cowboy, baby

my rdr2 blog 'cause im still not over it - REQUESTS CLOSED

[johnmarstoned]

Hide & Seek - Arthur Morgan/OFC

Very NSFW (unless you’re working at home, of course)

I am breathless as I run full tilt through the trees, strands of my hair catching on branches and twigs snapping underfoot. Rabbits startle from the bushes, and little birds tweet irately at me for disturbing their rest. I might spare a thought for the little creatures if I weren’t too busy running so fast my legs feel separate from me, the way you run when you’re a child. I’m laughing like a child too, as much as I can through my panting, giggling to myself and occasionally glancing over my shoulder. Grimshaw would scold me and tell me to act like the grown woman I am, but she isn’t around right now.

My pursuer is strong and relentless, and a better tracker than anyone I’ve known, but he isn’t particularly fast, and I can’t see him following me, so I take a sharp right and get myself low behind a large, overturned tree-trunk, crouching in the loose leaves.

It’s only now I’ve stopped that I realise I’m sweating, and that my eyes are rather watering from the wind whipping into them. I buzz with excitement under my skin though, peering over the trunk and listening intently for his footsteps. I had been certain that he would brush me off when I suggested the game, pull me back to him with a kiss on the forehead and insist he has to get on with this Braithwaite business. 

He didn’t though, when I picked up my skirt and ran away from him I had been surprised when I looked back over my shoulder to see him breaking into his own run, smiling, but looking determined to catch me. I had let out a shriek of a cackle before picking up my pace like a doe pursued by a cougar. 

Or, more like a bear, in Arthur’s case. 

A few moments pass, and I begin to think that perhaps I’ve run a bit too far, hidden a bit too well, because there really is no sign of him. Perhaps he gave up, perhaps he realised how silly this was and went back to work. I almost blush though no one is around to see me feeling embarrassed. 

When a strong arm loops around my stomach and pulls me to my feet, I jump out of my skin and scream girlishly, almost throwing back an elbow before I am pulled against a very broad, very familiar chest. 

Arthur is out of breath, but he has found me. 

“Lord above!” I shout with a laugh, my heart pounding as he turns me around but keeps me tightly in his arms. “How on earth do you move so quietly?” 

“I’m a good hunter, sweetheart.” I realise he is looking at my lips, and there’s that clouded look in his eyes like when we’re alone in his tent, I feel my heart start to race for a different reason. “And you’re terrible prey.” 

I open my mouth with faux offence and my hands find his shoulders when he backs me up gently until I am between a tree and his body. 

“Leavin’ tracks, broken branches, your scent in the air...” He teases and presses closer to me until our hips bump, already I can feel heat pool between my legs and a thrum of arousal roll through me. 

“I smell that bad?” I ask, and my voice comes out a little shaky because I love it when he handles me, taking my hips in his hands and lifting me like I weigh nothing so he can press where he is rapidly getting hard right against where he’s put himself so many times.

“No,” he presses his nose against the side of my neck and breathes me in, his stubble rubs my skin and I shudder at the feeling, “you smell o’ wildflowers.”

Damn, he is good, the girls and I have taken to trying to make our own perfume out of crushed flowers and rainwater, but I have no idea how he can smell it on me when even I can’t. 

“I’ll have to try harder next time.” I say, though getting caught might be my favourite part of this new game. I thread my fingers into his thick brown hair and pull him in for a deep kiss and he wastes no time of pushing his tongue into my mouth. 

“My little game got you worked up?” I ask, surprised at how fired up he seems. 

“Suppose it has,” he admits with a shy little chuckle, “could hear you gigglin’ 50 yards away.” He kisses my neck gently and pulls a twig out of the top of my dress. “You look good when you’re wild.” 

I hum a little moan when he kisses where the tops of my breasts are exposed, and nuzzles me like he wants his scent on me instead, licking and kissing his way back up to my mouth. 

The whole thing is a bit sloppy, though that feels right, to say it’s happening in the woods. He holds my thighs and grinds his clothed erection against me, never breaking from my mouth and making sinful sounds when I pull at his hair. 

“Can I have you out here, darlin’?” He asks gruffly against my ear and I nod, giving him the ok to set me down and pull my bloomers off under my skirt. Arthur looks at my face when he feels between my legs, and finds me just as slick as I knew I’d be. I let out whimper at the feel of his thick fingers circling my clit and dipping inside me, just enough to check I’m ready. 

“I like having you chase me.” I admit, and hold his wrist steady so I can grind down on his hand. “Most dangerous thing out here.” 

I see the high flush on his cheeks as he rubs me and I reach for his braces to push them off his shoulders and work on his trousers. 

“Not dangerous to you.” He says, breaths coming out heavy when I push his trousers down and get my hand round his cock, which leaks precum over my fist. 

I’m aware of the sound of the nearby creek sounding more and more muffled to my ears as my heart beats harder and my world becomes nothing but me and him and making us both feel good. 

“I know, that’s the best part.” I pump him gently, my touch featherlight and teasing so he moves his hips toward my touch to try and get me to give him more. His brow knits when he’s like this, and he catches his groans in his throat. “Taming the wild beast.” 

Arthur looks up at that to see me grinning teasingly and huffs out a little wheeze of a laugh before moving his hand and taking my thighs again, lifting me so quickly I make a little noise of surprise. 

“Think you’re the one who needs to be tamed.” He says gruffly, and I barely have my hands on his shoulders before he presses all the way inside me, resting his head on my neck and groaning loudly as he stretches me.

“Arthur!” I gasp and wrap my legs around him, the instant feeling of fullness and pleasure almost winding me. 

He wastes no time in pulling almost all the way out and pushing back in, and then sets a rhythm that leaves me holding onto dear life and moaning out into the open air like we’re in our very own private hotel room. 

Again, again, again, he fills me, grunting and groaning against my skin until I’m hurtling towards that orgasm in no time. The position has him stimulating my clit every time he grinds into me and fills me so deeply my vision blurs. 

“Arthur, Arthur.” I murmur, deliriously. A hand moves from my thigh to my ass and he squeezes salaciously, tipping me forward until the tree leaves my back and I’m almost impaled on him and I don’t know how he has the strength in his arms to do that. 

“Shit, shit.” He gasps his curses as he fucks me, and lifts his head so he can look at my face. What a state I must be, sweaty and red and too blissed out to control my stupid expressions.

“God,” he groans, and my back hits the tree again, quite hard that time as he crushes his weight against me and pulls my hips in as tight as he can, his cock hitting the limit and making my eyes roll back and my head hit the tree when it falls back too, “mm, love you.” Arthur sounds desperate, and it’s the sound of his voice that makes me cum incredibly hard, gripping any part of him I can, the back of his hair, his shirt. 

He follows me near simultaneously, which I don’t think has ever happened before, forehead falling to my shoulder again as he groans out his release and fills me with his seed, pulsing inside me as I clench and unclench around him, orgasm rolling over me in agonisingly delightful waves. 

We stay that way for a long time, twitching and pulsing and panting, holding onto each other for dear life. Arthur’s arms start to shake a little with fatigue and I place soft kisses on his mouth and his face and get him to pull out and set me down. 

My legs quiver and I’m unsteady when I find my bloomers on the leaves and pull them back on with pleasantly trembly hands. 

When I turn round, I have to laugh at Arthur slouching against the tree as if wounded with his trousers still down and his cock still out. 

“I wish I had a camera.” I say and approach him, tucking him away and zipping up for him. He watches me with that little twinkle in his eye that makes me smile all daffy when I think about it, even when he isn’t around. 

“So,” he says, and takes my hand gently, running his thumb over my knuckles, “my turn to hide?” 

[johnmarstoned]

Jeez, thank you guys so much. I know I’ve been super quiet but I promise I won’t be gone forever, requests will reopen! 

[rebelflet]

[johnmarstoned]

Oh I need me a man like that

🙌🙌🙌

[johnmarstoned]

Heyo, do you think you'd be able to do a fic where Javier is reassuring the reader that they're loved please?? I'm kinda in the dumps at the moment haha ":D

Thank you! Sorry you’re down, this time of year can be hard, hope you feel better soon. 😊💕

(just a reminder that i write ‘reader’ from first person perspective since i struggle with ‘you’ writing)

I get bouts of melancholy sometimes, feel the need to be alone and prefer not to speak to folks too much. That’s nigh on impossible here though; someone always wants something and there is always something to be done. 

