#john marston blurb

[ravengards-rogue]

WHAT SET YOU FREE, BROUGHT YOU TO ME BABY.

rdr2 men + short blurbs about their favorite sex positions.

ft. arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuella, and charles smith.

✧ tags : SPOILER HEAVY, fem + afab!reader, unprotected sex, light angst (in the horny post is crazy im sorry fdkjjkds), very gendered language, javier says one thing in spanish (thank u @nanamimizz), a little sprinkle of plot with each (and some canon divergency), john co-parents w abigail, otherwise just horny. 18+

✧ wc : about 1.4-8k each (6.3k total)

✧ a/n : sorry for making a multi character post for the cowboy game its cooking me to death. my john bias is showing rip. title is from rebel yell by billy idol but i listen to the bvb cover

sorry about charles and javiers but if i edit this anymore im going to level an entire city using hollow purple technique. please rb if you enjoyed i worked kind of hard on whatever this is.

sorry for . the THIRD repost of this i promise i wont after this. its just really bugging me. PLEASE

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ ARTHUR MORGAN + PRONE BONE ; 

It’s an odd feelin’ for Arthur. 

Wanting something, he means. Wanting anything as much as he wants you. He’s lived a less than quiet life up until now. And he ain’t the brightest, certainly, but living this kind of life teaches you many lessons. One of them being, it’s better not to covet anything. Coveting something you’re not entitled to, well—it’ll lead you places you wouldn’t want to go with a gun. 

Arthur has made the mistake of coveting love before, dreamed of a future so completely out of his reach he almost convinced himself it was possible. Dreamed of it so foolishly he’d even go visit a woman he very well ought to forget. It’s his problem, his burden to bear - always desiring outcomes unsuited to him. 

He’s just that sort of man he reckons. But he learned his lesson. He tries (tried?) to stay away from it after that. Tried not to pine too much for normalcy when such hopes had failed him twice. The loss of his child completely on his account and the loss of his love at the same fate. 

So, wanting you - well, he feels like the world's dullest fool. Really. How is it that Arthur had fallen in love with someone again? It had all just happened so quickly. You were another woman he’d saved from the O’Driscolls, though it wasn’t like you were no damsel. A lot of those men were dead by the time they arrived. That sort of perseverance would stick with you while you traveled together. Much like Sadie, you didn’t take well to housework - you liked to earn your keep. Though you’re not nearly so trigger happy. 

You’re quiet, thoughtful, well-read. Plus you’re good at making money. That’s why Dutch don't complain about you joining them, he figures. 

(Arthur tries not to pry into it too much at first, but he eventually learns that you’re gambling. Which is how you’re able to make such a fast turn around. A prim little lady like you makes for a fine poker player, and you love to play men out of their money. He thinks it’s one of the funniest and most interesting things about you. He can’t help but love you a little more for it. )

When the feelings in him start to stir, Arthur tries to overlook it. Arthur convinces himself, time and time again - that there’s no way he’ll grow more tender about you. Eventually, it’ll die down. You’re a decent woman is all, a kind one - who’s easy for him to love and even easier for him to confide in. In your time together, you often come to Arthur and you always seem to have some profound wisdom he is so sorely lacking. Someone easy to love, who does not expect much from Arthur at all. It’s only natural a lonely, covetous man like him would start to dream about you. He tells himself, it will pass eventually. Should he simply let it run by him, it will pass. But Arthurs a fool, you’ll remember. 

 Of course, by the time he understood all that - he already loved you enough that he couldn’t bear it. It was already too late and it wasn’t going to change any time soon. Especially not while everything changed around him. 

So, Arthur is undoubtedly a fool, but he’s lucky. He felt divinely blessed when you’d returned his feelings for him so politely. A coy little smile on your face, a laugh like you thought he was silly for being doubtful. Arthur tried to explain himself but you wouldn’t hear a word of it. Maybe that’s another thing he loves so much about you. There’s nothing he ever needs to explain. 

In any case, all Arthur seems to do lately is want you. Wants you when it’s inconvenient. Wants you before he wants liquor or a cigarette or some other vice. Any time anything goes wrong, you’re the first thing his mind can conjure up for relief. That pretty smile and that self-assured way of living. It’s hard to get time alone in camp. And Arthur is a man in love, so any touch could be enough to set him on fire. Last week you hugged his waist a little before giving him a kiss goodbye and he had to listen to you laugh yourself into a fit as he waited for…little Arthur to settle down. 

He don’t get many chances to be with you. Lay with you in that way that grown folk in love do. Though, if the two of you book it somewhere for a few days - the camp knows better not to ask where you’ve been. But it’s not often you get to really be together, where it’s peaceful to do that. Someone’s always hounding one of you to do something. 

Arthur is a lucky man though, like he said. Today he had time. Today he’s alone with you in a beat up little saloon and today he gets to do as he likes. He gets to be greedy. And it’s an odd feeling for him, really, to want something so bad he disregards everything else in the world for a little while. 

Feeling you, though - absolves the guilt for wanting. He’d be stupid to want you any less desperately. 

Arthur’s favorite way to have you is on your stomach. Laid flat, just barely pushed up against him as he fucks you deep. You’ll fuck like rabbits for a little while and Arthur will wear you out just like this, maneuvering you until you’re pinned all underneath his weight. You lose any fight you might have, too exhausted to worry yourself with pleasing him - and when you’re like that, you let Arthur take care of you. 

(He really ain’t talented at much, but he’s good with his hands. Being dexterous is part of being a talented shot. When Arthur has the time to spread you sweet in his lap and make you cum all over his fingers, he does so for as long as he can. At least until you beg him so sweetly otherwise. The same hands, soiled with gunsmoke, look so good so deep in you. At least in his eyes.)

Wet and pliable and helpless. Arthur loves you like that. He knows, he knows you’re anything but - but he’d be damned to pretend this don’t feel best. Tight, wet cunt so welcoming from all the pleasure he’s ripped out of you. Your bodies pressed together, your heartbeat pulsing through your skin. All sticky, honeyed need and animal desire as Arthur lets all of him sink on top of you. His heavy, lumbering form crushing you in - trapping you somewhere you can’t run from him. The curve of your spine pushed against his chest, ticklish. 

Every inch of his body that so wholly wants for you, Arthur aches to make you feel. Burn it in you lest anything happens that risks your forgetting. 

He can feel his hips meet your ass, backside squished against him - desperate for deeper friction. Whining. You’re whining to him so pretty, a pillow pushed underneath you to give friction to needy clit. 

Arthur can feel how much you want more. Maybe Arthur is greedy, but he likes that look much better on you. Your pussy is sucking him in so tight, silken walls pulsing with every shallow little measured thrust. Arthur lets his arm wrap around your neck, your face pressing into his bicep. You moan again and he laughs. 

“Arthur,” Your words come out in a messy slur. He lets his scruffy face press against your neck, a kiss behind your ear. He wants to kiss you all over. There’s not enough hours in the day. “Oh, god, Arthur,” 

“Still feels good, then, I’m guessin’,” 

“Shut up,” You huff and press your cheek into his arm. He doesn’t bother stifling his laugh. “Still feels…big. Stretchin’ me out—hicc—so much,” 

You really don’t try to rile him up - but you do a damn good job of it anyway. He groans, grunts as he pulls back and pistons himself in you. A gesture half-way between a kiss and the warning shot of a gun. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes, noisy and vulgar. Arthur don’t pay it much mind. He laughs against your shoulder.

“One of these days, that moutha’ yours is gonna get me in real trouble.” 

You giggle back at him 

“What kinda trouble is that now?” 

Even from your side glance, you’ve got that lovely little smile on you. Fuckdrunk and ingratiating, like you know he’s wrapped so tight around your fingers. And he is, like nothing else in the world could have him. A wave of possession curls up over Arthur, makes him press more of himself into you. Onto you. Another deep push of his cock, sliding against the tenderest parts of you. Staking some silent desire in you. He wants and wants and wants, and hopes that whatevers above him can forgive him for making the same mistake thrice. 

“Dunno,” Arthur comments, teeth grazing your shoulder and kissing the indentations “Got our whole lives together to find out, I reckon.” 

“I’ll hold you to it, Mister.” 

Arthur laughs. “Hope you do, Miss.” 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ JOHN MARSTON + COWGIRL ;

John doesn’t say that he loves you lightly. 

Hardly a thing he says can be said that way. Could never afford too. In an alternate universe where nothing goes wrong in his life, maybe - but he has a hard time picturing what the hell that’d look like. A version of himself so untainted, without all of the violence and blood and gunsmoke? Foreign. John can’t picture it worth a damn. 

Who John is without a deadbeat father and a dead Ma is somewhere far beyond his reach. Ain’t nothing about his life, at any point, lighthearted. 

