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when he’s so so big over you and inside you trying to coax you into relaxing for him; saying ‘it’s ok, sweetheart, you’re doing so well for me, you can take it’ and he kisses you as he slides himself all the way home inside you(swearing you’re so tight around him he can feel your heartbeat) so that your little hiccup is swallowed by his mouth and then he pulls back to admire the sight of you stretched around him to coo; ‘see? there’s my pretty angel. look how good you look full of me.’
Cockwarming, but you’re already full of cum, and now just holding daddy’s cock in you until it’s ready for round two, but also plugging all the cum inside your pussy where it belongs.
Warnings: reader has a southern accent bc why not, low-ish honor? he has high and low honor moments so idk, yearning, SMUT (corruption kink, virgin!reader, talking you through it, oral f receiving, piv, cowgirl & missionary, multiple orgasms, dirty talk)
Word Count: 5K
Summary: Arthur has his eye on the sweetest girl in Valentine except… you’re the sheriff’s perfect daughter.
A/N: we hit 1000 followers! thank you all sm🥹
Arthur Morgan was always in and out of jail.
Dutch or Hosea were the usual ones to come and drag him out. Sometimes after a botched robbery Micah would abandon him, sometimes over a bar fight, or when he pissed off the sheriff which was quite often. It’s not like he enjoyed spending his evenings rotting in a cell, bickering back and forth with him.
But then he started getting caught on purpose.
It started a few months back.
Arthur leaned against the brick wall, tracing a crack with his calloused fingers. The cell smelled of stale whiskey and tobacco either from former inmates or the sheriff’s breakfast. When the wooden door creaked open, he straightened, hoping Dutch had finally shown up to pay his bail.
Instead, he saw you.
A proper little lady, all ribbons and lace, stepping into that dim sheriff’s office like a patch of sunlight. You closed your parasol and set it beside the door, your gloved hand carrying a wicker basket.
“Y’ forgot your lunch, Daddy,” you said with that sweet voice as you placed the basket on the desk.
“Ah, thanks, sweet pea.”
Arthur didn’t dare move, though his pulse kicked up. You were one of the most beautiful and best-dressed women in Valentine—your father made sure of that. In a town of dust and mud, he wanted you to shine. Dresses pressed clean, sun hats tied with silk, gloves that never saw a stain. He hoped you’d catch a traveling businessman’s eye, settle down, and live a respectable life for a respectable woman.
You didn’t so much as glance his way, but Arthur felt like the air had left the room.
After kissing your father on the cheek, you took your parasol and left, your skirts brushing the doorway. He shifted on the cot, craning his neck to watch you walk down the street from the window. He studied the sway of your hips as you disappeared.
The sharp cock of a revolver snapped him back.
“I know damn well you ain’t lookin’ at my daughter!” the sheriff barked, gun aimed dead at his head.
Arthur raised his hands lazily, leaning back against the wall. “Now what would possess me to be that stupid?”
The sheriff grunted, lowering his gun with a scowl.
After that day, Arthur didn’t mind getting caught anymore.
“Headin’ to town. Don’t bail me out till tonight!” he’d call to camp at least once a week, before kicking his horse toward Valentine.
Even if he only saw you for a minute, it was worth the iron bars.
“Evenin’, Daddy.”
Arthur sat up straight, pretending not to care.
“Whatcha doin’ here, sweet pea?” your father asked.
“There’s a caravan of spices in town. Could I get some?”
He sighed, rummaging through his drawer, grabbing some coins for you. “Fine. Just don’t go buyin’ everything you see like last time.”
Then came a gunshot outside, followed by hollers and cheers. A drunken fight, no doubt.
Your father stood, strapping on his gun belt. “Stay here. And don’t talk to the prisoner!”
“Alright,” you said, watching him hurry out.
The office fell quiet. You lingered near the window, peeking through the glass at the commotion. You could just barely make out a group of men wrestling in the mud while townspeople gathered around.
“You’re an awfully pretty thing.”
The deep, gravelly voice catches your attention.
You turn, finally meeting the outlaw’s eyes admiring you through the bars. He’s lounging on the cot like he’s got nowhere better to be.
“That’s kind of you,” you say politely, “but I’m not allowed to socialize.”
You turn back to the desk, pretending to study the pile of wanted posters and ink-stained papers on your father’s desk.
“I won’t tell,” he drawls.
