#john marston x f!reader

[glenechoslasher]

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

Thanks bestie <3

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

"Trouble" ||

John Marston x f!Reader

Length: 2.1k

Rating: Mature: Mentions of blood, fighting, language

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was one down—three more to go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just scoffed. “We?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know that look, what is it?” 

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

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

#Tinalbion writings #john marston #john marston drabble #john marston writing #writing drabble #writing ask #rdr #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption john marston #john marston x reader #john marston x you #john marston x f!reader #comfort #angst #fluff #afab reader #vidjausers-fable

[salv12dexter]

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

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

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

#eddie munson x reader #sukuna x reader #yuuji itadori x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #arthur morgan x reader #levi ackerman x reader #billy hargrove x reader #tony stark x reader #leon kennedy x reader #john marston x reader #jjk x reader #f!reader #steve harrington x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barns x reader #geto suguru x reader

[arthurthethird]

First request for @arthurmorgansleftear

I hope this will be good enough since it's pretty much first request I do on here. Please enjoy.

Camp boahs comforting reader after Micah comments on their weight

Gn!reader

The day started calmly. Birds singing, fish swimming, rats wondering around the kitchen.

Speaking of kitchen, you decided it's a good time to get some food. You haven't eaten in a while and a good outlaw has to eat plenty, so you decided it's your time.

Speaking of rats, it so happened that one of the camp rats was sitting there. Not really doing anything else than sipping whiskey, a sight no one can be surprised about.

You calmly ignored him. You learnt that that's the best way for you to go on with your day without having to break his nose.

Yet he always asks for it.

Even now.

As soon as he saw you approaching, Micah immediately grinned.

"Didn't expect you here"

You stay quiet, only giving him a confused glance.

Now, depending on your silhouette, he'll find a way to get under your skin.

Either "Didn't you come here today already?" "And I've been wondering where all the food goes..." "Look at that, you'll soon have to buy yourself new clothes if you keep eating so much!"

Or "first time in a month, ey?" "You finally decided to eat! Everyone thought you're sick" "If you like starving so much, why are we wasting our food on you?"

He has his ways.

And we all know he doesn't have the perfect body either, so you try to ignore him.

Try to.

Of course, it doesn't end well, since you end up trying to hide your feelings.

It hurt. Of course it did, why wouldn't it?

You quickly walk away, not even bothering to actually eat something. You only hear his sickening laugh as you walk away.

He knows he has won.

~

Arthur's first reaction as soon as he heard that familiar laugh was to check what's going on.

Obviously if Micah's happy, someone's not.

You bumped into him just as he walked towards the place.

His hands landed on your shoulders as he looked down to you.

Now, Arthur might be an idiot, but he can easily read someone's emotions from their face.

You were hurt. Micah was happy.

That bastard.

He looked at you with a concerned look.

"what happened?"

You just mutter that it's nothing. That it's just Micah trying to get under your skin. And that's what takes him over the edge.

Arthur walks up to the blonde rat and punches him right in the face.

While Micah's busy cursing him out, he takes you by the arm, gently, but firmly, and walks to your tent.

You want to ask what is he doing, but before you can, he hugs you.

Telling you that you shouldn't listen to stupid Micah. You're beautiful and everyone in the camp knew that.

Then he brings you a bowl of Pearson's stew.

You try to decline but he basically shoves it down your throat.

"Don't listen to that son of a bitch. You have to eat no matter what."

~

Charles isn't even bothered at first.

He learned to stay away out of camp conflict, so he couldn't be bothered.

But when he sees that it's you who's stomping away from Micah, he quickly jumps into action.

He walks to you, asking what happened.

Even if you don't want to tell, he makes you.

As soon as he hears what happened, he goes for the rat.

You know that moment where Charles throws Micah because he said something assholish?

Yea, that. He does that.

After that he walks to you and sits you down for a proper talk.

And that means him telling you why the food's important and why you're beautiful no matter how much you eat.

Then he gets some food and goes to his own tent, pulling you along of course.

Proceeds to feed you.

"You need energy. Besides, I didn't caught that deer for you to not try it."

~

John immediately tries to locate where what is happening.

As soon as he sees you with Micah, he gets up and makes his way over there.

He heard everything while coming over.

Wraps an arm around you, covering your ears and proceeds to curs the snake out.

You stand there, not knowing if you're supposed to cry or laughed.

You just watch Micah's expression go from annoyed to confused.

You didn't even noticed that John leaded you away.

He went outside the camp with you and looked at you.

Proceeds to hug the shit out of you.

Telling you that you shouldn't listen because what you eat is your deal.

And it definitely shouldn't impact on your self image.

For one's he said something smart.

"I don't care what other people say about you, you're goddamn beautiful. And everyone in the camp knows that. Shut up, you can't disagree"

~

Hosea usually doesn't care about the camp fights.

Prefers to stay out of it unless it includes him directly.

But he heard you mutter something to yourself.

So he raised his head from the newspaper to see what was going on.

Oh boy.

He doesn't do much.

Just gets up, rolls the newspaper, walks to Micah and smacks his head with it.

He ignores the rat cursing him out. Instead walks to you and leads you back to the fire.

Similar to Charles, explains why eating is important, telling you that you're beautiful and who cares about what Micah says.

He gives you a hug, then encourages you to eat something.

If you don't want to, he'll leave you alone.

But definitely will come to check on you every night.

"You gotta eat. So what if someone cares, are you harming them with your food?"

~

Dutch heard everything.

He was smoking a cigar outside of his tent when he noticed the situation.

Immediately walks there.

"What's going on?"

Micah tries to show the situation to Dutch as lighthearted, but when he noticed the leader isn't buying it, he looked away grumbling.

Dutch proceeds to explain to him that they accept everyone and that he didn't care about Micah's looks when he took him in.

He then takes you to his tent, sitting down with you and asking what was that about.

Talks you through why you think what he said might be true.

Basically a therapist.

He then gives you a hug, telling you to eat something.

"we need you big and strong! Another job's comin'!"

~

Javier was playing his guitar nearby.

As soon as he sees Micah's mouth open, he stops, turning his full attention there.

As soon as he starts talking, Javier took his guitar, walks there and smacks his head.

Micah will definitely have a bruise, but who cares.

Curses him out in Spanish.

Then pulls you with him back to his tent.

He let's you vent about everything.

Then plays you a song while you lean to him, bummed out.

After that, definitely makes you eat something.

"I know it's hard mi amigo, but you have to try!"

~

Sean is confused when he sees you walking away without the food.

He didn't hear anything happening, he only knew that you went to eat.

He gets up, going to you.

"where's your food?"

You look at him and mumble you weren't hungry.

He's confused, but then looks over to where you came from.

Ah. Micah.

He narrows his eyes and walk over there. You try to tell him it's okay, but he doesn't stop.

"oi! Don't bother my friend!"

Basically screams at him to the point his accent is too thick to be even able to understand.

It doesn't do much, but you appreciate it.

He then walks over you and cups your cheeks.

"look, I love you Y/N, but I don't want to have to stuff food down your throat"

Tries to make you laugh.

Eventually ends up eating with you so you'll feel better.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #rdr2 x reader #john marston #reddeadredemption2 #micah bell #sean macguire #javier escuella #charles smith #hosea matthews #gn!reader #m!reader #f!reader #rdr2 x f reader #rdr2 x gn reader #rdr2 x m reader

[revolversandlace]

The Dangers of Summer

Dutch/Arthur/John x f!Reader

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

Word Count: 2.8k

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

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

AO3 Link

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

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

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

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

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

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

'What is it now, Dutch?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

John was sitting beside him, with a wide smile.

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

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

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

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

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

'You can say that again,' John laughed.

You stopped in your tracks, your temper rising.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#reader x arthur morgan #reader x dutch #reader x john marston #reader x arthur morgan/dutch van der linde/john marston #rdr2 smut #fanfic #f/m/m/m #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x you #dutch van der linde x you #john marston x you #reader #f!reader #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #john martston #arthur morgan x reader #john marston x reader #dutch van der linde x reader #smut

[unmaskthewriter]

Everywhere {John Marston x F!Reader}

Summary: You reminisce about your time with John Marston.

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

Word Count: 1049

Warnings: canon typical violence, angst, fluff

Sometime post-1907, Beecher’s Hope

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Arthur was hardly ever wrong.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #john marston #john marston x reader #arthur morgan #rdr2 spoilers #kind of #rdr2 fanfic #fanfiction #x f!reader

[johnpriceslamb]

𝓽 𝓱 𝓻 𝓮 𝓪 𝓭 𝓮 𝓭 𝓮 𝓵 𝓮 𝓰 𝓪 𝓷 𝓬 𝓮

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

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

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

🪡 𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓾𝓻 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓷,

“stand still!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🪡 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓮𝓼 𝓼𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓱,

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

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

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

But you? Something about you made him draw closer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pardon?”