On top of all that mess, he’s got a boy at age four with a woman he ain’t married too. And that relationship is always on rocky waters, even though John’s decided to do right by his own flesh and blood sometime ago. Most things in the world he should feel good about he doesn’t, and most things he should understand render him clueless. He’s a mess on multiple accounts, and he still doesn’t know how exactly he’s meant to approach this life of his. He knows what he should do, but nothing about how to do it. 

John doesn’t come to love you easily ‘cause he wouldn’t know easy love if it hit him in his face. Quickly and painfully, but not easily. 

Your return to the gang was an odd one. You were an old presence and your disappearance was an even older story. John thought he’d never gonna see you again for sure. You’d been a part of the gang back long before all of the nonsense that took place in Blackwater and you left about the time Arthur’s boy died. John don’t remember why you left exactly. He thinks it was a fight with Hosea, of all things.

 Dutch weren't too happy about it neither, but Dutch back then didn’t make a show. 

So you left, and John buried every feeling he ever harbored. You found all them again up in Colter, where you’d been living out your days lately. According to you, in the middle of riding, you thought you’d heard Arthur. So, somewhat recklessly, you went chasing him. Didn’t matter if he was just something your mind conjured. According to you, if it was him, it was at least worth checking to make sure. You’d reunited with Arthur and after some tears, he rode with you back to camp. 

Upon your return, the gang welcomed you with open arms. 

You’d done a lot in your time alone.You spent most of that time just like that, a ghost wanderin’ the planes. You weren’t gonna stay with ‘em, but Arthur insisted and Hosea did too. That wasn’t enough to compel, so John was last to chip in. You should stay, at least until Valentine. 

(Silently he thought, you should stay so John can trace memories of you. It was so long ago, he should’ve forgotten all of it. You were a year older than John and always on his ass but easy for him to talk to. Didn’t fuss over his failures. You just barely grew into your womanhood when you set your sights on running away. You wanted more than this life, and John never really forgave you for it. His first heartbreak, maybe - but it’s all too blurry for that. 

You understood him though better than anyone, and one day you were gone. Nothing’s really the same.) 

You changed tremendously and not at all. He missed you. God, did he ever. Missed you a long time. Didn’t realize how much until you came back and everything in him felt right again. Your return stirred up old feelings and everyone noticed. He wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, but he really wasn’t trying to fall back into anything with you. Not how he did. 

Just like you did back then, you read John like an open book. And just like he did back then, he loved you all too helplessly for it.  It was just all too easy again, to be with you. 

You stayed out of the way at first, for the sake of his family. 

But, John ain’t a half-decent man even when he’s trying to be. So he set himself on being with you. It wasn’t easy - most things with him aren’t as you’ll see.  Having you around again straightened what was left of his common sense, at least. He told Abigail before telling you. He figured you wouldn’t even reply unless that was all out of the way. That turned out as well as you’d expect.

 It was settled between the two of you thereafter. He’s lucky she didn’t toss him into the street. 

Everything works out in a way. As best they can between broken people. You make peace with each other. His boy loves you like a third parent (you’re better with him than John is). Abigail commends you for straightening out such a worthless man though she’s a little melancholy.  John just tries to stay out of the way. You’ll be together in the end. There’s a plan with the five of you. 

But until it all falls apart, he doesn’t get all that much time with you. 

There’s moments like tonight, though. Rare ones. Together out robbin’, cooped out some place in the woods where no one is around. A place so shaded by nightfall that John can absolve himself of every sin he’s ever committed in his life and pray at the altar between your hips. John is convinced he might find worship like he’s always hearing about there whenever he touches you, the marred skin of his hands and knuckles reading the scripture of your body with careful precision. 

You might turn him into a literate man yet. 

John glances up at you. Only the light of the fire and the moonlight there to accompany as he watches you over him. You’re beautiful. John couldn’t picture a single thing more perfect in his life. 

Your hands against his bare chest, nails digging into the flesh as you lean forward. Your palm dug into the dirt, John finds his own hands rested at your hips. John looks at you awe-struck, cock twitching at the mere sight. His heart settles in his throat, but he’s calm all at the same time. With you, he forgets. All of it. The worst of himself. 

Bare naked and so close, he watches your face as you strain. You feel soft. Every inch of you in comparison to him is. A bead of sweat slides down the valley of your breasts. John cranes his neck up to catch it with his tongue, licking a stripe up to your neck - letting his teeth sink into the space between your jaw and neck. You want to make it last and John doesn’t blame you. It’s so rare you get to have each other so unrestrained. John can feel all the ways you want him, can see it in your face - all pinched with need. You’re holding yourself back, trying to get it to last as long as the night will allow. It’s cute in a way.

It’s different than how he’s used to seein’ you, all cocky or otherwise. You’re needy like this. Just needy. His stomach turns with lust, jolting through him like a strike of lightning. His cock twitches against your folds, sliding against them. Pure admiration watching the sticky mess of his pre-cum and your own arousal mix together and smear on your mound. You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, faint and tender as you fall forward just a little. John laughs against your neck. 

“Darlin’,” He says with a huff. Not malice. Something akin to bliss, where he can rarely afford it “Have I done something to piss you off today?” 

You pick yourself up and look down at him and frown. John kisses the corner of your mouth, resisting some crude desire to fuck up into you. 

“Just,” You grunt as the tip of his cock passes over your throbbing clit, your whole body wracking to a shiver. John looks awed. “Pent up. Goddamn it,” 

John figures it out quickly after that. It’s this part of it he likes. The proximity. The closeness. Feeling the tremble in your hands as they struggle to keep up right, muscles strained in your forearms. Being able to hold you, to keep the pace or let you take the lead. The clear view of your face as pleasure travels up through your spine and melts into you. He grabs your hips, the fat dimpling underneath his fingers as he moves you along. He can’t wait. You don’t bother to protest seeing John can’t seem to bear it anymore. You collapse into his chest, your tits pushed flat against his pecs.

His cock throbs near painfully, sliding against your soft cunt before finding himself lined with you. He thinks to himself that it’s this he was looking for, as he tucks your face against his neck and lets his tip stretch you out slowly. Such a vice like grip, stretching - resisting him like your whole body can’t anticipate the sensation of fullness. You gasp against his throat. 

“John,”  

What a sweet sound from your mouth, even sweeter as he bucks himself up. Keeps you steady and lets his cock stretch you full, feel you deep. “That’s right, my angel. Didn’t think you’d remember my name when you’re all worked up like this.” 

“You’re,” You gasp and John thrusts, thrusts hard until he’s buried to the hilt. You shudder, walls pulsing around him as he bottoms out and John laughs like the terrible man he is. He fucks you again, over and over - a wicked little smile watching “Awful. Just awful, John Marston,” 

“Ain’t that the truth,” He hums against your mouth as his hand snakes between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit. “Wonder what kinda woman that makes you,” 

“A foolish one,” 

John laughs. 

“I sure do love you for it,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆JAVIER ESCUELLA + SIDEWAYS ;

Javier hasn’t thought about much other than surviving. 

It’s been like that. Been like that for a while, probably much longer than he cares to admit. He’s sure any sane man would suffer the same plight if they lead the same life. Anything but survival is little more than a pipe-dream, so Javier tries not to go for anything too strongly. In that aspect he’s like many of the members of the gang he’s in, perhaps that’s why he sticks to them. There’s that phrase Hosea’s always saying - that misery loves company. Javier will take any decent company he can get.  He’s desperate for it just like he’s desperate for most things - inwardly, silently. 

Some of that desperation may be symptomatic of who he is. After he killed a man in a crime of passion for a woman he loved and ran from a government who would sooner exile him than change, Javier decided to not dream anymore. Every revolutionary who dreams too hopefully pays the price in blood.

(Javier thinks there’s probably nothing in the world as true as this. A form of gospel. He remembers the first dream he ever had after his uncle passed. Not a nightmare but a dream. He remembers the exact feeling of waking up, cold and confused. What is a dream, except a memento of survivor's guilt that loyal people cling onto fruitlessly. When hope starts to feel like a debt he’s going to waste his life paying back, Javier loses sight of everything. The beginning of the end in some way.) 

His mind doesn’t occupy itself with anything bigger than that. Since Dutch found him starving, there was never a desire to try and live off aspirations. He pays his penance with loyalty and honor. Practices some form of humility and tries, not too desperately, to carve a place for him to fit. All without drawing too much attention or caring too much. If you ignore the bleeding in his fingers, his penchant for knives over guns, and his refusal to talk too long about the place he comes from - it’s nearly believable that none of it matters. 

Except loyalty. All Javier honors is that. It’s the only thing he has some part in choosing, so he choses it every time. Living like that didn’t make any difference to him. He was surrounded by mostly decent people. He didn’t hate the life he was living. 

It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter. His directionless-ness, his floating. Hadn’t since he joined the gang. At least not to anyone but him. He didn’t know what he’s meant to do or if he was meant to proceed with this forever. He was (is)  loyal to Dutch. To the gang. 

