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twola · 1 year

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Hey don't know if this one is up your alley but I was wondering if you could do one where the reader is a sharpshooter (kinda like Black Belle) and Arthur was originally gonna take her to the sheriff's but they end up getting caught up in a fight with the O'Driscolls and she saves his life, then que the enemies to friends to lovers lmao

Later on they meet again and take down a house full of lemoyne raiders, they both lay low for a while then smut ensues lol.

I'm bad at describing but you can put your own twist on it if you want, make it however long you want, don't matter I just love your writing ❤️❤️

Hoooooo’kay. So this is probably a bit harder than the original requestor was thinking, but I’ve written too many sweet one-shots recently. It’s time to get a little nasty.

Anything You Can Do

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Arthur meets his match in one of his bounties. His infuriatingly difficult match.

Curtis Malloy rolls his eyes as the gunslinger ahead of him inquires about the bounty poster tucked on the far corner of his desk. Of course, the man would ask about that one. A picture of a woman, of all things, wanted for murder, robbery, and theft. A woman with hard eyes but a pleasing face.

Wasn’t the first one to come askin’. The sheriff took the damn poster off the wall after men started dying when they went after her. He’d hear talk of fool-hearted bounty hunters heading north into Ambarino to find this lady to bring her in, only to end with lead between their eyes, floating down the Dakota River.

But this man, well, he’s been rather successful as of late - and Malloy knew that he probably ran in the same vein of people he was picking up. No loyalty to the trade, he guesses. And in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t any skin off of his nose. Would get the man out of his hair and stop begging for more folks to hunt. Give him more time to deal with this Moira situation…

“Supposed to be up campin’ by Window Rock. But she likely has the area booby-trapped. Startin’ to lose count of the men who’ve gone up there to get killed tryin’ to take in this little lady.” Malloy warns as he hands the poster to the man ahead of him. The man grunts, tucking away the poster in his brown leather jacket, nodding before exiting out to the street.

Malloy gives a look to one of his deputies across the room.

Both begin to laugh.

Arthur’s seen his fair share of women easily fend for themselves. He saw the way Black Belle could shoot - likely better than he could. He sure as hell wouldn’t want to meet Mrs. Adler in a dark alley. She’d likely stab him before he could get a hand on her.

This woman supposedly had a deadly shot - a pile of bounty hunters at her feet. He knew he wasn’t going to just walk up to the tent and threaten you. This required a bit more finesse.

But still, as he gazed through his binoculars at his prize, you certainly didn’t look like the woman people were talking about in Valentine. Fairly short in stature, long dark hair falling in waves over your back. Arthur raises an eyebrow when he notices your curves as you kneel on one knee at your campfire.

Nope, he definitely does not miss the way those trousers hug your form.

He also does not miss the revolver in the belt slung around your hips as you rise from the fire, stretching your arms above your head and yawning. He does not miss the fishing line taut along the ground, tied to a rock precariously perched on a tree branch. Obviously placed there to alert you of intruders. Several fellers likely met their end due to that fishing line.

Arthur circles the campsite at a wide angle, hidden by the shadows of the night. He takes his time hunting his prey, taking in the lay of the land around, noting your movements, and ways of egress - like stalking a deer, he has you in his sights and is damn sure of it before he makes his move.

That move being edging dangerously close, revolver drawn, and diving at you once you’re in distance to reach. Your breath is knocked from your lungs as his large form lands atop you on the hard ground, caging in your limbs beneath him. You squawk, in a rather undignified manner, as he holsters his own revolver and reaches into yours to draw it out, disarming you and tossing your revolver several feet away.

“Get your damn hands off me.” You spit, but alas, the way he has you pinned down, you’re unable to fight back. The strength of this man was frightening. If it weren’t for the damn noose you know is waiting for you at the end of this, you would be excited by how strong he is. He quickly and easily hogties you, leaving you cursing and sputtering on the ground as he whistles for his horse.

Once his mare has sidled up, he heaves you over his shoulder like a damn sack of potatoes, and you yelp in indignation as he tosses you over the rump of his horse.

A sack of potatoes with a very nice ass in those trousers.

Arthur blinks briefly before shaking his head, pulling himself up into the saddle. Just to cut back through Cumberland and to Valentine, then he’d get the pretty penny on this woman’s head. One of the larger bounties he’s seen, he has to admit.

“You lousy sack of shit, I wasn’t bothering anyone!” You yell from the rump of the horse.

“Ain’t me who decides your bounty, Miss-” Arthur simply replies, urging the mare into a trot, before you cut him off with a hiss.

“Say another word and I’ll geld you.” You interrupt before he can say your name.

“Sure, lady.” Arthur chuckles, knowing you wouldn’t be gelding anyone hogtied on the back of his horse, crossing the Dakota near Fort Wallace.

Blessed silence. For what seems like only a few moments.

“Since you know me so well, who the hell are you?” You ask, raising your head a bit.

“Now why would I tell you that?” Arthur chuckles, urging his horse southward on the road, deep into Cumberland Forest.

“I’d like to at least know the man’s name before I get fucked.” You retort, an even more sour tone in your voice.

“Arthur Morgan, my lady.” He replies, egging you on with the honorific, knowing you ain’t anything close to that, especially with the mouth on you. He’s about to stay something to prod you further when he hears voices up the road in the distance.

“Shit.” Arthur curses, as four green-sashed men crash through the trees. He immediately circles the horse to change direction as he hears a rider approaching on horseback, yelling at him.

Of course, O’Driscolls had taken up again at Six Point. Morgan, you idiot, you’re waltzing straight past them.

“Let me go and I can help you.” You call from behind him, trying to duck from whizzing bullets as much as your bindings would allow.

“Yeah, so you can shoot me in the back of the head too? Not a chance, lady.” Arthur retorts as he spurs his mare into a gallop, and you grunt as the wind gets knocked out of you from the jolting.

The O’Driscolls are in hot pursuit, the rider is joined by three others as Arthur pushes his horse back toward the Dakota, but with you slung over the back of her rump, he’s not able to urge his horse faster, not if he was going to get this bounty. Needed you alive.

He curses aloud as a bullet whizzes by his head on the right, and he turns the horse to the left, which was a poor decision as the mare reaches the cliffsides jutting up on either side of the Dakota, the river far below.

Pinned down along the face of the cliff, Arthur senses his horse getting skittish. Any more of this and the mare is going to buck him, and the bounty. He curses again as a bullet nearly hits his hat, sliding off the saddle and dragging you to the ground. You squeak with indignation until you hit the ground, groaning and cursing him. But to your surprise, he is unsheathing his knife and cutting the ropes at your ankle and wrists. You immediately scramble up and turn to him, smacking him hard across the face.

“Serves you right, asshole.”

“Y’done now, lady?” Arthur fumes, working his jaw as he reaches over your shoulder to grab the long guns from his horse’s saddles, before the damn thing spooks and runs away.

“If you wanna go with them, be my guest, but O’Driscolls don’t have a particularly good reputation of their handlin’ of women.” Arthur sneers at you, shoving a repeater at your chest, glaring before another bullet whizzes by and the both of you hit the ground out of sheer reflex.

You immediately open and close the lever to chamber a round, gritting your teeth. “This thing full at least?”

“Yes, your majesty.” Arthur retorts as he pulls revolvers from his belt, dual wielding as his mare screams and bolts for cover.

By the time the two of you rise, bullets fly and hit their targets, one O’Driscoll falling off his horse in a spray of blood to his chest, another gets shot in the head and his body limply clings in the saddle. Arthur runs across the open glen, knowing he’s a sitting duck in the wide open, and you dart in the other direction to the other treeline, quickly disappearing from sight.

Goddamnit. Of course you ran. Morgan, you’re even more of an idiot.

Arthur is fuming to himself so much so that he doesn’t hear the clicking of the revolver’s safety until too late, the steel of a barrel being pressed against the back of his neck.

“Drop 'em’.” The O’Driscoll threatens, and Arthur drops the revolvers in his hands, clattering to the ground as his captor pushes him forward, winding an arm around his shoulder and pressing the revolver further into his neck. They stop in the middle of the clearing.

