#john marston fic

[devnmon]

𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐜𝐬 ♡

𝐩𝐨𝐯 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧. [𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐛 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫] 𝐬𝐟𝐰/𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭 𝐱𝐱

𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝟏𝟖𝟗𝟗/𝟏𝟗𝟎𝟕 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧 [𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐝𝐫𝟏 𝐲𝐞𝐭]

First off, John is one to not realize his feelings for you until a certain point. He's oblivious to his OWN feelings. That's how long he's liked you. Perhaps you were captured by one of the local gangs or got severely hurt... his heart dropped when he found out. John is a real overthinker... so obviously his mind went right to the worst case scenarios. Though, when Arthur got back to camp with you in tow, he was so damn grateful.

He's taught you to ride a horse, but absolutely flushes when you clutch onto his waist tighter than usual when he picks up speed on the back of his.

His morning voice is almost too sexy to reply to the g'morning he sends your way as he huddles over the campfire, coffee in hand.

John doesn't understand why out of all the more honorable men in the world, you chose him to love and care for with your whole heart.

He's the first to initiate hand holding, especially in public– oh my god. Maybe there's a random man in the bar looking your way... and John, well he just couldn't take someone thinking you were up for grabs. You feel his grip around your hand as his fingers intertwine with yours, the glare he held as cold as ice watching the man turn away from you.

John is reallyyyyyy fucking good at five finger fillet. You're surprised he's not lost all his fingers with the way he moves his knife so swiftly. It's one of the things that made you realize your feelings towards him.

John started crushing on you after you stitched up his face in Colter. Checking his scars every day to make sure they weren't getting infected; the close proximity was just another factor that made his heart race around you.

He becomes comfortable with touch as he falls for you. At first it's just a touch on the arm that has sparks flying, then you're touching his shoulder or back– his cheeks all but flush bright red every time. [Arthur teases him about it. It's adorable.]

John often takes you on rides outside of camp just to get some air from everyone. He really appreciates having alone time where the two of you can talk and bond and wink wink ;))

He also lets you wear his hat when the both of you go out riding together. John tries to get you your own but you think his suits you just fine.

When you tell him 'i love you' for the first time, it takes him a minute to register it. But when he does, he goes "say it again" and just kisses you before saying it back.

Calls you "Miss" around camp, but in private he prefers to call you honey and sweetheart. He feels like calling you your name is something to be kept private too. John Marston is a sucker for closeness with you.

Sometimes you catch him staring from across camp, and you tried so damn hard to hide your smirk from Sadie and the other girls... that you had to excuse yourself from the group.

He cannot be normal or stay still when your hands are on him. You're laying on his bedroll with him, lightly tracing your hands up and down his body and he's all but begging for you to keep going until you can't.

John can never have you close enough; being too close isn't a thing for him. If he could be glued to you, he would.

John would love to learn to cook together. He gets his kicks out of placing his hands on your waist while you're preparing the food, feeding him bits and pieces of veggies you're chopping up.

NSFW

Here's the thing about John. He's suchh a touched starved boy that he absolutely cannot get enough of you from the time you get together. And obviously he's grabby too. Loves putting his hands everywhere on you. Like– everywhere. So much so that he leaves marks mostly every time he gets more than half an hour with you.

His love language is words of affirmation, so of course he basks in the glory when you say "you feel so good" or "right there" . Basically amps him up x10000.

Also John is a cocky little shit and mocks your cries in the bedroom. Then he'll go "Yeah? What ya screamin' my name for? Feels good huh?".

You don't know where he's learned it, but John has such a talented tongue– like, toe curling, back-arching, messy and desperate to please you without ever coming up for air.

John loses all ounce of shame in bed with you. He knows how to please you and if he's letting you be in control... he will beg and pleadddd for you. Like I said– no shame.

Loves when you pull his hair. The first time you did it he went "Atta girl..." with a groan– and you all but came right then and there from the gravel in his voice.

Is such a praiser;; gets off on hearing you whimper underneath him. Stuff like "doin' good for me, doll" and "such a mess for me, huh? look at you..." GOD.

That's another thing with John, he's always on top. Prefers missionary to observe the way you sing for him– and he's smitten all over again.

You're able to convince him to let you be on top– to ride him like the cowboy he is. He even puts his hat on you [mid ride might i say].

Is also a definite cuddler afterwards, he loves hearing your heartbeat steady while he’s pressed up against your back. He’ll suggest the two of you get cleaned up before you fall asleep.

a/n: heyy so i know this is not a lot of hcs but they're the best i got for rn while i ponder on how to write my silly little drabbles :))) stay tuned for those heheh

#john marston #john marston x reader #john marston x you #john marston x female reader #john marston hcs #rdr2 hcs #rdr2 john marston #red dead redemption 2 #john marston fanfiction #john marston fic #john marston fanfic #rdr2 spoilers #dividers by saradika-graphics #dividers by cafekitsune #devnmonwrites #devnmon writes

[wisteriadumster]

Stress Reliever Theatre❥John Marston

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JOHN MARSTON X FEMALE READER

CW➻❥ public intimacy⋆private sex⋆fingering⋆consensual groping ⋆handjob⋆orgasm both m! & f!⋆extreme making out/kissing✮if I missed anything pls lmk!✮

WC➻❥2,233➻❥this isn't well proof read so any mistakes or odd things are purely accidental

Summary➻❥You drag John Marston to a show in Saint Denis, to relieve his clear signs of stress. Surely nothing more than two people watching a show together right?

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆:*.☾ ·☽.* :☆ﾟ. ───────

*✧･ﾟ:* WisteriaDumster original work.*:･ﾟ✧*

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆:*.☾ ·☽.* :☆ﾟ. ───────

You’re not sure how you truly convinced John Masrton to go to Saint Denis, let alone the theater.

Yet here you are, sitting in the back row by John's request, waiting for everyone else to take their seats. His breathing was tight and heavy, large sighs leaving him often, “This show is sure to take the stress off your mind.” A hand slid onto his left shoulder, attempting a weak massage. Even in darkness you can see his blushing cheeks, “you’re too sweet on me, you know that?” His compliment forces a side smile on you,

“well you’re bad at hiding stress, I’m just helping out”.

All other whisper conversations stopped, you turned away from John and looked to the brightly lit stage. A man stepped onto the said stage, “good evening ladies and gentleman.” His red suit is extremely eye-catching, “tonight men and women of only myth will perform in front of your very eyes!” Your hand went back to your lap, the man cleared his throat. “I have sailed the seven seas to find these people only heard in the stories your children read!” Scattered laughter filled the silent crowd. A few more useless sentences and jokes were thrown into his little speech which were all the same just different words.

“I won’t keep any more of your time, please welcome the werewolf!” He bows before slipping through the curtains that matched his suit in colour.

You waited patiently before the curtains finally drew back, a thunderous drum roll made you jump. Suddenly a man with more hairs on his arm than your entire body jumped onto the stage, he let out a growl. You stared at him, not a single inch of him was hairless, well besides his face.

His beard is so long it could be made into a small towel, his hair was even longer, reaching down to his knees. John leaned close to your ear, “he reminds me of Arthur,” he jokes, making you giggle.

The Werewolf’s act was finally over, the curtains drew back, the crowd cheered over the various tricks he had done. “Are you still stressed? I hope this is helping,” You look to John, your hands gently clapping. “I mean I feel better but I could use something else.” His hand is now on your thigh, he’s nervous, it wasn’t surprising as John wasn’t much of a romantic to begin with. “What are you suggesting?” You know what he wants, but in public? You weren’t used to being intimate or even romantic in public. “We’re in the back, people came for the show, maybe we can be the next act.” His fingers begin pulling at your skirt, slowly having it scrunch up your thigh. The curtains opened again, but all your attention was on John.

Your skirt was now in your lap, his rough hand rubbing your thigh, his eyes staring at your lips, debating if he should kiss you.

Since he wouldn’t, you did. You moved in close and went for a gentle and slow kiss. He couldn’t wait, his hand leaving your thigh and going to your hair, he pulled you in close, dying for all of you he could get.

The show was merely background noise as you played with his hair, John pulling at your waist trying to get you as close as he could with the arm rests of the chair in the way.

You can't resist letting a small whimper out into John's mouth as his nails dig into your hip. "You like that?" He smirks against your lips as his hand travels down to thigh once again. This time it doesn't stay there but begins sliding up, slowly reaching to your panties.

His fingers tease with the fabric, caressing the stitching of your own work. "I like where this stress relief is going," you spoke with a gasp, eagerly impatient for his next move. He laughs before his hand finally begins to pull down your underwear, you're quick to help him.

His hand again teases you and slowly goes up your leg, you pull back from the kiss. "John Marston, when did you become such a teaser?" Your hand is playing with a button of his shirt, "when I began wondering if I should fuck you here or in the cleaning closet down the hall." His breath is hot against your ear, how did he know of the closet? Must’ve been when he was searching for a bathroom when you came to the theater. “Well while you think, can you let me be pleased before I stare at the half naked man on that stage,” your attention averts to the stage with John, only for a moment. He looks back to you and sticks two fingers in your mouth, “sure I can think about it,” his smirk is terrifying yet exhilarating.

He wraps his arm around your waist before slowly entering those two fingers. Your stomach tightens and you hold your breath as to not alert the actual enjoyers of the show. He kisses down your neck as his fingers begin to curl, every part of you was stiff as the pleasure felt impeccable.

A hand was gripping the arm rests, your knuckles were becoming light in color. His fingers are starting to gain momentum, making your game at being quiet, extremely difficult.

John notices and goes back to your face, "What if we take this to another level, make it fun." You nod to the request, his speed beginning to slow, "will I have to stay quiet?" You manage through the grit of your teeth, he thinks for a moment while his fingers slide out, "that closet is still open I'm sure." He's gentle,”let hope the walls are thick enough.” Now out of his seat standing in front of you as he helps redress you.

You were finally calm and collected, standing and pulling your skirt down. His arm wraps around your waist and guides you out into the hallway.

