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xyziiix · 10 months

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𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘌𝘌 𝘐𝘚 𝘈 𝘊𝘙𝘖𝘞𝘋 ~ 𝘑.𝘗 & 𝘚.𝘙

PAIRINGS: Captain John Price X Female!Reader X Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

WARNINGS: SMUT - this is pure porn u guys - MMF threesome, unprotected P in V (wrap it please for the love of god) spanking, ROUGH GHOST, Price being an arsehole, being fucked over a desk, Eiffel Tower 😏, oral (m!receiving), creampie, kinda degrading.

A/N: I heard your pleas you little horndogs. You ask and you shall receive. (Sorry it’s a lil rushed and — surprise surprise, not proof read yet)

[could be read as a part 2 to ARDOUR, could also be read by itself)

It was Price that had noticed it first.

Of course he had. He was regardful. Observant.

He noticed it first a few days after you’d returned to base from Urizakstan. The way the Lieutenant’s eyes would linger on you when you were talking or just suddenly appeared — breathing life into the room, as you usually did. And it wasn’t just in a way one would be respectably paying attention to someone whilst they were speaking or doing something to gather their attention — No. it was the way his eyes — ones that always seemed devoid of emotion — would follow your body when you moved around, would watch you like a predator stalking it’s prey. Price recognised the look in his eyes.

Because that’s how he also looked at you.

While the situation you and Price were in was… delicate — and would definitely rouse misplaced reactions by the people in your place of work — he thought the idea of another man looking at you the way Ghost did would’ve angered him. Made him jealous. Irrational.

But for some reason it didn’t irk him as he thought it would.

And it wasn’t long after that he figured out Simon knew about you two. Perhaps the way Ghost seemed to be more observant and more silent than usual when the two of you were normally interacting with each other in front of the task force — keeping it strictly professional while you weren’t in the privacy with only each other. So that’s how Price figured he knew. Why would he be acting odd — even more than usual — about the two of you simply talking in the same room as everyone? It was like he knew a secret, a dirty secret.

Turns out he did.

In that battered down, sad excuse of a safe house in the Urzikstan dessert, it turns out not everyone was asleep that night while your Captain decided to fuck you.

You two had hidden it well — he’d give you both credit for that — so it was safe to say it had genuinely surprised him when he saw the sight in front of him that night. He was careful. Quiet. Like a ghost. Sticking to the shadows and moving silently — which was very surprising considering the Lieutenant’s looming height.

He had heard the noises — your noises — and it was obvious they were trying to be muffled. At first, he’d immediately thought of danger, that’s why he had been cautious to approach instead of just bursting into the room.

He remembers the feeling of his chest tightening in realisation when he saw what he saw. Price’s back was to Ghost — laying on his side on the ground. He couldn’t get a good look at your face, but he could see the glow of perspiration from the moonlight shining through the thin glass pane window and onto the dewy skin of your bare leg draped over Price’s thigh. Even just the silver of soft skin and the sound of your singing being trapped into the Captain’s palm had Simon hard, his pants tightening in his groin area — other than that he remained completely silent, even his breathing seemed nonexistent as he just watched the two of you. He didn’t even touch himself either, just watched. Like he thought if he looked away for a moment then the image of you like this would be gone.

But now it had been burned into his memory. The sounds you made. The soft and supple flesh of your thigh. And even the way your dainty hand had grabbed onto Price’s arm when he made you come. He wondered if you’d make those noises for him — except he wouldn’t muffle them with his palm. No. He’d want you to let everything out, every scream, every cry, every wanton moan while he fucked you dumb with his cock.

Price had brought up his observation of the Lieutenant one night a few weeks later. Both of you basking in the afterglow of sex in your rooms in the barracks.

“Simon.” He started simply, and you had turned to look at him quizzically.

“What about him?”

“Think he knows.”

Somewhere between then and now, you had discussed the possibility of this. To say you were very surprised when Price was the one that suggested Simon fucking you was an understatement. It wasn’t that Price wanted to be sexual with Ghost — as sexy as that would’ve been to see — he liked the idea of watching him fuck you. He couldn’t explain why, but just something that had been brewing in the back of his mind.

You had told Price that he wouldn’t have wanted that — that he was a closed off person who was hard to read, how could John have possibly conjured up that assumption that Simon was attracted to you?

Well, your captain always liked proving you wrong.

Because here you were, bent over the expanse of John’s desk — the desk you’d already had the pleasant experience of being bent over, laid atop of, and sat underneath while you sucked his cock as he sat in the desk chair — only this time it was infact, Lieutenant Simon Riley plowing into you with his intimidatingly large cock.

His grip on your hips was borderline painful — but it hurt so good. You worried he may make the desk topple over with how hard he was thrusting into you. You’d never been this stretched open before — feeling the too much, too full feeling of his dick inside of you, the blunt head of his length kissing the plug of your cervix with each steady but strong buck of his hips.

The masked man’s gaze was set of the globes of your arse, how the flesh rippled when his hips met yours, how every time it did so he got a glimpse of your little puckered hole — fuck, he wanted to fuck you there as well. But, he didn’t want to push his luck just yet. The only noises to be heard in Price’s office was skin meeting skin, the sound of your small cries and whimpers of ecstasy. You tried to stay quiet, you really did, but it was rather pathetic — your moans eventually interjecting through the room.

That’s when Price had changed his mind about just watching you. He had been painfully hard the last 15 minutes from having watched you already come on Ghost’s cock, your eyes glassy and lips red raw from biting them as you gripped onto the table for dear life. You didn’t even register him standing in front of you until you heard the sound of metal teeth being zipped open as well as the buckle of his belt.

“Gotta keep you quiet, love.” He excused with a chuckle while sliding his cock between your lips.

You really did have to keep quiet. And though the door was locked anyone walking by would’ve heard you — being fucked by your lieutenant while your captain watched.

You tried to focus on hollowing your cheeks around John’s cock. But you were utterly cock drunk, already feeling another powerful orgasm building in the pit of you abdomen while Simon continued to fuck you. Price had obviously noticed you struggling — as the bastard seemed to notice everything, he’d smugly remind you — so he had gathered your hair, using it to lift your head up as he started to fervently fuck your throat.

If you thought you felt impossibly full then you were beyond stuffed now, your jaw slack as John fucked your face and your pussy stretched almost painfully wide around Simon’s cock.

Ghost let out a prolonged, raspy breath when he felt you squeezing his dick in a vice. And in return, one of his hands left your hips in order to collect both your wrists with his single, calloused palm, pining them to your lower back as he fucked you impossibly harder, his pace quickening a little. His other palm landing a smack to your sore asscheeks — a crack of palm meeting flesh sounding in the office.

“Look at you, eh?” Price spoke, his tone annoyingly steady despite your mouth gliding up and down his cock. “Being fucked by your superiors. What would everyone make of you?” He asked with a gruff chuckle — and obviously you couldn’t answer.

About several moments later you felt yourself tumbling into another fierce climax, all but crying around John’s cock as your abused cunt squeezed Simon pitifully — which rewarded you with another slap to your rear, the skin red raw.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Simon grunted lowly — that adding to the short list of words he’d actually spoken this whole time.

Your arse hurt, your wrists hurt, your jaw hurt — your fucking pussy hurt — but you didn’t want it to stop, ever.

John pulled his cock out of your mouth, his dick coated in a mix of saliva and precum. His hand still buried in your hair — keeping your head up. Your neck hurt as well.

“Such a good girl.” Price praised as he bent his knees a little to see your face better, a smug smile curling his lips at the tears staining your flushed cheeks. “He makin’ you feel good?” He asks, there’s an edge to his voice.

The Lieutenant — being so full of surprises tonight — pushes his hand under you. The rough pad of his thumb cruelly flicking your clit. Your body seizing forward, a sharp cry escaping your lips while Simon still held your wrists pinned behind you.

When your eyes had widened at the overstimulating sensation, John had mirror your expression — but mockingly. “You like being used like this don’t you?”

You could only moan in response — unable to form a coherent thought let alone sentence.

Price tapped your cheek, your eyes focusing back on his smug face. “Asked you a question, love.” He reminded you. Arsehole.

“Yeah-“ you managed to babble out, your words shaking in tandem with your body, John’s smile curled into a Cheshire Cat grin — his goatee lifting.

