Price who groans low and heavy when he grinds his cock deep into your weeping cunt. You gasp and nearly choke when you feel the tip of his dick rubbing against that soft little pink ring under your womb.
“There we go— that’s the kind of welcome-home-kiss Daddy wants from now on, baby.”
Your teeth are sunken into the pillow under your head, the wet slap of his balls against your puffy cunt lips audible under all of your whimpering.
“Poor thing. Can’t take it when Daddy’s knocking on your nursery door, lovie? Been saving up all these months I’ve been away, darl’. Got a nice, warm load that’ll make y’feel all better…. You just gotta let. Daddy. In.”
summary: after fighting all day, Charles comes back to camp eager to "see" you.
pairing: charles smith x f!reader
rating: explicit! (mdni)
word count: 2.8k
warnings: it's just smut. With feelings. Charles and reader are in a relationship of some sort. Very horny and feral Charles. Rough piv sex, vaginal fingering, kissing, allusion to oral sex. Mentions of blood and violence. Spoilers (sort of) for chapter 3 mission Magicians for sport. English isn't my first language, sorry for the mistakes. Pics are mine, except for Charles that i found on Pinterest. Title from the song Call of the heart, by Intrigue. Not proofread cause I am too tired. Dividers by @/olenvasynyt
a/n: This user (me) got possessed by the smut spirit after seeing this picture of Charles... so idk, i wanted to write some simpler smut again. And we can never get enough of Charles Smith smut sooo yay! I hope it's good and you all enjoy!
Thank you to my magical baby @thedilfdiaries for being my draft once again, and for helping with the moodboard choice, I love you so very much 💙❤️✨. And to my pretty @mezzaninebeetle55 thank you for hearing my horny thoughts about this man and for your support, love youuu honey🫂🫶🏼
The rain of bullets keeps echoing through Charles’ mind as Taima leads him back to camp, clouds of red dirt rising around them. He left the battlefield more than an hour ago, parting ways with Arthur as soon as they were far enough from the makeshift army sent by the Braithwaites. The adrenaline rush from today’s events hasn’t settled yet. Charles’ whole body is tensed as a bowstring.
It was a close call for them, especially for Arthur. If it wasn’t for Charles’ composure and swiftness, the other outlaw would be laying dead in a corn field.
Arthur wanted to pay Charles a drink, as a thank you for saving his life today, but Charles politely declined. He only needed to say your name out loud for Arthur to understand. He gave Charles a knowing smile before taking the south road to Saint Denis. You’d be worrying sick if neither of them was back before the nightfall, their absence would definitely mean that something went wrong. And Charles needs you. After this failed encounter with death, you’ve been plaguing his mind, rendering him restless.
Charles tightens his grip on Taima’s reins, only noticing the state of his hands. The blood shines on his split and bruised knuckles from the beat up they inflicted those bounty hunters earlier. His brown vest has turned a shade darker, burgundy dots spilled all over the fabric. His shirt isn’t in a much better condition. You’re probably gonna be mad for all the scrubbing that it will take to make his clothes look clean again.
His mind is suddenly filled with images of you crouched over the basin, a pile of wet clothes seated next to you. You slowly rolled your sleeves up your forearms, smiling at the warm sun pouring down your silhouette. You didn’t see him sitting there that day, cleaning his shotgun away from all the agitation that comes with having to cook lunch for so many people. Charles completely forgot about the oil and the rag resting on his lap. The buttons of your shirt were opened, far too low for a fine lady like you, the lines of your breasts taunting Charles like never before. Every time you moved your hands down the washboard, pushing up your chest, he tried to look away, heat seizing his entire being. Reality blurred and suddenly he was tracing a path of kisses along your exposed cleavage, torturously slow, losing his mind at the way you were panting, your chest rising as you took a jerky breath every time his lips parted from your skin. “Charles” Your soft voice moaned as Charles' face nuzzled further down your open shirt, his nose brushing the side of your perked nipple. “Charles…” The metallic sound of his shotgun hitting the ground made him jump. Charles' eyes focused on you again. You were still doing laundry by the water, smiling at him and beckoning for him to come closer. Charles stood up and walked to you, trying hard not to trip on his own feet. You looked up at him, asking questions about his shirt and the deep cut you found in it, and if he wanted you to mend it for him. He nodded, feeling his heart soaring at the way your lips stretched into a soft smile every time your eyes set on him. He knew right there and then that you probably cast a spell on him. The kind that makes a strong man like him weak in the knees every time he gets the chance to sit close to you, to talk to you, to touch you. You became his every thought, and the sole vision of you made his heart race, a feeling he had never been familiar with.
