#arthur morgan charles smith x you

[revolversandlace]

Moonlight on the Lake

Arthur/f!Reader/Charles

Warnings & Tags: Smut, Swearing, M/M/F, f!Reader, Het Threesome, No Y/N, Enthusiastic Consent, Gentle - as gentle as DP can be, There’s too many specifics to tag - a lot happens, Readers a brat but so am I, Minors DNI

Word Count: 9.2k

Summary: After a night of drinking by the campfire with both Arthur and Charles, you convince the men to take a swim with you. It doesn't take long for the alcohol to take hold and to end up in a situation you never imagined was possible. 

a/n: This is how I die. I think I’ve peaked, because I don’t see it getting much better than this. Also my official headcannon for Charles is that he’s a bit of a dog after a few bevs. Thank you imagination for this very vivid dream. 

AO3 Link

The last of the campfires' heat crackled and spat and the moonlight kissed the ground in silver. 

It had been a long night and even longer day, but after you and most of the boys from the gang made it back to camp with canvas bags stuffed with cash and jewellery, the drinks began to flow.

You had no idea what time it was, nor did you particularly care. The drinks poured, dances were had and now it was just you Arthur and Charles left around the campfire with a bottle of whiskey sharing stories for your earlier lives.

God knows how much you had to drink at this point, but it was certainly enough to give you the warmth behind your eyes and all the giddiness that it usually did. 

'By the time Hosea managed to drag John back to camp, well…' Arthur slurred slightly, lighting another cigarette, 'the boy was cryin', screamin', snottin'.'

'Sounds like he hasn't changed much,' Charles said with a laugh as you threw a smile over your shoulder to him. 

You were in good spirits, you all were. Hell, Arthur had probably laughed more times in the past few hours than he had since you joined the gang.

'You not sharing now cowboy,' you said with a mischievous grin, as you tapped at the side of Arthur's thigh with your boot.

You were stretched out next to him on the log, balancing on the palms of your hands whilst Charles sat on the ground, throwing his head back in submission to the whiskey.

'Ain't I told ya enough times. Get your own damn smokes,' Arthur said, although not unkindly. No matter how rough his words were, you could see that twinkle in his eye, even in the low light.

'Oh hush, Arthur. You know I only smoke when I'm drunk!' 

He was so quick, you didn't even see it coming as the cigarette smacked you square in the face. You let out a small squeal as your hands flayed, trying to catch the white stick as you nearly lost all your balance entirely. It earnt an earthy chuckle from both of the men as you fumbled with the cigarette. 

'Now that wasn't gentlemanly!' You said through your abating giggles, as you swung your legs to the ground and with a slight stumble, made your way over to the campfire. Using the last of the embers, you held the cigarette on the crackling white ash.

'Take my smokes but too proud to ask for a flame?' Arthur teased as he waved his match, killing the fire and throwing it with a simple flick in your direction. 

'Will you quit it!' You exclaimed, once again taking a jesting kick towards him. 

Even with his hat on as he took the bottle from Charles, you could see that shit eating grin of his. 

He didn't wear it often, but goddamn, whenever he did… it made you feel like every single one of your organs rearranged themselves inside of you. 

'Charles tell him, he's been a pain in my ass all night,' you stood there pouting slightly as you folded your arms looking between the two men.

'I ain't getting involved. I mean, you can handle yourself.' Charles said, pushing the sleeves of his shirt up past his elbow. 

Maybe it was the drink, maybe it was just that you hadn't had a man in weeks, but something dark and urgent stirred within you at the sight of his thick forearms.

Swallowing, you tried to shake your thoughts, snatching the bottle from Arthur and taking a healthy gulp.

'So much for chivalry' you huffed, trying to not look at either of them as you tried to quell the intruding desire. Maybe another swing would do the trick.

'You gonna share that?' Charles said, stretching out his hand, beckoning at it with his fingers.

Dear God, you thought to yourself. You knew he was just after another drink but there was a part of you - and not even a small part at this point - that wanted him to do that gesture to you. 

Clearing your throat, you shoved the whiskey towards him as you tried to amble back to your seat on the log. 

'Thought we were a gang boys, thought we were supposed to share,' you said, a wicked tone creeping into your voice. 

You knew you shouldn't have even started on the whiskey. It did always manage to get you in a certain mood. 

'"These be my smokes you here!"' You said, in an attempt to mock Arthur, dropping your voice as low and as moody as you could. 

Although it earnt a laugh from Charles, to the point where his eyes creased at the side, Arthur didn't look so amused. 

'You're drunk,' he said firmly, taking another thick puff on his cigarette.

'Oh and so are the both of you,' you said, shaking your head side to side, stretching your legs out in front of you as you sat down again.

'Besides!' You exclaimed, grabbing your hat and throwing it into the air as high as you could, and calling a 'yeehaw!'

The hat came crashing back to earth as you all followed it with your eyes and Charles scooted to the side and out of the way as it thumped into the dirt. 

'Yer tryin' to wake the whole camp up woman?' Arthur hissed at you, earning him his eighth eye roll of the evening. A gesture he would get from you more frequently than not.

'Ain't none of them sorry fools waking up. And for God's sake Arthur, I'm in a good mood,' you said, stretching your arms behind you prostrating yourself on the log.

You threw your head back, looking up at the beautifully clear summers night sky. The stars twinkled, burning tiny holes of white light into the navy that cloaked your world.

You felt the ends of your hair tickle the ground ever so slightly and you gave a soft sigh of relief. You weren't just in a good mood. You were in a great mood. The alcohol had certainly worked its magic as an impish feeling took over you.

As you looked back down, you could see the men staring at you, but not in the way they usually did. They were looking at all of you. 

You looked at them each in turn, a smirk toying at the corner lips, threatening to break loose. 

'No one ever tell you it's mighty rude to stare at a lady?' You said, internally refusing to move from your stretched out form. 

In your drunken mind, you supposed you looked like one of those stray alley cats, stretching and rolling around for an easy meal. Not that it was far off what you were trying to do. 

For all the months you had been with the gang, joining just before the Blackwater, it had taken a while to really settle in with them. 

Either from spending time with them on jobs or around camp, it wasn't really until after Colter that you began to notice the little quirks of the two men that would make your stomach flip. 

Whether it was the steely blue gaze of Arthur, or that little scar that nestled just beneath his lip or Charles's impossibly thick eyelashes and knuckles covered in tiny, pale scars - you still hadn't decided which of the two was more attractive. 

In that brief moment of silence -an intense silence - you had already decided that you'd be waking up next to one of them.

'I don't even know why they put the damn campfire on,' Arthur said, breaking the void as you tried to hide your grin in your chest. 'It's July for Christ sake!' 

'Well you know…' you said with a small shrug, 'it's pretty. Don't need much of an excuse if somethings pretty.'

You shot Arthur a look, taking the whiskey from the ground and taking another large gulp. Considering the three of you were drinking it, not much had really seemed to go, although it was your third shared bottle of the evening. 

Probably for the best, considering your head was spinning - and not just from the liquor. A pure drunk lust coursed through you, enough to even start that familiar throb between your legs. 

You narrowed your eyes at the men, a terrible, terrible idea forming in your head as you chewed at the inside of your mouth. 

'Well, if you're so warm. Come for a dip, it's a beautiful night for a swim!' you said, slapping your palms on your knees as you stood, 'coming Charles?' 

You widened your eyes in a doleful plea, your lips parted ever so slightly.

'Hell, I'm game,' he said, pushing himself off the ground.

With a satisfied nod, you turned to Arthur, taking the bottle from him. 

'Come on, Arthur!' You said, almost stamping your feet impetuosity.

'I ain't goin' for no swim,' Arthur said, attempting to pull the bottle back from your grip.

You stumbled forward a few paces, enough to nearly crash into Arthur entirely. 

Your stomach turned with excitement, as your heart gave a thump in your chest. You were nervous, excited and God you were turned on. There was no way you were giving up now. 

'Come on, Arthur! It'll be fun!' You said, using the exact same spoilt expression you just gave to Charles. 

Arthur shook his head, but there was stubborn and then there was you. 

You grabbed his hand, tugging at him as he begrudgingly stood up with a slight sway, giving a heavy sigh.

'Besides, the whiskey is coming with us,' you said in a whisper with a sickly giggle. 

'Sure. Why not,' Arthur said, defeated as you gave a little prance and spun on the tips of your toes. 

You almost skipped off, making your way through the tents with a spring in step as you stole another swig. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the men muttering behind you with the expected drunken gestures.  Whatever they were talking about, Arthur seemed to have retreated back to his tightly wound self. 

You smiled at the thought of giving him an excuse to loosen up a bit. 

As you reached the edge of the lake, your lips were beginning to tingle from the whiskey, its heat burning into your bones as you bumbled slightly, placing the bottle on the sandy floor. 

You held your arm out to the side in a weak attempt to keep your balance as you reach for the heel of your boot, pulling it off followed by the other one. Next came your suspenders and belt, and then you took to your blouse, undoing the buttons one by one. 

You faced out to the water, the gentle ripples flowing gently across the horizon and it seemed the entire world, aside from the three of you, was asleep. 

With a happy sigh, you removed your shirt as the warm summers air brushed across your nipples. For the first time in a long time, you felt free. 

You moved to your jeans, unbuttoning them and pulling them and your riding drawers to your ankles as you stood out of them.  You didn't look behind you, but you heard the men approaching, their uneven tread breaking their way across the leaves and sticks. 

You didn't care if they saw you, hell, you wanted them to see you. Like they were sneaking a look that they both knew neither of them should see. You chewed at your thumb coyly and you made your way into the cool water, utterly brazen in your actions. 

The water reached over your breasts, your feet trod lightly on the lake floor as you pushed your arms through the water and kicked your legs slowly behind you.

'Don't go swimming off now!' You heard Charles call from behind you. 

'You should be so lucky!' You shot back, closing your eyes and bobbing in the water as it enveloped the entirety of your body, licking every inch of your skin. 

You thought there would be a chance that the cool water would somehow calm you down, perhaps even sober you a little. But it did nothing of the sort. If anything, the thought of being utterly naked a mere few feet away from Charles and Arthur just fed the exhilaration. 

'Don't forget the whiskey!' You called, looking up at the full moon that hung over your head. It almost seemed close enough to touch, its craters dark across its white glow. 

Eventually you heard the splashes of the men entered the water and you turned yourself around, slowly making your way towards them as your fingertips pushed across the water's surface. 

'I see you both made it,' you smiled at the both of them as they passed the bottle between them and to you. 

'Can't say liquor and swimmin' is usually the best idea,' Arthur said, as you raised your eyebrow to Charles. 

'Oh, Arthur,' you said, shaking your head as you sank into the water, the coolness covering you up to your eyes as you took a mouthful of water. 

Re-emerging, you saw the look in Arthur's eyes - he knew exactly what you were going to do. Just as he raised his finger in no doubt some warning you pursed your lips and shot a stream of water in his direction. 

'For once, Arthur,' you said in a sing-song voice, 'just relax.' 

He sighed at you as you took the whiskey from Charles. You made your way over to Arthur, close enough that you could see the freckles that dotted across his thick, hard shoulders. The twitch of his muscles as he passed his arms through the water. 

'Here,' you said, holding out the bottle as he reached out for it.  However before he could take it from you, you pulled it back, much to his annoyance. 

'Only if you promise to have some fun!' You said with a grin. 

He dipped his head under the water, breaking the surface in the following second as he brushed back his wet hair and wiped the rest of the water from his face. 

God he truly was a sight, it almost caught all words in your throat and before you knew it he had swam close enough to you to snatch the bottle back from you. 

'Fine. S'long as you behave,' he narrowed his eyes at you, almost dangerously. 

No amount of prayers would be enough to save your soul from the look that he gave you, and in turn, the feeling that stirred throughout your entire body. 

'I promise no such thing Mr Morgan,' you said weakley, almost sheepishly as you pushed yourself away, creating a more sensible distance between you. 

'I dunno,' Charles said, a boyish grin playing on his lips, 'I think she's earned it Arthur. She did take out five Pinkertons by herself on the train.' 

You gave Charles a bashful look, not quite used to the praise as it made you even more light headed. 

'Oh well in that case,' Arthur said as he passed the bottle back to Charles. 

For the second time this evening, Arthur managed to make you scream as he smacked the surface of the water at you, covering your entire head in the lake's water. 

'Fuck Arthur!' You cried and both men laughed at you again, as you tried to wipe the liquid from your eyes. 'I was trying to keep my hair dry!'

'Don't seem much good if you're goin' swimmin',' he chuckled. 

You wanted to be mad at him but in reality you just couldn't as you too started laughing. 

'How much whiskey we got left?' You asked Charles as your legs started to grow weary from treading water and after the day's events. 

''Bout half,' he said, raising the bottle giving it a slight shake. 'You want some?' 

'Well, obviously' you said as he kept it up high, 'of for God sake' you muttered. Teasing was one thing, but withholding alcohol was just plain rude. 

You made your way through the water with an attempt to grab the bottle but instead he turned to take a swig and held it out to Arthur. 

'Oh very funny,' you said, 'goddamn cowboys.'

You made your way over to Arthur who you knew would do the exact same and he did not fail to disappoint. The men both stood over you, their torsos glistening with drops of water like tiny crystals and they smirked and drank all the while teasing you. 

'You know full well I can't stand up this close to shore,' you huffed. The water still covering everything from the chest down. 

'Oh, so now you're shy?' Charles said, taking the bottle from Arthur over your head. 

You couldn't say that even if you were sober, you wouldn’t have risen to the challenge but if there's one thing you knew about men, was never to back down. 

'I said, pass it here,' you said, your voice tight as you tried your best to snatch it back. But Charles was too quick, pulling it just out of reach as you stumbled forward. 

Thinking was never your strong suit as you leapt forward, nearly crashing your entire and very naked body into Charles. But for a man who was built like a bison, he could certainly move quickly. You stretched out your arms again, clawing for the bottle. 

You became almost single minded, as Charles turned slowly in the water, taunting you like you were a mouse with a cube of cheese on a string. 

As you tried another feeble drunken attempt, you felt his arm around your waist, holding you with those thick forearms. He pressed into you, his cool skin touching yours. It's a good thing he was holding you otherwise you were sure you would have drowned at the touch. 

You looked up at him, your heart beating so fast it could have caused ripples in the water. But you wanted that damn whiskey, as much as you wanted him. 

His dark brown eyes fell on yours as you threw your arm around his neck, stepping up to his lips as he pulled you closer into him.

His chilled lips touched yours, a passionate, deep kiss that tasted of the earth. He licked his tongue across yours, just for a second as he stepped between your legs, his cock pressing into the place that needed the most release. 

You gave a slight whimper, but with your other hand you pulled the bottle from him and stepped out of his grip. He looked stunned for a second, but only a second as a wide grin spread across his face. 

You chewed your lip at him as you returned a beaming smile drinking greedily at the whiskey. You turned around to see Arthur, a lot closer than he was before, his eyes the colour of the ocean narrowed at you. 

'What?’ You said, placing the bottle back to your lips with a wicked smirk, taking another gulp.

You moved closer to him, an inch away from his chest as you felt yours heaving with adrenaline. 

'Didn't think I'd leave you out, did you cowboy?' You handed the bottle to him, placing it on his chest as he gripped your wrist and then took the bottle from your hand. He took several large drinks from it, nearly finishing the entire thing.

'Think the rest is your Charles,' he said, passing it to his friend, not taking his eyes off of you for a single second.

There was something in his look that almost made you recoil in fear. Almost. As he kept a grip on your wrist you took another step closer, your breast pushing up against him as you parted your lips and looked up at him in a silent plea. 

He dropped his hold on you , his hand snaking to the back of your neck as he pulled you into a kiss. It was hungrier than Charles, desperate and ravenous, his stubble prickling against your cheek as he grabbed a handful of your ass, roughly pulling you up against him.

You gasped into his mouth, almost becoming undone there and then. He had none of the patience of Charles, but all the ferocity that he lacked. 

And then the fingers traced down your back as Charles stopped at your waist, delicately tracing both his hands up each side as his broad chest hovered over you, encasing you in the two men with lust and want and all those things you didn’t dare entertain in your mind. Yet there you were, helpless in the water being kissed, caressed with so many secret promises of pleasure. 

Arthur removed his lips from yours, his grip still firm on the back of your neck, your hair wet dripping across your shoulders as you felt both the men against you. 

‘Yer sure you want this darlin?’ He said, almost whispering in your ear. 

You nodded pathetically, your eyes half closed with near swollen lips from the kissing.

‘If you want to stop,’ Charles said, his hands snaking across your front, cupping at your breasts and gently pulling you back towards him, ‘just say, beautiful.’ 

You looked across your shoulder up at him, his dark eyes soft and welcoming. 

‘Okay,’ you said breathlessly as Arthur moved his hand and his finger under your chin as he lifted your face to his. 

Charles leant down and started to kiss your neck, delicate kisses, kisses of a long lost lover as Arthur stared at you, watching you. His face was only a hair width away from yours as he didn’t even bat an eyelid. Just watching you, your eyes, your mouth as you panted whilst Charles continued to leave a trail of even more wet down the side of your neck and across your shoulders and he softly kneaded as your breasts, almost massaging them as his thumb would flick across your nipple. 

They held you there, working at your pleasure but it wasn’t enough. You weren’t sure if what either of them could give you would be enough. But there in the water, the two of them made all of shit outside of camp make sense. It made the whole damn world slot into place as your whole spine turned soft.

You mewled lightly, trying your best to keep your eyes open, to remain with Arthur in that moment but as the tingles ran up and down you from Charles lips, you closed your eyes, licking at you lips as your hand found the way around the back of his neck, your hips slowly beginning to grind in need.

Charles stepped closer to the back of you, his full hard cock pressing up against your ass, matching your motions. Slow, deliberate and teasing. 

Working his way up to the base of your ear, he continued to work his lips on you, thick and wet with the occasional brush of his tongue. The moan you made sounded so foreign to your ears, almost distant as you felt yourself slowly becoming one with the darkness, with the water… With them. 

Arthur moved his thumb from your chin, wiping it across your parted bottom lips, removing the water left on there from the lake, his rough skin smoothing across the soft texture. You mewled again, willing yourself to open your eyes, to his lustful hooded look as you continued to leisurely grid your ass against Charles’ cock. 

You opened your mouth by the smallest amount, your tongue pushing out to meet with Arthurs thumb as you wrapped your lips around it, and moved up and down it as measured as you could. 

The change in his eye was subtle, but unmistakable as Charles remained utterly lost on your skin, soft growls emitting every now and then. His breath against your wet skin sent shivers down every limb.

You continued to slowly suck at Arthur’s thumb, his eyes almost tensing in a way you’d never seen any many do before as he refused to lower his gaze. Bringing your hand up, you grabbed at his, his strong knuckles and wide palms making your own hands feel so delicate and feeble. 

You pulled his hand away, his thumb giving a slow pop  as it left your mouth. His eyebrows furrowed for just a second as his jaw tensed in silence, making his square jaw even more prominent. 