“Yeah, you do.” He repeated.

Neither men had lasted much long after that. Price had gone back to fucking your face while Simon was relentlessly pounding into you. Your third orgasm was — quite literally — breath taking, it felt like your skin was on fire, yet numb at the same time. You definitely couldn’t feel your legs. Ghost came first, burying himself all the way to the hilt before spilling hot ropes of come inside of you with a groan — so much that it leaked out of you in a dribble of pearly white, you had let out a pathetic whine when he pulled out — the empty feeling had you quivering around nothing.

Price came a few moments later, filling your mouth with his salty spend before you swallowed it all. It tickled your raw throat.

Ghost had left soon after, not that he was ignorant in checking up on you, but because he knew that wasn’t his place to do so — not yet anyway. He had helped you up from the desk though, soothing his hands up and down your waist before Price took over. He had shared a look with you — his eyes saying everything his mouth wouldn’t.

@tapioca-marzipan @kanyewestburnbook @darksxder @louve-barnes @emodanoriddler @imonmykneessir @nightingal3-tales @ghost-2513 @fruitymoonbeams-blog

I tagged the ppl who commented on ARDOUR, if your name isn’t in grey then it wouldn’t let me tag you x

Call Of Duty MW2 Masterlist

#john price x reader #captain price smut #captain john price #captain price x reader #captain john price x reader #john price smut #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut

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xyziiix · 10 months

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Quick rant guys.

So,

As a majority of you know, I’m writing an Arthur Morgan series.

But I’m also trying to write one shots for the characters on my main Masterlist (click on my profile it’s the pinned post)

But, obviously, writing one shots — for me personally — takes a lot of time, I’m physically unable to write an entire thing in a day, it’s just how my brain works 🫠

And writing chapters for the series also takes a couple days for me at least — if I have the time to sit down and do it.

Rdr2 and Arthur Morgan have such a special place in my heart — I just think it’s amazing how much of a complex but loveable character arthur is, and how everyone who played the game was able to connect with him and how *SPOILER WARNING* his death affected everyone.

Like A Western is going to be a LONG series, unfortunately to some — I want it to be a story that can hopefully make people connect to arthur (as well as the other characters) on a deeper level, and I feel like rushing it to about 10 chapters wouldn’t do it justice.

But as I’ve posted a couple one shots (call of duty ones for eg) i’ve obviously noticed the amount of attention they’re getting as well as how my following has gone up. So what I’m trying to figure out is exactly how many people are here specifically for Like A Western or if people would rather me focus on one shots for now.

BUT DONT WORRY! I still am gonna continue Like A Western either way. But I’m just unsure whether I should focus on one shots for a while — like write at least one oneshot for all the characters I have listed before I focus on such a lengthy series, ygm?

When I write Like A Western I want to make it as detailed and as heart touching as possible, and I feel like I won’t be able to do that if I’m trying to write things for other characters at the same time.

So what do you guys think? Should i put other things on pause to continue it or should I put Like A Western on pause for a while?

LIKE A WESTERN (here)

NAVIGATION/MAIN MASTERLIST (here)

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan imagine #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2

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xyziiix · 10 months

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𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐑 - 𝐉.𝐏 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓

Captain John Price X Female!Reader

Warnings: SMUT! (P in V, fingering, spit kink - Price spitting in readers mouth 🫣, unprotected sex, hints of a breeding kink?) PRICE IS A NASTY MF - implied secret relationship, language, mention of violence, mentions of guns, description of bullet wound, hint at Ghost being a peeping Tom @ the end, reader is described as a woman!!!!

Small summary: after a mission not going as smooth as planned, yourself and the boys had no choice but to hunker down in a safe house while you stitch up Soap - him taking a nasty bullet wound to the thigh - the heat is overwhelming and anticipation bubbling as you weren’t sure if you were entirely safe, the only thing that could take your mind off of it was your Captain’s lingering eyes, promiscuous and completely unprofessional thoughts racing through his mind about you.

!not proof read!

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” Sergeant Mactavish exclaims, his head thrown back as a pained groan rumbles from his chest - his accent thicker as he complains.

“Hold still, Soap.” You reply - your voice coming out stern as you focus on pulling the bullet out of his thigh, your breath wavering as you tried to concentrate - pushing away the panic and anxiety you were feeling at seeing your friend injured. Luckily, the bullet hadn’t gone deep - and as far as you could tell - it hadn’t hit an artery. “Almost out.” You added, trying to get him to calm down.

“Stay calm, Sergeant.” A low - gravelly voice filled the clouded room, your Captain stood behind the groaning Scot, a hand placed on his shoulder to ground him as well as keep him still in order for you to work easier.

The house you were holed up in - though you could barely call it a house - was in the butt-fuck middle of nowhere - not another sign of life in sight as all that surrounded you was sand and heat. The scorching sun blared through the single glass-pane window, lighting the room enough to your satisfaction - and if you looked over to the ray of sun, you could actually see the abundance of dust floating in the air. It was safe to say you were surprised when you learned this was a marked safe house and not some deserted shack in the middle of the urzikstan desert.

You were kneeled on the chalky ground, your knees aching from the concrete floor as Soap sat above you in the rickety chair, the furniture groaning in protest at the agitated soldiers weight. You hands worked fast - managing to remove the bullet from the surface of his flesh and immediately going to disinfect it.

“Shite!” He hissed, the wound burning as you pressed a antisept-soaked cotton pad to the open area, cutting him an apologetic look as his neck strained - teeth bared at the stinging pain shooting through his nerves.

After a few minutes of you working swiftly and silently - save for the few ‘sorry’s’ when you see the Sergeant wince when you push the needle through his flesh in order to close the wound - you managed to successfully stitch him up, sighing as you lean back slightly, the strain in your back and the cramp in your hands pushed aside as you observe your work - wanting to be extra sure your teammate was taken care of. After wrapping gauze around his thigh, Gaz and Ghost move over to Soap - wrapping his arms around their shoulders as they guide him to stand.

“You go and lie down, okay? You need to rest that leg so you don’t tear the stitches.” You order softly, rising to your feet - feeling your knees pop from the benumbed feeling of kneeling for so long.

“Aye.” Johnny grunts, exhaustion taking over his usually lively self as he looks to you, “I owe you big time, lass.” He says gratefully, casting you an appreciative and tired smile before he’s moving out of the room with the other two - Ghost mumbling something to about not being so reckless, his cold demeanour failing to mask his genuine worry for Soap.

You let out groan of relief as you take a seat at the rustic table, your whole body aching as you tried to relax as best as you could in the beaten down chair.

“You alright, love?” Price asks you - and for a moment, you’d forgotten he was still in the room with you - stood over by the window he’d pried open, a cigar in his hand as he looked over to you. He’d barely spoken a word since the mission had gone south, and as much as you wanted to ask if he was okay, you knew it was best not to pry for the moment - understanding that a lot of stress and emotions were weighed on his shoulders.

“Yeah.” You responded, a hand coming to rub and knead at the back of your neck - attempting to unwind the knot that has formed there. You felt uncomfortably warm, having removed your vest a while ago - leaving you in a simple tank top, though it did little to relieve your skin - the air almost impossibly humid.

Price surveyed you, bringing the thick cigar to his lips, relishing in the smoke burning his throat and lungs as he took you in. A light sheen of perspiration was layered on your skin - collecting between your breasts that gave the illusion that your skin was glowing, your once-neat updo having loosened, your hair falling more loosely and wild, and stray, defiant strands of hair stuck to your damp skin. Price had been silently replaying the events of before in his head - what he could’ve done to prevent it; to prevent Soap getting shot, and to prevent you being put in danger. But, seeing you now - looking as ravishing as you did, helped to take his mind away from his own self-doubt for a beat.

You reluctantly stood, having looked at the scattered medical supplies on the table and floor long enough - hoping that if you glared at it hard enough it would magically be cleaned up and put back to where it was supposed to be. You began slowly picking up pieces of gauze, rolls of surgical suture and various other supplies before placing them back into the first aid box, lost in your own thoughts as you stayed contently silent.

