6emo6zombie6

[6emo6zombie6]

The devils advocate for sin

Ghoulette reader x Papa IV Tags: boot licking, dick sucking, old men, Papa obviously, lots of praising, dom/sub

Being a new summon meant you were only expected to do simple tasks, like doing the laundry, helping during Dark mass, and cleaning Papa’s office. Today was a day you did the latter. Only this time Papa was present while you organized his books, swept the marble floors, and organized the drawers in his ornate desk.

“Ah, mio Ghuleh,” He said, peeking up from the papers he was reading and signing. You looked over your shoulder, holding an old book. “They are organized by alphabet, si?”

“Yes, Papa,” You nod, trying to not show your boredom or exhaustion from doing all these seemingly useless tasks. You knew Papa was just testing your obedience, training you to one day be on stage with him. Like all things in life—you started at the bottom of the ladder.

The older man gave you a nod, looking back down at his papers as you organized the last few books and ensured the bookshelf was tidy.

Now, usually, Papa was out doing whatever it is popes do, so this next task was a little degrading while he was there. You walked over and kneeled on the floor next to the chair he was sitting on, opening the bottom drawer on the side of his desk. You couldn’t see the glance he was giving you as you innocently grabbed the papers and pens out of the drawer, but needless to say, he was happy to see you on the floor.

You began organizing once again, sitting so delicately on your knees. Papa wondered why he’d never been there while you cleaned before, and he was definitely going to accidentally be in his office whenever you were tasked with cleaning it. You seemed to pay his endless scribbling no mind, your tail still as it lay on the floor.

He couldn’t help but stare, your hair falling slightly in front of your face as you leaned forward to ensure the drawer was completely organized. You moved on to the next one mindlessly, having done this many times before. Papa somehow always managed to make his office an utter mess.

“hm, you’re good at sitting on your knees, aren’t you?” He said in a cocky tone, not a single sign of embarrassment in the way he talked. Your presence always made him a little more confident and dominant, possibly due to your height.

You found his statement a little strange, though he was known to be quite odd at times, so you paid no mind to it.

“Such a good Ghoulette for me, such a good helper.” He said in a slightly deeper tone, his large gloved hand coming down to pat your head. He chuckled when your tail whipped excitedly, giving away your mood. He gave you a last scratch before his hand disappeared again, presumably to continue his paperwork. You smiled to yourself as you also continued your work.

It took you a little while to organize all the drawers on both sides of his desk, then help him organize his papers and clip them together. You started mindlessly sweeping the floor a second time after that, secretly enjoying Papa’s presence.

“Are you out of tasks?” He raised an eyebrow as he watched you repeat the task you’d done at the very start. He knew what you were getting at, boldly calling you out and making you feel embarrassed. You blushed and looked at him, leaning the broom against the nearest wall as you nodded sheepishly.

“Well, mio piccolo mostriciattola,” He failed to hold back the smirk that crept up his painted cheeks, his leather glove squeaking as he balled and unballed his fist absently. “If you’re that insistent on doing chores…” He smirked wider as his mismatched eyes stared into yours. “My shoes need cleaning. Would you—perhaps—want to clean them for me, Tesoro?”

You bit back a smile, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you checked his expression, making sure you both had the same thing in mind. His devious expression confirmed your suspicions, And with that, you made your way over to him, giving him a shy glance as you kneeled next to his chair. He promptly spun to face your way, his legs crossed. He wore his signature rat-bitten jeans—the ones that made his thighs look absolutely delicious—with his frilly shirt and his shiny dress shoes. It was enough to make any man or woman crumble beneath him in the same way you were now.

He uncrossed his legs momentarily to lean forward and grab your chin, making you look up into his menacing gaze.

“sei così, carina.” He chuckled lowly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before leaning back into his plush chair again, once again crossing one leg over the other, wiggling his foot tauntingly.

“Go ahead.” He insisted in a murmur, his voice low with desire.

You gave him one last look, breathing deeply once before leaning forward and darting your tongue out toward his shoe. You ran it over the dull leather, your face completely red with embarrassment at this point. This whole thing was so degrading, yet you loved it. You loved licking your Papa’s shoes clean like a kit desperate for attention.

“Si, that’s it.” Papa gave you a grin, though he had turned back to his paperwork once you looked up at him. His disregard for you licking at his shoes made you more desperate, more eager to please your Papa. You licked stripe by stripe up his shoe until the dull leather had gotten shiny again with your saliva. You checked all around, Papa’s pen still scribbling endlessly on his wooden desk.

Upon casting another glance, he noticed you were already done with the first shoe. He stretched out his leg and propped it up on your shoulder, inspecting his now shiny shoe thoroughly.

“Hmm, good girl.” He gave you a soft smile, tilting his head as he noticed your shy reaction to his praise. He let out a breathy chuckle, dominance radiating off of him as he pressed the sole of his shoe against your collarbone, pushing you back slightly. The view you had from where you were kneeling on the floor was sinful and oh-so intoxicating. From the way he sat, you could see a sliver of his pale skin peek through between the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his pants. His tight pants also made his bulge that much more visible to you, making you stare at it for a few seconds.

Papa followed your gaze, raising an eyebrow. “Now, now, mio Ghuleh.” He said in an amused, yet scrutinizing tone. “That’s far too inappropriate, no? You’re not supposed to look at your Papa that way.” His voice grew lower, now playfully scolding you.

Your eyes trailed back up to his face, looking into his with a half-confused, half-apologetic look. He wasn’t awestruck by your puppyish eyes, rather frowning at your blatant manipulation. You didn’t catch his disdained expression and eagerly touched his thigh, which he didn’t appreciate.

 A glimpse of anger flashed across his face before you felt his leg skillfully hook around your neck, pulling you down a little before the heel of his boot forcefully pushed against the back of your head, throwing you off your balance and causing you to fall flat on the cold floor. His heel remained on the back of your head for a second, squashing your cheek against the marble before he planted it beside your head.

“Did I say you could touch?” He grumbled, scowling at you as you looked up at him, shaking your head. “Speak.” He quickly demanded.

“N-no, Papa...” You murmured gulping softly as you tried to sit back up on your knees, only for Papa’s other foot to plant between your shoulder blades and force you to the floor again. You let out a small huff as your chest hit the ground. And, oh, fuck, was it turning you on.

“Hm.” He jerked his chin up, somewhat satisfied with your answer. “You are where you belong now, hm? On the ground, beneath me.” He chuckled as he saw your obvious blush, letting him know how much exactly you enjoyed his praise and his degradation.

His legs were spread, one foot planted on each side of your head as he went back to writing and scribbling on his paperwork. You gulped and looked up at him, not getting a reaction just yet. So, again you started licking his dirty shoe, polishing the leather with your spit whilst simultaneously cleaning off any dirt. Luckily his shoes weren’t all that dirty, considering he was inside the pristine ministry most of the time, and never really outside besides the occasional visit to his brothers in the cemetary.

Your licking got more eager as Papa started to ignore you, only glancing at you ever so often to make sure you were doing what he told you to.

“You’re pathetic.” He said with a slight chuckle, watching you do your work. His voice made you breathe shakily, the warmth pooling between your legs. You were horny now, wet and eager to be filled by a proper cock.

You lay there on the floor, submissive to your Papa and licking his shoes clean like a slut. It was such a pitiful sight, yet Papa found your obedience endearing. He almost started to feel bad. Almost. But even Satan himself knew that Papa was far too arrogant to stop now.

You went on for a while longer before the second shoe was clean as well, shining in the same way the previous shoe was. Papa inspected it again, giving you an appreciative nod.

“See?” He smiled, way too kind for just having pushed you to the ground. He spoke in a sweeter tone now, satisfied with your obedience, even if he had to discipline you to get you there. “That’s what I like to see. My good little ghoulette working hard to make her Papa presentable.”

You smiled, sitting back up on your knees and moving closer to Papa as he started to softly stroke your hair, petting you as he would a dog or a cat. Your soft, ghoulish purr made him smile.

“You’re adorable.” He hummed, adjusting himself in his seat. His pants had started to get tight while he’d been watching you, his cock hard and straining against the fabric. He let out a soft, barely audible groan that made you look up in confusion, now noticing his arousal.

He grinned upon seeing you notice, stroking your cheek as he put the pen in his other hand down.

“I’m sure an obedient girl like you would like to please her Papa even more, no?”

You nodded furiously, giddy for his cock. “Yes, please, Papa.” You muttered hastily, gulping as he teasingly palmed himself.

“Good.” He grinned proudly at your answer, undoing his fly and pulling his cock out with a smug expression. His tip was red and eager, already leaking precum onto his jeans. Your eyebrows arched as you looked at it, needily biting your lip. Your tail swished behind you excitedly.

“Ah, carina, do I need to tell you to do everything?” He said with slight annoyance when you took too long.

“Uhm... sorry,” You gulped, quickly leaning forward and taking his head into your warm mouth.

Papa groaned loudly, slightly surprised at your quick movements. His hand was on your head in no time, gently petting you and pushing you down when he felt you needed guidance. His hands and the taste of his cock made you dizzy with need and arousal, your panties already having been soiled beneath your uniform. He felt so amazing. His touches the perfect balance between rough and gentle.

It didn’t take you all too much licking and sucking to start drawing moans and grunts from your Papa, his gloved hand grasping the armrest on his chair. He was no longer doing his work, all focus was on you as a reward for your obedience. You basked in the attention, closing your eyes and moaning softly as you bobbed your head up and down.

Papa gave your head an affectionate scratch, still petting you softly and grabbing ahold of your hair when he felt like it. You were such a sweet, obedient ghoul, one he could pleasure by simply praising. He wasn’t estranged to fucking his ghouls whatsoever—but lately, he’d just been so busy, he’d almost forgotten how much good a simple blowjob did from time to time.

“You are so good to me,” He praised breathlessly, his head lolling back as he started to sweat. He was starting to lose his grip, too enveloped in how good your mouth felt. He’d been too tired to even jerk off anymore, maybe a short break was all he needed to recharge.

“Si, Si, yes,” He moaned slightly louder, his voice echoing off the walls. “Shit, a-ah...” His voice was getting raspy now, his hand eagerly tugging on your hair as his hips started to buck against your face.

