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gimmethosedaddymilkers · 1 year

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Jealous Reactions

Okay, so, I'm gonna try to pop out some requests that I've been far too busy to actually write, and I hope I get all of them!

If you sent me a request and after I post a bunch of these (Don't worry I'll make a seperate post when I believe I've gotten all of them) and you don't see yours PLEASE let me know and I will make sure I write it up for you, It's hard to keep track of things sometimes!

So, with that being said over the next few days I should be putting out quite a few of these!

ANYWAY- This was requested by @untitled53171

But, I'm also going to @mrsarthurmorgan7 because you've been wanting more Chubby Arthur and this is more chubby Arthur!

No worries I'll always write for chubby Arthur, he is after all my favorite chubby guy.

So, let's get on with the show!

(My photo below, feel free to use if you'd like! Just make sure I'm credited!)

WARNINGS: Fluff, Arthur being jealous and chubby, Maybe curse words, Chubby reader

Tags: @kieropal @cantchoosejust1 @photo1030 @pcotarelo @6kaja9

Arthur couldn't help but get angry as he watched you in the Saloon.

The two of you were here to celebrate a job done well, yet here he was being sour, watching with a frown on his face, as you interacted with patrons throughout the bar, and with some of the gang members who'd come with the two of you.

He felt a tinge of hot lightning strike through his body every time you pushed past someone and gently placed your hands on their chests to pass around them.

Each time you laughed at someone's joke and it wasn't his he seemed to see red.

The two of you weren't technically an item, no, but everyone in camp could see just how much he liked you, everyone, it seemed like you were the only one who couldn't.

Or, maybe you could and you liked to torture him.

Arthur quelled a growl that seemed to crawl up his throat and gripped the beer bottle that he'd sat down on his table.

If he wasn't careful he'd break it, he knew that, but he had to grab something, anything to try and focus his frustration to something else.

Was this....

He couldn't be, not him....

He wasn't....Jealous, was he?

Quietly he let out a breath and looked down at himself.

He felt like he'd let himself go over the past year or so, he'd gained weight, his stomach hung over his belt, he'd gotten a double chin that he couldn't bare to look at so he kept his beard just slightly long enough to cover it.

His arms were huge, he knew that, and he also knew a lot of it was muscle but at the same time he couldn't help but look at the fat that hung off of them.

His thighs and legs were massive, he'd had to go up two pants sizes and change his belt out for a bigger one.

No wonder you weren't paying attention to him.

He was nothing but a fat piece of shit, a murderer and an outlaw who wasn't attractive and wasn't fit.

Maybe if he'd lost a couple of pounds, you'd be more inclined to look his way.

He huffed and clenched the bottle again before bringing it to his lips and taking a sip.

Maybe he could drink the jealousy away, though if he got drunk nothing good would come of that.

He watched as you walked up to Bill who leaned against the bar, he couldn't help but watch your figure, the way your stomach pudged out further than the rest of you, it always looked so soft, so squeezable, he found his eyes wondering down towards your thighs, the way they curved outwards, and he always felt as though he wanted to pull you close with his hands rested against them.

Every part of you made you seem irresistible to him. You had a rounder face, with chubby little cheeks, and the extra weight you had wasn't gross like the extra weight he had.

On you it looked natural and right, it added an approachability to you that he loved so dearly, it made you so attractive to him, and he loved every inch of you, every inch.

There was no way that you'd be with him, he'll he was bigger than Bill, and you were talking to him, so why on earth would you talk to Arthur instead?

His jaw clenched and he looked at the table, looking at the scratches that had been carved into the wood.

Some initials left by previous patrons, some knife marks left by someone playing five finger fillet.

Still not enough to distract him, that's for sure.

He looked up, only to be taken aback as you stood right in front of him.

He nearly fell off his chair, his feet hitting the ground from where they'd been propped against the table.

"Jesus Y/N, why don't you announce yourself next time?"

"Well, maybe you should pay attention next time." You chuckle and take a seat across from him, watching his eyebrows furrow, and his eyes darken as he watches you sit.

"What the hell you want?"

"What's with the attitude Arthur, I'm here to celebrate with you! We did it! The score was a good one, we got a decent take from it, everyone else is drinking and dancing, so why aren't you? You're usually the life of the party when alcohol is involved." You place a hand against the table leaning towards him.

"I ain't got nothin' to celebrate." He mutters under his breath. "It was a job, it was done, we got the money. That's it."

"We always celebrate a job done well, we did it a few weeks ago, and you were nothing but smiles then, so what changed?"

He clenched his jaw and then took another swig from the bottle that had become nearly glued to his hand with how hard he was clenching it.

"Nothin' changed."

"Arthur, you can't lie to me, it's plain on your face just how angry you are."

"I ain't...angry." He huffs and looks down, swallowing quietly.

"Okay, then what's that look on your face for?" You grin and flick his nose, watching as he tracks your finger and flinches slightly at your flick.

"I..." He swallows for a moment and looks away. "I don't like how you're touchin' everyone."

"What?"

"Movin' past 'em, and...puttin'...your hands on their chests, I...I don't like it, and talkin' to Bill, laughin' at everyone's jokes....it....it ain't me." He manages to choke out what he's thinking.

You're stunned shocked for a moment and then you hear yourself start snorting, and before you know it you're unable to stop yourself from laughing.

Arthur looks at you with a stern look, yet his cheeks are turning crimson, and you try your best to stop laughing for his expense, but it takes a while for you to properly stop them.

You swallow, trying to push the chortles back down your throat, and look him in the eyes.

"Are you....Jealous, of these guys Arthur?"

He takes a deep breath and looks down before nodding quietly.

You're torn for a moment between laughing and comforting him, and in the end you decide on the latter, placing your hand gently against his shoulder.

He looks at you, and he's not near crying, but there's a look in his eyes that certainly breaks your heart.

"I jus'....I wish...I wish you'd look at me that way...I..." He looks around, hoping that no one was near enough to hear the next words that came out of his mouth. "I want...I want you to hold me that way, put your hands on me like that....I...I know, that's stupid...for me to feel-"

"Arthur, you have nothing to be jealous about."

You cut him off and then stand, moving your seat closer to him, facing it towards him.

Quietly you bring your hand over his and hold it there, feeling the warmth of his hand against yours.

"You have nothing to be jealous of, at all. You realize that I'm sweet on you, don't you?"

He looks up at you with a sharp jerk of his neck, his eyes widening as the words fall out of your mouth.

"I've been sweet on you for god knows how long." You sigh. "I just couldn't convince myself to tell you, I couldn't see you feeling the same, but...you being jealous...I mean...you must be sweet on me too, right?"

"I am...Have been, for a while, like you."

You nod and quietly look around before looking him in the eye.

"You have NOTHING to be jealous of, nothing, I was just pushing around them, talking, the only person I want to be close to is you, only you."

"I...Y/N, I don't know what to say...I suppose I was bein' foolish."

"Why don't you just talk to me about it next time cowboy?"

He nods quietly, and his face stays crimson, embarrassed at his behavior.

Gently you cup his face and pull him close, placing your lips against his gently, feeling a warmth spread through you as the two of you smile against each others lips.

That jealousy is quick to melt away.

#arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan x reader #chubby arthur #chubby reader #red ded redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 drabble #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 community

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in-ky · 1 year

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Hhh chubby arthur is everything

The only correct answer. I am guilty of not feeding him tho mainly bcs I’m so bad at the game that I die a lot and so I never have health low enough to eat

#chubby Arthur best Arthur #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan x reader #fanfiction #rdr2 #arthur morgan smut

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ofallthingsnasty · 2 years

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through the briar

Pairing: Micah Bell x F!Reader Tags: dead dove: do not eat, hard noncon, sexual coercion, chubby reader, fat-shaming (reader receiving), alcohol, vaginal sex, this is not a happy fic, Micah Bell as his own trigger warning, Arthur Morgan is a good man but he can’t save you Word count: 4.8k Summary: He's a rotten man. And you've always been too soft, both in mind and body.

In the end, it all goes wrong after a ruined job.

Note: Please read the tags properly! I admit I don't like him but I like his character - if that makes sense? He is despicable and that makes him fun to write for. English is also not my first language, so if anything reads a little weird for the late 19th-century setting, that’s probably it. Sorry in advance. And please if you wanna talk rdr2 darkfic/smut, I am so here!!

The flames in front of you are high and merry.

During the day, they sting your cheeks in the Lemoyne heat, but at night they wrap themselves around you like a cozy blanket, a welcome addition to the tepid air that settles over Flat Iron Lake as soon as the sun sets. The days are long and suffocatingly hot here, something that you especially feel, under your skirts and in every crevice of your body. You spend them with rolled up sleeves and a prickling nose, entrenched into your chores with sweat dripping from your brow by noon. Only now, when the sun finally relents and stops spurring on the muggy air of the lake, can you appreciate the temperature. The nights are nice and, if you ignore the bugs that bite and nip at every inch of exposed skin, they’re even downright comfortable. Colter seems a long way from here now, and you’re grateful for it. You like it, sweat or not, and still you are sitting by the fire instead of sleeping, restless and your mind in coils. The other women are already in bed, even Karen, who is the one to stick around the longest these past few days, has long since started snoring. Truly, at first they had been understanding, but after days even they have grown a little tired of your groveling, especially now that Arthur is back from the brink of death and everyone busy with his recovery. No one cares about your little quarrel with Micah anymore. It has to seem small to them, you’re sure. It’s huge to you - you, the one who had a gun pressed to her forehead, almost a casualty of a failed stagecoach robbery - but at the end of the day, it’s nothing. And you agree, in part. It’s entirely your fault, you feel, that a silly, botched job has gone to your head that badly. It shouldn't irk you as much as it does, because you have seen many things go south in your time, after all. But it’s not every day that you stare death into the face, as well. You aren’t Arthur. Or John or Sean or even Micah, for whom it seems to be a daily occurence. You’re just you: soft in both mind and body, someone of Dutch’s ever-growing menagerie of pets and misfits. Picked up like a flea-ridden stray from the side of the road because you tickled something in the big, grand heart of Mr. Van der Linde, for whatever indiscernible reason.

You aren’t quite useless. But you aren’t all that helpful, either. And so it stings all the more to know you’re just a little more vulnerable than you thought you were. You didn’t botch the job, you’re quite aware of that. It had been Micah who messed it up; not acting quickly enough and rushing into the attack, paying no mind to you, who had been standing out in the open without protection. It certainly hadn’t been your looks that made it end badly, like he insisted afterwards, or your inability to handle a gun.

But Micah’s needling and taunts are hard to ignore when he knows just how to crawl into every however tightly guarded insecurity of yours.

He had been at his peak immediately after you crawled back into camp, clutching the reins of a borrowed shire like your life depended on it, eyes wide and hands cold. And even though you had already expected the treatment that followed after he stormed away from the busted-up coach when every single man around you was dead, it had stung immensely.

You did nothing but tuck your chin into yourself and let your eyes burn with tears while he berated you for mistakes that weren’t yours. Walking away didn’t help - he was like a hungry dog, nipping at your heels with venom in his voice and quick hands that waved around wildly, drawing everyone’s attention to your lecture. He pushed and prodded until your cheeks were a stinging, hot mess and you could only mumble about how sorry you were. Only Arthur arriving in camp with fresh game and a few dollars in his pocket had saved you. Micah rode out, then, and Arthur had shuffled you away to the main fire, a calming hand on your shoulder. And oh, Arthur. He had been the kindest about it all. Always a watchful eye on you when he was around because Micah did not let go of his venom - and when he was around, the blond would at least leave you with a couple of sarcastic remarks, but nothing quite as malicious as when he caught you on your own. Arthur stepped in between you and his abuse more than once, always with a tight jaw and hard eyes, telling Micah to finally forget about it. But it only helped in the moment. The busted coach is just the latest issue he has with you, and one that he can finally hound you for without attracting too much attention. Out of all the women, he seems to like you the least and he isn’t quiet about it, either. While you’re all useless baggage, just many, many more mouths to feed for him - your biggest wrongdoing is not even being nice to look at. Too big, too unpolished, too quiet. Sometimes he acts as though you’re everything he hates distilled into one person, even though that is just another one of his exaggerations.

Even in Colter he made off-handed comments about how you'd never starve, how you looked like some kind of grizzly bear all bundled up in your coat and yet you sometimes catch him staring at your cleavage, especially when you have to cover up less than you'd like. He is an animal, nothing more than that. And you know you shouldn’t let his words get to your head but with every word, every crude gesture, every goddamn look at you he tears you down, leaving you to feel raw and wrong all by yourself. He knows too well how to get under your skin and likes to do it just as much.

And it all escalated just days before he, Dutch and Arthur rode out to meet with Colm. He threw you one of his shirts while you were scrubbing away at the tub, already sweaty with the midmorning heat and arms strained with the task, barking something about you fixing it for him. Stunned into silence, you simply let it happen, not even able to utter your usual apologies. You had never seen Arthur storm over quite as fast as he did when you pried the red, mingy fabric from your eyes, having watched from the edge of camp, just as Micah was about to get rough with you. They got into one of their typical squabbles afterwards, only this time you were at the very center of it. Arthur’s gruff tone and curt words had held well against Micah’s sneering and he had finally relented when Arthur threw his own shirt back into his arms. He kept his distance afterwards, seemingly done with his taunts. You know now that he just had found something more interesting to do with his time. Riding out to talk to Colm had sounded like a truly insane idea, even for him, and your worries were confirmed when Arthur barely made it back to the gang, shot up and paler than a ghost. That had been a week ago - and just thinking about it in comparison to your bickering, it feels trivial, almost petty to still be bothered by it. But Micah’s words have touched something in you. His constant reminders of your stature and skill just won’t leave you, especially not when you’re all alone with your thoughts. Maybe it’s why you double down in your care for Arthur, both to thank him for his effort and so that you can focus on something else for once. Like the others, you have spent the last couple of days fretting over him. Sitting by his side in the evenings, silently mending or knitting while the sun is still up and fetching him anything he needs, when he asks for it. He doesn’t say it, but you can tell he likes the company, likes that someone is watching out for him. You can’t imagine what’s brewing in that thick head of his during the days - but it isn’t pretty, not with the way he grunts and whines when he dozes off and leaves you to brood. You usually trudge back to the main fire once he’s out for good, at least when Micah hasn’t already taken up a seat.

And today you’re lucky, so you sit and revel in the heat, your shawl loosely slung around your shoulders to ward off insects and unwanted attention. You left Arthur to snore softly on his cot, calm for once, and the only sounds around you are the soft nickering of the horses and Cain sniffing about, licking up any residues of food on plates and spoons the others didn’t bother to put away. A few members of your posse are missing, scattered about Lemoyne doing odd jobs or drinking, no doubt, and the rest is sleeping. You and Micah are the only ones awake, aside from Bill who’s on guard duty. You’re keenly aware of the fact that the blond is sitting by the scout fire, doing god knows what. He never really sleeps and that makes your nightly ruminations all the more difficult. You're always tense, always feeling his presence behind your back. Furrowing your brows, you poke at the fire with a stick, much like Jack often does.

Maybe it all has to stop? The thought strikes you suddenly, as you move a log. You could simply try to forget about this, especially now that you all have to work a little harder with the gang’s enforcer out of commission, but you doubt that Micah is going to let go of it any time soon. Your mind runs faster than any logical thought. An appeal to his ego could work. An apology? Thanking him? Everything in you bristles at the thought of apologizing to him. It wasn’t your fault - but he did save you, ultimately. If it hadn’t been for his quick aim, you’d be buried somewhere in the red soil near Clemens Point now. And maybe it’s the crux of the issue; that he both caused this and, somehow, resolved it again. You don’t feel indebted to him at all, it’s more of an even bigger annoyance to you. If only you had been a faster draw, then at least you would have something to hold against him. You sit and stew in the notion for a few minutes. Maybe it could really work, could get him off your back. Maybe you would catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, maybe it would give you some sleep back - if you stopped being his favorite target for a little while. And maybe you could forget about this whole thing a little faster without him constantly at your throat. You know that you’re not one for confrontations - especially with quick-tongued opponents like Micah Bell - but you can try a thank you, even a stuttered one. Even if you can already hear Karen scream at you over being even remotely nice to a snake like him, it might just be the right thing to try. You prod at the logs once more, then you swallow your pride and get up, mind quickly made up.