Surprised, you glance over your shoulder. No one ever dared speak to you like that, knowing damn well who your father was. Especially not a man sitting in your father’s cell.
“You’re a criminal.” You say it as a fact, not an insult, before looking back down.
However, you could still feel his heavy gaze roaming your body. He shifts, the cot creaking under him. “I wouldn’t hurt ya, miss. I'm a gentleman believe it or not. ‘M only here for foolish reasons.”
Silence.
“Your daddy just don’t like me much.”
Still nothing. A moment goes by as he tries to think up something else to say.
“I couldn’t help but notice you ain’t got a ring on that finger. Nor any gentleman escortin’ you.”
You let out a small breath through your nose. “You’re not very bright if you think talkin’ to me is a good idea.”
That earns a low chuckle from him. “Tell me, how’s it possible a pretty thing like you’s walkin’ ‘round Valentine without an intended?”
You turn then, leaning back against the desk, doing your best to look indifferent. “I have high standards.”
He stands and strides closer, resting his forearms on the bars. “’Suppose I don’t meet ‘em, huh?”
You can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Not even close.”
“Lemme guess,” his eyes the curves of your body. “You’re waitin’ for some city boy with a briefcase and a fancy tie. He’ll sweep you off your feet, take you to the city, buy you a big white house with painted shutters. You’ll live a quiet life, raise five kids… till he finds himself a mistress.”
You scoff, “Not all city men are like that.” You sounded more defensive than you meant to.
“Most are,” he says simply. His fingers tap the metal between you. “You wouldn’t have any fun livin’ like that. City boys just want a pretty thing to show off. Someone to help ‘em carry out their family name and make ‘em look good.”
Your gaze drifts away despite yourself. You’ve seen it—couples who don’t speak, wives who smile only for show. They look beautiful together, but looking back, it looks like an act.
He studies you, his tone lowering. “But us country men, outlaws even… we don’t need all that status nonsense.” His lips twitch into a near-smile. “We just want a woman we can worship proper.”
Heat rises, burning the tips of your ears.
“No city boy’s gonna come home n’ bury his tongue in that sweet pussy at the end of a long rough day, just for the hell of it.”
You should have turned away. You should have ignored him like your father told you to. But no one’s ever spoken so lewd and vividly to you. Even when you got the birds and bees talk it was vague. When you asked about sex with some other ladies in town, they’d all say the same vague things as well. “It’ll be quick.” “You’re lucky if he knows what to do with his pecker.” “We just do it once a month.” “It’ll hurt.” “It ain't all that.” “I didn’t even know he was in there.”
He could tell your mind was racing. “I could show you.” His deep drawl hypnotizes you. “Show you what it’s like to be with a real man.”
You froze. The room seemed smaller, the air thicker.
Before you could gather a reply, the door banged open—your father dragging in a bloodied drunk by the collar, two deputies with their own drunks crowding behind him. The spell shattered in an instant.
You straightened, forcing air into your lungs and your hands to still. The sheriff barked orders, the sound commotion quickly filled the once quiet room. Luckily, he was too busy to notice your flustered state or the way you couldn’t quite look at the man in the cell again.
“Move over, Mr. Morgan. You’re gettin’ a roommate.”
The sheriff shoved the drunk into the cell, and Arthur’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Moment ruined.
Mr. Morgan. You hadn’t known his name until now.
“Well, Daddy, I best be on my way before the caravan leaves.” You gathered the coins from the desk, slipping them into your skirt pocket.
“Yep, see ya tonight, dear,” he said distractedly, wrestling the drunks into compliance.
You hesitated at the door, then glanced back over your shoulder. “Goodbye, Mr. Morgan.”
The corner of his mouth twitched up, his posture straightening like a man who’d just been handed back a bit of hope. The sound of his name on your tongue replayed in his head long after you’d gone.
The following weeks, you'd almost always found Arthur in your father’s cell. And every time you walked in, his eyes would light up at the sight of you. You tried to tell yourself it was ridiculous, that there was nothing cute about an outlaw flirting from behind iron bars… but the flutter in your chest betrayed you every time.
There had been a few times he’d put a flower in his hat, slipping it to you when your father wasn’t looking. You always kept the wildflower, hiding it in your room like it was contraband. In a way, it was.
One afternoon, Arthur sat on the cot, listening as you chatted with your father about dinner plans.
