NSFW only if you rp as Arthur, Dutch or Hosea for obvious reasons.
β arthur morgan
β dutch van der linde
β hosea matthews
Kinktober 25'
usage info: β like, reblog, and credit me. they're just for personal use only. do not steal my designs, please β§
β rdr dividers: red - orange - green - blue - pink - purple - flat iron lake
β sky dividers: day
β lines: dotted
β ornaments: black
β animals: deer antlers
β· - β· - β· - β· - β· - β· - β· - β·
β HEADCANONS:
β The Van der Linde Gang as: Flowers
β The Van der Linde Gang as: Dog Breeds
β Simon Pearson Headcanons (anon request)
β Sean MacGuire Headcanons (anon request)
β Sean MacGuire Headcanons II (anon request)
β Javier Escuella's Favorite Kinks & Positions (anon request)
β Javier Escuella + Reader in a Relationship (anon request)
Arthur thought about the day theyβd named her. Bonnie had been sitting up in bed, tired but glowing, the baby bundled against her chest.
βWhat would you call her? βsheβd asked, voice soft.
Arthur had shrugged, uncomfortable with the question, with the weight of it.
βDonβt know much about names, Bonnieβ¦ but she deserves somethinβ better than what the world usually gives people.
Heβd looked down at the tiny face, at the wild dark hair already trying to escape the blanket, and the word had come quiet and certain.
βDaisy sounds nice.
Bonnie had laughed, gentle and fond.
βYou sure? Thereβs a whole lot of flowers out there, Arthur Morgan.
Heβd felt the heat rise in his face, the old embarrassment that came whenever feelings got too close to the surface.
βYeahβ¦ but you always liked those.
β° Bonnie insists she canβt dance. Sheβll say it in a flat, embarrassed tone, arms folded, watching others sway in saloons or at camp gatherings.
βNever learned,β she mutters βAinβt much use for dancing in the middle of nowhere.β
β° But the truth is, she danced once: barefoot in a field as a little girl, standing on her fatherβs boots, laughing. And then never again. Her ex-husband thought dancing was frivolous. Unnecessary. And Bonnie learned to quiet that part of herself. But part of her still aches to try again.
β ARTHUR OFFERS A HAND, NOT A LESSON
β° Arthur doesnβt tease. Doesnβt push. Just extends a hand during a slow tune by the fire, eyes soft, voice lower than usual:
βCβmon. Weβll go slow.β
β° She resists. Blushes. But he doesnβt make a show of it. He doesnβt laugh when she stumbles. He just shifts his weight, catches her waist gently, and lets her lean into him. He smells like leather and smoke. She counts the beats in his heartbeat.
By the end, sheβs still clumsy, but smiling.
β DUTCH TREATS IT LIKE A PERFORMANCE (But She Feels Seen)
β° Dutch is all charm and dramatics when he asks her to dance. He extends his hand like a gentleman at a ball, offers a wink and a bow, and calls her βdarlingβ in that drawl he uses when he wants the world to fall in love with him.
βYou and I, Bonnie, under the stars? Itβd be a crime not to.β
β° Dancing with Dutch is effortless, even if she doesnβt know the steps. He guides, she follows. Heβs theatrical, yes, spinning her at just the right moment, dipping her low, making her laugh even when sheβs nervous. But thereβs something tender under the show. When the music slows, and he pulls her close, she almost forgets to breathe.
β HOSEA IS THE ONE WHO REMEMBERS HER FATHERβS STEPS
β° Hosea doesnβt ask. He just knows. He sees the way she watches others dance, fingers twitching slightly at her sides, eyes distant. One evening, when the fireβs low and most of the gang is drunk or asleep, he says gently:
βCome on. Like your father taught you. Just follow me.β
And he leads her with simple, old steps, no flourish, no flash. Just a slow waltz in the grass. He hums the tune. She starts to cry halfway through. He doesnβt mention it, just holds her steady. Later, she thanks him. He just smiles and says:
βYouβve always known how to dance. You just needed someone who wouldnβt let go.β
β SHE HATES FAST DANCES (But Will Try If Sheβs Tipsy)
β° Bonnie absolutely cannot keep up with the reels and jigs when the fiddles go wild. She trips over her own feet and bursts out laughing. Dutch will try to twirl her. Arthur will try to catch her. Hosea will just shake his head and say, βWeβll work on it.β But if someone hands her a whiskey first? She might be convinced to try. And her laugh βthe full-bodied kind, rare and unguardedβ is worth the mess.
β HER EX-HUSBAND NEVER DANCED WITH HER
β° Not once. Not even on their wedding night. She used to play music in the parlor, half-hoping heβd reach for her hand. He never did. Said dancing was silly, a waste of time, something girls did before they learned the world didnβt care.
β° Bonnie doesnβt talk about it. But itβs why she hesitates now. Why she holds her breath when someone offers. Why it feels like a risk, not a joy.
β EACH MAN DANCES WITH HER DIFFERENTLY
β° Arthur is solid and careful. He holds her like something precious. Like heβs afraid sheβll break or vanish if he lets go too fast.
β° Dutch is all fire and motion: showy, romantic, dangerous. When he dances with her, it feels like standing too close to a flame. Thrilling. Almost reckless.
