#rdr imagine

[margowritesthings]

The Greatest Gift III: She Sleeps

SERIES MASTERPOST

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x you #the greatest gift #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan x f!reader #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr fanfic #rdr imagine

[sapphic-pikachu]

arthur helping the reader with really bad period pains ( im literally on my period rn it hurts so bad 😭) TYSM 💖💖

Period Pains

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Words: 1k

Summary: Arthur does what he can to try and ease your cramps.

Warnings: sfw, period pains, reader is born with a uterus, time accurate drug use kinda? mention of blood, Arthur is fiercely protective

A/N: thank you anon for the request!!! Kinda having writers block writing part twos for stuff so really appreciate any ideas of things to write for Arthur! also I literally started my period while writing this so this is very self fulfilling I want Arthur to give me a hug

You lay curled up in Arthur’s bed, knees tucked to your chest and head cradled downwards. The pain in your stomach was unbearable and you struggled to steady your breathing. You were on the worst day of your period, waiting for the pain to subside and the cramps to wear off as you neared the end of the monthly cycle.

You pulled the blanket closer to you, too hot to wrap it round you but wanting the lingering smell of Arthur on his sheets to be closer to you. Arthur had left camp what seemed like hours ago. He had pulled down the cover of his tent to give you some privacy in your time of vulnerability. Mrs Grimshaw, understanding of what you were going through, had been giving you lighter chores for the past few days and was unbothered when you hadn’t rose from Arthur’s bed to help out at all that day.

You let out a small whimper of pain that you smothered into the pillow as another hot flash of pain shot through you. A dull ache had settled around the muscles of your body and you felt exhausted, but the undying discomfort of your cramps had put a stop to your sleeping.

You hear the rustling of fabric and shuffling at the entrance to Arthur’s tent. You spared a quick glance to see Arthur’s tall figure, before pulling your body into itself and burying your head into the pillow.

“No better?” Arthur asked and you responded with a small whine and a nod into the fabric of the bed.

Arthur came closer to you, crouching beside the bed where your back faced him. He placed his hand on the small of your back and gave it a gentle rub.

“Got some things to try help. Hate seeing you like this.”

You uncurled from the ball you were in and turned towards Arthur. Arthur looked worried, and guilty, and you desperately just wanted to pull him close and reassure him that not everything can be or needed to be fixed. You didn’t dare do this, as you worried that any sudden movement threatened to spill blood into Arthur’s bed. You glanced beside him where he had a brown paper bag packed full with items, that you assumed he had bought from the local shopkeeper. You looked at him, smiled and raised your eyebrow, waiting for him to expand on what he had got.

He reached into the bag and pulled out a bar of chocolate. A quick look into the bag informed you that he had bought several. You snatched the bar out of his hands and unravelled it, before taking a bite and savouring the way it melted in your mouth.

“Y’mentioned once you thought chocolate helped the pain. And I know how hungry you get.” He muttered in his gruff tone. He was right - once a month you became particularly ravenous and today alone you have scoffed up three large helpings of Pearson’s stew. You smiled at Arthur who was looking into his bag again, rooting around for what he had next bought you. You took another bite of your chocolate.

He pulled out a small fabric pouch that he unwrapped to reveal small slabs of willow bark. He handed you a piece that you reluctantly put in your mouth and started to chew. You grimaced at the taste, but you couldn’t deny that the bark had been useful for relieving your pain in the past.

“Keep chewing,” Arthur said, standing up and grabbing his bag and heading for the tent’s exit, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

You did as he asked and kept chewing. The taste was extremely bitter in your mouth but you were still in a marvel at the trouble Arthur had went to to try and help you even though you hadn’t asked for his help. Your cramps had lessened slightly, but you weren’t sure if it was due to the bark or Arthur’s presence.

Arthur came back into the tent carrying a pile of fabric on one arm and balancing a cup in the other. He placed the cup on the table next to his bed before crouching down next to you again.

He rolled up the bottom of your shirt to reveal your waist. He glanced at you for permission before unbuttoning the your trousers and pulling them down slightly so the soft skin of your stomach was showing. Then gently, he placed a heated towel where your cramps had been. Then, he placed a bag shaped item of fabric that he had filled with hot rocks and pieces of lavender over the towel, adding an extra layer of warmth to your body.

“That okay?” He asked, hands still adjusting the pain relief he had added to your body. You reach a hand out to stop him, holding his hand in yours.

“Thank you, Arthur.”

He looked into your eyes, forever frustrated that he couldn’t stop your pain every month. In a way, he preferred a gun fight; At least then he could fight away everything that threatened to harm you. He saw your face was less tightened with pain and you looked at him with gratefulness in your eyes. He smiled slightly. Maybe he didn’t need a gunfight to help you.

He nudged you to sit forward in the bed slightly, and as gently as he could slid himself in behind you so you sat between his legs and could lean back into his chest. He wrapped one arm around your waist and pulled you back against him, and used the other hand to grab the cup he had left on the table.

He brought the cup to your face and instructed you to drink it as you wrapped both your hands around it. You sipped the liquid, acknowledging that Arthur had made you up a herbal tea: Laudanum, whiskey, lavender, cinnamon and saffron shot out at you as a mixture of bitter flavours. Even with the additional sweet taste of honey that you could detect, the tea still had a strong potent flavour residing in it. Still, you sipped on it gently, savouring the hot liquid travelling to your stomach. You rested comfortably on Arthur, who grabbed your empty cup when you had finished and placed it back on the table.

He placed one hand on your waist and the other on your lower stomach where the heat pads where and massaged you gently. You lay your head back against his chest and he placed a kiss against your temple.

Your pain was forgotten about as you slowly fell asleep in Arthur’s arms. Arthur didn’t dare move at the thought of disturbing your long awaited moment of peace. He closed his eyes too, and let himself fall asleep to the feel of your breathing on his chest.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption x reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr #rdr x reader #rdr imagine #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 imagine #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction

[hoeseamatthews]

Sweater Weather

A/N: Just a lil Valentine’s themed drabble based on a prompt from this list!

Pairing: Javier Escuella x Reader

Word Count: 576

Summary: You enjoy breakfast with Javier on your first Valentine’s Day together.

"...You’re staring, Javi. What is it? Do I have syrup on my chin? Something in the corner of my mouth?”

Mouth half full, you giggle and wipe at your mouth with the sleeves of your boyfriend’s sweater, which he’d kindly lent to you last night, raising a brow at Javier from where he sits across the table from you. Realising he’s finally been caught by you, he chuckles and shakes his head while he finishes chewing his own mouthful of pancakes.

“Was I? I didn’t even realise, baby.” he hums, still grinning like a fool, “There’s nothing on your chin, don’t worry about it. I was just in a world of my own. Thinking about plans for us for today, y’know? First Valentine’s Day together and all.”

It’s not a total lie. But all the same, Javier tries downplaying it the best he can, hoping that you’ll buy into his little excuse so he can at least attempt to avoid getting so sappy on you first thing in the morning, but you know your boyfriend well enough at this point to know that he isn’t painting you the full picture.

In truth, he’s in total awe. Still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’s sitting here with you right now when only a few months prior, he was admiring you from afar and pondering whether he should even take the leap and approach you to introduce himself.

“No, no. That’s not all it is. C’mon, what’s on your mind?”

You press him further, bumping your foot against his under the table and shooting him a look that tells him you’re completely unconvinced. His eyes meet yours, and after holding your unwavering stare for a solid moment, Javier finally concedes with a soft sigh and gives you a gentle smile.

“I just…feel lucky, y’know? So happy, too. It’s crazy to really think about how well things turned out for us,” he’s beaming now, and he reaches for your hand across the table, giving it a squeeze, “Like…I can’t get over how a few months ago, I wanted to learn your name. And now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater on Valentine’s Day.”

You feel yourself melt at his confession, and what started off as a small smile uncontrollably grows into one that shines a mile wide. Upon brief reflection in the moment, you, too, are pleasantly surprised by how things have worked out for yourself and Javier so far.

Javier is right, too. If someone had told you a few months ago that you’d be staying over at your boyfriend’s place the night before Valentine’s Day, having a film marathon with him while cuddling him on the sofa in a sweater borrowed from him, you most likely would have laughed at them.

