#V.;; RDR2.

[wolfkcst]

His face matches the bounty they had come across while scavenging some items from Blackwater - all the more curious of to what they could find. Impressive that he has such a big bounty on his head, and yet acted as if nothing had happened... Eivor hadn't a clue what happened, and naturally because they're from a different country all together they would be questioned... Even their crimes extended out to sea... ❝You are a wanted man... But you blend in perfectly with your surroundings.❞ It comes out blunt- but they make no moves to try and capture the man - dead or alive. They did not care all too much for these affairs - more curious than anything. ❝I work with a group that hides in plain sight... And hates Cornwall. If you're interested, perhaps we could work together.❞

cont. x @redemn

[peddestrian]

This one youtuber is making polls asking who would win between Arthur Morgan and different insanely powerful characters and he keeps winning until it gets to Tuberculosis. Reason being because he can't use deadeye on it.

[klearilist]

rockstar and their "curious couple and unruly son"

[that-opossum-bitch]

he makes me so feral. i need to consume his soul (pos)

[wolfkcst]

Oh no. Looks like they're looking her dead in the eyes. Dare they test her patience..? Absolutely. ❝... Awooo!❞ And there goes the dog...

" you'll surely be the death of me if you get that dog goin' again. "

[valfeathers]

(stumbles into a room covered in blood and sweat) i painted

[miss-oscurita]

Look at my boys! ❤️ Someone needs to do a drawing with them like this, but as their characters. Please and thank you!

[red-doll-face]

Snow Angel

Chapter 1: elation >chapter two >>chapter three

low to medium honor Arthur Morgan x Female Reader

Arthur has been living by himself, laying low (for real this time) somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. After the whole Pinkerton and Micah debacle, he has been hiding away, waiting for it all to blow over, occasionally getting letters from the people who still know that he's alive. He's been alone awhile and at first, he thought he could handle a little loneliness. He has been wrong before. Lucky for him, you look like the perfect thing to break up the monotony.

Warnings: dubious consent, low honor Arthur, smut, naive reader

WC: 2481

Hi, I’m unwell about him and I needed to post this bc I need people to talk to about it and I probably also need help lmao also may be a bit ooc. New to posting here 😳😖😵‍💫

Tags: innocence kink, size kink, vaginal and oral sex, no TB thank god. Arthur is sweet still but has mean tendencies obviously

Arthur’s new visitor has him hot under the collar.

The snow up here is about to overtake Lucky, the loyal Clydesdale you had known since you were a girl. His legs amble forward, winds whipping his mane and tail about. Hunkering over him; gripping his reins for dear life, you try to urge him further. Your throat is tight with nerves and of course the impending reality that Lucky has been slowing down. That the weather has only been getting worse since you started riding out. The last thing isn’t worth mentioning.

As if he could hear you over the blizzard winds, you clutch tight to his reins.

“Please Lucky, you can do it, boy. You can’t leave me here,”

His hooves trudge through the snow, his big legs managing to stay above the snow fall. He falters a bit here and there, more often as you go on. Grunting and shaking at his tack. You pat along his strong neck. The cold turns the moisture in the air to ice, the heat in his breath disappearing.

“I’m sorry, Lucky…” Shuffling onward, leading him on. Frost gathers over your coat and you would think the landscape beautiful if not for the lethality of it all. You’re not sure if people are meant to survive in places like this. With nose numb and fingers creaky in your thick gloves, you know you have to stop. Scanning the horizon for anything resembling a shelter, imagining yourself curled up in Lucky’s side, you can see the soft glow from a cabin a ways down the road. The only vestige of humanity you had seen for miles on what feels like the edge of the world. Windows glow with the tell tale orange of a warm fireplace. Your foot nudges into Lucky’s side for your last push, your last chance.

“Go!” you slap the reins on his neck, working him up to a trot. You approach and see what looks to be some sort of barn. It’s a small stable, a nice place to put a horse or two, maybe a dairy cow. Another horse lazily sleeps, fresh hay for his bedding. At your entrance, he perks up but stares oddly, easing back. Lucky knickers and snorts, just happy to be inside, you think.

“I’ll be back, hopefully not too soon…” You leave him there while he starts mooching the hay laid out for his new roommate. You pat his flank and watch the ice melt from his lashes.

Braced for the cold, arms crossed over your chest, you pull your legs forward through the snow outside. It’s a fight to get through the piles of snow, clouding around your lower thighs. Finally, you're on the wooden steps of the porch, which creak a bit underneath your feet. Panting, you meekly pat on the door.

“Please, I need help,” you shout, trying to speak over the blizzard. “Is anyone there?” You can hear the crackling fire, feeling like it’s warming you already. Heavy steps come to the door.

“Who’s out there?” A gruff masculine voice answers your call. It grates over your nerves, though if you weren’t alone you might have found it to be soothing. With any luck, he’s the father of a nice family whose heart would be softened by a lone young woman near frozen to death on his front door.

“Please, sir. I promise it’s just me,” your pleading seems to have done the trick and the man opens the door. Finally hitting you with a heat you had almost forgotten. He moves to the side after sizing you up. Hesitating even for a second causes him to dip his head to direct you inside. Forcing your stiff legs to lift. He takes a moment to analyze the gap you left behind. Carefully, he shuts the door and pulls the curtain closed. Maybe he had been robbed before? Lonely homesteads were easy and preferable targets for bandits. Typically neighbors were miles away, if you had any neighbors to speak of or to.

You get a better look at him, tall and strong, chest the size of a barrel. The sleeves of his plain white shirt are rolled up and the top two buttons are undone. Leather suspenders keep his deep brown trousers up. He stands as if unsure what to do with his body besides intimidate you with it, showing not an ounce of uncertainty on his face.

There is no one else here and if there is, they’re in the other rooms of his quiet and moderate home. The house smells of coffee, a disarming smell. Salt pork and boiled potatoes too. Certainly provisions that could last through this harsh winter.

