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sciderman · 2 days

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Which version of Peter Parker/Spider-Man did you fall in love with??

Honestly i loved the ultimate spider-man version, he was the starting point to my long obsession with anything Spidey related (especially with you and your blog❤️)

it's insane now that you can say "ultimate spider-man" and i don't know if you mean the 2000s comics ultimate spider-man, the television ultimate spider-man, or the present ultimate spider-man.

which of these men is your man??

they can't ALL be ultimate. how can they ALL be ultimate. ultimate means ONE. the ultimate. they can't all b

come ON now!! they're just throwing that word around!!

i know you probably don't mean the present ultimate, he's too new. unless he is your guy. in which case, welcome to hell, you fresh baby, you. if you mean ultimate spider-man the cartoon, then mad respect. you must be pretty freaky. i am too (he was one of my first exposures to spider-man too. and i liked it. i'm pretty freaky.)

if it's the ultimate comics version (objectively the best one) - then nice. good taste. very respectable and normal of you. he is very cute and i love him. but also want to wring his neck. which is the sign of a good peter parker.

little twerp. i hate him.

funnily enough the thing that sparked my spider-man hyperfixation was actually an aerial silks artist in a circus who was dressed as spider-man.

yeah. i had watched the tobey maguire movies when i was a kid in the cinema but i didn't like them at the time (didn't appreciate them) (was too young) (thought tobey's face was weird) (didn't get it) and actually, funnily, had NO interest in seeing the andrew garfield movies at all because the cynical child i was said "why are they rebooting spider-man?? didn't they just make a spider-man like three years ago??" i literally had no interest in spider-man at all as a child. at all. i didn't get it. wasn't into it. didn't see tasm1 in the cinema. had no interest in spider-man at all until i saw that aerial silks artist gyrating around in his tight tights and thought "hm."

i started drawing spider-man before i started reading him. and actually, i started reading deadpool long before i started reading spider-man. deadpool was kind of the guy where i thought "if i ever get into comics, it'll probably be deadpool." i knew a lot more about deadpool. i saw all the memes on the internet at 13 years old and thought "haha yeah this guy is funny. not like spider-man. spider-man is lame and for babies. this guy is like spider-man but if spider-man was funny and cool and not for babies."

so when the day finally came where i said "today is the day im going to start reading comics", it was deadpool, not spider-man. but i kept running into spider-man in the comics and he wasn't lame and boring like i thought he was. he was funny and sharp and kind of bitchy actually. and so i kind of liked him. and started reading him.

first i read all the spider-man and deadpool team-ups, first. because i was eating my way through all the deadpool i could. so i read like, all of deadpool before i started diving into spider-man. and i think i started watching the ultimate spider-man cartoon here-or-there before i started picking up the spider-man comics.

eventually i watched tasm1 and then tasm2 in theatres, and i kind of fell in love with andrew. i loved him so much more than tobey. he was just so sad and pitiful but also very pretty, and just – i don't know, there was this indie charm to tasm1 that i kind of loved. not all the hollywood melodrama of the raimi movies - it felt like a real messy, dumb kid who was figuring it out. and i loved him.

a baby boy. baby.

so i think andrew was the peter parker i fell in love with. i started writing him after i watched tasm2 - he's the blueprint for 9319 peter - i hadn't read very much spider-man when i started writing ask-spiderpool - i'd eaten through all of the deadpool canon, but tasm was kind of the springboard for how i approached peter. it was meant to be andrew. i started diving into spider-man comics as i wrote the blog, and started from #1, way back in the 60s. and just fell in love with peter parker more and more the more i read him. but i think andrew will always be my first love. he was the blueprint, and i think - no matter how much of 616 canon i adopt into 9319 - the peter parker i write is always mostly andrew, but recontexualised.

#sci speaks #sci talks comics #sci talks movies #andrew... my boy.. my baby boy...

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almostnugget · 7 hours

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Pretty Gifts

Coriolanus Snow x fem!plus-size!reader

Your husband bought you a dress, but when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror…

word count: 3.2k

warnings: body-image stuff!, vague…whatever the fuck is wrong with coriolanus subtext, allusions to sex, OC!family/family members for reader and their strained relationship, reader has a LAST name but no first name

a/n: GOD. im suffering from a severe level of brainrot for this man and im finally shedding my fear of posting about him so have this VERY self indulgent piece i wrote…ages ago bc there was just. no plus size/curvy reader for this man. Also this was originally written in 3rd person but i changed it to 2nd so hopefully it sounds alright

Since falling in love with his wife—you, Coriolanus Snow has developed a certain proclivity for buying you things. He used to before, but now it's near constant. They can't leave the house without you coming home with a new trinket, a new piece of clothing, new shoes, anything.

But he'll do it when you’re not around just as well. If he sees anything and it makes him think of you or if he thinks it's something you’ll adore, it's nearly a given that he'll buy it.

Especially clothing.

He's had your exact measurements since you’d gotten married and his cousin, Tigris, designed your wedding dress and while those measurements might've fluctuated, he is well acquainted with your size. Which means, Coriolanus Snow is free to buy his wife any clothing he sees fit.

And he does.