“You’re taking my cock so well.” He grunted, his eyes shutting and his eyebrows knotting together, pleasure washing over him.

You braced your hands on his thighs, softly squeezing the flesh and drawing a small laugh from your Papa. Even while your throat was stuffed with this man’s dick, you couldn’t help but touch his perfect body. He held onto your hair as he thrust into you, your nose touching his pelvis. He pulled you up a little higher to let you breathe once he heard you starting to choke.

“oh, cazzo, cazzo, non riesco a trattenerlo... merda...” He cursed mindlessly in Italian. You understood nothing, but you knew he was satisfied. “you want my cum, si? You want it?”

Somehow you managed a nod with him down your throat and holding your hair, and he moaned louder, a quick grunt escaping his lips as he came. He shot multiple thick ropes of his cum down your throat, coating the inside of your mouth as he mindlessly fucked your face. He was all desire now, his passion fading away and being replaced by carnal lust and pleasure.

He slowly began to calm down, his cock twitching slightly and slowly softening up once he pulled you off of him. You looked up at him innocently as you leaned your head on his thigh, inspecting his blissful expression and the heaving of his chest as he let himself come down from his climax. He pet your head lovingly, fixing your messy hair. He could tell you were aroused, your face all flushed and focused on what move he was going to make next.

“Good girl...” He sighed, smiling down at you. “You’re dismissed from doing tasks for today, okay?” He said softly, his accent more prominent due to his tiredness.

He tucked himself back in his pants with a huff, pinching your chin afterward. “Go back to your quarters, mio Tesoro.” He hummed softly.

You gave him a confused, slightly frustrated look. Was he seriously not going to grant you any pleasure after all that?

Papa noticed your expression. “I am a busy man, you know this, Tesoro.” He looked at you with a sympathetic expression, his hand falling in his lap as he motioned for you to stand up. “Andare. Back to your quarters.” He repeated and nodded his head toward the door, looking up at you as your face scrunched up in a cute pout.

“You just made me do all that and now I—”

“No, silenzio.” Papa cut you off, holding his hand up. “I know you want to be touched but I must get back to work. I promise I’ll take care of you later, but not now, si?”

You sighed, crossing your arms.

“I want no more out of you. Go, join the others.” He patted your thigh as he turned his chair back toward his desk. “You did very good, mio ghuleh."

[6emo6zombie6]

AAAGWGEVEHEH

pweemo (important)

[6emo6zombie6]

A matter best discussed with Papa

Papa III x Reader

Tags: fingering, daddy kink... but I suppose it's more of a Papa kink?? Getting freaky with Papa in his office!!!

You’d stayed behind in the pews, sitting on your own after the weekly sermon. You wanted to talk to Papa but he was talking to some other sisters. You couldn’t be bothered enough to listen closely to what they were saying, not with the questions you had. Today’s sermon had been—not unusually—about sex, but specifically the orgasm and its importance in rituals. Papa Terzo was undeniably very interested in the topic, and he spoke openly about it, including his own sexual experiences.

Now, of course, there were some giggles and some whispers when Papa expressed his fondness of orgasms, the supposed ecstasy that they brought. It was then that you realized you hadn’t experienced anything similar to what he had been speaking about. Then again, your sexual encounters had been very minimal—but you couldn’t help but wonder, maybe you’d been masturbating incorrectly as well. You figured it was a topic best to discuss with the man who seemed to know all about it.

“oh—Papa,” You said as you hastily got up from the pews, noticing the others had left. Papa’s turn was a tad dramatic as he heard your voice, his robes swishing around him as you made your way to the other end of the chapel.

“Si, cara, what is it?” He said in his usual smooth voice, looking down at you with a fond smile. You’d always suspected he favored you over the others—for reasons unknown.

“Uhm...” You briefly glanced at your feet, then down the hall to make sure it was empty. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Papa let out a soft, breathy chuckle as your cheeks started to burn up.

“Would it make you more comfortable to discuss this in my office, cara?”

“Yes, that’d be... that’d be nice.” You nodded quickly, smiling softly as Papa lovingly flicked his index finger under your chin. You followed him to his office as he had suggested. Your heeled shoes clacked against the marble floors of the ministry as the two of you walked.

“Is it about the sermon?” Papa asked as he cast you another glance. He chuckled once more when he saw you gulp, looking away from him.

The two of you walked in silence for a minute before reaching Papa’s office, he opened one of the large, ornate wooden doors and motioned for you to enter. You hesitantly did so, Papa shutting the door behind you.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, tesoro, truly,” He exhorted, sitting down in the expensive chair behind his large desk. His fingers tapped on the wood as you took your seat across from him.

“Now tell me—tell Papa what’s been bothering you.”

You twiddled your thumbs, letting out an unsure “Ummm...” as Papa stared at you, waiting for you to tell him what was going on. He could tell you were somewhat uncomfortable, sighing softly as he leaned back in his chair.

“Well...” you began, piquing Papa’s interest. “You were talking about orgasms and such and I uh... I don’t think I’ve ever had one.”

Papa lifted an eyebrow, a small grin starting to form on his painted cheeks. “I see...” He murmured.

After a few seconds of silence, he patted his lap, waving you over to him. “Come sit,”

You sheepishly walked over, feeling his hands wrap around you and hold you steady as you sat in his lap. He smiled at your obedience, and how shy you looked. You weren’t the most outspoken of the sisters, but he’d never seen you this shy.

“Now tell me, Cara,” One of his hands rested on the side of your thigh, his gloved hand swishing his thumb just below the hem of your habit. “Do you want me to tell you, or do you want me to show you?”

Of course, Papa wanted you to agree to the latter, nothing was more relaxing than having a cute girl writhe in pleasure because of his ministrations. It was definitely one of his favorite pastime activities.

“Show me,” You muttered, biting your lip anxiously as Papa squished your thigh with a grin.

“Good girl,” He spoke in a deep tone, carefully pulling your leg open. “Let Papa show you how to relax.” 

You looked at him, seeing his face light up at the thought of being able to pleasure you. He carefully hiked up your already short habit, looking up at you to make sure you were comfortable. A small gasp left your lips as you felt his hand, gently stroking up and down your clothed heat.

“Hm... see what I’m doing? Gotta get you nice and bothered before we do anything else, huh?” He absently bit his lip, his leather glove cold against you.

His gentle movements made for a bunch of comfortable, soft tingles around your lower region, warmth stirring up in your body at the pleasure.

You let out a soft, content sigh as you started to ease into Papa’s touches, he let out a proud chuckle at your submission.

He drew a quick, lazy circle over your clit before stopping the motions, dragging his large hand up your torso and cupping one of your breasts carefully. You let out a soft gasp as his thumb flicked over your nipple, making him chuckle again.

Then, he went silent for a second, his gaze reverting to an old, floor-length mirror across the office. A smirk spread across his cheeks as he let go of you and patted your leg.

“Do Papa a favor and sit there,” He grumbled smoothly as he pointed at the floor in front of the mirror.

You nodded and silently got off his lap, sitting down where he’d pointed at. You followed his movements through the mirror, watching as he took off his gloves before following after you and sitting behind you with his legs on either side of you.

“Papa’s going to show you how to relax, hm... Si?”

The way you panted and blushed as your eyes roamed away filled him with need. The thought of him corrupting such a gentle soul made him let out a shaky sigh.

“Take your uh...” Papa pondered for a second, not knowing the English word. “Your—your mutandine, take them off.”

“Si,” You responded coyly, knowing what he meant. You quickly slid your panties off, laying them beside you.

“Now, open your legs for me.” He kept grinning to himself when you did so, your pussy already slick from his limited touches. “Mio piccola ragazza, you are adorable.” You hooked your legs over his, giving him more room to stroke and rub. He did so happily, his index and ring finger leisurely drawing circles on your puffy clit. His head rested on your shoulder to properly inspect your reactions in the mirror.

The sight was one for sore eyes; your eyes lidded and fixated on his hand in the reflection, your cheeks red and your breathing slightly heavier than usual. You were so responsive, so much more perverted than Papa had ever could have guessed. He loved it.

“Dio, you’re wet,” He bit his lip softly, speeding his fingers up and rubbing your clit a little longer before stopping and inspecting your wetness coating and webbing between his fingers. He let out a soft grunt as he pushed those same two fingers into your juicy cunt, earning a small whine from you.

“Feels good, hm?”

“Yeah,” You replied breathily, little sounds starting to fall from your lips as the older man started to repeatedly pump his fingers in and out. The movement made a wet squelching noise that in turn made Papa smirk. His free hand wrapped around you and squeezed your tits needily, making it harder for you to focus on what he was doing.

After a little while he pulled his fingers out, his hand moving to hold your face as he lifted his hand to your mouth. “Suck them clean for Papa,” He grinned, watching you do as he asked, your tongue eagerly sucking his fingers clean from your slick. He chuckled after pulling them back out and letting go of your face.

“Now, watch what I do.” You watched his hand as he curled his fingers upward. “See? It’s going to feel good like that, I promise.”

His fingers were back in you before you could fully process what he meant. You let out a surprised gasp and watched him do the same thing he did before, only now he was curling his fingers up against a specifically sensitive spot inside you. Your mouth hung open at the intense, yet pleasurable feeling.

He switched between pumping his fingers in and out and curling them periodically, slowly speeding up little by little to push you over the edge. You felt a few soft kisses against your neck as you finally let your head loll back, moans and whines exiting your throat deliciously. It was no secret that the sight alone drove Papa wild, you could feel his rock-hard cock pressing into your lower back.

But this was about you, so you tried not to focus on it too much.

Your moans became a bit louder as Papa hammered his fingers against that delicious spot over and over, your legs started to tremble as you felt yourself grow closer to an orgasm—a feeling that was new to you. You couldn’t keep quiet, it felt too good. You felt a tight, warm knot twisting your insides and begging to unravel. Papa spoke up once he noticed your breathing starting to quicken.

“You’re close,” He grinned, glancing at your trembling thighs. “Rub your clit for me, cara, it’ll make it feel even better.”

