#linds writes

[likeawildthing]

Every October I start writing about domestic violence again, both because it’s domestic violence awareness month and because in October many years ago, I left my abuser after seven years of marriage.

I had been with him since I was 18, and I started over as a young, twenty-something single mom of two babies—new job, house, city, friends, daycare. Some of you have watched me claw my way out, and up. (A feat achieved only with the help of an enormous support network.)

In the ninth year of my freedom, I finally gave myself permission to write about this and filled up two or three notebooks with prose and poetry, all in a few weeks.

My favorite piece, initially called “a series of small rebellions”, outlined 10 instances where I stood up to my abuser, even if he didn’t know it.

In my 10th year of freedom, I adapted it for the 2019 Domestic Violence issue of lit magazine Persephone’s Daughters.

Adapted, because while the poem accurately reflected the horror of abuse, it didn’t fully reflect the healing I’d had in that intervening year. Because that act of writing? Of being vulnerable and open to my trauma? To that rage and anger and gulf of sadness that had plagued me? The heaviness that had settled in my bones? That surrender proved to be the catharsis that facilitated holistic healing. When I was done writing, I put the books in a drawer and took my first deep breath in almost twenty years.

The next year, I spent a month or so adapting and reflecting, then added two more parts — reclaim, and radiate. I included eight instances in each section, one for every year we were together. Rebel — living in the trauma, fighting back anyway you can. Reclaim — taking back what pieces of myself I could find in the trauma. Radiate — move behind the trauma so it’s no longer central to my life.

I have revisited both those notebooks and that lit journal in the last few weeks. And! The pain was more foreign than the healing, perhaps for the first time. While my mom has told me I someday need to publish them 1. I have kids l, so no, and 2. the spirit of the piece stands, and it’s enough.

So, I burned the journals tonight. Why hang onto them? A bit unsafely, yes—I accidentally set off my new smoke alarms. While that was annoying, letting go of this record of my pain in a very tangible sense feels like the safest thing in the world.

[messrmoonyy]

- The gilded cage

Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader

Request- how about some of the girls going along to the mayors party in Saint Denis. Have you seen the cut content of Molly when she was meant to be at the party? So Dutch takes Molly along, Arthur takes reader? And what if Arthur gets a a little jealous of reader mingling and then they sneak away for some smutty time together…

A/N- this is my first Arthur fic so he may be a lil out of character whilst I get to grips with writing him. I also have not written straight smut in like 2 years. But we vibe. Enjoy

Also shoutout to @devnmon for supporting and enabling my rdr2 brainrot. You’re a real one

Warnings- 18+ | smut: unprotected p in v, semi public sex ( wc - 7.7k )

Masterlist / AO3

Saint Denis was a little too rich for your blood. You’d only ventured into the city a handful of times, but the times you had you’d decided you didn’t really like it. You felt too… common. You never had liked the wealthy, flaunting their security and safety that was wrapped up in dollars and gold. 

But. You loved money. God did you love money. And as much as you hated the residents of the city, you sure loved robbing them blind. You always had had a knack for making the rich mysteriously lose their dollars and their watches, it had been the sole reason you’d ended up in Dutch’s gang in the first place. 

You’d even tried picking his pockets at first.

But you were on best behaviour tonight. Under Dutch’s orders. And you figured as boring as that sounded, you’d oblige. Simply because the men rarely let the girls get involved with any of the interesting stuff in camp. There was only so much laundry you could do before your brain truly went numb from boredom. Only so much listening to Miss Grimshaw nagging at you to do some work or Micah antagonising someone over something stupid. 

So even with Dutch’s strict orders to behave and your dislike of the city, you had jumped at the chance to come along to the party. 

“ i can practically smell the money “ you sighed as you took Arthur’s hand to step down from the coach, already hearing the bustle of the party happening somewhere out the back of the mansion in front of you “ you sure I can’t go pickin? Just a lil “ you were half joking, half not. On the times you had wandered into the city, the stuff you’d gathered picking your way around the saloons and back alleys had been a decent haul. The stuff some of these people carried around on the average day was enough to fund the food for the whole of camp for a couple days or more. 

Who knew what kind of goodies they’d have on them in their finery. 

“ no miss “ Dutch’s stern voice sounded, but he was sporting a small look of amusement “ keep those talented hands of yours to yourself. This is about business. We steal nothing. That goes for all of you. Steal. Nothing. Unless it’s information “ 

“ don’t worry. I’ll keep her in check “ Arthur spoke with a small chuckle, placing a hand lightly to your back. 

“ this is why we shouldn’t have brought the women. They always cause trouble “ Bill complained, as he stepped out of the second coach with Hosea, making you scowl. 

“ I hope you aren’t grouping me into that Mr Williamson “ Molly piped up with a disapproving scowl of her own as she stepped out of the coach, seemingly more mad at Dutch for not helping her out more than at Bill though. Arthur offered her his hand instead, helping her step onto the path without breaking her neck in her extravagant dress. 

Always the gentleman. 

She looked wonderful and you had begun to wonder if she had owned that dress all along or had gone out and got it special. Maybe Dutch had picked it up for her. It wouldn’t surprise you if she had been lugging it around from place to place, waiting for some perfect moment to pull it out. She always did look more put together than the majority of camp. Though you really didn’t understand how she could walk in the dress she was currently wearing, skirts full and you guessed pretty heavy too. 

“ no need to bring you “ Bill continued. 

“ I ain’t even causin’ trouble “ you piped in, throwing your own scowl Bills way again “ When did you last contribute to the box anyways huh Bill? I don’t see you doin’ nothin’ but sit around all damn day. No need to bring you I say. Jus’ cause you ain’t got no lady on your arm you’re complainin’ bout me and Molly “ 

“ what? A lady like you? I should be damn lucky I ain’t “ 

“ why you- “

“ Bill I suggest you leave it “ Arthur murmured lowly, planting himself between you and Bill before you did in fact cause some trouble. Bill grumbled something, spitting on the floor with a look of disgust and turning away from you. 

Dutch sighed heavily, looking increasingly pissed off at the group in front of him and held his arm out to Molly. 

“ Miss O’Shea “ It pained you a little to know he was probably only being nice to her tonight for appearances sake. He’d been practically ignoring her recently. And wasn’t doing Molly any good. You hoped a night out of camp would do her well “ now would you all just calm. Down. We, are simple distinguished gentleman, here for business. So start damn acting like it “ you scoffed at that, making a pointed look in Bills direction as you did 

“ distinguished my ass “ 

“ play nice now “ Arthur said quietly, but you heard the smile in his tone as he did. He then offered you his arm as Dutch had done to Molly. But unlike Dutch the act didn’t feel performative, a way to blend in and appear far higher class than they actually were. Arthur actually was a gentleman. For the most part anyways. 

“ why thank you mister “ you said in a cheery tone, throwing him a coy smile and slipping your gloved hands into the crook of his elbow. 

It did feel a little funny to be walking beside him like that. All dressed up and in clothes that weren’t smeared with gun oil, dust or god knows what else. It made your mind drift a little to what life could’ve been like. 

Your group crossed the street, promptly being stopped at the gates 

“ gentleman “ the guard greeted, taking the invitation from Dutch’s hands “ the mayor doesn’t allow guns at official functions “ the way he looked at Dutch and the others was almost demeaning. Like he knew you were all riff raff and of course would be the sort to attend such an event armed “ Not after last years incident “ none of the boys seemed particularly thrilled to be handing over their firearms. Arthur in particular sighed heavily beside you as he handed his pistol over. 

He didn’t like being unarmed. Especially when he was out with you. You usually also had your gun belt permanently fixed at your waist. But it wasn’t exactly fitting with your current attire. 

Though you did note the guards didn’t even spare a glance to you or Molly, which in turn made you all the more smug knowing you had your knife tucked into your boot. Just in case of course. 

“ Luca here will take you gentleman to Mr Bronte. I believe he is expecting you “ 

“ I know you got that knife in yer boot “ Arthur said lowly so that no one else would hear. 

“ he ain’t said anythin’ about knifes. Only guns “ Arthur smiled and shook his head slightly, placing his hand over yours for a moment. 

“ that’s my girl “ 

You walked up the neat cobbled path to the mayors house then, unable to do anything but look in awe at the huge house in front of you. You’d thought Shady Belle was something spectacular, had walked around every room imagining what it had looked like in all its glory. Amazed at the vastness of the place and all the rooms it had. 

And yet it was nothing compared to this place. This was real money. 

“ I look okay? “ you asked, suddenly feeling ever so slightly nervous, smoothing your hand over your skirts. Even in your attempts to look as clean and put together as you did, some part of you felt like everyone would see you were a walking sham. 

All in all you knew you probably did look fine. The dress was the most lavish thing you’d ever owned, you didn’t even want to guess how much it had cost Arthur. It was still on the simpler side, skirts not quite as full as Mollys and not as detailed. But it was beautiful. Pale pink and ruffled shoulders and details on your skirts, gloves up to your elbows in a material so soft you’d sighed when you’d first pulled them on. 

It all made a nice change from the usual simple clothes you wore, hips weighted by skirts rather than your gun belt. And skirts that didn’t have a million holes darned over. 

And Arthur had picked it all out. Had picked it himself especially for you. 

It did make you smile to imagine him in the tailors, completely out of his depth when it came to women’s fashion but determined to find you something nice. Your big, tough cowboy staring blankly at fabric swatches and fancy hats. 

“ gonna be the prettiest girl here “ you smiled warmly at his words, hand smoothing over your dress again. 

He’d turned up that morning into your shared room of shady Belle, finding you hiding away from Miss Grimshaw on the balcony, the dress draped over his arm along with some fancy suit and tie get up for himself. He’d looked almost sheepish as he’d shown you it, promising to go get you something else if you hated it. Which of course you hadn’t. 

You’d practically jumped with joy at being able to go out on a job. The boys so rarely let the girls do anything meaningful other than tend to camp. Though this particular outing you knew Dutch had only brought you and Molly along because it would make your group seem a little more agreeable. Something about women making them look a little less intimidating. And of course Dutch and Arthur’s partners were the most obvious of choices. 

Much to Mary-Beth and Karen’s dismay. Though they had very quickly changed their mind at the idea of having to hang off Bills arm all night. 

It wasn’t exactly the reason you wanted to be brought along. But you took it. 

The inside of the mansion was as glorious as the outside, it almost made you angry that people had such wealth. That these people could sleep in a new room each night of the week if they felt like it, when people were starving outside of their gates. 

“ Hosea, Bill. Take the ladies out and enjoy the party. We’ll join you after we pay our respects to signor Bronte. Arthur, with me “ Arthur gave a curt nod 

“ I won’t be long “ he assured, hand slipping down around your back and leaning down to your ear “ hands to yourself “ you scoffed as he said it, looking up at him as he stepped away from you. 

“ I can’t promise “ you caught his smile as he walked over to Dutch and the staff. Disappearing up the stairs. 

“ it’s just this way “ one of members of Lemieux’s staff spoke, gesturing the four of you in the direction of some doors leading out into the party. 

“ let’s go ladies. You fancy a drink? “ Hosea said cheerfully, following closely behind you and Molly as you headed outside. You were ushered out into gardens, a mass of the rich and wealthy of Saint Denis all crowded around. Drinking and laughing at things you were sure were not as remotely funny as they were making it out to be. 

Bill quickly made himself scarce, disappearing into the crowds to do lord knows what, much to your joy. 

“ right. Champagne? “ Hosea excused himself to collect some drinks and you stood on the back porch looking down at the groups of people. 

So far removed from what you were used to. You wondered how they’d react knowing you and your little group were currently sleeping in a barely standing plantation home, half of you out under the stars. That you were frauds. Not glamorous and wealthy like them. 

In your experience the rich liked to pretend the poor didn’t exist. Unless they were hiring them as help. 

“ oh I missed this “ Molly said beside you, almost dreamily in tone. And seemingly more to herself than to you. It was quite possibly the happiest you’d seen her look in days. 

She fit right in. Her gorgeous dress rivalling that of some of the other woman down in the courtyard, her hair piled up on her head and her fancy jewellery that was actually hers. Not something stolen from an unsuspecting lady in town. This was Molly. Money and wealth. It still baffled you how she had ended up with Dutch, how she could leave that all behind for a life wandering. 

“ you go to party’s like this a lot? Before Dutch I mean “ she gave a small shrug, searching in her small purse for a moment before placing a cigarette between her lips. You could imagine an even younger Molly, a bright eyed teenager done up all fancy and weaving her way through a party just like this one. 

“ sometimes “ her eyes were scanning the crowds, practically sparkling at being surrounded by the upper class again “ wonder what kind of people are here “ she seemed to be talking more to herself than you again and very promptly dismissed herself, heading down the stairs and gliding between the guests. Like some true social butterfly, decked out in her finest. 

Hosea returned with three glasses of champagne and a slightly confused look noticing Molly had vanished. 

“ eh more for me “ he said with a smile, handing you your glass before promptly finishing his own and moving onto what would’ve been Mollys “ I’m going to do some snooping. You’ll be alright? “

“ I’ll be jus’ fine Hosea “ you said with a smile and watched him too disappear down into the crowds. 

It was interesting to watch them, to see them behave as if this entire event was a normal evenings activity. Maybe for them it was. But it all felt so… false. People who appeared to be friends but didn’t seem to even really like each other, some silent competition between everyone to have the better dress. The better hat. The biggest house. 

You’d take your creaky cot under the stars with Arthur any day, would much rather sit around the campfire getting tipsy and singing. Surrounded by real family. Real friends. Relationships built on loyalty and protection. Not on trying to out do each other. 

You walked between the small crowds, eavesdropping on conversations in hopes to find something useful. Something to take back to Dutch to prove bringing you along wasn’t a useless endeavour. But it was mostly women discussing their elaborate hats, sharing stories of the terrible jobs their maids did, or complaining about their husbands poker habits. Or gossiping about how they had heard one of their friends was in delicate condition. 

You heard mentions of Leviticus Cornwall, but nothing concrete enough to warrant telling anyone about. 

You tried hunting down Molly, simply to have a friend to stand beside and not feel so…out of place. But she had vanished into the crowds somewhere. So you planted yourself on the side of an ornate water fountain, simply hoping Arthur would return soon. Maybe he’d dance with you, or take you walking around the vast garden laid out ahead of you. 

You two never really got the chance to do things like that. Romantic things. Arthur had his ways, of course. He’d take you out riding or sit with you on his lap by the fire, telling you about whatever interesting thing he’d discovered that day. He’d bring you flowers he’d pick from time to time, find you interesting things when he went wandering, let you read aloud to him with the excuse he wanted you to get better at it. When in reality you had seen him confess to his journal that he simply just liked to listen to your voice. 

He was far softer than he appeared. With you anyway. And as much as you didn’t like the kinds of people in attendance, you thought it might be nice to pretend for the night. To be two wealthy young oil tycoons, dancing and drinking champagne together, gushing about your money and your jewels. 

You made your way through another flute of champagne before he returned, interrupting your frivolous daydreaming. 

“ there she is “ you turned your head with a beaming smile at his voice, relief at a familiar face “ been lookin for ya “ he sat down beside you, looping an arm around your waist “ you behavin’? “

“ course I am. Ain’t took as much as a pearl “ you said quite proudly, though decided not to mention that the temptation had truly been hard to deny. Not only were these people rich, they were getting drunker by the second. They were practically begging to be robbed. 

