen clit, sucking and kissing, and gently returned his fingers into your cunt. His fingers curled and moved in rhythmic motions. In and out, in and out, just like they were out on the balcony.
"Arthur..." You warned, panting and whimpering in the process. Your fingers digging so deep in the bed's sheets that you thought they'd might tear.
"I know. Come for me whenever yer ready, darlin'." His voice sweet, gentle, not matching his rugged appearance.
You finally broke. Your climax crashed over you like a wave. You felt your heart beating out of your chest so hard that you were most certain you can see it. Arthur loudly licked you up, not wanting any of your arousal to go to waste.
You were soaring. Soaring far away from Strawberry, far away from camp and the Pinkerton's, landing right in the center of that small cabin in the woods.
You saw you and Arthur dressing the bedroom with their own bed, big or small, upstairs or downstairs (if there weren't any stairs). The bedroom would be filled with a dresser and a mirror like the one in this hotel room, with two nightstands on either side of the bed, and an ashtray sitting on Arthur's side, whichever that may be.
You saw the kitchen, the oven, the counters. It would be dressed with s cutting board, real cutlery, plates. It would be homey and way fancier than the life they had lived.
You saw the living room with the couch by the fireplace with the fire roaring its orange and reds, with no gaudy taxidermy pieces in sight. Arthur's mother's favorite flower that he had kept was sitting on top of the mantle, along with other knick knacks you and Arthur had from travels and your time spent at camp.
You saw pictures of deer and various other animals around the room, you saw pictures of you and Arthur that you had demanded to get professionally done. You'd probably would say something along the lines of, "To appear like normal folk, we need a family photo."
The porch would have two rocking chairs, one for Arthur and one for you, of course. The chairs would carry the both of them through their lives, until their bones couldn't hold themselves up anymore.
You would make sure the cabin would be facing West, facing the sunset for Arthur. If the trees covered the setting sun, then you would make sure the house faced East, facing the sunrise. As long as Arthur could see the sky turn gold, you'd be happy.
"Arthur..." you breathed out. He was already cleaning the excess up with a handkerchief that was in one of the drawers of the nightstands.
"Yeah darlin'?" His gaze was warm and adoring.
"I want that small cabin in the woods."
Arthur brows furrowed. Quickly, that look of confusion was replaced by the same loving gaze from just a second ago. "One day my love. One day." He climbed up the bed and kissed your cheek.
You stayed there, laid on your back, catching your breath from your orgasm. Arthur picked up the bag from the store, it probably fell during your activities. He grabbed the Sweet Almond Oil and opened it.
He held the bottle close to his nose and sniffed. His face appeared like he was expecting more of a smell, but was surprised when his nostrils wasn't filled with the heavy aroma of nuts he'd imagined.
"Are you ready, darlin'?"
"More?!" You exclaimed.
Arthur chuckled. "No no...I'm going to take care of you, remember?" He showed you the bottle of Sweet Almond Oil and squirted the translucent, yellow substance onto his hands. "Turn around, I want to start on your back."
You smiled, flipping over on the bed. Arthur's skilled hands, the hands that just made you come, were working on your sore muscles of your shoulder blades, on your back, on your hips.
You rested your head on your forearms, closing your eyes as you felt his hands firmly knead.
You felt the slick oil transfer from his hands to your skin. His hands softly grazing your back and moving down to the curve of your ass. While you weren't at your own small cabin in the woods, Arthur was domestic. He was domestic in a tent, in Shady Belle, in this hotel in Strawberry. You were certain that he had always been that man in the small cabin in the woods.
a/n: Happy Valentine's Day! Spend today with people you love! <3
Synopsis: You and your best friend Arthur are both assigned for the night shift
paring: Arthur x fem reader
warnings: SMUT. no use of y/n, porn with a plot, friends to lovers, P in V, semi-public sex, dirty talk, period-typical language
wc: ~3.3k
The sun has now disappeared over the horizon, and the moonlight has washed over the Lemoyne camp. Some members took this as a sign to retreat back into their respective tents, and others are gathered at the fire or the nearby table telling crude stories, drinking, or playing poker.
And while you loved to participate in these nightly activities, you were stuck walking the permitter of camp, keeping watch for anyone trying to enter.
The good news was that you weren't alone. You had your friend, Arthur.
You and Arthur had been friends for a while now. Matter of fact, you would probably consider him your best friend. He'd helped you when your wagon crashed back in Blackwater many years ago.
From that moment on, your friendship blossomed. You'd spend all the time together. Whether it was hunting, fishing, or missions, everyone knew you'd be with Arthur.
Since you and Arthur were attached at the hip, many women in camp always asked why you wouldn't court him.
Now, you weren't blind. Arthur was extremely attractive. He was big and broad, his golden hair was perfect messy or put together, his smile coy, his blue eyes were piercing, but kind. And that was just the physical assets.
But you'd always come up with some bullshit like:
"Oh, we're just friends. That'd be weird!"
"Come on! You guys are actin' like men and women can't just be friends."
"He has Mary."
The last excuse wasn't true anymore. In fact, Mary had cut off her and Arthur's engagement just a few years ago. While Arthur didn't tell you every detail, he did tell you in confidence how he felt about it.
But, that was, like mentioned, years ago. He barely mentions Mary anymore, or the engagement. Maybe he's over it for good.
Arthur stood leaned up against a tree, the butt of his cigarette lighting up his face in the darkening night. His shotgun was slung over his back, and his hat covered his eyes.
You walked up and nudged him with your elbow. "Caught ya slacking."
Arthur looked up at you, a playful smile spread across his lips. "Caught me? I wasn't sneakin'."
"Arthur, I can't be the only one walking around here."
Arthur groaned under his breath, tossing the cig onto the ground and putting it out with his boot. "Yer right."
"I know I am."
"Don't push it." Arthur's voice was stern, but you could sense his playful attitude was still there.
He joined your side as you continued to walk along the edge of camp.
Maybe the women inquired about yours and Arthur's relationship so much because of the exchanges you had with each other.
Arthur is no stranger to teasing. Especially teasing you, since he knows that you are going to retaliate back. He liked the back and forth and you can't say you don't either.