Honestly? You know it’s still pretty early days, but you’re almost certain you’re starting to truly fall in love with him. But you refrain from telling him that. At least for now, anyway.

“Crazy how the world works, right?” you beam, rising up from your chair to lean across the table and plant a chaste peck on his lips, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Javi. I’m sure you already know, but I’m so happy with us right now.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day to you, too, baby,” Javier mumbles against your lips before he pulls you in for another, more tender kiss this time around, “The first of very many for us, I’m sure.”

#javier escuella x reader #rdr fic #rdr2 fic #rdr2 imagine #rdr imagine #red dead redemption fic #red dead redemption imagine

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Imagine # 1,022

Gifs NOT mine.

If either gif is yours (or you know who's it is) please let me, so I can give you/them credit.

Gif credit goes to - @reddead-confession & @drvigsgf (Unless told otherwise)

Year posted - 2022

*This concept came to me while I was driving home from work, and I both love and hate it. Feel free to expand upon this idea, but please tag me if you do, I'd love to read what you come up with.

#imagine #gif imagine #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #micah bell #arthur morgan #yandere rdr #yandere Micah Bell #yandere Red dead redemption #Micah Bell imagine #micah bell x reader #Micah Bell x you #Micah Bell x y/n #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan x reader #Red dead redemption imagine #rdr imagine #Red dead #Red dead imagine #Red dead redemption 2 imagine #rdr2 imagine #Yandere Red Dead #Red dead redemption x reader #rdr x reader #rdr2 x reader #read dead redemption 2 x reader #rat man Micah #yandere #yandere Arthur Morgan #Yandere rdr2

[grugruel]

Big Iron

Pairings:

bounty hunter!Arthur Morgan x outlaw!f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: She's escaped a robbery, and bounty hunters have been sent out after her. They'd made no problem so far– that said, the notorious Arthur Morgan set upon her trail.

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: Arthur Morgan, pinv sex, rough sex, soft sex ish, lap/bulge-riding, praise, petnames (girl, sweetheart, ma'am), creampie, overstimulation.

AN: 3rd person pov, trying it out. Not yet proofread!

The campfire blazed in the night, casting a warm glow over the small, temporary hideout as smouldering flakes of ash rose in swirls above her.

Her face lit up, the sizzling embers of spent coal entrancing her.

The soaring fires of a bright building shouldered It's way into her mind, stealing space from any other thoughts.

The trees around her rustled. She leaned back against the wall of the overhanging cliff. Sliding down into a sitting position and slanting her head in ponder, slipping deeper into the memory.

Money was all she had needed. But the simple, well practiced heist escalated. Attempted arson had suddenly been added to her list of offences, robbery another one among them. Which she could admit to, and proudly so.

But the fire. . . Now the fire, was not her fault.

And not only was the law after her, but they'd sent out money hungry, bounty hunters aswell. She'd already tied two of them down yesterday, big brutish men they were. All muscle and no brains. Still, they proved quite the nuisances, but wouldn't be a problem anymore. . .

. . .Unless they died of starvation, and then she would indeed be guilty of murder. Lovely! She gritted her teeth at the memory, rolling her eyes interanally.

But she doubted it, seeing as they were curently tied to the fence of the sheriff's office.

Which left only one real threat.

One man, one singular man; a notorious outlaw himself. He was the sheriff's most resent hire. Big, deadly, tall and muscled. From long days of hard work killing and robbing she imagined.

She'd actually seen him in person once, and she could admit, he looked dangerous, and devilishly handsome. The rumors had been right about that, she was only hoping that his volatile reputation along with the Van Der Lind gang's would turn out to be folly.

She shivered at the thought, shaking her to the very bones. If it were from the thought of him or the cool of the night, she did not know. She closed her arms around herself, stroking them for warmth as she pushed the unpleasant thoughts away, her gaze snapping to the treeline beyond. She was back to reality, and suddenly accutely aware of the black darkness that lingered between its stems, but her vision was good and she was quite hidden after all. No one would be sneaking up on her–

'Ma'am.'

From the shadows, a man appeared at the edge of the campfires domain, vaguely illuminated by its warmth. Broad and tall in frame, the deep night clung to his back. His sudden prescence was the only evidence of his arrival, he'd made no sound nor been seen before he'd needed to be.

Her eyes snapped in his direction, widening with recognition, the eerie sense divulged itself to her body. Like poison, it spread quickly, crawling into every blood vessel and turning them ice-cold along its journey.

'Mister' she greeted, doing her damndest to stay calm.

His hat covered his eyes, but the smile he gave her was unmistakable. 'Theres quite the bounty on you girl.' The drawl of his accent sunk into her skin like the warmth from the fire.

'There's no doubtin' that,' she nodded in admittal, slowly moving away from him, 'Although im only worth half of it, I assure you.'

She sat still, eyes meeting his as they poked out beneath his hat. He tilted his head to face hers, regarding her silently. Eyes flickering over her, the way her hair fell over her shoulders, and how her blouse revealed the hills of her chest. '. . . 'S that so?. . .' He took a step closer, the rope in his hands now excruciatingly evident to her.

She got to her feet in one swift motion, hesitantly gesturing for him to stay calm. 'Mister, I'm not a murderer. Crimes I did not commit have been written in my name. The sheriff framed me!' She took a few steps to the left, placing the fire between them.

'I belive ya' ma'am.' His hands pulled on the lasso, adjusting its length. Gripping it roughly from time to time, trigger fingers readying themselves for any sudden movement. 'But the law can be a crooked thing sometimes.' His eyes narrowed in on her, then shrugged nonchalantly. 'But a bounty 's still a bounty girl.'

The birds sang above them, and the world blurred around her, her knees suddenly week. And unfortunately for her, he would be there to catch her when she fell. In a sense too literal for her liking.

'And I can say the same for myself ma'am, I'm a bad man. . .' His voice imposed, yet, the gravely tone vibrated perfectly well in her ears.

Gulping her nervousity, she assessed her options. . . And then ran.

Trees rushed past in peripheral whirls as she made her way along the cliff wall. Rope flexed behind her, threads wringing against eachother as it was swung and thrown with a woosh.

The air caressed her cheeks, pulling tears from her eyes and whistling in her ears. She gave it all she had, but it wasn't enough to stop the lasso from capturing her with deadly accuracy. It fell over her shoulders and tightened around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides.

The rope pulled taunt– and the world stopped moving for a short second, with a yank, her body whipped forward and her feet was swept from under her– then just as sudden, it sped up again.

As a tree cut down for its timber, she fell. The ground rushing up to greet her face as she stumbled to the ground with a hard thud. She panted, smelling the earth and feeling the wet grass tickle her face as she struggled against her entanglement; wriggling and thrashing like a stranded fish.

Well-used leather chaps groaned behind her as he stalked closer, winding the rope up as he did. Its sound of hot friction against fabric made her stumache churn. She rolled onto her back to get a better layout of the situation. And there he stood. Just by her feet, looming over her. With his back to the fire it cast a glow around him, framing the big man as he filled her sight. Fear and desire fought for the helm, conflicting her mind terribly.

He crouched down, bending over her as he circled the rope around her, securing his bounty tightly. He grabbed the knot and pulled her up diagonally, pulling her flush against his body so he could level her head with his. '. . .And I've done bad things.' He whispered, lips brushing against her ear. A dull pulse appeared where there ought to be no pulse. She screwed her eyes shut, lust for this man was the last thing she should be feeling. But oh. . . How his breath raised goosebumps, having it spread over her skin like wildfire.

He straightened his legs and stood back, taking her with him while keeping her close to his chest.

Her breath fanned over his lips as they stood a mere inch apart, one bound and the other free. A smirk made its way onto his lips, his hands sliding along the tied rope until they were at her waist, and in one strong motion threw her over his shoulder.

She yelped, 'You brute!' kicking wildy in hopes of getting free. But one of his arms circled around her legs and gripped the back of her thigh to keep them still, while he laid the other on the small of her back to stop her from falling. 'You keep your hands to yourself Mister!' She shouted, struggling against his bullish strength.

'Yes, ma'am.' He assured as he began walking, not paying her futile thrashing much mind.