“Just a friend from town,” you said, fixing the wrinkled lace in your dress. “We’re meeting at the saloon at 5, won’t be home till a little late.”
Arthur said nothing, but an idea quickly bloomed in his mind.
After Hosea came to bail him out, he rode straight back to camp and found John and Javier. By sundown, the three of them were striding through Valentine toward that very saloon.
Inside, the air was grey with cigar smoke, music, laughter, and arguing gamblers. He spotted you almost instantly, sitting with a friend at a corner table. He kept to the bar, a bottle of whiskey in hand His eyes flicking between his drink and you as John and Javier chatted beside him.
“Y’ should go over there,” your friend teased, nudging your arm. “He’s been eyeing you for at least 10 minutes.”
You followed her gaze and froze when you saw him. That same man from the cell, leaning against the mahogany on his elbow.
“I’m fine here,” you murmured, though your pulse quickened.
“Oh, come on. He’s handsome.”
“Not my type.”
“Bullshit.” She grinned. “Go on, talk to him. I’ll be fine”
You sighed, muttering something under your breath as you gathered your empty glass and stood. You made your way to the bar, careful to keep a few feet between you and him. Setting your glass down, you cleared your throat softly.
“Just water, please.” You ask the bar tender.
“Funny seein’ you here,” he drawled, watching you from the corner of his eye as he took a swig.
You turned just enough to meet his eyes. “Why are you here?”
“Can’t a man enjoy a drink with his friends?”
“Oh, is that what it is?” you teased, the corner of your mouth twitching.
“That’s the truth, ma’am,” he tipped his chin toward John and Javier on his other side. Then that smirk crept back. “But… I think you’re glad to see me here.”
You let out a small snicker. “Glad? Now, I don’t know about that.”
“Oh, come on.” He leaned closer, and gave you all of his attention. “Was it really necessary to remind your daddy where you’d be tonight? And so damn loud, too. Thought the whole town heard you.”
“I didn’t want him to worry.” You try to defend yourself, trying to be as casual as possible.
He chuckled, eyes lingering flicking down to your lips. “You missed me. Been thinkin’ about what I said, huh? That no city boy could give you the kind of life you deserve.”
“That’s not true-“
“Then why do you keep coming to see me?”
You met his gaze, pulse quickening. “You think quite highly of yourself, Mr. Morgan.”
You certainly amused him, there was no denying that. “Maybe.” He shrugs. “Or maybe I just know you’ve been thinkin’ about me near as much as I’ve been thinkin’ about you.” His voice dropped lower. “Don’t you ever wonder what else is out there? Besides those white fences.”
You hesitated, the air between you thickening, making it harder to breathe. For a moment, you almost forgot the noise of the saloon, the laughter, the piano, the boots scraping the floorboards.
His words hit harder than you’d expected. How could some outlaw have such an effect on you?
You steadied your voice, not wanting to let your nerves show. “There are rules to society,” you said carefully. “Not everyone’s a deviant, Mr. Morgan.”
Those dark and dangerous eyes of his only put you in a deeper trance. Was this the devil everyone spoke of?
“Perhaps not. But the world’s a whole lot bigger than what you’re told, darlin’. You just ain’t seen it yet.” Finally, his hand lifted, knuckles grazing your arm. A touch so light it almost could’ve been imagined. “Let me show you what your daddy’s world keeps you from,” he murmured. “Then you can run back to your precious little society and find yourself a husband, if that’s what ya still want.”
Your breath caught, his fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps down your skin. “I- uh- I wouldn’t even know where to start,” you said softly, the truth tumbling out before you could stop it.
He smiled, not mocking. If anything, he found it sweet. “Didn’t figure you would.” His hand shifted, taking your gloved ones into his.
He played with fabric that divided you before taking the tip of the glove and pulling it. He took his time, giving you every opportunity to pull away, reject him, even slap him if you wanted. But you didn’t. Once the glove was off, he shoved it into his back pocket and did the same to the other before delicately cupping your soft hand.
“I gotta room upstairs. Just say the word, darlin’.” He lifts your hand, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.
Your heartbeat thumped louder in your ears.
Three months ago, you’d have laughed off a man like him. Three months ago, you’d have followed every rule set before you.
Now, you just stood there, torn between what you were taught to want and what this outlaw made you feel.
Then your gaze flicked from your hands, to his eyes before whispering, “Show me.”