Micah’s red shirt glows warm and almost orange in the light of the fire. His hair falls forward as he leans into the warmth, seemingly unbothered by your slow approach. He looks peaceful, almost serene and only lifts his head ever so often to sip away at a bottle of unidentifiable liquid, no doubt alcoholic in nature.

He doesn’t even acknowledge your presence when you come to a halt in front of him. Seated on one of the stools, he only spins the bottle in loose circles as he holds it in his lap and you can hear the liquor splashing inside. Still decently full. Both of you say nothing for a couple of heartbeats, then his head finally cocks up and he pulls his left shoulder up to rest one hand on his thigh. You feel all your courage plummet from your stomach to your feet, suddenly bewildered by your earlier thoughts. He says your name with too much flourish and it makes you cringe. “Well, what did I do to deserve the honor?” You fumble with the tassels on your shawl, unsure what to respond and already full of regret for even getting into his line of vision. But it’s too late now - simply turning around and leaving again will only give him more ammunition for tomorrow, you just know it. “I- '', you grasp a handful of thread and stare into the fire, anything to avoid his eyes. “I suppose I wanted to thank you. For shooting that bastard, I mean.” He laughs at that, even if it’s at least a little true.

“Thank me? Aren’t you the sweetest little thing?” His tone is mean and enough for you to want to turn around again. But you just furrow your brows and finally look back at him, not trusting your mouth anymore. He sighs with fake strain and then chortles. “You know, sugarpie?”, he leans his head back and it leaves his face open, owlish eyes glinting at you. “It only showed me how much of a dead weight you really are.” The double entendre doesn’t go over your head. He’s referencing your statue, as he so often does - and it makes your cheeks sting with heat again, makes you pull an indignant face. But you have no fire to give back, you just break eye contact and grab your shawl tighter. He suddenly swings back, arms spread wide in an attempt at a welcoming gesture - it’s such an unexpected change in behavior it catches you off-guard. Laughing as though he can read your exact thoughts, he slaps the rock next to him, voice jovial.

“Relax, relax. Come on, have a drink with me.” You eye him warily and he looks right back at you, neck of the bottle tilted in your direction. There is nothing harmful in those big, blue eyes and although something in you bristles against fraternizing with him, you finally take a seat and the whiskey out of his hands. Raising it in a bastardized toast, you sniff the liquor and give him a nod. You take a generous swig, pulling a face as the alcohol burns the back of your throat. His eyes are on you all the while, his whole body leaned over to you, watching you with awe, almost. He is chuckling to himself and you can smell him, even over the terrible sting on your tongue. Like sweat and sun and morass, a day spent in camp, no doubt. He laughs when your lips release the glass, wet and deeply amused. “Good stuff, hm? Come on, woman! Another! Loosen up a little.” It feels wrong, the way he talks, the way he switches his tone around in a second. The only time he’s at least cordial is when he’s drunk but even then he manages to be condescending. The liquor rises to your head immediately, the little food you had in the late afternoon doing absolutely nothing to ward it off. Your cheeks heat up with a more intimate burn than the one from the scout fire, a warmth that isn’t entirely foreign to you. You know this isn’t a good idea, but the thought of enduring his company without at least a slight bit of a buzz to take the edge off is just as unappealing as getting a little too friendly with Micah. He almost cheers you on as you tip your head back again, watching you down another mouthful and shivering after it runs down your pipes.

“That’s better, isn’t it?”, he grins at you and you feel like you’ve never seen him clearer - he’s so close suddenly. There is warmth on your shoulder and you realize it’s his hand, resting on your body as if it’s nothing. “I guess”, you say, before taking another sip, just to get rid of the weird feeling of him touching you. You pass time like this, sharing the bottle between you two. He talks about the job gone wrong, about Colm, about everything and anything, but with every swig from the bottle the chatter washes over you more and more, until it’s just noise. You nod and hum and dig your feet into the soil, the warmth of the alcohol enough to make you pull at your shawl and place it over your lap. His hand has wandered from your shoulder to your thigh, and he squeezes it ever so often, over the fabric of your skirt. It’s too close to your hip, too warm and too heavy and the alcohol makes you keenly aware of it, while not really minding it. It’s an odd feeling, something you almost preen at, something that has your stomach in slight knots. Somewhere, deep down, you know that this isn’t wise, that it’s the liquor working its ways into you but then his fingers twitch and you throw all the caution to the winds. He’s just getting more and more tipsy, you figure, and let him continue. He lets you finish the bottle just as the fire in front of you is slowly dying. You should rekindle it, you know, keep it lit so that Bill won’t have to do it later but you can’t bring yourself to care. The less it burns, the less heat is on your cheeks and the pleasant buzz in your head is just enough to keep you warm. Your eyes are just about to droop from exhaustion and alcohol when his hand slides just a little too close to your crotch, feather-light and careful, awaiting your reaction. You feel so unlike yourself, a spark of something white and hot coming to life deep within your belly. Some tiny part of you is telling you to stave it off, to snuff it out because you’re beside yourself, but it dies off instead when he leans over, his hair almost tickling the skin of your face.

You glance back at him, a silent question hanging in the air even though you can barely see him in the moonlight.

And to your shame, the whiskey has worked its claws into you. You don’t say anything in response but you lean into his touch, just so.

He looks at you for a heavy second, then inhales and - laughs. It's dark and breathy with liquor, the first time you've ever heard him laugh properly, the sound humiliating. He doesn't need to utter a single word, all he ever could tell you is in his chortling. Disbelief that you want this. Mockery at your undignified state. Heat for you.

It fades into giggles and you want nothing more than to bury your face in your hands. “Come on, sugarpie”, his voice is almost dark, so close next to you. You let him help you up and only notice just how drunk you are when you finally stand, the ground suddenly softer than you remember and your legs clumsy. One step, then two and you already stumble over your own feet. Two rough hands steady you, grab your waist while you breathlessly giggle, your predicament strangely funny to you. Wordlessly, he pulls you towards the treeline, his touch never leaving you. You try your best to keep up but find that you can barely walk straight. If he is annoyed by it, he doesn’t mention it, just wordlessly guides you away from camp. Your head is thick with it, so thick that you can’t stop yourself from speaking.

“Where’re we going?”, you push out and it sounds like someone else is saying it. “A little walk ”, he says, voice so surprisingly sober next to your wobble.

You stumble alongside him, disoriented and mind hazy. Just up through the trees, right by the lake - your thoughts are splotchy and all mixed up, every second step a blur.

Your eyes feel slow and your body so heavy that the earth has to shake whenever you plant your soles on it, you’re sure of it. You barely notice when he pulls you aside, just far enough from camp to be undisturbed, a little spot that is free from trees, where you can see the stars dance on Flat Iron Lake. Swaying as though you’re dancing to some imaginary tune, you have almost forgotten that he exists again, too caught up in the warmth of the liquor. You don’t even know how you end up on the floor, the world around you spinning with the change in balance, turning and turning and never stopping. Micah is above you and you grip his arms to steady yourself, noises of confusion spilling from your lips like water. “What are you doing?”, you mutter into the darkness, feeling the muscles of his upper arms twitch underneath the fabric of his shirt. “Getting a proper thank you, sweetheart.” His words take a moment to reach you and by the time you open your mouth to answer, he is already nipping at your neck, the hairs of his beard scratchy on the tender skin. A hand fumbles and slips under your skirts - when did he bunch them up in the first place? - and the touch makes it so real, sobers you up.

You're about to make a grave mistake. What had flickered in your stomach just minutes ago were ideas, misguided thoughts - not real desire. Just the alcohol weaving its way into your head, putting things into it that shouldn't be. You try to wiggle away but his grip turns to steel, unrelenting and hard on your shoulders. Tears prick at your eyes as he coos down at you with fake concern, his breaths heavy in between words you don’t hear.

“Stop- Please, Micah-”, you gasp, tongue still heavy with alcohol. Everything seems slow and fast at the same time, even his hands on you don’t hurt as much as they should and yet - you’re terrified beyond belief.

“The liquor already leaving you, sweetheart? A shame. I liked you real bold”, he groans into your ear and you’re suddenly overly aware of the hardness pressed against your clothed inner thigh. “Sh, sh”, he laughs, clamping a hand over your mouth. “Bill's on guard right now, he won't hear you, sugarpie. No use in crowing for that idiot.”

You shake your head against his grip, tears pricking at you eyes.

“Or are you calling for Morgan?”, he says, even more amused. “Bet you’d like this better if it was him. I’ve seen how you look at him, sugarpie.”

His words stir something in you awake, deep and unsightly. Is he only doing this to get back at Arthur? The thought sours your stomach until you can feel the bile rising and you go limp against him. He takes it as confirmation and almost shakes with fake laughter. “Oh, I’m gonna enjoy this, sweetheart.” One rough hand brushes over the muslin of your drawers, the other still on your mouth. You can only screw your eyes shut and silently weep against him, can only endure the way his skin warms your cunt through the fabric. It leaves for a few moments and he shifts above you, reaching somewhere - you don’t dare to peek, too afraid of what it might be. “There-”, he grunts, then the muslin strains against the fat of your thighs, pulled upward. It snaps and the unmistakable cold of a blade touches you for a split second. “There we go.” By now your grip on him has slacked, your hands barely holding onto his arms. The futility of trying to stop him sweeps over you like a veil, leaves you numb and weak. You can feel the summer air on your core, the way it cools the heat that the liquor had ignited, the way it gets churned around as he moves your ruined underwear around to gain him access. Thick fingers fumble around until they finally find what they seek and he laughs, deep and ugly. You don’t even sob when he lets go of your mouth to undo his pants. It earns you a throaty good girl as he frees himself and you open your eyes to glance up at him. He’s on you, his form an inky mass against the light of the moon as pushes himself into you, slowly and hissing at every inch. You’re not quite prepared, the alcohol mixed with terror making you dry but he doesn't care. It burns and stings and scratches, and you can feel how tight you are around him, how much you don’t want this. His hands reach up again, cradling your face in almost tender fashion while he savors the feeling. Barely giving you a moment to breathe once he bottoms out, he starts a mounting pace, grunting at every push and pull. You’re rattled with the motion, helpless and almost numb. The liquor dulls the pain but still you can’t help the yelps that leave you; not loud enough for him to care, but just loud enough for him to notice. He bows down and presses a slew of open-mouthed, wet kisses over your face, a bizarre mirror of a loving gesture, and bites you weakly whenever you clench around him in discomfort. It’s a ghastly feeling. “Oh, you're real sweet, darling, real sweet”, he moans out in a shaky exhale. You've never heard him so desperate, so genuine. He sounds grateful, almost loving, yet it’s all a ruse. You only murmur his name in response, lost and teary. You just want him to stop, just want him to get off you and go back to camp. You just want your bed, just want to hear Karen snore next to you. “I know, I know”, he mutters and clutches your shoulders again, grunting before he continues. “You’re so goddamn tight, sweetheart-”

It sounds like he wants to say something else but he chokes on the words before they climb up his throat. Instead, he fucks you harder and you’re grateful that your body finally complies and supplies you with some lubrication. In and out and in again, his full weight snaps against your hips, his thrusts slowly growing sloppy and more shallow. He grips you then, the hardest so far, and buries his face underneath your jaw, keening and sucking at your skin as though his life depends on it. Finally, he spills himself into you, ignoring your weak protests. It’s hot and wet deep within you, the mark of a rotten man. You silently cry as he catches his breath, sweaty face pressed into your neck. Minutes pass like this, him regaining composure and you trying to drown the dread that blossoms in your stomach, too afraid to move. His whole weight is crushing your chest that rattles with sobs, a weight you’ll feel for weeks to come. He slips out of you with a weak groan and heaves himself up to his knees. You feel his seed trickle down, stinging your bruised skin. He says nothing as he tucks himself back in, but you can feel him stare at his work in the moonlight. Patting your thigh, he whistles lowly, much like one would do to a horse and you tense at the gesture. “Now”, he laughs between heavy breaths. “Wasn’t that fun, sugarpie? I should thank you for the good time, hm? Real good time we had.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just adjusts his shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles that have formed. “You're a wild little thing when you’re drunk, you know that?” Another chuckle. He fastens his neckerchief, then palms one of your still-folded knees. “And darling”, he croons, still sucking in the musky air around you like he's suffocating. “Remember: You wanted this. Gave old Mr. Bell something for his troubles, didn't you?” The hidden threat doesn’t go unnoticed. You know how well he can twist his words around Dutch and you have no doubt that if you were to tattle to anyone, you’d be the one getting kicked out of the gang, not him. So you nod.

“Good, good. Don't go telling that big bad”, he grins as he pushes the words out with fake sweetness. “cowboy next thing tomorrow morning, alright?” This time he doesn’t wait for your confirmation, just gets up and stretches himself with obnoxious ease. “See you around, sugarpie.”

His laugh is dark as he strolls back into camp, leaving you behind, empty and still drunk.

End note: I hope you enjoyed it! I have reworked and edited this many, many times so I definitely developed a little bit of tunnel vision. I must have written at least 8k for this in total and revamped every scene at least once and I know that some transitions are a little hamfisted - but I had to finally let this one go, it's been with me two months since its inception and I am just done with it haha. Please be kind when leaving feedback, I am not too confident in this one. And don’t be too shy to chat me up!! I am desperate to talk anything smutty and/or dark for rdr2 with someone!!!

#micah bell x reader #micah x reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 x reader #chubby reader #tw.noncon #tw.alcohol #tw.coercion #tw.fat shaming #/rdr2 #/micah bell

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rainbow--panic · 1 year

Note

I write a lot of rdr2 myself, but I don't have many people who write for me!

I'd love to see someone elses take on Arthur with a chubbier woman who also happens to be a virgin, i am a slut for him in all directions and I'd love to see someone elses writing for him!!!

If you don't get to it don't worry about it!! But i figured I'd ask if you're taking rdr2!!

Dun du du daaaaaaaaa

and just like that your request is severed, hot ans spicy for ya

hope you enjoy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pairing:Arthur Morgan x Chubby!Virgin!Reader

Warnings:NSFW, Bit of self body hate, Being r@wdogged by a cowboy

Only lightly proof read this as I am very tired and want to nap

MINORS DNI

It was the middle of the afternoon and you and Arthur were planning on heading into Rhodes to get some supplies from the general store. You had gotten a list from Pearson of everything you needed, plus a small list of some other essentials needed around camp from Hosea and Dutch. You had changed into the one nice dress you had, which was reserved for days going into town, much like this one, and special events outside of camp. As you walked out of your tent you quickly locked eyes with Arthur. It hadn't been long but he was waiting for you and put his arm out for you to wrap your arms around as the two of you made your way to the wagon.

Arthur helped you up and then got up himself, taking the reins and riding out of camp. You held onto his right arm loosely as you laid on him, enjoying his company.

"So how have you been, dear? I know we haven't had a chance to be together lately with Dutch havin me run around like a chicken with its head cut off" Arthur said with a grin. You smiled at him, Arthur always......had a way with words, I guess you could say.

"Oh I've been alright, just dealing with Ms.Grimshaw bossin me around as if I'm just a no good lil hussie" Arthur chuckled. "Well ain't ya?" he jokingly asked, you playfully smacked his arm.

"Only for you Arthur" You said as you kissed his cheek.