She cleared her throat and huffed, expecting more of a reaction. She didn't quite know what to do in this situation, she hadnt planned this far ahead. She didn't think she'd ever be properly cought. 'Well, good.' She said curtly, calming herself. Being a nuisance and making the situation worse would be a bad idea, and she'd not made any progress nonetheless, his grip was solid steel. She'd have to settle on feeling his strong back beneath her instead and revel in the feeling of his hand on her thigh.

He stomped out the campfire before moving to where he'd hidden his horse, 'Sittin' or layin'?' He asked, being nice enough to hand her to options of sharing his saddle or to be stored over his horses ass.

She huffed, 'What a gentleman, take a guess Mister.' She muttered.

He nodded, 'Sittin' with me it is.' his hands moved to her waist, easily transfering her from his shoulder to the saddle. She scoffed for the sake of scoffing, eyes narrowing as she looked down on him, and if it had the power to, her look would certainly have killed him. 'Quite presumtions of you.'

With a low chuckle and a shake of his head, he gripped the saddle before climbing on. Placing his hands on either side of it, on hand on the pommel and the other on the cantel. Which just so happened to be between her thighs, and just behind her ass. Almost grazing her on both sides as he braced himself against it, eyes meeting hers with a satisfied smirk, 'Much more attitude from ya' girl and I'll have to take meassures.'

Shock sprung itself on her, feeling dizzy all over again. The knuckle of his thumb was an inch away from brushing against her cunt. Her eyes widened at the fact, and the implications his words carried. Her loins burned, it took everything in her power to stop from rocking her hips forward. But she simply cleared her throat and neutralised her expression, 'Id like to see you try.' And faced away from him, turning her nose upward.

He climbed onto the horse, placing himself close intil her and leaned over her shoulder. 'I will if you let me ma'am.' He whispered in her ear, and then spurred his horse. Shivers shook her at that, her entire body vibrating with a dull sense of need.

They rode silently for a long while, and she wanted to sass him, she wanted it terribly. But was both afraid and hoping he'd take action, just as he'd stated. The miles wound on, oh it felt never ending. Especially with the man behind her, rutting his hips against her with every step of the horse. He was a blessing against the cold, but pure torture as his heat soaked into all the wrong spots of her body.

But finally, it came time to rest. They'd ridden nonstop from the morning of her capture to the next night. If that werent enough, a heatwave had been raging the entirety of the day aswell, and the setting of the sun had barely made a difference.

He set her on the ground, binding her feet and hands before starting on the camp. Making quick work of the fire and tent as she sat down on a rock, silently watching the man work, and very much enjoying the show.

His skin was slick with sweat, much like herself. The cool light of the moon and the warmth of the fire made him glisten in every sense of the word, and oh. . . the way he toiled away.

He had removed his vest and chaps as he got to work, then rolled up the sleeves of his shirt which now stuck to his skin. A nuisance for him to be sure, but a dream for her, she could practically see the muscles of his chest rippling.

A drop of sweat trickled down her temple, tickling her skin and drawing focus away from the view. Her eyes widened as she realised how she stared at the stranger and shook her head, attempting to clear it.

God, focus. She needed to hatch a plan. Running would do her no good, he would be too fast. He wouldn't accept bribes either, and was very hard to persuade. No attempts had been succesful so far, he didnt even want the money she'd stashed away.

At that thought, unavoidably, abashedly her eyes snapped to him as he pulled his shirt off and reached for a new one in his saddlebag. She clenched her jaw to keep it from falling, his strong chest was adorned by hair, trailing down his abdomen and disappearing under. . . The waist of his pants. In that moment, she wanted nothing else then to see where that trail ended. She wanted to trace her fingers along it, or perhaps lick it, all the way down. . .

Her jaw began aching, she fought herself to tear her eyes away from him. Managing to direct her gaze at the ground instead, waiting for him to put a fresh shirt on.

After a short while, she dared to look up again. He'd pulled a log to opposite side of the fire and sat down, a cigarette placed between hid lips and was breathing in a long drag of it. Tilting his head back, he released the cloud of smoke with a sigh.

Her eyes followed his movements intently, studying them as she hoped that perhaps he'd notice her and offer one–

'Want one girl?' He nodded toward her, gesturing with the match box.

'I do, yes.' She answered expectantly, holding her hands out for him to untie.

But to her surprise, he scoffed, then stod and walked around the fire. He crouched on one knee infront of her, his arm bracing against the other. 'You'll have to do better than that.' He said, only a feets distance between them. Then picked the cigarette from his lips and offered it to her, holding it an inch from her mouth. She hesitated, observing him with disdain, 'Go on.' He nodded. But reluctant to follow his orders, she met his eyes, making sure he knew how unhappy she was about it, and then leaned in despite herself. Closing her lips around the cigarette, she sucked the toxic smoke smoke into her lungs like it were air, keeping her eyes locked on his. She swore something glint in his eyes as he studied her pouting lips. A plan struck her suddenly, but–

'Good girl.' He hummed.

Again, shock gripped her. The praise rose right to her head, sending waves of heat cascading through her body. Then she coughed, the smoke settling wrong in her airways. She pulled back, letting him retrieve his cigarette as she regained her composure. 'You alright there sweetheart?' He asked with a grin, and patted her back before replacing the cig between his lips.

'Fine.' She hissed, still reeling from. . . Everything. 'You got anything stronger? Whiskey, bourbon?'

He nodded, and pulled out and old bottle of bourbon from his bag, 'Could you?' She held her hands out to him again.

He studied her, stroking his stubbled jaw in thought. 'Got somethin' for me then?'

Insinuations led her down a path of all kinds of possibilities, but she instead opted for a simple, 'Please?' Instead, attempting it cheapishly.

His hands slipped down to his hip, pulling the knife from its hilt, 'Thats more like it.' He mumbeled with his cigarette clad lips.

And cut the rope around her hands and feet, stopping at the rope around her waist and met her eyes. 'Try anythin'. . .' He raised his eyebrows, and lowered his voice to a mocking tone '. . . run, hurt me' his eyes narrow as a corner of his lip tugs. 'And there'll be a steep price to be payed.'

Swallowing, she nodded enthusiastically, 'I just wan't a sliver of freedom before im locked up, you could understand that right?'

He nodded, 'S'pose so. . .' And began cutting, '. . . difference is girl' the rope snapped and slid down her sides, 'I'd never get caught.' He gathered the rope from her sides, his fingers accidentally brushing against her hips.

Her breath hitched, and her skin tingled desperatley for more of him as fluttering wingbeats set of in her stumache. Such a small thing, turning into such a big reaction.

He cleared his throat, handing her the bottle as he threw the rope into the fire. He sat down on another log, not as far away form her this time. Leaned back against the tree behind it and spread his legs wide. His bulge was enough to make her salivate, 'It's not easy you know, for a woman like me, when there's men like you Mr Morgan.'

Arthur quriked an eyebrow in question, 'You know me?'

'I know of you.' She corrected, taking a big swig of the fluid, then handed it back to him for him to do the same.

He nodded silently, a sigh escaping under his breath. 'All bad I guess.' He took another swallow, not to bothered by her statement. Probably used to hearing it by now.

She shook her head, taking the bottle and another gulp. 'Many of the ladies say you're handsome.'

At this he looked up at her, chuckling. 'Well, I don't know 'bout that.'

'It's true. . .' another sip, followed by a hiccup. 'They say you can be quite the gentleman too.'

His eyes bore into hers, his tone serious but expression joking as he humours her. 'Depends on the lady.' He reaches for the bottle, and she stands up to give it to him. Walking closer, she hands it over, fingers brushing against eachother in the motion.

His eyes meet hers, and she brushes her hand under his chin, 'You know what else they say Mr Morgan?'

'No, what do they say about me sweetheart?' A smirk tugged at his lip, the liquor starting to affect the both of them.

'That you're good in bed. . .' She steps between his thighs, her hand falling from his chin to his neck, scratching at the nape gently.

He hums appreciatively, then takes another sip of the bourbon and sets the bottle aside. His hands reach for her, coming to a rest on either side of her thighs, pulling her closer to him and squeezing them at his pleasure. 'They're only rumours girl.' He tilts his head backward against tree to get a better look at her, eyes fastening on her lips.

With her other hand, she hikes her skirt up, revealing her thighs as she step over his legs, one at a time, slowly sinking down onto his lap as his hands automatically slide to her hips.

