#call of duty modern whorefare.

[lxvvie]

Not many people can corner Simon Riley and live to tell the tale.

Not many people would even consider doing so, sweetheart, but you're not many people. You're in a league all your own.

It's you welcoming him home by trapping him against the wall, knowing full well your soldier was very capable of freeing himself, but what was the fun in that? Simon's interest is piqued. What did you want from him? What were you going to do to him? Did you want to see him fuckin' feral, embarrassed and turned as he stroked his cock again for you, darling? You want him naked on your bed, kissing on his tattoos and the newest set of bruises, your soldier blushing as you loved on him like no one ever has before?

Bloody hell, just... just say the word. He'd do anything for you, baby, you know this, just—

Fuck.

It's Simon, falling apart at the seams again when you kiss him.

And you take control.

You take control, sweetheart. Your lips are firm. Soft. Softer than his, and you taste better than any fuckin' drink, food, or ciggie he's ever had in his life. It's Simon and those hands of his, hands that have held weapons and taken lives, holding you like you're the most fragile fuckin' thing because he'd never forgive himself if he'd hurt you, especially when you feel so good in his arms.

It's you deepening the kiss, claiming whats yours, exploring just about every part of his mouth that you can, being a fuckin' tease and playing tongue tag, and fuck, Simon's breathless. Lightheaded, euphoric, hard. Whatever the fuck you wanna call it. He'd call it heaven if he ever believed.

But Simon would be damned if he said you hadn't made a believer out of him.

It's you pulling another coup de grâce, biting down on his lower lip before you pull away completely, enough to break skin, make his cock jump in his pants, and have him feening for more like some fuckin' schoolboy with a crush. Goddamn.

Fuck are you doing to him, sweetheart?

It's you and Simon staring each other down, pupils blown, panting for air, pressed so tightly against each other you might as well merge bodies, and you don't wanna put a name to what you're feeling. Not yet. Simon doesn't let go, doesn't wanna let go, and you're not complaining, not when you're busy taking in your masterpiece of a soldier, flushed and desperate and hard and Jesus fucking Christ.

Mine.

Your soldier who never breaks eye contact with you and runs his tongue over his bottom lip, over your mark, and the slight sting makes his heart skip a beat and his cock jump again.

Yours, sweetheart.

And Simon is in heaven.

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

bear hybrid! price who stalks around your house at night, protecting you from whatever else might be lurking in the woods. you don't know that he is of course, but you should be more thankful when he shuts and locks your windows when you're asleep. occasionally you see him lumber on the edge of the forest, minding his own. he doesn't want to scare you, but he wants you to admire him, too.

wolf hybrid! simon that follows you everywhere (from a distance and he rarely lets you touch him). you were frightened at first of the big bad wolf, but when he takes you away from snakes and other dangers in the woods you learn to leave out some scraps for him. (he sleeps on your front step. won't enter the house yet.)

fox hybrid! johnny who regularly sneaks into your house to play in your blankets. the wildlife here is so friendly you're shocked, shouldn't they be frightened of you? however he sleeps under your bed and he's fine unless you try to kick him out. red fur is on everything, he seems unusually close to the wolf that looms around. loves scratches to the ears!

falcon hybrid! kyle who hovers in air around your house. he finds little trinkets for you and leaves them on your porch. he mostly hangs around price, but he will chirp greetings and steal bird feed from your feeders.

they protect you in different ways, trying to worm their way to your affections before they bed down in your abode for winter.

[simonriley09]

gaz x reader...hear me out...since he's so sassy I feel like he'd have great banter with reader & they'd have super quick funny/weird talks like they're both so ready to reply to weird shit like reader might go up to him and say smth like 'i'd kick your ass garrick rn let's go' & he'd just immediately go into video game fight forms regardless of where he is or what he's doing & just as quick as it starts, it ends and ppl are just left wondering 'what just happened'

YESSS IT WOULD GO SMTH LIKE THIS.