You felt his presence before he reached for you, he smells of ash, and a lingering acrid taste of a cigar burns your tongue. His aura is intrusive, but it’s never uncomfortable. Two calloused, large hands place themselves on the outside of your arms, pressing his hard body to yours - his chest to your back as his familiar, warm lips press onto the heated skin of your neck - the juncture of where your neck and shoulder meets.

“John…” you breathe, eyes flickering over to the open doorway - painfully reminded that you weren’t alone in the house, and if either of your teammates walked in, the first thing they would see is how your Captain is practically trapping your body to the dust-covered table with his own.

“Hm?” He hums back to you, the vibrations crawling from his chest and settling into the sensitive skin of your neck. He was doing it on purpose. Acting nonchalant about the compromising position that you could be caught red-handed in at any moment. “I love hearin’ y’say my name.” He murmurs against your skin, one of his sizeable hands placing itself on your midsection - effectively pushing you back and closer to him, also chipping away at your resolve as you fought back to not sink into the feeling of him. Your skin grew impossibly hotter, the weak feeling in your thighs becoming known as you were silently glad you were being held up between the table and John - certain your already exhausted legs would collapse - you had to stifle a gasp when you felt the light graze of teeth under your jaw, the wiry stubble of his goatee scratching across your delicate skin - your Captain continued his onslaught on your neck, nearly groaning at the taste of salt on your skin.

“They could catch us.” You remind him, breathlessly.

“They could.” He agrees, though he made no move to step away from you.

It was a dangerous game you were both playing. It’s not important how your dalliance with your Captain started - it being a long story of what started as lingering looks and intrusive thoughts as you distantly admired one another - knowing the consequences of what would happen if you were to act on your feelings. You could lose your job, and John would be punished greater than you - being kicked off the team and risking being stripped of his rank. Yet, it seemed he cared little for the consequences when one night - he’d shown up to your room in the barracks, telling you that you both needed to talk - a long overdue conversation - which actually led to him fucking you senseless on your single bed. You both agreed afterwards that you needed to keep whatever this was quiet - John promising you he’d find a way to make it not result in backlash when others learned about your relationship, and in the last few months - you were both in your own content little bubble outside of work, spending most of your time from deployment with him in his apartment in London.

Panic flashes across your face as you hear footsteps descending the stairs, each step groaning and creaking from heavy combat boots, Price then stepped away from you - going back to his place by the window to resume smoking his cigar, acting as if he hadn’t just left you a flustered mess. Gaz was who appeared, not taking any notice of the red dusting your cheeks and the nonplus stature you had while you remained stood by the table.

“He’s passed out.” Gaz interjected the atmosphere - unaware of the previous state you and the Captain were in, Price nodded briefly at Garrick, the end of his cigar burning orange embers for a second as he took a pull of the smoke. You also nodded at his words - shaking yourself out of it as your unsteady hands moved to close the first aid box. Gaz took a seat at the table - the seat previously occupied by Soap - as another set of heavier footsteps came down the staircase, the skull faced Lieutenant appearing, silent as he joined the table. You glanced over to Price, who casually watched out of the window. “It’s bloody boiling in here.” Garrick comments, tugging at the collar of his shirt. Ghost lets out a grumble of agreement, a gloved hand readjusting his mask slightly. You busy yourself, now having regained your composure as you silently took the box in your hands - walking out of the room to go and put it back with the other supplies. Price’s cerulean eyes flicking over to you, watching you leave the room.

It was a few hours later, daylight had burned and it grew darker. The air finally getting cooler and giving your body some relief. You had just finished checking up on Soap - him finally feeling more like himself, joking and putting on his charm as usual. It was a relief to see him act like himself, as well as that his wound hadn’t shown any signs of infection. The stairs creaked under your feet as you left Johnny to rest and descended to the ground floor. Glancing into the living room to see Gaz had made himself comfortable on the worn down sofa, and was already passed out. Simon was no where to be seen - and you guessed he was either outside on watch or he’d just found himself a private area for the night, understanding that he prefers his own company sometimes.

You snatched a pillow from the armchair in the living room - unfortunately, the only bed that was actually inhabitable; was occupied by an injured Soap. You would’ve slept in the living room, but Gaz’s snoring was already doing your head in. You moved to the more open room - where the flimsy dining table was. You went to the other end of the room, laying the pillow on the hard ground and lying down. The pillow gave your head some relief, but the hardwood floor dug unmercifully into your already aching back.

You sighed, staring up at the ceiling, observing the parts where the paint had chipped. You laid there for a moment, hands resting on your stomach as you enjoyed the peace and quiet - yet it also put you on edge; you could hear a pin drop it was that silent.

You decided to shut your eyes, disappointed to feel not even an ounce of sleep behind your eyes, you let out another frustrated sigh - scrunching your brows as you tried to will yourself to get some rest.

When you heard the quiet shuffling of boots moving towards you, your breath slowed - already knowing who it was as you felt him settle on the ground beside you, a strong arm slithering around your stomach and gently pulled you to him until your back met his hard chest.

“What are you doing?” You asked, your voice sounding stern - though, you could both hear the smile in it.

“Wha’s it look like i’m doin’?” Price asked rhetorically, his voice low and gravelly - his accent mixing his words to a perfect melody as it vibrated against your ear. You felt his stubble prickling the back of your neck as he placed a single, wet kiss there - a shiver rolling down your spine.

“Not here.” You sighed reluctantly, even having him lay next to you was risky - as well as that it was effectively arousing you like a bitch in heat. It’s been so long - too long - since you’d felt him, having been on this mission for weeks now and not having an ounce of privacy between you.

“Was only wantin’ a cuddle, love.” He responded with a raspy chuckle, his voice having a teasing edge to it as his arm flexed around your torso slightly - pulling you closer to him until there was practically no space between your bodies. “-unless…” he trailed off, his arm around your torso slowly moving south, his fingers dancing along the slit of exposed skin where your top ended and your pants begun.

“They’ll hear us.” You say, your voice growing breathless as you tried to remind him - as well as yourself - looking down to try and watch his fingers in the dark - only being able to make out darker shapes as you felt his finger tease under the waistband of your pants - trailing along the sensitive skin of you abdomen.

“We’ll be quiet.” He says, his liquid voice soothing you as he nestles his head in the crook of your neck - also looking down to watch his hands work as they slowly begin to pop the buttons of your pants open.

You don’t reply, breath bated as you feel your pants grow loose on your hips and leisurely pushed down to your thighs - feeling your skin being exposed to the air.

He lets out a hum against your neck, adjusting his head to softy suck at the thin skin of your jugular - feeling your breath hitch as his warm, large hand slides further down, slipping under the cotton fabric of your underwear and cupping your pussy, feeling how hot, puffy and slick you were under his palm.

“Oh, sweetheart..” He groaned, his voice barely above a whisper as he leans more over you to get a better look at your face, a smug smirk pulling his lips and goatee up as his hand wedges itself between your closed thighs - flexing his wrist to essentially grind his hand against your neglected cunt. “How long ya been like this? All wet for me?” He asked lowly - though he knew you were too focused on not crying out to answer him. His pride grew as he felt your hips begin to rock on their own accord, grinding into his palm as well as brushing your arse against his clothed cock. “Soaked… and I haven’t even put my fingers in you yet.” He practically growls against your neck - his voice reverberating through your entire body, his touch feeling electric.

“John…” you breathe a quiet whine, and he feels his chest swell as he could already hear the pleading edge in your voice, his cock throbbing in the confines of his pants.

“Tell me to stop.” He breathes, his hand pressing up against you - feeling your slick stick to his palm. He let out a low, gravelly breath as he felt how hot and wet you were. He doesn’t wait for you to respond - because he knows you won’t. He knows you won’t tell him to stop.

And you know it too.

You hear the metal of his zipper being pulled, the noise joining the soundtrack of your heavy breathing. The hand still buried inside of your underwear shifts, spreading your slick over your puffy clit, sending small jolts through your body. When you hear a quiet, strangled groan from behind you, you turn to look over your shoulder.

Price was still laying on his side behind you, his pants being pulled down enough so that his cock was free. You watched in awe as he slowly fisted his dick, pumping himself languidly as his other hand was still buried inside of your underwear - a calloused thumb circling your bud of nerves while you felt two of his thick fingers tease at your quivering, drooling entrance.