The way he played around with you was way different from the others at camp. But then again, maybe it was just playful banter.
Yeah. Playful, friendly, "I've known you for so long" banter.
"How's the night shift treatin' ya?" Arthur spoke up against the crickets.
"I'd rather be over there." you motion your head over to the poker table.
"Yeah so you could beat me like last time." Arthur countered.
"Definitely. I like seeing ya squirm, Arthur."
"You like seein' me squirm?" Arthur smirked, his eyes flickering over to you.
You rolled your eyes. "You know what I mean."
The wildlife around them (both the members who were still up and the literal wildlife) swirled in the background of their conversation.
"If ya mean what I think ya mean, then I reckon it doesn't make sense in the terms of poker."
A smile spread across your lips. You kept your head looking straight forward, but you could just feel Arthur's disgustingly smug expression that was painted on his face.
"You're an asshole." You muttered, shaking your head.
"Thought ya liked me bein' an asshole?" Arthur leaned in closer. Your guess on his expression was dead on.
"Back up," you shove Arthur back, "you shouldn't mess with a lady wielding a gun."
Arthur chuckled softly. "Like you'd shoot me."
"You wanna test me, Morgan." Your voice playfully threatening.
Arthur chuckled again. "No, because I know you'd do it within a second."
You laughed. "You're right."
The conversation died down. The both of you still walking around the perimeter of camp, passing behind the fire where everyone was at.
"Oh God, Sean is telling that one story again." You groaned, overhearing Sean's loud, drunk voice retelling the tired story.
"And why is it always that one? He must have more." Arthur commented.
"Maybe it's the only one he can remember when he's up the pole."
Arthur let out a laugh. "Yer on to somethin'."
The both of you watched Sean's drunk ass get up off the log, almost tripping into the fire. He grabbed onto Charles's (who was completely sober), shoulder to steady himself.
"Charles looks over it." You commented.
"Yeah, 'cause he's the only one who's cold sober."
Ms. Grimshaw, who wasn't completely sober, but sober enough was sitting next to Charles at the fire. Even though she wanted to appear bigger than it, she was in with the gossip mill. She knew about the all the tales that involved you and Arthur.
You caught her eye and she just gave you a knowing smile before turning her attention back to Sean, who is in the process of embarrassing himself even more.
You shook your head and continued to walk with Arthur.
"I can't complain," Arthur started, "it is a nice night."
You nodded.
Arthur continued. "The air smells clean, the temperature is just right. When Charles and I found this place I reckoned that the water would make it feel colder. Guess I was wrong."
You were listening, but your mind wandered. It seemed as though everyone knew about you and Arthur without you and Arthur even knowing for yourselves.
In a way, it made you feel vulnerable, exposed, even though the stories they were spinning weren't true.
You gnawed at your lip, contemplating if you should ask Arthur if he'd heard anything.
Arthur stopped his monologue about...the weather was it?
"Hey, what's wrong? Yer in deep thought about somethin'."
"Dammit. He knows me really well."
"I'm just wondering about something." You started.
"Alright. Do you wanna stop walkin' and talk about it?"
You nodded. Arthur walked you over by Mr. Pearson's wagon, which was placed almost at the outskirts of camp. You both rested your guns against one of the wagon's wheels.
"Alright. Tell me." Arthur stood in front of you, his arms comfortably crossed. You were almost trapped between him and the wooden wagon that was still wet from the rain earlier that day.
"Have you been hearing all the crazy things people are saying nowadays?
"Yeah." Arthur answered.
"R-really?" Your eyes went wide. "So, what do you think?"
"What do you mean?"
"About all the stories about us!"
"Stories about us?!" Arthur exclaimed.
"Yes!" Your voice gets loud, but you let out a breath to calm yourself.
"What do you mean, 'stories about us'?" Arthur asked. His arms that were crossed comfortably now to his side.
"About how we are sweet on each other, how we are secretly in a relationship..."
You continued. "What were you thinking about?"
"I thought you meant Sean and what he was sayin'," Arthur sighed, "not anythin' about...us."
"Alright, so now you know." You looked up at Arthur like you could see his answer on his face.
"Yeah, I do."
"So..." You draw out the "o".
"Well," Arthur grunted, "what do you think?"
"Goddamit Arthur! Be a goddamn man!"
"I think it's..." You started, trying to see what answer would satisfy Arthur, "interesting."
"Interestin'?" Arthur repeated.
You nodded. "Yes."
"I find it interestin' too." Arthur agreed.
It was silent between you. The lack of space between his broad chest and your face became more prominent than before. The smell of the wet wood, the grass, the water that surrounded the camp, and suddenly Arthur's scent of tobacco and leather.
Arthur didn't move away. In fact, it felt like he was looming over you more than before. Maybe it was from the sudden shift of weight of the conversation? You don't know.
"Really interestin'." Arthur's voice echoed in the night. The sound of the members playing poker and around the campfire danced in the background.
"I just...don't want that put a damper on our friendship, Arthur." You spoke up.
"Who said it would?"
Your eyes go wide and your face scrunches into a confused look. "Huh?"
"Who said it would ruin anythin'?"
You let out a small, nervous laugh. "Well...you know..."
"You know," Arthur moved more closer into your space, placing a hand on the wagon by your head, "I reckon it's our decision if it's goin' to 'ruin' anythin' or not."
You open your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out.
You saw Arthur's gaze drop to your lips, before slowly flicking back up at your eyes. "So, answer me, are we gonna keep talkin' about what they think, or are we gonna give them what they want?"
You didn't know how to respond, this all happened in a blink of an eye. "I don't care what they want, Arthur. How logical is this?"
"I don't know." Arthur answered. "But what I do know is that right now, I would do anything to get you out of that skirt."
"How would we go about this, Arthur?" You asked.
"Well, I'd slip this off..." Arthur reached to your skirt's waistband.
You grabbed his hands. "No, what I mean is, after, if—when we do this, do we go back to just being friends. I reckon it would be different if we do."
Arthur paused. He thought for a moment before answering. "We could be more, if you decide I'm good enough."
"Good enough at what?"
