#john marston/F!Reader

[salv12dexter]

Y'all literally write fanfics like you're men. How is it that in your own fantasy world, you're not getting pleasure from it? With every reader x character, it's you pleasuring the character. Women write fanfics like how men view porn.

You're so feminist that even in your own fantasies, you think that you are ugly and that this character would never want you. So unless they're degrading, using, and beating you. That's the only true way you think that they could ever desire you.

I'm not even going to get started on the of-age-reader x underage characters because if I need to tell you why that's wrong, you need to be put on a watch list.

[wolvieswhiskeyclaws]

Could I have a John x fem reader where the reader reacts to John winning (but still beat tf up) in a bar fight?

Thanks bestie <3

Eyyy of COURSE you can bestie?! I have been practicing writing John, and I may not be the best, but I think I'm confident in my abilities. I think. But here, have a fun, flirty little brawl with your man~

"Trouble" ||

John Marston x f!Reader

Length: 2.1k

Rating: Mature: Mentions of blood, fighting, language

How John ended up in this situation was honestly beyond him, it was just an innocent outing with you and him running some errands for the ranch, and yet he was getting fist after fist pounded into his face. 

After a long day of working, you could tell he was going stir-crazy. His old life was all about freedom and running around, doing things to bring in money or just getting to do as he pleased, but now? He was on a ranch, pretending to be someone he wasn’t to get by, and his trigger finger was beginning to itch. But to make you happy, to keep your heads low, and to survive, John had to behave and live as his persona for the time being. 

“So, Jim,” you said with a smirk, “maybe we should stop at a saloon since it’s getting dark, we could eat a decent meal, maybe stay in a hotel for the night. I’m tired,” you sighed and leaned your head against the man’s shoulder. 

John matched your sigh and flicked the reigns on the horses as he pulled them to the right, heading into Valentine's territory, which he hadn’t expected to be back here so soon. “I mean, it is a long way back, we could use the rest. And I am starvin’, could use something that isn’t a stew for once.” 

You both pulled the wagon off and made sure the horses were comfortable, hitched to a nearby post, and then John helped you down to the ground and smiled wide with his arm wrapped around your waist. “Well, let’s get inside, maybe we can get a bath before bed, too,” he said softly with a smirk. He pulled you along and walked beside you, looking around the town that felt so different from when he was last here. 

As you both entered the saloon, you definitely could tell that the environment was more lively, but you both tried to keep your wits about you as you ordered some food and sat in the corner, away from the rowdy group of people. The food was delicious and the conversation you shared was pleasant, as usual, but John couldn't shake the feeling that eyes kept falling on you both. He'd look away from you as he stopped mid-sentence to see one of the men staring at the both of you, but he tried to pay no mind, you were taking his attention. 

The food was finished and you both were feeling content, the party of people in the saloon only grew larger in number and louder in volume, so you both figured it was time to head out to the hotel for the evening. John allowed you to walk out first so he could follow behind you, but you had barely gotten several steps toward the door when one of the men stepped in front of your path, blocking you from the exit.

“Hey there now, y'all ain't plannin’ on comin’ over to celebrate with us?” 

“Sorry, friend, but we have other plans to attend to,” John answered firmly. 

The man just scoffed, the reek of booze was strong on his breath, it was a wonder he was still standing. ���Aww c'mon, my friend over there is gettin’ married, you could have one drink to congratulate him!”

“Sorry sir, but we don't even know you,” you said sharply, stepping back from him, and bumping into John. You felt a bit more at ease since he was here.

“And? You ain't heard of makin’ friends?” The man chuckled and grabbed your arm, pulling you along toward the table. He then decided to yank your arm and attempt to pull you over toward the table, but John stepped up and grabbed his wrist hard. 

“We ain't interested, sir. My woman and I are heading out for the evenin’, so maybe next time you should use your brain and not touch a lady when she says no.” 

John pushed the man away so you both had room to leave, but some of the drunk’s friends decided to get involved. 

John stepped up protectively, his spine stiffened as his hand hovered over the knife that was holstered, hidden beneath his jacket. “Sir, you got till the count of three to back off and leave us alone,” he warned. 

There had been a taller man who stood up from the table and interjected, pushing his friend gently off to the side. “Are you threatenin’ us?” He snapped. 

“I ‘spose I am,” John retorted, holding his ground as he pushed you further behind him to shield you. 

Another of the man's friends stepped up and tried to land a surprise swing on John, but he pushed you out of the way and took the hook to his shoulder. After that, John was brawling with several of the men who ganged up on you both. The one in the red shirt had tried to grab John to put him in a headlock so his friends could take their turns wailing on him, but your John was fast. He elbowed Red and kicked his leg in, causing the man to fall flat on his face.

That was one down—three more to go.

“I ain’t been in a bar fight in a long time,” John commented as he had both arms up, ready to block any attacks if needed, “but I’d rather continue my night with my lady if you gentlemen don’t mind.”

The three other men all ignored him and each one tried to punch him at different intervals to throw him off, but somehow, John managed to throw one man into the other and watched as the two tumbled straight into a table. The others who occupied the saloon were standing back and vacating the building. The bartender just sighed and walked off, not wanting to be part of yet another brawl. That left you, standing on the stairs away from the tussle. 

The gunslinger looked back and you, making sure you were out of harm's way, then he got back to it. The two men who collided with the table were too drunk to stand, and all they did was stumble over one another. There was one left standing, and he was a little larger than the others. 

“Look, I can just leave, no reason you gotta get involved,” John said nonchalantly, his stance easing up a little.

The man just glared down at him and he scoffed at the offer. “You ruined my engagement celebration, mister, I don’t take so kind to that.”

John just sighed and lifted his hands again, balling them into fists. “Alright then, have it your way,” he replied.

The man took a fast step forward and swung his fist straight at John’s jaw, and if it weren’t for the speed, maybe John would have dodged it, instead, he got nicked against his chin, which still caught him enough to cause some pain. That was all the distraction the man needed to step in and lunge at John, his larger body barreled into him and tackled him to the floor.

You let out a yelp, terrified that the man was going to have a one-up on John, and all you could do was watch in fear as your hands gripped the railing in fear. 

The gunslinger was pinned onto the floor as the man above him threw punch after punch, landing a blow on his cheek, and almost breaking his nose at one point. John held up his arms to block and tried his best to use the strength from his legs to somehow get him to slip off, and he managed to throw the man off of him for a split second. He scrambled to find some balance, then rolled off to the side as the man recovered. 

“Give up yet?” John asked with a smirk on his face as he licked the blood from his split lip, the bruises on his face forming fast.

The man just yelled out in frustration and then John had him in a blind frenzy, which made any man messy in a fight. John ducked from the swing and swung his right arm quickly, the blow landed in the side of the man’s temple, stunning him momentarily. Then it was over, John was finally standing over him and landing punch after punch in the man’s face until he fell unconscious. The gunslinger released the man’s collar, allowing his body to fall slack onto the wooden floor. 

He looked up at you, panting to catch his breath as he straightened his posture. The people who occupied the saloon had all either hidden somewhere or run off, and there were just the two of you left with the pile of unconscious men scattered about on the floor. You waited a moment before hesitantly walking down the stairs to run into his arms, thankful he was alright despite being a little black and blue. 

“As always you’re my hero,” you chuckled and reached up to touch his face, wiping away a smear of blood from his lip. 

“And as always, we’re both gettin’ into trouble,” he replied gruffly.

You just scoffed. “We?” 

“Well yeah, you’re my accomplice, partner in crime, ain’t you?” He asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Plus you’re the one always gettin’ the attention,” John teased as he slipped his arm through yours. He pulled you along and threw a couple of bills onto the countertop, then escorted you outside and across the muddly way, leading you straight to the hotel. 

You both walked inside, the environment a complete flip from the saloon, and you were more at ease now, and even more thankful when you saw the list of services. The gentleman behind the counter stopped sweeping the floor and greeted you both with a kind smile.

“Howdy, how can I help y’all this evenin’?” He looked between the both of you with concern but didn’t voice them. 

Your eyes looked over at John with a smile and then back at the desk man. “One bath and one room, please.”

The man smiled and got everything situated for you both, you thanked him and paid, then pulled John up the stairs to the bath. He followed obediently and cracked his neck as he ascended the stairs with you, groaning.

“Sleepin’ is gonna be a bitch, I just know it,” he complained.

“Well if you behaved for five minutes you wouldn’t have to worry about it, would you?” You scolded playfully as you looked over your shoulder at him. “He got some good hits in, but not gonna lie, Mister Marston, you looked really good kickin’ his ass.” You flashed him a cheeky smile and continued to lead him to the bath. “You go get cleaned up, I’ll get the room ready.” 

You almost walked away, leaving him in front of the bath door, but his hand grabbed your wrist, and then he pulled you back toward him, falling into him as his arms wrapped around you. “Yeah? You think I looked good, huh?” He asked flirtatiously, pulling you close so his face was mere inches from yours. “Then why do you think you can just leave me here alone?” “John Marston, are you implyin’ I’m gonna join you in your bath?” You gasped, faux shock crossed your features. 

All he could do was smile, the raised edges of the scars across his face made his face look extra handsome, and the dim lighting in the hall only made you admire his face even more. “Nah, I’m declarin’ that you are, unless you don’t wanna?” His hands cupped your cheeks, pulling you into the most tender kiss he could manage. 

When he pulled away, your eyes fluttered open and you just stared up at him with a lovestruck smile. “Well, when you put it that way…”

That was all the confirmation he needed, so he opened the door to the readied hot bath, pulling you in after him, and you couldn’t help but giggle as he closed the door behind you both. You sighed as he leaned your hands against his chest, just smiling up at him with that look.

“I know that look, what is it?” 

“Nothin’, you’re just trouble, John Marston,” you said softly, your hand cupped his cheek again, mindful of how gentle you had to be. “But I wouldn’t change it for the world, you know that, right?”

The man looked down at you and pulled you into another kiss, pulling away a moment later with that charming smile you were unable to resist, his hand reached up to brush your hair away from your face so he could see the light in those pretty eyes of yours. Just a minor setback to your shared evening, but John always had ways to make it up to you. 

[rivetingrosie4]

Rockets’ Red Glare

RDR2 | Relationship: Arthur Morgan x Female Reader (modern) | Rating: Teen+

Summary: Arthur and reader invite John, Abigail, and Jack over to their property for a little Fourth of July celebration, complete with at-home fireworks.

Tumblr masterlist | Ao3

🎆Comments always welcome! Reblogs always appreciated!🎆

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As you set a large tupperware of sliced watermelon on the long, wooden outdoor table, the tinny smoke of beef on the grill begins to fill your nostrils. You’re hoping Arthur doesn’t put too much black on the burger patties. Since you share a love of burnt ends, you aren’t worried about the brisket he’s had perfecting in the smoker for hours. But he tends to get carried away watching the flames he’d created lick up through the grill’s grate and put a char on the edges of the patties.

When you’re reaching to adjust the little spray of metallic red, white, and blue stars you’d placed in the midst of the table earlier, the familiar electric guitar opening of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Up Around the Bend” suddenly bursts through the air. You look over just in time to see John setting his blaring bluetooth speaker on the ground and stuffing his phone in his pocket with a grin.

“All right! Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” he hollers.

You smile and chuff a silent laugh as you watch him nod to the tune in his strange way with his head too low—more like ducking his head repeatedly—and nibble from a bare, freshly piping patty he’d clearly just snatched from Arthur’s grill plate.

“Now it’s a party, Morgan! You gotta get the mood set right,” he calls as he nonchalantly turns away.

“Oh I’m sorry, thought I was just puttin’ food in your belly, is all,” Arthur says from his place standing before the grill. “Ain’t ever a party without that, that’s for sure.”

Just catching Arthur’s flat half-smirk and indignant glare in John’s direction, you glance back in time to see John wave his hand.

“Just be glad your cookin’s decent enough to bring me around every time.”

“Oh yeah…” you hear Arthur mumble beneath his breath. “Ain’t I just real glad about that…”

Shaking your head, you turn back to look at Arthur, his focus having returned to the grill. A smile spreads across your mouth at the vivid memories that visit you at the sound of this song. The romance of your relationship still very new, your timid heart so full of audacious hope and longing and trepidation. Even at your age, never had you been in a relationship before, and you’d certainly never been given reason to hope by any man as kind and respectful and gorgeous and wonderful as Arthur.

Riding with him in his cherry red pickup, you’d enjoyed the winding mountain path through the lush green of poplars and evergreens until you’d arrived at the nearby town’s gathering for their Fourth of July parade. When you’d parked and stepped out of the truck, it had been this song playing over the main street speakers. And you couldn’t have helped the bright smile that grew on your face at the beauty and vibrant energy of such a quaint, small-town celebration. Little boys and girls with bucket hats riding atop their father’s shoulders, waving flags in one hand and oblivious to the drops of melting ice cream dripping onto his long-suffering head from their cones in the other. Toddlers stomping both sandaled feet in excitement, clumsily clapping their hands and pointing at the marching bands and floats that passed by. Girls in jostling pigtails getting their faces painted and little boys with tiny sunglasses soaking up the sun and munching and slurping crispy watermelon slices, holding their mother’s hand.

It was all so beautiful, you’d found yourself almost crying above your bright, laughing smile, for reasons you couldn’t put into words. You’d never seen or experienced such a homey celebration before, full of such simple feelings of community and shared happiness. Arthur had given it to you, and he’d even slipped his hand into yours to bring you closer and make you apart of it.

That day you never felt any worry about behaving as suavely as you could or being the hottest, most perfect date. Arthur’s presence had let you relax and enjoy the whole day, from beginning to end, as a friend in love with your best friend.

Now here you both are, married and shaken loose from the gang and trying for a baby of your own. Putting on an intimate little Independence Day celebration at your own home.

“John, could you pour a cup of Sprite for Jack please? Just halfway,” you hear Abigail ask from somewhere on the other side of the table.

After glancing up to see her walking towards the table, you turn to your right to find the now five-year-old Jack reaching on tiptoes with his little arm outstretched and his tongue tucked over his top lip for the big, open green liter bottle on the table with his red plastic cup in his other hand. You notice John is several feet behind him, and though he turns to look at Jack, he won’t get there in time to keep him from tipping the bottle unless he immediately runs over, which he isn’t doing.

“Oh, I can help you with that,” you say with a smile, smoothly stepping to the side and pouring the soda into Jack’s cup.

“John!” Abigail quietly rasps through gritted teeth, her tone laced with a sharp, exasperated reprimand.

“What?” he shrugs with a mouthful of hamburger patty. “I’m all the way over here!”

When you hear Abigail sigh, you avert your wide eyes from what you’re sure is to be yet another argument.

“He’s your son! Not hers!” you hear her begin as she walks towards John. “And did you even wonder why he wasn’t comfortable askin’ you for help in the first place?”

Thankfully, as you walk towards Arthur, the sounds of the argument fade to indecipherable.

You have to smile at the sight of Arthur’s focused face, heather navy blue henley unbuttoned at the collar and rolled up to the elbows, and hunter green apron. Smoothing your expression, you step to his side and reach to drape your forearm atop his tall, broad shoulder.

“Goin’ all right over here, chef?” you ask with a mock serious tone.

“Yeah—” he offers a truncated grunt, pinching and turning one of the patties with his long metal tongs, and taking another off the grill and setting it on a plate on the side. “Just about done.”

After a few moments, you can’t keep from scrunching your nose, chuckling, and letting your bright smile show. You slip an arm through his and around to his back.

“I don’t think you look silly at all; I think an apron suits you,” you say, drawing close and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Oh yeah?” he quietly mumbles in a sheepish tone.

“Look like a daddy already.”

He releases a huff of air through his smiling cheeks and rolls his eyes up and away from you.

Pressing in even closer, you kiss his earlobe and mumble quietly, “Would look even better with…only the apron.”

You notice the corner of his mouth curl as he turns and pulls his chin back to face you. “That so.”

“Mm-hm,” you nod. “Maybe you can manage that tomorrow mornin’.”

“Oh! I see!” he chuckles with a wide smile and lifted brows, causing you to giggle. “Are you tryin’ to finagle a package deal of gettin’ laid and gettin’ served breakfast, Mrs. Morgan?” he asks, squinting and letting his gaze slide over to you.

Grinning and biting your lip, you nod. “Either way, I’m gonna sex you up tonight,” you say, your voice even and sure. Then you lean in and press your lips beside his ear to whisper, “So don’t overeat.”

Turning to stand beside him and keeping your posture inconspicuous, you quickly spank his rear. He gives the tiniest jump that you notice before you walk off.

Arthur is left standing there, releasing the breath he’d secretly been holding, wagging his head to play off how affected he is by you, and contemplating that it must be a crime in some places for a person to be as sexy as you are to him.

Hours later, as the sun is lazily drooping behind the skyline of trees, you’re popping the lid off a lager for yourself with the heel of your hand against the wooden table.

“Yeah, that spot is perfect,” you call over to Arthur and John, who are arranging a couple huge tester fireworks between the grass and gravel of your driveway. “Grass ain’t even ‘sposed to be there; it’s crab grass,” you chuckle, anticipating the black marks on the ground as you lift the bottle’s lip to your mouth. “Burn it up!”

“Are y’all sure we won’t miss the county’s show if we’re busy with our own?” Abigail asks in her pleasant twang as she puts ear muffs on Jack and nestles with him on the edge of the truck bed that’s parked several dozen yards away.

“Nah, they don’t start ‘til dark thirty—half an hour after the sun goes down,” John answers as he twists the Roman candle into the gravel until it doesn’t rock or budge.

“Been a few years, huh?” you hear Arthur mumble quietly to John, and something light and feathery fills your chest at the hint of unburdened, wry camaraderie edging his tone.

“You could say that,” John chuckles in his hoarse voice.

“Just make sure you don’t get those bushy eyebrows singed off like last time,” Arthur says a little louder.