It’s the reason why he races back to you. He caresses Taima’s mane, slowing down as the path leading to camp appears in front of them.
Javier’s shadow becomes neater as Charles rides through the bushes.
“Who’s there?” Javier asks gruffly.
“It's me, Charles” Taima comes to a halt beside him.
“Where’s Arthur?”
Charles dismounts his mare, replying in a rush while leading the animal to the hitching post. Javier was about to ask the other man a second question, but Charles was already gone when he turned around. He flicks his rifle back on his shoulder and focuses on his guard duty once again.
Charles doesn’t have the time. He needs to find you. He strides through camp, boots thumping heavily on the dirty soil, quickly scanning the place; eyes never stopping long enough on the people surrounding him, afraid that an extended stare would become an invitation for a late afternoon small talk. He doesn’t have the time for this. He could ask them where you are, but Charles doesn’t need people prying. He walks to the tent you share with the girls. No books in sight, no sewing kit either, that means you’re probably in his shared tent with Bill and Hosea. You’ve taken the habit of taking naps there, pretending that it was a better spot, something about the soil… and the peace. Mary-Beth, Karen and Tilly are spending most of their time yapping in the women’s tent, which can be inconvenient when you’re trying to catch up with your sleep. They gave you an earbashing the first time they caught you there, but quickly suspected something was going on between you and Charles… But you aren’t there either, only a pile of clean clothes belonging to him.
Noise of agitation reaches Charles' ears. It’s Trelawny finally coming back. Everyone runs towards him, ready to help him with his injuries.
Charles takes advantage of the sudden commotion to walk down the path leading to the lake without being noticed, hoping to find you somewhere along the shore.
A gust of wind brushes the side of your face, a fallen strand of hair tickling your skin. You pause, trying to tuck it behind your ear as best as you can, when you suddenly feel a familiar warmth enveloping your body. You smile, leaning back into the man you just spent your entire day thinking about.
Charles fell into steps behind you quietly a couple of minutes ago, and he thought you didn’t notice. You looked so carefree, hair flowing with the wind, skirt swifting as you walked, a single white flower held between your fingers. He admired your beauty for a moment, debating if he should disturb your peace or not, but he couldn’t help but to walk to you, the mere sight of your silhouette awakening the hunger he carries for you deep inside of him.
Charles’ hands hold your hips firmly, stopping you from turning to face him. He pushes your hair to the side, revealing your bare neck to his lips. You shiver when he kisses you.
“I was afraid to scare you, sneaking up on you like that” Charles murmurs, before he closes his mouth on your soft skin again.
“I knew you were following me”
“How come?”
“The wind told me” You reply softly, and Charles laughs against the column of your throat, leaving open mouth kisses there. “Charles…” You breathe out, turning your head in an attempt to kiss him. But he doesn’t let you, leading you to the woods instead.
“Where are we going?” You giggle as you walk clumsily, Charles arms wrapped around your shoulders. You try to turn around, desperate to see him, but he stops you, pressing your ass against his crotch, the hardened shape of his cock poking you through the fabric. You gasp when you feel him, heat seizing your face.
Fallen leaves crunch underneath your feet as you walk deeper into the clearing. The birds are singing their praises to the evening light. Charles flips you around and kisses your lips, slowly caging you against the first tree he sees.
You’re breathless, adjusting against the rough bark of the tree, trying to touch Charles’ chest, needing to feel him underneath your fingertips.
You try to help him out of his vest but stops when Charles suddenly hisses against your lips.
Your eyes snap open, looking at him, retreating your hand from his bicep carefully. You hold your fingers in front of you, noticing the blood stain on your skin.
“Charles that’s… you’re bleeding” You warn him, hands unbuttoning his shirt quickly to take a better look at the damages.