Though he may have never admitted it to you, he loved leaving camp to be with you. It's not that he didn't want to tell you or never actually wanted to admit he loved you, it was more that he couldn't bring the right words together to say it. He loved the gang, he would gladly die for the gang, he knew you of all people were loyal to the gang, but if he had the chance to go live with you someplace beautiful where no one could ever find yall, he would. When you joined the gang it was no different then when Karen, Mary Beth, or Tilly joined. But with the way you were, how hard you worked in all the different camps, and the way you seemed to light up a room, it brought a strange feeling to Arthur, one he hadn't felt in a long time, back when he was younger and with another woman who he knew could never truly love him enough to stay by his side.

"You know, I am so glad Micha is gone" A smile was plastered across your face. "For now, anyways" Arthur added. It's been a little while since Arthur had busted him out of prison and now he's still hiding out somewhere behind Strawberry. You looked at Arthur and frowned. "Ain't there a way we could get Dutch to kick him out of the gang? I know I ain't of power to make requests like that but-" You trailed off, looking at the road ahead.

Safe to say Micha didn't get along with anyone in camp, especially you. Micha was the type of man who liked women to be, as he said, 'woman shaped not boar shaped' to which he immediately got an ass whoopin by Charles on Arthur's behalf as Arthur was out that night robbing a train. Arthur nudged you and smiled. "When I get the chance to, I'll shoot 'em for ya" both of you erupted into laughter. Micha was only good at causing problems but you both knew that somehow he was a part of Dutches' master plan.

"Don't you worry little missy, when he comes back I'll make sure to make it clear to him that if he messes with my girl, I'll deal with 'em'' He wrapped an arm around your waist, bringing you closer to him as he planted a kiss on your lips. As you part, a sigh escaped your lips. It always feels so nice to be alone with Arthur. At camp he has to show himself around as the top gun who fears no man. After all he is, but alone he's able to calm down and relax to your touch, he wants nothing more than for you to be his and for you to be happy.

The wagon stopped on the side of the store and the two of you went in. You began to look around with Arthur but then he split off to speak to the shopkeeper about rhodes. You noticed a mirror off to the side of the store. Wasn't a huge mirror, but it was big enough for people to see their whole bodies, more than likely put in by the shopkeeper so people could see what they look like in the clothing he sold. You looked at yourself in the mirror at both a front and side angle. You had never been too concerned about your figure, after all the bigger you were the more of you to love, but what Micha said had unfortunately got to you. He always found a way to get to people and now you started to imagine yourself looking more and more uglier. 'How could Arthur love someone as hideous as me?' you had asked yourself at one point. You really hadn't changed much from when you first joined the gang and even before then, but now your looking at yourself through hateful eyes you had seemed to change immensely.

Arthur came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and giving you a kiss on the neck. "Hey beautiful, whatcha doing?" he asked as if he hadn't been watching you from the moment you walked up to the mirror, with an expression showing your disgust for yourself. Your face grew red as you brushed it off saying 'nothing', the last thing you wanted was for Arthur to worry about your mentality. He held you for a few more moments before releasing you. The two of you went about your business in the shop and gathered all of the supplies needed. The shop keeper had offered to get the wagon all loaded since it was a decent amount of supplies and figured it would take a while. Arthur agreed to let him do it and decided that the two of you could go and have some fun. "Come on, women.''He said, waiting for you by the door. He held it open for you like a proper gentleman. He was always sweet on you and you loved it, so kind and gentle and yet so strong and fierce.

"Where are we off to Arthur?" Sweetly asking as you took his hand. "Well I figured we head off to the hotel, get a room while we're waiting and spend some time together." You could tell he was thinking of something, his eyes looked at you differently, not in a bad way, or so you hoped. Yall walked into the hotel and there just so happened to be a room for rent. You made your way up there and opened the door to see..........it wasn't as bad as the outside. In fact it wasn't bad at all. The inside was lovely. The bed was made up, the walls were a nice dark red with some black patterning, there was a chimney to keep warm in the winter, and the carpet looked as soft as could be. You sat yourself atop the bed as you looked around the room in awe, then to Arthur.

"So what is it yer planning? Finally gonna take me like a babe in the woods now?" You asked half jokingly. Not that you would mind. You've never actually had sex before and for how long you and Arthur had been together you would have thought he'd have taken you by now. You smile, then he starts walking towards you, hands at his sides. When he gets to your feet he bends down, placing his hands at either side of the bed as he leans into you and places a deep, passionate kiss on your lips. Moments later when he breaks it off, you are left slightly panting, wanting more.

"(Y/N), I see the way you look at yourself in that mirror, I've heard every goddamn awful thing Micha has said to you and the way he laughs at your figure, but he doesn't matter, he ain't with you because, to put it straight, he can't handle having a beautiful women such as yourself at his side. He doesn't deserve a woman like you and therefore he ain't got none." He grabs your right hand with his left, gently as he looks deep into your eyes.

"You are my everything, you are so beautiful to me, I would rather die than live a day without ever meeting you. You are the reason I love coming back to camp, you are the reason I love early mornings and late nights, I want you to be with my till the end, and I want you to be mine, if you'll have me" He finishes with a rasp in his voice, bringing your hand to his face and kissing it. You are left there with tears forming in your eyes and cheeks burning. You struggle to find words as you are left speechless. Never before have you been able to find a man who treats you so tenderly, who opens up to you, and values your time.

Taking in a deep breath, you say "Arthur, I love you so and I would love to be yours till the end, and I would greatly love if you were to take me here and now" He smiles and nods, putting his hat on the nightstand before grabbing your waist on either side and kissing you passionately, slowly lowering you to the bed as he begins to rub your hips, then moving slowly to your thighs. You try not to laugh as you gently push him away. "Arthur, perhaps we could get somewhere if our clothes were off, hmm?" He smiles sweetly at you. "'Scuse me there missy, I was trying to take it slow for you, considering' I'm yer first after all."

The both of you had gotten up and undressed, now you were embarrassed being in the nude with your lover but he didn't seem to mind as he took you in. He grabbed you and held you close, planting kisses all along the side of your neck and shoulder, meanwhile you could feel his dick getting harder. You draped your hands on his shoulders and soon enough they started to travel down to his chest. You decided that you should be brave and make the first move to initiate something, as he said he was taking it slow for you but you had wanted him for so long you could hardly wait any longer.

As you were softly moaning from the hickies he was giving you, you started to gently grasp his cock and start rubbing it. Taking his length in, feeling how thick it was. He grunted, obviously enjoying someone else touching it for a change. That's when you decided to push him on the bed then bent down. Karen had walked you through how to please a man properly, gave you all the tips and tricks you would need cuz she said "You never know when Arthurs gonna take you out on the woods and expect you to bend to his every whim."

Arthur looked at you, obviously intrigued. He knew you had never been with another man before, you had told him this many times, and yet here you were taking the lead. You spit on his tip and began to spread it around as a makeshift lubricant. You licked his tip before taking it in. Slowly you bobbed your head, taking in more and more of him over a small amount of time. Grunts frequentied out of his mouth as he leaned back, using his elbows for support, head leaning back. It was a sight to behold, here you were, pleasing one of the roughest, toughest, outlaws of the west. You held on to one of his thighs as you quickened your pace, his hand found his way into your hair. His grunts become louder as you edge him. Before his climax you hold your head down as he cums in your mouth. Warm, salty, liquid filled your mouth as you pulled back, coughing up some of it. Breathing heavily, Arthur quickly got up and apologized. "I'm sorry darlin', I don't know what came over me." He said

You wiped any remaining cum from your lips as you regained your breath and laughed. "If I knew you were that needy I would have taken you to town myself long ago." He chuckled as he helped you to the bed. He laid you down on your back and placed himself at your entrance. His thumb had traced small circles around your entrance before landing on and rubbing your clit. A surprised gasp left your lips as you felt this new sensation.Arthur humed, pleased with himself.

With his free hand he grabbed his throbbing cock and gave it a quick stroke. It was obvious that he was far too excited to do this with you as touched you, then rubbed his tip on your entrance. As his tip went over your now sensitive bud you had let out a small mew. Arthur leaned down and planted a kiss on your lips, tasting some of his own cum that lingered on your lips. He grabbed onto your legs and spread them, then with one of his hands he inserted himself into you, slowly. It was slightly painful at first, and Arthur took note of how tight you were, having trouble fitting all the way in. He let out a gruff "Damn women '' as he made his way completely inside of you. As you adjusted to him, some tears fell from your eyes. He kissed all over your face, cheek to cheek, landing on your lips.

"Darling' just let me know when you're ready" He had said between kisses. With a sigh and a wiggle of your hips, you looked at him and nodded. Gripping your thighs, he spread them once more. Slowly he thrust out then back in. The pace stayed slow until you bucked your hips.With a grunt he quickened the pace. You moaned, it felt so invigorating, finally having him inside you made you feel whole. You loved the way his strong arms held you, how no matter how badly you wanted to squeeze him in your thighs, your strength was nothing compared to his. The thought that, if he very so wanted, he could crush you right now. He could put a hand around your neck and fuck the living daylight out of you, could have you in a complete moaning mess, all sweaty and dumb.

"Arthur~" You moaned. He seemed pleased with that. "Mmm? Yes darlin? what can I do for ya?" He smirked. He could see it in your eyes, you wanted more. He began going rougher, he started to drill into you faster. Your moans became louder and more frequent. Your eyes started watering up as you closed them. "C'mon darlin, look at me" with that your eyes snapped back open to look at Arthur in all his glory. The light showed off his skin as the two watched each other for mere moments before locking lips together. Arthurs pace not faltering for a second as he mercilessly pounded into you. You felt a knot in your stomach as he went on.

"A-Arthur I-I Oh~" you tried to tell him but your moans had overpowered you. "Already, Sweetheart? maybe you were needier than me!" He laughed as he trudged into you, letting you reach your climax with his following soon after. You were not both just laying on the bed, panting, holding each other in your arms. With a kiss and some pillow talk, yall cleaned yourself up and made your way back to the wagon. All the while getting stares from other people in the area, including those in other rooms, the hotel clerk, some men and women outside, and even the man who had conveniently finished loading your wagon. Arthur helped you up once more and pulled himself up after you. For the short trip back to camp you remained on his lap, loving on him while you still could. Maybe one day he'll bring you out here again, can't say that the clerk will rent ya another room though.

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #rdr #red dead #guns #cowboy #cowboys friend #UwU #YEEEEEEHAAAWWWWWWW

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queenxxxsupreme · 3 years

Note

Hello!! I'm kinda embarrassed but could you do an uno reverse with the chubby Arthur fanfic but its with a chubby reader instead?? (your choice to make Arthur also chubby or not) Thank you!!

A/N: Don’t be embarassed (I spelled that wrong but autocorrect won’t work right now and I’m too dumb to know how to spell it off the top of my head lol) I absolutely love to write for Arthur! I feel like he doesn’t get enough attention anymore. Thank you for the ask!! I hope you like this! The ending got a little messy and not great cause I didn’t know how to end it but I hope you like it!

Warnings: mentions of poor body image and Micah being a fucking douche, but there’s fluff! Arthur makes things better

***

“Y/N!” Mary-Beth called your name.

You turned your head to look at her. Karen and Tilly stood with her by the wagon. John was hitching up a couple horses to the wagon with Lenny’s help.

“Hi, ladies.” You greeted them as you approached the tent.

“We’re gonna go into town. You wanna come with us?”

“What are you plannin’ on doing in town?”

“Oh you know, just the usual.” Mary-Beth answered with a little wave of her hand. “Seein’ what the folk around here are like.”

“And maybe robbin’ them.” Tilly giggled.

“But we aren’t gettin’ into too much trouble.” Karen added. “John won’t let us, will you John?”

“I hope not.” He sighed, buckling a strap on the horse.

“So what do you say, Y/N?” Tilly asked you.

Arthur watched from across camp as you declined the ladies’ offer to join them on their trip into town. His eyes stayed on you while you watched them leave in the back of the wagon John and Lenny were driving.

You began to pick at your nails, the furrow between your brows becoming more prominent. The picking at your nails was a bad habit of yours, one you only did when something was clouding your mind.

“Are ya even listening to me, Arthur?” Uncle asked him.

Arthur took the cigarette out of his mouth and tossed it into the fire as he stood up. You were going to your tent so that’s were he planned on going.

“Stopped listenin’ a while ago, Uncle. Thought you would’ve noticed.”

Uncle began to complain about Arthur’s inattentiveness but the outlaw was already leaving the table, making his way across camp to check on you.

Arthur ducked inside the tent he shared with you, taking his hat off.

“Hey, pumpkin.” He greeted you.

You turned to face him, offering him a little smile.

“Hi, Arthur.”

“What’re you up to?” He asked. Maybe you were too busy to go into town.

“Gonna go read out by the cliffside for a bit.” You picked up your book from the end table. “Do you want to come with me? Or are you busy?”

“I’m never too busy for you, pumpkin.” He flashed you a little smile as you moved towards him. He was expecting you to stop, even if only for a moment, to give him a kiss on the cheek or to brush your hand along his chest like you always did when you passed him by. But you simply walked by him without even looking at him.

Something was definitely wrong. This confirmed his worries.

“How was meetin’ up with Mary?”

“Went about as pleasant as you’d think. Wanted me to get her brother back from that religious group, the Chelonia.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“Depends on your definition of fun.” Arthur muttered.

You were thankful that no one was down by the edge of the cliff. You wanted to have some peace and quiet away from everyone.

You decided to sit beneath a tree, placing your book in your lap. Arthur grunted rather dramatically as he got down next to you.

“M’too old for this kinda shit.” He sat facing you. One of his legs was loosely crossed while the other was spread to cross over yours, though he didn’t put any weight on your legs.

“You don’t gotta follow me around, you know.” You giggled softly.

“I know. Just like spendin’ time with ya.” He took his hat off and put it in the grass beside him. “I, uh, I heard the girls were askin’ you to go to town with them.”

You nodded your head, opening the book in your lap so that you didn’t have to look at him.

“Why didn’t you go? Thought you were tellin’ me just last night you had some errands to run in town.”

“I can do them another time, Arthur. It wasn’t anything important.”

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say next.

“Mary-Beth sounded a little eager to have you go with them, don’t you think?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“She was just bein’ friendly though, wasn’t she? She’s a good kid.”

“Arthur, what are you getting at?” You looked up from your book, meeting his gaze.

“I don’t know.” He sighed heavily. He ran a hand over his face. “I-I saw that look on your face when you were watchin’ them go, pumpkin. You looked upset about somethin.’” He paused to gauge your reaction. “Did something happen with one of the girls?”

“No, Arthur.” You dropped your attention back to the book.

“Karen’s not bad unless you get her drunk.” Arthur thought out loud. “And Tilly’s a nice girl, least from what I’ve seen. Mary-Beth too. Abigail can be.... something else. Did she do something?”

“Arthur, please.” You closed the book firmly. “Just stop.”

“Pumpkin, I’m just concerned is all.” Arthur reached over to place his hand on yours. “I don’t like that look I saw on your face. It don’t belong there.”

“The girls didn’t do anything to me, Arthur.” You murmured quietly, feeling a scratchy sensation begin in the back of your throat. “It’s all okay, I promise.”

“You say that, but I don’t see it in your eyes.” He shook his head. Cerulean blue eyes gazed at you with such a softness that you could’ve melted right there, but the torment you felt in your chest and in your head were too much. It pushed that softness he was able to make you feel away and brought in a dark feeling.

“It doesn’t matter, Arthur.” You stood up, brushing off your skirt, and began to move back towards camp.

However you didn’t get very far. Arthur’s hand found your arm, bringing you to a stop.

You turned your head to look away from him, taking a steady deep breath through your nose in an attempt to make the tears go away. If you could calm yourself down, they would go away.