“Think ol’ Colm misses ya, Morgan.”

Arthur scowls at the ground with the warm barrel of the gun against his neck, probably burning his skin. The O’Driscoll laughs behind him.

“You stop right there, you mick bastard.”

Your voice, high and sharp, cuts through the mountain air like a knife.

The O’Driscoll spins himself and Arthur around, forcing Arthur ahead of him to shield most of his body.

“C’mon now, you go on and leave the shootin’ to the men, dearie. I’ll even give you a head start.” The O’Driscoll laughs as you point the repeater dead at his face, twenty feet away.

You don’t move, and the O’Driscoll frowns, shoving his pistol into Arthur’s neck harder.

“Put the gun down, lady. Or Morgan gets the next round.”

Your stance never wavers. A small smirk comes across your face.

“Doin’ me a favor then?”

The O’Driscoll raises his eyebrow, but in a flash, it is all over. The crack of the repeater echoes in the glen as a body hits the ground. Arthur’s hat rolls on its lid across the ground.

“Jesus Christ!” Arthur stumbles ahead, holding his ear, absolutely covered in blood and brain matter. His eyes flit behind him, to take in the O’Driscoll, dead on the ground, half his face caved in from the bullet that hit him between the eyes.

He looks up to you in shock and bewilderment. You slowly lower the repeater and open and close the lever, chambering another round. Completely unfazed.

“I got one more round in here, Mister Morgan. I’d like very much not to use it on you.” You state with an air of superiority, dead serious as you grip the repeater tightly.

Arthur slowly raises his hands, his guns still strewn across the ground feet away after his tussle with the now-dead O’Driscoll.

“Now listen to me. I’m gonna take one of these horses and be on my way. And you ain’t gonna follow me. You’re gonna forget that bounty and get on with the next sucker you chase down.” You say, with an even, deadly tone.

“Don’t you usually shoot them men comin’ after you?” Arthur asks, his hands still outstretched.

“I do. But usually the men comin’ after me ain’t as handsome as you are. Would be a shame to blow your brains out.” You say with a smirk, starting to back away, toward where the O’Driscoll’s horse grazes in the long grass.

Arthur’s cheeks tinge pink as he remains still, but lowers his hands.

“I’m sure I’ll see you again, Mister Morgan. Maybe you can make up for me savin’ your pretty hide.”

You give an exaggerated curtsy before climbing into the saddle of the horse, the repeater still ready to fire. You grab the reins tightly and circle the horse once before galloping off, leaving Arthur Morgan standing alone in the clearing, saved but for the dead O’Driscoll.

Lemoyne was too damn hot. Sweltering. Disgusting. Even as the dusk fell. Even outside of the damn swamp, Arthur hated it. The gang had moved south after that shootout with Cornwall in Valentine. Bad business all around. Now, Dutch and Hosea have been working both angles of the local yokel families, locked in some kind of bitter generational feud.

Arthur just needed to clear his head. Dutch had him working as a lawman, of all the ridiculous things. He’s taken this free moment to do his own work, having been tipped off on a Lemoyne Raiders safe house not far from Ringneck Creek, supposed to be just a few of these idiots and a cache of items they have stored from their roadside robberies throughout the state.

Ripe for the taking.

The old barn house stood on the rise, and he could tell, as he swung down from his mare just beyond the treeline. He smacks her rump and she’s off, back down toward the Kamassa. He lets the rifle strapped across his shoulders down, aiming through its sights at the movement of men in the distance.

“Well well, if it isn’t the fastest draw in the west.” A sharp voice cuts through the quiet.

Arthur swings his rifle at the interloper that appeared several feet away from him, cursing himself for not being aware of his surroundings.

Oh. It’s you.

God damnit.

“The hell are you doing here?” Arthur harshly whispers, lowering the rifle.

You nod your head toward the barn behind him, “I was going in on a tip I got that the yokels had things stashed here.”

Arthur frowns. “Don’t tell me you got that from Alden.”

“The ticket man, in Rhodes.”

“God damnit.” He rolls his eyes. He scowls at you, standing there with your hand on your hip. Looking positively infuriating in dark trousers and a fairly tight-fitting button-down. Highlighting your curves, while your dark hair is pulled back into a long braid.

Focus, damnit. Arthur chides himself as he turns back toward the barn, looking again through the scope of this rifle at the men mulling about.

“Tell you what, Mister Morgan. You could use another gun. I could use wastin’ less bullets on these inbreds. Split what we find.”

Arthur has counted seven Raiders going in and out of the barn, which would be a fairly large number if he were alone. He sighs in exasperation.

“Fine.”

“Well, probably wasn’t the whole lot of them, I’m sure there are more of these wannabe civil war soldiers slinking about.” You muse, rifling through papers on a makeshift as Arthur picks a lockbox, pocketing the billfolds inside. Stepping over a dead body, you catch Arthur’s frame over that lockbox.

You notice what his hands are doing, and glare at him. “Hey - asshole, we’re splittin’ this.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, but acquiesces, tossing one of the billfolds at you. You catch it with ease.

“After that noise we should probably lay low for a bit.” You move toward the barn door, shouldering your repeater, stopping to listen outside for a moment.

“Oh, so now there’s a we?” Arthur snaps back at you as he follows you to the door.

“Be my guest if you wanna head into the swamps at this time of night. I, on the other hand, have a cabin I cleared out on the other side of Dewberry Creek.” You glance at him, pushing through the barndoor with your hand on your gun, looking around for any kind of movement. Your horse has meandered closer, and you whistle lowly for it to come closer.

You pull yourself into the saddle and look down at him.

“You coming? Or you just gonna stand there like an idiot?”

“Ain’t this homey?” Arthur retorts, looking at the rundown state of the cabin inside. A bed, with a near-disintegrating blanket, an old table, broken cabinets, and maybe one chair that didn’t look like it was about to fall apart.

“Ain’t your momma teach you manners? Lady invites you into her abode and you just insult her.” You slide the rifle from your back and place it upright against the stone fireplace.

“You’re a lady now? Coulda fooled me.” Arthur follows, placing his repeater on the table, unwilling to have you get the last word in.

You sneer at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Last time I checked, I have two tits and a cunt - pretty sure that makes me a lady - unless you’ve encountered different.”

“Pretty sure a lady wouldn’t be speakin’ like that.” Arthur returns, glancing away from you and trying to hide the flush that he knows is burning up his cheeks - he’s trying not to look at your breasts, framed by your crossed arms. Trying not to think of your ass in those trousers, the taper of your hips, the cunt he suddenly can’t not imagine filling.

“Oh, is you a gentleman? A dashing outlaw with ladies falling in his lap from here to Armadillo?” You point at him, pressing your finger into his chest, gritting your teeth as your self-righteousness and hackles both rise.

For once, he’s silent. For once in the whole goddamn time you’ve known him, he’s given you an opening. Seize it. Take the enemy down. Merciless. Just like shootin’.

“Bet you couldn’t please a lady even if you was the one being paid.” Your voice lowers as you go in for the kill.

To his credit, Arthur resurges with sputtering indignation, pushing you several steps backward until your back slams against the cabin wall. Your eyes widen in surprise.

“Christ alive, the mouth on you. How’s about I shut you up by givin’ you somethin’ to fill it?”

With his hands clamped on your shoulders and his large frame looming over yours, it’s not fear that you feel. Not that he’s going to hurt you, or turn you in. Something more profound than that. Something that shoots to your very core.

“I’d like to see you try.” You hiss at him, and see his jaw work in frustration, “Probably can’t even make a woman come.”

His thigh immediately rams forward, parting your legs as his hands fly to your hips, lifting you several inches above the ground, you yelp as he presses up against your core.

“I’m gonna make you eat them words, missy.” He hisses as he leans into your ear.

“Not if I make you come first.” You respond breathily, your hand moving to cup at the seam of his pants, grabbing at his burgeoning cock. He grunts and shoves his thigh up higher, and you mewl as it causes you to grind against the hard bone of his femur.