She placed herself on top of his bulge, and he grunted from the pressure. The pulse within her began strumming at her nerves, turning them jittery.

'I doubt it Mr Morgan.' She whispered, 'Women do not lie to eachother of such things.' his bulge beneath her grew harder, luring a hidden smile from her, but she wills it from her lips so that it only reaches her eyes. 'They say you're rough, or gentle. Dependin' on your mood.' As she says that, she swears she detects the faintest red creep up his cheeks. Arthur Morgan. . . Blushing? Now, she couldnt help herself as the smile reaches her lips. Hes quite endearing.

The man cleared his throat, acting as if it had never happened. 'That's told of me in everythin' I do girl.' He smirks, the grip on her hips hardening, knuckles turning white.

'But you're always sweet 'n caring.' She continues, her own words were building the lust within her, making the pulse ever stronger. It was becoming hard to focus. She needed to release some of the pressure building inside her. Evaluating the consequences, she rocked her hips downward. Grinding into his bulge.

Simultaneously, she whimpered and he hissed. She leaned against him, her lips brushing against his ear as she nuzzles his cheek. 'Apparently, It's also true what they say 'bout ridin' cowboys–'

'Girl.' He interrupted with a chuckle, 'I know what you're doin'.' He breathes, 'Seducin' me.' With the tight grip on her hips, he helps rock her hips against him, the rough fabric of his pants grinding against her core.

With a gasp, one of her hands shoots out to burry itself in his hair. Then she leans into him, the other hand grabbing his shirt for support as she rests her head against his shoulder. He nuzzles his cheek against hers, and mutters, 'You use your sweet talkin', then get me drunk 'n run off, that your plan girl?'

Her eyebrows furrow, hips grinding down harder, her ruts becoming more frantic, needy. She screws her eyes shut from the copious amounts of pleasure washing over her. All she can do to answer him is hum in admittal as shes straining hard to even stay contious.

He chuckles. 'Easy girl. . .' His voice commanding, low and raspy as he slows her hips, but keeps the pace hard. 'Use your words.' He orders, loving the way shes falling apart for him.

She nods hastily, hoping it would satisfy his request. But he pinches her hip through the fabric of her skirt, and her eyebrows furrow in pain, however not having the energy to even make a sound. Her thoughts were a blur, she couldn't tell what to keep secret anymore, 'Yes– yes. . .' She sighs, the coil inside her tightening impossibly hard.

'Mmh, thought so.' He breathed, the words curt on his tongue, but lust evident in his voice. His hands leave her hips, one arm snaking around her waist, his hand placing itself at the small of her back to push her against him.

Then he stands, drawing a whine from her. She did not quite understand what was going on as the loss of movement gradually undid all the progress she'd made. 'Mr Morgan?' She inquires, hesitantly wrapping her legs around his hips.

He walks them to the tent, 'Arthur.' He corrects, carrying her with ease. He pushes the flap to the side and kneels, bending over her as he lays her on the ground.

'Arthur.' She smiles, worry seeping out as she realised he was making them more comfortable.

His knees slide apart, hooking her legs upon them as they spread. Her hands shoot up, grabbing onto the collar of his shirt to pull him closer, close enough for his lips to hover over hers. Their eyes meet, 'Please. . .' She whimpers, one hand sliding downward. '. . .Please.' She says again, fingertips trailing down his abdomen, suddenly grabbing hold of his bulge with a firm hand, his member rock hard. 'Outlaw or gentleman?' She asked, smiling a wicked smile.

He grunts, lips brushing over hers. 'Neither.' And grabs her wrist, pulling her hand away from his crotch, catching the other in the motion. His free hand reached over her head, and the hauntingly familiar groaning of strong rope sounded above her. She shook her head, 'Arthur, please. . .' Panic moved into her voice, the repeated words carrying a completley different meaning this time.

He held both wrists with one hand and tied them together with the other, the rope burning her skin in the motion.

She cried out unhappily.

But he chuckles, in a matter of factly kind of way. Stroking the burn gently as ge corrects her, 'Should've behaved.' And when done, he sits back. Observing her as she lies tied up, legs spread infront of her, circled around his hips. Much to his dismay, he wouldn't be enjoying the sight as much as he wanted to. 'It's late.' He grunts curtly, then stands and walks toward the flap.

'Arthur. . .' She pleads, trying one last time.

He turns his head just enough to see her in his peripheral, 'Get some sleep, you got a long day ahead of you tomorrow.' He flashes his eyebrows smugly, 'Night, sweetheart.' Then exits the tent without another word.

She huffed, unbelivable. Nuzzling herself into the bedroll.

Sweetheart. . . But how could she be annoyed when he calls her such a thing. She dreamed herself away, with imagines of a shirtless Arthur Morgan and the feeling of him inside her. But she'd not given up, make no mistake, he would fall asleep and she would leave. . .

The night carried on and the temperature finally began dropping, a shiver shook her pleasantly. It was a welcome change. Her body strained as she raised her neck to get a look of the outside. Through the flap she saw Arthur, sitting, snoring, hat covering his face as he leaned back against the tree he'd previously been sitting on.

Now, she needed to get rid of her restraints. Rolling over, she crawled toward the opening, her eyes never leaving Mr Morgans sheathed knife.

The fire had been reduced to embers at this point. Crackling and sizzling lowly as the cool moisture in the air riddled the grass with dewdrops, dampening her hands and skirt as she approached her goal. She sat on her knees, then moved to grab the knife carefully, gnelty sliding it out. The sound of it unlatching nearly had her yelp.

No movement in Arthur.

Shallow breaths, she exhales. Relief flooding through her begoee she began working the knife against her entangled wrists with her fingertips. Carefully regarding the vicious man for any signs of waking. But her thoughts slid, perhaps, if he caught her, he would be kind. Or would he be angry? She could truly not decide werther which reaction she'd most prefer–

The rope snapped, and exhilaration filled her. Gaze snapping between her free hands and the hunter, imagining her prospects. She stood quietly, holding her skirt tightly around her to keep the fabrics from rustling. Slowly, knife still in hand, she backed away. On careful tiptoed steps she faded into the night, the fire dwindling in the distance.

The darkness made it hard for her to see much of anything, at its height the tree-crowns silhouette were visible against the blue summer sky. Branches moved, leaves swished in the gentle wind. She grew paranoid, head snapping in every direction, reacting to every little noise around–

A branch broke behind her, she jumped, turning around so fast she almost ripped– a Buck. She froze, a god damned buck? She had expected it ro be Arthur, but she seemed to have ogtten the better of him. The animal looked at her, ears twitching as it chewed on grass– suddenly hopping away. She sighed and turned back.

Only to collide with something hard. Her thoughts raced, she knew, she knew. She looked up, eyes tracing along his body until they met his, half hidden under his hat. Reflexes prepared her to run, but before she had as much as taken a step back, a hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her back to him. Again, she thumped into his strong chest. Held against him with the familiar iron grip, she fought, as usual; but to no avail, as usual. He snaked an arm around her waist to hinder her from breaking free, yet she kicked and punched violently with her free limbs. But it made no dent in the man. He couldn't even spare her a reaction as he half carried, half dragged her back into the low light of the burnt out fire. He spun her around and pushed her up against the cliff wall, grabbing the wrist closest to him and pinning it above her head. 'I warned you, girl.' He snarled, the look in his eyes doing just as good a of job pinning her to the wall as his hands. He reaches for the second–

When something sharp digs into the soft flesh of his throat, he froze. His chest was the only thing moving between the two of them, heaving breaths of annoyance.

'Thrid times the charm.' She smirked.

He raised his eyebrows and chuckled, 'That so?' His voice mocking, and before she could comprehend what had happened, he'd captured both wrists with one hand and slammed them above her head and into the wall. And the knife had appeared in his free hand, she noticed this because it was now held against her own throat. 'Repeat that for me girl.'

Her lips struck a thin line as she attempted a neutral expression, although fuming on the inside. She shrugged her shoulders, 'No.' Was all she said, but stubborn in tone.

He nodded, looking her up and down, studying the buttons on her blouse. 'Ought to teach you a lesson sweetheart.'

She cleared her throat, deciding that to act nonchalant was her best option. 'Yeah? What ya' gunna do, huh? Ravage me?' She asked half joking, but still hoping there'd be some truth to it.