He hadn’t thought much about what comes after. 

And it didn’t matter until he met you

He’d sworn off love after seeing where it got him, at least until he could love more dispassionately. When the women bring you back from their outing from Valentine and beg Dutch to let you stay, Javier doesn’t think much of it all. He thinks you’re pretty, if it counts for anything. But he doesn’t let himself linger on you too long. 

But that’s the sequence with you two, really. The whole time.  He doesn’t linger until he does. It doesn't matter until it does. He doesn’t think about you until it’s all he can think about. 

You go for him first. And it’s in little, unimportant ways that might not mean shit to you but mean a whole lot to him. You have some kind of tenderness about you that you wear deep, runs through your blood like love ran through his once long ago. Some softness he can’t really measure with his own. It’s not that that gets him. It’s that sometimes you look at Javier like he's … someone you want to see. He forgot what that was like all together. It felt foreign to him the first time it happened. Seeing how you light up when Javier is around. 

You wanted to see him. You noticed that he’s gone. If he sang by the campfire - you’d sit by him and listen.  If he was out in the trees keeping guard, he’d hear the soft call of your voice to Grimshaw ask Where’s Javier? And sometimes the girls will make fun of you - but you wouldn’t deny anything they said. It’s so small and ordinary. He would’ve never considered himself simple before meeting you. Nothing is simple. Nothing. 

(But then, Javier thinks of the kinds of songs he sings and the way he takes care of himself and the clothes he wears and maybe Javier has some kind of affinity for preciousness that explains all of it.) 

When Javier confesses his feelings for you - he finds the affair to be like most things between you. Ordinary love, not really between outlaws but people. It’s up against a tree while you share a drink and he’s looking at the curve of your mouth and the plum color Karen’s so kindly put on you. And his head fills with kissing you so he does. A breathless confession between alcohol stains and the feeling of your hands curled in the lapels of his suit. 

From there, Javier is your lover. He’s not interested in the business of secrets, but he tries not to let it show too much. Not that he doesn’t want to. He wants to show you off more than anything - at least some part of him does. But the other part wants to keep you away from prying eyes, keep his love for you only where the both of you can see. If he could keep that pretty lovestruck face you make all to himself forever he would. 

When he gets a chance to whisk you away from everything, Javier jumps at the chance. Not often, but Javier makes time for you. Makes time to indulge in love he thought he’d  never find again. 

That’s why he’s here with you in the middle of nowhere, a ghost town where no one knows you.. A reserved room with a bed and lowlights all to yourselves. 

Javier can’t keep his hands to himself and he doubts you expect him too. 

For Javier, this sense of proximity is what intoxicates him most. The warmth of your bare skin in the slivers of yourself exposed. Javier is fond of finding you like this after a long day of horse riding. Of sneaking touches to your waist as you push back against him to sleep, only to find his desire for you - laid clearly. He likes hearing you whimper feeling his length poke against your back, the embarrassment when it dawns on you that he wants you after all. Always surprised, even though Javier tells you it so often. Whispers it along your neck and shoulders whenever you’re at camp together.

You like the feeling of his hands so Javier always starts with them. He squeezes your hips. Planes his palms over your chest before squeezing your chest, pushing the fat between his fingers. You like the way  they look when they grope you, his chin resting against your shoulder as you spoon. In the lowlights of a cheap hotel - Javier gets the perfect view of your silhouette. Your body is sensitive over the fabric of your gown, heat prickling through you. 

Javier who is always so gentle with you, rouses so deep listening to your whining as he explores your body. The suffocating closeness of a single bed intoxicates him. 

“Javier,” Your voice is sweet and thin. Plays in Javier’s head like music and makes his mouth curl up into a catlike grin as you push back on him.  You look slightly over your shoulder, lips pushed into a pout. “Please,” 

He tugs at the fabric of your nightgown. The top half pulls haphazard underneath your tits, nipples perky and sensitive to touch while the skirt pools at your waist. What gets Javier like this is the desperation. Wanting so much but not being able to look too long. A way for you to mirror him, it’s a matter of possession. In some stupid way. Bunching your clothes up, pushing the fabric of your panties to one side, letting his arm wrap around your waist to touch and tease.  All of these are imprints of his longing, tucked faithful into your side as he whispers sweet nothings into your skin.

His cock twitches as it pushes past your folds with finality, your hands curling up at your sides.  You whimper softly, let your cheek rest against the sheets as Javier takes you on your side. Terribly close, you fuss as you feel him slide every inch into you slow, your hands reaching back for purchase. It’s the fit of you against him so perfect, the silent strokes of intimacy, the hush-hush giggles between the sheets that Javier loves most about fucking you like this. Too enamored with you to look too closely, he lets his eyes flutter closed. He could get drunk just being in your space. 

He carves out space for himself inside of you, feels your cunt accommodate for him like it loves him. A feverishness breaks out as his forehead rests on the space between your shoulders, an uncharacteristic whiny quality in his words. 

“Ser mío,” Javier says - as a reflection of what he really wants, to belong only to you. “Belong to me.” 

Darling as you always are, you nod softly. 

“All yours, Javier,” You whimper, finding his hand. “Forever,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ CHARLES SMITH + MATING PRESS ; 

Wandering. 

He’s been doing it his whole life. Not something he’s proud of. Or ashamed of either, really. Just how things have gone for him until now. Charles doesn’t think his life has been any better or any worse than anyone else's. At least not when he weighs it with the same kind of pragmatism he does most things. It’s been a hard life, and a miserable one in so many ways. Still, it’s not something Charles is too keen to dwell on. 

There’s just something thematic about loss in Charles' life in a way he finds completely unpleasant. It’s more constant than anything. Loss of his home, loss of his mother, loss of his father in an attempt to find what’s best for him. It’s some overarching message that hangs over his head like a shadow. Everywhere he goes, trying to rectify his own solitude seems to come back to him. It doesn’t help that it’s an unfair world to start with, and would’ve been if he had just been black or just been native. But Charles is both, and has lived a life that reflects that specific injustice thoroughly. 

There’s not really anything Charles can do about it, at its baseline. When he left his father, the name of the game had simply been survival. He was well-equipped enough for that at least. But after survival comes trying to live and trying to live isn’t something so simple. Jumping in and out of gangs who thought they could get away with slighting him or generally being surrounded by unpleasant people. Trying to find something in pages of book and scripture, or in the way water ripples when it rains. 

He’s never felt any one way towards the gang. Even when he joined them all the way back in the Grizzlies. Lost in the cold, they’d crossed paths as Charles was out hunting. A lot of it feels like a blur. Of all the folks he’s met in his travels though, Dutch treats him fair and the rest of them (or most of them) are decent, honest folk. Charles stays in the Van Der Linde gang for such simple reasons as trying to stay alive and be somewhere that isn’t actively hostile towards him. He’s a good gunman, and a better fighter. The inner workings of gang politics and forging connection isn’t at the forefront of his mind, with the exception of the kindest few. 

The Van Der Linde gang is just a place where he can figure out what his purpose is meant to be, even if he doesn’t find it there. He’s never expecting anything to come out from his loyalties to it. 

Of all the things Charles expects of his life in the Van Der Linde gang, love is at the very bottom of the list. 

Maybe it’s about time he stops being surprised by these things happening to him one or way another.

 You were a member of the gang far before him, and someone Charles took to quickly. You’d joined the gang not too long after John from what Arthur tells him. Though the brunette speaks about you more fondly than he does his brother. A problem child at the start, according to Arthur - always getting into all sorts of trouble. Something you seemingly feel embarrassed about now and refuse to bring up. Charles has a hard time picturing it having only known you as you are. 

The woman you’ve grown into is someone else completely, and Charles sees that in you all the time. Compassionate like Hosea but charismatic like Dutch, and clever. And you’re beautiful, too, though Charles feels a little shallow admitting that’s part of what drew you into him. 

It wasn’t Charles that approached you first. You were the one who spoke to him, as often as you thought necessary but never in a way he found invasive. He doesn’t know what it is exactly about you that charms him near instantly. You’re enigmatic to a fault. It’s like you always know exactly what to say and exactly when to say it. Even more than that, you’re a terribly pleasant person to be around. Subtly warm and free of assumptions. When Charles talks to you about anything, you listen without making him feel like it’s any sort of burden to you. You don’t pry, don’t make missteps. Treat him fair, and then some. 

It’s unbearably simple, just how quickly and how easily he comes to adore you.  And, in some ways, Charles knows better than to believe that his purpose is loving someone. There’s more to it than that, surely - after everything. 

But then, he’ll watch you do something. Watch you do some kind of menial work that he could do for you instead. Thinks of skinning animals for new clothes and chopping wood and rubbing the soap off of you and all of a sudden it makes him feel anchored. Everything he could do for you. You anchor Charles easily, with a wispy smile. Make him want to find purpose in life with you. He never wants to be somewhere you’re not. 