The hall is silent, not a sign of life. John is touching all over your body, you began to think that you might not make it to the closet.

His lips are kissing your neck, his hands groping at your ass and waist. He left you to find the closet, you peeked through into a small room of brooms and a counter. He pushed you inside and closed the door in a matter of seconds, "I can't wait." You could feel how hard he was, before turning the oil lamp on. The room was dim.

He was pushing you against the wall, his arms wrapped around you, keeping you trapped.

His nails dug into your skirt as your bodies grinded together, the intensity of his desire for you was the hottest thing you ever witnessed. His kisses were turning to bites, surely this wasn’t the John you knew, but you can’t complain because whoever this is, will be fucking you good.

His hands cup at the bottom of your ass and lifts you to the counter, "I need you so bad." His hands are already under your skirt again pulling your panties, this time pulling them off completely. He's leaning over you, aggressively kissing you, taking a moment to again wet his fingers.

He enters slow again, gradually increasing the speed, faster than when inside the actual theater. Your body almost thrusts for a moment at the sudden speed gain.

He knows what he's doing, curling his fingers at the right angle before uncurling and thrusting them back in. Whimpers and whines bounced around in the room, how did you ever manage to stay quiet in that theater? His free hand was down to the buttons of his jeans, his breath was husky and quick. He pulls from the kissing to focus on his hand, his chest rising faster than it could fall. Your body was aching as you were already climbing up to your climax, ready to give out just from his fingers alone.

You were so focused on the pleasure that everything was drowned out,yet that was short lived when his fingers left you without the delight of them. You opened your eyes and looked to him, his eyes pierced yours, he couldn't hide the smile curling at the side of his mouth.

You spit in a hand and wrapped it around his cock that you noticed just barely. A quiver left his lips suddenly at the touch.

You made sure to have every inch perfectly wet for easy entry, his head hung back.

His hand is clawing at the edge of the counter while you did quick bursts of speed. “Like that do you now?” It was exciting to see how just a simple hand job affected him so heavily.

A giggle leaves you as your hand lets go, "I'm gonna need you to do that again sometime." He laughs as well while readjusting himself, his focus back on you. His hands were tight on your thighs as he pulled you closer to the edge of the counter.

He enters slow, you gasped at the sudden feeling of being less empty. He smirked, enjoying every way you reacted to him, almost as an ego boost.

You wrap your hands in his hair, leaving him to support you, his hands wrapped around your back almost like a hug. An intimate one definitely. His pace quickens, taking no time to move his hips as well for something more than just awkward thrusting.

Your kissing out moans, a hand was now at his back for stability. It was harder to hold on as you prepared for probably the best orgasm of your life. Your nails dug into his vest, every part of you was tight as he didn’t slow or change anything, he knew better than to ruin your growing orgasm.

You had pulled from the kisses and were moaning into the base of his neck. He wasn't much quieter, plenty of groans rumbled deep from his chest. He was struggling to hold back just as much as you, it wasn't a shocker that he couldn't last long. His pace was faster, less steady but more extreme. That's when it hit, he was loud and slowed, almost stopping. The feeling of being filled to the max was just what you needed to send you over the edge. Your head hung away from him as every nerve in your body gave out. Your moans echoed throughout the closet, surely loud enough to get the attention of anyone outside in the hallway.

After the wave of pleasure washed over, your head fell onto his chest, you were both panting heavily. "Jesus that was good," John's fingers are playing with your hair. "I didn't know you were so. Skilled," you laugh, completely blown away at the fact he just did that. “Really? I don’t look good in bed?” He’s sarcastic yet it doesn’t fully seem that way, “no absolutely not.”

"We should get out of here before that show ends and a maid comes." John pulls back to grab articles of clothing off the floor. “We should do this again, some time soon.” You bite your bottom lip imagining what he could do without a time crunch. “I’ll be sure to stress myself out, just for you,” He looks up at you as he begins to slide your underwear up your legs.

He kisses up your legs and he finishes dressing you, his kisses continue, going up to your lips.

Those aggressive kisses from earlier are more: calm, simple, romantic rather than hungry, lustful, intense.

He pulls you down the counter and sets you gently on the floor, “take the lead,” he allows you to exit first, his hand smacking at an ass cheek as you push through the door. The hallway is significantly colder, the closest was almost like you had a fire set loose in it.

A man is staring at you both as you begin walking towards the exit, you turn to see John holding back a laugh. “Good day sir,” you smile before bursting into laughter, John right behind you with a loud belly laugh.

He pulled you onto his horse, “if Dutch asks let say we were trying to hunt,” he suggests getting on the horse as well. “John Marston, he would never believe a lie like that, let’s say we were simply doing a bounty.” You shake your head at the thought, “we were trying to secure a train robbery or just a job for the gang but failed.”

“Oh that’s a good one,” John begins down the street, “must be good to have some brains with you for once huh?” You wrap your hands around his waist and snuggle in close, “you want to walk back to camp?” He has a deep rumble for a laugh in his chest, shaking his head at your remark. “What kind of man are you Marston?” You observe the city and the life that passes you, “I’m a man that could go for round two on the outskirts of the city.” The horse goes from a trot to a canter. “Oh really?” You bit your lip at the thought, “I think I want to get over the lecture from Dutch for simply not following one of his plans.” And just like that you were crossing onto the bridge that led to the city.

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#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #john marston rdr2 #john marston fanfic #john marston fic #john marston smut #john marston

[messrmoonyy]

-What they’re like as your bf/gf (Hcs) 18+

Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch Van Der Linde, Sadie Adler, Molly O’Shea

Request- Hi if it’s okay could I ask for some hcs of some of the gang and what they’re like dating with you? NSFW ones toooo🙈🙊 could you include Arthur, John, Dutch, Sadie, Javier and maybe any of the other girls Mary-Beth or Molly or Karen? Thank you 🙏🏻

A/N- I didn’t include Javier cause I like barely speak with him in camp or anything idk I don’t vibe with Javier tbh. And I saw my chance to word vomit my Molly brain rot and ran with it so she’s the girl I picked. Hope this is okay! Enjoy :)

Masterlist - requests are open :)

Arthur Morgan

- We’ve all seen how he was with Mary. He’d be besotted with you

- His journal would be filled with sketches of you, entries talking about how much he adores you, little notes about how you looked that day or musings about his plans for your future together.

- Definitely doodles a little heart with your initials too <3

- He’s touch starved. So he loves physical contact. A hand to your knee, your back, arm around your shoulders or your waist. He likes keeping you close.

- Brings you stuff from his little travels. Picks flowers for you, finds little trinkets for you.

- Keeps a picture of you by his bed.

- Forehead kisses!!!!!

- Kisses your hand. And kisses to your wrist. He loves when you reach up to cup his face and he can turn to press his lips against your wrist.

- He’s so much more than a tough, burly cowboy. He’s quiet, caring, considerate. And he adores you

NSFW

- takes his time. Likes to work at you until not a single tense muscle is left in your body. Worships you.

- Loves any positions where he can see your face, needs to be close enough to constantly kiss you and tell you how good you are for him

- “ there’s my girl, doin so good for me darlin “ “ jus’ like that darlin, let me take good care of ya “

- Not incredibly vocal, but the noises he does make he ensures are right by your ear.

- Refuses to finish before you ever.

- Loves to finish inside tho. He knows it’s risky, but he loves the closeness. And if he’s feeling particularly risky he’ll definitely push his come back into you with his fingers “ don’t waste it now “

- Grips The headboard.

John Marston

- he’s stupid. He really is. He’ll be head over heels for you, with you clearly reciprocating those feelings and he’d still think you didn’t like him like that.

- Like. You could kiss him and he’d still be like ‘ what are we? ‘

- When he does finally put two and two together he’ll have no shame or cautions in showing you off.

- He’s handsy. Likes coming up behind you when you’re washing dishes for Pearson to rub at your shoulders.

- Or pull you down to sit on his lap before you can even think about taking the empty spot on the log next to him by the fire.

- Overprotective. One tiny snide comment from anyone and he’s ready to start swinging.

- Definitely knows how to push your buttons and wind you up, and will do it just for fun and to get a rise outta you.

- And then spend the rest of day grovelling and apologising.

NSFW

- Loves going down on you. Like. Loves it. The man could spend hours there if you’d let him and Lord has he tried.

- Not very serious most of the time.

- Pretty vocal. And doesn’t really care if anyone’s listening either.

- Like i said, he’s handsy. His hands are restless and will grab at whatever part of you they can.

- Loves when you ride him and has absolutely made a cowgirl joke more than once.

- Will grab at your hips and guide your movements as you do. Told you he’s handsy.

- But also isn’t opposed to you on your back, legs over his shoulders. Presses kisses to your ankles and makes jokes about how good the view is.

Dutch Van Der Linde

- he’s not the most attentive of people at times. He’s constantly in his head and constantly thinking about things that aren’t you.

- But when he does allow himself time alone with you he is disgustingly charming.

- He always knows what to say, always knows the right words to have you melting into a puddle at his feet. You could be in the worst mood with him but a few whispers in your ear and it’s all forgotten.

- Has a million terms of endearment for you. My angel, my dear , my darling. He rarely ever uses your actual name, only when he’s mad.

- Loves to give you gifts, the more expensive the better. And he likes you to show them off too. He likes to show you off.

- Reads to you a lot.

- PDA is afraid of him. He doesn’t care where he is or who’s watching him, he’ll loop an arm around your waist to kiss your neck, pull you onto his lap when he’s reading beside his tent and kiss you. No shame.

NSFW

- will take his time with you but in a far different way to, say, Arthur

- He’ll edge you and overstimulate you for hours, because be gets off on the fact that you simply let him. That you obey his every command.

- Degrading and humiliating 🤝🏻 Dutch Van Der Linde

- He’s never too mean. And his degrading comments are more often than not laced with something sweet.

- Dacryphilic. 100000%. He loves watching you cry because he’s worked you into such an overstimulated mess.