Arthur whistles to John and Javier, giving them some sort of signal. They exchange knowing looks before tossing come cash on the bar and slipping out into the cool night.
He turns back to you, his hand finding the small of your back as he guides you up the creaky staircase to his room.
Inside, the room was dim and cozy. A single oil lamp burns on the table, making a warm, flickering glow across the walls. Arthur turns you to face him, hands move to your cheeks, cupping your face like you were made of porcelain.
“You sure you want this?” His gaze holds yours, searching yours for any doubt.
You swallow hard, your lips parting as you breathe out, “I do, Mr. Morgan.”
“I’ll do right by you.” He whispered in that gravely voice of his.
With your confirmation, he leans in, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss is softer than you ever imagined.
He takes his time, molding your lips together. It was like he was afraid to ruin the moment by wanting too much too soon. His hand stays at your cheek, thumb brushing slow circles against your warm skin. He wanted this to be sweet for you. Wanted it to mean something.
Arthur had known plenty of wrong things in his life, but this, he wanted to make right. Perfect, even. So perfect you’d never consider another man again.
Your hands come up to fist in the fabric of his button-up as he deepens the kiss, tilting his head to capture your upper lip. The world narrows to the sound of your kiss and the creak of the old floorboards as he leads you to the bed.
One of his hands leaves your cheek, sliding down the length of you until it finds your waist. He pulls you closer like he’s testing how much of you he’s allowed to touch, but you willingly give it to him.
You hum against his lips, “Mr. Morg-“
“Arthur.” He breaks the kiss.
“Arthur.” You try it now, making him grin like a school boy.
“‘M gonna have you moaning that all night.” He captured your lips again.
This kiss was different, nothing like the first or what you’ve heard before. Perhaps you’ve seen it once or twice in the alley of a saloon. Never, did you expect for a kiss to have such a physical reaction on you. A fire burned in your veins and traveled down to where your core started to ache. An ache you weren’t familiar with, but one that was possessing you.
His hands reach for the ribbon holding your dress together and slowly tugs, unraveling it. Your dress slackened down your shoulders, exposing more of your cleavage, but not enough to fall on its own.
He backs you onto the bed, carefully lowering you onto the comforter. His hands grew bolder, trailing down your leg and to the hem of your dress at your ankle. His lips moved to your cheek, then jaw, then neck where he was rewarded with a sweet gasp.
“Ohh, Arthur.” You sighed and let your head fall back.
“This ain’t nothin’, darlin’.” He nips at your neck, not enough to form any hickeys. “Lemme taste that pussy of yours. I know it tastes sweeter than sugar.” He breaks away to carefully take your boots off and kneel on the floor boards between your legs.
You yelp when he suddenly grabs your hips and tugs you to the edge for better access. Those rough hands of his find their way up your soft legs, pushing the skirt of your dress up at the same time. When he finds your undergarments, his fingers hook them and tug them off. Your thighs shut on instinct once the cloth is gone.
“Awe, come on, now.” He looks up at you, unbuttoning his shirt and letting it slide off. He wasn’t going to risk anything getting in the way.
“I- I can’t. It’s embarrassing.” Your face was hot.
“I assure you, there’s nothing embarrassing about this.” His hands move to rub your thighs to slowly encourage them to open. “I’ve been dreaming about this pussy of yours since I first saw you.”
Slowly, you gain the confidence to part your legs. When you do, Arthur’s eyelids grow heavy with lust.
“You’re soaked.” The confidence starts to fade and your thighs move to close, but he catches them, holding them open.
“That’s a good thing.” He chuckles and props your thighs on his shoulders.
“Oh.” You watch him nervously.
“I’m just gonna taste ya. Nothin’ to worry about.” He kisses your inner knee before working his way down. “You might even be begging for more later.”
The scent of your core, alone, was enough to have him salivating. With a lick of his lips, he closes the gap. His tongue laid flat against your slit, licking a long stripe up, curling his tongue ever so slightly to collect your arousal.
Your jaw immediately drops and hands grip the blankets. Your voice, once so soft and sweet, now, needy and desperate.
“Arthur! Mmmm! Arthur!”
There was no need for hesitation; he ate you like a starving man. There was nothing else that mattered at this moment except making you feel good.
He moved his mouth up to your clit, circling it with his tongue. He pressed against it, giving it a flat, hard lick. Then closed around your clit and he began to suck viciously, pulling mewls from your lips.