He confesses it to you just like that, and like you do with most things - you accept and reciprocate without making too much of a fuss. 

For Charles, making love is an extension of wanting to ground himself in you. A distant siren song - the intersection of lust and bone deep adoration. Like most things, you’re the one to approach first every time. A soft hand on his forearm, a whisper that you want him. It’s with ease that he draws you away. Drags from you camp during nightfall with his horse and blankets and picks a spot with the perfect view of the stars. 

Charles watches you under the glow of moonlight, his vision adjusting to you easily. Naked underneath him, laid on your back with your legs folded at your knees - heaving deep breaths. He can see the sweat beading down your skin, your chest rising and falling - and the perfect view of your pussy. His hands and mouth are wet as you breathe out. He finds himself smiling at you, his own erection pressed against your thigh, pre-cum leaking out in a mesmerized haze. 

You lift your hands up and he leans down, surprised as you wrap them around his neck and pull him closer to you. Your mouths meet like that, and Charles laughs against your lips as you kiss him so eagerly. You blink at him, pretty. You’re always prettier than he remembers you being the last time he looks. 

“Charles,” You frown at him. “It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting,” 

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Sorry, my love. I don’t want to hurt you,” 

“Well, I’m fine with it,” You repeat, almost petulant. Charles frowns. “‘Sides, it ain’t my first time taking you, you know?” 

“Well, I’m not fine with it.” 

You pout, looking at him all endeared. Charles couldn’t help but love you even if he tried. “You ain’t gonna hurt me. C’mon. Please?” 

“Please, what?” 

You look at him aghast before breaking out into a faux-scandalized giggle. “Now you—please fuck me. Pretty, please.” 

Charles feels something tickling against his spine hearing you say it. He couldn’t imagine getting sick of you in his whole life.  “Yeah, that’s good to hear.” 

You make an indignant noise but it’s silenced quickly as Charles positions himself against your entrance. He has plenty of discipline when it comes to matters like these, but right now - he feels like he’s going to lose his mind. Not nearly enough patience to wait. He lets his hands go up underneath your knees just to have something to hold onto. 

You make a little gasp as the tip of his cock pushes into you. Your walls are so soft, likely after all the orgasms he’d given you prior. You stop him in a shocked gasp, and Charles immediately readies himself to pull out. As if sensing his hesitance, you shake your head. 

“Charles,” You gasp, the words caught in your throat and hoarse “Deep. Want it deep,” 

His abdomen tightens, cocking twitching hard at your words. He agrees silently to your desires. 

When it comes to sex, there’s very little Charles dislikes.

But this is his favorite. He’s simple but no other position lets him see you so close. He likes the way your eyes widen as he pushes up underneath your knees and folds you underneath his weight. How you look pinned down under him, the perfect view of your eyes rolling back into your head and the proximity from your face to his. He lets his cock stretch you out slowly, throbbing each time your nails dig desperately into arms trying to keep your composure. Fuck you feel so tight like that. Soft pussy, dripping and sticky. You suck him in relentlessly, and Charles groans as he bottoms out. You take every inch of him so well. So perfect like the rest of you. 

Your eyes flutter open as he stays there, buried in you in complete bliss. You’re dazed. 

“Kiss?” 

Surprise followed by adoration, he abides by your request easily. Overwhelmed with it as he presses a chaste peck to your mouth, he laughs. “As many as you want.”

Anything you want, Charles thinks, he would give to you. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

[ariseur]

hi love!! i saw that your requests are open and im here to help🫡

can i request some red dead headcanons/blurbs? maybe what their affection/kisses are like? arthur, john, javier and charles are my pookies (especially charles oh my god i love him so so much) but i would love to hear your thoughts on anybody really!!

hope you’re doing well <3

AFFECTIONATE - VAN DER LINDE BOYS

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ notes - for some reason i cannot post rdr2 with my manga headers or cutesy pink dividers it feels so off to me i have no idea why 😭 but thank you for sending this request in, i love it sooo much!’ it’s nice to see another charles lover in this fandom lolol— you take care as well!! 🫶

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ warnings - mentions of injuries in kieran’s and charles, kisses and kissing (?), intended lowercase, alcohol and drinking in sean’s, lmk if i missed anything!! 🫶

ARTHUR MORGAN who will put calloused hands around your waist when you’re alone in your tent at night, burrowing his nose in your hair as he lays behind you. you can smell his musk, the scent of the outdoors and faded linen, as it clings onto you with its tight grip and lingers. you don’t mind though, and neither does arthur; simply basking in your warmth as the crickets chirp in harmony with your soft exhales.

“‘ve missed you.” you say, your right hand crawling to interlock itself with his own draped over your waist as it fiddles with the soft skin there.

“missed y’too, darlin’.” you can feel his chest rumble with his voice, tone deep and gravelly from the lack of use. you let your eyes close as you savored the feeling of his hands caressing the small chub that gathered itself in his hands when he squished too much. you would give anything to have moments like these with arthur whenever you could.

JOHN MARSTON who’ll scoff as you pressed kisses along his face, sitting on his lap as the campfire graced your bodies with its warm glow. his affections held a more stand-offish tone to them but on the off occasional that he got a little too tipsy, you could never pry him off of you.

“if i’d’a known any better, i’d have thought you was in love wit’ me,” he huffed. regardless of his dumb comments, his hands never failed to find their way upon the dips of your hips, rubbing circles over the fabric of your clothes.

you bumped your head into his head as he chuckled, raspy voice rumbling throughout his chest as you halted your kisses and instead rested your head on his shoulder. your foot, bare and tapping against the ground in tune with the distant strums of javier’s guitar and karen’s drunken singing kept you grounded — kept you remembering that this was real, this was all real; and you were alive.

“why? you complainin’?”

you felt john’s cheeks widen with his grin. “naw,” was all he said.

two things that JAVIER ESCUELLA cherished most in this world were family and freedom; and he knew that he felt at peace knowing he had both of these things in that moment. you by his side, as neither of you had a care in the world. the sun glimmered and lazed around, taking its place on your backs and replacing the cool, dawn air with its heat. affection with javier is passionate and it’s scary, you never know what you’ll get or suffer the next day but it doesn’t matter — you persevere knowing you’ll find home in his arms a night more, you’ll live long enough to seek refuge and if you died in the process; it’d be okay knowing you died with who you loved.

deft fingers came to slide up and down the wooden fretboard along with his other hand plucking on the strings. you hadn’t realized you’d been staring until he peeked one eye open from under his bowler hat, a teasing smirk on his face as he mumbled, “no me miras con esos ojos, corazón.”

you rolled your eyes, “que quieres decir, javi?”

he hummed, he knew you knew what he meant — and you knew that he knew. but for now, you’d continue to stare, admiring your beloved that sat so prettily on that log; simply playing his guitar. he had his freedom, and he had his family right here.

loud laughs erupted from the obnoxious irishman known as SEAN MACGUIRE, a jug of alcohol in his hand and his darling in the other.

“i’m tellin’ ya, luckiest man alive—! they said they loved me, can y’believe it?” his accent only got thicker by the minute as he raved to everybody that walked by about how you had suddenly professed your love once more as you two sat on the barrel circling the rounded, wooden table. you smacked his arm to which he let out a rasping cackle. “shut up, will you?”

“ah, never. y’know ya love me,” he puckered his lips dramatically as you scoffed. giving him a chaste kiss, he groaned as you pulled away too quick before you went in deeper, seeing his eyes widen in shock before yours fluttered closed. he laughed out the side of his mouth before his hand, ever so gentle, buried itself in your hair. sean was a loud lover, one you’d typically be embarrassed by — but that only meant he loved you more than anything. a drunk man’s words is a sober man’s thoughts and he had you on his mind all the time.

CHARLES SMITH who’ll treat your wounds silently, as he always did except this time would be different. a tense silence would fill your tent other than murmured hisses and apologies due to the peroxide and other various natural remedies he preserved for your care. charles would always keep a level head, warning you not to go on jobs that micah would egg you on yet charles would always wait for you to return.

he never said anything during these times, charles loved silently. instead of telling you he loved you every second or having you on his lap like others, he’d bring you a trinket you remembered wanting from a storefront window or he’d take you out hunting with him; teaching you how to properly set up bait ( not in the reckless way that sean or bill would attempt to mansplain about ). he’d take care of you and he’d listen to you. so when you’d gasp and bite your fist from how badly he had to stitch your leg up, his hand would grab yours and bring it down to rest on your thigh — intertwining fingers as his thumb grazed over the crescent shaped marks your teeth left.

you really did love KIERAN DUFFY, seeing the way he’d try to puff his chest out when the guys at camp would look at you when really, he’d get all shy and blushy when you babied him. he wasn’t so used to this sorta thing, you know, relationships. everybody in camp looked at you like you were crazy, but they knew better than to tell that to you ( or him ), knowing they’d only get an earful from you about how sweet kieran really was.

you’d dress his wounds and in return, you’d find your horse prepped and groomed all pretty in the mornings — already fed and provided with water. and when you’d ask arthur or tilly, they’d always shrug and say, “must be that o’driscoll boy.”

you treated him with care, like no one had ever had, and that was the greatest gift in itself to kieran. he saw you as an angel, he’d even try telling you sometimes although backtracking a bit just to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable. kieran duffy’s affection was careful and nervous, stiff gestures presented to you although all of his worries melted away once he heard your sweet laugh. he didn’t know much about this stuff but that was okay, he’d learn just for you.