“Nothing!”

🪡 𝓳𝓸𝓱𝓷 𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓷,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You ponder, “Well.. Do you want to?”

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

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

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

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

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

You can feel your hand tighten.

🪡 𝓳𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓮𝓻 𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓪,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Permiteme que, querida.”

#fem! reader #rdr2 x you #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #afab! reader #arthur morgan x fem! you #rdr2 #arthur morgan x fem! reader #charles smith x reader #charles smith x you #charles smith #charles smith x fem! you #charles smith x fem! reader #charles smith rdr2 #javier escuella x fem you #javier escuella x fem reader #javier escuella x reader #javier x reader #javier x you #javier escuella #john marston x reader #john marston x fem! reader #john marston x you #john marston x fem! you #john marston #rdr2 x fem reader #rdr2 fanfic

[dxysxxk]

Poker Face

Arthur Morgan x f!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You alright?"

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

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

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan x reader

[lordofthecherubs]

Hello Euphoria [Part 1]

“Knew it was too strong for your liking.”

“For my liking? I looove this stuff, Arthur.” You slurred, pointing to the drink in your hand for emphasis.

“Love is a strong word, cowpoke.” He offhandedly said.

“Strong feeling, too.” 

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x F!Reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+, MDNI. Eventual Smut. Slight slow burn. Reader is part of the gang already. Drunkness. Horseshoe Overlook Chapter. Reader is a lightweight.

The summer this season was particularly grueling. As the sound of birds twittering overhead remained the same as they always were, everyone in the camp seemed to be barely making it day by day without turning into a melted puddle in the ground. Even Charles, stoic and resilient as he was, seemed to be letting the heat get the best of him; nearly planting Micah into the dirt ground after he had made one of his insensitive comments. Tensions were high. 

In the late 1800s, there were scarce few ways to find relief from the heat and cool down. Modern luxuries of air conditioning or plug-in fans were not of access. You could swim in a lake, or buy yourself a small handheld fan; which seemed to be an idea Mary-Beth was keen on, holding the piece of plastic close to her face while attempting to still appear presentable. She was a nice young girl. She still had that going for her.

However, there were others who didn’t care to remain modest. Sean had taken to waltzing around camp in nothing but his drawers, which was more unpleasant to see than surprising— if you were anyone but Karen. John seemed to think this was a good idea, because he soon was seen in the same attire, or rather lack thereof. Abigail was not as thrilled with the sight as Karen was. 

“John Marston!” She shouted. “Get yourself decent before folks start thinkin’ you’re a drunkard!”

You laughed at the sight, pulling pieces of hair away from where they’d stuck to your neck with sweat. The two of them weren’t exactly the perfect couple, but you could tell there was love there. If your judgement of love was educated enough.

Your gaze turned to another area of the camp.

Arthur sat at the base of a tree, head leaned down, and arm resting above his bent knee. You rolled your eyes at his ability to look how he did even given the harsh circumstances of the weather. The cowboy would never agree with you, but he was very easy on the eyes. So easy, in fact, sometimes you stared at him with such intensity it was like you were preparing to hunt him for sport. Not a bad idea.

Your daydream doesn’t last long. Not when Dutch, the gangs leader, voices his opinions about the current situation loud enough for everyone to hear. 

“We are better off laying down and dying in the middle of Valentine than staying here and looking miserable all day!” 

For once, you agreed with him. Dutch was a man of many thoughts and opinions, ones it seemed he couldn’t bear with keeping locked inside his head for long. Which is why, he continued his remarks. 

“Arthur, Lenny, Micah, John—“ 

For the first time today, Dutch caught a look of what John’s best idea of cooling down was. The two shared a look for a moment until Dutch shook his head, waving his hand in the direction of the long-haired cowboy. Then, the gang’s leader looked in your direction, a smile filling his face as he walked over to where you were.

“Well now, I believe it would be in our interest to have a lady on this trip.”

“A trip? In this? You really are losin’ it, Dutch.” A voice commented, the sound of gravel crunching signaling to you that someone was heading your direction. 

Arthur looked at Dutch with a hint of fatigue in his eyes, having been woken up from his nap by another one of Dutch’s antics. Lenny and Micah soon followed behind him, and the once empty table you occupied was now surrounded. 

“Listen, I think it would be best if a few of us went down to some of the cities.” Dutch explained, looking between different members of the small group he created. “You two—“ He gestured to Micah and Lenny, “See if you can find some information about O’Driscoll’s in Strawberry, maybe steal us some supplies. And you two,” He pointed at you and Arthur, but paused for a moment after reviewing the exhausted look on both of your faces. 

While Dutch wasn’t a soft man, he wasn’t evil. He cared about every person in the gang like they were his family. And, in a way, they really were his family, or the closest he’d ever get to one.

The dark-haired man opened his mouth to speak again. “You two, go to the saloon in Valentine. See what you can find out there.”

“What? That’s it?” Micah scoffed, stepping closer to Dutch. “We gotta go robbin’ and chattin’ while these two get to have a bar date?”

You tried to tell yourself the heat that crept up the back of your neck was not because of the inclination that Arthur and you were going on a date, but because you might’ve been getting a sunburn. Yeah, that was it. Looking upwards from where you sat, Arthur’s jaw visibly clenched. It could be unrelated. Maybe he had a bad dream during his nap?

Dutch began walking away to his tent, ignoring Micah’s complaints. “Just find something useful to do, would you?” A hint of annoyance in his tone. 

In an attempt to hide his embarrassment, Micah shrugged his shoulders back, feigning nonchalance. “So, it’s you and me kid, huh? Hope you’re ready for the ride of your life!”

Stepping off into another direction, you gave Lenny a sympathetic look before he followed behind Micah, no hints at all in his step that he was happy to be sent on this mission. Who would be?

“Can’t help but feel bad for him.” Arthur said, watching the duo ride off on their horses in the direction of Strawberry.

You laughed, shaking your head. “It was him or us. And, Dutch is smart enough to know sending you off alone with Micah is a recipe for disaster.”

“Disaster?” The cowboy parroted, smiling down at you. “What kind of disaster, cowpoke?” His eyes seemed to pierce right through your own, possibly even right into your brain, where your thoughts were aimlessly spinning around, trying to stay focused on the fact that you were in the middle of a conversation. 

You cleared your throat and broke eye contact, opting instead to ease yourself up from where you sat instead of sitting and sharing eye contact any longer. “The kind of disaster where one of you gets killed,” You quickly said, pushing away from the wooden table. “Preferably, Micah.” 

This made Arthur laugh heartily while he followed you to where both of your horses were hitched. The sound of his voice was enough to make you smile softly to yourself, patting the animal on its side while readying your saddle. Almost in sync, the two of you mounted them, slowly exiting the camp while riding next to each other. You wanted to look at him, but instead you focused your attention on the road ahead of you, hands clasping tightly onto the reigns.

***

The trip to Valentine was as quiet as it was short. You and Arthur hadn’t shared many words to each other, but you assumed that was because he was still tired, being woken up from a nap was never fun. You almost felt bad that Dutch had sent the both of you on this mission. You’re sure you’re not the only one to have noticed, but Dutch really liked to send Arthur off on missions that could be done by anyone else. The cowboy worked hard, if not the hardest out of everyone in the camp. But, all things considered, you weren’t one to complain about having such pleasant company. 

Tying your horses up at the front of the saloon, Arthur walked up the steps, leaning against the front of the building as he waited for you to follow suit. He watched as you removed a gun you had stowed on your horse and placed it in your holster, surprise bubbling in his stomach. Most of the women in the gang didn’t have guns. And while he wasn’t opposed to it, he wondered if there was more to you than you let on.

You were a fighter, he knew that well enough from how you never shied away from telling Micah off when he disgustingly flirted with you, even having drawn a knife one time when you were slightly intoxicated. You had no real intentions of using said knife, but the blond man needed to be shut up one way or another. That same occurrence was when Arthur had learned you weren’t the best at handling your alcohol. A lightweight, the term he commonly heard being used. 

The cowboy, still leaning against a wall by the entrance of the saloon, had a keen eye for things when it came to you. He wasn’t sure of how obvious it was, but he didn’t miss the way he’d sometimes catch you staring his direction when you were sure he couldn’t see you. The thought made him smile to himself, hands resting on his belt as he waited for you to catch up with him.

“All ready?” You asked, admiring the way stray pieces of hair stuck to Arthur’s forehead due to perspiration. He nodded, moving himself off the wall to push the saloon doors open, holding them for you to walk inside. 