"You know what I mean." Arthur grunted.
"Could we still be friends even if we do fancy each other? Even if we are in a relationship?"
Arthur nodded. "Of course. I reckon it would just add to it."
You smiled. "Promise? Because, Arthur, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want this."
Arthur smiled. "Promise." He looked at his position, his body that was almost pressed up against you, trapping you against the wagon.
He leaned back, clearing his throat. "I'm sorry...I should be a gentleman, take you on a proper date before gettin' all intimate."
You grabbed his hand and placed it back on the wagon.
Arthur smiled at your action. "You shore you want this now?"
You nodded. "Really sure."
Arthur let out a short laugh before leaning in, placing his plump lips on yours. It was odd, but familiar at the same time. It felt right. It felt like his lips belonged on yours.
His hand that wasn't supporting him wrapped around the back of your neck, his thumb tracing along your cheek as his lips danced with yours. You rested your hand on his wrist.
He broke the kiss. "I can't believe we're doin' this."
"I know." You responded, leaning back in, almost like you were demanding his lips again.
Arthur's hand that was resting on your cheek, moved down to your shoulders, finding its way to your bosom that was covered by your blouse.
He broke the kiss once more. "Could I take this off ya?"
"Mhm. Take everything off."
Arthur smiled. You helped him slip off your blouse, boots, skirt, and undergarments till you were completely naked.
Arthur's eyes drank your appearance like he didn't know where to even look.
"Well, this ain't fair." You nodded to him fully clothed.
Arthur looked down at his clothes. "Yer right."
You watched him unbutton his hat, shirt, unbuckle his belt, take off his pants, boots, and undergarments.
You let out a laugh as you finally saw your best friend naked. "Never would I even imagine seeing THE Arthur Morgan bare."
Arthur laughed. "Well, do you like it?"
You smiled, taking in his appearance. "I do." You motion to yourself, posing. "Do you like it?"
Arthur laughed softly. "Oh, I do. I really do."
Arthur stepped back into your space, still laughing softly. He started to kiss your jaw, down to your neck and shoulder. It was so natural that you now understood why everyone in camp was making up these wild stories.
His hand traveled up to one of your breasts, running over your already hard nipple. As Arthur's hands moved across the valley of your breasts, and then moved lower on your torso and closer to your cunt, you could still feel the ghost of his touch.
Your hands ran up his broad shoulders and his strong neck, playing with the strands of hair that you could reach.
His one hand met your cunt, he carefully pushed a finger in, curling slowly, earning a loud moan from you.
His other hand shot up to clamp over your mouth, quickly taking you out of the pleasure you were feeling.
"We have to be quiet." Arthur whispered. You peered around the wagon to see the members at the campfire and at the poker table still lively and drinking.
"Can you be quiet for me?" Arthur asked.
You looked up at him with wide eyes before nodding.
Arthur released his hand from your mouth. "Alright."
His finger continued to curl inside you, your breath hitching as you let our soft, quiet moans. It was hard to suppress yourself. You would loved to give Arthur loud, saloon girl-like moans, ones that you didn't know you had for him.
"Yer already actin' like this and I haven't even given you my cock yet." Arthur's smugness from earlier tonight shown through.
He inserted another finger and with expertise, curling it slowly. You gasp looking at him.
"What? Can't take it?" Arthur's voice teased.
"No..." You breathed.
His fingers began to curl faster. "Good. 'Cause we're just gettin' started."
You let out a shaky breath as you felt his fingers begin to move faster.
Your head turns and your eyes closed. You've never felt pleasure like this before. When you took your fingers to yourself, you never got this close to an orgasm this fast.
Arthur noticed your chest rising and falling rapidly and your expression on your face. He knew you that your climax was beginning to bloom. He abruptly stopped and pulled his fingers away.
When the feeling of his fingers left the inside of your cunt, you let out a small whine of protest. You instinctively felt your hips arching to find his fingers again.
Arthur only chuckled at your sinful desire. "Patience. I'm gonna give ya what you've—we've...been looking for."
He grabbed his heavy, fully erect cock in his big hands. He stroked it a couple of times before he stepped back just enough to guide himself to your entrance.
You felt the cool night's air breeze against your skin, a harsh reality between the environment around you and what was happening to and inside of you.
Arthur took his time, grazing his tip against you. You shivered and gasped at the electrifying feeling, and when you looked up at him, you could tell that he was savoring the way you trembled just by his tip.
His eyes met yours. "Ready?"
You nodded. "Ready."
Arthur didn't wait a second. His broad chest pressed you more into the damp wood of the wagon as he slid in with one slow, deep thrust. With each second, you could slowly feel every inch of him. He moaned softly as he felt himself becoming more engulfed by you.
"Oh my God..." You mumbled under your breath.
"You alright?" Arthur checked in.
"Mhm. Please keep going."
Once Arthur's full length was inside of you, he began to slowly thrust in and out. You moved against him in rhythm. After a couple slow thrusts, he began to pick up the pace, now at a fairly steady speed.
You accidentally let out a loud moan, which Arthur wasted no time to stop. You looked away, embarrassed.
"Look at me." You heard Arthur's voice demand. You didn't dare.
Arthur grabbed your face with one of his hands, forcing you to look at him. "I told you to be quiet."
He grabbed your thighs and hooked them around his waist. "Hook your ankles around me."
You do what he said. He must've learned this with Mary.
He pins you up against the damp wood of the wagon. He places on hand on your waist to steady you, but with his other, he covers your mouth.
"I can't have you goin' and screamin' like that."
You nodded.
Arthur began again with the same steady pace he was at. Your now drowned out moans filled the air as your breasts bounced with each of Arthur's thrust.
"Uh-huh, that's it." Arthur rasped, his breath was ragged, shaking your bones. He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming hard and faster, and his sentences becoming interrupted by soft groans and grunts. "Mhm, take it. Take it like a good girl."
His grasp around your mouth was hard, desperate to keep you quiet from the others that were just around the corner. Well, wagon.
Arthur's eyes shut, pleasure flowing through him. His grunts and groans suddenly are turning into passionate moans.