“ good girl “ 

“ it go okay with ugh.. what’s his name? “ you asked, turning to face him. He looked just as uncomfortable with the entire situation as you did. This wasn’t his scene. It never had been. He’d grown up just as poor as you had. 

Arthur robbed the rich, he didn’t fraternise with them. 

“ Bronte. Yeah. Fine. Dutch he’s tryna find the mayor or somethin “ he ran a finger between his neck and collar of his shirt, clearly growing uncomfortable with it. It made you laugh a little. 

“ you ain’t cut out for the finer life “ 

“ no. I ain’t “ he was looking around at the guests in a similar way to you. With a mild sense of disgust “ saw some woman back there, hat so big she were topplin over “ you smiled and leant your head against his shoulder, he tucked you in closer to his side and dropped a kiss to the top of your head. 

“ was daydreamin whilst you were with Dutch “ you mused. 

“ yeah? About what? “ 

“ playin’ pretend. Bein’ fancy for the night. Y’know dancin’ and pretendin’ we got buckets of money “ the small sigh Arthur let out made you wonder if he thought that was a life you pined for. It wasn’t. Not really. Yeah, you liked money but.. you just wanted to be comfortable. Little ranch or a cabin some place quiet. Not poor. Not rich. Just. Existing happily “ ain’t us though “ 

“ you and me we… we ain’t like these people. We ain’t ever gonna be like these people “

“ we don’t gotta be. Me, you. Some pokey lil farm someplace out west? Now that’s the dream cowboy “ he chuckled and nodded, dropping another kiss to your head 

“ that’s the dream darlin’ “ you both sat quietly for a short while longer, watching the rich get drunker and more foolish. The odd person acknowledged your presence, greeting you as they passed or tipping their hat. But mostly they left you alone. It was at the point that one man drunkenly stumbled into a bush a few feet away that made you speak up again. 

“ never thought I’d miss that damn swamp. But lord above… these people “ Arthur scoffed as he too watched the fool try and right himself again, leaves sticking to the pomade in his hair 

“ yeah. I think I need a drink “ he patted your side lightly so you’d stop leaning on him and stood up “ champagne? “ 

“ oh well ain’t you just so kind sir “ you said in your best attempt a dramatic upper class drawl “ and you gonna dance with me after mister? “ you asked with a teasing smile and he rubbed a hand at the back of his neck for a moment looking almost sheepish. But he was smiling, the sweet genuine kind he only really seemed to show around you. 

“ sure darlin’. But I’m definitely gonna need that drink for that “ he ventured back into the crowds then and you stayed put, continuing to watch the guests laugh and talk about how incredible their lives were. 

“ I don’t recognise you “ an inquisitive voice spoke, tinged with that accent that the wealthy had started latching on to in some attempts to make themselves sound more superior. Smarter. Whatever. You thought it was quite ridiculous. You turned your head to look at the man, seeing if he was in fact talking to you. 

“ talkin’ to me mister? “ he was eyeing you up and down like he was somewhat intrigued but amused by you at the same time. A stupid top hat on his head adored with plumes and the chain of a pocket watch hanging from his pocket. It almost made you laugh at how your brain immediately began thinking about how you could steal it and how much it was worth. 

“ I am indeed miss “ he stepped closer, puffing on his cigar and not taking his eyes off of you for a second “ I have frequented many of the mayors parties but you… I do not remember you “ a small wave of panic flushed your skin but you remained calm. Not recognising you was far easier to work your way out of than if he had recognised your face. 

“ I’m new in town. My… uncle. He’s friends with Mr Bronte “ the man hummed, sitting himself down beside you. 

“ so you’re here with your uncle? “ you shifted slightly at his closeness but remembered you needed to keep up appearances so forced a smile onto your face 

“ yeah. And my husband. He’s around here someplace “ the man’s eyes immediately darted down to your gloved hands, probably noting the lack of a ring on your finger. You and Arthur weren’t married. But you may as well have been. He often referred to you as his wife, and he as your husband. 

He’d ask you one day. 

“ a lucky man “ the man said, blowing smoke in your direction and still looking you up and down. You decided at that moment you very much wanted to steal his watch. Dutch be damned. Having to put up with the likes of slimy rich men for more than ten seconds… well you figured that warranted you at least getting something shiny in return. 

“ oh well ain’t you just a charmer “ you said with a smile, placing a hand to his arm “ you here with your wife mister? “ the man laughed and shook his head, scooting a little closer to you.  

“ I’m more of a… free spirit “ you gave a small laugh, trying not to crinkle your nose at the smoke blowing in your face again. 

Arthur often smelt of fresh smoke, both cigarette and fire, and that fresh air smell that clung to your clothes after being out in the open air for hours. And you loved it on him, because it was well… him. The smoke from this man was far from appealing. But that watch…

“ ohh I see. You ain’t one to be tied down huh? “ your fingers inched closer to the man’s pocket, wrapping lightly around the chain. 

“ everythin’ okay here? “ Arthur appeared behind you, a glass in each of his hands.  

“ ah is this the fine man that brought you along? Well aren’t you lucky sir “ the man spoke and you noted he didn’t even glance in Arthur’s direction as he spoke, you were now looping the chain of his watch around your wrist. Just one small tug…

“ Mr Callahan “ Arthur murmured, handing you a glass and standing behind you with a hand to your shoulder

“ wonderful to meet you sir. Me and your wife were having a delightful conversation weren’t we dear? "The pressure of Arthur’s fingers increased as he spoke the sweet name, though you weren’t entirely sure it wasn’t because he’d noticed the man’s watch was now safely hidden in the fabric of your skirt. 

“ oh yes. Wonderful mister “ the watch discreetly made its way into your boot and you were ready to get away

“ where’d you find a beautiful thing like this sir? I may need to frequent the place myself “ he placed a hand onto your arm and finally looked up at Arthur rather than at you. He made your skin crawl. You didn’t hold a single ounce of remorse for the stolen watch 

“ oh no where you’d like “ his tone was a little snippy, the kind when someone was starting to piss him off but he was trying to keep his cool. And Arthur kicking off in the middle of the mayors party wasn’t exactly a part of Dutch’s plan. 

“ now I am so sorry but i believe my husband did promise me a dance “ you rose to your feet, sipping your champagne before placing the glass down and taking Arthur’s from his hands “ ain’t that right my love? “ 

“ yeah… need ya to come with me “ he said lowly, offering you his arm. His face had gone slightly dark, not entirely able to read him, you frowned slightly. But let him lead you away from the man, completely bypassing the area with couples twirling to the music. 

“ where we goin? “ you asked with a small laugh, latching onto his arm again and having to take quick steps to keep up with his purposeful strides “ Arthur?”

He didn’t answer immediately, simply led you away from the crowds and around the side of the mayor's house. 

“ You mad cause I took that watch? Look he deserved it- “

“ ain’t mad “ he mumbled, still leading you along. 

“ okay… so we stealin’ somethin’ else? “ you asked with excitement filtering into your words, already trying to figure out what it could be “ need me to act like a maid? I can do that real good y’know. Is it money? Papers? Oh, is it jewellery? Gold? “ Arthur chuckled at your excitement and shook his head, bringing you to a halt between some elaborately trimmed bushes and trees in planters. 

“ we ain’t stealin’ a thing “ you pouted with a mild disappointment and he chuckled again, advancing on you and backing you up against the wall behind you “ don’t gimme that look “ he tucked his fingers under your chin, nudging your face upwards to look at him. He was a god few inches taller than you, but he always made you feel ten times smaller when he looked down at you like that. 

“ what’s gotten into you? “ you asked with a giggle, hands slipping under his jacket to slide over his waist. 

“ just wanted some time alone with you is all “ 

“ behind some trees? You are a strange man sometimes Arthur Morgan y’know that? “ he gave a heavy sigh and brushed his thumb across your cheek softly, watching you intently. He always looked at you like you like you were the only woman on the planet “ you sure you ain’t mad about the watch? “ 

“ no. I ain’t mad. Feller flirtin’ with my woman and only loses his watch sounds like a good deal to me “ he grumbled, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips. 

And a light bulb suddenly pinged on in your head. 

“ are you jealous? “ you asked, unable to hide your complete utter joy and amusement as the realisation hit you. He grumbled some kind of an answer and tried to kiss you again but you turned your head to the side, so he settled for your neck instead “ why Arthur Morgan. You are jealous “ 

He didn’t answer you again, simply tilted your head so he could get at your neck more, his other hand splaying over your lower back to tug you close against him. A mischievous streak ran through you and you chewed on your lip for a moment deciding whether or not to push his buttons. 

“ he was kinda nice to me y’know. He seemed a nice feller “ Arthur’s teeth grazed your skin at your words and your smile grew bigger “ kept me from bein’ so lonely with you gone “ 

“ he wanted to do more than keep you company “ your fingers ran through the long strands of his hair, sighing softly as he continued to kiss your neck 

“ you think? You gonna keep me company now? “ 

“ oh I’ll keep you company “ you had said it only really to tease. Thinking that actually, a sordid little moment with your lover behind the bushes would be an incredible improvement on the evening. 

But it was hard to simply just kiss Arthur. He had wandering hands, had lips as addictive as whiskey. Even when you assumed he wasn’t particularly trying to work you up, he did. But the way he was tugging at your body to keep you pressed against him, the way his lips were burning a trail along your neck and across your jaw…

“ Arthur… y’know anyone could come round here “ 

“ stay quiet then and they ain’t gonna be none the wiser “ your skin prickled with heat at his words and your hips involuntarily rolled against him. Maybe it was the thrill. Maybe it was the fact that he was so… needy. Desperate to remind himself that you were his and not some stupid rich man in an equally as stupid hat.

He groaned against your hot skin as you pressed against him, the sound igniting something deep in your bones. Flaring up through your veins and cursing like lava through your veins. 

Your hands found themselves back under his jacket, fingers tugging at his shirt to free it from where it has been neatly tucked into his pants. You knew you couldn’t get it off of him but you still wanted to feel. 

You hummed softly when your fingertips met his skin, as hot as you knew yours must be. He loved to feel you touch him, loved when dragged your nails across his back, sunk your teeth into his shoulder to quiet your moans when you were dangerously close to other members of camp. 

You wished you could do it in that moment. Wished you were back in your room, truly the only good thing to come out of Shady Belle was the fact that you had a room. 

But Arthur didn’t seem keen on waiting. Seemingly having some point to prove to himself. And you were more than happy to let him. 

His hands drifted down to the floaty material of your skirt, reluctantly pulling himself away from your neck to frown at the material in front of him. 

“ why you gotta have so many damn skirts? “ he grumbled, fumbling with the layers of fabric hanging from your waist. 

“ you picked the dress “ you reminded him with a smile, chasing after his lips again. Desperate to kiss him properly now that he had stopped his assault on your neck. He kissed you with a energy that demanded your attention, that drew you in and locked you in place. Hot. Wet. Addictive “ least it ain’t as big as Mollys “ you said when you let yourself pull away. 

“ yeah well I weren’t plannin’ on keepin’ you in it when we- god damn there’s enough fabric here to dress the entire camp “ you couldn’t help the giggle that fell past your lips, watching him try to figure out how he was going to play out whatever sordid thoughts were running through his head. 

Your own mind had quite ungracefully fallen into the gutter itself, realising exactly what Arthur wanted. And your constant desperation for the man in front of you overruling all your concerns at the location. 

He seemed to be getting a little agitated with your dress and you held back the urge to giggle at him. Instead opting to try sooth the frown lines worrying at his forehead, reaching forward to palm at him through the material of his pants. In hopes it would be some kind of incentive for him to hurry up as well. 

As much as you needed him as badly as you needed air, you were also still aware of exactly where you were. And how long it would take until Dutch came looking. 

“ c’mon Arthur “ you whispered, desperation beginning to fill your words “ ‘fore they notice we’re gone “ it had been his idea to take you away, and yet you were seemingly the more desperate of the two of you now. But how could he or anyone else blame you? When he was all gussied up like he was. In truth you liked his normal attire a little more. Liked him a little more… rugged. But lord did he look handsome in his suit, his hair and beard all neat and tidy. 

Arthur’s breath audibly caught in his throat from your touch and it seemed to effectively spur him on. 

“ yes ma’am “ He spun you around with strong hands to your waist, your own hands bracing yourself against the wall. The next moments were a flurry of his hands hitching your skirts over your hips, grabbing at your undergarments before a strong arm looped around your waist to pull you back against him. 

His hand disappeared under your bunched up skirts making you gasp softly as his fingers dipped into the warmth between your thighs. 

“ this all for me darlin? “ you could hear the smirk in his words, feel it as he brushed his nose against your cheek. The short stands of his beard tickled at your skin, sending a shiver snaking along your spine. 

“ course it is “ the sound of a lady drunkenly laughing a little too close by made you freeze, hand reaching around to grab at Arthur’s arm. 

He didn’t seem discouraged by the idea of someone stumbling upon you both, simply moved his hand up to grasp gently at your jaw, turning your face towards his to kiss you. His other hand was still between your thighs, and you sighed softly against his lips as he drew a thick finger between the wetness of your folds “ oh Arthur…“ 

Your cunt clenched around nothing. As if silently begging for his fingers to just push inside of you, take you in a way you had always found so much more personal than just sitting on his cock. His fingers that held his guns, that he used to beat people to death more times than either of you could care to count. Those same fingers working you open, covered in the slick evidence of your desire for him instead of gun oil. Fingers that cause pain and damage, but also sent you spiralling into mind blowing pits of pleasure. 

And paired with the current location? It just felt… dirty. Erotic. You felt no better than a common whore loitering in a saloon for custom. You wanted him so desperately, needed him. 

“ Arthur “ you sighed, pushing your self against his hand as he toyed with your swollen clit. 

“ tell me what y’need pretty girl “ he said softly, tickling your skin with his beard and dragging his tongue across your neck before sinking his teeth into the flesh, making you whimper. 

“ you- Arthur. You. Please “ his hand continued its gentle movements as he worked at your neck. You pushed your hips back against him, grinding against the hardness still trapped by his pants in a way that couldn’t be comfortable. His breath shuddered against your skin as you did, holding you flush against him to let you wiggle your hips in a silent invitation to just take you already. 

A smashing glass drew your attention briefly away from him again. And as much as you could let him do that all evening, you were still hyper aware of your surroundings. 

You silently wished he’d just waited until you were back at camp, could take his time with you on that shitty little bed in the privacy of your room at Shady Belle. 

But there you were. And there were hundreds of others only a few feet away too. 

“ stop teasin we ain’t got the time “ at any other time he’d have worked you into a mess with his fingers, even dropped to his knees and disappeared under your skirts, have you coming on his tongue over and over again just because he wanted to. But he hadn’t planned the situation well at all, and you weren’t exactly in the best of locations. If anyone so much as peaked around the corner of the building a little too far you were certain you’d be spotted. 

And wouldn’t that be a tale. 

“ ain’t you bossy “ you opened your mouth to snip back at him, but your words evaporated into nothing but a soft whimper as Arthur followed your demands, pushing past his desires to take his time with you. Truly it was his own fault that he couldn’t though, as he withdrew his fingers and fumbled with the buttons on his pants. 

“ Arthur “ you whimpered softly, breath stuttering at the feel of his swollen tip brushing between the wet folds of your cunt. 