He moaned against you. Your taste was addictive. Everything he imagined. His hands gripped your thighs tighter, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. His tongue kept moving, alternating between flat strokes on your clit and sliding down to press inside of you.
You didn’t know pleasure like this was possible. It made you second guess why you’d ever resist. “You’re makin’ me feel so good!”
His mouth was aggressive, but so precise. Arthur knew exactly what he was doing. He moaned against you, the vibrations adding to the pleasure already building inside you. It was like he wanted to devour you.
Your hands shoot down into his hair, knocking his hat off his head. He groaned against you at the feeling of your hands, and his eyes flickered up to watch your jaw go slack.
His tongue moved against you, licking and sucking in all the right ways that had you writhing and moaning under him. His cock was straining against his trousers, begging for mercy, but he was too focused on you.
“You’re doin’ so good for me, sweetheart. Just gonna give ya a little more, okay?”
Your hips jerk as his rough finger slides through your folds, collecting your juices. It pushes past your lips and into you in one slow motion.
“God, you’re tight.” Arthur groans, watching your cunt flutter around him.
That thick finger starts moving in and out. Almost immediately, your thighs shivered. He picks up the pace. You could hear the faint squelching of your sopping wet pussy.
Arthur was in heaven. He leans back in and tackles your clit with his tongue. Your walls instantly clench around his finger and toes curl. You were on the edge and he knew it. He nuzzled his face deeper, not caring if his beard was scratching your thighs.
Not even a minute had passed before you were blinded by pure ecstasy. Sounds you didn’t even know you could make, rip from your mouth. He works you through it, helping you ride out those waves while slurping up every drop.
As you come down from your high, Arthur climbs back up over you, wiping his chin and beard. “Y’ alright?” He cups your cheek as you catch your breath.
“Mhm.” You hum.
“You think you can handle my cock?”
Your eyes open again, brows raised. “I- I think so.”
He carefully maneuvers you to lay in the center of the bed. His hands roam your body, taking your dress and peeling it off. With every inch of skin being exposed, he pressed tender kisses, worshipping you.
“So beautiful.” He hums.
Once you’re fully naked he works on his pants, tossing his belt onto the floor with a clang. You study his lower abdomen as more skin is exposed. Your heart rate picked up as you saw the girth of his cock.
“Still sure you wanna do this?” He chuckles as your wide-eyed reaction.
“I’m sure, it’s just…” He settles between your legs and leans over you, planting his arms beside your head. “Is that really supposed to go in me?”
“It is.” He answered simply.
“I don’t think it’ll fit.”
“I’ll make it fit, don’t you worry ‘bout that.”
The aching red tip of his cock presses against your clit, making you jump a little.
“It’s okay, sweetheart, I’ll go slow.”
Arthur takes his heavy cock in his hand, giving it a pump before pressing this thick head to your opening. Slowly, he slides in.
Your eyes seer shut as you take it. “Mmm, it’s big, Arthur." You groan.
He breaths heavily through his nose as your tight cunt squeezes around him. “I know. You’re doin’ good, girl.”
Your nails dig into his biceps as he feeds you more inches. Finally, he bottoms out, both your breaths already labored. Once he feels your pussy relaxing around him, he slides out slowly, keeping only his bulbous head in then sliding back in.
Arthur watched your head fall back and your back arch. He took in every expression you made as he slowly sank inside your tight wet pussy again. This was the sight he had been fantasizing about every night for the past few months. Here you are now, under him, taking each thick inch.
That uncomfortable stretching and pressure subsided into bliss. Moans roll off your tongue now, hands grabbing whatever they could; biceps, shoulders, back.
His pace started to pick up, his hips snapping to meet yours with more force. His breathing was growing increasingly labored, his face contorted in pleasure.
“Ooh, god- ngh!” He grunted, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through him. He was starting to lose himself in the feeling, his mind going fuzzy.
“Arthur,” you moan and tug him down for a kiss. He happily responds, deepening the kiss and pushing his tongue into your mouth.
With the shift of his hips, he finds your sweet spot. You break the kiss, letting out a pathetic mewl.
“I know, sweetheart. Ngh, that feels good don’t it?” He loved taking something so pure and watching it unravel for him. He let out a low feral moan as he picked up speed. “I- ungh fuck! I think you’re ready for the next part.”
“I- I am?”