Your hand clasped around his mouth.
He looks up at you with wide eyes. You squint, your eyebrows furrowing.
Arthur continued, his pace no longer steady. It was desperate as he felt you tightening around him. The wagon began to creak with every heavy thud of his hips against you, a sound the camp certainly could hear.
You were seeing stars, your head tossing back against the wood, Arthur's palm swallowing the muffled screams that he was tearing out of you, and yours doing the same for him.
You were both on the edge, muscles coiling tight. Arthur's now sweaty forehead rested against yours. His eyes meeting yours as he delivered three final rough thrusts into your cunt.
You felt your cunt pulse around him, as a muffled cry was lost against his hand. Arthur let out a long moan against your palm, his entire frame shuddering as he spilled inside of you.
You both released your hands, panting and gasping for air. You looked up into his piercing, but kind blue eyes. For a second, neither one of you dared to move.
"Wow..." Arthur whispered.
"Yeah..." You breathed.
"I...I wanna do that again." Arthur confessed.
You let out a soft, breathless laugh. "Yeah, me too."
"But not right now, I want you to rest. Besides we have a job to do and if Dutch sees us messin' around..."
You nodded in agreement.
Arthur slid out of you, making you gasp and shudder. He picked up your discarded clothes and handed them to you before gathering his own.
You quickly slid on your clothing, waiting for him get decent.
"Is my hair fine?" You ran your fingers through your hair, hoping it wasn't too messy.
Arthur was sliding on his boots when you asked that. He looked up and gave you an admiring look. "Amazin'."
"Oh so now you're gonna be a gentleman, Mr. Morgan?"
Arthur shook his head, laughing softly. He slides on his other boot before fully standing up. "Your hair looks fine."
You smiled. You grabbed both of the shotguns that were waiting patiently against the wheel, handing Arthur's to him.
"Let's go patrol." You said begrudgingly. Arthur laughed and followed behind you.
From the campfire, Ms. Grimshaw's eyes followed you and Arthur stumbling out from behind the wagon. She could barely hide her knowing expression.
Synopsis: You have to prove to Dutch you are worthy to be apart of the gang.
paring: dom dutch x sub f!reader
warnings: NSFW. SMUT. blowjob, power imbalance, mentions of cheating, Dutch is manipulative and a pervert, reader is lowkey pervy too, one usage of the word, "whore".
wc: ~2.2k
"Dutch! Dutch!" Arthur rides into camp, slinging himself off his horse, and carefully helping you down.
"Don't worry, you'll be alright." Arthur wraps an arm around you, as her ushers you to a big tent in the middle of camp. "Dutch! Come out here!"
Dutch emerges from his tent, his posture tall and demeaning. He stops a few feet away, hands resting lighting on his hips. "Well, well..." his eyes glide over you, "who do we have here, Arthur?"
"This is Y/N. Found her near Lemoyne, them Raiders were robbin' her. Couldn't just let them take advantage of her."
Dutch hums, "Seems you've gotten yourself into quite the mess, haven't you, miss?"
"I was thinkin' she could stay with us, Dutch." Arthur pipes up, squeezing your shoulder softly.
Dutch lets out a humorless chuckle, "And why would I let a stranger stay here with us."
"She has no where else Dutch."
Dutch strides over, leaning over you demeaningly. "Alright, in the meantime, you'll have to prove you can handle...this." He motions to the rest of the camp, noting at the others who are either cleaning their guns, or doing various chores around the camp.
You nod, "Yes sir."
"Dutch. You can call me, Dutch." You nod quickly, looking down at your feet.
"Arthur, help her get settled." Arthur nods and leads you away to the campfire nearby.
You sit by yourself on a log, eating the stew Mr. Pearson had made everyone. It tastes okay, better than the canned food you'd been living off of for the past couple days.
"Y/N?" Dutch calls from the outside of his tent, "Come here, miss."
You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, as You set your bowl down. You quickly rise to your feet and walk up to Dutch.
"Yes, Dutch?" You glance up at Dutch, his eyes soft, but piercing at the same time.
"Come with me." He motions you into his tent. You comply, walking into the tent. You awkwardly stand right in the center. It was extremely nice compared to the others'. It had a nice cot with shelving units filled with books and knick-knacks, as well as a gramophone and a nightstand next to the cot.
"Take a seat." Dutch instructs. You obey and sits down on the cot.
"You know, Y/N," Dutch starts, pacing slowly in front of You, "I have a lot of strong men and women in this gang. So strong that they can take on an army of lawmen."
You feel your face turn pale. This place is filled with extremely dangerous people. Were you really this desperate for a bed and some food?
"We have limited space as it is, but I would never turn down someone who needed assistance." Dutch pauses, turning to face You, "So Y/N, how can you prove yourself to me? What do you have to offer?"
You swallow, fingers curling on the soft mattress underneath you. "Well, I-I can cook, clean, fight. Whatever you need, Dutch."
The man in front of you leans closer. "Those are things I can teach anybody. I asked you, what do you have to offer."
You stare up at him, your breath catching in your throat.
Oh, and he notices.
A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. "What are you willing to offer a man like me, Y/N?"
You smile softly, hearing your heartbeat in your head. Your eyes smoothly travel down to his chest, before making their way back up to his face. "I can serve you."
Dutch chuckles straightening from his leaning position. "Serving me?" His laugh is low and amused. He turns away, inspecting the various items on his shelves. "Oh Y/N..."
Your eyes never leave him, now staring at his back facing you. You breathe hitches again, ever so slightly. The weight of his presence presses down on you, making a wave of shyness wash over your body. You can't help but fidget with the cot underneath you, and picking at your skirt.
"Y/N, Y/N, Y/N..." Dutch mumbles before turning back towards you, "Unfortunately, I'm keeping company with Miss O'Shea."
Your nod, your smile faltering slightly, and your gaze dropping to your shoes. Dutch pauses, then moves to shut the opened flaps of his tent.
You furrow your eyebrows. "What are you doing?"
"You said you would serve me, right miss?"
You nod slowly, looking up at him, "What about your lady?"
Dutch lets out a dry laugh. "Fuck my lady."