“Just a graze, nothing to worry about” He retorts, pushing you back against the tree. He wraps a hand around your neck, letting his thumb brush your pulse point, and kisses you deeply again, tongue battling with yours as you continue getting rid of his shirt.
“Let me see” You protest when he parts from your mouth to catch his breath.
When he leans over you to kiss your neck instead, his hands fiddling with the buttons of your shirt, you cup his face and pull him away.
“Charles. I am serious.” Your tone has lost its lightness this time, and Charles has no choice but to concede.
“Fine” He sighs, annoyed, but you can see that it doesn’t turn off the lust in his eyes though, and you have a hard time staying still while watching him take off his shirt right in front of you, his chest heaving from earlier kisses. He looks glorious, skin shining lightly from the sweat and the evening sun.
But it’s only now that you realize the bloodied state he is in.
“Charles. We need to take care of this” You frown in concern, scanning his whole body in search of other injuries.
“This is not my blood” He replies smugly, seizing your hand in his.
“Well this….is very much yours” You press your finger into his wound again, deliberately this time, and rien raise your hand in front of him. Charles almost whines from the pain, but doesn’t say anything.
“We should go back to camp, I’ll patch you up” You step aside, glancing at his naked arm, already visualizing how you are going to stitch him up.
Charles’ hand grabs yours, stopping you from walking away. He pulls you to him, and silences your protests with another bruising kiss. This time he leaves you disoriented.
“This can wait… But I…I need you now. Please” Charles says in between kisses, his hands finishing to unbutton your shirt.
Your heart is pounding in its cage, and a wave of desire forces you to surrender. The sight of him so desperate to have you here now, the feeling of his lips, his hands on your skin… You would be a crazy woman to deny the both of you such a pleasure.
“Okay… But then you’ll let me…”
Charles silences you, his lips swallowing the last words of this sentence.
Your back hits the tree once again, and this time Charles hands are exploring more of your skin. He fondles your breasts while kissing your neck, and you hurriedly free him from the confines of his pants. His hard cock springs free and you start to stroke him languidly as Charles’ mouth suckles at your nipples.
You moan his name when it starts to feel too much, the need to feel him touch your pussy burning low in your stomach. You quicken your pace, stroking his cock a little faster, and Charles smashes his lips against yours.
“My darling… you should stop or I won’t last” He says, almost quivering. You let go of his length, gathering your skirt around your waist, and sliding down your bloomers with one hand. Charles’ cock twitches at the vision of you, flushed and desperate against that tree, lips parted as you pant little pleas. Charles’ hand cups your cunt. He smears the wetness on his fingers before inserting two of them inside of you.
“You’re so warm, so wet for me…I wish I had the time to put my mouth on you” He whispers in your ear, quickening his pace.
“Next time… Whenever you want but right now I am close, Charles…so close” You whine, out of breath.
Charles grants your wish, drawing circles on your clit with the pad of his thumb. You come undone on his hand, and Charles doesn't let you catch your breath nor come back to your senses. He turns you around, and you find yourself face against the tree, forced to put your hand underneath your cheek to avoid getting any scratches.
Your scent, the sounds you are making for him, the feeling of your warm cunt, everything about you is driving Charles crazy right now, and he can’t take it anymore.
He spits in his hand covered in your wetness and strokes his cock with it, asking you to hold your skirt a little higher. You do as he says and arch your back, the hot air blowing on the naked skin of your thighs. Charles’ cock brushes your ass as he grips your hips firmly, his hand caressing your lower back. You are soaked, cunt pulsing in anticipation of having him filling you up. One of his fingers trails down the back of your thigh, and you shiver, bucking your hips backwards.
“I thought you needed me…” You start saying, but the sentence turns into a high pitched moan as Charles eases his cock inside of your pussy, slowly.
"I’ve been thinking about this for the whole ride back, trust me" He says, amazed by the way you are stretching around him. His hold on your waist is firm, and he takes his time to push as much of his length as he can.
You cry out, definitely not prepared enough to take him fully. Charles shushes you, ordering for you to breathe and relax, and enjoying the contraction of your cunt around his member as you do. He could come right here, just by being inside of you. But he wants to drag it out, just for the sake of hearing you beg for him to fuck you harder.