Your hand trembled as you slid it down, your entire cunt coated in your juices, as well as the inner parts of your thighs. You’d never felt this great—euphoric, and you hadn’t even come yet. Papa’s hands were like magic.

You carefully rubbed your clit, your legs starting to involuntarily twitch when you started. It felt so intense and you had no clue why you hadn’t ever come to this point on your own.

“O-oh, Satan, I think I’m going to cum,” You managed to mumble between your many pleasured noises.

Papa’s eyes raked over your body, taking in the jumble of hands between your legs, your hard nipples poking through your habit, the slight sheen of sweat on your neck... fuck. He groaned at the sight. You were more beautiful than any painting he had ever seen, your body writhing in pleasure like it was designed to do so.

“Cum for me.” He said in a low, hoarse voice. It sounded more like a command than any of his other sweet comments.

Those three words were all it took. The knot unraveled and you struggled to keep the rhythm on your clit, a wave of tingles shooting up to your head and down to the tips of your toes. Your body trembled as Papa kept up his flawless pace, moaning softly as your back arched and your cunt spasmed around his fingers. You had never felt this great, nor had you felt this perverted. Nobody had managed to get you near an orgasm before, but in your defense you were ill-informed. 

Your moans echoed through the office, they were probably loud enough for anyone outside to hear, but you didn’t care. It all felt too good. Your body was overcome with ecstasy, making you wish the pleasure would never end.

Alas, your orgasm gradually died down. Papa pulled his fingers out and licked them clean himself this time, letting out the softest moan at your taste. He would have loved to dive between your legs and use his tongue to make you cum again, but you looked exhausted from it all. His hands slid down to your thighs, his thumbs soothingly rubbing back and forth over the skin.

“hm...” He hummed, kissing your temple. “Poor thing... you must be exhausted.”

[6emo6zombie6]

A dirty-ass prompt: getting down and dirty with Mary Goore in a cemetery 👀

okay so this is what i was trying-- second person, past tense, and timed.

disclaimer; i don't like this one. it didn't turn out how i liked but i'm getting itchy trying to fix it. i feel like i fucked up tenses somewhere, but i'm trying to force myself to try a new tense for me.

creampie mary, weehaw

It was the coldest night of the year when you walked into that shithole dive bar down the road from the Abbey, practically looking for trouble. You were still covered in snow from a freak early-November storm that had caught you on your way out to meet up with your best friend, and you distinctly remember the snow flakes drifting from your shoulders and head to land on the floor of the bar, already melting away. The bartenders eyes met yours in a moment that would have heated the snow off of the sidewalk if you were outside.

It seemed you'd met Trouble.

He was a little taller than you and about thirty shades heavier handed with his eye makeup. His pale arm waved you forward to the bar, gesturing at a seat until you hopped up into it and settled down, giving him a simple drink order. The small talk that he made was comfortable; practiced. He asked what you did and you vaguely mentioned the Abbey, and then asked the same of him, and he replied with the name of the dive bar. The bar's name was stupid, like a joke you'd forgotten the punchline of, or one that the author couldn't bother coming up with, and you found yourself wondering if his name was any better. You almost smiled when he introduced himself as "Mary Goore", your brain already looking for the pun.

Your drink appeared in front of you and he raised his own to meet your glass with a gentle clink. "To Lucifer."

"To Lucifer," you replied, eyebrows shooting up into your brow line. He had some prior knowledge of the Abbey, it seemed... or he was just a tool. You were willing to jump his bones, either way. The two of you sipped your drinks and talked more about the Abbey and how he had been to shows before, that you just must not have noticed him in the crowds of people that congregated in the big cathedral. That, or he had a great knack for making himself invisible.

Eventually he changed the subject, asking you how long you've been a member of the Abbey and how you were liking it, if you felt it was for you or not, what it was like to live on the premises, and before you knew it, the glass you'd been sipping was empty, and he was asking you if you wanted to go for a ride with him. You swirled the dregs of your glass as you thought it over, wrestling with yourself about the safety of the choice-- it was dark and snowing, you were most certainly at least buzzed, and Mary is a new person to you.

Your eyes met his again, a cool green, and he broke into a toothy grin. The laughter lines around his face were prominent, and something behind his eyes was enough for you to agree.

It was Mary.

A small duffle bag was retrieved from somewhere in the back room and the lights were flicked off as Mary yelled at the remaining people at the bar to fuck off out the door; he's locking up for the night. Judging by the way that the patrons move, this wasn't a new experience for them. A few people lightly protested but a death glare from Mary had them hurrying their pace as he slammed the door closed behind them. He took off his black apron, draping it over a stool as he turned to you and clapped his hands together sharply.

"So," he grinned, "you want a ride or what?"

His car was a simple vehicle-- a low sitting two-doored thing, with fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror and several bumper stickers. One of the stickers that had caught your eye said "Hella kids up in this bitch". When you made a comment about it, he had laughed and shrugged with one shoulder, motioning towards his balls.

The Abbey was on the other side of town from the dive bar, but somehow you and Mary arrived at the back doors before you could really process that you'd left. The ride over was filled with quiet ambient music from his stereo, and a rambling introduction from him that left you even more sure of your decision. He parked his car by the back door of the Abbey and turned to face you, slinging one arm over the back of his seat. The graveyard of Emeritus family lineage and the Siblings was visible over his shoulder, the snow on the graves melted from the heat of the nearby greenhouse.

"What?" you asked, your cheeks growing warmer with every second that passes.

"Nothin'," he countered with a shrug, "you're just hot." The smile that spread over his lips was wicked as he waited for your reaction.

"Are you hitting on me, Mary?"

He licked his lower lip with a nod before popping them together loudly, grinning. "Yup."

He didn't say anything more as you exited his vehicle, drumming your fingers along the hood of his car until you made it to his side. Mary's eyes were wide, watching you carefully until you leaned down and opened his car door, extending a hand to him.

"Enough small talk. Come rail me against a gravestone." Mary exhaled a bark of laughter, taking your hand with his left and turning off his car with the right.

You led him through the garden and around a hedge that opened up to reveal the more expensive crypts that dotted the square acreage of the Abbey. This was the most up-front and ridiculously blatant thing you'd ever done... but it was a thrill, wasn't it? His hand was still clasped in yours as you continued through the maze-like layout of the graveyard, passing stones and statues of Papa I and II and a few others you recognized until you arrived at an ornately carved stone angel. It was kneeling at a cross, hands clasped in prayer and face buried in the crook of their arm. You stopped and spun to face Mary, one hand already hiking up your dress.

Mary was grinning again as he pulled you closer to his body, pressing you up against the cool stone of the grave, his hands finally skating along your goose bumped skin. Your arm slid neatly around his shoulders, pulling him closer until his hips were slotted against yours perfectly. When your lips met it was electric, and Mary's shaky moan was enough to melt any remaining nerves you had. The sound of his jeans unzipping and boxers rustling was almost a relief. Your own dress was lifted up to your waist and pushed over your hips with ease.

"How are you gonna--?" He didn't bother answering you. Instead he lifted one of your legs around his hip, taking you by surprise as he hooked it behind him, allowing your foot to rest on his lower back. With his help you wrapped your legs around him as tightly as you could, leaning heavily on the statue behind you as his cock rubbed against the slickness between your lips. Your hand snaked down to grab him and hold him still as he lined up, teasing you for only a moment more before sinking deep into your heat.

"I catch on quick," he growled directly in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

It wasn't the most comfortable position you'd ever been fucked in, but as Mary picked up a faster pace it felt less and less like the stone of the grave behind you was cutting into your skin and more like the heady mixture of pleasure and adrenaline you craved. His thrusts were rough but even and precise, the slapping sound of his hips against the back of your thighs almost drowned out by your shared heavy breathing. Mary's mouth was hot against your throat as he moaned, teeth sinking in lightly until he stopped at the juncture between your shoulder and neck to suck and bite at your flesh, making you cry out for him. Your body arched as he slammed into you, trying your best to move your hips in time with his to take him in even deeper, desperate for more of that feeling of being filled up.

"You going to cum for me?" he growled, his hands tightening on you where he held you aloft. You gasped in response, your cunt tightening around his cock as a sudden heat washed over you, spreading from your clit and up to the tips of your toes, the only response you could manage as he hit just the right spot over and over. Mary huffed out a breath of pleasure at the way that you tightened up around his dick, your orgasm causing you to involuntarily hold on tighter, nails digging into his skin through his thin shirt. "Cum all over my cock for me, babe. Fuuuck, you feel so fuckin' good."

"Mary--" Your voice was breathy as you felt another wave of your climax crash through you. The cool November night air around you did little to dampen the heat that Mary's body radiated or your own body heat, but it felt good, your sweat covered skin prickling with goosebumps. You managed to lift your head slightly, looking down to where you and Mary were joined. His jeans were open, cock sticking through the hole in the front of his boxers-- in fact, it seemed as though he wasn't even using the full length of his cock, pants bunched as they were.

"Fuckin- cunt, I'm gonna-" Mary cut himself off, mashing his lips against yours with a long and drawn out moan, hips kicking forward in time with the waves of his own climax. His teeth sank into your bottom lip and tugged, his breath coming in ragged pants and growls against you. When you were both sure you were finished, you carefully extricated your legs from their spot on Mary's hips, the two of you watching as he slowly slid out of you, leaving behind a warm trickle that ran down the insides of your thighs-- a hot reminder of your impulse decision. The sight made your face hot, but the look of pleasure on Mary's face when you made eye contact was worth it.

"Thanks for the ride," you said with a laugh, rubbing your hands along your thighs to warm up the muscle again. Mary snorted and dragged his hands across his face before looking at you. He waited for a beat before speaking.

"I haven't done something like that in years."

"I never have." You shrugged noncommittally, but Mary balked. "What? You were hot."

"So I'm your first, then? First one-night?" he corrected himself quickly. When you nodded he laughed again. "Look at you, making moves! But uh... I'm sorry to burst your bubble." Your eyes snapped to his, convincingly apologetic.

"What?"

"I uh.. Wouldn't mind if this wasn't a one night thing." Mary's hand went to the back of his head as he laughed shyly.