At this, the corner of his mouth turned up, a wicked grin developing on his lips. 'I just might.' He breathed, tracing the tip of the knife downward, along her collarbone and then along the front of her blouse, coming to a stop at the first button. She gulped, feeling the knife poke through the thin fabric against her chest, making goosebumps run amock in reaction and the pulse reheating in her core. He leaned forward, pushing his body against hers until there was no room left between them, his head hovering just above the crook of her neck. 'May I do with you as I please?'

This was it, the sweet balance between a hardened outlaw and a tender gentleman. 'Yes– yes, Arthur please.' Her voice near a cry, it took everything in her to control her tone–

Her blouse ripped, from top to bottom he cut it open, and she wasn't wearing a brasier. Her chest laid bare before him, and he groaned happily at the sight.

With her go-ahead he wasted no time, he let go of her hands and cut her skirt too. Cutting a slit as far as he reached with the knife then threw it to the side, and the tore the rest. She gasped, every nerve in her body on edge. In an instant, his lips were upon hers. Hungry, hungry lips devouvered her as hands roamed her body, groping and grabbing wherever they got purchase. Her own hands greedily searching for a steady hold in his hair, she grabbed a fistful and pulled gently. He moaned at the feeling, such a beautiful sound. His hands slid over her breasts, squeezing them, then pushed the remains of her blouse off of her shoulders.

Except for her undergarments, she stood completley exposed for him. She could practically feel him salivating when he cupped her clothed mound, and finding her clit with expertise and rub it through the fabric.

She tore herself free from his kisses, she had to breathe. A deep gasp brought oxygen to ger lungs once again, allowing her to whimperand moan in equal measure as he worked her clit. The pressure made her knees week, she wriggled, attempting to rut against his hand. But she was too unsteady to make progress. Noticing her difficulties, his other hand slid behind her back and held her steady. Allowing her to chase her pleasure. And left with no lips to kiss, he latched onto her neck instead, to suck at her sweet spot.

She hummed appreciatively, unable to keep a big smile from her lips as pulses of pleasure washed through her. She slid her hands from his hair and unbuttoned his shirt, running her fingers along his strong chest and abdomen, gingerly feeling all of him as her hands worked themselves lower. Finally unbuttoning his pants. She did no longer have to wonder were his happy trail dissapeared too, she bit her lip. He was huge. She stuck her hand into his pants and stroked him eagerly. 'Need ya' Arthur, please.' She panted.

He let out a strained grunt against her shoulder, and his hand left her clit. She whined, but didn't have to stay displeased for long.

Both his hands slid down her sides, and she tried to breathe steadily, but it proved hard. The feeling of his calloused hands on her skin was too heavenly. Suddenly, he lifted her. Pinning her against the cliff wall with his arms and the weight of his body, allowing her to wrap her arms and legs around him. She hadn't known, but he had wordlessly obided her request. He pulled her garments to the side, and line himself up with her entrance. 'Sure about this?' He asked, a final reassurance.

'Yes.' She purred, no hesitation in her answer.

And so he pushed inside her, the sheer size of him was making her want to scream–

'Good girl.' He moaned, and directed his eyes to hers. She repressed a moan, biting her lip hard to hinder it as heat flashed through her. It was two words, yet she could've come undone from them alone, when said by him alone.

He gazed upon her softly, one of his hands left her thigh to gently stroke a strand of hair from her face. She smiled, and so did he. He was just giving her time to adjust, but her heart soared at the simple gesture.

God how could she feel so strongly for a stranger?

Her hands retangled in his hair as Arthur slid out of her, she furrowed her brows– but in a rough, quick thrust. He shoved himself back inside of her, filling her to the brim. He set a cruelly pleasurable, unrelenting pace. Any trace of gentleness gone.

She felt the pressure tightening within her, building snd building until she was on the verge of coming once again. Her hands sunk to his back, clawing and scratching because she did not know what else to do, he was too much, too good, too big. He overstimulated her with his mere prescence. And he knew when her walls tightened around him, adding extra pressure onto his already throbbing member. 'You close girl?' He grunted, his gruff voice breathed against her ear and his hand squeezing her thigh roughly beneath her. God it was sublime.

'Mhm. . . So- close.' She murmurs, her words coming out jagged as her body rocks with Arthurs thrusts. Pushed closer to her release with each thrust, once again, she shut her eyes and spots speckled her eyelids. Breathing turns frantic, she could no longer tell who was who as they mixed, moans and curses spilling from them both.

With a flash of pleasure, searing hot it soured through her, making her whimper uncontrollably. His thrusts slow, holding her securely, caressing her face and kissing her lips as she rides out her high. 'You're alright girl.' He breathes reassuringly, 'Well done Sweetheart.'

Overstimulated tears roll from her eyes, 'Oh Arthur, you sweet, sweet man.' She sighs happily, and he comes a mere second later. His seed filling her and oozing out.

They'd clean themselves tomorrow, since tiredness plagued them currently. He backed away from the wall and she clung to him, desperatley not wanting to part with him.

He carried her back to the tent, this time not bothering to tie her up as they laid down facing eachother. Arthur, grabbed her chin between his index and forefinger. Studying her thuroughly before they finally succumbed to sleep. She could escape if she wanted to, he wouldn't stop her this time. Her plan had worked, they both knew it. But they felt something else too, and they both knew it.

Hooded eyes blinked, blushing at Arthurs intent eyes and searching gaze. Her eyelids weighed down by exhaustion, It'd been a long few days, and before she knew it–

The light dawns, rays of dusty sunlight shone through the flap of their tent as the morning wakes. Bringing warmer tempratures and calm birdsong.

He opens his eyes, and immediately meet hers. She'd just been admiring him. 'Surprised?' She asked, biting her lip and stopping herself from reaching out to touch him.

He smiles, 'Naw, I was hopin' I'd wake up to you girl.'

#arthur murgan #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan imagine #rdr2 #rdr2 smut #rdr2 arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 smut #rdr2 fanfic #rdr smut #red dead redemption #arthur morgan fanfic

[simonrillleyyysss]

hii! i remember a while ago you wrote a little thing with simon x reader! it was when he found out she had a little teddy with tactical gear like simons on and he said something funny like “do you ever hump it?” and shes like “ewww no!” now im wondering how he would react if he did catch her doing that🤭 would you maybe write something like that?! i loveee ur writing btw!🫶

OHH! THE THRILL HE WOULD GET!! and tysm 🤲💞

the house was quiet as you ground along the stuffed bears fur, whining and softly gasping beneath your breath—nails digging into the aged wood of the headboard; pillows stuffed behind it to silence the creaking!!

you were so horny, n’ simon was busy filing paperwork downstairs—so your next best option? simon bear! your slick cunt rubbing against the soft plush of the teddy, orgasm bearing before the door creaked open, simon peering at you.

‘i knew it.’

‘wait—siiimmonnn!’

you were so humiliated!! lifting yourself from the bear—only to be shoved down onto the bed as he spat on your bare skin, squishing your cheeks together softly, looking down at your dumb; dolllike expression!!

‘ya’ could just use me to get off.’

‘i did—the bears you—‘

‘my thigh.’

took you a moment to process it—but before long you were grinding against his clothed thigh, his grey joggers wet with your arousal, soft begs and moans coming from your mouth, his mouth latched onto ur pretty tit<33

‘don’t need no stupid bear.’

#ghost x reader #ghost imagine #simon ghost x reader #ghost smut #dilf ghost #ghost is babygirl #spotify #simon riley smut #simon riley x oc #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x reader #i love this #innocent rdr is just #fuck me in the ass and call me james charles #this is so hot #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley headcanons #simon riley ghost #domestic ghost #ghost headcanons #ghost x feminine reader #simonrillleyyysss

[the-great-pretender02]

Slowly subscribing to the theory that John is blind in that eye or at least semi blind, I never noticed how bad it really looked. This shot is so good 😭

#rdr #rdr2 #red dead fandom #red dead photo mode #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #john marston #red dead redemption screenshots #video games #red dead redemption community #red dead community #red dead redemption john #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption photography #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption edit #red dead #red dead redemption x reader

[kloofspeaks]

The fact that John’s best drawing is Arthur’s Grave will never leave me because he didn’t try with anything else till it came to Arthur.