You wiggle your ass a little, silently waiting for Charles to move, waves of pleasure flooding your lower stomach again. Charles pulls back a little, before slamming his hips back into you. You moan again, with each thrusts of Charles cock deep inside of you.
“Oh Charles it’s too much…” You whine, peering at him over your shoulder.
“You gotta relax for me” He replies as he trusts into you again, getting close to bottoming out in your cunt. He lets one of his hands caress your sides, before groping your breast, pinching at your nipple. You throw your head back against the tree, nodding and repeating how good it feels, close to frenzy.
It’s dizzying, and shutting your eyes does nothing to temper down the overwhelming feeling of being fucked roughly by him.
“Charles… Take what you need and fuck me harder, please” You moan, lifting your head from the tree, holding yourself with two hands against the bark as you back up into him.
“I got you, I got you, I am just… Oh gosh you just feel so good” A deep moan escapes his throat as he adjusts his position to hold you more firmly, and makes you rear bounce on his cock.
The grip of his fingers on your soft skin is hurting you deliciously, and the pain combined with the weight of his cock twitching inside of you is going to make you come again.
You slide one of your hands down your skirt, and touch your clit as Charles bucks his hips into yours mercilessly, each thrust making your tits bounce, completely spilling out of your shirt.
There is nothing else in this world but the smell of sweat, blood and cum, the sounds of your whines and Charles’ pants, the feel of his skin against yours, as you bring each other to the edge.
You clench around him as you come, coating his cock in your wetness. Charles twitches inside of you and pulls out slowly before it’s too late. You keep chanting his name as you catch your breath, a little disappointed not to feel him spill deep inside of you. Charles can’t hold it anymore when he watches you, leaned against the tree, completely disheveled. He moans your name and shoots his cum on your ass, soothing the freshly bruised skin of your hips with the tip of his fingers.
You’re still struggling to keep your balance, catching your breath, when you feel Charles cleaning you up with his discarded shirt, and putting your bloomers and skirt back into place.
You slowly stretch back into a normal position, not in any rush to readjust your shirt and button it up. You smile as Charles pulls you towards him and kisses you.
“That was… what happened to you?” You giggle against his lips.
“Just… I missed you a lot I guess” He replies, bashfully. “Thank you” He adds as you press a kiss on his cheek.
“Let’s get cleaned up and we will take care of this new injury, I will try to turn it into a nice scar” You cup his face in your hands and caress his scar with the pad of your finger.
Charles takes your hand in his and leads you to the lake, stopping to pick up the flower you let fall when he led you away earlier.
“Come here” He motions for you to stop and tucks it under a strand of hair, before cupping your chin and tilting your head up to kiss you deeply.
a/n: thank u so much for reading! Consider leaving a reblog or a comment, they are always making my day 🥰
Hi, I saw your requests are open and I just wanted to ask for headcanons (sfw, nsfw) for Charles Smith. Can be with fem or gn 'reader'. (Go crazy with them ^^)
Thank you <3
Charles Smith x Reader Headcanons
He checks up on you quite often, making sure you're doing well.
He's interested in your hobbies and wants to know what you like and dislike. He remembers it all and will bring you gifts.
He doesn't really show off or flirt too much. He tries to win you over by being kind and spending a lot of time around you. He's always close.
He can be a little teasing, just in a playful way and he knows when to stop.
He enjoys teaching you new things but he never makes you feel dumb for not knowing how to do something.
He's protective but he's not controlling or jealous. He trusts you and knows you won't cheat on him, he's just concerned about others hurting you. It wouldn't bother him to see you talking to other men. He also doesn't care about what you wear as long as you're comfortable.
Nsfw
He really loves oral sex, giving and receiving, but especially giving.
He's actually a bit into anal, again giving and receiving. He just thinks it's a lot of fun.
He's very gentle and relaxed during sex. He's practically cuddling you while you two fuck.
He doesn't really lose himself but he's not scared to show how much he's enjoying himself. He moans loudly and tells you how good it feels.
He loves trapping you in a mating press and edging himself repeatedly inside you. The pace keeps changing, always keeping you right on edge as well. His cock is continuously drooling pre cum inside you and he groans and holds himself balls deep when he starts to cum.