“What the hell were you doin’ out there?” His tone is accusatory and judgemental. He must think you an idiot to be traveling in this weather and maybe he wasn’t all wrong. Instead of talking, your jaw clicks your teeth together. The hard look he gives you melts away and he helps you out of your coat. He's almost surprised to see you, eyes stuck on every piece of you revealed to him. Snowflakes and icy debris are shed from you and you sigh. You try your best to get your natural reactions to stop but they insist on ceasing on their own. The man huffs, stepping towards the percolator on the stove. You watch on, feeling strange that he hasn’t really invited you to sit or do much of anything else.

“You mute, girl? Asked you a question.” he takes a seat by the fire in a big chair seemingly made just for him. He sets down the coffee before taking a match and striking it, lighting the end of a cigarette he retrieved from the table. The coffee steams gently and you take it; seeing as you're very sure he had made it for you. Jerkily, you move to sit as he sets his eyes on you. The couch is soft and warm, homely with a pretty blanket, thick and colorful patterns. While his gaze seems easy and relaxed, he watches you like a hawk.

“No, I… was getting something for my granny. She’s not feeling too good. Ma sent me to get something for her. The doctor, I suppose. Didn’t make it too far,”

He exhales. The smallest noise of amusement.

“I can imagine,” You take a sip of the coffee. Warm and sweet smelling. “What kinda mother sends a pretty thing like you on a fool's errand? You really thought you was gonna bring your ol’ granny a doctor in this?” You stare, feeling a bit like a child being scolded by this man.

“Oh well, I-”

“Your granny probably already kicked the bucket while you were out here, damn near gettin’ yourself killed. If it weren’t for me, well…” scratching at the darker scruff that grows on his face. His hair is that same light brown, almost blond. He sucks the smoke out of the slim roll of paper. It's bitter and acrid, a contrast to the warm smoky fireplace. Your brows furrow. Deciding to change the subject before you say something out of turn, you take another sip out of the enameled cup he had given you. The smoke he inhaled releases in a cloud around his features, obscuring the knowing smile he wears.

“I’m sorry mister, but I don't think you gave me your name…” He ashes his cigarette, tossing his legs up on the table in the center of the room. The weight of him and his leather boots don’t rattle the table, he’s careful with himself.

“Arthur. You married?” His gaze is as hot and red as the cherry burning on the end of his cigarette. You almost start to feel uncomfortable. If there weren't a blizzard outside, you might consider walking out. He hadn’t even given you a chance to say your name. Your nervous look only seems to enthrall him more. You only now notice he’s looking at your hands but thick gloves still encase your fingers.

“No, I'm afraid not,” You contemplate telling him a lie but think about when you might have to remove your gloves. You’d rather not get caught in a fib. Though perhaps his rather brusque flirting might have come to an end should you have warned him of a man who would be looking after you. Being out here by yourself seems to have him convinced that no one truly was looking after you anyway.

“Young lady like you, unwed and caring for your Ma, Pa, all by yourself? Now that’s just sad, is what it is,” The butt of his cigarette meets its end in the ashtray on the table. Your face tweaks into a small nervy smile, nodding. “You are… a sight, for an old ugly bastard like me is all,” Your fingers start to twiddle, feeling your face warm, maybe because of the flames licking at the logs on the hearth. He’s certainly not the ugliest man you’ve ever seen nor the oldest, you frown at such an oddly self deprecating comment. You’re surprised he doesn’t already have a wife and several children running around, reading stories by the fireplace that you sit in front of. You revert back to old tactics.

“I left my horse in the stable out front, I hope you don’t mind too much,”

“Ain’t no trouble,” His hands seem to itch to be doing something, he also seems to twiddle his fingers. One hand propped over the arm of his chair.

“Why don’t I get you somethin’ dry to wear? Should be turnin’ in soon. Gettin’ late.” He stands, hands on his knees and then he’s going into the next room. It gives you a chance to evaluate the room you're in. The mantle has all sorts of strange little knick knacks, the walls, plenty of… distinctive hunting trophies and supplies. Several gleaming guns in different finishes are displayed proudly. Although pretty, they don’t seem unused. If anything, well loved and worn. You’re starting to feel every bit the lamb in the wolf’s den this man is already treating you as.

He comes out of the room, holding a pair of cotton long johns in a cream color. You’re not sure why he thinks you need them but he has been nothing but hospitable if not a bit too strong on his pleasantries and very blunt. It can be lonely out here in the country, so you offer a small smile. He stares at you, even as you awkwardly side step him and go to his bedroom. You close the door and sigh, nice to just have a moment to yourself. Away from the strange man and the cold. The warm smell of fabric and the natural musk of the wood calm you, along with the faint smell of something distinctive to him. You claw and peel at the layers of your clothing, riding gear and boots. You notice how wet your clothes are from the melting ice. Perhaps he knew better than you did.

You slip into the warm cotton of what must be his long johns. They’re nice and feel almost new. Far too big for you. That man, Arthur, did seem to be quite big. Here in the quiet room, you can remember the wind, the cut of the cold air against your cheeks, hear the wind rattle the glass. You're glad to be out of all of that.

It’s a rather modest room, a bed, an armoire, a nightstand, a cabinet. Cigarettes and a few cigars, several empty bottles of bourbon. Some old faded photographs but you're not so brave as to pick them up. The room is severely lacking in the touch of a woman department, bed pushed up against the wall. The smallest mirror adorns the wall, dusty and plain. You turn to the door and see him, standing there.

You startle and put your hand to your chest.

“You scared me Mister…” no last name to utter has you confused, he had never given you one. Your smile isn’t forced but it fades a little when you see him looking at you.

“Morgan, Arthur Morgan,” he’s really giving several once overs that feel like thrice overs, drinking you in like those bottles of bourbon. Your face feels hot again. He stares at the junction between your legs, up to your chest and then finally your face. You don’t think you've ever seen a man look at you like that; not that you spend very much time around men. The type of men at the saloons in town were no good for you, or at least that’s what Ma would say.

“Put somethin’ on the stove for ya, man can’t leave no woman hungry…” he puffs up in pride a bit, you tilt your head. Hopefully he hadn’t been watching you snoop around, or even worse, changing. You nod, a small gesture.