“ quiet now darlin’ “ He pushed in slowly, in the way he so often did. Making sure you felt every single devastating inch, your back arching against his chest as your body flushed with warmth. Even after so many times the stretch was still a lot, a deep burning ache that eventually melted away into a blinding hot pleasure that burnt its way through your veins. 

He pressed on until he was flush against you, the material of his opened pants scratching against your soft skin as he held you there a moment. He exhaled slowly, his breath warm against your skin. 

It was never fucking with Arthur. Not very often anyways. It was love making. Soft. And slow. And a brutal pace that made sure you remembered he’d been there the next morning, but oh so drawn out. He was gentle. Tender. It had always shocked you how violent he could be and yet become so careful and soft with you. And even there, concealed by a few perfectly trimmed bushes and planters, he was taking his time. Reminding you that you were his. And maybe reminding himself of the fact too. 

Reminding himself that maybe there were men only a few feet away that wanted you. That would pay for the pleasure of your company. But only Arthur could have it, that he was the only one you would ever offer it too. 

That this deep rooted instinct to protect what was his wasn’t entirely necessary but god was it wanted. That his desire made your blood boil with lust, skin burn under his touch. 

“ That’s my girl “ he whispered, tone low and steady as he set himself into a bruising pace, still tightly holding onto you as he did. His face had fallen to your neck again, lips latching onto every inch of exposed skin they could. 

You were certain you were going to walk back into the party looking like you’d taken a dip with some leeches. 

You tried your best to be quiet, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in some hopes that mixed with the sounds of the party happening only a few feet away you wouldn’t be heard. But it was so hard to be silent when he was fucking you like that. So determined, so strong, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in hard. 

Your hand was still gripping at his arm, blunt fingernails digging at his skin through his jacket. His pace increased a little, settling into a steady rhythm that carved a devastating stretch inside of you. 

“ y’know I think that feller- that feller back there. He wanted you like this “ you couldn’t help the smile that pulled its way onto your face, still flushing with joy at his jealousy. You knew Arthur desired you carnally. Always had done and always would. But a reminder like the present one was always nice. 

“ y’think so? “ 

“ I know “ he grumbled, his pace increasing a little more, clearly attempting to take out his frustrations with the handsy man. But also maybe simply trying to assure himself in the process too. 

Arthur didn’t like to admit it but he was a little self conscious. You’d heard him talk down to himself in the mirror countless times, had seen the way he spoke about himself when you peaked over his shoulder at his journal. Had an almost crippling fear of abandonment that sometimes he did need to be reminded that you wanted him. 

“ poor feller “ you said with a small sigh before pushing lightly at Arthur’s arm so he’d let you go. You winced slightly as he pulled out, immediately missing the heavy feel of him there, and spun around tugging him back towards you by the lapels of his jacket “ ain’t got nothin on you “ you hitched your skirts up in your arm and wrapped your spare hand around the now slick length of his cock making him stutter a breath. 

His face was flushed, bottom lip shiny from kissing you. You wanted to absolutely devour him, strip him of his fancy clothes and remind him just how much you wanted every part of him. 

The look in his eyes was almost primal. Desire and lust burning so brightly it made your chest ache, to feel so wanted. To feel so desired. 

To have a man so usually controlled and put together, be reduced to not being able to even wait until you got home. That he had to have you there. Right there in that moment. He couldn’t wait. 

You needed him to pull you apart. To worship every inch of you in the way he so often did. 

But the side of the mayor's house was truly not the place for such a thing. 

“ no one could make me feel the way you do “ you whispered, stroking him softly in your hand as you tried to stoke the fire under his ego. Make him realise he truly had no reason to be jealous “ and him back there? He thought he could huh? Poor feller “ 

“ poor feller “ he echoed, sliding a hand over your leg and hitching it over his hip, sliding back into you with a welcome ease that made your head fall back against the wall. 

“ Thinks he could fuck me better than this? Man must be damn crazy “ you said with a smile, breathless as he fucked into you. You were practically dripping around him, the lewd sounds between you enough to make your skin flush. 

“ you’re mine darlin “ you nodded immediately. Not a single doubt in your mind on the matter. You were his. And he yours. That was how it would always be “ all mine, you hear? “ 

“ all yours Arthur. Ain’t no man in this whole damn country could replace you” 

He moved with more determination, thrusting into you harder in a way you knew was going to bruise your back from rubbing against the wall. His all too familiar deep, hard pace. You pulled him down by the back of his neck, muffling your whimpers with his mouth cautious again that you were getting a little reckless. 

“ that good? Makin me feel so good darlin’ such a good girl “ the entire thing felt almost animalistic. Desires so strong they couldn’t be withheld. Dirty. Filthy. Perfect. 

“ God Arthur “ the look on his face alone made you clench around him, never wanting him to leave, needing to feel the heavy bruising sensation as he split you apart for the rest of your life. He hitched your leg higher, hitting some new devastating part inside of you that made you see stars. Eyes rolling to the back of your head and unable to contain the sounds escaping your throat any longer. 

“ There she is, jus’ like that darlin I got ya” his grip on your leg grew restless, fingers dancing over your skin and trying to pull you as close to him as he could get you. He always wanted you close. Always wanted to feel your skin against his own. A moment later his thrusts became sloppier and you knew he wasn’t far off. Though quite frankly neither were you “ so pretty for me like this ain’t ya? My girl “ his words only pulled you closer to the edge, knot twisting tighter. 

“ Arthur I- “

“ I know. I know darlin, can feel it “ he almost cooed, lifting a hand to cup your face gently “ that’s it look right at me. That’s a girl right at me “ with his gaze so intense you couldn’t hold it any longer, biting down on your lip as you attempted to conceal your sounds of ecstasy as you came over his cock. 

He was barely a second behind you, a stuttered groan of a sound leaving him as he dropped his forehead against yours, painting your slick walls with rope after rope of come as you clenched around him. Holding him in place so that not a single drop of him would go to waste. It was a risky business letting him finish inside of you, truly it was. But in your sex drunk haze you didn’t care, couldn’t give a damn because it simply felt too good to give up. 

He nudged his nose against yours, brushing his lips against your own and kissed you softly. So tender and gentle, his hand carefully lowering your leg back down, slipping his softening length out of you making you wince. He kissed the crinkles it caused to show at the corners of your eyes, whispering a gentle sorry. He soothed his hands over your waist with a care very few men had for women those days. 

“ my girl “ he murmured, littering kisses across your cheeks and nose. 

When he pulled back you couldn’t help but smile. The dopey, soft kind. He was looking far less put together than he had done when you’d arrived, the pomade in his hair no longer serving its purpose after your fingers had gotten to it. He’d broken a sweat too, his forehead shiny. His skin flushed. 

The smugness was overwhelming though, could see it in his eyes. In the small smirk pulling at his lips. He seemed incredibly proud of himself. 

“ you are somethin’ else “ he mumbled as he finished readjusting his clothes, reaching forward to slip the ruffled strap of your dress back up your shoulder from where it had slipped. Pressing a kiss to the skin there for good measure. 

“ I ain’t the jealous one “ you teased as you combed your fingers through his hair in some attempt to tidy it. 

“ ain’t jealous. No idea what you talkin about girl “ he said with a small clear of his throat in some attempt to hide the obvious lie, you simply smiled again and pressed a kiss to his cheek 

“ mhm sure “ 

There was something about having to go back out into the party with the light ache between your legs, with the evidence of Arthur’s jealousy slowly dripping down your thighs. And Arthur seemed to think so too 

“ now. I believe you wanted to dance? “

[lesbian-for-arthur-morgan]

Middle Class Lady Who has the Gang Sneak in Her Window

"The gang falling for a woman of a higher class and a father that doesn't approve of them so they usually sneak through their window to be together" @livingdeadgirly​

Genre: Fluff - some angst if you squint (Fem Reader uses she/her pronouns) Featuring: Arthur, John, Dutch, Javier, Charles, Sean, and Sadie Warnings: Mentions of guns, outlaw type of stuff

AN: I'm so sorry these took me forever to write! if some of them seem a little out of character please ignore it and pretend they aren't :D ---> Requests are open! Check out my guidelines if you have any questions

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Arthur Morgan:

Your father owned his own saloon which gave him an incredible insight into the type of men who frequented his establishment. He thought of this as a blessing once you started growing older and wishing to be courted, he could keep an ear out for anyone that he deemed unworthy for you.

Unsurprisingly, anyone who frequented the bar was not someone your father wanted anywhere near you. Especially when it came to an outlaw by the name of Arthur Morgan. The two of them had a long-standing feud (actually it was your father who hated Arthur and Arthur was too busy being infatuated with you to notice).

The first time Arthur was seen speaking to you in front of the saloon, your father came barreling through the doors to usher you inside. He instructed you to never speak to him again. Of course you didn’t listen.

Months go by and Arthur has made an extreme effort to get as close to you as he can without your father’s knowledge. The two of you will just so happen to go to the same general store at the same time every Friday by ‘accident’, you just so happen to run into him when you take your horse for a little trail ride to exercise, and every once in a while you both somehow end up behind the theater at on show nights by some strange chance of fate.

After a while, you’re so sick of having to keep your interactions short and sweet and secret in the public eye (lest anyone witness it and run off to tattle to your father). You write a quick letter to Arthur one day asking him to meet you at the side of your house at midnight.

When he gets there and you’re nowhere to be found he’s beyond confused; it’s not until he hears a sharp whistle and looks up to see you waving at him from your second story window that he understands your plan.

“The things I do for you, woman.” He grumbles with a smile and begins hoisting himself up the tree conveniently located right by the window.

You’ve already got the window open as he reaches the top and you begin helping him crawl inside. Now Arthur is a large, bulky man he isn’t exactly as nimble as he might have been once upon a time. You can barely contain your giggles as he lumbers into the room ungracefully and nearly face-plants into the rug on your floor.

“I ain’t had to do this since I was a boy,” He smiles down at you once he steadies himself as you grin up at him widely.

“You’re still young enough to climb through a lady’s window yet, Mr. Morgan.” You tease.

It’s the first time the two of you have ever truly been alone since you met and the tension in the air is palpable. Arthur looks between you and your carefully cleaned and decorated bedroom, then down at his dirty boots on your rug and worn denim pants. He was the complete opposite of you - he didn’t deserve to ruin your space with his grimy life and clothes.

“What you thinking about, Cowboy?” You place a hand on his cheek and turn his head to make him look back at you. He’d confess a few of his doubts, not trusting himself to tell you that he doesn’t deserve you flatout, and you’d shake your head and lead him over to your bed and have him sit down.

You’d kiss him and quiet his thoughts, allowing your actions to say more than words ever could and from that moment on he’d find himself climbing up a tree every other night.

Your father didn’t figure it out ever, even though Arthur and you were hardly ever quiet.

John Marston:

You were the most beautiful person that John had ever seen in his entire life. You were walking in the middle of town with some man nearly twice your age and John figured you were married to him - some lady victim to a man with money and a ring.

John fantasized about swooping you into his arms and saving you from a life of excruciating monotony. He’d tell the old man to kick the bucket, maybe rob him of whatever cash and valuables he had on him, and let you live your life free with him.

When he overheard you refer to the man as your father John felt absolutely giddy. He took his hat off and tried to smooth his hair down as he moved to approach you and introduce himself.

Your father watched the outlaw walk up to the two of you with a skeptical eye. He was hoping the cowboy would walk past you, but he stopped right before you and held out his hand to you. “John Marston, Miss….?” He prompted.

Your father shut it down immediately. He was so incredibly unamused that he stepped between you and John and shoved his arm down. He told John to basically get lost, but John ignored him and kept his eyes on you.

It was like love at first sight.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his and couldn’t hide the growing blush that heated your cheeks as he ever-so-slightly smiled at you. A small smile that disappeared as your father demanded his attention.

“Now son you get out of here before I get angry. I don’t want you anywhere near my daughter, you got that?”

John wanted to laugh at his vague threat. Who did this guy think he was? John put both hands up to show he meant no harm and took a few steps back.

“Didn’t mean nothing by it, sir,” He shrugged, “Was just being friendly.”

Your father scoffed saying he didn’t want any of John’s kindness and neither would you. You caught John’s eye while your father was speaking and mouthed ‘sorry’ with a sweet smile.

John was smitten immediately. He may seem like a big tough outlaw, but the guy is secretly a huge soft romantic. He was already envisioning your wedding and the type of house you two would build together in the middle of the prairie where no one would bother you and you could leave your respective lives.

He may have been getting ahead of himself.

Your father dragged you away and into the general store, John went off to finish a few more errands. He didn’t think he’d actually ever see you again until the moment he went back to his horse to ride back to camp.

He felt a quick tap on his shoulder and there you were looking at him with a mischievous glint in your eye.

From that moment on the two of you had to meet in secret - away from the watchful eye of your father. John took to sneaking in your bedroom anytime he got the inclination to see you (which was a daily occurrence tbh).

He’d take a stroll around the house to make sure your father’s room lights were off and see if yours were on and you were still awake. Due to his frequent visits, you were always up late waiting for him to call on you.

It was all fun and games until he’s waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to climb back out of your window before your father woke up to find him lounging in your bed. That would be a messy scene.

Dutch Van Der Linde:

Dutch thought he was too old to have to worry about meeting parents and getting the approval to see the lady he fancied. He was an old dog; he liked younger women of course but never the type who were of a higher social standing than him and needed that.

Then he met you.

You swooped into his life with your pretty dresses and sweet words and you didn’t want him at all at first. It made him want you even more.

It’s no secret that rich men are corrupt and willing to meet with anyone to make a quick buck. Your father met with Dutch to provide some intel about a train full of valuables and treasures that were interesting to both parties involved. Your dad wanted a cut of what was on that train provided the Van Der Linde gang robbed it.

Your father wasn’t a good man. He enjoyed money a little too much, and saw you as property more than his daughter. He was overprotective of you - to the point that he refused to ever let you out of his sight for even a second.

You went to every meeting between the two men and at first didn’t give a damn about Dutch. You thought he was handsome, but not the type of man you’d ever be interested in. Not until your father warned you to stay away from men like that.

He even went so far as to comment that he didn’t like the way Dutch looked at you. It fueled something inside of you. The idea of rebelling in such a way. Dutch was attractive, he had money, an exciting life, and most of all it would piss your father off if you courted the gang leader.

The next time there was a meeting between the three of you, you bat your eyelashes and laughed at Dutch’s jokes a little too hard.

Dutch bid you farewell by kissing the knuckles on your hand, and you loved the way your father basically had smoke coming out his ears at the action.

Your father didn’t bring you with him the next time he went to a meeting with Dutch. He locked you in your room, and only unlocked the door to check on you before bed that night.

You were pouting and writing a long sob-story in your diary when you heard a soft tap on the glass of your window.

You pulled back your blinds to see Dutch crouching in the dirt by your window with a wicked grin on his face.

“Can I come in, Darlin’?” He cooed with a sweet voice. You opened your window immediately and he ducked through the frame.

“You didn’t come with your father today, he said you didn’t want to attend the meetings anymore.”

You explain that you’ve basically been kept a prisoner in your room all day since your dad was convinced Dutch was trying to steal you away from him. You grumble out a few curse words after you explain and roll your eyes.

“What if I am tryin’ to steal you away?” Dutch whispered, his eyes dark and sparkling in the lamp light. You didn’t realize how pretty he was.

You bite your lip and smile, trying to keep on a tough act at his words. It’s no use, though. He’s charming, it’s why he is who he is.

“Maybe I’d let you,” You reply in a sultry low tone.