He always wants to cum inside you, he loves feeling like he's claimed you. He fills you up so well.
He'll let you top him, too; you can put him in just about any position. He's flexible and very open to experimenting.
He's down for nearly everything you're interested in.
Nikolai was a cautious man, he had to be. An occupational hazard as well as a personal one.
As much as he wants children, and the wrinkles on his forehead deepen with every passing year, he isn't in any position to start a family.
His sweet girl has only been in his arms for a few months, the relationship so new and fragile. No matter how much he already wants to make you a wife, a mother, to fill you with his child, he knows you're not ready—not yet.
With you being off birth control, it's Nikokai's responsibility to keep his cock wrapped, your womb safe, and his urges to breed you at bay.
Which makes it torture the way you fucking beg for him to break his rules, to just take a little risk.
Straddled across his wide lap, you rub your leaking cunt up and down the length of his thick cock, the raw head nudging into your clit with every thrust and sending shivers up your spine. The sensation is heavenly for you both, but knowing the danger of slipping in, of fucking raw is right there, makes you both all the hotter.
"I need to feel you, just one time," you whine, hoping to break down his resistance with the silkiness of your folds and the sweetness of your pleading. "No barriers, just us."
The earnest look in your eyes, the neediness and desperation, it reminds him of himself, all those years ago. A young man eager to feel a warm cunt without the numbing of tight latex and the separation of skin on skin.
But Nikolai's restraint doesn't falter, experience honed over decades. He's in charge, responsible for you, after all.
Still, his head tips back in pleasure and his teeth grit as he tries to hold on, the pleasure of your core and allure of you pleading so well for him driving him crazy. One hand paws at your tits hungrily, while the other reaches for the condom from the bedside table.
"Just the tip, please, kolya," you coo, and that voice, that nickname, the way you flutter your lashes and jut out your lip...
Fuck, he cant resist you. he knows he should deny you, be the sensible and wise papochka he is, but he struggles so much to not give his little girl everything she wants. He always indulges you after all, it's what he lives for. What's one more thing on the already long list?
"Just the tip, and only for a moment, hmm?" he concedes with a shuddering sigh, setting the condom on his chest for later before he helps you reposition your hips.
With a quick tilt, you have him notched inside, mushroom head choked by your entrance that tries to tug him deeper, to leverage your slickness into making him slide inside.
Your body is tempting him, natural instincts taking over, becoming infectious.
It's not enough for you, not even close now that you've gotten a taste, and Nikolai can see it in your eyes—the hunger, the ferocity.
His eyes drift shut as he savours the moment, the single inch he gets to feel all of you with. This moment will have to last for both of you, be seared into your memory, as it won't be repeated any time soon.
It's then you strike, when your old man's guard is down, letting your tense thighs relax as you plunge down, taking Nikolai to the root.
The condom on his chest is long forgotten as his tip kisses your cervix, smears it with precum that could already knock you up. His girth stretches your walls, and his cock is finally home.
"Oops..." you giggle and moan, all sweetness and light, as Nikolai only chokes.
Your tight, wet heat, wrapped around him with nothing in between, is fucking perfect. The best pussy he's ever felt, and the fact that he shouldn't be feeling it makes it all the sweeter.
He'd thought it through many times, a nebulous future where you could handle birth control, and he could finally take you raw. He'd fucked his fist to how you would really feel so many times he'd lost count, and yet no fantasy could compare to the reality.
You'd ruined his plans, escalated his timeline. What a naughty bunny you are, taking him like this.
Nikolai's grip tightens on your hips, sure to leave the trace of his touch behind, the pleasure already so overwhelming to him
"It's better like this, nothing between us, right?" You blink down at him, angelic facade unwavering despite your trick.
"Feels like heaven, fucking made for me," he groans as he tries to resist the urge to buck up into your heat.
You've dragged you both over the line, and it's on Nikolai to take you back. If he stays still, let you have your fill of the feeling, he can throw you off and pull out before he comes.
That's the plan, but then you start to bounce like the bunny you are, and the older man loses it—decades of experience not preparing him for the feeling of your perfect hole milking him while you ride with abandon.
