#jack marston/you

[arthursfuckinghat]

Oh Jack...

[abovesn4kes]

Certified cool uncle Arthur moment!!!

(Blank first slide bonus bc I think it’s a silly reaction image)

[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.

[dulcemapis]

Now I don't know about you but when Dutch said during the Blood Feuds mission, "Who steals a God damn boy?" Arthur damn well thought, People could do worse to a boy. Men, somehow worse than him, would take away a boy's life for lesser reasons than stealing moonshine and horses.

Evil men would take away a little boy's life for ten dollars. Isaac had been learning to read at that time; he could have been a doctor, or a lawyer, or an author. Arthur had been teaching him to fish then. Maybe he had been hoping to teach him to hunt, too, or just fire a gun so he could take care of Eliza while he was away.

He could have been so much more than just a little boy, and he died because his only sin was being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

[maturiin]

red

[weeinerville]

oh my god its jack marston

[idyllghost]

Thinking about writing a “time travel” fic where after the events of rdr1 John doesn’t die but instead wakes up on the cliff side of colter after being mauled by wolves. He has a chance to fix things, to save people to save himself for his family. But most importantly he gets to coddle and adore a 4 year old Jack because “oh my god my boy is so small I can’t believe I didn’t appreciate him at this time”

[arthursfuckinghat]

"My name is Jack Marston - you knew my father."

[ghost-qwq]

my sad angry wet cat of a son forced to play dress up with his fathers clothes

[pine4pple-b0i]

“the pinkertons were just doing their jobs; they’re the good guys!”

the first time were introduced to the pinkertons, it’s when arthur meets milton and ross by the river while he fishes with jack. agent ross loads, cocks, and aims a gun in the direction of a child and openly threatens the kids life in front of arthur. gun safety 101 here: treat every weapon like it’s loaded, and never aim in the direction of something you don’t want to shoot. both agents willfully risked the safety/life of a literal four year old just to piss off and hopefully scare arthur. they aren’t the good guys, stop kidding yourself.

[dyingbuck]

who do you think taught him those pick-up lines ?

[synthsays]

Spoilers for RDR2 below!!!:

I was visiting Kieran's grave the other day and there were light blue flowers not far away and they reminded me a lot of him it was crazy so I decided to make a list of flowers that remind me of all the rdr2 characters

Kieran Duffy: Tweedia/Forget-me-not

Lenny Summers: Lantana

Hosea Mathews: Dasiy

Arthur Morgan: Poppy

Javier Escuella: Rose

Dutch Van Der Linde: Red hibiscus from Tahiti

Molly O' Shea: Honey Suckle

Sean McGuire: Dandelion

Susan Grimshaw: Red Tiger Lily

Sadie Adler: Sunflower

Charles Smith: Plume Thistle

Reverend Swanson: Queen Anne's Lace

Josiah Trelawney: Bleeding Heart

Jack Marston: Lilly of the Valley

John Marston: Violet

Karen Jones: Lily

Abigail Marston: Columbine

Mary-Beth Gaskill: Daffodil

Tilly Jackson: Lavender

Simon Pearson: Sea Thrift

Bill Williamson: Yarrow

Uncle: Cardinal Flower

Micah Bell: no flower only rat

[reddorkredemption]

It makes me sad when people say that Jack 'became everything his parents feared in the end' and 'everyone's sacrifices were wasted on him'. Because it's so defeatist and not necessarily true. ( I also hate the victim-blamey undertone of the 'Jack wasted everyone's sacrifices' claim but that's a whole other discussion… )

The ending of rdr1 is very open-ended-- it's ultimately up to the player what Jack becomes. Yet so many people treat it like a 100% hopeless tragedy, like he's just a lost cause. As if people who've gone through trauma/hardship at a young age are incapable of ever finding happiness or living a normal life again.

He's only 19. His life has just started. Why do y'all wanna act like it's already over?

As far as we know, killing Ross is the only bad thing he did. And I don't think that killing the man who caused the death of your entire family = becoming an outlaw who robs and kills indiscriminately. Plus, it's important to note that the game implies that he does get away with killing Ross.

I've played as Jack a ton to 100% rdr1, and he isn't all doom and gloom like people seem to think he is. I feel like all of his positive traits and potential just get completely erased in favor of angst, and it's sad. :(

I like to think that Jack has a redemption arc of his own after killing Ross because his personality-- his love for and desire to please his departed family-- really lends itself to that. But obviously not through the tired old 'redemption through death' trope. I think he redeems himself by struggling past his hardships and living in spite of them.

One of the most important parts of Jack's character for me is that, despite all their similarities, he is not John. And I think his story should ultimately reflect that.

[historical-paramedics]

Obsessed with Jack here, obsessed with him goofing around, being a kid, climbing on stuff that might break, but whatever, he's a kid!! Obsessed with his silly conversations with uncle and how he can finally relax and tease his parents and ask dumb questions and play with rufus and read books. HES FINALLY ALLOWED TO BE A KID

[fablexdreams]

Jack: looks exactly like John, to the point of being confused as him

Random person in the Fandom: ...but what if he's Javier's-

[pinkysberg]

so insane of john marston to say his son is "getting soft" after he's lived in a gang from the ages of birth to four years old, john flat out abandons him as a baby, returns and continues to deny he's even jack's father, then decides ok fine he is my son after he's kidnapped for ransom. then after all this and a trip to prison, john finally develops some sense and goes "i can't raise a child in a gang!" then proceeds to uproot his life every few weeks bc he can't stop doing crime. for nearly a decade.

LET THE BOY READ