“You’re askin’ fer it.” He grunts as he presses his pelvis against you, his cock hard against your belly. A zing of pleasure shoots through your core in response. He’s not lacking, in any measure. His hands briefly leave your body to pull at the buckle of his gun belt, and the belt clatters to the floor at his feet.

“Yeah,” You grab his collar two-fisted and pull him to you, “I am askin’ fer it.” You parrot back in his drawl, lips inches away from his for just a moment, before you bridge the distance and take his mouth forcefully, not letting him respond as you shove your tongue inside.

He’s not surprised, nor taken off balance, matching your fevered press into his mouth with his own, battling for supremacy as his tongue wrests with yours. You barely feel one of his hands leave your hip and start to work the buttons of your trousers, it's not until he works them open enough to shove his hand down the front of your pants that you groan in surprise into his mouth. His rough, calloused fingers weave their way downwards, under the waistband of your bloomers, and straight to your moistening core, where he slides a long, meaty finger into your cunt, making you mewl.

But you cannot let him win.

Summoning all the fight you have in you, battling against the sweet sound of his hand smacking up against wet skin, your hands shoot down to cup his burgeoning erection through his pants, and he moans as his hips move to press forward into your touch.

You grit your teeth, squeezing your eyes shut as you open his pants, breathing through your nose as he latches his mouth to the side of your neck, slipping his middle finger inside you, making you curse under your breath as you finally reach your goal. You nearly rip his pants open and fish his hard cock out, your fingers wrapping around it as you begin to pump his shaft, desperate to make him feel as helpless as he’s making you feel.

Arthur moans needily against your neck, rolling his hips, and losing his rhythm as he rocks his hand into you. You smile as your head tilts back, pleased at yourself that you’ve met him and matched him.

It would not be for long, though. He retracts his hands and finds your hips again, and the next thing you know, you’re lifted in the air, caught off guard, and instinctually wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you both the several steps to the table. One of his hands moves to your lower back, keeping you upright, as he lays you down and spreads you out on the flat surface.

The gunslinger leans over and captures your lips again as he starts to work your trousers and bloomers down your waist, over the swell of your ass that you raise in the air to help him. You have the wherewithal to kick your boots off as he works your pants down your thighs, standing to his full height as he peels them off you completely, leaving your lower half bare to his gaze. Your tapered hips, glistening folds, wet and ready for him.

You take advantage of his dumb-struck stare to unhook his suspenders from the front of his pants, yanking them down over his hips to let them rest above his knees.

Wasting no time, before you know he’s going to catch you, you wrap one hand around his shaft and cup his testicles with the other, squeezing both gently as he groans, his hands holding himself up as he leans above you, his hips starting to thrust forward.

It's only a matter of time. Only a matter of time before his eyes open, hands snap to your hips, and you’re yanked bodily forward, ass nearly hanging off the table, and you let go of his member as he presses forward, the head of his cock touching your wet folds and making you both moan aloud.

“Still askin’ fer it?” He pants, and all you can do is moan in response and shake your head in the affirmative, spreading your legs for him.

Arthur immediately slides his cock all the way in, until the chestnut curls at the base of his cock meet the dark hair over your cunt, and you cannot help but to mewl, watching as he slowly withdraws and presses in again. Your legs spread even wider as both of you can’t look away from the sight: his long, hard shaft glistening with your slick, disappearing into your body.

One of his hands moves from your hip to splay beneath your abdomen and presses down hard, he moans in appreciation as he can feel himself through your skin as he buries his cock in your cunt again. And again. And again. You fall back from your elbows completely onto your back, the pressure of him making you gasp and whine.

Fuck, this is where you hurtle toward that point of no return, there’s no holding back the wave of pleasure that threatens to drown you as Arthur pounds himself into your hips. There’s no winning or losing anymore, there is just the chasing of that pleasure.

You’re cresting, back beginning to arch uncontrollably as he pumps into you hard and fast. You don’t give a shit about losing, because you’re wrung so tightly you’re about to snap, needy whines escaping your throat as you squeeze your eyes shut, unable to stop tears from overstimulation from spilling down your cheeks.

The head of Arthur’s cock keeps hitting that spot in your cunt that makes you want to die in pleasure, his large hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

You can barely recognize the shriek you give as your own, and the grunts in return, fucking you harder through your release. Your spasming, clenching, shaking release.

“Yes, yes,” Arthur grits out. The broken syllables of his name escape your mouth as you come, he thrusts deep inside of you and you gush warm slick around his length.

He immediately groans, loudly, clenching your hips hard as he jerks himself from you, painting your mound white with arcs of his spend landing in your dark pubic hair. Arthur pants, not letting go of your hips as you at least have the wherewithal to lean up on your elbows again.

“Think…” he rasps, voice sex-hoarse and breathless, “I win.”

A smile cracks from your lips as you tighten your legs around his hips, drawing him closer.

“Best…” you pant, “Two outta three.”

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead fandom #rdr2 #twolafic #tumblr prompt #red dead smut #arthur morgan x reader #voluptatem

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itsberru · 2 years

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Daecan Adler is my new sad little meow meow 🩸

He's a Fighter / Warlock (Undead) Dhampir with a tragic backstory that he can barely remember. He talks with his patron though dreams, and they're giving him visions of older memories. He's also a gunslinger and has both of his weapons tattooed on the arms! They're magical tattoos :) Daecan came from another timeline, things are pretty different here now, and he doesn't know how did he get to move between temporary lines. On his real timeline, his best friend and his wife died, and now he's meeting them both again in the real one. (His 'wife' just introduced herself to him, they're not even friends in this timeline ;_; )

#dnd character #dnd art #dnd oc #damphir warlock #exandria #dungeons and dragons #dnd #daecan adler

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wolfehorror · 3 months

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A Guide To Wolfe

Hi I'm H.S. Wolfe and I write queer horror, romance, erotica and urban fantasy. I have two books and three shorts published currently, as well as an anthology on the way.

In The Garden Of Echo - Genesis 1 Echo and I have been around almost as long as the earth itself. We’re indestructible, in love, and hungry. For centuries we’ve wandered across continents, just the two of us, devouring an invasive species: humans. But the mess we’ve left in our wake has its consequences. Forced to curb our feeding and go into hiding has put Echo and me at risk of exposure, and I’d die before I let anything happen to her. In The Garden Of Echo is a T4T erotic horromance novella, and the first book of the Genesis trilogy. Full content warnings are listed in the author’s note and can be found on the author’s website.

Tales Of Genesis The TOG shorts are erotic one-offs best read after In The Garden Of Echo on itchio only

ROTGUT All I want to do is play drums in Cluster Headache, but I can’t even get that right. Between my on-again off-again shituationship with one of my band mates, the drinking problem-I-don’t-really-have and losing my job along with my will to live... I’ve kind of botched up my life.

As if things weren’t crummy enough I’m being followed by strange creatures that no one else seems to notice. Right before a big show too, that can’t be a good sign.

I've got a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach about it.

ROTGUT is an 18k psychological thriller / paranormal horror novella about music, mental health, and aliens.

COVER ART BY YUNE (@heavenlyystar on social media) I'm also part of this huge project I've been running alongside author Mars Adler, a Queer Weird West Anthology feature 17 authors and artists, which was fully funded on kickstarter in 11 days! The kickstarter is running until the end of June 2024

Dead Cowpoke's Don't Wrangle With more queers, weirds, and steers than you can shake a stick at, DEAD COWPOKES DON'T WRANGLE collects original weird west tales and art and will take you to the strangest plains over yonder, then further still. So tie up your horse, settle in to wet your whistle 'round the fire, and prepare to be amazed. When shape-shifters, duels, gunslingers, and strangers come to town, you best be saddling up for a hootin' hollerin' good time. You can find all my links to the left of my blog or here

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evgar · 9 months

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w- women 😳

#last drawing of 2023 !!!#OF COURSE it had to be them #using the tags to get soft and say that discovering rdr2 and the community has been the highlight of my year <3 #can't wait to spend the next year drawing the silly cowgirls and cowboys and maybe my first oc (im cooking smth)#and specially these two girls that have invaded every single one of my thoughts #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 fanart #rdr2 fanart #sadigail #abigail roberts #sadie adler #sadie x abigail #gunslinger abigail #abigail marston #wlw art #my art #evgarart

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verdemoun · 2 months

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I need more details on that one time when Micah dressed up as an O’Driscoll and Kieran demolished him.