You joke that he likes dressing you up like you’re his own little doll, but you never say it with any annoyance. Something is fun about your husband seeing clothing and simply needing to see his wife in it. It's flattering.

Most days, he'll come home after this or that meeting and drop a bag in front of you with a succinct, "I got you something." You smile almost immediately and always say, "You didn't have to," but you both know he will keep doing so.

And usually he'll insist you try it on for him as soon as possible, if not right away. Other times he'll wait, and declare it's the perfect thing to wear to whatever event they have to attend right around the corner, and you take that as a sign to wear it then.

Some days, however, it's you who comes home from an outing with your mother or father, or one of your siblings. You’ll come home and greet your husband as you usually do: all but tackling him in the hallway with a hug and kiss or the more subtle 'hi' and a kiss on the cheek.

He'll pepper a simple 'there's something for you on our bed' into the conversation and you know you’ve received another piece of clothing. Sometimes he won't say anything, but you know that look in his eye.

And eventually you’ll go into your shared bedroom to find whatever new piece of clothing Snow's picked out for you laying out on the bed—an obvious sign you should put it on right away so he can see you in it when he sees you next. And you usually oblige (though sometimes you’ll try it on just for him and then put back on whatever you were wearing, simply for comfort reasons and he doesn't mind because at least he knows now, and it's always better than his imagination).

Today was no different.

The heels of your shoes click against the marble flooring as you walk further into your home, pausing momentarily as you decide whether or not you want to take off your shoes or not. Before you can decide, you call out, "Coryo?"

It doesn't take a moment for his voice to call out, "In here!"

You hurry into the parlor where you spot your husband sat on the small loveseat, book in hand. His head lifts at the sight of you and you waste little time in hurrying over, falling onto the seat beside him and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Hi."

It never fails to make a smile overtake his stoic features and he reaches over, hand pressing into your cheek. "Hello, darling," he whispers and gives you a proper kiss that makes the stress of the day leave both of your bodies.

He pulls away first this time (you swap off), and his brow quirks. "How is your sister?" He asks, thumb still caressing your cheek.

"Normal," you tut, shifting around to lay on the couch, your head landing firmly in his lap. You meet eyes and you smile. "Annoying."

"Better," he remarks, and not even he can hide the satisfied twitch of his lips. You both get a strange thrill whenever the other says something on the edge of mean.

You do love her sister. To an extent.

Geneva Day (née Thorne) is the eldest of the Thorne siblings, seven years your elder, which meant you never spent much time together growing up. Close is not a word to describe you. Especially since, when Geneva learned of Coriolanus' desire to marry the youngest Thorne, she disapproved.

The only ones who knew the marriage started as a sham were the parties involved and your parents, so perhaps Geneva sensed the falsehoods, but in your mind, what right did your sister have to dictate your life? Simply because Geneva had already married? No, you wouldn't have it and you said as much.

But Geneva persisted right up until the wedding when you blatantly told her: "I'm marrying Coriolanus Snow whether you are there or not." And Geneva had no choice but to accept the marriage. Her qualms have lessened with time but you have not yet forgotten about your sister's harsh words towards the man you now love.

"But Cami's ok," you breathe out, sinking further into the couch and your husband's lap, shutting your eyes.

Cami, Camilia Day, is your young niece. While Geneva is on thin ice and probably always will be, you can’t bring yourself to extend the same feelings towards the young girl and in truth, the trip to the park with your sister was more or less just about your niece.

"I played on the swings with her."

"Did you?" Coriolanus asks and although your eyes are shut, you can hear the teasing grin in his voice. "I suppose that means you weren't pushing her?"

Your nose wrinkles. "Cami insisted on pushing herself, I couldn't interfere." Your tone is so matter-of-fact, Coriolanus can only laugh. His fingers twine in the strands of your hair.

"I'm glad you had a good time, dove," he tells you and you hum in response, turning your head to relax more in his lap as he continues stroking your hair.

"I'm just happy to be home."

And Coriolanus never doubts that you mean that.

It's taken him some time to get used to, but his wife genuinely means it when she says she would rather be with him than anywhere else. He used to hate the way his heart would pound when you’d say things like that. Now, he savors the feeling.

Silence passes between you. His fingers continue carding through your lock, his eyes falling back onto the book in his opposite hand, as you lay with your head on his lap.

But eventually, he can no longer help it.

"I got you something."

Your eyes crack open. Your husband's eyes are fixed on his book, but you know he can see you in his periphery because the corner of his mouth twitches upward as soon as you look his way.

"Did you?" You question, unable to hide your own smile for a moment more. Part of you should feel guilty about the way you get constantly doted on, but you can't bring yourself to do so. Still, you say, "You shouldn't have."

"Nonsense," Coriolanus tells you, as he usually does. "It's my job to give you the things you deserve." His eyes finally look down at you. "And you deserve the finest things I can get you."

You stare up at him, mulling between saying something and simply leaning up to mold your mouth to his. You settle for the former. "Then, thank you, my love," you hum, hand reaching up, tips of your fingers running over his cheek.

You know that always gets him, evident by the way his eyes flutter for a moment and you bite back a smile as your hand falls back down.

"I'm assuming it's clothing?" You question and you can tell from the look on his face that it is. But you know it usually is anyway. "I'll try it on later." You shift onto your side, nestling your head further into his lap. "Too comfy to move now."