- He’ll swipe your tears away or kiss them from your cheeks “ well isn’t that just a pretty sight? “ “ those tears for me, my angel? “

- Definitely has some kind of authority kink. Likes you calling him sir for sure.

- Loves you giving him head. Just loves you on your knees. It’s a power thing. And he’s a cocky son of a bitch.

- Sat back in his chair and won’t lift a damn finger to help you out, won’t even unbuckle his belt. And don’t tell me he doesn’t smoke whilst he watches you.

Sadie Adler

- She is absolutely not shy about her feelings when she finally accepts she has them.

- Shes just so sweet to you.

- Around camp she’s stuck to you like glue. Her arm is permanently around your waist or your shoulders, or her hand laced with yours and is ready to snap at any intrusive questions from anyone else about it at the drop of a hat

- Love language is gift giving. Just taken in a bounty but found a shiny lil necklace in his pocket? Well. It’s hers now. Or should I say, yours.

- If your hairs long enough she’ll braid it like hers, any excuse to be able to sit close to you and whisper sweet things in your ear.

- Would teach you how to shoot better, she wants to make sure you know how to defend yourself. but also wants the excuse to stand behind you and show you how to hold her rifle properly.

- Big spoon.

NSFW

- Sadie’s gained control over literally everything else in life, and it doesn’t change in the bedroom

- She trusts you whole heartedly but she’s not about to give up any sort of control to you for a While

- Makes sure she can see your face at all times, loves watching your face contort and relax in pleasure that she’s giving you

- Full of praise “ ain’t you just the prettiest thing? “ “ oh look at you! D’ya know how pretty you look from here? “ “ always such a good girl for me “

- Has a thing for putting her fingers in your mouth. Especially after she’s just fucked you with them.

- Having you on your knees eating her out drives her crazy. Will pull at your hair a little too hard but will soothe the sting with a thousand words of praise about how good you make her feel.

- And now hear me out. Loves to watch you. Will book you a hotel room together just so she can sit across the room and watch you touch yourself for her, encouraging you the entire time

- It’s never long before she absolutely has to have her hands on you though in the end.

Molly O’Shea

- sheeeee has some trust issues. And abandonment issues. She’s just… she’s a lot at times.

- But she is fiercely loyal and will love you with every fibre of her being

- And she wants to be loved as fiercely in return. She’ll spiral without constant reassurance “ d’you even love me anymore? “ “did I do somethin wrong? Haven’t told me you love me today “

- She knows deep down you do love her. She’s just afraid.

- She is such a romantic. She loves holding your hand, sitting close to you, doing your makeup like hers and stealing kisses in between painting your lips red

- She’ll write you sappy romantic poetry and leave you lil notes

- You’ll often overhear her gushing to other people about how in love she is too. She just loves to talk about you and how deeply she adores you.

- Likes when you give her forehead kisses.

NSFW

- Pillow princess. End of story.

- She’s not completely submissive though. She’ll tell you what she wants and what she likes

- She just wants to be taken care of okay. She needs to be taken care of.

- Makes the softest, sweetest sounds and will tell you she loves you a million times over.

- Enjoys when things just… naturally happen. Cuddling with you at night, but pushing her hips lightly back against you. Which usually ends with your hand slipping past her waistband and making her come on your fingers.

- Likes to be on top of you sometimes, simply so she can show off whilst she strips. Not to really do anything. Shes really not that much of a giver. She likes being watched. She likes to know she’s desired. And usually it ends up with you dragging her to sit on your face.

- You have to shower her with praise. She wants to know she looks beautiful, that she’s doing well, worship her. Which is incredibly easy for you cause like fucking look at her she’s gorgeous.

- Wraps herself around you when you cuddle after, legs intertwined and arms around you, head buried in your chest or neck. Pls my sweet baby needs to be held.

#disclaimer as always with hcs #these are my thoughts and not to be taken too seriously #don’t get salty if you don’t agree. #my hcs for any character seem to draw at least one salty person out #it’s fic! enjoy it! #arthur morgan x reader #Dutch van der Linde x reader #molly O’Shea x reader #John Marston x reader #Arthur Morgan #molly o'shea #sadie adler #john marston #dutch van der linde #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #x you #fluff #smut #sadie adler x reader

[kenzie-mm]

How I think my fav Van Der Linde gang members react to you asking “Would you still love me if I was a worm?” (Text fic #01)

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #charles smith #john marston #sadie adler #micah bell #hosea matthews #kieran #javier escuella #text fic #rdr2 x reader

[cowboyfromh3ll]

So, hypothetically speaking,

If the reader gets so drunk, maybe at Sean's welcome home party, or when jack is rescued

And this is hypothetical...

She's in a relationship with arthur... and he's away from camp, or sleeping.

And hypothetically,

John as feelings for her, and she stumbles into John's room thinking that its Arthur's.

Again, this is hypothetical.

AND HYPOTHETICALLY, john takes a chance and pretends to be Arthur because he's just SO jealous of their relationship, and they end up having sex.

Taking What’s Not Yours

(John Marston x Fem!Reader Smut)

THIS WAS SO GODDAMN FUN RAHHH. John is a fucked up individual in this, I put a lot of thought into how I wrote his line of thinking.

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, noncon, dubcon, drunk sex, smut, infidelity

  Your first thought was that Shady Belle had never looked so bright. 

From a distance, the camp might have appeared as a glowing orb of orange light in the woods; an inviting incandescent illumination. A large, brightly lit campfire served as the heart of a celebration, and here and there was the blurry green blinking of fireflies. The occasional oil lamp littered around camp to unveil the darkness, acting as checkpoints in the path towards the doors of the house. But for every bit of light there was the accompanying joy and laughter and bliss. 

The alcohol coursing and spreading warmth through your body eased you into a state of content relaxedness. Your consciousness was heavily veiled, a cotton like feeling resulting in a comfortable haziness. Every nerve and chemical in your body telling you to relax, and every movement felt somnambulant. The lively chatter and inebriated song of the gang seemed so close yet so far, as if you had just stepped out on the front porch of a house party and the music continued to boom from inside. Dimly, you remembered the reason for the celebration was Jack’s safe return to camp; you had planted a maternal kiss to his forehead in welcome before he was thrummed away at the center of the celebration. Life was good, and all your other troubles didn’t matter right now. Though the cool condensation of the bottle collecting in a small ring of water around your thumb and pointer as you firmly grasped it seemed to matter. And it mattered more with every swig you took. Your lover blithely wrapped an arm around your lower waist, an invitation to release most of your weight onto him. Your crown felt as though it had a weight tied to it, your head falling nearly supine on your sternum before lolling to its side and onto Arthur’s broad shoulder.  

“You enjoying yourself, darling?” Arthur asked, planting a kiss on your temple. You smelled the familiar bitters of alcohol on his breath, and it was almost as comforting as the deep drawl of his voice. You hummed out a yes, every movement feeling slowed down. Your mouth felt glued shut by the sour film of alcohol, your mouth opening in a wet click as your dense saliva smacked against your tongue and palate. In a delayed response, you said, “Yeah, honey. I’m having a real good time.” Your words slurred together like smeared paint on a canvas; a feeble attempt at forming something coherent. 

“Don’t you think you’ve had too much to drink?” He chastised playfully. You scrunched up your nose jokingly. 

“It’s just one night. I don’t usually drink like this.”

“Yeah exactly, you don’t. I’m scared you won’t be able to handle yourself.” You waved your arm dismissively at his concerns. “I’ll be fine. I have the gang here to take care of me. And most importantly I have you.” You reassured him, stumbling forward and giving him a kiss. 

“I was thinking of turning in for the night.” Arthur told you, wrapping both his arms around your waist and turning him to face you. You pouted your bottom lip, whining petulantly. “Awww, hon, come on. Keep celebrating.” 

“No, no… I’m drunk enough. And I’ve had a long day. Plus, I ain’t going anywhere else but my room. Don’t you wanna come up with me?” 

You shook your head profusely. “I’ll be fine down here. Like I said, I wanna keep celebrating. I also ain’t going nowhere.” You giggled and kissed the tip of his nose. Arthur’s nerves in leaving you downstairs seemed to calm significantly when he looked around the campfire at all the welcoming faces, especially the women, who were more than likely going to keep an eye on eachother. He gave it a thought for a moment longer before nodding in acceptance. 

“Alright. Just be careful. I’ll stay awake just in case.” Arthur’s lithe hands began to smooth down your back and over the curve of your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh in a nascent squeeze. “I’ll be waiting for you.” He smirked before leaning forward and kissing you once more, his tongue swiping over your bottom lip. You sloppily accepted the kiss, the exchange lasting only seconds before he bid you farewell by slapping your ass. You giggled in anticipation for what your lover was suggesting at once you got upstairs to him, your red face turning even redder. You watched Arthur’s back as he walked off towards the front entrance of the house, smiling warmly when you saw him say goodnight to John and Abigail, who were sitting together by the foyer. 

Time seemed insubstantial the longer you celebrated, passing by in warped increments the more you drank. You had decided it was finally time to up and leave when the only way you evaded vomiting everywhere was from staring at the flickering embers of the fire. When you stood, the world spun around you, and you remained stationary as you tried to figure out which way you were supposed to walk to get to the house. Your body lagged behind your mind, each movement slowed and blundered in confusion as if your body was deliberately working against itself. Several of the women and men offered to walk you up towards your shared room with Arthur, but you refused, insisting in your mind that you wanted to walk into the room, alluringness turned on in your best attempt at seducing Arthur. The gracefulness of that action would be mere afterthought, not taking into consideration the possibility of you embarrassing yourself. 

You lugged your body towards the double doors, feet stomping up the steps of the front porch. You caught sight of Abigail sitting alone in your peripheral, who was seemingly startled by the loudness of your steps. 

“Hey, (Name). You okay? You seem real drunk.” She gave you a look of concern, making a movement to stand up from her seat. You waved off her concern dismissively as well.

“I’m fine Abigail. Just had too much to drink. I’m headed up to my room.” You reassured. You wiped your mouth with the back of your arm, cleaning off the frothing drool forming at the corners of your mouth. She gave you one last look of concern before planting herself on her seat again. 

