#rdr fanfic

[moonlightkitties]

Van der Linde Gang boys when you fall asleep on their shoulder.

Gang Members: Arthur Morgan, Bill Williamson, John Marston, Dutch Van der Linde, Kieran Duffy, Sean MacGuire, Micah Bell, Charles Smith.

Arthur Morgan

Doesn't try to move you. He's glad you feel safe enough to fall asleep on him. His cheeks are most definitely red but at least no one can notice because of the fire.

Bill Williamson

Like Arthur, he doesn't try to move you, he will wrap his arm around your body and move you closer towards him though. His big body and the campfire help you warm up and stay asleep.

John Marston

He tenses up once he feels your head fall on his shoulder and he does try to move you but when you grumble and tell him that you're comfortable, he stops. He relaxes once he realizes there's no way he's getting out of this without waking you up and he really doesn't want to live with the consequences.

Dutch Van der Linde

Gets really cocky once you fall asleep. Will sit their with the smuggest face and puff out his chest a little. He thinks that this is a sign of his authority and control, as if you’re so comfortable around him that you trust him completely. Deep down though, he is glad that you really trust him enough to lean on him.

Kieran Duffy

Face becomes completely red it looks like the campfire gave him third degree burns. Tenses up and moves around a little until he realizes that you're fast asleep and comfortable so he stops. He relaxes into you and accidently falls asleep with you and gets made fun of by Sean and Bill.

Sean MacGuire

Like Dutch, he gets cocky as well. He'll crack a few jokes about how you think he's "so irresistible" that you fall asleep on him. Secretly, though, his very nervous about waking you up and a little bit protective that he wraps an arm around you.

Micah Bell

He's immediately uncomfortable. He's not used to someone, especially someone like you, getting close to him (he's not used to close contact anyways). Still, he doesn't want to wake you but you can be sure he is going to tease and act upset with you when you wake up.

Charles Smith

Isn't surprised at all and doesn't mind. He knew you were exhausted with the weight Grimshaw and Dutch were putting on you so he let you sleep. He'll position himself to where you're more comfortable and even carry you back to your tent when you're deep asleep.

[frillydolle]

how would low honor arthur be when you just gave birth to the cutest baby girl (of his, duh)??

꒰ ୨ৎ ꒱　 ──　 lowhonour　 hes an interesting dad　 he plays too rough sometimes!　 a.m ౨ৎ ⋆ ｡ ˚

“arthur... i─ i think.. i think 'm pregnant. well, i am─”

“are you shittin' me, doll?”

ever since you told arthur you're pregnant, chores went from doing every single chore that needed to be done and now doing nothing at all, and although you were grateful, you just weren't sure why. you're still capable!

he'd didn't let you leave camp without someone going with and only now that someone was him, he didn't trust anyone else to be with you if you need to go to town. he believed he was the only man who could protect you properly. being the lead enforcer, he always kept his eye on you only because he didn't want you or his child to be in any harm.

“arthur, I'll be fine, i have karen with me─”

“nah, ain't chancin' it, sugar.”

it was like ever since you told him that you're now feeding for two he's been even more protective over you, and even strict, sometimes. and even more ever since you gave birth to your sweet babygirl, elizabeth. oh, she was just the cutest girl you've ever seen! she was a bubbly and giggling baby, sometimes made you forgot how cruel the world could even be.

only now that arthur was definitely coming back alive, and oh, he'd made sure of that. he had to come home to you and his sweet girl, elizabeth. he'd bring the two of you a gift. now this may be a surprise to everyone else, but he was ever a sweeter pa to your daughter. there were rare moments when you'd come back to your tent, and elizabeth was asleep like a ball next to arthur, who'd just be watching her in awe (that'd he'd never admit to anyone, of course!)

“'m glad she's finally asleep. refused to sleep until her pa came back to camp.” you say with a giggle while hearing a chuckle from him. you sit on the edge of the cot, just about to untie your laces before arthur tapped your knee, signalling you to let him help. and soon, your foot is resting in his thigh while he unties it for you. “yeah, well... guess shes already got a favourite.” he replied with a smirk, his words earning him a shove.

“well least i almost drop her─” that smirk remained on his face as he met your gaze. “hey, she was fallin back. ain't my fault she only playin with her daddy's mind like that.” he replies as he drops the boots by the bed before swiping to your other show.

“well then, 'm glad she takes after me in that sense.” you reply, giving him that cheeky smile of yours before a small laugh leaves your lips. this was one of his favourite moments, not that's he'd ever tell you that but he always loved seeing you smile or laugh, especially if he knew it was him that made you feel like that.

“she takes after ye in yer pretty face, too.” he replies, meeting your loving gaze once again. it was odd in a way, he was so mean and vile to everyone else and yet he treated you and your daughter like wealthy girls.

maybe he's not as bad as everyone says he is.

[elliesplug]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

charles smith x reader

summary: what its like to be charles' one and only

warnings: no smut but slightly suggestive parts, reader referred to as "ma'am" once

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— Charles is the kindest lover ever!!

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— Acts of service, gift giving, and physical touch final boss.

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— He always puts other people’s needs before his own. Do you need something from town? He’s halfway into town before you can even finish speaking. You’re feeling hungry? He’s already grabbed his bow to go hunting. You mention that you’re feeling any form of physical pain? Don’t worry at all because Charle’s soft hands are delicately massaging your ache away.

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— Charles remembers everything. He never forgets a single detail about you. One time he overheard you mention to Tilly how badly you wanted a few strawberries to snack on. The next day Charles is riding in on Taima with a barrel full of the most beautiful and luscious looking red berries you’ve ever seen, despite them currently being out of season. He remembers all the stories you told him, even if you were the one to forget that you’ve already told him that. It’s the sweetest thing ever when he finished the ending of your stories. 

“Oh goodness did I already tell you that? I’m sorry for making you sit through all that again.” You say with a laugh.

“Don’t apologize. I’d gladly listen to that story 1 million times over if that meant I got to hear your voice for a second longer.”

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— Another time Charles was admiring you as you both were sitting by the fire. You held a rough and worn out paperback version of your favorite book. This had to be your 10th re-read over the years of you having it. A mental note was quickly made by Charles of how distressed the current state of your paperback was. The next day you wake up to the smell of a warm cup of coffee that’s sitting next to a beautiful hardcover detailed with fine gold patterns. At the top of the hardcover there laid the title of your favorite book. You smiled to yourself as your fingers repeatedly ran over the golden prints. Your senses were cheerfully greeted with that new book smell he knew you adored so much.

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— This man adores taking baths with his lover. It’s usually not even sexual. He just enjoys the comfort of being that close to you. The warmth of your bodies and the warmth of the bubbly water is more than enough to keep him happy for the rest of his life.

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— If you’re in town with Charles and you even glance or touch something you like Charles is buying it for you. 

“Charles, c'mon you know I don’t need that. You know I can’t just let you spend all your money on me.”

Charles replies with a smug smirk across his face, “Good thing I wasn’t offering then. Looks like you’ll just have to accept it now, won't you?”

You happily gift him a kiss on the cheek in return to show your gratitude as you leave the store with your new present in hand. 

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— Charles ALWAYS knows when something is wrong. He can tell when you’re having a rough day, when you need comfort, when you’re stressed, and when you need the space to be alone. You don’t ever need to communicate to him what mood you’re in because he already knows. He never takes it to heart when you need to be left alone and he’s the best at making you feel better, whether that be from afar or between his strong arms.

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— Not huge on PDA but he loves when you hold onto his arm as he guides you through the town. When he’s in private he can’t keep his hands off of you, though. Around the campfire his hand will rest on your thigh. While you’re asleep his broad chest is attached to your back as he holds you. Physical intimacy is very important to him.

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— Takes off your boots and litters soft kisses across your legs every night before you both go to bed.

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— He’ll tell the whole gang that he has to “go hunting” or that he “needs to go into town” just so he can steal you away for a bit. He’ll take you on cute dates to your favorite restaurant or skinny dipping sessions at the lake as the warm sun sets behind you’re joined bodies.

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— If anyone at the camp even tries to disrespect you he’s running at your defense. One time Micah rudely commented on something you were wearing and before you could even blink a loud slap was laid across his cheek by Charles.

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— He likes keeping to himself but always opens up to you. The rest of the gang is in shock on how you were able to crack him open. Charles is quiet, not shy. It’s his choice who he decides to let into his life and you are more than thankful that you were that one that he chose.

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— You always stay up talking by the fire late at night, even when everyone else returns to their tents.

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— He would never ever let you see him fight. This man is not insecure in most aspects of his life but he has a strong fear that you’ll perceive him as the violent man that the world paints him out to be.

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— After every fight you clean him up even though he always suggests that it’s not necessary.

“You don’t need to do that, my love. Don’t need you getting dirty or making a mess cause of me.” He tells you.

You roll your eyes in response. “You say that every time, Charles, you sound like a broken record. Lucky for you it’s a good thing that I wasn’t offering. Looks like you’ll just have to accept it, remember? Now sit.”

A laugh escapes his lips before he replies, “Yes ma’am. Whatever you say.”

⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— He takes you to Canada and you both spend the rest of your days happily married and together!!!

[thisfanisgonesorry]

relaxation — charles smith

a camping trip, some stress relief  kinktober day 3: size kink

tags: smut, size kink / stomach bulge, breeding, ambiguous timeline, petplay/hybrids? use of bunny/bear

🐇

His large arms wrapped around my torso, his hands grabbing the flesh of my stomach and his chin resting on the top of my head. “Evenin’, baby. Any chance you’d wanna come hunting with me?” He spoke casually.

“Hi.” I smiled, not turning my head as I rinsed bowls in the lukewarm water. “We’re going hunting?”

“Of course. You’re always helpful.” He spoke sweetly, biting his tongue and pressing a kiss onto my temple. “Prefer you to anyone else.”

His large hands grabbed hold of my waist as he helped me down from my steed. “You know I can do that myself, right?” I laughed softly, 

“But why would you when I’m right here?” He placed me on the ground and hitched my horse to the nearby tree.

He started putting up the tent casually, like nothing was going on beyond a simple day out and it was beginning to feel like exactly that.

“So what’re we hunting?” I attempted to scrounge together as many sticks as possible, trying to start a small campfire, and I slumped down on the ground, striking a match against my boot and letting it light.

He shrugged as he put the tent up, tying the entryway flaps open with a clip. I shrugged, handing him the bedrolls and he laid them down side-by-side. He let out a small laugh at my actions, watching me sit back down next to the small fire.

“Nothin’. Just needed to get you out of camp.” He admitted once he climbed out of the tent, he sat by the edge and crossed his legs.

“And to think you were being helpful.” I scoffed slightly, though he simply patted his thighs, gesturing for his intentions. I crawled towards him, and eventually took a perch on his lap. 

“That’s my good girl.” He cooed.

“You’re predictable.” 

“You’re beautiful.” His chest rumbled slightly. “I had to take care of my sweet bunny, hm? I could tell you needed time away.” His words were sweet, and each sentence was met with a kiss to the face.

I wrapped my arms around his strong shoulders, nuzzling myself into his neck. “Maybe you got one thing right.” I commented, legs sprayed across his large thighs. His hands run up and down my back, holding me close to him.

“Such a good bunny.” He cooed, removing my boots softly and placing them to the side.

He moved us further into the tent, moving swiftly to lay me down flat against the soft bedroll. He shut the tent flaps behind us and pressed a kiss on my shoulder.

The sun was setting, and his hands fiddled with the edge of my pants. “Chose here on purpose. Don’t be afraid to make some noise.” He spoke sweetly, his large hands moving to remove my pants and bloomers, folding them neatly to the side before he unbuttoned my shirt. 

He then pulled at his own shirt, throwing it haphazardly to the side, before dipping his head down and pressing a kiss onto my stomach. “Tell me you missed me. You missed this.”

“I missed you.” I moaned out as his lips pressed a firm kiss on my clit before leaving a light suckle, then running his tongue up the length.