He laughs, and his fingers continue through your hair. "That's fine. You can wear it for dinner tonight."

The two of you have elected to dine out tonight, if only because it’s been awhile and while love the food you can get at home, restaurants always scratch a certain itch.

And Coriolanus likes showing you off. Sometimes.

You hum in affirmation, content to agree. Once more, silence falls but you’re quick to interject, "Read to me?"

It doesn't matter what he's reading, you like hearing his voice. And as he usually does, Coriolanus obliges, dulcet tones beginning to permeate around the parlor as he reads out the passages of his book for his wife to hear.

You stay that way for a long while until Coriolanus leaves to get some work done in his office and you let him part with a kiss and then settle yourself back onto the couch to relax a while longer.

Eventually, however, with dinner approaching, you head to your shared bedroom. There's a piece of fabric laid out on the bed but you ignore it for now, electing to shower first—whatever clothing you’re meant to wear tonight will look far better if you’re clean, and after a day in the park, the shower feels necessary.

Twenty or so minutes later, you walk back into the room wet hair tied up on your head and a towel wrapped around you as you admire the dress on the edge of the bed. Your eyes light up at the sight of the finery your husband's picked out for you.

Fingers skimming the velvet material, you bite her lip, unable to deny this is exactly the kind of thing you would want to wear.

It's a deep red, almost a wine, made of velvet. The straps are thin, and the top is fitted with corset boning from the looks of it.

Immediately, you move to change, eventually pulling the dress on. It's snug in a comfortable way, not too tight and not too loose. And the skirt is fitted, contouring to your body. It's nice.

You glance at herself in the mirror, satisfied, and move to fix your hair and at least put on a necklace, if nothing more. Makeup too, if only because you don’t want to give the public anything to say about your ‘unkempt’ face.

Coriolanus can only pay off so many people, you’ve found.

By the time you’ve finished getting ready, you flop back on the bed with a content sigh. While you’re excited to show off your new dress, you’re also just hungry for dinner. Whether it’s out or at home, it’ll no doubt be something good, like every night—Coriolanus won’t settle for less, and your mouth waters at the thought.

You know you should head down now, but you pause once more to catch a look at yourself in the full-body mirror that sits in the corner of the room. Your hands skim the skirt, tugging it down your thighs a little when you still.

Your reflection stares back at you for a moment too long. The dress looks gorgeous. The stitching is fine, the design exquisite.

But on you?

Doubts begin to creep in.

The youngest Thorne is by no means skinny. You never have been, but you’ve accepted it. You like your thighs and the way they're on the thicker side. Even your hips are nice, wide perhaps, but nice. At least, so you tell yourself.

But the way the woman in the mirror stared back at you…

Tentatively, you turn to the side.

Most of your dresses, in fact all of them, flare out at the waist. They don't hug your stomach, leaving it hidden underneath the fabric. This dress does the opposite. It hugs your flesh, emphasizing the pouch of fat.

Biting your tongue, you face forward again, unable to miss the way the dress hugs the divots where your hips blend into your thighs. It's all on display. Not an inch is hidden.

Your arms wrap around your midsection and you glance to the door. Coriolanus wants to see you in this. But you can't let him see you, not in this.

It's irrational and you know it. He's seen you in far less clothing and doesn't care, why would he mind the dress? But a little voice in the back of your mind tells you that this dress will simply make him realize.

Grimacing, you sit back on the edge of the bed. Trying to work up the courage to change or go to dinner, you do neither.

Coriolanus is at the dining table, eyes fixed on the doorway in waiting for his wife. All he can hear is the ticking of that incessant grandfather clock in the corner. His hand taps the table and he mentally counts the seconds.

Have you fallen asleep? Is that it?

That's the logical answer, but his mind starts to race with unsavory thoughts about you avoiding him or worse. He bites them back until they leave a bitter taste in his mouth and he leaves the table.

Swiftly, he makes his way to your bedroom and raps his knuckles against the door. "My dear?" He calls through the wood.

Shame wells up inside of you and you swallow it back. "You can come in."

He doesn't waste a second, turning the knob and stepping into the bedroom. Whatever sight he expected to see, he isn't sure, but his wife sat on the edge of the bed completely done-up for dinner yet not moving, isn't what he expected.

"Dove?" He questions, and his unsavory worries start to fade, yet not completely as he shuts the door behind him. "It’s getting late.”

Biting your tongue, you nod, exhaling softly through your nose. "Right," you breathe. "I- I know.”

His gaze narrows for a moment. "Why didn't you come out?" His eyes fix on your attire and his heart thumps. "You're wearing the dress."

"I am."

Your tone. The way you avoid his eyes.

Coriolanus stuff his hands into his trouser pockets and sighs heavily. "You don't like it."

You gasp, eyes meeting his. "No, no, I love it. Coryo, really, it's beautiful," you assure. His head tilts and his eyes narrow again, scrutinizing you now to discern the problem then. It's your turn to sigh. "I don't think the dress likes me."

There's a furrow in his brow as he replies, "It doesn't fit?" That doesn't make sense. He had the dress tailor made to your latest measurements, how could it not fit? Did someone not listen?