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan. I really appreciate your kindness,” he makes space for you to exit down the small hallway. You try not to brush against him but he’s so big, fills up the sparse room between you and the wall. He drops his arm on the door frame, making you pass underneath him. Looking up at him, you can make out the color of his eyes, a pretty summer blue. His shirt and suspenders smell clean and wintry. He makes you feel minuscule, a mouse and cougar. His features; squared and rugged from weathering the elements, are set in a stony expression but there’s excitement in his eyes.

“Been a long time since somebody called me a kind man, usually it was the opposite,” he says. His hands twitch again, the one in the door is a tight fist. You know that you can’t leave. And you wouldn’t beat him should he chase, you doubt you’d even make it to Lucky. Especially now that he insisted you put on his underclothes. The temptation to be in dryer clothes has trapped you here. You flinch as his hand descends to rest on your neck and collar, rubbing. His body moves forward, taking your silence as acceptance.

“Please, I-“

“I think you need a man to take care of you, honey, need a man to keep you inside- wouldn’t let you go out alone like this if you was my woman,” his hand squeezing at your shoulder, you don’t dare to move. Broad chested, he seems to block out all of the light from the meager lamps and the fireplace.

“Lemme show you how a man looks after a girl like you,” He eases off you and guides you down the hall, your heart thumping out of your chest. Certainly not because of the romance but the claustrophobic feeling of being alone with a man such as him, big and very strong in his advances. Thankfully, not too strong. Yet, a voice in your head warns.

If you made it, thanks for reading and pls send feedback 💝😭 I have split the chapter into 2 parts because it was way too long. I will be posting a "chapter 2" but chapter 3 will be chapter 2 for people who read the long version. I was just too excited to post it and didn't think about this LMAO

[snuize]

I’m so obsessed with the #mecore edits or whatever it is that I always see on tiktok so I made my own :D

content warning: lots and lots of fake blood, lots of exploding heads and some mean mean words :,(

[wolfkcst]

The call came from over the wolf-kissed shoulders, head turning slightly for a light azure gaze to peek from the corner. A stranger approaching them, but not offering any kind of threat when he very well could have. Eivor turns around to face him fully with a hand placed on their hips, and eyebrows arched with bemusement. ❝Perhaps... But you needn't use formalities with me. You can call me Eivor.❞ Their voice is blunt and to the point as they scanned him up and down with wonder... Perhaps he could help them find a local trailer that would make things much more fitting and less hot. Gods damned is it hot... ❝Mind pointing me to a tailor? These are far too hot for this state, ja? I should have packed better...❞ They grumble the last part with slight irritation. To be fair, they did just come from Norway... Much warmer than they originally were.

Jack was a well-read and well-travelled young man. He'd seen all of Lemoyne, New Hanover, Ambarino, New Austin and Mexico, and he'd never seen clothing quite like what the stranger in front of him wore. It looked like it'd be right at home with the clothing one would wear to explore the Grizzlies rather than the warmer climate of the Great Plains. He was curious as to why this stranger decided to talk to him, she didn't appear to be that much older than him, maybe mid to late twenties?

"Excuse me, miss? Ma'am? Don't mean to be rude but, d'you need somethin'? Or is there anythin' I can help you with?" His curiosity was piqued and, well, if he could help out then he would. It just felt right to him.

@wolfkcst asked for a STARTER

[solitablvd]

Read My Mind

**Minors DNI**

chapter one

Read chapter two

Masterlist

Pairing: Demon!Javier Escuella x Female Reader

Summary: You’ve always been one who was lost in delusions of love and captivated by romance novels. One day, while exploring an antique store, you stumble upon a mysterious locket. Little do you know, this locket comes with a twist.

Warnings: NSFW, pure smut tbh, unprotected p in v, v fingering, more tags to come, female reader, brat Javier Escuella

Word Count: 2.3k

AO3 Link

chapter one:

As they cherished their final kiss, Jane knew that this boundless love they shared defied all limits. It was an eternal love that deserved to be honored in every way. As they walked down the aisle together, hand in hand, Jane felt her heart soar. In that moment, surrounded by the soft glow of the setting sun and the promises of forever, she knew that they were entering an endless journey where their love would continue to flourish. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, united in a heavenly love. The End. 

You closed the book shut and held it close to your chest in cherishment. You were always a sucker for a happy ending. You let out a warm sigh, holding your knees close to your chest as you looked out the window of your home. Your private library window held the view of the town below. 

Saint Denis was beautiful this time of year. The city was full of life. Every person carried their own story. You watched as the people passed by, unbeknownst to your watchful eyes. You watched as a couple entered the nearby theater, seemingly on a date. This time you let out more of a wishful sigh as you thought about how that could one day be you. 

As you were approaching the age of marriage, it seemed that ideas of love and romance followed you everywhere. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t dream of them every night. You wanted to cherish and be cherished. You weren’t sure what love felt like, but you imagined it felt like time standing completely still. 

“Are you done lounging around?” A voice broke your daze.

It was your father, who stood at the doorway of the home’s library. Complaining, he continued, “You always have your head in the clouds and your nose in a book. Be a dear and go pick up the groceries for today, please.” 

“Of course.” You nodded dutifully, rising from your window seat and carefully placing your book back on the shelf. 

You bid your father a kind goodbye, made your way down the flight of stairs, and journeyed out into the city streets. The general store was not too far from your home, and luckily the shop owner was familiar with you. As you entered, he knew exactly what you needed for your father: a collection of different foods and items.

While he gathered everything you needed, you looked across the street through the glass pane window. 

The antique shop was always intriguing to you. You had only been inside once, to search through the collection of early printed books they had. Still, it held a fascinating factor as it was filled with trinkets that carried their own narratives. 

“I’ll be right back, sir.” You notified the shopkeeper, exiting the store and crossing the street to the antique shop.

The wooden floor creaked under you as you entered, feeling very different from the luxurious spaces you were accustomed to. Still, you continued, giving a kind greeting to the older man at the register. The walls were draped with framed prints of different landscapes, some that you could recognize as the Heartlands, but a few others that were from parts of the country unfamiliar to you. 

