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inkyquince · 3 months ago

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Ripped Corset and Scattered Pearls

Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader

Arthur Morgan is just trying to steer himself right in the world, raising money and being some sort of a good man. It's just harder, with so many lonely nights when surrounded by couples among the camp and the communities. His iron will is shaken upon just seeing someone so tasty to him, just a rich little miss, escorted by her bodyguards through the dusty streets of St. Denis.

The sight of her nourishes him, and that's all he needs, until one of Dutch's plans give him an opening to take her away, to keep her for him

cw. noncon turned dubcon. stalking. voyeurism. low honor arthur morgan. possessive and obsessive arthur. kidnapping.

notes. 12.5k words. This was a commission by Red, thank you for your patience and hoped you enjoyed it!!

There were a few truths about the life that Arthur Morgan had chosen to live. One truth was that it was going to always be hard, gritty and your ass is going to always be a bit sore from the saddle. Another was that your horse is your life. That beauty goes down, and you can kiss your dwindling chances to live goodbye, especially on the road.

But the one that Arthur kept close to his heart, was the truth that good women were rare, a pretty woman was rarer. So, like John did Abigail, like Dutch did Molly and Sean… Somewhat did with Karen, Arthur promised himself that if he found the one, he would never let her go, not again. Everything else be damned.

The life they all led was lonely, despite the gang’s closeness. It was something about going back to his own tent after a long day, and hearing the sounds of love making next door in Dutch’s tent was excruciating. The thought of jerking his cock desperately flitted in and out of his mind, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. One, because being caught would be… Embarrassing, but also because… He struggled to think up the perfect daydream to fuck his fist to. Once upon a time, he’d think about Mary, and the sweet life they would share together. Think about their first night between them, sweet kisses and slow, but as time passed, it just felt sadder and sadder each night he imagined it. He had to stop at one point, frowning up at his tent as cum cooled on his belly. It never felt as good as just imagining some faceless woman, riding his ruddy cock, moaning as he jerked his erection.

He had started to pay for whores in bars too. Fleeting fucks or slightly calloused hands fondling at his cock as he leaned back in the bath. It had become a need, something to ease the growing loneliness at the back of his heart, craving…. Craving something that no paid prostitute, nightly jerk off session, or singing along to Javier’s guitar with the others in the evening, could ever placate. The craving to share his little alcove, to let Jack have a little cousin, to be fussed over and his face sat on by a perfect little pussy. Arthur just wants someone with him. In this new fantasy, they’d never fight like Abigail and John. He wouldn’t ignore her, like Dutch did Molly. They’d be with each other and it would be natural. Perfect pairs for each other, meant to grow old together.

It was this fantasy that was playing in his head, as he, John, Sean, and Charles headed into Saint Denis, needing to be away from Camp for a while and John had some things to pick up that could only be found in the hellish city that felt too claustrophobic and tight. Arthur lingered on the daydream of soft hands against his aching shoulders, almost able to hear the swish of a dress as the chatter of the men was drowned out by the bustle of the city. The others split off, letting Arthur know that they should meet back up at the bar at dusk and Arthur watched them go, his hand still slowly stroking along the horse’s neck as she huffed and shook her head.

There was usually quite a lot to do in Saint Denis, but not a lot of the real time killers were running right now, like the play, or hitting the Bastille Saloon. Instead, he started to mindlessly amble, just taking in the sights, even if he wasn’t… A big fan of the sights. The city had accidentally become a symbol of everything he wanted to get away from, what the gang wanted to get away from. Big ole city you could get lost in, cluttered with people and law men.

This thinking did nothing but sour his mood, Arthur’s lips having pulled down into a frown. Instead, he got one of his cigarette packs out to light one up, taking a moment to squint at the cigarette card before shrugging and discarding it. His eyes, shadowed by his hat, finally focused on a saloon, seemingly a bit more empty on the busy day. Might as well enjoy a full meal and a good drink before continuing on his amble through the city. As he approached the stairs leading up, the wind blew, and the doors swung open before he got to them. The breeze carried the lovely, angelic scent of expensive perfume. But he was used to the overpriced musk that drenched elderly ladies with rows of pearls that seemed to choke them. This was something softer, sweeter, natural. He knew what it smelled like, he just had to remember. It brought memories of dusk falling over meadows with the humid air settling into something in between warm and cold, something perfect.

With one foot on the first step, he looked up, two big burly fuckers pushing through and past him, revolvers in their belts and rifles slung across their backs. But as they shoved him aside, off the step, to make space, they parted, and showed…

You.

John would have called you a rich bitch with diamonds in her pussy. Dutch would have called you a mark. Charles would have said you looked quite nice.

Arthur thought you were the most perfect woman he had ever seen. Soft lace gloves holding the parasol perched on your shoulder, protecting you from the heat beating down. Your dress didn’t have the bustle the older ladies dragged around behind them, but still had that classy material…. The one that crinkles when you walk, swishing just above the ground. Tight corset, the skirt falling naturally over your legs as you gratefully accepted the hand of one of your… Bodyguards(?) that helped you walk down the steps.

Your eyes briefly met his, framed by your pretty eyelashes, a small bit of sweat from the hot day trickling down your throat. His eyes slid from yours, to follow it down until it vanished into your clothing. Your lips curved into a small smile but you didn’t say anything, instead flanked by your bodyguards down the street, passersby being scared into skittering to the side. Arthur watched you go, cigarette sitting static on his bottom lip, until he remembered.

Bluebells. You smelled like bluebells on a Midsummer’s Eve.

Little Lady Bluebell.

Arthur’s lips twitched with humour and headed into the saloon, the soft scent of the little blue flower lingering on his clothes from the short brush with the pretty little thing of his dreams.

You were the highlight of his daydreams for a while, but in all of them, he was a gentleman, someone of value, and you were… More than delighted to hitch those skirts up and let him finger you, sweet breasts pressing against his arm. It always left him feeling like a filthy man, rubbing the back of his knuckles against his bristly chin, cum staining his rough fingers. Arthur was more amused than disgusted with himself. A bit surprised he could cum like he was a younger man again, with just a pretty face of a girl that just gave him a glimpse. If he was a hopeless romantic (he was) that had enough time and money (he didn’t), he’d go back every day to maybe catch another glimpse, maybe get you to lose the security to ask you for a drink and be a gentleman.

Arthur was happy to just have you as a daydream, a wish that could never come true. Well, not happy, but he’d be… Fine. You were something he could have for himself as he did his dirty jobs, robbed, killed, intimidated, everything. A fantasy that was waiting back at his bed, someone that washed the blood from his hands, kissed his gunpowder streaked knuckles, washed his hair and lay with him every night. Sometimes he went through the motions of cleaning himself up, only somewhat listening to the camp around him, instead imagining you, maybe even in your underclothes, sitting on his knee and nosing along his jaw. The most perfect thing.

Weeks had passed, with spring melting into summer, crickets scream-chirping each night and the sun seemed to beat down with a new intensity that was aimed directly at him. As if laughing. Burn, Arthur Morgan, burn.

What’s worse is that Dutch was up to something. His usual cool, relaxed gait when he was still searching his brilliant brain for ideas to up their wealth was gone. Instead he had begun to stay up longer at night, pouring over papers in his tent, snapping at Molly to stop bothering him. Everytime Arthur swung by, his tobacco stained teeth would glint dully in the light as he looked up at him.

“This’ll be a fun one, my boy. Going to fill our pockets but not as easy as just pulling your gun and demanding the money.” Arthur quietly disagreed that robbing was that easy, but nothing was going to dull Dutch’s shine right now, so he just waited, going into town, selling pelts, robbing stagecoaches, until one morning.

The sun was beating down, sweat slowly rolling down his neck, staining his shirt collar. He was already feeling too sticky and warm, flies buzzing around his horse’s head as they made their way with some of the gang. Dutch led them down a thin, narrow, worn path that Arthur had never noticed before. Dutch was giving him and John the rundown of his plan, which did shape up to the usual, let-him-speak-shut-your-mouth schtick. At least Hosea said it with longer, nicer words. Arthur stretched a bit, enjoying the shade of the leaves as they made their way..

It was a long ride, or at least felt like it.

The downy trees slowly gave way to a large plantation, a building similar to the Braithwaite Manor in its size and grandeur. No wonder Dutch was practically serenading the weeds at the camp for weeks. Arthur vaguely knew that their great wagon leader found some rich guy with a transportation problem and gussied himself up to be some sort of man of repute who could help out with anything.

Ill-repute maybe but anything for those extra few coins in the box.

Dutch already slipped into his southern devilish charm voice as soon as the group got past the gates, closer to the house, idly chatting to one of the hands that started walking with them, the rifle slung across his back glinting in the sun. Arthur only half listened, his eyes idly watching the nearby lake, the light glinting off the water. Pretty.

The manor wasn’t even that much cooler on the inside than the outside. At least the watered down drinks they were offered weren't half bad.

But as Arthur raised the fancy glass to his lips, he froze up. Floral. Fresh. Something was carrying on the breeze, through the house. Bluebells.

Saliva pooled on his tongue, as he dragged the tip over his canine, pressing hard into the organ, as if trying to pierce the flesh. Just a coincidence. Maybe the lady of the house favoured them in those annoyingly tall vases around the house.

It wasn’t.

The master of the house was downright gleeful to introduce the apple of his eye when you came down the stairs. Your dress was switched out for a pretty blouse and skirt, swishing over your heeled boots, but instead of matching Miss Grimshaw in the austerity of the outfit, you looked… Delicate. The pearls resting on your collarbone glint in the natural light. You looked like if spring herself slipped down from the heavens and took a seat on the… Chaise… Lounge… Thing. Pretty and flowy with eyes that were doe-like and that held… No recognition for him. He wouldn’t care if some prissied bitch didn’t recognise him after a meeting, but he wanted you to. Let those eyes light up in remembrance, maybe even give him a smile, extend those pretty gloved fingers for him to kiss on the knuckles.

He was just lucky no one saw him staring. The conversation was about moving a shit ton amount of bonds on a certain night, along with the family’s greatest treasure, to the next town over. Some ruffians have their eye on it or something. Dutch’s pleased smirk was mistaken as something more wholesome. Figuring out the logistics would usually have Arthur’s attention, just so he can figure out his part in the upcoming plan, but you were a magnet. Cleavage just peeking out of the blouse, your finery not a demand to be seen as more, more of a fact. You were more. And even as Arthur was quietly counting your eyelashes, it felt like he was doing something that he wasn’t allowed to do, not by any human law.

Thank god he was a criminal.

His cock was sore from all the stroking that night. Dutch promised the family that they would stay near the estate in order to be on hand at any time. Finally some privacy for him to properly see to himself, massaging his balls as his rough thumb dragged over his leaking head, struggling to not cum just yet. He can just see himself tucking his fingers down the front of your corset, pulling it down to free those pretty little tits. Arthur could just envision it, your dress pulled down to just underneath your breasts, the cute little sleeves trapping your arms against your sides. Your dress pulled up to reveal those pretty stockinged knees, all the while your cunt was stuffed full of his cock.

He’d bet anything that little Miss Bluebells was a tight little virgin. Daddy wouldn’t let you scamper anywhere without those bodyguards, so unless you were giving it up to them, you were ripe for him to take it from you.

Normally the afterglow of an orgasm had him taste the bitterness of his reality curdle the pleasure still settling in his stomach. But he knew Dutch’s plan. The glow never faded, not this time.

It was simple really. Get paid to escort an understated but tasteful carriage, filled with bonds and something near and dear to the family over to… Nowhere. It will never arrive, the insides gutted out like a deer carcass, free of everything that could get them just a few extra shiny dollars. Hell, they would even sell off the horses.

Arthur was thinking he could lure you out of that house. A slipped note, to come alone, and you can get your family’s riches back. Then, who knows.

He doesn’t know when the longing in his chest turned into something darker, hungrier. You barely looked at him, even if you spoke sweetly when you two did share words, but he wanted you. You were it. Maybe he was going crazy, but it was hard to deny himself when your floral perfume was still staining his skin.

The days seemed to drag in a sweaty haze of over planning and bulk buying bullets, checking the horses’ hooves just in case. The smell of your perfume was almost sickly to him. Sweat running down his neck, the overwhelming scent of overripe fruit and scorched, browned grass too much for him. An addictive sort of sweet, nauseating, as if it's turned rancid from being apart too long. Fruit in the bowl that’s not been checked everyday.

It was worth going back to the plantation. If caught he can just say that he was set on special security a few days before, but there was no hassle. He got to watch from his horse as you read by the lake, and sometimes lifted those skirts and dipped your feet in. The cigarette smoke curled over his face as his teeth dug into the paper just enough to leave a deep dent, imagining what it would be like to nip and bite along your graceful neck. Arthur doubts you’ve ever gotten anything more than an awed kiss on your ring or maybe an affectionate kiss on the cheek from family. Unless you were secretly allowing your ever present bodyguards to trade kisses with you, using too much tongue and sinking their fingers into you. Arthur scowled at that, biting down further on his cigarette as he adjusted his binoculars. It didn’t soothe him that they just seemed fond of you and nothing more, not when you were… You. A fine whiskey to an alcoholic, meant to be savoured on his tongue, smooth going down. Arthur knew that if he was one of your bodyguards, it would only take a glimpse of your perfect collarbones and something in him would snap. He took a moment to enjoy the daydream, being trusted so near you, so much so that no one would care when he went up the stairs to your room, and fucked you in your childhood bedroom, made properly into a woman under his rough hands and drooling cock.

Best of all, your family would cast you out once you were found to be pregnant. You wouldn’t rat him out, would you? Not that it would matter. Thrown out, and all you could do was crawl to him, and let him put a scratched up ring on your finger.

Arthur’s eyes slowly watched a guard take notice of him, tilting his head, as he ruminated on stripping you of all your finery, and selling all the dresses and jewels off. He raised his hand in greeting as the other man scrutinised him, exhaling some of his cigarette smoke and imaging your pretty flushed face as he kept you naked, promising you daily that your new clothes should be coming in any time now while getting to openly eye your cunt. The plantation guard started making his way over and Arthur decided against any sort of conversation, not while his cock was hard in his trousers and the image of you, shy and bare, was suspended in his mind, like those painted glass windows of the Virgin Mary in church. Luckily the man just stopped in his tracks and watched him ride off, unwilling to kick up a fuss.