It’s easy to feel anonymous here, being one of so many. I’m ‘one of the girls,’ same as the rest. Sometimes I wonder if anyone really knows anything about me. 

I sit on a log overlooking the water, the sun is setting, the jobs for the day are pretty much done, and I can smell Pearson’s stew cooking on the breeze. It’s beautiful, I know it but I can’t really see it. I hear the men laughing round the fire and ahead of me at the waterline, John puts his arm around Abigail. It makes a change from the being at each other’s throats. The image takes me for a moment, I smile to myself, despite the loneliness that settles in my stomach at the view.

Because of my distraction, I don’t realise that Javier has come up from behind and stepped over the log to sit down beside me until his presence makes me jump a bit. He chuckles, resting his elbows on his knees.

“You’ve looked miles away all week.” He says. “Everything alright?”

It makes my heart beat a bit harder that he’s noticed, and I feel a bit of a flush in my cheeks. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine just -” I think about trying to explain, but decide he probably doesn’t want to hear it. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

“No... Not getting off that easy, tell me what’s wrong, amiga.” He rests a gentle arm over my shoulders, and I meet his eye. His voice is rich, and comforting, but I almost wish he wouldn’t sit so close. I’ve had a crush on him for a while and it’s getting quickly worse.

“I just... I feel kind of alone here sometimes. I know it’s silly because there are so many of us but, I don’t know. When I was a kid it was just me and my mama, and she really loved me. Not sure anyone here does.” 

Tears break the corner of my eye and I sniff and turn my head from him to swipe at them quickly. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” He soothes, rubs my back with one hand before lifting the other to rest his fingers on my chin. “People around here love you, alright? We’re a family.” 

I nod and swallow, his thumb rubs my jawline so that my skin tingles.

“You’re hilarious, great in a fight, smarter than any of us cowboys.” 

I chuckle and can’t deny that I already feel a little bit better. 

“You’ve got a very pretty smile too.” He says, and I look at him in surprise, heart beating hard. “You’re very easy to love.” 

“Javier...” My voice is a bit breathy, and warmth fills my stomach.

"I’m not smooth-talking you, I mean it.” He says, and I believe him. He leans forward and pecks my lips gently, just for a second, chaste and sweet in a way that takes me by surprise. 

When he pulls back, he smiles at me, and pulls me a bit closer with the arm over my shoulders.

“Look at that sunset, huh? Beautiful bit of country.” 

I look again, really look this time, and nod, enjoying the feeling of his warm body beside me and the view of the dying sun on the water. 

“Yeah, I guess it is.” 

[iseetheyelloweyed]

Some sketches I made. 

[johnmarstoned]

Could I request Micah and Elizabeth just spending time together having some SFW fun (that could possibly lead to NSFW fun) together?

Thanks for the request! This is very much Micah’s idea of fun, fair warning. This got way long because I’ve also posted it on AO3.

NSFW content ahead! 🔥 💕 

Micah and I have gotten into the habit, when we can get away with it, of setting up our own little camps at some remote location and meeting there and staying for a night or two, when we can think of a good enough excuse to be gone for so long. It can’t be too often, because we know people will start to notice if we are both gone, together, at the same time.

For Micah, it’s easy, he can say he’s following a lead, robbing some folks, whatever he wants - there are only so many times I can pretend I’m tracking down some speedy mare before they start to wonder why I never come back with more than a flush on my face and bruises on my knees.

On this particular day, we don’t bother with a camp, we take a chance on a town and hope no one else has decided to make the long ride from Clemens Point to Valentine for some reason. I doubt they will, the boys seem to be too busy with that business in Rhodes to bother with that kind of a ride. As pretty as our current camp is, I do miss it the fresh air, as I am not a lover of the heat. 

We arranged to meet in Smithfield's, and I find him there, leaning on the bar and working on a whiskey. It’s busy, it being the evening, the tables full of folks drinking and eating, the piano playing jauntily in the background.

“Not drunk already are you?” I ask, leaning beside him. He looks down at me with a little look of surprise.

“Not many people can sneak up on me, ya know?” He says, and rests an arm gently round my waist. “Coulda slit my throat and I would never have known.”

“More likely to have picked your pocket.” I say, enjoying his closeness and the leather smell of his jacket.

“Nice girl like you? Not some kinda outlaw are ya?” He smiles down at me, clearly feeling playful.

“No, but I know a couple.” I catch the busy bartender’s eye and mouth the word ‘bourbon,’ to which he nods.

“Bad men?” Micah squeezes my hip a bit. “Scary, mean types?”

I fight the urge to laugh and reach up to touch his moustache.

“They like to think so, but I think they’re all soft as teddy bears.”

“Hmm.” He looks down my body, the opening of my blouse, holding me a bit too close for polite company as he likes to do when he can get away from it. “Can you hurry up and get this woman a drink?”

At Micah’s order, I get my drink quick enough, and we find a table in a quiet corner of the saloon, getting pleasantly tipsy and laughing so much you could almost mistake us for a real couple.

“Y’see, I get so used to seein’ you with them horses I forget that you ain’t as innocent as you look.” He says, after I tell him a story about slipping the watch out of the pocket of a man I was speaking to face to face.  

“Well, it’s been a while since I got myself in trouble, I could forget as well.” I sip my drink. “Not that I think I’m so innocent looking.”

“Of course you are.” Micah says, leaning forward on his elbows. “With that pretty blonde hair and those big ol’ eyes.” He reaches across, completely unabashed, and puts a hand on my jaw. “Only giveaway that you’re a bad girl is these lips, they were just made for sin.”

“Micah…” I feel my cheeks flush and I shake my head. The way he looks at me leaves no question what he’s thinking about sometimes, what he wishes he were doing to me. It makes me tingle and think just as filthy thoughts as I’m sure he does.

His hand leaves my face and he looks amused that he’s managed to make me blush.

“Am I going to be regaled with any tales from your rough and tumble teenage years any time soon?” I ask, because although I’ve heard him mention his father and brother in passing, he’s never really gone in to more detail than what I’ve heard him telling the men round the campfire. His father does not sound like a pleasant man. 

A look crosses his face, rather serious, before he breathes out a small laugh and shakes his head.

“Wouldn’t wanna ruin the mood, be honest with ya.” He says. “Not nearly as fun as your stories.”

I nod in understanding, choose not to push it, and finish off my drink. I suspect that there’s good reason Micah doesn’t discuss his past with me directly - it makes me wonder just exactly how nasty it was. 

“You want me to get us another drink so I can tell you about when I stowed away on a train for a week?”

“I very much do, you little reprobate.” He says, and hands me a dollar bill for the drinks.

Micah watches every move I make, and I like it, he’s the only person whose scrutiny makes me feel good rather than on edge. I go to the bar and make our orders; I don’t think we’ll be here much longer, even after all the time Micah and I have been doing this, it still doesn’t take much to make us need to have each other.

I make the order at the bar, and wait for our liquors to be poured.

“Fine lady like you shouldn’t be paying for your own drinks.” A man leans on the bar beside me, wearing nice clothes and a bowler hat. “Let me get that for you.”

“Actually, I-”

“No, no, I won’t hear anything about it, you put that money away, pretty girl.” He’s standing a little bit too close to me. A young man, fairly handsome, I suppose, but not one I have any interest in, especially when I know Micah will be watching this whole interaction very closely. 

“Sir, I’m quite happy to pay for my own drinks, if I could just-” I try to get the bartender’s attention, arm outstretched, but he blocks me off with his body and looks me up and down. He seems a little bit drunk, and doesn’t seem to notice my increasingly annoyed expression. Or care about it. 

“Look, just let me buy you a drink, okay? Ain’t seen anyone who looks like you come in here before.” He puts a hand on my waist, and I feel myself freeze, torn between batting it away and most certainly catching Micah’s angry attention, and telling him straight where to stick it.

When I open my mouth to speak, he shushes me, and his hand slips from my waist to my ass and squeezes lasciviously. My blood runs cold with shock at the horrible intrusion, and I feel the rage beat in my chest. 

“How fucking dare-” I begin, but I don’t get to finish, because no sooner is Micah’s hand on the man’s shoulder than he his clocked very hard across the face and falls heavily to the ground. I jump back out of his way, shocked, and Micah pulls the man up by the shirt scruff and punches him again with a meaty thunk.