Micah was proper attempting to dress like Colm but couldn't afford the furs so just looked like a regular O'Driscoll. Cannot guarantee he would not have been beaten to death if he actually pulled off Colm's look.

Lenny was the one who opened the door and tried to close it on him. Called Hosea over to put his foot down but as much as Micah is neutered by not being allowed to have a gun the fact most of the gang no longer carry means there's nothing they can really do to intimidate Micah out of being an idiot.

Their biggest concern was the Adlers. Jake is a soft delicate flower but also -Sean they all saw Sadie at the battle of Shady Belle. And she is dressed in her 1907 gunslinging outfit and is already being as loud and brash as she was during that era (to Jake's adoration) because clothes have power.

Everyone is giving Micah the dirtiest look, dirtier than usual, and he's reveling in it. Goes straight up to Sadie and says boo only to scramble back as she pulls her fist back ready to bludgeon him to death with her bare hands. Jake tells him he's an idiot (big words from Jake Adler certified malewife) meanwhile Sadie is like heavy breathing itching for any excuse to fucking kill him.

Micah's too busy laughing at the sight of Sadie Adler, a woman, glowering with so much anger and murderous intent like a little yappy dog to hear the near silent footsteps approaching. To be fair no one had even noticed Kieran leave his spot on the couch watching his horror movies contently with the vacant mission-orientated stare of a soldier, or him silently pick up a piece of lumber Arthur had put aside for a project.

First whack gets everyone's attention as Micah crumbles and as much as they start sprinting Kieran lands a second directly to Micah's skull before they catch him. Sadie is howling with laughter as Arthur puts Kieran in air jail and quickly carries him away from the scene.

Bessie is the only one who bothers to check on Micah because she is both too good of a person and the only one not stunned that Kieran was actually capable of that. It is the first time any of the VDLs have seen Kieran actually snap.

Charles quietly goes over to Sadie 'I still think revenge is bad and we were wrong to hunt down Micah given the impact it is going to have but I have to admit still feels great seeing Micah like that' and they clink glasses. Whole time Micah actually looks dead.

Bessie trying to say he's actually bleeding pretty bad and unconscious we should probably take him to hospital meanwhile Arthur is trying to calm Kieran down because adrenaline is quickly becoming hyperventilating still just holding him in air jail because even though he has acknowledged it was Micah Kieran still looks ready to kill him. Plus Kieran doesn't mind air jail it is actually one of the few things he knows calms him down.

Meanwhile Sean is just hollering 'good on you Duffy!!' which is not helping the situation.

After Hosea begrudgingly agrees to help Bessie take Micah to hospital and Kieran is released everyone is just proud of him and giving him little slaps on the back actually in awe he had it in him. Even Sadie still cackling tells him she would've let him ride with her if she knew he was capable of that which is the highest praise. Kieran actually joins in the Halloween festivities for a bit and everyone is having a right good time.

Micah ends up with a broken rib, needing multiple staples and a dozen stitches in the back of his head and Hosea is still lecturing him about what an idiot he was for thinking dressing as an O'Driscoll wouldn't result in something like this.

#rdr2 timewarp au #kieran duffy #micah bell

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allzelemonz · 1 year

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Gunslinger, Cowboy, Simp II: Micah Bell X Male Reader

Pronouns: None Mentioned, reader referred to as ‘boy’ and ‘sir’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Violence, Sex Warnings: Micah Bell is his own warning, Micah is a sucker for a good gunslinger, crime, death, clothed sex, grinding, kissing, wall sex, running from the law Summary: After a bad train job, things escalate between you and Micah. Part 1, Part 2

It’s been weeks since something’s gone wrong. Months since you’ve been on the job that actually turns. But this train must be the most well guarded thing in the world. The entire gang is pinned down, separated between the engine, passenger, and cargo cars. Bullets have been flying for a while now, but no one can get a good enough position to make a difference.

“We ain’t gonna last like this.” Lenny mutters, hugging his rifle to his chest as bullets zip above his head.

Arthur sighs, looking through his bag. “I’ll give ‘em somethin’ ta look at.”

From his bag he pulls a few sticks of dynamite. Lenny’s eyes go wide when Arthur nods towards the passenger cars.

“Ya can’t be serious, Arthur!” Lenny says.

“Nearest car’s empty.” You tell him. “Bill and I cleared it earlier.”

“Stay here.” Arthur says, carefully stepping past you to the door.

You and Lenny draw the law’s attention so Arthur can sneak to the other car. There is no telling how the rest of the gang is doing, but there are other shots hitting men off of their horses. At least you know they’re alive. The explosion catches you off guard, Lenny too. You both scramble back before gathering your senses and running out of the train. The rest of the gang seems to have gotten the hint, running into the trees while the law is preoccupied with ‘saving’ people from the explosion. They had no way of knowing the car was empty.

As you wind through the trees you find Charles who looks back at the train, watching closely for pursuers. He waves you and Lenny on, so you run deeper into the trees until you hear a voice. You hold an arm out to stop Lenny as you catch sight of a single law man holding out his gun. In front of him are Micah and Sadie, hands raised. This situation should be nothing to them, but then you see Micah’s guns on the ground. The quickdraw doesn’t have his weapons. Sadie’s shirt is stained red on the side. The ruffian is injured.

Very carefully, as quietly as you can, you raise your gun and shoot the lawman dead. He drops to the ground as you step out from the trees. Sadie lets herself fall to her knees as Lenny runs over to her. She clutches her side in pain, groaning as Lenny tries to help her apply pressure. Micah stares at you for a moment, his eyes moving from the gun in your hand to your face as he registers your action. For a moment you recall an image of him from months ago that you have to push out of your mind for your own sake. The way he ended it made it seem like a one time thing, it’s not gonna happen again.

Micah retrieves his guns from the ground as you help Lenny get Sadie on her feet. You get through the trees together, Micah keeping his guns up and watching for the group until you reach the horses and the rest of the gang. Arthur takes Sadie from you and Lenny, he and John getting some fabric to tie around her wound.

“Javier?” Dutch asks. “The take?”

Javier fishes the money from the bags around his shoulder, taking the stacks from Bill and Sean as well before handing it all to Dutch.

“This…” Dutch grins. “Is very good, boys.”

“We should get back now, Dutch.” Arthur says, nodding to Sadie.

“Of course. Mount up, boys. Let’s get Miss Adler home safe.”

The gang rides hard, splitting into groups to ensure the law doesn’t follow. Arthur, John, and Charles take the straight route back for Sadie’s sake while the rest of you take winding trails. Sean talks most of the way, Bill yells at him to shut up on occasion but he never does. Micah is quiet the whole way, giving you the occasional glance.

“Hold on, boys.” Bill says quietly. “Up there on the hill.”

You look up to the left to see lights moving in the slight dark of the evening.

“Tha’ don’t look good.” Sean mutters.

Micah is the first to steer off the road, leading Baylock into the trees. The rest of you follow, all eyes still on the lights. When you’re concealed you stop and watch as the lights stop at a crossroad, several lawmen taking up posts. At least twenty, too many to shoot with the ammo you have left and the exhaustion from the shootout.

“We’re gonna have to hold up somewhere.” You look back at the boys. “Unless any of you have a full round left in your gun.”

Bill shakes his head.

“We can take ‘em!” Sean whispers.

“If ya wanna get yerself killed, kid, go on ahead.” Micah sighs, clearing his throat. “Saw a cabin a little while back.”

You nod. “Any objections?”

“Fine.” Sean mutters.

Micah leads you all back through the trees. Lawmen cover the roads now, so you stay deep in the woods until the cabin comes into view. There’s one horse hitched outside, no sign of any law.

“Sean should go first.” You say, hopping off your horse to meet the others at the tree line. “He can talk, catch them off guard.”

“Damn right I can.” Sean grins.