Arthur was thankful that Dutch hadn’t sprung this job on them a month ago. He wouldn’t have been able to get through the nights if he had to wait that long. Would have fucked up the plan somehow, no doubt. Stealing you right out of your sheets in the middle of the night most probably.

But the day came. After so long, it was here.

Riding alongside the carriage, he ignored the excited twitches from Sean, Dutch’s smug smirk as he glanced back at the gang, and even Bill’s complaining about the sun beating down his sweat soaked shirt. The driver seemed to enjoy the company, chatting with the ever affable Dutch as they made their way further and further away from the estate, and deeper into the sheltered, untamed land yet to be conquered. Arthur had hoped to see you before they set off, but he only got a rudimentary glance around the grounds and up at the balconies before he got an elbow in the side and an annoyed glance. No matter. He knew you’d be easily lured out by the promise of helping your family.

The ambush was quick, easy, fucking child’s play. The driver, the poor man, had looked under his seat to grab a flask to share around, when Dutch caught Sean’s eye. The deafening, wet crack sounded as the boy swung his gun immediately down on the driver’s head, letting the man crumple.

Dutch immediately lunged over to take hold of the reins, yanking the horses to the side, down and off the beaten path. Bill hung around on the road to look out for other riders down the path before following the others down into the trees, almost chuckling to himself.

“Dutch, if this ain’t the easiest fuckin’ payday, I don’t know nothing.”

Dutch just smirked to himself, swinging down from his horse.

“Sean, bring the horses to Hosea, going to be worth a pretty penny.” He patted one of the pure white horses’ hindquarters as he swaggered his way towards the door of the carriage.

There was a bit of movement from within. Arthur and Dutch both froze up for just a second before unholstering their guns, Bill needing a moment before he yanked his rifle from his shoulder.

There was a beat of silence.

“... Maybe the-” Sean began when the carriage door burst open.

A big burly fucker came through, already swinging. His knuckles connected with Arthur’s cheek, sending both men sprawling down to the ground. His ear was ringing from where the punch landed, and the two of them started to wrestle on the ground. Gunshots rang out, first from the carriage, then from Bill and Dutch.

Arthur felt blood swell in his mouth, but he just swallowed it down, lunging forward to smash his own face against the other man’s, breaking his nose instantly. He howled in pain, and stumbled back, trying to get away from the outlaw, but Sean’s hand was faster than his legs. Two gunshots rang out, and blood bloomed from the two holes in the fucker’s arm and trousers, the bullets having ripped through his thigh and shoulder.

“Fuck… Fuckers… They’ll fucking hang you for this.” He wheezed, mud covering his face along with his blood, still alive.

Bill yanked Arthur to his feet, bruised and bloodied, but not as bad as the other man.

“Shit. Aren’t they…?” Sean looked up at Dutch, from where the two men were holding the second one down.

They are. They’re your bodyguards. But that means…

Arthur made sure to step on his attacker, on the way to look into the carriage. Ducking his head in, suddenly surrounded by plush seats and pretty interior wallpaper, he held his breath, in either trepidation… Or excitement.

And there you were.

Tucked into the corner, face flushed with fear, clinging to your skirts. Frightened. Petrified like a little mouse.

“Y-You…” You whispered.

Arthur smiled.

Then he reached inside and ripped you out of your seat.

“Well, shit!” Dutch exclaimed as Arthur hauled you out of the carriage, holding you securely in his big arms as your two bodyguards kicked up a weak struggle again. “... The little princess is their nearest and dearest treasure? Well, that’s adorable.”

He laughed and Bill grumbled.

“So, does this mean that they don’t have any fuckin’ money in there?”

“The bonds.” Your second bodyguard wheezed out.

Arthur finally paid proper attention to him, always quietly dismissing him before. The younger of the two, a bit broader, and still putting up a valiant fucking fight despite the bruises littering his face and then blood oozing from his shin.

“D-Don’t hurt her. There’s a box of bonds under the s-seat!”

“Looks like someone’s got a crush.” Dutch snorted softly but stepped towards the carriage to root around inside.

The blood soaking Arthur’s mouth soured on his tongue. Fucker.

“My jewellery!” You suddenly said, tense in his arms. Warm. Soft. But tense. “That should fetch you around $200!”

“You’re shitting me, girly.” Bill whistled through his teeth.

Arthur disliked the way Sean’s eyes were suddenly pinned to the brooch by your breast, the gems glittering in the dappled light.

“I’ll sort it.” He grumbled, trudging towards one of the trees and dumping you on the ground.

Stripping you of your fineries was a fucking rush. His hands dragging over your pretty dress, unhooking the brooch, tilting your face to slip the earrings out, taking every ring from your pretty fingers. The only moment he paused, was to take the pearls from you. The beads of white splayed across your collarbones always had his stomach tightening.

“They’re real.” You whispered, low, and he blinked at you. “They’re… They’re individually knotted, see? Means they’re real, so if it snaps, they won’t all scatter.”

You had taken his pause as doubt. Silly, sweet thing. He watched your throat bob as you swallowed nervously. He could always give you-

“C’mon Morgan, don’t let her twist you around her little finger.” Dutch called.

Oh, but he already was. From head to toe, he belonged to you. But, he had a job to do. So he carefully slipped the pearls from your throat, his rough thumbs dragging over the sensitive skin. Arthur pocketed all of your little niceties, before slipping a length of rope from his satchel. Your doe eyes widened at it but it seemed that you were more of a deer than you realised, freezing instead of running. Not that it would have done anything. He was a hunter.

He tied your wrists behind your back before binding your ankles, making sure to rip the stockings enough to catch a glimpse of skin. Before too long, your two loyal dogs were dragged over, bound with rope and gagged.

Dutch sorted through the haul, satisfied smirk settling on his lips as he fiddled with your jewellery.

“Good payout from this one, boys.” He finally announced, tucking it all into the satchel by his side. “All we have to do is deal with these three, and then we’re home free.”

“I’ll do it.” Arthur immediately spoke up, arms crossed firmly over his chest.

The older man eyed him closely, rolling his thick cigar between his thumb and forefinger. The way he scrutinised him made Arthur feel like Dutch could see into his heart, his head, to see exactly what he wanted, what he wanted more than the money. Everything else faded away as Sean snickered and Bill grumbled. Finally, the older man smirked.

“Go ahead, Arthur.” He said, slow, as if measuring out his words intentionally.

Permission.

Arthur stood, stock still, as the others saddled up and took off, one by one, Dutch waiting to go last to shoot him a wink. The moment he disappeared through the trees, he exhaled slowly. He felt excitement build in his stomach, his cock rousing oh so slowing, just from breathing in the nature around him… And the bluebells.

“Just let us go.” The older bodyguard spat out his gag and demanded, through a mouthful of blood. Someone had stemmed the bleeding so he’d have some time to go get some help and survive. Maybe. “We can make our own way back. You don’t gotta kill us.”

Arthur stepped closer, gait slow and relaxed before picking up the sodden gag and ramming it back into the bodyguard’s bloodied mouth. He could feel the man’s front tooth break against his knuckles as he yanked his hand free.

“Just shut it.” Arthur grumbled, looking at the grazed skin of his hand.

Before too long, his gaze was back on you. You weren’t gagged, nor as thoroughly tied up as your two loyal dogs. He hadn’t wanted to hurt you by making the ropes too tight, but also… Easier to get them off this way.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you.” He finally said, and saw your entire body tense up in fear.

He wanted to do the opposite of hurting you. He wanted to free you.

Arthur saw the two bodyguards start to try and fight their bindings as he got closer to you, taking you by your bound ankles and dragging you away from the tree the three of you were leaning against. Not exactly a four poster bed with nice blankets, but the grass was soft. You started to wriggle, making soft, cute noises behind that gag. Gripping your knees, he spread them enough to settle in between. Not going to yank up your skirts yet.

“Relax, sweetheart.” He murmured, taking a moment to squeeze your sides. “I’m gonna be a gentleman about this.”

You gave the most adorable little terrified whine. He could almost mistake it for a sigh of pleasure, and he couldn’t wait to hear more.

Ignoring the muffled protests from the two bodyguards, the younger one almost frantic in his objections, Arthur stroked over your sides before reaching up to fiddle with the neckline of your dress. His rough fingers weren’t nimble, not like Javier’s, at least not with the dainty little buttons and fine drawstrings. But, despite your wriggling and soft pleas, he managed to get your cute little blouse open… With the knife he kept by his thigh. A quick slice opened it right up, showing off the overbust corset you wore. Soft, cream coloured thing, cupping your bosom in such a tantalising way. Arthur was transfixed by the way your breasts heaved with every shaking breath, nearly slipping free to let him see those pretty nipples.

You gave another sweet little whine and Arthur dragged the flat of his tongue over one of his canines. He wanted to hear your words, no matter if you were going to beg, scream, plead. It didn’t matter. Because eventually, you’d be moaning for him. You’re going to want more and more of him. He shifts his weight and leans forward to drag the piece of fabric from your mouth, noticing how dry and chapped your pretty lips had gotten.

“Please-” You immediately whispered, once your mouth was freed. You quickly darted your tongue out, just to wet your bottom lip but his blue-green eyes snagged onto the movement. “Please, don’t-”

“Hush.” Arthur pressed his coarse thumb against your lips. “Been wanting to make this good for you, don’t make me wanna take that back if you start kicking up a fuss.”

Your eyes slowly widened in realisation as he leaned away, dragging your blouse down your arms and fully away from your torso. This quiet, tall, man who your father had assured you was trustworthy, had not only planned the robbery… But this. With you. You felt tears beginning to well up in your eyes, and Arthur was too busy fighting with your corset to notice.

It was just a light corset, from the softness of your stomach, reaching up to gently cradle your breasts, but it was like trying to get off a full body chastity belt. The drawstrings on the back were tightly knotted, and even when he turned you on your side to try and free them, they were just too fucking complicated to untie. He turned you on your back again with a grunt.

With a low sigh, Arthur took up his knife again, rubbing the blade against his dusty trousers. You blinked your wet eyes, terrified but too frozen to start begging again. You could almost feel the blade sinking into your belly, cutting you open even if he didn’t mean to. You weren’t put at ease by his easy, small smile, nor his large hand resting on your side to keep you from squirming.

“Don’t worry, pretty thing. I know my way around a knife well enough.”

Arthur slid the knife underneath the first string of your corset and swiftly jerked his blade upwards, cutting it open and loosening the garment. He could vaguely hear one of the bodyguards shout through his gag and wriggle helplessly, but most of his attention was taken by the first reveal of your skin. With a sense of awe, he stroked his rough thumb against the flesh, feeling you shiver between his thighs. Have you ever been touched like this? Worshipped? Did you even know all the ways a woman could be held and caressed and fucked?

Suddenly feeling like a parched man who had a single drop of water, he was ravenous for more, more of you. Forgoing his careful cutting, he laid the smooth side of the blade against your spine, and wrenched the serrated edge of it through the intricate laces. You gave a cute little squeal of terror at the feeling, but Arthur was true to his word. He didn’t even nick your back with his knife.

He gripped your sides and pushed you onto your back and wrestled the tattered remains of your ripped corset off you, flinging the garment to the side, into the mud. Your chest was finally freed for him.

Fuck.

Fuck, you were perfect. The prettiest tits he’d ever laid eyes on. Arthur had been with a fair few women, but fuck. Cute breasts, with your softened nipples hardening in the air. His cock strained against his trousers. He felt like he was a young man again, excitement brewing in his gut to a disgusting degree.

Slap!

You cried out softly as his gloved hand left a red mark against the side of your chest, watching it jiggle from the smack.

“Sorry.” Arthur gave a crooked smile. “Couldn’t help myself.”

Neither could the young buck apparently. His eyes widened and stared at your tits, perky nips all stiff, begging to be sucked. He could imagine ruining you with babies, one always on your breast, feeding, and then he’d get his own turn, getting to drink his fill as you whispered to save some for your children. His balls throbbed.

“D’aw, look at that.” He gripped your chin with his filthy, dirty fingers, smearing some mud on you, and pulled your face to look at the boy. “Aren’t you glad I got to you first? He was going to creep in and fuck you on your nice sheets, you can tell.”

He loved the look of bewilderment on your face, at the thought of one of the men you trusted would look at you like that. You whimpered and Arthur cooed at you, trailing his fingertips across your cheek, just to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. He leaned down and breathed in your scent, just below your ear. Bluebells. Fear. God, you were delicious. He never took stock in scaring his lovers, but you… You made him feel somehow bigger than you than he already was. Like a bad man.

You couldn’t take the look in your bodyguard’s eyes anymore, a split between horror and arousal. It felt like a betrayal of the safety his eyes once promised you. But when you pulled away from looking at him, you were cheek to cheek with the brute, the brute whose entire body enveloped you. His skin was rough, stubbly, hot. Sweaty. His clothed chest against your bare one, his deep breaths against your ear making the hair on your arms and neck stand up. He smelt… Your thighs shook a bit. Different. He smelt different, different to any man you’d met before. You were used to perfumed gentlemen, clad in cologne and the pomade they put in their hair. He smelt of none of that. Leather, gun oil, like horsehair, like sweat. Like a deep musk seeping from his skin. Like… Like a man.

You felt his chapped lips breath against your cheek before pressing against it more firmly. A kiss. Your breath caught in your throat. Again… Another kiss, against your cheek, against your jaw and then he paused, mouth nearly touching yours. You could already taste the whiskey on his breath.

Arthur crashed his lips against yours, losing his control at the last moment. He guessed he should have treated it like a kiss at the altar, a kiss of marriage, but he couldn’t, he had spent too long thinking about it, jerking his cock as he pressed two fingers against his lips, lost in the dreams of your desperate kisses as you humped his cock. Fuck. His lips had just barely touched yours, tasting you, when he slipped his tongue in, dragging it along your teeth before pressing further. He couldn’t stop his own breathless moan, his cock jutting right where your cunt was hidden, beneath your skirts. God, you tasted… So good. Sweet, with a hint of blood. You must have been biting your cheek, or your tongue. You were wound so tight, like a spring, and he couldn’t wait to hear what noises you would make for him.