[6emo6zombie6]

ermmm

I know y'all wanna see some freaky shit but I'm like lowkey depressed so give me a few moments, I swear I still love you all!!!!111!!1

XOXO Zombie

[6emo6zombie6]

Silent reblog

@copias-girl hi love! I had a friend send this to me and i knew you’d (s)cream ✨ enjoyyyy 🖤 smooches 💋

[6emo6zombie6]

will i ever stop thinking about arthur morgan? probably not.

[6emo6zombie6]

heyyyy!! I was wondering if you could write about adult Jack Marston with a fem reader who is reserved, and quiet? Abigail and John are alive and Jack invites her over to beechers hope for dinner with his parents, can you write about each of their perspectives on her? (like what they think about her, her personality, etc.)

also, I wanted to thank you so much for you answering my other requests, youre such a good writer like AHH <33.

Hiii!!! I hope this is what you had in mind, had a little delay again because of school stuff ;(

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The lion and the lamb ~~~~~ Jack Marston x reader

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“And… you’re sure they’ll approve of me?” You asked for what seemed like the millionth time to Jack. You’d agreed to let him pick you up to formally introduce you to his parents and have dinner with them. Your anxiety had started to peak once Jack rode the two of you onto Beecher’s Hope, the house in the middle of the plot nearing.

“Yes,” Jack answered with a soft sigh. “I’m sure they will, my sweet. Nothin’ to worry about, okay?”

“Okay,” You nodded to yourself, chewing on your lip as you held onto Jack.

It wasn’t long before his horse came to a stop in front of the house. He got off with a swift motion, then helped you off like a true gentleman. You fixed your dress before walking up toward the porch, Jack’s mother and father already standing on it.

His mother looked like a sweet, yet somewhat stern woman, beautiful as can be. His father looked as rugged as him, their faces nearly identical.

Jack promptly introduced the three of you.

“This is my mother, Abigail—and my father, John.”

You gave a soft nod, shaking their hands before engaging in small talk.

Abigail was surprised at how soft and proper you spoke, not to mention the nice dress that made you look overdressed next to Jack. She wondered how a gentle soul such as you had been able to tame her rugged, gunslinger of a son.

Besides that, she was also intimidated, though not showing her worry as she spoke. You looked well-mannered and rich—her ranch must be a dump compared to the place you lived in. Even in her nicest evening wear she looked like a pawn next to you.

John, on the other hand, was proud of his son for finding a girl so gentle. He’d always been afraid of his son falling back in with the wrong people, that life was no longer one he wished to pursue. Jack looked more than happy to be with you, and somehow you had managed to break down his walls.

“Well,” Abigail broke a short silence, taking a last peek at your attire. “Let's head inside, then. Dinner’s cookin’.”

You glanced at Jack as he led you inside, the house smelling like leather and wood.

“You two can sit,” Abigail smiled, walking along the hallway to prepare the food. John stood in the living room, his hand resting on his gun belt awkwardly. He looked at the hallway in search of his wife, clearing his throat when he realized she wasn’t there.

“So,” He began, taking a seat at the table together with you and Jack. He sat opposite of you. “Jack treatin’ you right?”

Obviously, John was concerned about whether or not his son was treating his girlfriend decently. He wasn’t raised to think differently.

You blush softly.

“Yes, sir.” You nod, glancing at Jack.

“Good, good.” He nodded. “If that boy ever hurts you, you come to me, alright?” John could tell you were a frigid girl, someone he never expected to be with his son. He felt an overwhelming urge to protect you, the same urge you knew from Jack. He seemed to always be protecting you from other people, always treating you like you were about to break in his hands.

Jack gave his father a quick, slightly annoyed glance. John didn’t notice the glance, he was too busy inspecting you and trying to read you. You were a tad mysterious and hard to predict, seeing as you were so quiet and awkward, though you seemed to be at ease at the same time.

A few moments went by in silence before Abigail walked into the main area of the house, carrying two plates of stew. She placed the two plates in front of you and Jack before walking back to the kitchen to grab a plate for John and herself. She sat down at the table with a somewhat pensive expression.

“Thank you,” You smiled softly. Abigail couldn’t read whether or not you were truly thankful or just polite, but she smiled back anyway, going with the former for her comfort.

“Well then, dig in,” She said in a high-pitched tone, straightening her back as she scooped a spoonful of stew in her mouth.

“So,” She spoke up amidst the scraping of spoons, looking at you as you properly scooped away from yourself and blew at your food. “Tell us about yourself--what are your parents like?”

You take a quick bite before talking. Your voice was soft as you grew slightly anxious, three pairs of eyes fixed on you. “My mother’s a fine young woman,” you spoke positively, seeming to cheer up at the thought of your mother. “Daddy left us when I was just a girl… left me and momma with little money.” You spoke softly, failing to look either of Jack’s parents in the eye.

“But you’re uh… financially stable, as of now?” John asked, not aware of how rude of a question it was. You caught a glimpse of Abigail nudging her husband, making him shoot a confused glance at her, then at you.

“Uhm,” You blush, not entirely sure if that was an appropriate matter to discuss over dinner. Maybe it was, you weren’t usually all too social.

“We—we aren’t all that rich,” You stated sheepishly, taking another bite of your food.

Abigail gave a confused glance, though her face became neutral again as she realized her expression was slightly rude. She could’ve sworn you were a rich girl, she’d already imagined you living on some plantation with your family.

You caught her glance just in time, knowing she was puzzled by how you looked like you were part of a higher social class than she and her family were.

You smile softly, looking down with a blush.

“My momma’s very concerned with looking proper…” You mumble, shrugging lightly. “We ain’t got much to spend but she likes us to look like we do.”

“hm,” Abigail hummed, her expression softening now that she felt less pressured to impress you. Part of her wanted her son to marry into a rich family, but the part that wanted him to simply be happy had the upper hand.

“You’re a fine young lady,” She smiled, a genuine, sweet smile spreading across her cheeks. “My boy could use a well-mannered girl such as yourself.”

Abigail saw herself In you in a way; a young, slightly lost girl who’d somehow gotten herself mingled in the trance of a gunslinger. She could tell you were tough behind all the layers of shy, polite mannerisms. In a way, you were much like her son, yet the opposite.

“what is it you… uh—do in your free time?” John asked. He didn’t care about your answer, but he felt that he should know you well before you married his son, as one should. He was almost certain you were the one for his boy, the two of you could learn a lot from one another.

“I help my momma with chores,” You reply, shrugging softly as you realize you actually had little free time, all your time away from home and work was when you were together with Jack. “I don’t got much free time, me and momma both work since there ain’t no man in the house.”

John knew you left out the part where you hung out with Jack all the time. He was aware his son wasn’t always helping around the ranch, and he always came back smelling faintly of ladies’ perfume. He saw no harm in it, though. He knew you were safe with Jack.

“I admire that,” Abigail smiled, somewhat impressed. She didn’t know many women who worked to support the family. If you were to stay at their ranch, she was sure you were more than capable of helping out.

You smiled back and looked at your plate as you started to blush. You weren’t very used to getting compliments or praise from anyone other than Jack, even if he was stubborn and generally not good at showing his emotions. You grew shy again, taking a few bites of your stew.

Jack noticed you retreating into your shell, so he took the lead and started talking about you. It wasn’t long before he started rambling on and on about you, switching over to another subject, then back to you again. You stayed silent and focused on your food, nodding and humming when Jack said something that was correct. You answered a couple of additional questions that his parents asked, keeping the somewhat awkward conversation going until all of your plates were empty. Abigail promptly cleaned off the table and John followed her to the kitchen, using the privacy to talk about you.

You sat up and straightened your dress, making sure you hadn’t spilled anything on yourself. You never understood why your mother made you wear such bright colors, knowing you would get it dirty.

“It’s best I go now,” You say sheepishly, afraid Jack might judge you. He never did, not once. “Momma told me to be home before sundown.”

“Right,” Jack nodded, getting up out of his seat. He stared at you for a few seconds, taking in how gorgeous you looked. He hadn’t even told you that.

“You look like an angel,” He said with a soft smile, a few strands of his greasy dark hair hanging in front of his eyes. His words made you blush and look away. He leaned in and softly kissed your cheek, causing your cheeks to heat up even further.

“Come on, let's say goodbye and I’ll ride you home,” He took your hand and led you to the kitchen, where you thanked his parents for the meal and exchanged your goodbyes and goodnights.

[6emo6zombie6]

𝖉𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖉𝖊 𝖇𝖞 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖊

[6emo6zombie6]

hii! not a request or anything but I was just wondering if you write for rdr1 characters too?

Sure! I’m a little rusty on rdr1 characters’ personalities, but that’s nothing some extra gameplay can’t fix :)

[6emo6zombie6]

Forbidden Territories: M!Reader x John Marston

First actual smut on here!! I hope this isn't too shabby, since it's been a while since I wrote anything unholy. Tags for gay stuff, frotting, more gay stuff, cowboys, and dicks.

18+ warning

It was now week two of being in an awkwardly distant friendship with John. The two of you weren’t the best of friends before, but you rarely complained whenever Dutch sent you out together, it was all in good spirits—until a week and a half ago, that was.

John had mindlessly wandered into your tent after dinner, slightly air-headed as he opened his mouth to ask you a question, just to notice you in your cot. Sweaty, flushed, and with your cock in hand. You jumped and instantly started tucking your hard-on back into your jeans. It had only been a split second before he turned back around and awkwardly rushed out of your tent, but he somehow managed to get a full look at you while you were jerking off.

Now, this wasn’t something new to him. He’d caught people in all kinds of awkward situations, but seeing you in such a vulnerable position made some repressed feelings come boiling back up. He even had trouble admitting to himself that he had a crush on you. It was too embarrassing, he didn’t know if anyone would even understand.

You had been embarrassed ever since John had caught you, and it was even worse knowing he got you in that situation in the first place. It had all been a series of light, accidental touches and brushing up against you over the week, and he had tipped you over the edge when he groaned in reaction to nicking his finger while sharpening a stick. Your head pieced some images together and into your tent you retreated, your jeans starting to strain.

You and John hadn’t shared a single glance or word since that, always peering at the ground when crossing each other on campgrounds and avoiding each other during meal times. The others had started to take notice after the first few days, but they weren’t worried to such an extent that they felt the need to ask either of you what was going on.