The shelves were filled with all sorts of curiosities and trinkets. One shelf was full of early printed books that looked delicate to the touch. Another was full of only different, elegant candlesticks. The air felt thick with the smell of aged paper and wood. As you looked around the shelves you felt fascinated by the beautiful porcelain figurines, their soft skin feeling cold to the touch. 

As you looked through the trinkets, your eyes became drawn to a small black box. The object piqued your curiosity. You lifted the item, opening it with care. The inside of the case was lined with a deep red velvet fabric on the inside that you would’ve been captivated by had your eyes not locked on to a necklace the case had been holding. 

The chain was golden and detailed intricately. But what you were most drawn to was the golden locket that was adorned with an engraving of a flaming heart, an interesting design choice for a locket that was both elegant and striking. You opened the locket, expecting to find an aged photo of the previous owner. Instead, the locket protected a clouded garnet stone. Your thumb brushed over the smooth stone; it was remarkable. 

Having made your decision, you closed the case and carried it to the register. 

After purchasing the necklace, you went to pick up your groceries then headed back to your home. You couldn’t hold back from temptation once you arrived at your home, rushing to the washroom to try on your newest piece of jewelry. The necklace was surprisingly heavy as you lifted it up to your neck, watching yourself in the mirror as you clasped the ends. The length was perfect, allowing the detailed locket to lay on your chest divinely. 

The rest of the evening passed as it did everyday. You ate dinner with your father, then read some more before finally preparing yourself for bed. 

Your thin white chemise rested loosely on your shoulders as you sunk to your knees and leaned forward on your bed, folding your hands neatly to pray before bed. As you whispered your prayer, a strong gust of wind pushed your window open. You jumped slightly, doing the sign of the cross before getting up to close the window. The city below was still bustling with people. 

Slipping under your white bed sheets, you leaned over and blew out the candle in your room. The only light in your room was now only the pale moonlight shining through your window. You could hear the rustling of trees outside, along with the sounds of the city that had grown comforting to you. With a deep sigh, you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep. 

In the depth of the night, a voice whispered, smokey and intimate. “Wow.” 

You stirred, your eyebrows furrowing as you were unsure if the voice was part of your dream or reality. 

The same voice let out a deep, low chuckle. It sounded so distant, yet so close. The sound sent shivers down your spine, forcing you awake. You sat up quickly, blinking furiously as your eyes attempted to adjust to the dark room. 

On the couch near your window sat a dark figure. You could barely make out its silhouette in the darkness of your room. The figure became clearer with a snap of his fingers; fire sparked from the tip of his thumb as he brought it up to the cigarette hanging from his lips. The small flame allowed you to see more of him, his hair framing his carved features. He appeared elegant yet sinister. He paused slightly before lighting the cigarette. 

“You don’t mind if I smoke in here, do you?” He spoke again. The flame reflected in his dark, piercing eyes. You remained frozen in silence, feeling disoriented by the odd encounter. He looked at you expectantly, shrugging when you continued to give no response and lighting his cigarette anyway. He took a slow drag as he continued to connect his gaze with yours. 

“Who are you?” You asked wearily. 

“I can be whoever you want me to be.” He replied calmly, taking another drag from his cigarette and looking up at the ceiling. You stared at him further, still seated in your spot in your bed, not daring to move. 

Finally, he flicked the cigarette onto your carpeted floor. Your mouth opened to protest, but as he stepped on the cigarette it seemed to completely disappear from existence, leaving you both in complete darkness once again. 

“You’ve been longing for someone.” He spoke in an alluring tone, walking closer to your bedside. Your heart rate quickened as the distance between the two of you dwindled until he was standing right beside you. Getting a better look at him, you could see that he was wearing all black, with the tips of his boots providing the only pop of color in the form of a reflective gold. 

His hand reached out to grasp your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. His touch was surprisingly warm as if he was radiating his own heat. You gulped as you allowed his hand to guide your gaze, looking up to meet his. He looked at your features carefully, seemingly examining you. 

“Untouched paradise,” He muttered almost inaudibly. 

As he held your chin you could not deny the attraction you felt to the mysterious man. He had a hauntingly alluring energy, completely drawing you in. You felt a newfound sensation of want growing within you. He smirked at you slightly, making your eyes flicker down to his lips. 

He moved his thumb to now rest against your bottom lip, brushing it lightly before delicately pulling your lip down. Your breathing hitched as his thumb slowly entered your mouth. You opened your mouth ever so slightly to let him in. His other hand made its way to snake around your neck, not putting any pressure, but holding you in place as he moved his thumb slowly in and out your mouth. You allowed your lips to tighten around him, sucking slightly. 

“There you go,” He whispered deeply, focusing his gaze on your lips as they continued to move around his thumb.

He took a deep breath, moving his hand to run through your hair, “Lay back.” 

You did as he said: laying back slowly and keeping your eyes on him. You felt a strong tension growing. Your head hit your pillow and you looked up to the ceiling with a heavy breath. The bed shifted slightly with his weight as he sat beside you. 

You gasped lightly as you felt his hand trail up your thigh, reaching for your undergarments. He pinched the hem with his fingers and slid them down your body. The pulsing sensation was new to you, and was driving you to the point of desperation. 

His hand caressed your waist as the other pushed your raised knees apart. He used his fingers to tease you slightly, rubbing you in small circles. His touch made you tense slightly as you had never experienced anything like this before. 

“Relax.” He whispered encouragingly. You nodded, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. He collected your slick on his finger before slowly inserting it into you. You let out another gasp as he curled his finger in you, working his finger to slowly massage you. 

As he slowly inserted another finger into you, you let out a louder gasp, clenching around him while he began to move his fingers at a curated pace. His fingers stretched you slowly. Your hands gripped on the pillow underneath your head, letting the moans leave your mouth as you bucked your hips against his touch. 

He chuckled lowly as he slipped his fingers out of you, seemingly enjoying your growing desperation. He brought them up to his mouth to taste you. You watched as he seductively sucked your slick off his fingers, maintaining eye contact with you as he did so. When he was finished, he gave you a quick wink before shifting to get in between your legs. 