“Alright then, I suppose all you have to do is go upstairs anyways. Goodnight, (Name).”

“Goodnight.”

It was an arduous task to push open the expansive mahogany doors of the building, your footsteps echoing as you trudged across the floor and up the creaky, wooden steps. You leaned against the railing at the top of the stairs, threatening to retch but resulting in nothing but excess saliva. You bordered on sickness but that would not stop you in your pursuit of copulation with Arthur. Your vision tunneled, and you let your body take the lead ahead of your mind. It felt as though you were dragging your body along the floor to safety from some unknown threat you were too hammered to classify. You swallowed hard, finding amenity in the cool, metallic feeling of a door knob as you clumsily turned it, only to find the door was already ajar. You practically stumbled inside, trying your best not to trip on your own feet. You heaved your body up against the door frame, beginning in a series of sultry laughter. 

Unbeknownst to you, you hadn’t actually crawled into the room of your lover. You hadn’t made it down the hall completely, instead stumbling into another room. You hadn’t even paid any mind to the soft snores that were scarcely audible from behind Arthur’s door.

“Heyyy, Arthur.” You cooed, followed by more giggles. 

John sat up from where he lay in his bed, his eyes registering a sense of bewilderment for who was at his door. Only moments ago he had been deep in thought, contemplating what it was he wanted in life, and moments before that he had engaged in an argument with his wife downstairs before storming up on his own; and now, before him, stood the object of his desire. 

“Are you surprised to see me so soon?” You said playfully. 

John felt a strange duality to the question. How even though the question was meant for Arthur, he felt equally as entitled to answer it. John looked down at himself in near disbelief, as if he had somehow embodied Arthur and his own body was replaced. He asked himself if you were really that drunk, to mistake his frame and face for your lover. 

“(Name)?” He said hesitantly, looking around the room as if he were expecting a group of the girls to jump out and announce a prank. 

“Well you shouldn’t be that surprised, you saw how drunk I was.” 

That seemed to confirm John’s suspicions. Obviously, you didn’t mean to walk in here. You were supposed to be down the hall, at Arthur’s door. His mind blanked when he saw you begin to saunter over towards him. He sucked in a breath and held it, straightening and stiffening his body as if he were preparing his body for some sort of grand, painful impact. 

“Well, I’m here now. You said you’d be awake for me…” You giggled darkly, swaying your body. You settled down onto John’s lap, wrapping two arms around his neck and leaning forward to put your lips to his ear. You felt John’s rigidity as you sat on him, still under the belief that it was Arthur; so your confusion was palpable when he didn’t automatically wrap his arms around you. 

“Relax, Arthur… Why are you so tense?” You ran your tongue along the shell of John’s ear before planting a kiss on his lobe, nipping it with your teeth before sucking on it slightly. The crescendo of John’s shame reached its peak when you cupped his crotch, delivering a squeeze before rubbing your palm back and forth on it, again and again. He bit his lip, clenching and unclenching his fists in an act of contemplation. 

John put his hands on your shoulders, nudging you off and moving you to sit next to him on the bed. He moved your body effortlessly, your whole being pliable and docile as he settled you on the mattress. You furrowed your brows and pouted your lip in confusion, not used to this level of resistance from Arthur. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, the words slurring together sloppily. It only served as another reminder for how drunk you were to John. He continued to hold on your shoulders, his hands digging into the supple skin, grounding himself in the feeling of your bones. He studied your face: flushed red and sclera tinged pink from the excessive drinking you had done that night, your hair was wild and messy and all over the place, and there was a line of drool that had gone down the side of your cheek, beginning to dry. Part of him was tempted to stick his thumb in your mouth and run it over the dried spots to clean them off. Your eyes held a sort of puppy-eyed look of confusion and sadness, as if he had dangled a treat over your head and he promptly put it away in his pocket. Though in the same vein, your eyes were glazed over and unfocused, glassy the same way a person who was fighting off unconsciousness would look. He noticed the way your torso continued to sway uneasily despite him holding you up. 

“I”m not…” John began, but he did not continue. His mouth hung open in anticipation of what he may say next, as if he were expecting some force to conjure up the words for him. But unlike you, he was in full control of what he might say, or what he might decide to do next. His mouth closed, his face hardening. He felt a strange concoction of emotions spread inside him, like a bottle of several intoxicating alcohols mixed together in one glass had just been knocked over accidentally. It made him feel cold and warm all at the same time, and at once, his body began in an unexplainable tremble. Whether it was made up of excitement, shame, or paranoia, John couldn’t place his finger on it. You looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. Your patience wasn’t exactly part of the equation, partially preoccupied with clinging onto any semblance of comprehension skills you were left with; realistically, John could’ve spent hours sitting there thinking and you would’ve kept sitting there, waiting. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so anxious, darling. I was just scared someone might hear us.” John said. John felt that same sense of duality, that foreign feeling of embodying something or someone he wasn’t, taking their place when it wasn’t rightfully his to take. He buried any feelings of shame he might’ve felt from his conclusion, ignoring the morbid implications and possible grave impacts it would have on his relationships and life. He tied all those thoughts and feelings up like an ornately wrapped parcel and tossed it out the window; the possibility of those feelings being discovered once more was a question for a later time.

“No one’s gonna hear us, everyone’s outside celebrating.” You reassured, a smile returning to your face. John felt like an imposter in his own room, his own body. Like he walked into an intimate scene and surreptitiously took the place of Arthur while you weren’t looking. It was a moment of sick exultation for John. The knowledge that in his bed, he had something so near and dear to Arthur. Likewise, he also had something near and dear to him in his bed. His jealousy for Arthur’s relationship with you became a point of one sided contention in John’s head. It was something he’d never voice, not to anyone, and especially not to Arthur or you. But now that the opportunity presented itself to him, seemingly serving itself on a silver platter, he discovered a new variation of what it felt like to be in control. 

For one night, he’d be able to forget the envy he felt in seeing Arthur kiss or hold you; to forget the way his chest panged whenever he watched the two of you run off upstairs or into the woods, hand in hand, giggling while he was left to imagine all the lascivious scenes between you two; to forget the crushing shame he felt after having touched himself to the thought of you, so unbearably roused by watching you run off to engage in those aforementioned carnal acts, imagining himself in Arthur’s place. And he’d be able to entomb the feeling of remorse he felt when he thought of pillaging you while Abigail lay beneath him, who was left to wonder where all the passion he was exerting was coming from; oblivious to the fact that he was pretending she was you. 

“Yeah… You’re right…” John whispered, swallowing hard. He managed a shaky smile, letting his hands slide down your shoulders and rubbing soothing circles; with the amount of rubbing he did, it appeared as though he were doing it to calm himself down. 

“Now c’mon! Before someone does walk into the house!” Your playful remark nearly cemented a feeling of paranoia inside John, egging him on to act fast; lest he be forced to come up with some shoddy excuse as to why you were half naked in his bed. 

He looked at your hands as they made quick work of your button up shirt, part of him wanting to help but the other part of him remaining persistent in the thought that it wasn’t his place to. To calm his own nerves, he began fiddling with the buckle of his belt, halfway between undoing it and keeping it in place. You were hardly in the right state of mind to be paying his dallying movements any thought, tasked with the complicated act of undoing the final buttons of your shirt which was made harder tenfold by your clumsiness. 

“C’mon, help me out, Arthur!” You urged. John looked behind his shoulder to check for anyone, then around the room as if that aforementioned prank was still on the table. He reminded himself of the time crunch he was under, and skillfully undid your buttons before hastily sliding off your shirt.

John’s own refusal to shed his clothing was rooted in the feeling of vulnerability. Despite the fact he planned to have you barren before him, he did not want to risk being caught naked with you. The feeling of exposure would cause him to imagine all the painfully cringeworthy scenarios where someone would walk up the stairs and see his naked body above yours through the gaping hole in his wall. It allowed him some sense of security in knowing he would only have to scramble to dress you and not himself. 

With John’s assistance, you shimmied out of your skirt, the fabric pooling on the floor close to the bed. Only your heavy breaths and the rustling of your clothing was heard, and before long, you crossed your arms over your front and tugged the chemise over your torso and head. John was taken aback by your quickness to shed the garment, but remembered this must’ve been a routine act between you and Arthur; the thought left a sour feeling of jealousy in him. Though that jealousy was sweeped under the bed when he saw your breasts bounce before him hypnotically with each movement. You ran your hands up your sides before stopping to cup your breasts, teasing your own nipples to put on a show for John. 

John felt his cock jump in his pants, instinctively licking his lips at the sight. In the first forward act of the night, he confidently moved himself to sit closer before and squeezed your breasts, toying with the flesh with such fascination it was as if he was studying them to keep a permanent mental picture of them. His touches felt like he was trying to memorize what they felt like for the future with the knowledge that he may never get the opportunity to touch them again. He slapped your breasts slightly and reveled in the way the skin rippled with movement, before pushing them together and leaning his head down. He ran his tongue between the valley of your breasts, snaking his tongue between your cleavage and enjoying the sweaty warmth of your skin pressed up against itself. 

The sound of your breathy gasp as your body reacted in a full body shudder was the perfect kick in the center of John’s loins—here he was, with you in his bed and perfectly in control. You watched as the pink of John’s tongue flickered out to lick at your nipple before enveloping it fully between his lips. The scratchy roughness of his stubble made you giggle, only furthering your belief that this was Arthur. John lapped at your nipple and teased it with his incisors in an effort to get more whiny moans out of you, each sound a reminder that he was the one doing this to you and not Arthur. 

John traced open-mouthed kisses down your torso, every kiss that got closer to the down tuft of hair hidden away under your drawers exciting him the same way a kid would be excited from opening a gift in secret the night before christmas. Your body tipped back slowly, as if someone had nudged an unstable tower of building blocks, and crashed into the mattress, your head landing on John’s pillow. Your hands rested limply on your sides, but your sudden fall did not distract John from hooking his fingers into the cotton hem of your drawers, before pulling them down feverishly. 