“What?!” Abigail almost shrieks.

“Your husband’s an idiot is all, nothin’ unusual,” Arthur drawls lackadaisically as the gravel shifts beneath his western work boots.

“Elaborate immediately,” you chuckle before taking another swig.

“He always lingers!” Arthur gestures vaguely towards the Roman candle. “Even after enough time passes that you think, ‘Surely, now he’ll run.’ Get the fuse goin’, and he can’t tear himself away. He’s like an addict. Like a goddamn fire glutton.” Resting his hands on his belt, he limply turns his head to look at him with a knowing pinch to his crows’ feet. “And once, a teenage John Marston lingered a few seconds too long. That was the very last time we did this.”

“Oh my God…” you whine a laugh as you cover your mouth, imagining the smoke above his eyes and the curl of the few strands of damaged hair left.

“And you’re tellin’ me he ain’t had any experience doin’ this since?” Abigail asks.

“Well plenty before, but not since,” Arthur shakes his head as he bends to reach forward and secure the second Roman candle.

“John Marston, you just better not,” she says.

“Would you all just lighten up! Jesus!” John rasps in a high tone. “Can’t even prove I’m a grown ass man around here!”

“Well here’s your chance, Marston,” Arthur says, giving his head a tip.

After fanning out a blanket over the grass a few feet to the right of the truck, you sit with your legs before you and bent at the knee. You watch as the men fuss and fidget with the fireworks for a few more minutes before deciding to light them.

The whoosh of the match, the ensuing sizzle of the fuses. With a hiss below his breath of, "Shyit," and a shout, Arthur hauls ass to the right. John tears cheek a few degrees in a different direction. With a sudden loud pop, the flare is sent way up into the sky with a glittering tail. It wiggles for a moment before erupting with a head-splitting bang that fills your ears and thumps in your chest. It shoots its sparkling embers throughout the dull twilight canvas with a clapping clatter. At the sheer volume, your shoulders shoot up, and your smiling mouth hangs agape.

“Whoo-eee!” John promptly hoots with a pitch that rings through the surrounding forests as he and Arthur emerge from their respectively chosen cover.

“Hot damn!” Arthur shouts with a growly timbre.

“God bless America!” John wheezes.

“‘At one there had a bite to it!”

After a beat of silence, you all hear the peal of a tiny scream and the tinkle of giggling laughter. You turn to see Jack clapping with a huge, elated smile.

“That was amaaazing!” he sings, his voice strangely wavy since he can hardly hear himself through the ear muffs. “More! Do more, do more!”

At the sound, all of the adults feel the tenseness in their shoulders release and feel themselves ease into their own delighted smiles.

“All right, that was just a dry run,” Arthur says with lit-up eyes and a winsome grin. “Let’s get ‘em all set up.”

With the sky darkened to a deep, inky blue and with the moon high in the sky, he and John proceed to arrange several fireworks in multiple distanced rows to keep each stage of the little show timed properly. Fiery fountains, spinning awesome blossoms, snapping firecrackers, screeching Piccolo Pete missiles, whirring Roman candles, and more. When they begin to light the fuses one by one, you huddle your knees closer to your chest.

They light off several sets, one right after the other, and a peculiarly sweet, earthy scent similar to gunsmoke reaches your nostrils. With each new eruption high into the sky, you throw your head back to watch. You scream and hoot, smiling and laughing and clapping like a little kid.

Arthur is almost caught up with lighting set after set in a timely manner to keep the show continuous. He loves the spectacular play of sparkling light, the flashes of color through the dark sky. He even enjoys the rush of excitement through his veins, the pounding in his chest, and the sudden booms and crackles in his ears. But he glances in your direction just in time to see your upward-tilted face and your stunning smile. He spares a few moments to watch you bring your chin down and look forward again as the next firework bursts and blooms, shining more light across your face. It catches in your eyes, and for a moment all Arthur sees is the twinkling glimmer of joy reflected there. And he knows there is no firework that doesn’t pale in comparison to the beauty of that smile, the joy in those radiant eyes, or how precious you are to him.

Before long, the pair are on their final set of fireworks. You watch as Arthur stoops with the lighter. He flinches but dares to stay a moment longer to ignite the last long fuses. But though Arthur darts and makes it several yards away, John remains, standing beside the projectile, bent at the waist and gazing dazedly at the dancing sparks of the hungry fuse.

It all happens so fast.

“Marston!” Arthur hollers. “Run like hell!”

But John doesn’t seem to hear him. The light of the spitting spark plays across his face in a brutal, menacing cast of orange against the black atmosphere of night.

“Get your ass outta there, you idiot!” Arthur shouts again over the sizzling sound of the fuse.

John simply peers at the spraying light.

Your heart thuds faster as panic rises in time with the fuse that speeds towards its target, and you glance back and forth between the moving sparkle and John’s hunched, shadowy form.

Arthur steps closer, hurling warnings his way. Abigail screams her own warning.

Still, John remains.

Finally, at the same moment that the projectile is lit and launched into the air, out of nowhere Arthur tackles him to the ground a few feet away. The firework bursts in a shimmering display overhead, but no one pays any mind to it. Your attention is fastened to the struggling form of John and Arthur as they shift and rise.

“…goddamn moron!” you hear Arthur yell as he shoves John in the chest a couple times.

“I’m fine, it’s fine!” is John’s airy plea.

“Wanna get yourself killed?!” Arthur growls and heaves, his voice steely and ferocious as he glares at him with a tight, wrathful stance.

After a few moments of silence in the stillness and dark of night, a snorted, bubbling laugh arises from somewhere.

Arthur and John start to spin and look around. It takes a moment for you to realize the sound of relieved, disbelieving laughter is your own. They turn to find you toppling over to the side on your blanket, holding your belly and chortling and cackling uncontrollably.

The two of them stand there for another several moments. But the sound of your laughter is involuntarily loosening the rage in each muscle of Arthur’s body, one by one. First, John starts to quietly wheeze. Then, a few mindless, incredulous huffs arise from deep in Arthur’s chest. In no time, the two of them are snickering hysterically.

Unable to find a suitable word for the ridiculousness of it all or to chide in the midst of his relief, Arthur simply wags his head and walks away. You open an arm to him as he takes a seat beside you on the blanket.

John walks over to hop up and sit on the tailgate of the truck on the other side of Jack. Abigail promptly smacks the side of his arm.

“Gave me a heart attack!” she whispers before removing Jack’s ear muffs.

You all sit gazing up at the twinkling pinpricks of light in the sky and listening to the pleasant, creaking chirp of crickets until the county’s fireworks start. When the flashes light up the sky, you can see the beautiful show in the distance just over the tops of the trees. Jack oohs and aahs, gasping and pointing out each of his favorite types of fireworks.

Sitting beside and slightly behind you, Arthur scoots in closer, wrapping you in his big arms. You snuggle into him, closing your eyes when you feel him plant sweet kisses to your cheek. After managing to press a kiss to his lips, you finally let your head rest back on his shoulder with a sigh and turn your face towards him. He immediately meets your mouth for a full and surprisingly passionate kiss, quickly deepening it and sweeping his tongue into your mouth.

From her spot on the tailgate, Abigail glances your way and has to look back at the two of you. Your throat is fully extended as you rest your head back on his shoulder. Your arm nearer Arthur is outstretched before his chest, your hand sliding up his neck into his hair. She notices the brief, glinting flash of your wedding ring. And his arm that isn’t wrapped behind you is draped over your bent knees, his hands splaying over your bare, smooth legs. Even at a distance of a dozen feet, she notices the subtle way your open mouths move together as you kiss.

Such easy affection and passion between you, she thinks to herself.

Without thinking, her eyes flit to John where he sits on the other side of Jack. Jack himself is still completely enraptured by the show overhead. But instead of watching the fireworks, John is also taking note of the two of you.

As she watches John’s face, she can’t help but contemplate all the things that have led to such warm affection becoming a stranger to their own relationship. Outcroppings of selfishness and resentment on John’s part, of resentment and anger on her own part. Years of overgrowths of misunderstanding and isolation. And somehow, they’ve both let it all happen.

Her gaze on John stutters. She glances back to find you two gently pulling away with shared smiles as you slowly press tender little kisses to each other’s lips. When you both resume watching the fireworks, she glances back at John, expecting her gaze to remain covert. But she is met by John’s eyes on her.

After a few moments, his eyes falter. But he lifts them again and intentionally holds her gaze. Without a word, he reaches over Jack and brushes a hand to her back.

[revolversandlace]

The Dangers of Summer

Dutch/Arthur/John x f!Reader

Warnings & Tags: Explicit, Smut, Swearing, M/M/M/F, f!Reader, Plot? What Plot? DubCon, No Y/N, Minors DNI

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Dutch asks you to rob a homestead, unfortunately the loot isn’t what you expect. 

A/N: I’m sorry I got horny and this happened. It is what it is.

AO3 Link

You’d been with the gang some weeks now, and not a day had gone past without the men trying to break you.

You weren’t even sure why they brought you into the fold, except for them to tease you with dead end goose chases or some impossible challenge even they couldn’t complete.

One day after the other, you were just as keen as the last to prove yourself fit for the gang. And just when you thought you were on a job to prove yourself, it turned out to be another waste of time.

‘Miss,�� Dutch called, beckoning you to his tent, the dramatic classical music playing softly in the background and he puffed on his fat cigar.

You marched over, as your boots crunched over the leaves.

He leaned back in his chair, hands folded behind him, watching your every move. You could feel his eyes boring into you. His face was impassive but his gaze held you in place. You stared back at him, throwing your hands in the air.

'What is it now, Dutch?'

'It'd pay you to show some more respect around here, Miss.'

You pursed your lips taking in a deep breath. 'I'll try my best,' you said coolly.

He nodded slowly. 'Good girl. Now I have a job for you.'

You arched an eyebrow. 'Another one? I'm getting tired of these endless jobs that don't go anywhere.'

'This one will be different.' He took off his hat and placed it on the table. His hair was disheveled, falling over his forehead and he looked like he hadn't slept in days. 'It's a homestead in south Leymone, not far from Braithwaite Manor.'

'Am I supposed to find anything there or will it be like the last one?'

Dutch laughed, a low and filled with danger. You really were beginning to think that perhaps this gang wasn't the right fit for you. But then again if you didn't want to join them maybe you shouldn't have come along with them in the first place.

'I expect there to be the usual wares. Jewellery... Cash,' Dutch waved his hand dismissively. He reached to the inside of his waistcoat, pulling out a silver pocket watch. 'If you leave now, you might make it for sundown.'

'Is that all?' You asked surprised. You felt like you should have been doing something more than stealing jewellery and money.

'That's enough for now,' Dutch said looking at you intently. 'Now gear up and let me see what you can do.'

You did as he instructed, quickly putting on your hat and grabbing your gun belt from where it hung in your tent. As you walked towards your horse, Arthur stepped in front of you, blocking the path between you and your mount.

'Finally got a job, I hear.' Arthur said, his smug smile plastered all across his face. Since being within the gang, Arthur had barely said more than four words to you, usually opting for silence and grumbles.

'Get out of my way,' you sighed, already exhausted with the men of the gang.

'Not until we talk about how you're going to repay us for saving you from those bandits.'

'You saved me? That's news to me.'

'You know we did,' Arthur snorted, placing his large hand on your shoulder and leading you towards your horse.

'Arthur, if you've got any issues, take it up with Dutch, okay?' You said, your voice tight as you shook his hand from you.

'Oh I will,' he said with a smirk, tugging at the brim of his hat as you hoisted yourself onto your horse.

You rode away without another word, wanting nothing more than to get out of there. You were sick of their constant teasing and taunting and wanted to be left alone. You didn't care much for Arthur but at least he was easy to deal with compared to the others.

You rode hard, reaching the homestead just before sundown. The sky turned to a bright orange hue, bathing the trees in a golden light as the birds began to sing their evening song.

Hitching your horse and throwing a sack over your shoulder, you checked your revolver and opened the barrel to see six rounds nestled in the metal. You flicked the gun with your wrist, closing it back up and you made your way to the house.

One by one, you checked the windows to make sure the house was empty. You heard nothing and saw even less, as you rattled the back doorknob and pushed it open.

You raised your gun and you pulled up your bandana over your nose and mouth, your skin prickling with excitement. Finally, a job where you could show your worth to the gang.

You checked the drawers, every cupboard you could see and a pair of pearl earrings and a wad of cash later, you made your way from the back room into the hallway.

Just as you were about to open the door to the next room, you heard an unmistakable clatter.

Shit.

Walking slowly towards the room that the sound came from, you lightly put one foot in front of the other, as your hand gripped tighter around the gun.

You tried to listen through the wall but couldn't tell what was happening. Was someone still there? Or was it just some noise from outside?

You took a deep breath and held it in your chest as you slowly opened the door.

What you saw however, was the last thing you expected.

'Told ya she didn't know the shortcut,' Arthur said, sitting in a chair with his foot on his knee, rolling a cigarette between his fingers.

John was sitting beside him, with a wide smile.

'I'm surprised she made it at all,' he said

'What the fuck is going on?' You said, searching both of their faces as you pulled down your bandana. 'What's this all about?' Your voice rose as your heart began to speed up in your chest.

They said nothing, as they stared at you with boyish grins on their face.

'I don't have time for this,' you said, turning away from them.

'Don't worry about her,' Arthur called after you. 'She'll come round.'

'You can say that again,' John laughed.

You stopped in your tracks, your temper rising.

'I can't believe you've done this again! Why can't you just give me a job and leave me be?' You waved your gun at them, in half your mind to shoot them where they sat. They both laughed, clearly not as threatened as you'd thought they'd be. Although if you were expecting anything from either of them by now you were mistaken.

'We're sorry darlin' we didn't mean to scare ya,' Arthur said, standing up and putting his hat back on. 'But you know how it is with us.' He smiled down at you.

'Yeah, I do. You're real shits you know that.' You said, folding your arms across your chest. 'Wait until Dutch here's of this.'

The men looked at each other smiling as you heard a laugh from behind you. Spinning round you nearly collided with Dutch as he towered over you, his black mustache twitching.

'Who's ideal do you think it was?' He said and you slowly took a step back. 'Now, missy. I've had a word with these two and they both agree. You're attitude is...'

Dutch licked his lips hungrily, staring down at you as your chest became tighter.

'Unwelcomed.' He said, his face turning to a near snarl.

You didn't know what was happening, but you didn't like it. You felt uneasy and you wanted to get out of there but you knew that would only make things worse for yourself. So instead you remained quiet, staring at Dutch.

'You need to learn your place,' Dutch growled, stepping closer to you.

You could feel his hot breath against your neck as he whispered, 'You belong to us now.'

You swallowed hard as he grabbed hold of your hair, pulling you off balance. He turned you around to face both John and Arthur, who looked at each other with excitement.

You tried to struggle from Dutch's grasp but his fingers just dug further into your scalp.

'Now we won't hurt,' Dutch said into your ear as he marched you towards the table, 'as long as you behave.'

You were scared, but not as scared as you should have been. You would have been lying if you said you weren't excited at the thought. You'd thought about the men before, although not at the same time, in the late hours when your hand would drift lower to pleasure yourself.

You didn't want to admit it but even then you were curious about the way they treated you. The way they talked to you and the way they acted around you.

Dutch let go of your hair as the back of your thighs met the edge of the table as all three men stood around you. You could feel your cheeks burning red as their eyes roamed over your body like a pack of wolves.

Arthur stepped forward and lifted you up onto the table, placing himself between your legs. He pressed his hands against your breasts, kneading them roughly.

'Now boys, take good care of her,' Dutch ordered as he pulled out a half-smoked cigar, lighting the thick end.

'Get her ready for me,' he nodded, pulling a chair away from the table and sitting down to watch the show.

You swallowed hard, as Arthur's large, rough hands worked over your body as he made his way to your shirt buttons.

'Make sure you share, Arthur,' Dutch said, leaning back as Arthur started to unbutton you.

John joined him, kissing your neck and running his tongue along your skin. You moaned at the sensation as the two pairs of hands continued to roam over you. Your cunt was throbbing, as you ran your leg up Arthur's side, whilst John continued to kiss you.

Helping Arthur shrug off your shirt, the cool breeze hit your nipples as he took one of them between his thumb and index finger, giving it a pinch.

'You like it rough girl?' He growled as you whimpered, all words caught in your throat. All you could give him was a weak nod as he applied more pressure on your nipple as your wetness grew.

'Good,' he grunted, squeezing harder on your breast. 'This is going to be fun.'

He released your breast as both he and John began to work at your trousers, unbuckling you and pulling the jeans and your boots from you as you sat on the edge of the table completely naked.

Arthur pushed you back onto the table and kissed you roughly, pushing his tongue inside your mouth as you kissed him back, feeling John's hands run over your thighs and towards your sopping wet heat.

You gasped as you felt a finger slip inside you, making you buck your hips as Arthur continued to work his tongue in your mouth.

'She's already wet, Dutch' John said, pumping his fingers into you, stretching you out as you moaned into Arthur's mouth.

Arthur pulled away from you, his lips glistening with your saliva as John continued to bury his fingers in you, curling them around deep inside of you. You continued to moan, and rock your hips.

'Think I'm gonna use that mouth some more,' Arthur growled, as he began to undo his belt.

You looked up at him with mewls falling from your lips as he pulled out his thick cock. Giving it a few pumps, he grabbed the top of your hair, and pulled your head onto his cock, and shoved it into your mouth.

You sucked hard, taking it deep as you tried to swallow it. You gagged and choked as you tried to keep up, as the other two began to laugh.

'You're going to have to learn to take it all,' Arthur grunted, as he pulled your head away giving you a second to breathe.

'I'm sure she will,' Dutch said from the chair, watching you intently.