You thankfully didn’t need to whine and beg - mostly because John was growing just as desperate as you were. His thick fingers sank into you, stretching you more than your own fingers could, you let out a soft hiss as your hips squirmed a little.

“Be quiet.” Price orders, his tone authoritative yet dripping with lust, he began slowly dragging his fingers in an out of you - scissoring you open to get you ready for his cock. His chin rested on your shoulder again as he watched you squirm and bite your lip in an attempt to keep quiet, his voice a breath of air against your ear - “so fuckin’ tight.”

His other hand released its hold on his cock, lifting to cup your jaw and turn you to face him. He pried your bottom lip from under your teeth with his thumb before he planted his lips on yours - letting out a long exhale through his nose as he relished the taste of you. His fingers moving a little faster as your quiet noises fell onto his tongue.

He pulled back a moment later, his face hovering above yours. You could only just see his face in the dark, his lips parted as he took in your expression.

“Open.”

Like the good girl you were, you did as you were told, your lips parting and your tongue peeking out invitingly. He let out a small groan of approval before he spat into your mouth. You took what he gave you, whimpering a little as you swallowed. His fingers pulled out of you then, leaving you feeling empty. A protest was on the tip of your tongue before you felt him use his booted foot to push your pants the rest of the way down your legs, and you quickly kicked them off your ankles, the sound of fabric hitting the floor filling the room for a beat.

One of his thighs wriggled between your legs, pushing your legs open as he melded against you. Wasting no time in gathering your slick with the flushed tip of his cock before he pushed into you. Pressing your lips together again as you both groaned from the stretch of his cock slowly filling you.

“So fuckin’ tight…” he groaned again, his voice barely above a whisper as his head fell onto your shoulder - his cock throbbing between your hot, constricting walls. “Like you were made for me, love.” He added with a breathless chuckle, slowly rocking his hips until he was fully buried into you.

“John-“ you gasped as he bottomed out, your body already writhing beside him, your chest rising and falling with shallower breaths.

At the sound of your noises unintentionally upping in volume, his free hand came to clasp around your mouth - muffling the little whimpers threatening to escape. “I know…” he cooed against your ear in a whisper. “Got to be quiet for me sweetheart, don’t want to others to catch us — to catch me filling you up like this.” He breathed, his own breathing quickening as he began to rock his hips in hard, shallow thrusts.

The moan that escaped was trapped into his palm, your legs already quivering as his cock dragged against every spot inside of you it seemed only he could find. You weakly rocked back against him, hearing his hot breath fan against your ear as it seemed he was also trying to stay quiet.

“Not gonna last long, love.” He says honestly. You too were already feeling the beginnings of shock waves indicating an incoming orgasm. It’d been such a long few weeks since he’d been able to fuck you. “Need you to come around my cock before I can fill you up.” He growls, the hand not muffling your mouth reached down to fan across your clit - your body immediately tensing, your cunt practically strangling his cock.

His pelvis kept hitting your arse in slow but hard thrusts, rocking your body with him as his chest remained glued to your back. One of his hands cupping your breasts through your shirt while the other was down to where you were joined together - touching your clit in tight circles. His face pressed into your neck, his goatee burning your skin deliciously. Your teeth trapped your bottom lip between them - forcing yourself to muffle your noses - almost to the point you could taste copper in your mouth.

It felt like the knot in your stomach was tightening by the minute, your body shuddering and your thighs tensing as they were forced open by his own muscled thighs.

“M’gonna come-“ you moan quietly, spurring him on as he let a low groan into your neck. He picked up his pace a little, nearly rolling you onto the side with the force of his thrusts, his fingers began smacking tapping at your throbbing clit, his cock piercing you open as his thrust grow sloppy. His hot tongue laved over the think skin of your neck - the sensitive spot just under your neck that he knew would have you trembling.

About several seconds later it happened. Your abdomen coiling taught as you felt heat and desire crash through you, your lips parting in a silent moan as you stiffened for a moment - your pussy quivering around him as you came.

He continued to fuck you through it, his eyes glued to your face as he watched your expression contort with euphoria. He let out a low and breathy groan when he felt you tighten around him. “That’s right, love… make a mess on me-“ he encouraged, his gravelly voice whispering into your ear as he held you to him.

He wasn’t that far behind you, grunting curses and profanities into your ear about filling you up as his hips met yours with one final, hard thrust, before he was spilling his hot come into you. His body shuddering beside you as he panted into your neck again.

You let out a quiet, weak moan as you felt warmth of his spend bloom inside of you. You both stayed there for a few minutes, catching your breaths as you felt sweat dancing over your skin - your pussy still pulsing around his softening cock from the aftershocks of such an intense orgasm.

“Fuckin’ hell..” he breathed — his voice trailing to a soft chuckle as he slowly pulled his lax cock out of you, gently shushing you when you whined at the loss. “So good f’me, always such a good girl…” he praises, kissing around your ear as he whispers sweet nothings to you.

As your captain coddled you and cleaned you up, you were both blissfully unaware of the ogling eyes from the shadows, the moonlight shining through the window giving a glimmer of light to reflect against the cool surface of the skull mask…

A/N: hope everyone enjoyed! Sorry it took so long to get out been a lil busy. I couldn’t resist adding the little mention of Ghost in the end — I LOVE reading those fics and head cannons of Ghost x you x Price.

Ooo maybe I should write a Ghost x reader x Price??? Lmk!!

#cod price #john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain john price #captain john price x reader #john price smut #captain price smut #price x reader #simon ghost riley #barry sloane #captain price #call of duty #modern warfare two #john soap mactavish

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xyziiix · 11 months

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Sneak peak at the daddy Captain Price oneshot! It’s still in the works but I’ll try get it posted as soon as I can.

Thanks for the requests, I’ve read through them - and whew, you guys are DIRTY but I love it! - after I get this posted as well as the few other things I need to finish I will definitely be writing them! 🫡

But feel free to keep sending requests! 💕

#captain john price x reader #captain john price #captain price x reader #captain price #john price x reader #john price smut

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xyziiix · 11 months

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Please send me smutty Price requests! Going through a price phase rn 😮‍💨

#captain john price #captain price x reader #price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #price smut #cod mw2 #cod imagines

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xyziiix · 11 months

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•𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝙰 𝚆𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙽• - VII

•Pairing: Mid-honour!Arthur Morgan X Female!Reader•

•Summary: Finally moving from the frigid and isolated town of Colter, Arthur and Hosea recollect the past before the gang arrives at Horseshoe Overlook•

•warnings: language mostly, Hosea being a lil cutie•

!most of this chapter is in Arthur’s perspective!

!not proof read!

series Masterlist <<previous chapter

The snow melted into green and brown - into the beauty of an unfrozen environment, the sun gradually radiating warmth onto everyone as the gang descended the mountain that held the glacier. Horses whinnying as they pulled the carts full of personal belongings along the path which was finally not blanketed in white and ice. The cool breeze actually became a relief instead of a shiver now that the sunshine was actually blazing and not just seemingly there for the light of day. The scenery was much more welcomed than the previous winter wonderland - more full of life and vibrancy. The horses hauling Arthur and Hosea’s wagon huffed as their legs were submerged in the refreshing water of the shallow stream, but the wheels of the cart groaned in protest.

“Get us out the stream.” Hosea instructed Arthur, whom cracked the reins to urge the horses to move more efficiently - which became quite challenging as the current of the water pushed against the wagon, “you gotta keep us moving, but calm.”

As they finally got back onto the dirt and gravel, the small victory was discarded as the left side of the wagon dipped abruptly - the wheel having disconnected and toppling to the side. And the sounds of barrels and boxes falling out of the rear end didnt sooth Arthur’s frustration.

“Ah, shit!”

You were about three carts in front, unbeknownst of of the halt of their movement as the others continued down the path, leaving Arthur, Hosea, Bill, Charles, Javier and uncle behind to assess the problem.

“You alright back there?” Bill asked as he pulled the two mares to a stop.

“Does everything look alright?” Arthur bit sarcastically, throwing the reins off of his lap to jump down from the front of the wagon and stomp walk to the back.

“Well, what’s going on?” Javier asked, sat atop his horse.

Arthur let out a ‘gah’ of annoyance, throwing his hand up in the air as he properly took in the state of the cart. “I broke the goddamn wheel!”