Even breathing seemed like a struggle with the sensations that were going on, but you were wet, aching and wanting. He let you guide him, as you put his hand into the water, taking his fingers and putting them exactly where you needed. 

Never before had you felt so alive. So desperate and so content with asking for exactly what you craved. Even in your entombed desire, you knew you could trust them, that they would live and die for you. And in that moment you wanted both. 

As soon as Arthurs fingers connected with your clit, you moaned, almost losing balance. He had barely even moved, just pressing into the bud of nerves as all breath had left your lungs. 

For a fleeting moment you all stopped, just still in a perfect statue of yearning. Charles stopped moving up against you, his lips softly peeled away from you, the feeling leaving you near empty. But then Arthur began to move his fingers. Sickening slowly he circled at your clit, the pleasure seeping and invading in equal measures. 

Letting out a long moan, the men gave a breathy laugh as Charles continued to pass his thumb sparingly over your nipples. 

‘Still enjoying yourself, darlin’?’ Arthur said, his voice low and sweet. 

‘God yes,’ was about all you could muster, as you could feel Charles smile into the crook on your neck. 

You continued to cling onto him behind you as those sweet, sweet circles that Arthur continued to make on you nearly made you drop into the water. But then something changed. Arthur moved his fingers down, across the slick of your heat. You didn’t need the water to tell you how wet you were. 

With your free arm you grabbed onto his solid shoulder whilst your other still clung around Charles’ neck. Arthur however, continued to stroke you up to the most delicate part down to your entrance, teasing you as he had done all night. 

But then, after one last final press on your clit, his fingers made their way back down tentatively placing two of them inside you. At first you panted hard but as he pushed them further into you and curved them deep inside, a long moan burst free from you. He held them as deep as he could for a moment and you could feel yourself stretching around him in the most wonderful of ways. 

And then he moved them back out, but not all the way. Just enough for you to stop seeing sparkles in your eyes as he pushed them back into you, right to the knuckle as he earned another whimper from you as your mouth formed a perfect ‘o’. 

Charles moved his hand from your breasts, down to the side of your hips, digging his fingers oh so silkenly into your soft flesh as you slowly bucked your hips onto Arthur’s fingers. 

‘Let go for a second,’ Charles whispered into your ear as he slowly peeled your arm from his neck by the elbow steering it towards Arthur’s shoulders, ‘we got you, okay?’ 

You couldn’t even nod, let alone speak as you just let another guttural sound escape you. Arthur continued to move his fingers in and out of you, the water gently stirring around you with the movements. 

Charles dragged his hands across the front of your hips, just where your hips bone lay and back again across the curve of your ass, palming a handful and giving you a light squeeze. 

‘You ready?’ He whispered into the nape of your neck through your wet hair. 

No. No you weren’t ready. But you were happy to comply. To agree to anything that would give you the release you so desperately needed. 

‘Y…Yes,’ you said, managing to find some sort of voice, although it was a voice so unlike your own. 

His hands travelled further down, to the back of your thighs, grabbing them with the most force he had touched you with tonight as he held you legs up, spread and open. You imagined that the water may have helped, not that it mattered, and you certainly didn’t care as Charles held the underneath of you almost floating as Arthur continued to pump in and out of you. 

You felt Charles' knee underneath the back of your thigh, just enough to hold you in place as your feet dangled and Arthur nestled his strong fingers into the very back of your cunt. 

Digging into his shoulders, you became utterly unable to hold yourself but thankfully, you were in good hands. 

You could feel Charles’ cock pressing against you again, burrowing it between your cheeks as your head fell onto his shoulder. 

Time could have passed a hundred years or more and you would have stayed there. In some fleeting vision, you were sure that’s exactly what had happened as Charles held you there, holding your legs open whilst Arthur did the most gratifying things to your cunt. 

‘Can’t have you come just yet, sweetheart,’ Arthur mused. 

There was some sound, some moan, something that fell from your lips and with every movement you tightened around him, twitching at his knuckles, the coil building and tightening. If he hit just the right spot you would be left screaming and splashing in the water. 

‘Let’s get you in the warm, darlin’,’ Arthur said, as you tried to shake your head. 

No, not yet. But you were beyond the ability to form the words. 

Charles slowly led your legs back down as Arthur removed his fingers. You whined at the utter torture of it all. Unsure of who even still held your weight in the water and your pried your eyes open. 

‘You want to carry on?’ Charles said, planting a kiss on your shoulder as you tried to force the blood back to your head to think straight. 

‘Please,’ you said, or at least think you did. Either way, you saw them smile as you, both of them. For Godless men they certainly did look like something out of the ancient books. But given all that you felt, you wouldn’t be surprised if they were some sort of deities. 

‘C’mon,’ Arthur said, gesturing his head towards the shore as you commanded your legs to move. 

Somehow they did, and by whatever miracle that was, you weren’t sure. Before you knew it you were on land again, pathetically picking up your shirt and throwing your arms through the sleeves and grabbing the rest of your clothing. The simple idea of trying to coordinate yourself back into your jeans was far beyond you. 

There was a part of you that felt this was a dream. Unsure whether it was the alcohol, all the excitement of the day or whatever had just happened in the water was to blame, but you stumbled behind - your gait uneven as your damp toes curled into the grass. 

‘Arthur,’ Charles whispered, his trousers half done up as they hung off his impossibly thick abdomen, ‘take her back to your tent, just grabbing something.’ 

Arthur gave a curt nod, as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, herding you back to his tent like some orphaned and weak puppy. 

‘Here,’ he gestured to his cot as he closed the flap behind him. He too only had his jeans on loosely, as he turned up the gaslamp to a low heat, the orange flame dancing and licking across the canvas walls. 

Just as you were beginning to think straight again, Arthur put a heavy weight around you, something warm. Something dry. You didn’t realise how cold you had gotten out in the water, but the warmth was welcome. Thank God it was the middle of summer. 

Charles pushed through the tent entrance, his enormous build took up what little room was left in there between you and Arthur. However, it didn’t escape your notice that in his hand was another bottle of whiskey. 

He uncorked it with his teeth, giving you a wink as Arthur knelt on the cot next to you, taking the bottle. 

‘This will certainly help,’ Arthur said, his voice a low drawl as you heard each thick gulp.

‘I mean, we should get you warmed up,’ Charles said to you, crouching before you in the low light. He placed his hands on your knees, still wet and cold from the lake as he slowly pushed them apart and he crawled between them. 

Arthur meanwhile held the whiskey to your lips, pouring in a small amount as you tried your best to not spill it down your chin. Leaning over, he placed the bottle on the floor, tentatively removing the blanket from your shoulders, followed by the damp shirt that clung to your skin. 

As you sat there on the edge of the cot, completely naked and legs spread, you gave a small nod, silently signalling to the men that you were ready to continue from where you left off in the lake. 

Charles kissed the inside of your knee, then the other. Soft little kisses just as he had done before, except now with an unwavering look at you as he stared up at you from the floor. He continued to work up your leg, taking each one in turn as he pressed his teeth into your inner thigh, you gave a whine as you pushed your hips forward closer to him. You were desperate for his mouth to be just where you needed it the most. 

Arthur knelt above you, his thick calloused hand gripping at your cheek, stroking your soft skin with his thumb. 

‘We’ll take good care of you, darlin’,’ he said in his usual gravelly tone. His thumb moved down your cheek and onto your neck tenderly, more tender than a man like him had any right too as a shiver visibly ran over you. 

Your fingers curled gripping tightly in the bedding as your back arched and your head fell back, exposing the column of your neck, allowing Arthur to brush at the fragile bones. 

Then you felt it, the warm velvet flat of Charles’ tongue on your clit, your whole body straining at the touch and your vision blurred behind your eyes. 

‘Oh fuck,’ you managed to keen breathlessly, as Arthur chuckled beside you. 

Charles began swirling his tongue, lightly at first but then became firmer, more confident in the pleasure he was giving you. You can feel your chest rising and falling with each heavy breath as you let out another stifled whimper, your hips moving with each of Charles’ movements as his hands lay flat on your hips in an attempt to keep you still. 

‘Think yer can stay quiet for us, be a good girl?’ You heard Arthur say next to you. 

In all honesty, you don’t think you could. Your mind was awash with everything that had happened that evening, what was happening now and couldn’t even comprehend what would follow. 

You shook your head as you involuntarily grew louder as Charles brought you up higher and higher, the pressure building as your whole body was ablaze. 

‘Was hopin’ yer’d say that,’ Arthur said with a grin, removing his hand from the side of your neck as he reached for his jeans, darkened unevenly by the water. 

His hair had mostly dried but you could still see the odd drop that clung to his skin like morning dew in the spring across the coarse hair that coated his chest and just where his jeans sat. 

Not that they stayed there long, as he pulled them down to his knees, his thick cock springing free as he grasped it, giving it a few sensual strokes. 

He didn’t even need to ask as you grabbed at the back of his thigh, your mouth falling open ready to take as much as you could. Which given what you saw, you wouldn’t be able to take all that much. But God you wanted to try. 

You could already taste the pre-cum as you took him in your mouth, trying to concentrate on doing a good job, but Charles certainly wasn’t making it easy. You wrapped your tongue around Arthur’s tip and you slowly began to move your head up and down as much of the shaft as you could. 

Arthur gave a groan, a sound that would haunt you until your last breath. You could see him straining to keep his hips where they were, to let you do the work with as little or as much as you were comfortable with. 

But as soon as you felt Charles slowly put a finger into your sopping wet cunt, his tongue making a meal out of your clit, you made an animalist cry as you hollowed out your cheeks onto Arthurs cock. And the air around you changed. 

It was as though all three of you suddenly changed under the moon, like those beasts from tales and you all became driven by one primal need. 

You lifted your legs higher, placing your heels on the edge of the cot, as Arthur cupped at the side of your face, although a little rougher than he probably intended. Not that you minded as his cock filled your throat to the point where you tried your best to breathe from your nose. Your mouth was just as wet and as messy as your cunt. 

Charles soon picked up the pace, putting not just two but three fingers inside of you as he drove harder and deeper, his mouth keeping pace as you gripped the top of his hair, the silken locks falling through your fingers. 

You were close, so goddamn close as your scalp grew tight, your stomach and cunt tensing as the coil built up in your spine, all your blood pumping to one place and one place only. 

It hit you sooner than expected. Your whole body turning numb for just a second as the pleasure soon crashed over you, a wave so life threatening you lost all senses. You couldn’t see nor hear, only feel that sweet release as you sobbed onto Arthur’s cock, saliva and pre-cum falling from the edge of your lips as neither man wavered their pace on you. 

After your last spasm, you fell from the clouds. Arthur pulled himself from you with a smile, as did Charles, his lips and chin glistening from your slick. 

‘You good?’ He said, planting one last kiss on your inner thigh, as you nodded, wiping your mouth with the back of your wrists. 

He moved to the other side of you, his frame towering over you even sitting down. 

‘Can you carry on, princess?’ Charles said, stroking your arm with his knuckles as you waited for all good sense to return. 

‘Mmhm,’ you sounded, your vision coming back to you as your legs trembled and shook. ‘Please.’

Arthur leant over, grabbing the whiskey from the floor, keeping up with the night's ceremony of passing it between him and Charles for a moment whilst you regained your composure. What little was left of it anyway. 

You moved yourself, turning to face Arthur, his cock in your eyeline as you put your back against Charles, your body already screaming at you that one orgasm wasn’t going to be enough for you tonight. 

Charles wrapped his arm around the front of your shoulders, the bottle in hand as he placed it to your lips. You took the amber liquid greedily, the burning melding with the prickling that still danced on your skin. 

He pulled it away, careful enough that you didn’t knock your teeth on it as he tilted it again towards you. But this time, instead of your mouth, he poured it all down your front, the alcohol trickling down your breasts and over your nipples as Arthur gave a wolfish grin. 

You barely had time to acknowledge what was happening as Arthur knelt over to you, licking at the whiskey that covered your skin. He kissed at your breasts, taking them with his hands, grabbing, kissing and licking at your pliable flesh and the liquor. 

Finding your nipple, he took it into his mouth, biting down on it carefully, as your body jolted already at the point of over stimulation as he sucked and licked at you. 

‘Lift your hips up, beautiful. Just a bit,’ Charles whispers in your ear, and you did so obligingly pushing yourself up with your knee. 

You felt his hand underneath you, searching for your cunt all over again, as your eyes screwed shut, waiting for the inevidentable. He played with the coated cunt, just as he had done before, nestling his fingers in your puffy warmth and guided your hips back down. 

Tomorrow seemed so far away, and yet impossible at the same time as you could have stayed in the moment for all eternity. A never ending life of torturous teasing and orgasm after orgasm and the men played with you, pleasuring you in ways you couldn’t even do to yourself. 

You held onto Arthur's shoulders, as he continued to nip and suck at your nipples, the whiskey almost steaming off of your body as you rocked yourself up and down on Charles’ fingers. 

Far past the point of making any noise, you ground your hips into the man behind you as he wickedly used your own weight to push deeper into you as his other hand found the small of your back, pushing down on it so he was as deep as could possibly be. 

Arthur broke his lips free from you, looking up at you with those piercing blue eyes that held so much danger and hunger. He watched you as your face contoured, how you moaned in front of him and all the gratification you were receiving. 

‘Come here,’ he whispered at you, as sat back on the bed, the pillow propping his head ever so slightly as you bent over, allowing Charles to continue whatever magic his hands possessed. 

You grabbed Arthur’s cock, it was so hard you thought it might burst and the thought of it inside of you just made you moan harder as Charles found the perfect spot, right at the back of you causing you to whine and whimper all over again. 

You stroked at Arthur playfully as he closed his eyes, his head stretched back. Both of them had been so good to you, not just with what they had done to your body but how tentative they had been. Never had you thought that this is what it would be like. 

You took Arthur’s cock into your mouth again, finding it easier in your new position as you forced it all the way down your throat until your nose met with the base. He let out a growl so predatory, you thought he would lose all control there and then. But he didn’t.

Instead you continued to work at it, just as you had before as Charles seemingly pushed you from the inside, further onto Arthur. 

Perhaps, if it wasn’t for all the alcohol, you would have been untethered all of again, and you suspected so would have the men. However it bought you some time, just enough so the memory would stay with you all forever. 

‘Do you need something more?’ Charles said behind you, as you tried your best to nod with a mouthful of cock, prostrating your ass higher in the air, as Charles shifted behind you, his hands gripped around your ass cheeks. 

You felt the tip of his cock at your entrance, sliding up and down as you gave a stifled moan, feeling every single throat muscle move against Arthur’s twitching cock. And then Charles found himself inside of you, stretching you open as he slid carefully all the way inside of your cunt. 

You were stuff from every end and have never felt better as you began to work harder or Arthur, his abdomen visibly tensing as Charles painstakingly pulled himself from you and right back in again. 

Never had you ever felt anything like it before, as your body moved between them, a perfect momentum between all three of you as Charles started to force himself into you harder. For as much as you wanted to show Arthur all the pleasures you had felt, the moaning and movement made it all the more harder to use your tongue against him. But as you moved your head up and down, Arthur returned his hand to the side of your face, caressingly it softly as you continued to suck and slurp with all your might. 

‘She feels good Arthur,’ Charles said in a tight voice, the sounds of your love making, slowly beginning to fill the tent. His hands dug harder onto your hips, the feeling of ecstasy soon returned to your body as Charles fucked you from behind. 

You slowly moved your lips up Arthur’s cock again, as tight and as firm as you possibly could, as he fell from your mouth as you took a breath, trying your best to not see stars again. But you 

knew that was impossible. 

‘Yer look mighty pretty like this,’ Arthur said with a smile, his chest moving, falling with yours as you grabbed onto Charles’ hand. 

‘One… one second,’ you mumbled, as Charles stopped instantly, pulling himself from you.

‘You hurt?’ He said, the concern as plain as day in his voice as Arthur too, furrowed his eyebrows at you in worry. 

‘No, it's not that… it’s…’ you smiled. Utterly abashed with yourself. You knew what you wanted, what your body craved. But to say it? ‘I want both of you,’ you said, almost hiding behind your hair as the words fell from your lips. 

‘Yer sure?’ Arthur said, moving himself up onto his elbows slightly.

You nodded, with a soft smile. 

‘Please,’ you said, looking between the two men. 

They shared a look and for a moment, you thought they would disagree with you but they both gave you a look of affirmation. 

‘You can have whatever you want, princess’ Charles said behind you, planting a kiss on your lower back. 

You certainly didn’t need to be told twice, as Arthur grabbed for your hand, helping you up the bed as you straddled over him. 

‘Let’s see how good yer feel then, shall we?’ He said, as you smirked down at him, placing your hands either side of his head. 

He reached down between you and with how wet you were, he barely needed any time as he cock slipped straight into you. As you sat on his cock, you pushed your body flush against his as he wrapped his arms around you. 

‘You just tell us if you need us to stop,’ Charles said, his large hand stroking over your ass and hips. 

You started to ride Arthur, his cock hit just all the right spots as your clit was already starting to grow warm and tense again. He lifted his hips up into yours as you ground down, your hips snaking up and down as you could feel him gripping his arms tighter around you.

‘Shit woman, you feel incredible.’ He moaned as Charles gave him an ‘I told you so,’ from behind you. 

You heard Charles spit, his hand finding his way to your tight hole as he moved the spit across your asshole whilst Arthur still fed your cunt with his cock. You began to slow down, more purposeful and exaggerated in your movements as you looked over your shoulder to Charles to give him a nod to tell him it was okay. 

He smiled sweetly at you, even if his eyes had grown black in the low light, like a shark ready to feed. Your nails raked at Arthur's chest, who held tighter onto your hips, your flesh as soft as moss beneath his fingertips. 

You felt Charles adjusting himself on the cot, then you, ensuring he got just the right angle. You felt the warmth of his tip on you, smooth and slick from where it had been inside of you previously, as he teased at the entrance prodding it slightly, careful to not take you there too quickly. 

‘Please,’ you begged again, as a goddamn fell from Arthurs mouth. 

Charles didn’t waste any time as he pushed himself into you, the intrusive stretch filling you up as you gave a throaty cry. He stopped for a moment, just as you supposed he would, letting your asshole settle around him, twitching and clenching. 

You all moved painfully slowly, every ridge and vein catching inside of you and Charles slowly pushed his cock further into you, until he finally bottomed out inside of you. All three of you let out a deep moan, as both men were fully hilted in you, touching the centre of your core. 

They held still, as you started to move your hips again, trying to find the movement, the perfect way to move yourself on their cocks. Arthur dug his hands deeper, his face screwed so tightly you almost laughed as Charles put his hand onto the small of your back again and delicately started to move in and out of you. 

You could barely even remember your own name, waves of pleasure washing over you with every single tiny movement as you all began to find your momentum with the new intense pleasure. 

They both slid in and out of you, their gentle movements giving you everything you needed, and before you knew it, you were ready to cum all over again. 

Sandwiched between the two men, their warm bodies and strong torsoses sheathed you just as much as you sheathed their cocks as all three of you moved as one with one aim in sight. 