#SIGH #I LOVE MY BOYS GUYS #I can just imagine John sitting there and taking in every detail #rdr2 #rdr #john marston #arthur morgan

[marstonator]

details on john marston's customized saddle he lost in the mountains after the wolf attack.

honestly breaks my heart to see this because i assume he worked HARD to be able to afford that saddle only to lose it like that later. can we also talk about the fact it matches with his gunbelt and holsters??? i love this little detail.

#john marston #rdr2 photography #rdr2 scenery #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption arthur #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption screenshots #rockstar #rdr #rdr2 #rdr2 community #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 john #red dead redemption photography #red dead redemption edit #red dead redemption fandom #red dead #red dead redemption 2 john #arthur morgan #rdr2 fanart

[rosemary-morgan]

HC's - Making love with them includes... (+18!)

Warning: Nsfw 18+! Language, cum play, oral sex, erotic massages, chocking

Characters: Javier Escuella, Arthur Morgan and Charles Smith X Female Reader. Missing someone? Feel free to ask (❁´◡`❁)

Thanks to all who read and like my stories. Stay healthy and take care, my lovely bees 🐝🌺

Many thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤 she has been beta reading for me 🌹

(Just the screenshots are mine)

Javier Escuella

He is in a flirty mood all the time. Just like you. You both can hardly wait to be undisturbed. You need your peace and quiet, far away from the others, to give each other the love you need.

You have been a couple for three weeks now and you are madly in love. There is nothing as delightful for you as making love to Javier.

And you do it very often. But as already mentioned, you prefer your privacy.

Often you will retreat to a nearby town, where you will rent a hotel room to let your love run free. There you both can be as loud as you want; or rather, YOU can be as loud as you want.

Often, in the early morning hours when everyone is still asleep, you make love under the blankets. Quietly and secretly, Javier fucks you slowly and sensually.

⦁ Javier knows how to satisfy you and he knows what you like.

⦁ He loves to hear his name on your lips. He loves the sound of your voice as you lay whimpering before him and, by God, he loves to see your body tremble while he fucks you.

⦁ Also he enjoys whispering naughty words. His voice arouses you deeply, even more so when he whispers in your ear and nibbles on your earlobe.

⦁ You always take time to touch each other, kiss and enjoy the sight of each other.

⦁ Javier loves the feel of your soft skin, loves to feel your breasts on his body. The scent of your beautiful femininity.

⦁ Javier is very tender, makes sure you feel comfortable with him. But he also has a wild and passionate side that you can easily awaken. Then he can also get a little rough.

⦁ But there are also moments when you are getting wild. And that is when you have been separated for a while. Javier will tear your blouse off, rip it apart, and won't lose a moment to press his face into your tits, breathing in the scent of your skin. Whispering how much he desires you.

⦁ Oh, he loves to satisfy you with his tongue. The taste of your vagina, the sweet sound of your voice when you fall into ecstasy. Javier takes his time with it. Playing with your clit; sucking and licking it before entering deep into your wet hole and tounge-fucking you out of your mind.

⦁ But also he loves to receive as well. The sight of you kneeling in front of him, looking up at him while you have his cock in your mouth. Your plump, delicious tits pressing against his thighs...

He loves the way you play with his cock. Your fingers stroking his thick balls, massaging them, only to be taken in your mouth afterwards, greedily sucking them. Javier goes crazy every time you doing this, moaning loudly your name.

⦁ He is also into choking. Not too rough, but he grabs your throat during sex when he wants to increase the arousal; and you love it. And while he's chocking you, he's whispering things to you.

⦁ Things like, "Yo te quiero mucho" "You like the way I fuck your sweet little pussy, Y/N?" "You love it a little rougher, don't you? You're so naughty." And "When I'm done with you, I'm going to fuck you with my tongue. You like it, don't you? Oh, you sweet, sweet girl."

⦁ He loves to take you from behind. Your buttocks that wobble with every thrust. The smacking, wet sounds when his tight balls slap your pussy every time. 

⦁ And when you ride him, he enjoys the sight of your bouncing breasts. Your buttocks wobble with every thrust from him. The seductive sight when you roll your head back in pleasure and show off your gorgeous throat.

⦁ Loves to cover you with his sperm. 

⦁ Whether you kneel or lie in front of him, spreading his cum on your face or body will make him go crazy with lust!

⦁ And after your lovemaking, he will hold you in his arms, whispering loving things to you until you both fall asleep.

⦁ You will often find a rose next to your sleeping place in the morning, when Javier has to leave early for reasons.

Charles Smith

King of foreplay. He takes a lot of time to please and satisfy you. You will come at least once, before you welcome him deep inside you.

⦁ Sometimes he also gives you a massage. He rubs your beautiful body with fragrant oils and he knows exactly which parts of the body he has to massage and caress extensively to arouse you.

⦁ The sight of your shimmering tits, covert with oil, makes his cock hard as stone.

⦁ And when he massages your pussy, he takes a long time. His fingers circle your clitoris while he looks into your eyes. You clearly see the fire, the passion in them. "How does that feel? Is that good, yes?"

⦁ Eventualy, it leads him to finger-fucking you. You get incredibly wet for him, every damn time.

⦁ Love to give oral sex. Charles takes his time and enjoys you to the fullest. Your scent is overwhelming and if it were up to him, he would lie between your thighs all night. You will often hear words like: "You smell wonderful" "Mhm, you taste so good, babygirl."

⦁ His lips and tongue will explore your whole body, every corner. Charles is very tender, very careful with you, like you're as fragile as flower petals.

⦁ You love the feel of his hands when he touches you, caresses you. And the tingling on your skin where he kisses you.

⦁ Making love with you is something very special and intimate for him. Therefore, he wants to be as far away from the others as possible.

⦁ You both go camping often, and love being in nature. It also often happens that you take a longer break of several days. And in these days, you love each other passionately.

⦁ During your lovemaking you smile a lot and words full of love leave your lips.

⦁ He prefers missionary, for he wants to look into your eyes while he fucks you. This is an intimate moment you share. But Charles also loves to have sex in a sitting position. Your wonderful legs wrapped around his strong hips, your heated, sweaty bodies tightly pressed together and your trembling fingers clawing at his long hair, while he kisses your throat, your round tits... just perfect.

⦁ You have a secret place by a river; where there is no human soul, you make love at the edge of the shore. Your naked and wet bodies shimmer under the sun and under the moon.

⦁ And there's something magical about embracing each other at night while the moon shines down on you and fireflies dance around you.

⦁ Charles often spreads flower petals on your cot or on your bed. Whether it's wildflowers or roses, it's a loving gesture that says a lot.

⦁ He washes you gently with lavender water afterwards, holds you in his arms afterwards. He holds you in his arms until you fall asleep. 

Arthur Morgan

⦁ The two of you look at each other. Full of love, full of affection, holding hands and whispering words of love to each other.

⦁ He also prefers his privacy with you.

⦁ You would camp often in nature, where you can make love in your tent, protected from prying eyes.

⦁ Arthur takes his time to undress you, enjoying every moment with you. He praises your body, kisses and touches every corner with incredible tenderness. This alone arouses you so much that you get all wet for him.

⦁ The first thing he always does when you are naked is to make himself comfortable between your thighs.

⦁ He starts by kissing your inner thighs. Very slowly, agonizingly slowly, watching you very closely. Every twitch, every tremor from you he enjoys. But the most beautiful thing is to see the lust in your face.

⦁ Then, when his own lust grows to strong, he starts to eat you out like a pot of honey. He enjoys every drop. The scent of your femininity makes him crazy with lust. Arthur desires you so much.

⦁ He loves the feel of your delicate body on his manly, strong one. Your skin on his - it's heavenly.

⦁ Slow and sensual. Arthur is a pleasure seeker, but after a while the love making gets a little rougher and Arthur reaches for your body a little harder. 

⦁ He loves to press his face between your tits! It's pure pleasure for him to be able to feast on you. Greedily he takes them in his mouth, sucks on your nipple, while you claw at his hair and go for pleasure.

⦁ He also loves it when you grab his hair and pull it. Whether he's tongue-fucking you or sucking your tits, do it and he'll be yours for eternity.