“Alright! Let’s get it fixed.” Hosea urged as he also climbed off the wagon. Charles joined Hosea to haul the end of the wagon bed - dismissing Javier when he offered his help - Arthur lifted the heavy wood of the wheel. “Alright Charles, you and me hold the thing up, while you try and put the wheel back on, Arthur.”

“You still strong enough to hold up a wagon?” Arthur quipped as he trundled the wheel back over to the wagon.

“Shut up.” Hosea responded as he strained his knees to lift the wood up.

“M’just sayin’.” Arthur prompted, grunting as he lifted the wood up to join back onto the axle.

“Well, say less.”

Arthur panted as he crouched next to the wheel, giving the wood a few bashes with his broad shoulder to push the wheel back into place, when it looked secure enough to his satisfaction, he appeared at Charles and Hosea’s side. “You ain’t so useless after all.” He said to Hosea, his tone teasing.

The older man just let out an amused and prolonged laugh as he and Charles began retrieving all of the fallen supplies, “not quite.”

As Arthur made work of tightening the screws with a wrench - Hosea and Charles reloading the wagon - they became aware of watchful eyes. At the top of the cliffs edge, three men on horseback stood idly - observing them. Hosea’s - still - gloved hand wipes at his face as he analysed their positions, Charles and Arthur becoming slightly anxious.

“What do you think?” Arthur asked lowly as he placed the metal tool back onto the wagon bed.

“If they wanted trouble..” Charles began, staring up at the strangers, “we wouldn’t have seen them.” Hosea stiffly raised his arm, giving the three men a frigid wave - in an attempt of reassurance that they wouldn’t cause any problems.

“Poor bastards…” Hosea rasped, lowering his arm as neither of the watchers made any move, “we really screwed them over down here.” He then turned to look at his comrades. “Come on. Let’s not push our luck.

They finished loading the wagon, Bill and Javier had already gone to follow you and the others.

“What happened?” Asked asked as he lifted a large pot, hauling it onto the back.

“Well, get in.. and I’ll tell ya.”

The wagon you were in jostled and rutted over the stones, the path being less smoother than it were when it was covered in much softer snow rather than the uneven gravel, you were sat on the buckboard with Dutch, listening to him talk about anything and everything - that was the good thing about Dutch, he could talk for America and render you free of boredom - though, it could get a little tiring listening to him rant for seemingly hours on end. You peered over your shoulder, and when you noticed Bill was much further behind than the others and Arthur and Hosea were completely out of sight, you grew concerned.

“Hey, where’s Hosea and Arthur?” You glanced to Dutch. He didn’t even look behind him as he paused from what he was previously talking about, waving his hand dismissively.

“They’ll catch up, probably just stopped for a piss or somethin’.” He said, you just sighed as you turned to look at the path ahead. “Now what was i sayin?”

“Talkin’ bout the feller in Tumbleweed.” You replied, despite not really wanting to hear this story again.

“Right.” Dutch chuckled, laughing at the own recollection of the memory, some drunk tried to steal The Count - a story he’d told half a million times already.

Hosea had just finished telling Arthur and Charles the story of the Indians, how they lost all of the heartlands - and were either killed or herded to reservations by the government and army. Arthur then began to ask Charles of his tribe in the past, only to discover he was unsure whether he had one - but that his mother was captured by soldiers years after him and his parents fled from the tribe he was with, and he never saw her again.

“-Around thirteen, I just took off on my own.” Charles finished explaining.

“That was about the age we found young Arthur here,” Hosea chimed in before adding “-maybe a little older. John and Y/N were a little younger than that… but Arthur-“ he let out a quick laugh, “-A wilder delinquent you never did see. But he learned fast.”

“Not as fast as Marston, apparently.” Arthur added, sarcastic as ever.

“Wait, i don’t understand.” Charles began, “what’s the problem between you two?”

“Arthur?” Hosea joshed.

“It’s a long story…” Arthur grumbled.

“Well what about you and Y/N, how did you two properly get together.”

Arthur was a little taken aback by the question, it wasn’t often he was asked that considering most of the gang new the events that led to the two of you finally growing a pair and telling each other how you felt - though, Charles obviously didn’t know much of it. Hosea let out a delighted hum, probably readying himself to expose all of the embarrassing moments of the two of you as awkward teenagers/young adults. And just as he expected, Hosea beat Arthur to it.

“They was dancin’ around each other for years, it was as cute as a bugs ear.” Hosea amusedly responded, which actually drew a quick laugh from Charles. “I even remember talkin’ with Y/N about it when she was younger, tellin’ her she had more guts than Arthur here, and that she should just tell him she was sweet on him… but she didn’t, of course.”

While Arthur was grumbled at Hosea sharing the personal information, Charles was intrigued - he just… couldn’t imagine a big outlaw like Arthur being so smitten and timid as Hosea was making him out to be.

*ೃ༄ *ೃ༄ *ೃ༄ *ೃ༄ *ೃ༄[next part written as if it were in the present - in your perspective]

You were sat at the table, your elbows resting on the old wood and holding your chin in your hands. You were completely lost in thought - with a far-away look in your eye. You were dwelling over the events of the day, where you and the others had been in town when you saw Arthur. But, before you could go to greet him, out came an unfortunately familiar woman to join him, Mary Gillis. You knew of Arthur’s relationship with her, despite him not sharing much with all of you - he’d mentioned her to you a few times, seeking advice while you both sat by the campfire late in the evening, and with you just clenching your jaw with a feigned smile plastered on your face while he told you about the woman he was in love with.

Your thoughts were cut off when Hosea’s face appeared in front of you, making you jump a little as he seemingly came out of no where to take the seat opposite you.

“Here we are.” He sighed with a proud smile on his face as he placed a very thick book in front of you. You stared at the book for a moment, the idea of reading so many words already straining your eyes and stabbing your brain.

“I can’t read all this, Hosea. Y’know my readings as good as horse shit.”

“That’s why you gotta keep practicing.” He tapped his finger on the leather-bound cover at each syllable for extra measure, before he added, “besides, it’d do you better to practice reading than sitting here being pensive about Arthur all day.” His abrupt statement caused your heart to drop.

“What?”

He looked at you half-amusedly as you straightened up, quickly becoming awkward at his words - as they were true.

“You really think I don’t know about how you two act around each other?” He tipped his chin, giving you a pointed look.

“So this book, what it about?” You attempted to change the subject, not wanted the current topic of conversation to continue any further.

“Y/N.”

“What do you want me to say, Hosea?” Your brows furrowed as you began to grow irritated, the feeling of having this conversation out loud felt akin to being backed in a corner - suffocating. “You want me to say I’m sweet on Arthur? Cause I ain’t.”

“I practically raised you for the last twelve years, girl. I can tell when you’re lying to me.” He responded, eyes squinting momentarily at your visible defensiveness. A beat of silence washed over as you opted to look into the distance, unsure of what to say. “Arthur’s sweet on you, I can tell ya that.”

Your gaze snapped back to him before you scoffed, “no he ain’t, he’s with another woman.”

“I’m aware.”

“You think he’d be with another woman if he were sweet on me?”

“I think he’s trying to convince himself he’s not, though I ain’t gonna condone him bringing an innocent woman’s feelings into play if he doesn’t feel that way about her.” He replied nonchalantly, leaning back in the rickety chair, lacing his hands together over his chest.

“That’s a big ‘if’, Hosea.”

He shrugged, “I don’t think it’s a big ‘if’.”

“What actually makes you think that?” You urged, leaning forward, while you were putting a front about being annoyed - you couldn’t deny that you were intrigued, and that his words ignited a little bit of hope inside of you.

“I see the way he looks at you. And I know that because it’s how I used to look at Bessie.” He nodded. You fell silent at the mention of her, the woman who’d been one of your parental figures - the one reminding you the most of your own mother with her kind nature. Your face softened, not really knowing what to say.

“Hosea”-

“Arthur’s brooding, even with us he’s always been guarded…” he continued, lifting to scratch at his chin briefly before meeting your gaze with a serious expression, “-except when it comes to you. He cares about you, can’t you see?”