He placed his hands on either side of you, keeping himself lifted above you. You hadn’t even noticed that his clothes had now vanished completely, leaving him undone on top of you. He pushed your chemise up past your raised knees. 

You let your hands rest on his toned biceps, biting back your moan as he slowly pushed himself into you. He was a lot bigger than his fingers. You gripped him tightly and winced slightly as he finally fit all of himself into you. 

“You okay?” He asked. Through your tremble, you nodded at him. 

He remained still for a moment, seemingly letting you get comfortable with the new sensation before he began to move at an achingly slow pace. You couldn’t hold back the small gasps that escaped your lips with every slow thrust of his hips. His grip on your bed sheets tightened as he began to move a little quicker, keeping his gaze low as you squirmed below him with pleasure. 

The pooling in your lower stomach began to grow as your moans became incoherent, your fingernails digging into his arms desperately. He groaned above you, still keeping his gaze low as you threw your head back and moaned in pleasure. 

Your back arched as you came undone beneath him with a twitch. His thrusts became overwhelmingly quick as you continued to tremble below him, your hands traveling up to wrap around his neck. You felt him tense inside of you with a deep groan. He pulled out of you quickly, coming on your lower abdomen. He breathed heavily above you, his head hanging low. 

Your breathing matched his; your eyes traveling up to his as his gaze finally met yours. Your eyes connected only for a moment before he pushed himself off of you, standing up beside your bed as you continued to lay there breathlessly. With a snap of his fingers his clothes had completely reappeared, and with another snap, the mess on your stomach was completely gone. 

“Well,” He began, adjusting his collar, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“What?” You questioned. 

He took another cigarette out of thin air, lighting it with his thumb, “You’ll see. Get some rest.” 

He began to walk off towards your window. Your eyelids grew heavy, you tried to fight back the sleep to see where he would go, but you felt the wave of sleep takeover you and within seconds you had fallen into a deep slumber. 

[wolfkcst]

It was supposed to be a simple mission - to get the codex and the treasures for the hidden ones - but that did not go as planned. Someone in the back of the train yelled out for some company - causing the wolf-kissed to become brisk with irritation and start rushing from the head of the train to the back end where they spotted a group on horses riding towards them. Eivor didn't reach for their gun - as the strangers had yet to proven as threat. Eyes scan them cautiously before gesturing their people to find a way to fasten the train or stop it - whichever option was better. Once they had laid out their orders, they stuffed a few items into their pockets before they realized a bit too late one of them was coming onto the train horse back - and overshot his jump a bit. A growl leaves their lips as they felt the stranger collide with them, and bring down down and off the train where it sped past them. Fuck, fuck, fuck! ❝Gods dammit!❞ The Norwegian hissed, quickly scurrying onto their feet and glaring down harshly at the other who had taken them off the train. They reach to pick up their hat, putting it back onto their braided blonde head with a glare that could kill if it could. ❝Faen! Why the fuck did you think that was a good idea? Now we're both off the damned train.❞ @coyotlindo

[freeasreallove]

rockstar has an amazing ability to be able to make characters i’m attracted to in the games of theirs that i’ve played

[mischievouskitty]

Rockstar seems to enjoy having dynamics where two men are kinda co-parenting their unofficial adopted adult son(s), but one of them is already in a relationship that's hanging by a thread.

[imaginarycyberpunk2023]

OC: Vinnie Gallo

Finally he can be the cowboy I imagine him to be thanx to this fabolous mod

[allthemeniveloved]

It Will Come Back - Part 5

Summary: John whisks you away to Elysian Pool for the weekend to get some much-needed time away, as well as teach you a thing or two.

Tags: high honor John Marston x fem!reader, reader teases John about not being able to swim, John makes a dick joke, John Marston absolutely worships you, tooth rotting fluff, cavity inducing fluff, smut, oral (m receiving), thigh riding, choking, dirty talk, unprotected p in v, praising, author is getting a little better at writing smut

wc: 4.4k

ao3 link

The soft glow of the morning sun filtered through the canvas of the tent, casting warm, golden hues over the rumpled blankets tangled around you. The air was quiet, save for the faint rustle of leaves and the distant chatter of birds, a rare moment of peace in the chaotic world you’d grown accustomed to. As you stirred, your cheek brushing against the rough fabric of the cot, you became acutely aware of John’s arm draped over your waist, holding you close. His warmth radiated against your back, steady and comforting, and the faint scent of leather and pine lingered in the space around you.

You tilted your head slightly, catching sight of him still asleep, his face softened in the morning light. The lines of worry and exhaustion that usually etched his features seemed less pronounced, his breathing slow and even. For a moment, you simply lay there, taking in the rare vulnerability he allowed himself in sleep, your heart swelling with an unexpected tenderness.

As you shifted to untangle yourself, his arm tightened instinctively, pulling you closer as a sleepy murmur escaped his lips. “Stay,” he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep but filled with a quiet plea. It sent a warmth through you that no sunrise could rival, and with a soft sigh, you relaxed back into him.

Your fingers moved hesitantly at first, brushing lightly along the rugged lines of John’s cheek. You traced the longest one, the faint silver line running down from just under his eye to his jaw, your fingertips lingering as you marveled at how perfectly it seemed to fit him—both strong and weathered, like the man himself.

He didn’t flinch under your touch, though his brow furrowed slightly, his eyes flicking up to meet yours with a hint of self-consciousness. “They ain’t much to look at,” he murmured, his voice rough but tinged with vulnerability, like he was bracing for you to agree.

“Not much to look at?” you whispered, your voice filled with quiet affection as your thumb brushed over the scar on his chin. “I like them, a lot. They suit you.” you said with a smile.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as his hand came up to cover yours. “Didn’t think there was much to like about a busted-up face.”

“Well,” you said, leaning closer, your voice light but sincere, “I happen to think it’s perfect.” You kissed the scar on his jaw, lingering just enough to feel him relax, and his grin widened as he pulled you closer.