"No, I-" Your words bite off and you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. "I...I don't look good in it."

The way Coriolanus looks back at you, you'd think you’d spoke an entirely different language. "What?"

"I don't look good in it, Coryo," you repeat, a little surer.

And now he sees it. His wife is hunched over, one arm wrapped around her middle. The other hand is tugging her skirt down.

For a moment, he says nothing, contemplating how to approach this. Finally, his voice breaks the silence. "Let me see."

The heels on your feet scuff against the carpet and your nose wrinkles. "I don't-"

"No," he says and you know he's serious now, "stand up."

You sigh again and he lets you take a moment, knowing he's asked you to do something you deem terrifying. Eventually though, you stand. Your hands wring in front of you for another long moment, before you let them fall to your sides.

Coriolanus says nothing more, eyes roving slowly over you. He begins to circle you and you feel oddly like prey being sized up by a predator.

He comes to a stop in front of you once more. Trying to avoid his eye, you duck your head but his fingers tilt your head up and your eyes immediately find his cold, icy blue ones.

"You're right," he says flatly. "You don't look good in it." Your eyes widen, and he adds, "You look breathtaking."

He's calling you breathtaking but it's his words that take your breath away. Breathtaking?

"I would never use good to describe you," he continues, his voice a whisper in your ear as he moves behind you. His hands find your waist and he directs you to stand in front of that mirror you found so detestable. "Good doesn't say enough."

"Coryo—"

"I'm not finished," he cuts you off, and you press your lips together. His eyes flit to the mirror in front of them and he notes the antsy look on your face. "What do you see?"

"Me. You."

"What do you see when you look at yourself? Right now?"

You sigh heavily, biting your tongue between your teeth. Your eyes fall to your body, particularly that midsection. You don’t get the words out because Coriolanus slides one of his hands around to press flat against your stomach. He pulls you flush against him.

"Is this the problem?" He asks, voice low in your ear. His other hand falls to your hip. "Is this?"

"Coryo-"

"Don’t."

Your lips press into a thin line. He makes it hard to argue. "Yes. That's the problem." His fingers dance over your stomach in a way that makes you shirk back against his chest.

"I don't see a problem," he whispers against the skin of your neck. He makes it very hard to argue.

You try again. "It's— There's too much."

"Good," her husband growls into your ear, fingers pressing against the flesh of your hip. "More for me to have."

The sensation makes you jolt slightly, a familiar heat crawling up the back of your neck and spreading to your cheeks. You can't even bring yourself to reply, but you don’t have to, because he’s not finished.

"You can think all you want," he begins, and his tone is a touch softer, "but you look ravishing, my dear. Every inch of you was made for me." He leans closer, nose brushing the curve of your neck. "And I love every inch. Not even beautiful begins to describe what you are."

Your expression softens and your hand reaches up to your shoulder, hand pressing into his cheek. "Coryo," you whisper, turning your head to face him. "You mean that."

And it's not a question. Because you believe it. You don’t have to believe anything but him.

"I do," he replies, leaning closer until his nose brushes against yours. "Even when I first saw you, I knew you were the most divine woman I'd ever seen."

A laugh bubbles out of you. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Snow," you tease and it's enough to make him smile as well. Your lips press against his for just a moment before you pull back and ask, just to check, "You really like this dress on me?"

"I do," he repeats, a little more emphatic. "And I'll buy you a dozen more like it to prove it."

Another laugh, one that makes your nose scrunch and your eyes crinkle. "That won't be necessary." Another kiss. "But I appreciate the sentiment."

With a sigh, your hands fall to cover his where they still rest over your stomach and your hip. Squeezing his hands, you glance at your reflection and find that it doesn't look so bad anymore.

"I guess we should head to dinner now," you muse, but you don’t have time to move before Coriolanus is pulling you closer.

His mouth hovers over the space where your neck meets your shoulder and he whispers, the sound somewhere between a purr and a growl, "I want to eat something else first..."

Dinner will have to wait.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #tbosas #the hunger games #reader insert

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mrm0rgansw0man · 1 day

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no grave can hold my body down, ill crawl home to her

summary:

arthur morgan knew he was the type of man that shouldn’t risk falling in love, but jesus she just made it so hard NOT to

a/n: first fic!! inspired by work song by hozier lol. hope y’all enjoy it Xx 💗

re-uploading this fic on my new account because im planning on making a second part of it! should be out soon :) Xx

‘Arthur Morgan, you fool’ He thought to himself, mentally swearing for catching himself staring at their camps newest member yet again. But he just couldn’t help it. He knew he shouldn’t indulge in this. It was stupid really, any attempt at love in the past had failed him. All because of this life he chose to live. One that wasn’t easy to leave behind. Though Arthur knew, if you asked him to he’d throw it all away. God this man would do anything for you, he practically worshiped the ground you walked on. He didn’t know why he was so captivated by you, maybe it was your honey sweet voice, or the kindness you showed him right from your first day of knowing him. He couldn’t stop himself from loving every little thing about you, to him you were perfect. A goddamned goddess. He thought you deserved someone better than him. A woman such as yourself deserved to live a good life, one where the law isn’t out to get you. One where people could be out to hurt you because of your husband’s line of work. You deserved to feel safe and secure in your life. Nothing like the chaos you were living through now.