His soft eyes watched me carefully as he slowly buried himself deeper into me, his nose brushing against my clit until he’d move up and swirl his tongue around it, taking it between his lips and moaning as he sucked, wet sounds filling the air, and then letting it pop loudly.

He let a low chuckle at the pink tint covering my face and he hunched over, his head dipping lower and part of his hair covering his eyes. “Smother me.” He groaned, his hands dug into the plush flesh of my thighs, pulling me closer to him.

I gave a light tug onto his hair, writhing under him and my fingers closed tight with his locks trapped within my fist. “Charles—” I whined, pulling him away from me for just a moment.

“What can your bear do for you, bunny?”

I dug my feet into his back with a strained whine. “Fingers, please.”

“Aw, that’s it.” He cooed. “You just want your tight pussy stretched out.” He smiled, not faltering his movements as his two large digits rubbed against the entrance.

He started sucking on my clit again harshly, and slowly pushing his fingers in. I sobbed against my palm, muffling the sound. “Don’t.” He growled. He reached up, taking my hand away and after carefully untangling my hand from his hair, he pinned my wrists together under my sternum, my elbows digging into the bedroll.

He listened to the symphony of moans that fell from my mouth at his movements, intentionally making it agonisingly slow until he reached the hilt.

His movements began slow and steady, a gracious pace while his tongue swirled against the bundle of nerves. “Sweet girl.” He groaned to himself, pushing the pads of his fingers to the perfect spot that made me clench around him.

“Charles, I’m—“ And he pulled away, placing one last kiss on my stomach before crawling up my body, his fingers still working to stretch me apart for him.

“I know, I know.” He purred to my whines of protest, the sudden lack of stimulation causing me to spasm around him.

I threw my head back against the bedroll, squirming against his hands for friction and earning a small, pitied smile in return. 

He leant closer, his lips ghosting mine. “Taste yourself.” He waited for me to lean forward, pressing his against mine, and he was smiling into the kiss at the sounds of my moans. 

His hand left my wrists, and wrapped around my throat loosely, holding me in place as his other quickened, going at an inhumane pace. My eyes rolled back as I struggled to keep kissing him. 

He groaned, not relenting on its speed. “Fastest way to stretch you out, yeah?” He teased, sounding incredibly smug at the desperation. “You sound so pretty.”

“Charles—!” I sobbed into his mouth, my hands grabbing onto him, my fingernails threatening to break his skin.

“You’re a needy girl, beg me to split you apart on my dick.” His soft smile never faltered despite the sweetness not being in his words. His kiss stayed tender as he waited for the fog to lift and for words to spill from my lips.

“Please.” I managed out once I could see through the haze. “Oh my god, please. Charles, need you. Need you to split me open.”

He let out a pleased hum, enjoying the way the words caught in my throat at the brutal pace he’d set. His hands slowed gradually before pulling out completely. “You’re my good bunny. So good at begging.” He cooed, removing his pants gradually, kicking them off and wrapping his slick fingers around the length.

I whined, squirming under his touch as he rubbed the tip up and down the folds. “Please, give it to me.” 

“You love how big I am, yeah? How small you are compared to me?” He commented, rubbing his head up and down a few more times before slowly pushing in until he felt resistance. “How I can only— Fuck, get so far in at first before it starts to hurt you.” His voice was a low growl as he slowly began to thrust what he could. “Always gotta stretch you out more ‘till I fit.”

His thrusts were shallow and slow, and he let out short groans, his face scrunching up occasionally as he tried to restrain himself from bullying himself into the small space. 

The wet sounds that filled the tent only beckoned the various moans from both of us to become louder and filthier, causing my ears to perk up. “You.. You’re sure no one’s gonna— fuck— hear us?”

“Mhm.” He nodded. “We’re miles away from a town. There’s no chance anyone will come here.”

“What if they ride past the road?”

“They’ll only see a tent. I made sure. They won’t hear a thing. ‘Nd baby, you’re clenching around me too much, can’t fuckin’ move.” He hissed, his palm soothingly running up and down my thigh. “Just trust me and calm down. It’s in no one’s business to come up to us.”

“What if they try to rob us?”

“Then they won’t be alive much longer.” He spoke sternly, his other hand cupping my face. “Take a breath ‘n’relax f’me.”

I took a sharp inhale, sucking the air into my lungs as I tried to untense my muscles. He sighed softly, squeezing my thigh and nodding reassuringly as he continued his ministrations.

“That’a girl, let me just fuck those thoughts out of your head.”

He moved my legs to wrap tightly around his torso, hooking my fit together as they dug into his lower back, pulling him closer to me though he was met with resistance when he didn’t fit just yet. He let out a guttural groan and I winced at the intrusion. His fat head pressing against the deepest part of my walls, threatening to push deeper into my guts, tearing me in half. 

“You don’t have to worry about anything.” He crooned, his voice low and rumbling in his chest. A mewl crawled out of my throat, a choked cry of pleasure. “Shh, that’s it, all wound up. Unwind.” He took a handful of my hair, making a messy ponytail in his fingers, tugging back my hair slightly to display my neck to him.

Gentle kisses were littered on my throat and chest as he was grinding his hips into mine, trying to push himself deeper. “Charles, it’s too much.” I struggled against his sheer size. The humiliating lingering thought of someone overhearing filled my senses as he filled my tightness.

“Ah, just open up for me, bunny.” He whispered with feverish need, reassuring me gently as my heels dug sharply into his thighs. I moaned, wanting to cover my mouth again but he caught my hand before I could, a short glare of daggers that said ‘don’t’ filled the air and I closed my eyes tight, my eyes half-lidded and glancing down at him.

His strong chest held me down, pinning me to the bedroll. His movements slow and careful as he was grinding himself into me with short thrusts. It chased little pleasure besides the feeling of fullness, the warmth taking him wholly and perfectly.

“Always so surprised by how you take me so well.” He praised sweetly, his words lingered as he eased me open, still kissing and lapping at the skin in front of his eyes. “You’re doing so—” He choked on his words briefly as he finally pushed to his hilt, a short groan leaving his lips as his eyes forcibly fell shut. “—So fucking good, sweetheart.”

I let out a short yelp of surprise, before it subdued into moans. He continued grinding into me slowly, letting me clench helplessly around him. His scratchy, well groomed pubic hair brushed against my clit and his muscles tensed as he watched me carefully.

“Oh my fucking god.” I cried out, my body arching up into him. His mouth grazed across my chest. He watched carefully, his eyes drinking in every detail of the scene, before he wrapped his lips around one of my nipples, earning another strangled moan. “Ah, Charles—”

“No. What’d I say?” He interjected. “No thoughts. No thinking. All you have to do is lay back, relax and take it.” His slowly began to move more, sliding in and out at an everlasting slow pace, letting the largeness consume my thoughts as I felt every aching inch of him fill my pulsing walls.

My head was clouded and fuzzy as all the stress melted away. “I want more.” I whispered, pleadingly. “Please.” I added as an afterthought. “Please, bear.”

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, baby.” He groaned in response, the ball of his palm pressing into the bulge through my stomach. His hips snapping into place, enough to make my tits bounce in place. “Such a good bunny, hm? All tight ‘n’warm for her big bear.” His words bordered on animalistic grunts.

“All f’you.”

“That’s right, all for me.” He nodded, pressing his lips against mine quickly. “What do you need to cum?” He asked tentatively. His hips moved, a gracious but deep pace, his body itching to go brutally with sharp movements, to press his head against my cervix harshly and fill it without a second thought.

My eyes blinked at him, bleary as I squeezed him like a vice. “Fuck me deeper.” I rasped out.

“Deeper?” He laughed, his thick digits reaching down to my middle. He rolled his neck hesitantly before abiding. He pulled away, his chest no longer pressed against mine and he took in the view of a heaving chest, arching upwards.

“Mhm, more.” I nodded blankly. His hips moved, dragging himself from the slickness and harshly bullying himself back to the hilt, moving his hips to attempt to move his tip deeper into the heat.

“Unwind.” He repeated softer, keeping the punishing pace as shameful sounds filled the tents air. “Y’re so wound up, baby, relax and you’ll cum like that.” He commented with a figurative click of the fingers.

I whined incessantly, nearing closer to the edge. “Can’t.”

“You can.” A smile spread across his lips but his eyebrows knitted. “I want you to.” He continued, his voice gentle, unintended to come across as any form of pressure. “There’s no expectations for you here. I will do what you want.”

My words caught in my throat once again, and his hand ran over my torso, squeezing my breast before pinching at the nipple. “You wanna sit on my face? I’ll eat you up ‘til you’re creamin’ all over me.” He whispered, trying to beckon some form of command from me. “You wanna ride me? I’ll get the saddle all ready for you. Whatever it takes.”

“This’s good — don’t stop.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep fuckin’ you like this.” He reassured with a hiss, his movements faltering. He let out a brief huff of amusement, taking in every detail he could. “You’re right there, bunny.”

“So close.” I croaked out, pleading with him.

“Haven’t fucked those thoughts out yet though.” He spoke quietly, a short hum and a sharp slap to my thighs. “People just ask so much from you, but you’re away.” He spoke the obvious, I wasn’t at camp currently, though I was still tense and acting like I was.

My thighs flinched at the contact, a slight sting and the flesh turning into a pink handprint. I whimpered, a good sign to his ears, my fingers grasping onto his shoulders and pulling him closer however he stayed still as a statue. His hands were occupied, one circling my clit and the other pinching and squeezing at my chest.

“What else do you need?” His words of affirmation melted away as his own orgasm approached. “Let me get you there.”

“Cum in me.” I blurted out, the first words that came to mind when I pleaded with myself to figure out what would work. I tightened my legs around him to prove a point, and he hissed, trying to pull away briefly to test my strength.

“Yeah?” He leant over me, his hand leaving my breast to hold himself up as he had a reborn vigour, using his knees to push my hips into position, moving it so he could hit deeper, his tip nudging against the cervix. “Want me to fill you up?”

I nodded, and his ragged breathing paused as he took in the utter desperation in my eyes. “You need this, bunny.” He nodded in understanding. “You deserve it.”

His thrusts staggered, short gasps and grunts leaving him. He put his sentences behind him, his eyes threatening to close each time he felt himself brush against the spongy opening to the womb, a shooting pleasure each time he did.

“Gonna cum.” He rasped out. “Y’gonna cum with me.” It wasn’t a question in the slightest, though I nodded in agreement, trying to itch myself closer. My hand met his, and I pushed his hand to move faster.

I gasped, a silent squeal leaving my throat. “Don’t stop.” I pleaded. Another choked cry, I pressed myself up to meet his chest again, my hand digging into his shoulder, pulling his body closer to mine.

My eyes squeezed shut as I clamped down on him. “That’s it, right there.” He crooned with a shaking voice, “Good breeding bunny.” He hissed with a sharp inhale, feeling the spasm around him.

“For the love of god, don’t you dare—”

“I won’t stop, bun, go on. Cum all over me. Squeeze my cock dry.” He whispered carefully, his hot breath on my face. His breathing was ragged, his hips continued to stutter. 

He held my hips firmly, angling the waist. He pushed against my cervix once again, his cock twitching with low groans. He twitched, a pornographic moan falling from his lips before he could give a warning as he pressed a rough kiss onto my mouth — messy and wet, lips clashing together as his movements slowed down, grinding harshly in place as he weakly spurted cum with guttural groans.

“‘M not done yet.” I managed to choke out.

He nodded blankly, a glazed over look in his eyes as he continued his movements through our orgasms, his overstimulation beginning to sting, but he ached for my pleasure. His cum threatened to seep out of me, coating his length and our thighs, his weak thrusts trying to push the cum further inside. “That’s a good cocksleeve, take it, bunny.” 

I slumped down limply, pushing myself up onto my elbows and he pressed a kiss onto my temple, nuzzling the sweat-slicked hair out of my face, I panted lightly and he had a low groan, still grinding his hips idly. 

My eyes were hazy, I watched him with a lop-sided grin. “Thank you, bear.” I hummed.

“Course, sweet bunny girl.” He pressed another kiss onto my temple. “Gotta make sure you’re taken care of, hm?”