β° Hosea is warmth. Steadiness. Memory. He dances with her like heβs holding a memory of someone he used to love... and maybe, in some ways, he is.
βββββγ NAVI γ
main m.list β§ arthur m.list β§ dutch m.list β§ hosea m.list β§ bonnie m.list
open tags but id LOVE for @beyond-andromeda, @sonofthedunes, @yandereshingeki, @glittergelpensherlock, @ironmoonz, and @theragethatisdesire to do this!!!!!
β. π Λ tag game β.α add 3 characters you identify yourself with .β¦ έΛ
hello! sorry i feel like a little weirdo joining without being tagged but iβm trying to get to know all my moots better. i adore barbara gordon and bonnie!β
no pressure tags: @notdeadyetmatthews, @manicmarsupial, @questionablylarge, @deltadarlin, @arthurrmorgan, @alosertoremember, and anyone whoβd like to join in!
ββββ έ dutch van der linde x bonnie ray (fem!oc)
a/n: A bit of Dutch smut for my birthday, because I wrote this a few weeks ago and I feel like this is the sort of present Dutch would give me.
wc: 5,5k
β±β summary: Bonnie comes home to find Dutch has left a black lace lingerie, a collar and a fluffy ears on the bed. Moments later sheβs on her knees, bell ringing, while Dutch reminds his sweet little kitten exactly who she belongs to.
warnings/tags: 18+ smut & fluff β’ modern au β’ established poly relationship β’ age gap relationships β’ dirty talk β’ power play β’ foreplay β’ rough sex β’ oral sex (m receiving) β’ pet-play (collar & bell, anal plug with tail) β’ possessive behavior β’ spanking β’ hair pulling β’ praise kink β’ come marking (face/tongue) β’ emotional intimacy β’ aftercare β’ domestic moments
The front door clicked open just after four. Bonnie stepped inside with rain still clinging to her lashes, her braid damp at the ends, and the faint scent of espresso following her in. She kicked off her boots by the mat, shrugged out of her jacket, and the moment she saw Dutch standing by the kitchen island βsleeves rolled to his elbows, whiskey in handβ she lit up.
βHey, handsome βshe said, voice warm and a little tired, and crossed the room without hesitation.
She slid her arms around his waist from behind first, pressing her cheek between his shoulder blades, then slipped around to his front so she could nuzzle into his chest. Her hands wandered without shame: one sliding up under the hem of his shirt to rest against warm skin, the other drifting lower to give his ass a playful squeeze. Dutch set his glass down and pulled her in tighter, both hands already palming the curve of her ass, kneading, drawing her flush against him.
βMissed you βshe murmured against his shirt, pressing a kiss there, then another higher until her lips found the hollow of his throat. Her fingers traced slow patterns on his stomach, dipping just beneath his waistband before retreatingβ Place feels quiet. Just us?
βJust us βDutch confirmed, voice already roughening. His hands roamed freely: up her back, down her sides; one slipping between them to cup her breast through her shirt, thumb brushing over her nipple in a slow, deliberate strokeβ Arthurβs still at the gym. Hoseaβs buried in the archives. Weβve got the apartment to ourselves for a few hours.
Bonnie hummed and tilted her head up to kiss him properly. It was slow at first, sweet, but Dutch deepened it quickly, licking into her mouth, biting her bottom lip just enough to make her breath catch. She pressed closer, one hand sliding up to the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair. The other slipped down to palm him through his jeans, feeling him already half-hard, and gave him a gentle squeeze. Dutch groaned into her mouth, hips twitching forward into her touch.
βMy dear... you come home touching me like that and expect me to behave?
She smiled against his lips, sweet and knowing, and stroked him againβslow, deliberate.
βMaybe I donβt want you to behave βshe whisperedβ Maybe I missed my man. Maybe I want these big hands all over me before the others get back.
Dutchβs eyes darkened. He walked her backward until her back met the edge of the kitchen island, caging her in. One hand stayed on her hip while the other slid up, fingers wrapping loosely around her throat, not squeezing, just holding, thumb stroking the pulse beneath her jaw.
βYouβre playing a dangerous game, darling βhe warned, but there was only promise in it. His hips rolled forward, letting her feel the full weight of his arousalβ You know how I get when youβre needy like this. When you touch me like you canβt wait another second.
Bonnieβs smile didnβt waver. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then another to his jaw. Her hand kept moving between them in slow, torturous strokes.
βI know βshe breathedβ Thatβs why I do it.
Dutch dipped his head, mouth finding the sensitive spot below her ear, teeth grazing, tongue soothing.
βYou like making me crazy, donβt you? Coming home all sweet and handsy, telling how much you missed your man.
βI do βshe admitted softly, giving him another squeezeβ Especially when you look like this βHer free hand slid up his chest, fingers tracing the hard lines of muscle beneath his shirtβ God, youβre so strong, Dutch. These shoulders, this chestβ¦
Dutchβs breath hitched. Praise always hit him harder than anything else. His grip on her tightened, pulling her even closer.
βKeep talking like that and Iβm gonna bend you over this counter right now βhe murmured against her lipsβ Go. I want you wearing whatβs on the bed.