"Yes, yes, I was made for your cock!" you chant mindlessly as you lose yourself, the squelch of your cunt filling the room with every rise and fall of your hips. "You've properly claimed me now, all those times before didn't count, not with those fuckin—" you huff and sigh as your brain falters, "condoms, ugh."
Properly claimed, the thought makes Nikolai shiver, because he knows this is only the beginning—a road that leads to a swollen belly, a ring on your finger, a collar around your neck and a true claim of ownership.
He taps on your hip, once, twice—an indication to stop which you simply ignore in your haze of pleasure.
"Get off, zaika, or I'll fill that pretty little cunt," he grunts. His words are meant to be a threat, but the breathy tone makes it fall closer to a promise. His restraint is tested, resolve evaporating with every thrust.
You start to grind then, rubbing back and forth across the pad of hairy fat at the base of Nikokai's cock, all as you shove his length deeper and deeper. You chase that high, that need to push him over the edge and make him lose control. "A little longer, I'm already so close—"
He taps again, tries to buck his hips to throw you off, but the pleasure feels too good to stop. "Malyshka, off."
Nik knows he should use his strength and flip the two of you before it's all too late, but his cock does the thinking—makes his arms feel weak and body feel boneless.
"I'm gonna—" you tip your head back as you fall over the edge and clamp down, allowing him no escape, no possibility to even try to pull out.
"Fuck!" he cries out, left grunting and helpless as rope after rope of virile cum floods your unprotected cunt and heads straight for your waiting womb.
Nikolai was a cautious man, but maybe starting a family is coming sooner than he thinks.
bull hybrid könig was told more than once to not touch a single soul out in the farm, knowing that it'll probably end with needing to tug him away by horns from some other hybrid he'll try to pump full of seed that sits heavy in his balls and making him ache, that was how bulls are, but the farmhand didn't knew the real extent of his true intentions, that his baby blue's weren't even tracking the cow hybrid ladies wandering around the sunny field.
no, könig was more curious in you, a sweet thing that was helping around the area, feeding the hybrids, making sure they were comfortable and clean, that they had everything they needed, stealing quiet moments beneath the tree's shadow when you had a couple hours to yourself, enjoying the light breeze or some book, well, until he started to join you, quite persistent, long tail swishing behind his bulky body, looming over you with sparkling eyes and twitching fluffy ears, tilting his masked head aside with an almost innocent plea — “can i join you, kleine?”
and there's no reason to refuse, really, even if he get's a little bit too needy by sitting close to you, burly body nudging against your smaller frame, wriggling, until he'd look at you with sweetly fluttering eyes and gaze down at your lap, a silent question, a subtle tug of his thick, calloused fingers against the sleeve of your shirt, so you sigh and nod, letting him lay his head down on your thighs, gazing up at you beneath the swoop of eyelashes, listening how you read out loud, as he nuzzles his masked face against your stomach, breath tingling, and you miss out how he crumples the fabric up his scarred features, leaving it stuck against the sharp horns.
it's only a coincidence that he'd have your thighs thrown over the broad stretch of his shoulders, dangling quivering and useless as he get's himself a small treat of your soppy cunt against his warm mouth, eager as he nudges deeper, nose pressing against the swollen bud of your clit, making your body twitch, squirming on the grass as he holds you pinned there, broad palms encompassing supple curves of your body, holding with a force that makes sinews move beneath skin, as he bobs his head, tongue lavishing at your slick dripping hole.
dragging him off you would be harder than any other bull, because he won't still the bruising pistoning of his hips until you'll gush around his fat cock, ushering him to spill his creamy, thick seed against the entrance of your sweet womb, trembling as your cunt holds him in a tight clamp, gummy walls spasming and milking the engorged girth until könig's heavy balls are empty, resting against the swell of your ass as his seed frothes out of your pussy and around his cock, still nestled deep inside as to keep you plugged, heaving and dazed as you look in his slyly squinted eyes.
synopsis. you lived alone, out in the middle of nowhere, with the house your parents left to you, after they passed. the only company that you kept was that of your dog and your chickens, which is kind of sad, but you didn't want to think about it. you had the same old life, you always had, getting up, feeding the chickens, working on your garden, re-reading almost every book in your collection, some days going into to town to get supplies or to sell your eggs; and quilts that you made. you weren't expecting your life to change drastically, when your dog found an unconscious man bleeding out in your flower bed.