I gave a short laugh, a kind smile of adoration. “Appreciate you.” I spoke quietly, yearning for the closeness between us. “Y’re too good f’me.”

“Wanna keep my cock in you?” He whispered, scooping me up in his large hands, and laying on his side, keeping me close. “Keep all that cum in place.” A low hum, his face buried into my neck, a deep inhale of my scent.

“Y’gonna fall asleep?” I murmured.

“Mhm, I’ll only ever rest when you’re sated.”

[aoioozora]

Painted Impressions

>> Arthur Morgan, fluff, modern au, fem reader

Word count: 1.5k Based on this video Cover image by @arthursfuckinghat Dividers by @bunnysrph

"Excuse me, would you be interested in painting with a stranger for ten minutes for a video?" asked the interviewer who approached you on the street.

You paused mid-chew, the last bite of your croissant momentarily forgotten. Painting with a stranger? You swallowed, considering. You weren’t exactly an artist, but it sounded like a fun way to pass the time.

You brushed your hands of the crumbs and nodded. "Sure."

You followed the kind interviewer named Kevin down the street where he led you to a setup consisting of a table and two chairs. Upon the table were two small easels standing back to back, holding two canvas boards the size of an A4 page. Next to the easels sat tubes of paint, two cups of water, paint brushes, and paint palettes, all arranged neatly. The setup looked cozy, almost inviting you to sit down and indulge in the activity.

"We already found a stranger for you," Kevin informed you, pointing at a man standing by the table.

You looked. A tall man stood by the set up, towering over most. A roughed up black cowboy hat sat snugly on his head, adding to his height. His broad chest and shoulders were covered with a blue button-down shirt and a darker blue denim jacket on top. His arms were crossed, and the fabric of the denim pulled and hugged at the contours of his muscles. His jaw was covered with a trimmed beard, brown in color. He stood relaxedly, resting his weight on one leg. When he saw Kevin approaching with his stranger, he studied you, equally curious.

You met his eyes briefly. They were blue mixed with a hint of green, and very striking. It reminded you of tropical oceans. You were awed by him, this handsome man, so easy on the eyes. He dressed every part a cowboy, and yet he stood out from the rest of the crowd that was walking about the street.

He straightened up slightly. "Uh, 'afternoon, Miss," the man tipped his hat politely, his voice low and gruff but not unpleasant, "Arthur Morgan."

You nodded, remembering your manners and trying not to stare so blatantly. You greeted him back and introduced yourself. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Arthur."

A faint smile tugged his lips, and it disappeared as quickly as it appeared. "The pleasure is mine."

Kevin had both of you sit down and begin painting, and he stepped back to begin filming you and Arthur. As you scanned your supplies, you felt the man's gaze on you. You looked up at him, but found him looking down at the paint tubes. Oh, he wasn't looking. Or were you mistaken?

"Are we painting each other?" you asked.

His eyes flickered up to you. "Yeah."

"Are you good at painting?"

He sneered thoughtfully. "Honestly, not really. I think I'm a little better at sketching than painting. I don't really dabble in paint a lot. What about you?"

You shook your head as you took the black paint tube and squeezed a little onto the palette. "I'm not so good at it either. But I think it'd be fun to give it a try."

He hummed, copying you in squeezing out some paint, although he squeezed a tube of yellow onto his palette.

Both of you began painting. Your eyes flickered to his face every so often, trying to study the contours of his cheeks, his slightly hooked nose, and his plump lower lip. He had strong features, like a viking, or a Greek god. A little too detailed for your skills to replicate.

His eyes studied you as yours did him. He thought you were gorgeous; you had a shapely face, a finely sculpted nose, and lips that looked sweet and inviting. He cleared his throat softly and looked away for a moment, reining in his thoughts. He decided to focus away from your face and at your hair. Your hairstyle framed your face perfectly and well suited its shape.

"What do you do for work?" you asked, painting a stroke down your canvas to draw his face.

Arthur was snapped out of his reverie. "I work with horses and cows. Full time. Though I s'pose my outfit gives that away."

You raised a brow, grinning. "Is that so? I thought the outfit was just your style."

"It's my style and my lifestyle, ma'am," he chuckled, grabbing some red paint and squeezing a bit on the palette. "What do you do?"

You told him.

"Well," he nodded, "Sounds like mighty fine work."

"Yeah, I enjoy it." After a moment's pause, she asked, "How's the painting coming along?"

He huffed a chuckle as he leaned back to look at his work. "Not good at all. What 'bout you?"

You looked at your painting. It was abstract, lopsided, and looked more like something Salvador Dali's dog would paint. You shrugged, grinning abashedly. "At this point, I don't even know if I'm drawing the same person."

He laughed aloud at that, his shoulder shaking with mirth and his eyes crinkling with delight. "Same here," he answered.

You continued to smile, amused by his laughter. It was loud and unashamed; quite a contrast to how serious he looked and appeared when you first laid eyes on him. Unable to resist, you said, "I like your smile. It's beautiful."

He blinked in surprise and then chuckled, shyly fiddling with the worn brim of his hat shading his eyes. "Naw, Miss. You're jus' bein' kind."

"No!" you exclaimed, doubling down, "I mean it."

Seeing how serious you were, he dipped his head slightly in an appreciative nod. "Thank you kindly. You have a lovely smile yourself."

A flutter tickled your chest at the compliment. "Thank you."

As both of you painted, Kevin informed you that you had five minutes left.

"Oh man, gotta hurry," You mumbled to yourself, dipping your brush in some brown paint and beginning to paint in his beard.

Arthur was composed, but he began to speed up a little. He painted in your skin tone, being very careful not to go out of the bounds of the rough sketch he made and not mix too much with the shadows he painted first. His eyes flickered to you repeatedly and he pursed his lips. Anyone would think that this was concentration, but it wasn't just that. He wanted to say something, but he was hesitating.

"I really like your hat, by the way. It looks so cool." you told him.

"This scraggly ol' thing?" he asked, chuckling, "You have odd tastes, if you don't mind me sayin'."

"It's not odd tastes. It's my tastes," you replied, playfully challenging him to argue with you.

He grinned. If you like it so much then maybe I could give it to you one day, he thought. But he cleared his throat slightly, realizing its implications. "If you say so," he relented.

Five minutes were up. Kevin now instructed both of you to stand up and show each other the paintings.

You did as told and exchanged the canvases. You gasped at the sight of his painting, while Arthur found himself chuckling at yours.

His rendition of you seemed very close to how the old masters painted. It was not as masterful given the time constraint, but you couldn't help but gape. Arthur felt his cheeks flush a little at your reaction. He worried that the skin colour was too muddy, and that the highlight on your cheeks was not bright enough. But you took no notice of any of it. It was a stunning, near realistic painting.

"This is amazing! I... I have no words! And you said you weren't good at painting too!" you exclaimed, smiling, unable to tear your eyes away.

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, grinning at your outburst. "Aw, c'mon, it ain't nothin'."

"No! It's so beautiful!" you continued to praise him, "You made me look way better than I look in real life."

A smile tugged his lips and he looked at the lopsided, flat, abstract painting you made of him. "I could say the same to you. You made me look way better here."

You giggled, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "That's nowhere as nice as your painting."

He shook his head, looking at it admiringly. "It's beautiful," he said, "and unique. You know, realism can get boring sometimes, so it's nice to look at somethin' like this every now and then. It's new and refreshing."

You were about to not believe him, but from the way his eyes softened as they traced over and studied your painting, you had no other choice but to do the opposite. "Would you keep it?" you asked like a child pleading something from their parents.

"Of course!" he declared, as if you had asked a silly question. "I'll hang it up in my room so I can look at it every day."

Your eyes widened slightly. "Are you serious?" you asked, feeling a growing warmth in your chest.

"Absolutely serious," he nodded, his eyes now flickering over his painting in your hands. "What about you? Will you keep my painting?"

You looked down at the painting again, smiling gently. "Absolutely. I'll keep it forever."

Arthur's smile widened. "Perfect."

"Alright!" Kevin now called, "Show your paintings to the camera please!"

Both you and Arthur stood together and held up the paintings for the camera, smiling widely. When Kevin was done, he gave you two a thumbs up.

"Alright guys, thanks for your time. I hope you guys had fun," Kevin grinned at both of you.

"I sure did," You piped, "Thanks a lot."

Kevin smiled and received Arthur's thanks as well. He then went aside to pack up his camera equipment and the furniture, leaving you and Arthur together.

Arthur glanced at you, still lingering and rubbing his neck awkwardly. You shifted in your feet too, stealing glances at him, as if anticipating. He inhaled sharply and gulped. Should he do it?

"Are you... Free? Right now?" Arthur spoke up, shoving his hand in his pocket.

"Yeah, why?" you piped, feeling your heart speed up. Could it be? This charming, handsome stranger wants to spend more time with you?

"I was thinkin' I could take you out... for some coffee. No cameras this time," he said, amazed by how casual he sounded when all he felt was his heart pounding in his chest.

A date? Oh, this was even better. "Sure!" you exclaimed, trying to not sound so excited.

A giddy smile lifted his cheeks up to his eyes. "Perfect. Come with me then." He motioned with his hand ahead of him for you to go first. "You'll have to excuse me though, ma'am, I have no idea how this will go. It won't be half as beautifully planned out like my painting."

You chuckled, now starting to walk down the street. He fell in step right beside you. "I don't mind something a little haphazard and abstract for once. After all, you did say that realism was boring."

He laughed aloud once more, pleased by your quick wit. "You're real smart. I like ya."

[08melancholie]

religious trauma got me writing devoted christian male reader x micah fic...

oh im gonna cook soon chat just you wait

[annwrites]

⸻ colter. ⸻

· pairing: charles smith x fem!reader · type: part of a miniseries · summary: while the van der linde gang finds themselves stranded at colter, you go to charles to keep you warm & safe during the blizzard. · tags: forced proximity, angst, mutual pining, cuddling, fingering, p in v sex, creampie · word count: 3.6k · ꒰a/n꒱: i've wanted to write something for charles for a long time & got inspired to churn this out while reading where the lost wander by amy harmon.

“Charles,” calls a quiet, demure voice from the open doorway, where winter winds howl and crest over the snow-capped mountaintops that surround this dilapidated excuse for a camp. Though, it is better than the alternative. None of you would have made it much longer, given the harsh conditions the wagon train now finds itself under.

Young Jack is too small and soft for such circumstances. And Davey, by Charles’ estimations, may, quite likely, breathe his last tonight. He does not speak such thoughts aloud, however. Spirits are low enough as it is. He will not be held liable for further decimating what little hope is now left.

He turns from the rickety wooden bunk he has just tossed his leather pack down onto, to find you staring at him with wide, frightened eyes, set above gaunt, hollowed cheekbones.

You haven’t been eating. Not as much as you should be, that is. It seems that unless he, or Mary-Beth, can coax you into taking sustenance, you all but forget you are meant to ingest as much in order to survive. You do not think of such things now. Not after what you have endured. It is no matter whether the sight of you like this—one who he still hardly even knows (even if he feels entirely otherwise)—cuts him deeply, like the sharpened edge of a hunter’s blade. He worries that you do it to punish yourself for still breathing, while your family rests six feet beneath tilled, earthen soil hundreds of miles from here.

He tried telling you one evening, as you nursed a bowl of broth he boiled for you from venison bone, in an attempt to try and calm your aching stomach, that they would not want to see you like this.

You had replied, simply, that they will no longer see anything at all.

He had not known how to reply…so he didn’t. Perhaps he should have. He thinks there are many things he should do differently when it comes to you. But when they have passed through towns, and traversed well-worn trails created by others seeking to make a new life for themselves in this strange land, he is met with scornful expressions and wary temperaments from those who do not look like him.

To couple their assumptions of him with the sight of a white woman clinging to him for protection and safety she now no longer receives from any other… He fears himself a coward for so often turning away from your awaiting, adoring eyes when so many others’ are upon him.

He is efficient on his own, but he admitted some time ago—begrudgingly—that this new world may be the least bit safer for him to travel along with welcoming companions at his side. So, he endures it.

“Yes?” he replies, watching as you shut the door behind you before traipsing forward.