“And if they just decide ta shoot ‘em?” Bill asks.

“He’s not that intimidating.” You nudge Sean. “Go.”

“Not tha’ intimidatin’! I’ll have ya-”

“Go!” You shove him.

Sean stumbles out, giving you a sour look before he walks to the cabin. The door opens and a man steps out, not much bigger than Sean. They talk for a moment as Sean learns if the man has anyone inside in between meaningless conversation. As dumb as he is, Sean knows how to get people’s guard down. When he has the opportunity, Sean slits the man’s throat and guides his body to the ground. The rest of you come out of the trees and make your way to the cabin. Bill carries the man over to an enclosure of pigs behind the cabin and drops him. No evidence.

The cabin has two bedrooms aside from the kitchen and living area. One of them looks like a shrine dedicated to a child, untouched and perfectly spotless compared to the messy state of everything else. Bill doesn’t seem to notice or care as he collapses on the bed. Sean rummages through the cabinets until he finds a bottle of whiskey. You all settle in.

Sean eventually finds his way to the bed in the other room while you fall asleep on the couch. Micah being Micah, he doesn’t sleep. Instead he watches your chest rise and fall with each breath as he tries to contemplate things. You saved his life a few hours ago and it didn’t seem like you hesitated at all. The last time he was impressed with you he sank to his knees and he very much wants to do that now but things keep interrupting. He doesn’t know how else to express how impressed he gets with you, how grateful he is that you’re the one that’s usually by his side.

A knock at the door wakes you up. It’s the dead of night and someone is at the door. You look over at Micah and an unspoken plan passes between you. He closes the doors to the bedrooms while you shed the most outlaw parts of your attire and hide them under a table. Micah draws a gun and takes a spot behind the door while you open it. Standing in their own lantern light is a group of lawmen.

“Sorry to bother you so late, sir.” The one in the front says. “We’re scouting the area for some train robbers.”

You put a concerned look on your face. “Train robbers?”

“Yes, sir. Have you seen anyone around?”

You shake your head and glance back at the doors. “I got my kids here, mister.”

He nods. “Just stay inside and everything will be fine.”

“Was it the tracks over there?” You point. “T-That’s awfully close.”

“Everything will be fine, sir.” The lawman says. “Lock your doors and windows and have a nice night.”

He tips his hat to you and he turns to leave. You close the door quickly, locking it like a scared civilian before you peer out of the window to watch them leave. Before they’re even past the trees you’re shoved against the wall as Micah presses his lips to yours. His hands pin your waist as he presses against you. You press back, wanting to feel the hard pressure against your leg. Micah ruts against you and you bend your leg for him. He breaks the kiss to bury his head into your shoulder as he pants from the friction. His hands grip tightly at your waist, holding you still as he fucks against your leg. You watch him intently, getting that same rush in your heartbeat as you watch how desperate he becomes. And when he unravels you have to hold him up because he almost collapses against your knee. Your hands clutch his sides to help him stand and he leans into you.

“Shit…” He breathes as his hand finds a place on the wall to steady himself.

His eyes meet yours before his face turns red and he looks away. You know he must be embarrassed. Sucking you off is one thing, but rutting against your leg with the desperation he had is something he probably didn’t plan to do. You enjoyed it nonetheless. You quickly put a hand to his cheek and press your lips together again. Micah presses into it and starts acting more like the man you know as his hand roughly grips you through your pants. He rubs at you intensely and you buck into his hand, both wanting to show him that he’s not crazy and because his hand feels almost as good as his mouth. You spill a lot faster than he did, your mouth falling open in a noiseless gasp and he kneads you through it.

“Fuck, Micah.” You groan as he takes his hand away.

“Ain’t nobody-”

“I know, I know.” You mutter. “No one, I promise. Just-Just please do that more often.”

You lean your head back against the wall, trying to catch your breath. Micah presses his lips to your neck, sucking a mark into it before he rests his head against your shoulder.

“Sure thing, cowboy.” He mumbles.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #micah bell #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption x male reader #micah bell x reader #micah bell x male reader #x reader #x male reader

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coltermorning · 2 years

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The Hat (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You’ve taken a liking to a certain hat as well as to the rugged gunslinger who wears it. When you impulsively risk your neck to get it back for him, his anger at your foolish act turns into something surprising.

Author’s Notes: This was the first fic I ever wrote, and wow is it amazing to see how far I’ve come! This one will always have a special place in my heart though. Set during Chapter 3 in game.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, smut, low honor Arthur Morgan, rough sex, rough oral sex, spanking

AO3 Link

The Hat

Word count: 6319

“Please let me go with them, Dutch. I can handle myself just fine,” you begged the gang leader as he assigned his men a lead he had been scoping out.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, miss. I don’t doubt that at all-”

“Then let me go. I’ll keep my head down and be a good extra hand. Hell, they may need me,” you said, gesturing to the men Dutch had just handpicked for the job.

You had been with the Van der Linde Gang for over a month now, fitting right in with your rough, dangerous lifestyle. Because of this, you had quickly found friendship in some of the men as well as Sadie Adler who was one of the first women you knew to dress like you and shoot like you and keep up with the rest of the men with ease like you. Well, almost all of the men. A certain handsome cowboy named Arthur had proven to be the most talented gun you had ever met, and he caught your attention early on because of it. Unsurprisingly, he was one of the men Dutch asked to go robbing. Part of you wanted to join the outing simply to watch the broad-shouldered man in action, although you would never admit to that. You couldn’t fall for someone you hardly knew when your lifestyle didn’t allow for such things.

Dutch pondered your request and finally relented. “Fine. Arthur, watch her, would you? Make sure she doesn’t get herself killed.”

“Now, Dutch, I ain’t babysitting on a job,” the rugged gun responded.

Dutch had already turned to walk back to his tent and waved Arthur’s words away, making his request final. Your blood boiled a little under the surface, mad at continually being called a kid. You stomped toward the camp’s hitching post where your horse was tied, stopping to make your anger known with Arthur. “I ain’t a baby. You look out for yourself and I’ll be just fine.” You turned to walk to your horse, not even waiting for a response.

He let out a big sigh of annoyance in return. “If you say so.” He followed you in walking to his horse, barking orders along the way. “John, Javier, let’s go. We don’t have much time if we wanna do this right.” The other two guns jogged over to their horses as well, and by the time all of you were saddled, Arthur led the group out of the Clemens Point camp and toward the latest score for the gang.

Not long into the ride, Arthur laid out a plan for the three of you to follow, telling you to stay toward the back of the wagon you were going to rob to keep an eye out. He was going to do the actual robbing and needed good protection in case anyone bold decided to show up and attempt to pick him off. Javier was to help you keep watch, and John was to hold up the driver. You were nervous about your first outing with the gang but excited too and ready to prove yourself. You were a good shot, especially with a rifle, so as long as you relied on your talent everything would turn out fine.

After a ride that lasted longer than you thought it would, Arthur spoke up. “Let’s wait under these trees here. Should be hidden well enough to wait for the wagon to pass.” The four of you turned your horses off the trail and into the woods to wait. After about ten minutes, the wagon came idling along the path. “Masks on. Here she comes,” Arthur said. You pulled up your dust-colored bandana (the damned thing used to be white, the Rhodes dirt having ruined it) to hide your face as you readied your gun. “You sure you ready for this, hotshot?” Arthur asked you. You looked over at him and nodded, not allowing him any room in your mind where your focus needed to be. “All right then. On my mark.”

The wagon crept along just past the trees where you were hidden, and Arthur waited a few seconds before barking the order, “Ride!” The four of your barreled out of the woods and toward the wagon, startling the driver enough to make him immediately stop and put his hands up.

John played his part well, riding up directly beside the driver. “That’s right, not one move or I’ll shoot you dead!”

Arthur quickly jumped into the back of the wagon to look for the money Dutch said would be hidden in it. “Javier, Y/N, keep an eye out. No guards don’t sit right with me,” he said as he searched through a trunk.