John was currently on guard duty while you and a couple of the other guys had some drinks. You weren’t drunk just yet, but you had had enough sips of whiskey to feel your confidence come back. You were already thinking up a plan on how to accidentally run into him and talk through what happened, the constant awkward silences around each other were starting to get tiring. John was a decent feller, you just wanted to be okay with him again.

Before you know it, you’re up and walking away from the campfire, your bottle of whiskey still in your hand. You walk a little bit into the patch of trees at the edge of Horseshoe overlook, peering around you to see if John was there. You eventually spotted him leaning against a tree with a rifle in his hand, he was barely visible but you could make out his silhouette against the pale moonlight. You could tell he had noticed you, but he was pretending he didn’t, hoping you were just walking by incidentally.

He could feel his heart rate start to speed up when you came closer, it was clear you were intoxicated, and just as clear that you wanted to talk. He hesitantly looked in your direction, blinking.

“Look—we need to talk about what happened-“ You were barely able to finish your sentence when John cut you off with a groan. He was glad it was dark, or you could’ve already noticed his face that had started burning up.

“Don’t start,” He sighed, absently staring at the rifle he was holding. His thoughts had already started racing.

“It’s—it’s whatever, okay? Let’s just not mention it anymore. “

“so… we—we’re good?” You mumble.

“Hm.” John nods, earning a soft smile from you. He glances at your bottle of whiskey, motioning toward it. “Care to pass that?”

You shrug and hand it to him, watching as he takes a large gulp. You stare at his Adam's apple as it bobs while he swallows the liquor. He pretends to not notice your stare while he takes a few more sips, savoring the burn of the alcohol in his throat.

He glances at your slightly red face as he hands you back the bottle, your eyes meeting for a split second until he peers off into the distance again.

“Dutch is gonna get mad at us if he catches us quarreling out here, you know?” John hinted, though he didn’t actually want you to leave. You saw right through his façade, chuckling lightly as you leaned against the tree beside him.

“Dutch’d be glad we’re talkin’ again.” You countered lightheartedly.

John gave a shrug and a hum, a silence falling over the two of you. Weirdly enough, it wasn’t awkward—more peaceful if anything. You resorted to looking at John’s hands as they gripped the rifle, your mind starting to wander like it usually did.

“would you stop staring?” John said directly, trying to sound stern. “You’re distracting me.”

Your eyes met again as you looked up in surprise.

“Oh, so now I’m distracting you?” You retorted, not even sure what you were on about. You just said the first thing that came to mind, anything to hear John reply.

“What—” John looked as confused as you did. “What does that even mean?”

“Damnit, John—I-“ You stammered, your thoughts about him threatening to spill from your mouth. He looked at you, awaiting an answer.

“I’m—you’re—oh for fuck’s sake, John.” You were starting to get frustrated with your own feelings, and John was starting to get frustrated by your inability to properly talk to him.

You shared a mutually annoyed glance, then you acted purely on impulse and stepped in front of John, one hand pinning his hip to the three behind him while the other held on to the bottle of whiskey. Your lips were on his beforeeither of you could even register what you were doing.

You had managed to break through John’s tough act, pressing up against him as his right hand planted itself on your chest. His scruffy beard rubbed up against your shaven face as your lips moved in perfect synchronicity, your eyes shutting.

John let out a soft growl as he let himself sink into your touch for a few seconds, though his hand was pushing you off before you knew it.

John glanced into your eyes, then at the ground with a guilty expression. “We can’t be doing this,” He murmured. You stayed silent as his hand, despite his protest against your situation, remained on your chest. He could feel your heart thump against his palm.

“We shouldn’t.”

“Don’t start with this shit,” You mumbled in a low tone, attempting to step to the side.

This time, John let his impulses lead him. He tossed his gun to the side as his hand found its way to your collar. A harsh tug sent you stumbling forward again, your lips catching John’s a second time as he grabbed your bottle of whiskey and tossed it in the same direction as his rifle.

His arms slung around your waist, his hands resting just above your gun belt as he pulled you flush against him. You rested your hands on his biceps, leaning against him shamelessly. Neither of you made an effort to be subtle, all the tension crashing down on you and making you melt into each other’s touch.

A soft grunt left your lips as you felt your soft bulge rub against John’s, his hands gently pulling your hips forward to create a bit more friction. There was no shame in this now, all of your doubts had seemed to have washed away in John’s grasp. Your tongues sloppy intertwined as you both tried your best hand at kissing, which neither of you seemed to have a talent for.

John let out a soft huff as he rutted his hips against yours, making it clear he was impatient. It was completely in character of him, though. You’d never seen ol’ Marston being patient with anything before.

“Let's get this over with,” He mumbled in between kisses, his heart pounding at the anticipation.

“Give it some time, will you? I’m not even hard yet.” You mumble in response, slightly annoyed at John’s inability to just enjoy the moment. “You’re always rushin’ everything.”

“You’ve been makin’ me wait for this too long already.” John blurted out in a sigh, letting you unbutton the top few buttons on his overshirt as he kept pushing his crotch against yours, making you feel how desperately quick he was getting hard.

You blushed at that comment. “goddamn, Marston—how long ‘you been keepin’ this to yourself?”

“I don’t want to talk about that right now.” He sighed again, looking at you to see the moonlight reflect off of your eyes.

You leaned in to continue making out with him as your hands clumsily wandered down to his crotch. Much to John’s avail, you unbuckled his gun belt first, then your own, and tossed them aside. He seemed happy with the extra straps out of the way, allowing the two of you to get closer to each other.

John was already growing hard, his shaft pressing against your thigh shamelessly.

“Damnit,” He cursed softly, not feeling you stiffen at the same pace as him. “Let me help you with that, c’mon, I’m not aimin’ to get caught.”

You nod with a soft chuckle, giving John the okay to start pawing at your crotch. His hands were rough and quick, focused only on getting what he wanted from you. You watched his needy expression as he continued to pleasure you, slowly but surely helping you get hard.

A soft moan tumbled from your lips as you felt the oh-so-familiar throb in your jeans. John shot you a grin, happy to know that you were sharing the same feeling of ecstasy.

He gave your hip a soft nudge, urging you to take a small step back so he could unbutton his pants without you in the way. He gave you a grin as he guided himself out of his jeans, proud as he noticed you blush at his size.

“What, not like you ain’t never seen one before, huh?” He teased, holding his cock in one hand as he used the other to swap your positions, now it was you pinned against the tree, John staring you down like a pervert.

He peeked behind the tree, watching the others for a second. “Go on, they all look preoccupied with Uncle’s yappin’.”

“Alright, alright.” You glanced up at John to make sure he was watching, then helped yourself out of your pants the same as him.

John gave a soft grunt at the sight, his cock twitching in synchronicity with the sound he made. You had never anticipated he would be this into doing anything with you. John never seemed excited about anything, really.

You let out a soft gasp once John moved his hips forward, his cock pressing up against yours. You felt yourself throb once again, the other man’s large hand wrapping itself around the two of you. His hand was noticeably colder than yours, making you suck a breath in through your teeth.

John kissed you as his hand started pumping both of you, swallowing the few surprised grunts and moans that you let out. Feeling another man’s dick against yours was a sensation you knew nothing about, it felt strange, but so strangely pleasurable.

His hand quickly warmed up due to your body's warmth and all the friction he was creating, making the interaction even more enjoyable. He stayed mostly quiet, only letting out a grunt or a huff when you jerked your hips. He planted his free hand beside your head to keep himself from falling over as he jerked the two of you off.

“This feels—” He gulped, stifling a moan. “This feels as good to you as It does to me, right?” He asked as if not having heard all the noises coming from you.

“I should ask you that,” You say in a low, mumbled tone.

“Then I think we’re on the same line,” John nodded to himself. His hips gently started rolling against you, and you returned the movement with ease. You were both rutting up into John’s hand now, your soft noises now harmonizing with each other. Neither of you seemed bothered by anything going on behind the trees now, all of this felt too good.

You both leaked precum, the liquids mixing together as it trickled down your cocks. This was all so wrong, so perverted, but neither of you wanted it to stop.

You got more and more desperate, your paces needing to constantly speed up to chase the perfect ecstasy that was your climax. You both got more sensitive, your faces both adorned with brows that knitted together.

As the minutes went by, you got closer and closer to your release. You felt the familiar warm, tingly sensation in your lower stomach, signaling to you that this didn’t have to keep going for much longer for you to bust your load.

John was slowly getting louder, his rough voice letting out perverse noises that you had been dreaming about for months. Your chest was heaving as you matched his speed. All the doubts you had about ever getting this close to another man, especially John, had floated away. You had never wanted anyone’s body pressed up against yours more than now, and luckily your dream was coming true.

“shit, I’m—” You bit on your tongue, stifling a rough moan. You were ready to let your eyes roll in the back of your head, letting you focus fully on what your body was feeling.

“I’m gonna cum,” You whispered.

John bit his lip as he watched your expression, his hand covering your mouth in an attempt to keep you quiet.

“Yeah,” He sighed and nodded, looking down at the mess between your bodies. “Me—me too.”

His breathing started becoming more sporadic as time went on, both of you coming closer to your release.

John gave little warning as he was the first to cum, his sticky seed spilling over the both of you as he let out a grunt. He looked at you, chewing on his lip as he kept thrusting his hips into his hand, constantly stimulating you. You moaned against his hand at the sight, the combined intensity of it all making you stumble into a climax of your own.

You panted and whined as you painted John’s hand and cock with your cum, continuing to rut your hips until you were milked dry.

 John laughed softly at your eagerness, feeling the sticky substance coat him. He took his hand off of your mouth once you were no longer making any noises, only breathing heavily as you came down from your high.

He lifted his hand off the two of you as you both went soft, inspecting the few drops of cum on both of your clothes.

“I bet they won’t notice if we go down to the creek and wash this off real quick,” He murmured.