Reader: "Hey garrick!," *Walks up to him*

Garrick: "Hm?, yeah?" Reader: "...i'm gonna kick your ass." Garrick: "BET. LET'S GO. RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW." *Getting into a fighting position* Reader: "BET THEN, LETS GO." *Also getting into a fighting position*

But right then Price walks in and you both go back to normal, acting as if you were reading something on his phone together 😭😭😭

While everyone is staring at you like "wtf?" AND PRICE LOOKS SO OBLIVIOUS AND HAPPY TO BE THERE 😭😭🙏🏻🙏🏻

Then you randomly blurt out. "Thighs, Ass or Tits." And Garrick replies with: "hmm.. tough pick. probably ass though. Love me a good doggystyle." AND EVERYONE JUST GAPES AT YOU TWO?? HELP ME 😭😭🙏🏻🙏🏻

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

picturing a retired john price who works an office job now to take care of his little girl. said office is owned by an eccentric tech-school girlie who built a new, more efficient motherboard for laptops when she was sixteen. (??)

she's obsessed with this sad quokka man and his little girl. wants so bad to have his attention without making his life harder so she schedules meetings that basically annihilate his workload every week and to get some attention. she's pissed he won't touch or talk to her more than necessary. he's scared of losing his job by asking his hot twenty something boss on a date (he psychs himself out everytime he even thinks about it).

until one day his babysitter cancels and he has to take her to work. by the end of the day his boss and his daughter have bonded so well they've planned a playdate. she's always mommy while playing house, with him still being daddy (she blushes so bad when his daughter asks her to call him daddy, too, for the game).

by the end of it they're both so pent up it's not surprise she's getting a sister in a few months.

(going to make this into a bigger thing later I think)

Sugardaddy/sugarbaby relationship but the one with money is an annoying 23 year old who like, made a successful app in college or something, and the poor one is a 40-something single dad with medical debt who was just 'made redundant' at his soul-killing job. Mmmmm-hmmmm.... Thinking about this.

[kureekun]

Fanfiction Titles

I often wonder to myself: “man, if only I had the time, I could write fic masterpieces like Hang the Fool: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7127210 but I just don’t have the time. I’ll just come up with titles instead.” Here’s what I’m talking about:

A fic about a British Royal Navy ship out at sea. 5 lonely seamen learn about love and loss and masturbation. Title: Union Jack

A Call of Duty fanfiction about one particular soldier who likes to sleep around with all the others, the difficulty of being known as that guy, and the struggle to move past the identity he was given by others and to embrace the identity he defines for himself. (sex-positive tone) Title: Modern Whorefare

Follow if you want me to stop :)

[lxvvie]

You're moaning, shuddering, shaking.

And Phillip Graves is a busy man between your thighs. You come, come so fuckin' hard you see stars, and the smug bastard hums in approval which makes you jump slightly in overstimulation.

Panting, you grab Phillip by the short strands of his hair and pull him up from his meal, and he's faring no better, pupils blown, a little shaky himself, but self-satisfied through and through. The sumbitch smirks, licks his lips, tasting you all over again, and—

"So how about that date, darlin'?"

[lxvvie]

Feeling up on Price, running your hands over his clothed body, brushing your lips alongside his jaw. Price nursing his cigar in one hand, the other gripping your hip, holding you close, and you're feeling his cock pressed against your stomach.

[lxvvie]

Simon never thought his body was anything special—not really.

He's just keeping fit because it's part of the job, sweetheart, so body worship wasn't on his bingo card when you invited him over for some rest and relaxation.

Well, not his body, yeah?

Your eyes lit up like it was fuckin' Christmas when you saw him. Simon had just gotten out of the shower, hadn't really had time to put his towel on, and what the fuck is it with him losing track of time when he's with you? All Simon remembered was hearing you mutter "Bloody hell..." under your breath (heh, he's rubbin' off on ya) and next thing he knows, Simon's laying on your bed. Naked. Under you. Wait a fuckin' minute—

His mind goes blank when he watches you watch him; you look at him like he's a fuckin' masterpiece, like he's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, body hair, cuts, bruises, burns, dents and all, drooling without the drool or what the fuck ever, but shit, it's enough to make Simon's face hot. If he wasn't embarrassed then, he's sure as fuck embarrassed now, and he'd bet every pound he had that knobhead Johnny would have a field day with this.