Little did Arthur know, you were feeling the exact same way about him. You had deep feelings for Arthur Morgan, you were as sweet like sugar on that man. You loved everything about him, but most of all how he treated you. He made 100% sure you felt safe and were taken care of all the time. You were one of the first people he’d check up on when returning from a job. Or you mentioned something you needed and the next day he would just so happen to need to run to town and what do you know, the exact scarf, seasoning, hair ribbon, you name it would be included in his haul. And if he was around at meal times, he would not so subtly make sure you got your portion. All of this and yet, he rarely said a word to you. It confused you to no end, it felt like he cared about you deeply but he rarely paid any attention to you. You were a lost soul before you started riding with the Van Der Lindes, and because of the Blackwater situation it was hard for the gang to let in a new mouth to feed. But ever since the beginning Arthur made you feel so welcomed. You don’t know what you did do deserve his kindness but it was deeply appreciated. Mary-Beth was CONVINCED Arthur was sweet on you, so we’re Tilly, Molly, Abigail, Karen, goodness even Susan Grimahaw herself made a comment about it you once. You wanted to believe it so badly, but he didn’t talk to you!! He could just be a kind man of little words and you’re reading into the situation all wrong.

‘Oh well…’ You thought with a sigh, flicking your eyes up from the needle work you had long been neglecting because of your thinking. To your surprise, you found a pair of beautiful blue eyes already looking in your direction…

~~~~~~~

“Shit!” Arthur swore under his breath, god dammit you were still as a staute for ages before this why’d you have to look up now?? Arthur begrudgingly tore my eyes away from t and started walking to his horse- where he was supposed to be already. Hosea wanted to take him into town for some reason he had yet to say.

“Arthur!” Hosea said warmly. He then raised an eyebrow. “I hope you didn’t have any trouble getting here?”

‘Oh I this is NOT goin’ there.’ Arthur thought.

“Course not.” He said flatly. Hosea smiled a knowing smile, before long they mounted thier horses and were off.

The ride to Valentine was thankfully silent and quick. But Arthur knew that was going to change as soon as Hosea informed him that he was taking Arthur to the saloon to “Chat over a drink” With such a grin on his face that Arthur knew he was nothing short of doomed.

After getting situated at the bar with a neat whiskey and a beer, Hosea start talking to Arthur, though it felt more like he was speaking AT at him. Making little remarks about love and what it does for people. Sharing little stories of “the joys of marriage.” …..very sneaky, Hosea.

“Hosea…. Please get to whatever point it is yer tryin’ to make here.” Arthur said, cutting into his rambling.

“Arthur….” He cooed, sounding like he was talking to some schoolyard boy. “I’ve been watching you pine over (Name) for MONTHS.”

Arthur said nothing. Nothing but a silent prayer that his cheeks weren’t burning a fiery shade of red.

“I know you’re sweet on her, it’s as obvious as a wolf standing in a pack of sheep!”

Arthur ran a hand over my face and let out a tired sigh. Hosea sipped his beer, waiting for him to respond.

“What ‘m I supposed’t say?” Arthur grumbled, crossing his arms over my chest. ‘God, what a pathetic fool I am.’ Arthur thought. “Not like she’d want an ugly bastard like me ‘nyway.”

“On the contrary! Hosea chuckles. “I was walking by the women’s tent last nigh- couldn’t sleep. Wanted to walk a bit to clear my head- and my boy you should’ve heard the things (Name) was saying about you!”

At that, Arthur sat up a little straighter. “What things…?” He asked, slightly wearily. Hosea smiled.

“Son, she’s fallen for you head first! If only you’d start speaking more then 2 words a week to her! You do so much for that girl Arthur, would it be so hard to do that too?”

He didn’t say anything. Learning that, by some fucking MIRACLE- the woman of his dreams has fallen for him was making his head spin. Could this really be happening?? Could this work?? A stab of pain shot through him as he remembered Mary, and how things ended with her. But this could be different, after all you were with the gang. You didn’t care about his life, you loved him despite it all…Arthur hadn’t dared let himself think that a love with you could possibly work out. The thought made him giddy. He felt dumb as rocks, feeling so strongly for you without ever saying a damn word to you. But he couldn’t let himself get to know you- he couldn’t bare to hear your silky voice say his name more then you already do. With such kindness, such love.He wanted to talk to you, to love you, to cherish you and worship you like you deserved to be, but-

“Hosea, I’m afraid.” Arthur said quietly. “Look at ‘er, I can’t drag this woman down the path I’m on. She doesn’t deserve a man like me.”

Hosea pushed Arthur’s untouched whiskey towards him, Arthur took the glass and downed it all in one go. He listened to Hosea’a next words at the fiery liquid settled in his stomach.

“Are you going to risk making that decision for her?”

~~~~~~~

You sat on the cold ground in front of the dying out campfire, grateful that everyone had fallen into their cots for the night. You loved the solitude of nighttime. It was so nice to be by yourself, enjoying the quiet peace of the stars above you.