'Open up, darlin', and try and take the whole thing,' Arthur said as you forced yourself harder onto John's fingers, the coil already beginning to tighten in your lower stomach.

You nodded, opening your mouth as Arthur shoved his cock back into your mouth with no mercy. Using his grip on you, he moved your head roughly onto him and you tried your best to breathe as your throat became fuller and fuller.

'Come on, girl,' Arthur grunted, 'take it all.'

You tried your hardest, but you couldn't. You could feel his balls tighten and his cock swell as he continued to thrust into your mouth.

You gagged and spluttered, but he didn't stop. You kept your mouth open as he used you, whilst John pushed another finger into you. Moaning onto Arthur's cock, you felt your own orgasm building.

You were desperate for release; you needed it badly. His cock was too big for your mouth, and it wouldn't stay still. It seemed determined to stretch you to breaking point. As he pounded your mouth mercilessly, his breathing picked up as his grip got tighter on your head.

You felt John remove his fingers from you, as you looked down, he pulled his cock from his trousers and shoved the thick head into your dripping cunt.

You moaned again, both your holes filled as the men ravaged you. You felt your toes curl as you arched your back, your cunt growing tighter around John's cock as he thumbed at your clit.

It was almost too much as a wave of pleasure crashed over you as you screamed onto Arthur's cock whilst John fucked you harder. You came quickly as your orgasm ripped through your body leaving you weak.

Arthur withdrew his cock from your mouth and grabbed hold of your hair, forcing you up onto your feet as you felt your legs struggling to hold you up.

'Think she's having a good time, Dutch' Arthur mused as you panted, desperate for air as the bliss tingled over your skin.

'It does appear that way,' Dutch said, nodding as he stood. You could see John stoking himself as Arthur grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you on top of him onto the table.

'I wanna see you how tight you are,' he said, his hands digging so hard into your hips you know they'd leave bruises for days.

He speared his cock into you as you mewled again, your eyes scrunched tight as Arthur fucked himself into you. You felt John's thumb circling your asshole, as he spat onto you letting the liquid drip down.

'Please,' you whined, as you felt the head of John's cock push into your other hole, the pain and pleasure melding into one.

You were full, stuffed and revelling in ecstasy as the two men fucked you.

'I can't last much longer,' John groaned, pressing his hands against your hips and rocking his hips forward as you cried out loudly.

'Don't let me interrupt you gentleman,' Dutch said, making his way over to the table removing his hat as he removed his belt.

'Why don't you come see how a real man tastes,' Dutch chuckled, stepping out of his trousers and wrapping his hand around his hard cock.

You wasted no time in obliging, wrapping your lips around him and now every single one of your holes were filled. Dutch pumped himself faster into your mouth while his hands played with your breast.

He leaned in close and whispered, 'good girl,' as he slapped your cheek.

You felt his hot cum splash across your tongue and into your mouth as you gulped it down greedily. You could hear him panting above you, as he pulled you from his cock. You felt John thrust faster into your ass, bruising you further as he grunted, his cum filling you and spilling out, dripping down onto your cunt.

Arthur wasn't far behind, as you continued to bob on his cock, the last drops of cum dripping down your chin as Dutch wiped his brow.

John pulled himself from you as you now felt empty, except for Arthur who continued to pummel you hard. The familiar feeling rose again, as you ground your hips into Arthur, as the slaps continued to fill the room.

Another orgasm erupted, as you screamed into the air, the pleasure almost unbearable as Arthur, unrelentingly chased his own as you were filled up one last time.

Arthur stopped, holding himself deep within you as you collapsed onto the table next to him panting. You rolled onto your side, looking at the mess you made and seeing the satisfied smile on each of their faces.

Covered in cum and sweat, the men dressed as you lay there on the table, legs shaking and the pain of having three men inside of you started to settle in.

'That was certainly an experience,' John smiled, picking up his clothes from the floor.

'I certainly think Miss here will behave herself from now on.' Dutch said, as the three men left the homestead leaving you there naked and beyond content. 

[unmaskthewriter]

Everywhere {John Marston x F!Reader}

Summary: You reminisce about your time with John Marston.

A/N: Welcome back, dearest readers, to my RDR2 obsession. This one was loosely inspired by a tiktok. I listened to Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac while writing. Also thinking about making this into a mini series that can be read in any order, just reflecting on little moments between John and Reader with no significant plot if there’s enough expressed interest in your end, and motivation on mine

Word Count: 1049

Warnings: canon typical violence, angst, fluff

Sometime post-1907, Beecher’s Hope

It was an unbearably hot day on the ranch with the sun bearing down on the dry Earth below. You had decided to sit outside on the porch nonetheless and enjoy the fresh air with your young son, John Jr. Settling down into a newly made rocking chair with a cold glass of water, you watch John in the distance tending to the animals. He would occasionally remove his hat, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his arm. John Jr. sat on a blanket on the porch, playing with a small wooden horse Charles had carved for him for his 1st birthday.

If you told yourself years ago that you and John would purchase land outside Blackwater, and try your hand at ranching, you would have laughed. Hell, you never even expected to stand by Marston, but in Arthur’s final moments as he placed his hat on John’s head and shoved his satchel bag into your arms, neither of you could deny his last wish.

“Take her… and go. Get the hell out of here and be a goddamn man!” Arthur demanded of John. Ever so gently, John takes your hand and leads you back down the mountain. You take one last look to Arthur as he draws his revolver, calling out to Dutch and Micah.

Surely, it was uncomfortable at first. Without anywhere to go or anyone to turn to, you and John had to push aside your grief to barely survive. Traveling from town to town, often changing identities to run from a past you once knew, it was never enough. Somehow, the past had an interesting way of catching up. It wasn’t until the incident in Roanoke Ridge that John decided to return west after all these years.

“What’re you doin’ out here all alone, little lady?” A man’s voice spoke. You tense, and slowly turn to face the man who had intruded your camp in the deep wilderness. John had left to go hunting nearly an hour ago, and you were unsure of when he would return.

“What do you want?” You ask, glancing to your tent where your revolver was resting on your bedroll. "Of course, the one time I am without it," you thought to yourself. The man quickly draws his gun, pointing it to you as he slowly approaches, his worn leather boots crunching the dry leaves beneath his feet.

“Give me everything you have, and I just might let you live, little girl.” He threatened as you closed your eyes. A loud gun had sounded off in the proximity, and for a moment you expected death’s cold embrace. When that had not come, you opened your eyes to see the man before you crumple to the ground, his gun slipping from his grasp. John revealed himself behind the man, still gripping his raised gun tightly, the barrel smoking lightly. In his eyes, sadness and fear lingered as he gazed at you. Quickly holstering his gun, he kneels beside you and cups your face in his rough hands, looking over you for injuries.

Even then, having decided to settle down and stop running, the past still lingered through various former members of the gang finding you and John. Whether it be Sadie sending a telegram seeing through John’s fake identity, Uncle waiting outside the bank in Blackwater for John, or Charles bare-knuckle fighting in the streets of Saint Denis, you were just grateful that there were those who survived Dutch’s downfall. Often, you wondered why John hadn’t just left you behind, or dropped you off in the nearest town and ran.

“You think I’d do that to you, darlin’?” John whispered, gently cupping your face with his large, calloused hands and gazing down at you. His black hair fell around his face, a few strands just barely interfering with his vision. He had grown out his stubble, but the scars on his cheek remained.

“Well… I figured you had no reason not to.” You mumble, avoiding John’s gaze. He laughs and pulls you in closer.

“Silly girl.” He mutters before pressing his chapped lips against yours, taking you for surprise before melting into the kiss.

A small noise interrupts your thoughts as Uncle shuffles about on the porch, the wood beneath him creaking with each step. He sits alongside you as the stench of whiskey fills the open air. John Jr. looks up to him and flashes a toothy grin. Uncle is quiet for a moment.

“John found himself a good woman... She saved him. John saved me, I saved Charles, so it goes.” He chuckles, placing a hand on his knee as he looks out to the beautiful land before him. Of course, it wasn’t always like this but with his guidance, and Charles’ physical labor, John had transformed the property from one that was once occupied by squatters, to a beautiful ranch you both could be proud of.

“So it all starts with a good woman?” You tease in return, looking to Uncle. He sits up.

“Exactly… it all starts with a good woman,” Uncle repeats, turning in his chair to face you, “John Marston is the luckiest man alive. Arthur told me that a… a long time ago.” Uncle smiles sadly, looking down at his shoes for a moment. Subconsciously, you twirl the ring on your finger endlessly, a habit you had formed after John had proposed. The ring once belonged to Arthur, intended for Mary Linton until she broke off the engagement.

John sat across from you in the small boat, reaching into Arthur’s satchel as he maintained eye contact with you. Gently grasping your hands, he smiled.

“I know I’m a fool, and I haven’t always done right by you… but I want to start. I want to be the man you deserve, darlin’. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?” John asks, revealing the ring to you. It was more beautiful than Arthur had ever described to you — a simple, gold band with a single maroon jewel placed delicately in the center. Tears begin to form in your eyes as you watch John approach the house after a long day’s work, the western sun setting behind him.

Arthur was hardly ever wrong.

[johnpriceslamb]

𝓽 𝓱 𝓻 𝓮 𝓪 𝓭 𝓮 𝓭 𝓮 𝓵 𝓮 𝓰 𝓪 𝓷 𝓬 𝓮

🪡 Before you joined the gang, you used to be a tailor. An event was coming up soon which involved looking fancy, meaning that you had to take his measurements for a new suit.

𝓑𝓔𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤 𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓒𝓔𝓔𝓓 ! ⋆ female ! reader ⋆ hyper-feminine ! reader ⋆ very suggestive content w/ javier ⋆ close proximity ⋆ reader is mentioned to be physically smaller than said chars ⋆ poorly google translates spanish >.> ⋆ not proof read nor edited ⋆ wrd count/1.2k

🪡 arthur morgan ⋆ charles smith ⋆ john marston ⋆ javier escuella (sep) x f! reader

🪡 𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓾𝓻 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓷,

“stand still!”

You prattle on for the umpteenth time this evening. The loyal enforcer of the gang grunts at the feeling of the cold tape measure wrapped around his bare waist, as he begrudgingly lifts his arms up to avoid messing up the measurements.

“For someone so little,” He groans at the feeling of the flexible measure tightening deliberately around him, “You sure do have a lot of attitude.”

You ignore him, of course. You scribble down the exact number of his measurement down on a piece of paper with a slight hum. The beads of your delicate necklace hang delicately off your neck as you bend over the edge of the table a bit, elbows propping your demure head for support. Arthur couldn’t help but boredly take a peak of what you were writing down, before ultimately sighing as he hopes for this to go a little quicker.

the cigar in his mouth hangs low on his bottom lip, embers flying out from the tip. He takes another slow drag, before letting it out with a gentle sigh- to your direction. You throw the man a puffed-cheek glare, your little nose scrunching up at the smell.

He wouldn’t admit the fact that he felt warm when your fingers would touch his body so subtly when measuring him. Or when your face was so close to his ragged skin, he could really feel your soft breath. Did you always look that pretty when you’re concentrated?

“Hey, Arthur?” That familiar high-pitched voice catches his attention. His hands lazily grab ahold of his low-hung belt, before leaning in.

“Mh?” He lowly grunts, squinting his eyes at the sight of your beady eyes staring up at him. He chews at the end of his cigarette, letting out a huff when the smoke unexpectedly enters inside his body.

You cheekily smile, tinkering your dewy lashes at him to feign innocence. The pencil in your grip is tapped multiple times on the paper, “Wouldn’t pink be a suitable colour choice for your suit?”

“[name].” You’re lucky you were blessed with a cute little face, otherwise he’d have no issue throwing you in the lake nearby.

🪡 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓮𝓼 𝓼𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓱,

“..I’m not familiar with getting measured, I apologise if I make anything difficult.” Charles quietly explains to you in that baritone voice he had. You can’t help that sweet fluttering in your chest at the apology.

“Nonsense!” You wave him off with a toothy smile, “All you’ll have to do is stand still.”

The gentle giant in-front of you slowly nods. He’s not uncomfortable, but he’s kind of on the edge since this was new to him. But since it’s you, he can feel some of the tension in him melt. Usually, he tends to avoid interacting with other people at camp.

But you? Something about you made him draw closer.

“Just a matter of standing still? I think I can manage with that. No trouble with me.” A ghost of a smile slowly etches onto his dark skin at your expression. Almost.. puppy like.

You’re about to measure his full height to ensure the exact proportions of the suit are balanced, only to realise..

Your height (lack thereof.. oops.) comes in as a bit of an issue here. For plot purposes, there aren’t any stools around nor could you go on your tippy toes to measure him fully.

“..Ah.” Charles blinks at the situation. Amusement crosses his face, before gesturing to hand over the end of the measuring tape. He holds it just at his head, patiently watching you peak at the number it falls down to at his ankles.

“Oh my..” You let out a tiny squeak at the number, a shy smile appearing on your sweet face before scribbling it down on a piece of paper nearby.

“Oh my?” He repeats you, “What? Is that.. Is that bad?”

“No, no!” You stammer, meekly brushing your hands over your light pink petticoat, “You’re just.. Y’know. You’re tall.”

“Oh?” He smiles lightly, lovingly looking at your light expression, “I hope that won’t be too much of a problem.”

“It’s not a problem. Quite the opposite, actually.” You quietly mumble the last part. Oh dear, you can feel his gaze, practically warming up your soul, staring at you as if you hung the stars. You feel your cheeks heating up.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing!”

🪡 𝓳𝓸𝓱𝓷 𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓷,

never in your life have you wanted to smack a man in the face so badly.

“Woah,” John grins like a newly wet dog from running through a puddle, “Y’here to take my measurements or to feel me up?”

All you did was just wrap the tape around the swell of his hips. Your cheeks puff out, purposefully tightening the tape to get your point behind.

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind either way.” He cheekily smiles, before scoffing at the feeling of the measuring tape deliberately tightening around him.

You swear you can smell the scent of booze. You ignore it, before straightening your back to measure his waist. What you can’t ignore however, was that raspy drawl his voice had which somehow makes you fall for him over and over again.

He may be as dumb as rocks, but his little antics drew you in.

“Hey,” He calls out to catch your attention. You sweetly tilt your head up, and to the side when he looks down at you.

“You gon’ pick the colours of my suit, or do I get to?” He asks curiously.

You ponder, “Well.. Do you want to?”

He thinks about it for a moment, before coming up with an answer. “Nah. Reckon you should. You’re the professional, after all.”

You can’t help but let out a soft giggle, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

When you’ve finished his measurements, you excitedly turn to him to discuss the colour choices which’ll be appropriate for the event coming up soon. Both of your eyes meet and he peers down at you with a loving gaze, it catches your breath a bit before you force yourself to look down at the notes which contained your notes.

“I think your suit should have a low v cut to really show that upper-body of yours. Perhaps a classic navy blue as your primary colour, and— Hey! Are you even listening to me?”

He blinks a few times, a bit sheepish. “I am, I just don’t got a clue on what you’re saying, sweetheart.”

You can feel your hand tighten.

🪡 𝓳𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓮𝓻 𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓪,

“Ah.. Quite close there, aren’t you?” He has this.. devilishly handsome smile you want to wipe off badly. He peers down at you as if you were nothing but a little dollie while you measured his chest.

“‘M not trying to be!” You whine, going just a bit lower to wrap the measuring tape around his waist now. You hum delightfully as you find the exact number, squinting your eyes to see where the tip of the measurement tape lands on.

While you’re busy with your own little thing, you don’t notice the way Javier admires you from above. He can’t help but comment on it too.

“You know,” He starts of with a slow, lazy smile. Mischievous, even.

“You’re looking very pretty working down there.” He puts a lot of emphasis on the word ‘very’ in his sentence. It’s subtle, but if you were to be paying attention to him you’d get it immediately.

You tilt your head up to innocently thank him with a small smile etched on your pretty little face, before realising what his words were implying. That little..

“Javier!” You scold him with a very high-pitched tone. You feel your dignity fading away as soon as he replies with a mocking laugh to your whining.

“You know I’m just playing around, chica. Don’t take it so seriously.” His hand goes down to cheekily pinch your squishy cheek to get his point through. You frown.

“You’re horrible.” You babble, begrudgingly taking his last measurement. You’re very tempted to give him the cold shoulder, but decided against it.

“You’re too kind.” He sarcastically replies, that same lazy grin on his face from the start as when he sees you scribbling down some notes about his measurements and preferences. You throw a tiny glare at him, “I’m the one creating your suit here, be nice!”

“Mhm? I haven’t gotten to express my gratitude yet have I?” He takes the notepad away from you, setting it aside before easily picking you up by the waist and setting you on the table, your legs dangle off the edge easily as he nears you.

“Permiteme que, querida.”

[midnighvtm4ss]

Rosemary

Summary: Kidnapped in the middle of the night you’re dragged far away from camp by the ruthless Lemoyne Raiders. Your disappearance a painful wound for Arthur who has to, quite literally, fight for your love back.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

AO3 link

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

Content: angst, hurt/comfort (finallyyy !!!) description of gun fight, kidnapping, heavy themes

wc: 5k

a/n: so we’ve finally come to the end of this silly little story. The comfort is finally here woohoo !! I’m actually kinda proud of this chapter because I tried a different approach to writing and idk,, i like it. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to every single one of you who liked Rosemary and filled my days with love, I’ll forever be grateful to all of you. A slightly better version of Rosemary will be posted on my ao3 account along with a new series im writing following John Marston and the reader. The plot for it will be revealed in a few days. As always let me know what you think of this chapter <33 (gif from pinterest)

Pain.

The very first thing you noticed was the pain—a sharp, throbbing agony spreading from the back of your head to the front. You winced as you tried to move your hands to support your head but your limbs felt heavy, almost as if you were trying to lift one of Pearson’s flour bags.