You picked up the pace, revelling in the sensation of how utterly filled you were, as the men took your lead and too began to speed up. Arthur’s fingers dug further into you as he bounced you on his cock and Charles continued to fuck you ass. 

‘Shit,’ Arthur grunted, and then you felt it. The thick ropes of cum filling you up as you struggled to keep yourself still enough to ward off your own climax. 

Arthur continued to fuck himself into you and your legs gave way under Charles and before you knew it, you were screaming into the air, a mess of cum, sweat and unbridled ecstasy. 

Charles didn’t last much longer either as you twitched as sobbed, he filled up your ass with a moan and it was as though the whole world turned black. 

You stirred the next morning, the sun breaking through the canvas of the tent as the humidity hung around you. A soft thump began at the side of your head as your stomach gave a turn. But for how hungover you were, you were warm and so very comfortable. 

Taking in a long breath, you tried to stretch but couldn’t quite find the room as you slowly opened your eyes. The smell of whiskey and musk hitting your nostrils. 

‘Shit!’ You cried, springing up, clutching the blanket to your bare breast as you saw Arthur and Charles either side of you. The memories of last night came back to you in an uncoordinated flash as you brushed your hair back from your face. 

‘Morning,’ Charles said, as you looked back behind you to him. 

‘What time is it?’ you croaked, your voice hoarse from a night of smoking, drinking and well… everything else. 

‘Not too late,’ Charles said, smiling, running his hand up and down your back. 

You groaned, pulling your knees up to your chest as Arthur gave a small snore. 

‘We need to get up before everyone else wakes up,’ you said, resting your forehead against your knee. 

‘Good luck with Arthur,’ he said, as Arthur’s mouth hung slightly open, his face the most soft and calm as you’ve ever seen him. 

You tried to not think about last night, about them, about them inside of you. But you couldn’t help a small giggle slipping from your lips. 

‘Thank you for last night,’ you said with a smile that felt as though it reached from ear to ear. 

Charles sat up onto his elbow, placing a soft kiss on your bare back. 

‘Anytime. Come on then,’ he said, reaching over and giving Arthur a smack on the arm. 

He jumped awake, his eyes feverish before settling. 

‘We need to get up,’ you said as he gave a sleepy nod, sitting up and throwing his legs on the side of the bed. 

Charles clambered over you, reaching for his jeans as the men started to get dressed. 

‘You alright?’ Arthur grumbled, shoving his legs into his jean legs before jumping into them. 

‘I could do with a coffee,’ you mused as Charles finished buttoning his shirt as he tied his hair back from his face. 

Charles threw your blouse at you, as you turned the still damp fabric the right way round, the blacket dropping to your lap as you fiddled with the sleeves. 

‘Arthur!’ A voice called from outside of the tent, as all three of your eyes went wide.

‘Arthur are you still…’ The tent flap was pulled back as you screamed and threw the blanket over your head.  Not that it would have concealed you in any capacity. 

‘Ah, Arthur,’ Hosea said, as you scrunched your eyes as tight as possible, wishing the earth would swallow you whole. A silence settled around you as you in hid in your not so subtle cocoon. 

‘What is it Hosea?’ Arthur said, his voice tight. 

‘I… er… Dutch would like to see you,’ he said, the air turning beyond awkward. ‘I’ll see you when you’re decent.’ 

‘And… Miss,’ Hosea called, the humour evident in his voice, ‘Ms Grimshaw would like some help with a few bits.’

‘Okay,’ you said weakley, on the verge of tears and utterly mortified that Hosea, of all people, had caught you. 

After you heard his footfalls retreat, you slowly removed the blanket from your head, your cheeks burning so much that you felt you were being branded. 

‘S’pose that cat’s out the bag then,’ Charles said with a smirk as Arthur just shook his head whilst lighting a smoke. 

After you finished getting dressed, you left Arthur’s tent very sheepishly, your head still basically in your hands as you made your way across camp towards the rest of the woman. 

‘Hosea said you need my help?’ you said, searching the faces to see if there was any sign that your secret had spread around camp. Thankfully, no one gave you any knowing looks as Karen silently dropped a bucket of laundry at your feet. 

Picking it up, you began to make your way over to the lake, your stomach giving a flip of excitement as you remember what happened the last time you were there. 

[johnpriceslamb]

𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝐈 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐏?

❛ you ask the Van Der Linde boys if you could sit on their lap. ❜

BEFORE YOU PROCEED! ┊female ! reader . afab ! reader . reader is physically shorter than chars mentioned below . suggestive themes implied . wrds . not edited . not proof-read . Javier ver touchy . google translated Spanish . John is very drunk . 1.4k wrd-count

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐍

You want to what?

You tinker your lashes multiple times innocently at his flabbergasted expression, unconsciously tilting your head at his dramatic approach. From your tone alone meant nothing but the most purest intentions, he knew well you mean no harm. But hearing those words made his cheeks burn a tad bit brighter.

“May I please— “No, no, I heard ya the first time- I just..” He abruptly cuts you. He narrows his eyes at you, sizing you up head-to-toe just to see if you were in a playful manner. You weren’t.

He grumbles softly, contemplating. He scratches behind his neck for a bit before a deep sigh escapes his mouth and he leans back on the wooden chair he sat upon.

“C’mere.”

He beckons you to come closer with two fingers lazily waving in the air. Immediately do you obey his simple commands like a lost pup, hands clasped prettily in-front of your chest as you easily plop yourself on his lap. Your back almost hits his chest, akin to a literal brick wall from all of the labour work he’s done. Unconsciously does his large hands come to your hips, positioning them slightly just so you’d be a tad bit more comfortable.

It’s easy to tilt your head upwards to see his face, the prickles of hair sticking out on his chin is the most prominent thing from your view. He feels your stare almost immediately and looks down at your beady eyes. He has to stop himself from grinning at your unawareness.

The cowpoke could only narrow his eyes at the soft giggle you produced from your mouth, a hand resting on your hip, “What?”

You look away with a tiny smile, “Nuthin’.”

He lets out another deep sigh, before pinching your cheek.

𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍

The bottle of beer in his hand almost slips to the ground after hearing your simple question.

He raises a hand to scratch at the stubble on his jaw, mindful to be aware of the deep claw-marks embedded on his skin. The bottle was placed on the table with a clumsy clatter, back supported by the edge of the table.

“..Watchu say?” He squints his dark eyes at you. He must’ve drunk too much, perhaps he heard you wrong. His tone was always raspy yet so demeaning playful even. You took it as if he didn’t want you to, and you shrink meekly.

You stutter shyly, “I’ll just go ask someone else—

He felt his guts squeeze and churn at the sight of you sitting on someone else’s lap. All sense of proper etiquette is thrown away from jealousy and alcoholic behaviour, his hand is very quick to grabbing yours as he roughly pulls you back. A tiny squeal escapes your lap as you clumsily fall on his chest and onto his hard thighs.

Your hands are clinging onto his opened top to balance yourself, the smirk on his face visible as he sees how shy you suddenly became.

The strong scent of alcohol makes your nose scrunch up. He rests his chin on the crook of your neck, stubble lightly tickling your sensitive skin. After a few minutes of making yourself comfy on his lap and finally staying still, his hand comes to grab his bottle to take another chug.

“John,” You almost whine at the way he unconsciously starts to bounce his knee up and down. A habit he’s not prone to ever since he started drinking. It was almost like he forgot you were sitting on his lap after a few minutes. Immediately does he stop his movement, a low slurr of babbles and a soft hiccup escapes his lips, “Whoops— sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart.”

Suddenly, he cheekily stares down at you.

“Y’know,” He hics.

“Yer behind feels kinda good on my-

“John.”

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇

He’s a bit clueless at first, bless his heart.

He’s busy carving a small piece of wood with his knife, hunched over as his long hair falls, covering the sides of his face almost elegantly. He wasn’t bothered to tie his hair back, nor raise a finger to place it behind his ear. He stops re-shaping the small piece of wood as he hears a soft patter of footsteps from in-front.

“Hm?” He hums, his guard lowers significantly once realising it was you. The knife is lowered too, and the items were placed afar so it does not distract you nor come in your way.

“May I please sit on your lap?” You ask with those big beady eyes of yours, hands behind your back as your tone is light and sweet.

Of course, silence is ensured for a few seconds. His brooding figure straightens up from his spot. He quirks a dark, angular brow at your much smaller figure.

“Why?” He asks with a straight face.

Your cheeks burn, and your expression was alike of a kicked pup. He catches on quickly, and he immediately feels bad for seeming so nonchalant and blunt.

“U-Um.. I just, I wanted to.. N-nevermind. Sorry.” You shyly stammer, akin to a doe whom tries to stand up for the first time.

He easily suppresses the smile which almost etched onto his face at your stuttering. Cute.

“I didn’t say no, y’know.” He gestures you to come over with a simple pat on his thigh. You beam, eagerly toddling to him like a tiny tot wanting to get her stuffies. You sit yourself on his thighs, shoes quite literally lifting off of the ground because of how big he was. Even if he sat down, he still always towered over you.

He allows you to wiggle a bit on his lap, but a hand comes down to rest on your knee to squeeze it a bit as a gentle warning to not go any higher. You do obey, of course. Your back is to his chest, your hands positioned on your lap as you almost melt at how warm he was.

“Comfortable?” At each word he uttered to you, it was more toned down in pitch, a low hum always started. You nod lazily, a smile of satisfaction of how comfy he felt underneath. You don’t mind the way he snakes his arms around your waist. “Good.”

𝐉𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐔𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀

You regret asking.

Simply put, he’s handsy.

The smirk on his face is very visible. The log he rests upon feels even more smaller as he slowly starts to manspread right in front of you. The guitar in his hand is placed gently just to the side before he beckons you to come forth. You reluctantly sit on his lap, almost squirming at how close he was.

A hand on your hip, another squish to your thigh, a soft roll from his hip teasingly upwards, a touch here, a touch there..

“Javier!” You whine, swatting his hand off your curves. He could only teasingly grin, before shrugging. “..Tu pediste esto.” His voice serenades.

You try to swat his hands off again, but merely give up, knowing he won’t stop any time soon. You lay your cheek on his chest, lithe arms wrapped around his waist as your back arches a tad bit from not supporting your structure. His hands are on the small of your back, rubbing small circles on the softness of your clothed skin.

The embers from the mini camp-fire is light and descends off in the dark night, crackles of the wood calms your nerves down just a bit. He does tone his touch down just a tad bit for your sake, despite wanting to desperately grab at.. literally anything. He’s had ladies before, but by far was he the neediest when it came to you.

You can’t help but take a small peak from above, wispy lashes coming to tinker a bit when he tilts his gaze to fixate on you. A small smile on his face, as he greedily eats up all of the touch you gave to him.

“..hi.” You quietly mumble, a bit muffled because of the fact that half of your face is mushed against the fabrics of his clothes. A fox-like grin etches on his tan face as he presses a tiny kiss on your forehead, entertaining you by replying with a simple “hola.”

“You’re really clingy- and touchy. I hope you know that.” You grumble when his hand comes to cup your curves again.

He smiles lazily. “I know.”

[peaches-creek]

“It’s actually fucking freezing out.”

“Bit chilly.” Is all he says

“Bit chilly? BIT CHILLY? My hands are fucking blue, LOOK!” You exclaim, showing him your hands.

“Mhm quite blue,” He says as he grabs one of your cold hands, “better?”

“A Bit” you huff.

He looks at you with a big bright smile, admiring your fake annoyed face, knowing that his actions just melted your cold heart.

Simon “ghost” Riley, CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne.

[ahqkas]

hello love!! may i please request some headcanons for arthur morgan and charles smith when they see their partners wearing their shirt? (and maybe john and javier? only if you’re up for it of course!) xx

PRETTY LIKE THE SUN ; arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuella, charles smith

RED DEAD REDEMPTION 2 MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

𝜗𝜚 ARTHUR MORGAN !

when arthur saw you wearing one his shirts, his eyes instantly softened and his lips parted slightly. the sight of you struck him — seeing something of his on you, so intimately close, filled him with a mix of emotions

“well, don’t you look just perfect,” he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. his irises never left your form, taking in the way the shirt enveloped you. it was an old, worn shirt, softened by years of wear, and seeing it on you brought a warmth to his chest

“you look better in this than i ever did,” he murmured, his voice rough with affection. his fingers brushed over the fabric, lingering on your arm as if committing the moment to memory

“but i gotta say, seein’ you in my shirt . . . it makes me feel all warm.”

he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips, each kiss a silent vow of his affection and presence. holding you close, he rested his chin on top of your head. “you can wear my shirts anytime you like,” he whispered, his arms wrapping around you protectively. “makes me feel real good, knowin’ you want to.”

he’s such a sweetheart about it

𝜗𝜚 JOHN MARSTON !

his eyes widened slightly at the unexpected sight before him. there you were, standing by the window, wrapped in one of his old, worn shirts. the shirt hung loosely on your frame, the sleeves too long, and the hem brushing against your thighs

a slow smile spread across john's face, his amusement evident. “well, look at you,” he said, his voice tinged with a chuckle. he stepped closer, his eyes roaming over you. “that’s my shirt, ain’t it?”

his heart swelled at the sight

“you look real good in it, darlin’”

he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace. “you can wear my shirts anytime you want, darlin’,” he whispered into your hair. “hell, you can have ’em all if it makes you happy.”

this man wouldn’t shut up about it, he’d annoy you for the next days, even weeks

but he wouldn’t admit he’s replaying the picture of you, standing in front of him in one of his shirts. the thought made him feel deep things, things he wouldn’t even admit when drunk on alcohol

from that day, he wants you to wear his clothes every single day

𝜗𝜚 JAVIER ESCUELLA !

javier strolled into your shared tent, a soft tune humming from his lips as he shook off the day’s dust. his eyes immediately caught sight of you, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. you were wearing one of his shirts, the fabric loose and flowing around you, and the sight stopped him in his tracks

“. . . is that my shirt you’re wearing?”

he would be either so confused or in denial of this happening

but once the feeling dropped off, a wide, delighted smile spread across his face

even his eyes smiled

“you look absolutely beautiful,” he murmured, his voice tinged with awe

reaching out, javier gently took your hands in his, lifting them to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “you always look beautiful, but seeing you in my shirt . . . you’re breathtaking, mi amor.”

javier held you close, his hands lightly caressing your palms. “you can wear my shirts anytime you like,” he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity. “in fact, i’d love it if you did.”

the thought of you wearing his clothes makes you even more his than you already are

𝜗𝜚 CHARLES SMITH !

charles walked into your shared tent, the weight of the day's tasks evident in his tired steps. as he glanced up, he froze momentarily, taking in the sight before him. you stood there, illuminated by the soft glow of the lantern, wearing one of his old shirts. the fabric was too big for you, sleeves hanging past your wrists and the hem falling almost to your knees, but the sight of you in it struck him deeply

“hey there,” he said softly, a warm smile spreading across his face. his eyes softened, filled with a mix of surprise and admiration. the man moved closer, his gaze never leaving you, taking in every detail of how his shirt enveloped your form

you smiled at him. “i hope you don’t mind,” you murmured, glancing down at the large shirt

charles’ heart swelled with adoration at you words. he reached out, his big, calloused hand gently lifting your chin so he could look into her eyes. “mind? not at all,” he said, his voice low and tender. “you look beautiful. it means a lot to me that you wanted to feel close.”

he brushed a soft kiss across your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “if you ever need anything — comfort, warmth, just a piece of me — you take whatever you need.”

he’s ready to gift you all of his shirts

[mx-pastelwriting]

RDR2 HC - Running away together & what would it take

RDR2 x GN! Reader

Summary: Running away together & what would it take for them to.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Established Relationship, Running away, Some Happy Endings

Characters: Dutch van der Linde, Arthur Morgan, Javier Escuella, Charles Smith, Bill Williamson, Hosea Matthews, John Marston, Josiah Trelawny

Dutch van der Linde

- A hard task in itself, prying Dutch away from his power over the gang, it's an almost impossible task. Though echoing Hosea's words to lie low would earn you some time in having a voice over Micah's, he would consider it.

- Nightly talks cuddled up in his arms, imagining life away from the one you have aloud; he entertains it, but not without saying some doubtful scenarios. Having to change your ways, almost manipulating him into taking that life as a real thing.

- Never leaving his side, hearing every thought, not giving Micah a chance to talk to him in private, in turn driving you crazy. Doing anything for that good life, leaving your intentions to change just to get your Dutch safe.

- Every day drained you; all that work had finally caught up to you. Slowly, you lost faith as the gang came into more trouble, making you come to a realization. You made your choice.

- A night of loving Dutch one more time, cuddled up into his arms, then having to leave them. Leaving him in a deep sleep with a final kiss. Taking your horse he had gotten for you a long time ago and what little clothes you had left from all the years of running. Finally leaving in the cold night, not daring to look back.

A year had gone by, and still you dreamt about that day and its many outcomes, but all you could do was smile at the memory of his messed hair loving him for that final night. Telling yourself over and over that it spared the both of you, there was no use to keep trying. Leaving to build your own life, living out your dream that you tried so hard to convince Dutch of so many times.

He would have loved it, just the two of you; he just couldn't see it. Getting up from your bed, dressing up for the day, and having to live off of the small land you fought to get months after. Making your way to the kitchen, readying breakfast before your day of work, but a knock interrupts you from the task.

Grabbing your old weapon, hoping it still worked, then walking slowly to the door, pointing the weapon from your hip. Upon opening the door, your mind and body went blank. Dutch was standing at your front door, looking like shit. "Dear," he says, voice cracking. Even after all this time, he charmed his way into your heart, igniting your love again.

-

Arthur Morgan

- You both have always talked about that kind of life and what it would be like, but it always ended as a joke and never as something to look forward to. Until you really thought about it, hearing Hosea's story of him and his wife fed into your dream.

- Bring it up to Arthur one night, making sure he took it seriously, not knowing what to say, only he couldn't leave the gang just like that. Over time, you pushed the matter, and he always listened but never said anything.

- Being with the gang for a long time, you watched it change as Dutch came into more trouble. Finally, it hit a breaking point when Arthur went missing from the meeting with Colm O'Driscoll. The camp had to calm you down, but it didn't stop the tears every night, fighting your mind to just leave, but it turned to worry that if he'd come back, you needed to be there for him.

- After days of the gang searching, you finally spotted Arthur's house with him on top, thinking you had just gone crazy. Hearing his groans of pain, you ran to him, crying aloud, causing the camp to spring into action, with some having to hold you back so the rest could work.

- After an hour of working on him finally letting you see him, never leaving his side as you waited for him to wake. Hosea brought you something to eat every day, knowing what you had been going through.

Snapping from your exhausted state as a groan came from Arthur, watching as he stirred from his rest. Tears once again spilled from your eyes while grabbing his hand and placing it to your cheek. Waking fully, he whispered your name, running a hand through his hair earning a hum from him as he rested his eyes once again.

"I thought you were dead," you whispered, kissing his hand earning another hum. "Okay," he whispered weakly, making you look at him meeting his blue-green eyes. Taking a minute for you to understand, you nodded, "Tonight." You responded, getting only a weak nod back. Quickly getting up to then plant a kiss on his lips before preparing your leave.