Your mouth drops. "W-what?!"
Dutch laughs softly. "You said you would serve me." He sits on a chair opposite to the cot, spreading his legs, "So, serve me."
You stare at him, your eyes glued to his crotch. You force yourself to look up into his cold eyes. "What if she finds out?"
Dutch leans back further, letting out a low, amused chuckle. "Find out?" His eyes glint with mischief. "She doesn’t need to know a thing. This is between you and me."
"You and me?"
"Right." Dutch shifts in the chair, "What are you waiting for? Serve me."
"I-I don't know..." You stutter. Before you can continue, Dutch cuts you off.
"Just do as you said. You want to be a good girl for me, right?"
You nod almost immediately. "Yes, Dutch."
"Sir. Call me sir."
You smirk. "Yes sir." You stand up from the cot.
"Wait miss." Dutch stops you. You pause, looking at him confused. "Get on your knees for me, right there." You hesitantly drop to your knees in front of the cot.
"Now, crawl to me."
You let out a soft, incredulous laugh. "What?"
Dutch straights in his chair slightly. "I said, crawl to me."
You take a deep breath as you move your hands and knees across the wooden planks of the tent. You can physically feel him, his satisfied gaze lingers on you. You can almost picture this moment out of your body, and how it would look if someone walked in.
Or if Miss O'Shea walked in. Just the thought alone sends shivers down your spine. What if she did see what her fella is doing with the new member? Would she be angry? Would she watch?
Or would she join? You sure as hell wouldn't mind.
You look up at Dutch, his pants becoming tighter at the sight of you so willing, so obedient. He's not afraid to show just how you are exciting him.
Dutch rests his hand on his growing heat beneath his waistband, his hand idly tracing along the seam.
You stop in between his legs, your knees pressed into the floorboards, head titled up for your next instruction. His posture is relaxes into a kind of confidence that somehow fills the whole tent.
"Go on." Dutch says softly, voice like velvet over steel, "If you're going to serve me, you'd best start by showing me."
You nod, and slowly leans right into his clothed length. You look into his eyes before you begin to rub your face up and down his erection. You start at where his base would be, moving up along his crotch before his belt grazed your face.
He looks down at you, the satisfied look never leaving his face. He didn't move, he simply stared, enjoying the view.
"Quick learner, aren't you? That's what I like to see." Dutch groans with pleasure. He grabs your face and pulls you up to look at him. "But, you will look at me. This is an act of service. For me."
You try to keep your eyes locked on his, just as he commanded. His thumb traced a patch along your cheekbone, a gesture that was hand-caress and half-restraint.
"Show me how much you want this, how grateful you are." he murmurs, his gaze that could cut rocks. "Take off my belt."
His hand left your face, only for him to lean more back into the chair, resting his hands behind his head. Your hands dance across his center, traveling up to his belt. The sound of the metal buckle clicking against the leather of the belt was a sharp, almost unbearably loud sound in the closed space of the tent.
You undid it somewhat ungracefully, which earned a soft chuckle from Dutch. He slides the belt from its loops and drops it on the floor next to him.
"Now, unbutton my trousers."
You bite your lip and nods, unbuttoning his pants. The rough material of hi trousers pooled around his polished boots. Your eyes snapped up, involuntarily, to his face. Dutch watched you, as the drawers strained, barely containing him.
"There we go." Dutch says lowly, dropping to a gravelly register. He shifts again in his chair, spreading his legs wider in a gesture of power, completely exposing the object of your focus. "Take them off."
Your hands tremble slightly as you gripped the soft fabric of his underclothes. You hesitated for a second, catching the glint in his eye, a challenging sparkle. You pull the material swiftly down.
His thick, heavy length sprang free. All you could do is stare at it.
"Whatcha doing, miss? Don't waste my time. Take it." Dutch gravels.
You place your hand on his cock, earning a low growl from him. The sudden sound made you look into his gaze.
"Come on." He commands.
You swallowed hard, the dryness in your throat acute. You pulled your gaze away from his and back at the task at hand. You lean forward, bridging the small space between your lips and his erect cock, inhaling in his scent. Your mouth opened slowly, and swirls your tongue around his swollen tip.
Dutch groans, tipping his head back, "Good...good..."
With his praise you gain more confidence, gripping the base of him and stroking in a smooth up and down motion.
A deep, shuddering inhale escaped Dutch. He didn't speak a command, but the small sounds he made were all the instruction you need.
You began to move your mouth down his base, drawing back and then forward again, working with a desperate efficiency to prove your worthiness. And sure, while the first few moments were clumsy at first, you were beginning to feel comfortable in this role, there to be his submissive, there to be his servant.
Your tongue danced around the base, moving back up to his dripping tip. Dutch tensed forward slightly.
"You're so good to me," Dutch mewls. He grips your hair, fisting it into a messy ponytail, "you're being a good whore just for this dirty, old man?"
You moan in response to his words, the vibration of your reaction traveling through his own body. Dutch pushes your head down toward his balls, making you take him deeper and deeper down your throat.
You gag slightly, not used to his length fully filling your mouth, your watery eyes glance up at him, before he shoves you back down on his cock.
"Yes...just like that..." Dutch breaths a long, drawn-out syllable of pleasure. You felt your cheeks heat, suddenly hyper aware that you were being watched by the man above you. But when he started to roll his hips against your mouth, you knew you had successfully proven your worth.
He moves you up and down his cock, his hips roll with a rhythm that strips away the last of his resistance. His tip hits the back of your throat, earning a low cry from you. Dutch groans and growls lowly as he grips your head, pulling your face close to his thighs.
He lets out a thick, satisfied sound, as he spills his spend in your mouth. You softly gag at the unexpected warmness trickling down your throat.
Dutch pulls away, panting like he just ran a mile, and pushes your head off his cock. Your face paints a reluctant expression at the sudden absence of his cock in your mouth.
Dutch buttons himself back up and buckles his belt. He motions for you to stand. You nod and get back up on your feet, brushing off your knees.
"You're a sweet secret, Y/N," Dutch confesses, looking into your eyes, "A sweet, sweet secret."