Everything was dark. A muffled piercing sound rang through your skull. You blinked, trying to clear your vision, but failing as the pitch darkness of the thick woods clouded your vision. Trying your hardest to get out of your dream-like state you decided to focus your mind on what exactly was happening, the last thing you remembered was your fight with Arthur and taking a walk into the woods outside camp. And then the pain. Oh, the pain was killing you.

You had to go back to camp and ask Reverend Swanson for some medicine.

You once again tried to raise your hands to your head to check for blood but your action, unfortunately, was unsuccessful. And then you felt it. The rough, scratching sensation of rope digging into your wrists. Your arms were bound tightly behind your back, the coarse braided fibers of the rope biting into your skin with every slight movement. Panic flooded your mind, its freezing tide rushing down on you as you realized that you were tied up.

“She’s comin’ to. We better hurry up before she starts and give us trouble,” A low, hoarse voice cut through your panic haze.

From your lying position, what seemed like the figure of a large man could be made out approaching you in the darkness. You felt yourself being hoisted roughly into the air, before you were slung harshly like a sack of potatoes, across something hard. A horse, you judged by the pungent smell of hay that invaded your nostrils. The saddle dug painfully into your side as the animal began to move forward under the command of its rider. The sudden movement made you almost throw up, your head pounding rhythmically with each rapid beat of hooves on the woods ground. You wanted to scream but no sound escaped your throat, the pain in your body too intense. As the horse rode further and further into the woods you could feel your consciousness slowly slip away,

‘Arthur,’ you managed to utter before darkness took over you.

The second time you awoke, it was due to the biting cold of dawn. The sky above was just starting to lighten, the first rays of sunrise penetrating through the dense treetops, coloring everything in pale hues. You were lying on the ground again, your body stiff and muscles aching. You shivered uncontrollably, teeth chattering together, your dress doing a poor job at keeping you warm, as you tried your best to gather your scattered thoughts. The men were still nearby, the sound of their hushed voices mixing with the rustling of leaves blowing in the wind. Despite the overwhelming pain and tiredness you felt washing all over your body you forced yourself to stay awake.

You rolled to the side as best as you could, mud staining the soft colored fabric of your dress and cheeks, trying to find out where they had taken you. You knew you had to think clearly, to find a way out of this nightmare. Your eyes, although blurred, scanned the area in front of you. You were in the Bayou area, the shadow of tall trees and surrounding swamp a dead giveaway of the location and judging by the various bottles of moonshine all over the place, your kidnappers probably took you to an old moonshine distillery camp.

“You sure she’s worth all this trouble?” a high pitched voice asked.

“What, a beauty like her ? Absolutely partner,” another man responded, his tone cruel. “Just keep her quiet until the boss comes back, then we’ll have ourselves a real party,” he added laughing.

Fear gripped your chest like a vise—you could hear footsteps approaching, quick and heavy. Rough hands grabbed you by the shoulders, flipping you over onto your back, your eyes focusing just enough to see the blurred outline of a man’s face looming above you, the bitter smell of liquor and tobacco taking over your senses, the end of his yellow scarf tied around his neck dangling down in front of you. Lemoyne raiders.

“Well, look who’s finally awake,” he muttered, his voice dripping with mockery as he smiled down at you. He took out a small pocket knife from his satchel leaning in closer. The blade flashed in front of your eyes as he lowered it down to your cheek, slowly moving it down towards your neck without breaching your skin.

Your breath caught up in your throat, your chest rising and falling rapidly making you lightheaded as the blade touched the sensitive skin of your neck. Your heart pounded so violently in your chest that it made you physically sick. A strained whimper left your lips as tears welled up in your eyes blurring your vision. You were completely frozen in place, terrified under the man’s knife. The man menacingly laughed at the sound you let out, flashing his yellow teeth at you, satisfaction evident in his cold eyes.

He roughly manhandled you up by your arm, his tight grip leaving dark bruises on your skin as your feet dragged in the mud. The man pushed you inside a decaying wooden cabin, its interior surprisingly worse than the exterior, you noted as you were sat down on a small chair positioned in the corner of the entrance room, far away from the door.

Another man, much smaller than the previous one, grabbed you by your hair lifting your face towards his making you wince.

“You’re gonna stay nice ‘nd quiet Miss,” he said before stuffing your mouth with a dirty piece of cloth, the bitter taste of dirt making you gag.

The two men spared you one last glance, a satisfied expression painting their faces, before leaving the cabin to join their other men outside, locking you in.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

The usual cheerful chirping of birds coming from the trees surrounding Clemens Point camp acted as a morning alarm for Arthur. The chill morning air biting at his exposed ankles, his blanket messily tangled up his torso as a result of the restless night he spent tossing and turning, waiting for you to come back. He knew that following you was the wrong choice. You wanted some space from him and he respected that, but his heart couldn’t help but ache at the missing warmth of your body in his bed. He waited and waited for you, his eyes growing heavy as he rehearsed in his mind all the ways he could make it up to you, until his body succumbed to its tiredness and fell asleep.

Putting on his hat he lazily walked towards the coffee brewer on the campfire near the ladies’ tents, his mind replaying the events of the night. The way you looked at him as if he had just shoved a knife into your chest, your pretty eyes bloodshot and puffy from the constant crying. Your trembling form making its way out of your shared tent hunting his mind like a vengeful ghost. He loathed himself for that. It was his damn fault. He had to make it right and he’d do anything to take all the pain he caused away.

Sure you had slept with the girls since you never made it back to your tent last night, he expected to find you chatting away with Tilly as the both of you usually prefered to start early on your morning chores, his steps carrying him with a determined aura, but once he made it in front of the ladies’ tents you were not there. His face scrunched up in confusion as a small glimmer of concern planted its root in his head. That same glimmer grew rapidly as he darted his eyes around camp seeing no signs of your presence.

“Arthur,” the gentle sound of Abigail’s voice snapped him out of his turmoil.

“Abigail, hi.” he answered absently, eyes still scanning the camp’s grounds in hope of catching a glimpse of you.

“Look, I don’t want to be nosy but is everything alrigh’ between you two ? I heard you two yelling last night, she was pretty shaken up before you arrived”

“Yes, no—I don’t know. We had an argument, and she didn’t sleep in our bed last night. Can't blame her really, but I can’t seem to find her,” he explained, concern radiating out of every fiber in his body “Have you seen her ?”

“No, not since last night. Maybe she just needs some time alone” she reassured, placing her hand on his shoulder. The gesture soothing his worried thoughts.

“Yeah maybe you’re righ—“ Arthur didn’t get to finish his sentence as the cutting voice of Leopold Strauss interrupted him.

“Herr Morgan, Herr Morgan. Busy, my friend ?” The Austrian man approached him, a folded piece of paper in hand.

Arthur's shoulders dropped. He dreaded working for Strauss, but the older man was persistent, always ready with another fella to squeeze dry for some cash. Sure, the money helped keep the gang afloat, put food on the table, and clothes on the backs of the women and children, but the work, well, the work was dirty. It was the kind of work that gnawed at a man’s conscience.

“What is it now,” Arthur turned to face him, Abigail excusing herself, patting his back before leaving to wake Jack up. Strauss handed him the piece of paper, fortunately for Arthur only one name was scribbled down. ‘Gwyn Hughes’

“He’s an undertaker in Rhodes, he shouldn’t be giving you any trouble but he’s a slippery fellow. Just scare him and collect the debt” he explained. Arthur sighed accepting the job, wondering when all this loan sharking business would come to an end. You always hated when he’d go out dealing with Strauss’ business, saying how the gang should steal from the rich to help the poor and not steal from the poor to help the poor. He knew deep down inside of him you were right, but unfortunately money is money and with the gang’s situation looking far from good, every single cent counted.

He put the paper in his satchel before walking towards the hitching post, his gaze falling on your Tennessee Walker before mounting his horse.

“Oi english!” Sean called out from his lookout post “you look like shit this mornin’”

“Yeah well, don’t I always,” Arthur groaned before signaling his horse to move forward.

The collection of the debt turned out stranger than Arthur ever imagined. As it turned out Gwyn Hughes, the debtor, planned to pay back his debt by robbing a woman’s grave and as if that wasn’t enough he tasked Arthur to clear the cemetery and eventually stop the people from coming in. By noon, Arthur left Rhodes with a diamond brooch, a few bruises on his face and a confused conscience.

He returned to camp exhausted, his body and mind heavy, the dirty work weighed heavily on him as he hitched his horse near camp. All he wanted now was to see you, hear the sweet sound of your voice, even if you’d yell at him. He just wanted to see you. But as he ventured inside the camp, the usual hum of chatter was gone, the atmosphere heavy. Something was off. Abigail and Sadie were the first to come up to him, Abigail face pale while Sadie scanned around camp anxiously.

“Arthur,” the brunette called out, her voice rising with an edge of worry as they hurried towards him. “She ain’t been back”

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat “Wha—What do you mean she ain’t been back ? Nobody’s seen her ?”

“Last time I saw her was last night, I was on lookout and saw her headin’ out towards the woods, thought she was goin’ for a walk” Sadie explained, her expression filled with worry. “I asked ‘round camp and no one has seen her today”

His stomach dropped as numerous possibilities of what could’ve happened to you flashed through his mind. Without muttering a word to the two women, Arthur stormed over to Dutch’s tent, the latter standing outside talking to Hosea about the recent developments on the Gray-Braithwaite situation. The moment they saw Arthur approaching their conversation dissolved, the look on his face signaling them that something was off.

“What’s the matter Arthur ?” Dutch asked, concern dancing in his eyes.

“It’s about her, she went out last night and no one has seen her since” he explained, his voice strained. Dutch expression hardened

“You think something happened to her ?”

“I do, yeah”

“Alright then better move quickly, Charles! Bill !” Dutch called, his voice reverberating across the camp calling out the two men. “Arthur’s Miss is missing. I want you two to go out with him, see if you can track her down. The others, I want all eyes on the perimeters of camp, if she comes back you holler. Nobody moves from camp.”

Charles, who had been crafting some poisonous arrows near by the campfire, quickly dropped his task as he listened to what happened. He quickly gathered all his gear and began to move towards the horses, Bill just a few paces behind him.

“We’ll find her, Arthur. She’s gonna be okay” Hosea consoled him, but the older man's words did little to calm Arthur’s racing heart.

Within minutes, the three men were mounted on their horses and heading into the woods where Sadie had last seen you. Arthur’s mind was racing, a dangerous storm of fear and anger bubbling beneath the surface. He couldn’t lose you, not like this. Not after everything that happened.

The woods were dense, the tall trees casting deep shadows that made it difficult to see much of anything, but luckily Charles was an expert tracker, the hunter’s keen eyes scanning every inch of the ground for any sign of you.

After what felt like an eternity for Arthur, Charles held up his hand, signaling the other two men to stop. He dismounted Taima and crouched down, examining something on the ground. Arthur quickly joined him, his breath catching in his throat as he saw what his friend had found.

It was her bracelet, the golden one he had gifted you for your first anniversary. The small wristlet laid in the dirt, the delicate chain now broken. Arthur felt the whole world crashing down on him as he picked it up, his hands shaking in a mix of anger and fear.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

As the hours dragged on, you struggled to stay alert. The pain in your head had dulled to a persistent ache, but every muscle in your body screamed in protest with every small movement. Your wrist burned, blood dripping down your hands as you tried to wriggle them out of your ropes, the process slow and agonizing, but you could feel the ropes loosening further and further. You just needed to grit your teeth through the pain. The men had become less concerned about you, talking and drunkenly laughing amongst themselves, making you nauseous at their inhumanity.

Then a man entered the cabin, followed by two others behind him. He was tall and well built, his hairline receding leaving his hair to hang awkwardly on the sides. By the way he dragged himself around you deduced he was their leader. He crouched down beside you, his face dangerously close to yours, his breath fanning in your face making you scrunch your nose at the rancid smell of his breath. He reached out to check your ropes, tightening them furthermore, the action causing bolts of pain to shoot through your body.

“What was a pretty lady like yourself doing all alone in the woods mh?” He took out the now drenched piece of cloth out of your mouth. You swallowed, feeling your dry throat burning at the action.

You couldn’t muster the strength to respond. Your head lolled to the side as the man stepped back, a sinister grin plastered on his face. Then a harsh, stinging sensation hit your cheek.

“I said what were you doing all alone in the woods, slut” Tears welled in your eyes, both from the pain and the hopelessness of your situation. Your thoughts kept drifting back to Arthur. You had to hold on, had to find a way to escape, if not for yourself, then for him. He would come for you—you knew it deep down in your heart, but you needed to survive until then.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

Arthur’s eyes burned with anger and fear. He clenched his fists around the bracelet, his mind racing. “She was here,” Charles said quietly, his voice grim. “And she wasn’t alone. Look at these tracks, it seems like there was a struggle. She was taken.”

“By who?” asked Bill.

Charles pointed his finger to the ground, where the faint outline of various boot prints led away from their spot. “Judging by the tracks, it looks like a group of men. Three, maybe four. Could be Lemoyne Raiders. They must’ve grabbed her and taken her somewhere nearby. At this point the only place near is the old moonshine distillery.”

Arthur’s blood ran cold at the thought of you in the hands of the Raiders. The Lemoyne Raiders were known for their brutality, his encounter a few weeks prior with Sadie confirmed their reputation. The thought of what they could be doing to you filled him with a rage so intense it nearly consumed him.

“We find their hideout, and we get her out,” Arthur said through gritted teeth, already mounting up on his horse “I’m gonna kill all them goddamned bastards. I don’t care what it takes.”

Mounting their horses they followed the tracks, the three men riding fast through the woods. Thankfully it hadn’t rained so the trail was still clearly visible. It led them deeper into the Bayou region, the trees growing thicker and the air heavier with humidity and tension.

Finally, after what felt like hours, they spotted the moonshine distillery through the trees. It was a crumbling mess of buildings, half-hidden by the vegetation in the shadows, but there was no mistaking it. A few horses were tethered outside, and faint light flickered from the windows of an old cabin.

Arthur’s heart pounded as he dismounted. Charles and Bill followed him as they hid behind a crumbled stone wall, his hand instinctively reaching for his gun. Their eyes scanned the area, there was a man guarding the horses while a group of five others were sitting near by the campfire, drinking and laughing with each other. He exchanged a quick glance with Bill and Charles. This was it. They’d kill those bastards outside, storm the cabin, take out anyone who stood in their way, and get you out of there.

“Let’s go, I’ll take that guard near the horses out” Bill whispered, his voice steady with resolve. He made quick work of killing the guard, his knife glimmering just a second in the light before settling into the man’s neck. Charles and Arthur joined Bill in action. Arthur was the first to shoot his gun, the bullet piercing clean through one of the men’s chest. Then all hell broke loose.

Bullets went flying as the Lemoyne Raiders spotted them, the air filled with smoke and gunpowder as both sides fought violently. Their position didn’t offer too much cover, the Lemoyne Raiders, although drunk, fought hard, their guns never stopping. A stray bullet scraped Arthur’s arm but that didn’t stop him as he barely registered it. His mind was singularly focused on one thing—getting to you before it was too late. And in just a few minutes Arthur, Charles and Bill managed to take down all five men outside. Moving quickly out of their cover they reached the front of the cabin, and with a nod from Arthur, they burst through the door.

Chaos erupted as they stormed inside. The few Lemoyne Raiders inside the cabin barely had time to react before Bill and Charles opened fire, cutting them down where they stood. Arthur moved with deadly precision, his eyes scanning the room for any sign ofyou. And then he saw you, tied to a chair in the corner of the room, your face bruised, wrist bloody but alive. You were alive

The last of the Raiders fell as Arthur rushed to your side, his hands quickly working to untie the ropes that bound you so tightly. Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice, you thought this was just your mind playing tricks but tears welled up in your eyes falling rapidly down your face when you realized it wasn’t your mind playing tricks, it was really him. Arthur had found you.

“Arthur,” you barely whispered, your voice hoarse and weak.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Arthur murmured, his voice shaking as he finally freed you from the chair. He quickly checked you for more injuries before pulling you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he’d never let go. “I’ve got you sweetheart. You’re safe now.” You were still in shock from the whole ordeal, overwhelmed by the mix of emotions—fear from the attack, but also a deep, undeniable relief that Arthur was there with you. In this moment you both forgot your fight, your mixed feelings and both held each other, the intensity of the moment washing over you. You held each other for a few seconds longer before separating. A strange turmoil of emotion took over you as you looked around the room seeing the body of your kidnappers unmoving on the ground. Unable to look at them a second more you diverted your attention back to the group of outlaws in front of you.

The first who broke the silence that fell around you was Bill, awkwardly clearing his throat before adding “We need to get movin’ all this gunfight definitely caught someone’s attention”

Arthur offered his hand to you and you took it, using it as leverage to get yourself up to your feet. Your vision spotting for a second before coming back. You didn’t find in your heart to let go of his hand, his warm skin offering you peace. They escorted you out towards the horses. Arthur helping you up on his before sitting behind you, his strong arms holding you tightly to his chest giving you support. The last thing you felt was Arthur chaste kiss on your temple before you let yourself fall asleep.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm orange glow over the camp as the day slowly faded into night. The air was cool, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the trees surrounding your tent. Inside the tent, the air was still, heavy with unspoken words and lingering tension.

You were finally out of the cot after three days of recovery. The girls had come to check up on you in the morning, bringing you a mug of coffee and a pack of chocolate biscuits Mary Beth had managed to steal from the general store. The pain had dulled, your wounds were slowly healing, but the ache in your heart was still fresh, raw from everything that had happened. Arthur had barely left your side the entire time, his presence a constant, quiet comfort, but the words exchanged between you could count on your fingers. The silence between you two was loaded, filled with everything unsaid, with everything that had been tearing at you long before the kidnapping.