-

Javier Escuella

- Being so loyal to Dutch, as soon as you'd bring that idea of life up, he'd tell you of the time he tried to find that kind of life, with it ending with Dutch saving him, in turn needing to repay Dutch with his life. A life for a life.

- Still, of course, you stayed with him, but it didn't stop you from trying. From mentioning small things, such as telling him to look at the homesteads as you passed them or talking to couples who owned their land, hearing the stories of home life making sure Javier was near you to hear.

- Wishing aloud to love him behind closed doors, but he brought up the suggestion of a hotel quickly you shot it down with wishes of loving him in your own home. Unknown to you, it wasn't till the end that he would change his mind.

- Seeing as he buddied up with Micah breaking your heart, seeing what Micah did to Dutch, there would be no way he would sink his claws into your Javier. Realizing it even more after hearing Arthur's words confirming your Javiers changed, solidifying your thoughts. Having to do the only thing that was left.

- Grabbing a bag, you started to stuff your things into it. Hearing footsteps come closer, you didn't look up, knowing who it was. When asking what you were doing, you told him you were leaving him. Shocked, he begged, but you gave it to him in the end, giving him an ultimatum. You or Dutch.

Pain washed over his face. He looked to the floor, hoping it would have the answer, but you continued packing. "Amor," he begged, but you kept your back to him as much as it pained you. "I can't do this, Javi," you say, tears stinging the brim of your eyes. "Tell me," he says, putting a hand on yours.

"All of this, you hate Micah. What changed?" You asked, making him look away, but you brought his face back softly with your hand. Cupping his face, "I know you see it. He's not well. I'm not going to stick around anymore, Javi," you say, turning to zip up your bag.

"It's your choice," you say before grabbing a few more things. "I can't," he says weakly. "Okay," saying your final words before walking to the horses, putting your things onto yours before hopping onto your horse.

Taking a last look at the camp, not caring who chose to look. Hearing as the horse next to you stirred, looking to see Javier hop on his with his belongings behind him. Smiling at each other, you turned away from camp, taking off quickly to start your new life.

-

Charles Smith

- Having been in the gang for a small amount of time, he had never shut down the idea, though never did he start to make plans on it. Figuring it was from his friendships with Arthur and John or him just settling in having run with him before the gang, you were of course thankful for them taking you both in, but shaking off the idea was never going to happen.

- Taking long rides on the days he got off, hugging his waist while resting your head on his back, talking about many things: camp gossip, your past travels, the future. Sometimes passing by a homestead watching as the people worked away at their land, imagining out loud how that would be, it would be better than always running.

- He loved you dearly; it pained him whenever leaving you to do a job with the gang, but you hated it more when he came to you from a watch stumbling on his tired feet to then crashing into your arms falling asleep before he could even mumble, "I love you.".

- Making his choice after the bank job that had gone wrong, having to bury Hosea and Lenny's bodies, the both of you talked about the decision ending with a kiss and the start of packing your things. Though quickly interrupted by the law, causing you to run once again, making you both stick around the gang a little longer.

- Knowing it put the both of you in more danger, he tried to make it quick by using the gang to help the tribe, only meeting them once by going with him, you understood. Finally, the day came telling only Arthur and John and those closest to you, getting hugs and wishes of luck to your new life.

Waking to the cooing of birds wrapped in the warmth of Charles's arms, hearing him snore softly, kissing his scared cheek, waking him from his slumber earning a smile. Looking at you with tired brown eyes, taking a moment to admire your well-rested faces.

Wiggling out of his arms with an objection as he tightened them, making you both laugh before you headed off to the kitchen in your homestead, but not without getting dressed first from the night before. Having been years since that day, leading to a new life, though the past caught up a year later, causing Charles to go with John just to make Dutch and Micah pay for all those years ago.

Of course, coming back to you with a bullet in the shoulder and a promise to never leave you again, from John's home, you both made it up to Canada, living out your dream of a homestead. Ending your reminisce on the past as Charles wraps his arms around you once more, kissing your neck softly while you readied the morning drinks.

-

Bill Williamson

- It had never been an idea to the both of you from all the years you ran with the gang until going into town. Seeing how a couple talked about their lives after getting that first taste of that kind of life, you never looked back.

- Not telling Bill at first, wanting him away from Dutch a bit before springing it upon him after one of your hotel nights away, he entertained your thoughts, though laughing at some parts until he realized you were serious.

- His first feeling was anger at how he could never do that to Dutch, but you argued that Dutch doesn't control your lives. Finally, he calmed down, telling you he looked up to Dutch. Knowing how he wanted the limelight that Arthur and John had, you convinced him that even if it was painful to say and hear, he would never be them. His obsession can't control him.

- Even though he listened with understanding, even agreeing, he told you the time wasn't right. Giving your understanding back to his reasoning, you stayed with him. But things didn't stay still for forever.

- The bank job had gone wrong with the law running you out of Shady Bell, feeling as if it was years before you got Bill back in your arms after hearing tales of him on Guarma. Having enough, you started to pack your things, causing Bill to freak. Hearing none of it, you gave him a choice. Hoping he would pick the right one.

Standing in front of your horse, holding your bag tightly, "I've hit the end, Bill; I-I can't. I can't stay up every night hoping you're alive; it's not fair to me or you." You choked through your words, causing a scene for the whole camp to see, but you didn't care; you were done.

Seeing his hesitant look back at Dutch, who watched on calmly, you had your answer. His continuous seek for approval from Dutch would never stop, and you weren't going to be around to watch it kill him or you.

-

Hosea Matthews

- Having left before he would hear the idea once again, not shooting it down immediately though ending your talk with how his story ended, right back where he started.

- As time went on, his coughs had gotten worse, as well as his attitude towards it, helping with his cough fits earned a hand wave and a choked-out "I'm fine." But you kept pushing, knowing if it was the end for him, it should be anywhere but running with the gang.

- Bringing it up more, he entertained it a bit more, but other reasons would always pop up after, trying to understand you let it go after every talk. As the gang settled into Shady Bell slowly, you noticed that he became even worse; he barely came to bed, but when he did stumble in, smelling of booze, giving you a slurred "I love you" before snoring away.

- Not waiting for his final say any longer, you slowly packed your things over the days, making sure both of your horses were ready to go in the night. Thankfully, you met a couple who knew of a cabin not too far away at a cheap price. Saving up quickly, you bought the cabin, leaving it to wait for you. Taking note of when the watch shifts change and when the camp dies down for the night.

- Finally, you made your move. As Hosea stumbled into being his familiar drunk self, you went into action, calling his horse over by the back door quietly loading on what little you had left. Then, waking Hosea leading him to the horse with false words, finally, you were ready with Hosea in a drunken sleep on your back, fleeing into the dark swamp.

Riding through the night, keeping Hosea on the horse, with luck, you made it through the swamp and into the forest on your way to the cabin. Not knowing how long this would last not even sure if this was a new life. "Just enough for you to rest," you whispered into the cold night air.

Making it to the cabin, using all your strength to get him in the cabin, laying him on the bed, tucking him. Going back out, taking your things from his and your horses, then letting them rest in the small stable for the next few days.

Waking into the morning still hearing Hosea's snores with his warm arms around you. Slowly, you get up, readying his medicine, hoping he'll understand your actions. Being all for him in the end.

-

John Marston

- Having entertained the idea only came up two times. The first was for one of Hosea's cons, having you and John play as a married couple that lived on a farm just for another couple who actually lived on a farm to come along to buy into Hosea's con.

- As years went on, seeing how the gang dwindled, thankful for not taking your John, but not without a scare and a promise to stay with you. Getting out of the snow, helping John to Horseshoe Overlook, fighting to keep him down, and resting. John made a joke about you being his spouse and having a little farm. That was the second time.

- John wasn't the only one with that joke; being protective over him, Hosea started to joke about how the con act ended long ago, but you were still acting the part.

- Finally, John was ready for jobs again, so you loosened your protection, though you weren't afraid to give it to Dutch if he came back with so much as a small scratch. Furthering that joke in the camp led you two to talk. John agreed to the possibility, but it was different in his mind. You saw it coming sooner than him.

- Sadly, it wasn't until the very end you could live out that idea. The gang fell apart, pushing you both towards Strawberry, but not without making a rule for yourself. Never to live that life again. It was easier said than done. John helped the framer, and you fled, leaving your John behind.

Reading the letter over again as the carriage hit every bump on the road, making your impatience worse. Finally stopping, not wanting to look out the window, needing to see him up close, you hurried out.

Standing there face-to-face with your John, having been gone for so many months, your eyes stinging as you wrapped your arms tightly around him. "It's over," he whispered into your ear, making the threatening tears spill, tightening your hold, not wanting to let him go again.

-

Josiah Trelawny

- Living that dream already in Saint Denis, but unbeknownst to you, Josiah had dealings with a gang. Hearing the name of the gang from officers around town yet not thinking anything of them. Not even questioning his absence at home as his "office work" makes him travel a lot.

- Loving the stories of his travels made you susceptible to listening for things, but never did you think you'd hear about your husband from an officer's mouth on the street. Then the next day, another questioned you on your doorstep, being very hostile and pushing past you just to find nothing, but before leaving, accusing you of dealing with the "Van Der Linde Gang.".

- Hearing nothing from your Josiah in the few passing days got you worried—maybe you didn't know the man you married. Though finally, you saw him as he crawled up the stairs of your Saint Denis home, the sight brought you to tears.

- The damage to him was heartbreaking. He groaned and hissed through his teeth as you cleaned up his bloody wounds, then bandaged them up. Saying nothing, you let the silence fall with his story quickly following, but you didn't let him finish.

- Saying the name of the gang, seeing how his face turned pale. Telling him of what transpired days before, hit you hard speaking of what you knew out loud to him. Starting with a sigh, he told you everything with a voice filled with shame.

"Stop," you said, interrupting his explanation, doing as you said, looking to you. Not being able to handle the sight of him knowing every cut or possible broken bone was because of his deals with the gang. You started to question whether the life you built was even real; was the love you got from him even real?

"Love," he pleaded, placing a hand on yours looking into the eyes you fell in love with so many times. Still, you held your ground. "No more J," you say, making him look down watching as he nodded. Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his upper back and shoulders, hugging him as he sat in your home, where he belonged.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

[lowfunctioningoptimist]

Modern RDR2! Reacting to you calling them “Husband”

After that tiktok trend where ladies have been filming videos or taking orders and refer to their boyfriend as “husband.” Some of the fellas go into multiple categories.

Responds immediately with, “I ain’t your husband”: MICAH, Josiah, JOHN, Bill

Looks around and says, “Husband? Where?!”: Sean (as a joke), John (not as a joke).

Stares at you, waits for you to correct yourself, is happy when you don’t: Charles, ARTHUR, Javier.

Responds by calling you his wife/husband: CHARLES, HOSEA, Javier(nearly passed out tho).

Follows after you to make sure he heard it right: Javier, Dutch, Kieran, Arthur.

Gets cocky about it, starts calling himself your husband publicly: Lenny, Hosea, SEAN, EAGLE FLIES, Micah.

[sky-is-the-limit]

Clarity.

P: Charles Smith x F!Reader

CW: NSFW content, Doggy Position, Forced Focus

WC: 1,339 words.

It wasn't meant to escalate in that manner, not really. One moment, Charles was calmly imparting his knowledge, guiding you through the intricacies of maintaining focus in the wilderness.

His voice was steady, filled with wisdom as he shared techniques to sharpen your instincts and improve your ability to see with clarity. You listened intently, absorbing every word as if he was sharing the world's greatest secrets.

Before you could fully comprehend how, in the blink of an eye, you found yourself stripped bare, vulnerable for only nature and Charles to witness.

Your precious book laid open on the grass before you, its pages fluttering gently in the breeze whilst two strong arms embraced you from behind, their grip firm and unyielding as they held you in place by your hips.

"Keep reading, pretty girl." Charles mumbled lowly and with each syllable, you could feel him pushing in, inch by inch, his thickness filling you completely.

As he continued to push, you felt yourself stretching beyond your own belief. The sensation was overpowering in its magnitude as you accommodated his width and length. Every nerve in your body seemed to be on fire, electrified by his touch.

Despite the initial discomfort, there was an undeniable thrill in being filled so completely out in the open. It was as if you were being consumed by him and as he pushed further, the pleasure only grew.

"Let your eyes focus on every word." He continued and you followed his instructions, allowing your gaze to glide over the words on the page, absorbing their meaning with each passing moment.

Though patience was one of his greatest attributes, the sensation of your cunt enveloping him, sucking him into your tight hole, always ignited a maddening pleasure within him.

It was a primal instinct, a response that transformed him into a whole different man. As he surrendered to your warmth, a deep moan escaped his lips, echoing in your ears like the most addictive melody.

"And just breathe." He whispered in a voice much more gravely and broken than you were used to hearing, his breath warm against your skin as his lips placed wet kisses on your shoulder blades.

His hands tightened their grip on your hips, fingers digging into your flesh needily. With each thrust, he plunged deeper into you, his cock driving into your core with an urgency that bordered on desperation.

The rhythm of his movements was intoxicating and your back arched in response to his thrusts, every collision of his hips against your ass making the walls of your cunt squeeze around him, clinging to his length with a hunger that matched his own.

The words on the pages began to blur together, each letter melting into the next as your focus wavered.

His name slipped past your lips in a silent prayer, a desperate plea for more as the tip of his cock hit a sweet spot.

With each forward thrust, the head of his cock grazed against the entrance of your cervix, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

''Did I tell you to stop?'' Charles groaned, the sound deep and guttural while his fingers tangled in your hair, a firm grip that kept you in place to keep your head from moving and ensuring that your eyes remained fixed on the lines of the book.

And just when you thought you couldn't bear any more, he delivered a resounding slap to your ass without once faltering with his pace.

''Out loud, sweetheart.'' Emphasizing his command with another hard thrust, he drove his hips forward with a force that left you breathless.

''The courtier’s-ah- soldier’s, scholar’s eye, tongue, swor- Oh, god-'' With a shaky voice and soft whimpers escaping your lips between each word, you began to recite the lines of the book aloud.

It was a struggle to form coherent sentences, the words tumbling out in a disjointed jumble as your mind struggled to focus.

The pace he took was immediate, hard, and animalistic, each thrust carrying the force of a vigor urge to make sure you could feel the power behind his movements, each one driving you closer insanity.

His strong hands clasped your love handles with a firmness that bordered on possessive, leaving bruises in their wake.

As your cunt clenched around him, he dipped one hand to stroke your clit, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. The sensitive little nub responded eagerly to his touch, causing every muscle in your body to tighten to the point of near numbness.

''Keep going, angel.'' Charles repeated the same pattern for what felt like an eternity, each thrust driving deeper into you with a relentless determination.

''The expectation- ah'' You stuttered out, the words catching in your throat as you struggled to articulate amidst the need to keep breathing.

''And rose of the fair state-'' And even as your body trembled and your breath hitched with each thrust, you refused to falter.

Your thighs throbbed from the force of his thrusts, the pleasure coursing through your veins like liquid fire.

With each movement, the knot in the pit of your stomach grew tighter, threatening to unravel at any moment. Desperate to feel it release, you planted your elbows down firmly, bobbing your hips to meet his thrusts.

''Good girl.'' An amused purr sounded from Charles as his grip traveled from your hips to your breasts, kneading your nipple between his fingers.

A desperate whimper escaped your lips as you found yourself growing even more aroused. You had always loved it when Charles called you a good girl, but to have him treat you like that, how sinful it all was, was something else entirely.

''The glass of fashion and the mold of form-'' You trembled with emotion, the words escaping your lips in a desperate plea for release.

"So good-" His voice was raw with need, each word punctuated by the rhythmic movement of his body against yours.

His pattern grew unfocused and inconsistent, but each thrust built up pressure boiling low in your stomach, before one final shove of his cock combined with the attention to your clit caused the build-up to shatter, sending you into your orgasm.

The coil inside you finally snapped, releasing the tension that had been building within you like a tightly wound spring. In that moment, as the pressure reached its breaking point, your walls seized around his cock with an intensity that took your breath away.

''Charles, god!'' Your entire body convulsed with pleasure, every muscle tensing as waves of ecstasy washed over you.

It was as if a dam had burst within you, flooding your senses with a torrent of sensation that left you reeling.

You choked as the full weight of him collapsed onto you, his hips driving his twitching cock as deep as it could go into your dripping cunt whilst his warmth flooded your insides.

Every pulse of his release was felt within you, every twitch of his spent cock and as he finally settled against you, panting heavily into the column of your throat, you could feel the rapid beat of his pulse against your skin.

Charles then gently laid you down on the soft grass, his touch tender and reverent as he cradled you in his arms. The cool blades of grass brushed against your skin, a soothing contrast to the heat that still lingered within you from your recent exertions.

As he sprawled out next to you, his body pressed close to yours, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. His arms wrapped securely around you, holding you close to his chest as if to shield you from the world.

The scent of the earth surrounded you, mingling with the musky aroma of his skin. It was a comforting embrace, one that filled you with a sense of warmth and security.

"You did good, angel." Charles whispered softly, his touch soothing as his hand rubbed your arm in a comforting manner that grounded you in the moment.

[the-karma-cafe]

Thursdays | Arthur Morgan

(also posted on ao3 under same username)

in which the boys are curious where arthur runs off to every thursday night (ITS FOR SEX)

song is Moonshadow by Cat Stevens ! spoiler they be fucking :/ i be making them fuck for real (oh no aaaa no arthur dont have sex with me no aaa that would be terrible i would hate that)

Javier’s eyes track Arthur as he slinks away from the campfire, tuning out Sean’s boisterous storytelling. He knows the gunslinger is readying his horse to leave. He also knows he’ll be gone for a couple of hours, returning around one or two in the morning to slump into his bed after everyone has gone to sleep.

How does Javier know?

Surprisingly, Arthur is a creature of strict routine, and he does this song and dance every Thursday night—without fail. 

Javier furrows his brow, unable to quash his curiosity this time. What on Earth could he be going off to do so regularly? He never came back with meat, so he wasn’t hunting. He couldn’t be off robbing, because when he got back, he didn’t drop anything off at the contribution box. Oh, Javier, maybe he was planning to do so later on? Ah, ah, ah! What do we know about Arthur? Ever the routine-man, he donates to the camp box the second he enters camp, no matter what he just got back from. It’s always the first thing he does. Can’t be shoppin’, ‘cause it’s too late for that. Can’t be killin’, ‘cause he comes back clean. 

A cuff round his shoulder roused him from his thoughts. “Javier! Didja hear me?” Sean said, drink emboldening his speech (not that the Irishman needed much encouragement). 

Javier ignored him, glancing over his shoulder. Sure enough, Arthur was on his horse, trotting away from camp, everyone else none-the-wiser.

“Hullloooo??” Sean needled, pushing his side into Javier’s. 

Javier looked over to Lenny and Charles sitting across the campfire from them, and felt a spark of inspiration ignite within him. He leaned forward, beckoning them closer with his hand. They looked confused, but crossed the clearing anyway, kneeling in front of his and Sean’s log. 