You feel your cheeks burn, not being able to hide your wide smile. "Thank you, sir."
Dutch lets out a heavy breath before striding closer to you. "And secrets, especially sweet ones, need to be guarded."
He leans in. You take a short breath, closing your eyes and leaning into him, but instead of meeting his lips, you were meant with the stale air of the tent. He was reaching over you to grab a book from the shelf behind you. You lean back, hoping he didn't notice.
But he does. He always notices.
"Now go." He says, looking down at you with lifeless eyes.
You nod, mustering up a small smile for him. "Yes sir."
"Dutch." He sternly corrects you. He sits down on his cot, flipping to a page in his book.
You take a deep breath. "Of course."
You leave his tent, closing the flaps behind you. You spot your metal bowl that was left just before your escapade with the gang's leader.
Just as you were about to sit down on the log you were previously at, you see a woman walking up to Dutch's tent. You watch her pull over the flap and casually walk in.
"That must be Miss O'Shea." You glance over, feeling a tiny bit jealous. She has no idea what just went on in that tent. That you had your mouth all over her fella's cock. And just how much you enjoyed it.
a/n: hey everyone! finals week is approaching, so i won't be as active this next week. but...chapter 4 of My Mouth Is Dry, My Hands Are Dirty, will be out soon! :)
warnings: sad. mentions of death, mentions of illness
wc: 771
Arthur's pen glides across the paper, his penmanship faltering due to his declining health.
He wonders if you can even read his chicken scratch, as he desperately tries to make it more legible, making sure he dots his i's and crosses his t's perfectly, to not make you wonder what he is saying.
It also doesn't help that tears are welling in his eyes, blurring his vision.
He sniffles, wiping his eyes with his sleeve and continues writing once more. He can't bear to say these words out loud, as the mere thought of leaving this earth without you crushes his soul.
Arthur knows he's going to die. He's known for a while now. Every ounce of hope of getting better is dying with him, with each faltering breath and the permanent stale, iron taste in his mouth.
He finishes up the last sentence, signing his name at the bottom of the page. He hates to do this. He doesn't want to, but he must.
The other gang members flee the camp, Arthur saying his goodbyes to each one. Until it came to you.
"Oh darlin'," Arthur grabs your hands, "promise me you'll be alright?"
You shake your head, "Arthur, why can't you come with me?"
Arthur hesitates. "I have some things I need to take care of."
"But..." You start, tears welling in your eyes, "you'll come find me after, right?"
Arthur smiles. "Of course. I'll catch you later, dear."
You pull Arthur into a warm embrace. You rest your head on his shoulder, you tears staining his shirt. Arthur brushes back your hair, sniffing your scent for the last time.
Secretly, he sneaks the envelope into your coat pocket, before softly patting your back. You both reluctantly pull away from each other.
Arthur sighs. "I love you."
You nod, sniffling. "I love you too."
He watches as you sling yourself on your horse, riding off into the woods.
Night fell, the sky making the trail less visible in front of you. Thankfully, you spotted an abandoned cabin that was good enough to spend the night in.
You hitch your horse to a nearby tree, before going into the cabin and lighting the fireplace. You sit by the fire and slip off your coat, before noticing an envelope stuffed in the pocket. You furrow you eyebrows ad pull it out.
A note from your fella. You loved when he writes sweet love notes. He did it often, so it wasn't a huge surprise that he had written one for your journey alone.
You smile and open up the envelope, unfolding the paper to start reading. Your smile quickly changes as you notice the shaky writing and tear stains marked on the paper.
My dearest Y / N,
You know I've been sick. You pointed it out way back in Shady Belle. I should've gone to the doctor when you begged me to. If I did, might've had a chance to give you the life you desperately deserve. The life I wanted with you. For the last couple weeks, I knew my time was running thin. I couldn't tell you like a real man because I couldn't stand to see the look on your pretty face when you realized I wasn't getting better.
I love you with my whole heart. I love the way you sing, the way you dance. I love the way you make sure I'm safe, that you care for me. I love your hair, your body, your mind. God, that smart mind of yours. I love your eyes. I swear they’re brighter than the Heavens above.
And I love the way you put me in my place. I never expected someone to do it the way you do, but damn, I'm gonna to miss it.
And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't afraid to die. Because I am. I'm afraid of what I'm going to miss. I'm afraid to leave you. But this isn't the end, darling. It's just a goodbye for now.
I want you to live Y / N. Still find joy in the small things, you never fail to do that. Find a good home, a warm fire, someone who'll hold your heart the way I wish I could've.
Don't let this world turn you bitter. Keep that kindness you carry. It's something rare and beautiful. I loved that about you too.
And if there's a Heaven, or something like that, I hope to see you there someday.
Until then, keep your spirit true. The world's better with you in it.
My world was better with you in it.
Yours,
Arthur Morgan
Synopsis: You, a single mother, is sewing up a skirt for your daughter when Arthur comes back from a scouting trip.
paring: Yearner Arthur X Single Mother Reader
warnings: Fluff, but a little spicy hehe. No use of y/n, awkward flirting, friends to lovers?, pining, sexual tension.
wc: ~1.4k
We picked her and her daughter up before the failed Blackwater heist. It's been hard, on all of us, but I can't imagine how her and Abigail feel. They had little ones in this dangerous life, always moving, always worrying about if all of a sudden there is going to be gunfire.
I bet it's scary. I'm a grown man who has been surrounded by this life since I could remember and I'm still weary.
I remember when she told me about her husband, if you would even call him as such. She had told me a little after her daughter was born, her husband began to pay closer attention to the working girls at the saloon than his own wife and child. Eventually, one morning he didn't come home.
She had told me she didn't care if he ran off or wound himself dead. I laughed.
From then on, she said her and her daughter survived on the streets, kind people that offered their home to them, and hopped from church to church to use their facilities.
Now, her daughter is three, just a year younger than Jack. Her daughter runs around, plays, dances, sings—things that she said were far and few between when they were on their own.
But whenever I see her, I can't forget what her husband had done. A real man, hell a real person, doesn't do that to someone they love.