The both of you were now in your shared tent, you sat on the edge of the bed absently tracing the edge of an empty tin cup of peaches with your fingers. The room felt suffocating, but you knew you couldn’t keep avoiding this conversation any longer. The memory of those letters, the sight of Arthur and Mary together in Rhodes, his lies. it all still stung, a wound that hadn’t yet healed.

Arthur was seated on the small chair at the foot of the bed, his head hung low, hands toying with the rope that wrapped around his worn hat, face brim as if bracing himself for what was to come. He had watched over you, cared for you, over the past three days but there was a palpable distance between you two now that neither of you could ignore. You could see the lines of worry etched into his face, the guilt that had been gnawing at him for days.

Finally, you broke the silence. Your voice barely above a whisper “Arthur, we need to talk.”

He looked up at you, his aqua eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and something else, something that made your heart ache more at his sight. “I know,” he replied quietly, his voice rough and tired from the last couple sleepless nights. “I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout what happened, before all this mess.”

You took a deep breath, gathering the strength you needed to confront him, to confront the hurt that had been tearing at your heart. “You lied to me, Arthur. About the letters, about Mary. About everything.”

He winced at your words, the truth of them hitting him hard. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “I thought—I thought if I didn’t tell you, it would hurt less. That it wouldn’t matter, ‘cause it was supposed to be nothin’. But it was a mistake. I should’ve been honest with you from the start.”

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, the pain of those memories sharp like the ghost of the tip of the Lemoyne Raider’s knife on your neck. “I saw you two together, Arthur. In Rhodes. You both looked so happy. It felt like, like my worst fears were coming true. Like I was losing you.”

Arthur stood up slowly, taking a tentative step in front of you. His hand reached out, but he stopped mid air, hesitating as if he wasn’t sure if he had the right to touch you. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” he repeated, his voice thick with emotion. “Mary, she just needed help after the passing of her husband. She didn’t have anyone else to turn to and I didn’t have the guts to shut her down. So I helped her. I didn’t want to drag you into it ‘cause I didn’t want you to worry.”

You looked up at him, searching his face for the truth. “But you lied, Arthur. And that hurt more than anything.”

He nodded, his expression pained. “I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to make things worse between us. But I can see now that I did that anyway by not bein’ honest.” A tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, trying to keep your composure. “I love you, Arthur. But I can’t live like this, I can’t live wondering if there’s something you’re not telling me, if there’s a part of you that’s still with her.”

Arthur’s face scrunched with regret. “There ain’t. I swear to you, there ain’t. She’s from another life, a life I walked away from a long time ago. Jt’s you I love darlin’. It’s always been you.”

You looked down at the tin cup in your hands the juice residue sloshing as you toyed with the cup, your fingers trembling with the heavy weight of your next decision. “I don’t know if I can just forget what happened Arthur, it hurt too much.”

He stepped closer, this time his hand gently cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “I don’t expect you to forget. All I’m askin’ you is to try. Try give us another chance. I’ll do better, I swear it. I’ll be honest with you, about everything. No more secrets.”

His touch was warm as his thumb stroked your cheek, comforting you and despite the hurt, you couldn’t deny that bright flame of love that still burned inside of you for him. You met his eyes, seeing the sincerity, the sheer desperation in them. He made a stupid mistake of thinking for you, but he was now acknowledging his mistake, he was willing to try and be a better man for you, a man you could see your future into.

You let your tears fall freely now as you nodded, your voice barely a whisper. “I want to try, Arthur. I want to believe in you, in us again.”

He kneeled down to your height and held you into his arms, holding you close as you cried against his chest, the tension of the past days finally breaking down. His hand gently stroked your hair, his voice a low murmur of comfort in your ear.

“We’ll make it work, I promise. We’ll get through this.”

[salv12dexter]

A HIT DOG WILL HOLLA. If my comment offended you, then YOU ARE THE PROBLEM. You support women until one disagrees with you. What's up with that? Also, I find it interesting how I was told to stop reading fanfic because "I can't handle it." I don't know one mentally secure person who wants to read about THEMSELVES being raped, abused, touched by a family member (blood or not), and constantly being degrated. Some stories depict the reader being MURDERED. I don't understand how any of those things are a "kink."

You're against rape and abuse, but you like the idea of it happening to you. It's weird how people don't see how condescending it is to be against these acts but find it to be sexy.

Just admit that my take on your self-esteem is what really got you mad. You're mentally ill, that's why you don't understand.

The positive of the replies is that everyone agreed that pedophilia is disgusting.

[whoyacallinyellow]

never again

John Marston x F! reader

Spoilers: RDR2 ch1 Content: 18+ mdni, NFSW, m/f smut, drunk sex, praise, pervert warning, canon typical events / violence, possible unintentional spelling mistakes, grammar errors I couldn’t be bothered to fix. Type: second pov / (wc - 1442) / pc: me

Summary: a night of drinking never goes unpunished

You stirred awake to a shadow looming in the tent. The soft clanking of metal, and clicking of spurs from unsteady steps made your breath hitch. Now propped up on your elbows, your heavy eyes managed to follow the man fumbling in the darkness. 

Through your delirium, incoherent murmurs must have escaped you which warranted a response. 

“jus’ me, hush.”

John’s whisper, soft like butter, melted your body back onto the bedroll. It only took three words from the man to bring you the security he offered, in more ways than one. 

“s’alright.” 

John reassured through a strain, knowing he startled you all too often— whether it was a late night drinking, or a guard shift.

Your shared tent was tucked behind the medicine wagon, close enough for John to keep an eye on you, but far enough for some privacy the man so desperately requested. 

Soon enough his body was united with yours, a welcoming embrace of tobacco and whiskey that never failed to blanket you with comfort during the night. 

His chest vibrated against your back as he hummed, rejoicing in the mutual comfort that he brought you. John’s hand ran down your side, calloused palms snagging on the fabric as he worked against it. Your torso trembled, anticipating his every action as he was soon consumed by a different high. His lack of rationalization from the whiskey radiated off him with a feverish heat that pulsed over you. 

“c’mon sweetheart.”

The vague and needy words dissipated as quickly as they formed. Your eyes met his, a certain sadness sunk within his dull blue wells, glossed and masked over with the liquid dopamine he poured every night. 

Turning to his embrace, your hands weaved through his shirt, both unclasping the buttons and beckoning him. An offer John gladly took as you positioned yourself for his body on top of yours. 

With one arm propping himself over you, and the other tussling at his waist. His rehearsed movements in the dark had to be second nature by now.  

The wind rippled through the fabric of the tent, momentarily welcoming in the moonlight. Allowing you to catch a glimpse of the man over you, the blue beams kissing the raw scars on his cheek. 

There was no doubt John got off easy, 

The wolves could have taken much more from him, but managed to be more forgiving than any BlackWater lawman could have been. 

You let out an impatient protest as his hands continued to fumble, temporarily appeasing you with his lips. 

His stubble dragging across your collarbone made you shutter. John’s kisses were usually coated in whiskey, only to leave you with a different high than the one he chased earlier. 

“you’ve been eyeballin’ me all day, missy.”

He remarked against your skin, a slight drawl presenting itself as he freed your torso from your shirt. 

You felt your cheeks heat up, both from his words, and your naked state. Despite John knowing your body just damn well as his own, everytime managed to feel like the first.  

John always caught your eyes on him. Sweat beading down his forehead as he worked an axe effortlessly, it was almost as if the man was beautifully built for manual labor. You were infatuated with the way his biceps would flex while his toned muscles peeked through the shirt that clung to him with every move. He would eventually meet your indiscreet gaze with amusement, knowing very well he would be all over you at night's arrival. 

Your eyes would simply linger a moment longer, despite being caught red handed. He couldn't help but to admire your boldness, a confidence hidden within you not needing to be boasted about for validation. 

“Someone’s gonna hear—“ 

You cooed, your worries being thrown away by the hungry lips and hands that carassessed your breasts.  

John grumbled, not bothered to remove his attention from your neck. Throughout his buzzed state, his hands became coordinated, grasping at and invading every part of your bare skin available to him. 

How sweet he thought you were, a blank canvas only for him cast upon. A small gasp escaped your lips as you felt a small nibble on your neck. His excitement demonstrated through the smile plastered against your skin, along with a hard spot pressing against your leg. 

“keep those little lips quiet, now.” 

John commanded with a whisper, his rough fingertips ghosting their way across your waist to free you from your restricting garments. 

His drunken staggering alone was enough to wake the others, but the man always blamed you for being too noisy.

Perhaps it was his own pride, cocky words he could not help but to boast— he reckoned it ain’t his fault he’s so good in the sheets. Hell, he can’t help how he makes you feel. 

“such a good girl for me, ain’t ya?”

John murmured through a soft moan, just the thought of you made him ache, his body begging for the release you so willingly gave him.

His pants were finally kicked down and bunching up just below his knees. Before words could be spoken they were interrupted by John’s fingertips that raised to his lips, a dollop of spit being dispersed onto them. 

A brash groan left his lips and graced your rosy cheeks while his hand stroked up the shaft of his cock— either unneeded preparation, or a ritual of his, you couldn’t tell. 

Your torso knotted and quivered  against him, impatience consuming your every move. Quiet moans escaped you as the head of his cock met your slick entrance, always proving his preparation irrelevant. 

“Jesus, woman— this worked up over me?” 

The man beamed with a husky chuckle, not realizing the volume of his voice until your palm smacked his chest. 

More of a tease at your dismay, John couldn’t help but to always comment on it. Your wetness was a mere reminder he always took pride in. 

His smug smile eventually twisted into a bitten lip as he eased himself into you, the lack of self control overrunning any wit to him he had left.  

“that’s it,” 

John praised gently, his jaw going lax as his length slipped further in you. A rugged hand clasped over your mouth as his hips began to thrust. His half-lidded eyes eventually meeting yours. 

Your eyes held so much trust for him, trust he was never sure how he earned in the first place. How he wished he could hear the moans of his name, but instead focused on the shared pleasure you gave him. With your walls contracting and fluctuating around him, he thought it was nearly too much to handle.  

“Marston! It's your shift!” 

A nasally demand rang from outside the tent.

Through your ecstasy, you had no recollection of any steps approaching, and neither did John— god only knows how long the pervert was loitering outside the thin canvas. 

“Christ!” 

The shriek of horror that left John’s lips, you could have sworn he saw a ghost. Springing up at your feet, his pants were yanked up and manhood tucked away while you scrambled for cover. 

John stormed out with a stumble, so many feelings of wrong and right flooding through and past him like the wind. 

“Goddamnit— Williamson—“ 

He sputtered in disbelief, arms gesturing violently towards the man’s mug. 

“If I didn’ know any better, I reckon you’d like hearin’ my woman.” 

John barked at the man, the shock in his tone long erased by bitterness. 

You hid in your palms, the embarrassment burning through your cheeks, and the airborn tension that managed to leak into the tent. 

The silence John created was painful, if it wasn’t obvious enough already, the entire camp was now aware of you two. 

The pause was eventually broken with a nasty hawk and spit, along with curses that ran off of John’s tongue. His pleasant night with you was quickly turning into a sober guard shift. 

John trudged back through the tent flaps in defeat, retrieving his discarded gun belt at your feet with a frown plastered on his face, gently illuminated by the lantern he now held. 

“never again in camp.” 

The man scowled to himself, the risk of waking the others was long gone— if he had to be miserable, so did everyone else trying to sleep. 

With John’s attention circling back to you, another kiss, just as needy as before, was placed on your lips, lingering for a moment before meeting his impending doom. 

His boots were haphazardly pulled on with a struggle. You repeated his words, a small grin crept upon you in his state of frustration. 

“never again.” 

~

[todorokies]

THE ONE WHERE YOU REFUSE TO KEEP QUIET. . !

𝝑𝑒 contents: john marston x female reader, nsfw, modern au (sawry im a sucker for 'em), cunnilingus, fingering, pet names (pretty & darling), pussy drunk john. . . 754 words

𝝑𝑒 a/n: dabbling in a diff fandom for my comeback to writing is crazy ik but i hope u all enjoy regardless :3 im rusty i alr know

“did i ever tell you about what happened at my work last week?”

you let out a shaky breath as you cautiously ran your fingers through the hair of the man who is currently situated between your legs, eagerly lapping at your dripping cunt collecting everything you could offer to him.

there’s a momentary lack of a response from your companion, your question hangs in the thin air as the crude sounds of squelching bounces off the walls alongside with your airy moans that seep out more than intended to.

you rack your fingers once more through his long hair and tug at his roots which aids as a warning.

with not enough force to seriously hurt him, but for a low guttural groan to escape from his chest causing small vibrations against your already sensitive pussy.

he apologetically sucks on your puffy clit before he comes up for air then replaces his hot mouth with two fingers to rub tight circles on your nub, “no, pretty, you haven’t. what happened at work?” he inquired with a strained expression on his face.

his pupils are blown out and unstable as he quickly shifts his focus between your glowy face and your pussy that’s aching to be stuffed by him. however, you were pretty adamant on him eating you out instead.

john ducks his head back in between the plush of your thighs continuing his ministrations, noticeably slowing his pace for you to get your words out.

you whine with a small buck of your hips, “apparently we’re having some budget cuts nggh in a f-few weeks. . . which —oh fuckk— also includes employees.”

“uh-huh?” john mumbles against you. your words enter one of his ear and exits the other, more focused on alternating from long vertical strides from your hole to your clit then skillfully circling around it with his tongue.

his calloused hand grips at your ass pulling you even closer to his face in attempt at get every last drop.

“y-yeah, and my manager had the damn nerve to—mghm keep doing that and i’ll cum~”

your chest heaves as john spreads open your folds to dip his tongue into your pussy, visibly enjoying the way you desperately clench around the wet muscle.

he deeply chuckles and you shiver due to his stubble scratching at your skin, “what did your manager do, darling?” he incoherently slurs his words but you were able to pick it up.

“she broke the news during rush hour. i-i mean what a bitch, right!”

“a bitch indeed,” he affirms as he slowly pushes two fingers in your wet hole, ogling at the way you take his digits with ease, fully coating them with your slick.

you throw your head backwards against the leather couch that’s supporting your back. you once again find residence in his black locks, roughly tugging this time around.

a broken whimper lively dances off your lips as your eyes roll back; you could feel the coil forming in the pit of your stomach.

“feels so good… don’t fuckin' stop..” you mindlessly ushered out. the sensation of his fingers pumping in and out, dragging against your tight walls as well as the added pleasure of his tongue swirling and suckling at your sensitive clit almost has you over the edge.

just when john finally thought he’d shut you up for good this time, your lewd moans and pants get broken down till you find the strength to add another comment about your dilemma.

“a-and there’s talk of my f-favourite coworker—”

“—ya know, how about you tell me the rest of ya little story after i make you cum.” john interrupts your soon-to-be babbling session, stopping all of his movements altogether.

he places a chaste kiss onto your clit and looks at you for permission to continue. you nod with a squeaky whine, already dizzy and eager for him to resume.

“oh darling, what am i ever gonna do with you?” he whispered against your cunt as he continued pumping his fingers at a steady albeit fast pace and quickly reattached his mouth back on your clit.

you soon cum hard on his fingers followed by a few more tugs at his hair to signal you were ready to tap out.

he licks his fingers, maintaining eye contact as he groans loudly at the taste of you. so sweet. . .just for him.

his voice is hoarse as he slips your panties back on and then gives you his undivided attention,

“so…what was that about your favourite coworker?”

reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3

[grippincash]

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬.

john marston x f!reader

cw: john marston x reader, afab reader, smut 18+ mdni!, porn with little to no plot, slight dubcon, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), drunk sex, missionary/mating press… creampie, slight dark content

a/n: rdr2 brainrot… practicing smut… lots of thoughts… head NOT empty..

word count: 2k.

You can’t remember what led you to this mess.

Countless beer bottles laid beside a creaky old bed both you and John were sitting on, the owner of this cabin likely long gone by the state of the place. You don’t remember how you got here, or why you were here, or why you stayed. If you thought John only had the time to down endless amounts of liquor back at camp, you were dead wrong. You were almost disgusted by it, the scene upon walking inside the broken down hut making you scoff at the man leaning against the bed frame, bottle in hand. So, why did you stay?

More importantly, why did you pick up a beer bottle and crack one open for him? Why did you pick up another and chug it beside him? Why did the bitter taste of the beer gradually get so good the more you drank, and why didn’t you stop yourself?

You smiled drunkenly, the reason why you came to pick up the outlaw having completely slipped your mind. You cared less and less the more you drank, with his accepting gaze only encouraging you. If you thought about it for more than a second, maybe it was his conniving nature and ability to beautifully persuade you into drinking so much. Maybe he wanted something out of you, but none of these thoughts lasted. Not without being overridden by your own desires.

Eyeing the man beside you, a thought ran through your mind, and you couldn’t swipe it away. Your eyes ignored your mind’s pleas to think logically, when you could only stare at John in awe as he droned on about something you were sure neither of you could understand. You laughed when he laughed, your eyes flickering down to his unbuttoned v-neck almost instinctively. You wanted to run your fingers through his chest hair.

You couldn’t remember what you were going to bring John in for, when the throbbing of your core intensified as he’d rim the bore of his booze to catch any and every stray droplet rolling down the cold glass. His expertise in using his lips and tongue was something you've never seen before; not from him, unless it was to throw snappy remarks to whoever bothered going back and forth with him at camp.

You weren't sure if you were testing him or testing yourself, self-doubt leaving you hesitant as you flickered your gaze to his lips, and then to his calloused hands. Your heart dropped for a split second when John caught you staring in between your extensive silence, and in that moment you could’ve sworn he was testing you, too. So when your hand upon drunken impulsivity brought his to the warmth between your legs, both of you knew what the other wanted in an instant.

"Like.. This?"

His tongue dragged up against your clit with torturous sluggishness as his eyes remained locked onto your face throughout, your heart skipping at the shameless act.