*ೃ༄ *ೃ༄ *ೃ༄ *ೃ༄ *ೃ༄

“Alright, s’enough of that. We still headin’ the right way?” Arthur cut Hosea off, succeeding in changing the subject.

“That depends, are we still heading west in search fortune and repose in virgin forest as we planned?” Hosea asked rhetorically. “No. Are we heading in the correct direction on our desperate escape from the law eastwards down the mountains? Yes, i believe so.”

“You know this area?” Charles questioned.

“A little, I’ve been through a couple of times.” He answered, turning to scan the scenery momentarily, “there’s a livestock town not too far from here, called Valentine. Cowboys, outlaws, working girls. Our kind of place.”

“O’Driscolls?” Arthur added,

“Probably them too.”

“Pinkertons?” He drawled out, voice underlined with a hint of dread.

“Let’s hope not.”

“And this place we’re going… wait, what’s it called again?”

“Horseshoe overlook.” Hosea breathed out.

“It’s a good place to lie low?” Arthur asked again.

“It’ll do for now. And how low do you think Dutch is really going to lie?” Hosea quipped, “it’s just.. you know, maybe it’s me who’s changed, not him, but, we kept telling him that ferry job didn’t feel right. You and me had a real lead in Blackwater that could’ve worked out.” He shook his head slightly.

“Maybe.” Arthur replied.

“It just… isn’t like Dutch to lose his head like that.”

“Thinks go wrong sometimes. People die.” Arthur reminded, an attempt to reassure the older man. “It’s the way it is, always has been. Me, you, Dutch. We’ve all been in this line a’work a long time - and we’re still here, so… I figure we must’ve got it right a hell a’lot more than we got it wrong.”

You’d finally got yours and Arthur’s tent set up, trying your best to make it as homey as possible - considering half of your favourite belongings had been left in Blackwater - you’d even set up Arthur’s pictures on the side of the wagon - the ones with him, Dutch and Hosea, the one of Copper and even the picture of his father. You wiped at the sweat pooling on your skin, you’d already removed all of your winter clothing and changed it for something much more light to withstand the contrasting heat from Colter.

You were still worried on Arthur and Hosea’s whereabouts, yourself and the others having arrived at horseshoe overlook about an hour ago - but, you didn’t want to go making a big fuss about it just yet. After all, you knew Arthur was more than capable of taking care of himself.

You were currently placing trinkets onto the side table, busying yourself with making the tent look more aesthetically pleasing. When you heard the sound of horse trots and wheels dragging in the dirt, you immediately perked up and looked over to see the final wagon rolling in, with Hosea, Arthur, Charles and Javier climbing off of the wagon.

“You weren’t wrong, Hosea. This place is perfect!” Dutch called out, walking over to them.

“I hope so.” Hosea responded as he carefully manoeuvred himself to plant his feet back on the ground.

“Gentlemen…” Dutch started, undoubtedly leading to one of his big speeches, “we have survived.” You came to stand at the entrance of your tent, leaning against the side of the wagon as you watched Dutch wave Uncle out of his seat at the table in the middle of your newfound camp.

“For now.” Hosea added.

“Now, it is time to prosper.” He announced, you planned on joining them, but out of your peripheral you saw Miss Grimshaw wave you over, and you begrudgingly moved to join her and the girls as she quietly - not wanting to interrupt the men - but sternly instructed you all with unloaded the rest of the supplies.

“Arthur and I were about to prosper in Blackwater.” Hosea stated as the two came to join Dutch, “then, Micah got you all excited about that ferry and here we are.” He threw his arms up, completely unimpressed. Arthur perched himself on the edge of the table, peering over his shoulder at his father-figures.

“We have all made mistakes over the years, Hosea…” Dutch defended, standing up to be level with his friend, “every last one of us.” Arthur drowned them out slightly, looking over to where you and Tilly were working together to pull a large rolled fur out of the back of the wagon, he grew uncomfortable as heat covered his body - still wearing his winter coat. “But I kept us together.” Dutch argued, jabbing his hand - sporting a cigar - at Hosea, “kept us alive. Kept the nooses off our neck.” He added before moving to walk away from him.

“I guess I’m just worried.” Hosea prompted, his voice wavering with worry as he caught up with Dutch, placing a hand on his shoulder to grab his full attention, “I ain’t got that long, Dutch. I want folks safe before I go.” He said with desperation.

“Me too.” Dutch defended.

“And now we are stuck. East of the Grizzlies and out of money… and a long way from our dream of virgin land in the west.”

“I know, my brother, but we are safe.” Dutch said slowly, as if trying to drill the words into his worried friends mind. “We make a bit of money here, then we move again… head out around them, be west of Uncle Sam… in a few months buy some land.” He used his hands as he spoke.

“I hope so.” Hosea responded. Dutch then backed away slightly, his arms held up in a presenting motion.

“Would you just look around you.” He spun around to walk face the horizon, “this world has its consolations.”

You looked over to where the three were stood, watching Herr Strauss approach them with his leather case, you sighed as you placed the final box near where Javier was already making work of building a fire. You also looked over your shoulder, noticing Molly O’Shea sat in Dutch’s tent, evident that she’d done no labour what so ever, your brows furrowing in annoyance at her arrogance - clearly thinking that because she was Dutch’s little plaything that she didn’t have to pull her weight like the rest of you - it wasn’t that you didn’t necessarily like Miss O’Shea, she was actually very nice to talk to if you ignored the way she clearly looked down on you and everyone else.

“Now, everyone! Put your tools down for a moment.” Dutch called out, and you sighed as you stood fully again, your knees feeling weak and your eyes feeling heavy - after all, you hadn’t slept a wink in the last day, you and Arthur having spent the whole night riding back to Colter just to be on the move again to get here to Horseshoe. “Come on, gather round, quickly now.” You joined the circle being created, standing beside Karen as you looked to Arthur momentarily before switching back to Dutch. “I know that things have been tough, but we are safe now, and we are far too poor.” He lifted his hand as he continued. “So it is time for everyone to get to work.”

“I wonder if that means Miss O’Shea as well.” Karen joked in a whisper to you, prompting you to bob your head down to suppress the smirk pulling your lips, when you glanced up, your eyes met Arthur and he raised his brow at you - curious as to what you and Karen were so amused at - you bit your lip to hide your smile and continued listening in.

“Get to work, but stay out of trouble.” Hosea reminded, “remember, we are itinerant workers.”

-“Laid off when they shut down our factory to the north.” He added, you all already knew this of course, as you’d already used this fake backstory before. “Now, get out there, and see what you can find.” Dutch instructed before turning to a specific pair, “Uncle, Reverend Swanson… no more passengers.” He said, which pulled a small chorus of chuckling from the lot of you as you observed the two men’s dumbfounded states. “It is time for everyone to earn their keep.”

“There is a town a little way down the track, name of Valentine… live stock town. All mud and morons if I remember right.” Hosea explained. “That seems a decent place to start.”

“-And… we need food… real food. That means every day, one of you.” Mr Pearson chimed in.

“And remember-“ Dutch started again, briefly stepping into his tent to grab a familiar reddish-brown box in his hands, “- whatever it is that you find,” he slammed the box onto the barrel outside his tent. “The camp gets its slice.” He said pointedly, “now, be sensible out there.” And with that, you all began to scatter off to whatever it is you were previously doing, you glanced over your shoulder to see Miss Grimshaw talking to Arthur.

“Now, Y/N’s had your tent ready, Mr. Morgan, come with me.” She instructed, he nodded before following after her. “We put you over here.” She explained as she gestured towards the wagon.

“I’m sure everythin’ will be fine, Miss Grimshaw.” Arthur said dismissively, wanting nothing more than to get out of his extra layers and get some sleep - preferably with you with him doing the same.

“It should be, most of your stuff from Blackwater got saved.” She said, speed walking over to the tent - even Arthur struggling to keep up with her quick pace.

“Everythin’ apart from my money.” He added sarcastically.

“Oh, don’t remind me.” She shook him off with a sour expression.

“Well, we can always make more money.” He shrugged, moving to sit at the edge of the cot, already looking at the little additions you’d added to the Wagon.

