#rdr fanfic

[frillydolle]

ok idk if u have done this before but what abt low honor arthur x shy/easily flustered reader…been thinking abt this for awhile

lowhonour arthur x shy female reader

꒰ 𝝑𓏲 ꒱ arthur is a little pervy , suggestive themes? , mdni

he was terrifying, mean, and even sadistic man. those rumoured whispers explained a lot about him in that way. there was no remorse from a man like him, no mercy, either. to be one of the worst men that's involved with the infamous gang. the most wanted man within the states, there wasn't a day that he didn't come back with someone's blood on his hands.

he was disgusting and vile. probably the most perverted man u have ever come across, too. his unannounced touching would often catch u off guard. the women in the camp always gave him a sort of a dirty or death state, knowing that kind of man arthur is now ever since the relationship ended between him and mary. that took a toll on him more than people thought.

not with u, though. he knew that gaze made u feel uneasy, made u squirm, almost like a coyote watching its prey. it's like he enjoyed it, too. u weren't the social butterfly. u kept to urself or the small group of girls u would do chores with or u would be often see talking the only man, arthur. to be honest, u were even sure how he felt about u, it's not like many spoke to u.

he made the man stay away from u, but that's a different conversation...

u didn't even need to turn around, knowing who it was coming towards u by their hard footsteps. “hey, babydoll. missed my favourite girl while i was away.” he says with that cocky smirk on his face, leaning against the pole behind u, totally not looking at ur rear while u hand washed some clothes.

“hi morgan, I've been okay.. keepin' busy like-” “good girl. as y'should be. wouldnt want ms. grinshaw gettin' mad atcha.”

she was a terrifying woman, ms. grinshaw.. but not as terrifying as arthur, of course. he was the worst. but arthur liked her a lot. he wasn't sure how to tell, and so he often showed her through his actions... like his weird, perverted touching and words.

he told u to come here, and once u were finished cleaning, of course, u made ur way over to him before he took u round the wagon, no one was there. this was strange but u did sort of like him.. u didn't know why. he was always odd with u, but u did find a small sense of comfort in him every time he brings a small gift to u as he comes back to camp.

“have i ever told ya how pretty y'look? 'course i have.." he says, his tone laced with roughness. his big hand soon glides down to ur waist, gripping the flesh so hard that it light leave a mark later, curse him.

“thank you, arthur-” u reply, feeling ur face rise with heat, squirming slightly under his intense gaze, all embarrassed. “y'know what else would make ya prettier? some little hickeys on yer neck, my girl.”

was he being honest?... well, of course he was. he was a very serious man, not the type to be funny unless it was one of sick jokes. anyway, he could do not that, the two of u were in camp! someone might see u both, ms. grinshaw might catch u or even dutch! and that woukd be a lot more embarrassing than how red ur face is right now.

“arth- we cant, i- we'll get caught- arthur!” ur gentle protests mean nothing as he took a hold of ur wrists, making u back up against the wagon. he inhaled ur scent of lavender and pine, made the man almost crazy.

“lemme mark ya up, so everyone can see how I feel 'bout ye. c'mon sugar, i might be gentle but dont count on it.”

god it was like u couldn't move or couldn't talk, u didn't know what to say, how to react. ur face was all flushed with his words, it wasn't a surprise that he'd be flirting with u now.

and soon, he began toying with the collar of ur blouse. soon that felt to unbutton the top few buttons before he inched closer to mark u up.

[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!!!

[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.

[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.”

[08melancholie]

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

oh im gonna cook soon chat just you wait

[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)

[marstonsboy]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Jack Marston & Arthur Morgan, John Marston & Arthur Morgan Characters: Arthur Morgan, Jack Marston, John Marston Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Supernatural Elements, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Jack Marston Needs a Hug, Adult Jack Marston, Posthumous Characters, Dead Arthur Morgan, Canonical Character Death, Post-Canon Fix-It, Sort Of, whether or not this fixes anything is up to interpretation :), Not Canon Compliant, Mentioned Charles Smith (Red Dead Redemption), Mentioned Eliza and Isaac Morgan, technically they make an appearance but not enough to tag really, References to Canon, Good Uncle Arthur Morgan, Mentioned Abigail Roberts Marston, charthur is sort of there if u squint but i didnt want it to be a focal point, Time Travel Fix-It, Mistaken Identity, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Afterlife Summary:

But Arthur, wish as he might, was never cut out to be a father. And even if he were, he wouldn’t be the one this poor boy needs.

All he can do is look at the man he never saw Jack Marston become, suddenly as tall as his father and nearly identical to boot. He can’t imagine what could have happened between the gang’s collapse and the hurt, angry, hardened adult he sees chewing at the inside of his cheek.

He doesn’t know what else he can say, beyond: “Oh, Jack.” Dark eyes, in color and in spirit, carefully lift to meet his. “I’m so sorry.”

(Or: Arthur Morgan closes his eyes on a mountain in 1899, only to open them on another in 1914— and he’s in for one of the rudest awakenings of his life.)

[renslo161605]

PART FIFTEEN: NEW LIFE

(written w/illustrations)

So that was it. Isaac had taken the time needed to heal after his ruthless torture from the O'Driscolls and now he had to leave. He knew he had to leave. Both for his own safety but also uncle Irwin, who he couldn't risk endangering.

"you ready, son?" Uncle Irwins voice

"uh...sure..." He couldn't bare it. Being with the O'Driscolls meant he barely stayed in the same area for long but he was always in the USA. he'd always been around americans. His family was from America. His father was in America. Uncle Irwin and Nancy and Siobhan were all in America. And he had to leave. All because if one stupid decision.

Isaac laid his stuff out on a table, Dermots gun, food, Midges food, a bunch of clothes Uncle Irwin had donated him, food, medicine, hunting knife. He was counting and sorting things ready to pack away. Instead of packing, he stared it it, somberly.

"hey, kid," he felt a hand on his shoulder, "don't look so excited," Uncle Irwins usual happy tone.

He looked down at him, eyes filled with warmth and comfort, but Isaac was already numb from the cold.

"m'ready," he mumbled, Irwin let go.

"well then... We better go, hm?" Irwin gestured toward the door as Isaac finally packed his things.

"sure, theres somethin' i wanna do first though..."