Without waiting for an answer, John wordlessly inserted a finger before placing a kiss on the same bud, his eyes shutting out of what you could only think to be his own pleasure.

Breathing out at the unannounced contact, you couldn't help but nod in a rush, despite your mind spinning from both the alcohol in your system and the high you got from John finally on you.

"Like that.. L-Like that, John.."

His eyes fluttered open slightly, intrigue lacing on what little you could see of his face. Slipping his finger out before pumping it back in, he smirked against your inner thigh, his eyes squinting at your lustful expression.

"Mm, like this? Do I continue doin' this?"

He was clearly toying with you, but you didn't have half the mind to care nor fight against it, your lack of senses only wanting more. Even while tipsy and desperate, he couldn't resist pushing you to the edge as best he could. You nodded rapidly, your teeth digging into your finger as tears brimmed from the levels of pleasure he was slowly introducing to you, little by little.

"Yes.. Yes..!" You huffed, rutting your hips up slightly. He hummed with enjoyment.

"Aren't you just a sight for sore eyes."

John mused at your desperation, his lips moving against the sensitive skin of your pussy. You helplessly whined, a second finger inserting inside you before you could react. The rolling of your hips came to an abrupt stop when he curled the two pointers inside of you, rewarding him with a gasp and a moan from your lips. His lips locked onto your clit immediately, stimulating you in ways you didn’t think possible.

"You don't mind me speeding up, now, do you darling?" He teased as he sat up, his eyes for once flickering down to watch his digits move in and out of your cunt. His teeth dug into his bottom lip, his pants tightening at the crude sight. His other hand had his thumb pull back your flap to get a better look of the pink flesh beneath your bush, and with your heart pounding in your ears and your surroundings spinning, you moaned at his fingers expectedly increasing pace.

"N- mmh," you answered—if you could even call that an answer—and his smirk only widened. Jesus, it was just too good. Your contorted face only egged him on as he spit on the exiting fingers, the lewd sound of wetness working together inside your pussy making you flush with embarrassment.

Placing kisses all around your groin, he flickered his gaze back up to you, a dark look in his coffee-colored eyes.

“It's too much, isn't it? Y'want me to stop?"

He knew what you were going to say within that second, when your eyes widened and your head shook the other way. You were so drunk, but that question alone might’ve sobered you up quicker than any cold plunge would, when your blurry eyes glossed over the expectant, smug grin on John's face.

"No! It feels good, John, it does.. It feels.."

Panicking as his fingers fully slid out of you to leave you clenching around nothing, you looked up desperately as he towered over you. Were you the only one drunk?

"How good?"

You didn't waste any time answering, starting with a slurred "Really, really..-"

..Until you felt the sudden feeling of his fingers rim your lips, before they surely inserted themselves into your mouth. You hummed a moan as he let you suck on both your pussy juices and his saliva from his soaked digits.

Happily doing so, John snickered above you disparagingly. He absorbed the sight of you, took a mental picture of it with clear vision. You were so sexy drunk.

"My sweet, obedient angel.." He hummed mockingly, his other hand fidgeting with his belt.

Eyeing him with what little view you had of him, your stomach jumped excitedly at the distant sound of him sucking his teeth in and his belt hitting the wooden floor.

With your tongue swirling around to mop up all you could from the fingers still in your mouth, he then pulled them out, emitting a small "pop!"

Leaning down to replace them, his wet lips met with your drooling ones, your mouth hungrily accepting his into a deep kiss. The lingering taste of beer and your own fluids clouded your mind, enough to further you into your drunken state as John rubbed your clit with preparation.

Feeling his erection hit your entrance and slide up against it with teasing languor, you whined, the sound escaping the kiss for a brief moment.

As he rocked his hips back and forth for a moment, you writhed beneath him as his tip pressed against your clit with each motion, the movement alone driving you insane.

"You want it, baby?" He grunted, his voice peaking at the pet name as the adrenaline of being so close to fucking you letting his big and bad demeanor falter. Whether or not he was drunk, or at the very least less drunk than you, he couldn’t conceal his excitement to fuck you. It’s all he wanted. Today, last week, the last few months. He needed to fuck you, so inwardly, he thanked Dutch for sending you out here to find him. It all worked out.

You watched him through half-lidded eyes as tears threatened to fall for the pleasure he was withholding from you.

"Yes, John. Please.."

"How bad, darling? How bad y’want my cock inside you?"

You whined with arousal, your head cocking to the side with slight resistance to letting the man hear what he wants. For someone drunk, he was plenty self-aware, wasn’t he?

..You figured it was already too late to play coy, with John having seen and ruled you from below and how you squirmed for more of his touch from his tongue and fingers alone. Was he just that good?

"Really b-bad, fuck—I need it inside me so fucking bad, John!" You cried, leaving him with a satisfied feeling in his chest. John in departure left a trail of kisses on your neck and collarbones, before straightening his back.

Firmly placing his hands on both sides of your hip, he licked his lips in preparation as he looked down at his tip gently kissing your entrance. His tongue dragged along his bottom lip as he inserted himself with careful precision, your eyes fluttering shut slowly when he finally separated your walls and worked himself inside you with his length. Testing the slick of your pussy as he slowly pulled out, he couldn't help but release a whimper as you tightened around him.

"F-fuck, you're so—"

Sliding his hands to the back of your plush thighs and pushing them into your chest, he collapsed back down onto you, his hips almost immediately ramming back into your warmth. Yelping with pure bliss consuming you, you watched as John squeezed himself in between your legs, his cock burying so deep inside you that your vision doubled.

“Like this? Like this, (Y/n)? This what y’wanted? Feels good, doesn’t it?”

John was good at running his mouth. Maybe it was all he was good for, outside of fucking you like his life depended on it. But with words dripping with need for validation alongside jumbled obscenities rolling off his tongue like normal, your head spun from the repeated yeses that echoed in your mind.

“Mm, y-yes, John! Yes! Fuck!”

You gasped when your lower back rose from the warmth underneath you, before letting a drawled out moan escape your lips when John drove himself inside you again, his head hitting your cervix once, and then twice. Three times.

Feeling drool run down your chin as the smell of sweat and sex consumed your senses, you focused on the slapping of skin reverberating throughout the room, the dirty sound tightening the knot in your stomach. You were sure your high that was building up was close to crashing down.

So good.. It felt so good. The way John’s fingers dug deep into the flesh of your thighs as his movement became sporadic and desperate.. you could tell he was close, too.

Locking your eyes onto his concentrated ones, you clasped his hands with your own, pushing your knees deeper into your chest.

“Cum.. inside. Fill me up, Marston—“

Whether it was the alcohol or the fire in your loins talking, you couldn’t bring yourself to retract your statement as stars formed in your hazy vision. You could worry later; right now, the pleasure was so intense, you let whatever came to mind ride off your tongue without regret. Your moans echoed in the confines of the small cabin, and with John being more than happy to fulfill your request, a string of words he fantasized about leaving your lips for as long as he could remember, a whine droned through his lips as his cock hit a final thrust inside you. Your climax hit you like a truck when you squealed at the sensation of his cum filling you, John rocking back and forth slowly to ride out his orgasm.

Breathing in and out, you watched as John grunted while pulling out, seed somehow still spilling out and hitting the underside of your thighs, painting you.

You couldn’t move as you watched his hand stroke the final beads of cum out in between your framing legs, and with a satisfied sigh, John crashed down beside you. Staring at you as he slowly calmed down, he brushed a strand of hair away from your wet forehead.

“Did.. Did you like that?”

Still in between attempts to catch your breath, you stared at John, your vision hazy as it was since this started. You nodded slowly, your eyes fluttering shut from the sudden need to pass out from exhaustion.

“…Yeah.”

[sky-is-the-limit]

Safe and Sound.

P: John Marston x F!Reader

S: After a mission goes wrong, John makes sure that next time you'd better fucking listen to his instructions.

CW: Unprotected P in V, John has a breeding kink *unless you give him an actual child* and can't shut up.

WC: 2,817 words

Notes: Finally, after months of not touching this draft, I finished it!!! Photo credits: me<3

With your pace quickening by the second as you ascended the stairs, the thud of your footsteps echoed on the wooden surface like a warning to anyone standing in your way.

You tried your best to ignore the presence of the man trailing behind you, you really tried but his simmering anger practically followed you like dark smoke ready to consume you.

Each step taken, you hoped that someone else would steal his attention, that maybe Arthur would intervene or that he would simply let the matter drop but you knew damn well, that's not John Marston. Not your John.

Entering the cold room, your heart pounded in your chest erratically as you struggled to steady your breathing and seeking peace, you turned toward the window, hoping the beautiful green landscape beyond would offer a moment of tranquility from the chaos awaiting for you behind the closed door.

But before you could gather your thoughts, the calm was shattered by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching.

Your stomach churned as anxiety settled in your bones. You knew all too well what was about to unfold and sure enough, mere moments later, the door flew open with a forceful slam, jolting you from your place.

"When are you going to learn how to take orders, huh?!" John's voice boomed, cutting through the silence like a knife.

His frustration reached its peak as he shoved the door shut with such strength that the entire room seemed to tremble under the strain.

"I had them-" You began, attempting poorly to explain yourself but before you could finish your sentence, John cut you off abruptly and stepped dangerously close.

"Had them?! If it wasn't for me following you right behind, they would've blown your head off!" John's anger thundered through the room with his hands gesturing wildly in the air, emphasizing his emotions.

"I told you to take the road to Rhodes and lose them but you're so fucking stubborn that you almost brought them here!"

The words were a harsh slap, each syllable dripping with disappointment.

You felt a knot tighten in your stomach as you listened to the man before you and guilt gnawed at your bones, knowing that your actions had put not only yourself but also the man you so adore in serious danger.

''Damn you, woman! Next time, invite the bounty hunters here for a beer!"

John's frustration surged uncontrollably as he mocked your ill-conceived plan to handle six bounty hunters single-handedly, so close to camp.

Despite the impulse of your pride and ego to bite back, you couldn't deny the truth. You had indeed put everyone in jeopardy with your reckless actions.

The memory of him risking life and limb to come to your aid filled you with a deep sense of shame and since the moment you stepped into camp, you didn't look a single person in the eyes.

You had failed not only yourself but also John and the rest of the gang, the family that took you in when you had no one else in the world.

Your actions had nearly cost them dearly and the thought made your stomach churn with guilt.

For a few seconds that felt like an eternity, you stood there in silence with your gaze remaining fixed on the ground, unable to meet his eyes as you fidgeted nervously with your fingers.

The words hovered on the tip of your tongue but you couldn't bring yourself to say them, afraid that they would get choked in your throat before they could escape.

But then, with a trembling voice, you finally managed to whisper, "I'm sorry, John."

Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over as you recalled the disaster you caused.

John was clearly still lost in anger as he took his time to register your apology, his features contorted with both rage and sympathy or so it seemed.

You could see the tension in his jaw as he shook his head slowly, as if struggling to come to terms with it all.

Without warning, he grabbed you by the shoulders, his fingers pressing firmly as he pulled you close.

The apology lingering in the air seemed to snap something in him, the fury shifting to something deeper, something that made his eyes darken with intent. You knew what that look meant. Damn well.

His mouth crashed onto yours, fierce and bruising like he was trying to make up for every reckless decision in that single, heated kiss.

The roughness of his hands anchored you against him, his fingers digging into your hips as he pressed you back until your spine met the wall with a soft thud.

He didn’t bother slowing down, his mouth tracing along your jaw, biting down slightly on the tender skin just beneath your ear and a shiver ran down your spine then back to your lips as he mumbled against them,

''Damn it, woman… don’t you know I’d die for you in a heartbeat?'' The grip of his hands tightened as the rough whisper made you whimper in response.

''I want you safe. I want you right here with me.'' His words were half desperate, half demanding, each one grounding you against him as he backed you harder against the wall.

In one swift motion, his hands slid down to grip your thighs, lifting you effortlessly until your legs wrapped around his waist.

Holding you against him, he walked the short distance to the bed and his steps sure until he nearly tumbled forward, letting you fall back onto the mattress.

The thin sunlight filtering through the window barely reached the room’s corners but you didn’t care who might hear or what they might think.

John’s fingers fumbled roughly at the buttons of your dress, barely controlled as he yanked and nearly tore the fabric in his urgency.

The soft material parted, falling away to reveal your bare skin and he didn’t waste a second, his mouth moving to your breast with a hunger that made you gasp.

His lips closed around your nipple, sucking hard as his hand gripped your waist, holding you tight against him as though afraid you'd pull away while his stubble scraped deliciously against your skin.

The louder he groaned, the more you tugged at his raven hair, pulling his head closer to you.

He growled in response, sucking even harder, tongue flicking over the sensitive peak until it felt almost sore and still, he didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, whining against your skin like a man starved.

Your breath hitched, the ache building as you slid the fabric lower, down to your waist, your own impatience making you press against him, desperate for more.

A low, needy sound escaped your lips as his teeth grazed over you, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you could feel his fingers digging into your flesh.

"John…" You managed, barely able to get the words out, "I need… more."

The golden light streaming in bathed John’s face in a perfect manner, highlighting the rugged contours and deep scars that mapped his skin like a constellation.

''Do you want me inside, girl?'' He grumbled as the sound of his thick belt hitting the floor echoed around you.

With each second, your body ached with need as you licked your lips, hands slipping beneath his shirt so your fingers could explore the hard muscles beneath.

''Please, please, please…'' The words tumbled from your mouth, desperate and whiney, your heart racing at the thought of losing him after everything.

''Take it out.'' John then demanded, his tone commanding as he watched you intently. ''Touch me.''

As requested, you undid his pants and slowly pulled his hardened length free, earning a low moan from his throat.

John was easy to read, all emotions visible on his face as his breath quickened with each passing moment and his skin felt hot under your fingers, the desperation in his expression deepening whilst you began to stroke him.

He lifted your skirt, shoving it up around your waist, exposing you completely.

''Try to put me inside.'' He instructed, ''This time, you better listen to me.''

John just watched you, a smirk playing on his lips, savoring the moment as your frustration bubbled over.

The way you scowled and whined his name only added to his amusement and he laughed almost mockingly, relishing in the control he held over you.

''This is a lesson, alright?'' He said, taking himself in hand and stroking it a few times, teasingly rubbing it against your throbbing core without pushing inside.

Each pass made you squirm, your hips lifting instinctively as you sought relief.

But before you could gain any traction, he pressed you back down with a possessive glint in his gaze that made your heart stop.

Then, without warning, he slammed into you, filling you completely.

Your warm walls wrapped around him, squeezing tightly as a gasp escaped your lips, the suddenness of it taking your breath away.

The initial sting was intense, causing you to wince but it was quickly overshadowed by the familiar heat of him inside you.

Arms wrapped around his back, nails digging into his flesh, you were certain you were leaving your mark on him.

John held your leg firmly against him, angling himself to sink deeper, each drive rougher than the last as he took his time to savour every desperate sound you made.

His thrusts were brutal, pushing into you with a force that made you both want to stop and continue till your body no longer answered to you, fingers clinging to him, barely able to hold on under his weight.

''You gonna keep pushing me like that?'' He muttered with a low rasp as he kept you in place. ''This is what happens when you don’t listen.''

You could feel him shift, pressing himself into you as far as he could go, giving a harsh grind of his hips that made you moan his name. He smirked, relishing every shaky breath you took as you struggled to keep up with his pace.

''Just like that—God, John, don’t stop-'' You gasped, breaking as he bottomed out, his cock hitting the perfect spot that sent a shockwave of pleasure through your body.

He let out a rough growl, hot breath brushing against your neck as he leaned in, teeth grazing your skin in a way that made your whole being tremble.

"I’m not stoppin-" He grunted, thick with the kind of promise that left no room for argument. "Not stoppin’ till I give you my child-''

As if that promise wasn't enough, John’s hands slid to the back of your knees, pressing them higher until your thighs were almost pinned to your chest, opening you up completely.

He took one heated glance at where his thick shaft was buried inside you, watching as your slick warmth clung to every ridge and vein, before slamming into you again and again.

Each thrust hit that sweet spot dead-on, leaving you struggling to hold on, clenching around him as the ecstacy built with each brutal stroke.

You barely held back the cries tumbling from your lips, each sound swallowed up by his grunts as he took you deeper, the angle so perfect that it had your head spinning.

John’s roughened hand cupped your jaw, his thumb guiding your gaze down.

''Look here.'' He ordered with a lazy smirk tugging at his lips.

His hips pushed forward, just enough to press your bodies together again, sliding his thick length into your sensitive heat with a slow, punishing thrust.

''See how you’re takin’ me..'' The possessiveness and pride were evident in both his gaze and tone. ''How perfect we fit.''

Your eyes followed his command, catching the way your bodies connected, each push sending a slickness pooling between you both, blending in a way that had you clenching tighter around him.

''Please, John… right there… more-'' You managed with a plea as your hips lifted to meet his every thrust.

"Keep watching.'' John rasped, pulling out almost all the way before pressing deep once more and you obeyed, unable to tear your eyes away from the way he filled you, stretching you just right.

With a smirk, John loosened your grip from his shoulders, his hands both forceful and assured as he pinned your wrists above your head, holding them steady with a single rough palm.

Leaning close, his breath warmed your ear as he muttered, ''Stay right there. Don’t you dare move.''

He shifted his weight, gripping the headboard tightly with his free hand and began an animalistic rhythm that not even the poorly made bed could handle.

Each plunge was deep, leaving you no choice but to surrender to every inch he claimed and the solid wood of the headboard rocked against the wall with each connection, mirroring the mounting fervor between you.

''John-'' You gasped, arching under him, hands twisting in his hold as the pleasure rose to an overwhelming edge and you needed nothing more but to touch him.

Despite your efforts, he kept you locked in place, smiling down menacingly, refusing to let you budge.