John’s hand came up to trace circles on your bare back, his calloused palm warm against your skin. “You’ve got a way of makin’ a man feel like he’s somethin’ better than he is,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

“You’re already better than you think,” you replied, leaning in to kiss him softly, letting your actions say what words couldn’t. Brushing your lips softly against his, with the warmth of the kiss bringing a quiet smile to your face. His hands rested gently on your back, holding you close as he melted in and kissed you back with an easy, unhurried affection that made your heart flutter.

As you lay tangled together in John’s cot, the soft rustle of the tent canvas blending with the distant hum of the camp, he shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at you. His gaze was warm, a small, playful smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve been thinkin’,” he started, his fingers idly tracing patterns on your arm, “we could use a break from all this… madness. Just you and me. How about we get outta here for a couple days? Fresh air, quiet nights, no Dutch breathin’ down our necks.” His voice dropped to a tender murmur as he leaned closer, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You deserve a little peace, darlin’. Let me give it to you.”

You blinked up at him, his words sinking in like a warm balm against the chaos that had been your constant companion lately. A small, surprised smile tugged at your lips as you reached up, your fingers brushing lightly against his cheek. “You really mean it?” you asked softly, your voice tinged with a mixture of hope and disbelief. His answering grin was all the confirmation you needed, and you couldn’t help the quiet laugh that bubbled up as you nodded. “Okay, John. Let’s do it.” The thought of escaping, even if just for a little while, sent a flutter of relief through your chest as you leaned into him, your forehead brushing against his. “Thank you,” you whispered, your heart feeling a little lighter already.

John pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, his voice soft but filled with excitement. “I’ll get the horses ready—meet me by Old Boy in a bit, darlin’. Don’t keep me waitin’ too long now.”

"Where are you taking me exactly?" you asked, half-laughing at his determination.

"You'll see." he said simply, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Just you and me.”

-

The journey to Elysian Pool was nothing short of serene, the kind of peace you hadn’t realized you craved until you were out in the open with John riding beside you. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and earth, and the distant hum of cicadas created a calming backdrop as your horses trotted along the narrow trail. John kept the mood light, his voice easy and warm as he pointed out the occasional animal or teased you about your riding skills.

“You’re keepin’ up alright,” he said with a playful grin, glancing over his shoulder at you. “Didn’t think Dahlia had it in her to go this fast.”

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. “Maybe it’s your horse that needs to keep up, Marston.”

He laughed, the sound echoing through the trees, and for the first time in days, you felt your tension start to ease.

Dahlia was a sleek, all-black Arabian mare, her glossy coat shimmering like polished obsidian under the moonlight, every muscle finely sculpted for speed and grace. Her alert, intelligent eyes and delicate, arched neck gave her an almost regal presence, and she carried herself with a quiet confidence that matched your own perfectly. Dahlia wasn’t just a horse—she was the last gift your father had given you before he passed, a spirited black Arabian with a gleam in her eye that reminded you of him. You could still hear his voice, proud and warm, as he handed you the reins for the first time: “She’s got your fire, kid. Treat her right, and she’ll take care of you.” You couldn't help but to smile at the memory.

As the sound of rushing water grew louder, John slowed his horse, gesturing toward the clearing just ahead. The sight of Elysian Pool was even more breathtaking than you expected. The waterfall cascaded down in a glittering rush, the sound of the water filling the air with a soothing rhythm that seemed to wash away every lingering worry. Mist hung in the cool air, catching the sunlight and creating a faint rainbow at the edges of the pool. The soft grass near the water’s edge was lush and inviting, a perfect spot to rest and forget, at least for a while, the chaos waiting back at camp.

John dismounted first, his boots crunching softly against the earth as he reached up to help you down. “Told ya this was worth the ride,” he said with a grin, “Figured this was better than listenin’ to Bill snore all night,” he joked, helping you down. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s beautiful, John,” you said softly, your voice almost lost in the roar of the waterfall.

He spread out the blanket on a patch of grass overlooking the water and gestured for you to sit. The moment you did, he settled beside you, leaning back on his elbows with an air of relaxed satisfaction. “We both needed this,” he said, glancing at you. “Somewhere quiet. No Dutch, no plans, no nothin’.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, and for a moment, the only sound between you was the roar of the falls. Then, as if to break the spell, John reached over to pluck a blade of grass, twirling it between his fingers.

“You ever seen someone try to fish with just their hands?” he asked, his grin turning mischievous.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Please don’t tell me you’re about to try.”

“Oh, I’d manage just fine,” he said, leaning closer with a teasing glint in his eye. “But it’d probably scare off all the fish. Let’s just stick to relaxin’ for now.”

“Fishing with your hands, huh?” you teased, crossing your arms and tilting your head at him. “Might be a little tricky for someone who can’t even swim. What’re you gonna do if you fall in? Charm the fish into draggin’ you back to shore?” His head snapped toward you, his face a mix of amusement and mock indignation as he straightened up. “You’re real funny, you know that? Maybe I oughta toss you in first, see how well you swim with all that sass.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you nudged him with your elbow. “Face it, Marston—you’d be bored stiff without me.”

He chuckled, leaning a little closer, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Maybe, but don’t let it go to your head, darlin’. I ain’t about to start sayin’ you’re always right.”

"And for the record, I'm stiff when you're around anyway so it wouldn't make much of a difference."

“John Marston!” you exclaimed, your voice filled with mock outrage as you reached out and gave his arm a light slap. He chuckled, feigning innocence as he rubbed the spot where you’d hit him. “What’d I do now?” he teased, his grin widening. You rolled your eyes, but the laughter bubbling up between you made it impossible to keep a straight face. “You know exactly what you did,” you shot back, shaking your head at him, though the warmth in your smile betrayed your amusement.

-

The sun had dipped low, casting the waterfall and the clearing in a soft, golden glow as John paced a few feet ahead of you, his revolver dangling lazily from his fingers.

“You know,” he said, breaking the comfortable silence, “I’ve been meanin’ to teach you a thing or two about shootin’.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Shooting?”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Are you sure this is necessary? I think I do fine without a gun in my hand.”

“Maybe,” John replied, his tone light but edged with seriousness. “But what happens when I ain’t around to back you up?” His expression softened as he stepped closer, holding the revolver out to you. “C’mon, darlin’. Just humor me, alright?”