Bonnieβs eyes flashed with mischief, but she didnβt argue. Instead, she leaned in close, rose onto her toes, and sank her teeth into the strong column of his neck: playful, sharp, a little wild. She bit just hard enough to make him hiss, then soothed the spot with a soft kiss before pulling back with that same knowing smile.
βWhatever you say, handsome βshe murmured, and turned on her heel, hips swaying as she walked away.
Dutch watched her go, jaw tight, cock straining against his jeans. Bonnie stepped into the bedroom and closed the door behind her, the faint scent of Dutchβs cologne still lingering in the air. The bed was neatly made, but right in the center sat a small black box with a simple white ribbon. She approached it slowly, already smiling to herself, and lifted the lid. Inside, nestled in tissue paper, was the outfit: black lace, delicate, sheer, barely there. A tiny bodice with thin straps and matching panties that would sit high on her hips. And beside it, the accessories: a pair of soft, dark brown kitten ears that matched her hair perfectly, and a thin black leather choker with a single silver bell hanging from the center. Bonnie stared at it for a moment, then let out a soft, breathy laugh.
βJesus, Dutch β she whispered to herself, shaking her headβ Youβre such a pervert.
And she loved it. She loved that he bought these things for her, that he planned these moments, that he wanted her like this: needy, dressed up, his. She loved how filthy he was, how unashamed, how he always pushed just a little further than the others would. Arthur and Hosea might enjoy it quietly, might watch or join in when the mood struck, but Dutch was the one who initiated, who bought the toys, who dressed her up like his own personal fantasy. She loved him for it. Bonnie set the choker down gently and reached for the hem of her shirt, already unbuttoning it with steady fingers.
βAlright β she murmured to the empty room, a smile playing on her lipsβ Letβs see how crazy this makes you.
Bonnie took her time. She slipped out of her clothes piece by piece, letting each garment fall to the floor until she stood bare in the soft afternoon light filtering through the blinds. Then, slowly, deliberately, she dressed in what Dutch had left for her. The black lace panties slid up her thighs, settling high on her hips, barely covering anything. The bodice followed: thin straps over her shoulders, sheer fabric clinging to her curves, her nipples already tight against the delicate material. She adjusted the dark brown kitten ears in her hair, the soft fur blending perfectly with the strands, then reached for the choker. The leather was cool against her throat. She fastened the buckle at the nape of her neck, the silver bell resting just above her collarbones. When she moved, even slightly, it gave a soft, crystallineΒ tinkle. She caught her reflection in the mirror and smiled sweet, almost shy. The perfect picture of innocence wrapped in something filthy. Then she called out, voice light and warm.
βDutch? Iβm ready, baby. Come see.
Dutch stepped into the bedroom and stopped dead in the doorway. Bonnie stood at the foot of the bed, hands clasped lightly in front of her, head tilted just so. The kitten ears sat slightly crooked in her hair, the bell on her choker gleaming. The black lace hugged every curve, sheer enough that he could see the faint shadow of her nipples, the dip of her waist, the soft swell of her hips. She looked up at him through her lashes, lips parted, cheeks faintly flushed. She looked innocent. Sweet. Like she had no idea what she was doing to him. Dutch knew better. His gaze dragged over her slowly, taking in every detail: the way the lace sat against her skin, the bell resting at the hollow of her throat, the way she shifted her weight just enough to make itΒ tinkleΒ softly.
He didnβt rush. Where Arthur wouldβve already had her pinned to the bed, devouring her like a man starved, Dutch savored. He controlled the pace, the tension, the moment. He was the master of seduction, and Bonnie knew it. She also knew exactly how to unravel him. That innocent act? That wide-eyed, almost shy little smile? It was a weapon, and she wielded it like a fucking artist. She knew it made him crazy, made him want to ruin that sweetness, to see it crumble into moans and gasps and desperate pleas for more. Dutch closed the door behind him with a soft click and leaned back against it, arms crossed over his chest. He didnβt move toward her. Not yet.
βLook at you βhe murmured, voice low and roughβ My sweet girl. All dressed up for me.
Bonnieβs smile was small, almost demure. She glanced down at herself, then back up at him, fingers fidgeting with the hem of the lace bodice.
βDo you like it? βshe asked softly, voice barely above a whisperβ I wasnβt sureβ¦ if it would look right on me.
Dutchβs jaw flexed.Β Playing the innocent.Β She knew exactly what that did to him. He pushed off the door and crossed the room slowly, each step deliberate, measured. He stopped just in front of her, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body, but not quite touching. His eyes roamed over her again: hungry, possessive, but controlled.
βTurn around βhe said quietly.
Bonnie obeyed, turning slowly on the spot. The bell jingled with the movement. When her back was to him, Dutch reached out and traced a single finger down her spine, from the nape of her neck to the small of her back. She shivered.
βPerfect βhe murmuredβ You look perfect, darling.
He stepped closer, his chest brushing her bare back, and leaned down to press his lips to the side of her neck, just above the choker. His hands found her hips, fingers splaying wide, holding her gently but firmly in place. Bonnieβs breath hitched, but she stayed in character: soft, sweet, almost shy.