With a smile towards the cowboy in thanks, you followed him to the bar. The table in front of you wasn’t the tallest, but it was hard not to notice the way Arthur basically towered over it. Looking away before you were either caught staring, or consumed in your thoughts, you began to wonder why Dutch sent the two of you on this “mission”. Before you could get whisked away in your head with that topic, Arthur spoke up again.

“Got a preferred drink?” He asked, elbows leant against the wooden platform in front of you. 

“Even if I did, I doubt they’d have it in a place like this,” You said, looking upwards at the bartender in front of you. Your eyes widened, not realizing the owner would be standing right in front of you. “Oh— I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” You trailed off, a feeble attempt at an apology, and heard Arthur bite back a laugh beside you. You kicked him beneath the bar.

“Don’t you worry, miss. I’ve been to enough saloons to know this one ain’t all that pretty.” The bartender said, smiling genuinely. “And,” He paused, wiping down the wooden expanse in front of him with an old rag, “I don’t actually own the place, I just work here.” The man in front of you winked with a laugh, standing up straight to formally address the you and Arthur.

Arthur, smiling and obviously very entertained by the whole interaction, sighed out contently before speaking up. “I’ll have a whiskey, and for the lady…” He looked down at you, examining your face for a quick moment. “Brandy.” 

The bartender nodded, turning around to fill up some glasses with your drinks.

“What’s brandy?”

Arthur laughed again. He seemed to be in a better mood now, thankfully. “Think it comes from a fruit, if I remember right. Not much of a drinker, are you?”

You shook your head silently, looking down at your hands. As much as you wanted to be able to drink like the rest of the gang, you knew all too well that you and alcohol did not mix well. Loose lips, unsteady feet, tiredness, and giggles were your common reactions. All of which are far too embarrassing to display in front of Arthur, someone you wanted to think highly of you. Yet, here you were, thanking the bartender for the drink as it was handed to you. For a moment, you examined the glass in your hand with an eyebrow raised. 

“Scared?” Arthur teased, turning towards you with his own glass gripped between his fingers. 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes playfully. “Of a drink? I think I’ll be fine, cowboy.”

Were you a bad liar? Or did Arthur always have a look of suspicion in his eyes whenever you spoke to him? Despite whether or not he truly believed your words, he raised his drink towards you, cheersing it with yours, the sound of the glass clinking filling the space as you both took your sips.

Being the man that he was, Arthur didn’t flinch at the bitter taste whiskey left on his tongue, or the way it burned down his throat. Especially not when he wanted to see the way you reacted when your drink did the same to you.

Pulling the glass to your lips, you were met with the initial taste of something slightly fruity. The flavor wasn’t too bad, compared to any other alcoholic beverages you’d had before. Then, as the liquid traveled down your throat, a sweltering feeling overcame you. With great effort, you managed you swallow it, despite your brain's efforts to try and get you to spit it back out. The overall feeling was intense enough to make your eyes water, looking up at Arthur in front of you. 

The cowboys face read a mix between surprise and concern. Clearly, whatever reaction you just had was not the usual. You grew embarrassed, cheeks turning a shade of crimson. 

“Should we get you somethin’ different—“

“No!” You almost immediately said, clearing your throat. “No, this is good. I like it.” You half-lied, reaching for the drink again.

Arthur seemed to be shocked by this response, because he tilted his head to the side slightly. “Really? You like it?”

You nodded, taking another sip and willing yourself not to have the same reaction as before. 

The cowboy carefully watched your face as you drank, taking note of the way your eyes watered again after you pulled to drink away from your lips. He wondered why you were lying to him about something like this. It wasn’t a bad thing to not be able to stand strong drinks, especially if you were someone who didn’t usually drink in the first place. Momentarily, he remembered the first time he’d been offered a drink by Dutch. He was about fourteen, and as soon as the liquid met his tongue, he spat it back out onto the ground, gagging dramatically. Compared to the way he was casually drinking the whiskey in his hand, that memory was laughable. 

“Can I try yours?”

Arthur was shook from his memories by your voice, glancing down at his drink to your face with a nod. Handing the drink over, he spoke up to try and warn you. “Just be careful. This is a lot stronger than—“

Before he could finish speaking, you quickly pulled the glass to your lips, eyes closed tightly as you gulped the entire drink down. Arthurs jaw fell slack at the scene before him, looking around to see if this had been some kind of joke. Upon surveying his surroundings, he noticed the cup that had once been full of the brandy he ordered you was now empty. You placed his now matching glass beside it, wiping a hand over your mouth. 

“S-sorry, I drank all yours…” You sheepishly said, looking up at Arthur. “I’ll get you another, ‘kay?” 

Was it possible for someone to fall under the influence that fast? Or had he been daydreaming about his childhood for too long? Whatever the answer was, his feeling of shock lingered as you pulled two large mugs of whiskey towards the both of you.  “Maybe we’ve had enough for today.” Arthur said, voice laced with concern for where this would go if you got any more liquor in your system. 

“Let’s find somewhere else to sit, it’s too loud here.” And with that, you were off, both drinks clutched in your fists as you wobbled to find a quieter place to sit. 

The cowboy had no choice but to follow you, worried for your wellbeing. Maybe it was his fault, getting you started on brandy of all things. But in his defense, he thought it would put you off from drinking altogether, not send you into a spiteful frenzy to prove you could drink the same way that he did. Arthur stayed close behind you as you made your way outside, using your weight to push the back door open. Luckily for you, there was a small table with two chairs on the back patio, looking almost as if they had been waiting for you and Arthur to come and use them.

“Perfect!” You exclaimed, carelessly plopping yourself down into one of the wooden chairs, placing Arthur’s drink on the table and bringing yours to your lips. 

The outlaw carefully sat down across from you, reaching for his drink at a more relaxed speed than your own. Carefully, he eyed you. You were definitely drunk, there was no denying that, but he had underestimated just how quickly that could happen to you. This was a fault of his memory, because only now was it reminding him of the time when you got woozy from one beer. 

“You know, after a while, it doesn’t even burn anymore.” You laughed, turning your head in the mans direction. 

“So it did burn you,” Arthur couldn’t help but smile. “Knew it was too strong for your liking.”

“For my liking? I looove this stuff, Arthur.” You slurred, pointing to the drink in your hand for emphasis. Now, you turned your entire body towards him, almost leaning completely over the table in his direction. This action caused a sleeve of your shirt to slip off, revealing a soft shoulder to Arthur’s eyes, making him gulp down his drink with a new intensity.

“Love is a strong word, cowpoke.” He offhandedly said. Unlike many of the other women in the gang, besides Sadie, you tended to dress less traditionally. Your wardrobe consisted of different pairs of worn in pants, and some button up shirts that happened to fit you sometimes, while others did not. Only so often did Arthur ever witness you in something like a dress. And presently, the shirt you wore was probably a size or two too big. Not a fault of your own, though. It was rare to find clothes made for working in diverse sizes, more so ones that fit women. 

Within his thoughts, he reached forward to ease your shirt back onto where it belonged, willing his hand to not linger on the spot longer than it needed to.

“Strong feeling, too.” 

Arthur had almost forgotten what he’d said to make you respond with that, but the look in your eyes brought the same spoken of feeling to burn in his chest. Still leaning over the table, eyes trained on the cowboy in front of you, your pupils were blown wide and your cheeks were flushed. 

It was nearing dusk, crickets began chirping ambiently, and the air was starting to cool down from its prior harshness. 

“We best start heading back.” Arthur quietly said, all too aware of the way you were silently staring at him. It’s not as if he was opposed to you being this close to him, in fact, it was killing him inside to not reach over and pull you across the table into his lap, where he could finally get his hands on you. But you were drunk. He wasn’t going to take advantage of you like that. 

You hummed in response, eyes lowering from his to now look at his lips, coated with the whiskey he had been nursing all this time. They were entrancing, really. Everything about Arthur was. The way he carried himself. His voice. His arms. His calloused hands. The way he always seemed to look out for you. How could you not feel some kind of way about him? 

The sound of your name coming from his mouth made you focus up, albeit you found it hard to keep your attention on one thing. 

“You alright?”

“Y-yeah… just thinking…’s all.”

If you weren’t so drunk you’d be embarrassed of the way you were speaking.

“Thinkin’, huh? What about?” Arthur challenged. 

You pulled yourself back into your seat, the final drops of your drink finding its way down your throat before you spoke again. 

“‘m not sure I can tell you.” You mumbled, leaning your head back against the wooden chair.

At this, Arthur felt a bit defeated. He wasn’t going to make you talk if you weren’t comfortable with it. If there was something you were withholding from telling him, he was sure there was a good reason. 

“Well, looks like our time here is up.”