Your boots, which he does not deem fit for winter weather—perhaps he should go hunting at first light, and take the pelt from his game to fashion you a warm pair of moccasins instead—scuff against the bowed planks of wood beneath your feet as you come closer.

Javier and Lenny talk quietly amongst themselves to give the two of you a moment of privacy.

You gaze up at him from beneath wet lashes, and he notes how you shiver against the chill which envelops the drafty cabin you find yourselves in. You should instead be with the other women, seated before a wood stove, or hearth, warming yourself until your bones stop aching and instead relax, and the warmth eventually lulls you to sleep.

“Can…can I sleep with you? Here?” you ask with a hopeful tone.

The men quiet for a moment, and he knows that they are listening, wondering if a soft young woman, with milky skin and an innocent disposition, will be joining them tonight. Though, that is not right. You are not here for them. You are not here for anyone except him. Not even for Mary-Beth do you stay with the gang, even if she is the one who found you, and brought you into their rag-tag fold of compatriots.

You come impossibly closer until your breasts are brushing against the wealth of his chest. “Please. It’s so cold. I’m…scared.”

He is a strong bull of a being. And yet, you always serve to decimate him to his basest form: a man who weakens to a woman’s touch, voice, and wants.

He knows you do not do it on purpose. That you are not so much as aware of the hold you have over him. He thinks that serves only to draw him in impossibly closer.

“You’re sure you don’t want to stay with the women in the other cab—”

You shake your head fervently, and he knows there will be no talking you out of this. Your mind was already made up, in terms of where you want to be tonight, before you darkened their door. Before you ever even asked him if he would have you.

Because you know that he will.

“No. I want to be with you.”

He does not understand why you have made him your chosen protector, but neither does he know how to shirk such a position, either. He does not want to admit that he doesn’t wish to—that it makes his chest swell with pride in knowing that you see him as a towering form of solidity; an immovable force. That a woman like you could see a man like him as being worthy of your love...is still yet unthinkable. Even if you have not yet verbally offered it to him, you have done as much in countless other ways.

It does not need to be said, for that is not how the two of you communicate. You do so in a platitude of other ways.

He feels it in the soft brush of your hand against his when you walk by to retrieve requested supplies for Susan. Sees it when you watch him observantly as you tend to the horses across the camp; brushing them down with handfuls of hay to keep their coats healthy and clean. Heard it one evening, after all had drifted off to sleep while he stayed up to keep watch—a fact you had been acutely aware of: his waking state—as you whimpered his name with your hand between your thighs in the dark of your tent he had pitched for you just that morning.

He had spent the rest of the night being as observant as he could, between thoughts of sinking between your legs and making love to your mouth with his own.

He nods, just once. “Alright.”

The front half of you is burrowed into Charles’ chest, while your back faces the wooden wall behind you. Charles had deemed that he would sleep on the edge of the bed while you did so on the in, not trusting Micah—who snores loudly above the two of you—from trying to do something untoward. If he were to wake, only to find that scum’s hands on you, he would be losing far more than just the aforementioned limbs for trespassing upon a body that is not his to have.

He has noticed how the lousy excuse for a man looks at you, and it sets his blood to boiling, like that of a pot of Pearson’s coffee over a cookfire.

Charles has cautioned you to keep your distance from him, and you have thankfully obliged. You are not a stupid girl, he knows, but he cannot be too careful when it comes to matters of your personal safety. Though, he does admittedly always try to keep a watchful eye over you when able.

You nuzzle closer, and Charles tightens his beefy arms around you, ensuring you remain contentedly warm as you dream.

He is exhausted himself, but to have you so close like this…it makes rest nigh-on impossible to find.

You are stripped down to only your shift, leaving naught to the imagination. He had tried to encourage you to wear more layers to bed, but you had insisted that if there were too many, you would be too uncomfortable, and would not be able to sleep. He wonders if you did not just wish to be as close to him as you could possibly manage without undressing entirely.

One of your legs is slipped between each of his, and his erection rests just above your slightly-bent knee while occasionally stirring, looking for a way inside of you to keep warm.

His shirt is unbuttoned, granting you full access to the heat of his brawny chest, which your face is half-buried in. Each of your small palms are pressed against his heavy stomach, and they leave sweaty imprints from where they lay against his dark skin.

You stir, so he slips a hand into your hair, then gently massages your scalp to coax you back to sleep, which you desperately need.

And then the calm silence is interrupted by the whisper of your voice. “Charles.”

He groans quietly. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”

You wriggle in his grip, ensuring every inch of your body meets with his own. “Can’t.”

He rolls his eyes. You are always impossible at the worst of times. “Try.”

You slide your hands up his chest until one rests above the carotid of his neck; allowing you to feel the way his strong pulse hammers beneath the thin layer of skin. And that is where your opposite palm is to be found: lying above his heart. “Why aren’t you?”

Because I can’t stop thinking of the countless ways to have you. Even if it is a fool’s fantasy.

“Is it your hand?” you press with a tone of concern.

He shakes his head. “It’ll be fine.”

You circle your hips and he grits his teeth. You are stoking his temper now, like the coals of a previously-dwindling fire that is now trying to be brought back to life. As well as his libido.

“Y/N,” he starts, until you crane your neck back to meet his dark eyes.

“Do you think Davey will die?” you ask worriedly.

He sighs. “Maybe.”

Your eyes roam along slowly, until they are looking upwards at he who lies above you. “It’s all his fault this happened. That…poor girl in Blackwater.”

Charles shooshes you soothingly while running a palm down your back. “It’s over now. Nothing that we can do. We just have to survive this storm, and once it breaks, we’ll be on our way east.”

“We’ll stay together.”

You do not voice this as a question. Because he knows you are not asking.

“Please,” you breathe as the bridge of your chilled nose swipes along the length of his neck. “Don’t ever go where I cannot follow you.”

He turns further onto his side, and heat pools between your thighs as the weight of him settles atop you.

Charles smooths tangled stray hairs from your face and he shakes his head. “You don’t need to worry about that right now—”

“Promise me,” you demand while cradling his face between the soft skin of your heated palms.

He grows silent as you wait quietly in anticipation. The cabin groans beneath the force of the freezing tempest outside its door, but you know you are safe so long as Charles is here beside you.

“I promise.”

You snatch those words from the charged air between you before they can float away and leave you wanting, and you clasp them away inside of you where they can never leave, like a mother would her children’s photographs inside a golden locket. Something so small, where an entire world of precious things is beheld.

You move your hand higher, until you’ve buried your fingers in the coarse, tangled hair at the back of Charles’ head, and you press your lips to his as your eyes slide closed.

He pulls slightly back, and you whine at the loss of contact between you. “Stop. You know we can’t—”

“Says whom?” you demand.

He sighs in exasperation while running a callused hand down his tired face. “Society, Y/N. And—”

“I did not know you to be a man who much cared what others thought of him. So, you can take me into your bed, just not in that way. I had thought I lost everything, until I found you, Charles Smith. I want to be yours. No,” you say, interrupting yourself. “I am yours. Whether you desire it or not.”

You’ve left him speechless; just declaring yourself as belonging to him. You do not so much as ask to. Maybe because you had considered it to be an already settled matter. He knows you are awaiting further objections to come from his lips. And if things were different—if you weren’t twined so closely together like this in the dark of night in the middle of a blizzard—perhaps he would have better prospects of forcing you to see the matter which lies between you more clearly. But you have him exactly where you want him. He is in no position to even attempt at making you consider otherwise.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he insists, doing his utmost to make you see sensibly.

“I know plenty,” you hiss while sliding your limbs around him, as if he is liable to go anywhere anytime soon.

Even if the sun were shining, the birds were singing, and grass spread across the ground outside as far as the eye could see, he fears still he would not leave this bed. Though, it is not the bed that keeps him from venturing. No, just the woman who lies in it, demanding him as her own.

You try to tug his lips back to yours, but he holds firm, even if he can feel his resolve giving way, like a mountain about to be blown to pieces by a chunk of explosive dynamite.

“You need sleep,” he presses.

“I need you,” you whine obstinately before  twining your fingers between his own and leading them down, between your spread thighs.

The heat of you is impossibly warm, and he is reluctant to refuse you any further now.

He has wanted to have you like this for so long. Like this and more. And to have you so desperately offering yourself up to him in such a way... He fears that hand of his is already infected, and said infection is spreading through his bloodstream, sending him into the recesses of his feverish mind. That none of this is real.

But if that is the case, he is prepared to die a very happy man.

“Please,” you beg while your hips undulate against him, beckoning him to touch you as he may.

Charles gently prods against you with his index and middle finger, and is taken aback to find you entirely bare between where you are spread open for him.

His eyes flit to your own and you nibble on your lower lip sheepishly. “Oops.”

He nearly snorts. Perhaps you are not as innocent as he has spent so much time assuming.

You throw one of your legs over his hip, and your own smarts for just a moment at how wide you are now spread open for him; at how large his body truly is.

You lean forward and press your lips to Charles’ once more, and his fingers slide between your wet folds, causing his cock to twitch between his legs. He is shocked by how eager you are to let him have you. Particularly with an audience present. Though, their snores and heavy breathing indicate that they are entirely unaware of what is transpiring mere inches from where they lie.

Charles circles your sensitive bud with the pad of his thumb, and you gasp against his plush lips while a chill runs up your spine.

He slides his hand along the soft inner skin of your plump thigh while painting a wet trail with his fingertips. “We should not do this here,” he states while beginning to tease you once more.

“There is nowhere else to go,” you whisper while sliding your hands along his shoulders, and down his arms, wanting more of him. Wanting him out of his clothes as well.

“They could wake,” he argues.

“Let them,” you say with a shrug before shimmying out of your shift and tossing it to the foot of the bed.

He pauses while leaning back—the bed creaking beneath his weight—as he studies the unabashed sight of your naked, womanly form.

You cup his cheek, bringing his attention back to you. “Please. I want it to be you, Charles. Take…”

He shakes his head, prepared to interrupt your offer—knowing where you are heading: the cliff you step toward the edge of.

“Take my innocence,” you sigh—a mere prayer.

You run a palm over his erection, and cup it firmly in your feminine hand. “I am yours already. So take the rest of me along with it.”

He mutters a low curse while sliding his hand along your naked hip, then grabbing a handful of your backside.

Your heart flutters in your chest, near to bursting with love for the man whose bed you warm.

He crushes his lips to yours once again, and slides his trained tongue along the inside of your mouth, as if he is first making love to it, so as to garner an idea of how the rest of you might be. You moan quietly and paw at his chest and stomach, wanting desperately for more of him to fill you where you are still yet empty and waiting.

It is in your nature, you realize, to never feel as if you have had enough of him.

You would crawl inside his body if you could, where you will be always safe and warm and never parted.

You think, sometimes, that you were once created as a whole, but split apart when you came to Earth to be planted in your mother’s wombs, but forced, nevertheless, to travel uncertain paths until you found that which had been always missing since your first breaths were drawn in the cold, unforgiving light of day. And then you cried and wailed for that which had been so cruelly taken away from you, fearing it forever lost…until you found each other once more.

Charles bows his head while moving his hand higher, guiding your back into a graceful arch, and then he takes up one of your taught nipples between his teeth and your body shudders in ecstasy.

You wrap your arms around his neck and hold him still as he drinks in every inch of you with his mouth and teeth and tongue, memorizing that which he’d been without for so long, even if he had not known exactly what was lost to him until it was inevitably discovered at last.

He trails his tongue through the valley between your breasts and up your neck as he surveys a new, unexplored virgin land none other has so much as beheld with their mere eyes.

“I’m yours,” you whisper before closing your eyes. “All yours.”

Charles reaches down and undoes his trousers, ready to free himself before joining the two of you together, but he must give you one last chance to renege.

“Are you sure?"

You cup his cheek in your hand and nod while gazing into his eyes. “Please, Charles. My heart is yours. As is my body.”

He maneuvers his legs until he has removed his garments, leaving himself as bare as you, and then he takes himself in-hand, and, with your leg still thrown over his waist, he rubs the weeping tip of himself against your entrance, and then he stills.