It's the way you kissed, nipped, and sucked everywhere you could (Christ, you even played with his nipples), making him feel so good, making him feel so bloody seen. Rough skin against your softness, and he's never felt so self-conscious before. You were so damn careful with his latest set of bruises, so fuckin' kind and considerate that he felt his heart jump.

It's the way you ran your hand down, all the way fuckin' down, until it wrapped around his cock. His cock that you're lazily stroking, his cock, hot, heavy, leaking, just... what the fuck are you doing to him?

It's the way you kissed Simon's Adam's apple, soft, gently, and he was afraid to swallow because he thought he'd lose something but he sure as hell felt the goosebumps on his skin and shivers run down his spine.

But it's the coup de grâce, you swopping down to kiss the scar dangerously close to his lips, that shatters Simon completely. Breaks him down so fuckin' much that he's practically holding on to you for dear life. He leans against your touch, wonders what the fuck it would feel like to have your lips against his, and he barely registers the fact that he came, not earth-shattering but a warm blanket over him, and it feels like his very first time.

Fuck, this should've been his very first time.

"Aw, you do turn bronze when you tan, Simon!" He looks down, takes inventory of his tan lines (when has he ever lied to you, sweetheart?), looks up at your beaming smile, snorts, and rolls his eyes. If this were anyone else, he'd probably be pissed that the mood was broken.

It's you, though, and it makes everything feel right.

__

Turning Simon Out series

[lxvvie]

Simon doesn't think he's ever tasted something so good in his fuckin' life before.

He didn't know what he was in for this time when he got back from deployment, and nicotine and whiskey ain't got shit on this. Poor bastard can't remember the last time he had something so good invade his senses like this.

You said you had a treat for him, made him lay down, and promptly sat on his face, and Simon was fuckin' gone. Don't know what the fuck possessed him but he took one whiff and was instantly hooked.

Simon feasted on your cunt like a man starved. Tongue, lips, fingers, you name it. Anything to get his fix, anything to make you moan.

Anything to make you cum.

Didn't let up for shit, not even to breathe, and when you voiced your concern while whimpering and trembling, Simon didn't give a fuck and still continued to love on your pretty cunt because where the bloody fuck are you going?

Shut up. Shut the hell up and let him make you cum, sweetheart.

Actions have consequences. Shouldn't have made him feel so bloody good, shouldn't have poked at the beast, and he'd be damned if he didn't think this was the best post-deployment gift he's ever gotten. Better than the nicotine high or occasional pity wank.

Fuck, it's been so long and he's absolutely disgusting about it.

And Simon's aware of it all, the way his cock is so hard it's bloody painful and leaking in his pants, the way you're grinding on his face, smothering it and fucking his mouth (don't you dare stop, either), and how his everything is consumed by you. You coat his stubble, fill his nostrils up with your scent, his tastebuds are fired up—bloody hell, need he explain more?

Simon could die a happy man right now, and what would his gravestone say? Here Lies Simon Riley, Died Eating Cunt.

He'd chuckle if he wasn't too busy at the moment. Shit, he probably did if the way you're moaning is any indication. That felt good, didn't it, sweetheart?

It's your turn now to say his name like a prayer and believe in him just as he believes in you.

And it's the best fucking thing to ever bless his ears.

--

Turning Simon Out: Part I and Part II.

[lxvvie]

It's official: Simon is bloody fuckin' losing it.

He doesn't even know how the fuck he got here. Well, he does, he just... fuck if he knows.

Simon remembers your conversation. He supposes. Not really. He just remembers the topic coming 'round to sex, and he may or may not have revealed that it's been a minute since he's been fucked silly or had a good wank, shit, something to take the edge off in a way his daily cigarette consumption can't.

He'd be lying if he said it was a blur from there. You offered to 'help' him out. Simon's eyes were probably (read: very much so) bugging out of his skull, you had caught him off guard, but ultimately... he said yes.

He said fuckin' yes. It wasn’t every day that a pretty thing such as yourself showed interest in someone like him.

Which leads him to his current predicament.