“Hey! Take it easy!” Someone yells, as everyone backs up out of the way of the fight. If ‘fight’ is what it can even be called, Micah isn’t letting the groper up while he lands punch after punch on his face, his nose and lips bloody.

“Touchin’ someone else’s woman you little fuckin’ shit?” Micah sounds wild, enraged, probably more than I’ve ever heard him. “Fuckin’ kill you right here.”

I’ve never seen him fist fight before, and he’s just as vicious as I’ve been told. 

My shock wears off enough or me to realise that people are definitely running to get the sheriff, and Micah beating this guy to death in the middle of the saloon cannot end well. I catch his arm on its swing back, and do my best to hold it firm.

“Micah.” I say, hopefully loud enough for him to hear my voice over his rage. “He gets the message.”

For a beat, he tries to pull his arm out of my grip, but then he looks at me; it seems to take him a minute to recognise me, but he loosens his hold on the man’s shirt and lets me step between them and put my hands firmly on his chest. “We have to go.” I say, making him keep his eyes locked with mine to ground him to reality.

“He touched you.” He says, voice harsh.

“And now he’s unconscious and we have to go before the Sheriff comes.”

“Get that madman outta here!” The bartender yells, and I don’t give Micah a chance to respond, I take his raw hand and pull him towards the door with all my strength, hope to god he can just leave it at this.

I’m stopped though, by one of the very lawmen we are trying to avoid, who has just walked through the swinging doors.

“What the hell is going on in here?” He yells to the room, adjusting his white hat.

“That guy beat the holy hell out of this one!” The bartender points between them, and I look back at the scene. It doesn’t look good, splashes of nose blood on Micah’s shirt, bruises on his knuckles and a man lying on the ground with his face beaten to a pulp.

“Woah, woah, woah, I’m sure we can figure this out.” Micah holds up his hands, voice changing from raw rage to light amusement.

“We can talk about it in at the jail, come on now.” The lawman grabs Micah’s arm firmly, and starts to tug him away. Panic sets in my stomach - I absolutely cannot explain to Dutch how Micah managed to get locked up in Valentine when we were supposed to be all the way down south, and why I had been with him in the first place. Why I had lied to Dutch about where I was going to be. 

“Sir, you don’t have to take him in.” He drags Micah out of the saloon into the night and I follow. I really hope Micah doesn’t reach for his gun, a dead lawman would not help anything. “Please, he’s my husband, things just got out of hand.”

“Can’t be causing trouble like that, ma’am, man could have died. Might still die.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” I say, thoughts racing with what I can actually do to stop Micah being locked up or doing something reckless, as I know he can tend to do in these situations.

The plan isn’t the best, but it’s the only one I can think of at short notice. I size up the lawman; he’s not very tall, doesn’t look particularly muscular. I pick up my pace so I’m facing them and he stops walking.

“Get out of my way please, ma’am, your husband can wait in the cells until we find out if that poor guy’s gonna wake up.”

“I just wanted to apologise, in advance.” I say. A confused look passes his face before a land a knee to his balls that sends him doubling over, enough so I can punch him with all my strength and knock him into the wet mud.

It has been a while since I’ve punched someone, so the plain runs from my knuckles to my wrist immediately, but I am glad to know I haven’t completely lost it. 

“Come on.” I say to Micah, who is looking down at the lawman with a stunned expression. 

We don’t have time, I take off running to the closest horse, Baylock. “Micah, come on!” 

His dark laugh follows me as we make a run for the horse, shouts ringing out as people realise what I’ve done. He gets on first and pulls me up after him; adrenaline runs through my body, pulsing in my neck. I put my arms round his waist and hold on for dear life as he sets off fast pace.

The shouts ring out behind us, with my fingers in my mouth, I whistle my horse to follow. Micah’s still laughing, whooping even, but I can hear the sound of hooves on the dirt behind us that aren’t just my own horse.

Heart hammering in my chest, I look back over my shoulder to see the lawmen following us on horses, 

“Fuck, Micah, we’re being followed!” I shout over the sound of the whipping wind and the gallops. My hair obstructs my face when I look back again, but I can see two men on horseback on our tail as Micah rides out of the town.

“I know, don’t you worry sweetheart.” He sounds entirely unfazed, kicking up speed and whipping round a corner so fast I feel like I’m going to fall off. My fingers dig into his leather coat and I press my forehead into his back, barely daring to look back.

We leave the road and ride into the trees, and I have to close my eyes because I have no idea how he’s a good enough horseman to avoid us smacking into a single one. 

The sound of those following us recede, until all I can here is the steady gallop of my own horse behind us. 

He rides for a bit longer, until we have definitely lost them, and stops up on a grassy hill somewhere near the river. The sun has set now, and the landscape is cast in the eerie white glow from the moon. 

“Fuck!” Micah yells when we finally stop, my hair a blown out mess and absolutely out of breath. “Fuck, that was good!”

Micah is hyped up in a way I haven’t seen him be before. We don’t ever go on jobs together, but this is what everyone tells me he’s like. Crazy, out of control. I’m still in a daze, so he lifts me down from Baylock and grabs my arms.

“Now that was fun.” He says, and laughs that chesty laugh again. “You were…” He shakes his head like he can’t find the words. “You were a fuckin’ dream.”

Micah puts his hand on the back of my head and kisses me hard, looping the other arm around my waist.

“I am hard as a rock, watchin’ you do that.” He puts his hands on my ass and picks me up, clearly fuelled by adrenaline himself given how easily he does it. I can feel that he wasn’t lying, pressing against me while my legs are wrapped round his waist.

“Don’t you feel good? Just goddamn alive?” His voice is a growl.

He’s right, I do. My pulse is hammering and my knuckles hurt, but when I get my breath back, I do feel good, I feel great. Energised, excited, just the right amount of scared.

“Who knew you could throw such a punch?” He kisses me deep and I tighten my legs around him to press myself against his erection. “I - shit I gotta have you right now.”

Micah falls to his knees, and drops me clumsily on my back, making me laugh. He’s laughing too, breathlessly, as he pulls my skirt up to my waist and puts his hands on my thighs.

“We gotta do this more often.” He says, voice a rough grumble. “Like seein’ you as a bad girl.”

“I can tell.” I say, pulsing between my legs and nipples pressing against my blouse. It’s almost too much, I’ve barely gotten my breath back from the escape and he’s already looking at me like I’m his next meal. 

Micah pulls off my bloomers over my boots, wasting no time. I am fully aware that we are absolutely in the open, in the middle of a field in the moonlight where anyone could ride by, or spot us through their binoculars.

It feels animalistic, to have done violence and now to be doing this, and I’m not sure I’ve ever been so turned on.

So what if someone did see us? Rutting like hounds in the wild? I know, really, I should be horrified by the idea, but I’m not, I quite like it. 

Micah doesn’t immediately unfasten his trousers like I think he will, instead he bunches my skirt up around my waist, takes off his gun belt and lies on his stomach to put his face between my legs and my knees on his shoulders.

“Shit!” I call out into the open, and my hands scramble to grab handfuls of grass. He buries his tongue inside me, making an obscene noise, before sucking on my clit hard and making me moan desperately. My head falls back and my back arches so I press against his mouth. 

“That’s it…” He licks me a few more times before moving back up my body and working on his belt buckle. I shudder, desperately needing to have him inside me. I look at him, his eyes glazed and his chest rising and falling in deep breaths.  He looks so amazed by me, it makes me surge with pride.

With his belt and trousers open, he lays back over me and kisses me deeply. His hat is till on, ridiculously.

He teases the tip of his cock against me just for a moment before pushing all the way inside, and I feel winded, a shocked moan leaving my mouth at feeling of being so instantly filled.

“Fuck, fuck, you feel so good every damn time.” He says through his teeth. Micah buries his face in my neck and thrusts in and out of me; I knock his hat off with one hand and knot my hand in the back of his hair.

“So do you.” I moan, completely surrendering to the pleasure of the way he fucks me, harder and faster than usual. I cannot get enough, it feels so good. His hair is dry in my hand, I pull it a bit and listen to him grunt and groan in my ear.

Somewhere in my dizzy pleasure, I look over his shoulder at the starry sky, and wonder if this is actually the best I’ve ever felt. Micah makes me feel so damn... Special. He looks at me like he can’t believe I’m real and he touches me like it too. 

