#o'driscolls

[degredationfanfics]

Nsfw, very erotic no cap fr. Piss kink mention. Power Dynamic, BODY HAIR....

"Hell yeah, boy... nice and slow," Bill murmurs with a sly grin, his expression one of wild mischief. Your nose is right against his bare exposed rear.

A few days earlier, the gang had caught you. They treated you... decently.

You were one of them O'Driscoll boys.

His big hand smacked across your face, and his chubby fingers gripped your hair. He was facing you because he had taken a liking to you. He always had a thing for rival gang members—probably because of the thrill of being so close to one. He was such a deviant. And honestly, out of everyone here, you really, REALLY didn't think that big grizzly guy was fucking gay. As in homosexual.

"Whatchu waitin' for? Go on!" It was covered in hair, not a single bald spot. Thick and dense... It would have pained you to acknowledge it, but deep down, that kind of turned you on. Gosh, you were so naughty. You could barely see his hole, and the smell? It was the true scent of a man—musky and unapologetic. You took one deeper sniff, curious.

Good thing you saw him wash himself down by the river minutes earlier. Thinking about it, you were kind of grateful for the gesture. Sure, water is water, and HIS scent wasn't going to go away, but any kind of dirt wasn't going to bother you.

When you started licking, Bill's body immediately reacted. He shivered, and you felt his hole loosen up with enjoyment. You saw his big cock twitch, legs raised, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and the other still gripping your hair as you began groping his meaty buttocks and digging deeper with your tongue and nose. It tickled him.

Bill's head jerked back, letting out a low, pleasured grunt as his eyes mingled with yours.

"Now, if you go on like that, I might just share my meal with you," he whispered, god forbid anyone hear him say that. He would be so ashamed—being nice to the enemy? That was bad. Worse than fucking with them. At least he kind of had Dutch's agreement to do this. Sort of...

You nodded, playing with your tongue. You went all the way down his crack, licking slowly up to the crease of his balls. You did this a few more times, three in total. "Aight... that's enough." Bill glanced at his cock; it was erect, but it wasn't enough. The fun was just getting started. Oh boy, were you going to have plenty.

He wanted more control over you; he wanted to see you muffle and suffer just a bit. Just to make you get the message that if you had simply chosen a better gang, the Van der Linde gang, this kind of pleasure could have been daily.

Bill grabbed your neck effortlessly, pinning you down on the camping bed. It must have been a really good one because it didn't break even when you slammed back first into it. You looked at Bill, fear growing in you. But you felt slightly reassured when you glanced at his stocky figure, fat laying in all the right places, a sexy gut full of beer and all. It wasn't the unhealthy kind; it was the STRONG type. Only your sight quickly revolted when the dim lantern light was shadowed by Bill's own silhouette hovering over your chest.

He looked back at you, aiming with precision, laying right onto your face, hole to mouth. He moaned, lust rushing through his blood. Bill's hands touched his bushy chest, his own fingers tracing his nipples and eventually resting on your legs. His eyes caught you enjoying this. Your pants didn't lie. While he was naked, you were still fully clothed. Bill wanted to keep it like that, but now his need to see and feel you grew bigger and bigger.

You couldn't breathe as well as before, and feeling him grind onto your face was overwhelming. He was heavy, and he clearly didn't care. He only lifted himself ever once in a while when you stopped moving.

Bill was ass-fucking your face, and you were licking him so well he was leaking. He unbuttoned your pants in a rush, setting you free as he, in return, sucked your dick. It wasn't an act of love or anything like that. He was sucking it like he needed it. He depended on it; all that booze had made him hungry. It was sloppy, and so were you. You left saliva and kisses all over his behind; you were basically trapped down there. The scent of sweat and your desire for more melted together.

"You're well packed..." He was staring at your cock. He was overdoing it; you knew it. His tone didn't seem all that impressed, but judging by the way he was jerking you off, that didn't matter.

He sucked, you licked. His ass was gaping wider? Your cock was growing harder. And when you could swear you were about to cum, Bill put his thumb on your urethra, cutting you off. You moaned, confused. The vibration of your voice teased his needy ass.