The wall's the only thing keeping him upright. One hand is propped up against it, and the other, well... it's busy. He's stroking himself, taking the edge off, and fuck, he never thought a wank would feel this bloody amazing.

Of course, he's never had an audience before, and what a gorgeous one it is.

There you are, crouched in front of him, pretty eyes looking up, watching him touch himself, making him feel so self-conscious, making him feel so sexy, and fuck. There you are, lips close but never touching, hands soothingly massaging his tense thighs, tongue yearning to taste and Christ, he wants you to. Taste him, sweetheart. Make him feel good, hm?

Make him cum.

Fuck, he can only imagine how he looks right now. Simon's face is hotter than the goddamn desert, he's making noises he didn't even know he could make, and he's aware of everything, nothing, and only you at the same damn time.

But no, you just had to be a fuckin' tease. Just had to whisper how handsome he looked, how good you would look with your pretty face covered in his cum. Just had to whisper how you know it's been so long for him, there would be more where this came from, and to say your name. Say who's doing this to him.

And fuck if he doesn't grunt your name out. Simon was never the religious sort but he'll be damned if he didn't believe in you.

You dare to lick the head of his cock, dare to tease him even further, and Simon is a goner.

"Cum for me, Simon."

Acknowledged. Fuck, you're beautiful.

He just came but it doesn't stop those pretty lips from fully enveloping the head, doesn't stop you from milking him for everything he's worth, and shit, he's trembling all over. What the fuck are you doin' to him, sweetheart?

If he's not obsessed with you at this point, Simon doesn't know what the fuck he is.

[lxvvie]

Simon who made himself your birthday present.

'Cause fuck it, nothing ventured, nothing gained, yeah?

It was actually a spur-of-the-moment thing, sweetheart. It was your birthday, he said happy birthday, you joked that you hadn't received your present yet, and Simon, smooth operator that he is not, responded with, "S'right here, luv."

Oh... shit.

Silence ensues. You blinked in surprise and Simon gave you an even stare. However, he was punching the fuck out of himself mentally because what the fook, Riley?! Didn't last long though because your surprise turned into interest and interest turned into... well...

...Simon naked, on your bed, and under you. Again. Bloody fuckin' hell, him and his mouth.

Not that he's complaining. Not really. Too busy fucking and sucking, and Christ, he's lost track of how much you used him, the things you did to him, the noises you pulled from him, and all the times he came; one thing's for certain, though, he won't forget you marking his thighs up (thank fuck for pants because his thighs are a fuckin' roadmap thanks to you) turning him into a Simon Sundae because you "wanted something sweet to eat", and just... goddamn, leaving him a sweaty, sticky, speechless, and well and truly fucked out mess.

Simon couldn't even smoke, he was so fucked out, but damn if it didn't feel good. Grumpy bastard would be riding this high for a bit. Not even Johnny and the rest of those fuckin' knobheads on base could bring him down. For long.

Simon finds himself the little spoon to your big spoon afterward; you're thanking him, running your hands over his sensitive body, kissing his temple, and praising him for holding on like the good soldier and slag that he is. Simon's fallen so fuckin' deep he's on his knees for you.

"We should do this more often."

A beat. Then he groans.

"Oh, fuck me..."

Simon felt your smirk against his skin. You didn't need to be told twice.

[lxvvie]

Bloody hell, Simon's in love now.

He has to be. That's the only reason he can think of because what the fuck is he doing?

Well, Simon knows what he's doing. He knows it—feels it—all too well, and probably will continue to do so for a couple of days afterward, give or take.

He's being fucked.

Repeat: Simon Riley's being fucked. By you.

Jesus Christ.

And he doesn't know what the fuck to do with himself. Thanks to you, he's falling apart, being put back together, and falling apart all over again. Strokes, deep, shallow, teasing, brutal, fuck. You're giving it to him, giving it to him just like he does you, and he doesn't know what the fuck to do with himself. He told you to fuck him like he fucks you and you delivered. Bloody hell did you deliver.

And you have Simon on his fuckin' back, too, muscular thighs spread and trembling like he's some fuckin' slag (he is), acting like he's never been fucked so good before in his life (no comment), and God only knows how he looks and sounds right now (like a fucked out mess covered in hickeys).