That’s all Dutch needed to hear. He helped you pack a small bag of items to bring with you and he brought you back to the camp where the gang was staying.

On your bed, you left a note telling your father you were running off with a man. Shortly after that Dutch mailed out a post saying he didn’t want to do business with your father anymore. It was all settled.

He stole you away to join him at camp, and that’s where you stayed.

Javier Escuella:

You met Javier by chance one night when you were being harassed by a local lawman after a night out at the theater. Javier rushed to the alley when he heard your shouts ordering the man to stay away from you.

Javier saw red and let his instincts take over him. He grabbed the man by the collar of his very nice shirt and used it to throw him to the mud.

“The lady asked you nicely to leave her alone. Now, I won’t be so nice if I have to ask. So, tell me, do I have to be the one to request you leave her alone?”

The man scrambled in the mud, splattering it on his dress pants and coat, as he picked himself up and ran away.

Javier introduced himself and offered to walk you home. You were a little wary of him at first, what with the guns at his belt and the knife at his thigh, but he assured you that he was not a threat. He just didn’t want you risking getting harassed again on your journey to your house.

You took him up on his offer and as he dropped you off at your front door you gave him a quick, shy peck on the cheek and asked if he wouldn’t mind coming to visit again in the future.

Javier is a blushing bumbling mess but somehow finds the words to agree and see you again later on in the week.

From that point on, this man spoils you in every possible way. He brings you flowers, fine pelts, jewelry (don’t ask where he got it), and little poems he writes or likes just so that you have a little piece of his heart.

Does your father care about all of that? No. He just cares about Javier’s status as an outlaw, a killer. He’s heard the rumors about the Van Der Linde Gang and he refuses to allow one of the members anywhere near you.

Javier is willing to do anything to see you, though.

You started leaving your windows perched open during the warm summer nights, and a low whistle alerted you to a person sitting right outside the glass. Your curtains were fluttering slightly with the wind and so all you saw was the shadow of a figure causing your mind to think of the worst scenarios possible.

You drew a knife from your vanity and clasped it in your hand ready to call for your father, but you heard a familiar voice lowly call out.

“Mi amor?”

You let out a sigh of relief and pulled the curtains back fully to see Javier smiling at you with a bouquet of wild flowers in his hands. “I wanted to see you and I couldn’t wait any longer.”

You asked him to wait outside while you barricaded your bedroom door with a stool, then opened the window wider for him to duck inside.

At first he didn’t really know what to do with himself, he planned to give you the flowers and have a quick kiss before needing to leave -  he did not expect you to usher him inside.

You took the flowers from his hands and placed them on your dresser next to the box of trinkets and gifts Javier has given you before.

You sit on your bed and make a spot for him to sit beside you. He isn’t really sure what the gentlemanly thing to do is in that situation, but just to be safe he sits on the floor by your feet. He’s gazing up at you as if you were the moon itself and doesn’t even try to hide the way his breathing quickens every time your eyes meet.

It becomes routine for him to visit you nearly every night and wait for you to barricade your door before allowing him in. Eventually he gets more comfortable and feels better about sitting next to you on your bed - though he knows it was not the proper thing to do.

He really wanted to court you the proper way, but with your father being so hesitant to know him outside of his status he had to be a little lenient on conventional courting methods.

Charles Smith:

Charles has been sneaking into your room for years.

You were childhood sweethearts, but your father had hated the relationship from the moment you expressed any sort of soft feelings for the boy.

When he first started sneaking in, it was just because your father didn’t want you to be friends. You and Charles were inseparable, so he’d sneak in when he could to read your books and play with your toys while your father was at work.

As you grew older, your feelings grew too.

You developed a strong crush on Charles and he was completely oblivious to it. At first, since you didn’t know how to express your feelings, you pushed him away and told him to stop visiting you.

Charles was crushed when you essentially told him to get lost. He couldn’t understand what caused your change of heart - he figured maybe your father had finally gotten to you and you realized you were too rich, too pretty to be his friend.

Charles stopped climbing through your bedroom windows and started only seeing you in public spaces or whenever you took your horse out for a ride.

Eventually, though, even those interactions dwindled and Charles stopped seeing you altogether.

It broke you when you didn’t speak with Charles anymore. You thought it better that way. He couldn’t find out your feelings for him - especially since you were certain he didn’t feel the same way.

Years go by, you stop seeing Charles even in fleeting moments. You heard he ran off and was living alone in the wilderness.

It was your fault, you thought. You pushed him away during his time of need and now there was no way of knowing what became of him. Whether he was alive or dead.

You grow older, your heart growing cold and calloused, and you never really recovered from the hurt you put yourself through.

One night, you’re a passenger on a train taking you deeper into the west of America when there was a loud commotion at one end of the passenger car you were in.

You put down your novel and see a group of masked men with weapons demanding valuables from every patron they pass by. They were slowly moving down the aisle, approaching where you were sitting at an alarmingly fast pace. You couldn’t think of a way out of the situation without giving away every last bit of money you had on you.

That is, until one of the masked men gets to you and instead of the harsh demands and pointed threats you expected to hear, you hear your name being whispered softly.

You look up, skin ablaze with fear and eyes watering. Through your tears you can see a familiar set of dark brown eyes peering down at you as if you were a ghost.

“Ch…Charles?” You squint. You questioned if it was just a mirage, a trick of your brain due to fear, but there was no doubting it. Those were Charles’ eyes.

He softly grabbed you by the arm and helped you out of your seat.

“Come with me,” He whispered as he pushed you through the aisle towards the exit. “I promise nothing will happen to you.”

It was stupid, but you blindly agreed as he led you out of the train and onto the dusty earth.

Charles and you caught up as the rest of his posse finished robbing the passengers of the train. You learned that he had been taken in by the Van Der Linde gang and was making a living as an outlaw. After seeing what you did on the train, that part of his story checked out.

You caught up with him as well, you informed him of your father’s fate and how his will left everything to you. How you regretted pushing him away as a teenager and how you wished he could forgive you.

“I never even hated you for it,” He said softly, “There is nothing to forgive, it’s how the world is sometimes. Cruel.”

You tried to explain your feelings at the time, but the embarrassment of it never let you fully explain.

Charles offered to take you home, but you wanted nothing more than to continue catching up with him and learning about his new life, his new family. Charles took you back to camp, and you ended up staying there with him for a few weeks. (For a fee of course, as Dutch had so cleverly thought up)

Your feelings for Charles rose to the surface once again, and you weren’t sure when or if there would ever be a time to explain how madly in love with him you were.

Sean MacGuire:

The first time y’all met was when he was sneaking through your window late one night.

Dutch had given Sean a vague plan about robbing a local lawmaker’s house while the man was scheduled to be two towns over for some political business. Dutch figured it would be a quiet, simple mission to grab some extra loot and not worry about being caught.

Sean paced around your house a few times after midnight the day your father left, and when he didn’t see any lights on or movements he figured it was safe to go in.

He checked a few key points of entry, but the windows on the ground-floor were locked and he didn’t want to risk leaving any evidence of there being a break-in for when the lawmaker came back.

Sean noticed that a window on the second floor was open the tiniest sliver, he’d be able to use a dagger to wedge it open wide enough to slip his hand in and open it fully.

He climbed up some vines growing on the side of the wood paneling and pulled his dagger to wedge it open. Once he got himself inside, he turned towards the window to close it.

His entire body stiffened when he heard the metallic click of a pistol being cocked from behind him.

“Now I’ll only say this one time, Mister, you need to get outta here before I blow a hole in you and make a mess all over these clean floors.” The threat was serious, Sean knew that, but he couldn’t help but perk up at the sweet sound of your voice as you told him you were going to shoot him if he didn’t leave.

He put his hands up, dropping the dagger he had, and turned to face you slowly. The house was dark. Shadows danced across your face and shielded your eyes making you look lethal with the gun pointed at his chest. Sean thought you were beautiful.

“I mean no harm, Miss. Just business ‘s all,” Sean gave you a toothy smile which only made you narrow your eyes.

You told him you were going to give him one chance to leave and he’d only stay if he had a death wish.

Sean wanted nothing more than to stay with you and use whatever methods he could to woo you, but he was familiar with the look in your eyes and the tone of your voice. He was scheduled to meet the gods above if he didn’t slip back out that window and into the night.

After he left, he was already planning the ways he could meet you again - under more favorable circumstances of course. He decided to visit you the next day with a peace offering and a smile.

Once dawn broke over the horizon, painting the world in a golden orange light, Sean was already up and out of camp heading to your large house on the hill.

He knocked on the door and you answered after a few minutes. Your hair was messy from sleep and your nightgown was covered by a long robe that was hastily thrown on to save your modesty.

“What the hell?” You grumbled and looked at Sean as if he had grown three heads. “Either you are the stupidest man on the planet for comin’ back here, or you truly do have a death wish. If it’s the latter give me a second to grab the gun.”

Sean was in love immediately.

“I wanted to apologize for last night. I never woulda thought ‘bout stealing from a man with such a pretty woman living under his roof.” He handed you a small box saying that it was a piece offering. Inside was a large silver coin and a note that said ‘thanks for not shooting me’.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, but pocketed the coin and note nonetheless. You invited him in, but warned him any funny business would not end favorably for him. He only shot you a coy smile and promised that he was only coming as a gentleman, not an outlaw.

The two of you grew as friends at first but once things seemed to grow more romantic, you had to start sneaking around and avoiding your father finding out about the relationship and how it started.

Sean was glad he got the practice sneaking in your window that first night, though, because it was common practice while the two of you had to keep your romantic relations a secret.

Sadie Adler:

Sadie was a shell of herself when you met her.

She was still mourning the loss of her husband and trying to become accustomed to her new life as a member of the Van Der Linde Gang when you stumbled into her one day.

She was just starting to get back on her feet and was at the tailors in town when you strolled in with your fancy clothes and styled hair.

She wasn’t intimidated per say, but she felt a little inadequate in comparison. What with her ragged hand-me-downs from Miss Grimshaw and her few coins that she saved to buy a new linen shirt - you were like royalty compared to her.

You approached her first at the tailors. You asked if she had been in town long as you didn’t recognize her, where she came from, where her husband was (assuming she was married). Sadie didn’t know how to answer all the questions you threw in her direction.

You broke down her walls, though. You bought the shirt that she wanted and even invited her to tea with you at your house to talk about what had been plaguing her the last few weeks.

She didn’t want it to help, but Sadie could physically feel the relief flood her chest as she stopped holding on to her emotions and let them flow freely. A friendship between the two of you grew quickly and rapidly.

Then, it grew to be a little more.

Sadie had been working on jobs with Arthur and gaining her confidence back. In doing so, she finally got the nerve to kiss you goodbye one night when she was getting ready to go back to camp.

She gazed at you nervously after she did it. She couldn’t figure out what your expression meant - whether she went too far, or if you even liked her back in that way.

Tears slipped from your eyes as you looked up at her and grabbed her cheeks, shoving your lips against hers. Her kiss was sweet and gentle, but yours was aggressive and needy. You didn’t realize she felt the same way about you, and knowing that she did created a swell in your heart that never went away.

After your first kiss, you had to keep your relationship on the downlow. Your father knew that the two of you were friends (he hardly liked even that), if he found out that y’all were girlfriends he would separate you for good.

Sadie came up with the plan to visit you during the day as a good honest lady of society, but at night she would climb up through your window to enjoy spending time with you as a partner instead.

Friend by day, girlfriend by night.

Sadie slipped through your window every other night, quieter than a shadow when she came in. Sometimes you’d turn around and she would just be getting in and it would make you squeak a little as it startled you.

She kissed you to keep you quiet when that happened, though (teehee)

Sadie would spend hours with you at night. You’d help her brush her hair when there were missions she was on that took days and she wasn’t able to care for her locks. You’d let her borrow your nightgowns if she ever wanted to stay and relax in your bed until dawn.

The two of you would hold each other and talk until the mourning doves sang their melancholy songs in the early hours of the morning.

<><><><>

[cowboyfromh3ll]

gonna keep the shy reader hcs party going and kindly request how arthur, john, and charles (and any other characters you might have added) would tease her once they’ve been together for a little while. who likes flustering her the most and who would get away with it the longest before she realizes he’s doing it on purpose 👀 as for the smutty part, what’s their favorite ways to rile her up before taking pity and giving her what she wants (i imagine some would be nicer than others lol)

Shy!Reader HC Ft. Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Charles Smith (Smut)

Y'all love your shy reader hcs

Warnings: smut

Arthur Morgan

I feel like Arthur wouldn't be too big of a tease but when he is, they're very non consequential things

You fell off your horse? You were hunting together and missed the shot by a lot? You hurt yourself trying to do something daring on a job? He'd be like omg come over here lemme fix it for you baby

His goal is never to make you feel less than or somehow incompetent with his teasing

But oh you got syrup all over your face and hands? You buttoned your shirt incorrectly? You snort when you laugh? He's gonna keep going until you're blushing and giggling at him to stop

Even if there's nothing wrong with your outfit he'll go over to you and find SOMETHING to fix

Will spend an unnecessary amount of time fixing your collar or scarf

It'd probably be pretty easy to tell what he's trying to do, not very slick

Would compliment you to try and make you blush but he just ends up making himself blush

If you're insecure over something he'll make sure to compliment that aspect of you over and over again

Flirts with the idea of marriage and kids one day and that'll have you SWOONING

Sometimes he'll rub your belly when you talk about it and it'll make you CRUMBLE

NSFW

Oh he's gonna be such a big tease, and he'll do it perfectly

Does it in a way that can be passed off as accidentally and goes unnoticed by anyone else but you

Rubs his crotch on you while making his way past behind you

Subtly brushes your thigh or ass with his hand

Kisses up your neck until you're all hot and bothered and pulls away before saying he's gotta do something

If y'all are sitting around a table in a group setting he'll have you on his lap so you can feel him harden. Keeps playing poker like nothing

If you're sitting next to him he'll place his hand on your inner thigh but never moving it close enough to where you want it

His favorite way to rile you up is to touch you all over during make outs then never going past that

Takes pity on you when he sees you get genuinely frustrated, thinks it's hilarious though

Charles Smith

He's so subtle with it that you wouldn't even catch it until a few seconds later

You gotta think about it before you truly get it

You could complain about how hot it is and he'll recommend you take off your clothes

Oh you say your backs hurting? Charles recommended course of action is visiting him at his tent tonight so he can fix it wink wink

You'll actually show up and he'll actually be surprised you haven't gotten it yet

Will give you a massage nonetheless

Would take you a while to pick up on it and that's the beauty of it to Charles

Would do things without the intention of making you blush but if he notices something does he'll keep at it

You like it when he plays with your hair? Then he'll braid it and put flowers in it and rave about how beautiful it is

Hands you flowers and tells you it reminded him of you

Makes you little trinkets and objects and says the most flowery things about how he tried to make it a fraction of how beautiful you are

NSFW

Like his aforementioned forms of teasing, he'll do just that

In fact, in times where you do catch on, he'll pretend like he never meant it that way and you're the one who's trying to get something going

Will give you THAT LOOK when you're together in public and you BOTH know you won't be able to do anything for hours

During make outs he'll rub your inner thighs or ass or sides but never touching you where you need it.