***

They arrived in strawberry, Isaac approached the sheriffs office door. It was risky enough even being in civilisation, especially this close to hanging dog... But he had to do this. He had to.

He took a deep breathe, furrowed his brows and puffed out his chest before opening the door.

"I'm lookin' for Vernon Farley." He announced, a bit too aggressively.

"Speakin'," Isaacs attention was shifted to the side, where Sheriff Farley sat at his desk, meeting Isaacs eye, "what yu' want, kid?"

"I... Uh-" suddenly, Isaacs confidence had drained. "I have- i have info, in exchange for money."

Vernon laughed, audibly laughed, "get outta here kid, don't pull pranks on the sheriff." He waved a hand.

Isaac felt the hot and painfully familiar burn of humiliation. He tensed, eyes darting around as he searched his own mind for a way to save this. He made his way over to the table,

"I ain't kiddin, m' serious." He lowered his tone, meeting Vernons eye with an even faker confidence than before.

Vernon stared, intense. Examined him up and down. Waiting for Isaac to back up maybe, to glance away and show a sign of submission. But he didn't.

"alright, pal, " he said sarcastically, "say your peace."

Isaac took a deep breath, finally.

"I got information, good information but i need money, alot of it, and i need you to pretend i disappeared out of thin air."

"I'm gettin skeptical here, spit it out."

"Colm O'Driscoll-"

Farley choked for a second before standing up, "now this damn well better not be a prank. This is serious ground now kid, how in gods name would you know anything?"

Vernon paused again, Isaac found him infinitely hard to read.

"I used to be one of them-" he caught himself, "but it-it wasn't by choice, now they gone n' turned on me, i gotta run."

"damn right you do, after you tell me everything you know, sit down."

Isaac sat, he sat and tucked his chair and pulled out a map of the surrounding states, carefully pinpointing ever O'Driscoll hiding spot... Before spilling every O'Driscoll secret, every name, every plan, every signal, and best of all... Where Colm was headed.

"well I- this is- that makes sense," Vernon nodded, "if your right then... This is alot of money you'll be gettin' son, but i can't just hand you the money we gotta catch Colm first, You got an address, Hm?"

Isaac took a deep breath, "you able to split it between a few?"

"if you need..." Vernon seemed skeptical.

Isaac proceeded to split it in half, talking half for himself then giving Sheriff Farley Nancy and Siobhan's local post, "if you don't mind, I could have pen and paper and maybe write a note for 'em?"

"I- sure." Farley nodded, handing him pen and paper.

Isaac sat at the sheriff desk, writing slowly.

'Dear Nancy and Siobhan

You to are a famly I never had. I'm sorry I could never show you. But i rite to you too day to give you the news of Dermot MacBrian's passing. I as sure you he passed in a nowbel noble manor and that he loved you both a lot.

I must leave, I dont know when or If I'll be back. I'm sorry truely I am. How ever I know of youre fineancel money struggles and have left you some money in the hopes it bides you for at least a bit and helps you throogh your greif.

Love you both, miss you alot, I'm sorry,

-Isaac Morgan'

Isaac handed him the note, "it's confidential."

"understood," Farley nodded, "well I'll see you later uh...?"

"Isaac Morgan."

"Morgan?... Your not-"

"No. Goodbye Sheriff," he cut him off.

Isaac walked out and shut the door behind him, before dragging himself over to the ledge behind the bounty board, slumping down with boots hanging off the side and his head and his hands.

The hard beat of hooves approached, slow and steady. A large nose nudged at him, and nipped his ear.

He looked up to see his horse, Midge, Miriam Bridget. A pillar of strength. The only constant in the boys life.

"hey girl," He reached up to pet her nose, she closed her eyes and nudged in closer, "we better go... Hm?"

He pushed himself up and then climbed up onto to Midge, "we're meetin' Uncle Irwin at the bridge over to mexico," he patted her neck, "now lets git'" he kicked her into gallop and they made their way to the bridge.

***

The bridge to mexico seemed so simple for something so complicated. A couple planks of wood that split worlds apart. There was a fairly calm river beneath it, vultures hovered over-head. The landscape was different from the north, sandy and dry with cacti replacing common bushes.

"you ready?" Uncle Irwin approached, taking off his hat and holding it to his chest.

"...yeah." Isaac looked on.

"can I have a hug?"

Isaac took uncle Irwin into a silent embrace.

"promise you'll write? Come visit in a few years?"

"sure."

"I'll miss you, pal."

"... I'll miss you, too," Isaac knew he was being distant. He couldn't bring himself to be anything else.

Irwin let him go, keeping both hands on his shoulders for a second before breaking eye contact, putting his hat back on and sighing.

Isaac pulled himself up onto Midge, groaning a bit as some unhealed muscles flexed.

"goodbye, Uncle Irwin."

"Bye son."

Uncle Irwin watched Isaac trot across the bridge. Isaac couldn't bring himself to look back at him. That was the last time he saw Irwin for years, leaving him on an unbelievably somber note.

As Isaac and Midge travelled into Mexico, the world didn't seem quite real. Hills and cacti and birds and clouds blending together and waved and blurred like water. He wasn't built for this, deep down he knew that.

He passed a dead deer, a red fox feeding on it. The deers ribs protruded threw gory guts and was clearly rotting, having been there in the sun for a while. The scavenger looked up and met his eyes and he travelled by. He expected it to turn and run when he got close to it but it didn't, just stared at it, it stared at him.

"what you lookin' at?" Isaac mumbled under his breath, "get, Go," he spat.

In the back of his mind he didn't know why he was currently trying to scare it, but it left, anyway, leaving the rotting deer corpse to continue rotting in peace.

He wasn't sure how long he travelled for, passing a fairly intimidating looking military fort, he decided to steer clear, unsure what the officials in this area would think of an american on their land.

After skipping by that, he continued threw the landscape, barely passing anyone but scattered coyotes and hungry scavenger birds. Loneliness swallowed him whole, he felt like the only person alive.

After what felt like days he approached 'Casa Madrugada'

He stopped outside of it, considering his options before making his way in. The architecture around here was different, not bad. Finally he saw some people, a few kids being called over to a wagon by their father - it was getting dark, A man lighting the outdoor lamps, someone shutting the window shutters, a few drunkards holding eachother and singing outside of a saloon.