His cock's leaking, he's stroking it, he's embarrassed, turned on like a motherfucker, embarrassed again and just like that.

Fuck. Right there, sweetheart.

God, he really is a slag. And he's loving every moment of it, too.

Simon didn't expect it, didn't expect to cum so suddenly, and it's a right bastard. He barks out a laugh, same as always after a particularly powerful cum, and he's sure that his entire body's beet red what with the way you're looking at him.

No, no, fuck, no, stop makin' him blush like that (don't you dare stop).

Simon pulls you down, presses your forehead to his, and holds you there with his big hand.

Just gotta bask in the afterglow, just gotta be in the moment.

Just gotta feel you inside of him.

And yes, Simon's abso-fucking-lutely in love now.

__

@heliumshorns

[lxvvie]

Sex with Simon to me is really rough but also tender at the same time. Like he manhandles you into the prone bone position but also forces a pillow under your hips so you’re more comfortable.

Simon wouldn't be rough in the way he handles you but best believe he'll fuck you like his life (and yours) depended on it.

He has you like that so you can't run away from him. He wants you to feel every inch of him, wants to feel every part of you as you ripple around him and milk his cock for everything he's worth.

Fuck.

Simon who damn near loses it when you shakily moan and go, "What're you doin' to me, Si...?"

And all he can say, thighs trembling, so bloody fuckin' close, cunt drunk he's practically slurring, " 'm making you love me, sweetheart."

[lxvvie]

Ghost who wants you—commands you—to have your way with him.

"Use me, sweetheart."

It's your hand clutching his close-cropped hair, pulling him close, and bloody hell, he's right where he needs to be, face buried—no, he's fuckin' smothered between your soft thighs. You don't hear it, you feel it, his hum of pleasure reverberating throughout your body, his greedy tongue making you jump some, clutch his head even tighter, and grab onto anything else you can to keep your balance.

Your soldier couldn't care less. No thoughts. Just wanna be used. Just want to suck and fuck and kiss and make you cum. Want to taste you, want you to invade his senses, love.

It's Simon grabbing your thighs when you try to move away because he knows you're close.

"It's too much, Si..." "Stop fuckin' movin'."

It's Simon upping the ante because he wants you to cum on his face and wants to taste you when he lights up. " 'm right here," Simon coaxes you, harsh grunts aplenty and breathless, "Cum on me, love."

Wish granted.

You're left panting, catching your breath, and trying to keep steady while Simon lights his cigarette on the third try, slightly trembling from the intensity of his own orgasm (fuck, he loved these jeans). It's Simon, dark eyes boring into yours as his ciggy dangles from his lips, sated, used, and ready for more as he inhales the nicotine, tastes your cum, and bloody fuckin' hell, he's intoxicated.

And all his senses are invaded by you.

[lxvvie]

I just know ghost snores loud as a motherfucker after he puts reader through the mattress and he knocks out right after 💀💀💀 he’s taking pussy whipped LITERAL

Ghost’s big behemoth ass snores in general but at least the bastard’s alive lmao

Goes double after he throws it down and Little Lieutenant Riley gives you that work. Not only is he snoring his ass off but you’re the little spoon.

Motherfucker.

The consequences of having good cunt, sweetheart. ❤️

[lxvvie]

i’m ovulating and i just need to say how much i just wanna sit on simon’s face, fullweight and jerk him off as he struggles to breathe and watch him shoot his load🙆‍♀️

Simon wants nothing more than to be smothered between your thighs, feasting on your pretty cunt, gasping for air, and letting you play with his cock.

And you’re being a right bloody tease with it, too, edging him, grinding down even more on his face whenever he whimpers (feels good against his cunt, don’t it, sweetheart?), and he can’t hold it in this time. Simon hesitantly pulls away, just enough to warn you.

”Fuck—‘m close, sweetheart—“

Closer than you think. Simon cums, on your hands, all over himself, but you’re too busy trying not to scream the house down because rather than let you hear him groan it out, he lets you feel it all over your cunt. His cunt.

Cheers, darling.