hors d'oeuvres
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“just the tip,” he mumbles, like he’s trying to remind himself, rubbing the leaking head of his cock up and down simon’s cunt, slicking himself up.
“just the tip,” he sighs, pressing in ever so slightly, chest stuttering on an inhale as he feels the hot wet clutch of simon’s cunt around him, as he tries so hard not to thrust the rest of himself in.
Series
- Part 1 of hors d'oeuvres
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on his knees (a believer) by puppyghost (whinypuppy)
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
01 Feb 2024
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it tastes like loam, brine, johnny, johnny, johnny—
Series
- Part 2 of hors d'oeuvres
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“c’mon honey,” there it is again, the dulcet purr of johnny’s voice as he spreads simon’s folds open with his thumbs and spits on his throbbing cock, the saliva a lewd trail from one set of pretty pink lips to another, dripping along the chub of simon’s cock and sliding across his hole. it’s vulgar, downright obscene, and it makes simon ache with want. “got room for one more?”
Series
- Part 3 of hors d'oeuvres
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simon’s dog tags jingle against his chest with every movement, and he watches as johnny’s gaze flicks downwards, teeth digging into his bottom lip as his hands travel up along the sides of simon’s body, curving over his pecs before a hand tangles into the silver chain.
“think they call it a dog tag because of pups like you?” he teases, voice rough with arousal, and the words feel like electricity coursing under simon’s skin, burning through his veins and ripping a whine out of his throat. johnny smiles, and his grip tightens, before he pulls on it, hard, and simon jolts forward till they’re face to face, sharing breath.
Series
- Part 4 of hors d'oeuvres
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you let me (complicate you) by puppyghost (whinypuppy)
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
12 Jun 2024
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he presses his fingers against the hard nub of simon’s cock, the touch wet and white-hot with the amount of slick he’s leaked around them. “gonna be a good boy and take care of yourself for me, while i’m gone?”
it’s unfair, really— how price is taking his breath away and fucking him dumb, and still expecting simon to be coherent enough to form words, let alone respond to his questions.
Series
- Part 5 of hors d'oeuvres
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johnny presses a hand on simon’s tummy, and the pressure is just enough to intensify the pleasure; white-hot and all-consuming.
“yeah?” he murmurs, “‘s it cause you want me to put a baby right here? i’m not wearing a condom, so we need to be careful, don’t we, sweetheart?”
Series
- Part 6 of hors d'oeuvres
- Part 1 of oh, baby!
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didn't you turn out perfect? by puppyghost (whinypuppy)
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
08 Sep 2024
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he’d known it from the beginning, after all— he’s a nasty fucking old man. a pervert.
he’s all calloused hands and sharp teeth and dirty words, digging his claws in and seeking obedience in the form of an unyielding guard dog. someone to bark at his command, to chase and attack relentlessly at his word.
the exact shape of simon “ghost” riley.
Series
- Part 7 of hors d'oeuvres
- Part 1 of serpentine (he's my collar)
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bad religion by puppyghost (whinypuppy)
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games), Call of Duty: Modern Warfare (2009)
23 Oct 2024
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how do you turn a man into a god? the gold cross lying on his chest threatens to burn a hole in his skin when the answer comes to him— when god doesn’t save you. when a man, one simple, fallible man, bearing the weight of the title of captain and the name of “john price” saves you from the jaws of death again and again.
if it brings me to my knees, it's a bad religion
Series
- Part 8 of hors d'oeuvres
- Part 1 of you fear the god that loves you
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one of me is cute (but two, though?) by puppyghost (whinypuppy)
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
24 Oct 2024
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he was made for this, johnny thinks hungrily, hips never stilling as he gently jerks simon off with his fingers— made to be fucked full of cum, hanging off johnny’s cock, eyes hazy with pleasure. bred like a good little wife.
Series
- Part 9 of hors d'oeuvres
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let you lock me down tonight by puppyghost (whinypuppy)
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
21 Dec 2024
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another— it feels like simon’s missing something, like a bullet hole two milliliters shy of a bullseye, or the punchline to a joke he’s just not getting.
johnny tends to make him feel like that sometimes; maybe he’s getting old. maybe having a kid is making him too soft around the edges. or maybe, it’s all of johnny’s sharp wit and his even sharper tongue leaving simon breathless. it’s exhilarating in a way, trying to keep up with johnny even as he runs circles around him, his unfathomable mind working in ways simon struggles to understand.
“yeah, honey,” johnny sighs, the endless blue of his eyes like the expanse of an ocean, all that intensity focused on simon and simon alone. he looks unbelievably handsome like this, glowing with the slightest sheen of sweat and his lips kiss-swollen and full. “are you gonna let me knock you up? give you another baby?”
Series
- Part 2 of oh, baby!
- Part 10 of hors d'oeuvres
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(“y’wanna be better than me, johnny,” well— does it count if he came back worse? after all, he’d learned it from the best, LT.)
haven’t you heard? choices made in anger cannot be undone.
he’s come back from the dead, too, with a starburst on his temple instead of a mask— and he didn’t have to dig his way out of a grave to earn it.
Series
- Part 11 of hors d'oeuvres
- Part 1 of the best grave in your cemetery
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it’s evocative. simon can hardly not imagine himself as some overripe fruit, with its sections and fibres, all that warm-toned flesh, its membranes and its veins— all to be beheld by johnny, his teeth digging into simon with greedy reverence. simon’s breath would hitch, fingers twitching against the crown of johnny’s head, and johnny would split him open like a peach.
Series
- Part 12 of hors d'oeuvres
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“you ever been in love, LT?” johnny’s voice, just the slightest bit raspy from disuse and the late hour combined,cutting through the silence like an arrow. it makes something catch in simon’s throat— an answer. or perhaps, a confession. either way, both too tender for the stale air of this safehouse. not in the witching hour, where only the night and god Himself are privy to the fragility of his words. it’s a wry sort of feeling, almost choking in its all-consuming nature.
Series
- Part 13 of hors d'oeuvres
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that unwanted animal (wants nothing more than to get out) by puppyghost (whinypuppy)
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
08 Mar 2026
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“attaboy,” price simpers, pressing a kiss to simon’s temple, before withdrawing his fingers with a vulgar squelch that has simon’s ears fluttering in embarrassment.
his voice is a little too smug when he whispers, “my perfect l’il heifer.”
Series
- Part 15 of hors d'oeuvres