βIβ¦ I wasnβt sure if youβd like it βshe said quietly, voice trembling just enough to sell the actβ Iβve never worn anything like this before.
Dutch smiled against her neck, dark and knowing. His hands slid up her sides, cupping her breasts through the lace, thumbs brushing over her nipples in slow, deliberate circles.
βLiar βhe murmured, voice warm with affection and hungerβ You know exactly what youβre doing, little fox. Playing sweet and innocent when we both know youβre anything but.
He gave her nipples a gentle pinch, just enough to make her gasp, the bellΒ tinklingΒ with the movement.
βBut thatβs alright βhe continued, lips trailing down to her shoulderβ I like it when you play. Makes it that much sweeter when I ruin you.
His hands moved lower, one sliding down her stomach, fingers dipping just beneath the waistband of the lace panties. He didnβt go further. Not yet. He just held her there, his body pressed against her back, his breath hot against her neck.
βTell me, baby βhe whispered, voice a low, seductive rumbleβ How long do you think you can keep up this innocent act before youβre begging me to fuck you?
Bonnieβs breath came faster now, but she didnβt break character. She leaned back against him, soft and trusting, the bell giving another softΒ tinkle.
βIβ¦ I donβt know what you mean βshe whispered with a voice barely audibleβ Iβm justβ¦ wearing what you asked me to.
Dutch chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through his chest and into her back.
βAlright then... βhe murmured, teeth grazing her shoulder.
Bonnie stayed perfectly still for a moment, her back pressed against Dutchβs chest, the bell at her throat giving the faintestΒ tinkleΒ with every shallow breath. Then, in that same soft, almost shy voice, she spoke.
βCould Iβ¦ have some milk, please?
Dutch went completely still behind her. Jesus Christ. The way she said it, so sweet, so polite, like she was asking for something ordinary instead of deliberately pushing every button he had. His hands tightened on her hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh above the lace.
βMilk... βhe repeated, voice low and rough, almost disbelievingβ You want milk, baby?
Bonnie nodded, still playing the part, still keeping her voice small and sweet.
βIf itβs not too much trouble. Iβmβ¦ a little thirsty.
Dutch let out a slow, controlled breath through his nose. His control was legendary, but she was testing every inch of it. He turned her around slowly, his hands firm on her hips, until she was facing him. His dark eyes searched her face, taking in the flushed cheeks, the parted lips, the wide, innocent eyes she was working so hard to maintain.
βYouβre a wicked girl βhe murmured, one hand sliding up to cup her jaw, thumb brushing over her lower lipβ You know that, donβt you?
Bonnie blinked up at him, all wide-eyed sweetness.
βI just asked for milk, Dutch. Thatβs all.
His jaw flexed. You sweet liar. The bell on her choker caught the light as she shifted slightly, and the softΒ tinkleΒ seemed to echo in the quiet room. Dutchβs thumb pressed against her lip, parting it gently.
βAlright then βhe said, voice dark and velvet-smoothβ You want milk? Youβll get it.
He guided her backward until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed. With a gentle push, he sat her down, then stepped between her parted thighs. His hands moved to his belt, slow and deliberate, the sound of the buckle unfastening loud in the stillness. He didnβt rush. He unbuttoned his jeans, lowered the zipper, and freed himself: already thick, already hard, the head flushed and glistening. Bonnieβs gaze dropped, her innocent act wavering for just a moment as she took him in. Dutch caught her chin with two fingers, tilting her face back up to meet his eyes.
βEyes on me, darling βhe murmuredβ If you want milk, you ask nicely. You say please.
Bonnie swallowed, the bellΒ tinklingΒ again with the movement. She looked up at him through her lashes, voice soft and sweet as honey.
βPlease, Dutch βshe whisperedβ Can I have some milk?
Fuck.
Dutchβs cock twitched at the sound of it. He stepped closer, one hand sliding into her hair, fingers threading carefully around the kitten ears, the other wrapping loosely around the base of himself.
βOpen up, my dear βhe said quietly, voice rough with restrained hungerβ And keep those pretty eyes on me.
Bonnie obeyed, parting her lips, her expression still caught somewhere between innocence and something far darker. The bell gave another softΒ tinkleΒ as she shifted forward, and Dutch guided himself to her mouth, the head brushing against her tongue.
βThatβs it βhe murmured, voice low and approvingβ Good girl. Take what you need.
Her tongue swirled around the head, tasting, exploring, before she sank lower, taking more of him, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked. The bell rang again with every movement of her head: soft, rhythmic, obscene. One of her hands came up to rest on his thigh, fingers curling into the denim, while the other wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking in time with her mouth. She moaned around him, the sound muffled and needy, like she couldnβt get enough. Dutchβs breath came slower, heavier, his eyes locked on her.
βFuckβ¦ Thatβs it, baby βhe murmured, voice low and roughβ Look at you. So sweet. So eager. You really were thirsty, werenβt you?