“What is it?” Lenny prompted, his voice hushed. He could always trust Lenny to be discreet.

“Yeah!” Sean added, much louder. ...He could’ve guessed. 

He lowered his voice, smirking conspiratorially. “Where’d Arthur go?”

Sean and Lenny frowned, caught off-guard by the question, but Charles inclined his head in understanding. “I didn’t think anyone else noticed.”

“Noticed what??” Sean whined, leaning in closer to Charles. “Don’t be keepin’ secrets, now!”

Charles rolled his eyes, waving his hand to shush Sean. He nodded his head to Javier. “Arthur’s been leaving every Thursday night.”

Sean scrunched his nose. “So what? Art’ur leaves all the time!” Lenny nodded along.

Javier shook his head. “But Thursdays are different. He leaves around 10PM, comes back around 1AM. Why the same amount of time?”

Sean was quiet for a moment (if one could believe it), before jumping up from the log, his beer bottle sloshing in his hand. “Let’s go find out!!” he whispered loudly, grinning from ear to ear.

Javier couldn’t help but mirror his expression. He was hoping he wasn’t the only one this curious about it. He felt a thrum of excitement run through him. He pushed up from the log, Lenny readying to follow him.

“Guys,” Charles interrupted, stopping their walk to the horses. “Arthur’s entitled to his privacy. We should let him have this—whatever it is.” 

He should’ve expected this from ever-noble Charles. Sean began to argue, but Javier cut him off, knowing he wouldn’t win against Charles. “It’s probably nothing.” he retorted, trying not to feel guilty under the other man’s pointed stare. He turned away, making for the horses anyway. “I’m going. You don’t have to.”

“Wouldn’t miss this fer the world!” Sean laughed, immediately tagging along. Javier fought the triumphant grin pulling at his lips. He heard Lenny awkwardly shuffle behind them, some whispered apology to Charles.

He mounted his horse, waiting impatiently for Sean to struggle onto his own. His eyes searched the growth around the camp, hoping to find an indication of where Arthur ran off to. He could track, but Charles was the expert. It would make things much easier to have him with them…

The man in question’s voice came behind him. “I’m only tagging along to make sure you don’t ruin whatever Arthur has going on.” He turned to see Charles mounting Taima, disapproval marring his proud features. 

Javier grinned in spite of it. “Excellent! Vámonos!” he cheered, leading the search brigade with Charles by his side, the other man’s trained eye focused on the ground. Lenny followed behind them with Sean drunkenly pulling up the rear. Charles looked as though he wanted to stop him from coming, but seemed to decide against it, knowing the stubborn man wouldn’t listen to a word he said.

Charles followed Arthur’s trail down the left path from camp, past the trees, past the tracks, until they arrived in Valentine. Javier felt giddy. 

Charles stopped them in front of the saloon, hopping off his horse to hitch her, the rest of them quickly following suit.

“The saloon?” Sean whispered, creeping up the steps to peer through the building’s windows. Lenny followed behind him, and the two poked their noses over the ledge of the window, trying to sneak a glance within. Charles walked over to join them, and would have looked less suspicious if not for the two idiots in front of him crouched like children. 

Javier approached the window opposite them, casually leaning to the side of it to look in. Not that his subtlety helped him, as again, he was across from three grown men cartoonishly trying to peek inside as well. 

He spied a couple of men that looked like Arthur before finally seeing actual Arthur at the bar. He wasn’t hunched over it, like some of the other patrons were, and instead was looking around at the other people in the saloon, as if searching for someone. What could that be about? He wondered.

Before he could think on it further, Sean strolled into the saloon, Lenny in tow. Charles shared a knowing glance with him before following them in. 

Sean beelined for Arthur, and soon they all surrounded him, clapping him on the back.

“You’d go to the saloon without inviting yer favorite drinking buddy?” Sean accused, roughly pushing at the man’s shoulder. 

“My favorite drinking buddy, huh?” Arthur echoed, his voice not reflecting what Javier knew to be embarrassment on his face. Arthur slumped over the bar, tugging the front of his hat further over his face. 

Sean gasped. “Drinkin’ with me’s a treat! Ye should be so lucky!”

Javier nudged him from his other side. “We were wondering where you headed off to all the time. Had we known it was just the saloon we would not have bothered!” he laughed, waving the bartender over. He would buy him a drink to apologize.

“You too, Charles?” Arthur asked, sounding betrayed. 

Charles sighed, apologizing. “I was trying to get them to leave you alone, Arthur.” Javier couldn’t help but think the man didn’t put up too much of a fight. 

“Well,” Arthur cleared his throat. “‘F that’s all, you can all head on back to camp, I’ll be back soon.”

Sean scoffed. “Why d’you want to be rid of us so-”

A guitar strum floated over from the back of the saloon, and he trailed off. Arthur buried his head in his arms, the tips of his ears red. Javier cocked a brow, looking over.

“Miss me, y’all?” a pretty woman at the back of the room called out, guitar in hand. A couple of cheers and whoops came from the crowd, the saloon filled with noise.

The boys grinned knowingly. 

“Not. A goddamn. Word.” Arthur groaned, his voice muffled by his arms. 

Sean barked a laugh, clapping the man on the back. “Ohoho, ye rascal, we shoulda known ye’d try ta keep this beauty ta yerself!” He wolf-whistled towards the performer.

Javier grinned toothily, leaning in to tease Arthur. “You could have told us you were only leaving to see about a girl, Arthur.”

Arthur pushed up from his slump, nursing his whiskey miserably. “Like you would’ve let me hear the end of it.” He grumbled. Javier pushed his extra drink over to the man, giggling like a teenager. Arthur the Stoic, red-faced and shy about a singer. He never thought he’d see the day!

The woman, having finished her introductions while they teased Arthur, began to sing. Javier watched Arthur turn himself slightly to watch her.

Yes, I'm bein' followed by a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Arthur couldn’t help the dreamy smile that twisted his mouth, watching her. She looked so content, fully in her element up there on Valentine’s tiny lifted stage. The piano man to her right had abandoned his duties to drink at the nearest table.

And if I ever lose my hands

Lose my plow, lose my land

Oh, if I ever lose my hands

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to work no more

Her southern accent colored the lyrics, guiding the notes up and down as she pleased. The patrons knew this song, and sang along with her every now and then, but none followed the exact way she sang it, allowing him to easily follow her voice amidst the noise.

And if I ever lose my eyes

If my colors all run dry

Yes, if I ever lose my eyes

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to cry no more

Sean stumbled into the fray, caught in some dance with a couple of other patrons, breaking his trance. Arthur dragged a hand over his face, hoping he didn’t look as foolish as he felt. 

Yes, I’m bein' followed by a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Most nights, he would allow himself to indulge in the fantasy. Convince himself she was singin’ for him, that when they locked eyes across the saloon, she had the same look in hers as he did. 

And if I ever lose my legs

I won't moan, and I won't beg

Oh, if I ever lose my legs

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to walk no more

He downed his drink and reached for Javier’s—anything to give him an excuse for the way he was lookin’ at her. Having them with him just dragged him back to reality: he was just another face in the crowd to her, and even if he did catch her eye, she would just think him old and sour-faced, and leave it at that. 

And if I ever lose my mouth

All my teeth, north and south

Yes, if I ever lose my mouth

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to talk no more

He took another deep drink, feeling that familiar haze begin to set in on the edge of his vision. 

Did it take long to find me?

I asked the faithful light

Oh, did it take long to find me?

And are you gonna stay the night?

This would be the last time he let himself come here on a Thursday night. He was just torturin’ himself, thinkin’ of things that would never be. Head in the clouds, like Micah would say. Christ, he was glad they didn’t think to bring him along.

I'm bein' followed by a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

The drink crept into his heart. If this was his last night here, with her, he might as well fool himself one last time, the drink said. What’s the harm? One last time can’t hurt. It wheedled, and he knew he’d be miserable come morning.

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

He leaned to his right, seeking Javier’s weight to nudge him for another drink (least he could do for ruinin’ his fun), but felt only air. He frowned, glancing around for the others. Sean had dragged Lenny into his drunken dance, Javier was speaking with some well-endowed woman in the corner (who seemed very pleased to have his attention), and Charles… his frown deepened, squinting at the blurry crowd. He couldn’t see Charles. Knowing the women of Valentine, he was likely cornered somewhere, politely refusing their services (although for a man like Charles, perhaps it was free).

Arthur grunted, turning back to his empty glass. Figures that his friends would quickly find company at a place he frequented, and he was left miserable and alone. He plucked his hat off his head, raking his other hand through his hair. He was sure he looked a mess—no wonder he was by himself. 

“Hey, cowboy.” a voice came from his right, startling him from his wallowing. He turned, and felt his heart jump to see his singer leaning against the bar next to him. 

Her eyes were bright, her face flushed. She seemed out of breath from her performance, but pleased, satisfied with how she had done. 

He gaped like a fish. Say somethin’, goddammit!  

She smiled, shifting her eyes to his glass. She pointed at it lazily. “Be a doll and get me what you’re havin’?”

He nodded dumbly, gesturing wordlessly at the bartender. Seconds later, a replica of his drink sat in front of her. She thanked him and brought the glass to her lips. He knew he looked ridiculous, eyes trained on the way her lips parted, the amber liquid gliding into her mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

She set the glass back down, giving him a teasing smile. “You mute?”

He shook his head—then inwardly smacked himself for yet another wordless response. “No.” Christ, you can do better than that.

She giggled, and he thought he might die. “What a scintillating conversationalist you are, Mister…” she trailed off, tilting her head. 

“Morgan.” he provided. His mind caught up to the conversation fast enough to ask for her name in turn (he deserved a pat on the back for being so quick-witted). She gave it, and he almost sighed aloud. She had a name she introduced herself with to the crowds, but he suspected it was a stage name, and he had been correct. Her real name was a privilege to finally learn. 

He repeated it back to her, experimentally rolling it on his tongue. She grinned. “Sounds nice when you say it, Mr. Morgan.” 

“Arthur,” he corrected. “‘S just Arthur. For you.” He coughed, turning to order another drink, just to have something, anything , to distract him from the weight of her gaze on him. “I mean, if you want. Morgan’s fine too.”

“Arthur,” she purred. He felt faint. “I like that more.” His next drink arrived and he immediately buried his face in it, unable to meet her eyes. Christ, he was like a teenager. He inwardly scolded himself.

She carried on, oblivious to his inner turmoil. “I see you here a lot, Arthur.” she gestured over her shoulder to the crowd. “First time I seen you bring friends, though.”

So she had seen him in the crowd all those times? He squashed the thought before it ruined him. He laughed, shaking his head. “Bastards invited themselves.” He chanced a glance at her, her attention on the crowd instead of him. He eyed her drink, already half-empty in her hand, before looking up, up, to the curve of her chest, the proud slope of her neck, the strands of hair falling loose from her updo, her lips, her nose, her eyes… he forced himself to look at the crowd instead. “Don’t you have some adorin’ fans to go talk to?”

She turned her head to look at him, but he kept his eyes focused ahead. “I thought I was already doin’ that.” she sidled closer to him, nudging her shoulder against his arm. Warmth radiated off of her. “Unless you’re not one of my adoring fans.”

Arthur felt heat creep up his neck and he shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” she echoed, amusement coloring her voice. “I don’t think you’ve missed a single one of my performances, Arthur Morgan.” he felt a shiver run up his spine. “If anyone’s a fan, it’s you.”

He pulled the lip of his hat down over his eyes. “Maybe.” Guilty as charged.

She laughed, and rounded to his front. She flicked up the front of his hat, and his eyes met hers. He stilled, entranced. There seemed to be a glow about her, some hazy halo enveloping her body. How much had he had?  

“You won’t admit it?” What had they been talking about again? He tried not to focus on their difference in height, how easy it would be to scoop her up, his hands so large on her hips… 

“Well?” He flexed his hands, trying to reign himself in. Her face was expectant: eyebrows raised, pretty lips pursed. 

He shook his head. Couldn’t this woman see he couldn’t think straight? 

Apparently that counted as an answer and she scoffed, playfully rolling her eyes. “You embarrassed?”

Yes. Why did she think he was, again? He sighed. “I’m sorry, miss,” he tried her name again, wanting to say it over and over. “I believe I am too drunk for this conversation.”

She grinned in understanding. “Why don’t we talk someplace quieter, make things easier on your poor head, hm?” 

Someplace quieter? His mind echoed, while his body nodded dumbly, stumbling behind her. She took his hand in her own, leading him up the stairs. His eyes were trained intently on their hands, her hand small, warm, in his, her fingertips roughened from guitar strings. 

What was she doin’, touchin’ a man like him? He couldn’t bring himself to pull away, as much as he knew he should. It felt nice, to indulge. The hazy shroud around his vision encroached further inwards, tunneling his view.  

“Here,” she said, so softly he almost didn’t hear. She pushed open a door, leading him inside and shutting it behind them. It was suddenly much quieter. He breathed a sigh of relief, some tension leaving his set shoulders.

“Nicer up here, isn’t it?” she prompted, releasing his hand. He ached at the loss. He dragged his gaze up to watch her dance over to the… bed. He gulped, valiantly fighting off the thoughts that sprang up at the sight of her. 

“Mhm.” He didn’t know what to do with himself. He stood awkwardly where she had left him, staring dumbly at her. What the hell was she thinkin’, bringin’ a man like him up here, alone with her? She could get herself hurt, or worse. He frowned. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. “I shouldn’ be up here with you.” He shook his head, forcing himself to look at the ground. “Ain’t right. You shouldn’ trust me.” his words slurred, but he hoped she was taking him seriously despite it. 

“Why not?”

He groaned. God, her voice. He buried his head in his hands. “I ain’t. A nice man, miss,” he spoke her name again, and god, hoped she couldn’t hear how he loved to say it.

He felt her hand on his arm. When had she gotten up? She was so warm. He lowered his hands, chancing a look into her eyes, hoping he was strong enough to resist their pull. 

Christ, of course he couldn’t. She looked up at him through her lashes, stepping closer, their bodies almost touching. He breathed in, unable to bring himself to look away this time. She smelled like the alcohol everything smelled like in the saloon, but a sweet undertone ran beneath it. He was reminded of the saccharine scent of canned peaches. 

Her hand smoothed down his arm to his hand, lacing their fingers together. Her other reached up, up, and palmed his cheek, her touch gentle like she was approaching some wild horse. He leaned into it before he could stop himself, his stubble scratching against her skin. 

“How ‘bout,” she started, her voice soft and quiet, “I decide that for myself?”

His eyelids felt heavy, and he felt himself forgetting what she was even responding to. His free hand began to move of its own accord, bumping into her thigh, smoothing up to her hip. He looked down. Just like he had imagined… 

She moved, and his gaze shifted to her face, slowly nearing his. His breath hitched. This was some sweet dream. He would awaken in his tent, frustrated and wanting, would take himself in his hand and relieve himself to the sight of her like this in his mind’s eye. He would wait until next Thursday and slink back to the bar, eager for more. Her lips touched his and he sighed into her mouth, whiskey on his breath. He would stay asleep forever, if he could, lips pushing against hers, nipping at her soft skin, tonguing past it. 

She parted from him, gently, as if to not scare him off. He breathed heavily, eyes lidded, vision tunneled onto her mouth. She started to speak, but he cut her off, pushing hungrily into her, cupping his hand around the back of her neck. He had waited so long, so long. He would take it, even if it wasn’t real. 

She gasped into his mouth and he almost moaned at the sensation. God, what a privilege to finally have her all to himself. To have her in front of him, touching him, kissing him, instead of with her crowd, Arthur by himself at the other end.

Her knees buckled, falling back onto the bed. He huffed, breaking from her. He thrust his hands beneath her thighs, hearing her squeak in surprise. “Easy, girl.” he muttered under his breath, picking her up and tossing her into the pillows at the head of the bed, following soon after. 

He climbed onto the bed above her, and stilled, looking down at her. Her hair had spilled out of its updo, hair piece having been discarded… at some point, perhaps before they had even entered the room? His memory felt hazy. She looked up at him through her lashes, her lips parted, chest heaving. His eyes softened. “Yer beautiful, miss,” he whispered her name. 

Her cheeks flushed prettily. “Thank you, Arthur.” she breathed. She tilted her head up slightly, her eyes slipping down to his lips. 

He reached out, taking a piece of her hair between his fingers, twisting it around. It was soft. Of course it was. It was devastating how perfect she was. “I liked your song, earlier.” he mumbled, focused on her hair. 

“I… I’m glad.” she whispered, her hand winding up his arm, to his neck, to his head, to take off his hat. She placed it down somewhere, and her hand soon wound its way into his hair, her short nails scraping at the back of his head. His eyes slipped closed, humming at the sensation. “I was hoping you would be here, tonight.”

He blinked open his eyes just enough to see her face. “What?” he asked, his voice gruff. 

She averted her gaze, blush deepening. “Been lookin’ forward to seein’ you at my performances.”

He scoffed. Now he knew this was a dream. “Uh huh.” He leaned in, burying his nose in her neck. “You don’t gotta lie t’me.” He turned, placing open-mouthed kisses along any skin he could find. Her breath hitched in his ear. 

“I-I’m not.” she insisted. He hummed, laving across a section of skin before taking it between his teeth, sucking slightly. She held her breath for a second, forcing out her next words. “I been… been dreadin’ the day you stop showin’ up,” she breathed out, “and I’d have missed my chance.” 

He parted from her, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. They were lidded, but earnest. He felt his heart flutter in his chest. “I counted at least ten other men better-lookin’ and closer in age t’you. Yer tellin’ me not one o’ them caught yer eye?” 

“‘S that really so hard to believe?” she palmed his cheek again, stroking it with her thumb. 

“Yes.” he laughed dryly, but leaned into her hand all the same. 

She brought up her other hand, cupping his face. “Look how sweet you are, baby.” she cooed, bringing his face closer to nuzzle her nose against his. “What a cutie-pie!” she teased.

His eyes softened, tracing the features of her face. He wished he could pause time, sketch her in his journal. He’d just have to memorize how she looked, and try his best to replicate it later. Once he woke up, of course. From this dream.

She connected their lips and he groaned, not expecting the sudden contact again. Her hands moved from his face to wrap around his neck and scratch at his shoulders. It felt like she was sucking him in, how truly he could not pull away. 

He rubbed his hand up her thigh, pushing up her long skirt. Her skin was smooth under his rough hand, moving up to grab at the soft flesh of her ass, squeezing and pulling her up towards him. She arched slightly, and he grabbed his other hand behind her waist to pull her closer, closer still. 

Her breasts brushed against his chest, her nipples stiffening through the thin fabric. He nudged her head to the side with his nose, moving to kiss down her neck. She sighed in his ear, her hands busying themselves with his arms and shoulders. Drink made him sloppy in his movements, his tongue wetting her neck and chest as he made his way down to her breasts. He didn’t bother to tug the fabric down, instead mouthing over her nipple through the fabric, flattening and swirling his tongue into the mound. 