His hands are very light, his touches never heavy handed

He'd give in real easy to you. Just pout or give him puppy eyes and he'll give in

Even being bold enough to tell him what you want will have him in a trance

He's a giver so he can never deny you for too long for his own satisfaction

John Marston

Oh my God his teasing definitely goes too far

I don't mean that in a cute way I mean he probably ends up hurting your feelings because he does not know when to stop

Sucks at flirting

Your shy nature just makes it more awkward

But once you get used to his failed attempts at being coquettish you'll be able to recognize when he's trying to flirt

Is probably super obvious when he's trying and when he's successful he'll actually make you blush

His successful attempts are probably unintentional. Says something he won't think will land but is surprised when it works

Excuses himself for a moment and celebrates a few feet away before turning like normal

He has like a time to cool down on successful flirting. Only successful once every three days or something like that

Tries to compliment you but it comes out awkwardly and stiff

If you say something back slightly flirty he's gonna blank and not know how to continue from there

As soon as he approaches you and says "uhh.. hey" you already know what he's trying to do

Opposite of Arthur so he WILL tease you for falling off your horse

Awkwardly hugs you and pats your shoulder if you cry while apologizing profusely

NSFW

Can't rile you up for too long without exciting himself

Keeps his arm on your lower back and dips his fingers inside your waist band

Type to pull on your overalls (if you wear em) and lets them snap back into you

Will come up behind you and rub his stubble into your neck before whispering filthy things into your ear

Likes it when you put up a little playful resistence

If y'all are sitting down somewhere together he'll put his hand on your ankle before running it up under your skirt

Ends up giving in mostly because HE can't take it anymore and is too excited

[parchmentknight]

rdr2 photodump

dutch draws?? and some javier and john

+ misc.

[countryfriedcatboy]

also. arthur morgan is dog coded because he has known love and has known this love to spread it and to save and to be loyal and helpful and that is what eventually kills him. being a good man. being a good dog. self-sacrificial and guilty because he's bitten and he needs to make up for the blood spilled. his place is to fight against his nature. to be gentler. to learn how to use his teeth a different way than what was destined of him.

john marston is wolfdog coded. a dog in everything but mind. he is not loyal. he is skittish and he runs from authority. he knows to bite the hand that feeds when it deserves it. but he wants to love. he wants to sit by the fireplace and have fingers running through his fur. but he is half wild and half teeth. as is his nature. and he runs. but he comes back. he always comes back. a wolfdog is all teeth and vigor. but he can be soft too. but nature is nature. and he knows how to bite best.

dutch van der linde is a wolf. he cannot fight his nature. and though a part of him longs for it. knows it. what that love might feel like. the contentment. he cannot fight nature. he is all teeth. a product of nature and geared for it. snapping at everything and everyone. a wolf will tear off its leg in a trap if pressed. a wolf knows it cannot love the same way a dog might. it is too rough for that. too violent. cannot and will not be caged. the hand is soft but the hand is foreign and unknown. cannot be trusted. a wild animal will not fight it's nature. it can be taken out of the wild. but the wild cannot be taken out of it.

[outlaw-apologist]

How The Gang Kisses You (RDR2)

This was requested by @kieropal  ❤️ Warnings: NSFW themes

Gender Neutral reader

Characters: Arthur, Charles, Kieran, John, Sean, and Dutch

AO3 link

Requests are open if anyone ever has any ideas :D

Arthur

- He probably doesn’t seem like it but Arthur LOVES kisses. At first he’s too shy to kiss you in front of the others, but if you’ve been running with the gang for awhile he’ll get used to it

- His kisses are shy and sweet at first.  A kiss to the back of your hand, then your wrist. Slowly that turns to a kiss on the cheek and forehead kisses before he’s finally bold enough to kiss your lips. Arthur has to work his way up to it.

- However, despite getting used to kissing your lips, Arthur will keep giving the little kisses. He kisses the back of your hand when you return to camp after a quick mission or supply run. Wrist kisses are slowly followed by eye contact to heat you up. Arthur kisses your forehead when he feels overwhelming affection for you. Cheek kisses are a little less common, but occur when John or Sean are being asses, so he doesn’t want to get them riled up in case they tease you.

- Forehead kisses are his go to kiss when he wants to comfort you or casually show you love. You’ve been crying? He’ll wipe your tears with his thumb and kiss your forehead while whispering sweet affirmations. You’re cold? He’ll wrap you into his arms, pull you against his chest then plants a kiss to your forehead. Just wake up with morning breath? Arthur pecks your forehead then breathes in your hair before nuzzling you. - The first time he gives you a proper kiss - his lips are timid and unsure. They ghost over yours, giving you a chance to pull away before he commits and gives a chaste kiss. - Arthur’s kisses are always gentle and filled with passion. He makes sure to pour all of his love into every one. Very rarely are his kisses hard, but when they are it’s usually right before you two have a nice rough (mutually agreed upon) wild fuck. - While in the throes of passion Arthur worships your body, placing hot open mouthed kisses over every inch of skin until his lips are glistening and swollen. - When he’s moving inside of you Arthur will kiss you until neither of you can breathe. He can’t get enough of you. He loves sucking on your bottom lip, exploring your mouth with his tongue. Most of all he feels as though he needs to be as close to you as possible which results in the most dizzying kisses. --- Charles - Charles will not kiss you in front of anyone except Arthur. He trusts no one with the knowledge of how much he loves and values you. (Except Arthur ofc) - You half expected your first kiss with him to be shy but Charles knows what he wants. As soon as he realized you wanted it too he pulled you into a confident kiss, his hand cradling the back of your head, fingers laced in your hair. - He has stunning lips but they could easily eat you up or overpower the kiss so he’s a bit more methodical while kissing you. Charles doesn’t want it to feel gross for you. He very much cares more about your experience with him than anything else. - When cuddling, Charles nuzzles you and kisses at your neck, jaw, or behind your ear. It’s not usually done in a suggestive way. He’s just appreciating you. Appreciating the moment. - Charles comes up behind you, wraps his arms around you, and presses sweet kisses to your neck or shoulder whenever he can. He just wants you to know how beautiful he finds you through actions rather than words. - Before either of you leave on a dangerous mission Charles cradles your face and searches your eyes. He then slowly takes your lips against his in a deep and loving kiss. Time freezes and for a moment the world doesn’t matter, because it’s only you and him in this sphere of time and space. As he pulls away he lets out a sad sigh then presses your foreheads together. “Should get going-.” He murmurs, pulling away reluctantly. -During love making Charles enjoys leaving marks on you from kissing and sucking on your skin. It pleases him to see your skin glisten with proof of his love and passion. He’ll never do it in a way others would notice. However, sometimes your chest and thighs will be covered in these marks if he gets carried away. - If you guys are having a rough fuck Charles will dominate your mouth until your lips are trembling. Both your and his lips will be glistening with spit from hard sloppy kisses. --- Kieran - The most courage Kieran has ever summoned was to give you a quick peck on the cheek. He did it so fast you almost didn’t understand what he did. He practically ran back to the horses and avoided you for three days out of sheer embarrassment (and terror?). - If you want to kiss Kieran properly you’ll have to do it first. He’s not brave enough to initiate even though you constantly catch him staring at your lips longingly. But, if Kieran suspects you’re about to kiss him he shies away. You have to give him a surprise kiss. Once you do he tenses up but quickly melts into it, pulling away with a dreamy sigh followed by a little “wow!”. - After Kieran realizes you like kissing him he’ll want kisses a lot! He never kisses you randomly like other gang members might. He always asks you politely: “Can I please have a kiss?” “Would you like a kiss?” “Is it alright if I kiss you?” In the quietist sweetest voice. - If you two are alone he’ll kiss you without asking. The first kiss will be shy and he’ll immediately study your face as if silently asking if he can continue kissing you. If you respond well then Kieran carries on, each kiss becomes bolder and bolder. - Let’s be real. Kieran can’t go to sleep without having a goodnight kiss. Otherwise he has bad dreams. - The first time you and Kieran make-out he whimpered when your tongue entered his mouth… And the time after that…. AND after that… Okay, every time you two make-out he melts, mewls, whines, and whimpers as you dominate his mouth. When you pull away he has a dazed look, spit dribbling down the corner of his lips. -- Kieran is unsure about kissing your body during sex because he doesn’t know what places are acceptable to kiss and what places aren’t. He’ll learn with some coaxing. He wants to do a good job for you so he eagerly follows any and all directions. - Probably the best time to kiss Kieran is near the end of your love making/fuck session. When Kieran is nearing orgasm his lips tremble cutely against yours. As it hits him his mouth falls open in ecstasy, then you have free reign if you wish to shove your tongue down his throat. --- Dutch - Dutch licks his lips real good before placing a sloppy kiss on your lips - His kisses are selfish -If he’s angry then his kisses can either be harsh or bruising. - If you’re crying or taking too loud Dutch will pull you into a kiss just to silence you. Sometimes he’ll even do this during an argument if he thinks you might not slap him. - He’s def the guy who’s always saying shit like: “Aww c’mon. Where’s my kiss?” “Don’t I get a kiss too?” “Why don’t you kiss me for good luck?” - When he does give genuine kisses it’s usually during times where he feels… emotionally vulnerable. Usually if he’s feeling sad, or during sex when you two have the occasional gentle love making session. Before bed he starts to feel some type of way and the night often ends with a passionate or loving kiss. --- Sean - I just wanted to add that I see Sean kissing 1 of 2 ways. Either his lips are dry and crusty OR he licks his lips until they’re shining with spit to kiss you. - Sean will kiss you 24/7. In the middle of an important job? Kiss. Fighting with a gang member over something? Big smacker right on your lips. You better be careful, if Sean catches you unguarded his lips are gonna touch yours one way or another. - “Wha’dya mean killing a bunch of O’Driscolls isn’t cause for a make-out session?” - He’ll ask you to kiss him in front of other gang members just to make them feel jealous. - When he’s feeling affectionate he gently takes your hand and kisses every one of your knuckles while whispering sweet nothings It’s not always shits and gigs with him. Most of the time it is, but not always. -Okay but real talk, during love making Sean will give the most passionate and personable kisses you’ve ever received. The kind where you kiss over and over again, just breathing each others air and feeling one another. You’ll think about his kisses every time you miss him. --- John -His kisses are dry and kind of awkward. Mostly because he thinks he doesn’t need chapstick. - He’ll try to kiss you when he has food around his mouth. He doesn’t get why you might think that’s gross. -John likes to think he’s great at leading kisses. But secretly he wants you to dominate his mouth like he’s your whore. - He gives casual kisses when you two wake up, before you go to bed, and right before he rides out for any reason. - During sex he loves to trace your collar bone with his lips, leaving hot kisses against your skin. Besides that area your jaw and neck are his favorite places to kiss you. Sometimes he holds it while rolling his hips up into you so you could feel his breath change with pleasure. - If you’re ever sitting down or bending down and John has a strong desire to kiss you he’ll kneel at your level, take your face into his hands, and give you the kiss of a lifetime. - John goes through cycles of either not wanting kisses at all or being needing and nearly begging for kisses. - He fucking loves to kiss you after his cock/cum were in your mouth. Tasting himself on you drives him insane

[cryptidcr3ature]

Playing red dead: Heehee Charles loves bison and cares about animals. So silly-

My brain: Charles is more likely that mad because his mom taught him the importance of bison to his tribe, and he really treasures the memory of his mother because she was senselessly taken, killed and god knows what else. She was the glue that held his family together, and he never claimed his father was mean or cruel, just sad and drunk after his mom was taken. Just like his mother, those men killed and left something so important to his history to rot and not only that, blamed it on his people too. Charles had no way of stopping the army when he was a kid, but he could save the bison.

Charles didn’t see it as just bison, but his mother’s legacy being shot and left for dead. The “stoic and silent” Charles Smith pushes Taima, a workhorse faster than any other horse breed (I’ve done this mission usually with the Arabians or the black standardbred) to confront the poachers. This is the only time we see Charles making rash, emotional decisions. He raised his voice, shot a man out of passion, and was genuinely upset if you don’t kill the other poacher. It doesn’t hurt your relationship with Charles because the usual and sensible part understands that by not killing that man, his family gets to keep its father.

[pigdemonart]

Guau, ella es bisexual, i didn’t know that!

Vico and Fátima being little disasters, as usual. In ENG and SPA of course, tho imho the dialogue is always a little funnier in Spanish B^]

Imagine Fatima’s surprise when seeing that the captain of the baseball team from her old high school, is now being cunty at the supermarket???? The nerve. The audacity.

In reverse, imagine the horror of being openly queer but NOT knowing if the girl you’re interested in is Aware or even remotely Okay with your

💖gender thing.💖 How to even begin to explain???

Patreon | Ko-Fi

[kenobihater]

thinking about how rdr2 is about redemption yes, but also about loyalty to what matters, love of family, and the consequences of both. arthur loved dutch, loved him enough to follow him to hell and back, but not enough to remain blindly loyal when dutch betrayed him and john. he put his love of his brother above the love of his father, because his father taught him well, taught him the importance of family. if not for dutch and hosea raising arthur to believe in the importance of loyalty to what's right, if they had just raised arthur as a mindless outlaw, if they hadn't instilled in him the meaing of family, he likely wouldn't have cared about john enough to betray the man who saved him. for example, bill and javier weren't raised by dutch and hosea like arthur was, but they were loyal to him all the same. they weren't treated like dutch's children like john and arthur were. because the values of family and of right and wrong weren't instilled in them alongside the value of loyalty, they sided with dutch despite his fall from grace and remained blindly devoted to a man who no longer deserved it. but because dutch and hosea taught arthur and john the importance of thinking for themselves and choosing what was truly right as well as the importance of family, they realized that dutch was going down the wrong path and causing senseless deaths with his recklessness, and arthur and john decided they had to leave. arthur knew he was never going to get out, but he at least wanted his little brother to have a semblance of a life away from the gang. he wanted him to have a chance because he loved him, because they were raised together, and because they were raised as a family. dutch had a huge hand in his sons betraying him, not only because he drove them away and betrayed them himself, but because he and hosea raised them right!!

[devnmon]

Reason on the Common Tongue (of you lovin' me)

Dutch Van Der Linde x F!Reader

Summary: You’ve taken another man in camp out for drinks while Dutch was busy and unwilling to take the night off. Who’s to say he’s forgotten where you’d gone by the time you return?

warnings: oral (f&m receiving, sir kink, rough!dutch, dom/sub roles, unprotected piv, orgasm denial, cumming inside (not recommended for irl experiences), sweet aftercare <3

a/n: anyone else insane about dutch van der linde? just me???? anyways just wanted to say this is filthy and also one of my favorite things i’ve written. i say that everytime i write something new but i truly love this fic. [who would have known this was going to be my first fic for rdr2.] also huge shoutout & credit to my moot jay @bandittlikemee for everything she’s done to help me write this fic. youre truly a genius bestie! also this is set in the clemen's point camp!

Dutch Van Der Linde was a busy man. So much so that he didn’t have time to get up to ludicrous activities such as drinking the night away in the Rhodes saloon. It was another sweltering night in Clemen’s Point; nothing exciting had happened for a few days on account of lying low to skip out on any facetime with the Pinkertons. Since you’d been itching to get out of camp, and your ever-so-important leader wouldn’t spend a singular night with his partner drinking and dancing, you offered the trip up to a familiar gunslinger instead. 

With a wave towards his tent, the two of you were off to the local saloon on the back of Arthur’s horse. It was long after dark before the two of you returned; you had been more indulgent than your companion, practically making Arthur carry you out to his horse before you got too inebriated on the drink. Being swept off your feet like Arthur had done felt like flying, especially when he sped up his horse on the ride back to camp. 