Javier looked toward the road ahead of the wagon and to the left while you took the rear and the right. You spotted movement in the wood line just in time to line up your sights. Through the crosshairs, you saw four or five mounted men hiding there, waiting to pick you off—one of them had a long-scoped rifle. “Guards!” you yelled, taking a shot at the man with the most deadly gun. You were a second too late though, as he fired just before you and came within inches of Arthur’s head, making Arthur’s hat fly off.

“Goddammit,” Arthur muttered as he ducked down into the wagon. “John stay with the driver and make sure he don’t run!”

Your first shot hit the guard right in the jaw, killing him and knocking him clean off his agitated horse. Shots rang out all around you as the remaining guards pursued and Javier and Arthur fired back. You were well-seasoned in this and took a breath, spurring your horse to move. A moving target was much harder to hit than a still one. You fired again and again, hitting one more guard. Either Arthur or Javier finished off the rest, and a silence rang out in the large space that gunshots had just filled. The two drafts pulling the wagon reared and stomped, only held from bolting by the terrified driver. “Get down from there,” John ordered him. “Get down from there now and get out of here and maybe I won’t kill you!” he yelled. The driver did as he was told, and John quickly replaced him. “I’m getting this thing out of here, Arthur. That won’t be the last of them.”

“Find a secluded spot and keep your head down then,” Arthur said as he jumped off the side of the wagon. “Don’t draw any attention. Go!” He slapped the side of the wagon and John flicked the reins hard, lurching the wagon away. “You two, be ready. He’s right, there’ll be more guards headed our-”

Before Arthur could finish his sentence, more gunshots rang out. Mounted men spilled out of the trees toward the three of you. Arthur was stuck too far away from his horse, so he jumped on John’s instead, grabbing his gun to shoot back at the men and whistling for his own mount to follow. You joined Javier in making a run for it while shooting your pursuers, but something near a big bush on the ground caught your eye—it was Arthur’s hat. “Arthur, your hat!” you yelled to him, knowing how important it was to him.

“For christ sake, leave it!” he shouted as he unloaded his sidearms.

Against all logic and rationalization, you turned your mount into a wide circle, doubling back to retrieve the hat. You loved that hat something awful, especially on the cowboy who donned it. You also weren’t scared of the mediocre guns pursuing you in the slightest. The guards in pursuit split, half following Javier and Arthur, half following you. You aimed your rifle at one of them and breathed out, firing a shot that took him down easily. As far as you could tell, that only left two more. You spurred your horse again, keeping your head low and riding in an erratic pattern as gunshots flew around you. You turned to line up your shot again and fired, taking out the second guard.

As your one pursuer continued after you, you neared the black hat on the ground. You decided (impulsively and somewhat stupidly) to grab the hat off the ground while riding. You used to practice tricks like this off of your horse all the time when you were younger, but this one would have to count or it could cost you your head. You kept your feet firmly in the stirrups, glad that you had cinched your horse up so tight, and began to lean as you neared the hat at full speed. You leaned down more and more, stretching your arm out as far as it would go, and just before you reached the hat, another gunshot split the air and skimmed across your left arm that was away from the ground. You instinctively moved away from the splitting pain and even closer to the ground, finding the hat with your fingers and picking it up. You slammed it on your head, turned angrily around to the guard who had shot you, and cut his pursuit short with a bullet between the eyes. You didn’t let up one second in case any more pursuers came and bolted back toward camp with a small grin at your triumph.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Arthur yelled as you reentered camp at a trot.

As you passed him, you tipped his own hat to him, deciding not to give it back just yet. You had earned it, goddammit, not him. “Survived, didn’t I?” You stopped your horse just shy of the hitching post and dismounted, tying him and giving him loving pats down his broad neck for doing so well under pressure.

“That ain’t the point.” The angry outlaw was hot on your tail, towering over you when you turned around. “You could have gotten yourself killed. I told you to leave the damn hat.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t. And I killed the rest of the guards for you. You’re welcome.” You put your hand over the hat and ducked around him, deciding to rub some salt in the wound and keep it for yourself, at least for the day.

You saw Dutch walking your way and felt a tiny bolt of panic. The job really could have gone better, and now you knew Arthur wouldn’t vouch for your talent. “What’s going on?” the gang leader asked.

“She nearly went and got herself shot up all for that stupid hat,” Arthur answered, following behind with plenty of impatience in his voice.

Dutch let out a sharp laugh. “Well, we have a brave one on our hands, don’t we? For future reference, miss, Arthur couldn’t lose that hat if his life depended on it. It always finds its way back on his head.” Dutch had a small grin on his face, and it was a little off-putting. Why wasn’t he yelling at you?

“Yeah she’s brave. Brave or stupid,” Arthur replied.

“Watch your mouth, would you?” you said, rounding on the cowboy. “I killed five of those guards with ease, no problems. Isn’t that all that matters? That we got the money and came out with our lives?”

“It ain’t about winning, it’s about being smart enough to live another day and not risk our necks unnecessarily.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing he was right but refusing to admit it. “Yeah, well, don’t get your hat shot off your head next time and maybe I won’t have to risk my neck.” Dutch let out another bark of a laugh at Arthur as you stormed off toward your tent.

You heard Dutch mutter “She’s got a point. It all turned out all right, Arthur, now don’t go worrying yourself into the grave,” before you reached your bedroll.

You heard Arthur reply, but his voice was too low for you to pick up words. His anger made you angry, made you want to punch something. You swiftly took the hat off your head and slammed it down on the ground beside you as you sat. The sharp movement made you wince as you remembered the graze from the bullet on your arm. You looked at your wound and saw that blood had seeped into your shirt, so you unbuttoned a few of the top buttons and brought the fabric down over your shoulder to reveal the wound. It wasn’t bad and could have been a lot worse, you decided, knowing that it would end up healing just fine. You reached over into your trunk where you kept all your belongings and pulled out a canteen and another shirt, soaking the shirt with water and pressing it to your wound to clean it out. It hurt, but it wasn’t unbearable. You’d need to get your hands on a health cure to make sure it didn’t get infected. As you poured more water onto your shirt, Tilly passed by and saw the blood on your arm. “Didn’t go exactly as planned, did it?” she asked.

“Not exactly,” you said through a chuckle. You loved Tilly’s bluntness in everything she did. It kept all the boys in check. “Could have been worse, though.”

“Story of our lives.”

You let out another laugh. “You’re not wrong.”

“Well anyway,” she said, moving to get back to her work, “Keep on those men. They need it.” She smiled over her shoulder and you returned it.

After you finished tending to your wound and buttoned your shirt back up, you noticed Arthur eyeing you from across camp with a gaze full of anger. You had neglected to mention the graze on your arm on purpose, and knowing that he had seen it made you a little embarrassed. He would definitely bring it up later. He always had to have the last word, that much you knew about him.

You elected to ignore him and picked up his hat instead, knowing he was watching. You put it back on your head and wiped your wet hands off on your pants as you stood. You needed to go ask Strauss for a health cure. You would much rather ride into Rhodes and buy one from the general store there, but the gang members were finicky about who got to leave camp whenever they pleased. You hadn’t earned the right to do that yet. So, you made way to Strauss’ wagon, keeping a wide berth between you and Arthur. You didn’t feel like arguing anymore lest you end up boiling over with anger and saying something you didn’t mean, as you tended to do. Luckily, you saw his tall frame move from the spot where he had been leaning and retreat toward his holdings, away from you.

“Mister Strauss,” you said, making him pull his newspaper down from under his nose. “I’m afraid I find myself in need of some medicine.”

“Are you all right?”

“Fine, just need a health cure. Got grazed by a bullet.” You stopped in front of him and tilted the too-big hat up out of your eyes.

“Oh, I know the agonies of a graze,” he said, scrambling to pick something out for you. He pulled a tiny bottle from his wagon and handed it to you. “That should work well. It certainly helped me.”

“Thanks,” you said, nodding his way and retreating. “I appreciate it.”

“No trouble at all,” he said, seemingly happy to be of use. You made your way back to your tent, drinking the bitter liquid down and trying not to wince at the taste. Once again, you caught the angry outlaw’s eyes. You stopped and thought about confronting him but decided against it. No point in raising hell. Instead, the two of you stared with harsh, set gazes, locking imaginary horns without a word.