She whimpered, her hand moving up to tug at the hair on the back of his head, her other moving down to tug her shirt down under her tits. He parted from her while she did so, unable to help the smirk twisting his mouth at her desperation. 

“You like that, doll?” he muttered, taking in the sight of her bare breasts, her shirt bunched up underneath them. 

She stuttered out a response, arching up towards his mouth. Seeing her like this sent a surge of confidence through him. She was his. No one else downstairs got to see her like this. Just him. Only him. He brushed his lips against her nipple, watching her try to push into his mouth. 

He smiled against her, and she whined, tugging his hair. “Don’t tease me, Arthur.” she breathed. Fuck. He took it into his mouth, his hand encircling the other, twisting and toying with it. He would give her anything she wanted if it meant she would say his name like that again. 

He dragged his mouth down, not missing the soft moan she gave at the loss, cool air ghosting over her wet nipple. He kissed down her stomach, moving his hands down underneath her thighs, pushing them up, up. 

He bunched her skirt around her, and pulled back. His eyebrows jumped up his forehead in surprise. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. He looked up at her. 

Her face was reddened with embarrassment, her hands covering her cheeks. 

“Care to explain this?” he teased, running his hands down her thighs, closer, closer. 

She bit her lip. “I…” she looked away. 

He tilted his head, indicating he was waiting. 

“I… did say I was hopin’ to see you tonight, didn’t I?” she laughed breathily. 

His chest rumbled in approval, looking down at her exposed cunt, already wet without him touching it. “All this…” he drawled, glancing up at her, “for me?” 

She nodded, hiding slightly behind her hands. 

“Too kind to me, sweetheart,” he lowered himself, breathing her in. He kissed her thigh, feeling her twitch. “You shouldn’t have…” his breath ghosted between her legs, and she shuddered, anticipation building. He placed a few more open-mouthed kisses inside her thighs, feeling her arch into him, growing desperate. He took pity. 

Gripping her soft thighs in his hands, he licked one long stripe up her slit, gathering her wetness onto his tongue. She gasped, tightening her legs. He forced them open, holding them up. “Be good, princess, or I won’t be good to you.” he admonished, kissing her thigh. 

She shuddered. “Shit, yes, sorry yes, please, I’ll be good, please,” she breathed, trying to wiggle closer to his mouth. 

“Good girl,” he praised, flattening his tongue against her clit, lapping at it softly. She cursed, her hands fisting the bedding. He laved up her slit, once, twice, three times, before closing his lips around her bud, lightly sucking it in and swirling his tongue around it. 

“Fuck, Arthur,” she gasped, and he groaned against her, working his tongue inside of her, circling the entrance before pushing in, lapping up at her walls. He smoothed his hand up her thigh, reaching her clit with the rough pad of his thumb. He pressed gentle circles into it, his tongue spreading into her. She hissed, bucking into his ministrations. 

He pulled away, sliding his thumb down from her clit to her entrance, gently working his way inside. 

“Arthur…” she whined. 

“Yeah?” He teased, mimicking her tone, pushing his thick thumb further inside of her. 

She moaned, pushing herself onto him. “Arthur, please, I need more,” she breathed, meeting his gaze. “I need you .” 

He felt himself throb against his already-strained pants. He cursed under his breath, moving to unbuckle his pants. In his tunnel vision, he didn’t see her move from her position on the bed. 

Her hand came to rest over where his struggled with the buckle. “Let me, baby.” she cooed, moving his hands away. He blinked, letting her move him, watching her smaller hands undo his belt, working his pants down, taking him… oh. She took him out, palming his length. Shit, it looked bigger in her hand. Or maybe he hadn’t been this worked up in awhile. She ghosted her hand up and down, barely fluttering her thumb over the tip. His breath hitched, trying not to buck up into her hand, and failing, miserably. 

She grinned, looking up at him through her lashes. He reached out, stroking her cheek with his hand. “Hey, girl.” he breathed shakily, her hand jerking up suddenly. 

She giggled. “Hey, yourself, handsome.” 

He flushed, suddenly embarrassed to be on the other end. He looked away, only for a moment, before feeling a warm wetness engulf him. He gasped, whipping back to look down at her, half of his length having disappeared into her mouth. “Shit, darlin’,” he cursed, his accent dragging at the words. He bucked up into her lips, smoothing his thumb across her cheek. 

She hummed, the sound sending vibrations into him. “God, sweetheart, you’re bein’ so fuckin’ good to me right now,” he hissed, his hand reaching underneath to cup her jaw, squeezing it and guiding himself further in. 

She opened her mouth wider to take him. “Christ, you’re perfect,” he groaned, feeling her tongue slide up, her hand taking what her mouth couldn’t. 

She pulled off of him, kissing his tip, pumping her hand over the slick she had left. His breath shuddered. She smiled up at him. “You want more?” 

“God, yes.” he pushed her back onto the bed, muscling her onto her stomach, ass in the air. She squeaked in surprise, and he palmed her ass, squeezing it open to get a better look. God, she was practically dripping for him. He bit his lip, groaning. He rubbed himself up her slit, gathering the wetness there, rubbing it onto himself. “All this for me, darlin’?” he whispered, squeezing her hip. 

She wiggled herself back, trying to take him in. “Fuck, Arthur, it is, please, just fuck me already,” she whined, his tip sliding just past where she wanted him. 

“If the lady insists,” he teased, aligning himself with her, before softly, gently, pushing into her. 

She turned her face into the mattress, moaning, grabbing at the covers. “ Jesus, Arthur.” she groaned, her words muffled. 

He pressed in further. Halfway. “Can’t hear you, doll.” It was taking everything in him to go so slowly. 

She turned her head to the side, pushing back to take more of him in. He hissed, his hands twitching on her ass, squeezing her. 

He let out a breath, finally fully seated. He didn’t want to hurt her, he couldn’t. He gyrated against her, desperate for some kind of friction. A whine built in his throat. “Can-” 

Before he could ask, she forcefully pushed back into him, and he cursed, abandoning all hesitation and fucking into her. She cried out his name, arching against him. She was so tight and hot around him, her ass bouncing back against him with every thrust. It was all he could do to keep himself standing, his vision focused solely on where their bodies met. 

“Ar-thur,” she gasped, her breath shuddering, “God, God, you’re so big Arthur, Jesus Christ,” she moaned, her words starting to devolve into sounds with no meaning. 

He kept himself rooted deep within her, barely pulling out before slamming back in again, and again, and again. Her hands grasped for purchase anywhere, everywhere, on the bed, moaning noises that almost sounded like his name, pushing back into him with every thrust. 

Shit. Shit. He screwed his eyes shut. He wasn’t sure he could last much longer. 

“Miss,” he breathed her name. “I, shit, I-” he grabbed her thighs, his fingers bruising in their pressure, forcing her back into him. 

She whined at the pressure, growing limper. 

“Fuck! Fuck,” he yanked himself from her, grabbing at himself and finishing on her back. 

She had collapsed into the bed, giving a small satisfied moan. He breathed heavily, immediately grabbing a towel from the closet and cleaning her off. “S-Sorry, Miss.” he caught his breath, “Should’ve grabbed the towel before doin’ that on you.” He discarded the towel, placing a small kiss on her back, then immediately wondering if that was too much.

“What?” she said, muffled a bit by the covers. She turned, pushing herself up to sit and look at him. She frowned, reaching out and cupping his cheek. “You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for, cowboy.” Her frown twisted to a smile, “I oughta be thankin’ you for such a nice time.” she teased, pinching his cheek.

He suddenly grew bashful, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’ know about all that, but I definitely am thankin’ you.” Her face was flushed, her eyes bright, her lips slightly swollen… he had so many things to remember for his journal. “Best dream I’ve had in awhile,” he mumbled, moving to get under the covers. 

She joined him. “Dream?” she laughed, “You still drunk enough to think you’re dreamin’?”

He shrugged, opening his arms. She shifted into them, laying her head on his chest. “Could be stone cold sober and still think this was a dream.” He pecked her head. “I’ll miss you in the mornin’, girl.” 

She snorted, but snuggled into him anyway.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Arthur groaned, the light only hitting his closed eyes, but giving him a headache all the same. His back didn’t hold the ache it usually did, though, laying on this terrible cot. It was the small victories, he guessed.

He thought back to his dream last night, and sighed wistfully. What he would give to have that right now, his cock painfully hard this morning. He forced himself to sit up, rubbing at his eyes. 

A hand reached across his stomach, ghosting against his length. He jumped, looking over to his side. “Well, good morning to you, too.” she yawned, lightly playing with him, a teasing look in her eye. 

He blinked. He squinted.

He rubbed his eyes again.

“Holy shit.”

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Bonus

The woman placed the guitar against the wall, happily engaged in conversation with some of the patrons closest to her stage. “Excuse me,” Charles butted in, stealing her attention from them. 

She turned to him, confused, but polite. “Yes, sir?”

He smiled kindly. “I’m sorry, Miss, but could you do me a favor?”

“Depends on the favor, don’t it?” she laughed.

He nodded in understanding, and pointed to Arthur, hunched over the bar. “Do you see that miserable man over there?” She looked, and stiffened in recognition. “He has been coming to this saloon every Thursday night, just for you.” he turned to her. 

A blush painted her cheeks. “You’re kiddin’.” she laced her fingers together nervously. “He’s never said anything to me.”

Charles shook his head. “My friend—he is shy with women.” he leaned in conspiratorially, “Especially women he likes.” The woman’s blush deepened, her gaze darting over to Arthur. He straightened up. “All I ask is that you talk to him. I’m afraid my friends and I have ruined his Thursday, and I’m sure that would cheer him up.”

She looked up at him, her eyes dancing. He could tell why Arthur was so taken with her. “He sounds sweet,” she spoke softly. “I would love to.” 

He thanked her, watching her make true on her word and walk over to Arthur. Charles noted his reddened ears and fumbling fingers and smiled. Hopefully, this would make up for it.

[lesbian-for-arthur-morgan]

How they react when you first join the Van Der Linde gang

How does the gang react when you first join them at Horseshoe Overlook (Fluff)  Featuring: Arthur, John, Dutch, Javier, Charles, Sean, and Sadie  Warnings: None 

AN: First time posting headcanons in a really long time, forgive me if I’m rusty  ---> Requests open! Check out the guidelines if you have any questions

<><><><>

Arthur Morgan:

Arthur is really wary of you at first, but honestly was probably the one that found you and brought you to the gang

He trusted you just enough to show you to their hideout, but not enough to take his eyes off you for more than about two seconds while you were there

Kind of like what happened with Kieran, once you do something to save his hide he trusts you much easier and can settle down a little bit

He still finds himself constantly watching you, maybe for a different reason this time though

He is a little standoffish with you for a while as you get settled - he’s so busy running errands for everyone else that he doesn’t have much time to sit down and really get to know you

There is one night, though, when he’s actually back at camp and sitting around the campfire with the group and you

He sees you joking around with Lenny and singing with Karen and he gets a warm fluttery feeling in his chest. He’s suddenly really happy that you joined them and even happier that you seem to belong

After that night, he finds every opportunity he can to involve you in his own little tasks for the camp. He’ll take you on his fishing trips, little bounty hunts, and whenever he’s going to another town on “business”

He likes it when you’re around and starts doing more chores close to camp so he can see you more often

John Marston:

John did not care at all when you joined

Like, didn’t even notice you until almost a week later

He sits down next to you at the table one morning, you let out a quiet ‘mornin’ and he grunts in response. It took him a moment but he did a double take and realized you were not an original member of the group

He sputters and coughs, panicking as he looks around to see if anyone else is reacting to your being there

Miss Grimshaw walks by and smiles at you, “Good Morning!” And suddenly he feels like the biggest idiot in the world

You’d think that as an outlaw he would be way more observant of the people he surrounds himself with, but half the time that man is just drifting through the days

He runs away from you after that, and avoids you for a few more days. He’s more embarrassed than anything - he tries to ask Arthur about you, but Arthur starts teasing him for not noticing sooner

He starts keeping tabs on you from a distance. Not in a creepy way, but he’s trying to figure out when the best time to reintroduce himself is. First impressions and all that

After a few more days of sulking, he’ll come over and hold out his hand: “John Marston, nice to meet you.”

You laugh, it makes him blush a little since he feels foolish still, but you take his hand and shake it. A spark shoots up his arm at the contact which makes him blush harder

He warms up to you eventually and a crush blossoms as he does

Dutch Van Der Linde:

When he first meets you, all he sees is potential. Whether you’re charismatic, sneaky, or strong he has a use for you and that’s all he cares about

He immediately sends you off on some little mission with one of his men to see how it goes. He basically throws you to the wolves and if you have any questions or concerns he’ll convince you that it’s just that he trusts you so much he knows you can do it without someone holding your hand

You eat it up

He praises you every time he sees you walking by in camp, but his compliments don’t really hold any weight at first. He doesn’t know you well enough to pull on the heart strings that matter, he’s just charismatic

One day he notices you hanging around his tent more often than usual, pacing around and glancing over at him every now and then. He eventually calls you over to ask what’s on your mind

You tell him you got wind of a man coming through town who’s known for scamming. You tell him you had a plan to scam him back and get whatever money he had been gathering from weeks on the road

It’s like he sees you in a new light. He declares that you’re his new favorite gang member and offers to move your cot into his tent with him - just to keep your clever mind safe with all those plans and all

Whether you take him up on it or not is up to you, but after that day he is constantly chatting you up every chance he gets

The man is easily wooed by a get rich quick scheme

Javier Escuella:

Javier was probably the first one to introduce himself when you were brought to camp. I feel like he is definitely the one who gets along with new people the fastest in the group

He offers to help you unpack your things (if you brought any, if not you just kind of look around like “what things, sir?”) and set up your own little space to sleep. You have the option of bunking with someone else in the group - like him, for example - or making your own space

Your laugh is the best thing he’s ever heard in the entire world, and suddenly his knees are jelly and his stomach feels hot. Javier is as charismatic as Dutch for sure, but cares about the people around him way more which makes him act a little nervous sometimes

You make him nervous

But in that good I’ve-got-a-crush kind of way that’s really a nice comforting anxiety

He is at your beck and call at any given moment. 3am and you heard a coyote and got nervous? He is checking the perimeter to make sure those nasty beasts don’t get anywhere near you, even if he isn’t the one on watch

If you have sub par survival skills because you haven’t lived off the land like he and the gang have, he is there to teach you. Or really do everything for you so you don’t have to lift a pretty little finger

Dutch had to have a talk with him about spoiling you after a week or two living with the group. He simply told Dutch he was making sure you felt welcome and safe with them

Charles Smith:

Charles is kind of assigned to keeping an eye on you by Dutch. He is a little reluctant, he’s used to being able to go where he wants when he wants without having a shadow comping around after him. He gets used to you after a while, but when you get a little too noisy when he’s hunting or trying to sneak around he gets a little frustrated

He feels like he’s babysitting at first

You’re just so new and don’t understand everything immediately. He’s a great teacher, don’t get me wrong, but he isn’t always in the mood to tutor someone in every little thing he does. Sometimes he just wants to do what he does best without explaining every step along the way

One day he begs Miss Grimshaw to tell you that she needs your help doing chores around camp just so he can have a moment without you asking a million questions over his shoulder

The first hour is nice, serene even, but then it gets lonely. It’s too quiet without you. Charles got used to you being behind him and he even finds himself missing your chattering

At one point he sees these two birds fighting over a herring on the shore of the river and while they’re distracted a little rat comes by, scoops it up, and scurries away before the birds notice. His first instinct is to turn and ask you if you saw that and laugh about it, but you aren’t there

He’s so lonely without you that he cuts his solitude trip short and comes back to camp with two rabbits and a fish as spoils. It’s so unlike him that Pearson asks what’s up with the light load, but Charles ignores him and goes searching for you - he has so much more he needs to teach you if you’re going to stay with them at the camp

Sean MacGuire:

Depending when you come around, you’re either there right before he gets back to the group or right after being held in Blackwater

Either way doesn’t really matter, he has a quick reunion with this friends from before and when he gets to you he has a whole “hold up” moment. A new attractive face in the group is very interesting news to him

He is all over you at first asking a thousand questions a minute. Are you an outlaw? Are you running away from something or someone? Who’s your dad, does he want a son-in-law? All sorts of questions out of this guy’s mouth

Arthur practically drags him away by the collar of his shirt and warns him to behave

He approaches you while you’re sitting around the fire later that night and offers you some whiskey. If you take it, he’ll teach you some drinking game he is making up on the spot just to impress you and get you to loosen up a bit

After a few days, he notices you starting to sulk a little when it gets later in the day. During the times you aren’t actively doing a task, there’s a bit of a frown etched onto the side of your face and he asks you if you’re doing okay

You tell him you’re homesick and he’s able to relate to you immediately - even though he ran away from home there are times when it’s all he can think about and how things might be different if he had stayed. Ultimately, though, all you can do is remember the past and focus on the present

He tells you as much, and lets you go on and on about your home while occasionally interjecting a joke here and there to get you to smile again

He successfully lifts your mood and it becomes routine to sit by the fire and swap stories back and forth into late night as you get to know each other

Sadie Adler:

Sadie is the newest member of the group before you, so she knows exactly what you’re feeling. Does she do anything about it at first? Nah

She relates, but feels like the best thing for her to do is let you work through your issues on your own. She did. I mean sure she had Abigail to lean on for a little bit and Arthur was really patient with her, but you would be fine

Thinking about it, maybe it would be better if she talked to you about what you were feeling and all that sort of stuff

Sadie is weird with emotions, especially after what happened with her husband. She just kind of feels like they can get too intense and tries to stay out of other people’s business if she can

She does take some pity on you though as you struggle to connect with some of the other members. They’ve known each other for years, how were you supposed to relate to them

She starts off having short quick conversations with you at first. Then slowly she’ll start learning things about you and what your story is. She’s drawn to your personality (once she starts seeing it) because she loves how strong you are after everything you’ve gone through and she even finds herself laughing at your jokes every now and then

Eventually the two of you are like two peas in a pod - Thelma and Louise, Bonnie and Clyde. You are partners in crime

It gets to the point where Dutch will see one of you and ask “Where’s the other one?” Which, of course, the other one is never far behind. It’s endearing and also a little annoying for him. He’ll try to send you somewhere, tell you it’s a one man job, and still every time without fail you’ll find a reason to bring Sadie along with you

“I needed someone to watch my horse while I was working in town!”

Yea okay, he doesn’t even bother arguing anymore

<><><><>

Thanks for reading! I’ll get better the more I write I promise

[hihomeghere]

Little Things | Arthur Morgan / F!Reader

Word Count : 2k Warnings/tags : Slight somnophilia (reader wakes up), dubious consent, reader gave consent at an earlier time, unprotected piv, cursing, creampie, undressing Summary : Arthur returns from a successful job, and wants nothing more than to bury himself in you

Arthur couldn’t help but enjoy the little things in life. With the life he had, he didn’t have much to enjoy. Coyotes yipping across the plains, Violet snowdrop growing along the side of the trail. The serenity of an early morning sunrise, when the golden rays peak above the horizon, slowly catching everything aflame with its bright light.