Bonnie looked up at him through her lashes, eyes glassy, lips stretched around him. She nodded as best she could, the bellΒ tinklingΒ again, and took him deeper, her throat fluttering as she fought the urge to gag. She pulled back just enough to catch her breath, a thin string of saliva connecting her bottom lip to the head of his cock, then leaned in again, licking a slow stripe from base to tip before swallowing him down once more. She was thorough. Her free hand slid up his thigh, over his hip, fingers splaying across the hard plane of his stomach beneath his shirt. She wanted to feel himβevery inch of himβwhile she worked. The bell kept ringing, a constant, delicate soundtrack to every bob of her head, every wet sound of her mouth. Dutchβs jaw flexed, his free hand coming up to cradle her cheek, thumb stroking the corner of her mouth where it stretched around him.
βShit, Bonnie βhe breathedβ Youβre so good at that. My sweet little kitten, drinking me down like youβve been starving for it.
She moaned again at the praise, the sound sending another vibration through him, and doubled her efforts. Her head moved faster now, her hand stroking in tandem, her tongue working every inch of him with desperate, focused hunger. The bell on her choker kept time βtinkle, tinkle, tinkleβ each sound pushing Dutch closer to the edge. He didnβt stop her. He didnβt take over. He just watched, letting her have what she wanted, letting her be as needy and greedy as she pleased. His thumb brushed her cheek again, gentle, approving.
Bonnieβs eyes fluttered, but she didnβt look away. She kept her gaze locked on his, the picture of sweet, hungry innocence, while her mouth and hand worked him with single-minded purpose. The bell rang with every movement, and Dutchβs grip on her hair tightened just slightly, his breathing growing heavier, his control fraying at the edges. She was going to make him come like this: on her knees, dressed like his filthy little fantasy, the bell chiming with every desperate, eager pull of her mouth. He felt the pressure building low in his gut.With a low groan, he tightened his grip in her hair and gently pulled her off him. A string of saliva stretched between her swollen lips and the flushed head of his cock before it broke. Bonnie looked up at him, dazed, lips shiny, the kitten ears slightly crooked in her hair. The bell gave one last, softΒ tinkleΒ as she settled back on her heels. Dutch didnβt give her time to speak. He reached down, hooked his hands under her arms, and lifted her onto the bed in one smooth motion. She landed on her back, legs slightly parted, the black lace barely covering anything. He climbed over her, caging her in, his cock still hard and slick from her mouth, resting heavy against her stomach.
βYou want milk, little kitten? βhe murmured, voice dark and rough. His hand slid down between her thighs, fingers pushing the lace aside to find her already wet and hotβ Then youβre gonna earn it.
He didnβt wait for an answer. Two thick fingers pushed inside her without warning, curling immediately to find that perfect spot. Bonnie gasped, her back arching, the bellΒ tinklingΒ wildly. Dutch worked her slowly at first, then faster, his thumb circling her clit with deliberate pressure. He watched her face the whole time, every flicker of pleasure, every broken sound she made. When she was close, writhing beneath him, he pulled his fingers out. Bonnie whimpered at the loss, but Dutch was already moving, flipping her onto her stomach with effortless strength. He yanked the lace panties down her thighs and off completely, then pulled her hips up until she was on her knees, ass in the air, face pressed into the mattress.
βStay just like that.
He reached into the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a small bottle of lube and something else, something metal, shiny, and unmistakably filthy. A stainless steel butt plug with a fluffy brown tail attached, the fur matching her kitten ears perfectly. Bonnie glanced back over her shoulder. Dutch slicked the plug with lube, then pressed the cool metal against her, circling her tight hole with slow, teasing pressure.
βYou wanted to be my kitten βhe murmured, pressing just enough for the tip to breach herβ Then youβre gonna wear the whole outfit.
He pushed the plug in slowly, inch by inch, until it was seated fully inside her. The fluffy tail curled against her ass, brushing the backs of her thighs. The bell on her choker rang with every movement, every shaky breath. Dutch leaned over her, his chest pressed against her back, his cock sliding between her folds, teasing her entrance without pushing in.
βNow, βhe whispered against her earβ youβre gonna stay just like thisβ¦ on your knees, tail in, bell ringingβ¦ while I fuck you. And when I come, youβre gonna take every drop. Inside. On your tongue. Wherever I want.
He drove into her hard, the wet slap of his hips against her ass loud in the quiet bedroom. The bell on Bonnieβs choker rang with every thrust, a constant, filthyΒ tinkle-tinkle-tinkleΒ that matched the rhythm of his cock stretching her open. The fluffy tail attached to the plug swayed and brushed against his stomach, and the sight of it βher dressed like his perfect little petβ nearly undid him.
βFuck, Bon βhe snarled, voice raggedβ Look at you. My filthy little kitten, taking my cock so fucking good. Everybody in this fucking buildingβs gonna know Iβm balls-deep in my girl.
Bonnie moaned into the mattress, but she wasnβt done teasing him. She pushed back against him, arching her back, making the bell chime louder.
βGod, Dutchβ¦.fuck, you feel so good βshe gasped, voice breathless and wickedβ Missed this cock so much, baby. Missed how deep you get.
Dutchβs rhythm faltered for half a second. His grip on her hips tightened, fingers digging bruises into her skin.