As the cowboy began standing up from his seat, he felt a force grip his wrist, making him instinctively turn on his heels. What he was met with shook him to his core. 

Eyes glazed over, lip pouted outwards, hair a beautiful mess, you reached for Arthur. 

“What’s goin’ on—“

“Please, Arthur.” 

He was going to pass out. Your voice, defeated and pitiful, spoke his name in a way he’d never forget. Regaining his composure, Arthur spoke up again.

“Please what?”

Cheeks flushing an even darker red, you looked down at his wrist, turning it in your hand from where you had grasped onto it. For a second, there was no apparent reason for what you were doing. 

But then, calloused palms met soft cheeks. 

You had pulled Arthurs hand to caress your face, leaning into it with a soft smile.

“‘thur... I don’t wanna go back to the camp…” 

Confused, but compliant, his brows furrowed on his face. “How come?” 

You nuzzled your face against his hand for a moment before responding. “Not enough room on my bedroll for both of us…”

Arthur hoped the way his whole body stiffened wasn’t noticeable. How could you say something like that to him? He was going to lose his mind. Right here, on the back patio of Valentine’s saloon. He started thinking of ways to solve this problem. At this rate, getting back to camp on the horses without a fuss from you wouldn’t be possible… There was a hotel not too far of a walk from here, maybe that would work? Only, he’d have to get one with two beds. You weren’t in any condition to be consenting to share a bed with another person, even if your previous statement said otherwise.

“Can you walk?”

Removing your face from his hand, you used the table as leverage to stand up again. However, walking proved to be a difficulty, akin to a baby deer taking its first steps. Yeah, this wouldn’t work.

“Okay, I’m gonna pick you up. Is that alright?” Arthur said, hovering his arms around your shoulders momentarily.

Immediately, you nodded, leaning into his touch as he carried you bridal style to your next location. Wherever it was, you didn’t care as long as you were in his arms. 

The cowboy made quick work of the situation, careful of the mud that laid the town of Valentine as he made his way to the hotel. He was lucky it was still open at this hour, pushing the door open to be greeted by the owner.

“Well howdy, you two! Looking for a room?”

“Yes, a two bed, please.” Arthur said, trying not to sound too strained. It wasn’t that he was having trouble holding you, no, that was far from the problem. It was the way you buried your face into his chest that caused his heart to race. He hoped you didn’t notice.

“Two bed?” The man behind the counter said, raising a brow at the two of you. “You sure? I got plenty of other—“

“Yes! Just a two bed, please.”

Arthur was never more thankful to be a threatening man in his life than right now, it seemed, because the tone of his voice was enough to send the man on his way to find keys to a room.

“Up the stairs to the left, mister.”

And with that, Arthur made his way in the direction he had been told, carefully unlocking the door with you still in his arms. None of this felt real, if he was honest with himself. One second, he was talking to you inside the saloon; and the next he was carrying you to a room to put you to bed. He paused to look down at you, your eyes closed as you quietly breathed. There weren’t many things that could make the heart of a man like him soft, but you were definitely one of them. 

As Arthur entered the room, he took note of the two beds that were inside of it. While they were on the smaller side, there was no doubt they were probably much better than the makeshift beds the gang had back at the camp. Slowly, he pulled back the covers of the bed and placed you in the one furthest away from the door, his mind considering the situation where an emergency might happen, even amongst its slight buzzing from the whiskey. 

When he began to walk away to get into his own bed, he felt the same grip on his wrist from before. Only this time, he knew there was no threat. Slowly, he turned around, looking down at where you laid. 

“Please… sleep with me. I don’t wanna be alone.”

If his heart hadn’t softened entirely from the sight of you dozing in his arms, it was melted right out of his chest now.

Opening his mouth to give you an excuse as to why he shouldn’t, you cut him off.

“If you don’t, ‘m just gonna get into yours later.” A slight sleepy giggle in your voice.

Who was he to deny you right now?

Finally, he gave in, sighing quietly before sitting himself down on the bed. Maybe if he slept as stiffly as he did at camp, you wouldn’t want to lay so close to him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you near him, at this point, he craved you near him. But he couldn’t be entirely sure that this is what sober you would’ve wanted. So, as he laid down on the small bed, likely intended for one person, he was surprised to see you keep your distance initially. 

But, it was short-lived. Once Arthur had completely settled into the bed, you grabbed onto his arm, hugging it close to yourself. 

The cowboy squeezed his eyes shut, not in an attempt to sleep, but rather to keep himself contained. 

“Night, Arthur…”

He could die right now. 

He’d be happy.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fic #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 fic #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 community #rdr2 smut

[grippincash]

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬.

john marston x f!reader

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

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

word count: 2k.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Like.. This?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How good?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, John. Please.."

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

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

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

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

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

"F-fuck, you're so—"

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

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

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

“Mm, y-yes, John! Yes! Fuck!”

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

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

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

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

“Cum.. inside. Fill me up, Marston—“

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

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

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

“Did.. Did you like that?”

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

“…Yeah.”

#rdr #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #john marston #john marston x reader #john marston smut #john marston x reader smut #red dead redemption smut #18+ mdni #rdr smut

[salv12dexter]

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

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

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

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

#sukuna x reader #eddie munson x reader #yuuji itadori x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #arthur morgan x reader #levi ackerman x reader #billy hargrove x reader #tony stark x reader #leon kennedy x reader #john marston x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barns x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #tommy shelby x reader #f!reader #steve harrington x reader #negan smith x reader

[arthurthethird]

Start of troubles

Rdr2 x gn!reader

Part 3/???

Part 1, part 2

(A/N) Welcome to another part. I know not many people read this, but if you could just leave a comment about what you think? Opinion or critique, please.

Also, reminder, requests are open! I'll post rules soon, they're be pinned.

And I'll try to write longer parts, I promise! Now, enjoy!

★★★★★

So far, you've encountered an angry blonde man who threatened to shoot you because you bumped into him, an Irish man who tried flirting with you and a bear of a man who scared you to death. And the day just started.

Although it was, how other's would call it, a rough start, you didn't mind. Heck, you enjoyed it. Gave the place a charm.

You were carrying the hay for the horses when you got called over by Dutch. You quickly finished your chore before running up to him.

"Yes boss?"

"First of all, not boss. You're all free people here, I ain't your boss. Second, I need you for a job. Not alone, not yet" he let out a deep chuckle before continuing. "You'll ride with one of the men to the town. Get some supplies for mr. Pearson... And if you could pick up the mail when you're there? I'd be grateful." He nodded to you.

You were surprised. Although it wasn't anything big, you still felt honored. Being given the chance to pick up mail!

You smiled politely and nodded. "Of course. Who will I be going with?"

"It's your choice. But please choose between Javier, Arthur or Charles. They're the only one's I trust with you."

You were slightly confused at what he meant, but later figured he didn't trust you enough and wanted someone mature to come with you. So you nodded and walked to the bear man you saw earlier. You've been secretly calling him Teddy, but now it turned out his name was Charles.

"Erm... Charles?" You begun. The man raised his head, his gaze meeting yours. You stopped for a moment. His eyes... They were like jewels. This deep, nice color...

"May I help you?" He questioned, raising a brow. You quickly snapped out of your thoughts and nodded.

"Yes, actually! Dutch asked me to go to the town and grab supplies and mail... Would you mind helping out?" You said sheepishly. He was quiet at first. You swore you saw him look you up and down. But then he just nodded.

"Alright. Let's go now, it's late already." He got up, walking over to the horses. You quickly followed, walking over to yours. Your arm was still bothering you, but you managed to beg Dutch into not informing anyone about your injurie. It was safer that way. Besides, you could treat it yourself.

Charles looked over to you as you mounted your horse, patting it. He couldn't help but smile slightly. Then he rode out of the camp, signing you to follow.

"How are you doing in the camp?" He looked towards you. You knew he was wasn't much of a talker, so it was surprising he actually sparked up a conversation. You cleared your throat before answering.

"Good... People are strange. Already got told I'll get a bullet in my head..."

"Yes, Micah can be like that. But don't mind him, there's no one he has been nice to."

You chuckle to yourself. You probably knew the type. Now like you haven't pretty much lived with people like him. Tough childhood, but thankfully no one was interested in it.

When you arrived at the town, you and Charles decided to split. Charles went to the general store to pick up the supplies, you headed for the mail.

There wasn't much people. Not even the clerk. You waited calmly when someone shows up. But no one did. You took a sigh and turned around, just to froze, realizing the presence of a gun. Pointed straight at. Your. Head.

Where's Charles when you need him?