A bush of hair concealed the squishy skin of your pelvis; the hair littered around your inner thighs and continued inward to your pubis. John wasted no time in nudging your legs apart, revealing the swollen wet rose that was your pussy. He raked two thumbs through the hair on either side, spreading your lips and further displaying your wetness to him. The sight of the shiny, soaked flesh made John’s cock throb, and he began grinding his hips into the mattress as he settled his body between your legs. He bathed your pussy in his warm breath before spitting on it, using his tongue to spread the glob of saliva. He moaned loudly as the taste of your cunt, releasing your lips from the hold of his tongue and allowing it to close around his tongue, effectively sandwiching it. He shuddered in ecstasy at the feeling alone, before he quickly got to work and lapped at you like a dog. You let out the occasional soft moan, going through bouts of silence before starting up again in small sounds. John sucked and ate you out with unmatched ferocity, unleashing years of desire of wistfulness with his tongue and mouth. You feebly bent your knee and lifted it, allowing John better access. But he quickly assisted you, hooking his hand below your knee and pushing your thigh to your chest. 

Your moans grew in volume as he sucked your clit skillfully, the small bud throbbing wildly in pleasure as he treated it like some sort of hard candy. The sloppy wet sounds of the act alone were enough to cause a full body blush, and you squirmed your heavy limbs as he continued. John abruptly shoved two fingers inside you, his movements irregular and drawn out, poking and prodding your insides as he ran his fingers along your gummy walls. His fingering was less like fingering and more like being examined by a doctor, like he was trying to memorize how your insides felt with his fingers alone. He retracted his fingers slowly, groaning at the sight of them slowly emerging from your wet hole. 

John stood from where he laid and stood next to the bed, peeking outside the hole in his wall before looking back at your body. You appeared spent despite the minimal actions of that night. Your limbs were splayed around the bed, your head resting limply to the left as you faced him. Despite your spinning head, the still moment allowed you to squint your eyes at John. Has Arthur’s hair always been this dark? Or was it a trick of the lighting? Was it the lighting that also made him appear less bulky? These were all questions you asked yourself as you laid there. The stationary moment of silence between you two as John stood over your naked body forced him to butt heads with his worst fear in the moment; a prospect so alarming he had refused to acknowledge it earlier; the possibility that you might recognize him. 

In an attempt to push that thought out of your heads, he began unbuckling his belt. The throbbing of his cock was nearly painful as he pulled it out from in between his zipper. John raked his fingers through your hair gently, gripping your roots softly and pushing your head towards the edge of the bed. He got some sort of comfort out of the idea that by shoving his cock in your mouth, it would temporarily disallow you to voice any queries of his identity. He prodded his tip against your lips, watching the pink on pink contact as you opened your mouth and allowed him to slide inside. He slid in slowly, throwing his head back at the feeling of your warm wet mouth hugging his cock. He kept going until his cock clicked past your tonsils and his balls met your chin. You kept your eyes trained on his naval, feeling that by not looking up you might be able to suppress your rising sense of panic. 

You continued your ministrations like you usually would, hollowing your cheeks and sucking as you tried your best to move your head in the position you were in. You fluttered your tongue on his underside, laying it flat against his head and teasing his frenulum with the tip of your tongue. John began thrusting into your throat, shoving a thumb in through the corner of your mouth to allow his cock more space to move. You made an effort to squeeze your thumbs and curl your toes, having to alternate your focus between pleasuring him and not vomiting all over his cock. You used your excess salivation as lube, the in and out motion of his cock becoming effortlessly easy with the smooth wetness. 

John let out a string of curses as you sucked him off, able to tell that this was a skill born out of practice. Though he couldn’t even be angry at the thought of you gaining this much skill from sucking Arthur off, especially when he got to enjoy it. 

John slid his cock out your mouth slowly, looking back down at your face to see if you had any resolve. Your eyes were fluttering open and closed, copious amounts of saliva running down the side of your mouth and pooling on his bed. You looked as though you were barely clinging onto consciousness. A fresh sense of guilt that John had previously been harboring came crashing through as he kneeled before you on the bed. He cupped your face and held it up, watching your glassy eyes as you tried to blink yourself awake. 

“C’mon…” You croaked. “Just do it already.” 

John swallowed hard at the words. The ambiguity of them left him feeling an uncomfortable sense of dread. Your eyes did not focus on his face, instead looking past him; you weren’t all there. He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled your lips to his, kissing you feverishly as you struggled to keep up. There was hesitance in your kiss, but you did so nonetheless. You had to admit, your mouths fit perfectly against one another, and despite the unfamiliar feeling of his lips as you tried to decipher whether or not this was Arthur, the one thing keeping you on the Arthur side of the fence was that the kiss felt so correct. You opened your mouth more, allowing John to shove his tongue inside your mouth and to memorize your mouth through that method as well. As much as John wanted to, he resisted biting your lip in the possibility that he might bust it and call forth questions from Arthur at a later time. 

John settled your head back onto the pillow before turning his sights down between your legs. His cock, still glistening with your saliva, bobbed with each movement mere inches from your pussy. He gripped the back of your knees again and pushed them to your chest, watching the way your core spread like a splitting heart. He released one knee and used that same hand to grip the base of his cock before guiding it to your molting hole. John barely noticed the way your body went limp as he slid inside, too entranced with the tight feeling of your pussy to realize you were bereft of any and all resistance. His eyes remained shut as he began to thrust, trying his best not to move too hard or fast to avoid the loud slapping of skin. 

His thrusts were careful and calculated, and his eyes trained on the movement of your body as he fucked you. You would occasionally come alive with a moan or twitch of your limb before dozing off again, but John was far too deep in his own world of pleasure. In your bouts of consciousness, you tried your best to pick your head up and look at John’s face, trying to make his face out in the darkness. Was this even your bed?

Though the realization couldn’t have been any more in your face, as when he brought his sweaty forehead to yours, his heavy labored breaths sounding like he was running from something, you realized your mistake. The recognition was almost sobering, as your eyes flickered around the room wildly without him noticing. You looked back at John’s face, your panic reaching its boiling point when you saw the striking scars across his face. 

A particularly hard thrust caused you to moan, A gasp that turned into a whiny wail. “John…!” 

There was a cold fear that spread through John’s shoulders, his thrusts slowing but never stopping. John questioned whether or not he had heard you correctly, too afraid to stop and ask you what you had said in fear that if you hadn’t already realized, you would then. Your clammy hands came up to grip his biceps, squeezing softly before nodding. John wasn’t sure what the nod meant, but he convinced himself it was a green light to keep going. He was roused to thrust harder, watching the way your breasts bounced hypnotically. 

It was your turn to feel a sense of shame and remorse, thinking to yourself how you could yell at John to stop but opting not to. You held onto a sense of curiosity as John fucked you, not helping the way you compared him and Arthur. John’s touches had been so hesitant initially, but grew in passion. And his skill was undeniable. Your proximity to both men allowed for a comparison between their bodies and highlighted miniscule physical differences that you might’ve not noticed or savored otherwise; the light smattering of freckles on Arthur’s nose and the nearly imperceptible scar on John’s forehead, Arthur’s deep collar bones and the fatty ripeness of John’s detached earlobes. 

Your box felt gaping and tender as John continued, wholly aware that you would not cum but enjoying any pleasure you felt nonetheless. Eventually, John pulled his cock out of you, and it was followed by the small slapping sound of hand on skin, the act of John squeezing out the rest of his desires for the night. You watched the way his cock shone in the moonlight as he fisted it, eventually spurting out copious ropes of cum on your belly and naval. His only form of marking you without leaving semi permanent evidence. You continued to lay there, watching John catch his breath in a full body heave. You made no movements to get dressed or even leave, being in no rush yourself. 

The only sounds in the room was John’s breath evening out, eventually calming down enough to breath through his nose. Your eyes followed his every movement, and he eventually settled into a sitting position next to you as he tucked himself back inside. 

You knew in the sidelong glances of John’s eyes that things would not be the same. He could not pretend that he didn’t know better.

Your last thought was that Shady Belle had never looked so dark.

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Taking What’s Not Yours - TV Girl

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption community #writing #red dead fanfiction #van der linde gang x reader #john marston x reader smut #john marston one shot #john marston rdr2 #john marston x reader #john marston smut #john marston #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader

[idyllghost]

Sneak peak at a lil something something I’m working on hehehe

(btw this is a companion piece for a fic I’m working on shhhh)

#leo.txt #my art #my artwork #tw smoking #tw weed #THE GIRLS ARE SHOTGUNNING #shotgunning jovier <3 #wip #work in progress #art wip #unfinished art #jovier #red dead redemption #john marston #javier escuella #rdr2 #javier fanart #javier red dead redemption #john marston fanart #John red dead redemption #rdr john marston #rdr Javier Escuella #red dead redemption fanart #this is a companion piece for a fic im working on

[arthurily]

?

#hidden talent <3 keep it hidden #more fics where arthur annoys the shit out of john and john is like “shut the fuck up.” please #red dead redemption 2 #john marston #arthur morgan #🦌🐺

[breeezytoast]

John: Why is everyone so obsessed with top or bottom? Honestly, I’d just be excited to have a bunk bed

Arthur:...