You’d always preferred the subtlety of slipping a wallet from a pocket or a watch from a wrist over the loud, messy chaos of a firefight. You’d always known enough about gunslinging to survive when it counted—a few well-placed shots here, a quick draw there—but it was never something you excelled at or even cared to perfect. Your aim was steady enough to hit a target if you had to, and you’d managed to bluff your way out of enough tight spots with a revolver in hand to keep trouble at bay. Quick hands and a sharp mind had kept you alive far more often than a gun ever had, though John seemed determined to change that.

With a sigh, you took the weapon, the cool metal heavy in your grip. He moved behind you, his hands coming to rest lightly on your shoulders as he adjusted your stance. His voice was low and steady, brushing against your ear like a warm breeze. “Relax,” he murmured, his hands sliding down to guide your arms into position. “Don’t hold it too tight, but keep it firm. You wanna be in control, not the gun.”

You couldn’t help but feel a little flustered at his closeness, his steady presence both grounding and distracting at the same time. He pointed toward a rock at the far edge of the clearing, his hand brushing against yours as he helped you aim. “See that? Focus on it. Line up the sights, and when you’re ready, squeeze the trigger—don’t yank it.”

You took a deep breath and steadied yourself, squeezing the trigger as the shot rang out, echoing against the falls. The bullet missed the rock by a small margin, striking harmlessly into the dirt, and you groaned in frustration.

John chuckled softly, his hands squeezing your shoulders in encouragement. “Not bad for a first try. You’re just gettin’ the feel for it.”

After a few more attempts, with John’s patient guidance and a string of playful teases when you missed, you finally chipped the rock. You let out a triumphant laugh, spinning to face him. “I did it!”

He grinned, his pride in you unmistakable as he reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Told ya you could. You’re a natural, darlin’.”

You swatted at his arm playfully. “A natural, huh? You might want to hold off on the flattery until I can actually hit something without you babysitting me.”

He laughed, leaning in slightly, his tone softening. “You’re better than you think. And one day, you’re gonna see that for yourself.”

As the evening wore on, the lesson turned into an easy rhythm of shooting and playful banter. By the time the sun sank below the horizon, leaving the clearing bathed in twilight, you found yourself more confident with the weapon—and more drawn to John’s unwavering belief in you.

Eventually, you found it harder and harder to focus. His voice, low and gravelly, was meant to be instructive, but the warmth of his breath brushing your ear and the way his fingers lingered on your wrists sent a shiver down your spine. He leaned in closer, adjusting your grip, his chest brushing against your back, and it was enough to make your heart race faster than the gunfire you were supposed to be practicing. “Darlin’, keep your eyes on the target,” he murmured, his tone teasing but steady. But you couldn’t. Spinning on your heel, you dropped the revolver to your side and pulled him toward you, crashing your lips against his in a kiss filled with all the tension you couldn’t keep bottled up. For a moment, he froze, surprised, before his hands slipped around your waist, drawing you closer as he kissed you back with just as much fervor, the lesson momentarily—and blissfully—forgotten.

John’s grip on your waist tightened as the kiss deepened, his calloused hands pulling you flush against him as if he couldn’t bear even an inch of space between you. The forgotten revolver slipped from your hand, landing softly in the grass, but neither of you noticed or cared. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that sent your pulse racing, his usual cocky demeanor melting away into something raw and unrestrained.

When you finally broke apart, breathless, John rested his forehead against yours, his hands still holding you close. “Darlin’,” he murmured, his voice rough, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’ve got a hell of a way of interruptin’ a lesson.”

You laughed softly, your hands still tangled in his shirt as you looked up at him, your cheeks warm from both the kiss and his teasing. “Maybe I just found something more interestin’ than shootin’ targets,” you quipped, unable to hide the grin spreading across your face.

John chuckled, his thumb brushing your cheek, his expression softening. “You’re trouble, you know that?” he said, though his tone carried no bite, just affection.

“Maybe,” you replied, your voice quiet but full of warmth. “But you don’t seem to mind.”

His grin widened, and he leaned down to press another quick, lingering kiss to your lips before finally stepping back, though his hands never quite left your waist. “Alright,” he said, his voice lighter now, “we’ll call it a break—for now. But you’re still learnin’ how to shoot proper, whether you distract me or not.”

You smirked as you slowly and gently backed him towards the nearest tree, his words filling you with a quiet joy. “We’ll see about that, Marston.” But John Marston was always two steps ahead of you, and before you knew it, he spun you around, pressing his thigh between your legs as your back hit the tree. You couldn't stop the gasp from leaving your lips as his large hand wrapped around your throat, applying perfect pressure.

"Fuck, baby," he growled, "you're playin' with fire here." His thigh pressed tighter against your core, and warmth curled in your abdomen at the feeling of your cunt dragging across John's thigh, your folds sliding through the slick that's began pooling in your undergarments. Each roll of your hips sent sparks of pleasure racing up your spine, stoking the flames of your desire higher and higher. John's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he fought the urge to rip your clothes off and take you right then and there. But he held back, letting you set the pace, content to revel in the delicious friction of your body against his.

"Careful what ya wish for, baby," he warned, his voice rough with barely restrained lust. "Keep this up and I won't be responsible for my actions."

You just laugh, "Oh, I'm counting on it," your breathed, your hot breath sending shivers down his spine. And with that, you redoubled her efforts, grinding against him with wild abandon.

"Good girl," he adds in a low tone as you let out a choked out whine when he tightens his grip and guides your next stroke. "Good fucking girl."

"John," you cry out as you continue to grind against him, that coil tightening inside of you.

He presses sloppy open mouthed kisses to the exposed skin on your neck, all the way down to your collarbone.

"Go on, take what you need," he says hoarsely. " Use me. I know you're close. I can feel it." he urges. The hand currently squeezing your neck slips away and clamps over your mouth as you desperately chase your release. You stick your tongue out and lick the palm of his hand before taking his two middle fingers in your mouth.