''Gonna make sure you remember exactly who you belong to-'' He declared, his gaze fixed on yours as he fucked into you harder, your bodies colliding with obscene sounds.

There was no holding back, he made sure of it, his hips ruthless and you knew without a doubt the others could hear every intimate detail from outside but John didn’t care.

If anything, the possibility only fueled him, his heavy breaths mingling with your cries.

Sweat trickled down from his forehead, beads gathering at his temples to run down his jaw and a few drops fell to your bare chest, sliding over the curves of your skin to mingle with the dampness between your bodies.

''Come on, darlin’-'' He murmured, his voice strained as he leaned in to press his lips against the shell of your ear, ''Let me feel it..''

And with those words, you let go, surrendering completely as waves of pleasure crashed through you, his grip grounding you as you reached that peak.

John followed shortly after, his head dipping to press a final, fierce kiss to your neck as he stilled, the two of you locked in that last moment of shared intensity with your bodies still entwined and breaths ragged.

The small bed creaked with each subtle shift, but there was a strange comfort in the intimacy of it. Just the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of the night.

His arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer as if trying to shield you from everything outside this little moment and his fingers moved slowly, tracing calming circles on your back, each one a silent promise that everything would be okay.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The world outside seemed so far away, and in that stillness, you found a peace you hadn’t realized you were craving.

But then, the words slipped out before you could stop them. A soft sigh left your lips as you lifted your head, your eyes searching his for understanding,

"I’m sorry, John... for all the trouble I cause. For not listening to you when I should."

His hand paused but only for a moment before it resumed its comforting circles, as if the movement was as natural as breathing.

With eyes softened, the corners of his lips pulled into a small, sweet smile.

"It’s alright, darlin'." He murmured with a quiet rumble.

It wasn’t, not really but you were safe and sound in his embrace and that was all that mattered.

Instead of answering, you leaned forward, your lips finding the familiar scar on his chest, an old bullet wound.

You pressed a soft kiss there, as if trying to heal him in your own way, to show him that you cared just as deeply for the parts of him that were broken as the parts that weren’t.

John chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your hair as he tightened his hold on you.

"Don’t go apologizing too much, love. You’ve got a lot of fire in you and I wouldn’t want you any other way." He whispered, his fingers brushing through your locks.

"But hey, I’ll always have your back. No matter how stupid you get, you know that. And I know you'll be there for me when I’m being just as dumb."

A teasing spark danced in your eyes as you looked up at him, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips.

"Like always, you mean. You’re always doing something stupid, Marston." You teased, the giggle escaping your throat before you could stop it.

John smirked, his expression shifting into something playful to remind you that his stamina has no limits, especially when it comss to you. "Maybe you need another lesson on respect, huh?"

[dxysxxk]

Poker Face

Arthur Morgan x f!reader

Rating: 18+ only. Explicit content. Length: 2500 words Location: Clemens Point Time of Day: Late night Content: Vaginal fingering, Vaginal sex, Public sex & Rough sex Description: Sitting on Arthur's lap, you watched him play poker with the boys. Feeling naughty, you decided to tease him. Soon enough, his focus was on you instead of the game. Note: Everything won't be accurate. Use your imagination.

"Hah! Hah hah hah!" Arthur guffawed as he pulled the poker chips closer to him. "I thought you said you were good at this!" A large smile plastered on his face, rubbing in his win. "You callin' me a liar, you old goat?" John Marston retorted. "If anyone's lying, it's you. You're damn good at bluffing!" John's voice rose higher than Arthur's, making a few gang members look over their shoulders, wondering what the commotion was.

You were sat on Arthur's lap, chuckling at their antics as you watched them play. You knew both men could be stubborn and childish when it came to competition and sure enough, it was fun to watch. "Alright, alright..." Bill interjected, "Stop the bickering now." He gathered the cards up and began shuffling them for another round. "How about we change the game? No more poker. We don't want John getting too heated." He said while giving John a knowing glance. John glared at Bill, scoffing before taking a drink.

"What do you suggest?" Said Arthur as he took a sip of his beer.

Bill thought for a moment. "Well... I’ve heard of a game called 'Suck and Blow'..." He said as he continued shuffling. The other gang members gave him a puzzled look. "What the hell are you on about Bill?" Arthur asked.

Bill then began explaining the game to the group as he held up one card in his hand, "The point is to get a card to the next player using only your mouth. You can't touch it with your hands."

"I ain't playing that! God only knows where y'all mouths have been!" John exclaimed. You couldn't help but laugh at his response.

"Yeah, I ain't too keen on playing that either." Arthur butted in.

"Back to poker, it is then..." Bill grumbled as he shuffled the cards.

"Well. Now is your chance to beat Arthur, John." You smiled and settled yourself on Arthur's lap.

A few drinks later, the game was back on. You sat and watched John finally win a few rounds, but ultimately, Arthur was still the better bluffer and won the majority. As you watched the men play, you decided to be cheeky and tease Arthur by leaning closer to whisper in his ear. "I'm sorry you haven't had me to yourself in a few of days..." You purred and gripped his thigh. 

Arthur cleared his throat as he tried to focus on the game and ignore your advances, but he lost the hand and cursed at his bad luck. "Looks like my luck's turning around." John smirked as he pulled the winnings closer to him.

You leaned closer purposely, giving Arthur a clear view of your cleavage. He was unable to keep his posture as you whispered something else in his ear. His breath caught in his throat as he quickly shifted in his seat. 

John and Bill were none the wiser of your antics. They were just relieved they could win something for a change.

Arthur grew tired of your relentless teasing. He moved his hand to your inner thigh, gripping it tightly, then whispered in your ear, "Don't make me punish you." His eyes watched his fellow gang members as they continued their game. 

He tried not to be too obvious with his sudden change of position in the chair, keeping you steady as he spoke in your ear. "If you keep this up, I'll bend you over the table and take you right here." He hissed then let go of your thigh, taking a swig of his beer. You knew he wasn't entirely serious, but his words sent a shock to your lower abdomen. Tempted to test his patience, you decided to continue teasing him. 

You slightly shifted yourself so your ass was directly on his crotch. Making sure no one was looking, you rubbed your ass over his lap. After a moment, you felt Arthur's free hand grip your hip, guiding your movements back and forth. You could tell he was growing restless by the way he gripped his cards.

You heard Arthur try to stifle a moan as you continued your movements. His now-growing bulge rubbing into your backside. No one seemed to notice the sinful action you were partaking in. They were too focused on the game itself. You began to feel how wet your core was becoming, aching for more than friction. 

Maybe it was the beer you drank, but you felt like being taken in front of everyone. Right on the table where the men were playing poker. Your heart beat rapidly at the thought of the danger the exhibitionism posed, but you knew better.

As you rubbed Arthur's crotch, you turned your head and kissed his neck, nipping lightly. Arthur held back a moan and bit his lip. His face started to look flushed over time.

John gave him a questionable look, "You alright there, Arthur?"

Arthur's mind was too focused on the friction your ass was giving him. He felt himself grow harder by the minute. "Just fine." Arthur managed to get out. He couldn't let John know what was happening right under his nose. 

John drank the last few drops of his beer, then spoke, "I'm gonna go get another beer."

"I'm coming with yah..." Bill added as John got up.

Now was his chance. As soon as John and Bill were out of sight, Arthur grabbed your hips and pulled you closer. You let out a gasp, not expecting him to be so rough. He moved his lips to your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses on your flesh. 

He then moved a hand from your hip to your chest and began massaging your breast through the fabric of your dress. You let out a whimper and arched into his touch. "This what you wanted?" He whispered. You were about to respond, but he suddenly squeezed your breast, earning a squeak. "You're a real tease, you know that?" Arthur's voice was low and husky. 

He moved his other hand down your belly, then underneath your skirt. He cupped your mound and felt the wetness that was leaking from you. "Damn." He breathed onto your neck. "Wet already…"

He then began rubbing you over the damp fabric of your underwear, circling your clit. You couldn't help but buck into his touch, seeking more. He continued kissing your neck, the shortness of his beard ticked your skin.

With every kiss, you shivered. Arthur then pushed your panties aside and slipped his fingers into your hole. As your walls clenched around him, he let out a low groan, then nibbled on your neck. He murmured against your skin, "You're so damn wet..." You gasped and clutched his thigh as he began to curl his fingers. 

Hearing John and Bill approach, he pulled his hand from underneath your dress and then brought his fingers to your lips. He forced you to taste your juices. "Suck it." He whispered, his breath hot on your neck. You did as you were told and took his fingers into your mouth. Arthur groaned, watching you lick his fingers clean, lapping over his thick digits. As John and Bill came into view, he pulled his hand away and then rested it on your thigh.

You sat there, feeling Arthur's hard cock pressing against you. You were both aroused beyond words. The tension was thick, and the heat between you was only growing. Arthur placed his hands on the table and pushed his hips forward, grinding his erection into your backside. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your neck as his breathing became heavy.

Without warning his fingers were moving towards your heat again, creeping slowly up your thigh. The anticipation was killing you, but you knew that any noise from you would surely give you away. Wanting nothing more than to feel them slip inside you, you sat silently, feeling his warm fingers on your soft skin.

Your heart pounded with anticipation. Then you felt them. Arthur's fingers slowly slipped between your legs. He pulled your panties to the side and then caressed your slick folds. You let out a shaky breath as his fingers were rubbing up and down your slit. Your pussy throbbed, aching for him.

Your mind was racing. What would people think if they knew what was going on right now? The thought excited you. The risk of getting caught was driving you wild. You couldn't help but rock your hips into his touch. You were desperate for more. 

You could feel his cock twitching against your ass as he rubbed you. "Shit, Arthur..." You breathed as he began rubbing circles around your clit. Your cheeks burned as you realized the others might hear your pleasured noises if he kept this up. He then dipped his fingers inside, stretching you.

Arthur was enjoying the way your body reacted to his touch. His thumb started rubbing your clit as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. John spoke, "What happened to that winning streak Arthur?" He smiled as he pulled the chips closer to him. "I guess I just don't have it anymore." Arthur shrugged as he continued moving his fingers inside you. He wasn't paying any attention to the game anymore, he was focused on you. Your breathing grew more rapid and it was hard to keep a straight face. He moved his fingers faster, feeling you clench around him.

Arthur leaned in to whisper in your ear, "That's it. Cum around my fingers." His voice was low and gravelly. You bit your lip to stifle the moans that were threatening to escape. Your breathing was ragged as you approached your climax. He continued to pump his fingers in and out of you, pressing his thumb to your clit and rubbed it in tight circles. "I'm going to fill that pretty little hole of yours for teasing me so much," He spoke in a whisper. After hearing his husky voice in your ear, you couldn't hold back.

You came undone, your whole body trembling as you did. Your hands gripped the edge of the table as you tried to steady yourself. Your toes curled and your legs shook. You rode out your orgasm, continuing to feel Arthur's fingers move inside you. You felt like your bottom lip was going to draw blood from how hard you were biting them, all in the effort to stifle your moans.

Arthur withdrew his fingers from you then rested his hand on your thigh again. “That’s my good girl.” He spoke into your ear once more. You were still reeling from your orgasm when you heard Bill speak. "I'm done for the night fellers." He stood and left the table.

John chimed in, "I think I bled you dry Morgan. I'm ready to turn in myself." John heard Arthur grumble as he walked away. Thinking it was funny, he let out a short laugh.

With both of them gone, you turned to face Arthur. You ran your fingers through his hair as he placed his hands on your hips. You could feel his hard cock pressing against you as you shuffled yourself to straddle his lap. He took your mouth in a slow deep kiss, feeling his tongue explore every inch of your mouth

He groaned into the kiss as you reached down and stroked him through his pants. He broke away then spoke in a husky voice. "You remembered what I said?"

You looked into his deep multicolored eyes, "What was it?"

"To fill you." He placed his hands on your thighs, "For teasing me so much." He began guiding your skirt up so he could get better access. "You're going to regret teasing me like that." 

A grin spread across your lips as your pussy tingled at his threat. "Am I?" You challenged, running your hand down to his crotch. His eyes never left yours as a growl escaped his throat. You could tell he was trying to stay in control. The way he was looking at you was intense. He grabbed you by the hips and lifted you onto the table, making you sit at the edge.

"I won't say it again." You watched as his fingers worked to unbutton his pants. The bulge was straining hard against the fabric. He was eager to be freed. "Get off the table and bend over."

You did as he said, resting your palms flat on the wood as you did. You heard Arthur step closer. He put his hand on the back of your head, pushing your face down. His other hand lifted the back of your dress. "You better be quiet." He whispered as he pushed his length into you, filling you.

He gave you no time to adjust, pounding into you immediately. He grabbed your neck from behind and pulled you, "You think it's okay playing with me?" You couldn't form words, but a moan escaped your throat. His free hand found its way to your clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. “...Hm?”

"Arthur!" Your back arched, your knees growing weak as you struggled to keep yourself upright. Arthur pulled out of you suddenly, "What did I say about being quiet?" He spoke harshly. Arthur grabbed a fist full of your hair and thrust his cock into you once more. His hips snapped into your ass hard and fast. You could feel the warmth of your climax building as you tried to stifle your moans.

Using the grip on your hair to steady himself, he pounded into you harder. "Good. Stay quiet," he spoke through gritted teeth. He pulled your head back, forcing you to arch your back as he pounded into you. Your moans were growing louder and harder to control. He tightened his grip on your hair, causing you to cry out. "Oh fuck." You moaned, feeling yourself nearing the edge.

He moved his hand from your hair to your mouth. His calloused palm covered your lips as his thrusts grew erratic. You could feel him pulse inside you as he neared his own climax. Your legs shook, threatening to give out. His other hand snaked under your dress and rubbed your clit in circles. 

Your muffled cries became screams as you came. Arthur pulled out immediately, spilling his release on to the ground beneath him. He groaned low and deep as his free hand slipped from your mouth. 

After a moment, he pulled your dress down, covering your backside. Both of you were panting, coming down from the high you both felt. You then turned and stood up to face him. Arthur was still out of breath, his face red as he placed his hands on your hips. 

"You alright?"

"I'm good." You smiled, leaning in and placing a kiss on his jaw.

"Good." He smiled, looking around as he tucked himself in his pants. “Let’s get to bed. It’s getting late.” With that, you walked with him to his cot.

[spongeyspot]

Poly Relationship HCs (SFW +NSFW)

(John Marston x fem!reader x Abigail Marston)

(A/N): A little longer than I anticipated. Also, I'm terrible at editing things so if you see any spelling or grammar mistakes, please don't bite me. I'm just a wee baby

Content warning: fluff, small mentions of infidelity, polyamory, female reader, you/she pronouns

SFW

- The relationship itself had probably started when either John or Abigail had started to catch feelings

- It was probably Abigail considering how distant John was from her in the beginning

- Quite honestly would probably keep your relationship a secret during the very early stages.

- She saw how much you cared about her and her family, so it was only natural for her to start to fall in love. She fell in love with John pretty quickly, too, though he was a bit slower to warm up to the idea of having a family

- You, however, love Jack as if he were your own, which makes Abigail swoon even more. Plus, another parent figure to Jack (Who he also really likes) because her husband is kinda useless half the time? Jackpot!

- When she brought up adding you to their relationship, John was probably pretty okay with the idea, even a little excited, though if she told him that she had been seeing you secretly before that, he'd probably be a little pissy.

- After adding you to their family, things seemed to move a lot smoother. John warmed up to the idea a lot quicker than both of you had anticipated

- You usually act as a mediator for a lot of Abigail and John's fights, but knowing John he'd probably say some shit like "Look, even she's on my side!" and Abigail would get pissed at you too.

- Abigail LOVES to hold you by the fire. John usually has his arm around the both of you with you sitting in the middle.

- Would take turns having you sleep with them at night because their bedrolls weren't really big enough to fit one person, let alone three.

- When the gang moved to Shady Belle, things were a lot easier with lodging. John loses his mind every time he gets to cuddle the both of you at the same time. He's a sucker for physical touch, really.

- After chores are finished, the three of you are usually found sitting under a tree, Abigail cuddled into your side while you read a book, and John lays on his back beside you, his head resting on your thighs. His hat is usually covering his face, but when it isn't, you or Abigail absentmindedly play with his hair or massage his scalp.

- Abigail loves it when you spend time with Jack. It makes her heart swell to see him having so much fun.

- You tend to encourage John to spend time with him as well, which she also appreciates.

- Family game nights end with You and Jack teamed up and absolutely wrecking John at dominoes while Abigail watches

- Says something like "I let you win." with a roll of his eyes before sulking away

- Pet names!

- John calls you 'Baby', 'Darlin'', 'Dollface', and even 'Sugartits' if he wants to get slapped

- Abigail calls you 'Honey', 'Sweetie pie', 'Honey Bun', or 'Pretty Girl'.

- Both John and Abigail enjoy physical affection.

- John likes to kiss your hair and squeeze your thighs.

- Abigail loves to kiss you on the cheek and hold your hand.

-If John walks by you, he will throw out an affectionate compliment or two

- "God, you look pretty today, (Name)."

- Also probably pinches or slaps your ass on his way by

- He secretly loves it when you slap or pinch his ass too, though he'd never actually admit it.

- Abigail is a bit more sultry with it, then goes back to normal like she didn't just blatantly hit on you

- "Damn, well look at you, Pretty girl. Don't you look fine this mornin'... Coffee?"

- Also pinches and slaps your ass, but also gives it a good squeeze, and will sometimes hold her hand on your ass instead of on your hip if you stand side by side.

NSFW (MINORS DNI)

Content Warnings: oral sex (m + f recieving), mean!dom!abigail, dacryphilia if you squint, edging, masturbation, voyeurism, cucking if you squint, risky sex, brat tamer!Abigail, spanking, biting, hickeys, marking kink, Mommy kink, praise, breeding, creampies, cum eating

- John and Abigail are both switches.