Arthur: I’m gonna tell him

Charles: Don’t you dare

#could you imagine John discovering the world of fan fiction #this reminds me of a charthur fic if you guess it you get my respect #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #incorrect quotes #john marston #charles smith #charthur

[outlaw-apologist]

RDR2 Writing Collection

Since it seems like I’m not stopping any time soon here’s an organized list of my RDR2 works. :) I’ll update this every time I write something else. REQUESTS CLOSED - Sorry really busy :’ ) I’ll come back someday

🌲 = New Story

How the Gang Kisses You

The Gang with a Plus Sized Lover

The Gang as Fathers

 The Gang’s Kinks and Fantasies 

 Valentine’s Day with the Gang

How The Gang Comforts You After a Nightmare

Micah’s Little Sister 

The Gang Catching Feelings for You

Bitter Sweet Goodbye - You Die in Their Arms

The Longest Night (Arthur x Fem!Reader)

Saved by the Gang - Your SO saves you from your kidnappers

Save Yourself - GN! Reader x Various (Arthur convinces you to leave the gang)

The Price of Cake - Charles x Reader 

Soulmates - Josiah x Reader

N/A

Ghost Riders - Reader x Arthur x Charles

#rdr2 #my writing #RDR2 Reader Insert #Arthur Morgan x Reader #john marston x reader #Dutch van der linde x reader #sean macguire x reader #kieran duffy x reader #Hosea Matthews x reader #Charles Smith x reader #Micah Bell x Reader #fics #requested

[vanderlesbian]

daughter of a cop

arthur morgan x fem reader

now playing: daughter of a cop - tv girl

— a short fic inspired by the tv girl song! this is my first actual piece of writing on this blog so i hope you guys enjoy it <3 i think i have a ghost fic planned that ill start working on soon :) (it may or may not be based off a mitski song)

warnings: slight suggestive content/references

masterlist

saint denis was the epitomy of growing industrialization. factories, tight neighborhoods, trolleys that didn't seem to care if someone was crossing the pavement, and most importantly; police. it wasn't a place for a man like arthur morgan to be lingering around, and he knew it. he didn't enjoy the city, anyways. it was congested, and there were far too many rules for an outlaw like him to follow. the constant glares from men in blue uniforms and silly hats irritated him—this was nothing like the west he was used to.

however, within saint denis, there was a spot where the police didn't go. a small saloon hidden within a maze of an alley way, disguised by the neighborhood homes that surrounded it, making it appear as just another residence. it was a place that arthur frequented, but not for any reasons that his fellow outlaws would think. he didn't go to gather intel, nor did he go to have chats with dutch. no, he went because of one thing. or, perhaps one person.

he went because of a woman.

he would never admit it to the others, for several reasons. one, he was simply just embarrassed over it all, but two, she was a woman of higher class. a young woman who wore a new dress each time he saw her, with her manners being rather formal compared to the sloppy outlaw, yet she never found his habits strange or uncivilized.

that woman was you, and you were nothing other than the daughter of a cop.

it was obvious that you liked arthur. from the way you let your hand linger on his bicep each time he made a silly remark, to always hushing him when he began to talk bad of himself, telling him that he was handsome and kind. though, arthur refused to believe that was the case. he tried not to show his own affection and often wrote notes to himself in his journal that he would never meet up with you again, but time and time again he made his way into that saloon, eyes searching for you in the crowd of other outlaws. he would curse himself for coming again, but all of his anxieties were eased the moment he saw you push through the saloon doors.

you stuck out like a sore thumb—or, to put in nicer words as arthur thought he should, perhaps a daisy in a field of clovers? the moon on a clear night? arthur crossed out several made up metaphors in his journal. whatever the metaphor was, you were different from the outlaw men that frequented the hidden saloon. you were full of life, clean, unscathed, and rather innocent. arthur noted the way your eyes widened each time he told you a story about his many days of being what he called "a bad man", and how you would bring a hand to your mouth as it fell into an 'o' shape from pure shock and surprise.

though, you were never scared of him, and that's something that arthur also took note of. you held some level of empathy for outlaws, for ones that come from challenging backgrounds. you had met arthur because he had saved you from a couple of strange men, and immediately you knew that he was a kind man. there was something about him that intrigued you, aside from the fact that you found him to be attractive, and you had made it your goal to get to know him.

"i know a place where the cops don't go." you had told him. before he could say anything, you grabbed his wrist and led him through that maze of alleys, leading him to the saloon that became your special spot.

"how do you know this place?" he had asked you the day you first took him. you simply shrugged and held a hushing finger to your lips. he chuckled, and you felt your cheeks grow hot.

eventually you had told him that you were the daughter of a police man. you expected him to get upset at that fact—and he did, but it wasn't anything serious. he furrowed his brows and questioned in a low voice if you were in on some kind of ploy to catch him, to which you sincerely told him that it was nothing of that sort. your father wasn't even aware of the fact that you were seeing this man with a five thousand dollar bounty hanging above his head. arthur didn't grow as upset as you expected him to because deep within himself, he had already trusted you. it was more of a natural instinct to grow suspicious of you, but immediately felt eased the moment you placed your hand on his knee and told him that you weren't working for your father.

so, arthur continued to visit you. he waited for your letters at his camp, and he also kept each one. the other members of the gang would raise eyebrows at the mysterious parcels, to which arthur would always bashfully shrug off with a "it ain't none of your business" before riding his horse into saint denis. what was originally one visit maybe every three weeks became one visit every week, then two, then the both of you simply began to walk into the saloon any time you felt like it in hopes of seeing the other already there.

both of you knew it was risky, yet neither of you cared. your father began to question where you were going, to which you always had an elaborate excuse. dutch would question why arthur was in saint denis so often, and he would reply with some half thought out lie that made dutch raise an eyebrow in return, but ultimately shrugged off. the two of you had even began spending time outside of the saloon, out in the open streets of saint denis. arthur was rather hesitant about it all, not wanting you to be seen with a man like himself, yet you insisted.

you took arthur to your favorite spots around saint denis; gardens and parks where you sat along the edge of a pond, and to theatres where you would watch whatever event was on that evening. accidental faint brushes of finger tips had become full blown hand holding, and each time before you would hop on the trolley to depart, you would place a kiss on the stubble growing on his cheek. it was this strange stage between the both of you, one where neither of you had admitted your feelings simply because both of you were afraid of the differences in your life, yet the feeling of his lips against yours was no longer a foreign feeling, and it simply kept growing.

perhaps it was just the both of you being eager and needy, but there were several instances where you had found yourself pressed against the wall of an alley way with arthur's large, calloused hands snaking up the skirt of your dress and running along the bare skin of your thighs. privacy hardly existed within the city which cornered you into sometimes uncomfortable spots, yet you couldn't ride out on the back of arthur's horse, especially with the increased questioning from your father. the blindness of the love you were experiencing with this outlaw had completely shrouded you from the fact that your father had begun investigating your whereabouts—not until the police had barged into that saloon that had stayed hidden for so long.

you saw your father among the uniformed men, making eye contact with his furious gaze. you were the one who had grabbed arthur and ran with him out the back door of the saloon, starting a chase that was probably much bigger than it should've been. arthur had called you insane as the two of you snuck through nooks and crannies in an attempt to make it back to his horse, but there was an obvious hint of amusement in his voice as he said it. you were a woman completely separated from the world of outlaws, yet you were a natural escape artist.

eventually making it to arthur's horse, the two of you attempted to flee the city. the adrenaline was something you had never felt before, and you could hear arthur's thumping heartbeat as your ear pressed against his back while you held onto him. the police held no guns upon your father's instructions, insisting that they capture arthur alive and keep you unharmed. though, their numbers quickly increased, and you began to see the concern growing in arthur's expression.

while guiding him through the streets, arthur suddenly took a different turn than what you had told him. the feeling of his horse coming to a sudden halt made you gasp, and you hardly had time to process as he dismounted his horse and held his arms out to help you off.

"come on." he told you, eyes glancing to the side to check for signs of the law. "you ain't coming with me."

stubbornly, you refused. it wasn't until the sounds of whistles began growing closer that you saw genuine concern in arthur's face, and you hopped off the horse into his arms without a word. however, when you peered back up at him, arthur was smiling; a smile that looked as if he were holding back a chuckle.

"you are one crazy woman." he told you in a hushed tone, lifting his worn hat from his head and placing it on yours before letting you go. "now get on out of here, you shouldn't be caught up in all this."

you immediately knew his hat was a sign from him telling you that he would see you again. it was too big for your own head and blocked your eyes from seeing his horse gallop away, but when you lifted it to look, the law was racing down a nearby street with arthur nowhere to be seen. a large smile spread across your face, and you couldn't help but giggle to yourself as you disappeared into the alleys between buildings, taking a complex path back home to avoid detection.

needless to say, your father wasn't pleased when he came home to you innocently prepping tea for yourself. you didn't listen to his nagging words; something about uncivilized people, chaos and getting involved with the wrong kind. however, your interest was finally piqued when you heard that arthur had been arrested.

"it wasn't his fault." you immediately told the man, forgetting about the boiling kettle. your father scoffed, but you continued to tell him that you were the one who made arthur flee. though, he didn't budge, raising his voice as he nagged you for getting involved with such a dangerous man.

the word 'dangerous' seemed to strike something within you, because you had yelled back that arthur had saved you. that evening, those two strange men, the way arthur held your shoulders and reassured you that you were alright; there was nothing dangerous about him in your eyes. you saw your father's expression lose it's anger, and it seemed that was when he noticed arthur's hat sitting loosely upon your head.

"what's that?" he asked, pointing at the tattered leather hat.

you shrugged. "a gift from a dangerous man."

arthur had stayed in the saint denis jail for two days. what he thought was his fellow gang members coming to bust him out ended up being you, a soft smile on your lips as you wrapped your fingers around the metal bars of the jail cell. his hat still sat on your head, making arthur chuckle at the sight of you.

"did you think i was going to leave you in a cell to rot?" you giggled, allowing space for a law man to unlock arthur's cell.

"thought i was gonna have to use other means to get out of here." arthur replied in an amused tone as he stood up from the metal slab that the jail called a bed. the law man cocked an eyebrow, to which arthur raised his hands in defense. "kidding, of course."

your father waited at the jail entrance, arms crossed and a dismissive look sprawled on his face. he was the one that had told the law men to set arthur free, you explained. arthur seemed rather flustered at that information; he didn't want to thank a cop. he figured a nod of the head was enough of an acknowledgement, though it only earned a cold glare from the older man.

"how the hell did you get that bastard—" he cleared his throat. "apologies, that fine man to let me out?" arthur questioned as the two of you left the jail. you playfully hit his arm at the comment, then shrugged your shoulders.