You have no protection here.

He deflates entirely, even as his erection strains to be inside of you, as if it has a wit of its own.

“I don’t care,” you state plainly, as if you have read the source of hesitancy within his mind. And with that, you sink down along the length of him, until you are one.

The two of you are wrapped impossibly tight around one another. Your limbs are twined around the other’s naked form, refusing to so much as give an inch, lest you disappear entirely, confirming this to have all been a mere dream. Your lips stay planted upon each other’s as well, only occasionally parting as you heave for breath in your excursions.

Charles’ right arm is snaked beneath you and around your waist; his palm splayed against your back, while his other cradles the base of your skull to keep you close. Meanwhile, your right arm is thrown haphazardly over the thickness of his side while your opposite hand clutches at his chest as he eases in and out of your slick entrance.

You can’t understand how something can feel so wonderful; how it is possible. If this is how it is to make love…why would anyone ever do anything else? Including eating, drinking, bathing, or so much as leaving their beds. You wish to be like this always with him.

In this moment, you know with the utmost certainty, that he is that missing part of you you had spent so long searching for. Ever since you were a girl and you felt—as you gazed out across the golden, amber valleys of wheat, and over wide, raging rivers of clear water of your childhood home—that something more was waiting for you in the great unknown, that it was him all along.

It was he who was calling to you, and tugging at your heart strings, wanting for you to come to him.

You’re whole at last.

As his body shudders against your own and you come undone in his arms, feeling like you have just touched the heavens with the tips of your fingers as he spills his seed inside of you, you know that neither of you will ever be alone again.

[amrass]

Headcanon: Arthur's old horse Boadicea was given to him by Colm O'Driscoll

I have an old HC that Arthur's horse Boadicea was given to him by Colm O'Driscoll, and wrote it out in kind of a drabble style.

I guess I was fascinated by how level-headed Arthur seemed towards Colm in comparison to Dutch in the game. And Colm's "Little Arthur Morgan" comment was pretty sinister. Also, since the name Boadicea comes from the ancient Celt queen, it can play at how Arthur and Colm have heritage from geographically close places (Wales and Ireland) and might've known that about each other.

I think this works with or without shipping, and I'll link the directly shippy stuff twice in the text, as this fuels those two ficlets.

Warning: Dark themes

I think Arthur met Colm via Dutch's dealings with the O'Driscoll Brothers. They must've noted his gun skills. Maybe their first encounter alone was in a stable. Good outlaws need good horses. Arthur was fascinated with Colm's horse, a finer breed than his own. 

Colm must've reminded him of Dutch, too, an unsafe safety. Older though. Speaking to Dutch like an elder, too, and to Arthur as a … dark mentor of sorts. Arthur would be around 16 at the time, and Colm, 34. Colm isn't charming, but he's knowledgeable, and compliments Arthur's skills. Arthur is wary but he likes the praise. 

Colm's brother, Owen, can be there too. Offering more charm, more flowery praise, Dutch-like. Arthur grows wary as the brothers crowd him in. Almost smothering him with their interest.

Dutch finds them, and blanches, not liking how they're eyeing Arthur like a piece of meat. He mutters some hasty excuse to get Arthur out of there. 

Later he tells him to stay away from the brothers because though intelligent, there's something deeply wrong with them.  Arthur: But we're thieves and murderers too, Dutch.  Dutch: (looking haunted) Not like them.

Fast forward a couple of years later.

Arthur, alone, in Annabelle's winter garden. Hosea in love with Bessie, Dutch with Annabelle. Susan depressed from losing Dutch. 

(Vandermorgan edition: Arthur has been in love with Dutch for years, and Dutch hasn't dissuaded it, until he rejects Arthur in favor of Annabelle. "It's nothing more than a boyish crush, son.")

Arthur finds Colm hidden in some corner among the plants, dressed fancily but more anonymously black than Dutch. He's got more gray in his hair now, some black still remaining, and he looks like a cruel, hawklike gentleman. The cruelty he sometimes sees in flashes on Dutch's face never goes away in Colm's expression. 

"You shouldn't let this lie around," he says without looking up, then reveals he's going through Arthur's journal, of course.

Arthur gets mad, then nervous, because he's drawn Colm quite a bit, secretly fascinated, especially because it takes skill to grow old in a business where men die young, and there aren't many like him. Colm doesn't comment upon the drawings though. The silence is strange. 

"You look bored lately. Must be tough, all dressed up in fine clothing, shown off like you're Annabelle and Dutch's wayward son or younger brother. How about doing some jobs for me on the side? Nothing you couldn't handle. Nothing too crude, either. No one has to know. Not Dutch, not Owen. Could be our little secret. Hm?"

I think Arthur was pretty rough in his youth. Delinquent type. Getting into fights. And being ignored by Dutch and his makeshift gang/family doesn't sit well with him. 

He takes Colm up on his offer.

Thieving, mostly. He likes the money. And Colm is generous with attention. Gives him gifts. Tools, mostly. Useful stuff. 

Like Boadicea. A beautiful horse, the strongest Arthur's owned. 

But to keep it a secret from Dutch, he has to train the horse away from him. Near Colm's cabins. Causing them to grow even closer. 

(Link to the ficlets, because the Colm/Arthur part fits here.)

Arthur spends a lot of time in the cabin, training Boadicia.

One day, Colm tells him to wait for his return. Arthur does at first, but then gets a rotten feeling, and rides back to Annabelle's, only to discover that she and Owen are dead. 

Dutch is devastated, and they need to find a place to lay low. They have to go fast, though, because "Colm isn't someone you wait for."

He notices Boadicea and asks if that's what he's been busy with, sneaking away, and Arthur gives a white lie and says yes.

Dutch is relieved. Later, it slips out that the reason Dutch killed Owen was because of him implying that Arthur was Colm's basement boy. Arthur denies it, of course. Dutch raises a brow, and doesn't admit whether or not he believes him.

(Link to the ficlets again, the Dutch/Arthur part fits here).

Arthur feels indirectly guilty for Owen and Annabelle's murder, and always will. But he can't get rid of Boadicea, not with how fond he's grown of her, though she often makes him think of Colm.

Even after she passes after the Blackwater Massacre, he spends his life wondering what would've happened if he waited for Colm back at that cabin. Would he have been shot? Tortured to death? Or forced to become an O'Driscoll Boy?

Would Colm have a different view on the events?

Arthur will never ask, but he'll watch Colm hang. 

[margowritesthings]

The Greatest Gift III: She Sleeps

SERIES MASTERPOST

pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader word count: 1017 words warnings: teeth-rotting fluff, tbh this made me cry a/n: just a cute lil drabble for my favourite family in the world

taglist:@cowboydisaster@inkandbloodbound@beea-nie@cloudynoiire@punctillous@missvanderlinde@twola@pine4pple-b0i@alice-vanderlinde@photo1030

The newly appointed Uncle Dutch stays for a little while, admiring his new goddaughter until he and Arthur notice you struggling to stay awake. You’ve drifted off completely by the time Dutch hands Jade back to her father and congratulates the pair of you once more, returning to his tent to gush over the new addition to the gang.

Sleep overtakes you completely and utterly, your body so exhausted from the last nine months you could probably sleep through a riot. That much is proven about an hour later, when Jade stirs in her cot and begins to cry, the very first time in a long, long period of sleepless nights for the three of you. Her little screams pierce the formerly tranquil air, the trauma of waking up in the real world seemingly alone not really agreeing with her.

You’re normally not such a heavy sleeper, where the snap of a nearby twig or Uncle’s less than melodic singing, no matter how far away, is enough to wake you. But exhaustion doesn’t begin to cover how your body aches right now, how it longs for rest and clings onto it with a mighty grip when you finally get it. You don’t even stir.

Arthur, on the other hand, is woken instantly, paternal instincts already setting in ferociously. He looks down to you, smiling to himself when he sees you’re sound asleep, just about managing to untangle his limbs from yours without waking you and pressing a kiss to the top of your hair. When he gets off your shared cot, he makes sure to wrap the blanket back around you. 

“Hey, little lady…” he whispers, almost apprehensively as he walks towards his daughter, hands raised in the air as if he’s approaching a spooked horse. Force of habit. “It’s all right, baby girl… Daddy’s here.”

To Arthur, Jade is made of glass, and he lifts her into his arms as such. His precious, fragile little masterpiece, who makes him feel bigger and more brutish than he ever has before. He sits in the chair at the foot of your cot, Jade settling in his strong arms like she was made for them. She was, Arthur thinks, he just never realised until this moment. That’s all it takes for Jade to stop crying: her daddy, who would lasso the moon for her if it meant she could see the stars a little brighter. 

Even in the dark of your tent, Arthur can see her eyes glistening up at him, and can still make out her tiny features. She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, save for you, of course. 

He thinks of Isaac for a moment, and how he held him like this precious few times, vowing that his memory will live on in the way that he will protect Jade from the evils of the world no matter what stands in his way. He will do for Jade what he failed to do for his son, in his honour. 

Breaking the silence settling around your little family, you moan softly in your sleep, turning onto your side. It draws Arthur’s attention to you again- not that it would ever be too far away- and he smiles to himself, entranced by how peaceful you look, how beautiful you are.

Jade reaches up to Arthur’s chin, pressing tiny fingers against his stubble and capturing his attention once more. The quietest of chuckles escapes his chest, a smile so pure stretching his lips. 

“Ain’t she beautiful, baby girl? I’m so damn proud of her…” Arthur physically winces when he realises he just cursed to a 4 hour old baby, but will later realise he should be the last of his own troubles, what with her having a dozen outlaws for aunts and uncles. “Sorry…” he hums, glancing between his wife and daughter to direct the apology to both of you.

“But I am. Proud of her, that is… We’re the luckiest two people in the whole world, little lady, cause we got her…” 

Apparently finding her father’s chin to be a little scratchy (with Arthur making a mental note to shave first thing in the morning), Jade reaches out into the open air, and Arthur can’t help but reach right back. He adjusts his hold on her, freeing one hand to let her grip her tiny digits around his singular finger. He feels like a giant, but he’ll be damned if his heart isn’t pounding right out of his chest at how happy he is right now. 

“You’ve got the best momma in the whole world, you know that? And I… Well, I’m gonna do everything I can to be a good papa, baby… Everything I can.” 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t terrified. Arthur has owned a fair few front row tickets to displays of how not to be a father, from his own Pa to how easy it has been for Marston to mess up again and again over the years. And hell, he’s never seen anyone raise a little girl before. But as he promises, with his entire heart and soul, he is going to do his absolute best to be everything he can be to Jade. 

“Hey, and I hope you know how loved you are, little one. Your momma and I… God, I can’t even tell ya’, baby… You were a surprise, I’ll tell ya’, but we love you so much…” She’s squeezing around his finger as hard as she can, leaving the tiniest crescent moons from the smallest fingernails Arthur has ever seen. 

“You both did so well today… you were both so brave, huh? My brave girls…” He whispers, his words riding a content sigh. Jade’s eyes begin to flutter shut, her eyelids too heavy for her little self to fight. “You get some sleep, darlin’... I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”

The moon is falling fast, and it’ll soon be sunrise, but Arthur just can’t bring himself to sleep and miss one second of this night, watching his girls and silently promising them the world. 

[primasveraas-writing]

but what if arthur dies peacefully and not alone and also hosea is there

[zanazirafanfic]

RDR Event Timeline (Canon + Headcanon)

This is the timeline I have constructed and use for all of my Red Dead writings. Canon event dates/ages are taken from the Red Dead Wiki, and headcanon estimations for more ambiguous events/characters are based on their approximate ages in-game by 1899 and what makes the most logical sense to me based on that timeline.

Please feel free to use this as a reference for your own works too, if it helps. (Canon events are noted as such, and my headcanons are labeled "HC.")