Even when they were still alive, I frequently visited my son and his mother. I never not just didn't show up. But then I think about it some more: I was young, younger than her husband was. I was nineteen and he was in his thirties. How pathetic is that? A grown man leaving his family, just like that.
Anyways, even if her backstory wasn't as tragic, I would still have the same respect for her. Parenting is hard, any fool can see that. She rarely got time for herself, and is always up at the earliest hours of the morning sewing clothes for her little one. She always says "I turn around and she's growing out of these!", it's endearing to say the least.
To say I wasn't sweet on her would be ridiculous. I found everything about her to be so...flawless. The way she interacted with everyone in camp, the way she tended to her daughter, hell even the way she walked looked graceful. It sounds silly, I know, but I just can't help but let my eyes wander to her.
Tonight, well this morning, wasn't any different. Most of the camp has gone to bed, drunk slumped up against a nearby tree, or quietly sitting at the table near the fire. She had placed herself on the log by the fire so she can see the tiny skirt she was sewing together...again. I've noticed she had been sewing this specific skirt every couple weeks now. I've also noticed it was her daughter's favorite because she worn it all the time.
I plopped down on the log next to her. "Hey." I said gruffly, I cleared my throat.
She looked up from her project. "Hey, Arthur. Came in late I see."
"Workin' late I see." I rebutted as I dug out a cigarette from my satchel. I lit the tobacco with the dying campfire that was dancing with life before I left.
She sighed and looked down at her daughter's skirt in her lap. "I need to get this done tonight. She's been asking about this skirt."
I laughed. "This specific one?"
"If she found out how bad I wanted to chuck this skirt into the fire she would have a fit." She held up the skirt for me to see. "Look! It's barely staying together. I swear this girl is going to wear this thin."
I nodded and took a drag from my cigarette. "That's pretty bad."
"Thank you!" She let out an exasperated huff. She placed the skirt back down on her lap and began sewing again. "What were you doing out so late?"
"Just scoutin'. We can't stay at Horseshoe Overlook forever. I just lost track of time."
"I see..." She responded, her fingers working overtime on the fabric, "I would take that over this."
I snorted. "You would take scoutin' over sewin'?"
"Yeah, especially when it's this godforsaken skirt." She gritted her teeth, but I hear the slight playful undertone.
"I guess yer right. It was a pretty night out to go ridin'. Do you know how to ride..." I could feel my cheeks get hot before I quickly added, "like a horse."
She looked over at me. "What else would I ride?"
"Uh..." I rubbed the back of my neck with my free hand, "nothin' sorry, just...tired."
I could see a smile spread on her lips. "I do know how to ride a horse. My pa taught me when I was young."
I nodded taking another hit of my cigarette. She motioned for it and it took me a second to understand what she wanted. I handed it over to her and watched her sweet, soft lips, the lips that I wanted to collide with mine and move with the same grace she carried, wrap around the paper and inhale.
I watched as she blew the smoke from out of her nose. It was single-handedly the most attractive thing I've seen in awhile, and I know that it'll be replaying and replaying in my head for days, even months.
When she passes back the cigarette, her eyes met mine and instantly figures me out. "Were you watching me?"
I blinked. "No. I just want my damn cigarette back."
She smiled wide. "You were, you liar!"
"I was not." I said, but the smile in my voice failed to conceal the truth.
I reached for my cigarette, but she jerked her arm back. "You'll only get this if you tell me the truth."
I scoffed as a smirk grew on my lips. "You ain't gonna parent me, give me my cigarette back."
I scooted closer to her and reached for it, but she now moved it above her head. I backed away slightly and let out a huff. "Yer a cruel woman."
I reached up and grabbed her wrist lightly and pulled it down to me, but she didn't give up my cigarette. I looked directly into her eyes before guiding her wrist to my mouth and took a puff.
I turned my head and exhaled the smoke out, as to not blow the smoke into her face. When I faced her again, my voice was dripping with sarcasm. "I was looking at you now."
She let out a laugh and held out my cigarette for me to take. "Well played my friend, but I still think you were looking at me."
"And what if I was? Would you mind?" The words slipped out of my mouth faster than I could even process what I was saying.
Her smile didn't waver. "Alright, Mister Morgan."
Mister Morgan. My cheeks were as hot as the fire, or what was left of it.
I let out a laugh. "Wh-what...?" I sound like a fool!
"What happened to all that confidence just now, hm?" She playfully spat back.
"W-what do you mean? I am confident, I have confidence."
"Arthur," She placed her sewing equipment down on the ground next to her, "You just took a drag of your own cigarette from my hands, then all of a sudden you're red as a tomato and stumbling over your words."
"Uh...I—"
"Arthur, I'm not an idiot."
"Oh, of course yer not."
I wouldn't believe what happened next even if my future self had told me. She grabbed my face, with such care, and leaned in pressing her lips against mine. My eyes were wide and my body went still. I've kissed many women before, but all of a sudden I was inexperienced. I didn't know what to do with my hands, where she liked them to be when she gets kissed. I don't want to impose and place my hands where she doesn't want them to be.
So all I did was close my eyes and feel her sweet, soft, graceful lips against mine which were the opposite.
She pulled away and rubbed my cheeks with her thumbs. She got up and grabbed her sewing stuff from beside her.
"I'm going to bed." She stated. "Have a really goodnight Arthur. I know I will."
I cleared my throat. "Y-yeah. Goodnight."
She began to leave until she turned back to me. "And you were looking. I saw you, ass." She smiled and walked back to her and her daughter's shared tent.
a/n: a mother fic on mother's day weekend? it's like i planned that or something...
also should I make this like a little series?? i had so much fun writing this.
Synopsis: You teach Arthur how to dance for the mayor's party.
paring: Arthur X Reader
warnings: SWEET SWEET FLUFF TO MAKE UR TEETH ACHE. no use of y/n or gender specific pronouns, uses of "my love", "sweetheart", "honey", "darlin'".
wc: ~1.2k
"Come on Arthur, at least try." I stood with my hands on my hips. I was annoyed to say the least.
Dutch had gotten us an invite to the mayor's party via Angelo Brontë. Sure the event is to schmooze and rub some elbows to get some jobs, but I was still excited to get all dressed up. I usually never have the opportunity to do so.