You whined into his mouth, the alcohol on his tongue, the cigarette taste dripping into yours, the blood that was no doubt from the fist fight earlier, your bitten cheek stinging as his tongue dragged against it. You could hear one of your bodyguards shout against his gag, probably for the brute to stop, but you both ignored him. You were a realist. Your breasts were free, he was kissing you and you could feel his… His thing pressing against your private place. You knew what he wanted. Your mother had warned you at a young age what men want; you knew why you had bodyguards.

Arthur pulled away, a long bridge of spit connecting both of your bottom lips, only to gently split when he got further away. He wasted no time, ducking his head to drop equally wet kisses to your hard nipples, giving one sharp suck. You gasped softly, biting down on your bottom lip to stifle the noise, not wanting to excite him further. He spent some time just kissing and sucking at them, rolling the nipple along his teeth and tongue, tugging with his head every now and then just to make you repeat the sound that got his cock throbbing something unbearable.

Straightening back up, he shucked his belt free and fought to get his trousers open. His erection strained against the fabric and he already knew that his long johns would be stained from the precum that had been seeping freely from his cockhead. It only happened with you, not even with Mary, back when she was Mary Gillis who was so sweet on him, before she was a Linton and only came to him when she needed something. Arthur chased the thought away from this moment, not wanting to be thinking of another woman when one so perfect lay half naked before him.

Yanking down his trousers and tucking his long johns below his balls, you finally got a good look at the monster you would be dealing with. You fell completely silent, no more whimpers or whines, just staring at his dusky cock, the head a deep, angry red, with a droplet of… Something hanging off the tip. While you fell silent, your bodyguards were shocked back into speech once more, shouting through their gags, the younger one wrestling at his restraints and smacking the back of his head against the tree in frustration. Stupid boy looked like he was about to cry.

Now, Arthur had a plan, well, an old plan. What he had wanted to, when he lured you out of the house, told you that you could get your family’s riches back, then trapped you in the abandoned house he had found in the forest. Well, it was abandoned after he left a bullet between a hermit’s eyes, but hey, he washed the blood out of the floors so you wouldn’t be forced to see that. He’d treat it like your wedding night. Suck at your clit and finger you until you came and then fuck you, like a good Christian man. Then he’d show you all the ways to make a man feel good, all the ways a woman could cum.

But fuck, it was hard sticking to the plan right now.

Kissing it goodbye, he gripped your soft sides and dragged you down, letting the dirt get into your hair. Your doe-eyes were still staring at his cock, the way it was just too fat to stand all the way up. God, he just needed to cum. Then he can carry you off and do this properly.

“Listen,” Arthur went back to dragging his thumb over the curve of your breasts before gently flicking a wetted nipple. His dark eyes glinted underneath the shadow of his hat. “I’m real sorry about your nice pearls, ma’am.”

You tore your gaze away from the fat monster resting against your sternum.

“E-Excuse me?” You managed, blinking up at him.

“That nice pearl necklace.” He repeated, lips quirked like he was letting you in on a private joke. “Was thinkin’ that I give you another one. To show how sorry I am we had to take all ya nice things.”

You started getting a bad feeling.

“No, no, that’s okay, sir, please-” His thumb covered your bottom lip before you could say another word. His cock throbbed. Arthur liked that you called him sir.

“Hush. Ain’t no trouble for the prettiest thing I ever seen.” His smile was sharp.

Arthur lowered himself just a bit more, nearly sitting on your belly, but now his cock lay squarely between your breasts, the precum rolling down, onto your skin. Fuck, the sight already did things to him. Cupping your breasts, he made sure to give your abused buds another pinch before pressing them firmly together, encasing his cock in soft, warm flesh. Fuck. Just needed one more thing.

He used his thumbs to part the flesh covering his cockhead, revealing the drooling thing, and spat down onto it, enjoying your squeak of surprise that trailed off into a whine. Sounded like you liked it, deep down. He hoped you did, it would open up the future to talking you into doing everything a good church wife would never dream of doing, and what wives in love do with gusto and throaty moans.

Lost in the thought of you mouthing at his ballsack, he began to thrust his cock between your tits, aided by the spit lubricating the skin and his erection. You gasped softly as it roughly moved against your skin, the head bumping against your collarbones every time he drove himself to the base. Wet skin against skin, it made a soft slapping sound as he thrust himself between your breasts. It was obscene, it was dirty. Your mother had talked about the ravages of man, the vicar at church had warned against sins of the flesh, but not even overhearing dirty jokes between your bodyguards would ever had you imaging this, a man, a brute, with a monster between his legs and a dizzying musk using your breasts to… To relieve himself. It should disgust you, being used by someone who was no better than a rutting farm animal, who ripped you free of your jewels and clothes, but you were all too aware that between your thighs, there was something warm growing. You felt too sweaty, as if it wasn’t just the sun beating down on you that had you shivering and short of breath. You were sticky between the thighs, the same way you got when you watched Elijah, your older bodyguard, wet his forearms in the lake before heading to you, when you thought about some of the rambles your vicar would go on about. He had a vivid imagination as he ranted about the lows men and women would sink to, rutting at each other in the street, unwed and open to be seen.

Like you are now.

The thought had a gasp slipping past your lips and the brute’s eyes flicked to yours, hazy and dark and blown so wide that they looked almost entirely black. Whatever he saw in yours must have been too much for him.

Arthur’s fingernails bit into your soft skin as he gritted his teeth, fighting back his pleasure, but he couldn’t. It had been too long with just his hand and used prostitutes. You were soft and looking up at him like… Like that. With your big eyes filling with heat as he fucked your tits. He was dirtying you.

His breath caught in his throat and his hips stuttered in their thrusts. Cum splattered against your skin, Arthur quickly gripping the base of his cock, aiming to spread his heavy load across your shoulders and throat. You gasped in shock, a fat drop of his release splashing against your bottom lip. You couldn’t stop your tongue slipping out to lick it up, even as your stomach flipped in disgust of your own actions.

“There you go, missy.” Arthur finally managed to say, throaty and low. “A pearl necklace, good as new.”

You could barely comprehend his words, feeling dazed from being used, from the taste of his cum, as small as it was, flooding your tongue. Maybe you didn’t notice, or maybe you didn’t care, when Arthur pushed himself off of you, instead settling himself between your legs, your skirt bunching up just a bit.

You were only brought back to the moment when you noticed he wasn’t moving, his cock still half hard. He was just kneeling there, breathing hard, his fingers gently stroking your stockinged shin. His tongue darted out, swiping against his bottom lip before retreating back. After a moment he groaned.

“Fuck. I ain’t a monster, miss.” He muttered, just for you and him. “I was going to wait, treat you real nice, make sure you felt all wedded before I…”

Your stomach tightened. This man, this man who walked into your home, politely taking his hat off when your father talked to him, looked awkward and too small for the armchair he had picked to sit in, someone who your guards had noticed riding along the borders of the estate, had planned this.

He was going to do this, even if you hadn’t been in the carriage. Shock prickled at your skin, your lungs feeling too big for your body. Yet your thighs felt sticky, and… And the place between them felt warm.

“But I can't.” Arthur finally admitted after a pause. “But I’ll make it good.”

The promise made your heart thud hard in your chest, hammering against your ribcage as if it was fighting to get out, to get away, but your legs were slowly relaxing into the dirt, allowing him to manhandle them, pushing your skirt up more, to your knees, up, up, up until-

He gave a low whistle, taking in the soft flesh of your legs, your stockings held up by your garters. Arthur takes a moment to admire them, how they squish the soft skin of your thighs so tantalisingly.

"You know, I've heard that it's customary for the groom to take these off with his teeth." Arthur murmured, slightly hoarse, as his thumb slipped underneath the fabric, just to ping it against your flesh with a smirk.

He didn't wait for any acknowledgement, as he ducked his head down, pulling your skirt down, over his head with a self indulgent chuckle. You squirmed and tried to kick, as his stubbled cheek scratched your sensitive skin. You couldn’t help it, it tickled and you had to fight back a giggle, a part of you still too aware of the two men staring at the display, one cursing and trying to fight his binds, the other one defeated and shoulders hunched. What would they think if you started giggling, squirming as this brute, ducked underneath your skirt, was trying to get your garters off. Would they believe that you, god forbid, was enjoying this? Enjoyed the way he had handled you, groped you, sucked and… And pleasured himself with your chest? What would they say to your family- Oh!

One garter gave way, and Arthur emerged, victorious with it clenched between his teeth. He tucked it into his pocket before peeling your skirt back up, one stocking already bunching around your knee, the other still held tight by the garter. He liked the image. Made you somehow more debauched in his eyes. So perfect for him. He’d like to imagine in another life you wouldn’t belong to your family, instead being a girl at the saloon, or working at one of the farms. You’d still smell of bluebells, but you would have seen him. Actually seen him, as a man, instead of the help your father paid for. Your bodyguards wouldn’t be there, and all your father could do was threaten him with a shotgun, but you’d still meet him in the trees, pulling up your skirts to let him fuck into you, whining his name as you bounced. You’d be happy to marry him, because your life was routine, slow, and he wasn’t. You’d live with him in his tent, and unlike Molly and Abigail, you’d be happy. Never ignored, gossiping with the other girls, looking so pretty in your underclothes when you do the laundry, your nipples showing through the fabric, and slapping Javier when he flirted with you, reminding him you were good as married. Dancing with him at the campfire, playing with Jack, trying to hide your giggles as you two overheard Dutch and Molly going at it, only to do the same, moaning to each other softly, privately. Being so sweet to everyone but refusing to let anyone but Arthur treat you in a husbandly way. Kissing his bloodied knuckles, massaging his back and cheekily patting his ass after a long ride.

It would have been perfect. But it didn’t matter, because in the end, he’s got you now anyway.

Finally his gaze rises to your unmentionables, the fabric looking soft and nearly see through. Whenever he saw the other girls’ undergarments drying at camp, they looked comfy but not enticing. You could be wearing his own long johns and he’d still think you’re the most fuckable creature on God’s green earth. He’d have killed to see you swimming in your under-things when he had been watching you from his horse just a week ago. You would have looked practically naked and snapped his control completely, stealing you away the moment you climbed out from the water.

He slipped the fabric down, revealing your gorgeous peach of a cunt to him. A precious thatch of hair just above it, but the best part… The lips of your kitty. Wet. Glistening in the setting sun.

You shook beneath him.

“Sir…” You finally uttered, naked except for your mismatched stockings, and your slip having been bunched above your private place and below your belly button. “I… Please…”

But you didn’t know what you were begging for. Anyone could ride by, see this man towering over you, almost completely bare, and see two lovers needing to touch each other, as long as they didn’t look slightly beyond to the two tied up men, shouting again and fighting against the ropes that bound them. You felt warm and flushed, as if with a fever, sweaty between your thighs and at your temples. You were never so aware of your breasts before, with his white liquid staining them, nipples sucked and still wet. You felt like… Like some sort of whore. And for a terrifying moment, you could only think that if all the women who worked the night and the saloon felt this way, you’d have happily joined them, wearing next to nothing and being desired. You felt disgusted with yourself, with the man who thought he could take from you freely like this, just because he wanted to.

So you were at an impasse with yourself, as Arthur reached down and slowly jerked his cock, squeezing the head so that precum would gently ooze from the slit. You didn’t fight as he spread your thighs, nor when he ducked his head, a part of you wondering if he was going to breathe in your scent again, like he did at the side of your neck. You felt him inhale deeply and then-

You arched your back with a whorish moan, shaking your head as if in disbelief. You could hear a faint despairing moan of your own name, but everything else trickled away, like water poured on drying watercolours.

All there was was his tongue on you, focusing on something that made you wriggle and cry out, jutting your hips into his face. You could feel him chuckle against you, one of his large hands cupping the outside of your thigh to keep you steady.

Arthur loved that you had never been tasted down here. You were a bucker, just like his favourite horse that he kept away from camp, safe in the stables to prevent any remarks from Javier or Bill. The treatment you were going to get. You worked your lower half to practically fuck his face with your pussy, any attention on your clit making you go to pieces. God, have you ever touched yourself? Did you even know that you could have spent your night, laying on your bed and rubbing at your cunt and cumming your brains out? Would that have helped him lure you away? Such a repressed little rich girl, rubbing at her kitty and needing a big cock to ride on, willingly following him, someone who promised to give her a real fuck.

But no, this was better. Untouched, already so wet that your slick was trickling down your thighs and his chin, the heady taste dominating his mouth so wonderfully. Better than any drink he’d ever had.

He kissed and licked until you were practically sobbing, switching between begging for more and wishing for him to stop, it was too much. You just needed another nudge. So he slowly parted his lips and sucked your clit into his mouth, encompassing it in a wet heat, tongue rubbing on the sensitive little bundle of nerves.

You squealed, loud and unabashed, your back arching as something was pulled from you, something deep in your stomach unravelling until you could do nothing but weakly buck. The heat had ebbed away, your private place wet, and not just from his saliva.

“Good girl,” You heard him murmur against your thigh, lips wet as they kissed the skin. “I think I’ll make a proper squirter out of you yet. You seem the type.”

You didn’t know what he even meant, so lost in the aftershocks of the sensation. Arthur wiped his mouth with the back of his hand then licked the remaining juices from it, not wanting anything to go to waste.

He knew you were more than ready. Your hole was so wet, so pliant from his tongue and your orgasm that you were no doubt more than prepared to take his cock. God could come down and punish him, the Devil could come up and drag him down, but he would fight to fuck you before either could stop him.

Jerking his cock a few times to full hardness once more, he let you just lie in your bliss, dazed from pleasure before he nudged your clit again, this time with his cockhead. He wasn’t making it a secret of what he wanted next. Arthur slowly just swiped it through your folds, your wetness gathering around the head and slipping down his shaft. The muffled shouts from the tied up men grew in volume again, but he couldn’t care anymore. You were relaxed and open to him, and they were restrained to a tree and probably harder than they had ever been in their life. Not his problem, and not yours either by the end of the day.

“Relax for me, girl.” He slowly began to press in. Arthur was vaguely amused that he was using the same phrases he had for his horse on you, but it was working. “All ready for me, aren’t you, sweet thing?”

You gave a soft moan as his cockhead was fully encompassed by your warmth, the sensation of it parting your walls making you so incredibly dizzy with… With… Something. Pleasure. Pleasure you never even tasted before. But it also stung, being split apart like this, by something so big, so hot. Your breath caught in your chest, and you struggled to breath out, making a choked noise. It made his cock twitch inside of you.