I might love Micah.

And this is how I realise I might love him. After running from the law, while he fucks me on the dirt with our horses waiting at the nearby tree-line. Micah puts a hand on my knee and spreads my legs wider so he can get even deeper.

“Don’t stop.” I whine.

“Ain’t gonna.” Micah grunts. “Wish I could fuck you every damn second of the day.”

“Mmm.” I moan, and I can already feel myself getting close; his voice is running through me, rough and lusty.

The heel of my boot digs into the back of his leg; his jacket arms must be covered in grass stains with the way he’s holding himself up over me.

“Micah, Micah.” I release a handful of grass to lift his head from my shoulder to make him look at me. I’m close to the edge, and I want to feel his tongue on mine and his moustache against my lip. He groans into my mouth, slurs my name, and it pushes me over, the climax hitting me hard, making me shudder. I clench around him, it almost makes the fullness too intense; all I can do is hold onto him as the pleasure wracks through me, while I pulse around him.

“Shit,” he curses. His forehead presses against mine and a hand reaches up to cup my jaw. Micah’s thrusts are stuttered, clumsy, so I know he’s close. “Fuck, I fucking love you.”

His eyes screw shut when he comes inside me - mine fly open, distracted from the feeling of his grip and his come filling me up by what he just said. He grunts out his release, cock hitting deep, and doesn’t loosen his tight hold on me until it’s over.

My breath is shaking and my heart hammers in my chest. I’m not sure if he even knows what he said. When he opens his eyes, panting, I fix my face into one that isn’t so shocked and give him a peck on the lips, my cheeks glowing.

“You tired out yet?” He asks, pulling out with an almost pained grown and fastening up his trousers. I sit up on my elbows and try to figure out exactly how I feel. Certainly not tired out - if anything, I feel more energised then I had before.

“Not yet.” I say, with a smile and a shake of my head. ‘Do you know you just told me know love me?’ I want to ask, but I don’t. A man is liable to say a lot of things when he’s about to come, even if that had never come out of his mouth before.

“Good, me neither.” He chuckles a bit and finds his hat and gun belt on the ground while I pull up my bloomers and fix my skirt. “Saw a camp of O’Driscoll’s on my way here, not far off.”

“Oh yeah? And what about it?” I raise my eyebrow, he takes my hand and pulls me to my feet.

“Thought we could rob ‘em… Or just kill ‘em. Anything you want.” He seems to find it hard to stand still, not at all exhausted and wrung out like he usually is after we fuck.

“Why, you wanting me to go on a little tear with you?”

“Ain’t we already started one?” He grins, taking my hip in hand. “Night’s still young, sweetheart.”  

I consider him for a moment. It has been a long time since I’ve done this kind of thing, had this kind of wild night. Said wildness dances in his eyes and the smirk on the corner of his mouth, like he’s daring me. This is Micah’s favourite kind of entertainment, I can tell, and it draws me in, my soul be damned.

“You got a gun?” He asks, and I shake my head. Micah makes a small grumble of disappointment.

“Could borrow one of your revolvers…” I suggest, looking down at the two guns holstered in his belt. Micah looks surprised for a moment, and he considers me for a long time, that penetrative stare that I can hardly handle.

He takes one of the revolvers and twirls it round his finger, second nature, before nodding at me to hold out my hand. I do, and he places it in my palm; his fingers linger on my skin.

It’s heavier than it looks, as guns always seem to be, well-worn with a painted red skull on the grip and the words ‘Vengeance is hereby mine’ messily carved into the barrel. I run my fingers down the metal, reverently, almost, because I know what these guns mean to him and I can’t believe he’s actually letting me hold it like this.

“Pretty.” I say, sending him a small smile. Micah is watching me very closely, a look on his face I can’t quite place.

“You-“ He clears his throat, which sounds a bit dry. “You look good holdin’ it.”

I breathe out a small laugh, even though he sounds very sincere, and to break the tension in the air, I pose with it, holding it out with my arm outstretched and pointing it at the tree-line with one eye shut.

“Do I look like Black Belle?” I ask, thinking about that cigarette card I’d seen a while back.

Micah looks at me for another long moment again, before shaking his head.

“No, sweetheart, you look like a whole other level of trouble.” His voice is a low rumble, and even in the dark, I can see the intensity with which he looks at me. 

I lick my lips before bringing the revolver to my lips and gently kissing the tip of the barrel. In the feet between us I hear the shaky, raspy breath he breathes. “You love trouble.” I say. 

After another beat, he steps closer to me, but doesn’t touch me again yet.

“I absolutely fuckin’ do.” 

[johnmarstoned]

John smut with a reader he got pregnant.

Sorry I’m being so slow! Set a little before the Blackwater ferry job, (Abigail and Jack don’t exist in this fic). 

NSFW content ahead. 🔥💕

I hear the hooves of his horse coming up the track to my cabin and I recognise the sound immediately. His horse is a bit too big and heavy for him, it thuds. I go to the door to greet him, and can’t keep the smile off my face when I watch him dismount and hitch up. John is so handsome, even with the too-long hair and the patched up clothes in need of a good wash. 

“There she is.” He says, sauntering up the garden path, and wasting no time leaning down to kiss me firmly, putting a gloved hand on my back to pull me tight. “Shit - sorry - did I…?”

He looks down between us at my belly - I’m only just starting to show, but he puts his hand on the slight bump anyway, a surprisingly sweet look of marvel coming across his face. 

“Did I squash him?”

“Stop saying him.” I admonish with a smile. “You don’t know.” Taking off a leather glove first, he rubs a circle on my stomach. 

“Christ almighty, still can’t believe that’s my baby in there.” He says, with a shake of his head. “Hope it don’t inherit my brains.” 

“Hush.” I say, leading him into the cabin. “You’ve got plenty of brains.” 

“I know about 20 people would disagree with you on that.” He says; I chuckle and shake my head, taking his leather jacket from him to hang up. 

“How have you been?” I ask, knowing quite well what a loaded question it is. I know exactly what he does for a living, and frequently worry about where he is or what he’s doing. 

With a sigh, he collapses onto my couch, long legs outstretched in front him. 

“Workin’.” He says, looking up at me. John looks tired, because I don’t get the impression he gets to sit down much. “C’mere, I missed you, sweetheart.” 

John holds out his hand to me to come over, and when he takes my hand, he pulls me over to sit on his lap, making me giggle at how heavy I land. His hand rests on my thigh and he kisses me again. 

“Did you miss me?” He asks, and his begins to pepper kisses down my jaw and the side of my neck. 

“Mmm, very much.” I shudder at the feeling of his stubble on my skin; he smells good, masculine, if a little bit sweaty, and I find myself moving from a seated position to straddling his lap instead. I push my fingers into his long hair and put my tongue against his. 

“Wanted to ask ya somethin’.” He says, hands moving from my face to my ass to hold me tight against him and pull me right over where he’s getting hard in his denim. 

“Is it important?” I ask, reaching up to begin to unbutton my blouse. “Because my belly and my backside aren’t the only things getting bigger…”

John lets out a shaky breath and watches my fingers; when my breasts are exposed, he groans aloud and grinds up against me unconsciously. 

“Shit, you weren’t lyin’.” He reaches up and kneads my breasts in his hands, runs his thumbs over my nipples. They’re especially sensitive at the moment, and it makes me moan to feel him touch me like that. It really has been too long, I don’t think I’ve seen him but once since I told him I was with child.

We met by chance in the Blackwater saloon, I had been in town getting supplies and stopped for a drink, and he had been sitting a table with a pretty large group of other men, all a little rowdy and not very gentlemanly looking. 

The fact that they’d been so loud and looked so dangerous though, it had been kind of attractive, even when a loud Irishman had caught my attention and made some lewd joke I since forgot. 

John had come over to apologise for him, bought me a drink. I can’t deny, I had been taken with him straight away; his rough, raspy voice, the fact he’d stood about a head taller than me and walked in such a way that told me he wasn’t afraid of anyone or anything. He rode home with me, and then, a week later, he came by, and then again. 

Once, I even went to camp and met his crew, and he’d asked me if I never wanted to see him again after I knew what he was. John had looked young and worried when he asked me that. 

I did want to see him again, though, perhaps too much, as I’d found myself sick and missing my monthly not too long after we’d met. John had been happy about it though, sworn that he wouldn’t run off on me, that we would figure it out. 

