#call of duty modern whorefare.

[lxvvie]

does ghost RIDE the strap? 🤭

'Course he does, sweetheart. Why do you think his thighs are so muscular, huh?

But you didn't think Simon could, eh? Guess he has to show you better than he can tell you.

And fuck, ain't he a sight, luv? Self-restraint taut in that husky body as he keeps himself steady—not everybody can handle his size, gorgeous—and he's stroking his cock.

And you, you fuckin' tease, your hands are on his hips, bringing him down, thrusting your dick even deeper and fuckfuckfuckFUCK. Christ, you feel so good inside him. Fuckin' tease.

Don't you fuckin' look away, either. Watch 'im work his magic, sweetheart. Watch him come all over your stomach. He's got plenty more where that comes from, too. Needs his bloody balls drained and hasn't been fucked this good since Mace.

So here you go, luv. Enjoy the fuckin' show.

[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]

if we’re strapping ghost, I hope gaz is next🙂‍↕️‼️

Of course he is, luv.

There's something very sensual and... romantic about giving Gaz the Strap™.

You have him right where you want him, on his back, pretty brown eyes gazing into yours, and he hits you with his signature boyish grin, which means he's bashful.

But it's the fucking sounds he makes, though.

He isn't loud and won't scream the place down, but it's the gasps, groans, and panting that get you, quiet and soft against your neck because he can only imagine how he looks on his back and being the recipient of your firm thrusts.

It's the way he encourages you between shaky breaths—"That's it, darling," and "Fuck me harder, beautiful,"—that drives you crazy, makes you go faster, and regardless if he's the one fucking or being fucked, you've forever cemented in your mind that Kyle Garrick is an absolute fucking tease.

Especially with those half-lidded eyes and the lazy, lopsided grin on his face after you've fucked him nice and proper.

God, that man.

[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]

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 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

[variety-fangirl]

THIS AHHHHHHH 😭😭😭😍 The vulnerability and love, I CANNOT

Simon had always known he was possessive, but this… this was something new. It all started during a rambling, half-drunk conversation with Soap, the kind they’d both forget by morning—except for one comment that had lodged itself in Simon’s mind like a splinter.

“Lass can’t forget you if she’s knocked up with your baby,” Soap had muttered with a lopsided grin, slurring just enough to make Simon dismiss it at first.

At first.

Simon knew you’d never forget him, no matter how long he was deployed. He trusted you, loved you in ways he couldn’t always put into words. But once the thought was planted, he couldn’t forget it. Maybe deep down it was the fear you’d leave or just the desire to know that you were fully his, round with his child, but whatever it was, when he got notified of an upcoming assignment, he knew he was gonna damn well try.

Which is how you ended up here now, pressed into the mattress beneath him, his broad chest blanketing your back as his lips dragged heatedly along your neck. He reaches around, pulling your body up enough for you to stabilise yourself as he roughly palms your breasts, tweaking your nipples between his fingers as he continues to rut against you.

He's been at it for hours, fucking you with a relentless intensity, determined to fill you with every drop of his cum before he leaves. You’ve lost count at this point, never knowing he could go for so many repeated rounds but you certainly know it now as you feel his cum run down your thighs, the squelching noise every time he fucks back into you, a combination of your arousal and how many loads he’s given you so far tonight.

"Fuuck-" he groans, his voice low and gravelly with desire. "Gonna knock you up so good. Gonna make sure you're round with my baby by the time I get back."

He pulls out, his cock sliding from your well-fucked hole 

He stares down at your pussy, mesmerised by the sight of it dripping with his cum. He leans down, his face mere inches from it as his heated breath ghosts your folds. He watches, transfixed, as another thick spurt of his previous load oozes out of you.

"Fucking hell," he mutters, his breath hot against your skin. "Look at that. Look at what you do to me."

He reaches out, his fingers gently parting your swollen lips to get a better look. He teases your entrance, circling it slowly before scooping up some of the cum that's leaking out and guiding it back in with his middle and ring finger.

He pushes his fingers deeper, scissoring them to work his own cum back inside you. He wants to make sure every last drop takes.

"Gonna plug you up-" he growls, his voice rough with lust. "Keep you nice and full of me.”

He withdraws them, glistening with the thick, pearly fluid before bringing them up to your mouth, pressing his fingers against your lips.

"Go on-" he purrs as he slowly pushes his fingers into your mouth, letting you suck them clean. You can taste the saltiness of his cum mixed with the musky scent of your arousal. It's a heady combination that makes your head spin.

"Good girl," he praises, his voice rough with approval. "Such a good girl for me."