Arthur’s hand slid down from your bicep to your hand and his thumb began to trace small circles on the back of your hand. You turned your hand over so that you could lace your fingers together.

“You don’t gotta tell me, pumpkin, but I just hate to see you so upset and so quiet about it.” He stepped closer and leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“I just…. I can’t stand some of these people, Arthur.” You tilted your head down, unable to look up at him. You focused your eyes on his boots. “Just can’t fucking stand them. They’re just….” You couldn’t find the words to accurately describe what you wanted to say.

“Who was it?” Arthur had a very short list of who would put you on the verge of tears. Possibilities and scenarios began to race through his mind.

“Micah just…. He was just being a bastard.” Your voice cracked. “He said you were going into town to see Mary Linton. I knew that’s where you had been earlier today. But he just…. He started saying that you were going to…. That you and her…. Because she’s-she’s thin and pretty and I’m as big as one of the pigs Pearson butchers.”

“He what?” Arthur had to pull his hand away from you as to not cause you any harm. His fingers automatically curled into tight fists and he felt the need to seek out Micah Bell to cause him serious damage.

His eyes left yours and he tilted his head up to search the camp behind you. Micah was sitting at a table with Bill, sharpening his knife.

“It doesn’t matter, Arthur.” You sniffled, looking down at the buttons on his shirt. “He wasn’t wrong. No use in sugar coatin’ it.”

Arthur stared at you for a few moments, his brain still trying to process the anger he felt. Then he took a breath and ran a hand over his face.

“Micah Bell is a miserable son of a bitch, Y/N. He ain’t right about nothin’. Not a damn thing.”

“But Arthur, I don’t-I don’t look like other girls, like Mary or like Karen.” You whispered, tears trailing down your cheeks. You crossed your arms over yourself, suddenly feel extremely self-conscious. “I-I didn’t go into town with them because every time we go into town, people stare at me.”

“Pumpkin, they stare at me too. They’re just a bunch of judgemental pricks.”

“That’s different, Arthur.” You shook your head. It was sweet of him to try to make you feel better, but they stared at him for different reasons than they stared at you. “It’s-It’s just not the same. You.... You’re a normal size. You just come across as intimidatin’ and sometimes folk don’t know how to take that. But me.... They see me and all they see is a pig in a dress.”

“Don’t you say that, Y/N.” He reached up to cup your face, calloused thumbs brushing away your tears. “You don’t look nothin’ like a pig.”

“Mary, she’s just…. She’s so different from me, Arthur.”

“Course she is, pumpkin.” Arthur leaned forward to kiss your forehead, then he placed his hands on your hips and pulled you in for a proper hug. His slipped around you, providing you with a sense of protection. “I don’t see nothin’ wrong with that. And I definitely don’t see nothin’ wrong with you. You’re absolutely gorgeous in my eyes, pumpkin. Wouldn’t change a damn thing about you.”

“But Arthur, I look like a cow.”

“Stop comparin’ yourself to farm animals, Y/N.” He kissed the side of your head. “It’s breakin’ my heart.”

You frowned, leaning your head against his shoulder. Arthur pressed his lips against your head.

“I know you’ve never had the best thoughts about yourself.” He murmured into your hair. “But I got plenty of good thoughts about you for the both of us. I’ll make sure to share them with you until you start thinkin’ about yourself differently. I need you to know that it don’t matter that you’re different from Mary or Karen or anyone else. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. It’s who you are.”

“Thank you, Arthur.” You sniffled. “You’re too sweet to me.”

“Only ‘cause I love ya, pumpkin.”

***

Hosea caught sight of Arthur as the burly outlaw made his way across camp, a dark look in his eyes.

“Arthur-,”

“Not now, Hosea.” Arthur waved him off. His eyes were set on Micah who wasn’t even looking at him. His back was to Arthur. He sat at a table with Dutch talking about something Arthur didn’t care to listen to.

Arthur grabbed the back of Micah’s chair and tipped it back, knocking Micah out of his seat and on to the ground. In the same heartbeat, Arthur drew the revolver from his hip and cocked the hammer with his thumb.

He put his foot on Micah’s shoulder and aimed the gun at Micah’s chest, glaring down at the man.

“Whoa, cowpoke!”

“Arthur!” Dutch shouted. “Put that gun away!”

Arthur ignored Dutch. The anger bubbling and festering in his veins made him focus solely on Micah.

“It’d be in your best interests to leave Miss Y/L/N alone.” He spoke lowly.

“I was just havin’ a conversation with her while you were out with your old fling-,”

“What I do ain’t none of your goddamned business.” Arthur cut him off. “If I find out you’ve said anything out of line to Y/N again, Micah Bell, I’ll be puttin’ a hole through your goddamn chest.”

Micah said nothing, locking his jaw as he glared up at Arthur. Arthur lowered his gun and then removed his foot from Micah’s shoulder.

Hosea watched as Arthur moved towards his tent, holstering his weapon.

“You’re a funny guy, Arthur Morgan!” Micah stood up, angrily brushing off his clothes.

“And you’re a dumb bastard.” Hosea muttered, shaking his head as he walked away. “Surprised it’s taken this long.”

Taglists: @winterwolf @doggone-cowgirl @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @nonodino @krenee1drful @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @zodiacaldust @gabstaroc @cal-lifornication

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x chubby!reader #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan oneshot #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fic #rdr2 oneshot #kacey answers

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red-dead-daydreams · 4 years

Note

chubby arthur makes me feel things and its a shame that there is not enough love for him😊😊 im thirsty for some nasty yet fluffy chubby arthur and his fem!s/o headcanons. im an absolute whore for arthur especially when he thicc. btw love your blog ❤❤❤ ignore this is requests are closed 👌👌

YESSSS I was hoping to get another Chubby Arthur request. He looks like a damn beast but also like a teddy bear. Also, I am too a whore for Arthur. Hope you enjoy anon! 💙

Chubby Arthur and Reader (Nsft and fluffy) Headcanons

Arthur does have low self esteem, so he’s constantly worried that you’ll want to be with someone who’s considered more “handsome” or slender

At first he was shy about intimacy because he thought you wouldn’t find his body attractive.

But you’ll help reassuring him by giving him tons of affection, especially out in public since that’s when he’s the most self conscious

And surely, with enough reassurance he’ll take your word for it and be more confident around you

And the way he carries his confidence is very sexy

You feel safe around him because people tend to leave you two alone. If anyone tries to bother you he’ll beat the hell out of them in less than a minute

When you two are feeling ‘playful’ he’ll pick you up and carry you to the back of camp near the other fire so you two can have your privacy

When he’s thrusting into you he’ll press his body (gently) against yours, but it feels nice because he’s warm and you can scratch down his back

He’ll have a very strong grip into your hips. He likes to keep you balanced as he goes all in(side you)

His body isn’t the only thing that’s thick

He likes blindfolding you with his bandanna sometimes.

He knows that it heightens your senses so you become more sensitive so he’ll tease you by only rubbing his tip in between your folds or kissing down your body

Sometimes he’ll want to lay down and have you take the reins. There’s nothing better for him than to look up at his beautiful s/o riding him like a unruly horse

Aftercare is amazing with him because Arthur is such a sweet soul and will take care of you until you’re comfortable and snuggled against him

It’s also fun to lay on top of him and nuzzle against his chest. His gentle heart beat helps put you to sleep

Gif source (x)

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan smut #chubby Arthur Morgan #rdr #rdr2 #rdr imagine #rdr2 imagine #red dead redemption two imagine #red dead redemption 2 imagine #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption smut #nsft #nsft imagine #rdr2 x reader

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husbandits · 4 years

Note

Hi! Could you do something with a modern arthur with a chubby female reader where he’s smitten with her? She’s oblivious to it maybe? Thanks

don't mind me, just gonna insert this in the coffee shop au, since I've been thinking abt it more again recently.

You spend a lot of your free time at the little independently owned coffee shop a few blocks from your cramped little apartment; it's friendly, convenient, and cheap enough to justify the occasional treat. Not to mention the service is nice and friendly, without feeling like the employees are forced to smile.

Arthur tends to be the one at the counter when you come in, finishing cleaning some mug or starting a batch of pastries in the oven. He always stops what he's doing when you come in, though. His eyes follow you as you set your things down in the comfy little booth tucked in the corner, taking in the scene before heading over to him to put in your simple order.

Whether it's peppermint mocha or chai latte, he learns your order fairly well, after a month or so. Today it's an iced coffee with mint and banana flavors, the seasonal treat catching your eye as you set your work computer down at your table, before heading over to the counter.

Today, the co-manager of the cafe, an excitable older man who insists you call him Dutch, is behind the counter as well, ostensibly manning the drink station, but not seeming all that attentive to the orders slowly piling up. You listen with an occasional amused nod as he tells you, again, about the barbarism of the locally-owned Starbucks half a block away; you're well-aware of the rivalry that particular Starbucks and this cafe have, but the animosity Dutch has is amusing, at this early hour. Arthur looms beside him, listening in and watching the way you react, the smile you give every now and then making his chest feel tight.

"That's the skim." He interrupts, as Dutch finishes adding the foam, reaching over to hand you the cup. "She, ah, asked for the 2%, boss."

Dutch pauses at that, shooting the man a look as if frustrated that Arthur would argue, but after a bare second, takes the cup back with a little grumble. Apologizes to you with a return to his charismatic persona, and then starts to remake the drink, narrating as he pulls the right creamer out this time.

When you insist that it's fine, you don't mind the substitution, you don't catch the hurt look in his eyes, or the way heat crawls up the back of his neck when he objects that it's not alright, you're a very nice customer who comes in fairly regularly, and it's their job to make sure your order is correct. And the fact that you asked for 2% means you don't like the way skim tastes, and would hate to make you pay for something you don't like, though he doesn't quite manage to get that part out.

Ah well. Hopefully today he'll work up the nerve to approach you later. Ask you, when he gets the opportunity for a break in a few hours, if you want to meet up outside of work, maybe for a drink somewhere. Hopefully.

#rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #modern au #coffeeshop au #dutch van der linde #chubby reader #oblivious reader #smitten arthur #the power dynamics bit of this made it #a bit of a struggle to get through but i hope it turned out well enough #miiight do a follow-up eventually #mrsarthurmorgan7

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morgans-little-darlingwhore · 4 years

Text

Chubby Arthur Morgan Headcanon

Request by @dorathedestroyer64: Maybe you could write a headcannon about Arthur being overweight and the reader praising him/giving him body positivity and love?

I found this idea so cute so I tried my best ! French is my mother tongue, so I'll surely make some mistakes. Please just tell me if I make errors ! Thanks and enjoy your reading !

You and Arthur have been living in a ranch near Rhodes for a year, since the gang spit up. Both of you have a new lifestyle and you usually stay at the ranch, taking care of the horses and working in the fields. Since your cow-boy isn't running everywhere anymore, he gained a few pounds. It didn't bother you, to be honest you didn't even notice it, but he did and felt terrible about it.

He didn't wanted anymore getting undressed in front of you or having sex with you, so you first thought he wasn't attracted to you anymore.

You were sad, noticing that he didn't let you put your arms around him anymore, so you started giving him your cold shoulder.

Naturally, he thought you were mad at him cause he gained weight, so he started eating less and going to town by foot.

When you noticed that, you understood what was the problem, and you decided to show him how much you loved him, with or without these few more pounds.

So you started following him everywhere.

Litteraly everywhere, begging for hugs and attention.

At the beggining, he was uncomfortable but he started getting used to it and appreciating these moments. It was like the beggining of your relationship.

Eventually, he asked you why you started being so affectionate.

You told him you loved his beautiful blue eyes, and how you were craving for his full lips. You told him how you liked feeling his beard on your chest when he was kissing you, and how you missed that.

Arthur felt like a piece of shit, leaving his woman alone because he couldn't handle the fact that he gained weight... so he apologized right away, and told you the truth.

And you told him you were still in love with him, as much as the beginning, and you were still feeling safe around him, and that's all you need. He is all you need.

And he just needs to stop thinking he doesn't deserve you, because he is way more handsome, funny and clever than he thinks.

#hc #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2hc #arthurmorgan #chubby #fluffy #headcanons #arthur morgan x reader

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big-boah-2 · 1 year

Text

Anyone have any good Arthur Morgan/M!reader fic recs?

#rdr2 fic recs #chubby arthur is superior but I'll take what i can get lmao #rdr2 #rdr2 fics #x reader #arthur x reader #arthur morgan

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gimmethosedaddymilkers · 1 year

Text

Till the Sun Rises

Okay okay, it’s time people

it’s

Chubby Arthur x Chubby reader smut time because

DAMNIT I WANT CHUBBY READER AND CHUBBY ARTHUR

HIS THIGHS WILL BE PRAISED DAMNIT

anyway

@kieropal This is for you! (and me lmao) Congrats on getting over 100 followers! You deserve so many more than that! And I hope you like the rest of this just as much as you liked the WIP!

Warnings: Chubby Arthur x Chubby reader, smut, 18+ themes sexual in nature, Female reader

18+ Under the cut y’all!

You crossed your legs and hoped to God that no one noticed.

You hoped to God that no one had noticed who you’d been staring at, who caused you to cross your legs, especially hoping that the person you’d been ogling didn’t.

Considering he had an ax in his hand you figured he had better things in mind.

You tried your hardest not to feel the way you did, truly, honestly.

You just couldn’t help it.

The more you looked at him…The more you felt a heat begin to pool in your stomach.

Plus, every time you talked to him you could feel yourself trip over your own words like you hadn’t been talking your entire life.

Arthur Morgan was a specimen, that much was true.

You watched with a sideways glance his way as he brought the axe up over his bare chest and swung down, cracking a log in half with a resounding crack! And he gave a grunt as he tossed the two pieces to the side to replace them with a fresh log.

It was hot in Clemmon’s Point, and you didn’t blame him for taking his top off.

But God did it make things difficult for you.

Dangling the shirt around his waist next to his suspenders, it was almost as if he was taunting you.

It was like he knew.

Like he knew that you couldn’t help but notice the way the muscles moved under his skin.

His arms flexing involuntarily with every movement, his forearms showing the most, with his back following, he might have had a bit more fat on his body, but that didn’t take away from the strength there.

He was a little round in the middle, no one could deny that, his stomach came over his belt, but if anything that added to the attraction of him. A man with a stomach ate well, and he ate well because he worked hard.

His chest was meaty in the best way, and covered in a dusting of chest hair, just enough to be handsome as hell, placed in all the right places, not too much of it, not too little.

Well-trimmed and well groomed.

He kept his hair short with a fade and kept a beard just slightly longer than his jawline, occasionally swapping it for a gentle stubble, like he had now to try and fight the heat of the south.

Arthur Morgan was a massive man, almost of beastly size, both in height and and in width.

And it made you hot and bothered to no end and every time he opened his mouth it was like heaven was tumbling out of his vocal cords.

That voice was like listening to honey, yet somehow it was rough in all the right places, you’d listened to him threaten so many people, camp members who happened to cross him on a bad day, people in town who tried to start trouble...

The way he lowered his voice?

Christ, he already had a low voice as it was, but he dropped an octive or two when he wanted to be threatening.

You knew it was supposed to be threatening.

You knew that.

But

Shit it did not feel that way.

You felt your entire body heat up every time he did it.

You were never able to control the direction your head went. He’d open his mouth, threaten someone to be careful or he’d split their chest wide open, and all you could think about was him taking control of you.

“Just like that Princess....arch just a little more for me, you’re bein’ such a good girl for me, takin’....shit...takin’ my whole cock like this....”

Those thoughts crossed your mind far too often, his hands all over your body, his voice in your ear, commanding you, muttering such awful, sinful things...

You were so embarrassed.

He was your friend, the two of you hadn’t had any kind of romantic interaction at all, yet every time you looked at him?

God, you just couldn’t focus.