tags | content warnings. fem!reader, socially awkward!reader, sunshine!reader, inexperienced!reader, animal-lover!reader, self-indulgent!reader, honestly, high honor!arthur morgan, soft!arthur morgan, protective!arthur morgan, grumpy!arthur morgan, lovesick!arthur morgan (is that not canon though, haha), insecure!arthur morgan, strangers to friends to lovers, he fell first and harder, grumpy x sunshine, slight age-gap (reader is late twenties, arthur is mid thirties), canon divergent (arthur doesn't get tuberculosis, eat my ass, rockstar games!), slight mentions of arthur morgan x mary linton (mary linton haters get the fuck out, i love her), profanity, fluff, angst, not to much though, i'm a sensitive girl, hurt/comfort, soft smut, *smirks*, mentioned canon typical violence, bloody gunshot wounds (ew), inaccurate medical knowledge, every chapter will have it's own warnings, so make sure to read those!
okko's notes. back on my red dead bullshit!! i wanna smooch arthur morgan <33
parts will be added, as they come out!
001.
taglist; if anyone wants to be tagged, let me know!
the pads of his fingers traced delicate patterns on your side, hands gently feeling the smooth skin. you leaned into his embrace and moved one of your hands to tangle in his hair, your fingers beginning to massage his scalp. he hummed quietly and leaned into your touch while his eyes fluttered shut
"feels good," he murmured, gently squeezing your side with his fingers. your gaze slid over his content expression, and you moved down to press a sweet, lasting kiss to his forehead. his soft hum of satisfaction urged you to continue. you moved your slow, tender kisses from his forehead to his nose, his cheeks, his chin, making sure to kiss and caress his entire face, until you pressed a final, lingering kiss to his lips before gently pulling away
once he noticed that your lips lost contact, his eyes lazily opened and met yours, and your breath caught in your throat at how he looked at you. "come back," he mumbled softly, moving one of his hands from your waist to cup your jaw in the process. he brought your face closer to his and ran his thumb along your cheek. you sighed and looked back at him, a subtle smile on your lips before you let him do it
he positioned himself above you and soon had you pinned beneath him on the bed, legs spread as he leaned in, crushing his mouth against yours. his body pressed against yours, still holding your jaw as he kissed you. his crotch met your thigh, moving slowly against it. you let out a soft moan as he moved his hips forward against your cunt, eyes shut when he slipped his tongue to tangle with yours. he moved slowly, feeling himself grow hard
he broke the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your mouths as he leaned in toward your neck, nuzzling his head against you. his teeth grazed the skin, still grinding into you with pressure, the outline of his cock straining against his pants. he sucked on your skin, a quiet whine escaping your lips. you felt him increase the pressure of his movements, his bulge shifting just right against you. you pulled him in, legs wrapping around his hips, making him press even closer
Ghost insists adamantly, passionately, and with the conviction of a man who’s sustained multiple traumatic brain injuries that he fell in love with you at first sight.
Because Ghost had eyes on you for approximately ten seconds before you broke his nose and he fell in love.
It happens outside a cafe on a quiet Tuesday afternoon, the kind of day where nothing interesting is supposed to occur, where the universe is contractually obligated to be boring. You’ve got your headphones in, keys jangling in one hand, iced coffee in the other, walking home in that autopilot mode where your body knows the route but your brain is thinking about literally anything else.
That’s when your wallet slips from your pocket. Honestly, you don’t even notice, because you’re deep into a true crime’s podcast and fully dissociated from reality.
Ghost spots it, picks it up, and jogs after you.
He says something. You don’t hear it. He says it again, louder. Still nothing.
So he taps your shoulder.
Big. Mistake.
You spin around like a woman possessed, adrenaline spiking, fight or flight activating, and throw the most righteous, unholy, devastatingly perfect punch of your entire life. It’s the kind of punch that would make your self defense instructor weep with pride. The kind of punch that deserves a plaque. A statue. A national holiday.
The sound is wet. The crunch is immediate. The impact is biblical.
Ghost drops like a felled oak tree and a bag of bricks. He goes down hard wallet still clutched in one hand, skull mask knocked crooked, eyes blinking slowly up at the sky like he’s trying to remember what dimension he’s in.