⦁ He loves missionary position, for he wants to look you in the eyes while he loves you. Arthur wants to see how beautiful you are while feeling incredible pleasure.

⦁ Afterwards, he will hold you in his arms, words full of love will leave his lips. Always asking you for forgiveness, if he was too rough. 

⦁ But Arthur always takes good care of you, and lying in his arms gives you a wonderful feeling.

⦁ Sex in the kitchen is also not uncommon (depending where you live etc.) Desire often overcomes him when he sees you in, while you're making the coffee, or chopping fruit... and by God, he's going to fuck you really good from behind.

⦁ He lays you flat over the table, watching you moaning his name in pleasure. Enjoying the view every time his cock sinks deep into your pussy, his balls smacking against you... You're so wet for him...

⦁ Often he'll smack your ass, gripping it firmly.

⦁ And he is also into roleplaying - Usually he is the bounty hunter and you are his prisoner, completely at his mercy

⦁ You will often find him in the morning preparing some good breakfast for you

#javier escuella imagine #javier escuella x f!reader #javier escuella #y/n reader #female reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #charles smith x female reader #charles smith #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #fanfiction #romance #love #realtionships #fiction #hc's #rdr hc's #arthur morgan imagine #charles smith imagine #love stories

[dazednstoned]

I love that canonically Abigail was head over heels for John when she first joined the gang. She, who's so tough and sharp-tongued, being so hopelessly in love with John. After being taken advantage of for so long, she finally got to experience that teenage crush-type feeling.

I think people tend to forget she was only 17 when she joined the gang. She was literally still a kid.

#something about young abi is so bittersweet to me #SHE MAKES ME SO SAD #Ik her and John's banter went crazy back then #i imagine John to be this super cocky guy always showing off but the second Abigail acknowledges him he becomes a stuttering fool #abigail marston #abigail roberts #abigail roberts marston #john marston #john rdr2 #john x abigail #john marston x abigail roberts #rdr #johnigail #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2

[margowritesthings]

Blood On His Hands

pairing: Dutch van der Linde x f!reader

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

word count: 3308 words

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

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

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

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @beea-nie

did you enjoy this? consider buying me a coffee!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dutch, we… we can’t.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And right now, you desire Dutch. 

He frees you yet again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this:”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She who finds things is wise…”

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

“…but she who continues to seek…”

You hang on his every word.

“…is evermore free.”

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

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

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

“O-Oh my god- Dutch!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you suddenly find what you seek.

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

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

Yet another discovery.

“Oh, God, Dutch, I-I’m gonna-”

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

And how could you not?

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

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

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

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

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

You and Dutch, when you’re together…

You’re evermore free.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Likewise, Mr. van der Linde.”

#Dutch Van Der Linde #Dutch Van Der Linde smut #Dutch Van Der Linde x reader #Dutch Van Der Linde x you #dutch van der linde fanfiction #rdr #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #Dutch Van Der Linde fanfic #Dutch Van Der Linde imagine #rdr imagine #rdr fanfic #Dutch rdr2

[sapphic-pikachu]

Playing Dress Up

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Words: 1.6K

Summary: Arthur waits as you get ready for a plan that require you both to dress up for a party.

Warnings: I haven’t written fanfiction for like 5 years, Arthur is an insecure man who needs a hug, mainly Arthur’s pov, sfw

A/N: I might do a part two of this involving them actually being at the gala? fake dating trope is my weakness sorry x lemme know if anyone wants it

Arthur’s heart feels warm in his chest as he glimpses the shadows of your silhouette through the canvas of his tent.

Inside, he can hear your bashful laughter amongst the rest of the girls. When they heard about the preparation needed for this latest plan of Dutch’s, they immediately staked claim to both you, and Arthur’s tent, pulling the tent flaps closed behind you all.

“The lady and her helping hands need privacy, of course!” Karen had yelled in some horrible imitation of the upper class, before cackling with laughter.

Arthur leaned against a wooden bench surrounded by the rest of the gang, who similarly to the women, were giddy about the prospect of money if their latest plan went accordingly. Arthur roughly tugged against the stiff white collar of his button down. He jolted his hand firmly downwards when Mrs Grimshaw, who had been guiding him sternly all evening on how to keep his suit clean, shot a warning glare his way.

“You won’t be saying that when he drags us both into it and has us waking snakes,” he had grumbled back. It was you who had rolled your eyes then, responding to him with a playful shove with your hand. Arthur thought his heart had stopped beating then, and the feeling of your fingertips on his upper bicep burnt into his skin for the rest of the day.

Arthur had been right to roll his eyes - here he was, dressed to the high nines with Hosea, Dutch, Bill and Trelawney in similar looking high class suits. His hair was slicked back, his beard freshly trimmed and the black blazer clung to his arms tightly - a mistake often made when Trelawney was given free reign over the gang’s fashionable attire, and had to outsource it from any means necessary.

On the outskirts of the town that they were currently holed up just outside of, a large, very rich, group of people were to meet up in the form of a party. Trelawney had heard of it, and thought it would be a brilliant idea for the gang to rob all the assumably drunk partygoers blind. Arthur didn’t deny that it was a good plan; he just desperately wished it didn’t involve wearing such a form fitting, expensive piece of clothing. And even more so, he desperately wished it didn’t involve having to be sociable with the entire high society on a medium sized town.

He had thought it would just be them at first. Of course, they would have Javier, Lenny and Sadie right outside in a carriage, fully armed and rearing to go, just in case things were to go south. But then Trelawney came back bursting into camp that morning with a small leather chest, filled with a dress, jewellery and hair clips just for you.

Arthur had laughed joyfully, ignoring the glare you gave him across camp. You had assumed you would help out with Sadie and the rest, assisting with your guns blazing only if necessary. But Dutch had developed bigger plans for you: you were to pose with the rest of the men, as a high society lady looking to develop new roots and relationships in a new area. Much like Arthur, the thought of wearing such clothing and having to make conversation with such people appalled you - while you appreciated the beauty of femininity, it was much more easier for you to stick on men’s trousers and boots when you were gunning down people or riding your trusted horse away from the law.

And so everyone waited for you to be done. Every once in a while, Mary-Beth or Karen would skirt out of the tent, grabbing something from their own or stealing something from one of the men, before scurrying back in. When Dutch had tried to peek his head into the tent to ask the girls how long they were going to be, Karen practically hissed at him.

He could barely make out the girls chatter from within the tent. He had noticed your distinct lack of talking for the past few hours while you were trapped in the tent - sometimes, he would hear the murmur of your voice before a sharp response from Karen.

“Don’t you dare speak! You’ll smudge all my work!”

At some points, he would hear you yelp or telling the girls off for bringing a cosmetic too close to your eye or pulling corset strings too tight. Himself and the rest of the gang would chuckle quietly at the roughness of the women, namely Karen.

A rustle came from the opening of the tent. He stood straight as Tilly peeked her head out.

“Are you all ready to see our work?” Tilly asked, a toothy smile showing as she talked.

“Finally!” Dutch exclaimed getting to his feet from his place around the campfire. The other men involved followed suit. Uncle drunkly cheered in the background, sparking a laugh from some of the other members.

“Allow us to introduce you all to the lovely Miss Lady Callahan!” Tilly presented, coming out from the tent and holding the tent flap to the side to allow you to come out.

Arthur really, really thought his heart stopped beating then.

There you were: A long, golden dress hugged your figure to your waist, where it bunched up to flare out the material. The bodice of the dress cut down into a rounded neckline above your chest, where a pearl necklace with gold adornments draped your neck. The girls had your hair pinned up, with sections curling down to surround your face, which they had peppered subtly with cosmetics. Your eyes seemed darkened around eyelids, your lips and cheeks stained to a permanent blush.

As always, you looked beautiful. But in the light of the sun lowering on the camp and the adjustments the girl had made, Arthur was forced to think of a different life you could have had. A life he could never give you. A life you could never have when he was in yours.

Whistles surrounded throughout camp. You laughed, rolling your eyes at the gang’s overwhelming response to your appearance. Guided by the jeers of one of the camp members, you twirled on the spot, your dress flaring out around you.

“Ain’t ye gonna complement yer wife, Mr Callahan?” Sean jested from beside him, “Because if ye don’t I will!”