𐙚 taglist ; @ch3rryfiles @maskedteaser

𐙚 requests are closed — june twenty eighth, 2024

[unmaskthewriter]

Scars {John Marston x GN!Reader}

Summary: Unable to sleep, you begin to examine John’s scarred body.

A/N: a very short little blurb I wanted to write.

Warnings: bad memories, scars from violence, mentions of character death

Word Count: 500+

You lay in the large bed, the covers barely draped over your naked form. John lay beside you, fast asleep, his arm lazily draped along your bare hips. His breathing was calm, and steady.

The fireplace has long burned out, leaving a soft chill in the room. Through the drapes, the moonlight leaked into the room. Carefully, you turn to face John’s sleeping form. Your gaze travels his skin as your gentle fingers come to touch his bare chest, tracing over various scars and old bullet wounds now healed. Sometimes, he’d tell you the origin of a few of the scars. Having been a member of the gang for some time prior to its dissolution, you were aware of his marred cheek from the wolf attack in the Grizzlies, and the bullet wound in his upper arm from the last train robbery. Your fingers traced the different dips and grooves of each scar, almost admiring the story it would tell.

“What’re doing…?” John mumbled sleepily beside you, his eyes still closed. You didn’t mean to wake him due to your own insomnia, having since decided to distract yourself with his scars and what some would call imperfections.

“… ‘m sorry… couldn’t sleep.” You speak softly, your hand traveling upwards, past his neck to brush some loose strands of hair from his face. All of his scars, those memories — you wouldn’t be where you were without them. Sometimes, you wonder if the others were okay, even if they had gone against Arthur, John and yourself in the end. All those who died before the end came, perhaps they were the lucky ones.

Mac.

Davey.

Kieran.

Sean.

Hosea.

Lenny.

Molly.

Susan.

Arthur.

If it weren’t for Arthur and his sacrifice, you and John would have been caught by the Pinkertons, or killed.

It’s near impossible to forget the weeks and months following yours and John’s escape from Dutch van der Linde and the Pinkertons. That consistent fear of being figured out, and turned in, or somehow always feeling out of place even in towns you resided in or near before the gang’s fallout. The arm draped over your waist pulls you in closer as John buries his face in your neck.

“Coulda told me… stayed up with you.” He responded tiredly, still half asleep. His hot breath meets your neck and you shudder.

“Wasn’t worth waking you up over, love.” You whisper back. John worked hard to create a life for the both of you, a life that didn’t include gunslinging and robberies. Those days were long gone. Lazily, John places a kiss on your shoulder. As his chapped lips meet your soft skin, all worries melt away.

You try to imagine a future without John; a future where the left side of the bed is empty, and cold… a future where you are alone, barely surviving. You silently prayed the day would never come.

“I love you, John… I really do.” You speak softly, only to be met with snores. Smiling softly, you press a kiss to his temple and close your eyes, welcoming John’s warmth and comfort as you slowly fall back into dreams.

[tricoufamily]

character/story influences tag

Rules: Write up a blurb or make a visual collage of the people or characters (from books, TV shows, movies, etc.) that inspired your OC, either visually, personality wise, or just a general vibe.

i misremembered this tag completely it was all about characters the whole time and i hallucinated the story part? so i guess everyone who did the character version like 2 years ago has to do the story version now sry

tagging @literalite idk who else hasn't done it do it!!!!!! it's fun!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(media/characters in order) this is the fall: succession, maurice, romeo and juliet, saturn devouring his son, that random dark academia bridge i saw that one time on tv that birthed the entire idea amen blood sports: the batman, the sopranos, macbeth, joker, jesus of suburbia music video, preacher's daughter hugo: fiona from shameless, yuuri from yuri on ice, belle, michael corleone, haruhi from ouran, sophie from howl's moving castle, wirt, elizabeth from pride and prejudice, mycroft holmes, saturn's son beckett: macbeth, arkham riddler, jack dawson, john marston rdr2, gotham riddler, billy loomis, jack skellington, stu scream, dano riddler, timothee chalamet's guy in lady bird, pretty odd era ryan ross, lead singer of midland specifically in the burn out video (it's where the mustache was birthed), kurt cobain, river phoenix connor: dutch rdr2, tony soprano, lady macbeth, arkham penguin, jd heathers, arkham origins joker, lestat, gotham penguin, robbie gravity falls, robert pattinson in the lighthouse, jade from victorious, amy lee, revenge era gerard way

[bucknastysbabe]

Hi my name is Cal. I love HOTD/Bucky/fandom✨

About me: I’m a current psych major, part-time fruit chopper, Gecko mother always. One recovering alcoholic of 2 years, please feel free to reach out if you struggle or are in the same boat!!! White ass bitch from the Southeast US but will pester you with cultural questions.

I love sexy blonde Incest bitches, incel knight, and unstable metal armed man. Writing started as my sober hobby now I’ve been gifted 2% Latina!

ASOIAF/HOTD/GOT (Targaryens n Velaryons🦚, Criston🦚, Harwin Strong, Gwayne H, Robb, Jon, Jaime)

Note: I do NOT write for Daemon or Luke

I write for marvel (Bucky🦚, Zemo, Marc Spector, Matt Murdock, Adam Warlock)

The Last Of Us (Tommy Miller🦚 and Joel Miller)

Seb Stan Characters: (Lee Bodecker🦚, Charles Blackwood, Steve Kemp, Lance Tucker)

Rdr2 (Arthur Morgan & John Marston)

Ask Box‼️: Open (check list)

Short headcanons ❌

Blurbs ❌

Questions ✅

Shitposting ✅

Silly edits ✅

Fic length one-shots ❌

Taglist❣️: Comment here (no it’s not a threat…unless?)

Into: M/F, M/M, fem dom, pegging, sex in any position, bdsm (light), breeding kink, man tears, angst, drunk sex, switching, actually non-smut things, daddy kink

Nope: F/F (I’m really bad at writing it and cursed to be really into dicks), literally just ask me!! Dead dove and niche kinks aren’t really an issue unless it’s like gory or stanky

Tags:

Smut 🍐 || Angst 🟢|| SFW 💚 || Dead dove🔫|| Fluff🐼 || Master ✨

Kink Bingo - Done!

Au Bingo - indefinite hiatus :(

Marvel:

***More of it is on my Ao3 linked in my bio :)

Bucky Barnes

“You’re my mission!”✨

Baron Helmut Zemo

The Call Girl🍐🐼

ASOIAF/HOTD:

Pairings:

No Conviction - Criston Cole x Aegon II🍐🟢🔫

Aegon II Targaryen

"You Do Know How The Act Is Done, Don't You?"✨

Ser Criston Cole

“Do You Want Me To Kill Him?”✨

Related Characters

Masterlist✨

Others:

Tommy Miller (TLOU)

Little Slice o’ Heaven🍐🐼

Dirty Talk🍐🐼

Cockwarming🍐🐼

Lee Bodecker (Devil All The Time)

You can be my daddy🍐🐼

Western AU🍐🐼

Lance Tucker (The Bronze)

God of what? 🍐

[cowgirlcasanova]

would anyone want/read a young john marston blurb with an absolutely wild, young, troublemaking female reader??? 😭because i have this idea in my head that i cannot stop thinking about

[sludge-saturday]

welcome!! (please read)

this is a blog dedicated to reader-insert writings about the following characters:

DETROIT: BECOME HUMAN

☆ connor rk800

☆ markus rk200

RED DEAD REDEMPTION II

☆ arthur morgan

☆ charles smith

☆ john marston **

☆ javier escuella **

☆ lenny summers

**posts about these characters will be centered around their stories in rdr2 since that is the game i'm more familiar with!

STARDEW VALLEY

☆ alex

☆ elliott

☆ harvey

☆ sam

☆ shane

☆ sebastian

MORTAL KOMBAT 1 (2023)

☆ liu kang

☆ bi-han (sub-zero)

☆ kuai liang (scorpion)

☆ johnny cage

☆ kenshi takahashi

☆ kung lao

☆ raiden

☆ tomas vrbada (smoke)

☆ syzoth (reptile)

...and writings about the following pairs!

