#call of duty modern whorefare.

[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.

[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]

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]

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]

Gaz who stops mid-thrust and refuses to fuck you silly until you look at him, and no matter what you say or do, he won’t move, not until those eyes are staring into his soul.

“Want those pretty eyes on me, darling. Look at me…”

[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.

[lxvvie]

Ghost who gauges how his day will go by the three C’s: Cunt, Cum, and the morning Cigarette. And in that order. His morning isn’t complete without his tongue buried deep in you, your bloody everything flooding his senses, and him licking away the remnants of your orgasm from his bottom lip before nursing his morning smoke.

Makes the rest of the day that much fuckin’ better if he can get all three, luv. And in that order.

[lxvvie]

Phillip Graves, your handsome, friendly neighborhood asshole, has had his eyes on you from the moment you moved next door.

He helped you move in, of course. Helped you get situated, meet your other neighbors, and if there was anything that needed fixin', he was there to lend a hand. Or two.

Bastard's slicker than a can of oil; he has something up his sleeve, you feel it in your bones, but it's that smile. It's the goddamn smile, the southern drawl when he says howdy and calls you darlin', and most importantly, it's the barbecue.

The fucking barbecue.

He calls it the Gravepit. His underground barbecue pit and the place where he makes magic happen. The first time he invited you over, you swore he put crack in his food, it was so damn good, but Graves laughed it off and said he had the magic touch. All while his eyes bore into yours. Intensely. And he sent you on your way with leftovers to last the next couple days.

The next couple of times he had you over, he needed you to be his taste tester. Don't know what for, his food is always delicious, but you accepted because free food and good company when in reality, it's because Graves wanted to sus you out and plan his next moves accordingly.

And when he got the intel he wanted, realized that you were, in fact, as attracted to him as he was to you—no need to fight it, darlin'—Graves made his move. With the barbecue.

The fucking barbecue.

Long story short, he invited you over to sit and eat with him one Saturday afternoon. It started out with talking, talking turned into flirting, and flirting turned into you bent over the couch while he fucked you savagely from behind. And god, you felt better than everything he dreamed and stroked himself to, darlin'.

And that evening, when you were well and truly fucked, Graves fed you. Good, slow-cooked meat with all the fixins. Didn't send you on your way with leftovers this time. Hell no. Graves was gonna fuck and feed you until the cows came home, darlin'.

Told you he had the magic touch.

[lxvvie]

Soap who's down badt for you.

Soap's an absolute horndog for you, and as someone whose primary love language is physical touch, he'll take every opportunity to express himself.

We've established that Soap doesn't leave much to the imagination around the house. If he doesn't have to, he won't cover up. Much. Especially in bed. Johnny's the one who'll greet you when you're up and around in the morning by hugging you from behind so you can feel how hard he is, as in he's pressing his cock against your ass and you hear a playful and husky, "Mornin', bonnie."

You can ask Soap what he's thinking about, and you'll get that rouge-ish grin, and "Bending you over, bonnie. What else?'

Similarly, you can ask Johnny what he's doing or about to do and he'll go, "About to touch myself to you. ❤️"

Soap is banned from helping you do your self-care and/or maintenance routine because it almost ALWAYS turns into sex.

Same for bathing because you're trying to get clean, Johnny—"I'm helping you get clean, though."— Because fingering you and sucking your nipples is definitely doing the job, huh?

Johnny has also called you on multiple occasions, but instead of getting a response, you hear the telltale slick of him stroking himself. Cheers, bonnie!

Johnny has no issue beating the shit out of an asshole if need be, which means you've seen your fair share of split lips, bruised cheeks, and black eyes. You know how he says you can remedy that, bonnie? "You coming on my face." Oh, dear god—

Let's talk about the times Soap's the one being fucked and how fucking LOUD he is. DELIBERATELY SO. The entire neighborhood could hear him. Goddamnit. Shut the fuck up, Johnny! "Nah," is what he'll say because why shouldn't everyone hear how good you fuck him, how much he loves you, and how much you make him cum? And in the end, you're looking flustered while Soap's sated, smug, and probably (read: more than likely) down for more. Hope they're ready to hear him again.

Johnny who wants your attention on him and loves to give you a show. And a show is what he gives you. Better than whatever the fuck's on the telly at the moment. To be fair, you weren't paying attention, but you were very focused on the horny bastard right next to you, giving you a repeat performance from his phone call earlier that week.

And after he came, you've swiped some of his cum on your finger and fed it to him, baby blues staring you down and all, Soap takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom to help him... clean up. "Like actually clean up, Johnny?" " 'Course, bonnie." Spoiler alert: you didn't clean up. Goddamnit, MacTavish. But would you want him any other way?

[lxvvie]

Freely Using Price:

Price, who's so used to holding the reins of leadership, uses this as an opportunity to cede control to you because heaven knows he desperately needs it.

Using Price to satisfy your... cravings. Sure, a lollipop, some gum, or something else sweet would do the trick, but you're also due for something savory. There's nothing quite so wonderful as seeing the composed John Price damn near lose it as you suck his dick.

Similarly, satisfying your oral fixation while making Price work. Or while he's talking on the phone. If he so much as even moans, you threaten to stop right then and there. Testing his resolve while getting yours in the process? How mean of you, sweetheart. 😈

Freely groping Price. Everywhere. Because you're fascinated by his burly body. You're nice enough not to do it in public... too much. You argue that you can't help yourself but you both know it's bullshit. Like what you see, sweetheart? Well, it's yours for the taking. ❤️

Needing to cum so bad that you shove shit off his desk, prop yourself on it, grab Price by his hair, and shove him face first into your crotch. Price going to town, making your thighs tremble and you have to bite down on those moans lest everyone hears. Price keeping your cum on his beard, and you wonder if people are wondering why it's so... shiny? It's because he loves to keep his beard nice and moisturized, darlings.

Calling Price when you're away from each other and making him stroke that cock of his. And you want to hear EVERY. SINGLE. NOISE. You got that shit on speakerphone.

Similarly, also calling Price while he's busy at work and masturbating for him. And no, he can't touch himself. You tell him everything you want him to do to you and when he offers to come to you and make it a reality, you say... no. You want the frustration to build. And he gets frustrated.

Punishing Price when he works too much. And too hard sometimes. Your Cap'n needs rest and you're gonna give it to him. Some good ole TLC ranges from cockwarming to some old-fashioned edging to bending him over the desk and—people heard that last one. Whoops. 👀

Making sure that everyone (and I mean EVERYONE) can see those very beautiful and very big hickeys you left on his neck. It's just another Tuesday for him.