[6emo6zombie6]

HII OMG THANK YOU FOR ANSWERING MY OTHER REQUEST, THE STORY WAS SOO GOOD LIKE AHHH!! <333

not tryna make you feel overwhelmed or anything of the sort, but I was wondering if I could request a fem! reader who used to be bubbly, friendly, and just a fun person to be around before she started to grow distant from Dutch, Arthur, and John and became fond of someone else. She and this new person would be hanging around each other constantly around camp, hunting together, shopping together, etc. Which caused them to start becoming jealous?

this doesn't have to be written in a story, if you want you can write this in head cannon format and I'll still eat it up <3. thank you so much

Hi! I'm sorry for the delay on this one, I had some other stuff going on. The prompt was a little bit of a challenge for me, so i hope this isn't too bad.

Jealousy headcanons ~ John, Arthur, Dutch ~

John:

Initially didn’t think anything of you growing more distant. He still talked to you and went on as usual, even if you showed up to him less.

Started coming to you once you weren’t the one showing up to talk to him.

His time for you got less and less as he was constantly busy doing chores and jobs.

It took him a little while to figure out that your attention had shifted completely to the gang's newest member, he wasn’t surprised. A lady such as you was bound to fall for a handsome, charismatic young man.

He still thought little of it. Who you were around was your decision, not his.

Only got hurt once he tried to talk to you about it. He’d gotten used to initiating most of the conversations in your friendship, but this time you flat-out brushed him off. It was like this new gang member had completely claimed you as his.

“Oh, sorry I have to go help him,” You muttered straight-faced, leaving John mid-conversation.

John just stood there, confused and hurt. Of course, he didn’t show his hurt, he never did, he was too tough to get all pent up over this.

He, however, would still be thinking about this all night. He hated seeing you with this new guy, suddenly he was taking you out and teaching you to shoot. John had unconsciously taken that as his task.

From that point on he started ignoring you completely. No longer did he greet you when you walked past him, he never got you coffee in the morning, and he stopped helping you with your guns.

John’s the type of man to hold a grudge and take it to his grave. He didn’t expect you to come back.

He didn’t try too hard to ignore you, he sometimes even glared at you when you walked past. He wanted to be close again like you were before, but you didn’t see the urgency in socializing with him.

He snapped one time when you bumped into him, and it scared you. His feelings had been bottled up for so long and you hadn’t noticed once or even asked him how he was doing.

Arthur:

He had an opinion on your new relationship, for sure. He knew something was off about this new kid the day Dutch brought him to camp.

Despite his doubts, he managed to keep an open mind. You seemed happy with this guy, at least. That’s what he was most worried about.

He managed to convince himself that your new friend was perfectly sane. He seemed to take good care of you, even if Arthur was still clinging to how that was his task previously.

Yeah, he missed taking care of you. He never even thought of how much he took that task upon himself, it seemed like instinct.

Your absence made him think—a lot. He was used to keeping his thoughts to himself and just letting them simmer down, but this was different. He was worried about you, yet he had no clue how to tell you how he felt.

He avoided you for a while, mostly to keep his thoughts quiet. Of course, it was hard to avoid each other in a camp as small as yours, so he brought it upon himself to be the errand boy for a couple of weeks.

The two of you had a slight clash at a party on campgrounds. Arthur, you, and the rest of the camp were all wasted and having a good time. Arthur managed to keep his thoughts to himself as he usually did, but when he saw you hanging with him again, something snapped.

“Excuse me,” He murmured, still polite despite the amount of whiskey in his system as he grabbed your arm and practically pried you away from your fling. He pulled you along behind the nearest tree, making sure nobody could hear you—and then it started. For once in his life he conveyed his thoughts through words, even if it was with the help of liquor. He told you exactly how he felt, and how your absence had affected him. His words made you realize, making you snap out of your love-drunk state.

Dutch:

He was very optimistic about the new member he had rescued from a life of begging on the street. He knew the two of you would get along, seeing as you had always been a very social and bubbly person.

As Dutch had predicted, the two of you became close super quickly. You seemed to have an interest in all the same things and hobbies. He saw no harm in your new-found friendship, and he didn’t even question anything once the two of you started getting closer than just that.

Though, once you started showing up less, he immediately got worried, and a little defensive over you. He would pull you away from him whenever he felt like you were together too much.

You knew no other behavior from Dutch, he would even pull you away from Arthur sometimes when he felt the two of you were doing too little work, so you went along with his requests as usual.

He started questioning you more and more as time went on, he’d have to pry you apart from your love more often since the two of you seemed to be together every moment you got. He even sent Micah along on a heist with the new member, just to get him out of the camp for once.

He would never admit it, but he was jealous, you were all buddy-buddy with him before this. If Arthur wasn’t deemed his pet, you definitely would have.

“I need you to spend more time doing chores, and less time getting all cozy with that boy.” He confronted you when you were alone for once. “I haven’t seen you talking to Arthur anymore—or Mary-Beth. What has gotten into you?”

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you once Dutch told you off for our distant behavior. You knew he was right, but you’d been avoiding his questions for weeks.

You agreed to see him less to focus more on chores and getting back to socializing with other gang members, even Dutch got his daily dose of attention from you.

Maybe his constant bickering was a tad manipulative, but he knew it was for the better.

[6emo6zombie6]

RDR fem!relationship/sexual headcanons pt.2

Got some shower thoughts and had to write them down, this time for Charles, Javier, and Sadie. My last headcanons were received very well so I hope this one is as good! :)

Charles:

The sweetest and most gentle boyfriend ever. He’ll smile at you and blush whenever you walk into the room.

Enjoys taking you on long, calm horse rides. Usually, you end up cuddling on some beach or somewhere in a big field.

Loves when you play with his hair or swoop it over his shoulder so you can press kisses against his neck.

Always petting your head for some reason, whether you’re sitting in between his legs by the campfire or if you’re huddled in his cot together, he always seems to be petting your head.

Hand holding!!!!! This man will always hold your hand, he enjoys it especially if your hand is smaller than his (which, let’s be honest, it probably is).

Never stops smiling after you kiss him. It doesn’t matter if it’s a soft peck on his jaw or a long, passionate kiss, he just can’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.

~~~

Very slow and gentle, he doesn’t see why sex should be rushed.

He tries to hide it, but he’s actually super needy. He can’t help but get hard quickly, even if you’re just making out.

Super into sleepy sex. He loves seeing you sleepy and needy for him, completely under his mercy as he fucks you gently. He doesn’t mind in the slightest if you wake him up and ask him if he can help you out.

“You’re too horny to sleep? Aw, baby, let me take care of that for you.”

Not specifically into public stuff, but the two of you undoubtedly have fucked around in the woods a couple of times.

Always too shy to make any noise at first, but you’ll have him groaning and whining as soon as he warms up to you.

Obsessed with your thighs. He’ll fuck them or have his head between them if he can.

Ashamed to admit that he likes some light bondage every now and then.  

Sadie:

It initially took her a while to warm up to you, even If she fell in love from the first time she laid eyes on you.

Always laughing at your jokes, there isn’t a second that she thinks you’re unfunny or boring.

She loves that little sparkle in your eyes when she gives you a gift, so she’ll make sure to get you a shiny new ring or necklace every so often.

Always showing you off. She’ll make a smooth comment on how amazing you look every so often, causing all of the people at camp to look at you.

Always takes you along to bars, her arm either around your shoulders or your waist to make sure you don’t get hurt.

Offended by people who assume the two of you are just friends, you’re her girlfriend and everyone needs to know.

Definitely beats people up if they try to either flirt with or annoy you.

Loves it when you get clingy, she has all the attention in the world for you.

~~~

Not ashamed in the slightest to make out with you in public.

Hickeys and scratches are her other ways to show everyone whose girlfriend you are.

Always grabbing your boobs when nobody’s looking.

She’ll whisper dirty things into your ear while you’re doing your daily chores just to watch you get embarrassed.

Lets you ride her thigh whenever.

Does the knee thing, no doubt.

Very spontaneous when she wants sex, usually she’s pushing you into your tent with little to no words. You never have reason to complain though.

Not always rushed with sex, but she has her moments. Usually, she isn’t aware of how fast she’s going, just focused on making you cum.

 Javier:

Definitely the type of guy to kiss your hands.

Loves it when you wear his clothes, he’ll somehow always find a way to offer you his jacket.

Always calls you “Mi amor,” “Mi Corazón,” “Cariño,”… Etc.

Writes songs for you on his guitar.

Helps you practice playing guitar if he’s got time.

Loves sitting in between your thighs or laying his head between them.

Weirdly likes It when you touch his arms and trace his muscles.

Likes carrying you—it doesn’t matter what reason, and he’ll just make one up if there is none. He’ll carry you to your tent when you’re drunk or when you’re tired, if not, he’ll carry you to your horse like a princess.