“I wanna teach ya to ride me.” He grunts with every sharp thrust. “Think you can do that for me?”
You nod, unable to get words out.
With that, he rolls you both over, settling back and admiring the way you sit on his cock.
“Come on, now. Be a good girl n’ bounce on me.” He encouraged, hands moving to rest behind his head.
You whimper as you attempt to ride him, sliding up and down. Every move was electric. The sight of him beneath you, the way his muscles flexed under your hands with every move. It was almost too overwhelming to continue.
“Oh, Arthur, I don’t know if I can.”
“You’re doin’ so good.” He cooed. “Keep going, you got it.”
You keep riding him. It wasn’t very fast as you were still trying to get the hang of it, but lord was it incredible. You landed with a wet plap every time. It made Arthur’s eyelids grow heavy, trying everything in his power to keep them open and watch how beautiful you looked.
“That’s it.” He groans. “Keep on ridin’ me just like that!”
Your thighs were starting to burn. While your body moved on its own, possessed by the need to cum again, you weren’t sure how you were going to keep this up.
“Oh, Arthur. I can’t.” You whimper between moans.
“That’s okay- ngh ngh, j-just a little more, alright? Then I’ll make ya cum nice n’ hard just like you did earlier.”
You bite your lip and nod. He grabs your hips to help you, bringing you up and yanking you down. Your head fell back as you moaned.
You were losing speed, he knew it. So, he flips you both back over. Without wasting a second, he pistons in and out of you frantically.
“Y-you did s-so good, ridin’ me like that. ‘M gonna give you the best reward, now, okay?”
“Yes! Ahh! Don’t stop!” Your nails scratch at his back.
Arthur was gasping and grunting with each snap of his hips, the pleasure building inside between you.
“You feel so damn good." He growled, each word punctuated by a hard thrust.
His hand reached between you, his fingers finding your clit and starting to circle it roughly, adding to the waves of pleasure. The other hand hitched your legs higher on his waist, allowing him to get even deeper. You swore his cock was up in your chest with how deep he was.
“There we go,” He grunts, fixated on the way your face twisted with pleasure. His balls slap against your ass with every animalistic thrust.
“More, Arthur! I wanna cum again!” You plead between cries.
Your pussy squeezed his thick cock the closer you got. Every slam of his hips had moans rolling off your tongue. He was a possessed man, needing you more than air. He’d give you anything you needed to make you feel good.
“Look at ya, ‘bout to cum all over my cock.” Your legs shake around his hips now. “Just this morning, you were being a proper little lady of society. Remember that? N-now you’re fucking begging for my cock. Begging me to make you cum. Is that right?”
“Mhm,” you whimpered.
He drove into you like a mad man. “Cum for me- oh fuck!”
You came instantly, screaming his name and throbbing around his cock. Arthur didn’t last another second, cumming right after you. His body shuddered, muscles clenched, and a deep groan escaped his lips as he came deep in you. He kept fucking, slower now, just helping you enjoy those last waves of pleasure.
As you come back to reality, you hear your labored breaths and the distant, muffled music from downstairs. A low groan escapes when Arthur pulls out, the ache in your muscles reminding you just how worth it it was.
He lays down beside you, an arm looping around your waist to pull you against his still-heaving chest. His voice is gentler, but hoarse, now. “You holdin’ up alright?”
You nod, letting yourself melt into the warmth of him for a moment longer than you probably should. But then it hits you. The time.
“Oh, goodness!” You bolt upright, eyes darting around for a clock. “What time is it? I gotta get home before my daddy finds out-”
Arthur only chuckles, catching your wrist and tugging you back down to his chest. “I got it covered.”
“You- what? Arthur, I’m serious.”
He smirks, tracing lazy circles on your arm. “My friends are out distractin’ him. I told ’em to stir up trouble on the outskirts of town. Your daddy’ll be plenty busy tonight and into the mornin’.”
You look at him in awe. “You set that up?”
He hums, leaning in to kiss you. “They owed me a favor or two.”
Part 2
A/N: TY again for 1000 followers! I’ll be redoing my taglists after kinktober so if you’d like to be on an Everything list or Arthur list lmk!