Saloon.

That was a familiar sight, obviously he wouldn't be able to live himself forever. Maybe he could pick up a job, or atleast pick pocket some unsuspecting feller.

He tied Midge up outside and peered in at the glaring amber light from inside. Taking all his belongings off her in fear he'd be robbed.

He walked into the bar, saloon door swinging behind him. Immediately he felt the atmosphere turn tense, everyone in the room turned to look at him, even the bar tender narrowed his eyes as he cleaned a class, Working girls fought to get the attention of their bachelor back, the pianist stuttered and classes clinked as they were sat down on the table with some force. Whispers were exchanged as Isaac walked down toward the bar, trying his best not to make eye contact.

As he sat, he felt the saloon return to normal, people ordering drinks, cheers and quick footsteps of dancing, a 'sshh' as a keg was opened and filled a glass, a man putting money on the counter and ordering a drink.

The bar tender approached, Isaac looked up at him before putting a dollar on the bar, sliding it toward him, he didn't know how much it'd cost but surely it wouldn't be more than that.

"uh... whiskey, please?"

The bar tender looked down in disapproval at his dollar, then up at Isaac.

"no, peso."

Shit... He didn't speak the same language, how had he not thought of that.

"mmm, whiskey uh..." He made a drinking motion and pointed at the bottles at the back.

"aye, no gringo, peso," the bar tender seemed mad and slid the dollar back to him.

Isaac scoffed in frustration, he couldn't be bothered with this, the men laughing at him from behind wasn't helping and for the second time that day, he felt his cheeks get hot with embrassment.

Suddenly, the felt the chair beside him fill, followed by money being set on the counter.

"dos tequilas, Amigo,"

Isaac turned to see a girl sat next to him. He had to admit, she was gorgeous, her white dress was frilly with puffy sleeves and red accents, Her hair was jet black, curley and tied back in a low messy ponytail, her skin was tanned and her eyes were a deep amber. She was young, probably Isaac's age, and she smelled like fresh cut grass.

Isaac paused, taken aback by her for a second, he knew his eyes were a bit wider and his cheeks grew even redder, not with embrassment this time.

"hola," she turned to him, smiling.

"uh... No speak... Mexico?"

She giggled, "you just cross the border, Americano?"

"oh..." Isaac smiled awkwardly, eyes wide, "you speak english?"

"i do."

She giggled again, Isaac looked around, confused,

"could you..." He looked back at the bar tender then slid the dollar to her, "order me a whiskey? Please?"

"I... Don't think that will get you much around here," She looked down at his note.

"what? What you mean?" He looked down at his note, then her coins, they weren't average cents.

She tilted her head, "you really have just crossed the border haven't you."

"uh... Yes ma'am," Isaac nodded.

"in mexico, we use pesos... Your american dollar will not get you anywhere around here, compadre," her tone was genuine, she actually wanted to help.

"oh..." He was really making a fool of himself and he hadn't even been in mexico for a day. He took his dollar back silently and put it in his pocket, looking away in embrassment.

They sat in awkward silence for a second, Isaac could feel her beautiful eyes staring at him. The bar tender brought the girl two small drinks, to which she slid one to Isaac.

"whats your name?" She asked.

"Isaac, Isaac Hosea Morgan, and yours?" He didn't make eye contact, inspecting the drink, instead.

"Rosita Elena Herrara," She watched him inspect his drink.

"uh... What is...?"

"tequila, mexican drink - it's a shot, like whiskey."

"oh-" he forced an awkward smile, "thank you," he nodded and took a short swig, finishing the glass before putting it back down suddenly, his face twisting in disgust and sticking his tongue out.

Rosita laughed out loud, "Is that good?"

"yeah haha... Nothin," he tried to play it off as nonchalant but his face betrayed him.

She continued laughing at him, "sì, if you say so..."

"see wut?" He turned back, confused.

Her smile didn't drop, "no... Sì means 'yes'."

"oooh, right," he paused, looking around, "you think you could teach me more Mexican?"

"Spanish."

"what?"

"Your in Mexico, the people are Mexican, but the language is Spanish, like how americans don't speak american, they speak english." she explained, "yes, i can teach you spanish."

Isaac leaned in, enthusiastic to learn more from Rosita...maybe learn more about Rosita.

Isaac listened intently, eager to learn more.

"lets start with simple terms... 'Hola', means 'hello', 'cómo estàs', means 'how are you?'..."

That night Isaac and Rosita spoke until the bar shut, Rosita learned why Isaac left the USA through drunken rambles, Isaac learned that Rosita had abandoned her fathers ranch in attempt to find a more exhilarating life. Her father disapproved but still wrote to her and sent her money. When the bar shut they sat with Midge outside the bar, when a local complained about the noise and shooed them away, they got on Midge and rode away.

Before they knew it they were partners and crime, spending the next years at eachothers side...

-END OF CHAPTER 1-

[frillydolle]

i'm not sure if you've already writen about this, but reader being seriously sick and arthur taking care of her and being really worried about her, would heal something in me.

btw i appreciate u sm <3

arthur morgan x female reader

꒰ 𝝑𓏲 ꒱ mdni , nsfw mouth use(r receiving) , sick reader , pervy arthur , he wants to make u feel better

“'m gonna be fine.. right?... right, arthur?” “...'course ye are. yer one tough girl, ain't lettin' this get t'ya.”

it's been three weeks since u have been sick. no one knew why or how u got this since u were known to be such a weary girl when it came to anything dirty. u were known to be a sweet girl.. while having the habit of freaking out at any small dirty mark that got anywhere near u.

he'd tell u about his day since u always ask, and there was not one moment that his fingers weren't intertwined with urs when he was in ur presence. he was almost forgetting to take care of himself because of how worried he was for u, he just wanted you to feel good immediately.

despite being the man that everyone was depended on, the lead enforcer, he did everything he possibly could to get back to ur side as quickly as he can to be with him. arthur was just super worried about u, not like he'd show it to u or anyone else. and one night, he was just staring into the campfire with some whiskey in hand. he wasn't a religious man, but god, he hoped u would live this one through. unbeknownst to him, micah was nearby.