On the other side of the coin, he was equally taken by the gentleness of the night sky. Stars speckled across the black expanse like they were left by a flicked paintbrush.

Riding home had also become one of his most treasured times. The anticipation of seeing you again, after being on a job for who knows how long. It didn’t matter if it was only a couple hours or a couple days. The thought of returning to you always sent a pleasurable tingle up his spine, and butterflies fluttering in his gut. Maybe it was because he knew how much you enjoyed the little things as well. How you’d greet him once he returned to whatever camp they currently resided in. Open armed and more likely than not, spread legs. To say it was always a warm welcome would not be doing you any justice.

You were so eager, pliant as he towered over you. Your hands, so soft and gentle as they removed his hat. Then moving to his suspenders, sliding them off his shoulders. His shirt was next, pushing the buttons through the eyelets, before it too was pulled off his body. The gun belt followed, set carefully off to the side, he worked on slipping out of his boots as you did this. The way you two moved together was like a well oiled machine. There was no need for words between the two of you. You knew each other so intimately, inside and out. But working together for years will do that, even if you had mainly given up on pulling heists. You were more than content to stay near camp, or whatever town was closest.

Although Arthur had to admit he missed when it would just be the two of you on a job. The thrill of a job well done flowing through your veins, sleeping naked under the stars, not having to worry about staying quiet.

But he didn’t blame you for not wanting that part of the life anymore. After a too close call which had left you nearly bleeding out as he rode as fast as he could back to camp, you had all but retired. Dutch would never have allowed a full retirement.

Arthur could see the line of trees leading to Shady Bell, that familiar tug in his stomach as he spurred his horse forward. If he had any dignity left he would have felt like a fool with how big of a smile split his face as he hitched his mare. Slipping her a sugar cube for a job well done before heading towards the house.

The fire was slowly dying, hot embers sizzling out. The only other noise was the snores of the other gang members. He made his way into the house, slowly shutting the door behind him. He tried his hardest to creep quickly and quietly up the stairs to your shared room. The door hinge whined as he pushed it open, wincing slightly as he shut it behind him.

There you were. Laid out in the bed, fast asleep. Your hair spread out against the pillow like a halo. Your chemise riding up your thigh, showing off a delicious amount of skin.

By now, Arthur was painfully hard, palming himself through his pants as he stepped closer. He toed off his boots, setting his hat down on a table nearby. He would have much rathered you undressing him, but he would have to settle for doing it himself. He shoved his suspenders off before his gun belt fell to the floor with a thud.

You stirred slightly, your brows pinched in an adorable expression. Obviously annoyed by the noise disturbing your peaceful slumber. He felt a twinge of guilt, he shouldn’t disturb you. It wasn’t often that you were actually at peace, only when you were asleep. You had been sleeping deeper ever since the gang settled here. The walls of Shady Bell offered you and its inhabitants more security than the canvas of a tent.

But you were so pretty, so soft and all his. You wanted this, his cock twitched at the memory. You had told him that if he ever returned when you were asleep, to take what he needed. He had never done it yet, something about it made him feel wrong, dirty. He would never do anything to take advantage of your trust or to harm you.

Your leg slid up further on the bed. Almost like you were subconsciously spreading your legs for him. His eyes went straight to your core, his knees almost buckling at the sight of your wet cunt. No bloomers. If that wasn’t a silent invitation he didn’t know what was.

He moved quickly, stumbling out of his pants. He was surprised he hadn’t ripped the buttons off his shirt with how hard he had janked them through the eyelets.

He was painfully hard, standing over you with his cock in his hand, red and leaking precum. You let out a soft sigh, your lips parting slightly. Any resolve that he had been holding onto was long gone. He knelt down on the bed, crawling towards you. His calloused hands moving up your calf and thigh, lifting the bottom of your chemise over your stomach. He slid his hands back down your belly to your core, running his finger through your folds before settling on your clit. He didn’t necessarily want to wake you, and if he did, he wanted you to awake to pure pleasure. He gave the slightest bit of pressure with his thumb, gently circling it. A small huff leaving your lips. His eyes flicked from your face to your pussy, unable to decide which one he wanted to watch more. He slipped one finger inside your heat, his lips quirked up as he watched your brows pinch together. He curled his index finger, rubbing up against your walls. A small moan left your lips, his cock twitched against his belly. He let out a small groan pressing his hips down onto the sheets, looking for any source of stimulation he could find. Not wanting to touch himself just yet, wanting to drag out your and his pleasure as long as possible.

He added another finger, licking his lips as he inched closer to you. If only he could move you to your back and bury his face into your cunt. But right now he needed you. He started to scissor his fingers inside you, making sure you were stretched out enough for him. Although with how wet you were and the soft sounds of pleasure leaving your lips, he was sure you were ready.

He withdrew his fingers from your cunt, smirking as you frowned, moving your hips up to try and follow his hand. “Give me a second darlin’.” He whispered, coating his dick with your slick. Pumping himself a couple times before spreading your legs a bit wider so he could fit between your legs. He bit his lip as he notched the head of his cock at your entrance, trying to stifle the groan working through his chest. Slowly he pushed in, your wet warm heat enveloping him.

Arthur was sure this was the closest to the pearly gates he’d ever get. His eyes squeezed tight as it took him everything not to blow his load right then and there.

“Arthur?” You gasped, a soft noise that had him squeezing your hips with a vice like grip.

“It’s me, sweetheart.” He said, his lips brushing against your ear as he leaned over you. Sheathing himself inside you completely, his pelvis pressed against your ass.

“Arthur.” You preened, pushing back against him.

“Missed ya, girl.” He huffed, withdrawing his cock before thrusting back inside you. You let out a cry as his cock pressed up against that delicious spot.

“Ah-“ Arthur reached forward, covering your mouth with his hand to quiet your moan.

“Hush,” He groaned, leaving open mouthed kisses down your neck. You were trembling under him. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he snapped his hips into yours. “Can ya be a good girl and stay quiet?”

You nodded, whimpering against his palm. The smell of gunpowder and leather filling your senses, only heightening your pleasure. You bit your lip as he moved his hand lower, gently applying pressure to your neck. You whimpered as your body buzzed with pleasure, his cock rubbing up against your silken walls.

“Yeah, my good girl.” You could practically feel the way his chest puffed up with pride. You were dangerously close to the edge.

“I’m gonna-“ You whined, fisting the sheets beneath you.

“Gonna cum?” He smirked, his hot breath fanning against your shoulder. “Go ahead darlin’.”

Stars danced behind your eyes as you gushed around his cock. Your whole body trembling as your orgasm washed over you in waves. “F-fuck!” You hissed, biting down on your lip as you tried to keep quiet.

Arthur’s chest rumbled with a low chuckle as he looked down at you. Before it was replaced with a groan as you clenched down on him.

“Shit- I ain’t,” he hissed through gritted teeth, “ain’t gonna last long if ya keep squeezin’ me like that.” His breath fanning across your cheek. You mewled pathetically, unable to stop the whine that left your lips.

He grabbed your hips, pulling you up onto your knees. You gasped at the sudden change in position. Your breath being thrusted out of your lungs as he pounded into you. The rickety bed frame whining under the movement of your two bodies. His large hands dug into your hips, bruises would no doubt be forming in their place by tomorrow morning.

“Take it-“ He huffed, sweat dotting his brow as he bit down on his lip. “That’s right- fucking take it.” He laid his hand between your shoulder blades, pressing you down into the mattress. He can feel your pussy fluttering around him, making him groan again. “Yeah, ya close girl?”

“Uh huh!” Your cry muffled by the blankets.

“Go on- go on and soak my cock.” He pants, his hips stuttering as he nears his own release, “Ya go and I’m goin’ with ya.” He warns, slamming his hips into yours over and over.

You fall over the edge, not worried about staying quiet anymore. Tears blur your vision as you tremble under him. Your whole body went limp as you clenched down around him.

His head fell forward, pressing his forehead against your back as his hips stuttered. Rocking into you one, two, three more times before he’s gone. Groaning out your name as his cock pulses inside you, his hips giving tiny jerks as he empties into you.

You let out a soft sigh, turning your head to look up at him. Pride swelling in your chest as you take in his disheveled appearance. His honey brown hair, like a curtain in front of his eyes. He shudders as he withdraws his hips, his release slowly dripping out of your puffy cunt.

You roll over onto your back, reaching up to brush his hair back. He takes in a deep breath, lazily smiling down at you.

“Job go well?” You asked softly, running your thumb over his cheekbone.

“Very well.” He chuckles laying down next to you. Wrapping his arm around your waist as he lays his head against your breast. Listening to the rapid beat of your heart.

“Good.” You smiled, running your fingers through his locks, “Good night honey.” You said kissing the top of his head before closing your eyes.

“Night darlin’.” He said softly, the sound of your thumping heart the perfect lullaby.

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

Gossip

Masterlist Word count: 550 Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Summary: You know that John likes you. You know that Arthur likes you. They know about each other, but the others don't. Gossip spreads and, what feels like a ticking time bomb, turns out to be unconnected. 

---------

'I don't think he knows,' Abigail says as she sits, knitting with Mary-Beth and Tilly while watching you and Arthur talk. John has gone out hunting with Charles to learn how to use a bow as he is useless with it. Arthur had asked Charles to do so but Abigail suspects he had other motives for getting John away from camp.  'I think he does,' Tilly argues with a grin, 'why else would he ask Charles? Everyone knows John is too impatient to learn how to use a bow.' She's got a point, Abigail figures.  Things had been weird ever since you joined the gang. Sadie had found you in Valentine and recognized you as an old friend. In fact, the friend who set her up with her husband. She told the others you seemed lost and needed some place where people have your back. Most were sceptical but your turned out to be a hard worker and a great hunter, bringing in huge game for the camp whenever you went out. Dutch had almost considered letting you take a wagon along so you could bring enough to sell it.  That great aim of yours also pulled in different attention. Both John and Arthur became more than smitten with your friendly and kind demeanour. Mary-Beth had suggested that Arthur liked you for your kindness and willingness to listen while John liked you for your viciousness and rough edges. Both great attributes that make you who you are.  'Well, either way, they're both fools,' Mary-Beth claims, ending the argument.  'Do you think she knows,' Tilly questions.  'For sure she knows,' Mary-Beth answers as all of them watch you gently touch Arthur's shoulder as he makes a joke not worthy of the laughter that comes out of you.  'She's really toying with them, ain't she,' Abigail grumbles. Despite liking you quite a bit, she fears what it might do to the gang if Arthur and John are pinned against each other. It's a bad predicament to be in and since the year that John left the gang is still a sore spot for Arthur, Abigail fears things might explode with the littlest of meddling. When her and John put an end to it, she was slightly relieved, but this is just insanity. 

'Do you think they know,' Arthur questions you. You shake your head with a grin.  'No, they probably think I'm hopping between you two. They wouldn't be gossiping about us as much if they knew.'  'Fair point.' He puts a gentle hand on your waist to pull you closer and watches at the jaws drop across camp.  'Are you trying to rile them up, cowboy,' you tease as you take a step closer to him. He shrugs. You roll your eyes and press a kiss to his jaw. 'Come on, let's go join Charles and John.' Arthur looks over at the women once more as he leans towards you.  'If only they knew about Charles.' You shove him away with a laugh.  'Oh, stop it. I liked you better when you were still being shy about liking me.' 

[strvberrydoll]

CRIMSON TRAILS

Summary: In 1899, with the age of outlaws drawing near the end, and the law ready to tear down the last remaining gangs, a mysterious runaway girl, alone and struggling to survive in the ever changing industrialized world, is rescued by the notorious Van Der Linde gang.

Under their protection she must navigate the dangerous life of the outlaw in the dying west, figuring out where her place and her loyalties lie. As the gang begins to crumble under the weight of their crimes, struggling to find their sense of freedom in this new civilized era, she finds herself, by some twist of fate, relying on a certain outlaw to survive as the two are faced with two choices: continue down to a path of revenge and destruction or break the cycle and fight for their redemption.

OR

A story in which John teaches you how to shoot and you aim straight for his heart.

cw: slow burn, enemies to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, tension, canon-typical violence, mentions of past abuse, no use of y/n, suggestive themes, smut, medium honor john marston, canon compliant, pre-canon, canon, fix-it, slight reader x charles (‘cause i love him so) more tags to be added

a/n: here we goo, a story about our beloved Rip Van Winkle !! this is a project I had in mind for quite some months but always shied away from it. This story will be quite long so brace yourselves it’s gonna be a long ride. The first chapter will be out in a week or so. I’ll try not to let too much time pass between each update but keep in mind i’m a uni student so it might take some time for certain heavy chapters. Let me know what you think !! and if I should make a taglist. This story will also be published on my ao3

Chapter 1: Running Gun | AO3 link

During a supply run in a nearby town you find yourself ambushed by a group of ruthless bounty hunters. Wounded and desperate you flee, finding refuge in an abandoned cabin, only to find yourself face to face with two outlaws. As your injury worsens you're left with a life or death decision: can you trust these wary men to help you, or will they be your downfall?

[johnpriceslamb]

𝓽 𝓱 𝓻 𝓮 𝓪 𝓭 𝓮 𝓭 𝓮 𝓵 𝓮 𝓰 𝓪 𝓷 𝓬 𝓮

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

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

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

🪡 𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓾𝓻 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓷,

“stand still!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🪡 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓮𝓼 𝓼𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓱,

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

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

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

But you? Something about you made him draw closer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pardon?”

“Nothing!”

🪡 𝓳𝓸𝓱𝓷 𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓷,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You ponder, “Well.. Do you want to?”

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

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

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

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

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

You can feel your hand tighten.

🪡 𝓳𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓮𝓻 𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓪,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Permiteme que, querida.”

[softanddarkk]

Linger - Charles Smith (rdr2) x fem reader

This is a pining Charles POV based on the song Linger, by the cranberries and has anyone ever asked for this ? No. But I wanted it, it’s fan service for me and me only and I enjoyed every second of writing it so if you want a part two please let me know.

Charles and the reader have been in love for years and they are so oblivious to it that it’s criminal!

Warnings; none really, angsty Charles, smutty themes if you squint

If you, if you could return

Don't let it burn

Don’t let it fade…

Charles had seen a lot in his twenty seven years on this earth - but nothing ever made his heart beat quite as much as that first glimps of you after a long raid or robbery. He had always been happy to bring back his share of loot from jobs; he had became a provider for the gang, known for his loyalty and hard work - he liked it.

He belonged, possibly for the first time in his whole life.

But when you joined the gang, his commitment to coming “home” (wherever that may be and for however temporarily) strengthened tenfold.

your smile, your eyes, your voice - the job was intense, everytime he left he knew there was a high chance he wouldn’t be coming back.

He had sat with this fact, weighed up his options - he could live with that.

Until you - he had been completely okay with the fact that he might not see his next sunrise.

But now he was greedy, Charles wanted more.

No longer living just to be alive, he wanted a future.

A future with you.

But the gated paddock with grazing horses and a baby in his arms that had his hair but your eyes, that just wasn’t an viable option, as much as he might want it.

And he did, he so desperately wants it.

You had once read him one of your fantasy romance books, a juvenile piece of literature that the girls had passed around and poured over.

And as you dramatically delivered the lines, punctuating sentences with your glorious laugh, he wondered - fleetingly and if just for a moment, if love like that could really exist.

But he knew it was futile. He was not your prince in shining armour - not the man you would imagine when reading those words.

Charles was cold, quiet, lacking in social skills.

And you were you, passionate and stronge, someone who the whole gang loved and doted on as much as you doted upon them.

You chatted to all of them, you had time for everyone, you were everything he could not be; warm, engaging, someone people came to for comfort.

He concluded that fairytales are just that, fiction.

I'm sure I'm not being rude

But it's just your attitude

It's tearing me apart

It's ruining every day…

It got to him, it really did.

Because as much as he wanted you, Charles just didn’t see a reality where he would ever be enough.

In some twisted way, he had to accept both what he wanted and what you deserved.

You had shared with him, one night after far too many beers at a camp celebration, that you dreamed of leaving this life behind one day, settling down, owning a ranch and having a family.

He had lay there the following morning, in his stiff cot and itchy sheets, solem with the realisation that his own past stuck to him like dry straw on honey.

He lost his mother at such a young age, and his dad too, emotionally at least, as a result.

He left any semblance of family behind that day that he fled, a thirteen year old boy with nothing to his name but grief and rejection.

How could he be a father when he had barely had one himself ?

Was he fated to repeat his own sires mistakes ?

Or could he be a good father, a dad even.

Could he raise his sons to be loyal, fierce but soft, teach them to fish and shoot their bow but also how to treat those around them with respect?

Could he raise his daughters to be independent and strong, yet caring and optimistic?

And then he found it all quite laughable; because who would want children with a man like him.

Accepting that he was too wound up to rest, he got out of his cot, made a coffee and started up the fire, waiting until the others woke up.

I swore, I swore I would be true

And honey so did you

So why were you holding her hand?

Charles was so secretive about the feelings he had developed about you that he genuinely believed nobody would ever catch a wiff.

But as Arthur watched his close friends troubled face, and followed his stormy gaze to find it locked on you - laughing with Sean over something he assumed was stupid and down right juvenile - he felt true empathy for his good friend.

Arthur knew Charles well enough to know that under that big bear of an exterior was a heart of gold.

Although a relatively new addition to the gang, in comparison to himself or John, Arthur trusted Charles, a luxury he offered very few.

Because of this, the two often went on excursions together - Arthur managing to learn little bits of trivia Charles would sometimes offer, leaving him to piece together an overall view of his lift before the gang and his character like a jigsaw puzzle.

Charles was by no means big on chat, but Arthur liked to think he had a pretty good perception of him by now.

Additionally, Arthur was not a stranger to the concept of unrequited love.

So he sat there on his bar stool, his friend looking off longingly into the abyss, and weighted up his options.

It surely wasn’t smart to poke Charles, the metaphorical bear, he should most certainly leave his observations for another day.

But it’s nearly midnight, he’s a good few whisky’s deep, and when has Arthur ever chosen the correct decision.

“You’re real sweet on her, huh”

Charles wakes out of his trance and multiple emotions drench over his face; the first of which being outright confusion.

The second coming later - but stronger than the first - Anger.

Maybe at his bold accusation, maybe at being caught out, Arthur neither knows or cares.

And then, as he opens his mouth to protest - causing Arthur to hold up his hand in defiance, the final emotion: defeat.

Charles looks into his glass as if searching for the key to Pandora’s box.

“Just go speak to ‘er” Arthur offers, jesturing to you, causing Charles to smack his hand down as if you would suddenly squire the gift of telepathy and know Charles deep dirty secret.

“I can’t Arthur” the words come out in such a crestfallen way Arthur almost wants to bring his friend in for a embrace.

Everything about tone, his choice of words, tells Arthur that this a conversation Charles has already had with himself frequently and his heart hurts for the man.

Arthur knows this thought process all to well, after all, he’s lived it himself. He knows there’s nothing he can say now, no words of comfort, that can fix Charles sorrow.

So he doesn’t say anything, he listens.

He listens as Charles tells him that he’s not good enough for you.