"This still ain't enough... I want more..."

In a smooth motion, his weight lifted off your face, and you instantly took a deep breath full of oxygen. Gee, even the air carried his scent. You spat out the tuft of hair you almost swallowed, brown and thick short locks landing on the grassy ground. You squinted when you felt him put weight on your pelvis, your bony pelvis so frail and unimpressive compared to his.

He took you by both wrists, pulling you into him. Bill smiled like a maniac when he felt your hardened third leg slide into him, smooth as butter. Your hands naturally rested on his hips.

You were doggy-styling him now; that was how he liked it best. He impatiently slammed himself onto you, taking it in properly.

"You gonna fuck me or what, boy?!" Bill was kind enough to do it once. But his wild, animalistic stare back at you was all you needed to start thrusting into him, hitting his G-spot like there was no tomorrow. Because truthfully, there probably wasn't going to be one if you didn't satisfy him enough.

"mhn, goddamn..."

"Urgh!..."

He was so vocal. You were trembling like a leaf, keeping a steady rhythm no matter what. Your hands pinched his generous ass cheeks, feeling his hair as you laid kisses on his neck. His insides were warm, surprisingly narrow. It didn't seem to fit a big guy like that to have such a tight hole. But hey, it was easier to make things come out of this bad boy than to make them go in.

Bill wasn't even there anymore; he was a mess. He whined in an unfamiliar tone that was quite high-pitched and out of character. His face squashed into his pillow, hands jerking himself off fast and mechanically. It seemed like he was cumming, but most of it was piss. That drunken fool... He then took most of his remaining energy to give you a little boost, his body mirroring your moves just to get you high and dry. His arm came around your neck as he kissed you clumsily.

His cock twitched when the ever-familiar sticky goo seemed to have drained for good. He felt lightheaded. But you? You were still going.

That whole thing—seeing him like that, the kiss, him being so drunk, his piss, and that stupidly sexy musky smell he still carried around—you rubbed your fingers on the mess that stained the bed, collected some, and dug it into his mouth.

Bill's eyes widened, flushing red. He never would have guessed he tasted this good—a perfect blend of sweetness with a hint of salt. You explored his mouth and throat with fervor, each movement met with his eager consent. He surrendered completely, relinquishing the dominance he once held over you, savoring every second of this shared intensity.

But he probably simply gave up control, overwhelmed by the exhaustion that weighed heavily on both his body and intoxicated mind. You kept fucking him relentlessly, fast and hard. He screamed, whimpered, and groaned. Your hand shaky, you spanked him firmly, as if he were a disobedient mule. His fat ass wiggled from the shock. Bill tried to bite back a moan; he wasn't dumb—he knew what was coming.

You.

He closed his eyes, holding his breath, a large satisfied smile tailored on his face.

Finally, you hit his G-spot one last time with all your might, and you finally exploded inside him. It was the biggest orgasm you ever experienced. You really did a number on him, filling him up like a puffy pastry. Poor guy was probably going to feel this for the whole week...

And so, there you were, back at square one—tethered to that STUPID tree, a silent observer as the Van der linde bustled around you doing their day to day activites. The women giggling as they walked past you.

You knew they knew.

Suddenly, you felt a Big hand on your shoulder. A chill ran down your spine. You couldn't turn back to see who it was but you were certain this was now and today that everything would end for you. You told them everything you knew After all, they didn't needed to keep you around. A wave of dread washed over you, and you braced yourself.

"Time to collect," You recognized that voice!

Bill untied you with rough urgency, and once your wrists were free, relief grew. He stepped in front of you, locking eyes with that same hungry gaze from the night before. You couldn't help but wonder if he still full of your cum, the tought made you swallow nervously.

"Now, don’t look at me like that, cowboy," he teased, half-serious, a goofy grin breaking the tension. After a brief, awkward silence, he turned to retrieve the bowl of deer stew he'd saved for you.

"I don’t usually share," he said, his tone softening, "but I figured you could use this more than I can."