“Whoo! That was one fun night, Mister Morgan. Even if you didn’t let me out on the dance floor.” 

“Don’t you dare get sick on this horse b’fore we get back to camp.” 

“I ain’t drunk!” you called out. 

“Yeah, and I ain’t a gunslinger.” Arthur joked. 

You both boasted with laughter and quips during the ride back into camp, fairly shortened by Arthur’s ability to ride a horse, and soon enough you were entering the clearing. 

Dutch, spending his night nursing a cigar, perked up once he heard your familiar laughter in his ears. He knew the minute you’d left camp with Arthur, it was a mistake. Were you to blame? Or was he? Surely you could’ve known all he was combatting at the moment; the leader of a powerful gang, the Van Der Linde’s, had more on his plate than you could even fathom. Moves, and countermoves, he’d say. All in good time, Dutch has a plan.

To find out you’d left camp with Arthur of all men, his son, whom he’d raised since just a boy– was he a fool to you? Did you underestimate all he was capable of? Did you think him a fool?

He’d show you, indeed he was not. 

Dutch took another deep inhale of his cigar, the tobacco filling his mind with a haze of your figure. Then he’d remembered who you’d been spending the time with. Another laugh escaped your lips, louder than usual, and his dark eyes found you sat on the back of Arthur’s horse, reaching toward the cowboy for assistance in getting down. He can’t help but glue his eyes to your waist, accompanied by Arthur’s hands for what seems to be a moment longer than he’d like. 

Sat in silence, he's almost as red as his vest when you approach the tent. 

“Hey, baby. Wish you came with us t’night. I almost punched a man for makin’ a crude comment toward me. You would’a loved to see it, the guy basically pissed himself when Arthur threatened ‘im.” You're slurring your words while babbling on incoherently; your balance is shoddy at best, and he doesn't even say anything until you mention his right-hand man. 

"Have fun drinking with Arthur, dear? Was he able to... satisfy you?"

"Mhm, Arthur was very kind to me tonight." To even suggest you'd be satisfied being in the company of anyone else but him makes Dutch furious. 

"Did he... rustle your feathers, dearest?" With the way he punctuated his words, you're a bit confused by what he means, since the drink's gone to your head.

"What'dya mean?" you ask, batting your eyelashes at him by chance he'd forget Arthur was by your side all night instead of him. Dare you poke the bear. 

"Did he–" he let out a breath of smoke, "Was he such good company that you'd forgotten about me? Your leader?" The grumble in his voice fans the flames in your chest; if you weren’t warm from the alcohol, you certainly were now. 

Your glazed eyes make out the vision of Dutch, his silhouette darkened by one lamp still lit. When he starts sauntering towards you, step by slow step, you know he's not amused by all this Arthur talk. 

"Mm, no, never." Your intoxication doesn't help you sound convincing, though sober you knows Dutch loves the reassurance. 

"Sounds like you're lying to me, my love." 

He flicks his cigar out of the tent and watches as you stumble to sit down in a chair facing him. Then your mind pulls you back to the events at the saloon– drinking with Arthur and watching him dance drunkenly to the piano– you're giggling at the image. But Dutch.. he's not finding this funny. 

"What’s laughable, right now, dear? "He asks, accentuating the h sound while tilting his head at you down with his dark eyes. 

"Jus'... Arthur was so fun to be with t'night. An’ I missed you... wish you'd come with us, handsome."

"Well I had to tend to more pressing matters, my darling. You'd only understand if you weren't so piss drunk right now. Maybe I ought to teach you a lesson about what company you should be keeping."

Dutch takes a seat on his cot, his right hand tapping the corresponding thigh. As if instinctual, you lunge yourself over to him and take your rightful seat. 

Dutch has always been intimidating, it was one of the reasons you've become enamored with him. But when he narrows his eyes and guides them down your face and figure, close up? you're blushing out of being perceived by such a man of power in this world. 

"What're you giggling about now?" he inquires, holding your head with his palm so you'll make eye contact. 

"You're jus' so handsome, Mister Van der Linde. My sweetest, the most dashing man I've met."

"You, my dear, are adorable,” he began, and with a click of his tongue, he continued, “But, I still don't believe you. How ‘bout you… make it up to me, hm?" 

At that point, you can already feel him hardening under you in his lap, and you clench around nothing. For the first time tonight, your voice shakes. 

“What.. would you have me do?” You swallow nervously, wavering your eyes from his for a moment; he ordered your gaze be brought back to his immediately with the clearing of his throat. As if to check you for disobedience. 

“On your knees… now.” Dutch’s voice lowered, his words putting a spell on you once spoken. Sliding down to your knees, your hands glided over his thighs for just a moment, letting the friction spike his legs with another level of desire to show you who you belong to. 

“Don’t tease me, darling… lest I have to remind you why you’re on your knees for me.” Dutch’s eyes darkened once you were firmly on your knees, tongue darting out to wet your lips. It was as if a Greek god asked you to bow down to him and solely him– Dutch’s physique and natural manliness only contributed to that image of him in your mind. 

Your hands reached for the button of his pants, pulling them down his muscular thighs to see his growing hardness underneath the cloth. For a minute, your palm brushed against his girth, earning a grumble from the man above you. It wasn’t lost on him the way you were acting, all innocent like you weren’t aware of the way you were making him burn for your touch. 

Once your hands had them down far enough, the dark tuft of hair from his mound came into the light, which opened your eyes wide upon pulling it all the way off. Dutch’s length sprung upwards and caught your eye, especially frustrated and swollen, much like his growing displeasure with your actions. Freed from the confines of his pants and undergarments, his cock stood tall, lying well past his navel against that black vest of his. 

As your grip surrounds his base, Dutch clears his throat once more whilst observing every move you made. Your thumb runs along the prominent vein sticking out and moving your hand up his length. He’s certain you aren’t aware just how vexed you had gotten him. 

“Get to it.” he spat, enunciating every part of his words with that sharp wit and tongue. Without another second to spare, you licked the pearling precum resting on his tip, before enveloping it with your lips. Luckily for you, he filled your mouth quite nicely, his fingers running through your hair to grip tightly at the back of your head. Tongue running down the underside as you began to ravish him with your lips, he took the advantage to push you down a couple inches more. 

With his tip almost nudging the back of your throat, you push down another inch or so and bobbing up and down on him to your heart’s content. The alcohol-buzzed vision of him, burning brighter with each inch you took further past your lips. Dutch rolled his shoulders and neck out in a slow motion, locking those gluttonous eyes of his back onto you with a smirk. 

You came up for air with a pop of your lips, his erection shining under the warm light from your saliva. 

“So big…” you whispered, stroking him with your hand and going back down for another taste. This time, Dutch was not simply fooling around; his hand forced you down rougher this time, the back of your throat welcoming him once again. It was ravishing to be put under the control of a man such as Dutch; the power he held over you was maddening and traveled to your head every so often. With the tip kissing the back of your throat after each shove down his length, your eyes begin to well up. 

“Takin’ me so deep, love, you’ve got tears in your eyes. Now I have truly seen it all.” Releasing his hard grip for a moment, you come off his cock and wipe them away like they aren’t anything special. 

“I’d do much more for you, sir.” You choke out, lips swollen from just his cock, and you press a kiss to his tip before sticking out your tongue and swallowing him whole again. The hand that was once gripping your hair was cupping your cheek, the other had undone two of his vest buttons, leaving his broad torso on display in just that white and blue striped shirt. 

This time Dutch chuckles in that deep gravel of his, surging your heat with a plethora of warmth. His chest broadens with every exhale of fervent breath, the slow burn of dissatisfaction eating him up inside. Beads of sweat begin to form on his forehead, the knot in his groin tugging at him ever so slightly. 

You let his length fill your throat wantonly, pushing yourself down enough to take every inch. Your nose became buried in the dark patch of curls he’d kept tidy, clearing his throat once more while relishing in the warmth of your tongue against him. 

“You’re gonna taste me for days, sweetheart. Gonna – fuck – gonna remind you who you belong to. Make it so you don’t forget this time.” Dutch’s right hand combed through your hair, controlling your mouth’s movements down his shaft, saliva messily covering his skin. A particular thrust of your head in his grip pushes your nose into his curls, making you gag around him. It’s not much to remind him why you were his, the raw class he omitted an infectious disease; it just so happened to be you found under his spell. 

Repeatedly, your head moved up and down his cock, Dutch gripping your hair and taking what he deserved. After all, you did take another man out to drink. How dare you not bask in the appreciation of his company otherwise? Dutch had no discretion– no temper to waste on explaining himself to you. You should have known he’d get mad. 

On spur of the moment, his controlling movements halted and your tongue swirled around his tip. A feral growl erupted from his chest, painting your cheeks pink before releasing him to catch your breath. 

“Mmmph, Dutch…” comes out as a whine, shifting the weight you’d been sitting on. 

“What now, dearest? I don’t think you deserve to complain after what you’ve done.” His words manifest a wave of arousal scorching your skin and mind– Dutch was torturous in that regard. When he clicked his tongue, you knew there was only a matter of time until he truly took control. This was only the beginning of a very long night. 

Dutch had a way of changing the temperature of a room with one fell swoop. To you, it was a life altering experience being under his discipline, especially in this setting. 

Another whine escaped you, words eventually choked out, “I’m sorry, Dutch…” 

He solely chuckled, sitting up and raising your chin with his index finger. 

“That’s funny, my dear. You didn’t seem sorry when you stormed off and took Mister Morgan as company.” He sneered, the permanent smirk on his face, becoming bigger by the second. You clung to his words like water coating a piece of cloth, soaking up every syllable for a smidge of satisfaction. 

“Please, I’m so…” you trailed off, your thoughts whisked away when you heard him chuckling. 

“You’re sorry?” 

Nodding almost instantaneously, he clicked his tongue. 

“Fine. As much as I’d love to fill that sweet mouth of yours all night long, I’m itching for a taste of your perfect cunt. Come here.” 

Two fingers motioned you towards him, tongue sticking out to wet his lips, while inclining his head at the vision of you still kneeling for him. Dutch didn’t miss the slightly pained sound as you relieved the weight on your knees, knowing they’d most likely be bruised tomorrow. He took incredible amounts of pride seeing himself in the bruises, teeth marks, and spend he left behind on your saccharine skin. 

Your swollen lips wet from your tongue, sensitive thanks to the friction against his length moments ago. Still shy of that dark gaze when he too stood, a forefinger and thumb brought you right back to him. 

“I need you to know…” he spoke breathlessly, crushing your lips to his in one motion. Dazed by his sudden affection and the thick tension in the room, you drowned in his taste.

Unbound by any other attachments, your soul was his. 

Dutch’s lips pressed against yours were fervent and skillful, a new taste of himself on you. By the third peck, Dutch had forced his tongue into your mouth, venom coating your mouth. Intoxicating. 

His right hand finds your waist, pulse hammering in your chest as that broad figure of his flooded your visual field up close. 

 “... that your actions have consequences.” His grip tightened around your jaw, tobacco on his breath as he spoke. 

“Just because I don’t wish to accompany you to the town saloon for a drink does not mean you’re permitted to take the next desperate fella in company who’d so easily strike you from my arms.” That slight growl in his voice paired with the liquor in your system triggered the heat at the apex of your thighs to burn hotter. 

“Arthur ain’t like that–” you slurred, getting cut off by a hiccup; a clear sign you were still not understanding how gravely Dutch was taking your little excursion out of camp. His voice was nothing but otherworldly, smooth and rich with charisma and magnetism. No surprise you obeyed his every word without question. 

“I don’t remember asking for excuses,” he spat, smirking, “Let’s get you out of this dress..” 

Those calloused yet talented hands of your leader find the back zipper quite easily, wasting no time by pulling it down your shoulders roughly. The fabric was tight, but with the level of Dutch’s strength, you wouldn’t put it past him to create a few rips. His movements were followed accordingly, still ravaged with the current indignation he held upon you. 

Once you met his eye, seeming to shrink a bit more when looking up to him, that foreboding glare into you was similar to putting a flame near a stick of dynamite. There was no telling when he (or you) would explode. That dashing face of his created another spark inside you, one bold enough to pull his lips to yours once again. A hand grasped the back of your neck tenderly, the first soft action Dutch made upon your skin. 

Don’t fall into his touch… you tell yourself. But the drink was too strong, and his venom made its way into your bloodstream. There was no turning back. 

Aphotic, tantalizing eyes studied you, the only way you could sense his willingness to please after the fury that still embodied him. 

“Satiate me...” he beckoned, walking you backwards to his cot where your knees met the side. Adhering to his plea, your back found the fabric and sighed amongst the sight of him above you. His hands never left your body, sliding down your back to the side of your leg, then moving to your inner thigh with the slightest touch before gripping it with his broad palm. 

Suddenly the thin chemise was much too hot against your skin. 

“Dutch, please…” you begged once again. 

“Ah ah… that’s Mister Van Der Linde to you, my sweetness. You’ll receive the right to say my name when you’ve earned it.” His voice was like honey, eager fingers tugging at the white cloth. Dutch didn’t need permission, he gladly took what he believed to be his, no matter the cost. You swallowed thickly at the cool air prickling your skin with the tensity and vigor the man before you withheld. 

“Yes, sir, Mister Van Der Linde…” you professed, breathlessly. 

Dutch’s cock twitched upon the sir that fell from your lips. He chuckled, tightening his grip on your undergarment and dragging it down your skin. Your chest was exposed to him first, keen skin still layered with sweat and goosebumps while your nipples hardened against the nighttime air. You were just as he expected, breathing heavily and quivering under the first touch of his fingertips. Impatient, the garment was dragged down your legs by the older man and discarded on the floor. 

Dutch’s hands parted your quivering thighs, calloused palms from years of using a gun gripping around you firmly. You could practically feel the flame of his gaze make its way up to the tuft of hair making an appearance from between your legs. He slid both palms up your legs, parting them accordingly so that your slick caught the light. Focused on his face, you notice his walnut eyes catch yours, immediately heating your cheeks. 

It was meant to be; Dutch was your siren, luring you in with each word he manifested, every spill of his cherry wine words onto a white tablecloth. His mouth neared the thick curls protecting your supple skin from harm, a similar style in which Dutch protected his people. 

“Such a divine sight laid out for me like this. I’m going to remind you exactly who you belong to, have you come back to me.” The baritone and rumble in his voice was like nothing you’d ever heard before. He was quite honestly a man starved, no matter how angered he was at what you’d done. 

Before you knew it, Dutch’s nose was poking your clit the slightest bit, meanwhile he’d pressed his tongue through your folds and covered himself in your taste. You gasped, your breath coming in ragged bursts as everything you’ve ever felt for Dutch comes flooding back in the blink of an eye. Each stroke of his tongue was another day you’d spent by his side, loyal to no other. 

Your leader, your lover, your siren. 

Nothing else filled your senses, except for Dutch Van Der Linde. 

Those dark brown eyes were lidded against the lack of light, his tongue skillfully drinking in your sweet nectar as if it was his last meal. You danced across his taste buds and he groaned, the vibration sending your hips rolling against his mouth out of impulse. Exhaling sharply and continuing to breathe shakily, the tip of Dutch’s tongue circled around your sensitive clit. 