Night fell over camp, and after staying up and talking with Sadie for a while, you decided to retire to your bedroll. You always had trouble falling right to sleep, but the medicine had relaxed your tense muscles, and unconsciousness fell over you with ease.

That is, until you were startled awake by someone nudging you with their boot. You quickly flipped over and reached down for the sidearm you kept near while you slept until you realized nothing was wrong and it was just Arthur. “Jesus, what the hell?” you said with a grogginess from being ripped from sleep. You slumped back down on your back.

“Get up.” You opened one eye and looked up at the handsome figure that towered over you, but you didn’t move a muscle. “Don’t make me sling you over my shoulder.”

“For god’s sake, Arthur,” you said as you rose with reluctance. “What’s so important that I gotta get up in the middle of the damn night?”

“You’re coming with me. Grab my hat and your boots, we gotta ride ahead of us.”

You groaned in annoyance at the request, stretching the sleep out of your frame. “A ride? What kind of twisted punishment-” You stopped talking when you noticed Arthur had already stalked off toward the horses. “Hmph.”

You grabbed his hat and put it on your own head, disoriented and wondering why he hadn’t just taken it back already. You grabbed your two guns, holstering the sidearm and resting the rifle over your shoulder by the strap, and followed the broody bastard. When you slung your leg over your sleepy mount, Arthur made a request that only confused you further. “No questions on the ride, you got me?”

“What?”

“Yeah, that. None of those until we get there. You don’t like to listen do you?”

He turned his horse to leave camp, and you followed suit. “Where is ‘there’ exactly?” He shook his head, his sandy hair swaying in the moonlight, but neglected to answer you. You rolled your tired eyes, unhappy about the situation you found yourself in. You showed his back your middle finger, making you smile in triumph.

After a few hours had passed and you were sure the sun would be rising soon, you found yourself crossing the Dakota River with a very tired horse and a very grumpy outlaw. You had relented to his request and hadn’t spoken another word, not because he asked but because you were too drained of energy for any conversation. The pair of stallions stepped high through the rushing water, giving every bit of energy to your and Arthur’s spurring. Finally, you spoke up for your mount’s sake. “We best be stopping soon or we’ll have to walk on foot.”

Without turning to look at you, Arthur replied. “The horses will be fine. Not much longer.”

Sure enough, he held true to his word. After less than a half hour, he stopped in front of a small cabin and stepped off of his horse to hitch it. Your exhaustion had begun to wear off and give way to suspicion. What was he planning? Did he know someone here? He looked over to you still on your horse with a questioning gaze. “You want me to come with you, or...”

“Come on,” he nodded, stepping onto the cabin’s small porch. You got off of your horse and stretched your aching legs before hitching and following Arthur.

He opened the door and let you walk through only for you to discover that it was empty. Now you were really suspicious, almost to the point of fear. “Okay, just what the hell is going on? Look, I know I screwed up but this is really starting to get-”

You turned to meet his gaze as he shut the door behind him and immediately lost your words. He was looking at you like an animal would, pupils blown wide, predatory. It turned you on slightly, but you were still a little scared of him. “You told me you wouldn’t cause any fuss on that score we took.”

He slowly stepped toward you, eyes devouring you. You were, quite frankly, scared out of your wits and just as turned on by his display. “I- I know I did, but-”

“Just had to get my hat, didn’t you? Why is that?” he said, still approaching you in such an intimidating manner that you gave a little ground and started to back up.

“I like your hat,” you said, reaching up to grab it.

“Nah, that ain’t it.” He held your eyes locked as he moved close enough for you to back into a nightstand behind you. “See,” he said, stopping to lean over you, placing his forearm on the wall above your head—trapping you. “I know you ain’t an idiot. You wouldn’t risk your life all over a hat you liked, one that ain’t even yours.”

You began to tilt your head down to escape his gaze, but he used his calloused finger to tilt your chin back up to him. Your heart pounded as you began to understand why he was such a good enforcer. You also wanted him to have you right then and there, but that was another thing entirely—a wild fantasy of yours that was uncalled for at the moment. “Maybe...” you said, gaining a little confidence again. “Maybe I knew I wasn’t risking my life to get it. Knew I would come out unscathed.”

“Unscathed?” he asked in a deep growl that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. “You call this unscathed?” He reached for your arm where the bullet had grazed you and gripped hard, making you wince in pain.

“Quit! Please, Arthur, I-”

“Nah, you better tell me the truth right now.” He ceased his firm grip but kept his large hand on your arm as a reminder of what pain he could cause. You began to panic. He was obviously interested in punishing you being so far away from civilization and from any other human being, and the feeling of being trapped with a very overpowered and very predatory man was making your breathing quicken. Should you tell him that you went back for it because you favored its owner so much or would that make him even angrier, gaining you worse punishment for being so impulsive? He suddenly slammed his hand on the wall behind your head, making you jump out of your skin. “Tell me!”

“Fine! I- it’s, it’s you! I grabbed it because it’s yours! Because I, well...”

“Go on,” he said with a grimace, lip curled over his teeth like a wolf. He had gotten so close to you it nearly made you turn your head away.

“Because I know how much it means to you. Being your father’s hat and all. I’ve seen the picture on your wagon.” You hoped this was a good enough excuse for him, as it wasn’t the whole truth.

He almost seemed to sense the guilt coming off of you. “You lie.” The growling words made your blood run cold. They would mean worse punishment. “You better tell me the goddamn truth right now,” he said in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

You felt a heat begin to build between your legs at his closeness and his voice and his harsh way. Fuck it, you thought, what was the worst that could happen? “I grabbed the hat because I want to gain the favor of the man who wears it,” you said calmly, holding his gaze. His expression didn’t change in the slightest, and you decided, again impulsively, to throw all your chips in. “Because I want him to fuck me.”

That was all it took. He snapped, pushing you up to sit on the nightstand and pressing his lips to yours with such force it hurt. Your head hit the wood behind you as he pushed against you, and his hat got pushed up off your head as a result. You grabbed it to keep it from falling off, suddenly very glad to have it on. His tongue immediately pushed past your teeth and into your mouth, all hot and dominant, and his hips pushed right between your legs. His hands ravished your body and began to work the buttons of your shirt as you brought your own hands around to his broad, muscled back. He distractedly and sloppily kissed you as he yanked your shirt apart, pulling the bottom two buttons clean off the shirt. You wanted to scold him for it but were too lost in the heat of his mouth to care.

You moved forward to get the shirt out from behind you and took it off completely. He stopped and looked down, realizing you had nothing on underneath the shirt. He had a dark hunger in his eyes as they raked over your body, and he reached his hand up to feel your breast and flick his thumb across your nipple. The sensation made you suck in a breath, and the sound drew his attention back to you, making him continue the pursuit of devouring your mouth.

You began to undress him then, taking off his familiar brown jacket he always wore and tugging his suspenders off his shoulders. Every touch he gave you was like fire licking your skin, and you suddenly couldn’t have enough of him. You pulled him in impossibly closer by his shirt collar, letting him continue claiming every inch of your mouth and using what little room you had to unbutton his shirt and take it off.

Just as suddenly as you had pulled him into you, you shoved him away, making him stumble a few steps backward. You had the overwhelming need to see him, that body he was hiding beneath all those layers. And you were met with quite a sight—his wide chest and chiseled torso were unfairly attractive. He flexed his muscles involuntarily as he heaved in breaths, watching your mouth part in desire at the sight of him.

He stepped back toward you and picked you up with ease, cupping your backside and crashing his hips to yours as he moved to lay you down on the small bed the cabin had to offer. You both kicked off your boots, stripped each other’s socks, and fought to undo the other’s gun belt and pants buttons. You remembered just as he shoved your pants down your legs that you had neglected to put anything on under your pants either. He pulled them completely off of your legs with what could be mistaken for anger but you knew to be desire, stepping back to admire your nearly completely naked form (apart from his own hat) for only a moment before he slammed his mouth against yours again. You sat up as best you could between his arms and slid his pants off as well, taking his undergarments off along with them. His cock sprang out of them and to attention, and the sight of it alone made you let out a low sound of arousal. He had more girth than any man you had ever seen, and you knew it would stretch you wide in a way you had never felt before. He stood just by the bedside and right in front of you, and when he saw how close your mouth was to his length, he put his hand on your hatted head and shoved you toward him.