The strangeness of Tilly’s previous words suddenly hit him. His identity for the night, was rich business man Arthur Callahan, who had just moved to the area and was looking to make some like-minded business relations. Why was your name also Callahan?

He turned suspiciously towards the space occupied by Dutch and Hosea.

“Wife?” He asked. Dutch and Hosea raised them eyebrows, as if they had never done anything wrong in their life ever.

“We can’t be having an unwed lady attend the gala by herself! No, how preposterous, my boy. You and this lovely lady will be posing as a newly wed couple,” Trelawney butted in passing him a wedding band that Arthur noticed was already around your finger, “And with looks like that, you’ll have every man at the party jealous!”

Trelawney sent a wink in your direction as he finished, and despite your laugh at his compliments, you looked down at your feet and swallowed heavily.

Arthur felt terrible. How could he not? Here you were, the picture of perfection and you were being forced to pretend to be a man like his’s bride. You probably felt disgusted with the knowledge that you’d have to hold on to a man like him all night. His chest ached at the thought.

“Ain’t she looking real pretty, Arthur?” Tilly giggled, Mary-Beth beside her elbowing her side and covering her mouth to hide her fellow snickering.

You hadn’t been in the gang all that long. But for the time that you had, it because painfully obvious to everyone else that Arthur was very badly in love with you and was too much of a fool to ever do anything about.

You looked up at Tilly’s comment, staring into Arthur’s eyes. Arthur froze, then after a moment it was like his heart started beating again.

“You look beautiful sweetheart.”

You smiled back at him, but anything else was interrupted by the loud clap emitting from Dutch’s hands.

“Folks! It’s time to get moving. Everyone who’s coming, come on. Micah, Mrs Grimshaw, you’re in charge till our return. It’s time we make some money” With that, Dutch grinned manically, and left in the direction of their transport. Everyone else moved to get where they needed to be. Everyone except you and Arthur.

You closed the distance between you and Arthur, looking up at him from where you stood.

You held your arm out for his.

“Well, my darling husband, shall we get going?” You said, your voice slighting higher pitched and a daring smirk across your face.

Arthur interlocked his arm with yours, looking down into your eyes and smiling.

“Yes, my beautiful wife, I believe we shall.” Arthur ignored the fluttering in his chest as he felt the side of your body brush against his, and you began to walk towards the others together.

#arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption 2 imagine #red dead redemption 2 x reader #rdr2 #rdr #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 x reader #rdr imagine #rdr x reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 arthur

[hoeseamatthews]

Sick Day

A/N: First piece in a veeeery long time, slightly nervous!!

Pairing: Charles Smith x Reader

Word Count: 1,034

Summary: You’re sick and frustrated with being on bed rest, so Charles comes in to comfort you.

“Ugh, dammit!”

With a sniffle, you grumble to yourself while you attempt to sit upright in your bed. Bed rest wasn’t your first choice, but ever since you’ve taken ill, Charles has insisted that you stay in bed and take the time to recuperate, as opposed to attempting to go about your days as though you haven’t been coughing and sneezing your guts up for the past few days.

You can’t fault Charles - he’s not complained about doting on you and being at your beck and call. Not even once. Any and every little thing you’ve needed, he’s done for you without as much as a huff or a mutter under his breath. He’s not been overbearing about it in the slightest, either. He’s let you at least try doing things for yourself, as long as you continue to take it easy.

“Hon? You okay in there? Need any help?”

Charles calls out softly, overhearing your struggle on his venture to your room. He pokes his head around the bedroom door that’s cracked ajar, one hand resting against the oak, the other holding a fresh, hot cup of tea for you. When you don’t reply, he nudges the door open with his foot and takes a step inside.

You look downright exhausted and fed up as you lay there, but you’re still unable to fight the soft smile you offer Charles as he strolls his way over to the foot of your bed. You briefly brush stray strands of your hair back with a hand before carding your fingers through the rest of it, and Charles sets your cup down on the bedside table before he perches himself next to you on the empty side of the bed, gently reaching out to take your hand and bringing it to his lips to plant a few tender pecks on your knuckles.

“Hey, don’t struggle by yourself. You need anything, anything at all, you call for me. Okay?” he tells you, maintaining eye contact until you give him an affirming nod, “But other than that, you actually get some sleep this time? Feeling at least a little better at all?”

“More than the night before last, I think. Little less in and out of it, but…more than anything, I’m just getting frustrated. I’m getting so sick of being stuck in bed by myself. It’s so lonely. I wanna be outside, actually doing something productive,” you gesture towards the open window to your left, “It’s driving me crazy, Charles. I’m tired of this damn flu already.”

“I know, I know.” he softly shushes you, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead, “But you need to take it easy, rest up. Try rushing it, you’re gonna make yourself even worse.”

Slumping back against your pillow, you sigh. Charles is right. You know he is, but you can’t help feeling helpless, lonely, and slightly stir crazy from your time on bed rest. He’s been amazing in caring for you, you can’t fault that even if you tried to, but you’d give anything to be helping out with the animals or even helping in general on the homestead with him as opposed to being cooped up in bed for days on end.

The wistful look on your face doesn’t go unnoticed by Charles, either. He reaches over to the bedside table,  hands you your cup of tea, and he waits for you to finish taking a sip before he takes the cup away from you once more to set it down on the nightstand, and he hums while he cracks a smile at you.

“Tell you what,” he begins, regaining your full attention, “I’ve done a lot on the land so far already, so…would it make you feel any better if I lay here with you for a while? Sadly, I can’t take the flu away, but I can help cure the loneliness.”

“But won’t you get sick, too? You’ve risked it enough just by kissing me and all.”

You furrow your brow in concern, but Charles is quick enough to shake his head and wave a hand in dismissal. Instead, he kicks off his boots before peeling back the covers and sliding into the bed next to you, aiding you in getting yourself comfortable once more before he slouches down and does the same.

“Nah, I’m not worried about that.”

Charles smiles and angles himself towards you, opening his arms to invite you in. You’re still hesitant, the thought of potentially getting him sick is still fresh in your mind, but you don’t have the heart to turn him down. Scooting closer to him, you’re soon enveloped in his warm embrace, curling your own arms around him while you lay your head flat against his chest with a sigh of pure contentment.

“You’re allowed to blame me if you do get sick, y’know. I warned you.”

You hum, eyes fluttering shut once Charles begins to play with your hair, absentmindedly yet tenderly twisting and curling stray locks around his fingers. A chuckle rumbles deep in his chest at this, the sound and feel of it against you prompting warmth to bloom in your chest.

“I’m not blaming you for anything.” he tells you, and he plants a kiss atop your head, “But even if I do get sick, make it up to me by getting some rest right now. Think you can do that?”

“I can try to,” with a hum, you nod your head yes at him, “You still gonna be here when I wake up?”

You ask, and you allow yourself to fully settle down against him, nestling under the covers while Charles continues to toy with your hair with one hand and traces soft, haphazard patterns across random sections of your back with the other. He stops only to fully pull the covers over you both while attempting to make himself comfortable in the process, cocooning the two of you in the bed to wordlessly hint to you that he’s here for the duration.

“I’ll still be here when you wake up, hon. Get some sleep, okay?” he smiles, drawing you in closer to his chest, “Not leaving this bed until you’re awake again, I promise.”

#charles smith x reader #rdr fanfiction #rdr imagine #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 imagine #red dead redemption fanfic #red dead redemption imagine #rdr fanfic

[cenpede]

My favorite horse girl 🥰 I love him so much I’d treat him soooo so right Arthur Morgan call m-

#rdr2 #Arthur Morgan #charles smith #charthur #red dead redemption 2 #Kieran is my other favorite horse girl he’s my favorite son #I’m only halfway done with the game but I had the end spoiled bc I’m soooo nosey and was like #gee if this is a prologue to rdr then what does Arthur look like in the future :3 #a corpse.that’s what . #imagine my FUCKING LIFE

[penisbutterjellytime]

Butch John Marston + her in the undead one tit-out look

#rdr2 #rdr #red dead #john marston #red dead redemption #dz.rdr #rdr the butchifacation #i swear everytime i draw john he looks different #but whatever... #i imagine john to be one of those old butches who socially passed as a man #teetering that trans masc butch line #I also think she would be as blunt as og john