☆ connor rk800/hank anderson

☆ arthur morgan/charles smith

☆ dutch van der linde/hosea matthews

☆ johnny cage/kenshi takahashi

☆ i am open to writing all genres (including nsft content), but they will mainly be in the form of headcanons, blurbs, and one-shots. the bulk of my writings will be under the cut, with only a brief introduction to the piece being above it. this is to prevent the post from taking up too much of the dash! the reader pov of all of my writings will be gender-neutral unless otherwise requested.

☆ feel free to make requests as specific as you'd like! this includes the scenario, gender identity of the target reader, and any other important details! the status of whether or not requests are being taken will ALWAYS be regularly updated in my bio, so stay on the lookout for that. :)

☆ if i ever come across a request that involves a topic i am not comfortable with writing, i will let you know privately and we can try to work something out.

☆ thanks for stopping by, and enjoy!

sludge

[maskedteaser]

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎👽 RULES

hello there! if you're here, that means i somehow managed to link my rules to my intro post, or you're just scrolling through my blog...

this list contains :

💿 what i will and won't write

💿 fandoms i'm in and characters i can write for

anyways, let's get into it!:

👽 WHAT I CAN DO:

🛸 FEMALE, MALE, GENDER NEUTRAL READER

[ KEEP IN MIND THAT I AM A FEMALE SO MY TAKES ON MALE READER MAY NOT BE ACCURATE ]

🛸 HEADCANON LISTS

🛸 FLUFF

🛸 SMUT

[NEVER WRITTEN ONE BUT I AM CONFIDENT ENOUGH TO TRY]

🛸 ANGST

🛸 ONE SHOTS

🛸 BLURBS

🛸 PLATONIC RELATIONSHIPS

🛸 CHARACTER X CHARACTER

[MAY NOT WRITE SPECIFIC SHIPS, PLEASE ASK BEFORE REQUESTING]

🛸 POLY RELATIONSHIPS

[ I AM POLY MYSELF ]

🛸 SONG FICS

[ FICS BASED ON SONG YOU PICK ]

👽 WHAT I WON'T DO:

🛸 NON CON / SA / R4PE

🛸 STRONG BDSM / MASTER-SUB DYNAMIC

[ I AM A SWITCH IN BED, I WILL WRITE

SWITCHY NSFW IF I CAN...]

🛸 POLYSEXUAL SEX SCENES

[I AM NOT EXPERIENCED AT ALL]

🛸 KINKS GENERALLY CONSIDERED DISGUSTING

[ SCAT, VORE etc.]

🛸 AGE PLAY, DDLC AND VARIATONS OF THAT

🛸 RACE PLAY / PET PLAY

🛸 ANYTHING ILLEGAL THAT WILL PUT ME IN JAIL U KNOW

👽 this list may change. if you have any questions - use ask box, i will anwser anything

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎👽 WHAT FANDOMS I WRITE FOR

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎( pink ones are the ones i won't write for )

[if your character is not on the list, ask if i will write for them, i might've forgot to add them]

THIS LIST MAY CHANGE!!!

👽 RED DEAD REDEMTION 2:

🛸 ARTHUR MORGAN (fav but different category)

🛸 CHARLES SMITH

🛸 JOHN MARSTON

🛸 DUTCH VAN DER LINDE

🛸 HOSEA MATTHEWS

🛸 JAVIER ESCUELLA (MY FAV)

🛸 SEAN MACGUIRE (#2 FAV)

🛸 KIERAN DUFFY

🛸 LENNY SUMMERS

🛸 JOSIAH TRELAWNY (#3 FAV)

🛸 SADIE ADLER

🛸 ABIGAIL ROBERTS

🛸 MICAH BELL

🛸 BILL WILLIAMSON

🛸 JACK MARSTON (OLDER VERSION)

👽 APEX LEGENDS

🛸 OCTANE

🛸 MIRAGE

🛸 BLOODHOUND

🛸 WATTSON

🛸 WRAITH

🛸 REVENANT

🛸 LOBA

🛸 FUSE

🛸 SEER

🛸 VALKYRIE

🛸 GIBLARTAR

🛸 PATHFINDER (can do platonic)

🛸 CAUSTIC

🛸 CRYPTO

👽 CALL OF DUTY

🛸 JOHHNY "SOAP" MACTAVISH

🛸 SIMON "GHOST" RILEY

🛸 KYLE "GAZ" GARRICK

🛸 JOHN PRICE

🛸 KEEGAN (SORRY I JUST DON'T KNOW HIM ENOUGH)

🛸 MAKAROV

🛸 ALEJANDRO VARGAS

🛸 KONIG

not adding tags cause why would i...

[robin-writess]

🎀RULES🎀

My rules contain: what you can and can’t request, what fandoms I write for, my defaults, etc.

You can request:

• female reader, male reader, non-binary reader

• fluff

• smut

• angst

• headcanons

• drabbles / blurbs

• oneshots

• platonic!character x reader

• romantic!character x Reader

• mental illnesses / eating disorders

Please don’t request:

• character x character

• character x OC

• pedophilia

• rape / sexual assault

• racism

• sexism

• poly / open relationships

• threesomes or any other kind of group sex

Fandoms I Write For

• 🎀RED DEAD REDEMPTION 2🎀

- Arthur Morgan

- Mary-Beth Gaskill

- Bill Williamson

- John Marston

- Sean MacGuire

- Kieran Duffy

•🎀TWD🎀

- Rick Grimes

- Daryl Dixon

- Shane Walsh

- Glenn Rhee

- Negan Smith

- Maggie Greene

• 🎀PANTERA🎀

- Phil Anselmo

- Dimebag Darrell

- Rex Brown

- Vinnie Paul

• 🎀CALL OF DUTY🎀

- John Price

- Soap MacTavish

- König

- Alejandro Vargas

- Rudy Parra

- Phillip Graves

- Keegan Russ

- Gabriel Rorke

My Defaults

Normally if you send in a request and don’t specify these things, this is what I’d write:

• fem!reader

• romantic shipping

[lesbian-for-arthur-morgan]

Guidelines

Requesting Guide:

Howdy! Thank you for taking the time to read this, just a few ground-rules to get started:

This is an 18+ blog - I do not interact with minors and I don’t want minors interacting with my content. Also no miners either lol

I don’t tolerate racism, homophobia, or any form of bigotry in this space (I feel like the rdr2 tumblr community is really chill so I feel like that won’t be a problem but you never know)

As of now, I’m only writing head canons and short blurbs because they are a lot less pressure than trying to write a whole 3k word fic with every ask so just keep that in mind when you request :)

I will write fluff, angst, explicit content, etc. I’m not really picky when it comes to the genre

I have characters that I write for by default, any request will involve these characters unless explicitly stated otherwise:

Arthur Morgan

John Marston

Dutch Van Der Linde

Javier Escuella

Charles Smith

Sean Macguire

Sadie Adler

If you want more characters or want some headcanons focused on one person specifically just include it in your request! <3

Alrighty! That’s it I think, I’ll update this as I see fit so~

[zvdvdlvr]

zvdvdlvr's red dead redemption 2 masterlist

guide :: 💌 -> blurb ,, 💭 -> headcanon/alphabet ,, 🐚 -> fluff ,, 🦋 -> smut ,, 👾 -> angst ,, 📟 -> series/multichapter

ARTHUR MORGAN

💭👾 - in which they watch you die

🤍 Cherry Flavored

Cherry farm + hopelessly in love + kissing.

JOHN MARSTON

💭👾 - in which they watch you die

🐚👾📟 - it ain't like that, kid.

john marston used to be known for sleeping around with women. he was dangerous in a way that got many women got… aroused. now that he was running with the dutch van der linde gang, that was all behind him- not to mention he had jack and abigail. needless to say when he was contact by one of the women he had sex with, he was genuinely taken aback when he was informed that he had a daughter that needed a different place to live.

DUTCH VAN DER LINDE

💭👾 - in which they watch you die

[skullsandp0tions]

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

𝐒𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫! 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐬, 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤!

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞:🔞 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟: ☁️ 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭: 🌧️

(￣^￣)ゞ

𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐮𝐭𝐲(𝐌𝐖𝐈𝐈)

(coming soon..)

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

John Price:

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick:

Mace:

𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Arthur Morgan:

➪𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐫☁️

Charles smith:

➪ 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬☁️

➪𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 (𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧)🔞☁️

John Marston:

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐱 𝐉𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 ☁️

Javier Escuella:

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐱 𝐉𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 ☁️

Blurbs:

➪𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠(Brainrot)

➪𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐭 𝐧𝐫.𝟏

➪𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐭 𝐧𝐫.𝟐

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐔𝐬(𝟏&𝟐)

Joel Miller:

➪𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥.☁️

Abby Anderson:

Ellie Williams:

[rattlingbrainbox]

More John and Arthur modern au brotherly stuff.

I think a lot about John and Arthur and their dynamics as brothers.

And I like to imagine a modern timeline where Hosea adopted Arthur, and shortly after Hosea gets together with Dutch while Arthur is still kinda young and they raise him together. But then they adopt John later on and Arthur & John become brothers that still have that big age gap.