“Fuck– sir… oh god,” He pressed a chaste kiss to your clit, breath hitching in anticipation. The flat of his tongue ran kitten licks up your folds, each movement sending a jolt coursing through you. Before you could protest, he ended another stripe up your cunt with a tantalizing drag against your sensitive bundle of nerves. It was particularly frustrating when he hummed against you once more. 

“Hope this is reminding you,” he swallowed, “of where your loyalties lie. To whatever man you can get your hands on? Or me, your leader? The sole individual responsible for keeping this entire group pieced together?” 

It was a no-brainer. 

“You– fuck… My loyalty lies with you, Mister Van der Linde. I promise… never to take another man in company… again.” You breathed, in disbelief at how composed he was; you were a downright panting mess, but a goddamned sight laid out like this for him. 

Upon your hips stuttering against his tongue, Dutch shifted closer to your core, hooking his large biceps around each of your thighs and gripped with his overpowering strength. The cool gold of his rings was a contrast to how hot your skin ran under his touch. That tongue of his circled around your clit repeatedly, until he pulled away to admire the mess he’d made of you in such short time. 

“Fuck– oh god…” your nails ran through his jet black hair to grip at the back of his head. Dutch’s mouth worshiped each part of you equally, sticking his tongue inside you every so often; it was driving you mad. 

Thinking himself clever, he pulled his right arm from gripping around your thigh. His rings ran across the vast expanse of your skin, trailing the chilled metal close to where you were most sensitive. 

His amber eyes glanced upward, past the natural curves of your breasts to your fully blissed out expression; your eyes were scrunched together, mouth hanging open with bated breath. The haze of intoxication still coursing through you sent ripples of pleasure surging up your spine. 

“I’ve decided to let you redeem yourself, my love. What would you say to that?” Dutch inquired, using that philosophical tone of voice he’s picked up from reading and quoting Evelyn Miller often. 

“I’d do… anything to have you. To please you, to bring you bliss, sir.” Your breath quivers at the point of offering yourself to him in a plea to finally satisfy you. 

“I’m not quite sure if you’re deserving of it– just yet, that is.” Maintaining eye contact with you, Dutch stood himself up to undo the buttons down his shirt and let it lay open under his red-backed vest. 

“Been… been so good for you, sir. Please,” you implored him an inch further, watching his broad chest heave with deep breaths. His hand adorned with two thick gold rings heads straight for the belt buckle around his waist. 

“Have you understood, yet, my darling? How I must be torturous? For it is the only way you’ll learn never to disobey, betray, leave me?” Dutch’s prophetic stance above you was truly enticing, the vibrato of his words coaxing another whimper from you. 

“I’ve… understood, sir,” you eyed the belt coming undone within his skilled fingers and exhaled in relief. 

“You’re going to have to do better than that to convince me. Speak, girl.” The astounding heat, not only flowing through your veins like hot magma, but also flooding your head and hazing your mind with him. Interested in what you had to say, he waited for your response and discarded his belt. 

“Sir, I’m a fool… a fool thinking anyone else could satisfy me in the ways you do.” your voice quivered, breathing heavily and watching his hickory eyes study you. His black pants found themselves in a pile along with everything else he’d discarded from your body and his. “My leader, no one else can replace you, you’re the only man made to save people in the ways you did… even me. We’re– I’m so lucky to have you. And I’m– I apologize deeply for my actions, sir.” 

He’d be hard pressed to admit the praise wasn’t intoxicating him at this moment, a growl erupting from his chest among his length stood tall against his exposed torso. 

“Well, isn’t that nice. An admittance of your mistakes. Such a lovely difference from the snark I’d been given earlier. Hopefully you’ll learn your lesson.” He gripped the base of his cock and crawled above your supple figure on his cot, noticing your sharp inhale once he was fully perched above you. Dutch’s free hand parts your thighs, making room for his tip to slide through your folds, stopping below the little bundle of nerves that ached for any kind of stimulation. 

It was easy for him to pick up on your sharp, quickened breaths upon his close proximity, scrunching your eyes shut to avoid that beckoning gaze of his. 

“If this is going to work, my love, you must look. Observe how I split you open, how you take my cock, how I fuck you.” He snarled, pecking the side of your face with open-mouthed kisses. Your eyes fluttered open as if second nature, meeting his gaze while pushing himself completely inside of you. 

His length filled you to the hilt, every ridge and groove of him welcomed by your warmth. Dutch breathed a moment with you, smashing his lips against yours to swallow the whimpers you omitted. Your hands ran up his chest, dragging your fingers through the thick chest hair to Dutch’s broad shoulders. He shrugged off the shirt and vest upon your hands sneaking under the cloth, leaving him fully bare to you. 

The first drag of his cock against your insides manifested another filthy moan to secrete from your lips while he pushed back in. 

“Sir–” you gasped, his natural musk clouding your senses. Dutch thrusted into you deeper, kissing that special spot inside of you to send you seeing stars. Quick as light, his thrusts picked up pace, setting a steady rhythm with his hips. 

“Say my name.” Dutch’s voice in your ear echoed through your head like a mantra, the only thing bombarding your senses being him. 

“Oh god, Dutch–” you choked out, his name on your tongue only spurring him on more to push deeper. 

“Yes, that’s it, again.” he spoke between thrusts, clenching around him while pulling groans of his pleasure into the air. His cock has molded to your walls, relentlessly beating such a punishing pace. 

“Dutch… ah-!” His name in your throat like a jewel only spurred him on more, humming approvingly and latching onto your neck with the sweet sucking of his lips. There was absolutely no chance of Dutch letting you get off easy without any showable marks. He had an inkling all the men in camp would think twice before making any advancing remarks toward you– lest they forget who you belong to. 

A glance downward had you turning lightheaded– did he really always look that dashing? You’d become tantalized watching his girth disappear and reappear at least a dozen times before his fingers brought your gaze back to him. Each thrust of his hips was dizzying, picking up the familiar groans in your ear once again. 

In this moment, you were completely and utterly his, transcending into a place of physical surrender and letting the world fall away. A particularly rough thrust had you calling out for him again, his hand coming up to wrap around your throat. 

“Got myself such a good little whore, ain’t that right? One who knows her place is with me– your only leader.” You could scarcely manage a nod upon reveling in the touches he gave you. 

Dutch was maddening, luring a groan from him once he saw how far gone you were. It was immensely overstimulating the minute Dutch’s right ringed hand dragged up your torso to the pebbled nipples standing upright from stimulation. Goosebumps expelled across your skin as the knot in your stomach began to tighten, walls fluttering around his length aimlessly. He leaned down again to the side of your face, breathing heavily above you. Slowing to deliver deep and agonizing thrusts, Dutch only drew out your orgasm further, as if he read your state of overstimulation like an open book. His fingers twisting your nipples, those smacks of his hips against yours– your sheer bliss in the center of it all. 

Your hand fisted his dark waves at the nape of his neck, another grumble aligned with his thrusts. His pace wasn’t as merciful as you hoped it would be, the sting of his precise and rough thrusts pricking tears in your eyes the same as before. You were at such a heightened state that you weren’t able to control what left your mouth anymore. 

“Daddy… I-I’m gettin’ close..” you whimper, running your other hand up his bicep to grip desperately. He felt the pride well in his chest upon his skill to pleasure you like this while also making you cry. To see you in such desperate of situations fueled his ego like a bonfire. 

“Oh, are you, my love?” he began, snaking his hand down to your navel and pressing his hand against it. The tip of his cock poked just the slightest bit against his palm. “Feel how deep I am inside you, darling, and know that nobody could fill you the way I do.” 

Dutch’s deft fingers moved downward to rub at your clit, throbbing incessantly upon his first touch. The whimper you let out was like music to his ears, filthy and drenched in content of being pleasured by him. 

By the expression on his face– he’s impressed at how well you held back from letting yourself go. It’s Dutch’s realization then that you’d always known you were his to touch and please like this, more than any other before. Dutch Van Der Linde is the object of all your desires; continuing to orchestrate bliss under any means possible. 

Every ridge and vein of him massages you in such a euphoric way, and it’s not too hard for you to be sent over the edge. It’s as if every inch of you explodes in that moment, allowing each morsel of stimulation; his fingers twisting your nipples and on your clit, the sensation of him throbbing inside you, and the sound of his voice in your ears; come together to send you gasping and moaning over his cock once again. 

You can’t hear much else other than the wet slide of him inside you, walls slick as his once steady rhythm grows erratic, forcing his thrusts to become harder and harder. An ache like this would always have a way of satisfying you in more ways than most. Dutch’s groans became visceral as he thrust one more time into you until he too was sent keening over the edge. His hips stuttered, white ropes of seed coating your walls while riding out your high to the sounds of Dutch’s melody of sweet groans and praises. 

Both of you breathed heavily as the moment passed, your grip on one another grounding you back to Earth. 

“Now, say ‘thank you, daddy’.” he snarled in your ear, keeping himself sheathed inside you while moving his hips the slightest bit. 

“Thank you, daddy..” You swallowed, breathless upon his capability to have just come down from his high and keep that cocky attitude. 

“Well, what are you thanking me for, doll? Be specific.” Dutch cupped your cheek, his thumb running along your skin lightly. 

“For… reminding me who I belong to. You.” Your lips crashed against his once again, the passion and heat of the moment still rung in the air. 

“That’s right, my darling.” He pulled out of you, lying beside you with a smug grin on his face. The two of you laid in the warmth your body heat offered, catching your breath. Cool air continued to seep into the tent, a drastic difference than the heat you two shared. Dutch was the first one to break the silence, your alcohol dazed mind still fluttering from such intense contact. 

“Oh, my darling, are you alright? You were ravishing tonight.” You glanced over, his forehead glowing with sweat in the warm lantern light. 

“Yeah, I’m good, baby. After all that, ’m glowin’. You sure know how to make a woman stay loyal.” you smirked at him, struck by his handsome face in the light. 

“I’m sure,” he chuckled, “Hope I wasn’t too hard on your precious body, my love. The last thing I would want is to injure you or push a boundary I should not have. Tell me.. dearest.” Dutch sat up, grabbing your hand with one of his, caressing your wrist with his thumb. His hair was disheveled in the most perfect way, afterglow still apparent on his cheeks. 

Warmly, you beamed at him, “Of course you weren’t, not if I made you mad in the first place. Not at all…” 

Your words brought a smile out in him, and you caught it just before he pulled you in closer to an embrace. That skin on skin contact fueled every desire for him you had since meeting him. When he noticed and made you his– that was the real luck of the draw. So many women chased after Dutch Van Der Linde as a dream, something to grasp onto as an escape from their lives. But for you, it was all so very real. 

“You are mine, my love. Don’t ever forget it again.” Dutch’s voice tickled your ears once more, placing a soft kiss on your forehead before grabbing a nearby blanket to cover your body from the chill of night. 

“How could I, my leader? No one could possibly compare to the man before me. I love you.” You sweetly spoke to him, one of your palms lying against his chest lovingly. 

“I love you too, my sweetness. I’m so overjoyed to hear you’re loyal to the right man.” He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your cheek and letting his forearm wrap around your waist. 

“That I am.” you replied, laying your head on his chest with content, sleep overcoming you from the exhaustion and haze your body had been through with the night’s events. Warm and safe in his arms, your heart was Dutch Van Der Linde’s.

[likeawildthing]

the ghosts of problematic white men feat. our forefathers and grandfather angst

Today has been rough. Celebrate this late capitalist christian nationalist hellscape? No thanks. But I AM choosing to celebrate those affecting change both in preserving rights and righting injustices. Since 1776, those in power have celebrated the status quo while the disenfranchised have worked tirelessly to upend it. And it can feel like a losing battle, and in a lot of ways, but those who work, both quietly and loudly, are worth honoring and celebrating.

I’m feeling introspective about this whole thing because my father’s father died yesterday. Grandfather is too strong a word. He sent an annual Christmas card but never learned to spell my name. I don’t know how to grieve someone who wasn’t in my life by their own choice, even though he lived five minutes away. I spent the majority of my life feeling ambivalent towards him, if I thought of him at all. Because I didn’t particularly need or miss his presence: I had excellent maternal grandparents who fulfilled every grandparent-type role. Still, I broke down while making cookies tonight, after reading his obituary. I stroked his face with a wet washcloth in hospice last week. My heart breaks for my father, who broke that cycle in his fifties and IS in his grandchildren’s lives. I’m sad and that’s okay, but I’m not devastated and I think that’s okay, too.

Grief is weird and complicated.

I’m not a patriot these days, but I miss the feeling of patriotism. Not blindly thinking this country is better than every other—that was never true and was never my jam. But being part of a collective society that cares about each other? Celebrating with hope that my kids’ future will be better than mine? That people have my back because we live in the same place? The death of those ideas gutted me, and still does. 

So yes, I will grieve the idea of my grandfather this week. But then I will work to make sure that I’m never that kind of grandparent to my grand-pets, or grandchildren, or grand plants--whatever it is my children choose to nurture. And I will grieve that idea of America—the symbolism and hopes that don’t exist for me anymore. But I won’t let that despair prevent me from moving forward, anyway.

[messrmoonyy]

-Sadie Adler as your gf hcs ( sfw/nsfw )

Sadie Adler x Fem!reader

A/N- I am in fact posting these out of pure and utter spite because Sadie Adler can. And will. Kiss girls. Because this is what?! Fan fiction!And it brings me an insane amount of joy that the sheer idea alone of Sadie being queer angers people. Sadie Adler kisses girls pass it on!!!

These are mostlyyy epilogue and beyond based Sadie pls lemme be your lil housewife

Dedicated to @queer-sadie-adler for being the true voice of reason lately amidst the hell hole that has been the queer Sadie discussions. You’re awesome.

Masterlist - requests are open!

• she’s incredibly protective of you. One wrong look your way and she’s ready to start shooting or swinging. Shes so a ‘ why don’t ya take a picture, it’ll last longer ‘ baby has some slight anger issues

• falls very much into the ‘ I hate everyone except you ‘ category. So stoney faced and ready to brawl with everyone, but soft gazes and tender touches with you.

• you hear her before you see her. She’ll ride back home to you after going after a bounty and proudly announce her return with a ‘ honey I’m home! ‘ as she rides up to your home.

• secretly adores the way you fuss over her before she goes out. She lost everything other than you in the space of like. A year. so it’s nice to be reminded how much you care about her. And that she has someone in the world to care about herself.

• she’s actually a pretty decent cook. And you can often expect her to try cook you something nice. Especially if she’s gotten onto your bad side some how, she knows a nice romantic meal will butter you up nice and quick

• I have this thought that she is just a nightmare to share a bed with. Girly tosses and turns and takes up too much damn space. But it just gives you the excuse to crawl up close to her and get comfy in the little space she leaves, falling asleep practically on top of her.

• and on the subject of sleeping. Has just the finest motherfuckin morning voice you’ve ever heard. Her raspy ‘ Mornin my darlin’ in your ear everyday makes you wanna melt into a puddle every damn time.

• loves sharing a bath with you. Especially if she’s been gone for a few days. She’ll make some excuse that it’s just to save on water. But in reality she just wants to relax and hold you close to her, feel your skin on hers to remind her she’s not just some angry bounty hunter. All tough and rough and fighting. She needs the gentle and the calm you provide her.

• hand holding. Forehead kisses. Sitting in her lap as you read on the porch. Just small, gentle acts of intimacy. The kind not discussed but well practiced between lovers.

• she can get in her head a little sometimes. She knows it’s not easy being in a relationship like that in 1907. And she knows that she doesn’t make it much easier on you with the works she does either.