You stand there frozen. Horrified. Keys still dangling. Headphones half out. Coffee somehow still intact.
The rest of Task Force 141 who have been standing several feet away, look like they just watched God Himself get smacked into next week.
For a moment, there’s only silence.
Then Soap breaks.
He howls. He’s doubled over, hands on his knees, tears streaming down his face, making noises that aren’t even human anymore. He’s gone. Transcended. Ascended to a plane of pure, chaotic joy.
“SHE DECKED HIM!” he wheezes, gasping for air. “She- she knocked the GHOST out! FULL CONTACT! FULL KO! I’M- I CAN’T- “
Gaz follows immediately, wheezing, clutching his ribs. “Mate- mate- she dropped him like a sack of potatoes! One punch! ONE!”
Price just sighs. Long. Deep. The sigh of a man who’s too old for this, too tired for this, but also, somewhere deep down, a little bit impressed.
“Bloody beautiful form,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Textbook right hook. Could’ve been in the ring.”
You’re panicking. You’re hovering over Ghost, babbling apologies, hands fluttering uselessly. “Oh my god- oh my god- I’m so sorry! I didn’t know- I thought you were- are you okay? Do you know what year it is? How many fingers am I holding up? Should I call someone? Do you need a hospital? A lawyer?! Please don’t sue me.”
Ghost doesn’t answer. He just groans. Long. Low. Like a haunted house sound effect.
Then, through the blood and the daze and the clearly scrambled neural pathways, he mutters “…angels.”
“What?” you squeak.
“I see angels,” he slurs, eyes glassy and vaguely pointing in your direction. “Pretty ones.”
Soap loses it again. He’s on the ground now. Literally collapsed. Gaz has to step over him.
By the time the ambulance arrives (called by Price) Ghost is propped up against the curb like a discarded mannequin. His nose is absolutely destroyed. His mask is half off. There’s blood on his jacket. His eyes are glassy and unfocused.
But he’s smiling.
And he’s staring at you like you personally hung the moon, invented oxygen, and solved world peace in one punch.
“You hit like a tank,” he says faintly, dreamily, voice slow and thick with what is definitely a concussion. “Bloody beautiful. Strong. Could probably crush a man’s skull. Lovely hands. Great form. You single?”
“You are concussed,” you reply, voice shrill, face burning. “You need a hospital.”
“Maybe,” he agrees, nodding slowly, then wincing because nodding hurts. “But I’m also in love.”
Soap is dead. Flatlined. Gaz is leaning against a lamppost for support, tears streaming. Price is- oh god- Price is taking a video.
“Incident documentation,” he says flatly when you stare at him in betrayal like he isn’t planning on immediately sending it to Laswell.
“DELETE THAT!”
“Can’t. Evidence.”
When the paramedics finally load Ghost onto the gurney- still loopy, still bleeding, still smiling like a man who’s discovered enlightenment- he reaches out and grabs Soap by the shirt with surprising strength for someone who’s been recently KO’d.
“Johnny,” he slurs, deadly serious. “Johnny. Listen t’me.”
“Aye, LT?”
“Get her number.”
“…Ghost, you need medical-”
“Swear it.” His grip tightens. His eyes are wild. Desperate. “Swear it on your life, Johnny. On your mum. On your beloved hair gel. Get. Her. Number.”
Soap, choking back laughter, wipes his eyes and salutes. “Aye, big man. I’ll get it. Scout’s honor. Right after I get the CCTV footage and frame it for the barracks.”
“You’re a good man, Johnny.”
“I’m really not.”
Ghost gives you a dazed, lopsided thumbs up from the gurney as they wheel him away, and you’re left standing on the sidewalk- wallet finally back in hand, face the color of a tomato, dignity in shambles- wondering how in the hell you managed to accidentally concuss a six-foot-four man into romance.
Soap sidles up next to you, grinning like the devil himself.
“So,” he says, pulling out his phone. “Can I get that number? For medical purposes. And also because he’ll actually haunt me if I don’t.”
You stare at him.
He waggles his eyebrows.
“…Fine.”
Somewhere in the ambulance, Ghost smiles.