Always worried if you’re too cold.

~~~

I’m telling you right now, this man for sure has an oral fixation. He’s always pushing his fingers into your mouth and making you suck them.

Blowjobs!! He’ll take them in any way, as long as his cock is in your mouth.

Enjoys pulling your hair.

Bends you over anything he can.

Absolutely goes wild when you sit on his lap and grind your hips against his bulge.

Always manhandling you while you’re making out.

Starts out slow and sensual during sex, then ends up getting rough and making you cum multiple times.

Prefers if you’re more bratty or confident during sex so he can try his best to bring you down.

Very vocal during sex, whether it is grunting and moaning or talking to you in Spanish.

[6emo6zombie6]

hii!! I was wondering if I could request a reader who is hurt with either Dutch or John? maybe from an animal attack or just getting hurt by someone who now has a scar across their face?

If not its totally okay! have a great rest of your day <3.

Thanks for requesting! I hope this is good (And not all too graphic lol)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clawed ~ Hurt gn!reader x John/Dutch

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Where’re you headed?” Dutch asks, his voice rough as usual as he walks up behind you.

You pay him little mind, humming in his direction as you fasten your horse’s saddle, ensuring none of the straps are too tight.

“Huntin’?” He asks again, now walking up beside you to lean against the hitching post that your horse, Runar,  is hitched to. He’d clearly referred to the bow on your horse.

“Yeah,” You breathe, nodding as you glance at him. “Pearson mentioned we were out of meat, so I figured a little huntin’ trip wouldn’t hurt.”

“You’re not takin’ Charles?”

“No,” You shake your head. “He taught me enough, I’m all set to go on my own.”

“hm,” Dutch chuckles. “I’ll take your word for it.”  

You know he’s worried about you—he has been ever since he pulled you out of your situation and took you refuge in his camp. You’d been taken by a different gang, beaten up, and starved for their sick sense of entertainment.  

You tut at Dutch, unhitching your horse and clumsily climbing up on the saddle.

“You know,” He watches you. “You ‘oughta get a smaller horse. You can barely get up on this one.”

You roll your eyes, adjusting your position. “But I like Runar, he’s calm and loyal.”

“I’m just jokin’, I’m just jokin’.” Dutch chuckles. “You be careful now,”

“I’ll be back by sundown.” You put on your hat, nodding once more at Dutch before taking off and leaving the campgrounds.

Your ride wasn’t all too long, you headed up north from Strawberry. Charles had taken you there twice, and both times it had been crawling with deer and some smaller animals. You decided to stall your horse in the trees, grabbing your bow and carefully making your way through the woods. You peered up into the tree to see if there were any squirrels, though you couldn’t find any.

You wandered around for a while, missing tons of shots on little animals. It was clear you weren’t experienced enough to successfully get an arrow in any rodents. You got bored after that long while, making your way back to your horse and riding it through more of the trees.

You rode through the woods and out of the trees, and you were quickly met with an open field. You smiled upon noticing a group of deer, grazing peacefully. You felt bad about killing the animals at first, but you quickly concluded that hunting meant life or death.

“Slow up, boy,” You murmur to your horse, getting him to stop right where the trees ended. You get off of him and draw your bow together with a few arrows.

“Stay here,” You command, patting your horse on the shoulder. Slowly, you gain on the deer, focusing on them as you prepare to shoot your bow. You pick a spot slightly right from the deer, crouching in the grass as you lift your bow, drawing the string and aiming at the fattest of the group. You internally cheered, thinking of how proud Charles would be if he heard you hunted your own deer for the first time.

Suddenly, you heard Runar neigh loudly, his high-pitched screech alarming both you and the deer. Your head whips around, scanning the edge of the forest.

“Runar!” You yell out, seeing him gallop off into the foliage. “Damn that horse,” You grunt, looking the other way again, watching all the deer scurry away. You look at your bow, then at the sun that is starting to set. You sigh, making your way south toward Valentine in the hopes of catching a stagecoach there.

Only a minute had gone by, and you were nowhere near the edge of the field when you heard a blood-curdling growl.

Cougar.

Now you knew what had spooked Runar.

You turned around swiftly, only to be met with a large, female cougar charging toward you. You knew she was out for blood—seeing the hungry look in her eyes. You froze for a second, then whipped around and started sprinting, running as fast as you could.

Once you looked around to check where the cougar was, she had already jumped at you. You shrieked as she pummeled you to the ground, her nails digging into your hip and waist. Your heart raced as your mind went blank, only concerned with staying alive. The large cat nipped and scratched at you, one of her paws dashing across your face as you struggled under her impressive stature.

You were half aware when your hand shakily reached to your belt, your hands gripping your knife to bring it up and plunge it into the animal’s heart. She struggled a little longer before collapsing, her blood spilling all over your chest. You gasped for air as you pushed her off, her body lying limp in the grass.

You got up, your body trembling from all the adrenaline in your blood. You felt a faint stab in your abdomen, as well as the taste of copper in your mouth. As you stumbled forward, you looked down, your shirt ripped to shreds and blood seeping from two large gashes.

“Oh, no,” You breathed, the shock washing away, making you feel the painful sting from your wounds. You frantically press your hand up to the gash, breathing heavily as you start to panic. It all went by so quickly, your blood kept dripping as you walked, hoping to make it to civilization before anything else went down.

Alas, you never made it out of the field, collapsing halfway through as your vision started to flicker. You saw flashes and stars, then everything went black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Don’t die on me, now,” You heard in an echo. The raspy voice sounded familiar, but you couldn’t seem to put your finger on it. Your eyes opened slightly to see the stars in the pitch black sky, then when you looked to the right, a dark-haired man, his face illuminated by a lantern on the ground next to him. You finally recognized the face.

John.

“John?”

John exhaled, an expression of relief washing over his face. “What-“ He grunted. “what were you thinking? Out here on your own. You’re lucky I found you.”

He seemed to be only wearing his jacket, his shirt currently wrapped around your wounds.

“I’m sorry,” You breathe, wincing at the pain of your wounds. “How—how’d you find me?”

“That horse of yours, he ran back to camp.” John shoveled his arms under you, lifting you up while you groaned in pain. “I followed his tracks back here.”

“You kill that cougar?” He looked around at the animal’s carcass.

“yeah—” You keep moaning out in pain as John places you on the back of his horse, getting on himself. You hold on to his jacket weakly, the world spinning around you.

“Dutch is worried sick about you, you know?” John shook his head, speeding through the woods. He grunted, frustrated by your lack of planning.

“God—i—,” He stammered. He seemed almost angry at you. “You could’ve died!”

“But I didn’t,” You murmur. John ignores you, riding back to camp with haste.

He helps you off his horse once you’re there. Charles, Dutch, Susan, and Arthur crowd around you, all with worried faces as you stumble along to your tent. The rest of the gang members watch from all over the camp.

“What—” Dutch walks up behind you on one side, Charles on the other side to help you walk. “What happened? My dear child,” His thick eyebrows knit together in worry as he successfully helps you lay down on your cot. He stands over you as he inspects you, your torn clothes, the gash on your face, all the blood.

Before you can answer, Miss Grimshaw is already in your tent, bandages in hand.

“I’ll handle it,” Dutch sternly says, taking the supplies and ushering the woman out of the tent. You watch, confused as he closes up the front flaps and lights a lantern in the corner of your tent. Something in his expression hints that he feels guilty.

“I—” You grunt. “I almost had a deer, all on my own…” You murmur, Dutch looks at you, still confused. “A cougar attacked me after Runar ran off.”

“I was a fool to let you go alone,” He sighs, bending down to take John’s shirt off of your wounds. You grunt at him peeling the fabric away, the cold air stinging. He looks at the gashes on your abdomen and waist, pained at the sight of his loved ones hurting.

“God,” He took a long look at your face, inspecting the ragged gash that ran from your cheek to your forehead. “Hosea’s gonna have to stitch that up,” He murmured, pinching your chin between his thumb and index finger affectionately. “That damn animal, ‘went and tore up your beautiful face…”

You look away, feeling guilty about bringing Dutch this much distress. he gently caresses your cheek, then kneels by your cot and grabs the roll of bandage.

“Sit up for me, darling,”

You struggle to sit up, grunting and moaning in pain as you move slowly. The waistband of your pants digs into the gashes on your skin, so you slide your suspenders off of your shoulders and roll your pants down. Dutch pushes up what’s left of your shirt and begins carefully bandaging up your wounds.

You suck in a sharp breath through your teeth, feeling the pressure of the fabric on your stinging skin. You’ve never seen Dutch this precise and careful, let alone his visible worry as he tends to your wounds. You look down at the mess, part of your pants had torn up and lots of blood had seeped into your clothes. Dutch sighs, constantly looking up at you to make sure you’re not in too much pain.

After a few minutes, he’s done bandaging you up. He gets up and takes another look at your face before silently walking out of the tent. You watch him with confusion, eventually forcing yourself up and out of the tent to see what he is doing.  

You look across the camp to see him filling a bowl of stew, he looks concerned once he notices you out of your tent. You ignore his gaze and walk over to the main campfire. John stares at you silently, and Reverend looks at you with remorse.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” John asks, his concern hidden by a mask of frustration. You hum at him, sitting down against a log with a groan.

Dutch walks over, shaking his head as he sees you by the campfire. The rest had already gone silent.

“Here,” He murmurs, handing you a plate of hot stew. You smile up at him and take the plate. “I want you to rest after you’re done eating, understood?”

“Okay…” You murmur, looking up at him as he pats your head quickly before walking off to his tent. The conversation sparks up again around the campfire after that. You watch John as he gets up and walks away, disappearing behind Pearson’s wagon. He comes back a minute later with a bottle of whiskey, not making any eye contact as he puts it down beside you.

“Should help with the—with the pain.” He murmurs, sitting back on the crate that he had previously been sitting on. You smile softly in his direction, taking the bottle in hand and gulping at it.

“Heh, you and Marston are matching,” Bill barks out a laugh as he walks by, referring to your bloodied and scarred face.

You and John mutter a synchronized “Shut up.” At the man.

[6emo6zombie6]

hii hun! i was wondering if you take any requests by chance, also I love your writings like omg!?!

Hey!! Yeah, I'd be glad to take requests! I'm happy u enjoy my little fics :) Fire away and I'll see what I can write.

[6emo6zombie6]

RDR2 relationship/sexual headcanons -- F!reader

(Arthur, John, Dutch)

I've been seeing these a lot, and it would be fun to share my own. So, here you go! Warning for NSFW stuff though ;) I might make more of these in the future but I'm out of ideas for other characters at the moment.

__________________________________________________________

Arthur:

Absolute sweetheart, will do anything for you.

Can’t stand to see you crying. Usually, he’s reserved, but around you, he’ll coo softly and hold you in his arms.

“Shh… hey, I’m here. You’re safe.”

Always shares his food when he’s around you. And if there is no food, he’ll share his cigarettes.

He won’t admit it but loves it when you pick flowers for him. Usually, he keeps them in an empty whiskey bottle beside his bed.

Will ask you to help him pomade his hair, though you both know it’s because he likes getting scalp massages.

He’ll somehow always find a way to escort you.

“I’ll walk with you to your horse” “Need me to come with you?” “You sure you’re okay goin’ on your own?”

Not a fan of holding hands, though he’ll have his arm over your shoulders or around your waist most of the time.

Looooovessss hugging you from the back.  

Not opposed to you grabbing his ass once in a while.

Loves forehead kisses, whether it is receiving or giving them.

~~~~~

Not rough in bed—rather thorough. He won’t break the bed or have it slamming against the wall, but he spends a while preparing you. Foreplay lasts an hour minimum until he decides you can take every inch of him.