βJesus Christ, woman βhe growled, slamming into her harder, his heavy balls slapping against her with every brutal thrustβ You keep talking like that and Iβm gonna lose it. Been thinking about this pussy all goddamn dayβ¦ every time I had to pretend I wasnβt hard as a fucking rock sitting next to you on the couch.
He pulled out so fast she whined at the loss, then flipped her onto her back with rough hands. He shoved her thighs apart, hooked her knees over his elbows, and drove back into her in one brutal thrust. The new angle made her cry out, the bellΒ tinklingΒ like mad, and Dutch leaned over her, face inches from hers, eyes wild.
βYou wanna tease me, little fox? βhe snarled, hips snapping forward, his balls slapping against her ass with every thrustβ Fuckβ¦ listen to that. Listen to how wet you are. Youβre dripping all over my cock, Bon. You love this. Love being my little pet.
Bonnieβs head fell back, her mouth open, moans spilling out between words.
βYesβ¦ fuck, yes, Dutchβ¦ god, youβre so deep, babyβ¦.
Dutchβs hand shot out and wrapped around the choker, fingers curling into the leather, using it like a leash to pull her up slightly. The bell pressed against his palm, ringing with every movement.
βMissed this cunt. Missed these tits βhe growled, voice shaking with the force of his needβ Missed the way you moan my name when Iβm balls-deep inside you. Been thinking about it all dayβ¦ every time I had to sit there and pretend I wasnβt imagining you on your knees, swallowing my come like the greedy little kitten you are.
Dutchβs jaw clenched so hard it hurt. He was right there, right on the edge, his cock throbbing inside her, his balls tight and aching. But he didnβt come. He refused. Not yet. Not until heβd ruined her completely. With a low, feral growl, he pulled out again, flipped her back onto her stomach, and yanked her hips up. He pressed the head of his cock against her soaked entrance, teasing, not pushing in.
βNot yet, my dear βhe rasped, voice hoarse. He slammed back into her, one hand fisting in her hair gently, the other reaching beneath her to rub her clit in tight, merciless circlesβ Now be a good kittenβ¦ and come on my fucking cock.
His hand came down hard on her ass, the sharpΒ crackΒ echoing through the room. Bonnie cried out, the bell on her choker ringing wildly.
βFuckβ¦ Dutch!
βThatβs it βhe snarled, spanking her again, harder this time, watching the red bloom across her skinβ Say my name. Let everybody hear whoβs fucking you. Who owns this pussy. Who bought you that pretty little collar and made you his pet.
Bonnie moaned louder, pushing back against him, the tail brushing his stomach.
βGod, Dutchβ¦ fuck, baby, you feel so good. Donβt stopβ¦ please, donβt stopβ¦
He drove into her again, deeper, harder, his balls slapping against her with every thrust. The bell rang constantly now, a frantic, filthy soundtrack to the wet sounds of his cock pounding into her. Bonnieβs moans were broken, desperate, her hands fisting in the sheets. Dutch leaned over her, his sweaty hairy chest pressed against her back, his mouth at her ear.
βYouβre mine βhe growled, voice shakingβ My sweet, filthy little fox.
Bonnie whimpered, her voice barely a whisper.
βYesβ¦ yes, Dutch. Iβm yoursβ¦
Dutchβs hand came down once more, the sharp sting making her jolt, the bell chiming loudly. Then he gripped her hips with both hands and started fucking her in earnest: deep, relentless, every thrust punctuated by the sound of his balls slapping against her and the constantΒ tinkleΒ of that goddamn bell. He wasnβt going to come. Not yet. Not until she was shaking, sobbing, completely wrecked beneath him. But he was close. So fucking close. He pulled out with a low, frustrated growl and flipped her onto her back again, dragging her hips to the very edge of the bed so he could stay standing. He wanted to see her face. Needed it. The moment she was on her back, he shoved back inside her in one deep, brutal thrust, eyes locked on hers.
βThere you are βhe snarled, hips snapping forwardβ Wanna watch you while I fuck you.
Bonnie moaned, loud and shameless, and Dutchβs gaze dropped to her chest. The black lace barely contained her, and with every thrust her tits moved, the silver bell nestled between them ringing wildly, a filthy, constant sound that made his cock throb inside her. He leaned down, mouth crashing into hers, kissing her like he was starving. His tongue pushed past her lips, tasting her, claiming her. Then he broke the kiss to bite at her jaw, her throat just above the collar, her shoulderβanywhere he could reach. His tongue followed, licking hot stripes over her skin, sucking marks into the soft flesh. Bonnieβs hands clawed at his back, her legs wrapped tight around his waist.
βDutchβ¦ fuck, babyβ¦ harderβ¦ pleaseβ¦
He gave her exactly what she asked for, hips slamming into her, the wet slap of skin on skin loud and obscene. The bell kept ringing, caught between her bouncing tits, and Dutchβs eyes were wild, locked on the sight.
At the last second he ripped himself out of her, wrapped a hand around his cock, and climbed higher up her body. His other hand grabbed her jaw, fingers digging in.
βOpen your mouth, baby βhe ordered, voice shaking.
Bonnie obeyed instantly, lips parting, tongue out, eyes glassy and desperate. Dutch stroked himself once, twiceβ¦
βFuck... fuck... fuck! Bonnieβ¦ Jesus Christβ¦. take itβ¦ take every fucking dropβ¦!