"Jesus, princess, you're filthy." John lets out a loud groan in unexpected satisfaction as you eagerly suck on his fingers.

Something in his tone made that coil snap inside of you, your nails digging into his shirt as stars danced across your vision. You came hard, your thighs trembling, the only thing holding you up was his hand on your hip and his thigh between your legs.

John groaned as your release coated his thigh, the heat of your essence seeping through the denim. He could still feel you trembling above him, your body shuddering with the aftershocks of your pleasure.

"Fuck, baby," he rasped, his voice rough with desire. "You made quite a mess of me."

You just smirked, eyes glinting with mischief as you slowly slid down his body, making quick work of his gun belt. "I ain't done yet, cowboy." Before John could even catch his breath, you had his cock free, your hot breath ghosting over his sensitive flesh.

"Jesus, darlin'" he gasped, his hips bucking involuntarily. The sight of his cock went straight to your already dripping pussy as you looked up to him with eyes that begged for permission. That was all the encouragement you needed as you grabbed the base of his cock, feeling how the veins throbbed under your touch.

He's unbelievably hard and leaking as you slowly slide your tongue around the tip of him before taking his curved head into your mouth. John takes a deep, shaky breath as you suck softly on the head of his cock, fluttering your tongue along a bead of precum he's leaking.

"That's my girl," he murmured, his voice hoarse as he tightens the grip on your hair. You take him deep, the very tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat, over and over again. Your tongue fits along the curve of him, massaging him with every soft corner of your mouth, and you can't help but to notice John's breathing changes.

"You're so fucking pretty like this, darlin'. All mine."

Your thighs press together tightly to subdue the ache in your pussy. His hips move in time with your head, fucking your throat with feral grunts that has slick pooling at your entrance. Your hands move to his thighs for stability, throat burning with the stretch of him as you gag, saliva dripping out of the sides of your mouth.

He tears himself away, hand grabbing you by the throat to pull you to your feet and lock eyes with him.

"You're too good at that baby." He breathes as he forcibly twisted you around presses your chest against the tree.

"You want more? Beg for it."

You nodded frantically, "Please, John," you begged, voice high and needy. "I need you inside me. I need you to fill me up."

Without warning, John spanked you. You gasped at the sweet pain that spread across from your skin.

"That's not my name." He answered, his tone was cold and firm.

"Fuck - daddy! I'm sorry."

With a low growl, John lifted your skirt, ripping your panties away, baring you to his hungry gaze. He positioned himself at your entrance, teasing with shallow thrusts that had you keening in frustration.

"Beg for it," he demanded, his eyes blazing with lust. "Keep begging for my cock, princess."

"Please, daddy," you sobbed, hips bucking back toward him. "Please, I need it. I need you. Make me yours."

That was all John wanted to hear. It filled him with pride to hear the vulgar words fall from your lips for him, watching you plead for his cock. And with that, John slammed home, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful stroke. You cried out, back arching deeper as he began to move, his hips snapping against yours with brutal force. He quickly slid his hand around to the front of your throat, finding solace there once more as he squeezed tightly and pulled your body flush against his as he pounded into you with wild abandon.

"Fuck, baby," he grunted, his breath hot against your ear. "You're so fucking wet. Takin' my cock so well." You could only moan in response, hands clutching his forearm for purchase as John fucked you harder and faster. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you lightheaded with need.

"That's it, princess," he growled, his hips never faltering in their relentless rhythm. "Take what I give you."

John was so close to you, so deep inside of you with his intoxicating scent filling your lungs leaving your body on fire, every nerve ending lit with pleasure as he drove into you again and again. You could feel his cock hitting deep inside, touching places you didn't even know existed.

"Please," you sobbed, hips bucking back to meet his thrusts. "Please, daddy, I need... I need..."

"I know what ya need, baby," John rasped, his hand leaving your throat to slide between your legs. He found your clit and rubbed it mercilessly, pushing you to the brink of madness.

You came with a scream in no time, with your body convulsing in John's arms as he followed you over the edge. He buried himself deep inside of you, groaning your name as he filled you with his seed once again.

You both stayed like that for a long moment in an attempt to catch your breaths, bodies entwined and glistening with sweat in the moonlight. And as John finally pulled out and tucked himself back in, you begin to notice just how weak your legs had become. He finds your discarded panties on the ground nearby and shoves them in his back pocket. The cool night air wrapped around you as John’s strong arms lifted you effortlessly, cradling you against his chest like you weighed nothing. You were boneless, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your multiple intense orgasms. Your head rested against his shoulder, the steady rhythm of his footsteps and the warmth of his body lulling you into a haze of exhaustion and comfort.

“How do you feel?” he murmured softly, his voice filled with both affection and worry. The sound of the waterfall faded behind you as he carried you back toward the tent, his hold protective and unyielding up into his arms, cradling you against his chest as your legs had given out beneath you.

"Mmhm," John couldn't help but laugh at your failure to string together a sentence.

The stars twinkled brightly overhead, their reflection rippling faintly in the still water of Elysian Pool as you and John settled on the blanket by the fire he’d built earlier. The sound of the waterfall was a constant, soothing rush in the background, blending with the gentle crackle of the fire as it cast flickering shadows across the grass. You curled up beside him, your head resting against his chest, his arm draped securely around your shoulders. His fingers traced slow, lazy patterns along your arm, the touch grounding and filled with quiet affection.

“You know,” John murmured, his voice low and warm, “nights like this… makes me think we could have a life like this someday. Just us, somewhere peaceful, no gang, no runnin’.”

You smiled sleepily, your eyes drifting closed as you listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. “I’d like that,” you whispered, the words barely audible over the calming symphony of the night.

His lips brushed the top of your head in a tender kiss, his arm tightening slightly around you. “You deserve it, darlin’. More than anyone I know.”

The weight of his words and the warmth of his embrace lulled you into a serene haze, and as you drifted off, you felt him shift slightly, his other hand resting protectively over yours. “Sleep tight,” he whispered softly, his voice fading into the night. “I’ve got you.” And with the waterfall murmuring in the distance, you let yourself believe, just for a little while, that a life outside of the gang existed.

꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰

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