“We’re gonna have to.” She agreed before turning to walk away, and Arthur visibly winced at her voice cutting through the air in a shout, “Miss Jackson! I’ve seen shit with more common sense than you. Do it properly.” Arthur sighed as he pulled his coat off of his shoulders, placing his satchel on the table after fishing a cigarette and match out. He looked up while striking the match on the sole of his boots to see you quickly walking over to the tent, wearily glancing to where Miss Grimshaw was hollering at the girls - not wanting her to catch you unoccupied.

“You okay?” He asked with a smirk, amused at your hurriedness, you gave him a wide, cheeky grin as you quickly untied the flaps from the metal poles holding the canopy up. And a minute later, the security of the flaps granted you a sense of privacy from the outside, the light in the tent a warm shade of orange from the setting sun. You moved next to him, dramatically flopping down onto your back with an exaggerated sigh while he just chuckled at you, the smell of tobacco filling the air as he blew a cloud of smoke out.

“I can‘t feel my legs.” You complained, your eyes shut. Arthur tutted at you before leaning over you to flick the cigarette out of the small gap between the canopy flaps and the wagon. Afterwards, he groaned as he laid down next to you - the cot being a tighter squeeze than the bed in Colter, not that either of you minded - he crossed his arms behind his head, inviting you to curl into his side and rest your head on his chest. After a beat, you lifted your head to look at him. “Arthur, you stink.” You said pointedly, raising your eyebrows at him - it was true, he’d been sweating in winter clothes for the last couple hours under the blazing sun.

He barked a laugh, and took you by surprise by reaching for the back of your head and pushing your head into the space between his chest and underarm, laughing boyishly as you let out a muffled scream. He finally let you go, his ribs aching from laughing as you sat up with a flabbergasted look on your face, you brought your hand to smack his chest even though you couldn’t suppress the grin on your face. “You’re disgusting.” You half-heartedly scolded.

“And when was the last time you were in a bath, Miss L/N?” Arthur asked, scrunching his face at you in feigned disgust, he lazily watched as you sat up to unlace your boots.

“I’ll have you know, Morgan, that as soon as I get to that town… Valentine, the first thing I’ll be doin’ is stayin’ in a hotel and having the most luxurious bath in the world.” You said matter-of-factly. After you had successfully tugged your boots off you looked over your shoulder to see Arthur’s boots - caked in mud - still on his feet and resting right on your clean cot.

“‘Most luxurious bath in the world’ huh?” He mimicked you while staring up at the canopy, feeling you tugging off his boots - grumbling about the rule of ‘having your boots on the damn bed’ - “think there’ll be room for me in your ‘luxurious bath’?” He asked.

“Not if you get dirt all over this cot.” You answered, he let out a chuckle, he heard the sound of his boots being dropped onto the floor before you settled next to him again, already closing your eyes as exhaustion looked over you.

“What do you think of this place then?” He asked you.

“I think it’s good, it ain’t the west. But, it’s better than bein’ up in those mountains.” You hummed.

“Better than freezin’ my ass off.” He agreed, you let out another hum as your eyes refused to open. He glanced down at you, noticing your responses becoming less aware. “You get some sleep, darlin’.”

“You too, Morgan.”

Sorry it’s been so long guys, and I’m sorry that the first chapter you get after such a long time is mid asf

Anyways, I’m at SO glad to finally get them away from colter - this is where the real fun starts 😉

-also, I AINT A MOLLY HATER! My girl deserved better - just needed to clarify that after the comment Karen and reader were laughing at abt her

Also I love Hosea 🥹 he’s a little cutie patootie

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan imagine #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #john marston #dutch van der linde

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xyziiix · 1 year

Text

Here’s my plan - in order - for the upcoming fics or one shots - for the people that may have been waiting for a new chapter (ect) to come out.

The Aegon Targaryen oneshot (should be out in a week tops)

A smutty Arthur Morgan oneshot

The next chapter of ‘Like A Western’ (read series here!) Arthur Morgan X Female!Reader

Release the first chapter of ‘Fatal Impact’ (PREVIEW here!) Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley X Female!Reader

And finally, release the - half completed - first chapter of ‘Strained’ (PREVIEW here!) Daryl Dixon X Female!Reader, Joel Miller X Female!Reader

I can’t promise when these will be - I mean, some of these are already half written - but I’ve got A levels and college shit coming up - it’s getting busy as it’s exam season 🫠 - but any spare time I have I’m adding to my WIP’s, I just feel awful that people are waiting ☹️

-Also, I’ve read the requests people have sent (thank you to those who sent them! Ya’ll got some really good ideas!) but im going to focus on these listed works first, and then I promise I’ll focus on requests for a while.

NAVIGATION/MAIN MASTERLIST HERE!

#arthur morgan x reader #aegon targaryen ii x reader #simon ghost riley x you #daryl dixion x reader #joel miller x reader

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xyziiix · 1 year

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𝘋𝘌𝘈𝘋 𝘖𝘍 𝘕𝘐𝘎𝘏𝘛 - (oneshot)

John ‘soap’ Mactavish X Female!Reader

WARNINGS: SMUT, fluffly smut??? 🤔, unprotected p in v ( please wrap it guys ), cunnilingus (female receiving) language, porn with little to zero plot 🤭,

Your eyes shot open, the distinct and undeniable ‘squeak’ of your bedroom door is what initially woke you up, your body tensing from panic. But, before you could start contemplating whether or not to charge at the intruder, you hear an alleviating ‘shite..’ hissed by an even more alleviating Scot whom you’d been expecting home from deployment any day now.

John cringed to himself at the abrupt squeal piercing through the silence, his eyes lingering on your unmoving form under the sheets - he’d been reminding himself that he needed to fix the hinges of the door that’d started producing an ear-piercing squeak whenever someone opened it. He let out a breath, his duffel, boots, and other gear was already down stairs and out of the way - leaving him in only his pants and shirt.

“Johnny?” You timidly called out, making the soldier stop his movements of removing his last pieces of clothing, his eyes softened as he looked in your direction. A small amount of moonlight shone through the crack of the curtains, giving him just the right amount of luminance to see you, slowly rising to rest your weight on your elbow, squinting into the darkness to try see him better.

“Sorry, hen, I dinnae mean to wake you up.” He apologised, his arms stretching to pull his shirt over his head, kicking his pants off of his legs, impatience bubbling inside him when you were laid right there - a few feet away from him, after months of being in a completely different continent from you.

He watched you lie onto your back again properly, your head gracefully landing on the pillow, your hair splayed out around you like some sort of halo. You laid there, waiting patiently for him to join you, to hold you again after so long. Now only clad in boxers, he approached the bed, gently pulling back the sheets, your arms instinctively reaching out for him.

That feeling, like after spending hours trying to solve a puzzle, and you finally - finally - get those two pieces together, that’s how you felt whenever Johnny came home - for months you’d feel almost empty in your chest, and when he finally came back, you’d feel the relief of that he was the missing piece to the puzzle all along.

He met you halfway, his arms snaking around to splay across your back, pulling you into his bare chest. Your face pressed against his neck, arms held tightly around his shoulders, afraid that if you loosened your hold, he’d disappear again. You were both in a comfortable silence, embracing each other, inhaling each others nostalgic scent, the inimitable feeling of each others skin pressed together. John was pleasantly surprised to reveal that you weren’t wearing anything under the cover, he let himself hope that wonder if you’d been doing this since he’d phoned you to tell you he’d be coming home soon - planning to surprise him like this.

“I missed you…” you whispered against his warm skin, turning your head slightly to kiss his heated neck. He shifted his arm to a more firmer hold, a shiver rolling down his spine at the feeling of your lips against the thin skin. Your mouth felt kind - like home - the feeling like liquid sunlight seeping into his pores.

“I missed you, bonnie.” He returned, his hushed voice failing to hide the gruffness in his accent. He moved to litter your shoulder in small, kind kisses, trailing them up to your collar bone, your neck, lingering on your jaw before finally meeting your lips.

The kiss was warm, wet, and long overdue. His hand softly holding the back of your head, holding your face to his as you lazily kissed each other. Your tongue rolling against his, arms holding him tighter as you both felt your bodies getting hotter, full of need and want for the other.

With no indication of the kiss ending any time soon, Johnny gently pushed you onto your back, moving to hover above you, he let a soft, prolonged groan into your mouth when he felt your legs lift themselves to lock around his waist - pushing his growing erection firmly into your bare pussy.