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, only to bring them back down to your pussy. He circles your clit with them, the slickness of his cum providing the perfect lubrication before he gestures for you to roll onto your back.

He straightens back up as he slides the head of his aching cock through your folds, nudging the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you with shallow thrusts that do nothing to satisfy the ache inside you.

"Y’not going anywhere," he murmurs, his voice low and rough with emotion. "Not after this- fuck -you’re not leaving me…You can’t–”

You could hear the subtle desperation in his words, a fear that you'd abandon him. He needed to know that you would be here, waiting for him, even when he was deployed.

He kisses desperately, trying to put every fiber of his being into this kiss, hoping to portray even a fraction of the strong love he felt for you. His hips start to move again, his cock sliding into you with a groan. He sets a slow, deep pace, each thrust deliberate and purposeful as he works himself in and out of you.

"Fuck, I love you," he grunts, the words torn from him. "Love you so fucking much…You're my everything, I swear I’ll never let you down-"

He wraps his arms around you, holding you as close as possible, fingers digging into your flesh as he impales you on his thick cock over and over again.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, his forehead pressed against yours. "So fucking tight and wet for me. Always so ready for my cock, god you’re perfect-."

He adjusts his hips, changing the angle of his thrusts so that he's hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. Your back arches off the bed as your nails rake down his back and you moan wantonly.

"That's it, baby," he coaxes, his voice husky with desire. "Gonna' fill you up so good. Gotta make sure it takes before I leave-

His hips piston faster, his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. He's getting close, you can tell by the way his muscles tense, the way his breath comes in short, sharp gasps.

"Gonna cum," he grunts, his thrusts becoming erratic. "Shit- fuck-”

He buries himself to the hilt, incoherent mutterings rolling off his tongue as his cock pulses, filling you with another thick load. He bites down on your shoulder to muffle his groans as you feel it, hot and heavy, painting your insides white. He collapses on top of you, all his weight heavy upon you, though you don't mind at all, arms wrapping tightly about him.

He stays buried inside of you, his now softening cock still buried deep within you. He rests his forehead against yours as his breath comes in short pants, trying to catch his breath.

"I meant what I said, you know…gonna' make you mine in every way possible," he murmurs, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as he lifts some of his weight off of you. "Want you to have my baby- And when I come back, I'm gonna marry you because I’m completely yours and I want you to be fully mine, officially."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

reblogsノcomments are greatly appreciated <3

© ghostsanctity → do not copy or translate any of my works

[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]

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]

fuck nasty!Ghost who shows you how much he misses you.

You were out running errands, leaving Simon, home from his latest deployment, to his own devices. All was going well—so you thought—until you heard the telltale ping of your phone and saw that he had texted you.

Simon probably needed you to pick something up for him on the way home. Mm. Doable. You opened the text under that innocent assumption.

And you know what they say about making assumptions.

Because right there in front of your very eyes was a picture of underwear. Your underwear. Your favorite pair of underwear. Your favorite pair of underwear you'd been searching for while you were getting dressed this morning.

They were covered in cum. Simon's cum.

You receive another text not even a second later: Miss you, sweetheart.

It was a miracle you didn't drop your phone.

[lxvvie]

Nasty bf Simon sparring with you when you wrap your legs around his neck to choke him and make him tap out. Instead, he presses his face closer to your 🐱 and takes a whiff to distracted. He breaks out of your hold with a shit eating grin and laughs at your flustered state.

Ghost's fuck nastiness makes him a habitual line stepper and he always takes it one step further. He runs that fat tongue of his over your clothed cunt, and will keep doing so until you loosen your hold. Fucker is smug about it the rest of the day.

All's fair in love and war, sweetheart.

[lxvvie]

Imagine the reader likes to make Simon feel how soft her legs are after she just shaved. He‘s used to it so it’s no big deal (still compliments her every time tho) but this time she also got a Brazilian wax and wants him to feel that too👀

Fuck nasty!Simon definitely doesn’t pass up this opportunity

Oh naw, Simon's ass would never pass up an opportunity to habitually line-step. He's a habitual line-stepper by nature.

In fact, when you let him feel your smooth skin, he's on his bullshit talking about "Mm, can't tell, sweetheart."

Fuck you mean you "can't tell", Simon?

"Gotta see f'myself," he grunts out and next thing you know, you're on your hands and knees, everything laid bare for Simon to see, and then you feel his tongue take one long slow swipe from your pretty cunt all the way up through your crack. Holy fucking shit.

Tasty. Just like he likes you, sweetheart.

You're gonna wife his ass. Nasty bastard.