“i dont know, morgan.. this is the payback for the life she lived, women like her-” “just shut up 'fore i make ya. goddamn bastard...”

you were now lying in arthur's cot, only because he completely refused u to be on the ground with the other women in ur state. he'd rather let u get him sick than anyone else. even though he was already neglecting his own needs to make sure ur okay. only if u knew what filthy thoughts would cross his mind, even if u were sick. not like he could help it, a man has needs, right?

he was on top of u and he started off slow. hid chapped lips pressing soft but west kisses against ur neck. and soon his lips trailed down to ur collarbone, he left some lovebites and other marks from his path. he just wanted u to feel better after feeling so gross with ur sickness for so long.

he just wanted to make you feel good. its been so long since he was really focused on u like this:( once he had his thought set on something, he'd do everything in his grasp to do what needed to be done. arthur knew everything about u and so it didn't take him long to get u into such a state before he head divided between ur legs-

“i dont wanna- getcha sick like me- mhmph, arthur!” “i know, i know, angel but im just makin' ya feel good. cant let my princess feelin' all bad, can i?”

he had no idea how he still had some self control in himself after hearing the way u moaned his name, his jeans were soon getting a little too tight for him but he quickly dismissed it. for now, he focus was on u and only on u. he continued his actions, just hoping he'd get u to that point he's been waiting for.

and soon he did. just like usual, it did shoot up his ego as u saw a glimpse of that cocky smirk as he lifted his head up from ur lower body.

“can ya give me another one, darlin'?”

[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.

[moonlightkitties]

You're Your Father's Daughter - Red Dead Redemption Reader Insert (Part Nine)

Plot: What was supposed to be a nice, easy going job, turned into a bloodbath when Leviticus Cornwall shows up in Valentine.

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2100

A few days after your conversation with Arthur and your run in with Agent Milton and Agent Ross, all you wanted to do was spend some time with Sean. The sun was shining down on Horseshoe Overlook as you made your way over to him. He gave you a toothy smile once he saw you walking towards him. Once you got near him, he took your hand and pulled you onto his lap.

"Thought you might've forgotten about me," he says, his voice teasing.

You roll yours eyes "You know I wouldn't, you're too loud and annoying to forget," you smirk.

Sean let out a mocking gasp "You wound me, Miss Van der Linde," he says, putting his hand over his heart.

"We should go out tonight," he whispers in your ear, rubbing his hands up and down your sides, "No Pinkertons, no camp, no Dutch or Hosea breathing down our necks...just us." You sigh, "I don't know..." you mumble. "Come on, love, it's just for a night, they won't miss us," before you could answer, John called you over. Giving Sean an apologetic look, you made your way over to where he was.

"Yeah?"

"I need your help with somethin'," John told you.

Letting out an annoyed huff and glancing over to where Sean was talking with Lenny, you sighed but nodded "Fine.."

Mounting Whiskey and following John outside of the camp, you rode up beside him. "So why are we heading to Valentine?" you asked, "I got a lead on somethin', that's it," John replied, his voice gruff. You narrowed your eyes at him, you knew he knew more than that but you didn't want to push him and cause an argument.

"Hey, first one to Valentine wins," you said, your voice teasing but you're eyes held a glimmer of challenge.

"Oh, is that so?" John asked, looking back towards you, "You'reou on Van der Linde," he turned away and kicked Old Boy into a gallop. You yelled in protest and equally kicked Whiskey into a gallop as well. The wind whipped through your hair, the sharpness of the cold hitting your face as you ran past John and towards the town. John swore as you passed him and you let out a laugh as you ran through and stopped at the Sheriffs office.

"Guess I win, Marston," you smirk.

John rolled his eyes and dismounted Old Boy "Cause I let you," he said.

"Sure, John," you replied, swinging your leg over Whiskey and dismounting.

You followed John toward the saloon, pushing the doors open. The warmth of the room greeted you, and you made your way over to the bar. John leaned against it casually, while you stood beside him, eyes scanning the room, half-expecting Arthur to show up any minute. John ordered drinks for the both of you to help pass the time. After your second, you stopped before things got out of hand. "Can you tell me why we're here now?" you ask.

"I got a lead on some sheep coming down from Emerald Ranch," John began, sipping at his beer.

"So?" you ask, not really seeing the appeal on some sheep.

"So," John huffed, "Me, you and Arthur are going to scare the ranch hands off, and sell them to the auction that takes place here," he explains.

"The ranch hands? Or the sheep?" you ask, knowing what he was talking about but wanting to mess with him.

John rolled his eyes and ignored you, not wanting to play your games today.

As you made your way down to the auction yard you leaned on a building glancing at the pens that were filled with animals, moments before that, John and a gunsmith got into a little brawl that resulted in you physically dragging John out of the store. Finally, what seemed like hours, Arthur showed up. "What took you so long?" you asked, as he made his way over to you and John.

"Had to help Micah with somethin'," Arthur told you.

You nodded, not wanting, or caring to know what they were doing. Arthur and John were talking about John's plans with the sheep and you followed them towards the gun shop. John was talking about how the train job was only the first step into getting more money and how the auction and the sheep could help us more until we go back into Blackwater. Your mind wandered back to Sean as the three of you walked towards town. A wave a guilt crashed over you, you left Sean back in camp without saying goodbye or even telling him where you were going.

You shook the thoughts and worries away once you three neared the Sheriff's office. You followed John towards the gunsmith as Arthur hitched his horse beside Whiskey and waited until Arthur bought the rifle John was going to buy in the first place.

---------

"I'm not the one takin' Jack fishin'!" John snapped.

"You're right! You ain't!" Arthur scoffed back.

You rolled your eyes at their bickering, some things just never changed you guessed.

"If you say the boy ain't yours then what's the difference?" Arthur asked, "you'll probably only run off again."

"Why're you so interested in my life?" John asked, getting defensive, "Ain't you got one of your own?"

Arthur sighed and shook his head, "Just do one thing or another, not be two people at once, that's all I'm sayin'."

You stayed a little bit behind them, to let them talk.

"It ain't that simple, you know that as well as anyone," John explained. "Same as with you and that girl, what was her name...? Mary?"