Will overstimulate himself if it means you’ll cum.

Not loud, but he takes pride in hearing you moan his name.

If he doesn’t have the energy to have full-blown sex, he’ll sit you on his lap and finger you until you’re trembling.

Not the biggest fan of receiving head, since it makes talking practically impossible for you, and he hates silent sex.

Enjoys handjobs while making out, though usually he’ll only accept one if he’s drunk.

Constant compliments.

Lap sex??? To Arthur, there is nothing better than holding you close while you bounce on his cock.

John:

Not all too touchy, but he’ll stare at you like you’re an angel 24/7.

Likes it when you hug his side, especially if you're shorter than him so he can tuck you under his arm.

Will randomly polish your shoes or your saddle.

Never forgets to give you a kiss when he leaves camp.

Usually confused when you’re upset or angry, but he’ll try his best to talk you through it.

Very protective of you, especially around other men. He's constantly worried that you might get hurt.

Stubborn as a bull, though he means well. The two of you always seem to be making up for arguments.

Always the big spoon.

Never skips out on a night of drinking with you.

Lets you sit on his lap, though usually only when he’s tipsy.

~~~~~~

Obsessed with hearing you plead. He’ll make you beg for absolutely anything.

If you’ve misbehaved in any way, he’ll punish you with abstinence.

On the other hand, he praises you for everything you do right.

“Yeah, that’s it, good girl.” “atta girl…” “You’re doing so well.”

Always on top. Probably because his ego is a little fragile.

Likes to switch between quick sex and passionate sex every once in a while. One day he’ll be ramming into you for twenty minutes, while the other he’ll spend the same time just getting you undressed.

Dacryphiliac—he loves watching you cry for all the right reasons.

“You look so pretty like that, sweetheart.” “Look at you, such a mess for me.”

Only loud when you are.

Very courageous in bed, but he gets shy the next morning when the majority of the gang starts teasing him for the marks on his neck or the foul noises they heard coming from his tent.

Dutch:

(This one is for the girls with daddy issues, bear with me.)

Almost exclusively calls you pet names, never your actual name.

Stuff like “Sweetheart”, “sugar”, “My girl”,,, etc.

He’ll make sure everyone knows you’re his, usually introducing you as his girlfriend right away.

Likes picking out your clothes for you.

Tells you about the books he reads whenever he can.

The absolute master at calming you down. Whenever he sees that you’re upset, he’ll take you to his tent and sit you on his lap, then he’ll calmly talk things over with you until you’re calm again.

Yeah, loves having you on his lap.

Enjoys braiding your hair or pinning it into a bun.

Loves hugging you from behind when you’re doing your chores or talking with other gang members.

Will bathe you whenever he gets the chance.

~~~~~~

Rarely ever takes his clothes off, but forces you to be completely naked all the time. It adds an extra layer to the power dynamic that the two of you have In bed.

Bends you over his lap and spanks you whenever he feels you pay too little attention to him.

Also loves fingering you on his lap, though it’s more to tease than to make you cum.

Will go absolutely crazy if you sit on his lap and grin your ass into his bulge. It doesn’t even matter if anyone’s around because he’ll just excuse himself and drag you into his tent.

He wants everyone to know how good he makes you feel. If you’re not moaning his name or whining under his touch for everyone to hear, he’s not interested.

He expects you to follow every order that he gives you. You’re not getting his touch if you disobey.

You calling him “sir” makes him instantly grow hard.

Always leaving scratches and hickeys on you for other people to notice.

Enjoys lightly choking you when making out, just to show what could happen if you were to misbehave.

[6emo6zombie6]

Whiskey tales PT. 2

Quick part two because i liked the plot :p

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your legs had gotten stiff from sitting down for too long, so you decided to stroll around the camp, whiskey in hand. Once you found the edge of the overlook, you peered out and watched the moonlight reflect off the river below. You thought nothing of it at first, but eventually, you thought of jumping in the water.

You happily stumbled back over to the campfire, where Arthur and John were still sitting and drinking their way through the night. You stood beside Arthur and bent down to his ear, your hand on his shoulder.

“I was thinkin’ of takin’ a swim in the lake,” You slurred, grinning from ear to ear as Arthur looked at you, clearly intrigued. He smiled and nodded softly, looking the other way toward John and prodding him on the shoulder.

“Hey, John,” He mumbled. Once John focused on the two of you, he noticed your mischievous grins and immediately assumed you were up to something. “We’re gonna go take a dip in the river, care to join?”

John contemplated visibly, eventually shaking his head. “No, ‘not in the mood.”

“Suit yourself.” Arthur giggled, letting you pull him up on his feet.

“Wait here, I’ll go get my lantern.” You quickly scurried off to your tent, grabbing your lantern and lighting it. Arthur was still waiting by the time you came back, grinning as he slung his arm around you and started walking off camp. The two of you stumbled through the small patch of trees until you could go downhill. It was mostly dark, the only source of light in front of you being the shimmering water.

After a few minutes of stumbling, you heard swift footsteps behind you. It was clear someone was coming after you, running down the hill. Arthur let go immediately and pulled his gun from its holster, pointing it toward the noise.

“Hey, don’t point that at me,” John’s rough, scratchy voice said as he slowly walked into the illuminated circle around your lantern. Arthur stashed his gun again, scoffing.

“Wait up,”

“You scared me,” He murmured, turning back around to walk toward the river. John quickly caught up with the two of you, walking on your side opposite Arthur.

“Change of heart?” You questioned John.

“Yeah—no, hm,” He tutted, waving his hand in front of his face as he struggled to find the right words in his drunken state. “Miss Grimshaw had somethin’ to complain about again.” He said, annoyance lacing his tone.

“So you’re still not goin’ in the water?” Arthur grinned.

John shook his head, sticking both thumbs in his jeans’ pockets as the lot of you walked toward the water.

A couple more minutes had gone by before you’d reached the small sandy shore. The air was crisp and smelled fresh as it grazed your bare arms. You looked at Arthur, then at the rippling water in front of you, then back at him. He chewed on his lip absently, also glancing at the water.

“Are you two goin’ in or not?” John huffed as he let himself fall in the sand, his legs crossed as he lit a cigarette.

“Maybe it’s too airish to get in—” You murmured, mostly to yourself.  

“Nonsense,” Arthur grumbled in your direction, already taking off his boots once you looked at him. He struggled to balance on one foot, however. You stared at him for a minute, contemplating what to do.

“What?” He grinned, slipping his suspenders off his shoulders before unbuttoning his shirt. “Too chicken to actually swim?”

You tsked at him, setting your lantern down in the sand and taking off your boots in a rush. “To hell with you, Morgan.”

“That’s the spirit,” He chuckled deeply, successfully peeling off his shirt.

You grinned as you started unbuttoning your dress, slipping it off in no time. You thought you had the upper hand in this little “who’s quicker at undressing” race, but Arthur was already stripped bare and in the water by the time you were in your bloomers. You cursed softly, pulling off the remainder of your clothes before running into the water and joining Arthur.

“You sure you’re not joinin’?” You called out to John after having walked out further into the water until it reached your shoulders. You were shivering due to the cold air and even colder water, sure, but it was fun.

“No ma’am, I’d like to keep my dignity.” John joked, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Wuss!” You teased, laughing as you swam toward Arthur. He didn’t bat an eye, even while you were in front of him--naked as a jaybird.

He glanced at you with a grin before splashing a bunch of water at you, immediately wetting the entirety of your hair. You gasped, shivering as the cold water ran down your neck.

“Arthur!” You scolded, splashing water back at him. He retaliated by taking a couple of big steps toward you and hooking his hands under your armpits to lift you above the water and throw you backward a couple of feet. You yelped, slicking your hair out of your face as soon as you were above water again.

You heard both Arthur and John laughing once the water was out of your ears. You pouted jokingly and swam back toward the shore. John looked at you with slight confusion, trying his hardest not to look at your breasts. Alas, he, in his woozy state of mind, couldn’t help but take a peek. You noticed him and teasingly kicked him in the leg.

“Ow, geez, sorry,” He chuckled.

“You’re goin’ in the water for that.” You wiggled your eyebrows at the man.

“No, absolutely not,” John retorted.

“You know you want to.” You kept teasing, standing behind John and prodding him in the back. “Arthur, come help me out!”

“No, no, I’m not goin’ in the water.” John kept insisting, though you could tell from the slight chuckle in his voice that he was just putting up a fight for the sake of it. It took you a few more minutes of poking, prodding, and sly remarks to finally get John to slip out of his clothes and join you in the river.

Soon enough, the three of you were joking around in the water, everything around you pitch-black. You could barely make out which man you were looking at. Being naked around each other also meant a fair share of flirting, even if the majority of it was meant as a joke.

You decided to get out after maybe half an hour of splashing around when the water really started to feel cold. You chattered your teeth and your lips were purple as you rushed to pull your dry clothes back on. John and Arthur followed suit, eventually accompanying you on your walk back up the hill, stumbling drunkenly—and cold as shit—toward the camp.

“Damn, It’s cold as a witch’s tit,” Arthur murmured, shivering as you walked back to the camp. A decent chunk of the gang had abandoned the campfire to head to their tents. You figured this was the perfect time to sit down and warm up. You and Arthur sat next to each other on a cowhide, snuggling up as Dutch threw some extra wood on the campfire. He chuckled and shook his head at the two of you, seemingly together every time you got the chance. 

“I’m gonna head to my tent to get us a blanket,” John announced, his boots thumping against the sand as he trudged toward his tent. He came back a couple of minutes later with a neatly knit wool blanket and three uncapped bottles of beer. He handed you and Arthur your bottle and set his down on the ground so he could drape the blanket over the three of you. You looked at him as he sat down, smiling softly and nuzzling his upper arm appreciatively.

John gulped his beer, smiling back at you. He still felt damp.

“You look tired,” Arthur tapped your thigh. You knew what his remark meant, he wanted attention. You giggled ever so slightly before leaning up against his broad shoulder, letting him drape his arm around you. You could feel the heat radiating off of him like usual, even if you had just swam in the coldest water possible.  

John chimed in on the other side, letting his head rest on yours as he scooted closer in an attempt to warm up quicker.