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #rdr2 x reader #john marston #reddeadredemption2 #rdr2 x gn reader #rdr2 x f reader #rdr2 x female reader #rdr2 x male reader #rdr2 x m reader #please someone tell me you enjoy my writing #i feel like shit and I'm waiting for a letter from my gf so I need some assurance

[whoyacallinyellow]

never again

John Marston x F! reader

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

Summary: a night of drinking never goes unpunished

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

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

“jus’ me, hush.”

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

“s’alright.” 

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

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

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

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

“c’mon sweetheart.”

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

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

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

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

There was no doubt John got off easy, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Someone’s gonna hear—“ 

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

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

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

“keep those little lips quiet, now.” 

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

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

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

“such a good girl for me, ain’t ya?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“that’s it,” 

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

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

“Marston! It's your shift!” 

A nasally demand rang from outside the tent.

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

“Christ!” 

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

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

“Goddamnit— Williamson—“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“never again in camp.” 

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

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

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

“never again.” 

~

#john marston x reader #John marston headcanons #John marston #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption fandom #rdr2 x reader #rdr smut #rdr2 smut #john marston smut

[todorokies]

THE ONE WHERE YOU REFUSE TO KEEP QUIET. . !

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3

#rdr2 x reader #rdr2 x you #john marston x reader #john marston x you #john marston smut #rdr2 smut #john marston fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 x reader #rdr fanfiction #rdr2 fluff #john marston #rdr x reader #rdr smut #red dead redemption fanfic #arthur morgan #rdr2 community #rdr john #rdr2 john marston #john marston fic #rdr2 fandom #john marston rdr2

[margowritesthings]

The Greatest Gift A Cowgirl Could Ask For

a @rdrevents Valentines gift exchange for @cowboydisaster

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader word count: 4,400 words warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, explicit language, sexual themes, vaginal sex, mentions of death, unprotected sex, throwing up (TW EMETOPHOBIA), very brief mention of SA in the past, unexpected pregnancy, mentions of Micah Bell a/n: am I britney spears in her 2000 grammy award winning song??? because oops, i did it again. i don't know how I managed to get Bea as my recipient for a SECOND time, but it only felt right to carry on building this universe I've made for her and lying to her about it all week. Whoops.

Bea, my beloved, Happy Valentines Day. You deserve the world and Im so glad I could dedicate this fic to you. Honestly I probably couldn't have gotten the motivation to get back on my feet and write again if it wasn't for you. Thanks for everything you do bby and I hope this lives up to your 'if by some miracle you get me for your gift exchange disregard my prompts and write a TGG prequel' (yes she actually said that) idea. Love you lots xxx

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries @delilah-grimes @luvliewriting @mrsarthurmorgan7 @photo1030 @snobbybastard

My Darling Wife,

I’m writing to you from up near Tempest Rim. I’ve tracked this bounty all over the goddamn Grizzlies and I’m ready to come home to you. I miss you so much and I’m real sorry I can’t be home in time for St. Valentines. Hopefully I can catch this bastard soon and make it up to ya. We’ll go to the theatre and sit right at the back, how’s that sound? I’ll move heaven and Earth to be beside you soon, you know I will.

I can’t wait to see you, sweetheart. I’ll be there as fast as I can be with enough money to take you out on the town. Won’t be long, I promise. 

All my love, Arthur

All my love, Arthur

All my love, Arthur

Your finger runs over his looped script, over and over as if it will somehow will your husband out of the crumpled paper and into your bed. It’s been 2 months since the letter arrived, 2 months of the agony of not knowing if he’s dead or alive robbing you of sleep each and every night. You miss him, more than you could ever imagine one person could miss another and you honestly don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t come home. 

It’s a 600 dollar bounty, it’s sure to be a tough job you constantly reassure yourself, unable to focus on anything but the absence of half of your very soul in every waking moment. 

The day he comes home starts like any other. Time's arrow marches on, the sun rises and sets over your makeshift family as they work and plan and rob and hunt. You busy yourself planning a job with Karen, cushioned into your schedule between menial tasks so that it’s just that bit easier to not think about him. As usual, your efforts are in vain, but at least the chores are done, your steed Diesel is happy, and, all being well, you and Karen will have about 30 dollars to split between you when the week is out. 

An hour before he comes home, everyone retires to bed, save for John (who’s on watch tonight) and you’re left alone by the campfire. It crackles and pops, embers swirling the air around you. It feels like you stare at the twisting flames until your eyes blur and burn and you can’t tell which are tears of irritation to your senses and which are your heart breaking once more.

Moments before you’re reunited with the second half of your heart, you hear John yelling. It’s instinct that drives your hand into your holster, still resting against your hip despite the late hour, and you perk up like a startled deer, straining to decipher Marston’s words.

“Who is it?!” “Arthur, you dumbass!”

Arthur.

Arthur?

“Arthur?!” It’s a breathless shout, barely heard over the rushing blood in your ears as your feet take you to your husband before your mind can even fathom that he’s here. 

But sure enough, when you reach the edge of camp, heart racing, you see Arthur Morgan riding his chestnut mare straight towards you, spurring her into a gallop as soon as he lays his eye on his waiting wife. Marston probably makes some remark about who ‘decided to show up’, but to you, there is nothing but you and Arthur, two magnets parted by an unnatural force finally reaching each other again with a deafening crash. 

And it is. A crash, that is, when Arthur all but throws himself off his saddle and your bodies collide, great big arms wrapping around your frame. It is then that the tears fall down your cheek, soaking into Arthur’s coat that smells so much like him it truly feels like a dream.

You thought he was dead.

Only when you’re safely in his arms, when he’s pressing frantic kisses to your head, whispering your name over and over into your hair do you allow yourself to admit that fact. You thought he was never coming back, and yet here he is. Words fail you, the overwhelming emotion settling right in your throat.

“Oh, god… oh, darlin’ I-I missed you so much…” 

You feel two large hands cup your cheeks, pulling you in for a kiss that holds everything and anything the past 3 months could have been had you not spent it apart. But everything fits back into place, the world starts spinning again and you’re whole the second Arthur Morgan’s lips meet yours. It lasts a lifetime, it lasts a fraction of a second. You want to stop time, keep Arthur in your arms forever and never again have to go through the torture of being away from each other. The two of you only part to throw near identical scowls at John, who is amusing himself by telling you to get a room.

Unfortunately, as Ms. Grimshaw so often reminds you all, the Van der Linde Camp is not a hotel, so tonight you will not be afforded the luxury of a private suite as John so kindly suggested. There is only your tent, hitched against the gang’s weapons wagon, the old canvas pulled around to offer a little privacy when you and Arthur first started… well, needing the seclusion.

Calloused fingers intertwine with your own digits, Arthur’s other hand flipping John off before his weight pulls you towards your little corner of camp. There's so much purpose in his stride, the need to have you all to himself, not even share you with the lord above or wildlife below, driving him forward. Driving him home. 

When you’re finally, truly alone, the tears welling in your eyes glistening in the candlelight, no words are needed. Soon enough, you’ll talk for hours on end, catching each other up on every little detail of the last few months. But for now, all that there is and all that could matter is right this very second, when Arthur reaches for you, brushing a thumb over the tear tracks on your left cheek. His eyes, looking almost emerald in the dark of night, roam over each and every detail of you with such an intensity in him that you think he’s trying to remember this moment for the rest of time. You’re sure it’s one you could never possibly forget. 

Arthur snakes both arms around your waist, guiding you backwards until the backs of your knees gently hit the cot and you lay back onto it. He covers the full length of you and then some, making you feel so fragile and small. It’s nice to feel breakable for once, to let go of the need to be the strongest in the room, lest you be ridiculed for being too sensitive or too weak or too womanly. Arthur knows just how strong you are, you need to prove nothing to him, so you can submit to his embrace, allow yourself to just breathe for once knowing you can break and there’s re will always be somebody to put you back together.

He lowers himself to your lips, pressing a kiss to them that doesn’t last nearly long enough. Arthur then kisses your nose, then your cheeks and chin, before trailing down to the crook of your neck. Your skin feels as though it’s on fire, so starved for the man you cannot live without that now he’s finally here everything feels that much more intense. The tiniest scrape of Arthur’s teeth against your flesh shoots through every single nerve in your body and you moan right into his ear. You can actually feel him harden against your thigh at the sweet melody of your pleasure. 

Pushing Arthur’s hat off to the side, your fingers rake through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp encouragingly as he nibbles at your skin.

“Oh, Arthur… Oh, I missed you so much…” You breathlessly whisper, feeling your heart skip a beat when he pauses his movements to glance at you from under impossibly long eyelashes, jade green eyes glistening up at you.

“I missed you too, sweetheart. So so much.” His voice is soft, as if he’s handling the peacefulness around you so delicately and it causes the overwhelming emotion to well in your chest and choke up your throat. Arthur sees this, trying not to be too taken with his own surprising amount of emotion himself, and relieves you of your job of a response by directing his attention to the buttons of your shirt. You don’t remember him pushing your jacket off your shoulders, but there it lies on the floor beside the entrance to your tent, so he must have.