And Dutch and Hosea run some sort of small business that takes up a lot of their time. And Arthur has a rotating array of minimum wage jobs to help with bills, and takes classes sporadically at the local community college (at Hosea’s behest mostly, but he likes his art classes). But that leaves John as a kind of latch-key kid that has to fend for himself a lot of times, and so Arthur does his best to look out for him.

Anyway...

This is all a big preamble to the fact that I wrote a short little blurb about this modern timeline and I wanted to share it with y'all. Lol

Disclaimer, I am by NO MEANS a writer of any sort. But this was a funny little idea that I kept kicking around in my mind. Hope y'all enjoy it as much as I did.

Spare Change

Arthur pulled his truck up to the front of the house and let out a long sigh. He slid out of the driver’s seat and walked around to the passenger side to grab his delivery bag, slamming the door a little harder than he intended. 

“Here we go” he muttered under his breath, turning to walk up the driveway. 

The front door of the house swung wide open before he had a chance to knock.

“What? I was hungry.” John said, already anticipating the sharp glare his older brother was wearing. He was standing in the doorway looking up at Arthur with his arms crossed defiantly. 

“Yeah, I'm sure you were.” Arthur grumbled, “Alright c’mon. Pay up, I got real orders to get to.”

There was an expectant silence. They stared at each other for a long moment before John cleared his throat.

“...they didn't leave me any cash.”

“Are you shittin' me, John!?” Arthur snarled in disbelief, pressing his palm to his forehead in exasperation. If only it had been the first time the kid had tried to pull this stunt. At least then he might've felt a little bit bad about it. 

“C'mon, Arthur! I'll pay you back.” John pleaded.

"You better believe you will" Arthur threatened, "And I mean you, not them" he said gesturing toward the house, implying fathers who weren't home. 

He muttered to himself again as he used his free hand to remove his wallet from his back pocket. He looked inside for a few moments, mentally counting, and then put it back. 

"You're lucky I have cash...What the hell did I teach you to make omelettes for, huh? Ordering a damn pizza with no money. From my damn job no less...”  

“I didn’t want an omelette! I ate like six omelettes this week!” John protested. 

Arthur scoffed and relinquished his grip on the pizza box with palpable dissatisfaction. John ripped the box from Arthur's hands with victorious glee, instantly abandoning his appeals for sympathy. 

"This is the last time, John, I swear. I ain’t payin’ for it next time.”

"Okay, okay...Thanks! Don’t forget to give yourself a tip!”  the younger boy teased, clumsily attempting to shut the door before his older brother could retaliate.

“Ha! Uh huh. Little shit” Arthur shook his head, almost turning to leave when he saw the dim electronic glow emanating from the living room. 

“Hey!” 

Arthur caught the door with his hand, prying it back open before John could close it completely. 

“I can see that tv on, John. Do your homework. You can’t get another F, you hear me? I can’t drive you anymore if you change schools again.”

“Yeah I know. Thanks third dad” John said, rolling his eyes. 

“Alright, get in the damn house. You’re lucky I drive you at all.” Arthur retorted, shooting his younger brother a particularly venomous glare. He paused, his expression softening just a touch, and then added, “I’ll be back in two hours.”

“Ok bye. You got real orders to get to!” John replied impatiently, balancing the pizza box in one hand. 

The door slammed shut the minute Arthur released it from his grip. He could hear the lock click into place instantaneous, followed by the volume on the tv blaring back up.

"The nerve of this kid" he mused to himself, heading back to his truck.

[josiah-trelawny]

Giving John Marston a Blowjob

the one about arthur blew up n i liked writing it so. why not

john’s sitting in a cushioned chair, one arm slung over the wooden back of it, the other resting on his lap. “you look good down there, y’know,” he says, his raspy voice paired with a grin

when you start to blow him, his hand reaches for your hair, his lip twitching upwards. john lets out a deep exhale, doing his best not to break out in a desperate moan

as you go on, he starts to praise you and say sweet nothings

he gets more and more vocal, curses nearly replacing his moans

john’s hips raise from the chair, one shaky hand pressing your head down on his cock, panting like an animal

“fuck. fuck, you’re doing so good— ahn— just like that, keep doing that, oh god—! shit.”

you don’t pull away in time, but hey, swallowing cum isn’t so bad when you’re hearing moans like that come from someone such as john marston

[lieutenantsimonriley]

Request Guidelines!

HI GUYS!!! kat here again!! I’ve decided to reboot this tumblr as a whatever-the-fuck-i-wanna-write kinda thing. If you want to send in a request, go ahead. anything is fair game with writing at this point with me :)

What I will do:

Smut

Angst

Headcannons

Blurbs

One-Shots

Series (if the idea is inspiring enough!)

Character Studies

Scenarios

What I won’t do:

Super long action scenes (please, i just rlly suck at them man)

FANDOMS!

ANIME

Jujutsu Kaisen:

Yuji Itadori

Megumi Fushiguro 

Toji Fushiguro

Satoru Gojou

Nanami Kento (my beloved) 

Suguru Geto

Yuta Okkotsu

Maki Zen’in

Sukuna 

Attack on Titan:

Reiner Braun (lowkey main him) 

Eren Jaeger

Jean Kirstein

Zeke Jaeger

Armin Arlert 

Mikasa Ackerman

Erwin Smith

Levi Ackerman 

Death Note

Light Yagami

L 

Misa Asame

MOVIES/TV SHOWS

Star Wars:

Kylo Ren/ Ben Solo

Din Djarin

Cassian Andor

OBI WAN KENOBI

Anakin Skywalker

Padme Amidala 

Captain Rex

Cal Kestis 

VIDEO GAMES

Cyberpunk 2077:

Johnny

Jackie

GORO TAKEMURA

Modern Warfare:

Alex

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick (reboot version!)

John Price

John ‘Soap’ Mactavish

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

Yuri

…Makarov

Red Dead Redemption: 

Arthur Morgan

John Marston

Dutch van der Linde

What I will do:

Smut

Angst

Headcannons

Blurbs

One-Shots

Series (if the idea is inspiring enough!)

Character Studies

Scenarios

What I won’t do:

Super long action scenes (please, i just rlly suck at them man) 

[tiredcowpoke]

TITLE: Blank Spots [23] PAIRING: (Somewhat pre-established) Arthur Morgan/Fem!Reader, could be seen as an OC. REQUEST: Unprompted. BLURB: After waking up at the base of a steep incline and nearly freezing to death, you stumble upon a group of strangers who swear up and down that they know you. WARNINGS: Some creative license for amnesia. Violence, kidnapping, death. NOTE: Hey! Thank you all for the patience, I really wanted an update before the new year but some personal life issues kind of prevented that. I’m also still trying to balance writing and real life obligations at the moment, along with planning out the next couple chapters to make sure things line up nicely. Still, I hope you guys enjoy this next installment.  TAG LIST: @on-my-way-to-erebor / @otherthingstoreid @ireallyhonestlydontcare @elanisha @darlingsdevil @cirillamylove @bunnyreese12 @rollyjogerjones @callmemythicalminx @r4reland @itsnothingwithoutchaos

“I don’t even know what to think no more.”

The Lamoyne heat was bad, yet somehow it was getting worse the further you moved down toward the swamps. Which was exactly where everybody seemed to be headed. It didn’t help that it was obvious, at least to you, that Arthur was carrying some tension in him about your presence and the conversation he was having with John was particularly unpleasant. The frustration was clear and you couldn’t help but carry a knot in the pit of your stomach over a number of things that were happening.

Still, at least you were doing something. It was helping a bit with your head, as much as you knew this wasn’t the best situation to be in.

“Just have to keep our cool,” Arthur replied from ahead of you, keeping a steady pace toward this place he had been talking about, “be smart about this.”

“Smart?” John scoffed, “Are you jokin’? We made too much noise once again, drew em’ right to us. I mean, how many people have we killed the past few weeks?”

“Far too many…” Arthur said around a heavy sigh.

“It’s Dutch playin’ his games. Hosea, too. Gettin’ involved with those two families…master con-men, workin’ their magic…”

“They thought there was a lot of gold–”

“Yeah, they thought there was money,” John snapped, “Ain’t there always?”

“Look, Marston, I don’t know what to tell ya. Things don’t always work out, that ain’t nothin’ new.”

That was certainly the trend, at least from what you knew since you had found them all again in Colter. They seemed to move camps once things got too complicated nearby, would pack up and move on. Judging from how nonchalant Arthur sounded about that fact, you had to wonder how many times he had been through that. However, you couldn’t help but side a bit with John’s stance–you knew Arthur was trying to keep the situation under control, but you couldn’t just dismiss what was happening with that much ease.

“Jack’s gone,” John continued, seeming to almost hear the approaching train of thought you had almost went down. “We lost Sean, Mac, Davey, Jenny…and for what? Nearly lost your girl here, too, ‘case that’s slipped your notice.”