You cringed once John mentioned her, you knew bringing her up would hit a sore spot in Arthur. You knew Mary well, she was like an older sister to you and you would visit her and her brother, Jamie, when Arthur took you with him. They loved each other deeply, until Mary chose her father's approval over Arthur and married another guy.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't realize that the three of you stopped at a cliff. You dismounted Whiskey and followed John and Arthur to the edge. Taking out your binoculars, you looked around, trying to find the herd of sheep and the Emerald Ranch ranch hands. "I think that's them," you tell them, pointing over to the open road where about fifteen sheep and three ranch hands were. You put your binoculars back in your satchel and moved out of the way so Arthur could scare them off with the rifle.

Arthur shot off a bullet but one ranch hand stood and after another shot was fired, it rode off. You mounted Whiskey and led Arthur and John towards the herd of sheep, collecting the stragglers as you neared the right side of the herd, getting ready to herd them towards Valentine. Before you were about to make the sheep move, Arthur spoke up. "Have you herd sheep before?" he asked you. You shook your head "No, but it can't be that hard," you shrug. Arthur was about to tell you to stay in the back with John but knew you wouldn't give up easily so he let out stay on the right side.

After what seemed like miles away, you could finally spot the Valentine auction and the pen close by. As Arthur herded the sheep in the pen, you dismounted Whiskey beside Old Boy and followed John to stand behind Arthur. An older man shut the gate and turned towards us, holding a clipboard. He looked like one of those fancy folk you recognized around town sometimes.

"Fine sheep," John complimented.

"They're okay," the man said, eyeing the three of us up and down.

"Well, you've seen better around here?" Arthur asked.

"I've seen ones with less...ambiguity about their provenance," the man told him, the other man beside him chuckled an agreement.

After an argument about how much percent we were getting for the sheep. John and the fancy man settled for eighteen percent. Arthur wasn't happy but he didn't argue about it.

"Thanks for all the help with this," Arthur told John, his voice sarcastic, "can't herd, can't swim," he grumbled.

"Give it a rest will you? We ain't kids no more."

"We never really was."

You hitched Whiskey next to Arthur's horse and followed them into the saloon where John said dutch was waiting for us.

"Where have you three been?" Dutch asks, as stopped near them. "Working," Arthur told him, "Marston's thing." Dutch nodded in approval, "Good, and?" Arthur glanced at John before answering "Were just getting ready to get some pay on a few sheep," Arthur tells him. Dutch nodded and turned towards Strauss. "Leopold, my good friend, as long as you're here, why don't you and John go make sure there ain't no funny business," Dutch said and looked at you "You got with them."

Following John and Strauss outside the saloon, you noticed strange men staring at you.

"John?" you asked, your voice low as you got closer to him.

"I know, I notice them to," he said, pulling his arm in front of you and pulling you behind him.

Everything that happened, happened in a flash. A man wrapped his arm around Strauss neck and before John could pull out his gun, another man punched him to the ground, jerked him up and wrapped his arm around John's neck. You felt someone grab your hair and pull you towards them, you hissed in pain and felt pressure on your neck and a gun barrel pressed against your head.

Anxiety shot through you but you knew you had to stay calm and try to find a way out of this. Your guns were still on your horse, you left your pistols at camp for some stupid reason so even if you did get out, you would be screwed. The men dragged you, John, and Strauss towards a bigger man that stood in front of the saloon mounting a horse. What looked like Pinkerton agents stood beside him. You struggled in the man's grasp but he wrapped his arm around your neck even tighter which made you stop.

"Van der Linde!" the bigger man yelled, "Get out here!" he ordered. "You don't know me, but you keep robbing me! My name is Leviticus Cornwall." You cringed and eyed John, who's eyes were wide in either shock or fear, maybe both.

"Get out here! Before I have these people killed!" he threatened. You were dragged towards the view of the saloon and caught a glimpse of Arthur making his way across the room. Mr. Cornwall left with the other two men that were on horseback when Dutch and Arthur made their appearance. "Please, gentlemen, this is a terrible mistake," Dutch began, his arms up with surrender. Arthur narrowed his eyes at John and you tried to see what they were saying.

Moments later, you heard a gunshot and the man that was holding John, fell to the ground and stealthily, John grabbed the gun that was in his holster and started shooting. The man that held you, almost set the trigger off before John shot him in the head and you picked his gun that he dropped. You quickly hid behind a crate and started shooting, making sure that John and Arthur were still with you. More men started coming and you kept shooting, trying your best to keep yourself regulated and calm. You all moved up closer into Valentine when Strauss got hit on the shoulder. You hid yourself behind a building, shooting a driver in the head as more men got out of the wagon.

"This is a bloodbath!" you yelled, helping Arthur cover for Strauss, John and Dutch as they pushed a wagon and blocked the men from shooting Strauss anymore.

More and more men kept coming, it was awful but finally you neared the stables and whistled for Whiskey. You mounted her and as Arthur put Strauss onto John's horse, you all thought you were in the clear.

Until a bullet went through your back.

You let out a groan of pain as the force of the bullet made you fall off of Whiskey. You gasped, your heart rate getting fast, it felt like a million suns were beating down on your body. You felt someone move your body and you groaned, the person shushed you and put you on the back of a horse. Your body slumped onto them and they kept telling you to stay awake. You passed out a few miles out of Valentine.

A/N: So honestly I want to write chapters of when you, John, Tilly and Arthur were little so when you're passed out and healing from your gun wound you're going to be hallucinating your childhood a bit. I also am going to be slammed pack with college this week so expect the next chapter maybe this weekend. I love you all so much! I'm so glad this fic is getting the attention that I never really thought it would get!

[amrass]

Guess what super niche longfic might be resurrected from the dead someday soon

I'll give you a hint:

For those unfamiliar with it, Salt is my Colm/Micah sugar daddy AU fic; dark, explicit and self-indulgent, 3/6 arcs complete. It's not for everyone, but might be for you if the tags give you a Cheshire grin.

In the 4th and upcoming arc, there will be Annabelle/Dutch, Dutch/Colm, Dutch/Micah and Owen(Colm's brother)/Micah, because creating a pentagram of interpersonal drama with a touch of murder was the way to get back into this fic after a six month hiatus. Also sexy sugar mama Annabelle who laughs like this is fun to write.

Have a smutty excerpt from part 21 after the cut ...