“Breath, missy, breath.” He whispered against your cheek, enveloping your body with his again. “There you go, letting me in so easily. So easy for me.”

You groaned, your legs pressing tightly against his sides, using your knees to try and urge him deeper. You could feel his chest rumble with a chuckle as he pushed in further and further, your wetness slipping down his balls and your thighs. It did hurt, it stung, but your body moved on its own, needing to feel more of him as tears pricked at your eyes.

“Yes, that’s good.” Arthur chuckled. “Tighten your knees, like you’re riding a horse. Much better. Taking me so well.”

A breath escaped your lips so quickly, a mixture of a laugh and a sigh as you felt him bury himself to the hilt, his balls pressing against your privates. He groaned deeply, feeling you soft, snug cunt wrap around him so well, fluttering as his cock throbbed. Fuck. He hoped you bled a bit. Not a lot, but enough to prove that he stole your virginity, that even if one of those bastards got loose and shot him through the head, they couldn’t take this away. You’d remember your first orgasm, at his tongue, and of his fat cock and the little trickle of blood seeping down his erection.

He couldn’t wait any longer. You whined at his hips slowly starting to rock, and gave a strangled gasp the moment he gave up any semblance of gentility and instead began to rut into you, each thrust harder than the last. His cockhead pounded into you, ruthlessly hitting your cervix as Arthur groaned, low and deep, the type that reverberated deliciously. Everything about him filled you up. You could taste his skin against your tongue; his scent having traces of his cock, from when he fucked it between your tits. His moans filled your ears, and his cock overwhelmed your cunt completely. He was just so big, his arms wrapping around you easily, his chest broader than yours, his erection ruthlessly splitting you open.

You both could hear the faint resumed shouts from the guards, probably death threats and promises of what would happen the moment they got free, that he’ll be dead within the day no matter what. It all just faded away. None of it could surpass the haven of combined moans, the smell of sex slipping between your two bodies, skin against skin, pleasure throbbing in your veins, under your skin, even as Arthur roughly gripped your hair and forced your mouth against his in another kiss.

The loud slap of his body against yours, his balls throbbing against the lips of your cunt, his tongue pressing against yours, insisting on mixing your blood together, his hand, stealing under his own body to grope at your chest. He encompassed you, and your whimpers of pain from the merciless insertion into you was turning into whines and moans, noises only a whore could make when being used by this thug, their attacker. Good girls were supposed to scream and kick and hope a gentleman comes along to apprehend the savage who would dare to take a lady of good repute in such a manner. No one warned you that this man, this man who smelt of sweat and gun oil and unwashed skin, could make you lose yourself this easily, with just a few licks of his tongue and setting a ruinous pace into your unprotected cunt.

Your eyes shot open at the thought, now too aware of what he would want to do. To you, not just to you, but in you. His last… Release had dried on your collarbones, now flaking off with every rub of his clothed chest against your bare one.

“S-Sir,” You hiccuped out, tears of past pain, pleasure and worry creeping to your eyes again. But to Arthur? The shine of your eyes made him feel intoxicated. “Please, don’t- Not inside. Not in there.”

You really should have kept your sweet mouth shut, Arthur thought in a haze, your words doing nothing but making him even harder. Of course you didn’t know all the filthy words you needed to use to get him to understand. Which he did, but it wasn’t going to stop him from breeding your tight little cunt anyway. It almost made him smile to himself, imagining your mother sitting with you on the bed, chalk in hand as she spelt out all the important words for you to know in order to fuck a man. Cum and cunt, and cock and-

“Not inside!” You hiccuped again, gripping his shoulders tighter, a tear slipping free and wetting your lips.”I can’t- It won’t-”

Arthur reached up and gripped your chin, making sure you were looking him in the eye.

“You can and it will.” He breathed out, the smell of cigarettes and whiskey fanning over you, giving you a second hand buzz. “Daddy won’t ever know, if that’s why you’re so worried.”

Your voice was lost, too busy moaning and shaking in his arms, the heat from your lower stomach slowly unravelling again, like a spool of thread slipping loose from your fingers and spilling its guts. Your legs began to kick involuntarily, unable to take another dose of pleasure, the toes of your shoes digging into the wet earth.

His cock couldn’t handle the way you were tightening around him, and he could do nothing but speed up, tucking his face into your neck and grunting loudly. You were just too hot, too snug around him, you looked more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen in his life as the sun slowly set on your pleasured face, lips bitten and swollen from kissing.

Arthur slammed all the way into you with a groan. He came, came so hard as if a large weight was lifted from him as he emptied himself deep inside of you. He stayed there for a while, feeling you slump down, drained after the first two orgasms of your life. You would be dazed for a while longer, so he should shake off his lethargy, the instinct to grab a smoke and roll over next to you. He couldn’t take the risk of the bodyguards getting free at last, or anyone else trotting along this path. Or you shaking off the afterglow of sex and deciding that this was going to be a one time thing.

Pulling his trousers back up, Arthur tucked his cock away before half heartedly dressing you, doing enough to cover your bare pussy and tits, but leaving most of your lovely dress in tatters on the ground, soaked in cum and blood. He grinned. Your family would have no doubt of what had happened to their most prized treasure. His now.

With a furtive glance over at the two bound men, he noticed with satisfaction one was still half hard. The other had a big wet patch on his trousers and looked away in shame. Stupid kid. The older one, with his erection flagging slowly, began to shift and strain again, his wrists bloodied with rope burn and his face burnt from the sun. Arthur hoisted you up onto his horse which had spent the last half hour chewing sleepily on grass and trying to eat the younger man’s hat. He made sure he still had his share of the loot to deliver to the camp later. You barely managed a coherent objection when he tugged you against his stomach, making sure you wouldn’t slip from the saddle.

With a click of his tongue, he urged his horse forward, into the trees, leaving the shouts of the guards behind, as you slumped against him. Arthur held you close, carefully manoeuvring through the thicket, only taking his eyes off the road to bow his head and breath in the faint perfume of bluebells, underneath the smell of sex.

Epilogue:

From a young age, you had been promised to a nice gentleman’s son. Their family lived in town. They weren’t as wealthy as your own kin. They weren’t as highly regarded. But over a game of cards and a few drinks of very fine whiskey, your father clapped his new friend on the back and talked about his drunken desire for their children to be joined in matrimony. Even when he sobered up, he held firm.

You met your fiance a fair few times. You were just a bit taller than him, so he would start to wear heeled boots and your ones were packed away. He was about four years your senior, but had yet to grow out of the sweet awkwardness of being a young man, at least around you. He was nice. Complimented your mother. Trotted after your father. Gawked at you.

“He was looking into your eyes.” One of your maids whispered as she did your hair for the night. “Such a sweet boy, he was so besotted at dinner.”

He wasn’t. You knew he was staring at your chest. It made you feel dirty, knowing that he barely listened to what you said, and focused on every glimpse of skin, like a salivating dog. But you knew your father wouldn’t take your side in this. If anything, he’d give a hoot of laughter and say your fiance was paying you a compliment.

So you said nothing. Time passed and you got taller than him. He started growing a weak moustache. It tickled when he kissed your hand.

Your father had hired your body guards after you left the house one night, to sneak into town. You didn’t get very far. Your maid woke him up and you were brought back. She stopped talking to you about your fiance’s sweet nature after that.

But Thomas and Elijah were nice. Sometimes you’d spend more time with Elijah in one day than you would do with your father in a month. Thomas was just a farmhand that was thought to be loyal enough to be trained up with Elijah. They went everywhere you did. You preferred them over your Mother’s dogs.

You remember the day you met Arthur. The day, not him, even as he recalled it, murmuring against your hair about how you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, the only thing he could ever want. You wish you could be that poetic about it.

The day prior, a maid had let it slip that your fiance had a certain reputation around some of the unsavoury businesses around town. You lied to your Mother about going to meet a friend and rode in. Elijah was wary and Thomas had begun to sweat after you mentioned to them where exactly you wanted them to take you. They didn’t want to. But you knew how to get your way.

It wasn’t heart breaking, getting to hear what your future husband was doing. A whore house frequenter, gambler, and it seems he wasn’t much good at either of those activities. By the time you couldn’t hear anymore, you were embarrassed on his behalf. On the way out, you overheard Thomas mumbling something about how it seems like your marriage bed is going to be deeply miserable and Elijah smacked the back of his head. He obviously didn’t mean for you to overhear, but you did.

Then Arthur was there. You stepped out, into the sun, passed by a bulky man, who towered over you. You might have even looked at him. You don’t know.

Then you went home.

You always thought about what Thomas said. Your marriage bed being a miserable one.You were a virgin of course, up until the day Arthur finally “married” you. The only man you’ve been with was Arthur. Before him, you wondered about your fiance having the reputation of being bad in bed. Almost like you were trying to appease yourself, you tried to reason that you probably wouldn’t even know what bad sex would be like, since you never had it before. Maybe it would be good to you, a virgin, and bad to the… Women of the Night.

You never wondered, not with Arthur. Fuck, if someone told you that Arthur was bad at sex, you’d shrug anyway.

The way he sucked your clit like he was a man parched, had you seeing stars. His thick fingers roughly spread you, letting your slick coat your thighs, the way they hungrily dig into your mouth afterwards. His fat cock, laying against your belly, nearly reaching your belly button before he pressed it inside of you. You loved it all.

You felt like a whore. You were never so aware of your cunt, even when your mother sat you down and explained what you would be expected to do for your wedding night. It had been a few weeks away and she would never know that you would be gone that week and would have first hand experience about what a man would feel like. Now, after Arthur raped you of your virginity, and took you home, you were nothing but aware of it. Your clit throbbing gently. Your soaked peach of a cunt. Your hole, always aching, almost like phantom pain, too aware that there wasn’t a fat cock nestled inside. You were aware of your breasts. Arthur had ruined your corsets, and never deemed to go and get you more. Most days you didn’t even wear a full dress anymore, just in an underdress, with your puffy nipples poking through. Almost daily Arthur would get distracted by them and start mouthing away at the poor things through the fabric.

You wondered if this is what those women, those prostitutes, felt like. Slowly rubbing your hands over your slightly swollen belly, you felt strangely light. No corsets, no tight dresses. Just the underdress, with your stockings sometimes. No underwear. You never delighted in being naked, but now you feel constricted when dressed.

The bed under you shifted as Arthur sat up, his broad, tanned back covered in fresh scratches as he stretched.

“Gotta head to the camp today. Dutch is getting real antsy again.” He said, before glancing over his shoulder at you.

His hard eyes were trained on your face, your own eyes, before greedily skittering down to your naked breasts, your stomach, lingering on your glistening cunt before he finished it off with a loving look at your ankles. Arthur really liked your ankles.

“Will you be gone long?” You mumbled, feeling your cunt throb.

“Not too long, darlin’.” He leaned back down, elbow against the bed, to slowly nose up your throat before pressing a kiss against your lips.

So gentle. Gentle and loving. Not like during sex. It was like when he got his hands on you again, he mentally went back to the first time he got to have you. Rough, and dirty and good. Sex was always like that, even when he took you to a cabin he probably removed the owners from. You’d still fight tooth and nail, and he’d still indulge in you. You can’t remember when you couldn’t hide how good it felt anymore.

The daughter of a rich man shouldn’t be moaning like a whore on the cock of the man who kidnapped her, but it wasn’t like you were fooling him anyway, not with how your cunt adored him from the moment he fucked you open. It welcomed him in, even when you didn’t.

And now here you two were. Addicted to each other, with you playing the barely clothed housewife to the man that stole you. At least your husband was no doubt a better fuck that your fiance had ever been. As Arthur ducked his head to tongue one of your nipples into his hot, wet mouth, you gazed at your wedding ring on your finger, carding itself through his dusty blond hair. The slightly raised scar on your ring finger was more striking than any engagement ring your fiance had gifted you.

Arthur had given it to you just after he rode off, leaving your body guards in the dust, and spent hours on horseback, getting further and further away. No one stopped him, even with the half naked woman on the back. He barely got the door open to your new home, when he was on you again, desperately tasting your skin and sinking two fingers deep inside of your dirty, cum filled cunt. It was only when he pressed back inside of you with a low moan, did he raise your filthy fingers to his mouth, to kiss over and over again, before singling out your ring finger on your right hand and pressing the digit into his mouth, against his tongue. The warm, wet of his mouth had disgusted you, but your fighting was cut short when he suddenly clamped his teeth down on the finger. It was painful, the way he bit down, to the point you were crying and firmly believed that he had reached the bone.

Every day, he opened it back up, biting down on the barely scabbed over wound, until it finally scarred. It looked like a ring too. Your wedding ring. Forever in your skin.

Sometimes you compared Arthur to the boy you barely knew as your fiance.

He was bigger. Bulkier. His stubble grew in evenly, unlike the other man’s spotty moustache. Arthur didn’t seem to have time for the women of the night, you could tell by the way he greedily buried himself inside of you every time he came home. Arthur was… Twice your age? Maybe a bit more. You liked it. He knew the way to touch you till you came around his fingers. You doubted your fiance would have been able to do so. Arthur was poorer. He was an outlaw. He killed people.

It made you wonder sometimes. As Arthur’s tongue released your nipple and his kisses pressed over your stomach, down to your cunt, you struggled to maintain your train of thought. Especially the way he would fixate on your clit, already puffy and sore, and suck on the poor thing until you came directly on his chin, soaking his beard.

You caught back a hold of your thought, even when Arthur seemed very intent on making you as empty headed as he could.

You wondered, when Arthur would inevitably be killed, or captured and sent to jail, would your fiance do the gentlemanly thing and still marry you. You, whose cunt was still full of a dead man’s cum, with his ring around your finger. You wondered if he’d take in any kids Arthur gave you.

You wondered if you could survive without him, now that he had shown you exactly what you needed, even if you didn’t know it at the time.

As Arthur hungrily pressed a kiss to your ankle and hooked them over his shoulders, to sink into your hungry cunt, you hoped your fiance would eventually marry you, if the man bullying his cock inside of you would ever leave you.

The thought of Arthur’s bastards being legitimised and getting to inherit their grandfather’s estate made you smile. Smile, until you gasped and whined, your husband’s lips sucking a hungry mark into your throat, as he bottomed out inside of you.