[jashinist4]

[jenarosscity]

Sadie when Colm got hung

[roamingtigress]

I heard another line referencing Vandermatthews as a couple? "You two will be together at the end", I think the full quote was "You two lovebirds will be together at the end." The music was kinda obscuring the full quote.

The O'Driscolls are closeted Vandermatthews shippers acknowledgers!

[renslo161605]

PART THIRTEEN - DEAD FOX (written form /w illustrations)

Isaac had spent hours being tortured by O'Driscolls. He is barely alive. They have him tied to a tree, not as if he can go far.

Read under cut \/

"Isaac. Pst. Isaac wake up."

"please... I'm begging you. I don't want any more trouble. If your gonna give me more grief just put me down, i beg."

Isaac had spent the entire night with nothing but torture from the other O'Driscoll's. He didn't even recognise Dermot's voice, he just wanted peace.

"i mean it boy. Get up n'keep quiet."

"please, please, I don't want anymore trouble just shoot me."

A pathetic plea muffled by tiredness and the ground.

Dermot gave Isaac a gentle kick to encourage him up.

Isaac finally realised who was talking to him, reluctantly he dragged himself up, limping and lethargic as he was.

An emotion Isaac couldn't read flashed over Dermot's eyes. He looked him up and down, at his wounds and at his shaking legs. A mix of pity, guilt and, grief maybe even loss?

"good god, they've really torn ye' up."

Isaac looked at the ground.

"are you still mad at me?"

Funny how even after endorsing the second worst punishment possible - torture, right behind death - a child will still look for forgiveness from a parent.

But Dermot didn't answer.

"Get movin', yer' horse is waitin' fer us."

Despite his harsh tone, Dermot wrapped and arm around Isaac and untied him from the tree he was bound to.

"your helpin' me?"

A tiny spark of hope.

"shut up, don't want anyone hearin' you."

Dermot practically dragged Isaac into the deeper woods. Silently, Isaac didn't argue. What could he do? As far as he was aware Dermot wanted him dead. As loving as Dermot was to isaac. Loyalty comes before love, be it conscious or subconscious. And Dermot was loyal to the O'Driscolls.

Isaac, could barely see, whether it was from exhaustion, pain or the swollen eyelid covering his vision be didn't know. His body ached all over, he didn't think there was a square inch of him not beaten or bruised by a former associate.

Eventually, they emerged from the shrubs to a clearing. There waited Midge. Her gorgeous, pitch black mane looked like a void in the dark of night. Her eyes lit up at the site of Isaac and she trotted towards him. She wasn't used to all the tack Dermot had equipped her with, it was his own tack. A saddle back also sat across her flanks, presumably Isaacs things.

"You - You really are helping me escape. B-but wheres Daisy, whys Midge got all her tack on."

"isaac i can't... I'm not..." Dermot stuttered and Isaac was sure he saw his lip quiver.

"your not what?"

Isaac's heart had awakened with hope and he was thinking much more coherently now.

"Daisy's... Old. Your horse will go further with less dead weight."

Dermot eventually sighed. He grabbed Isaacs shoulder, tighter than normal.

"Isaac. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. Really I am."

"what do you mean? I'm the one who-"

"no. I'm an adult. I should've listened to you and what you said about Keiran. Oh, Keiran."

Isaac started to tear up, he had forgotten about Keiran, how could be have forgotten about Keiran?

"But I'm an old man now. And forever an O'Driscoll. It's what I'll die as. It's who I am. I chose that path a long time ago. But you don't need to choose that path. Make your own life. Your an amazing little boy. Your love for horses is something that could take you far. Use it. Forget about how you were raised, forget about your blood. Change your name if you have to."

"why are you telling me this? Dermot I'm scared."

"oh I'm sure you are, mac, I'm sure you are. But without fear there would be no bravery. And you, have been braver than any boy your age should have been. Come here."

He yanked Isaac into a hug. He held him tight, put his hand on the back of isaacs head and swayed. Almost like he was rocking a babe to sleep, something he had never done to him since he had never known Isaac as a baby. Still he held the boy he raised, the baby-boy he had never had, the boy he had bathed, the boy he had tucked in, the boy he combed the hair of, the boy he dressed. Loved as his own. The child whose relationship was not bound by blood but by a mutual loss. And he loved and he loved, until he had to let go.