- John tends to be a top when it's just the two of you, but when Abigail is also part of the fun, he's most likely on his back, letting you both use him however you please.

- His favorite is when he's laying on his back and both you and Abigail take turns sucking his cock, occasionally pulling away to kiss. It makes him rock hard. Never mind how it feels... he could cum from the sight alone... his favorite girls worshipping his cock with all their enthusiasm and love.

- Abigail is a Dom/top a lot of the time. She can also be pretty mean about it.

- Abigail edges you to the point where sometimes, you'll cry out for her, begging her to let you finish. Every time she finally lets you, you always feel like you cum so much harder than you ever had before.

- John loves to sit back and jerk off, watching the two of you in bed together.

- Abigail sometimes does the same, sitting aside whilst rubbing and fucking her pussy with her fingers as she watches John fuck you into his bedroll

- Abigail loves it when you act like a brat - She likes to leave your ass red and sore from spanking you, and often orders John to do the same when she watches.

- Abigail also probably bites you a leaves hickeys to stake her claim on you. Makes sure to put them where everyone can see.

- John does the same, but it's usually below where your clothes would cover them like your breasts, stomach, or thighs

- John LOVES biting you. He loves making you squirm

- Abigail lowkey has a Mommy kink

- Abigail likes to call you her Pillow Princess, pulling beautiful noises from you as she makes you cum multiple times in quick succession with just her hands. Sometimes even her words.

- "Look at you, sweetie pie. All pretty and spread open, just for me. Oh, I know you just came... but... How's about one more, huh? Can you do that for Mommy?"

- There have been times when it's been just the two of you, and she's shown far more vulnerability than she's used to. During those times, she's on her back, a hand covering her mouth as you work her open with your mouth and fingers.

- Please praise the hell out of her during these times. She really needs it.

- Even when Abigail is vulnerable with you, she is still in control almost 99.99% of the time.

- John and Abigail are both certified munches

-John loves when both of you are on top of him, riding both his dick and his face.

- He eats pussy like his life depends on it. Fr like it's his last meal.

- He also loves to watch you eat pussy.

- He loves to fuck you in the doggy style position while Abigail buries your face between her legs.

- John usually likes to have sex in the privacy of his tent/room, whereas Abigail likes risky sex. She likes the idea of there being a possibility you could be caught

- there have been numerous times when she's stuck her hand into the front of your skirts while you sat the the dining table during mealtimes. As far as you both knew, the other people sitting there had been oblivious.

- John knows. He always knows. He was watching the whole time.

- He was usually the one to instigate it, always letting Abigail know whenever you forwent bloomers. (he would hide them so you couldn't wear them)

-Though he'd probably never participate himself, he loves to watch you come undone on Abigail's fingers in public.

- John fantasizes about getting you pregnant too.

- He brought it up to Abigail as a joke, saying how nice it would be for Jack to have a sibling to play with.

- From that point on, John was told to cum inside you every chance he got, not stopping even after you're swollen and round with his baby.

-Abigail enjoys eating you out after John has cum inside you.

[immajustvibehere]

The Rescue

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

summary: You go missing in the mountains when you were scouting ahead with John. Luckily, Arthur finds you. The near death experience gives both of you the courage for a confession.

tags: high honor Arthur, fluffly

2300 words, 13 minutes reading time

Three gunshots pierced the silent air that for hours had remained undisturbed, unless one counts the bluster of the wind. The shots echoed through the mountains. They prompted you into action, forgetting your miserable state.

"Here! I'm here!", you screamed with everything your voice had to offer, and that wasn't much. Half-frozen to death, sitting in your own blood and desperately clutching your arm where a wolf had bitten you, you tried standing up, with no success. Your leg had been hurt and putting pressure on it made the scenery fade to black. Out of fear for fainting and not being found, you remained cowering under the icy ledge, only a few feet away from a dangerous ravine.

"Y/N!", Arthur's voice was so close, you started to cry in relief.

"Arthur!", you screamed back and suddenly - there he was. You looked up the cliff to see his worried face staring down on you. Only moments later, Javier was appearing right next to him.

"Damn", Javier mumbled. Arthur seemed kind of unable to open his mouth, but he hurried down to you, careful not to slip and hurt himself.

"John should be further down there", you pointed into the said direction, "haven't heard from him for a while though."

Arthur was almost at your side: "Javier, you go and fetch Marston, I'll take Miss y/l/n." Javier's face disappeared, and you could concentrate on Arthur who was quickly approaching you. He squatted in front of you, not giving a damn about his pants which now were covered in snow. You couldn’t deny that it looked absolutely horrible. There was no white snow around you, everything was painted in your blood, and you yourself couldn't have possibly looked any better.

"Shit, y/n", Arthur murmured, taking his gloves off by biting them and sliding out of them.

You only managed to nod, tears now streaming down your face without shame. For hours on end, you had been convinced that you'd die here, freezing to death. It would have only been a matter of time until the wolves would come back and finish the work they had started. But now you were safe.

"It's gonna be okay", Arthur tried to calm you down. Gently, he wiped away some of your tears with his hand. It probably wasn't even warm, but it felt like a furnace against your frozen cheeks.

"It's alright", Arthur repeated. He noticed that he was shaking too, not necessarily because of the cold. It was true that the ride up the glacier had his bones chilled, but seeing you all bloody before him made him realise that he was shaking out of relief. He had been afraid you were gone. And now he feared losing you, right here and right now in front of him. Since you slightly pushed your face into his open hand, he didn't dare to remove it, but rather used his other hand to hold his glove open and blow some hot air into it.

"Get yer hand in there", he mumbled, helping you with putting his two gloves on.

"Can ya still move 'em?", Arthur asked, gently pressing your two hands in between his own. You quickly nodded and waited for your lips to stop quivering before you gave an answer: "Yeah. But this one hurts." You nodded towards your left arm where the nasty bite wound was hard to miss.

"I'd worry if it wasn't hurtin'", Arthur said, a crooked smile appearing on his lips for a few seconds.

"Very funny", you replied with a straight face. Actually, it had cheered you up a bit. This interaction was preferable to dying alone and becoming a frozen mummy.

And yet, Arthur was still worried more than he was comfortable with. He knew that he cared about you, but he cared about many people. However, this felt a little different.

"Can you stand up?"

"No...something's wrong with my leg."

"Okay. Come on then-", he stated, picking you up without so much as a silent grunt.

You snuggled into his wet coat and anxiously watched him struggle carrying you on the icy ground.

"How long have you been...like this?", Arthur asked after whistling for his horse.

"Not sure. At least one night...John and I rode out yesterday and then we were attacked by some wolves. It was...sheer luck that we survived. I mean- I hope John..."

"He'll be fine."

You gulped down a sob but were immediately relieved by Javier whistling behind you. Arthur turned around so you both saw him carrying a barely conscious John on his back.

You yourself struggled staying conscious during the ride back. For safety reasons, Arthur placed you in front of him on the horse, so he would be able to secure you with an arm tightly wrapped around you. He had admitted that he didn't trust you - in your current state - to stay on the horse without his help. At first you still had some strength left in you to give a witty remark, mocking him for calling you weak, but five minutes into the ride Arthur had to beg you to keep your eyes open.

"We're almost there, okay? Try stayin' awake until you're in the cabin, would ya?". he said those words close to your ear. The hot air from his mouth made your hair stand up and, in a way, did a decent job of keeping you awake and your heart beating. After one minute had passed, Arthur felt you slumping against his chest again.

"Darlin' please", he pleaded in a whisper, for neither Javier nor John to hear.

"'m really tryin' Arthur", you mumbled. Arthur was afraid that your hypothermic body was shutting down and he wouldn't be able to hold you in both of his arms to keep you warm and awake. The only thing he could to was to ride faster and make sure from time to time, that you were still awake. He'd whisper things into your ears that he didn't knew he was capable of, but the thought of having almost lost you, or to find out that you are indeed at the brink of death from the cold and blood loss, made his tongue loose.

You listened at first, but soon you were barely conscious, only managing to nod or mumble in agreement sometimes, without even registering what Arthur was saying.

The rest was black. You woke up in dry clothes and with an aching body, wrapped into two blankets. Mary-Beth and Swanson were staring you down, both of their faces lighting up when they saw you stirring.

You weren't awake for long, but long enough to be assured that you'll live and hadn't taken any lasting damage, aside from the wolf bite on your arm, which might leave some scars and your ankle which was probably sprained, but would soon be healed if you gave it enough rest. You managed to sit up to have a look at John who was lying in another bed close to yours, Abigail at his side.

"Looking good, Marston", you smiled, simply happy to see him alive.

"You have also seen better days, y/n", John replied briefly. And with that you plummeted back onto your bedroll and fell asleep.

When you opened your eyes again, it was dark in the cabin. No daylight came in, it must be the darkest hour of the night, but the fire in the fireplace distorted the shadows of the sleeping people in the room to eerie figures. You squinted to make out the different faces, which often was impossible because they were covered with scarves and shawls. It took a while, but after a couple of minutes lying awake you realised what had woken you in the first place. It wasn’t Uncle’s snoring or the weeping of a woman in the far corner, who you were quite sure you hadn’t seen before, but it was pain.

Your arm had been tidily wrapped in clean bandages, but you felt the wound underneath throbbing and burning relentlessly. Your leg wasn’t bothering you, as long as you remembered to keep it entirely still. If you moved it, because the chillness of the room sent a shiver through your spine and made you wince, the pain ran up all the way up your body. Maybe Reverend had given you some of his morphine earlier because you couldn’t quite understand how you would have been able to fall asleep under those circumstances.

With eyes closed you laid as still as possible, hoping that exhaustion would carry you to sleep again. You didn’t know how long you had lain there like that, when you heard the door of the cabin being opened. The hinges creaked and in came the stature of a man, warmly illuminated by the lantern in his hand – Arthur. You watched him while he tip-toed over the sleeping women, halting suddenly when he reached your bed and found you looking at him with a big smile.

“Did I wake ya?”, he whispered.

“No. Can’t sleep”, you sighed, also careful to keep your voice quiet so you wouldn’t wake the others, “What are you doing here?”

“I ehrm-“, Arthur awkwardly looked around in the room, “wanted to check on you.”

“Really?”, you grinned at him.

“Sure”, Arthur scratched the back of his neck, “ya looked barely alive when we got here. Were as white as a ghost and not exactly what I’d call conscious.”

“Yeah”, you chuckled sorrily. With all the strength you could bring up, you sat upright and made space for Arthur to sit down on the bed. Your face twisted in pain when you moved your injured leg, but it paid off when Arthur sat down with a sigh and put the lantern on the floor in front of you. For a few moments, neither of you said anything. Arthur looked around the room and studied the sleeping faces, while you had your eyes glued on his. You knew there was something coming, but you weren’t quite prepared for it when he finally said it.

“’em words I said on the ride back…”, he paused. His voice had sounded so flustered, his cheeks surely must be a darker shade of red. But the dimness of the light didn’t grant you this exciting view. For a split second he looked at you, only to find you expecting him to go on. But he didn’t. Now was the time for an embarrassing admission. Though you did remember him calling you darling and even sweetheart at one point, your memory was fuzzy. You weren’t sure if it had really happened or if he had only said it in the dream which you had, but you recalled him saying the word “love”. Maybe it was “my love”, or “I love”,…you didn’t know and the harder you tried to remember, the more you doubted it had actually happened.

“I’m sorry, Arthur. I was pretty much gone as soon as you had me on the horse”, you apologized and watched the man’s face. Was he relaxing?

“Probably better that way”, he gave a smile that looked rather sad.

He was starting to stand up, when you quickly grabbed his coat. He halted in surprise and threw you a quizzical look. Since you didn’t say anything but still didn’t let go of his coat, he sat down again, looking at you with a hint of concern.

“Yer alright?”

“Ye- No. I don’t know”, you admitted, “it depends.” You gulped.

“I was pretty sure I would be dying in the mountains. And when you’re just sitting there, freezing to death, you think about the stuff you regret not doing”, you started.

You added: “I’m glad you found me.”

Arthur huffed: “Sure, I’m also glad we fou-“

“No. You. I thought I’d never see you again”, tears started to roll down your cheeks. You weren’t sad, or angry or any emotion that would have your tears streaming, just the memory of sitting in the darkest night and feeling every limb ache in pain for warmth was unnerving.

“Well, yer seein’ me now? Ain’t ya? It’s alright girl”, Arthur tried calming you down when he saw the tears in your face. Carefully, he slung an arm around your shoulders and gently pushed you into him. Your face rested on his chest while he tried to comfort you by patting your back. You waited a few moments until you had calmed down enough to speak without the quiver in your voice.

“Before I get stuck somewhere else,…or eaten by a cougar,…or shot by some idiot”, you whispered, “I really want you to know that I-…you mean a lot to me, Arthur. I love you. Have done so for a while now.”

Hadn’t you been convinced that Arthur hadn’t already made a similar confession to you on the horse with you blacked out, you probably would have kept it for yourself for many years to come or until one of you was killed by a bullet. Of course, you would have ended up regretting it, like you regretted it on the mountain, of not having it said earlier. You figured, now was as good a time as any.

Arthur held you tighter, pressing you into his fluffy coat which gave off an odour of wet fabric and pine trees.

After a while, he whispered back in a gruffy voice: “Ya mean it?”

“Of course”, you replied quickly, offended by the lack of trust but knowing that he was asking from a place of insecurity and fear of rejection.

“As much as you meant the words on the horse”, you added with a smile and peeled yourself off him, “if you want to repeat them sooner or later, I promise not faint this time.”

Finally, Arthur chuckled lightly. “That’s a start.”

[pinkkittysaw]

🍉 FICSFORGAZA - SPONSOR A WIP! 🍉

hello friends ^_^ i’ve decided to join @ficsforgaza’s fundraiser and help raise money via “sponsor a wip”

please read through this ENTIRE post before sponsoring!

dividers by @/cafekitsune

HOW IT WORKS:

for a more detailed explanation, feel free to visit @/ficsforgaza’s “HOW TO PARTICIPATE” post linked here

RATE: $1 = 100 WORDS (with a maximum of $10/1000 words per donation)

you don’t have to be following me to sponsor a wip!

1) make a donation directly toward any vetted fundraiser providing aid to gaza/palestine of your choosing. (none of the money donated goes to me or the other creators participating)

2) send me an ask with the wip you’d like to sponsor along with a screenshot of your donation (blocking out all personal information), and a link to the fundraiser you’ve donated to (the asks will not be posted!)

example: hi angel! i donated (x) amount to (link of fundraiser here along with screenshot proof of donation) and wanted to sponsor (name of wip)

CAVEATS:

as i write nsfw-content, i’m requiring that asks pertaining to wip sponsorships be OFF ANON and that YOUR AGE MUST BE EASILY ACCESSIBLE ON YOUR BLOG! YOU MUST BE 18+ TO SPONSOR A WIP! refusing to comply with these rules will make your sponsorship null and void!

one donation per wip sponsorship. you can not use the same screenshot to sponsor multiple wips/the same wip multiple times

i will be sending screenshots to ficswithgaza to make sure that no donations are being used across multiple writers

WIPS:

full transparency, my word count varies across my fics so i’ve decided to place a cap on the maximum amount of words eligible to be sponsored for each wip. if the word count goal is met and i find that i still have more i’d like to write, i will increase the eligible sponsor word count goal for that wip in particular.

word counts will be updated as sponsorships come in and sponsorships for individual wips will be closed if i reach max word count goal for that wip in particular. i will reblog this post as the word count get updated

next to the word count goal you will see (subject to change) the word count goal will only ever change if i decide to write MORE than what the existing word count goal is.

as of this posting, the word count goals are the maximum amount of words i feel i can get from each concept without making the stories feel like they drag on. the word count goal will only ever go UP, not down.

total sponsored words: 1,000

1) GARDEN OF EDEN (title subject to change)

matt murdock x f!reader (nsfw)

fandom: daredevil

summary: in the midst of hopelessness, you find yourself stumbling into an unfamiliar church seeking guidance. in your daze, you bump into an unsuspecting, yet rather handsome man who offers to “mentor” you in your newfound faith. as the relationship between the two of you blossoms, you find yourself at a crossroads between following your teachings or following your heart.

content warning(s): general nsfw, sacrilege, corruption kink, religious guilt, talk of christianity (warnings will be updated as needed)

sponsored words: 0/5,000

word count goal: 276/5,000 (subject to change)

2) AS YOU WISH CHAPTER 3 (title subject to change)

knight! clive rosfield x princess! reader (nsfw)

fandom: final fantasy xvi

summary: a jousting tournament has commenced, but as you try to steady your focus on a certain knight in particular, your attention is split in three different directions.

content warnings: general nsfw, minor violence (warnings will be updated as needed)

sponsored words: 1,500/3,000

word count goal: 1,211/3,000 (subject to change)

3) SAVE A HORSE, RIDE A COWBOY (title subject to change)

john marston x f! reader (nsfw)

fandom: red dead redemption 2

summary: being a wealthy woman from saint denis has a LOT of upsides, but being recognized by most high society whenever you step outside your door is certainly not one of them. when your father leaves for an extended work trip you take the railway into valentine to catch up with your “favorite” outlaw

content warning(s): general nsfw (tags will be updated as needed)

sponsored words: 0/5000

word count goal: 171/5000 (subject to change)

i do a lot of research for my fics and often have various things going on in my personal life so i can’t promise quick and snappy release times but if a wip gets fully funded, i will do my best to release the fic within two months of it reaching it’s goal.

i know i can be VERY wordy, if you have any questions about my post in particular, don’t hesitate to send me an ask! if you have any questions about the fundraiser itself, feel free to check out the @ficsforgaza blog and visit their FAQ page!

even if you are unable to donate please feel free to reblog this post along with ficsforgaza’s introduction post to help spread the word, and be sure to check out the other awesome creators involved with this project!