Despite the juxtaposition of such dainty buttonholes and such large fingers, Arthur expertly undresses your top half until you’re bare to him. He takes no time at all to take one of your nipples into his mouth, kissing and sucking at it with a hunger you feel right in your toes. You moan loudly, unable to stop yourself after yearning for this very feeling for so long. 

Arthur coos and shushes you and it vibrates across your skin, not helping you stay quiet in the slightest. The hand not tugging on his dirty blonde locks reaches between your two longing bodies to begin to unbuckle his belt. You can feel your own heartbeat throbbing between your legs, your coil growing tighter and tighter by the second. It’s been almost 3 months since your bodies have joined like this, and yet you’re not sure you can wait another minute. 

You’re purring for Arthur, twitching and grinding as your hand fumbles desperately at the belt. His absence from your skin is agony the second he pulls his hips back to sit up straight. Spotting your downright bratty expression, bottom lip protruding in a pout, Arthur chuckles lowly, “Patience, baby… I gotta get these damn clothes off us.” He gestures to his belt, still very much buckled around his waist. Definitely not your fault. He was being far too distracting.

He’s quick, you’ll give him that, shedding his clothes without taking his eyes off you. You burn under his stare, even more so when he crawls back on top of you to slide your boots off one by one and peel your pants and undergarments down your legs.

The heat radiates off his huge body, his cock pulsing with need. The way he’s putting his weight into his arms to stop from crushing you with his weight adds a definition to his already beautifully sculpted body. Reaching down, you brush the tip of your finger oh so gently over his rosy head, finding a bead of cum already leaking, and you snap. You can’t wait a second longer, scratching and gripping at him like he’s the air you need to breathe.

“Please, Arthur, please I need you. S-So long, it’s been so long-” “Shh, I know, princess, I know. I’m gonna take care of you, okay? Gonna take care of your pretty little cunt, I promise.” He soothes you, though his own voice is shaky from the very effort of restraining himself, maintaining his control to not drive into you and ruin you. While he whispers to you, he lines himself up at your entrance and you quiver in anticipation.

In all your years before you met Arthur, you never really saw sex as anything but something to give, or worse, something to be taken from you. You never truly understood, not until you met Arthur, who taught you it’s something to share, to experience. With Arthur, it’s different. It is connection and pleasure and it’s wonderful and god damn it, it’s addictive. So when Arthur slides into you, letting out a visceral, guttural groan as he does, everything is right in the world.

You feel so full, especially when Arthur pushes all the way to the hilt, connecting you completely at the pelvis. The moan that escapes your lips is downright obscene and Arthur crashes down into your mouth to swallow it. 

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s been so long, or the emotion of it all, but you swear you can feel everything. Every vein and ridge, every twitch and movement of his perfect cock as Arthur slowly starts to move in and out of you. 

“Fuck… s-so good, darlin. So tight- y’feel so fucking good, princess…”

You’ve never hurtled so close towards a climax so quickly in your life. His torturously slow, deep thrusts drag into your sweet spot every fucking time and trying to hold back brings a blur into your vision. Your own hips grind against his, Arthur gripping into your flesh to guide you perfectly in time with him.

“I-I’m so close already, Arthur… fuck…” You breathe out, your breath tickling Arthur’s ear and sending a visible shudder down his spine. He looks proud at your admission.

“You missed me that much, huh? Gonna cum for me already, darlin’?” 

He gives you no time to respond, pressing a thumb to your clit and rubbing in time with everything else. You implode, pulling Arthur down to catch the scream you’re about to wake everybody up with. It has never felt so intense, and with every thrust Arthur fucks into you it only grows and grows, shattering you to pieces for Arthur to fix back together again. 

When you return, a rhythmic thudding in your ears, the first thing you see is Arthur, of course. His jaw is fluttering madly, a bead of sweat clinging to his forehead but the candlelight makes him look ethereal. You still can’t believe he’s here, alive.

Tears start to glisten in your eyes. You’ve never cried during sex before, not for anything positive, at least, but somehow this doesn’t feel wrong. Arthur slows again, watching you, and you spot an extra shine to his own jade orbs. He knows. He feels it too. 

He’s right there with you. As he always is.

He brushes a piece of hair stuck to your forehead away, and the gesture is enough to send the tears falling down the same worn path on your cheeks as before.

“I love you, Mr. Morgan…” “I love you, Mrs. Morgan…” 

It seems to become too much for Arthur to stay still, and you’re glad for it. You’re desperate for the friction, already flying towards another orgasm. He’s really fucking into you this time, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in. He’s groaning and growling and you decide in that moment that it’s your favourite sound in all the world. 

“I… I ain’t gonna last much longer, baby…”

“C-Cum in me…” “Huh?” He slows, shuddering at the exertion required to control his movements, “I-”

But you’re not listening to his protests, your nails digging into the skin of his back and ass and anywhere else you can reach to urge him forwards again.

“Please Arthur, I-I need you… I need you to cum with me, I need you with me…” you plead with him, not truly understanding your need but honouring it. You’ve been without him for so long, you deserve him with you now.

He appears to consider you for just a moment, before diving down to lock your lips with his. His tongue delves into your mouth, tasting every bit of you and he starts to pump into you unreservedly. His body grinds against yours and the friction is perfect and you’re so fucking full and before you can even try to hold back, you’re cumming again, stars scattering your vision, heart pounding out of your chest to find release from it’s mortal, physical cage. Your inner walls twitch around Arthur’s length and this time, he doesn’t hold back either. 

His eyes fly open and lock onto yours as you both climax together. It’s vulnerable and strange, but perhaps more connected than you ever thought possible for two people to be. 

Arthur’s cock twitches inside you, pumping out his spend as he groans viscerally, completely losing control of his rhythm as he thrusts into you one last time, harsh and deep. You’ve never experienced this before, with Arthur or any other man, normally erring on the side of caution when it came to such matters, but even as you come down you can’t bring yourself to regret it. Whatever you and Arthur just experienced together felt spiritual, and worth much more than a little risk.

Arthur collapses, even as depleted as he is still considerate enough to collapse onto his elbows and not crush you. He slides out of you, earning a little wince, and rolls to the side so you can rest your head on his chest. It’s like a locket that’s been ripped apart, finally fixed together with the most satisfying click. 

═══════☆═══════

Two months later, life has returned to its equilibrium. You and Arthur are perhaps clingier, still in a sort of second honeymoon phase where you just can’t seem to keep your hands off each other, more so than usual. It’s a side effect of prolonged solitude, you’re sure.

The first time it happens, you blame Pearson and think nothing of it. It’s pretty early in the morning and you’re sitting with Tilly and Abigail, peeling potatoes for the stew tonight. Abigail is venting her frustrations about when John did this and John said that, and everything feels so normal. Pearson arrives, throwing a rather large, rather dead fish onto the table you’re leaning against and you feel the thud from the weight of it vibrate against your back. 

It isn’t until the smell invades your senses that everything starts to feel off. It smells exactly like all the other fish Pearson has ever slammed onto that poor table, which doesn’t explain why you immediately lurch forwards, grabbing an empty bucket and throwing up your breakfast. The fish stench is suffocating and all you can do is get the hell away from it, not noticing when Abigail’s brows knit together almost… knowingly?

You skip the stew that night. 

―

The second time it happens, you try not to think about it. You’re riding Diesel and almost don’t make it off him in time. There is nothing to set you off, no horse shit or rotting animal at the side of the road, and yet in an instant your stomach feels like it has been flipped upside down. 

The sheer volume of your retching catches Arthur’s attention and he tugs on the leather reins in his hands to steady his mare. 

“Darlin’? Y’alright?” 

His concern is evident in his tone and in the tight line between his brows, which deepens when he finds you unable to respond in anything but a frantic nod. He dismounts, spurs clicking against the dusty ground when he approaches you. 

“Oh, sweetheart… that’s it, easy, easy… you’re okay…”

You feel gentle circles rubbed into the tense muscles of your back as you try to get through this again. It’s not lost on you that Arthur is speaking to you like a spooked horse, but it actually really does help. (You decide to prioritise peace of mind and not psychoanalyse why that is). Eventually, it relents and you regain your composure, albeit somewhat less gracefully than you’d have liked. 

“Sorry… I don’t know what’s gotten into me, maybe I ate somethin’.”

Your apology for something you can’t help earns you a sad smile from your husband, who places a loving kiss on the top of your head before reaching for your discarded hat and putting it back on for you.

“Y’don’t gotta apologise. I gotcha, darlin’.”

You know he does.