He came with a broken, guttural snarl, thick ropes of come painting her tongue, her lips, her chin. His whole body shuddered, hips jerking forward as he emptied himself, curses spilling out between ragged breaths.
βJesus Christ βhe breathed, voice hoarseβ Look at you. My sweet girl, covered in my come, still wearing my collar and that fucking tail. Youβre gonna kill me one of these days.
Bonnie smiled up at him, lazy and satisfied, her voice soft and teasing.
βDid I do good, darlinβ?
Dutch let out a low, rough laugh. Then, he reached for the box of tissues on the nightstand and wiped her face with careful hands: gentle, thorough, making sure every trace was gone. Then he pressed a kiss to her forehead, her temple, the tip of her nose.
βThereβs my girl βhe whispered.
Bonnie let out a soft, contented sigh and rolled onto her side. Dutch climbed onto the bed behind her, pulling her back against his chest. One arm slid around her waist while the other reached down to carefully remove the plug, easing the tail out of her with slow, patient movements. He set it aside, then unbuckled the choker, letting the bell fall silent for the first time in what felt like hours. He left the kitten ears where they were, they looked too cute crooked in her hair to take off just yet. His hands roamed over her slowly, soothing, checking. He rubbed the red marks on her ass where heβd spanked her, kissed the faint bruises already blooming on her hips, and traced lazy circles on her stomach with his fingertips.
βYou okay, my dear? βhe asked quietly, lips brushing the shell of her earβ Was that too much?
Bonnie shook her head, pressing back into him.
βNo. It was perfect. You always know exactly what I need.
Dutch hummed, pleased, and nuzzled into her neck.
βGood.
They lay like that for a while, the apartment quiet around them, the only sounds their breathing and the distant hum of traffic outside. Dutchβs fingers kept moving: stroking her hair, rubbing her shoulders, tracing the line of her spine. Every so often heβd press a kiss to her shoulder or the back of her neck, like he couldnβt quite stop touching her. After a few minutes, he chuckled softly, the sound warm against her skin.
βYou know βhe murmured, voice teasingβ I should just keep you dressed like that. Leave the ears on, put the collar back around your throat. When Arthur and Hosea get home, theyβll walk in and lose their goddamn minds. Arthur will probably drop whatever heβs carrying. Hosea will just smile that little smile and pretend heβs not thinking about bending you over the kitchen table.
Bonnie laughed, the sound soft and sleepy.
βYouβre terrible.
βIβm serious βDutch said, grinning against her shoulderβImagine their faces. You walking around in nothing but lace and a bell, tail swishing behind you. Theyβd both be hard in seconds. Might even fight over who gets to touch you first.
Bonnie turned her head just enough to look at him over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised.
βAnd youβd just sit there and watch?
Dutchβs grin widened, dark and wicked.
βMaybe. Or maybe Iβd remind them who bought the outfit in the first place.
He kissed her again, slower this time, his hand sliding up to rest over her heart.
βEither way βhe murmured, voice softeningβ youβre mine. And Iβm keeping you right here until Iβm sure youβre good and taken care of.
Bonnie shifted in his arms, turning just enough to press her lips to the center of his chest, right over the steady beat of his heart. She stayed there for a moment, breathing him in, feeling the warmth of his skin against her mouth. When she pulled back, her eyes found his.
βI love you βshe whispered.
Dutchβs breath caught. For a second, the teasing, the filth, the playful threats about the others all fell away, and there was nothing left but the quiet truth of it. His hand came up to cradle the back of her head, fingers threading gently through her hair, careful around the crooked kitten ears.
βSay it again βhe murmured, voice rough with something deeper than want.
Bonnie smiled, small and certain, and kissed the same spot again: once, twice, her lips lingering over the place where his heart beat for her.
βI love you, Dutch β she said, clearer this timeβ So much it scares me sometimes
Dutchβs eyes closed for a moment, like he needed to absorb the words, let them settle somewhere deep inside him. When he opened them again, they were bright and shining, his thumb brushing over her cheek with a tenderness that contrasted everything heβd done to her earlier.
βI love you too, sweetheart βhe breathed, pulling her closer until there was no space left between themβ More than I know what to do with sometimes. Youβre it for me, darling. My girl. My everything.
He kissed her then. His hands moved over her back, her sides, her hips, like he was memorizing her all over again. The bell was gone, the tail was gone, but the kitten ears still sat crooked in her hair, and Dutch found himself smiling against her mouth at the sight of them.
βYouβre keeping those on for a while βhe murmured, voice warm with affectionβ They look too damn cute on you.
Bonnie laughed softly, the sound muffled against his chest, and pressed another kiss right over his heart.
βWhatever you say, handsome.
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main m.list β§ arthur m.list β§ dutch m.list β§ hosea m.list β§ bonnie m.list
He never wanted her in that bank. She shouldnβt have been there, shouldβve been back at camp with Jack drawing wolves and rivers in her journal, playing cards with Tilly, singing sad songs to herself at the piano they swindled off some fancy family. But she was there. Right beside him. She always said sheβd stand between him and the grave... and this time she meant it.