When he reaches under my skirt and finds I’m not wearing bloomers, he curses again, and tackles his belt and jeans with clumsy hands. 

“Still need to ask you somethin’…” He says, and I struggle to respond because he reaches between my legs to feel my pussy, letting out a choked noise when he finds me wet on his fingers and the heel of his hand. 

“Oh, John, can it not wait?” My head is fuzzy, too caught up in the feeling of him touching me and his body under my thighs. 

I think I love this man, I almost tell him that. 

“No, it can’t.” He says, but takes his cock out of his jeans anyway, hard and pink at the tip. “Neither can this though, come here, baby.” He pulls me forward so my entrance is poised over him, and I put my hands on his shoulders and lower myself down, whining at the fullness. 

“Lord.” I moan, fingers clenching in his shirt. “You’re a big boy.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” He jokes and I breathe out a chuckle. His hands find my ass under the skirt and encourages me to raise and lower on him, making us both gasp. 

“Want you to come with me.” He says. “Back to camp.” 

“To visit?” I ask, confused. 

“No,” his hips grind up and he grunts in his throat, “for good, to join the gang.” 

I stop moving, looking at his face to see if he means it. 

“What?” 

“You heard me.” He says, a little smile on the corner of his mouth as he lifts and lowers me himself with his hands. It’s hard to think, I have to bite my lip to stifle my noises so I can hear him speak. His cock fills me too well, feels like it was made for me, and every time I grind down my clit is stimulated against him.

“You’re my woman, alright? Mama of my child. Gotta look after ya, keep ya close.” 

“What would I do?” I ask, the idea already running away with me.

“Anythin’ you want. I know you can shoot, hunt, I know you keep your stead here by yourself.” 

It sounds too sweet, too good. I think of how lonely I get here, in this cabin by myself, how excited John makes me feel, how excited meeting the gang had made me feel. It might be foolish, I know it’s dangerous, but I want it, I want what he’s offering me.

And I want to be with John, as much as I can be, if he wants me. 

“I love ya, sweetheart, I do.” I can’t help grinding back against him as he pushes his cock up into me, eyes slipping closed and head swimming with pleasure, at the feeling at at his words. “I want to see you every day and have you sleep in my tent.” 

“God.” I gasp, getting closer to the edge, his voice running through me. 

“Hate ridin’ away from you, wanna marry you and keep puttin’ babies in ya.” He grabs my breast again and encourages me to move quicker, his cheeks as flushed as I’m sure mine are. “Many as you want. You look so damn good like this.”

“Are you sure?” I moan, head falling back on my shoulders. 

“So sure. Don’t want you bein’ out here alone anymore.” He says, and reaches between my legs where we meet to work off my clit while I ride him. “Just say yes, say yes…” 

I absolutely can’t think of anything else I want to say, so I do as he asks.

“Yes, yes, yes.”  My hands grip his shirt tight when I come, eyes shutting tight as it rolls through my delightfully; I let out some kind of half scream from my throat, and somewhere through my own pleasure I hear him say my name and grip me tight. 

“Fuck.” He curses harshly, hand almost bruisingly firm on my ass as he follows me over the edge, filling me up with his come, a frown in his forehead and his eyes squeezing shut too. 

My twitching around him drags it out for a while, and we cling to each other until it’s over and we get our breath back. 

I can see the glisten on his chest through his open collar, and I put my hand over his heart to feel it thud. 

“Damn.” He says, shaking his head. “I am not waitin’ that long again.” 

I lift my hips so he slips out of me, and sit back down on his thighs. I consider his face for a moment, looking at me with slightly glazed eyes. 

“Did you mean all that?” I have to check that he wasn’t just talking dizzy because of what we were doing.

“Every last word, darlin’.” He puts a hand on my face and runs his thumb over my lower lip. “You mean it when you said yes?”

I lean in and kiss his lips, smiling. “Yes.” 

[johnmarstoned]

Popping by to say I love your writing style 😍🥰 where have you gone!? 😝

Thank you so much - I’m still here! I’m just being slow 😫 x

[reddeadphotos]

A collection of John’s awful art

[johnmarstoned]

Maybe a little bit of John and Abigail having some fun after the epilogue? 👀👀

Thanks for the request! This is my first time writing Abigail, was fun to try and get her voice. 💕

“Where’s the boy?” Abigail asks when John walks in the living room where she sits knitting, leaning on the back of the armchair that he has claimed as his own to toe off his boots. 

She half expects a bored: ‘how am I supposed to know?’ in response, but he knows quite well that such an answer doesn’t wash anymore. 

“In town, gettin’ drunk and pickin’ fights.” He says. Abigail can hear the smirk in his voice and rolls her eyes. “He’s up on the hill readin’, where else?” 

“You don’t have to say it like it’s so strange.” She says, starting a new line in the scarf she is making. 

“I’m not, I just - I’m not.” He takes off his hat and hangs it up by the door.

“Just what, then?” She asks with annoyance, and hears him sigh. Abigail looks up at him then, hands on his hips.

“I do something between walkin’ in and takin’ off my boots to annoy you?” He asks, and she softens then, feeling a little guilty. She knows she can be quick to snap at him, and it isn’t always fair. 

Abigail sighs and sets down her knitting, before opening her arms for him to come to her. He does, and she wishes everyone could see John Marston looking so bashful. He kneels down in front of her so that they are eye to eye when she wraps her arms around his shoulders and hugs him tightly. 

“Sorry, John.” She says, and kisses his bearded cheek. 

“S’okay, married you knowin’ you’re a little mean.” He says, and she laughs and pushes his shoulder. “Part of what I like about ya.” 

He rests his hands on the arms of her chair to box her in and kisses her lips once. “Someone’s gotta put you in your place sometimes, Marston.”

“Ooh, that they do, Marston.” He says, and she’d know that look in his eye from a mile away. “I like that you’re called that now.”

Her heart swells at his sincerity, how much she can feel the love radiating off him. John’s sweet, under all the scars and leather and denim.

“I like bein’ called that now, for real.” She says, and drapes her arms round his neck to pull him in for a deeper kiss. “Mrs Abigail Marston.” 

“Mmm.” John hums against her lips and his hands start to run up her knees, under her skirt. 

“John...” She warns weakly, as he starts to peck kisses down her jaw the side side of her neck. 

“What?” He asks - she can hear his smirk when his thumbs rub her inner thighs. 

“You know what, we don’t live here alone.” She says, and nudges him to stand. He does, and takes her hand to pull her up to him. 

“Lucky I put a lock on the bedroom door then, ain’t we?” 

With that, he puts his arm round her waist and lifts her up against his side, making her squeal and laugh as he carries them to their room and kicks the door shut behind him. 

It’s exciting though, how strong he is, and when her shoes hit the ground she feels that spark of excitement low in her body. 

“We gotta be quick.” Abigail says, and pushes him to sit down on the bed in front of her. “I’m supposed to be makin’ dinner.” 

“Better be quick then, darlin’.” He says, and reaches up under her skirt to pull down her bloomers, which she kicks off over her boots before straddling his lap and kissing him deeper, finding his tongue with hers. 

She loves this, getting to touch him and kiss him in their bedroom, their home: four walls and a roof and the danger finally passed. She had been so mad at him when he’d gone after Micah, that he couldn’t just put it down, but now, she’s glad he did. That chapter of their life is over, loose ends finally tied, and now it’s just them: the Marston’s and their ranch.

John had always been so attractive, even straggly and skinny, but he seems to be getting better looking as he gets older. She won’t tell him though, it’ll give him far too big a head.

Her hands reach between them to unbutton his jeans, and she can feel her knuckles brush his cock, which is already hard and straining against the denim. 

“Excitable as ever.” She comments, getting him to sit forward enough so she can pull his jeans and underthings down to his knees and run a hand over his dick. 

“Shit,” he curses at the feel of her hand on him, “I’ll stop bein’ excitable when you stop bein’ so damn gorgeous.” 

Her cheeks flush, and she kisses him one more time before mounting his lap and positioning him at her entrance. She’s more than ready too, she has been since she stood on the porch earlier and watched him carry a huge bag of chicken feed on his shoulder like it weighed nothing to him. John had always looked good sweating. 

He holds her hips tight, and she keeps her hands on his shoulders as she sinks down onto him, biting back a moan at the familiar feel of him filling her. John grinds up into her, a rough little whine leaving his throat. 