His lips pulled away from yours, a lightbulb flicking in his head while he planted a chaste kiss to your chin. He met your eyes properly for the first time, restraining himself from moaning at the glazed, doe-eyed look you were giving him. Your lips, puffy from sleep and his kisses, were parted as you stared up at him. He threaded his fingers through your hair whilst he gave himself a minute to admire your face, the face he’d missed so much these last few months.

Still, that idea of his was flashing like an unmissable sign in his brain, the idea making his cock grow harder against your dampening heat. He pushed his hips into yours a few times, the friction from the cloth of his boxers had you both breathless.

“Johnny-“ you murmured again, your hands resting on his shoulder blades as you pressed chaste, wet kisses all over his neck, and he let out a louder groan at the mix of both of your lips moving against him.

“I wanna taste you, lass.” He finally grunted out, and if possible, you felt your entire body get ten times hotter at his words. The wetness of your desire finally seeping through the fabric of John’s boxers, and he felt himself nearly cumming right there and then at the dampness teasing his cock.

“Yeah?” Your voice broke off into a desperate, pathetic whine. Still feeling him gently push his hips into yours, he gazed down at you, an almost dumbfound look in his eyes, until he opened his mouth again.

“Yeah.” He said, his voice low and liquid.

He met your lips once more. Sharing a swift, yet promiscuous kiss before he dipped his head lower - camouflaged by the thin sheet that was draped over you both. His calloused, warm hands trailed down your sides while his supple lips tracked down your sternum, navel and then down to your thighs - deliberately neglecting the place you wanted him most. He guided your legs open, his tongue teasing a path on the inside of your thigh, moving closer and closer to your pulsing heat - only to move his head to your opposite thigh. His arms were snaked around the outside of your thighs, his rough hands soothing up your torso to leisurely squeeze one of your breasts.

You felt impatience burning through your stomach at his blatant teasing - you could feel the smile pulling on the Scot’s lips as he kept kissing the inside of your thigh - so close yet so far.

“John…” you whined, he could hear the growing annoyance in your voice.

Finally, he relented - mostly because his impatience to taste you was outweighing his desire to tease you a little longer. You feel two of his fingers spreading your pussy lips open. Flinching when your feel the tip of his wet, hot tongue slowly circling your throbbing clit.

“Fuck-“ you hiss, squeezing the soft sheets between your fingers as you tried to focus on not clamping your legs shut at the stimulation.

He hums against you, dragging his tongue from your clit down to your fluttering entrance, flicking his tongue in and out from your hole. You reach under the covers, interlocking your fingers with his, his other hand coming down to rub tight, rapid circles on your clit while he fucked you with his tongue. His cock pulsating at the taste of you and the sound of your growing moans.

He eventually exchanges the positions of his hands and mouth, his wet lips trapping your burning bud of nerves, sucking softly, his fingers trail over your opening - coating themselves in your slick and his saliva - before slowly pushing them into you.

He thrusts his finger in and out of you, picking up the pace with a ‘come here’ motion. His lips sucking on your clit like a man starved - his other hand giving yours a few squeezes as he felt you squirming, panting above him: all tell tale signs that your body was about to reach its peak.

You all but cried out when he started vigorously moving his head side to side, his tongue flattened out to fan against your bud. The burning sensation in your abdomen abruptly spreading throughout your entire body like wild fire, your stomach tensing as the walls of your pussy squeezed his fingers. You mouth falling open in a silent moan. John, on the other hand, was groaning against you as he soaked up everything you were giving him with your sweet release.

He kept kitten licking at your nerves until he was sure you’d completely ridden out your high, leaving soft kisses on your mound as your body let out slight tremors, your hands reaching to grasp his arm in a weak attempt to pull him up to meet you.

When his face re-emerged from the sheets, you groaned softly at the sight of him. His hair was disheveled, cheeks heated to a deep pink, his lips… swollen and coated in a sheen of your slick or his own spit - probably both. You lifted your head to meet his while he braced himself on his forearms on either side of your body, your tongue peeked out to lick at his plump lips - sharing the taste of you between your wet kisses.

“Mm… you taste fuckin’ amazin’, gorgeous..” he sighed into your mouth, slowly rutting his raging hard-on into your soaked pussy, gasping as the friction showed no mercy on your over-sensitive clit.

“Need you.. Johnny-“ you stammered, hands raking over his broad back, you hips tilting upwards to meet his - spurring him on- “need to feel you..”

He hummed, his kisses trailing from your mouth to your jaw, putting his weight on one arm momentarily as he blindly reached to tug his boxers away, haphazardly flinging the item of clothing onto the bedroom floor.

He gave you one more hurried kiss before pulling back to gaze at your flushed face, observing your expression as he began to slowly slither his cock through your slick folds, watching as your mouth parts slightly when the bulbous head of his dick slides over your thrumming clit. His own brows furrowing at the long-overdue feeling of your body pressed against him. Both of you letting out shaky breaths as he nudged his cock into your entrance - the burning sensation of being filled after such a long time making you hiss.

Johnny looked absolutely absentminded, his eyes glossed over with heavy lids, and his lips parted as he took deep breaths - trying his damned hardest not to let himself go just yet.. wanting to savour the feeling of your hot, tight pussy wrapped around him so perfectly. When he bottomed out, he let out a low groan as he dropped in his head to the juncture between your neck and shoulder, one of your hands grasping onto the nape of his neck - feeling a little dumbfounded yourself, the feeling of being full making your mind go into a haze.

“Missed you..” he whispered again, beginning to slowly roll his hips. The burn your felt of his stretching out beginning to slowly - but surely- ignite into a passion of pleasure, feeling his cock prodding against every nerve inside of you that had your eyes tipping upwards slightly.

“Missed me? Or missed my pussy?” You asked, unable to resist the smug smirk twitching your lips, Johnny pulled his face back to meet your eyes, a similar grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“M’I allowed ta say both?” He smirked before raising a brow at you, “feel like I’m not supposed to say both...”

“Well I can say..” your voice was breathless, “that I missed your dick, not so sure about the rest of you- ahh” your quip was cut off my John nipping his teeth on the thin skin of your jugular.

“Cheeky bugger..” he murmured before pressing a kiss to the spot he bit.

His thrusts had begun increasing their pace, the sound of his hips hitting yours began to fill the room - as well as both of your moans upping in volume.

He felt so good, the fire in your belly burned fiercely as his cock repeatedly pushed and dragged over every point inside of you that you didn’t even know was there, feeling light headed and hot.

“Fucking-“ you moaned, holding into him tighter when he dipped his head down to lick at one of your pebbled nipples. “-shit! I’m so close, Johnny…” At your words, his mouth was quick to reach back up and capture your lips in another searing kiss, his hand clumsily dragging down your conjoined bodies, and you let out a cry louder than intended when the rough skin on his thumb began swirling over your pulsing bundle of nerves.

“Wan’cha to come on m’cock, Bonnie… need to feel ya.” He stammered, his accent getting heavier as his thrusts got sloppier - feeling himself nearing his own edge with your fluttering walls strangling his cock in a vice. “Ya look so pretty when ya come.” He grunted, his mouth near yours as he panted into your skin.

His words spurred you on, your chest rising as falling rapidly as you tumbled over the edge, your moans being muffled my his lips covering your own.

His hips began sputtering slightly, feeling even more warmth gushing around him while your walls spasmed around his pulsing cock. He felt his balls tighten as his release shot up inside of you, warmth filling you as you both panted into each others open mouths. John all but collapsed on top of you , your sweat slick skin sticking to each other like glue, his cock going lax inside of you.

“Fuck me…” you caught your breath, your hand trailing to glide your fingers through the short, damp hair of his Mohawk.

“Yeah…” he agreed, his breathing ragged against your skin.

He pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder before rolling off of you with a groan, laying on his back beside you. Immediately, his hand sought you out, sliding under you to rest on your back - effortlessly pulling you the short distance across the mattress to press you against his chest, one of your bent thighs lifting to rest over his hips, feeling your lids get heavier. Johnny brought his hands to your hair, letting in deep breathes as he studied your face - fuck, he really did miss you.

“M’so glad your back..” you whispered into his skin, your arm draping over his torso.

“Me too, hen.”

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