Colm liked having a pliant boy on his lap. His mouth lingered near Micah's neck and his rising heartbeat. He felt a childish desire to bite into his jugular and tear and chew his way down to his heart, as though Dutch's aforementioned concept of love would become less foreign if he'd held Micah's heart between his teeth.

His jaw snapped in the air when Dutch stood up from the chair.

"May I see?" Dutch asked, bending his neck like when he'd adressed Annabelle, but walking closer when Colm didn't bite.

Feeling the effects of the strong beer in how slowly he thought, Colm's mind dripped from his own empty mouth and down along his arms, which had been spreading open Micah's shirt as well as his legs, forcing exposure upon a weaker as a subconscious way of soothing himself. Dutch's gaze was locked on the stiff nubs of Micah's nipples. The gold piercing glinted in one of them, and the silver one, in the other. They were further complimented by the blush spreading over Micah's chest and up his neck. He was a rough little thing, full of scars, but he had these little places of grace – the fat, the redness, the wobbling bottom lip – that made him oddly pretty.

"Fascinating. Do they hurt?"

"No- Ow!"

Micah choked on air as Colm twisted the silver piercing.

Dutch sat down on the table in front of them, still bent forward to make sure his head was a fraction lower than Colm's. It was cute, but also very different from the time when Colm had made Dutch kneel on the floor in front of him, and crawl forward with an open mouth, ready to be fed and watered. But now his lips were closed-lipped, and his new liaison and clothes had given him more confidence; in terms of rank, he was above Micah by being Annabelle's lover.

"They must be sensitive. May I ...?"

"Go ahead. I think he likes you." Colm took hold of Micah's cheeks, pressing them together like a fish's mouth, "Don't you, kid?"

Micah made a wet noise, a mix of anger and helpless agreement.

"Well. I like you too," Dutch said in a lighter tone to Micah, reaching out to run his index and middle finger on the sides of the golden piercing. "Your shade of blonde is rather pretty. Like hers, but paler."

Micah shuddered, one nipple being caressed, and one, poked and prodded. Colm increased the pressure, feeling Micah's back go taunt against him, and when he let go, Micah sank down and breathed hard. Colm used his distraction to unbutton his pants and hold them open. Predictably, he was hard, and grew harder as Dutch took it as an invitation to rub both of his nipples with adept thumbs while Colm felt him twitch underneath his palms, pressing down, down, down.

"Fuck!" Micah cried out.

"Your brother is trying to buy out Annabelle," Dutch said suddenly but quietly, raising his eyes to Colm's before lowering them again.

"Yes, I know," Colm lied, hiding his surprise.

[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

[margowritesthings]

Blood On His Hands

pairing: Dutch van der Linde x f!reader

summary: during your time of the month, Dutch offers a helping hand and some advice from good old Mr Miller

word count: 3308 words

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, PLEASE READ WARNINGS BEFORE READING, I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION, menstruating reader, period sex, fingering on period, mentions of blood, slight blood play, sexual content, vaginal sex, breeding kink, explicit language and blasphemy

a/n: uhhhhhhhhhhh I have no excuses for this. i just know nothing would ever get between dutch van der linde and pleasuring his lady, and then this happened. whoops. totally get that this one won't be for everyone, but its what i wanted to write so I did hehe

as always, big love to my love @cowboydisaster for beta-ing and reassuring me i wasn't wrecking my own idea every minute of the day

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @beea-nie

did you enjoy this? consider buying me a coffee!

“Y’know, I think the Lord must hate his women, what with all he goddamn puts us through.” You grumble as you enter yours and Dutch’s bedroom, slamming the splintered door shut behind you to stalk right past Dutch, falling onto the creaky bed and shoving your face into your pillow. 

“Something bothering you, dear?” Dutch raises a brow before looking over at you. He puts his finger on the line he was reading, to save the page when he closes the book to offer you his full attention.

Your neck strains when you lift your head to meet Dutch’s eye. His stare feels hot and intense, which isn’t exactly unusual for a look between you and him, but is definitely heightened by the hormones raging through you. Your stomach aches and cramps, your pussy practically mewling for a release you can’t even reach right now. 

“Just that time of the month, love. Nothin’ to worry about.” 

But Dutch’s finger slips out from between the pages, closing the book properly and discarding it on the table beside his chair. You’ve bundled up the blankets beneath you, pressing the ball of wool into your abdomen to let the pressure attempt (and fail) to ease the pain.

Your face is stuffed back into the pillow, so the first indication Dutch has joined you is the dip on the bed. He holds your frame, moving you to your side with such an ease and slotting himself behind you. His large hands cover your stomach, the heat from him comforting and actually soothing you a little. It’s wild to you that the man can somehow numb a pain that whiskey can’t, but that’s Dutch. He’s incredible. 

The way you’re laying on the bed, your body the little spoon to his larger one, means that Dutch slots in right behind you. You’re sure he’s not even trying to turn you on, focused only on your comfort, but the incessant poking, ever hardening cock branding onto the side of your ass. You so wish you could turn around and let him have his way with you, but knowing the exact thing that has you so feral in the first place is the one thing stopping you from taking what you want. No, what you need. 

Dutch presses a kiss to your temple from behind, his fingers rubbing gentle circles into your belly. It helps the pain, but not the winding feeling tightening your core. Your ass feels how rock hard Dutch is now, and it burns into your flesh until you can take it no more. You grind up against him and he growls deep into your ear. When his tongue slides up the side of your ear, you jolt, and Dutch takes the opportunity to tighten his grip on you and flip you over. He’s hovering above you now, hands roaming everywhere, tongue delving into your mouth as he undoes your shirt and pushes it off your shoulders. 

"I once read that it's a scientifically proven fact that cumming for me relieves those sorts of... symptoms." Dutch whispers teasingly.

The war between mind and body rages in your core. Your body is desperate for him to continue, desperate to feel the trail of his fingers lower and lower until they’re buried deep inside you, but your mind seems tethered to taboos hammered into your subconscious by a conservative world. It’s your mind that forces your hand to grip Dutch’s wrist, though your fingers barely meet wrapped around him, stopping him just above your sore abdomen. 

“Dutch, we… we can’t.” 

It’s an awful feeling, forcing yourself to deny what you truly want, and you curse whatever force or, more probably, some old guy years ago with a quill and a fear of women is making you feel so uncomfortable. 