His hands on her hips set the pace, her knees digging into the bed at either side of him as she rides him quick, heat building between them in their shared breaths and stifled noises. 

The position feels good, the grind stimulating her clit every time she raises and lowers her hips, his cock hitting her just right and making her feel dizzy.

“Goddamn.” He groans, the hand on her hip almost hurting and his eyes squeezing shut. “Not gonna last much longer.” 

“Just a second, I’m close too.” She puts her hands on his shoulders and pushes him back to lie down; there is absolutely no way she is walking out of this room without coming. 

“Oh, shit.” John moans and watches her ride him, probably wishing her blouse were open but reaching up to fondle one of her breasts clumsily through the material anyway anyway. The sound his voice goes through her delightfully, and with one perfectly timed thrust upwards from him, she finds herself lost in the climax, probably not being as quiet as she should be.

“Abigail...” Her head is too fuzzy to keep moving, to focussed on the delightful sensation of clenching and unclenching around him, but that seems to do it for him; he holds her tight when he comes inside her with a choked noise, grip only loosening when every bit of his spend has filled her up.

They both breath heavy into the quiet room when they’re both finally finished. 

“Christ, John...” Abigail can feel that her cheeks must be bright red, heart hammering in her chest, and she leans her weight on her hand beside him. “I knew there was a reason I married you.” 

John wheezes a laugh, and looks up at the ceiling exhaustedly. “Was startin’ to wonder why that was.” 

[johnmarstoned]

Oh you’re back! You are by far the best writer I can find on tumblr. I’m so happy you’re back❤️ I’ve been day dreaming some nsfw sitting in johns face 🤤 I love that dirty man! Or Arthur. I can’t decide who I’m more hot for 😂

Thank you so much! I went with Arthur because I haven’t written for him for a while - hope that’s cool! 💖💖

NSFW content ahead:

I can feel him looking at me before I see him; we’re sitting around the fire, listening to Javier strum songs we can sing along to. We’re all getting merry, sipping our drinks, enjoying our food, and I sit on the only space I can find on the floor beside Javier.

That’s when I catch his eye, him looking at me while he’s nursing his beer. 

“Can’t be comfortable down there.” He says quietly, everybody distracted in their own conversations to pay any mind to us. 

“Not so bad.” I say with a shrug. 

“Oh, I’m not havin’ any of that.” He taps his thigh, and I sigh and stand with a small smile. Honestly, it’s the best seat in camp, and it lets us have our own whispered little conversation.  

I plop myself down in his lap and loop an arm round his shoulders, he rests a big hand on my leg to hold me steady.

“You’ve been busy today.” I say, and lick my thumb to get the swipe of dirt off his cheekbone. “What you been up to, gallivanting around?”

“Y’know... Chasin’ leads, makin’ money.” 

“Sketching?” I tease, for which I get a squeeze to the thigh that makes me giggle. 

“Keep your voice down.” He says, fighting off a smile.

“People aren’t gonna stop thinking you’re big and scary, Arthur, don’t worry.” I mess with the neckerchief tied around his neck between my fingers.

“I ain’t scary.” He says.

“Not to me.” I say with a smile. “You are big though... Real big.”

Arthur doesn’t miss the tone in my voice, and I smirk to myself at the flush that crosses his cheeks. 

“See - that’s why you’re not scary. Scary guys don’t blush.” I pinch his bicep a little bit and watch him glance around to make sure no one is paying attention to us.

“S’only you that it happens with.” He admits. “Saw you teachin’ Mary-Beth to shoot before with that rifle and I thought... Shit, that’s my girl?” 

It’s my turn to go pink in the face now. 

“All pretty and tough, ain’t no one like ya.” I can feel his deep voice reverberate in his chest, and it makes me tingle all over.

I shiver. “Arthur...” 

“Am I embarrassin’ you?” He asks with that stupid smile. It makes me want to push him further.

“No, not embarrassing me. You’re making me wet.” I whisper so it ghosts across his ear, and I feel him tense, and grip me a little harder. 

He lets out a breath, and gets me to stand so he can too. 

“Night, y’all.” He says, tipping his hat to the stragglers left around the campfire. Anyone could have figured out what we were whispering about in the way he takes my hand and rushes me to our tent, nudging me over to the bed and tying the flaps shut with haste.

I bite my lip from where I sit on his cot, and watch him in the low lantern light removing his hat and neckerchief. His shirt soon follows, straight over his head, and I take a little breath and a moment to admire him. Broad-chested, tan from the sun, thick muscles under scarred skin. 

“Whatchu starin’ at?” He asks like he doesn’t know, as he moves to stand in front of me. 

“Some specimen of a man.” I say, and lift my head so he bends down to kiss me soundly. His hand cups the side of my face and his thumb strokes over my earlobe, I touch the tip of my tongue to his, and feel the sound of his rough groan go through me.

I reach up for the buttons on his trousers, and just get the first undone when he stops me. 

“Wanna do somethin’ for you I been thinkin’ about.” He says, before sitting beside me and tugging me into another deep, wet kiss. 

I end up laid atop him, his hands feeling every bit of me he can touch, squeezing my ass, running over my back, hitching a thigh up his waist so I can grind against him. 

He’s incredibly hard, his cock pressing against his trousers between my legs where I grind against it, little moans leaving my throat at the feeling. My bloomers must be soaked, I feel like I could get off just like this, fully clothed, listening to him moan groan into my mouth. 

When I reach down to open his trousers again, his hand on my wrist stops me, and I breath out a laugh against his mouth in frustration. 

“You’re killing me here, Arthur.” I say, and sit up more on my knees to look down at him. I take his thick wrists in my hands and pin them at either side of his head. “You need relief don’t you, baby?” 

I position myself dead over the outline of his cock in his trousers and grind myself on him again, insistently. He moans and his eyes close, gripping my thighs in his hands. 

“Said I wanted to try somethin’.” He says. 

“Well what is it?” I ask, impatiently. All I want right now is to have him inside me. 

“Take your clothes off.” He says, and I do not need to be asked twice. I stand up from the cot to remove the garments and let them pool on the floor. I enjoy that he admires me for a moment. 

“Now uh... C’mere.” He tugs me back over to the bed where he is laying, and gets me to kneel back over him again, he tugs me forward though, gets me to shuffle up his body until I am kneeling over his chest instead.

It looks odd, looking at his face between my knees and I shudder at seeing where this is going. 

“You want me on your face?” I ask, my voice shaking and my nipples hardening.

“Yes darlin’ I do.” He says, and kisses my inner thigh. “If you wanna.” 

I absolutely do, as much as it makes me flush from head to toe to shimmy over his head and lower my pussy down onto his mouth. We both moan when I do; his hands find my thighs, and hold me tight as his tongue slips between my folds, finding my clit with the tip before sucking. 

“Ah! Arthur!” I moan breathlessly at the feeling, my hand grabbing into his thick hair as my hips grind of their own accord. I can feel his chin against me, and the little noises of pleasure he makes as he licks and sucks at me. 

It is not going to take me long to finish - I cannot believe how it feels to be in this position, to have absolute control of this man like this. He looks up at me, blue eyes shining between my legs and I moan and lean back, hand on his bare stomach as my hips gyrate on his mouth. My new position gives him a bit of room, and he speaks against my wet flesh. 

“That’s it sweetheart, get yourself off.” I moan louder then, desperately, feeling it build low and that heat run through me from head to toe. 

He reaches up to work me off with his fingers as well as his tongue and I’m sure the whole camp must have heard the sound I just made; I grab his hair, probably too tight, but he doesn’t seem to care, relentless in trying to get me to orgasm.

I find myself riding his face, absolutely desperate to chase that feeling, until it finally hits and I shout out some garbled mix of swears and gibberish and his name. 

Arthur holds me there, doesn’t stop working me through the orgasm until I’m too sensitive to stay on his face anymore and have to move away from his mouth to sit on his chest instead. It takes a long time for me to get my breath back, and I open my eyes to look at him, chin shiny and a satisfied look on his face.

I laugh shakily and shake my head, still quivering between the legs.

“That is obscene.” I say, and feel around under his pillow for a handkerchief to clean off his face. 

“Was kinda the point.” He says, and sits up enough to make me shuffle back to his lap so he can kiss me deeply. “I make you feel good?”