He listens as Charles tells him to how you want a future he can’t provide.

And he hears how much it’s pulling the man apart.

He orders himself and Charles another drink, and then listens some more.

Is that the way we stand?

Were you lying all the time?

Was it just a game to you?

The night Sean returned he danced with you.

The stars shone overhead and the fire cracks and whistled, competing with the sound of the gangs laughter and chatting.

Charles looked down to see that you were looking at him, really looking - and it made him feel sick to his stomach.

He could see there was so much behind your eyes, so many thoughts in that miraculous brain of yours, and the fact that he couldn’t decipher a single one of them made his insides churn.

Where you looking at his scar, wondering why you were dancing with such an ugly brute of a man?

Or where you simply imagining someone else in his space? Maybe Sean or John or even javier.

But when you speak, your words send him even further down a spiral.

“You’re so handsome, mr Smith”

The words, the look in your eyes as you say them, the naughty smirk on your lips - charles wasn’t sure if he believed in heaven anymore, and he knew with all certainty that after his actions he would not be allowed entry, but that nice it felt like he transcended up to the pearly gates and shook hands with everyone wholly up there.

But then he realises he’s said nothing, and it’s too late, your face has changed, gone the look of awe, replaced with something resembling embarrassment and possibly even a little rejection.

“Sorry, I’m really drunk” you laugh off, and maybe if you hadn’t looked away from him you would have seen the blush on his cheeks and his mouth open to tell you just how much he loved you, just how much your words meant to him.

Maybe if you hadn’t dropped his hands and gone back to the others, he would have kissed you right there by the camp fire, in front of everyone he cared about.

But that wouldn’t happen, not that night.

Charles would think your words were the result of your alcohol consumption, nothing else.

And you would think that Charles just didn’t feel the same way.

You’d both wake up the next morning with the memory of that encounter, but you’d both pretend you didn’t. It was a game you both played, denying your feelings for eachother while knowing that when you turned in for the night and got into your seperate cots you would both be thinking only of the other.

But I'm in so deep

You know I'm such a fool for you

You got me wrapped around your finger

“Can I braid your hair?”

A pointless question, Charles thought to himself. You could ask the man if he would load his own gun, turn it on himself and shoot and he’d do it without a please, thanking you for the command.

Anything for you.

Charles had injured himself in a raid, a silly mistake leading to him breaking a few fingers, nothing serious in the grand scheme of it all but still causing short term annoyance.

Due to this, his usual braid had admittadly become lose and somewhat of a disaster.

It wasn’t the first thing on his mind, but when you offered to help him, and the idea of you scraping your nails against his scalp was birthed into his brain, the chance to fulfil a fantasy was too hard to deny.

Scared of how his voice may come out if he used his words, he grumbled a response and sold it with a nod.

You took to work on his lengths, starting at the bottom and working your way up, a little too gentle for Charles liking if he was honest.

The idea of you pulling his hair had came across his thoughts, often late at night, but it was never accompanied by you both being fully clothed and his fingers being broken.

However when you reached his head and racked your fingers through his hair like a brush, he had to use everything in himself to fight the moans of satisfaction he wanted to release.

You chatted away to him the whole time and he tried to listen, he really did, but the combination of you being so close that he could smell you around him and your touch on his hair was ultimately distracting to say the least.

“Are you even listening to me?”

He wasn’t, he didn’t hear this, causing you to playfully tug, a little harder than expected by either of you, at his locks.

Charles made a sound he hoped he could pass off as a yelp, but that was really the result of his nightly fantasies of you peaking into reality in the strangest way possible.

“Sorry” you say, and it’s as if his groan did as much for you as your hair tugging did for him, but he couldn’t think about that without opening a box he had long decided to close, lock and bury deep.

So he went back to enjoying your touch, knowing that this might be the closest he ever got to you, and being okay with that.

If this was all Charles could have of you, at least he’d had something.

And surely something was better than nothing at all.

Do you have to let it linger?

Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger

[ahqkas]

Can I request kissing headcanons for Charles Smith and Arthur Morgan with gn!s/o please?

THE KISS OF LIFE ; arthur morgan & charles smith

PAIRING! arthur morgan x gn!reader, charles smith x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS! how his kisses constantly bring out the joy of life

RED DEAD REDEMPTION 2 MASTERLIST!

ARTHUR MORGAN IS A ROUGH MAN. Everyone knows. From the people he considers family to the strangers he meets on the streets. His shell is strong to keep him intact but even the strongest breaks.

To you, he’s hopelessly devoted.

His kisses carry the scent of nature - fresh pine, flowers’ scent. They also carry the spicy side as well - the smoke of cigarettes, the faintest hint of gunpowder. The characters of his kisses are the same. They can be gentle and sweet and they can be rough and desperate.

He’s a man of a few words, but his kisses show exactly what he wants to say. A kiss can communicate thousands of words.

A protective edge seeps to his kisses when he returns from a particularly dangerous mission, where his wits and strength were tested to the maximum. He’s gripping at your waist, thighs, and jaw that night as if reassuring himself he’s really there and you won’t just vanish into the thin air.

Life with the Van der Linde gang means moments alone are rare, especially with the noisy members. Arthur often steals kisses in hidden places or when no one’s looking. He doesn’t need to have Sean hanging on his shoulders, chuckling about forbidden love. But those kisses turn into something else quicker than anything when the moon is high enough on the dark sky. His affection is no longer timid but rather bold, messy kisses placed anywhere the skin of your body shows up uncovered by clothing. He’s making up for the times he couldn’t kiss you openly and he sure does know the way to convince you.

CHARLES, KNOWN FOR HIS CALM DEMEANOR, APPROACHES EVERY KISS WITH THE SAME THOUGHTFUL INTENSITY. When he’s kissing you, it feels like he’s truly present in the moment, giving you all of his attention and care. His kisses are slow. Each one a vow of loyalty and love.

The man’s kisses are often followed by the essence of nature as he’s always spending the time outside in the wilderness. There’s a distinct freshness to them, a mix of earth and pine. When his lips meet yours, it’s like suddenly being surrounded by the tall trees and growing plants. He’s always warm and inviting for you, and there’s a sense of peace that comes with every kiss, as if he’s sharing a piece of his own inner calmness with you.

He cups your face every time he kisses you with a gentle hand, his thumbs softly tracing your cheeks as his lips brush against yours.

However, when passion takes over, Charles’ kisses become more intense, more needy. His usually composed behavior crumbles and even through the thought of it seems scary, he doesn’t mind when it’s with you. He pulls you closer, trying to show you things he can’t say.

Regardless of the situation, kisses with Charles always leave you feeling cherished and loved. He has a way of making you feel like you’re standing on top of the world. Whenever it’s a soft peck on the forehead to soothe your worries or a passionate kiss that sets your heart racing, Charles enjoys all of it.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified.

[eveomo]

bounties and blessings - arthur morgan x f!reader

chapter 2 (SFW)

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ synopsis : after meeting a seemingly dangerous yet kind outlaw during a bounty, your world seems to get turned upside down after you can't seem to stop running into each other. could this be the beginning of something you've both been longing for?

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ warnings/tags : MINORS MAY INTERACT WITH SFW CHAPTERS (NSFW WILL BE TAGGED), depictions of violence, arguments, angst, eventual smut, unprotected piv sex, guns, gun violence, swearing, mutual pining, strangers to lovers, soft arthur, animal death, PTSD, mentions/depictions of abuse, attempted SA (very brief and for plot purposes only), NO PREGNANCY, NO BABIES, MC isnt a frail weak girl who constantly needs saving, often grammatically incorrect (probably)

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ contains : arthur morgan x f!reader, no use of y/n, reader changes the plot for the better

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ wc : 2.3k

About a week after your first encounter with the outlaw, you decided to make your way into Valentine, intent on picking up a few provisions from the general store—namely, coffee—while also taking the opportunity to visit the sheriff’s office in search of a new bounty. The weather stood in sharp contrast to your previous visit, with the sky darkening under the weight of the swelling clouds and a menacing raincloud casting a shadow over the landscape. Mud squelched under the hooves of your Arabian, the damp atmosphere wetting the earth below. 

Arriving in Valentine, a palpable sense of tension hovers in the air. You briskly hitch your horse, your eyes flicking around the street as you advance towards the general store. Your hat is lowered to obscure your eyes, and your dominant hand hovers over the holster at your hip, prepared for any confrontations. As you push open the door to the general store, you give a curt nod to the clerk and begin to browse the shelves. You quickly gather coffee, canned peaches, a pack of premium cigarettes, and, of course, apples for Lenora. As the clerk mutters the total, you barely register it, sliding the required amount onto the counter before turning and departing without a goodbye, your heart beating in your throat.

‘Why am I so anxious?’ you think to yourself, promptly deciding to seek refuge in the saloon for a drink or two to steady your nerves. It’s raining now, soaking your coat and sending an icy chill through your bones. You yearn for a drink to warm your insides and chase away the cold. Lost in thought, you suddenly notice a crowd gathering around the saloon. Intrigued, you quicken your steps to discover the cause of the excitement.

“Come on, pretty boy…” 

“Pretty boy? You’re kiddin’ me. Pretty boy?”

Ah. There he is again. Arthur. You weave your way through the crowd, keeping you hat pulled low to ensure your face remains concealed. A sharp intake of breath accompanies the sight of Arthur’s fist colliding with the larger man’s face—a solid, resounding blow. Watching in amusement, you hear multiple men cheering him on, seemingly from all directions. What once appeared to be a lone bounty hunter now seemingly revealed himself as a gang member, and a strange feeling settles in the pit of your stomach.

Your dominant hand instinctively drifts toward your holster, fingers hovering as the larger man grabs Arthur by the neck and slams him to the ground. He quickly pins him, pressing his neck down and holding an iron grip on his arm, dwarfing Arthur’s frame beneath his bulk. However, before he could land a single punch on Arthurs face, he breaks free using his free hand to swing a right hook into the bigger man’s jaw, the sickening crunch echoing through the street as the larger man crumples to the ground. You wince involuntarily, your hand brushing your own jaw as if soothing an imaginary pain.

A voice called out to Arthur, yelling “Put his face in the mud!”, and boy did he ever. You watch with a raised brow as he pins the man, his left hand tightening around the man’s throat as he rains down punches. For a moment, you consider stopping him, but the thrill of the flying blood and teeth is paramount. The man cries out in pain, a pool of blood collecting around his head as it pours from his many lacerations. Thankfully for him, a man runs up and grabs Arthurs arm, preventing him from throwing another punch.

"Stop! Stop! Please!" the man pleaded desperately, his voice cracking as he searched Arthur's eyes for a shred of mercy.

"Come now, sir, you've won the fight—surely that's enough?" His hands were raised defensively, as if to protect himself if Arthur decided he was next.

"What business is it of yours?" Arthur snarled, releasing the man, watching as he fell to the ground. With a dismissive shove, Arthur limped past him, making his way toward a storefront. The crowd, sensing the confrontation was over, quickly dispersed. You casually sauntered over to where Arthur had paused, leaning beside a nearby barrel as you struck a match to light your cigarette.

Sucking your teeth, you thought about how fortunate you were that your previous encounter with the outlaw had ended smoothly. Before Arthur could notice you, a man in a suit and top hat called out, his cheerful voice grating on your ears.

"Making new friends again, I see, Arthur." The man’s overly chipper tone made your ears ache. Arthur froze as the top-hatted man approached, accompanied by someone far better dressed. The newcomer's attire caught your eye, and after a moment's observation, you decided you didn't trust him. His thick, well-groomed mustache and surprisingly clean suit stood in stark contrast to the rougher looking men around him—definitely a gang member, but one who knew how to keep up appearances. 'Never judge a book by its cover,' you thought to yourself, taking another long drag of your cigarette.

"Look who we found sniffing about," the mustached man chuckled, gesturing toward the other man. He dipped into a bow as Arthur spoke his name, his southern drawl sending a shiver down your spine.

"Josiah Trelawny," Arthur said with a hint of amusement. "Well, well... I thought you'd gone to New York." Arthur finally straightened up, his hunched stance making your back ache just looking at it.

"And miss all this glamour?" Trelawny replied, eliciting a quiet chuckle from you. You flicked the butt of your cigarette to the ground, stamping it out with the toe of your boot as you struck another match to light a fresh one. Taking a long drag, you watched as Arthur approached the two men. The man you didn’t trust exuded charisma, making it clear he was likely the leader of their gang (if they're even in one). Arthur was undoubtedly some sort of right-hand man, and Trelawny, with his sly demeanor, must be their informant.

You turned your gaze away as they spoke in hushed tones, wrinkling your nose at the pungent smell of sheep shit that permeated the air, made worse by the rain. Your interest piqued as you caught sight of three more men approaching out of the corner of your eye. Trelawny was the first to speak.

"Ah, Javier and Charles. I've missed you... and Bill, looking well as can be." It quickly became clear to you that this was indeed a gang. You began to reconsider your impulsive decision to try and approach Arthur when the conversation was over, wondering if the risk was worth it. But against your better judgment, you stayed, lighting your third cigarette and watching as Arthur soothed his sore jaw, the men continuing their conversation.

The discussion soon ended, and the leader of the group told Arthur to go wash up. 'Perfect,' you thought as he made his way toward the barrel you were leaning beside. He didn’t even acknowledge you as he leaned over it, splashing his face with water to rinse away the dried blood and mud caked on his rugged features.

"Thought you were gonna lose for a second there, Arthur," you said, pushing off the wall with your foot and stubbing out your cigarette. The moment his name left your lips, he looked up, water dripping down his face.

"Gotta say, I prefer this look to the bandana or muddy face," you continued, hooking your thumbs into your belt as the slow recognition of who you were dawned on him.

"You again," he muttered, a dumbfounded expression crossing his face. You winked at him and gestured toward the saloon.

"Drinks? Or is it too soon for you to head back in there?" A small smirk appeared on his face before he nodded in agreement.

-

You and Arthur approached the bar, and you tossed two quarters onto the counter, requesting whiskey. The bartender quickly poured two glasses, condensation beading on the sides.

"Didn't think I'd see you again," Arthur said, studying you over the rim of his glass. He seemed intent on memorizing every detail of your face, for reasons even he didn’t fully understand—your eyes, your lips, the small moles on your skin.

"Hoped I wouldn’t," you joked, taking a sip of your whiskey. You raised an eyebrow as he continued to study you, causing him to quickly avert his gaze. "Were you hopin' you would?"

"Nah," he replied flatly, downing his glass and flicking another coin onto the counter. He scratched his stubble as he watched the bartender refill his glass with amber liquid.

"What brings you to Valentine?" you asked, pushing another coin toward the bartender as he refilled your glass as well. Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and turned to look at you.

"Could ask you the same. I’m just workin'," he said, pushing more coins toward the bartender. "Shots."

"Didn’t know bein' in a gang counted as employment," you mumbled under your breath, lifting your glass to your lips. Arthur raised an eyebrow, taking his shot and sliding the second small glass toward you.

"Now who said anythin' about gangs?" he questioned, wiping the corner of his mouth with his sleeve before taking his second shot. You took yours and chased it with more whiskey, the alcohol creating a much-needed warmth inside your body.

"I’m not dumb. An outlaw shows up in town, chats with his posse after beatin' a man into the ground—pretty obvious. Lucky for you, most people 'round here lack the intelligence to connect those dots." Arthur glanced around the room, taking a sip of his drink before responding.

"Fair enough. You never did say why you’re here, though," he remarked, a smile creeping onto your face. For a moment, you considered fabricating some grand tale about who you were and what you did. But instead, you opted for the truth.

"Bounties."

"All by yourself?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

You paused, inhaling as if to answer, but then you pursed your lips and took a shot instead. Not even liquid courage could make you tell him the truth. He may be an outlaw, but your story was a heavy one—too heavy, something that had driven away person after person, leaving you alone time and again. So you lied.

"Prefer it that way." Shifting uncomfortably in your seat, you ordered another round of shots as the world began to feel fuzzy. Arthur raised an eyebrow but pushed a coin onto the counter before your inebriated self could get the chance. You didn’t protest, instead downing your two shots back-to-back, watching as he did the same.

"Why are you in a gang?" you asked, turning the uncomfortable questioning back on him. He leaned back slightly, glancing at you before turning his gaze to the bar counter.

"Mama died and Daddy got hung. Didn’t have no other choice, really," he replied coolly, placing his hat back on his head—a clear signal that he was ready to leave.

"How long will y’all be around?" you inquired, but Arthur just shrugged, standing up and heading for the swinging saloon doors.

"See you around then, Arthur," you called after him.

He nodded once before stepping outside, the doors swinging back and forth as if beckoning you to follow. Instead, you slid more coins across the counter, requesting a room for the night. The bartender pointed you in the right direction, and you stumbled your way upstairs, collapsing onto the hard mattress that felt like a cloud in your intoxicated state.

Lying there, you couldn’t stop thinking about Arthur—his piercing blue eyes, the scar on his chin, the strength in his hands, the way he scratched his stubbled cheeks when deep in thought. Damn. How had you found yourself sweet on a man you’d only met twice?

-

Arthur Morgan found himself the target of lighthearted jabs around the campfire that evening. The teasing started innocently enough—John, with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, asked Arthur if he'd had a "romantic rendezvous" in town. Soon after, the others chimed in, with Javier playfully raising an eyebrow and claiming that Arthur must have found himself a "lady friend." Even Dutch, usually more reserved, joined in with a chuckle, suggesting Arthur might be going soft. Arthur, grumbling under his breath, shot them all a look that could cut through steel, but the good-natured prodding continued. Despite his attempts to brush it off, the image of you lingered in his mind, you sharp wit and piercing gaze far from forgettable. The more the gang teased, the more he found himself both irritated and amused, though he’d never admit to the latter.

"So, did you get lucky, amigo?" Javier asked, draping an arm over Arthur’s shoulder, the strong scent of alcohol on his breath mingling with the night air. Arthur chuckled, scooping another spoonful of stew into his mouth.

"Nah. Just talked," Arthur replied, trying to push thoughts of you from his mind. "How’d y’all even know?" He could already picture it—Javier, Charles, and Bill huddled near the gate, watching him converse with you.

"Bill spotted you on his way back to camp," Charles chimed in. "But hey, if you won’t take the plunge, we might," he added with a wink and a hearty laugh.

Arthur rolled his eyes, rising from his seat and heading towards his tent, ignoring the chorus of cheers and crude noises the trio made as he settled onto his bedroll. Once inside, he retrieved his journal from his satchel and began sketching you. He started with your hair, the way it fell over your shoulders, then moved to your hat, the brim that shielded him from your gaze, and finally, your lips.

When he finished, he tucked the journal away and snuffed out the cigarette he had been nursing during his sketch. Resting his head on his hands, he allowed himself to drift off to sleep, already anticipating your next fateful encounter.

finally out after 3 months sooooorry.... u can probably expect same timeframe for future chapters bc my life is hell right now ^_^

i added some dialogue from the actual game which was fun will def continue doing this.... YIPPEE i also tried a more descriptive writing style but lmk if its too wordy.....

hope u liked it!! pls like + reblog <3 ok baiii!!