Floods of tears spilled from Isaacs eyes. Expected, but also Dermot's eyes.

"C'mon, let's go."

He lifted Isaac up, like he was lifting him onto an unusually high countertop, about to patch up another scraped knee. Placed him on top of his horse. The horse he had given him. His first horse. He stared at the scar on his chin, a wound he had treated when he first met him.

"I HEAR 'EM, THEY'RE IN THE WOODS. "

"C'mon Dermot we gotta go! Get on!"

Dermot stood on his toes, reaching up to Isaacs face and gently placed a hand on it.

To Isaac, Dermot had never looked older than he did in that moment, his dulling ginger hair truely frayed with the white. His green eyes started to grey. The wrinkles on his face twisted into a sob, his flesh was sunken and weary.

"What are you doing! They're coming Dermot! We have to go please"

Isaac grabbed Dermot's hand and desperately tried to haul him up, of course it did nothing.

To Dermot. Isaac had never looked so young. Had never seen him cry like a child. Like a child should, something bitter sweet about seeing it for the first and last time.

"WE FOUND 'EM, THEY'RE IN THE SHRUBS!"

"I love you, son."

Dermot smacked Midge and yelled something Isaac didn't catch. Midge bounded away. Without Dermot on her back.

"Dermot! Wait! No! We need to go back! Midge stop!"

Isaac pleaded.

In the distance he could see a horde of O'Driscolls engulf Dermot. He desperately tries to yank on the reins. But somehow Midge new the mission. She knew she couldn't stop.

"Stop! Miriam Bridget you stop right now and turn back for Dermot, I mean it!"

He yanked on the reins, her hair, her saddle horn. Anything he could grab but she didn't stop for anything. She knew there was nothing they could do.

"please! I'm begging you!"

Isaac draped himself forward onto her neck, an exhausted attempt. He couldn't bring his frail body to do much more.

"please."

The steady drum of horses hooves beat his ears. And tears stung his face. He couldn't see much. His eyes had started closing, he fought it as much as he could.

Eventually he gave in. He let his body finally rest. It felt pathetic. Like a baby who hadn't had a nap yet. And in the back of his mind he knew he'd wake up to next to nothing. No parents, no home, no money, No Dermot. Just his horse. Always his horse.

[miguel-owhora]

alright, modern us politics rdr au 😭 the VDL gang and O'Driscolls are individual political parties. Both are heavily problematic.

[level-16-piss-wizard]

Dam o'driscolls

[souppickle]

CW:G∆r3 , EMOTIONAL 💔💔💔

[annieversarypz]

🤠

[lazypapers]

In Monsters We Trust Pg 4

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Colm sure loves pushing all kinds of buttons and he will push it for his own amusement.

[faustcrybaby]

Stop the abuse :(

[mari-thesapphic-lady]

i love how, between the timurov sisters, on one side, we have:

yumekira; an enemies to lovers ship, between two mentally unstable girls, with family problems, where one of them undeniably loves power, is the president of the student council, and is extremely possessive, and the other loves to defy the rules, is a compulsive gambler, and loves to provoke the president of the student council.

and on the other side, we have

mariri; an strangers to lovers (can I classify them as such?) ship between two girls who needed — and one of them still needs — to hide behind a facade, a mask, whether by their own will or someone else's, to fit in somewhere and to please other people's expectations, and they start to really be interested in each other when they see more of their true selves, when they start to trust, even if just a little, on each other.

and just love how the sister who kills people is probably the one who treats her gf like a goddess on earth but in a kind, soft way. Kira has her more aggressive ways but Yumeko must like it.

[abeliophyllum]

I drew some of my favorite RDR characters in the style of my favorite artist, Riyo (manga artist of Fate/Grand Order, Idol Master) <3

[bakedcrossaintt]

kieran wuffy. reblog to pet ⌃⌃

[nthspecialll]

Colm believing that Dutch will "come raging on over here" to save Arthur, when in reality the only way Arthur would be saved was because he preformed surgery on himself and escaped on horse back despite barely being conscious.