To be honest, you hoped Arthur lived forever. He was your husband, but the little things he did always meant so much to you. Little things that mattered. Kept you safe. Cooked for you. Whispered in your ear that your eyes were beautiful, and then would compliment your tits. Come home and run his hands over your sides and kiss your shoulders and murmur that you should stop outshining the sun, or he’d never leave the house again. Oh, and he was the only one who loved and complimented your bluebell perfume.

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #x reader #nsft #quincewrites #commission

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bimrsadler · 2 years ago

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Goodnight and Goodmorning: Part Two

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female reader

Word count: 1,700

Warnings/tags: high honor Arthur, smut, wet dream, dry humping, hand stuff, first time together, unprotected piv, praise kink (what else is new), language, fluff

Notes: Smutty part two of a request for Arthur sneaking into readers tent after being away, fluffy part one is here

A soft morning sun peeked through the tent while birds chirped cheerfully and the horses huffed at the edge of camp. There was a chill that came with the early spring morning but it was hardly felt given how tightly Arthur was wrapped around you.

Sometime during the night he moved behind you, pressing his thighs against the back of yours and pulling your back to his warm chest. You couldn’t recall the last time you woke up so peacefully.

It was clear through Arthur’s deep, slow breaths that he was still asleep. He needed it and you didn’t want to disturb him, but it was hard to ignore the hard line in his union suit pressed against your lower back.

You knew it was possible he wasn’t dreaming of anything intimate and was just his body doing what it does naturally — but your mind certainly did wander.

Was he dreaming about your kiss the previous night, where it could have led? If you had asked him would he have taken you right then and there? Given what you felt of him behind you, it was all too easy to imagine how full he would make you feel, how deep it would go…

The wetness between your legs gathered and your hips instinctively rolled against Arthur; eliciting the smallest whimper and twitch of his manhood. Good God, now your mind wandered further.

Did he know on a subconscious level that your body was aching for his? Was he dreaming of burying his cock in your wet folds? His hand was tantalizingly close to your chest, thumb brushing lightly against your hardening nipple.

Arthur’s breaths quickened against your ear with another whimper, suddenly grinding against your backside. Well…maybe he was dreaming about that after all.

This had never happened before and Arthur surely would have been mortified if it had. It was difficult to tell if he knew what he was doing or was merely acting out his wet dream while still asleep. But the pleading “sweetheart” he let slip out against your ear was torture — you needed to know.

Testing the waters, your fingertips trailed along his forearm as you pushed your backside to meet his thrusts. With a shudder Arthur slowly woke, pushing himself away from you at the realization of what he was doing.

“Jesus…darlin’ m’so sorry, I didn’t mean — I… I’d never,” he stuttered apologetically.

“Arthur…”

“I’ll uh I’ll head back to my tent and,” he continued with a “dammit Morgan you fool,” muttered under his breath.

“Arthur please…” you gently stopped him as he began to sit up.

“It’s okay, you didn’t know what you were doing, but…” you paused nervously, hoping to sooth but also let him know you wanted more.

“…I liked it,” you admitted sheepishly. “Hope you don’t think less of me for saying so.”

Arthur took so long to reply you began to fear that he did, but eventually he whispered softly, “’course not.” He cautiously brought himself back to his original position behind you, “but I’d have a hard time believin’ ya.”

A pang of sadness hit your chest upon hearing that. He deserved to feel good, to feel wanted.

“Well you should, Arthur. I was just biding my time this morning thinking about all the things I want you to do to me…”

You felt his chest rise against your back, “that so?” You nodded silently with a smirk.

“Well maybe you should show me then…” His husky drawl was thick as honey and smooth as a good whiskey.

Reaching an arm behind you brought his face to yours, “oh I would love that Arthur,” pulling him in for a kiss far more heated than the night before.

You moved Arthur’s calloused hand along your stomach and between your thighs, warming him up slowly. He broke the joining of your lips to instead kiss your neck, covering every inch of skin tenderly. “Goddamn you feel so soft…”

“C’mere sweet girl, wanna see that pretty face.” He grabbed you by the hips and took control for the first time, moving you to face him. Gingerly running his knuckles down your cheek he cooed, “that’s better.”

The sunlight hit his bright eyes as they wandered along your body, taking in every inch with disbelief.

“Touch me Arthur,” you brought his hand to the swell of your breast — encouraging him to take over from there. He moved his thumb along the stiff peak showing through your thin chemise.

Your hips jolted forward, moaning timidly at Arthur’s touch and the feeling of the satin material rubbing against your sensitive nub.

Leaning down he planted kisses to your collar bone while massaging your breast in his shaking hand. Kneading gently, he let out soft groans into the crook of your neck.

Exploring further his hand traveled to your upper thigh, touching your ass in the same strong yet tender way. Clenching around nothing, Arthur took notice to your thighs squeezing together to relieve the ache between them.

He looked there where his gaze lingered, towing the line between lustful and proper. “Want me to touch you there?”

Smiling, you parted your legs ever so slightly with a shy smile, inviting him to feel what he did to you.

Positioning himself above, he kissed you slow and deep as his fingers gingerly slid down your folds, collecting the slick. “Jee-sus sweetheart,” he laughed in disbelief, “you tryna kill me?”

You felt your body flush with heat and let out an embarrassed laugh as you hid your face in the blanket, suddenly overwhelmed that Arthur was touching you there, when it was so obvious how aroused you were. The intimacy of his attention left you dizzy and buzzing.

“Hey — you don’t ever have to hide from me, beautiful.” Lifting your face to meet his, his lips pressed to yours while sliding a finger inside of you; swallowing your moans as he did.

If it weren’t for Arthur’s passionate kissing, the whole camp would have heard your ecstasy as he pushed another finger into your pussy, moving gently in and out with his thumb circling your clit. “Just like that baby…” you mewled.

It was for Arthur’s benefit too though, his raspy groans getting louder every time he stopped to breath. Somewhere between massaging your tongue with his and massaging your inner walls, he draped his leg over yours; desperately rutting against your thigh.

Feeling his hardness move against you was enough to finish the job. The waves of pleasure rolled through your clenching abdomen, breathy whines escaping as you pulsed around his fingers.

Arthur watched you come undone with murmured expletives and a hungry stare. “That’s it sweetheart, I gotchu.”

Not interested in waiting any longer, you urged him on top of you and pushed him up on his knees to unbutton his union suit — stroking the hard line straining against it as you did.

Arthur towering over you this way was something you never thought you’d see, masculinity and strength filling the air around him. Yet the quiet whines and softness of his touch brought together the best of both worlds.

Kissing his chest and stomach as more skin was revealed, you admired his form and the hair that nestled around it. The lower buttons practically undid themselves as his hardness broke through. Taking it firmly you rolled the velvet skin in your palm, thick and heavy.

Running your other hand along his muscular thigh you purred, “how’s this baby?”

Arthur’s head was thrown back atop his heaving chest. “So good, yer doin’ great sweetheart.”

Drunk on his praise you stroked him more fervently, Arthur shuddering and swearing as you did. “Dar — oh darlin’ I ain’t gonna last.”

Slowing your momentum you instead laid down, coyly pressing your legs together while rocking them back and forth. “Better take me then huh?”

Arthur parted your legs with a hand on each thigh, waiting at your entrance. Nodding gave him the permission needed to bury his cock in your heat, bottoming out as he did.

After the time spent teasing yourself while Arthur slept behind you — and his bringing you to orgasm, it was an exquisite relief to finally feel him inside of you.

Falling forward with an arm on either side of your head, Arthur whimpered your name. He stilled for a moment to let you adjust before finding his rhythm; fucking you gently into the cot with slow and sensual movements.

You gripped his arm with one hand and threaded your fingers through his hair with the other, tugging gently. White hot pleasure rippled through your core, still sensitive and swollen from Arthur’s handiwork.

“Y-you feel so good darlin’ everything boutcha feels, fuck — so good,” he rambled praises into your ear, unable to control his stream of consciousness.

His bicep flexed under your fingertips with each thrust, turning you on all that much more. Writhing beneath him you wrapped your legs around his waist and met his bucking with equal enthusiasm.

“Just like that Arthur,” you keened as your walls fluttered around his pumping cock, pushing him closer to the edge.

The small tent filled with the sounds of your stifled moans and amorous whispers. Arthur buried his face in the crook of your neck, hot puffs of breath hitting the skin he had gently marked, his full weight rocking your body as his bucking reached an erratic pace.

Without using his hands Arthur pulled out, thrusting his pulsing cock between your wet and swollen folds. Gruff groans disappeared into the pillow, Arthur’s body trembling on top of you with stiffening muscles, hot ropes coating the skin where your stomachs met.

Arthur took his time in leaving your embrace; drawing out languid kisses and quiet questions of if he did well and how you liked it. Blissful and satisfied, it was easy to reassure him.

When the time came to part, Arthur cleaned you thoughtfully with a bandanna — wondering how you got so lucky as he tended to you.

“It’s good to have you back, handsome.”

Arthur chuckled, “well it’s good to be back gorgeous. You have no idea.”

After moments passed tangled up together, you began to gather your clothes with a heavy sigh. It was — unfortunately, another day with more camp responsibilities.

“Where ya think yer headed to?” Arthur playfully grabbed your wrist and pulled you back down to the cot as you landed with a giggle.

“Told ya we were gonna take our time this mornin’.” He kissed your knuckles and pulled the blanket over your lower half. “Now get comfortable again and I’ll bring ya coffee.”

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #nsft #fluff #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x f!reader #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 fanfiction

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lupinus-sanguis · 2 years ago

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old charthur stuff i never uploaded here (2020 ish)

#My art #Nsft #rdr2 #Charthur #Charles Smith #Arthur Morgan #Suggestive #Charthur t4t real..........#kinda miss drawing them ngl

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markodragic · 2 years ago

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#rdr2 #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #charles smith #javier escuella #sean macguire #lenny summers #kieran duffy #john marston #uncle rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #felt i should tag them all for fairer results sjfjfjgj #nsft text.#sorta ghgjhj

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yeehawpurgatory · 6 months ago

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Hey so ummm…Arthur tied up just a little

That’s all 🏃🏽‍♀️💨

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #nsft implications but nothing showing #procreate #rae samsun

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monochromereflections · 22 days ago

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Both Dutch and Arthur have breeding kinks.

However, Arthur only acted on it once and he'd be terrified to do that again.

Dutch up until his life fell apart was always 100% game to spread it.

#nsft #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #mdni

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thatwriterchick222 · 10 months ago

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take a seat (arthur morgan/f!reader) oneshot

summary: arthur wants you to ride his thigh :)

a/n: this is an older one but i wanted to post the full thing here

NSFW under the cut ;))))

------------

Arthur spread his legs as he sat in the chair, his hands laid casually on his belt. Your mouth went dry as you stared at him.

He patted his thigh gently with his other hand.

“Sit.” He spoke gruffly, his voice suspiciously low and deep within his chest. You felt a jolt of electricity go straight to your-

“What?” You asked, trying to discern whether he was serious or not. His eyes were shielded by the brim of his hat, a small smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“If you’re so desperate…” He shifted in his seat slightly, his knee bouncing as if he were getting impatient with you. Then, he gestured ever so slightly to his thigh again with a nod of his head. “Ride it.”

All the air left your lungs as you processed what he said. “I-” “We don’t got all night, darlin’.”

###

Your nails dug into the rough leather of his vest, hands planted firmly on his shoulders as you panted. His eyes were fixated on yours, his eyebrows knit tightly together as he watched you move, your soaked cunt dragging deliciously against his leather chaps. You could tell he was getting just as much out of this– if not more– from how he stared at you, his blue irises occasionally flicking down to look at the way you ground your hips down on him. His hands were firm on your waist, yet loose enough that you were still forced to do all the work, his gloves snaking up under your skirt and kneading the flesh of your thighs.

He was rock hard too, your knee brushed up against his bulge and he groaned, his fingers tightening around you. You were starting to think this was more of a punishment for him than for you… at least you were getting off, he was fucking aching in the constraints of his pants.

You ground down again, your sensitive bundle of nerves gliding seamlessly against the leather… you were dripping, and you could already imagine what his thigh would look like once you stood up.

“Look at you go.” He teased, noticing that you were out of breath, your body shaking every now and again from overstimulation. You tried to scoff, but it only came out as a desperate cry, your hand sliding up to the back of his neck and running your fingers through his hair.

“Shut up.” You breathed, clenching your abdomen as you hit a particularly good spot.

Then, his hand left your waist, casually reaching up and plucking his hat off of his head.

And then he placed it down on yours, smirking.

You laughed as it fell over your eyes, the thing way too big, and you ceased your movements to push it further up on your head.

“Am I a cowgirl, now?” Your heart pounded as you adjusted yourself, letting your muscles rest for a moment. You were fucking throbbing, you could feel each beat of your heart in your core that was smothered against his thigh. You wondered if he could feel it too.

“My cowgirl.” He said, his eyes confidently drifting down to your lips. You reached forward and brushed your hand through his hair, pushing the locks away from his face.

And then you leaned in partially, leaving barely an inch of space in between each of your faces, lips parted, breathing heavily. “You’re my cowboy, then..” You whispered.

You swore he let out a snarl as he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you in for a kiss, his lips taking yours with such fervor you felt your whole body jerk towards him. Your teeth gnashed together roughly, and your hands scrambled for purchase anywhere you could find, his shoulders, his chest, his face.

The hat fell off of your head and landed somewhere on the floor below, but you didn’t have time to react, his tongue feverishly breaching your lips and entangling with yours. You had completely forgotten you were leaking all over his thigh until he suddenly grabbed your hips and slowly thrust his leg forward, causing you to bounce as your cunt dragged along him again.

“Fuck.” You yelped into his mouth, and he caught your lip with his teeth before repeating the motion, almost knocking the wind out of your lungs. That exquisite familiar heat shot up your spine, and you remembered how sensitive you were.

“What? Can’t handle it, darlin’?” He cocked his head to the side, and you bit down on your lip, grinding on his thigh once again. It felt like fucking heaven… his warm leg and his muscles clenching below you as you rode him…

You didn’t know what it was– either the fact that you were using him like a toy for your pleasure, his thigh just a stagnant object for you to use as you please, or because he was letting you. Just watching you use him as a means to come, your cunt fucking quivering against him with pure need– him laying back and watching you do all the work, your hips moving with long, tired grinds.