Just before you took him into your mouth, you began to try to pull the hat off, as it was starting to get in the way. He swiftly caught your wrist, and you looked up at him in surprise. “Leave it on,” he growled with a dark gaze. You were again reminded of a predatory animal. “Gonna watch you take every inch of me with that hat sat right on your head. Teach you a damn lesson about obeying.” His words made you breathe heavier, made the heat between your legs form a rising pressure.

“Yes sir,” you said as you took him into your mouth, making him emit a long breath of pleasure as he rolled his hips a little to get used to the tightness. You used your tongue like you knew how, twisting and licking around his thick cock, running it over his head, licking down the underside. You looked up to see him tilt his head back with an expression of pure pleasure, then you began to move. You held one hand at his base and the other under his balls, taking him slowly at first to get used to him, then deeper as your throat relaxed. Arthur brought his head back down and placed his hand on the back of your head under the brim of his hat, suddenly snapping his hips forward, making his cock push at the back of your throat. The sensation made you gag, but you continued your work anyway as he started to fuck your mouth harshly, using you like a toy. Tears formed in your eyes at being used like this, but it turned you on something awful. You continued to work on him as best you could before he suddenly withdrew from your mouth, pulling you up and turning you around so that you were on your hands and knees on the bed, presented to him all glistening wet.

“All ready for me ain’t you? Want me to fuck you, girl?” He gently placed one hand on your hip just above your backside.

You weren’t embarrassed in the slightest about wanting to beg him. You had never wanted anyone more in your life. “Yes, please, Arthur. Please fuck me, I- oh!”

He spanked you hard, the sound resonating in the small room. You hadn’t expected the harsh slap and were sure that his strong hand had left a mark. “Remember what I said about obeying?”

“Yes, I remember. I’ll do it from now on, I’ll be good-” He spanked your ass again right in the same spot, leaving a stinging burn on your skin.

“That’s not why we’re here, is it? Why are we here?” You pondered his question, and because you hesitated, it gained you another sharp slap. “Answer me,” he said in his low growl.

“Because I need to be punished!” you yelled, hoping the quick answer would be enough to make him stop.

Sure enough, he rubbed circles on the skin that had grown irritated instead of spanking you again. “Good. You’re right, a little minx like you needs to be punished for not following direct orders.”

“I do. I need to be taught a lesson,” you begged, hoping you would feel his thick cock pushing into you instead of his calloused hands punishing you.

“A lesson, huh? Tell you what, for every minute I was waiting, worried sick that you had gone off and gotten yourself killed, earns one slap.” You hated to hear it. The spanking turned you on, but you didn’t think Arthur realized how strong he was and how much it hurt. He spanked you again, and you let out a soft moan of pain. “That’s one. The first minute I realized you were gone.” He spanked you again, even harder, making tears prick at your eyes. “Two. When I pondered going back to find you.” He spanked you again. “Three. When I realized going back would probably mean finding you dead.” He spanked impossibly harder, making you yelp in pain. “Four. When I knew that it could be a trap for me to go back and I would just have to wait.” He gave three slaps in quick succession, not as harsh as the others. “The three minutes waiting in camp for you.”

Then, he gave you one last slap across the ass, so hard that you cried out in pain. “Arthur, please!”

“That one was for your sorry ass riding into camp like you owned the place with that hat on your head, mouthing off to me like you knew better.” You waited in silence, hoping he was finished. “And then,” he said, rubbing circles into your raised, abused skin again. “You had the bright idea to parade my hat around camp like a trophy for the rest of the day, showing everyone just who was in charge.” His words worried you, knowing you would probably get another spanking for that, but Arthur didn’t move his hand from your backside. Instead, he leaned over you enough that you could feel his cock rest against your skin, and he used his hand to grip your jaw and force you to look at him. “I’ll tell you who’s in charge girl,” he growled. You watched as he took his hat from your head and placed it on his own before digging his fingers into your hips and ramming his whole length into you, making you cry out in pleasure.

“Arthur!” You didn’t have a second to adjust to his girth as he started to move, slowly but completely and filling you up so much it hurt. The anticipation of him fucking you was enough to put you close to your climax before he even entered you, but his movement slowed your build back down, making you want to be completely ravished by him first.

He didn’t give you long to experience this though, as he held his grip tight on your hip with one hand but reached down with the other to brush against your clit. His touch lit your nerves on fire, and your back caved in response, giving him a better angle to hit your sweet spot. He began to run circles around that bundle of nerves, still fucking you slow and steady but fully. It drove you mad. You thought about how he had taken his hat off your head and put it back on his own, the hottest fucking image that would ever be burned into your memory, and he suddenly flicked his finger harshly across your clit, making you emit a sound so obscene that it would make anyone blush. “That’s right. Easy, girl.” His drawn out words made you pant. You were in such a deep pleasure that you were almost scared to feel how harshly your orgasm would rip through you.

Arthur didn’t give you any time to recover, speeding up slightly as he hit a perfect spot within you over and over again, circling his thick finger on your clit faster and faster until you knew you were doomed. “I’m close,” you panted.

“Look at me,” he said in a breathless voice. “Wanna see your face when I make you fall apart. Make you submit to me.” His words pushed you further, and with one last circle of his finger, he slammed into you hard, and you yelled out loud, being pushed over the edge by the most intense orgasm you’d ever had. It crashed into you in waves, and every nerve in your body rang out in pleasure. Your muscles tensed around Arthur’s length, making him groan too. His noise only stretched your pleasure out further, and your whole body went taut with it. It was a wasteland, the after effects thrumming through you.

Your audible panting finally slowed, and Arthur cooed at you. “That’s my girl.” He didn’t give you long though before he started chasing his own high. He placed both hands back on your hips and dug his fingers in so harshly you knew there would be bruises left behind. He quickened his pace that grew more and more brutal, and you grew overly sensitive as he started to snap his hips and bury his cock deep inside of you. His breathing began to be audible now, as it was his turn to use you up and lose himself. He went impossibly faster. He leaned over you then and changed his angle, and the sensation along with the overstimulation made you come for the second time and moan the same loud obscenity as before, a sound that began to push him over the edge. You could feel his movement start to stutter and lose rhythm as your muscles tightened around his cock again. He sat up suddenly and slammed into you, stopping dead as he came deep inside of you and yelled out his pleasure. You turned to see the most bliss-filled, erotic face beneath the brim of that hat. It made you want him even more, all over again. He breathed heavily as he came down from his high, leaning over you. “You’re mine,” he panted. He slipped out of you, and as his come dripped out of your entrance and slowly ran down your inner thigh, you knew he was right. “You gonna obey me now?” he asked as he moved you with him to lay on the bed.

“If that’s my punishment, maybe not,” you said with a smile. “Then again, I think you look better in that hat than I do, so I’ll think twice next time about sticking my neck out for it for my own sake.”

“Good. Don’t ever do that again,” he said, looking deep into your eyes to make his seriousness known.

“I won’t,” you replied, knowing that somehow, the words rang true—you were willing to obey him now.

He turned over and rolled on top of you, catching your gaze with a playful one of his own. “You’re wrong about the hat. You look better in it.” He reached for it again, placing it back on your head. “Saw you ride in with it on and knew I had to fuck it right off of that pretty little head.”

“Arthur Morgan!” you chided. “So crude.” You flashed him a teasing gaze.

“Mmm. Can’t resist.” You didn’t know what he was referring to resisting, but as he moved forward and gave you another long, deep kiss, pushing the hat backward on your head once more, you ceased to care.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #low honor arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #fanfic #writing #nsft #lemon fanfic

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colter-morning · 2 years

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The Hat (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Author’s Notes: This was the first fic I ever wrote, and wow is it amazing to see how far I’ve come! But this one will always have a special place in my heart <3 Set during Chapter 3 in game.