"i was honest. told him you saved me." you answered, lifting the hat from your head and placing it back onto it's owner. you brushed a strand of arthur's long blonde hair from his face and smiled. "there ya go, cowboy."

arthur rolled his eyes, tipping his hat downwards before replying. "you know, i enjoyed that little chase of ours." he told you, holding out his arm for you to link yours with. neither of you knew where you were headed off to; you simply strolled down the street as if nothing had happened. "but don't think about doin' something that stupid again."

"i did too, actually." you then admit with a chuckle, somewhat ignoring his nagging. "it makes things fun."

after the events of that rather chaotic day, your father agreed to leave that hidden saloon alone upon your pleading requests, and it once again became your favorite spot to frequent with arthur. the two of you did earn a bit more freedom to roam saint denis and it's outskirts, allowing the two of you to enjoy some privacy, and eventually express your true feelings for one another. however, there continued to be close encounters with the law every now and then simply because of arthur's antics with his rowdy gang, but it always ended in silly laughter and breathless kisses from running so much.

arthur wrote many things about you in his journal, mindlessly sketching portraits of you next to entries about how you enjoyed sneaking around the city after dark and running errands with him whenever possible. though, at the end of his entry, there was a phrase scribbled in his neat cursive:

she was the daughter of a cop.

#music is my biggest fic inspiration lol #arthur morgan #x reader #rdr2 #rdr #red dead redemption 2 #fluff #dutch van der linde #charles smith #john marston #fem reader #tv girl #imagine #oneshot

[wisteriadumster]

Meadows ❥ John Masrton

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John Marston x Female Reader

CW➻❥ drinking★smoking★unprotected sex★oral m! receiving★creampie★if I missed anything lmk!➻❥

WC➻❥1,525➻❥This isn't well proof read so any mistakes or odd things are purely accidental.

Summary➻❥ Somehow John managed to think of a cute little date, a drink in a flower meadow. With liquor down your system and some growing attraction, one thing led to another. Who knew a cute Pinterest date could evolve into you riding John Marston like a horse. Even after sex he needs more of you.

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*✧･ﾟ:* WisteriaDumster original work.*:･ﾟ✧*

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"This is awfully romantic of you," the words spill out as you watch John set down a tattered blanket. "I wouldn't say that, I just, had a fun idea." He turns back to his horse, "and besides we're just drinking, does drinking have to be romantic?"

He pulls two bottles of bourbon out, you laugh. "You're telling me that being in a flower meadow with a blanket set out doesn't scream romance?" The scoff in your voice is apparent.

His hand helps you sit on the scratchy cover.

"Why did you even agree to do this with me?" He hands you a freshly open bottle of bourbon. "I don't know, a nice escape, a haven, or something stupid," you shrug before taking a hard swig.

"So this was stupid idea?"

"Surprisingly no, the offer is much appreciated." You roll your eyes, he smiles as his bottle touches his lips.

A thought crosses your mind again, it had come when he first asked you, Abigail.

This time you finally decided to ask.

"Won't Abigail be upset?"

He smiles, "we're not together are we?" Another sip of his bourbon goes down.

You set your own bottle in the grass, and start to crawl over towards John. "So that means I can do this right?" Your faces are close, you sit on your ankles and feet, right before cupping his face and pull him in for a kiss.

He doesn't deny it and cups yours, pushing you down to lay against the blanket.

His kisses were sloppy and persistent, like he had been wanting this longer than you have.

His body finally on top yours, his leg swinging over your hip, covering the bright sun rays.

His hands are practically glued to you as his elbows hold his body, his thumbs caressing your cheeks so delicately but so rough because of his calluses.

Your hands aren't much different, well maybe not glued to his cheek, but still glued.

They unbuttoned his vest, trying to pry for his shirt underneath, to reach the goal of his bare chest.

You go back to his cheeks and with pushing you manage to make him roll over, bringing you back on top.

The kisses are paused as you both unbutton restricting clothing.

He admires your breasts as the last button pops from its place, you are unfazed and finish the last button of his own shirt.

You go back for more kissing, unable to leave the taste of leftover liquor and tobacco.

His hands cup your breasts over your underwear, teasing to pull it down.

You let a soft moan go into his lips, you feel his whole body shudder, telling you how horny he truly was.

"I need you," John whispers as you pull back to pull down your undershirt. "Well have me then," you scoot down his legs.

You place your pointer and middle fingers down at the top of his chest, slowly they come down to the buttons of his jeans.

"Should I, or would that be unholy," you tease.

"Never claimed to be a Saint." He removes his gun belt and slides it off, your hands opening up his jeans. The sight of red fabric and more buttons greets you, his hard cock throbbing to be out.

You glide your hand up and down, an unexpected groan leaving him from the sudden touch.

While you continue to tease him, he lights a cigarette and takes a hard drag.

You finally start to unbutton, his cock springing out.

You stare at the size, surprised that he managed to have all that.

You don't waste time letting some spit come out and onto his tip.

Groans and smoke leave his lips as you suck, every time your head bobbed to the top you'd swirl and twist your tongue around his head which would almost release a whimper from John every time.

"Don't stop whatever you're doing," but you do, "I have better qualities than just that."

You get off his legs and remove your skirt and lingering underwear.

Taking the cigarette from him and as it sits in your mouth, you get on top, cowgirl style.

You tried not to react but couldn't hold it, the cigarette falling from your mouth as you gasp, a cloud of smoke following behind.

John is quick to grab the cigarette and finish it off before flicking it into the grass.

His attention directs back to you as your hands go on his ribs, his grabbing your hips.

Slowly you begin to go up and down, taking the pace calmly, adjusting to his size moving inside of you.

The palms of your hands dig into his for support as the speed increases.

Much like your lack of not reacting you can't be quiet, but there's no one around for miles.

After adjusting he starts to move his own hips, doing his best to move them in a circle, something he learned was a real winner, and it definitely was.

Somehow you were managing to get faster and faster, your moans getting louder and louder turning into awfully horny screaming.

John isn't quiet either, groans and grunts are leaving him as you wrap around his cock tightly.

"Oh god I think I'm gonna cum," you manage out as your nails start to dig into his shoulders.

You leaned down, your tits smacking his chest if they managed enough speed.

A hand left your hip as John pushes your head down, kissing you again.

The kiss is hard to keep with lots of noise coming out, you stay for as long as your body could handle it.

You go back up, your palms pushing into his ribs again as your head hangs back. The sun is bright, not a cloud in sight, you look back to John, he's not gonna make it much longer than you will.

And just like that your climax hits, the loudest and longest moan leaves your chest, every nerve in your body gives out, your body falling onto his chest. John grips your hips even tighter and continues to fuck you, thrusting even harder through your climax.

Just as your high is ending the sudden feeling of being filled takes you, much like you his groan is loud. "Holy fuck," He lifts his head up to look down, only for it fall back down.

You move your head from his shoulder and neck and kiss him.

His cock twitched inside you still, "I've never enjoyed being a sinner more than right now." He lets out and you roll off him, you look at him, the sun making his sweaty body look extra delicious.

"That was probably the best sex I've ever had." Your chest is rising up and down fast, your pants are quiet somehow.

"I need a drink, Jesus," he sits up, and looks around at the mess of the blanket: clothes everywhere, a new cigarette burn, a spilt bottle of precious bourbon, and two extremely satisfied people.

John leans over to your bottle that sat nicely in the grass. He takes a swig and looks to you, he raises the bottle and puts it near you, basically asking if you'd like any.

You sit up and grab the bottle, as you finish the last of the alcohol, John stares and admires every bit of your body.

"Instead of sitting there looking like a pretty little lady, would you mind help cleaning up?"

He laughs and takes the empty bottle from you, "I don't know, I'm quite tired from that run you had on me, might need assistance." Your eyes roll before he can even finish his sentence.

You kneel in between his legs and stare down, "I've done nothing and you're hard again?" He laughs out the smoke from his newly lit cigarette, "next time." The sheer disappointment and just utter shock hits him like a brick. You roll some fingers up and around his cock for a few minutes, his body quivering, still trying to recover from his previous cumming.

Before anything can advance you tuck away his dick, slowly turning limp.

"Did you really just do that?" Disbelief covers his face, "I really just did." You finish buttoning his red undercover, smoke comes into your direction, "asshole."

You finish buttoning his jeans and stand up, "you can do your own shirt and vest." You walk over and steal the cigarette from him once again.

Finally John's fully dressed, this time dressing you. His eyes can't leave your cleavage as he buttons it up with your blouse.

"Can you hurry we've got to go,"

"Let me enjoy this one last time." John finishes and fixes your collar, "who said this would be the last time?" You tease with a look that sends John over the moon. "Oh you keep me hungry, I may need a bite again tonight," he moves in and kisses your neck, little bites send several sensations throughout your body.

You slide back and look down, "we can't, seriously."

The ride back was quiet: small talk about the gang, bits of flirting thrown in.

Oh you couldn't wait for what he held in for tonight.

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#fanfic #fanfiction #writing #john marston #smut #red dead fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #john marston smut #john marston fic #john marston fanfic #john marston rdr2

[coweyloaf]

So, the pull has ended and the fics you picked were:

✨Characters reaction to finding out your a toe walker

And

⭐Roller skating with characters modern AU

For anyone wanting another Rdr2 character just keep in mind Im only writing mxm so please suggest male characters :))

Edit: I accidentally put Kieran down twice, ignore that, I'll add up the percentage for him when it's over

#rdr2 fic #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 x male reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 #red dead fandom #red dead #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #kieran duffy #javier escuella #dutch van der linde #sean macguire #lenny summers #hosea matthews #bill williamson #john marston

[dazednstoned]

The people claiming it was rude Abigail didn't thank John after he rescued Jack never fail to aggravate me. He saved his own son after neglecting him and Abigail for years. If anything, he owed her a thank you for raising his kid for years.

Yes, that moment was the start of his redemption as a father, but that doesn't mean Abigail needs to praise him for doing what any decent parent would.