You were close, it snuck up on you as he moved his leg again in time with your desperate grinds. Your hands grabbed his shoulders again to hold yourself up, your hips so tired and aching, yet your body so close to orgasm you genuinely could not stop moving… it was simply not an option, that burning, seeping sensation inside you just becoming too good.

You whined as you bent down, pressing your forehead into his shoulder as well, your limbs shaking with each slow drag of your cunt along his thigh. His hands began to grip your hips tighter, helping you now, moving his leg slowly.

“I’m so close, Arthur.” You cried out in between shaky breaths, feeling tears welling in your eyes from how slowly your orgasm was building. If only he was just fucking you, you thought, imagining how incredible it would feel to have his cock inside you then, instead of your painfully slow movements.

“I know, I gotcha.” He said softly, and you swallowed thickly from how endearing he sounded.

You moaned against him, finally bringing yourself closer and closer to the edge, his strong arms helping just enough for you to continue despite your body giving up on you. You must have been dripping down his thigh at that point, lewd wet noises coming from where you desperately rubbed yourself on him like a dog in heat.

Finally, your body was rewarding you, and you could feel the familiar warmth spreading through your stomach, your cunt clenching against him, moans getting higher and higher as you felt the breath leaving your lungs.

“I’m gonna-” You couldn’t finish your sentence, your mouth agape, orgasm creeping up on you ever so slowly. It felt so good, you couldn’t think, all that you could register was your heat on his clothed thigh, his hands on your hips, and his voice in your ear.

Finally, finally… the coil snapped, and with one last exhausted grind of your hips, you let go, shuddering around him as you tried your best to ride it out.

“That’s a girl… Make a mess on me, darlin’…” He spoke softly, rambling as he held you and watched you come on his thigh like it was your life’s purpose. It was so satisfyingly humiliating, his deep voice rumbling in his chest and your excruciating whines as you did what he said… you made a mess on him. His name spilled from your lips as you let yourself fully feel it, your cunt quivering and clenching around nothing. You hoped he could feel it too.

You drew in a sharp breath once you realized you had been holding it, your body hot and sticky with sweat as you regained your composure. You lifted your head from his shoulder and were met with a shit-eating grin on Arthur’s face, his eyes ravaging you as if you were the most beautiful thing on earth.

“What?” You asked, your voice raspy and your breaths heavy. Your body felt like jelly, wobbly, and light.

“Nothin’.”

You sat up further, a jolt of pain and pleasure running through you from your oversensitive cunt. Your breaths were finally beginning to slow, yet you were scared to get up in fear of how much of a mess you actually made.

“I can’t believe I just did that.” You blushed, hands rushing to cover your face.

Arthur ran his hand down your thigh gently. “I can. It was the most beautiful thing I ever saw.”

“Shut up.” You laughed, letting one of your hands travel to jaw, stroking the stubble there.

You let your hands fall and you leaned back slightly, lifting your skirt to see the aftermath of your actions.

Arthur looked down too, and you gasped, throwing your head back and laughing at the massive wet spot on his thigh. He chuckled. “I’m glad I wore leather.”

“Hold on.” You giggled, finally standing up on shaky knees. “I’ll get a cloth.”

You began to dismount from his leg, but his hands flew to your sides, holding you there.

You looked at him in confusion. “What?”

He grabbed your wrist and brought your hand to the massive bulge in his pants. Your eyes widened as you felt it, palm running across it. How could you forget?

Arthur smirked. “I ain’t done with you yet.”

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan nsft #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 smut

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coltermorning · 1 month ago

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Of Love and Loss Ch. 21 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: In the small town of Ogallala, you and Arthur nurture feelings for each other that become increasingly hard to deny with each passing day and each word spoken.

Author’s Notes: Sorry this one took me so long. I couldn’t get it quite right for weeks, and part of me hates to part with it anyway because I’m getting so close to the end 🥲 Sexual content in this chapter. Chapter twenty-one of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

Of Love and Loss

Twenty-One: Love

Word count: 3726

This room was unlike the others. That airy barn had the memory of your childhood home and Beth on it, the last hotel room the sharpness of fear. You’d thought that that room would be the one to stay with you, but you tried to forget it now. Now, there was only this room, the safety in it, and Arthur. Maybe the latter two went hand in hand.

Your eyes found said safety in the growing darkness, watching him reverently in the low light. He’d lit a lamp earlier, and its golden glow reflected in his shining hair, his exposed skin, his gemstone eyes. You would never tire of that gaze. Normally, you found a smirk beneath it, but now his mouth matched his heavy stare—thoughtful and filled with something very close to desperation. It wasn’t difficult to guess why. Love did that to a person.

You had thought there would never be a feeling stronger than grief, stronger than the helpless agony that came with it. But love was the one thing to outweigh it. Rather, requited love was. Feeling wanted again was all your heart needed to stitch itself back together. To be loved was to be needed. And that triumphed grief every time.

You weren’t only thinking of yourself as you studied the man beside you. You thought of him and of how unlikely a match he was for you. But it was beginning to make sense. He, like you, was all wild animal, untamed, worth more than mankind could give. He wasn’t defined by the constructs of a normal personhood just as you weren’t. Neither of you were made for fleeting little relationships, if any at all. And perhaps that’s why it worked so well to be together, the feeling as natural as breathing. Because there were no expectations. He made sure of that, and you were too inexperienced and fond of him to form them. Being with a man emotionally or physically scared you before because it had always seemed confining. But you knew without a doubt that if you chose to go alone to the next town and never look back at this trip and all it brought between you, Arthur would let you. He wouldn’t hesitate. And because of that, he was freeing in a way no one had ever been to you. Not even your parents.

You were so caught up in his gaze and your thoughts that you were startled by the sudden sound of bootsteps opposite the door, flinching in his grasp as deputy badges and blood flashed across your vision.

“Easy,” he said lowly, pulling you in closer on the bed as the sound faded.

“Just…jumpy over the last time that happened.”

“Ain’t no law here to worry about,” Arthur said, stroking your hair.

He was right. And you were again reminded that this hotel room was very different from the last.

“I know,” you replied, though you couldn’t quite convince yourself after having lived through the hell that was the last town. That ringing gunshot that would never leave you be sounded again.

“Hey.” He lifted your chin so you would meet his eyes. “Don’t worry. As long as I’m here, no one can hurt you.”

Those words hit you like a physical blow. His protectiveness made you feel loved, but it was the truth of it that drove his point home. Because you had no doubt he would tear apart the world to keep you safe. Just as you had. You’d broken every moral you had just to keep him from harm. But you would do it all again. And, knowing Arthur, you bet he felt the same thing tenfold.

You smiled against his hand. “I know.” This time, you meant it.

After a moment and a smile so sure you wanted to keep it there forever, Arthur shifted. “Sit up.”

You did as he asked, watching as he reached for his journal. Thinking he meant to draw you again, you blushed. Especially as there was no coat this time, just bare skin between you only partially covered by a blanket at your hips. But to your surprise, he reached for your hair and tugged on that horsehair braid he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of, flattening it so that he could see the contrasting colors better.

“What is it with you and this braid?”

He shifted again so that he was far enough away to get the general picture of you sitting there, though that wasn’t saying much in the tiny bed. He was still close, and you watched his eyes focus in on your braid as he flipped to a blank page and readied his pencil, ignoring your question completely.

Wanting to know what it meant to him, you pushed. “Hard of hearing?”

“I heard you,” he said, still focusing hard on your hair. A few seconds passed as he began drawing. You didn’t think he would answer you until he shook his head, continuing to look down at his journal as he spoke. “I draw things so I don’t forget ‘em. There are a few moments I’ll never forget when it comes to you, but that braid, I want to remember even after it’s gone.”

You were warmed by the sincerity in this, but your curiosity got the better of you. “What moments will you never forget?”

Again, he took a beat to answer. “Looking at your side all bruised and bloody and my shitty attempt at stitches holding it all together. When you said ‘how could you’.”

You’d forgotten that. It had been months, and somehow his words had you remembering how the wagon you’d woken up in after he had stitched you up made your skin crawl. He went on, dispelling any further thought about it.

“The first time you let me touch you. The way you said ‘don’t stop’.”

This one made your heart race. He still pushed on.

“When I killed those wolves and came back in the tent to find you with that look on your face, like you were ready to die. The way you pulled me to you.” He stopped drawing and looked up at you. “That was the first time I felt like you really cared whether I was there or not. The first time you wanted my comfort.”

It was true. It was the first time you’d relied on him in your brokenness, the first time clinging to him felt like healing.

You smiled at him.

He went back to penciling in his journal. “And,” he said, drawing the word out in that drawl of his. “You asked me for that horsehair like it was the last gift you could give that horse. I knew it right then, the kind of woman you was. Thoughtful and tough as hell.”

You’d thought nothing of the act at the time, at least not in the way it would be viewed by Arthur. It was natural. Maybe that was why he admired you for it.

He went on. “I didn’t realize I enjoyed getting to know the woman you was before all this mess until then. Until I thought you would slip away again. But then you came out of that tent with this braid in your hair…”

He stopped and admired it, a smile turning his lips. “And you was still with me. And I was…relieved. Happy, even. That braid shows that strength of yours.”

For the first time since arriving in this town, you felt like crying. But not over any sadness. He had a way with words that surprised you. Your eyes fell to the page, to the way he had drawn part of your braid with such tenderness. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind he meant every word.

Unable to voice your thoughts, or perhaps wanting to hold what he’d said in your heart a little longer, you teased him instead. “So, when you drew me in that barn, what were you trying to remember then?”

His smile turned into a smirk, one you were all too familiar with. “How good you looked in my coat.”

His gaze was hot on your skin, growing wanting as he watched you. And in seconds, his journal was pushed aside and forgotten, traded for his want of you, his need to touch you, his desire. To be that desire meant so much to you that your heart pounded a heavy beat in your chest, like it wanted to be loved by him too, craving that closeness.

Falling into him, you granted your heart exactly what it asked for.

The days bled together, and Arthur had no intention of moving on to the next town. As long as you wanted to stay here, he would stay with you. The only bit of business he attended to in the meantime was sending a letter back to the gang, thinking it was likely they’d made it to Denver a while back and would stay until they heard from him. The thought made Arthur smile—that wild bunch on the edges of town, restless and ready to bound out of there at a moment’s notice. They weren’t meant for staying in a big town like that just as he weren’t.

The only trouble with the letter had been what to put in it. Arthur hadn’t known what to say to the group he considered family. He was torn between staying with you and going back to them, knowing either would serve him well. But he was leaning toward staying, starting a life he had only ever dreamed of. Every time he considered it though, it felt too good to be true. It always was when he was younger, and who was he to deserve it now? Had he really changed at all? The truth to that was no, he hadn’t. Maybe he could be decent, but he still had a past on him that he didn’t want catching up to you. But so did you now, killing that deputy. All things considered, he was left feeling even more confused every time he pondered it. So, his letter had been short and nondescript, stating where he was and to write back when and where the gang inevitably moved. He posted the letter and left all thought of it behind him, knowing going in circles about it all wouldn’t do him any good. Instead, he returned to you and vowed to keep his mind on you, on this time you shared together and how right it felt. No matter that, like always, the town and its memories would soon be behind you both.

It wasn’t difficult to keep you in the front of Arthur’s mind. You were a gift, something he didn’t deserve. And all this time spent with you kept him sated like he never had been, his restless heart daring to settle for the first time since he was a boy.

The day had reached its end with the two of you still in bed. Arthur had done exactly what you’d asked of him those days ago, teaching you all the ways he knew how to pleasure a woman. But this was perhaps different, as there never was any meaning behind it until he met you.

Even worse was your blunt curiosity and the things you asked that got him so hard he could hardly see straight. He figured the worst of it was when you’d asked him to teach you how to pleasure him. He was wrong. It was moments ago, when you’d turned to him with a blush on your face and asked if you could ride him. Well, those hadn’t been your exact words, but that was all Arthur could come up with now as you made to do the very thing.

His hands found your hips in seconds upon you climbing on top of him. It took everything in him to be gentle.

“Tell me if I do something wrong,” you said in a voice close to a whisper.

He found a lazy grin sneaking its way across his face, for the way your shyness showed, for the way you climbed on top of him anyway. Sure as ever.

“What?” you said upon seeing his smile.

“I like you on top of me,” he said honestly. Because he did. Nothing turned him on more. But he couldn’t go on without teasing you at least a little. “I like you wantin’ to ride me.” He squeezed your hips with his fingers, tugging you closer. Your face went bright red at those words.

“What’s the matter?” he teased.

You kept looking from his eyes to his mouth like you couldn’t decide if you wanted to slap him or kiss him. The smile on your face was timid, but it was blatant as the day was long that he’d called you out and you wouldn’t well deny it.

You wouldn’t meet his eye as you said, “I like it too.”

Arthur’s grin went wide, and he bucked his hips underneath you for good measure. Pure pleasure met him as he did, the movement against your slick like heaven.

You let out a little moan, bracing your hands on his chest as you made to line yourself up with him. He would never tire of the distracted look you got on your face, like his body and what he was doing to yours was all you could think about. It made a pride he could hardly contain take hold.

You reached your hand down and fisted him so gently he couldn’t stand it. That is, until the head of his cock slid into you, and you met his eye and sat completely, making him suck in a sharp breath. He still held your hips with gripping fingers, but it was all he could do not to focus solely on how deep he was buried in you, on moving fast and hard. Instead, he let you set your own pace as you watched him with a heavy gaze, your lips parting when you began to move up and down on him.

It was downright sinful, the feeling it brought him. He pulled you in tighter, moving his hands with your hips. Ignoring all else. He didn’t give a shit what he looked or sounded like, so long as you didn’t stop.

“Arthur?”

He met your eye, only able to do so since your tone had the hint of a question in it. You kept riding him, grating and slow, as you spoke. “I want to- oh…”

You drug the word out, your head falling back in your pleasured state. It was so goddamn arousing Arthur couldn’t take it anymore. He held you down against him and bucked upward, hard, making you moan for him as your breasts started bouncing with how fast he moved. Fuck, that did it.

“Want to what?” he gritted out.

You looked downright erotic, your heavy eyes falling over him like sex given form as you answered, “Want to feel your release inside of me.”

Arthur slowed his pace, your words hitting him so hard he knew he would spill inside you anyway if he weren’t careful.

“Ain’t too smart, darlin’.”

“I don’t care.”