He always does.

―

The third time it happens, the luxury of denial is stolen from you. It’s early enough that your view while you sit with Abigail drinking coffee involves glorious hues of orange and pink scattered around the rising sun. It’s peaceful, tranquil. The warmth of the little metal mug in your hands and Arthur’s jacket around your shoulders is enough to ward off the fresh morning chill in the air.

There is absolutely no warning when it hits, when it happens again. You’re so goddamn sick (no pun intended) of hurling. Your eyes water and your throat hurts a little and you curse under your breath when it’s over. Abi is beside you, rubbing your back in an attempt to soothe you. She waits until it’s over before speaking hesitantly.

“Uh, can I ask you somethin’?” 

You nod, eyes still red and glistening as you swirl coffee around your mouth to take away from the awful, acidic taste lingering. 

“When did you last bleed?”

“What, like an injury? Uh, I cut my hand couple days back, but I don’t see what-“

… Oh fuck. 

═══════☆═══════

The anxiety bounces around your body and you decide that you’ve become far too acquainted with the concept of nausea. You can actually tell the difference between nerves  twisting your stomach and… well, let’s say it as it is:  morning sickness. This is the former, you deduce, spinning both your engagement and wedding ring around your finger to give your hands something better to do than carve fingernail-shaped moons into your palm. He should be home any minute now. Any minute now and it will all change forever.

It’s quite late, but the poker game Arthur was scoping out for potential jobs is known to last a while. You’re the only one still awake, poking the embers of the campfire to keep yourself as comfortable as possible. 

You hear hooves hitting dry dirt first, and it seems to trigger your fight or flight response. God, you’d love to run away from this, but that is pretty much impossible, so fight it is. It’ll be the greatest fight of your life, you’ll soon learn, one you’re privileged to be a part of. But right now, it feels like an all-consuming unknown. 

Arthur can tell something is wrong the second he sees you. You’re terrible at hiding things, especially from him. He always reads you as though you have a poster advertising your feelings printed on your forehead. Arthur dismounts, kissing you tenderly on the temple and wrapping his arms around you.

“What’re you still doin’ up, darlin’? Is everything alright?” You can feel his worry vibrating in his chest as you nuzzle into his embrace. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I just… Can we talk? I kept the fire goin’.” You say it into his shirt, reluctant to move from this hold.

“Of course…” there’s something in his voice, a tense apprehension that really doesn’t help the knot contorting itself in your gut. 

While you’re more than capable of keeping a fire going, Arthur is an expert, and has it healthily burning within seconds of you sitting down on the overturned log the gang has fashioned into a bench. You’re back to spinning your beautiful gold bands around your finger, trying to remember to breathe in and out every so often.

“What’s goin’ on, sweetheart?” His voice is so soft, so kind that it makes you want to cry. But you promised yourself you wouldn’t until you’d told him, because this might just be the most important conversation you’ve ever had, and you definitely won’t get through it if you’re a blubbering mess.

“I, uh… I… somethin’s happened.”

You hear his breath hitch in his throat and Arthur leans towards you, completely enveloping your hands in his. They’re sandwiched in now and you can’t fiddle with your rings anymore.

“What? What happened? Was it Micah? If he’s said somethin’ to you, I’ll kill him, the rat bastard-”

“No, no, it’s… as much as I’d love to see that, it’s not him.” 

The tension releases. Just a little bit.

“I’m pregnant.” 

Oh wait, there it is. 

The silence is deafening, even though you’re almost certain it isn’t actually silent out here right now. There's a fire going and crickets are just metres away, you’re just shutting down with nerves. 

The normally so often tense, fluttering jaw of Arthur Morgan is slack, his eyes wide and gaping at you, occasionally flicking down to your so far bump-less belly. (You should know- you’ve been obsessively looking in a mirror any chance you get for some sort of sign that this is really happening). 

Say something. Please say something. Please don’t be angry. Oh, God please don’t hate me. 

“I-I… You’re pregnant?” He repeats, reassuring you that you haven’t actually gone deaf, though his tone holds no indication of anything but shock. That’s probably fair…

You nod, hands instinctively reaching over your belly. It feels… weird. Holding your hands over your baby. Yours and Arthur’s baby. 

“It happened a couple months back, when you got back from The Grizzlies, I think… I-I’m sorry, Arthur. I shoulda’ been more careful and-and…” You’re rambling, filling a silence that probably should just be allowed to be a silence.

“There… There’s gonna be a baby?”

There. Right there, adorning Arthur’s beautiful features, is the pull of a smile. It chokes you up instantly, so far deep in nightmares of arguments and unhappiness that you hadn’t even considered the good. You start to nod, a little bit of your fringe falling in your face.

“Yeah… There’s gonna be a baby. Our baby…”

“Our baby…” He repeats, his arm raising to brush the hair away from your eyes in such a natural manner it feels like it’s just his instinct to care for you. It is his instinct to care for you, Arthur has shown you that in every minute of every day of your marriage, and suddenly you’re not sure why you’ve been so scared. 

“I’m gonna be a dad?” He still seems in disbelief, but that’s normal. It’s taken you a few days to come to terms with it, and even then the fingernail marks in your palms are still red raw. 

“You’re gonna be a dad.”

It hits him. Really hits him and he all but throws himself into you, scooping you up and spinning you around as he laughs unreservedly.

“Well goddamn, I’m gonna be a Daddy!” 

You laugh with him, worries and anxiety a distant memory as your feet swing around in the air. You’re probably waking the camp up, but you don’t care all that much. Right now, you’re the happiest girl in the world.

A baby. There’s gonna be a baby. Arthur’s baby.

Really, it’s the greatest gift a cowgirl could ask for.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan x f!reader #arthur morgan x y/n #rdr2 fanfiction #red dead redepmtion 2 #arthur morgan rdr #rdr2 arthur #rdr valentines change

[spongeyspot]

Poly Relationship HCs (SFW +NSFW)

(John Marston x fem!reader x Abigail Marston)

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

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

SFW

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- Pet names!

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

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

- Both John and Abigail enjoy physical affection.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NSFW (MINORS DNI)

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

- John and Abigail are both switches.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- John LOVES biting you. He loves making you squirm

- Abigail lowkey has a Mommy kink

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

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

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

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

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

- John and Abigail are both certified munches

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

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

- He also loves to watch you eat pussy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

- John fantasizes about getting you pregnant too.

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

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

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

#polyamory #john marston x female reader #john marston x reader #john marston x abigail roberts #john marston x abigail marston #Abigail roberts x reader #Abigail marston x reader #abigail marston x female reader #Abigail roberts x female reader #Abigail roberts x fem reader #Abigail marston x fem reader #John marston x fem reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #john marston #red dead redemption two #John marston x reader x Abigail marston #John marston x reader x Abigail roberts #wlw #John marston x reader smut #john marston x female reader smut #john marston headcannons #abigail marston headcannons #abigail roberts headcannons #abigail roberts x reader smut #abigail marston x reader smut #are my tags obnoxious enough yet? #just wondering

[wisteriadumster]

Stress Reliever Theatre❥John Marston

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆:*.☾ ·☽.* :☆ﾟ. ───────

JOHN MARSTON X FEMALE READER

CW➻❥ public intimacy⋆private sex⋆fingering⋆consensual groping ⋆handjob⋆orgasm both m! & f!⋆extreme making out/kissing✮if I missed anything pls lmk!✮

WC➻❥2,233➻❥this isn't well proof read so any mistakes or odd things are purely accidental

Summary➻❥You drag John Marston to a show in Saint Denis, to relieve his clear signs of stress. Surely nothing more than two people watching a show together right?

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆:*.☾ ·☽.* :☆ﾟ. ───────

*✧･ﾟ:* WisteriaDumster original work.*:･ﾟ✧*

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You’re not sure how you truly convinced John Masrton to go to Saint Denis, let alone the theater.

Yet here you are, sitting in the back row by John's request, waiting for everyone else to take their seats. His breathing was tight and heavy, large sighs leaving him often, “This show is sure to take the stress off your mind.” A hand slid onto his left shoulder, attempting a weak massage. Even in darkness you can see his blushing cheeks, “you’re too sweet on me, you know that?” His compliment forces a side smile on you,

“well you’re bad at hiding stress, I’m just helping out”.

All other whisper conversations stopped, you turned away from John and looked to the brightly lit stage. A man stepped onto the said stage, “good evening ladies and gentleman.” His red suit is extremely eye-catching, “tonight men and women of only myth will perform in front of your very eyes!” Your hand went back to your lap, the man cleared his throat. “I have sailed the seven seas to find these people only heard in the stories your children read!” Scattered laughter filled the silent crowd. A few more useless sentences and jokes were thrown into his little speech which were all the same just different words.