This hadn’t happened until recently, the last two months, your entire body just seemed to react to him.

He had a fantastic personality too, it wasn’t just about his body, or his voice. He was a great man. Sure he could threaten someone, he killed men, he robbed, conned, but....he had a softer side, a kinder side, and you saw it, as much as he wished that no one did, you did.

He had a reputation to hold up.

He was patient with those who deserved it, funny, smarter than he let on, and just all around...

Sweet.

Everything about him attracted you. He was rough, but he was soft too.

He could strangle you.

But you wanted him to.

But he could also hug you, keep you safe, and you wanted that too.

“Y/N, I been talkin’ to you for the last five minutes, you hear a single word I said?”

You blinked and look up at the voice, your face going red immediately as you looked into those blue-green oceanic eyes.

Arthur leaned against the handle of the axe, his elbow propped against it and the head of the axe planted securely on the ground. Still stationed over by the wood, but considering you’d managed to take the closest seat available to the wood you were sure more than likely he’d noticed you staring.

His head cocked to the side with a sly smirk on his face.

“Lil preoccupied there are ya? Thinkin’ about somethin’ you shouldn’t be?”

You floundered for a moment, opening and closing your mouth like a fish.

“I...No...I...I..I..” You couldn’t properly think about what to say, your eyes wondering down his bare chest, you forced yourself to look back to his eyes, trying to ignore the heat in your face.

“I got somethin’ on me? Mud or somethin’? Probably flung from the axe.” He looked down to where you’d glanced, wiping his stomach gently with one of those massive hands of his.

Of course he noticed you looking. He’s observant, he’ll notice everything you do.

“No, no, I...I thought, but no.”

“Mhm.” He hummed and stood straight, and leaned the axe against the tree, and started his way towards you, taking a seat at the table directly across from you.

He searched around in one of his pockets, and pulled out a cigarette, placing it delicately between his lips.

He pulled a match out then, lighting it against the table with one swift flick of his wrist.

You watched as he covered the cigarette with his hand, and brought the match flame to the end, huffing as he managed to light it.

Please, for the love of God, focus. Stop looking at his lips.

“So,” He huffed a cloud of smoke out, turning his head to avoid blowing it your way. “You done anythin’ fun? ‘Side’s melt in this damn heat?”

Imagined you with your hand in your pants and your head thrown back but other than that nothing.

“No, I’m afraid not Arthur.” You chuckle, hoping it doesn’t sound forced. “I think it’s almost too warm to do anything.”

“’Course, nearly thought about jumpin’ in the damn lake myself.” He snorted. “Everybody better count themselves lucky this is as stripped as I’ve gotten.”

Opposite of lucky.

You adjust your legs, hoping it isn’t noticeable.

God, why couldn’t you just explain it to him? Tell him what he meant to you? Maybe he’d feel the same.

Ah, who are you kidding?

You knew what you looked like, and you knew that you weren’t anything special in the personality department.

You were round yourself, but not the same way Arthur was.

He was...

It fit him, made up part of his look, it didn’t feel outward, out of place at all. It was attractive.

For you?

You knew most women had flat stomachs. That’s what men wanted. They didn’t want the marks on your thighs, or the squishy, flabby roundness of your stomach.

It was an odd shape, it hung low, your breasts weren’t perky, your ass wasn’t as big as you wanted it to be, you had back fat, rolls, you knew no one that that was attractive.

Not even a drunkard would pay for you.

So why on earth would someone as attractive as Arthur want something to do with you?

Little did you know Arthur did think of you as attractive. He thought of you almost every single day, that’s why he talked to you all the time.

Why he stumbled over his words, why he took his shirt off this afternoon. He was hot of course, but he’d noticed you take a seat and he let that little boost of confidence hit him enough to take it off.

He hated the way that he looked, he hated how large he was, you, you were different, you were attractive, wide hips, thick thighs, and a soft stomach. Him, he was ugly anyway. Adding a big stomach instead of even a slight hint of abs or at least a flat stomach, it just made him even uglier.

You though.

He didn’t care that you were bigger.

Hell, he’d gone after bigger women his entire life. He loved the way you looked. Your hips? Your thighs?

He liked your stomach, how it looked. He didn’t care that it was bigger, it looked soft and he often thought about what it’d be like to cuddle with you.

Granted, he also thought about snapping his hips against yours, listening to the wonton screams falling from your lips.

He thought about his hands gliding over that soft stomach of yours while he drilled into you as deeply as he could, all the way to the base, as much as you could take, screaming his name and clawing at his back.

He thought about pulling your hair and pushing your back down, helping you arch that back as he slammed you from behind.

The way your face would look with his hand around your throat, or his fingers gripping onto your hips so hard that they left bruises.

Sometimes he almost had to run away, afraid you’d see the tent forming in his pants.

Now the two of you sat in silence, you watching his lips as he smoked, puffing away at the cigarette.

The two of you were oblivious to each other. Oblivious of the obvious attraction to one another, and everyone in camp could see it, but no one understood how you two didn’t.

You tried not to stare at him, the silence between you wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but...it wasn’t a good silence either.

You were trying desperately to think of something to say, something to talk to him about, but all you could focus on, I mean...

You put your hand over your eyes for just a moment, trying to force yourself not to think the way you were, think about Arthur in such a way that you were sure a nun could condemn you to hell.

Your thoughts are pushed out of your head as he speaks up again.

“Y/N, I got an idea, if....I mean, if you’ll come with me.”

“Of course, I trust you Arthur.”

He smiles at you widely, and stands from his seat, reaching his hand out to you, waiting as you place yours in it.

Before you know it he’s pulling you along towards the lake, nearly running with excitement.

You do your best to ignore the mischievous glances you receive from Abigail and Mary-Beth as you pass them, but your main focus is on the feeling of his hand in yours.

The further along the shoreline the two of you get, the further away from camp you get.

Finally the two of you reach a secluded location, a little bit of the lake area surrounded by nothing but empty shore.

“Further away from camp.” Arthur muttered, he dropped your hand and faced you. “Ain’t no one who’ll see the two of us if we jump in to cool off.”

Why does he hate you? Is he teasing you on purpose, what kind of hellish torture is this?

“C’mon, I won’t look at ya, I’m gonna hop in, it’s hot as hell.” He offers another smirk and unbuttons the final button on his shirt that kept it hanging on and tossed it to side, followed by his suspenders.

You turn quickly to ignore the heat on your face, and begun to unbutton your shirt yourself.

You weren’t willing to pass this up.

You liked him, you knew that, and he had this idea himself, you weren’t going to refuse him.

You’d never get the confidence to do this on your own, so you had to go in the moment.

You heard a splash behind you, and twisted to see Arthur shoulder deep in the lake.

“C’mon! It’s nice!” He smiles widely and gestures for you to come in. “Promise, I ain’t gonna look.”

You swallow and nod, undressing as quickly as possible, crossing your arms over your chest and running into the lake, looking at the back of Arthur’s head as he leaned back to get water on his scalp.

“Ya in?”

“Yep, you can look now cowboy.”

He turned to look at you, a smile crossing his face again, and then his face began to redden.

He hadn’t thought this through.

You were naked.

He was naked.

Together.

Only a few feet apart.

He cleared his voice and moved back a little, glad that the water was just a little clouded, otherwise you’d see the arousal beginning to form between his legs.

Shit

He couldn’t stop staring at your collarbones, a little lower too, thankful again for the water’s discoloration.

He’d have no idea what he’d do if he could see lower.

He watched as you leaned back, sighing quietly as you dipped your head in the water, your hair getting soaked, falling around your face and shoulders as you brought your head back up.

“This is nice Arthur,” You smile at him, finally relaxing slightly with the cold of the water washing over your heated skin. “How’d you find this place? It’s nice not to have to worry about being spotted.”

He didn’t want to admit to you that he’d found it when he was avoiding you with a hard on.

Hell, that time it had been just from you fucking smiling at him, telling him he was such a sweet man.

That alone had made him harder than a rock.

“Uh..easy, just went on a walk one night, couldn’t sleep, so I took a stroll. That’s all.”

“Well it’s nice, maybe I’ll start taking my baths here.” You smile, really not meaning anything by it. “I don’t have much money to be spending on a hotel, so free is better than paying.”

You watch Arthur’s face contort a little, if anything he got redder in the face, his ear tips joined his face and his chest as well, glowing like a tomato.

“Are you okay Arthur?” You move closer to him, water sloshing as you half swim, half walk that way. “You’re looking red in the face, can you breathe?”

He backed away from you as you neared, bringing his hands above the surface of the water, holding them palms facing you.

“I’m...I’m..shit..I’m fine!” He stutters out. “Just...I...just.” He offers a cough. “Just choked on some of the water, that’s all.”

“Oh, good, I couldn’t have something happen to you.” You give a smile, and he nearly melts.

God he wished that smile was something else, a smile welcoming him home after a long day of jobs, a smile telling him that he’d done good for the day, a smile cause he’d called you beautiful in the morning.

A smile at him that he saw first thing in the morning after a night of lovemaking, hell he’d even take after a night of fucking.

He wanted to make love to you, he did.

But....

Jesus he wanted to fuck you.

He shook his head and you watched, your brow furrowing with confusion.

“You sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” he held his hand out again, and swallowed. “Just...thinkin’ that’s all.”

“Thinking about something you shouldn’t be?” You tease.

Arthur offered you a nervous chuckle and scratched the back of his neck, swallowing as he looked at you.

“Oh....so you were?” You chuckle and bring some water to your face, hoping it’ll cool the oncoming heat you feel, wondering about what he was thinking about.

“Uh...” He chuckles again. “Yeah, I’ll...I admit, it’s...somethin’ I shouldn’t be...thinkin’...I’m just keepin’ myself thinkin’ about jobs is all, I’m supposed to be relaxin’.”

You move forwards, and this time he doesn’t back away, too busy watching you to do so.

You place a hand on his shoulder, offering him a smile as he slumps them.

“What’s that for?” He questions you.

“You always seem to relax when I do that, I don’t know why, but I’m glad I can help.”

“I...I guess I do.”

He smiled in return, one of those genuine smiles, the little chipped tooth of his peaking through it.

You stepped a little closer and then-

You feel something against your leg.

Arthur’s eyes widen as he realizes what just happened, and his embarrassment only got worse when his cock twitched involuntarily, which he was sure you felt that too.

“I’m sorry-”

“No I-”

“I got too close-”

“I didn’t mean- Shit Y/N-”

You breath heavily and step back a little, unable to look away from him.

“I...Shit Y/N I’m....I’m so sorry, I’m so fuckin’ sorry, I didn’t think to...I...Wasn’t gonna let you get close enough and I-”

He swallows and you watch as he sinks a little lower into the water, just barely keeping his mouth above it. His eyes are clouded, and you can see how red his face has become.

“Arthur...I didn’t...I didn’t...” You swallow and try your best to ignore your body.

The heat you’d managed to forget from earlier returned, stronger than the last. Pooling at your stomach, making you want to do nothing but step closer to him.

“I didn’t....you...You like...You...Me?” You stutter out. “You...that...Is it...because of the water?”

Arthur stays silent, but shakes his head no, the water sloshing quietly with the movement.

“It’s...because of me?”

“Y/N I’m sorry, Damn sorry. I...Shit I...I...you make me feel things I...jesus, If I told ya the things you make me think you’d think I was some kinda perverted sicko.”

He sunk a little lower, keeping his nose above water.

Just let me drown.

You swallow and look down at the water.

It was now or never.

He’d just given you a confidence boost you didn’t believe was possible.

You stepped closer and he began to move backwards, shooting himself back up out of the water to his shoulders.

“Y/N please, let me be, I already want to kill myself-”

“Arthur stop moving.”

He listens to you, and swallows, looking anywhere but your eyes as you near, and then-

He shudders and you listen to the sharp inhale he gives as your hand finds his dick under the water.

It’s bigger than you expected.

The tip had touched your thigh earlier, but that hadn’t given you any idea of how large he was.

“Y/N...” He looks at you, his eyes clouded slightly, his pupils blown. “You don’t have to do this, you ain’t....don’t do this just...just cause you think you have to, don’t-” “Arthur, you make me think like a slut.” You mutter. “A whore.”

You look down, your hand gently gliding gently over his dick, and you hear a small whimper escape him.

“I’ve just never felt....I’ve never thought I was...pretty enough to be...one for you.”

He stared at you, his jaw clenched.

“Darlin’,” He swallowed and reached for you, his hands finding your sides, and you tensed, hoping he wasn’t disappointed by the rolls on your body. “You ain’t a whore, you ain’t a slut...but I’ll damn well treat you like one if that’s what you need.” He took a deep breath.

“You’re sure as hell beautiful, I think about ya all the damn time, think about all the shit you do that just makes my head spin. Darlin’ if I wasn’t so fuckin’ insecure about myself I woulda had you by now.”

You swallow and take your hand from his cock and bring it to his face and slam your lips against his.

He kisses you with such fervor that nothing else matters.

Nothing around you is real besides him.

The heat of his body, the feel of his chest against yours.

His dick against your thigh.

Arthur’s hands trail all over you, moving over every part he can reach, anything he can feel, your arms, shoulders, breasts, over your back, hell he lingered his fingers, his palms over your most insecure parts there, the rolls you hated so much.

They make their way towards your ass, gripping it hard enough you were sure you’d have bruises.

The groans in your ear muffled by your own mouth.

The noises he made were just as fantastic as you’d hoped they’d be.

Low, guttural.

He grabbed you by the thighs, and pulled your body flush against him bringing your thighs up, wrapping them around his waist.

He pulled away from you only to place his mouth on your neck, kissing you in places that made you make noises you hadn’t realized you were capable of.

“Keep makin’ them sounds for me girl.” You felt Arthur’s lips against your skin as he spoke, and knew that you’d have no problem following his order.

You grabbed one of his wrists, and guided his hand, with a little resistance at first, taking his fingers to the opening of your most sensitive area.

“Mhmh...” His hum is muffled as he drags his lips along the skin of your jaw. “That’s what you want huh?”

“Please Arthur....”

“Maybe....beg me for it Sugar.”

Jesus.

“Arthur, please....Please, I’ve craved you for so long, I don’t want to wait any longer, please-”

“You gotta do better than that Princess.” He moved towards your ear, dropping his voice the way you liked. “Make me feel how desperate you are.”

“Arthur......” You’re nearly whining now. “I’ve wanted to feel you inside me for so long...Please Arthur....Please....I’ll do anything to feel you, anything-”

“That’s better.”

He’s quick, shoving a finger inside of you, and you let out a mewl, and he can’t help but grunt.

“Jesus girl, you weren’t fuckin’ lyin’, you’re....all this for some ugly man like me?”

“Arthur you aren’t-” You clench your jaw and lean your head against his shoulder trying to stifle the sound coming from your throat. He’d furled his finger just the right way, touched a spot so sensitive you couldn’t speak if you tried.

“No, no, what did I say?” Arthur kisses your neck again, making your head spin some more as he continues to pump his finger. “I wanna hear them noises.”

“What...about camp?” You manage to get out.

“Fuck them.” He grunts, and sticks a second finger into you, slipping it in with the first without even hesitation. “I’m here for a good time, and I’ve wanted you for a while now, and I’m gonna take you.”

The last of that sentence was nearly a growl, and you felt your entire body prickle with excitement.

“I want you to make it hard to walk tomorrow Arthur.” You huff out, trying not to let out another moan at another swift movement from his fingers.

“Don’t you worry Princess.” He grumbles. “You’re gonna be seein’ stars by the time I’m done with you.”

He smacks your thigh twice under the water, and mutters “Stay” as he takes his hand up to his shoulder where your hand resides.

He grabs your wrist and guides it between your two bodies, all while still pumping his fingers in you. moving them in just the right ways.

You hand reaches his cock, and he kisses your jaw, sucking there, making sure you’ll have a mark there.