“Very good.” I nip his bottom lip and pull back. “It my turn to make you feel good now, Mr Morgan?”

He laughs roughly against my mouth, and I know that’s a yes. 

[johnmarstoned]

Welcome back, we missed you! I was wondering if you could do something with Micah/Elizabeth for when he returns from Guarma? NSFW or SFW, what ever you want to do is perfect, thank you!

I love this request, thank you! 💖 This got looooong I’m so sorry!

SFW except for language: 

Everything is going to shit, and looking back, it’s been going to shit since Blackwater. It’s just more obvious now, everyone’s dead - Sean, Lenny, Hosea, Kieran, and probably Dutch, Arthur, Bill, Javier and Micah too. As if that weren’t all horrible enough, those living are stuck in this place, Lakay, maybe the most unpleasant little slice of the world we could have found.

Sadie has been doing a good job leading, and I’ve been, well, I’ve been trying. I’ve kept the horses healthy, even those belonging to the dead or the missing, and hunting a lot more than I used to. Anything to keep me out of the swamp honestly. 

But I feel strange, far away from my body; how did we ever end up here? Losing everyone? Living in the mud with the flies? 

I’ve been on guard duty, walking the perimeter with my rifle in hand and sweat running down my back. Occasionally, I hear the growl of the gator’s, the the hiss of the snakes, and I could not care less. At least being eaten to death would be an interesting way to go.

 I hear someone walking behind me, Charles, I think, and he rests his hand on my shoulder. 

“My shift, Elizabeth, you need sleep.” He says, and I’m right. His deep voice is still a mild comfort; a bit of stability after all this terrible.

“I’m good.” I say and send him a small smile. 

“I know for a fact you didn’t even try to go to bed last night, we need alert eyes on watch.” 

“You only know that for a fact ‘cause you were up all night as well.” I counter, and he breathes out a laugh and shakes his head. 

“Just go to bed, you aren’t going to win this argument.” He says, and tugs the rifle out of my hands. I roll my eyes at his stoic if slightly amused expression, and do as I’m told. 

At least I’m more likely to sleep with Charles on watch - he’s by far one of the people I trust most to watch our backs. 

I go inside my cabin, and take off my muddy boots at the door. I strip off my clothes straight after, dumping them somewhere to be washed before I can put them on again. 

Micah’s red shirt sits draped over the foot of my bed. I’ve been sleeping in it, because it smells like his leather polish and cigarettes. It makes me feel guilty how much I miss him, and I miss him differently than I do Arthur, or Dutch. I miss touching him, and kissing him, I miss how he would twirl my hair round his fingers and speak to me gently when no one else was around. I even miss that rough, dirty laugh, more than I ever thought I would. 

I slip it on and lie down on top of the covers. No sooner than my head hits the pillow I start crying, covering my face with my hands and curling onto my side. I don’t even know why I’m still here, or what the point in being allied with these people is anymore. It hasn’t gotten me anywhere, it hasn’t gotten any of us anywhere. What’s the point of family if we’re all suffering, drunk or at each other’s throats?

“It’ll be a breeze, sweetheart.” Micah had said to me before they left for the Saint Denis bank job. We were away from camp, sitting under the shadow of a tree like a pretty picture on a postcard. “Don’t worry so much.” 

I can still remember his gentle fingers in my hair, and I find myself crying even more. 

At some point in the sobs, I do fall asleep, even though my dreams are a whole mess of horrible. 

When I get up, I feel the humidity hit me along with the stink of this place. It isn’t hard to get off the bed, I’m taking Baylock to town today to get his back hoof re-shoed, and I intend to take my time on the ride, anything to be away from here. 

I don’t bother getting too dressed, just slip my bodice on under Micah’s shirt and tie it lazily, before pulling on my trousers and tucking the shirt into it. 

With my muddy boots back on, and satchel on my shoulder, I step out into the early morning. 

“Coffee?” Pearson asks as he passes my cabin.

“No thanks.” I say. “Get some for Karen though, okay? Pour it down her neck if you have to.”

“Aye aye.” He says solemnly, and heads for the pot. 

I don’t intend to waste my time hanging round here, I go straight to Baylock and rub his neck. 

“Hi there, boy.” I say, and feed him an apple from my pack. “How you doing today?” 

He whinnies and scuffs his hoof, and I mount him with confidence, though I’m honestly still a little nervous that he’ll buck me off like he did the first time I tried. 

I trot down the path away from Lakay, it being too wet to get up to any speed. As soon as the ground is less marshy, I’ll ride hard until I’m out of the Bayou, the place being an unsettling and dangerous place to ride. 

I don’t get far though, as soon as I round the corner to get on the road to Saint Denis, I spot a rider coming towards me, and I stop dead in my tracks. 

Big white hat, black shirt rolled up to his elbows, one arm hanging lazily as he rides at a steady pace. He sees me too and stops the horse that I can only assume is stolen. 

Fuzzy-headed, I dismount, and set off in a run down the path before I can even think about what I’m doing, as if he’ll vanish into thin air if I don’t grab hold of him soon. 

When I get to him I pause for a second, making sure it really is Micah, putting my hands on the side of his face and running my thumb over the scar under his lip. 

“I-” He starts to say something, but I wrap my arms round his shoulders tight and close my eyes, burying my nose into his shoulder. Micah holds me back, arms round my waist in a squeeze that comforts me like nothing has for weeks. 

“Oh, darlin’.” He sighs roughly, and I feel my nose and eyes sting with the desire to cry. 

“Are the rest alive too?” I ask, my voice small and stretched. We do not break apart.

“They’re on their way.” He says, and I am relieved beyond belief. Not so many dead, at least. 

“Micah.” I say, and pull back enough to look at him. “I was so - shit - I really thought you were dead.” 

“You’re cryin’.” He says, as if confused, and wipes the tear off my cheek with his thumb. “You miss me that much?”

“Yes, I did.” I admit, far beyond pretending not to care. “So much it hurt.”

Micah considers me for a moment and lets out a shaky breath. He’s very tan, sunburnt on his nose and forehead, and his hair looks blonder than it had when I last saw him. Where the hell were they?

“Same here, sweetheart.” He says, and kisses my forehead. “Jesus Christ I fuckin’ missed you.” He kisses my cheek then, and then my lips. I just hold his shoulders and kiss him back, while he pulls my body flush against him.  

“Where have you been?” I ask against his lips, and he holds the back of my head to keep kissing me. 

“Far away.” He says, and kisses me deeply one more time before pulling away. “Look, I got a lot to tell you but I don’t wanna do it in this fuckin’ swamp -let’s go to Rhodes, take a bath, eat a goddamn decent meal.”

“But, Micah, we have to tell everyone you’re here and that Arthur and Dutch are alive and Javier and Bi-”

“Arthur and Dutch’ll be back soon and I you know full well those people ain’t gonna give a shit about me bein’ alive. Just please, just come with me darlin’.” 

It makes me sad, but he’s not wrong, so I just nod, and I take the stolen horse so he can have Baylock back as we ride into town.

“She been takin’ good care of ya?” I hear him ask Baylock quietly, and chuckle to myself as I follow. 

I wish I was on the back of his horse with him; I still feel in a daze and worry that every moment I’m not touching him is a moment that could take him away again.

Alive, he’s alive, and so are the rest. Maybe things are salvageable. 

He sets a quick pace, we’re at the Rhodes saloon in no time. 

Micah hadn’t been lying about needing a good meal; he makes it expressly clear to the bartender that he expects double helpings of fried catfish on his plate and plenty of butter on his vegetables.

I watch him wolf it down, happily, feeling very odd sitting across the table from him with a dopey smile on my face when the night before I had been sobbing myself to sleep. 

He tells me everything - the botched job, the escape, the boat crash, Guarma. I almost wouldn’t believe if it weren’t for the truth of it in his eyes and the gold coin he slides me that he’d found on the island. Micah washes his food down with a beer, and promptly orders another. 

When he’s fed, and the story is out, his energy soothes into something calmer, and he looks at me in that penetrative way that makes me feel like he’s seeing my thoughts. 

The saloon is a pleasant change: dry, calm, a piano playing and the sound of general chat and laughter. Micah’s knees are touching mine under the table, and that alone is a comfort. 

“Listen, I gotta tell you somethin’ important, okay?” He says, looking serious and leaning forward on his elbows toward me.