You want nothing more than for Dutch to plunge himself into you and fuck you better, you want nothing less than to disappoint him. You’re surprised when instead of the furrowed brows and frowned lips you’re expecting, Dutch simply smirks. 

“My dear… there’s blood on my hands from creatures far less beautiful than you.” 

The shock is all you can focus on, so your grip on Dutch’s wrist slackens enough for him to break free and continue his journey downwards. It sends shivers over your entire body and you blink wide eyes up at him, speechless.

“What kind of man would I be…” he starts, expertly sliding the buttons of your pants out of their holes and pulling down the zip, agonisingly slowly.

“… if I could bathe in the blood of my enemies, shed in hatred and violence, but shied away from this, the life force of my love?” 

You’re blushing furiously, you’re sure of it, but something in his poetic words, the comfort in his tone, chips away at your shame. It cracks, breaking away to reveal a more vulnerable version of yourself, reserved only for Dutch. This layer of you fears not the judgement or the embarrassment, it cares only for the wants and desires of yourself and Dutch. 

And right now, you desire Dutch. 

He frees you yet again.

He’s always freeing you. When you met, he freed you from those beliefs ingrained into you by your parents about what society should be, instead showing you how the world is. He freed you from the boundaries you built around yourself, loving you and nurturing you until you found who you really are. He liberated you, quite literally, taking you from your little corner of the world on that ranch and riding you both  into the sunset, stopping off at the most incredible places along the way. And now, freeing you from whatever was holding you back from this act with one loving, fervid, searing kiss, breaking away only to add, “But only if you’re comfortable, my love.”

It seals the deal, the absolute devotion in his eyes when he seeks consent and you nod, biting down on your bottom lip coyly. Words are simply too much. 

“Oh, good girl…” he seems impressed, glad that you’ve let go just enough for him to experience this with him. Dutch gets back to the task at hand, slipping one of the darker blankets underneath you and hooking his fingers into your jeans and underwear to peel them down your legs.

You try not to think about what he must see down there, and it takes everything in you not to squirm, not to retreat back into thoughts planted in you by others and instead to simply be here with Dutch. The struggle manifests itself in a furious blush on your cheeks and an inability to look anywhere but up at the ceiling of the tent. You miss the stars. You wish you could count them. 

Ever the expert on you, Dutch notices your inhibitions winning the battle. He’s hovering just above your heat and he places the softest of kisses just below your belly button. His voice is low when he begins to speak to you, “You know…”

You glance down to Dutch, curiosity overtaking whatever was stopping you meeting his eye, “I was reading earlier and Mr. Miller has some quite interesting views on freedom.” The giggle is inevitable, tumbling from your lips like a waterfall and crashing over Dutch. He’s always talking about Evelyn goddamn Miller, even now. God, you love him.

“Go on…” you reach down to him, tangling your fingers into a stray lock of hair and pushing it behind his ear. You cup his cheek, enjoying watching the flickering candle beside the two of you glistening in his otherwise inky orbs. Your hand looks so tiny beside his chiselled features and you can feel his jaw flutter against your palm. The world melts around you.

“So the question the seeker of allegorical poetry should ask himself-”

Dutch begins to roll the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, revealing those stunning, strong forearms, “or indeed, herself…” he adds, glancing to you before kissing your belly once more.

“Is this:”

As he crawls back up the length of your body, you can feel hot breath tickling your jawline. Your lips part, desperate for his taste but he denies you for just a second longer. 

“Is it in the seeking that we find or the finding that we seek?”

Finally your lips meet, even if it’s far too briefly, Dutch’s hand trailing back down your front as his tongue dances with yours. You’re trying so hard to concentrate on his words that the nerves seem to have dissipated into the air. 

“While this may seem like a pathway towards insanity…” 

On insanity, he pinches one of your nipples between his fingertips softly, but just hard enough for the sensation to travel down your centre, the feeling everywhere, and a moan escapes your lips. 

“…it’s an important distinction, and also a clear one.”

The trickle of his fingers running down your stomach sends ripples of sensation over the rest of your skin. You are no longer thinking about your reservations, only Dutch and his words and the passion in the way he speaks them.

“She who finds things is wise…”

You lose his touch, but somehow know his fingers are lined up at your entrance. You’re quivering with anticipation.

“…but she who continues to seek…”

You hang on his every word.

“…is evermore free.”

Two fingers plunge into you, curling up deep and hitting your sweet spot with the confidence of a man who knows every inch of you like the back of his hand. It’s different. It’s incredible. Even with just two of Dutch’s fingers, you feel full.

He gives you a second to adjust, before sliding his fingers almost all the way out, only to push them back in until his rings are practically steaming against your heated flesh. With this movement, his thumb lands on your clit and begins to move slow, gentle circles in time with his thrusts.

You see stars. You don’t have the capacity to count them.

“O-Oh my god- Dutch!”

“I know, my dear, I know… doesn’t it feel good? To seek?” He whispers right into your ear, so close his moustache tickles your lobe. All you can do is nod, biting down on your lip so hard it will surely swell in the morning. You feel a million times more sensitive right now, every bit of pressure or movement on your nub hurtling you closer and closer to what surely must be oblivion.

“I’m so proud of you, exploring this with me, letting me show you what we can find together.” The praise washes over you, working in perfect tandem with Dutch’s expert hands to wind your coil tighter and tighter until you’re all but a babbling mess, wantonly pressing your hips up to meet Dutch’s hand with a harsher force. 

Somehow, you manage to finally flutter your eyes open, finding Dutch smirking as he watches you come undone beneath him.

“That’s it… good girl. Let go, princess, I’ve got you…”

Of course he does. Dutch would die for you. Dutch would kill for you. He’d do this for you, and you wonder how you could have ever hesitated.

The wonder is brief, cut short when Dutch van der Linde steals every coherent thought from you the second he slips that third finger in knuckle deep. You scream out his name, arching your back, the woollen blanket beneath you scratching at your shoulders.Dutch continues to orchestrate your euphoria, pumping deep in and out of you and circling your clit just how he knows you love it. It’s so intense and there’s so many stars you’re not quite sure you could count them if you had all the time in the world. 