Oh, so it seemed they did notice you were there.

“Nobody has forgotten that, believe me,” you replied, not exactly wanting to get pulled into this but you didn’t like being talked about like you weren’t riding right behind them.

“Can’t change what’s done,” Arthur replied, “we can only move on.”

“One day, we need to start learnin’ from our mistakes,” John stated as they headed down another path, the trees becoming denser, the air and heat almost thicker.

“Come on…” Arthur started, the almost light tone pulling a small furrow to your brow, “it ain’t all bad. We’ve had a rocky run, but we’ll be okay. We’ll get through it.”

“Dutch’ll fix it,” John said, sarcasm almost dripping from his tone, “Dutch’ll come up with a big plan. Right now, every plan gets us into worse trouble. We’re gettin’ further from where we’re meant to be goin’.”

“Now, you can’t put this all on Dutch. You’re worked up, and rightly so. Just don’t get too far into your own head about this or you’ll never get out.”

“It’s a goddamn mess…”

You couldn’t help but agree with that, your gaze moving beyond the two riders ahead of you and toward the path down toward the trees where it appeared there was some structure not that far ahead.

“That poor kid,” John continued, “We chose this life, he didn’t.”

You didn’t want to think about what Jack was going through right now, that guilt that had been with you for the past day still sitting just as strongly as it did when you two had been separated at the manor. Though, you realized it appeared the gang was going to be moving into a similar place as you approached the end of the path. It was rundown, surrounded by the swamp and dense trees.

It would make for a good hideout, as uneasy as the place made you feel.

“Four walls and a roof,” John commented, “We’re movin’ up in the world.”

“You ain’t seen the inside yet…” Arthur returned, steering his horse down toward the front of the house.

At John’s instruction, you dismounted as you removed your pistol from the holster on your hip as Arthur and John moved toward the house. Things seemed quiet, and the place had been abandoned for quite some time from the looks of it. However, your thoughts were quickly proven wrong as you heard a shout from the front doors of the manor, a couple gunshots ringing out as you moved to crouch down behind a barrier. Arthur made quick work of the man on the porch, however, rising up from where he had been crouching.

“You think there’s more of ‘em?” John asked.

“I’ll check the house, you two keep watch out here,” Arthur replied, causing you to glance toward him.

“Wait–” you started, not particularly liking the idea of him heading in on his own.

“I mean it,” Arthur snapped, the tone hitting something in you as you could feel a flash of embarrassment settle hard in your gut. From being treated like an afterthought for most of the previous day (to a particularly dangerous degree, considering what you had been through) and now being talked down to like some child, it boiled your blood a bit.

Still, it was clear Arthur didn’t want any discussion about that at the moment and with John beside you, you didn’t want to drag this out for longer than it needed to be. You watched as Arthur disappeared into the decrepit manor with that odd mix of anger and anxiety sitting in your gut.

“Figured after everythin’ that happened you two would be…well, more than this,” John commented after a moment. You could tell he was trying to be lighthearted, or as much as the current situation would allow, but you couldn’t help the tense sigh that escaped your nose.

“No, this is all about me forcing myself along on this,” you replied, watching the house and surrounding area intently.

As much as he was being a bit of an ass, you still didn’t like the idea of him just leaving you two outside.

“Don’t much understand your reasonin’ for bein’ here either,” John replied, “Though, I appreciate you wantin’ to help find Jack.”

“Jack and I got kidnapped together, I should be doing something,” you replied, glancing toward him, “Plus…you saved my life the other night, it’s the least I could do.”

“Well, wasn’t gonna let you get shot,” John replied, taking a glance around himself before standing up. “C’mon, I ain’t a fan of his dramatics either, we should get in there.”

                                                         ***

The house wasn’t much better on the inside from how it looked on the outside, though it seemed Arthur had made quick work of the people remaining inside, he and John starting to dump bodies in the swamp surrounding the property. Noticing the various boxes and furniture blocking the doorways, you started working on taking them down and moving them. Arthur had sent John out to meet the caravan that had likely set out while you all were taking care of things. It left you and Arthur alone, and the tension and anger from before hadn’t really left you as you worked in silence as he continued to remove the last of the bodies out from the house.

You heard him reenter the main floor as you moved the last box from the hallway, placing it down with a sigh. Dusting off your hands, you turned to see Arthur watching you.

“Am I doing it wrong?” you asked, “You want to boss me around some more?”

“Don’t be like that,” Arthur replied around a sigh, moving the help you clear out another pile of boxes and furniture, “figured I’d save you a bullet and me havin’ to watch that.”

“I don’t appreciate being talked to like some misbehaving child. You had told me that you would let me help find Jack so long as I didn’t do it alone, and I certainly wasn’t alone.”

“Also said I wouldn’t like it,” Arthur said, placing the box down and turning back toward you, “You want to help Jack? We’re gonna need to look ‘round Saint Denis. You weren’t doin’ much here outside of puttin’ yourself at risk.”

“I couldn’t stand being stuck at camp packing up when I should be doing more.”

“I know you’re carryin’ some sort of guilt ‘bout this whole situation but–”

“Please don’t tell me it’s not my fault,” you interrupted, waving a hand slightly before moving to clear some things off the table in the other room. You knew Arthur had a point, but your conscience wasn’t letting you hear it.

“Fine, I won’t, but doesn’t make it any less true,” Arthur replied, following after you, “You also won’t be any help to Jack when you’re dead.”

“I wish you’d trust me a little more,” you replied, turning back around to face him as you leaned back against the table.

“I do,” Arthur replied, the irritated and firm tone that you hear previously softening somewhat, “In a situation like this, can you blame me? You get kidnapped and almost weren’t found, now you’re throwin’ yourself into things like this.”

“I have to hold my own–and I can.” For the most part. You weren’t a sharpshooter or could do anything that would impress anybody, but you knew you could shoot. “Look, Arthur…I’m sorry. I know you don’t like this but I just…couldn’t stand around. I don’t have the stomach for it, it would just make me feel worse.”

“I’m just askin’ you to be careful,” Arthur said, approaching you, “I know we ain’t been anythin’ of the sort lately but I just don’t want to see you get hurt again or killed. I couldn’t stomach that.”

You let out a small sigh at that, dropping your shoulders somewhat as you uncrossed your arms. “I know. I…I’m sorry, I just…I can’t stand around any longer. Not when I can be doing something to help. You can understand that, can’t you?”

“I guess,” Arthur replied, “Just pick your battles through this whole thing. I ain’t so sure I know where things are goin’ now.”

“I’ll try,” you replied, reaching out to place your hand against his shoulder after you stepped toward him, “You just have to let me pick them.”

“Sure.”

You could tell he still wasn’t thrilled about you getting involved, and considering all you had been through you figured you could understand his uncertainty. Still, it was enough of a confirmation at the moment. With a small sigh, you reached up to place a small kiss on his cheek before you moved past him to help clear out the last of the boxes.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur continued, causing you to pause and glance back at him, “For talkin’ to you like I been. I just…I’m jugglin’ a lot of things.”

“I know,” you replied with a nod, “I…didn’t like that, but I guess I understand. This was risky, I know that.”

Arthur gave you a soft nod, finally moving to continue to prepare for the rest of the gang’s arrival. You knew this was risky and maybe this particular venture was a little pointless, but you knew you had to show Arthur that you weren’t going to be kept back, well-intentioned or not. Not when it came to things you felt like you should have been helping with.

Still, you knew until Jack was rescued things will be somewhat tense. Hell, maybe even after that.

                                                          ***

You grunted softly as you placed a box down in the rundown room that Grimshaw said she was going to put Arthur–and you, if her tasking you to handle his stuff seemed to say anything. Really, you didn’t know what to feel about that. If the previous night was just a one-time thing or if he would be fine with that, but you figured you could approach that with him when he got back from Saint Denis with Dutch.

You still had your bedroll and there was plenty of room downstairs, if need be. Still…well, you supposed your relationship was getting hard to hide around camp. A part of you didn’t really want to, in all honesty.

Tired of the confusion, the dancing around the subject–you had been together before, you were sure it wasn’t an unfamiliar sight.

Still, that was something to talk about once all of this had settled. Once you had completed the task you were directed to do, you wandered down to head outside Shady Belle. The camp was busy trying to settle into the new location, but clearly there was some sort of tension and an unresolved issue. With that thought, you glanced around yourself for a moment before glancing out toward the horses.

You didn’t know Saint Denis, but from what you could remember of your adolescence you knew cities. Any extra eyes were good eyes, you figured.

So, with that, you wandered over toward where you had hitched the horse you rode earlier. Some of the tension and frustration from earlier still lingered somewhat around the edges, and you figured you could already guess Arthur’s level of excitement at the idea of you heading into the city on your own.

Still, you had to do something. That was the statement that kept fueling your resolve as you pulled yourself up into the saddle and turned to head down the path.