In this moment, he didn’t either. He didn’t care about the consequences, even though it would normally bother him after Isaac. If anything, he was in a place to be with you, to raise a child with you if it came to that. So to hell with all his usual fear and regret.

“You sure?” he grimaced, still pumping his cock into you as deep as he could.

“Yes. If you are.”

Surprising himself, he was.

Arthur lifted you up and off of him, needing to do what he’d been wanting to for some time now. Of all the pleasure the two of you had wrought from each other, there was one remaining untried thing Arthur felt was a bit selfish but knew you would get just as much enjoyment out of as he would. And he did that now, turning you so that you remained facing the bed as he crawled behind you.

“This okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please…”

“Please what?” Arthur pushed your shoulders down to the bed gently, the head of his cock meeting your slick again. He nearly shook in anticipation.

“Please take me. Hard.”

If that weren’t encouragement enough, Arthur slid into you so deep you tightened around him. “Christ,” he grimaced. Then he moved. And he had to close his eyes and focus hard to keep his release at bay.

Arthur rocked his hips fast, knowing the second he watched how perfectly your bodies met, this would be over. So he focused on you first, on the sounds you made and what you seemed to like best. You moaned the loudest when he gripped your hips again and fucked you harder, so he kept on, letting you feel just how much you affected him as he drove deep.

“Arthur,” you whined, his name so needy on your tongue he almost lost it.

“That’s it,” he said lowly, taking one hand away and moving it around you, his finger coming down on those nerves that made you buck against him.

That really made you cry out. And Arthur felt a pride like none other, a protectiveness and a possessiveness that made him want to spend inside you, make you his. His grip on you tightened as his finger swirled against you.

In seconds, your pleasure rocked through you, making those inner muscles of yours flutter and work against Arthur’s cock. His eyes rolled back in his head as pleasure took over. Then it was all feeling, all you at his mercy, pleading his name like he was actually worthy of this.

For once in his life, Arthur let go of all the control, all the responsibility and sense he held so close. He released it like a breath and took you like a man should take a woman, for the sheer purpose of desire and need and maybe even love. He shuddered then slid home one last time with your name on his lips, spilling inside of you as you continued to come down around him. It was comforting and fitting and so incredibly right that his chest caught at the feeling.

“Yes,” you breathed. “God, yes.”

He wanted to repeat it back to you. But he stayed there silent, finally daring to look down at where you were met. And Christ, was it a sight, almost like he was meant to be there. He rolled his hips, unable to resist wanting to keep his spend deep inside you. It was primal and perhaps idiotic of him, but he couldn’t help it. He already wanted to do it all over again.

You both breathed heavy and refused to separate, caught there in this moment that, if you were lucky, would never have to reach its end.

But end it did, only because your body was giving out. He hadn’t realized how hard he took you until then, until your muscles protested enough to make you begin to fall to the bed. He slid out of you and caught you, letting you down slowly. He rolled you onto your back, meeting your satisfied gaze. “You okay? I didn’t mean to-”

“That’s all I ever wanted. And all I’ll ever want again.”

A smile turned his lips, catching him off guard. He never expected to smile after doing something so reckless, hope filling him where regret normally would.

“Good,” he replied. And you smiled back, the sight a tired thing. He leaned down and kissed you. When he broke away, the look you gave him hit him just as hard as all his arousal had. It was a look of complete trust. Like you’d found a home in him. He never thought he’d see the day a woman looked at him like that.

“Don’t know about you,” you said laboredly, “but I’m spent.”

He chuckled at just how spent he was, not bothering to reply as he wrapped you up in his arms to sleep. Nothing more than a man and the woman he loved, as normal a life as he could have ever imagined.

You and Arthur very much overstayed your welcome in the small town of Ogallala. Both of you mentioned leaving a time or two but could never quite convince yourselves to saddle up and do it. So you stayed, carving out a little life for yourselves filled with the ease of routine.

Eventually though, you could tell money was getting tight when Arthur began choosing dried meat over his preferred canned goods from the general store. It made you guilty enough to know it was time to move on. Maybe your end destination would be as kind to you as this town had been, and you wouldn’t have to worry about ending this precious time together. You hadn’t talked about it, but you were beginning to believe that Arthur would stay with you. So, holding onto that hope, you finally gave in to leaving.

“What, tired of my company?” he’d teased when you brought it up, both of you already at the stables visiting your mounts.

You shot him a look that warned of a swat to the arm but said, “Not even a little.”

That earned you one of those genuine smiles he rarely gave, like your words were healing him stitch by stitch. But he agreed, and the pair of you gathered up and mounted.

You watched the town slowly fall away into the distance as you left it, turning to look at it so many times Arthur laughed at you. “It ain’t going nowhere, you know.”

“Very funny.”

“It’s true.”

“That’s what you’re always saying.”

He shot you a smirk that could tear down the world and every forlorn woman in it. How lucky you were that he was yours. You thought of telling him so, of telling him how much you cared for him, but your heart began racing, and the words died on your lips. Instead, you opted to tease him right back—his and your form of endearment. And his resulting happiness made you know that it was just as special to him as saying those three precious words.

_________

tag list: @nayomi247 @ultraporcelainpig @photo1030 @spiritcatcherxo @calcarius445 @meet-me-backstage @marygillisapologist @formula1mount @oziozzioslo @lunawolfclaw @c1gs-coffee @appalachiancowboy99

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #high honor arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #fanfic #writing #nsft #lemon fanfic

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lightsofatlantis · 3 months ago

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best way to "save the horse, ride the cowboy" is to turn the cowboy into a horse ✨🐎✨

#you have permission to murder me for the awful pun #arthur morgan #rdr2 fanart #arthur morgan fanart #nsft fanart #pony boy #digital art

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manzwurldz · 4 months ago

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when he’s feeling particularly a bit mean

him having you face down,

hands interwoven within your locs

other hand on your hip keeping your arch in place.

he grabs the side of your ass with such vigor it hurts a bit

slapping it while he presses his bulge on you from behind

arthur,dutch,bill,john…

#nsft concept #nsft txt #rdr2 dutch #rdr smut #rdr2 #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde smut

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nightsfeelheavenly · 1 year ago

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so obsessed with the idea of teasing arthur morgan. just casually throwing my leg over his hips in the tent, settling down over them with my knees on either side, feeling the warmth of his hands on my thighs. leaning down and whispering “plan on sleepin’ first, you mind taking watch?” and watching that man CRUMBLE before sliding off and curling up in my bedroll

#i’m fine. i’m fineHRNDOWJA EKENS #im so feral for this man #not really nsft but it’s implied #dom reader #arthur morgan x reader

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verai-marcel · 1 year ago

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Powerplay (RDR2 one-shot, Arthur x F!Reader, Modern AU, 18+)

Author notes: So it's been a while. If you're new here, this takes place in the Corrections series, a modern AU where Arthur Morgan is a former prisoner turned construction worker, and you, dear reader, are a prison guard. Got lots of D/s and smutty smut smut for your reading pleasure. Anyway, this little drabble was because I was challenged by @shootybangbang @twola @redwritr and @readingcoco (I'll smother you all in your sleep some day)

Tags: powerfuck play (yes, I know this isn't a common term, but this was the challenge term that was set forth), D/s, modern au, consensual dubcon/roleplay (light), some name calling, CMNF

AO3 link is here, kitten.

Word count: 1,148

---------------------------

"You sure you want this, darlin'?"

You nodded. Of course you did, you had begged, pleaded, bribed him for it.

Arthur blew out a breath. "Alright, but you tell me 'cherries' if you want me to stop."

"I doubt I'll need my safeword, but I promise I'll tell you if it's too much."

He gave you an incredulous look.

"This is about trust, isn't it?" You touched his arm. "Trust me, just as I trust you."

He finally caved. "Fine."

***

You were laid out on your four-post bed, spread eagle, each of your limbs restrained to its own post. The heat coming from the air vent felt good against your bare skin, and you closed your eyes and just relaxed.

And then Arthur came in, clothed in a prison guard uniform (you had snuck one out of your workplace). It looked good on him, the fabric stretching over his thick frame, his biceps bulging at the shirt cuffs, his package not very well hidden by the canvas pants.

"Looks like someone don't know how to behave," he drawled, sauntering over to the foot of the bed. He stared down at you, his eyes raking over your nude form as if he were assessing stolen goods. "I told you what the punishment was if you didn't listen, didn't I?"

You swallowed. "Y-yes sir."

"And what was that?"

"You'd use me until you were satisfied."

He nodded. "Ayup. And it takes a lot to satisfy me." Crawling onto the bed, he wrapped his big hand around your neck. His other hand lightly slapped your breast. "Yer goin' to take it all, and yer goin' to like it. Ain't that right, sweetheart?"

You nodded.

"Good girl." Releasing you, he knelt between your legs and undid his belt, pulling it from the belt loops slowly, maintaining intense eye contact. Tossing the belt aside, he reached down and ran his fingers along your opening, his fingers coming away with an embarrassing amount of your wetness.

"Dirty li'l thing," he rumbled. "So wet from just this? Like yer beggin' to be used." Slipping one finger inside of you, he used his thumb to brush against your clit while he played with your entrance.

You writhed in your bounds. "S-sir, please, use me!"

"Oh, I'm usin' you, alright. You don't get to tell me what to do." He shoved a second finger inside of you and rubbed you harder. "You'll do exactly as I command."

You only whimpered in submission.

"That's it, show me your helpless face, yes, that's it, good girl."

You felt that coil of pleasure tighten and tighten, until he grabbed your breast and squeezed it, flicking a nipple with his thumb. Arthur knew your weaknesses, and you screamed, your hips bucking as you milked his fingers for all you were worth. His thumb pressed down on your clit, and you could feel your pulse thunder in your ears as the pleasure rode you hard, leaving you breathless.

As you relaxed into the mattress, feeling blissfully like a puddle of jelly, Arthur sat up, rising onto his knees. His cock was outlined on his pants, and you could tell that he was raging hard and ready to take his pleasure. Seeing where your gaze was directed, he touched himself.

"You want this, naughty girl?"

"Yes, please, please!"

He chuckled. "It's like you were bad on purpose."

You looked away. "No..."

Grasping your chin, he forced you to look back up at him. "You lyin'?"

"N-no..."

He lightly slapped your breast. "I don't believe you. But I'll make you confess."

Letting you go, he pulled back and unhurriedly unzipped his fly. Your mouth went dry with anticipation as he freed his thick cock from his pants and held in his hand, stroking himself tantalizingly slow.

You spread your legs wider.

Arthur slapped the inside of your thigh. "Li'l slut," he murmured as he dragged the tip of his shaft along your slit. Up and down, over and over as he stared at you, an arrogant sneer on his lips. "Promise me you'll be a good girl for me."

"I promise, I promise I'll be the best girl for you, I'll be so good for you, please!"

Grinning like a wolf, he gripped your hips and slammed into you.

You screamed, the burn mixed with the heady pleasure of being so filled up by him making you lose your mind. Your hips lifted to meet his as he began to rock into you, his pace steady and masterful, keeping you in check despite your efforts to speed him up.

"You my fuck toy?"

"Yes!"

"Yes what?"

"Yes sir!"

He chuckled. "I'm goin' to release yer ankles. You wrap them pretty legs around me and hang on, you hear?"

"Yes sir," you gasped, admiring the fact that through all of this, he was still fucking you hard, barely losing his breath.

He reached down and undid the restraints at your ankles.

Once you gave into being just a doll for him to fuck, you lay back and let him use you, wrapping your legs around his waist and going along for the ride. Arthur picked up on your submission and fell upon you, his muscular body crushing you into the bed. His hips rose and fell at an ever faster pace, powerfucking you with wild abandon.

He could not speak, only animalistic grunts and moans as he gave into his feral lust. You were also at a loss for words, unable to do anything other than hold on for dear life. You knew your hips would be bruised and sore in the morning, but you didn't care. Right now, all you cared about was the exquisite rapture of being fucked into subspace by your beloved.

Somewhere along the way, you felt Arthur tense up. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, urging him on.

You didn't think Arthur could pound you any harder, or faster, but somehow he did, nearly crushing you with his mindless need to fuck the hell out of you. He let out an impassioned moan as he released himself inside you, his hips jerking erratically.

"Fuck, yer so fuckin' perfect," he slurred, laying sloppy kisses on your cheek and lips. "I would fuck you all day if I could."

You giggled, breaking character. "I would let you too, if my body could handle it."

"Oh god." He immediately lifted himself off of you. "Are you alright, darlin'?"

You grabbed him and pulled him back on top of you, like pulling up a warm blanket. "Yes, yes, I'll be fine. Just let me enjoy my Arthur-quilt for a little longer."

You felt his smile against your cheek, his stubble scraping lightly at your skin. "Yer so sweet. I love you."

You hummed in agreement and slowly fell asleep, fully at peace with Arthur inside of you, on top of you, all around you.

-------------------

End Notes: Hah, I thought I'd never come back to this AU, but here we are. Hope y'all enjoyed this completely unedited, off the cuff smut, cowpokes.

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #nsft #writing #rdr2 fanfic #corrections #prisoner au

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bimrsadler · 1 year ago

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For something nasty? Low Honor!Arthur with an F!reader in a scenario that leads to either dub-con or con-nonconsent (your choice) because she's physically ill somehow? Maybe vulnerable to Arthur due to a bad showdown/gunshot or just wrong place wrong time? Sounds weird I bet dfjblg but if you do do this, ty!!

In A Bind

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female reader

Word count: 3,000

Warnings/tags: nsft, con-noncon, lots of dirty talk, d/s themes with bratty reader, rough oral (m receiving), rough sex, unprotected piv, creampie, light degradation, LH Arthur, established relationship/consent

Summary: after a failed robbery lands you in a Rhodes jail cell, Arthur comes to spring you but finds he can kill two birds with one stone in the process

Notes: this is just 3k words of smut basically lol, also my first time writing cnc so I kept it on the lighter side (plus even LH Arthur would never go further than that imo) but that being said if cnc of any kind is an ick for you - don’t read

Twiddling your thumbs in the quiet jail cell, you watched shadows from the trees outside as they danced on the wall — wishing desperately you hadn’t gotten yourself into this mess.

Arthur would no doubt be unbearable about it, with his sarcastic tsk tsks and I told ya so’s as he stood tall with his hands on his gunbelt, shit-eating grin wide and proud on his face. But dear God, as much as he could drive you crazy, he charmed you to death as he did.