You come down slowly, guided by Dutch’s voice. Your legs tremble and your cheeks feel wet, though you’re not sure when the tears fell, most likely glistening in the light of those stars you saw just seconds ago. They’re replaced instead by Dutch, who is running gentle fingers of the hand not currently sliding out of you through your hair. 

“Oh, my good girl. My beautiful, good girl, doing so well for me…” He knows you, so knows when you make it back to this realm. It’s in the way you smile at him, the way the spark returns to your eye. He smiles right back, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. You’re too quick for him, though only because he’s certainly not expecting much energy from you after that orgasm, snaking a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him down to kiss you properly. Passionately.

Your tongue demands entrance and Dutch is happy to oblige. You hear that low growl deep in his chest and the vibrations seem to reverberate through you, spurring you on like a siren’s call. The ache in your abdomen is long forgotten, inhibitions beaten to a pulp and left on the side of the road to die. It doesn’t even phase you when Dutch pulls back to wipe down his crimson right hand on his shirt and you spot the blood splattered on his arm. It’s actually… pretty goddamn hot. He’s right, if the image of him coated in the blood of his victims is enough to set you off, what could be so wrong with this? An act of pure devotion, love and sex in their rawest, most vulnerable forms.

His shirt is left with a scarlet handprint Dutch will surely later claim belongs to an O’Driscoll, but that doesn’t matter for long as he pulls it off his shoulders and discards it to the ground. He unbuttons his pants, slipping them off before returning to you, his body covering and warming yours before you can even realise you’re shivering.

“You astound me every single day, my dear…” He speaks so quietly, seemingly afraid of bursting the bubble formed around the two of you, cutting you off from everything and anything but each other. 

“Gotta keep seeking…” You quip, unable to keep the cheeky smile from your lips when you watch Dutch realise you’re the one quoting Evelyn Miller now. He kisses the corner of your lip, where the smile first started to tug. It’s a playful kiss, at first, but with each second that passes the laughter dies, he holds you tighter and the passion bubbles to the point you feel you might shatter if you don’t have him soon.

“Dutch…” You gasp breathlessly, the neediness in your tone working with the gyrating of your hips to let Dutch know just what you want, as if he’d ever need the help figuring it out. When you feel the head of his thick cock lining up at your entrance, you think of how much tighter it felt with Dutch’s fingers. About half a second before the anxiety can manifest itself, Dutch pushes into you. It’s euphoric, like no fullness you’ve ever felt before. There’s definitely a stretch deep inside, but the ever so slight pain only seems to burn the pleasure brighter. The noise that escapes your lips is obscene, and Dutch dips down to catch it with a deep kiss. Part of him definitely does it so that that noise can be reserved for only him, but the other half of the kiss holds a message: I’m here. He’s right here with you in this, holding you in a way that shields you from everything. In this moment, at your most unguarded, you know you can trust Dutch van der Linde with your life. With everything. 

And you suddenly find what you seek.

When Dutch’s hips pull back, you feel every ridge, every vein, so beautifully massaging you that you experience it head to toe. He pushes back in, and you feel every muscle that twitches in his hard back under your fingers. 

“Some beings, my dear, will never truly appreciate what your body is doing right now…” He growls, picking up a rhythm and hitting that sweet spot he seems to have a map to every damn time. It sends you dizzy and you can feel your heartbeat throbbing deep in your cunt, “But I do. It’s magnificent. You’re magnificent, and one day this cycle you endure will allow me to fuck my babies into you…” His rhythm picks up and you feel yourself climbing, serenaded by his words. You’ve never talked about babies before, but the way Dutch’s breath tickles your ear, the way his words harden your nipples and steal the breath from you, you suddenly know you want that more than anything. 

Yet another discovery.

“Oh, God, Dutch, I-I’m gonna-”

“That’s right, princess… Cum for me. You wanna cum with me, baby? Let go for me.”

And how could you not?

Dutch seems to sense the impending scream, pressing his thumb into your mouth to let you bite down on it. You do. Hard. 

It’s as though every piece of you explodes, crashing into all the pieces of Dutch and bonding to them forever. The rushing blood in your ears is the only other thing you can hear but Dutch’s visceral groans as he too loses control, his once steady rhythm growing erratic, his thrusts getting harsher and harsher. You never knew an ache could feel so good until right this moment.

And just when you feel like you’re in orbit, like you couldn’t possibly reach a higher ecstasy, Dutch presses the thumb not clamped between your teeth onto your clit and starts to rub. 

And you get it. You really, truly understand it. Mr Miller is right, he’s so damn right.

This, the comfort you find in being in Dutch’s arms that unlocks the ability to just keep seeking more from life, this is true freedom. He holds you and guides you from one life changing find to another, allowing you to shape what you want from the world and doing everything he can to bring it to you. The two of you find magical things, like the carnal lusts you experience near nightly, but with his encouragement and love, you continue to seek. You seek times like these, where you’ve never been so vulnerable with another and yet have never felt pleasure and connection so all-consuming. 

You and Dutch, when you’re together…

You’re evermore free.

Free to seek and find, and then keep seeking until you reach this: true bliss.

You cum to the sweet melody of Dutch’s moans and praises, wave after wave radiating over you. Your toes curl; your nails dig into the skin on Dutch’s back, surely ripping it and shedding more blood between you. You can feel your pussy clenching around Dutch’s entire shaft, which twitches madly as it pumps you full of his hot spend.

It feels as if it lasts forever, like when you blink your eyes open the world will have ended, leaving you and Dutch to fuck into eternity and repopulate the Earth. You’d do it. Gladly. 

Alas, when you do open your eyes, you’re met with the world, just as it was when you seemingly left it. Your world: Dutch. His arms are tense around you, as to not let his entire weight crush you and when he slips out of you, he lowers himself to your side. You see the blood on his right hand, but it doesn’t look too unlike the blood on your own hands. You’re breathless, feeling the laboured rise and fall of Dutch’s chest when you rest your head on it, but you just about manage to whisper to him, “Sorry for scratching you…” with the cheekiest smile on your swollen lips. 

Dutch raises a brow, entangling his cleaner hand with one of your own and raising them both to the candlelight to inspect the damage. 

“Y’know… I quite like the look of my blood on your hands, my dear.”

You grin, thinking of the long forgotten cramping and bad mood you once knew. 

“Likewise, Mr. van der Linde.”