#she also did thank him later on #but like she did not need to #I love John don't get me wrong #but saving Jack wasn't some amazing selfless move #I'm writing this bit for my fic and I need to defend my wife #john marston #abigail marston #abigail roberts #rdr2

[megbimbo]

john marston; stitch me up, buttercup

a/n; mfw i go into a coma after every post, anyways this has been collecting dust for ages and i don't know why i didn't post it? figs def helped me write it tho. props. I FORGOT TO MENTION ty for also being an awesome photographer @thisfanisgonesorry hugs!!

cw; john takes care of you after a cougar attack, he's a bit of a grumpy pants. fluff.

wc; 1730

You rested your head on Arthur’s back as your arms stayed wrapped tight around his waist, trying to not wince or groan as he rode you into camp, Charles close behind. Blood was coating your entire lower half, a good portion of your pant legs being ripped away from your body. Camp was getting closer, you could tell, the familiar scenery that surrounded your temporary home becoming visible to you.

Shifting slightly, you lifted your head off of Arthur, who had been silent the entire ride back besides the occasional panic, bickering, and checking if you were alright. You groaned at the movement.

“We nearly there?” You mumbled, just loud enough for him to hear you. The sunlight peeked through the trees, almost blinding you entirely.

Arthur exhaled. “Almost, you alright?”

“I think so.” He nodded, Charles coming closer to the two of you to speak.

His smile was sincere, trying to cover the obvious concern on his face. “How’re you feeling, y/n?”

“Like hell, but I’ll be ‘right.”

“John won’t like hearing about this,” he said, raising his brows and looking over to Arthur.

In response, Arthur chuckled, the vibrations sending shivers as you rested your head on his back once again. “He ain’t gotta find out.”

Raising a brow, you took a mental note of the severe pain you were in, extremely doubting Arthur’s words. “Not find out that I’m covered in blood? Really? Camp ain’t blind.”

He nodded, fully aware, though he didn’t say anything. Probably exchanged a glance or two with Charles.

You closed your eyes, the ambience of camp coming into earshot. Probably the usual bickering and people crowding around the campfire, like usual. Made you wonder how they’d feel when they saw you. “I don’t want no trouble,” you said. “Just wanna get some rest.”

Arthur mumbled something in agreement, as Charles moved in front, probably to shield whoever was around. You lifted your head, acknowledging your surroundings. Everyone was either at the campfire, playing poker, or doing chores. It was then that you noticed John tending to the horses, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to hide your quite obvious injury.

It seemed neither Charles or Arthur could, either. The minute they both went to go hitch their horses, he immediately noticed, stopping the two of them, which included you on the back, dead in their tracks. Whether he noticed the blood or you first, who knows, but he didn’t look pleased. The hay bale he was holding hit the ground with a ‘thump’ as he dropped it, storming over. Tears began to form in your waterline as you turned your head away, knowing you wouldn’t be able to bear his reaction.

Charles tried to make conversation with him, meanwhile you sobbed quietly as Arthur poorly tried to comfort you. “Shh, we can’t have him knowin’ ‘bout this.” He knew there wasn’t a lot he could do, but he was trying his damn best.

Eventually, he sighed, as John approached the two of you. You turned your head back to face him, the tears streaming down your face as you were drenched in your own blood. He looked pained to see you.

“Y/n? Who did this?” he snapped, his raspy voice making it all the more intimidating, as he stared holes through his metaphorical brother.

“We went on a hunt, as you know, and, well.. it didn’t go all too well.” He wasn’t wrong. There was a cougar worth good quality that the three of you were set on killing before anyone else could. You each split up your own ways, your dumbass going the way towards the predator. Before you could even defend yourself, it attacked you, leaving you practically near death as the two men tried to shoot it, but it simply left. “Cougar, it was. The one we wanted.”

John immediately reached for you, helping you to dismount Arthur’s horse, as he wrapped his arm around you, supporting your weight because he knew damn well you wouldn’t be able to walk anywhere alone. “Did you kill it?” he asked, glancing around to notice no one else was nearby, taking a few steps away as he glanced at you, frowning.

“Well.. No.”

His eyes widened as his brows raised, looking absolutely gobsmacked. “You’re fucking kidding me? Y/n nearly DIED and you didn’t KILL THE FUCKING THING?!”

“John-”

“No, no! That’s the most bullshit I ever heard outta you!” he said, raising his voice and throwing his free hand up. “Someone nearly got killed, and you’re just gonna let the fucker live? You’re outta your GODDAMN MIND!” 

Hearing the commotion, some of the camp rushed over, including Dutch. “What the hell’s going on?” 

“Three of ‘em went hunting’, not only did Y/n nearly get killed but they didn’t even kill anything! Dumb bastards can nearly get a girl killed but not bring any game!” John yelled, the music from Dutch’s monograph in the faint background.

“Sort it out, will you? I shouldn’t have to parent grown men,” Dutch plainly said, not paying you any mind, and walked off, the rest of camp lingering to see what happens next. Hosea walked after him, most likely to have a talk about the interaction that just happened.

Now that he was gone, John took the opportunity to get closer to Arthur’s face, speaking in a hushed tone. “I don’t care if you nearly die doin’ it, but you’re both goin’ back out there and you’re not coming back till it’s fuckin’ dead.” To which he simply nodded, said something to Charles about ‘leaving these two be,’ and they both turned, riding out of camp and back into the wilderness they just returned from. You could hear Charles mock Arthur, saying ‘John ain’t gotta find out,’ as they did so.

He turned you towards his tent, slowly walking the two of you there, enjoying the silence, but most of all, your presence. Whether he’d like to admit it or not, he knows you could’ve died out there, and he’s grateful to have you. When people would approach, asking what was wrong, he’d hush them and say he had it covered. As the two of you approached his tent, he opened it, sitting you down on his cot, taking the moment to really take in your state.

“John, he was hurt too. You didn’t have to do that,” you said, weakly putting a hand out to grab his wrist.

He took note, sitting down on the bed next to you, staring into your eyes as he wiped the tears and blood off of your face. “He’ll manage, love. I’m worried about you. I mean, look ‘atchu. Still pretty, of course, but beyond fucked up.” Reaching to grab a box, he gave you a peck on the lips, opening it and grabbing out a few items, setting them down on his lap. “I’m gonna have to stitch you up, that alright?” You nodded, as he grabbed a cloth, dunking it in a bucket of water, as he cleaned the blood off of you in a nearly tender way. “You’re gonna be alright, I promise.” John’s voice that was yelling a few minutes ago had quietened down to soothe you, occasionally kissing you.

Afterwards, he picked up a different rag, dousing it in whiskey before using it to disinfect your wound. When you’d clench your teeth, or ball your hand into a fist, he’d notice, mumbling quiet words of praise

You smiled softly, looking down at the deep wounds. “You don’t have to do this, y’know.”

“‘Course I do,” he grinned, in an almost joking way, as he reached for a needle and a thin string. “Had to do this to myself, you’re lucky I’m a professional now.”

“You should be a doctor.”

“Hell no,” John responded, laughing for a moment, starting to stitch your wounds up. Occasionally, you’d make a squeamish face or grit your teeth together, to which he spoke in an attempt to comfort but also lighten the mood. “Got mauled by wolves ages ago. Hurts like a bitch, don’t it?” “You don’t say,” you commented in response. You remembered hearing briefly about this, but most of the camp agreed to not bring it up. He chuckled quietly, but didn’t comment.

John’s dark eyes softened as he continued to take care of you, humming to himself as he cleaned your wounds and stitched them. The warm lighting from the lantern shining on him in just the right way, and when he finally finished, he sighed.

“How’s that?” he smiled, putting everything back in the box and setting it aside once again.

“Still feel like hell, but better.”

He nodded, muttering a ‘good, good’ as he got up, grabbing a pair of his pants from his wardrobe, setting them down on the bed. “Wear those instead.”

Instead of trying to argue, you did just that, casually changing in front of your lover, even though he promised to not look, standing in a corner with his back to you. When you gave him the clear, he got back on the cot, laying down and tapping next to him. “You should rest.”

“In your tent?”

“Yes, in my tent. I don’t bite.”

“Bet those wolves did.”

He seemed taken aback by your joke, but laughed anyway. “I’m being serious. You need sleep.” You gave in at the promising offer of cuddling up next to John, as you laid in his arms, his hands running through your hair. 

“John?”

“Hm?” he said, looking down at you.

“Know I’ve said it a hundred times, but you didn’t have to do all of this for me.”

In the moment, he brought a finger to your lips. “Shh, let me feel proud, buttercup.” To which you nodded, and the two of you cuddled in peace.

Suddenly, he spoke up, breaking the silence.“You’re so pretty, you know that?”

“Really?” You whispered, looking up at him, as he looked head over heels for you.

“Yeah. Even when you’re all bloodied up, ya still look perfect.” He mumbled, pausing briefly, before continuing his love drunken ramble. “Just glad to have you, that’s all. Happy nothing worse happened.” You snuggled into his touch at his sweet words, as you dozed off in his arms, knowing that even if you didn’t get the cougar, you instead had John Marston all to yourself.

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 hcs #john marston #john marston x you #john marston x reader #fluff #comfort fic #mentions of arthur and charles #john is very kind #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fluff

[pluto-rainstorm]

New fic!! 🤠

#ao3: plutorainstorm #charthur #johnigail #rdr2 #modern au #arthur morgan #john marston #charles smith #abigail roberts #hosea matthews #bessie matthews #rdr2 fic #red dead redemption 2 #ao3 fanfic

[idyllghost]

Johnigail lovers come get your juice

#I’m insane I actually did it #leo.txt #leo talks to the void #leo talks into the void #leo screams into the void #fanfiction #fanfic by me #my writing #john marston #red dead redemption #abigail marston #johnigail #rdr2 fanfic #rdr fanfiction #Johnigail fanfic #red dead redemption community #THE MARSTON DAUGHTER IS MENTIONED BTW #fluff fic