Dividers: @strangergraphics
Kinktober 2025 Tag List: @plu0725 @iristheplanet16
Permanent Tag List: @what-iwish-you-knew @infuriatinglyoptimistic @harriedandharassed
𓍼ོ on some days when nanami is tired, he wants you to fuck him from on top
you straddle nanami slowly, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips as he lies back against the pillows, chest still rising and falling from the long day.
his hands settle heavy on your thighs, thumbs stroking lazy circles into your skin while his cock rests thick and flushed against his stomach, already leaking at the tip from how badly he needs this. you reach down and wrap your fingers around him, guiding the blunt head to your entrance, rubbing it back and forth through your slick folds until he groans low in his throat, eyes fluttering half shut. then you sink down, taking every inch in one smooth glide, the stretch burning so good that your breath catches and your walls flutter tight around him.
nanami lets out a deep sigh of relief, fingers flexing on your thighs as you bottom out and pause, fully seated with him buried to the hilt inside you. his body is warm and solid beneath you, muscles tense from work but finally starting to unwind as you begin to move. you rock your hips in slow, deliberate circles first, grinding your clit against his pelvis with every rotation, feeling the way his cock twitches deep in your cunt when you clench around him on purpose.
his hands slide up to grip your waist, not controlling but holding on like youre the only thing keeping him grounded right now, and his golden eyes stay locked on where your bodies join, watching himself disappear into you over and over.
you pick up the pace gradually, lifting until just the head of his cock catches at your entrance before dropping back down hard, the wet slap of skin echoing each time your ass meets his thighs.
“forever my girl,” he whispers, sweat starts to bead along nanamis collarbones and you lean forward, bracing your palms on his chest so you can ride him deeper, faster, angling your hips until his cock drags perfectly against that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. he groans your name, voice rough and tired, hips bucking up weakly to meet your rhythm because he wants you to use him completely. every thrust makes your breasts bounce and your breath come in short gasps, your slick coating his length and dripping down to soak his balls as you work yourself on him.
nanamis hands roam higher, cupping your breasts and rolling your nipples between his fingers while you keep bouncing, the pleasure building sharp and heavy in your core. you can feel him getting closer, his cock swelling thicker inside you, veins pulsing with every drag of your walls. he pulls you down harder against him, grinding up into you with what little energy he has left, chasing that edge until his whole body stiffens and he comes with a low broken moan, pulsing hot and deep as he fills you up.
you keep riding him through it, chasing your own release until it crashes over you too, cunt clenching rhythmically around his spent cock while waves of heat roll through your limbs. afterward you stay seated on him, both of you catching your breath in the quiet, his hands still stroking slow and soothing along your back as he softens inside you.
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oml hubby!nanamin reminding you to breathe during smex!
sorry for such the long hiatus loves :((
“where do you feel me baby? tell me.” you nails dug into the back of the man currently fucking the shit out of you, to the point where you were incoherent. your thighs pressed against your sweat glazed torso, his hips harshly colliding with yours, hitting the deepest and most sensitive spots you have.
“mmm! n-hereeeee!” you weakly moved one of your hands to your womb. he smiles, kissing your lips and then making home on your sensitive neck. where his moans and groans went straight to your ear.
nanami makes LOVE. he never fucks.
he wants you to lose yourself in the pleasure he gives you, always to the point where you’re overstimulated and almost can’t take it.
one thing nanami always noticed was how you don’t breathe whenever you guys have sex. it’s not like when you ask him to slightly choke you, or when he shifts his weight on top of you when you guys are in prone bone. it’s whenever you guys are intimate in general, he has to stop and remind you every time :(
“baby, baby. breathhhe.” he halts his hips, holding your face so your gaze is only focusing on him. not even a second passed and you’re gasping in and out, tears cradling down your brown cheeks. “there you go baby, there you go..” he slowly picks up his thrusts again, causing you to whine and whimper. trying your best not to fall into the habit of holding your breath again.
“m’gunna cuhmmm n-nana!” — “that’s my good girl. y-yeaa.” the knot in your stomach about to burst. his tip constantly hitting that spot that makes you feel dizzy. “it’s t’much!”
you whined. pushing against nanami’s abdomen, attempting to halt his thrusts for a moment. but he didn’t let up. “uh, uh baby. let out for me, let it out for your nana.” grabbing your wrists, and pinning it above your head.
the knot in your stomach snaps. squirting all over your husbands and thighs, coating them with your essence. it wasn’t too long until nanami reached his high. quickly pulling out and finishing on your stomach.