It had been some time now since Sheriff Gray stumbled outside on “business,” clearly drunk on the moonshine the boys had recently recovered.

Unfortunately he had been sober enough to chase you down after a stagecoach robbery gone south the day before.

The bullet he fired grazed your leg and spooked your horse, stirrup catching around your ankle and twisting it as you hit the ground hard enough to knock the air from your lungs.

You were given cloth to tie around it and you’d seen worse, but it would put you out of commission for a few days.

Eventually the heavy footfall of boots on the wood floor broke the silence as Arthur came into view. Sauntering over with that stupid grin and familiar stance — he stopped in front of your cell and laughed.

“Well, well…quite a predicament you got yerself in missy,” after a pause and lazy scratch of his short beard he continued condescendingly. “I told ya not to go pokin’ ‘round where ya ain’t ‘sposed to.”

“I’ll poke around wherever I goddamn please, Mr. Morgan,” you stated unabashedly.

He raised his eyebrows and scoffed (smug taunt), “and look where that’s got ya.”

“I saw an opening and I took it. Care to tell me how many times Hosea and Dutch have rescued you over the years?”

“Lotta tough talk from a little lady stuck in a jail cell, don’tcha think?”

Arthur leaned closer to the bars and lowered his voice, “way I see it, you oughta choose yer next words carefully seein’ as I’m the only one who can help.”

Ignoring his vague threat you gestured towards his chest, “I think that silly little badge you’ve been wearing is going to your head. I can take care of myself.”

“That so? You ain’t foolin’ me. I could see that little shiver when I walked in, and yer still breathin’ fast. From where I’m standin’?”

Arthur reached through the bars to caress your cheek, a gesture in stark contrast to his deep and rough drawl. “Ya look like a rabbit caught in a trap.”

He slowly moved his hand along the growing length in his jeans, palming languidly at the sight of you sweating. “Now…what’re ya gonna do fer me if I let ya out? Seems fair don’t it?”

Astounded with his audacity you scoffed, “my leg’s hurt, the hell do you expect me to be able to do?”

Arthur responded without missing a beat, “ya can kneel right? Yer mouth ain’t hurt is it?”

“Pig,” you sneered as you crossed your arms in protest.

He chuckled darkly at your insult, rubbing himself harder. “Ya can lie down and open them pretty legs for me can’tcha?”

“I think you’re all talk, tough guy. Why don’t you come in here and make me?”

Arthurs eyes studied your face as you tried not to break your showing of defiance. You were going to make him fight for it as long as you could.

He was surprisingly agile for such a large man, giving you no time to react before your wrist was trapped in his much larger, much more powerful hand.

“C’mon asshole, knock it off.” Swearing under your breath and trying to pull away did nothing as he tied your wrists around the cool metal bars with his bandana.

“Quit squirmin’ and get on yer knees.”

You leaned in as close to the outlaws face as you could against the bars and spoke in a daring whisper, “ya deaf? I said, you’re gonna have to make me.”

Arthur placed a powerful hand on the shoulder opposite of your hurt leg and pushed. Even at his gentlest he was exceptionally strong, barely needing to use any of his strength to urge you down.

Freeing himself from the confines of his pants, he stroked his twitching cock inches from your face and thumbed your lower lip with his other hand.

You turned your head away from him defiantly, contempt clear on your face.

“Ah ah, what’s the matter princess? Too good for this? You’ll be cryin’ my name in no time, that’s a promise.”

“You wish.”

“Quit stallin’ now or you’ll be stuck in here even longer.”

Placing his forefinger and thumb on your chin he moved you to face him, broad figure towering above you as he waited for your warm mouth.

Positioning himself between the bars in front of you, he prodded your lips apart with the head, urging his hips forward as you took him further.

Arthur let out a long, groaning sigh. “That’s it, take it darlin’.”

He was slow at first, pushing to the back of your throat gently as you adjusted your lips to his girth; twirling your tongue around the tip and hollowing your cheeks along the shaft.

Glancing up you saw Arthur’s arms extended above him, hands white-knuckling the bars and eyes sealed shut it bliss. Every light thrust he made was accompanied by a sharp breath or husky groan.

Feeling ashamed, you realized the sight and sensation made your pussy absolutely throb — it was already becoming difficult to pretend you didn’t want this.

Small moans traveled up your throat and vibrated around his cock as you bobbed your head eagerly; shifting on the floor and squeezing your knees together to accommodate the uncomfortable arousal.

Always keen on your body and its responses to him, Arthur grinned and sucked the air through his teeth. “See? I knew you wanted this, I bet yer soaking through to the floor just from suckin’ on me. That right?”

You were dangerously close to giving into your lust drunk stupor, to rambling and moaning with spit hanging off your chin; though you couldn’t give him the satisfaction without a fight just yet.

You pulled your head back and away to remove him from your mouth, looking up at him with raised eyebrows. “Lotta talk for someone who was about to come in ten more seconds.”

“We’ll see if yer still sassin’ me like this when ya can’t walk tomorrow. Now, I asked you a question woman.”

You batted your lashes and smirked, “that’s funny, I don’t recall hearing a question. All I could hear was you whimpering.”

Gathering a fistful of your hair Arthur pushed into your mouth and to the back of your throat, causing a gag as your nose met his chestnut curls. The thrusts were rough and sloppy now, his soft whines turning into primal, teeth gritting grunts.

“Tired a hearin’ you talk girl, yer mouth’s better at this anyway,” you looked up at his crooked smile, drool gathering at the corners of your mouth.

“Now…fuck — let’s try this again. I bet yer soaked just from havin’ my cock in yer mouth, ain’t that right?”

Arthur pulled out quickly to let you respond — and to catch your breath.

“Yes,” you mewled and panted, unable to stifle your dizzying lust. “I’m so goddamn wet right now.”

Arthur laughed smugly as he fished for something in his pocket, “that’s what I thought.” Revealing the cell keys he let himself in and closed the door behind him.

Still tied to the bars, Arthur circled around you slowly as his eyes traveled along every inch of you. For the first time you truly did feel like a rabbit caught in a trap.

“Can ya stand?”

Your replied nervously, “I think so…”

“Then do it…” His snarl was dark and harsh and sent a shockwave straight to your core.

He felt dangerous and you felt cornered.

Gently pulling yourself upright Arthur allowed you to test the waters. Putting pressure on your ankle, you found that the pain was a quiet whisper compared to the aching arousal between your legs.

He approached slowly, boots thudding next to you as the scent of leather and tobacco was carried with it. He opened the front of your dress forcefully to slip a hand inside, squeezing and massaging your breast with his cock twitching at your side.

“Can’t let an opportunity like this pass me up can I?” His pulling and pinching of the pert peak made your hips roll at the air.

Moving behind you, Arthur placed his hands on your hips and rutted his hardness against the soft fabric over your backside with shallow breaths.

You spoke in a breathy plead, “haven’t I given you enough yet Morgan?”

“Hardly. You think that pretty little mouth a yers was all I wanted?”

Pressing himself tight against you he dragged the flat of his hand along your mound possessively. “I deserve this tight cunt too don’t I?”

He tilted your head backward against his chest to look up at him, his other fingers tightening along your slit — pressing into the soaked undergarments. “Don’t I?”

You nodded with a lick of your lips, not wanting to say it out loud but left helpless to his appetite.

The outlaw brought his lips close enough to your ear that you felt the scratch of his stubble as he spoke, “good girl.”

Bending you forward, Arthur made your lower half bare to him, wetness glistening invitingly. Without warning he entered you with three of his sizable fingers, immediately motioning inside of you.

“So fuckin’ wet for me girl, thought you didn’t want this huh?”

All you could muster was a weak moan, focusing instead on the ebb and flow already increasing in your abdomen, the lewd sound of Arthur working your walls, the absolute debauchery and how good it made you feel.

“Got nothin’ to say now do ya? If you wanna come I better hear it.”

Arthur suddenly removed his fingers, leaving you desperate at the sudden hollowness.

The digits instead roughly penetrated your mouth, making you suck them clean of your juices. “Taste that? That’s what I do to ya girl, may as well jus’ admit it.”

“Now…beg for it.” he asserted harshly as you whined around his fingers. The palm of his other hand collided with your ass, leaving a hot sting. “Ain’t playin’ girl. Beg. Or I’ll take what’s mine and go.”

And this is what you wanted. For Arthur to tell you off and take you, to make you beg and turn you into jelly. The shame was merely an afterthought now that your carnal body had taken over.

“Please Arthur,” you swayed your ass and rolled your hips. “Please — let me come.”

Another playful slap landed on your backside as he stuffed his fingers inside of you once more, “yer lucky yer so goddamn gorgeous.”

You felt his other hand move to your sensitive bud, rolling in circles as he fingered you. “C’mon now, lemme feel how bad you want it.”

Obscene noise and filthy words filled the cell and ushered in your peak, waves of fluttering giving way to squeezing pulses around Arthur’s fingers.

Crying out your body fell forward, shaking and spent.

Giving you no time to recover, Arthur spread your swollen and sensitive lips as he entered you, flush with your ass and twitching in your core, a relieved groan escaped his lungs.

“Fuck…Arthur!”

“You can take it sweetheart…you can take it.”

As wet as you were — and as wet as he always made you; there was still a sweet sting as you adjusted to his girth. But Arthur was not patient today.

His iron grip on your waist was the only thing keeping you from collapsing as he pistoned in and out of you, pushing the air from your lungs with each thrust.

“Someone,” you fought through the stuttered breaths, “stop — someone could come in!”

“Oh but you’d like that wouldn’t you?” Arthur pulled your hair and rode harder. “You’d like the whole town to see what a little whore y’are, ain’t that right?”

Arthur slowed his pace to a long, languid grinding. “Let ’em watch, then they’ll know yer all mine.”

His substantial hand travelled slow down your spine, almost lovingly. You had a feeling this wasn’t part of the act.

“No one else gets to touch you like this — take you like this.”

Your breath hitched in your chest at Arthur’s words, injured ankle faltering slightly. Taking notice he untied you from the cell bars and laid you face down, flat on the cot.

Now that you were more comfortable, his demeanor snapped back to dominance.

Arthur’s hands pawed roughly at your ass, fingernails digging in as he rutted against your dripping slit.

You couldn’t help but grind your mound against the thin mattress and ass along the bottom of his shaft, the time for feigning disinterest long gone.

“Give it to me,” you pleaded against the thin pillow, losing all composure.

Keeping your legs together Arthur once again entered you, the sting no lesser in this tight position. “Look atcha, ain’t even hidin’ that ya want it anymore.”

Arthur’s broad torso encompassed you as he hovered above your back, repeatedly slamming into your heat with hot, wanton breaths against your ear.

Pressed into the mattress you listened to Arthur’s breathing become ragged and felt his body stiffen, all signs that he was close.

In one swift movement he pulled out to flip you on your back, pinning your wrists above your head as he plunged back into you.

“Wanna look at that pretty face while I fill you up. You want it?”

You turned your head to the side, feeling your body flush with heat from the intimacy of his words — of his future actions.

“Yeah you do,” Arthur leaned into your neck, sucking and biting at the tender flesh above your collarbone.

You couldn’t help but grind against him as he bucked into you, much to his delight. “Such a dirty girl, knew you wanted it. Coulda just enjoyed it sooner if ya weren’t such a goddamn brat.”

Lacing your fingers through the honey locks pressed against his forehead in sweat, you tugged gently while dragging the nails of your other hand down his back.

Arthur winced with a proud smile, “gonna empty myself inside ya.” He paused with a bite of his lip and groan, “I’ll be drippin’ down yer thighs and all over that nice dress…”

You could feel his cock flexing inside your heat, talking himself into a frenzy with each passing second.

Falling on top of you as his climax took over, Arthur moved in for a heated kiss; the first since he walked through the door.

Pressing deep inside you his hips moved in shallow jerks while painting your walls. A single, honest groan released from his mouth into yours, turning into whimpering shudders as his tongue roamed.

Arthur laid his forehead on the pillow beside you with a quiet expletive as you both took a moment to catch your breath.

Stirring slowly you felt his calloused hands running down your calf and toward your ankle. “Y’okay?” He gently ran his thumb over the swollen skin, “I can go take care of that bastard, don’t give a damn if he’s the Sheriff.”

“I’m okay, handsome.”

“Good. Ya know, ya didn’t need to get yerself arrested to get me to uh,” he grinned with a chuckle, “well…fuck ya like this.”

Playfully slapping his chest you exclaimed, “you know I didn’t do this on purpose!”

“I dunno, yer a pretty wild woman. I wouldn’t put it past ya.”

“Shut up,” you teased.

Arthur was rough around the edges but you trusted him. After many mornings of trying to keep quiet in the tent, humid nights shared at the Flat Iron lakeside, sweating and entwined with praises and whispers; you couldn’t help your lust drunk confessions. Wanting excitement and thrill, to do things the other hadn’t done with anyone else.

“So was it…thrillin’ enough for ya then?”

“That and then some, cowboy.” You ran your hand across his bulky chest. “What’d you think?”

“That it’s the hottest — and craziest thing I ever done,” he laughed and squeezed your ass playfully. “And on that note we should get goin’ ’fore anyone comes back.”

As the two of you began making sure you were decent, you inquired, “won’t Sheriff Gray put it together that it was you who broke me out?”

“He’s drunk as Uncle on a Saturday night sweetheart, he won’t even remember I was here.”

Arthur paused as his tone grew stern, “really though, what were you thinkin’? You gotta be more careful.”

He was right, but his pension for being overprotective and pushy in these situations felt unnecessary after an injury and arrest. “Most of the gang’s been in jail or tights spots at least once, comes with the territory.”

He taunted, “maybe, but what if I ain’t around to rescue ya next time?”

“I could’ve broken out myself. Wouldn’t be hard to seduce a nervous old deputy anyway,” you winked.

“Ain’t funny.”

“Well quit givin’ me a hard time then.”

“Alright alright, let’s get ya outta here.” Arthur wrapped his arm around your waist as he ushered you through the back of the jail, supporting you through your slight limp.

Before he helped you up on his horse you planted a quick kiss to his cheek, “thank you, Arthur.”

He shrugged dismissively in response but the rosey tint forming on his face didn’t go unnoticed. “C’mon now, let’s get you home and get that leg better.”

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