Before long, your thoughts (as they always did) turned to Arthur Morgan. Hosea has returned to camp hours ago, telling you that Arthur should be back shortly. It’s been hours and still no sign of him. You knew it was normal, but you couldn’t help but worry while he was out of camp. Which was stupid really, you weren’t his girl. Just because he was kind didn’t mean you had to get your knickers all on a twist over him.

‘Damn your mysterious-ness Arthur Morgan….’

You only know you dozed off when the familiar sound of a horse whining woke you up. And then an even more familiar voice soothing the distressed animal.

“Easy girl…. Y’know I can’t spend all my time with ya’ don’t you?”

You stretched your arms out and listened to the sweet interaction. Despite him being the gang’s toughest enforcer, a wanted dead or alive outlaw, Arthur truly was a sweetheart. He treated all the women of the camp with the utmost respect and was such a help to any soul in need of. If only he knew how badly you needed him.

You from your spot on the ground, drawing the outlaws attention. He approached with a small smile.

“Glad it was jus’ you..” Arthur said, hoping he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt. You on the other hand were absolutely over the MOON at the fact that Arthur had finally decided to talk to you.

“Oh I hope you’re not too disappointed Mr. Morgan!” You said with a light chuckle. Arthur, not sensing your sarcasm through his nerves, panicked.

“N-no! Not at all, ma’am! I apologize if I came off that way-”

“I’m just teasing ya’ Arthur. It’s quite alright.” You said and smiled. A smile so sweet and bright Arthur could’ve melted on the spot. Your sweet smile, the way his name rolled off your lips. Arthur wasn’t a religious man, but he might as well have been in heaven.

“(Name)….” Arthur said, his sweet southern drawl when he said your name making you blush. “I’d like to apologize. For how I’ve been treatin’ you.”

“Oh Arthur! You’ve been nothin’ but kind to me since I’ve been here- whatever are you sorry for?” You asked him, genuinely shocked at the man’s statement. Were you talking to the same Arthur who took care of your horse for you, bought you ribbons to put in your hair, and watched over you like a protective hawk? Sure he didn’t speak to you much, but you knew he was a man of few words. Even if it hurt sometimes, could live with it. You didn’t need him to love you back for you to love him all the same. You’d almost accepted it. Almost.

Arthur sighed a deep and nervous sigh, his thoughts blurring and the several whiskeys he had in him were NOT helping. Not a bit.

“You see- well it’s, it’s just-” Arthur stammered- god he was making a complete FOOL of himself!

You stepped closer to Arthur, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. You looked up at him nervously. The two of you had never been close as this. Arthur looked down at you, you had concern laced in your eyes. Concern for him. Your long hair was falling out of its messy braid, the loose strands framing your face beautifully. He could see the nights starts reflected in your eyes.

‘How beautiful..’ Arthur thought. He was completely captivated by you. ‘How could a woman like this be allowed to roam the same earth as someone like me..?’

Without even realizing what he was doing, Arthur pulled you flush against his chest, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other reaching up to cup your chin. His touch was feather light as he stroked his thumb over your face.

“I ain’t never felt like this before Miss…” Arthur mumbled, leaning his forehead down to touch your. He didn’t have time to wonder (or thank) whatever divine force gave him to courage to do this. “You got me makin’ a fool outta myself…”

You let out a soft gasp at the a sudden touch from Arthur. You had only ever been like this in your sweetest dreams, was this really happening??

“Arthur…?” You whispered, questioning him. “Wha…What ‘re you d-”

That’s it. He couldn’t take it anymore. To hell with the risks, the past to hell with it all! He had come to love you more than life itself. You were exactly what he needed in his painful and cruel life.

You were such a loving soul, treating everyone and everything around you so kindly it was heartwarming. You give and give and GIVE to everyone around you. You never judged anyone around you for their actions- past or present. You picked up chores from the other women when they needed a break. You sung little Jack to sleep when Abigail was too exhausted to lift her head from her cot. You put braided flowers into your beautiful long hair whenever you had a moment to yourself. You smiled at him every morning when you left your tent to begin your day. You always kept the pink silk scarf he picked up for you and left in your tent with a note in the pocket of your skirt. You picked at nails and hummed when you were nervous. You loved staying up late, gazing at the stars and admiring the universe. He had pages upon pages of you doing exactly that sketched in his journal.

You were heaven sent. You were perfect. The world didn’t fucking deserve you.

Arthur slammed his lips down onto yours without wasting another moment. And he shuddered at the feelings of your lips finally being against his own. You kissed him back just has hard, standing on your tip toes to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. You felt his tongue slide against his bottom lip, and wasted not a moment opening your mouth to let him in.

Months of longing, tension, were fought out as your tongues pushed against each other. Of course Arthur won, you could barely contain the moan that was building in the back of your throat when you felt his tongue exploring your mouth like a starving man. If he hadn’t been holding you so tightly, you would’ve fallen over. The sheer want and desperation of the kiss made your knees go completely weak.

Unfortunately, you both needed air and had to pull away. Arthur rested his forehead against your own. The both of you stood there, panting with closed eyes. Neither wanting the moment to end.