“Stroke girl.”

“Yes Arthur,” You pant and do your best to keep a conscious idea of what the hell you’re doing, and begin to give him what he needs.

He lets out such a low noise, a sound of relief with just the first stroke that you think for moment he’s already finished.

“Arthur....Please.....”

“You’re wet girl, but you’re gonna cum for me once before we get to the main part.”

He leans back and looks you in the eye.

“I wanna see you come apart girl.”

You clench around his fingers as he speaks, that voice of his making it all the harder to keep a composure.

Arthur smirks, and then the pad of his thumb comes down on your clit and you let out such a noise that you’re absolutely positive people at camp know what’s going on.

“That’s what I want.” He growls. “Lemme hear you Princess, lemme see them faces.”

“Arthur....I’ll...Anything...”

“Mhm....anythin’....” He grunts and you feel as he thrusts into your hand, the motion of your hand running along his cock has become nearly muscle memory.

He continues with his attack, thumbing the most sensitive part of you, and your climax come up against you faster than you would have believed possible, and it isn’t long before you’re clenching around his waist, your thighs quivering as you bite down on his shoulder, almost on impulse, your noises muffled by the skin of his muscles.

“Thatta girl....just like that...”

“Arthur!” He helps you ride it out, and pulls his fingers from you leaving an empty feeling in your body.

He grabs your hand and takes it away from his cock before grabbing it himself and aligning with your entrance.

“Last chance to back out girl.” He looks you in the eye, his voice is confident but you see that bit of anxiety creeping out.

You can’t speak, still reeling slightly, so instead you kiss his neck, listening to the quietly whimper that comes out of him before he grips your hip with a steel hold and pulls you onto his dick.

He was wide.

Girthy.

Jesus you felt like he’d tear you in half, but in the best way.

You were still sensitive, but it felt fantastic at the same time, bordering between hurt and pleasure.

“Ohhhh....Christ....” Arthur’s voice comes out in a deep sigh against your cheek. “You...jesus you feel so fuckin’ good.”

“Arthur....” is all you can get out. All you can manage to even think.

Your head is swirling, all you can comprehend is the feeling between your legs and the smell of Arthur.

The sounds he made.

The feeling of his bicep against you, his forearm against your thigh.

Your stomach against his.

He snapped you back to reality with a hard thrust up into you, his hands clenching harder around your hips.

You let out almost a scream that sends Arthur’s mind fuzzy and he’s quickly overcome with the lust for you.

He moves you, his strong arms lifting you at the hip, and slamming you back down against him.

The water around the two of you sloshes loudly, but you couldn’t give a flying fuck.

You scream his name and that smirk returns to his face, his eyes darken and the fucking gets harder, his groans louder.

“Fuck girl....I been wantin....shit...wantin’ this for a while now....I...fuck...”

“ARTHUR!”

You want to say something else, you want to talk, say everything you’ve thought about him, how hot you think he is, how bothered he gets you, but you’re physically unable to say anything other than his name, other than moans.

“Everyone’s gonna know who you belong to.” He hisses under his breath. “You’re mine, and I’m gonna fuck you good, till the sun rises tomorrow.”

He looks you in the eye.

“Who’s are you?” He demands.

“Yours! Your! Arthu- fuck!”

You can’t get anymore out, your body doing what it needs to do, moving with Arthur, complimenting the snapping of his hips.

He leans to your shoulder, biting down, hard enough to leave a mark, but not hard enough to hurt.

You didn’t care if it did hurt.

You run your hand through the back of his hair as he moves to your jaw again, and you tug at the slightly longer hair at the back of his head.

“Mhmmm...” He moans in your ear, the feeling of your fingers in his hair doing wonders for him.

He huffs, and then stops, pulling out of you, making you whimper quietly, you felt empty.

“Arthur please don’t tease-”

He grips you tight and turns you around, forcing you to look towards the shore.

You feel him slip between your folds again, and before you know it his cock is buried balls deep into you once more.

He keeps a hand on your hip, gripping tightly and the other snakes around your front, under your arm and over your front, until his hand found your throat. He pushes you against his chest and groans in your ear as he thrusts upwards.

“You’re doin’ so good Sugar. Feel so...fuck....feel so good for me. Can’t believe we waited this long.”

“I didn’t-” You bite your lip and clench yourself around him, trying to delay a second climax. “I didn’t think...you felt...for...me.”

“Girl...I...been....shit girl I feel a lot for ya...too much- Fuck.”

You can feel that familiar tense in your stomach as you grow closer to your second climax.

“Arthur,” You pant. “I’m....soon.”

“Hold on Princess, just...Fuck...jus’ hold it, for me, please, just a little longer.”

“I’ll...try..” You mutter.

“I’m almost....I’m...soon too.” He huffs. “Jus’ hold on...”

He isn’t lying to you of course, you can feel his thrusts become erratic, no longer rhythmic in nature.

Even his erratic unplanned thrusts are pushing you further towards your end, and you can feel with each one how much closer you come to the edge until finally he pulls himself out of you and warmth that’s hotter than the water around you spreads around your thighs.

He groans in your ear, loudly and unashamed as he puts a sweaty forehead against your shoulder.

His hand reaches towards your center, going for your clit.

“C’mon, you can finish now girl, for me, cum.” It’s almost a demand.

It just took those words and a good final flick of your bundled nerves.

You again scream his name and he gives a breathy chuckle against your skin, helping you ride out your second for the day.

“That’s my girl...”

You breath heavily, leaning fully against his chest, resting your head on his shoulder.

Quietly you kiss his neck gently and close your eyes.

“You alright Princess?”

You nod, still breathing heavily.

“Guess we should...” He chuckles again. “Guess maybe we should talk about how we feel ‘bout each other huh?”

You laugh and find his hand with your own, interlocking your fingers with his.

“I think,” you mumble. “You and I could...we could be really good together.”

“You want a fat man like me?”

“You’re the most attractive man I’ve ever met.” You whisper groggily. “Your size...it’s one of the most attractive parts about you.”

“Hmm.” He hums.

“I’m just surprised you wanted all that with me.” You mumble.

“Love your body Darlin’, all of it....makes me hornier than I care to admit.”

You feel your face flush and swallow.

“You wanna try this...Arthur? I mean...not just...not...You know, but...us?”

He’s silent for a moment, but allows another small chuckle and then kisses your shoulder.

“I think I’d love that.”

Please, this writing made me feel all of the things if it doesn’t get likes I think I’ll cry this is the only one that’s important I-

#rdr2 #rdr2 community #Rdr2 drabble #Red Dead Redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 drabble #arthur morgan #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader #chubby arthur morgan #chubby reader #female reader

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tits-out-for-tahiti · 5 years

Note

Headcanons of John with a chubby! Wife (also including little jack pls!!) Like daily life, protective John, and self conscious reader?

John Marston with a Chubby! Wife

—————————

-waking up every morning with John not letting you get up for like an extra 30 minutes because he has to have his “morning cuddles”

-Jack always asking you to read to him

-sometimes John listens

- he really likes the sound of your voice

- if you are ever feeling down about yourself John is to the rescue!!

- this boy would be on you with so many compliments and so much love if he even slightly sees you frown!

- This boy would spoil you to death

- Younger him would rob like 50 banks just to buy you something that caught your eye!

- John would probably love to take you and jack on picnics

-Probably also likes to take you on peaceful rides on his horse when he gets the chance

-John would love just to nuzzle into your stomach and thighs

-If anyone even looks at you funny John will pistol whip them

-He does not care if it just a little kid that thinks your pretty and/or gives you flowers

-he would have his arm around you in a heart beat

-God forbid if anyone ever says something bad about you

-They wouldn’t even find the body!

-Tbh, John would kill anyone for you or jack

-Of course he would never kill anyone in front of you or Jack unless necessary.

-John would “try” to cook for you and Jack but this poor boy can’t cook for the life of him.

-he burnt down the kitchen

-John would always ask you if you are okay and if you have ate that day

-If you haven’t, don’t even try to lie, he can tell

-This boy buys you a full course meal!

—————————————————

Remember, requests are open!!🤗

#john marston x reader #john marston #rdr 2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption #john marston x chubby! reader #arthur morgan

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bimrsadler · 2 years

Text

──※ ·masterlist· ※──

I write for RDR2 and TLOU (Arthur Morgan and Joel Miller primarily) but am open to others. If you see me posting about any media feel free to ask if I’ll write for it or specific characters.

Requests are closed

UPDATE: Taking a break on writing to focus on health, will resume asap

Requests in progress: 5

Last fic posted: 7/20/23

AO3

request rules

Fluff ➵ ♥ Smut ➵ 🌶️ Angst ➵ 🥀 New ➵ ✨

RDR2

❁One Shots❁

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader -

Look at Yourself 🌶️ ♥

A Job Well Done 🌶️ (high and low honor Arthur)

On the Edge of His Seat 🌶️

Graphite and Gratitude ♥

Pleasure and Purpose 🌶️ ♥

A Softer Sin 🌶️ ♥

❁Prompts/Requests❁

One Shots:

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader -

"Don't mind me. Just enjoying the view." ♥ 🌶️

"You're Mine." 🌶️

"Bed. Now." 🌶️

All of You 🌶️ (modern Arthur, chubby f reader)

Untamed Appetites 🌶️ (enemies to lovers)

Rough Rendezvous 🌶️ (LH Arthur, petite f reader)

Easy Rider 🌶️ (mid-LH Arthur, petite f reader)

Illicit Affairs 🥀♥🌶️

Unburdened 🌶️ ♥

In Hot Water 🌶️

Goodnight and Goodmorning ♥

Goodnight and Goodmorning: Pt. 2 🌶️ ♥

Dancing and Daisies ♥

Fortune Favors the Bold 🌶️ ♥

Unholy, Unworthy (vampire!arthur) 🌶️ ♥ ✨

In A Bind (LH Arthur, cnc) 🌶️ ✨

Arthur Morgan x gn reader -

Safety in a Storm ♥ (modern Arthur, "there was only one bed")

Creature Comforts ♥ (modern Arthur)

Patience is a Virtue 🌶️ (grumpy Arthur x sunshine reader)

Short dialogue prompt ♥

Dad!Arthur Morgan -

A Pretty Dream ♥ ✨

Sean Macguire x F!Reader -

Honor Among Thieves 🌶️

Arthur Morgan Vampire AU -

The Last Sunrise 🥀 (Arthur's pov)

Abigail Roberts x F!Reader -

A Birthday to Remember ♥ 🌶️

Dutch Van der Linde x F!Reader -

“I’m afraid I can no longer remain professional” and “don’t forget who you belong to” 🌶️

Headcanons:

Arthur Morgan -

Random intimacy hcs 🌶️(mild)

Arthur x pregnant reader/miscarriage ♥ 🥀

Charles Smith -

Random intimacy hcs ♥ 🌶️(mild)

Abigail Roberts -

Random intimacy hcs ♥ 🌶️(mild)

TLOU

❁One Shots❁

Joel Miller x F!Reader -

Whiskey in the Morning 🌶️ ♥

❁Prompts/Requests❁

Joel Miller x F!Reader -

Rest and Reward ♥

Rest and Reward Pt. 2 ♥ 🌶️

❁Headcanons❁

Joel Miller x chubby reader hcs ♥

#rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 #red dead redemption #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan x female reader #dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x f!reader #fanfic #my writing #masterlist #joel miller x f!reader #tlou fanfic #joel miller #tlou #joel miller x female reader

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littlestarofthewest · 3 years

Note

Ooooh- can I request a Micah/Chubby! Male reader? (Smut please- if that’s ok! Maybe doggy style? No pressure though!) Could the reader be slightly self conscious about his body, but it turns out Micah ends up being absolutely bonkers for their love handles and curves? Thank you so much!!

Have an incredible day!! 💖💕💖

Such a big yes for chubby reader requests!! I hope this is to your liking! 😄 Have a great day yourself! ❤

Pairing: Micah x chubby m!reader | Words: 1978 | Rating: Explicit! (18+)

You're sitting by the fire, half-heartedly carving a small piece of wood. You're not even sure what it's supposed to turn into, but at least it keeps your hands busy. The last few days, you didn't have much to do but think, and that's never good.

From in between the nearby trees, two riders approach, Arthur and Micah. They're bickering like always, all the way to Dutch's tent. You can't understand what they're saying, but Dutch looks pleased. He calls Miss Grimshaw over, and by the way everybody acts, you see a small celebration coming on.

By the time it gets dark, almost everybody sits around the main campfire, and the drinks flow freely. It's not uncommon for the gang members to flirt with each other, even if nothing comes of it later on. You stay out of it, though. You're no Arthur or Charles, and while you might be as heavy as them, your weight isn't as pleasantly distributed.

"What are you staring at, griddle cake?"

You jump when Micah appears next to you out of the dark.

"Nothing," you say, going back to your wood carving, although you can barely see anything by the small fire.

Micah makes a disbelieving sound, leaning over your shoulder to assume your point of view. "You got your eye on somebody?"

"Yeah right," you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

"What? Come on, you can tell me, sweetheart," Micah says.

His breath ghosts over your neck, making you shiver, and you're not sure how you feel about the pet name.

"There's nothing to tell," you say, hoping that Micah will leave it alone.

He walks around you and sits down, still leaning so close that he might as well crawl into your lap. "Is that so? Not even the reason why you're sitting here when they're all over there."

"Just not in the mood for a party," you huff.

Micah looks around before reaching into his coat to pull out a bottle. "Not even a little, private one?"

You look at the bottle. It's a pricey one, still full to the brim.

"Don't waste that on me," you say, but Micah's already fumbling with the cork.

"Don't tell me what to do, griddle cake," Micah says, taking a drag from the bottle. "I ain't gonna listen anyway."

Micah holds out the bottle to you, and you're unsure what to do. The men by the fire are not the only ones you like looking at, but Micah seemed even more out of reach than anybody else. He rather starts a fight than have a conversation. Still, he's here now, trying to have a drink with you.

"Why did you call me that?" you ask. "Griddle cake?"

"It's what you are, ain't it? Just as good as a pancake but bigger, thicker." Micah licks his lips before taking another drink. "I like them fluffy and round."

You swallow the lump in your throat. Of course, you know that you're not much to look at, but for Micah to rub it in like that is just cruel.

"I might not look like it, but I can throw a punch," you say, glaring at Micah. "So you better walk away."

"Oh, come on, what's with the hostility? Can't a man talk about a good meal?"

"You were calling me fat."

You can see on Micah's face how the gears turn in his head, then he smiles.

"That's what you are, sweetheart. That's what I am," he says, clapping his own belly. "Doesn't mean we can't have fun."

Micah comes closer again, and you can't bring yourself to move away, caught by his intense gaze.

"You know what else is great about griddle cakes? They're soft, warm, and a little sticky." Micah lifts his hand, running his fingers over your cheek. "You're soft. I bet you can be warm and sticky, too."

"Beat it, Micah," you grunt, still convinced that he's just messing with you.

"Fine," he says, lifting up his hands before he walks away. "Maybe one of them girls appreciates a good bottle."

He makes his way to the fire, and you jump to your feet. "Wait!"

Micah turns around, pushing up his hat a little with a look as if he knows exactly what you're going to say. "What?"

"I wouldn't mind a private party," you say, your voice barely audible.

You wait for the jokes, but Micah doesn't say anything. He walks back to you with a satisfied grin, and when he runs his tongue over his teeth, you feel like you agreed to way more than just having a drink.

--------

"No way," you say, but Micah nods.

"I'm telling you, Mr. Morgan, as he lives and breathes, walking up to a duel without a single bullet."

"Then what happened?"

"The other guy didn't show, was hiding under the table in the saloon. We went back there and drank instead. I don't remember much more than that. It was a good night."