1839 - Uncle born (HC)

1844 - Hosea Matthews born (Canon)

1845 - Rains Fall born (HC)

1846 - Leopold Stauss born (HC)

1850 - Susan Grimshaw born (HC)

1853 - Orville Swanson born (HC)

1855 - Dutch Van der Linde born (Canon)

1857 - Josiah Trelawney born (HC)

1860 - Micah Bell III born (Canon) (newspaper clipping mentions Micah Bell Jr. robbing with his 17-year-old son in 1877)

1861 - Simon Pearson born (HC)

1863 - Arthur Morgan born (Canon)

1866 - Bill Williamson born (Canon)

1870 - Dutch leaves home aged 15 (Canon); Kieran Duffy born (HC)

1871 - Sadie Adler born (HC)

1872 - Charles Smith born (HC) (based on est. age of 27 in 1899)

1873 - John Marston born (Canon); Javier Escuella born (HC)

1874 - Lyle Morgan arrested and hanged, Arthur orphaned (Canon); Molly O'Shea born (HC)

1875 - Karen Jones born (HC)

1876 - Dutch and Hosea meet outside of Chicago, IL (Canon); Sean MacGuire born (HC)

1877 - Abigail Roberts born; Arthur joins the gang, aged 14 (Canon)

1878 - Eagle Flies born (HC)

1879 - Tilly Jackson and MaryBeth Gaskill born (HC)

1880 - Lenny Summers born (Canon)

1881 - John Marston's father dies, John orphaned (Canon)

1882- Annabelle and Bessie join the gang (HC)

1883 - Bessie and Hosea marry and leave the gang (Canon); Arthur meets and begins dating Mary Gillis (HC) (Jamie Gillis references both Annabelle and Bessie during the mission in Chapter 2, so IMO this would've been the most likely time for all 3 to have met one another.)

1884 - Dutch kills Colm O'Driscoll's unnamed brother, Annabelle killed by Colm in retaliation; Hosea returns to the gang (HC)

1885 - John Marston and Susan Grimshaw join the gang (Canon); Charles Smith leaves home, aged 13 (HC) (based on est. DOB 1872)

1886 - Arthur proposes to and subsequently breaks up with Mary in the springtime; Arthur meets Eliza (19) later in the year, and Isaac is conceived (HC)

1887 - Lee & Hoyt Bank Robbery, April (Canon); Isaac Morgan born (HC) (According to Arthur in-game, Eliza only knew who he was after she got pregnant. Based on this they most likely met in late 1886 or very early 1887, with the bank robbery in April '87 and Isaac born that autumn.)

1888 - Death of Bessie Matthews (HC) (based on the assumption that she passed some time before Arthur lost his son. Her cause of death is never specified in canon, but I HC it was a fairly quick battle with pneumonia over the winter.)

1891 - Isaac Morgan (4) and Eliza (23) killed in a home robbery (HC)

1892 - Bill Williamson dishonorably discharged from the U.S. Army (Canon); Uncle joins the gang (HC)

1893 - Bill Williamson joins the gang (Canon)

1894 - Abigail Roberts joins the gang, introduced to them by Uncle (Canon)

1895 - Jack Marston born; Javier joins the gang (Canon)

1896 - John Marston leaves the gang; Jake and Sadie Adler marry in September (Canon)

1897 - John Marston returns to the gang after a year (Canon)

1898 - Micah Bell, Charles Smith, Lenny Summers, and Jenny Kirk join the gang (Canon)

1899 - Blackwater Massacre; dissolving of the Van der Linde gang; deaths of Jenny Kirk, Mac and Davey Callender, Sean MacGuire, Kieran Duffy, Hosea Matthews, Lenny Summers, Molly O'Shea, Eagle Flies, Susan Grimshaw, and Arthur Morgan (Canon)

1907 - Construction of Beecher's Hope ranch; John and Abigail marry; death of Micah Bell III (Canon)

1911 - Kidnapping of Abigail and Jack Marston by the U.S. Government in exchange for John's cooperation; deaths of Bill Williamson, Javier Escuella, Dutch Van der Linde, Uncle, and John Marston (Canon)

1914 - Death of Abigail Marston; Jack Marston kills Edgar Ross to avenge his father's murder (Canon)

[moonlightkitties]

Van der Linde boys when you bring random animals home.

Boys: Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith, Bill Williamson, Sean MacGuire, Dutch Van der Linde, Kieran Duffy, Micah Bell, John Marston.

Arthur Morgan

Honestly he isn't surprised anymore, you came home with a racoon once and let it sleep in bed with you for a few nights before it ran off.

Charles Smith

Isn't surprised and also doesn't mind. He loves it when you bring home injured animals, it makes him love you even more.

Bill Williamson

Gets a little annoyed when you bring home a stray dog every night but he can't deny that his heart swells every time you comfort the scared pup.

Sean MacGuire

"This is the fifth time this week love," he sighed as you carried in another cat you found. "But it was cold," you pouted, holding up the pitiful creature. Sean rolled his eyes "It's a cat, they were made for the outdoors," he argued but you put your foot down.

Dutch Van der Linde

Really and I mean really annoyed when you bring home a dog or cat home every night, you say its "just until the morning" but then you always end up keeping one and end up with three cats and two dogs.

Kieran Duffy

LOVES when you bring them home. Helps you bathe and take care of them and is usually the one that begs you to keep one.

Micah Bell

Immediately no. He's not really an animal lover (only Baylock) so when you bring home random, flea ridden, dogs, he makes you keep them outside.

John Marston

Tries to reason with you. "You know if you feed one, you’ll have a dozen by the end of the week," he warns. But when he sees how happy it makes you, he gives in, even if he won’t admit it. Eventually, he’s the one sneaking out to make sure the strays are well-fed, grumbling the whole time.

[frillydolle]

(not 100% sure if my ask sent since my internet sucks… but once more just in case-)

young!arthur having his true first time w young!reader (arthur is around 22, reader is like 19. both are in the gang)

obv arthur has slept w prostitutes before this, but they had always done all the work. now, when arthur is actually about to have sex w someone, the guy has little to no clue what he’s doing 😭

TYSM IF YOU DO IT <3333

꒰ ୨ৎ ꒱　 ──　 mdni nsfw　 femreader　 arthur has no ides what he's doing 　 you don't either　 a.m ౨ৎ ⋆ ｡ ˚

arthur morgan. a young, rugged, and outlawish man merely in his early twenties. he was young, but he was so free, running away from lawmen as swift as an arrow, being too quick and witty to catch proper. although he may not have the silver tongue from his old mentor, dutch, but he has the wit to run away subtly, like his other mentor, hosea. despite his rough and callous appearance, he wasn't unknown to women and... working women. in fact, many of the girls wouldn't tease each other on who could get a certain cowboys attention.

they would all lead the intimacy, arthur would lie down on the cot and take it, since that's what working girls were paid to do, right? and he'd let them do their work, over and over. he'd pay well, and god, did they always make him feel good, no doubt about it. how he'd lay on the hotel bed as the women would unbutton his blue shirt in such a slow, teasing way─ then again, this was just again to take his mind off mary. damn that women...

that all changed once he met you. oh, how he was head over heels in love with you for days until he confessed that he was sweet on you, and even so, you've never seen a burly man get so flushed over you!

you were younger, nineteen, to be exact. knowing this, arthur was unsure of how to act around you, too nervy and in love. that journal of his was filled of pages with ur sktehced face. he was a little scared of physical contact until you initiated it first and now he's arm is never seen away from being around your waist. he was soo nervous to even kiss you incase you didnt want to:( he was just scared of making you uncomfortable since that's the last thing he wanted to do.

“'m sorry, honey... i never really done this before.”

“thank goodness, i haven't done this either. we'll just.. take it slow?”

despite the maany times you've told him that he's fine, that he's doing well, you can tell he was still a little anxious of doing something wrong, he wanted this to be right for you, he just wanted to make you feel... well, good. this might be this first time, but he wanted to impress you badly.

and oh.

oh.

this was like your own slice of heaven. he was so good despite that he no idea what he was doing. the way he held you with such delicacy. his hands weren't firm they were gentle, he didn't want to hurt you, he wouldn't know how to act if he did. his hands would trace up and down your body, leaving goosebumps in his wake. his callous were rough and yet his touch was tenderly with you. he took his sweet time with you, arthur was determined to work his feelings within you even if he wasn't sure if he was doing well, he had to make sure.

“does that.. feel good, sweetheart?” “that okay, darlin'?” “hope i ain't too rough fir ya.” “yer so good to me, yer a good girl.”

“mhm─ oh, arthuurr.. feels so good, oh my god─”

and that's exactly what he wanted to hear.

[elliesplug]

love & lust

sadie adler x reader

summary: you've hated sadie's guts ever since she joined the gang and started acting like she owns the place. will you still hate her after her fingers have been in you, though?

(enemies to lovers except they're enemies to eaters)

warnings: afab! reader, smut, vaginal fingering, semi public sex, cunnilingus

word count: 1, 494

author's notes: first fic kinda nervous, i hope yall enjoy!

“Can I ask you why you hate me so much darlin’?” She says to you in a low tone.

Her finger trails up under your shirt and swiftly rubs at your lower stomach as you try to keep your composure. Her breath whispers over your neck as she corners you against a tree with her other arm.

“Sadie... what are you doing?” You whisper as you look up at her. Trying to ignore that feeling in your stomach that's been triggered by her.

Every little thing about her fills your whole entire body with a firing rage. Your body is just waiting to be engulfed in the flames that are fueled by hatred.

The way she thinks before she acts. How her loud voice booms throughout the entire camp. The way that she’s too lazy to move her blonde strands out the way every time her hair falls onto her face. The unladylike way that she sits with her head tilted back and her legs wide open. How she draws her gun and holds onto it like it's her most prized possession. How her dark eyes scan around any area looking for a reason to scrap and fight. I even hate the way her manly clothes tightly hug her frame.

You’re taken away from your thoughts as her smooth lips start slowly nipping at your neck. Kiss by kiss. The corner of her hat rubs against your face whenever she dips her head in a certain direction. You move your head, giving her more access to your neck and inviting in her warmth. The kisses are wet and filled with passion. You hold the back of her head close and balance your other hand on her shoulder as she moves down and pecks on your shoulders. Your body betrays your mind.

“You gonna answer that question for me?” Sadie asks.

You stay silent as she continues to kiss you. Even as she continues to show you affection you’re too wrapped up in your own pride to admit that she might be right. You can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with each kiss and you hate yourself for it.

She slots her leg in between your legs and covers you in more kisses. You slowly grind on her jeans, itching to satisfy yourself. Her hands trail farther under your shirt, ghosting right below your chest. She’s teasing you and you’re enjoying every last second of it. Sadie surprises you when she suddenly bites into your neck, causing you to let out a soft whimper. The more she continues, the harder it is to act like what she’s doing isn’t affecting you.

“Answer me, sweetheart.” She tells you. “Do you really hate lil ol me?”

You stay silent for a moment. Trying to muster up the courage to speak. You’re supposed to hate the way she thinks before she acts. You’re supposed to hate how her loud voice fills up the camp. You’re supposed to hate her silky blonde hair. You’re supposed to hate how good she looks when she manspreads. You’re not supposed to wish that her veiny fingers would grip you that tightly instead of her gun. You’re not supposed to wish that she would glance in your direction instead of anywhere else. You’re not supposed to adore how good she looks in jeans. And you most certainly shouldn’t be wondering how good she would look with her jeans off.

“Y-yes” you admit as you continue to grind down on her rough clothed thigh.

She stops kissing you for a moment. You groan at the loss of her warmth and hope that it’ll come back. You feel like you’re being interrogated under a big beaming spotlight as she pulls back and stares at you. Her eye contact fills you with excitement and anxiety at the same time. She knows you’re lying, and you know you are too.

“Is that so?” She replies as she removes her jean covered thigh from where you needed her the most, causing you to instantly regret your words. “Alright then. I’m fine with that. Guess I’ll just have to fuck the hate out of you, huh?”

She takes off her hat and lets it fall on the forest floor. The only thing you can respond with is a moan as she cuts you off with a swift kiss before you can say anything. You easily give in and wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her closer. Her kisses are needy and passionate, replacing your hate with lust. She doesn’t need to affirm how much she desires you because her open-mouth kisses say more than enough. The hand that was once wavering just below your boobs is now rubbing at your nipples in slow and delicate circles. You lean into her touch as she takes her other hand to tease you through your pants.