“I won’t keep any more of your time, please welcome the werewolf!” He bows before slipping through the curtains that matched his suit in colour.

You waited patiently before the curtains finally drew back, a thunderous drum roll made you jump. Suddenly a man with more hairs on his arm than your entire body jumped onto the stage, he let out a growl. You stared at him, not a single inch of him was hairless, well besides his face.

His beard is so long it could be made into a small towel, his hair was even longer, reaching down to his knees. John leaned close to your ear, “he reminds me of Arthur,” he jokes, making you giggle.

The Werewolf’s act was finally over, the curtains drew back, the crowd cheered over the various tricks he had done. “Are you still stressed? I hope this is helping,” You look to John, your hands gently clapping. “I mean I feel better but I could use something else.” His hand is now on your thigh, he’s nervous, it wasn’t surprising as John wasn’t much of a romantic to begin with. “What are you suggesting?” You know what he wants, but in public? You weren’t used to being intimate or even romantic in public. “We’re in the back, people came for the show, maybe we can be the next act.” His fingers begin pulling at your skirt, slowly having it scrunch up your thigh. The curtains opened again, but all your attention was on John.

Your skirt was now in your lap, his rough hand rubbing your thigh, his eyes staring at your lips, debating if he should kiss you.

Since he wouldn’t, you did. You moved in close and went for a gentle and slow kiss. He couldn’t wait, his hand leaving your thigh and going to your hair, he pulled you in close, dying for all of you he could get.

The show was merely background noise as you played with his hair, John pulling at your waist trying to get you as close as he could with the arm rests of the chair in the way.

You can't resist letting a small whimper out into John's mouth as his nails dig into your hip. "You like that?" He smirks against your lips as his hand travels down to thigh once again. This time it doesn't stay there but begins sliding up, slowly reaching to your panties.

His fingers tease with the fabric, caressing the stitching of your own work. "I like where this stress relief is going," you spoke with a gasp, eagerly impatient for his next move. He laughs before his hand finally begins to pull down your underwear, you're quick to help him.

His hand again teases you and slowly goes up your leg, you pull back from the kiss. "John Marston, when did you become such a teaser?" Your hand is playing with a button of his shirt, "when I began wondering if I should fuck you here or in the cleaning closet down the hall." His breath is hot against your ear, how did he know of the closet? Must’ve been when he was searching for a bathroom when you came to the theater. “Well while you think, can you let me be pleased before I stare at the half naked man on that stage,” your attention averts to the stage with John, only for a moment. He looks back to you and sticks two fingers in your mouth, “sure I can think about it,” his smirk is terrifying yet exhilarating.

He wraps his arm around your waist before slowly entering those two fingers. Your stomach tightens and you hold your breath as to not alert the actual enjoyers of the show. He kisses down your neck as his fingers begin to curl, every part of you was stiff as the pleasure felt impeccable.

A hand was gripping the arm rests, your knuckles were becoming light in color. His fingers are starting to gain momentum, making your game at being quiet, extremely difficult.

John notices and goes back to your face, "What if we take this to another level, make it fun." You nod to the request, his speed beginning to slow, "will I have to stay quiet?" You manage through the grit of your teeth, he thinks for a moment while his fingers slide out, "that closet is still open I'm sure." He's gentle,”let hope the walls are thick enough.” Now out of his seat standing in front of you as he helps redress you.

You were finally calm and collected, standing and pulling your skirt down. His arm wraps around your waist and guides you out into the hallway.

The hall is silent, not a sign of life. John is touching all over your body, you began to think that you might not make it to the closet.

His lips are kissing your neck, his hands groping at your ass and waist. He left you to find the closet, you peeked through into a small room of brooms and a counter. He pushed you inside and closed the door in a matter of seconds, "I can't wait." You could feel how hard he was, before turning the oil lamp on. The room was dim.

He was pushing you against the wall, his arms wrapped around you, keeping you trapped.

His nails dug into your skirt as your bodies grinded together, the intensity of his desire for you was the hottest thing you ever witnessed. His kisses were turning to bites, surely this wasn’t the John you knew, but you can’t complain because whoever this is, will be fucking you good.

His hands cup at the bottom of your ass and lifts you to the counter, "I need you so bad." His hands are already under your skirt again pulling your panties, this time pulling them off completely. He's leaning over you, aggressively kissing you, taking a moment to again wet his fingers.

He enters slow again, gradually increasing the speed, faster than when inside the actual theater. Your body almost thrusts for a moment at the sudden speed gain.

He knows what he's doing, curling his fingers at the right angle before uncurling and thrusting them back in. Whimpers and whines bounced around in the room, how did you ever manage to stay quiet in that theater? His free hand was down to the buttons of his jeans, his breath was husky and quick. He pulls from the kissing to focus on his hand, his chest rising faster than it could fall. Your body was aching as you were already climbing up to your climax, ready to give out just from his fingers alone.

You were so focused on the pleasure that everything was drowned out,yet that was short lived when his fingers left you without the delight of them. You opened your eyes and looked to him, his eyes pierced yours, he couldn't hide the smile curling at the side of his mouth.

You spit in a hand and wrapped it around his cock that you noticed just barely. A quiver left his lips suddenly at the touch.

You made sure to have every inch perfectly wet for easy entry, his head hung back.

His hand is clawing at the edge of the counter while you did quick bursts of speed. “Like that do you now?” It was exciting to see how just a simple hand job affected him so heavily.

A giggle leaves you as your hand lets go, "I'm gonna need you to do that again sometime." He laughs as well while readjusting himself, his focus back on you. His hands were tight on your thighs as he pulled you closer to the edge of the counter.

He enters slow, you gasped at the sudden feeling of being less empty. He smirked, enjoying every way you reacted to him, almost as an ego boost.

You wrap your hands in his hair, leaving him to support you, his hands wrapped around your back almost like a hug. An intimate one definitely. His pace quickens, taking no time to move his hips as well for something more than just awkward thrusting.

Your kissing out moans, a hand was now at his back for stability. It was harder to hold on as you prepared for probably the best orgasm of your life. Your nails dug into his vest, every part of you was tight as he didn’t slow or change anything, he knew better than to ruin your growing orgasm.

You had pulled from the kisses and were moaning into the base of his neck. He wasn't much quieter, plenty of groans rumbled deep from his chest. He was struggling to hold back just as much as you, it wasn't a shocker that he couldn't last long. His pace was faster, less steady but more extreme. That's when it hit, he was loud and slowed, almost stopping. The feeling of being filled to the max was just what you needed to send you over the edge. Your head hung away from him as every nerve in your body gave out. Your moans echoed throughout the closet, surely loud enough to get the attention of anyone outside in the hallway.

After the wave of pleasure washed over, your head fell onto his chest, you were both panting heavily. "Jesus that was good," John's fingers are playing with your hair. "I didn't know you were so. Skilled," you laugh, completely blown away at the fact he just did that. “Really? I don’t look good in bed?” He’s sarcastic yet it doesn’t fully seem that way, “no absolutely not.”

"We should get out of here before that show ends and a maid comes." John pulls back to grab articles of clothing off the floor. “We should do this again, some time soon.” You bite your bottom lip imagining what he could do without a time crunch. “I’ll be sure to stress myself out, just for you,” He looks up at you as he begins to slide your underwear up your legs.

He kisses up your legs and he finishes dressing you, his kisses continue, going up to your lips.

Those aggressive kisses from earlier are more: calm, simple, romantic rather than hungry, lustful, intense.

He pulls you down the counter and sets you gently on the floor, “take the lead,” he allows you to exit first, his hand smacking at an ass cheek as you push through the door. The hallway is significantly colder, the closest was almost like you had a fire set loose in it.

A man is staring at you both as you begin walking towards the exit, you turn to see John holding back a laugh. “Good day sir,” you smile before bursting into laughter, John right behind you with a loud belly laugh.

He pulled you onto his horse, “if Dutch asks let say we were trying to hunt,” he suggests getting on the horse as well. “John Marston, he would never believe a lie like that, let’s say we were simply doing a bounty.” You shake your head at the thought, “we were trying to secure a train robbery or just a job for the gang but failed.”

“Oh that’s a good one,” John begins down the street, “must be good to have some brains with you for once huh?” You wrap your hands around his waist and snuggle in close, “you want to walk back to camp?” He has a deep rumble for a laugh in his chest, shaking his head at your remark. “What kind of man are you Marston?” You observe the city and the life that passes you, “I’m a man that could go for round two on the outskirts of the city.” The horse goes from a trot to a canter. “Oh really?” You bit your lip at the thought, “I think I want to get over the lecture from Dutch for simply not following one of his plans.” And just like that you were crossing onto the bridge that led to the city.

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