“did so good for me baby,” he lifted his hand from your wrist, using it to caress the side of your face.
you curl up under the sheets and snuggle on the couch, like a little ball of blankets; your eyes are heavy and red, and a pout forms on your lips. higuruma is in the kitchen, leaning against the counter while he waits for the bottle to warm up in that little appliance he bought specifically for that purpose, instead of having to go through the whole hassle of heating the water on the stove.
it's not really that much work, but hiromi just—he just likes to make life easier. the device works well; it heats up to the ideal temperature quickly—nothing but benefits. and before long, he's back in the living room holding the little bottle in his hands.
he flops down on the couch, and you just watch. then he looks back at you, with a faint smile at the corner of his lips, as he lifts the bottle and sways it gently, as if to call you over. his deep voice rings out as he does just that; he stretches out his arms slightly and gestures for you to come to him, into his lap.
you obey him, climbing onto his lap. higuruma tilts you slightly so he can get a better position, and then brings the nipple of the bottle to your lips, rocking you gently as you drink slowly. he leans his head back against the sofa, tilting to the side just so he can watch you, looking so peaceful.
you can feel his eyes on you, watching intently as you suck on the bottle, shifting your thighs from time to time, a little restless. that’s why hiromi makes a “tsk” sound with his mouth—it’s so typical—when he takes the bottle out of your mouth, pauses to hold it with his other hand before handing it back to you, using his now-free hand to slip inside your panties.
you moan into the bottle when you feel his fingers on your clitoris, pulling back the little hood that covers it, then sliding between your lips. he keeps his gaze fixed on you, holding you close to his chest, and you keep drinking from the bottle, letting out soft whimpers at the way he touches you.
but that's the only way to calm you down; it's the only way to help you relax, even if it makes his dick get hard right through his pants—but that's not a problem because you like milk, and especially dada's milk.
𓍼ོ handyman!nanami is strong when he fucks you onto air
you clung to nanami’s broad shoulders, legs wrapped securely around his waist as he held you suspended in the air with effortless strength.
the handyman had come over to fix a few things around your place, but the tension between you had built quickly until clothes were discarded and he lifted you like you weighed nothing at all. his muscular arms supported your thighs, fingers digging into soft flesh while he kept you balanced against the wall, cock buried deep inside your welcoming heat.
“hold on to me,” he said in that calm, steady voice, though his eyes burned with restrained hunger. nanami was incredibly strong, his body honed from years of physical work, and he used every bit of that power now. he thrust upward into you with powerful, controlled strokes that made your breath catch each time he filled you completely. the position left you utterly at his mercy, your weight supported entirely by his arms as he fucked you in midair, hips snapping up to meet yours with deep, rhythmic force.
each movement drove him impossibly deeper, the angle allowing his thick length to drag against every sensitive spot inside you. you moaned softly, nails pressing into his shirt as sweat beaded on your skin. nanami’s breathing remained even and measured, but the way his grip tightened on your thighs betrayed his growing intensity. he adjusted his hold slightly, one hand sliding to cup your ass while the other stayed firm under your leg, keeping you spread open for him.
“you feel incredible like this,” he murmured against your neck, lips brushing your pulse point before he nipped gently.
his pace quickened, strong thrusts lifting you higher with every push, the wet sounds of your bodies connecting filling the room. the sheer power in his frame made it seem effortless, his muscles flexing beneath your hands as he drove you closer to the edge. you trembled in his grasp, pleasure building fast from the way he filled you so completely, so relentlessly.
nanami groaned low in his throat when your walls started to flutter around him, his thrusts growing deeper and more purposeful. he held you tighter, fucking you through the waves of your release until your moans echoed around him. only then did he let himself follow, burying himself to the hilt with a final, powerful stroke and spilling hot inside you while still supporting your full weight.
he stayed there for a long moment afterward, breathing steady as he kept you safely in his arms, strong and unwavering even after the intensity of it all.
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backing up against him to spoon in the morning. he’s still asleep for the most part, but he opens up to you. his arm folds over you, hand cupping your breast. his leg stretching over yours. you’re his for him to keep there, soft and warm, and you’re not sure he’s even conscious about it as he starts grinding his growing morning wood against your ass
i think because of the whole "writers write for themselves" notion that's becoming increasingly popularized, people forget that we still thrive off interaction and kindness. i write for myself but kudos and comments and bookmarks and really any sort of interaction with my fics genuinely motivates me to keep writing and keep sharing my works.
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