When you eventually opened your eyes, you looked up at Arthur. And couldn’t help the giddy smile that spread across your face. Arthur wrapped both of his strong arms around your waist, and he smiled sweetly back at you. You both stood there for a moment, swaying gently back and forth as you embraced each other. The silence that fell between you both was comfortable and welcome as you gazed into each others eyes, both sharing the same look of love and adoration.

Arthur was the one who finally broke the silence between the two of you, and you will never forget his next words.

“Please darlin’” He whispered. “I’m beggin’ you… I want you to be my girl. I’m sorry I was a fool for such a long time-”

You leaned up on your tip toes and silenced him with a gentle kiss.

“I wouldn’t have you any other way, Mr. Morgan.”

#arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #i love you arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #work song #inspired by a hozier song #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan fluff #tension #love confessions #red dead redemption 2 #x reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 #arthur is foolishly in love #re upload

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iwantanywayyy · 3 days

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thinking about staying up past my bed time cause i don't have to be up early the next morning and my dad is coming home really late from work like usual. im in the living room laying on my stomach on the floor playing a game. our dog gets up to greet him at the door and dad comes around the corner taking off his shoes and coat.

"What are you doing up, bunny?" he comes over to me and grabs my feet that are kicked back in the air and he shakes them a little smiling down at me.

"im just playing a game ill probably be dead soon," i quickly turn back and smile up at him before returning my focus "could i maybe stay up a little bit longer?"

"Sure bunny" he smacks the soles of me feet and leaves to the kitchen. I keep playing my game and dad comes back out later with a drink and wearing his pajamas. he threw a pair of pajamas on my back "get your pj's on after this game we're gonna watch a movie" I wanted to keep playing but i felt bad saying anything so i listened and got up to go to the bathroom nearby and change. i bring my clothes to the laundry room and see dad's dirty clothes are there too so i decided to start a load. he must have heard me because i hear him clear his throat and turn around to see him leaning against the doorway drink still in hand. "Dad's tired little lady what's taking so long?" he walks closer to me smiling and i giggle telling him im just doing this quickly. he keeps walking closer to me which i didn't think much of until i could smell how strong his drink was. or maybe him...was he that drunk already?

he stops within an inch of me so close i can hear him breathing. his body hovers over mine and i try to keep myself collected but im getting nervous.

"I think you need new pj's bunny" he says leaning a little closer to me. "what?" i giggle again wondering what he means when suddenly i feel cold splash down the front of my shorts and down my leg. i stumble back into the washer letting out a little gasp looking up at my dad he's smiling at me and mumbles out a half assed "sorry." he looks at the cup in his hand and back at me before gulping the rest and tossing the glass. i shiver hearing it shatter against the concrete. i just keep looking down and fiddling with my shorts when my dad comes face to face with me

"Let me get that for you doll." he pressed his hand firmly against my stomach pinning me against the machine. i try to wiggle away confused and annoyed when my dad gets down and drags his tongue from my knee where his drink was dripping all the way up my thigh and over my shorts

"Dad what the fuck!" i put my hands on his head and push him away while he chuckles and lets me go. i hit my arm against his chest when he stands back so he knows im frustrated and his smile fades as i stand there pouting at him squeezing my legs together and hugging my arms against my chest. he softly smiles at me and offers a genuine apology and pats my back leading me out of the laundry room. he brings me to the couch and stands in front of it telling me not to move. when he comes back he has a new pair of pj's and my favorite stuffed bear. i smile immediately and reach my arms out to grab everything. i started to leave for the bathroom but dad tsk's at me making me turn around. he points his finger to where he told me to stand still and i walk back to wait. he sits on the couch in front of me for a while just looking at me in silence. he rubs his chin with is hand and leans back into the couch spreading his legs making me look down at my feet.

"What are you waiting for?" he asks me. i look back up at him confused and look back at the bathroom and down to my clothes.

He chuckles, "no sweetheart right here. start with the top"

I look back at him with wide eyes unsure if my father actually just told me to strip in front of him or not. He sits there waiting as my mouth starts to open but i can't think of anything to say.

"Do you need daddy to help?" He stands up and comes to me tucking my hair behind my ear and resting his hand on my shoulder. i was so confused and felt so vulnerable he was so big and so sweet but so mean i don't know he was confusing me i couldn't think at all. i realize his fingers are pinching my top's strap and they slowly start to pull it down while he stares at my face, his other hand gripping my other shoulder tightly holding me in place. "Awww little baby what's wrong? Can't think for daddy?" i cant help but whine and i feel my eyes tear up as he talks to me like this. "Up, up!" he taps my elbows and grabs my hands holding them above my head trying to lift my shift off. this snaps me back to it. i pull my arms down and step back from him and turn around telling him to stop this is weird. he quickly rushes behind me and pulls me back forcibly holding me against him. "Dad, stop!" I protest with him as my feet kick around and his big hands grab me all over trying to hold me against him. "Shhhhhh" he reaches one hand up to my throat and grips it. i freeze and don't say anything more while my dad's hand squeezes my throat and his other is wrapped around my waist gripping my hip.

"Are you gonna be a good girl baby? Please?" he lets go of my neck and i breathe in deep before he covers my mouth with that hand making it hard to breathe once again.

