RDR2 ONESHOTS ;; REQ ➥

𝘉𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳. ;; 𝘈𝘔

SUMMARY : Arthur has been admiring the idea of trying for kids with you, You finally cave. Because who can say no to that face?

WARNINGS : smut

RATING : feminine reader

Children. The grubby little things. Thankfully only one ran around camp, but it was still enough to have Arthur longingly studying the little boy, dropping everything he was doing to play with little Jack.

A few weeks ago he confided in you that he once had son, with a waitress. A working girl. The thought made you frown, that he was still young and naive and didn't spend time with them.

Yet now he seemed so willing to try again. It... irked you, in a strange way. As much as you wanted it, you mourned for the mother and the child that he lost.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt two strong arms wrapping around your waist, a scruffy beard brushing against your nape.

"..Artie." You mumbled, your hands moving to clasp with his as you moved in tune with him.

"Just one? I can do good, I can be a good father—" He explained, hoping to win you over in this ongoing discussion.

You sighed, which he took for annoyance. He pressed kisses to your neck, fingers teasing the buttons to your shirt.

"...Just one?" He reiterated, his voice husky and low as his lashes tickled your cheek.

How could you say no to him? So sweet, so tempting. Little minx.

"Maybe. Just one though? Right?"

You asked for clarification, thumb stroking his backhand as you leaned into his chest, earning a hum of approval.

"Maybe a little girl. I hope she'd have your hair, your eyes.." He was flattering you, and you both knew it.

You laughed under your breath, turning as you shifted so you could face his front— Pressing kisses to his face.

-

Arthur stood idle by his tent, watching you as you helped Jack brush his hair by the fire. Abigail was too tired to care for him, and John? Well... he's him.

You internally scoffed at the lack of a father in poor Jacks life, your hand guiding the intricate hairbrush through the kids matted hair. Poor baby.

Arthur felt his heart swell, watching your silhouette as you cared for the little boy.

He sucked his lower lip in, exhaling sharply as he felt some strange urge spike through him, like a stabbing needle infecting his brain.

I should talk to them. He thought, turning into his tent as he laid on his back, hand running through his hair.

A few hours pass, (give or take,) you're turning in for bed as you begin walking to your tent.

You're stopped by Arthur, who was surprisingly affectionate.

Usually he was cold, a little standoffish, in a way — But right now? Love bug through and through. You laughed a little as he held onto your hips, feverishly pecking your face in every spot he could reach.

"What has gotten into you?!" You asked through your giggles, hands pressing to his chest. You felt him smile against your cheek as he paused his shower of attention.

"I... need to see you as a mother. It's not... a little phase anymore, Bug." He murmured, your smile faltering. Was he serious? He actually wanted to go through with having kids?

His voice wavered a little whenever he talked about it. That tremble in his voice wasn't present as of now. He'd made up his mind.

"You want to be a father? With me?" You reiterated, hands slithering up to his shoulders.

His forehead dipped to rest on your shoulder, humming.

"If you'll have me."

A smile managed to creep onto your lips, lifting your head to peck his nape as one of your hands cradled his cheek.

"You are aware we should probably try as soon as possible. Right." You taunted, eyes fluttering against his skin.

He panted against you, hands drifting to your hips as he pulled at your belt, staggering back into your tent.

"You're not funny." He rumbled, capturing your lips with his as his tongue invaded, hands guiding you onto your cot as he leaned over your frame.

This was happening.

He removed a hand from your figure to jostle with his belt, briefly breaking the kiss as his forehead rested against your own, watching his hand whip the belt out of his jeans and clatter to the pallet boards on the ground.

"Fix this." He was referring to you being dressed, Which made you laugh.

Squirming out of your jeans, your name escaped his lips, his hand palming his crotch as a rather 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 bulge began to form.

He lined his hips with yours, slipping himself out of his pants as he lined himself up with your entrance.

"...I'm going to make you a mother." He reminded, his hand holding your chin in place as he maintained eye contact, sinking inside.

Your hand flew over your mouth, struggling to stay quiet as your legs hooked around his hips.

By no means was he small, despite the snide comments Micah tried to make from his peeks stolen when Arthur went to take a piss.

You could've sworn you were going to rip. A squeak escaped you as his hand greedily grabbed a handful of your thigh, thumb spreading your leg further before moving to pay attention to the sensitive clit hidden under its hood.

"There, there. Quiet, now, You're alright sweetheart." He softly murmured, his voice raspy and heavy as his breathing grew labored.

He allowed you to adjust to his size, staying relatively still as he kept you stimulated, thumb rubbing gentle circles over your hood.

"C'mere, it's okay sugar.." He reassured as he used his free arm to hook around the small of your back, hugging your body into your cot as he held you close, body shivering.

He slowly rutted inside, eliciting a low grunt from him as he heard his birds beautiful song.

"That's it. Just like that, it's okay..." He purred as he pressed kisses to your jaw, trailing down to ghost your Adam's apple as he picked up the pace, body growing clammy as his hips clapped against yours.

No matter how hard you fought to make noise, you knew full well the neighboring tents could hear the two of you.

"Arthur," You softly repeated into his neck, which only spurred him on as his hand left your clit to brace the back of your head.

"You can take it, I know—" He whined with you, brows furrowing with concentration as he rammed into your core.

It didn't take long for you to finish, he always got the job done rather efficiently. Still sensitive from your high, he kept going.

"Arthur, please," You begged, unsure if you could handle this much stimulation.

"I promised you a baby. Didn't I?" He growled, releasing you as his hands forced your thighs over your arms, locking you in a mating press as his thrusts became more sloppy and unrefined— eventually releasing inside.

He slowed down, grumbling as he choked down a groan, fingers digging into your skin as he watched his seed flow out of you, a shambling mess below him.

He blinked away the minute tears of pleasure from his eyes, catching his breath as he released your thighs, bringing you up close to him as he sat on the edge of your cot.

"...Are you okay, Bug?" He softly asked after a lengthy pause, checking up on you as his thumb stroked your back.

You sank into him, huffing as your eyes grew heavy, a bead of sweat on your brow.

"I love you so goddamned much, Asshole." You mumbled, to which that rich chuckle escaped him.