• but she loves you wholeheartedly. And she knows that you love her just as equally. And as much as she feels she doesn’t deserve you, she’ll keep loving you until you don’t want her anymore which would never happen of course

•NSFW•

• she needs to be the one in control all of the time. This isn’t to say she doesn’t like receiving, or like having you on top of her. She just likes to be the one with her hands on the reins yk.

• in fact. She quite enjoys you on top of her or In her lap. But even so, know that she’s the one pulling the strings and she’s two steps ahead of you at all times

• she’s gentle and soft with you, but determined. Whether that’s knowing exactly where to touch you and abusing that same spot over and over again until you’re a shaking mess. Or telling you where and how to touch her.

• I said this in my last hcs but fingers in the mouthhhhh. Idc what anyone says. I see it so vividly. She loves it. Loves watching you suck her fingers to get them wet. Or clean them off.

• eats pussy like a god. Will have you seeing stars and thanking whatever Lord may exist for putting that woman right between your thighs. Sloppy and thorough and has you coming with her name on your tongue.

• thigh riding!!!!

• girly loves to manspread. Will sit there and pat her leg for you to perch on, but manoeuvre you to straddle her leg instead. And she loves how it makes you blush ‘ you’re a regular ol’ cowgirl now ain’t ya honey? ‘ as she leans back in her seat to watch you I’m literally going insane

• morning sex!! Waking up spooning with her, teasing her by wiggling your hips against her until she slips a hand over your hips and between your legs

• ‘ this what y’ wanted? Been dreamin of me honey? ‘

• will absolutely get up afterwards as casual as ever and ask what’s for breakfast. As if she hadn’t just had her fingers buried in your cunt.

• her aftercare is just so gentle. Especially if she’s been gone a while and has you coming for hours on end. She’ll praise you and hold you and help clean you up. Maybe drag you into the tub with her and sit behind you to wash your hair.

• and she enjoys the intimacy of dressing you so much more than undressing. Getting you comfy and cosy in clean night clothes before snuggling up with you in bed, letting you rest your head on her chest and tangling up your legs together.

[softrozene]

Comforting Female Reader Who Has Experienced an Assault

Anon asked: Hey honey, I was too shy to ask off of anon... But do you think you could do some HC’s for the boys helping a f!reader who was previously sexually assaulted? I am having a really tough time right now. ( I am handling it all and I have people helping me too) it’s just really weird for me to deal with I guess Thank you sweet Ro!

rdr2 masterlist

I’m sorry to hear that stuff like that is happening to you but if you ever need someone to talk to just to vent or for advice you are always welcome to talk to me since I have experienced past sexual assaults and harassments. It’s always a no-judgment zone when talking to me fyi. Just remember everyone processes it differently but you are not alone and hopefully the people helping you are a strong support system.

I love you anon and I hope these make you feel better.

 I chose almost all the males I usually write for because they would all kill/die for the ones they love. 

Originally published on February 11, 2020

*Speaking to everyone who reads this: These can be taken as platonic relationships or romantic. Just know I am not romanticizing the issue. There will be solid advice. There will be dumb advice. These are after all my headcanons for how I think they would treat the issue with a fem!reader (I think with a male!reader they would act just a little bit differently. This is a sensitive topic so please read the warnings and just remember you are all loved.

Warnings: Angst, PTSD, fluff, mentions of past sexual assault

Hosea Matthews-

He would hear this from you directly

  Would be shocked before he drops everything in order to listen to you

  If you don’t wanna talk about it he won’t push you but he will hint that it may make you feel better

  If it happened all in the past he would piece together some of your tendencies that relate to the assault, what you tend to avoid and whatnot, and basically, he’ll help you so nothing at the camp will trigger you

  If it happened more recently he will try and urge you to tell him who it is so he can sick the boys on them, without your knowledge of course

  He’ll just say “It’s been taken care of Sweetheart. No need to worry about it.”

   Hosea is the most caring one out of them all and will constantly check up on you, see how you are doing/feeling, will get you whatever you want whenever you want, and more importantly will always put others in their place if he feels they are getting on your nerves or are crossing boundaries

  If you do daily talks he’ll always ask if it’s okay to hug you or hold your hand because he wants you to know desperately how much you mean to him and the gang

  If he sees you heading down the wrong path, he will pick you up without a doubt. Orders you to take care of yourself and if you don’t listen to him, he will send Arthur and John the most awkward boys in the universe to go and talk you into doing the stuff he told you to do

  He’ll do about anything you want in order for you to feel better and get past this traumatic experience

  “We can’t change what happened to us. That’s all in the past. However, we can change how it affects us now. How we’ll go on in the future. Turn this into something to make you stronger.”

  Dutch Van Der Linde-

  Will deadass go on a rampage after learning you’ve been assaulted

  All you have to say is that you got hurt by someone- He doesn’t need any details unless you want to fill up the rage he already has

  He will hunt down whoever they are no matter where they are with most of the gang by his side, it doesn’t matter how long ago it was, he wants to see that bastard/bitch who did this to you in the ground

  “And they will surely be dealt with” literally will be his words- Anyway after they are dealt with will he only focus on you

  He’ll be careful with you and probably the most annoying thing he can and will do is, treat you like glass

  It doesn’t matter anymore if this was in the past or more recently, he will make sure someone he trusts is by your side and preferably a woman so probably Miss Grimshaw

  Eventually, he will realize that he is overdoing it but he will give you one of his speeches saying it’s only because he worries about you

  You just gotta be upfront with him, tell him what you need and what you do not need, and he will fix himself after apologizing

  Expect a lot more gifts from yours truly

  By a lot, I mean a lot

  He will make it rain jewelry for you if it means you know how much he cares

  Can’t say that about the money though

  If it still lingers over you he will without a doubt, try and help you through the process of at least accepting what happened well happened

  “Try and focus on the now and make yourself better for the future” Or something along those lines would be his advice

  Arthur Morgan-

  Is a saint no matter what he says

  You would have to tell him face-to-face and rather bluntly that you were assaulted. If you hint at it, he may take a moment before he realizes what you mean

  He won’t act fast but he will sit down with you and have a talk with you

  Of course, he wants to act, his blood would be boiling at the thought of someone even touching you without your consent but for your sake, he will take a breather and wait until you are done venting to him

  He would treat you the same

  He wouldn’t necessarily tread lightly on certain topics unless he sees that it makes you uncomfortable and omg if one of the boys dares to mess with you he will be on their ass in a hot second

  Basically, he may hover but he won’t realize it since he’s treating you the same way as always

  It’s up to you as well to decide the fate of who hurt you

  If you want them dead, he’ll go do it in a heartbeat

  If you want them beaten, he’ll go do it in a heartbeat

  If you want them threatened, he’ll go do it in a heartbeat

  If you don’t want anything done, he’ll just keep an eye on you and make sure you are faring well

  When he’s not at camp he’ll have Hosea, John, or one of the ladies keep an eye on you

  He makes sure that you know you can bother him for anything, he may be grumpy about it but he’ll do it just for you

  If you’re having nightmares or just can’t sleep you can sleep on his cot and he’ll stay with you until you do fall asleep

  If nothing works to make you feel better you bet your ass he’ll take you with him, on rides to town just to get you out and about

  His last resort is letting you see his journal- That’s how you know this boy genuinely cares about you because no one touches the journal

  “People are not so kind. But you are. What I’m tryin’ to say is don’t let that bastard/bitch put out your light. I care ‘bout ya.”

  Charles Smith-

  He would be the most understanding like Hosea

  Would make sure that you are in a safe space mentally before he allows you to vent

  Will reassure you that you are safe no matter what but he will want to get back at this person

  It usually goes against his code for killing but he cares about you and no one deserves to get hurt like that so he will take time out of his day (probably go gather Arthur) and go and kill this person

  Whether you wanted that or not he would have convinced you this person would probably have another person to prey on soon enough

  Speaking of, he will remind you that you are not a victim but a survivor

  He’ll be there for you all the way

  If you need some company he’s there for you even if you don’t want to talk

  Charles can and will be your rock if you need it

  He’ll help pick you up and depending on if it’s okay with you, tell a selective few what happened so they can also help you

  It may be cheesy but I can see Charles in this scenario making you say positive things about yourself in order to ward away the negative thoughts

  “Repeat after me. I am a strong woman. I am resilient. I am a tiger.”

  May or may not be making fun of Mr. Pearson at the last one in order to get you to laugh

  Either way, he’ll make sure you to feed you positive lines almost every day

  If you need to get out he’ll take you on nature rides and remind you out beautiful the world is despite how cruel the people are

  He won’t exactly hover but he will be constantly glancing your way at camp to make sure you are all good

  Tells you venting is actually good without needing to hear the advice

  I forgot to mention it in the others but, all these males will make sure you know self-defense. They give you tips and tricks with each weapon of their choice that way no one will mess with you again

  You can always rely on Charles to give you good advice though. Understands that sometimes you just need someone to rely on so you know you’re not alone

  “I know you. You are strong and beautiful. Don’t give anyone the power to doubt yourself. Only you have that power.”

  John Marston-

  Is fucking awkward when it comes to this kind of thing

  He will 100% see red as soon as you tell him and no matter what no one but Arthur, Dutch, and Hosea can stop him from going after the person who hurt you (and those three will join him tbh)

  He is not the best to talk to about this so he’s okay if you just need the company

  May take you to a saloon and get you a drink or two just to ease you, will not give you more

  Honestly, I see John as completely awkward and not knowing what to do for this situation. He’s at a loss and if the problem (the person) has been dealt with wouldn’t know how to help you

  He would go ask the girls how to cheer you up or make you feel better, go to Hosea would be a better option and would finally just ask you what you need and how so you don’t get stuck in your PTSD

  Though he may understand but not in the way that is relatable. He’ll understand the nightmares and such but he won’t understand if you fear that person because his situations have always been near death

  He will desperately try to understand you though

  Will send Jack your way if that kid can cheer you up

  “Well fuck, y’know I always have your back. Just- I um don’t let ‘em get to you.”

  Javier Escuella-

  This man would have no idea what to say at first

  It’ll take him a minute to register before he asks if he can hug you- mostly to reassure himself that you are physically safe

  Once that is done and over he will get straight to business and ask what you need

  Murdering the person would cross his mind tbh but he’s too focused on you that he won’t ask till much later

  If you need to clear your mind he’ll take you fishing, show you how to fish and have Hosea come along so it’s all positive vibes

  He’ll write some songs and lullabies for you and serenade you to show you how much he cares

  I honestly think Javi bottles everything up when it comes to himself so he’ll be more than happy to talk to you about your PTSD or share stories and even his own past if he deems it right by you

  He would gut whoever you want like a fish for you btw

  “Hermosa, you’re strength inspires me”

  And it truly does

  It takes a lot of guts to admit and accept what’s happened and even more to want to reach out for help

  Javier would admire that and remind you whenever you need to hear it

  Sean Macguire-

  Ahaha if you thought John or Dutch had a short fuse for this- The minute he finds out he’s already spouting nonsense of them meeting their demise

  And if you allow it or they are not dead he will surely make them have a terrible death

   He would risk getting caught by bounty hunters again if that were the case

  As for comforting you, this boy doesn’t exactly know how to do that

  He laughs off his own traumatic experience so he’d probably be trying to get you to crack a smile or drink with him

  Homeboy would try and get you to kill some bloody people for the fun of it ngl

  Hopefully, his energy will rub off on you

  I don’t really see him as the sitting down type but if he cares about you he is more than willing to listen to you and also more than willing to give you unwanted advice and a shite ton of his opinions

  “Yer fuckin’ priceless. No mutherfucker hassa right to touch ye.”

  He will end the speech with something gory I bet

  *I was going to add Keiran and Lenny but I ran out of ideas but I hope the lovely lads I did write and their reactions/comfort help anyone who needs it

[cowboyfromh3ll]

Could we get some sex hcs for Dutch, John, Charles, and Arthur (maybe even both sides of the honor spectrum) for how they are in bed and what kinks you think they'd have?

Kinks HC

(Dutch Van Der Linde, John Marston, Charles Smith, Arthur Morgan)

Warnings: smut, size kink, mommy kink, lactation kink, foot fetish, bdsm dynamics, daddy kink, sadomasochism, asphyxiation

Arthur Morgan

Size kink for sure

If you're especially smaller compared to him it drives him crazy

Would use his strength to his advantage and carry you while y'all fuck

Pins you down with his weight, holds you in place, carries you around, etc

Grips the head board...

Has probably broken a bed or two

High honor would mean he'd be a lot more considerate of your pleasure and what you want. Much gentler and passionate. Sex with high honor Arthur would feel a lot more like love making, but if you have requests for something a little rougher he'll indulge you in that. He'd be mindful of his size relative to you but it'd still be a huge turn on for him

Much like with high honor, low honor Arthur would also find a huge turn on in the size difference. Though he'd be a lot more selfish with pleasure. Not to say he wouldn't keep your enjoyment in mind, but he'd always get his nut in no matter what. One way or another. Also this man FUCKS, not necessarily makes love. Rough as hell and he finds enjoyment in your debauched flace and pleads. Will probably mock your moans for enjoyment.

John Marston

I said it before. Mommy kink. Let me elaborate.

Definitely a tits man, so he'd probably have a lactation kink too. Would beg to suck on your breasts when you're pregnant. Handles your chest like they're some treasure he needs to be careful with.

Aboslutely awestruck by the way your breasts increase in size throughout your pregnancy.

Gets antsy and hot and bothered whenever you lactate through your shirt.

Practically BEGS on his KNEES just to get a taste

As for the mommy kink, this is when he's submissive in bed

Probably likes it when you're rough on him when you're domming

I'm talking hair pulling, slapping, ordering him around

Calls you mommy the entire time and tries to get a nipple in his mouth whenever he can

Motherless behavior

Also feet, but that's a fetish. I can just see him frequently asking for foot jobs.

Charles Smith

I feel like he'd be pretty vanilla, but he'd still be flexible depending on what you like and what he's willing to do

One of the things he'd be more willing to do is asphyxiation. A gentle squeeze of your neck to putting you in a choke hold while he flexes

Is iffy about it but once he sees your red face and your eyes roll back he's all for it

Also praise! Any form of positive reinforcement in the bed room is a green flag for him.

Uses the most gentle and flowery words to take and make you feel comfortable

BRO JUST IMAGINE HIM SAYING "Good girl" IN HIS VOICE IM DECEASED

Also wouldn't mind letting you dom him once in a while. Would be down to be tied up. Thinks the trust aspect that comes with it is super attractive.

Dutch Van Der Linde

Roleplay 100%. Think it's fun to pretend to be other people. Supplies costumes, jewelry, props, anything to make it more realistic. Will even do location changes for it.

Wants to be called sir during sex, any other title or name and he'll view it as deserving of punishment

Brat taming, so be as bratty and bitchy as you want, he'll find a way to break you

Likes blindfolds, gags, bondage, leather

I can also see him pouring candle wax on you. Gets a rise out of inflicting these things on you

Likes to command you to do things such as laying down, spreading your legs, getting on yout knees, etc...

He sets the scene and everything, rose petals, candles inside his tent, slow music, he puts thought into EVERY detail

Now that I think about it maybe a daddy kink. For times when he's feeling dirtier and rougher he'll want you to call him daddy.

Thinks its so scandalous and it makes him feel so giddy

[parchmentknight]

dutches i drew instead of listening to my online lecture 😻