“More serious than all that?” I ask, head swimming with everything he’d told me. 

“Yeah, I think so.” He says, and rests his hands over mine. Micah takes a steadying breath and a look passes his face I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. “When the storm hit that ship and I was thrown into the sea, I realised somethin’ real important, it… scares me a little, actually.”

He swallows, and I watch him closely, keep quiet because I don’t think I’ve ever seen this look on his face before.

“I… It was fuckin’ chaos, got thrown right off an into the ocean, ain’t even that good of a swimmer… Fire, men screamin’, I could hear Bill somewhere but I was too confused to even be sure it was him…”

I can’t even imagine the fear. He looks past me as he’s telling the story.. 

“And I’m almost drownin’, I’m getting peaks of the moon as I’m struggling for breath and trying to get to the surface, and all I’m thinking about… is you.” He laughs a bit in disbelief, and I feel my cheeks hot and my heart hammer. “Kept seein’ your face and hearin’ you say my name and all I could think was ‘shit, I gotta find dry land or I’m never gonna get to see Elizabeth again.” 

I open my mouth to speak, but I really don’t know what to say, so I close it again, I just squeeze his hands and swallow to wet my dry throat. 

“Wasn’t thinkin’ about myself, or Dutch or Arthur. Was thinkin’ about how your hand feels in my hand and that I never had the chance to live with ya in a real house, or… Bring ya flowers and treat you nice… Tell me that ain’t the most ridiculous thing you ever heard.” He says, self-deprecatingly. 

My heart is beating very heart, and I can feel the heat in my cheeks and my ears. I can’t deny how it makes me feel, the truth that he’d thought of me in what he thought might be his last moments. It makes me feel cared about, it makes me feel like all the feeling I’ve developed for him over these past months has been returned.

“Doesn’t sound ridiculous.” I say, voice coming out small; I rub his knuckle with my thumb. “Sounds like you love me.” 

Micah lets out a breath through his nose, and I expect him to reflexively deny it.

“Yeah, think that’s what I realised.” His moustache twitches, and he turns over one of my hands to sit palm upright in his, and runs his fingertips over the skin there. He looks downright bashful. “That okay with you, miss, that I love you?”

I smile to myself, because he is pointedly not looking at my face.

“Just fine with me, Micah.” I say. “I love you too.” 

I see him let out another breath and nod to himself with a satisfied smile. 

“That why you’re wearin’ my shirt?” He asks, looking pointedly at the red material. 

“I may have been pining a bit.” I admit, making sure the chest isn’t hanging open too much. We share a small laugh. 

“No one’s ever pined for me before.” He says. “M-makes me feel good.” 

Micah still watches where he’s tracing my palm with his fingers rather than looking at my face, I can only imagine how difficult it is for him to say these things. 

“Only trouble is, if I love you, might mean I need to start carin’ about all the things you care about, like those people back there.” 

“Well, yes, it does.” I tell him honestly. “If you want to… be with me, you should want to help my family - which is what the gang is to me.”

Micah sighs and considers me for a moment, looks me in the eye. 

“I think I can do that.” He says, and lifts up my hand to kiss the back of it. “Long as you love me back think I can do a lot I didn’t think I was capable of.” 

I lift the hand that he kissed and rest it on his cheek, and he covers it with his and holds it there. 

[johnmarstoned]

If you wouldn’t mind, I’m in a very smutty place right now, and some very NSFW smut with John x female reader with a little roughness would really hit the spot 😁☺️ Thank you!

Thank you! It’s nice to be back at it. NSFW content ahead. 

Tensions are too high in the camp; it would be bad enough just living in the Bayou with it’s cloying heat and the fact it feels like you can never get your clothes really dry, but things feel bad… it feels like we can never get on our feet.

It’s why John is out right now, chasing down a lead to hopefully bring some money back in and at least try to give folks a reason to smile.

I stand on the balcony of Shady Belle, watching the path into the grounds and hoping to god he comes back soon with all his limbs intact.

When I hear the sound of heavy hooves, I know he’s approaching, and focus on the tree-line to watch him emerge. He does, and I breathe a sigh of relief and watch him hitch up and dismount. Immediately, I know he hasn’t been successful, because he does not look up to catch my eye and wave like he would if he was returning with bags full of cash.

From here, I can just about make out the scowl on his face and I see him brush Hosea off when he tries to speak to him.

Intending to try and talk to him, I leave the balcony and go back into the house, but his boots come clunking quickly up the stairs the moment I’m out into the hallway.

“John…” I say softly, reaching for him, and he accepts my touch when I lay my hand comfortingly on his forearm. There’s a swipe of blood on his cheek and sweat on his brow, his eyes are downcast. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” He says, and nudges me towards our room. “Ain’t the kinda comfort I want right now.” 

His voice is rough and low, as soon as the door shuts, my back is against it and he buries his bearded face into my neck. 

“Are you okay”? I sigh, warming to the feeling of his big hands on my hips and the sucking kiss he leaves on my neck. 

“Just need you right now darlin’, that okay?” His voice vibrates through me, and my body responds immediately, shuddering. 

“Yeah.” Is all I can say, and I knock his hat off his head so I can bury my hand into his black hair and pull him up to kiss me hard, his tongue pushing into my mouth insistently and touching mine. 

We don’t bother with much preamble, but I don’t need it. There isn’t a day that goes by around here that isn’t frustrating anymore, and I’m not immune to it. Sometimes, I just need John to handle me, to just give me everything I need and be quick about it too. 

So the fact that we don’t even make it to the bed, that the top of my body presses into the dresser, dress bunched up at my waist, while he grips my hips and fucks me from behind, is just fine with me. 

He’s usually more talkative, but the only sounds that leave his mouth are sporadic, rough little grunts that go right through me and make me throb between my legs. 

“Oh my god…” I moan, my nails digging into the wood and his fingertips digging into my skin almost bruisingly. All I can think of is the feeling of his cock stretching me delightfully, pushing in deep and quick. 

I almost ask, but he anticipates it, and lands a slap on my ass that makes a delightful noise but doesn’t sting too much. I clench in response, and he swears through his teeth at the feeling. 

“Christ.”  Then his fingers weave in the back of my hair, and pull my head back so he can kiss my mouth wetly and let me feel the groans reverberate in his chest. “So good to me, baby.”

It feels good from this angle, deeper, and I push back against his thrusts as one hand holds my throat and the other grabs my breast through the cotton of my dress. 

I’m close to coming, and so is he because he’s making broken noises right in my ear as he fucks me dizzy. 

The filthy sound of flesh on flesh echoes around the small room, and the dresser squeaks under me. He doesn’t let up for a second, as lost in the pleasure as me. I like John when he’s soft, but I like him when he’s rough as well, not talking, just doing, taking what he wants needs from me and enjoying my delight as a side benefit. 

I wish I could see his face - the frown in his forehead and the flush in his cheeks, but I can wait - my imagination is fine for now. 

He puts a little bit of pressure on my neck like he knows I like, and grinds into me, pushing himself as far in as he can and whispering filthy words in my ear i can barely hear through my own arousal. 

When he lets go of my breast to reach between my legs and work my clit, I come almost immediately, moaning loud and losing my senses as I clench and unclench around him. 

“Shit,” he swears roughly, “shit.” 

That’s enough to push him over, and his hands tighten on me as he fills me up with a loud, long groan. His fingers relax on my throat when he realises he’s squeezed, and he doesn’t stop grinding his lips into me until every last drop of his come is spent. 

Our bodies both relax after being stretched taut from the pleasure, and he pants against the side of my face, softening in me. 

“Feel better?” I ask, breathless. He laughs a little, and nods.

“Much.” 

[johnmarstoned]

Hey, I’m on a bit of an RDR2 kick right now so I’m reopening requests for a little bit - particularly interested in writing for Arthur, John and Micah (including x Elizabeth), but will consider other requests as well! 

Just a few reminders:

- I write mostly romance - SFW or NSFW. - I prefer to do quick (and sometimes not so quick) shorts rather than head-cannon. - Everything 100% clearly consensual and age-appropriate. - Not a fan of sexually inexperienced female characters with experienced partners. 

If anyone’s still interested in my stuff, drop me a message!

[dochollibee]

Red Dead Redemption 2 is my favourite game of this generation. jpg

[usersukuna]

#sTAy cALM JoHN