You've been sitting with Micah and talking for about two hours now. He's telling you stories, and you feel better knowing that those attractive, big, bad outlaws aren't perfect and are often not looking their best.

Micah reaches for the bottle, his fingers tracing your hand before he gets a grip on the glass. The touch sends a jolt of lightning through your body, and you can't help and stare at Micah's lips when they close around the bottle once more.

"Sure you're not looking for something, sweetheart?" he asks after taking a sip.

"No, not at all."

You hold out your hand, but Micah sets the bottle down on the ground instead of giving it to you. Then he puts his hand on your knee before running it up your leg.

"Don't lie to me," he says. "You wouldn't like what I do to liars."

"I'm not-" you start but can't talk when Micah's hand reaches your crotch.

He cups your balls with his fingers, his palm pressing hard against your cock. You've been so close to an erection the whole time that Micah doesn't have to do much to get you hard.

"You still up for a private party, boy?" Micah asks, palming your dick through your pants.

"Yes," you groan, wishing you wouldn't be so needy.

"Come on, then," Micah says and gets up.

You miss his touch and jump to your feet, following him into the nearby woods. Micah doesn't bother to go far. As soon as you're somewhat out of sight, he pulls you close and kisses you.

With someone like Micah, you imagined it to be rough, but he starts slow, teasing you until you're comfortable to give as much as you get. Micah lets go of you when you grind against him, unable to help yourself.

"Let's get you on your knees," he says, and you happily go on all fours. "Drop those pants."

You hastily get out of your suspenders, and the second you open the button on your pants, Micah pulls them down to your knees.

"Look at you, sweetheart," Micah says, slapping your ass. "Warm and round, just the way I like it. Now let's get you sticky."

You can hear his coat rustling, your heart beating a mile a minute. You've never been so exposed, and with Micah, you never know what you'll get. You turn around to see what he's doing, but his hand is already on your ass.

Micah rubs something cold and wet around your rim before pushing his finger in. You whimper at the sudden penetration, and Micah chuckles. "That's good, let me hear you."

You try to relax your muscles, and Micah doesn't bother with much foreplay. He comes closer, and you feel him hot and heavy between your cheeks before he pushes in.

"You're even better than I thought," he says. "Tight and hot."

Micah stretches you open around his cock as he pushes in deep, then he stops. While he gives you a chance to get used to him, Micah runs his hands all over your body.

"God, you feel good," he praises, pushing your shirt up, so he can trail his fingers over your belly. "You ready for me?"

You're not sure what exactly he's asking, but you haven't felt this good in a long time. All you want is more of this. "Yes, please."

"How polite," Micah says with a chuckle. "That should be rewarded."

Micah runs his hands down your body and pinches you in a few places, making you buck under him, his cock only pushing deeper into you. When he reaches your hips, he digs his fingers into your flesh to have a better grip.

"Let's ride," Micah says, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

He pushes into you with quick, hard thrusts, and you're sure you're going to have bruises with the way he holds on to you. Not that you mind. You're happy about anything that's going to remind you of how you feel right now.

Your insides are on fire, and you can barely hold in your eager moans. Micah keeps touching you wherever he can reach, letting you believe that he actually enjoys your body the way he told you.

You get so into it that you forget everything around you until Micah leans forward to hold a hand over your mouth. You hold still, leveling your breathing, and then you can hear it. Somebody is walking around in the woods. You recognize Sean's and Karen's voices.

A cold shiver runs down your back at the thought of them catching you here, but Micah shows no sign of wanting to move. Sean and Karen seem to have stopped, and turning your head, you can make them out through the trees. There's no direct line of sight, and you can barely hear them, but you're still frozen in place.

A few more seconds tick by before Micah moves again. At first, you believe that he's about to leave, but then he thrusts back into you, his hand holding on to your face. Although it barely muffles your moans, Micah keeps going, obviously not caring that two gang members could find you like this any second.

You consider ending it yourself, but then think better of it. Micah rarely has a nice word for anybody, but if he doesn't mind being caught with you, that surely means something.

Raveling in that thought, you push back against Micah, and he groans. "Look who's shown up to the party."

He slaps your ass, the sound overly loud in the woods, but neither of you gives it a second thought. You keep moving, and Micah takes his hand away from your mouth to grab your dick instead.

You bite your lip as he strokes you, knowing full well that you won't hold on much longer.

"Micah," you gasp, and he moans behind you.

"Come on, sweetheart, make it good," he says, driving you over the edge.

Your dick pulses in his hand, your come trickling to the ground while your muscles clench around him. Your fingers dig into the ground, and Micah's grip becomes almost painful as he pounds into you. He grunts, his hips stuttering, and you hold still while he fills you up.

After a few deep breaths, Micah slides out of you, his hands rubbing in careful circles where he held onto you.

"You're a damn good ride, griddle cake." He slaps your ass again, but playful and soft. "Let me know whenever you're in the mood for another party."

He walks back to camp, but you're not even mad that he leaves you like this. You roll onto your back and look up to the stars, thinking about the money you have left from your last job. It should be enough to buy a decent bottle for a little private party.

#micah bell x male reader #micah bell x reader #rdr2 smut #rdr2 fanfic #nsft #my writing #fulfilled requests

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exquisitley-obsessed · 4 years

Text

I’m (right) here

This is technically a part two: you can read part one HERE

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: Arthur lost sight of y/n on a hunting trip and it turns out the Pinkertons have hold of her and are doing everything they can to beat information about Dutch out of her. Arthur’s only goal is to get her back but he’s beginning to realise that if he does, nothing will be the same.

Word Count: 5568

Pairings: Arthur Morgan x Reader

Warnings: Torture, murder, bruises, scars, cuts!!

A/N: Currently playing RDR2 so please no spoilers <3 Literally took five minutes for me to fall in love with this damn fool and so felt like I needed to write something angsty for him.

REQUESTS OPEN <3

MASTERLIST

That had to be a broken rib.

Y/n gasped as she tried to roll away from the steel capped boot that had just gutted her; the chubby, squat old man at the other end of the boot was the more aggressive of her two captures - Steven was his name, or something like that.

It was his plump, well-rounded face that she had woken up to sometime ago, sneering down at her with this sickening gleeful look. It was understandable, by his terms he had struck gold by capturing y/n l/n, proud member of the Van Der Linde gang.

“You still don’t want to talk?” He husked out, hands on his portly hips. Y/n simply spat in response, a mixture of saliva and blood. Days had passed. Weeks maybe, it was difficult to tell when stuffed in a cage in a windowless room.

They came and they went, her captures. Steven and Tony were their names, or at least, that’s what they called each other. So far all they had revealed was that they were Pinkertons, and desperate for information on Dutch Van Der Linde. The beatings were consistent, another day without information, another beating – more painful than the last.

But y/n already knew that nothing could break her vow of silence. She had been dragged into this cage loyal to Dutch and she sure as hell would find a way out of it still being loyal – they’d have to kill her otherwise. It appeared that would be the direction of things anyway.

They were getting tiresome, annoyed, frustrated. Constantly checking their watches and disappearing for long lengths of time, leaving her aching and alone on the concrete floor watching the free flies mock her as they crawled the walls before flying away. It was easiest when she was asleep, it didn’t hurt so much then, like small shelter in a hurricane.

They’re coming. She had rhythmically repeated the mantra to herself a thousand times by now, a prayer. Dutch and Arthur, those she who she was currently dying to protect – they would come. They had to.

***

“We’ll find her Arthur.” Dutch said for what felt like the thousandth time. Arthur was sitting glumly inside his camp, ignoring his company as his eyes bore into his map, spotted with pins and small notes.

“I know.” He huffed back without much thought, his mind somewhere else. It felt like so much time had already been wasted, and Arthur has resorted to spending every waking moment tracking y/n, at least it kept his mind occupied.

Pinkertons weren’t necessarily nasty men, he’d sure as hell met worse, but they were by no means men to be trusted. Honour among thieves didn’t apply to them.

Sighing heavily his eyes drifted from the map above his bed to his collection of photos pinned nearby; him, Hosea and Dutch, his mother, an old newspaper clipping and the most recent edition was the printed photo of y/n that he had taken on a hunting trip.

He put it up there after getting it printed, a few days after her disappearance. Somewhere in his mind he validated the action through it only being a reminder of his task.

He liked the photo. She looked the same as ever, same braid, same work pants, John’s old shirt – her eyes were crinkled slightly as she smiled at the camera her jaw slack as if she were about to start laughing. Actually, she wasn’t looking at the camera, she was looking behind it – at Arthur.

It was strange to see the way someone looked at you, those moments which you normally don’t get to see at all, and yet he had it captured in time and hanging above his bed. Something about this whole situation had awoken something he thought he had buried a long time ago, but that’s always the way with old feelings, they don’t really go away you just start convincing yourself that they’re not there anymore as you suddenly become busy with someone else. But now he had no distraction, and with all this time, this torturous time without her – he was remembering.

“God’s sake,” He muttered under his breath, collapsing in his chair and flicking through his journal for the hundredth time. It was escapism really, reading old passages and admiring old drawings from a few weeks ago; pretending as if he were back then with nothing to fear.

He hadn’t realised how much he drew her. It seemed obvious now, flicking through the creased papers where loose sketches of y/n seemed to dot every other page. He had never questioned it before, just always thought that he could remember her figure a lot easier than others – the shape she took when she was hunched on her horse, how she always sat in the same crumpled poor-excuse of a chair every morning when he brought her a coffee. When the gang had had a small party, out of everyone it was her he remembered when sitting around the fireplace, lips parted slightly as she half-sang.

Everything was different now, even he couldn’t deny it. But God, he hated it.

What would this mean? When they got her back, if they got her back, what would happen then? Another cycle of burying his feelings, he could see himself already back at Mary’s beck-and-call, desperate for a distraction. Maybe there was a part of himself that didn’t want to see her again, that just wanted to see her safe and then disappear – could he seriously continue to live an elaborate lie he had formulated years ago, when he was only a boy? Who was that fair to?

He cussed again low under his breath. The past few days all he’s wanted to do is escape his mind, calm his rushing thoughts, tame them into something he could tolerate. Hazily, he noticed somewhat raised panicked voices out in the main camp. He could do this; he had done it before, burying feelings. The voices sounded excited. Maybe he was simply destined to live a life of half-loves. Footsteps were now moving toward his tent.

“Arthur!” But he had already picked up his gun and was headed through the folds of his camp. He had survived his feelings for y/n once before, of course he could again.

***

“Your own family left, y/n…” She cringed at how sympathetic Tony’s voice was, as if he were on her side. “They’re gone…there’s been no sign of them for weeks now. They’re not coming.”

This was apparently their plan for the time being. Whispering false truths to her about Dutch, how he was spotted on the other side of West Elizabeth, three days ride from, well wherever the hell she was.

“No,” Y/n gasped, her ribs grinding against the ground, bone and concrete. The lashes on her back felt like they were writhing as the leather whip in Steven’s hand dripped her slick blood.

“Stop!” Steven exploded, y/n was hazily aware of the whip being catapulted across the room, “Stop protecting them y/n! We’re here to help you, for God sake they-”

“Help me?” She hissed. He didn’t hear.

“don’t care about you! Look-” Steven grunted, hauling a chair from the desk to the front of her cell and throwing himself in it, “Life has been nothing but unkind to you y/n, we can see that,” Y/n squeezed her eyes shut as another dull, aching throb radiated from her back, “We’re at a point now where we can forgive you for all of your past crimes…you could walk away from this a free woman…marry a good man, whatever the hell you want…we just need something in return.”

She couldn’t meet his eye. Couldn’t begin to accept what he was telling her about her family but, the reality was, where were they? Weeks he said, weeks waiting in agony for the moment they’d come for her only to be left day in, day out, entirely and utterly alone.

Y/n felt herself being lulled in to a numb state, all she could pitifully think of was that she wanted to go home: she wanted fresh clean clothes, Pearson’s warm soup, a story from Hosea, a hug from Dutch – when was the last time someone had touched her in an affectionate way?

“Please…” She wheezed through her shattered lungs as her eyes rolled, “Just leave me alone.”

This apparently wasn’t the right answer. Steven, in one fluid motion, swung the chair out from underneath him, hurling it at the cell. Colliding against the steel bars, the wood promptly splintered like fragile bones.

“You stupid bitch!” He exploded, “You can’t see help when it’s fucking standing in front of you! You refuse it like a fucking idiot!” He was gasping for breath as he bellowed, his podgy skin flushing scarlet, “No wonder you’ve ended up like this...all alone…” He was spitting at her, stalking across the front of her bars like a predator homing in on its prey. Y/n felt dull tears dribble down her cheeks as she began to drown in how utterly helpless she was. Crumpled on the floor, unable to move, unable to breathe. “This...” He stopped stalking, his pulsating eyes glaring down at her over his rounded cheeks, “This…” He repeated, lowering himself to her level, “is why deep down…you’ll always be an orphan.”

Y/n watched him curiously, he hadn’t acted like this before. He had always had control. She then focused on Tony behind him whose eyes were avidly watching a pocket watch as his flicked it back and forth between his fingers nimbly.

“We best get going.” Tony finally spoke into the silence, swinging his coat on before checking the bullets in his pistol.

“Not yet,” Y/n’s heart dropped as Steven turned back to her, “They aint getting you back.” He spat at her, his voice low, almost as if he was laughing at her. Y/n watched in silent trepidation as he pushed his key into her cell door and slung it open, “At least…” Y/n moved her eyes back to Tony, pleading for him to do something, “They aint getting you back alive.”

Lying there, face down, unable to move, y/n found herself desperately coming to terms with her own mortality as she heard the click of the gun; summoning all her strength she tried to raise her head to look at him but his steel capped boot struck her clean across the cheek. Choking out a feeble cry she then tried to use the momentum of the kick to roll away from him, but it was futile. With her body broken beneath her there was nothing she could do, and all too soon she felt the cold, lifeless tip of the gun’s barrel pushed against the back of her head. This was it. Her pathetic, ruthless, pain-filled life – this was the climax, the pièce de résistance. The final click sounded followed by a short explosion before finally, darkness.

****

“I told you to only blow the god-damn doors off!” Arthur hollered at Sean who merely gave him a meek look and a shrug of the shoulder. Irish idiot, Arthur thought. The explosion was only supposed to take out the chains and bolts encasing the front doors, but the underestimation of the TNT had caused a shudder through house’s frame, resulting in the roof crumbling in on itself.

“Okay boys!” Dutch commanded, getting off from his horse and assessing the damage, “They know we’re here now which is fine…there’s more of us than ‘em I can promise you that.” He turned back to the gang, patrolling across the front of them like an army captain, “One objective: get in there and find y/n…you see any Pinkertons…gun ‘em down. They messed with us…with our family.” Slowly and in unison, the Van der Linde gang pulled on their masks. “Aint nobody messes with the our family and survives…nobody.” They moved in.

Arthur turned left with Charles, moving swiftly through the large, white manor house they had tracked the Pinkertons to – and God what a job that was. Weeks had passed of tracking and losing sight of the Pinkertons, putting everyone’s necks on the line trying to find the whereabouts of y/n. At first, they had been so sure she was in this old, abandoned farmhouse. They planned meticulously their attack for a week before attempting, only to discover it was some O’Discrolls cooped up in there – y/n nowhere in sight.

Realising how much time had been wasted, they quickly went back to work, until Micah’s loudmouth made things blow up in the local town. Time and effort were then directed to moving camp somewhere safe, no one allowed to go after y/n during that time – it was also during this time that Dutch and Arthur had a rather explosive argument.

But they were finally here, finally had tracked her to this bulky manor house out west, and if she weren’t here… well, Arthur couldn’t think about that.