With this invitation, Dutch had instructed those who went get proper clothes and tried to fit within the social norms of the rich society, which meant I had to teach my boyfriend, Arthur, how to dance.
Coming from a rich family, I knew how to fit in with these snotty assholes. I knew what to say, how to say those things, when to laugh—it all coursed through my veins, like it was still part of my everyday life.
"I am tryin'!" Arthur retorted as he let out a frustrated huff. To me, it seemed like he was half-assing it just so he could get out of his, "godforsaken" (his words), suit and back into his Levis. But I was determined for him to walk out of this room knowing how to waltz.
I rolled my eyes and stepped into his space once more. I firmly grabbed his hands to keep him from pacing. The orange setting Saint Denis sun was beginning to dip and shine through the windows of the room I had rented out for us.
"Arthur Morgan, you are a hardened criminal who has escaped the law, countless times mind you, a sharpshooter, an artist—"
"I ain't close to what an artist is." Arthur interrupted.
"I've seen your drawings, my love, you're an artist. Anyways, a sharpshooter, an artist, a friend, brother, hopeless romantic—"
"I ain't—"
I placed a kiss on his lips cutting him off. "Honey, between you and I, you so are. It's okay, embrace it sweetheart."
Arthur's cheeks turned slightly pink before he shook his slightly. "Okay, well all of that doesn't mean I'm a good dancer."
"No, but you're all of those things so why can't you be?"
Arthur let out a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a Goan, finally letting his hands go limp in mine. He knew when he was beat. He looked down at me, his jaw finally softening as he took in my sheer determination.
"You got a way of makin' things sound so simple." He muttered, though the edge of his mouth was twitching upward.
"It is simple. Just, follow me."
Arthur sighed, that deep, chest-rumbling sound that usually meant he was resigning himself to whatever trouble I'd cooked up for him. He adjusted his stance, his boots clicking softly on the floor.
"Follow you," Arthur repeated, "I've been doin' that since we met. I suppose it ain't led me off a cliff yet."
"You're so dramatic." I took his hand and lifting it until our fingers intertwined. I placed his other hand back on my waist.
"Now," I said under my breath, stepping closer until the toes of my shoes brushed his, "I'm going to step forward with my left, and you're going to step back with your right. On three. Ready?"
Arthur nodded and looked down at his feet.
"Okay. One...two...three."
We moved. It wasn't exactly there effortless glide of a Saint Denis socialite; it was more like a toddler trying to walk. Arthur was stiff, his muscle coiled tight, like he hadn't danced a day in his life (and trust me, I've seen him dance. He can dance). He stared down at the floor with such intensity I thought he might burn a hole through the wood.
"Arthur," I chided gently, nudging his chin up with my hand, "look at m. The floor isn't going anywhere."
Arthur's blush on his cheeks only became deeper. And he doesn't say he's a hopeless romantic. The frustration was still in his eyes, but it was being overtaken by the quiet, steady devotion that he tried to hide within his gruff exterior.
"I feel like a real fool." He admitted, his thumbs tracing a nervous line against the fabric of my clothes.
"You look like a gentleman," I rebutted, "and you're doing it. Look, we're moving."
I began to hum a melody, nothing fancy, just a simple three-four beat. Gradually, the tension started to drain out of his shoulders and legs. His steps grew less stiff, his weight shifting more naturally to match mine. He even managed a small smile when we completed a full rotation without him stepping on my toes.
"There." I said, leaning my head forward to rest against his shoulder. "The Mayor's guests won't know what him 'em."
Arthur let out a soft hum, pulling me closer, if that was even possible. "I bet they'll be too busy lookin' at you to notice me fumblin' around, darlin'."
"Oh, I don't think so," I looked up at him, "You're a natural if you just let yourself go, Arthur."
"I guess..." He mumbled. I smiled and pressed a sweet kiss to his nose, and his cheeks gotten redder.
"Stop that..." He looked away at the ground next to us.
I giggled and showered Arthur's face with kisses. He groaned, a rumble of mock-protest vibrating in his chest, but he didn't pull away. He couldn't, not with his arms wrapped around me and his heart beating out of his chest that he could've sworn I could see it pounding out of his suit.
Every time my lips hit his cheek, his forehead, or his jaw, he'd duck his head, trying to hide a boyish, bashful grin.
"Quit it..." Arthur started, "you're gonna...you're gonna mess up my hair." He stammered, though his grip on my waist anchored me agains him.
I let out a laugh. "Outlaw Arthur Morgan is worried about his hair?" I teased against his skin, planting one last, lingering kiss right on the corner of his mouth. "What would Bill or John say if they saw you right now?"
"They'd say I've gone soft." He muttered, now looking back at me. The orange glow of the sunset was fading into evening. His eyes were soft, devoid of the cynicism that sat there. "And, I guess they'd be right."
Arthur let out a long, slow breath, and for a moment, we just stood there. We began to sway to the sound of the Saint Denis night.
"You really think I can pull this off?" Arthur asked quietly. "Not just the dancin', but the...actin' like I actually belong there?"
I pulled back just enough to look him square in the eyes, my hands sliding up to cup his face. "Arthur, believe me when I say this, those people spend their lives behind masks. They're fancy dresses, fancy shoes, fancy hair, fancy parties. Everything is fake. It's all a facade."
He nodded and let me continue.
"Arthur, out of everyone in my life that I had meet, you're the most honest person I know. You don't belong there, because no one belongs there, even those assholes who claim they belong there. You just have to be there with me. We're just two more guests playing the part, like everyone else. And once we're done, we can stop playing pretend and go back to being us."
He looked at me for a long time, as if he were memorizing my words. Then, he learned down and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. I leaned into his lips, moaning softly against them. We we pulled away, he now cupped my cheeks.
"As long as I'm with you," he whispered, his thumb grazing my cheekbone, "I reckon I can handle a few snotty assholes and a waltz."
a/n: I'M FINALLY DONE WITH MY THIRD YEAR OF COLLEGE (YIPPIE). EXPECT MORE LONG POSTS HEHE