"I don't want to hurt you but i need this right now please be good for me" my heart starts beating faster as my dad tugs at my shorts with one hand. im getting so hot i feel like i could pass out i try begging against my father's hand as he pushed my shorts to my knees and grumbles against me smelling my hair and reaching that hand up to my tits groping me through my shirt. he teases my nipple with his finger making me whine and try to turn away. he pinches my nipple hard through my shirt making me scream against his hand before he roughly grabs at my tits breathing heavier against my ear grabbing me so hard i feel his finger prints will bruise me.

"I made such a sexy little girl. Nice fucking tits sweetie" he uncovers my mouth a little and pushes my chin up so he can put his mouth against my neck. he starts sucking on my skin and i feel his teeth grazing into me and his tongue flicking my neck. im crying and gasping from how he's holding me. his hand smacks my tits a couple of times before it reaches down and he lightly traces a finger over my glistening pussy lips.

"oh fuuck" he leans against my neck loosening his grip on me and lets out a deep sigh before placing his finger a little deeper between my pussy lips and sliding up. i go completely weak in my father's arms while he switches from digging his finger between my lips and sucking the juices off of it himself. he sounded like an animal in my ear lapping up every drop until eventually he reached down and touched me bringing his finger to my face and started rubbing my juices over my lips. i kept my mouth shut and whined against trying to turn away but he bit my neck again making my mouth open to cry out and then he shoved two fingers inside and pushed them back against my tongue making me gag and my eyes swell.

"Gooooood girl!!" he praises me as his fingers curl and rub around inside my mouth. he does this for a minute until drool and spit starts pooling in the back of my throat and im gurgling choking for air and he drags some spit out mumbling "fuck" as my head tilts down and i cough and try to catch my breath. my dad is holding my arms behind my back with one hand and im leaned forward gasping wanting to get away. i hear this sloshing wet sound behind me and once i can breathe again i look back and my eyes go wide and immediately start sobbing. different variations of "please, stop, dont" leave my mouth as my dad holds me tightly and i have to watch him jerking his fat cock off with my spit. he lines the head of his dick up with my pussy and i cry out please again hoping he will listen to me. he turns us both toward the couch and all he says is

"Walk" as he pushes me forward making me go because i don't want it to push inside of me. he leads me to the couch like this and bends me over. he places my hands against the wall and tells me to stay still. im still crying begging him saying please daddy over and over. his hands rub the sides of my body and then over to my tits again. he pops them out the sides of my top making me so exposed and he jiggles them watching them bounce. i stop crying as much and feel my face burning red when my dad kisses the back of my head and then wraps his arm around neck and plunges his cock all the way inside me. he sits there for a minute after he let out a sound ive never heard before. he switched between whimpering and grunting while i could feel his cock twitching inside of me. i stopped crying i couldn't do anything but sit there and let my dad use me and be good like he asked. my dad took his hands and placed them over mine holding himself over me like that for what felt like forever. im sure he could feel me trembling beneath him as he nuzzled into my neck "I'm sorry" he apologized again and then took his right hand and placed it between my legs. he pulled his cock almost all the way out before placing his finger on my clit and rubbing while he sunk his cock back inside me. i moaned out at how much he was stretching me out if felt like i was burning. he slowly kept thrusting into me while rubbing my clit and groaning into my neck. my breathing changed and my body started to feel tingly everywhere and i couldn't help but moan and wriggle while my dad rhythmically forced himself inside of me. his groans of pleasure made me feel so special i started to get so fuzzy and just want to make my dad feel good and happy. He started groaning louder and more often and he stopped rubbing my clit grabbing my hips with both hands. he relentlessly pounded into me while my mouth hung open and drool slipped off my tongue.

"Beg me to cum inside of you"

his words brought me back and i started to remember how i didn't want any of this... did i? my body was shamelessly wet for him why?!

"Say 'cum in my pussy dad' be a good girl ughhh"

"Dad!" i cry out shocked at what he's telling me panting from how roughly he's still fucking me. his cock is so hard inside of me it hurts from how deep he's hitting maybe i should just beg so this will stop!

"Hurry up bunny, fucking beg me please!"

i felt my little pussy clenching around my dad's cock and my mind went dumb again and all i wanted was to make him happy

"P-please cum in my pussy dad! im sorry ill be good daddy please cu-" i tried to beg him again but my body started convulsing and every thought left my head while my dad raped me and made me cum on his cock too stupid to understand what's happening.

"Thaaaat's right, fuck that's my tight little daughter!" my dad fucked me through my orgasm making me shake and still somehow he kept forcing his cock deep inside of me until he told me he was sorry he's been waiting so long to do this

"Here's it comes baby, oh fuck, oh fuck im gonna cum!" he grips my hips so tightly as his balls are pressed against me unloading rope after rope of sperm through his cock into my tight hot little pussy. His head is thrown back as he relishes the feeling of breeding his daughter for the first time. he's masturbated to the thought of this for years and now finally he's balls deep inside of her tiny cunt and he'll never have enough of her.

#k!nk #cnc k!nk #r@pe fantasy #d@d #r@pe kink #daddy k!nk #r@pe me #r@petoy #breeding k1nk #r4p3 kink #r4p3 m3 #r4p3 fantasy #rough cnc #1cky thoughts #1cky daddy #tw r4p3 #cnc story

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