“In here,” Charles’ voice rumbled as they moved past some double doors. Sharing a quick glance with Charles, Arthur jolted forward, the doors snapping back out of his way as he moved into the room. Looking around, he noticed how it looked like it was crumpled in on itself, planks of wood, an old piano, a large cabinet that had been picked clean years ago. All signs of life felt distant and foreign, as if someone hadn’t lived there for years – still, Arthur couldn’t lose hope. He turned back to Charles shook his head and they moved on.

****

Y/n blinked for what felt like forever, her heart racing as a high-pitched whine completely dominated her hearing. She hadn’t expected to still be conscious so it took her a minute to gather her bearings. Slowly, fuzzy outlines hardened into shapes and then, objects. Something had exploded, something was happening. Y/n moved and her whole body burned but it didn’t matter anymore – something was happening.

Fumbling for a second, she dragged herself up, her legs threatening to give way underneath her as she clung onto a fallen beam for support. Looking around she saw Steven rolling around near her, his face contorted into that of agony as one of his legs sat stuck under a pile of rubble and brick, a low gurgling, gasping noise whining from his throat. Sweeping low, y/n swiftly plucked up his gun and felt adrenaline start to pump through her – she had the power now.

“I can help,” Her ears still ringing as she coyly smiled at the chubby, little man at her feet. “Make the pain stop…I mean…”

Y/n, without thinking, raised the gun to his head and shot. Blood splattered across the room. Letting out a long deep sigh, y/n felt herself snapping back into her body, her arms and legs now feeling a little more like her own. Looking over she saw Tony collapsed; maybe passed out, maybe dead. It didn’t matter.

Panic rose quickly inside her, she needed to get out. She didn’t know what was happening or what had sparked the explosion, but this could be her only chance to escape - she needed to get out now. Swinging herself clumsily around the corner she opened the door and peered out, her eyes greedily racing across all the new sights and imagery. She tried to move as light as she could across the creaking floor tiles, her legs limping and stumbling over one another beneath her. Maybe there were other people in the house, maybe she was just being overcautious. She didn’t much care. She just needed to get out.

Successfully reaching a flight of stairs, she began to pick her way down, half hanging over the barista, the world spinning around her. Then, she heard a noise, heavy thumps and distant voices – she wasn’t alone. Panic rose like bile and suddenly, she was racing down the stairs, another flight followed by the next – out, out, out. The next flight, almost there, keep the gun in hand. God it’s so heavy. The world spinning around her, the adrenaline not slowing down until she scrambled down that last flight of stairs until there in front of her were the doors, opening out in a grassy barren knoll ahead.

She didn’t care about the pain anymore, or the fact that all this movement had cracked open all her cuts and lashings – she ran. She ran faster than it felt like she had ever run before, racing forth into the greenery and the open night sky. The stars gleaming down on her as she sprinted through the tall grass, feeling the wind move through her, an explosion of smells - the world alive around her. Then, a figure arose from her right. Instinctively, she stumbled down into a crouch, hiding herself in the shrubbery.

“Any sign of her?” Someone called out, fear latched onto her heart, she already knew she was the ‘her’. She tried to make out the voice, but it felt like the whole world was swimming in her head.

“No…I think John found some dead bodies in the attic. He said they were real fresh though.” Another voice, a different accent. Why wouldn’t her head unscramble itself? She felt her stomach lurch at the name – she knew a John.

“But I thought…” She heard her own voice softly choke out as she rose to her knees, swaying back and forth as the Earth moved underneath her.

“So…she aint here?”

“Doesn’t look like it…there are signs she might’ve been…they’re going to burn down the house down though.”

Looking up over the spikey tops of the greenery, y/n tried to make out the dark silhouettes barely visible against the inky night sky.

“What the hell are we going to do?”

“They won’t give up…not when it comes to her…”

“Not when it comes to anyone, Javier. We’re family. No one gets left behind.” Y/n felt a sob explode out of her – it was them. Hosea and Javier, talking about her, looking for her – saving her. In the same second another explosion erupted, this time, it was to begin the fire. Bright and beautiful, greedily eating up the dry wood of the abandoned home and exploding light into the universe. The bright and beautiful universe in which her family were here, her family that had come for her.

“Hosea!” She tried to shout but it came out as a wheeze, her voice stuck somewhere in her broken throat as she dragged herself to her feet, stumbling forward towards the figures. “Javier!” She tried again, but no noise. Nothing. Something desperate arose in her, what if they couldn’t see her? What if they left her without realising they had found her, she was here, and she was safe now. She went to shout again, her feet stumbling beneath her.

Her hair was completely loose, her clothes torn, her body broken. The heat of the fire warming her skin and yet, her skin wasn’t warm, it was burning. Fresh blood dribbling down her body as her wounds split. She wanted to scream again but something stopped her.

“Y/n…” All he said was her name. Looking up all she could see was Arthur. He was walking between Hosea and Javier, away from the house, looking at her. He could see her.

“Arthur-” She tried to say his name, but a sob shattered her lungs. She silently begged him to come to her, to touch her as she began to crumble. And, almost as if he heard her, he jolted forwards, his face enigmatic as he reached out for her but just as he was about to reach out for her – she jumped back, as if he had shocked her.

She had this God-awful look in her eyes then, all glossy and confused, like she didn’t quite recognise him. Like she was questioning him, staring at him as if she couldn’t quite make her mind up about something.

“How long’s it been.” God her voice was quiet, barely audible over the sound of the fire, the shouts of Hosea and Javier as they called for the others.

“Since what?” Arthur heard his own voice softly rumble, all he wanted was to soothe her, touch her, keep her safe.

“Since I went missing Arthur?” She looked numb; her were eyes wide, her mouth half open, a salty mixture of tears, dirt and blood dribbling down her cheeks. Arthur had not realised a single question could make him feel so guilty.

“Um…maybe a few weeks…”

“Maybe?” She let out a shaky breath. He felt like a small stone settle at the bottom of his gut – guilt.

“Four weeks yesterday…that’s when you went missing.”

And there it was. Y/n’s mind felt like it was crumpling in on itself, beginning to choke on the feeling of betrayal. Four weeks. Four weeks they had left her there, maybe searching, maybe not. She had lay in that poor excuse for a jailcell for a month, she had been dragged past her breaking point, she had faced pain like she could never had imagined waiting every second, every minute for her family to do what a family does, to protect her and yet, where were they?

“Y/n, girl, there you-” Dutch’s gruff voice swam into her mind as she twisted away from Arthur. The blazing red of the fire and the inky blue of the night sky, all of it blurring into a complete and utter mess.

“Four weeks….” She was surprised at how meek her own voice sounded, she hated it venomously. How was it that she had become so weak? How had she gotten here, to this moment? “Where were you?” She turned back to where Arthur stood, his head bowed like a scolded runt and Dutch, his hand half outstretched towards her, his euphoric face crumbling. “How could you let…”

“Y/n we were looking for you…I promise we were looking…” Dutch began, already stumbling into his defensive tone. Y/n wanted to believe him, but then she blinked and suddenly she was back in her cell, the ominous faces of men she was savagely scared of hovering above her, sneering at her as they told her how her family had disappeared, left her behind, just like her parents did. She blinked once more, and they were gone.

“You were supposed to protect me-” Suddenly, she exploded, “We’re family! What kind of a family does that to one another…you left me there…you left me there with those men…”

“I know baby-” Dutch began again.

“No!” She was gasping now, unable to breathe – the smoke and the sobbing choking her, “You don’t know…if only you did…if only you knew what they did to me Dutch….” Her cheeks throbbed as she tried to resist a guttural sob, “I thought I was your daughter.”

“You are-”

“No…I aint.” Her legs were shaking now, the fire and sky crashing together once again, “You don’t do that to your daughter, you left me…you left me behind.” Suddenly the grass felt so soft, “You left me...” The grass was so gentle compared to the concrete of her cell, the soil softened, responded to her touch, moved with her – earth and flesh, “You left me just like they did…”

Resting back, she dug her fingers deep into the earth and looked up. The sky was hot, the soil cold. Her world being torn open around her, exploding and rearranging into something new.

Nothing would be the same.

*****

“Oh…you scared me.” Arthur murmured, his eyes flickering up to the ghostly figure at the mouth of his tent.

“Sorry I-” Y/n stood awkwardly between the folds of cloth, dressed in only her night things with her hair loose down her back. She looked young, a little like how she did when they had first met. Arthur also noticed then how delicate she looked; it had been like that for a few weeks now.

Dutch had basically carried her back to camp, leaving her with Ms Grimshaw so her wounds could be tended to. Arthur had checked in on her regularly during the first few days, he liked it most when she was asleep, it gave him time to watch over her without feeling as though he was intruding.

“No, it’s okay,” A sloping grin melted into his cheeks, “Stay...please…I got, uh, oatcakes and beer.”

“Wow…my lucky treat,” Arthur watched with concealed warmth as a smile pattered across her cheeks. It had felt like forever since he had seen her smile. “Sorry for intruding, guess I just wanted to be close to someone for a ‘lil bit. Can’t sleep, y’know,” Moving into his camp, she curled herself up on Arthur’s fur rug, resting her back against his side table; it was her position, whenever she had snuck into his tent she had always somehow folded herself into that specific corner and he had never dared question it for she would always aggressively insist she was comfortable.

“Yeah, I understand. I’d be lying if I said I don’t feel like that most of the time.”

“To be honest, it wasn’t made very clear when I signed up to this gang…” Y/n grinned at him, “Maybe then I would’ve rethought my application.” Arthur chuckled.

“True…they don’t exactly give you a run down before you start living a life of crime.” Moments like these were more regular the past few days. Moments where he found himself relaxing into the familiar rhythmic conversations with y/n that he had always had, it was comforting, a reminder that the pain was temporary. “How you holding up?”

“Fine,” She smiled at him, a real smile, “Ms Grimshaw works a miracle.”

“That she does,” He shuffled slightly to rest his back against the wagon next to his bed.

“Nothing really bad happened to me physically…I mean, nothing I can’t recover from.”

“And you will, with time, you always do.” She smiled at him again, but this time her eyes lowered after meeting his – was she nervous?

“I guess the only problem is…Dutch aint shifting outta protective mode any time soon.”

“He’ll get over it…” Arthur chuckled, “I think he’s just mad at himself y’know. You know how much you mean to him.”

“Yeah, yeah,” She nodded sleepily. “I know Morgan.” God, it killed him when she called him that. Suddenly, y/n’s face twisted up in a grimace and she jolted up, her hands stretching toward her back.

“Y’okay?” He asked nervously after a moment.

“Fine…fine…” She winced, rubbing at her shoulders, “Just not quite 100% yet, y’know.” He eyed her for a moment as she pushed her hair out of her face, trying to massage the spot in her shoulder that was causing her pain.

“Here,” He surprised himself by saying, “Let me do your hair.” She eyed him; an eyebrow half raised her lips slightly parted. It seems neither of them had expected him to raise that offer. “Oh c’mon, remember how I used to braid your hair before shooting lessons with Dutch?”

“Feels like a lifetime ago…” She murmured; a faint smile painted on her lips as her eyes clouded with a distant memory

“I ain’t forgotten how to,” He smiled at her and she smiled back, shyly. A pause. “Please y/n. I know I can’t do much to help you right now…I’m no good doctor, I’m a god damn idiot when it comes to words and, y’know, comforting people. So, please…let me do this.” He watched as her lips parted slightly into a distant smile, her eyes lighting up.

“Okay Morgan…if you really want to braid my hair I guess I’ll have to allow it. Just do a good job of it okay.”

“Who you trying to look good for?”

“Oh, you know me Morgan…everybody and nobody.” Arthur chuckled to himself. She plodded herself down on the floor next to his cot and, shifting over, he planted his legs like trunks either side of her, creating a small cove in which she could tuck herself.

He went to move her hair to the back when he noticed his hands shaking ever so slightly, his heart rate jumping too. Arthur tried to calm himself then and there but couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the feeling of her, the warmth along the inside of his claves as she curled into him, resting her head lightly against his right knee. Desperately trying not to hurt her, he scooped up her hair and used his fingers to softly comb behind her ears and down her neck, ensuring he had caught every soft wisp.

Silently, he cursed his fingers for being so calloused, spitefully thinking of how his fingers might be grazing her soft skin. Sweeping all her hair to the back, he watched as it loosely tumbled down before softly combing his fingers through it. He promptly forgot about how much he hated his hands, forgot his hatred of how he had always been so large and gruff, unsubtle and mean. Instead his mind became full of thoughts of her.

How different her hair colour looked in the orange candlelight compared to daylight. How long her hair tumbled down her back when loose and how he hadn’t noticed considering she always had it tied back. How he could see the skin of her neck peeking at him as her hair began to sway when he braided it. How that skin sloped down into the loose collar of her night shirt. The way her shoulders and back moved with her steady breath and, if he listened carefully, how he could hear it. Steady, strong, safe. It seemed all too quickly the braid twisted to a finish in his fingers.

“You got a tie?”

“Course,” She sleepily murmured. God that killed him. The way her eyes drooped, the way she moved without being conscious of what she was doing to him. She placed the tie in his outstretched palm and seemed to not realise that her delicate hands had brushed so softly against his rough ones.

“I’m scared,” She piped up as his fingers returned to her hair, her voice ever so slightly dreamy.

“That they’ll come take you again?” Now done, Arthur relaxed back into his cot a little but refused to move his legs, desperate to not disturb her.

“No…well yes but…” She melted deeper into the cove of his legs without thinking, “I’m scared that what they did to me, what happened in those weeks…I’m scared it’s going to be with me for the rest of my life, affect me for the rest of my life, I mean.”

“But-”

“Sorry, I know it sounds silly-”

“No…it doesn’t,” Arthur leaned forward, catching her eye, “There aint anything silly about what you went through, but…I know for a fact that it won’t affect you forever.” A beat.

“How?”

“Because you’re so much more than what happened to you in those four weeks. You’ve lived through hell; we all know it, and yet at the end the day – you’re more than any of the people who have hurt you.” He watched her looking at him, trying to figure out the enigmatic feeling written on her face, but the conversation moved swiftly on.

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened in those weeks?” She whispered, not blinking, “Where you all were?”

“We were looking for you y/n, and that’s the God honest truth,”

“But-”

“But nothing y/n. For a while uh…things got complicated. We lost track for a bit and you paid for it, I’m sorry.” He looked down, wondering how far he could take this, “Y’know, I thought that you were dead, just for a moment…I was destroyed.” Her face remained enigmatic, “Now I’m scared to turn away from you for one second, I’m afraid I’ll lose you again.” It felt like he was crossing into unmarked territory.

“You’ll never lose me,” She breathed, “Not really.” A knot tied itself into existence in his gut.

Their eye contact never broke. It felt like it never would. Looking at her then, he felt like there were a million things he wanted to say to her, like there was so much of himself he had yet to reveal to her. The parts of himself which, in all honesty, cared for her more than he ever realised. Sitting there, with her tucked against his right knee, he couldn’t help himself.

Almost as if he were in a trance, he began to trace his fingers along the hair behind her left ear before scooping up her braid and shifting it to the side, how comforting it was to know that she was right there, under his fingertips. His left hand moved to her shoulder were he gently shifted the white cotton of her dress so that it slipped down, exposing her black and beaten shoulder. Slowly, and without breaking eye contact, he brought his lips down and pressed them against her colourful skin. She shivered into his touch as his beard grazed her bare flesh, but she never looked away. He kissed her again, moving up closer to her neck, his eyes fluttering shut. He was so close that she could feel his breath fluttering across her exposed neck. She relaxed into him, almost daring him to go further until she noticed something – he was crying.

Soft beads rolled down his cheeks as he kissed her again, and again, and again. Softly, y/n started to hear his whispers warm into the silence.

“I’m sorry…”

“I can protect you…”

“They won’t ever hurt you again…”

“I’m here now…”

“I’m sorry…”

“I’m here…”

Maybe y/n was right, maybe nothing would be the same. But change didn’t seem so scary anymore.

requests open <3

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