He remembers her eyes when she shoved him aside, how they looked straight through him, no hesitation, just that reckless, unstoppable love. Heβll never forget the sound: the gunshot, her sharp breath like she was surprised it hurt. Her legs folding under her, her hand clutching the blood on her chest like she could press it back in. She said his name. His name. Not Old Fox. Not darlin'. Just Hosea. And he was on his knees beside her before she hit the floor, calling for Arthur, Dutch, anyone. Trying to cover the wound with trembling hands. Trying to tell her no, no, no, not you, not my Clover, not for me. She smiled at him, even then, half her lips blood. And then she was gone.
Hosea dies not that day, but that day. His body lingers a while after, thin and sick, eyes gone dull like heβs already halfway under the dirt. He justβ¦ waits. He keeps her knife on him always βthe knife he gave herβ the one she carved little wooden animals βjust as he had taught herβ for Jack. Sometimes he holds it to his heart. Just to feel closer.
Arthur doesnβt cry easy, but he weeps that day. Because she was his, too: his pretty girl, his sunshine, the only softness left in that rotting camp. Heβd always thought heβd die first βbullet to the back, a knife in the darkβ and sheβd bury him with wildflowers in his beard, weep a little, and live on for all of them. But she was the one who took the bullet, his bullet, Hoseaβs bullet, any manβs bullet. And he couldnβt save her. Couldnβt keep that promise he made to her hair under a winter sky.
When they put her in the ground he canβt even stand. Heβs on his knees beside the fresh dirt, hat down to hide his tears, dirt under his nails where he clawed her grave a little deeper. He presses his lips to the wood cross Hosea carve her name on: Clover. And from that day, Arthur doesnβt fear dying anymore. He fears living without her.
Dutchβs grief is quiet at first, too quiet. Like a storm way off on the plains, thunder you can feel in your bones but donβt hear yet. He stands over her grave with Hosea on one side, Arthur on the other, hands clasped behind his back like heβs leading a sermon. But he doesnβt speak. Not a word. Just stares at her name carved into cheap wood with Hoseaβs trembling hands. Later, when the whiskey comes out βwhen the fireβs low and the boys are snoring in the darkβ he drinks himself sick. Howls himself hoarse. He breaks everything in his tent. Everything. He tears maps. Punches the wagon wheels. Screams her name into the pine trees until they echo it back to him. Because she was his, too. The one who made him feel young again, golden again. His angel. His Clover. His promise that the dream could still be pure. And now sheβs under six feet of dirt in Saint Denis mud because they made this life. Because he did. He doesnβt forgive himself. He doesnβt forgive the world.
He keeps one of her old hair ribbons in his pocket, the one she used to wear in her braid when she rode beside him, boots on the stirrups like she owned the damn road. Some nights he unties it. Holds it like a treasure. Tells himself sheβd still want him to dream.
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main m.list β§ arthur m.list β§ dutch m.list β§ hosea m.list β§ bonnie m.list
girl why is ur oc named bonnie blue are u deranged
I don't know why you're so disrespectful. I guess your mind is at its limit. But the answer is very simple: Bonnie Blue is what Dutch usually calls Bonnie, a nickname like "legend." He started calling her that to show his respect and admiration for her.
Guys, I'm changing all the times Dutch called Bonnie "Bonnie Blue" because it turns out that's the nickname of a porn actress and I had no idea, okay? My mind isn't messed up enough to do that! I remember some anonymous person insulting me at the time for having Dutch call Bonnie that and I didn't understand why. Good lord, now I feel like an idiot, but I really thought Bonnie Blue sounded cool.
Here's my Kinktober 2025 Masterlist. I picked up prompts from different lists and others from my own list taken from my posts about Dutch, Arthur, and Hosea's favorite kinks. I want to write about all three for each prompt, so I'll split it. This will be my first year doing this, so I hope it goes well. Of course, I'll be writing Arthur/Dutch/Hosea x fOC. If you want to read "x reader," you can check out the millions of fanfics that already exist.
Characters: Arthur Morgan β¦ Dutch Van Der Linde β¦ Hosea Matthews
β¦ COCK WARMING
Arthur Morgan β Hosea Matthews β Dutch Van Der Linde
β¦ JEALOUSY / POSSESSIVE SEX
Arthur Morgan / Dutch Van Der Linde
β¦ SPANKING
Arthur Morgan β Hosea Matthews β Dutch Van Der Linde
β¦ BATH SEX
Arthur Morgan
β¦ UNIFORM / ROLEPLAY
Arthur Morgan
β¦ MIRROR SEX
Dutch Van Der Linde
β¦ PET PLAY
Arthur Morgan
β¦ CORRUPTION
Dutch Van Der Linde
β¦ BLINDFOLDING
Arthur Morgan / Hosea Matthews / Dutch Van Der Linde
β¦ PUBLIC RISK
Arthur Morgan β Hosea Matthews β Dutch Van Der Linde
β¦ HALLOWEEN SPECIAL
Arthur Morgan / Hosea Matthews / Dutch Van Der Linde
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main m.list β§ arthur m.list β§ dutch m.list β§ hosea m.list β§ bonnie m.list