“F-fuck Sadie, I can’t… stop teasing.” You whisper.

“Yes ma’am.”

And just like that, as fast as lightning, she’s lifting up your shirt and latching her mouth onto your hard nipple. The moan you left out is vulgar and loud as you allow the pleasure to take over. She switches to your other nipple making sure that she gives you all the attention you need. Her tongue swirls over your nipple as she grabs your hips tightly.

“Need to taste you real bad.”

Then she gets on her knees in front of you and looks up at you like you’re the only person in the world. Her face is close to your soaking core as she uses her thigh to steady herself.

“That alright with you, darlin’?” She asks with a sly smirk, painting her lips. “Or do you just hate me too much?”

“Just shut up and put your mouth on me, Sadie”

“Whatever you say, honey.” She lets out a small laugh as she starts to slide your pants down to the ground.

The chill of the forest nights hits your legs, but that feeling is quickly replaced as Sadie’s hot hands delicately grip your hips. She touches like you’re expensive fine china that she’s terrified of breaking. Her kind kisses continue on your thighs as she slowly makes her way up to your center. She kisses at your core through your underwear, enticing you. She gives you small licks as temporary satisfaction to hold you over for what’s coming to you.

“You don’t know how long I been wanting to devour you. I can’t lie to you. Your angry glances really turn me on.” She mumbles in between kisses.

The moment you’ve been waiting for finally approaches as she slips your underwear down to your ankles. You step out of your pants and undergarments as she lifts your leg up to rest on her shoulder. The breeze of the night hits your soaked center. You latch onto Sadie’s shoulders to find balance. She finally gives you what you’ve been needing with one swift lick up your folds. Lick after lick, your whimpers are getting louder. She lets out a satisfying groan into you as she continues to suck and lick where you need her. Her lips attach to your clit causing you to roll your hips on her face. Her tongue passionately abuses your clit as she slips a finger into you. You haven’t felt this good in months. She knows how to hit every little crevice and angle without even trying. Not able to control yourself any longer you buck into her more and more, exclaiming her name in a deafening moan.

She holds steady on your hips with a hard grasp. “You gotta stay still for me if you wanna feel good, baby. Alright?”

You nod quickly as you try to contain your content. She adds another finger as her mouth secures back onto your clit. Her fingers fasten as she finds that spongy spot in you. No one has ever eaten you as lovingly as she does. All of her touches are filled with care allowing no room for laziness. Her head bobs on your clit as you feel yourself getting closer and closer.

“Fuck you taste so sweet. Even better than I’ve imagined.”

“Sadie I’m gonna-” You moan out. “C-can’t hold still anymore”

Your words excite her and fill her with pride, causing her to fasten her movements. All self control you had is completely lost as the speed of her fingers. You buck onto her face causing her to hum in enjoyment. With a few more movements you’re coming undone on her fingers. The thrill of what just happened fills you with pleasure. You let out a loud moan, letting her know that you’re satisfied with her work. She licks up your cum like she’s just been told she’s about to go on death row and you’re her very last meal. The overstimulation of her tongue is the best feeling that you’ve had in a minute.

It’s safe to say that you no longer hate Miss Sadie Adler.

[mlmxreader]

Starlight Confessions | Arthur Morgan x m!reader

『••✎••』

requested by anonymous

↳ ❝ hey there!! if you still write for arthur morgan, can i req a m!reader fanfic with prompts 17, 18, and 295? thank youu hehe i love ur works ❞

: ̗̀➛ Arthur comes to visit you in the middle of night, and knows that he should tell you that he can never come back, but he can't do it.

trigger warnings: ̗̀➛ swearing, mentions of gun violence, smoking

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

spotlight fundraiser : ̗̀➛ Help Wafa and her Family to safety.

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

The ranch was quiet.

The cattle were all locked in the barn for the evening, settled and nestled away amongst one another from sunset until sunrise; the sheep were all locked in their pen and huddled together in their expansive shelter near the back.

The chickens and geese were in their coops and tucked away; the donkey and mule were in the stable and sound asleep.

It was all so quiet when Arthur made his way up the ladder and onto the roof of the small shack; the stars were all shining so brightly and he could see the wild horses amongst the trees getting what sleep they could.

When he looked at the back of the shack, he could see a horse with a green saddle that had the head of a red dragon sewn into it; the horse itself was a medium sized horse with an awfully shiny, metallic, black coat and hair.

Its steely dark brown, almond shaped eyes were familiar when it looked up at Arthur and let out a soft huff. Beside it, his own horse was half asleep already; he couldn't say that he was surprised.

It had been a long day for them both, and Arthur had been forced to steal away in the night instead of making up a lie about a job to come over during the day.

He sighed as he lit a cigarette and turned his attention back to the wild horses ahead; he wondered if he should have just left. It wasn't fair on you to drag you into his life, and it wasn't fair to force you to give up your life to be with him either; he wasn't a good man, and he was far from deserving of the company of a man like you.

The ladder creaked, and he moved over before holding the cigarette out; you grabbed it as you sat next to him and laid your head on his shoulder like you always did.

Fuck.

Arthur started to chew at the inside of his lip, not really sure how he was going to start to tell you that he wasn't going to come by anymore; he needed to keep you safe, he needed to keep you far, far, from anything that ever got near him. He needed to keep you away, just so that you could live a normal life like you deserved.

"You're late," you said quietly. "Everything alright?"

Arthur shrugged as he took the cigarette back from you and took a long drag. "I can't sleep 's all."

You nodded slowly, humming under your breath as you tapped his thigh. "You're doing that thing again. Going all quiet and coming by late because you're gonna tell me some bullshit about how I deserve better and you need to keep me safe without realising that I do not fucking care about any of that."

"What'd you mean?" He grumbled, refusing to look at you, as he knew that he would fall apart the moment that he did.

You laughed softly, muttering his name under your breath. "I don't fucking care if you're dangerous, if what you do is dangerous, I live on a fucking ranch and deal with wolves, bears and fucking mountain lions at least once a day... do you really think that a gunfight or two is gonna scare me away?"

"No..." he mumbled.

"Arthur, look at me," you commanded softly as you pulled away and grabbed the cigarette again. "I... I care about you, a lot more than I should and a lot more than what people say is okay for a man to feel for another man. But it's like the Mississippi River, and it ain't gonna dry up no time soon."

Arthur shot you a pleading look, then frowned. "I don't wanna see you get hurt."

"Oh, trust me," you grinned. "Ain't no damage... don't think twice about it, it's alright."

Slowly, he nodded as he swallowed thickly and took the cigarette. "Is there anythin' I can do or say to make you change your mind?"

"No, I mean, did you ever think we'd end up like this? A... a cowboy and a gunslinger, it's not a likely pair, but..." you told him quietly. "Bottom fact is... Arthur, I love you."

He froze, dropping the cigarette as he stared at you; his jaw clenched as his features turned a light pink and his head began to swim with all the things that could possibly go wrong. But then you grinned, and you said it again, and suddenly it was like you had made everything just right. Just fine.

He reached for your hand, and held it gently. "Promise me you won't go and wake snakes."

You gave his hand a firm squeeze. "I won't, don't worry. Besides, you're the troublemaker - not me."

Laughing softly, he nodded before clearing his throat and glancing up at you from under the brim of his hat. "Don't go lookin' for me when I leave. You gotta stay."

"Well, yeah," you scoffed. "I got cattle and birds and shit to look after, I can't go nowhere... Arthur, you don't have to worry, I'm a big guy, I can look after myself and I can sure as shit make sure I keep my nose clean while I'm at it."

Relaxing a little, Arthur coaxed you to sit on his lap with your back against his chest; he pointed over to the wild horses nearby, and smiled when you leaned into him. He could have gotten used to that, even though he knew it was terribly wrong of him, he really could have gotten used to it - the way you so eagerly leaned into him and encouraged him to tell you about the horses.

He smiled, daring to allow some of the tension to drop from his shoulders and his back as he held onto you as much as he would allow himself to.

He would have to leave in the morning, before anyone noticed he was even gone from camp, but he could at least have a few precious hours with you before that.

That was enough.

[08melancholie]

Hi! First of all: love your writings! Somehow you manage to give me exactly what I want. I have read the lessen your stress one, amazing. Thank you. Lots of loves from the other side of the screen.

Now, I would like to request a one shot Micah/F!Reader (or GN reader if you want) where a really sweet and kind Reader likes Micah and actually wants to sleep with him but is a virgin and kind of shy, in contrast with the rough, brute Micah we all know, who will obviously want to sleep with reader too (either bc he likes them back or simply bc he’s desperate and wants sex, you decide, just please don’t miss characterize him too much, I like my Micah as the asshole he is :’) <3

Thank you very much and I really appreciate your work! <3 have a good day!

thank you sm for the compliments <33 and dw because i like to also keep my men just as scummy at times🙏

Some aspects might be similar to 'Untouched' here (still attached to that fic like a leech chat..) but i'll make sure it still sounds new!

Lose Some; Gain Some. — Micah Bell/Reader

tags: Smut, Porn, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Micah Bell Is His Own Warning, Virginity, Loss of Virginity, Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Sex, Orgasm, Multiple Orgasms, Rough Sex, but just a bit at the end, its micah he doesnt know how to be gentle sorry guys, Not Beta Read, no beta we die like micah bell

summary: You would rather take over doing everyone's chores in camp forever, than ask the question thats currently been plaguing your mind; one of your lowest lows, probably. You were told that a woman's virginity is a precious thing, how you had to lose it to the right person. This, however, you found to be total bullshit. And you wanted nothing more than the man who was Micah Bell to do it for you.

a/n: first ask yippiee!! i am so busy with exams oh lord i barely made time for this😭 i hope its to your liking!!! second ao3 post today im on a roll actually🙏🙏

words: 3,201 | AO3 LINK

Still being a virgin at this age is almost laughable. Well, it is; the girls haven't stopped teasing you since you told them during a game Mary-Beth told everyone about. You had to answer the question asked by Karen—about your sex life—or drink. You answered that you were still a virgin, and a few of them laughed; haven't stopped making jabs at you since. It's almost irritating.

And, your irritation made you slip up—by saying you'd lose your virginity tonight.

"What!? Tonight? With who?" Karen immediately snapped her head in your direction and away from the fresh laundry she and you were folding. There go the consequences of your actions. Who the hell do you even say?

You put down your own laundry back into your lap. "Well," You'll either have to lie your ass off, or go for the truth; but you sure as hell were not going for the latter. "guy I met in the saloon while we were still in Valentine, we've been writing." Not too bad.

Karen chuckled, thankfully buying into your lie. "Well, ain't I happy for you! It's about damn time, anyway." She goes back to the chore, like yourself, and continues your previous conversation.

Let's think logically—or, as logically as you could—about this; you don't exactly trust finding a random man in a bar to do this with, so who is going to eagerly take your virginity? Who would you ask that wouldn't tell anyone in camp about it, keep it between you two for the exchange of taking it from you? Who would you want to take your virginity?

You thought about how sweet Arthur would be; how he'd probably understand and treat you right, talk you through everything while praising you for following his instructions so well. Or maybe Charles; A gentle giant that would worship you as should be, show you how everything is done while talking in that deep tone you love to hear.

And then your mind went completely south of the previous two. You thought about how greedy he'd be, touching and moving his hands all over your body, wanting to feel every crevice under his rough fingertips. How he'd see taking your virginity as a precious thing, how you were told growing up, something you wanted him to have—and also as the biggest ego boost ever. He'd probably be a complete tease, too, nor would he talk you through the process like the other two. He'd probably just go for it, no instructions as you scrambled for what you had to do while he—

Jesus Christ, that's the last person you should be even 'just considering'.

Micah Bell is NOT an option here; forget it. Even if the heat between your legs didn't agree with these terms, you would not give your first time to that bastard. He was just an egotistical, rude, mouthy degenerate. Why the hell was the thought of how poorly he'd treat the situation getting you so worked up? You're practically soaking your garments over this bastard; and that's a problem.

Oh, but it's so tempting; this, unfortunately, wasn't the first time you've caught yourself thinking of him, imagining him in bed—which is reasonably worse than the former. Could you refuse yourself this small want? When you think about it, he might be one of the only people here who'd jump to get intimate without question, seeing how he catcalls and flirts with most of camp; including yourself a few times. God, were you really going to do this? How would you even bring it up?

This was something you needed to think of on the way, because it was nearing nighttime and you'd probably lose him to the darkness in the outskirts of camp, where he's usually found. As soon as you finished folding the laundry, you excused yourself from Karen and went to find Micah, thinking over what you would say to him. You had a whole dialogue figured out by the time you spotted him smoking by Baylock, probably having gotten done tending to the horse after the job he went on today. You really had to just brace yourself and follow your little plan, while hoping it'll turn out how you envisioned it to.

He noticed you approaching while you were a few steps away, the nervousness in your body language not hard to make out; hands clasped together, eyes focusing everywhere but on his own, your steps almost reluctant. He raised an eyebrow at you while taking a drag from the cigarette. "Look who it is; worried I'mma bite 'ya?"

You were barely able to give a reaction to his words, your nerves making you go almost silent. "Hah, no.. no, I'm..." Come on! We practiced this six times already! As soon as your eyes darted to his own greyish-blues, you lost your goddamn ability to speak. For the love of God; get your shit together. "Listen; this is very hard for me to even say out loud." Well, it's a good start.

Micah's eyebrows furrow slightly, your sudden shyness compared to the usual quips you could muster up back to his flirting or teasing very abnormal. But, he doesn't comment on it, wanting to hear you out before he teased you further. "Go on then, girl." He speaks, tossing his cigarette elsewhere.

The embarrassment this will leave you in will be history. "Okay.. so, uh.. I need your help with something—let's say." Your words just make him more confused; speaking to him in these absurd riddles. "Would you just.. hear me out?"

The blonde man nods after a moment, folding his arms over his chest while leaning back on the tree. Okay, you can get the words out, trust yourself.

"Would you.. and it's just a one-time thing, may I add." You start, a blush creeping up your neck and to your cheeks as you tried to think of what you were saying; you were about to ask Micah to get intimate with you. Yeah, you don't think this low can be matched. Nonetheless, no giving up now. "Would you take.. take my uh.. virginity?" As soon as the words leave your mouth, you have to hold back from fleeing the scene. "Listen—I lied to the girls and I just.. fuck, it's you."

Micah's had a small smirk on his face, mostly directed towards your nervous and shy state, until the sentence finally left your mouth. His smile dropped and he assumed he heard you wrong. "What'd you say.? Would I take.. your virginity?" He repeats back to you, definitely sure he's heard you wrong. But as you slowly nod your head, unable to open your mouth any longer, his eyes slowly widen a little more, rubbing his chin in thought. "Well, goddamn. You're one bold 'lil thing, ain'tcha?" Here comes the teasing you envisioned.

You roll your eyes to the comment. "I don't need your comments, Micah. You in or not? I'll gladly find someone else." You threaten, biting your cheek. Don't make me find someone else.

He perks up at your empty threat. "Hey—no, don't threaten me now, doll," He leans off the tree and gets right in your personal space, hands on his gun belt. "you know I love to help a lady in need out." He purrs at you, looking down almost menacingly.

"Good," You murmur, the closer he got the more nervous it made you. "then.. it's settled." It's only when he stands right before you, hands running up from your outer thighs to your sides, that you start processing what you've gotten yourself into.

His hands glide over your waist, feeling you up through your shirt. "Surprised yer still untouched, many would love a little body like this in their hands." His words and the small squeeze to your sides send butterflies straight to your stomach; you could practically lose it right then and there. "But it's only little ole me that gets it, huh?" His claim is followed by a darkish chuckle, ringing in your ears. He stops his hands over your ribs and the underside of your chest, looking down shamelessly at the little cleavage your shirt provides. "Well then; my tent?"

It took him barely a few seconds to get you through the flaps of his tent, tying the canvas shut and making sure you've got the bit of privacy camp life can offer. It takes him even less time to shove you down to his cot, seating yourself on the mattress and looking up at him settling atop you, knees around your outer thighs. "Don't you look pretty under me like this." His hands cup around the underside of your jawline, thumbs running up and down the outline of your face. "So, ever kissed a feller?"

You raise an eyebrow at the question. "Not that much of a prude." Your quick response gets a gruff chuckle out of him for a brief moment, before he'd leaned down and captured your lips with his, setting a nice and quick pace for the kiss. You return it with just as much swiftness, hand reaching for his belt buckle and gripping it, earning an appreciative sound out of Micah. "Good girl," His tongue swipes over your bottom lip, trying to enter your mouth rather quickly; but you don't complain, quickly complying. He gets himself an immediate taste of you, tongue swirling around in your mouth as if mapping out the contour of the body part. He goes back to exploring the rest of your body with his hands, moving them all around your sides and waist before stopping at the hem of your shirt and breaking away from your mouth briefly. "Let me see what I'm workin' with, doll." You breathe in the air that the kiss knocked out of you for a moment before wordlessly nodding, lifting your arms up for him to slide the shirt off, peeling it away from your torso and arms as you're sat almost bare from the stomach up now, only covered by your bra. Your shirt is tossed elsewhere, and he goes back to appreciating the view in front of him—or well, under him.

"Oh, you're perfect, little lady." He doesn't hesitate to reach his hands to your chest almost immediately, cupping you through the bra while running his thumbs on the upper flesh that was exposed. His fingers are as calloused as you envisioned, as if moulding your soft flesh with every swipe of his digits on your skin. He knows his way around your body, probably from the experience you lack. One hand stops groping you and moves to your back again, fiddling with your bra before unclasping it. Why is it that your shyness is only hitting you now? As soon as he starts moving your bra straps down to reveal your bare chest to him, you finally process that he's about to see you nude, and you definitely show some signs of reluctance. He notices your sudden demeanour change and looks from your chest to your eyes. "Come on, I don't judge, princess. Bet you're realll purty under here." His finger slips between your cleavage and hooks to the middle of your bra that connects the two pieces as he tugs at the material, slowly moving it away from your bare chest. It slips off your shoulders and arms, and you feel like a prey being inspected by it's hunter under that dark gaze Micah's blues hold. "Like I said.. damn beautiful."

Your shyness and nerves don't pass him by, and he doesn't want you to feel uneasy while he gets what he wants, so he decides to try and ease you up with another kiss, leaning up and snaking one hand to the back of your head to pull you in while the other went to your jean button, undoing it before moving to the zipper. The kiss definitely helped calm you a bit, your hands on his shoulders now as you clung to his shirt, kissing back with a small hum in your throat. He works your zipper down and hooks his fingers into your waistband, breaking the kiss again. "Lift your hips real quick," When you comply, he pulls your jeans down and you help him by kicking them off when they reach your ankles. His hand finds itself right between your legs, swiping at your still-clothed and warm entrance to find you just as aroused as he was. "damn, lookat'chu. Surprised a lady sweet as you'd be this wet over fuckin' a bastard like me." You almost moan at his comment, your garments definitely as damp as you felt them between your legs, drawing your shyness and embarrassment to a whole new level.

He leans away from you to strip his jeans off, first unclasping his gun belt and placing it over to where your shirt was, slowly moving into unzipping and undoing any other restraint that stopped him from getting naked. He looks to you—just watching him strip his pants off—and chuckles briefly. "Well? Get them panties off, sweetheart. Ain't need experience for that." You snap your eyes away from the small peek of a happy trail on his stomach that you, shamelessly at that, were staring at and stand up momentarily to slip your undergarments off, tossing them just shy of the other articles of clothing. "Mm, good, good.." He hums, letting his jeans drop before wasting no time with his drawls, slipping them off and freeing the leaky, visibly throbbing erection that was hidden in it. Your eyes scan over the length; it doesn't look too big, you can probably take it...

But where many assume Micah lacks in length—he makes up for in thickness.

He positions you to turn and bend over the cot slightly, hands on the mattress and back slightly arched. He's moving you around like a doll, positioning you to his liking. He lets out a small whistle when he's got you exactly how he wants you. "Ain't often I get a chance to do this type of thing... Almost feels like an early birthday gift." He chuckles while running one hand down your spine and moving to your hip, stroking himself with the other. He swipes two fingers over your entrance—earning himself a small moan—and uses it, mixed with some of his precum, to moisten his member up. "Now, might hurt a bit, ain't gonna lie to 'ya." You knew that much, mostly why you were adamant to the idea of sex for a while, but it can't be that bad, can it? "But we'll try to keep calm, eh girl?" He punctuates his last sentence with a squeeze to your hip before his tip slides between your warm folds, slickening himself up some more while he rubs his cock just shy of your entrance—unable to help himself from teasing you some. You let out a plethora of meek moans and huffs, your cunt itching for him to just ease it in. After a moment, he stops his tip at your entrance, ready to slide in. "I'mma go slow, try to make it.. durable for 'ya."

There's definitely a small stretch mixed into the overwhelming feeling of your walls being filled by Micah's thick shaft, clenching around him as you sigh and gasp to every inch filling you. "Shh, you're alright.. look," He reaches one hand over around you, two fingers pressing to your clit and making slow circles on it. Your sighs turn into small moans again. "Yeah.. good, focus on ma' hand, baby." He hums, slowly starting to bottom out into your pussy. His hips meet your rear as he continued to rub over your nub, giving you a brief moment to adjust before he pulls out to the tip—then slides right back in. The pain isn't as bad as people made it out to be, but some have a higher pain tolerance either way. You do your best to focus on the sensation Micah's rough fingers are playing on your clit, more than the way his cock slams into you and creates an almost echo-ey sound of skin-on-skin slapping, filling the tent with the suggestive melody.

The repetitive motion of his dick brushing your gummy walls has you on cloud-nine; you're gasping and moaning, letting his name slip past your lips in a pitched tone, grasping fistfuls of the sheets underneath you as his pace slowly gets faster per thrust. "Don't think it's smart I cum inside," He chuckles, punctuating himself with another slam of his hips into your ass, followed by your sweet little whine, almost like a protest. "you want me to?" He asks curiously due to your whine, and his grin gets so much wider when you nod your head, and his pace turns relentless. He starts fucking into you how he likes, trying to get himself to cum while rubbing you faster to get you there with him. "Can't wait to feel you clench this pretty cunt around me," He purrs with a small kiss to the nape of your neck before his focus is back on fucking his throbbing cock into you, getting himself closer by the moment.

You feel your own orgasm start to approach, your legs slightly jittery from the upcoming feeling. Micah takes quick note of this change and rubs your clit faster, drawing more whiny moans out of you that get muffled by the action of burying your head into the mattress; last thing you need is someone hearing you moaning Micah's name. Your whines are breathless and abrupt, getting cut off by each of Micah's quick thrusts into your cunt, all until you finally feel yourself tip over the edge and you cum, the clench of your pussy around Micah enough to get him there just a moment after you. He buries his cock deep into you, holding you up from collapsing into the bed by the hips as his chest makes contact with your back, the side of his head on the very top of your torso as he gasps breathlessly. "Ah.. there we go.." You can feel him empty himself inside you, your shaky legs barely supporting you with Micah doing most of the work.

He gives himself a moment before pulling out and placing you down to lay on the cot. "Let me tell you somethin', darlin';" He gets his underwear and jeans off the floor, slipping into both before leaning over you to whisper into your ear. "This definitely ain't 'gon be a one-time thing—not with how addicting that cunt is, or with how 'ya love to scream my name." He purrs lowly while clasping his gun belt back up, running a hand down your spine and stopping at your ass with a firm squeeze before moving you to lay more comfortably on his bed. "Well, get comfortable, think I'm up for a smoke.." He lazily tosses a random blanket in his tent over you—it's the thought that counts, apparently—before leaving you in his tent to rest up.

And you agree; he's addicting, and you will be fucking again.

Kudos on AO3 very appreciated!! we love the micah smut where hes still an ass to us <3