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konigbabe · 1 year

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the five times you meet phillip graves

Author: @konigbabe

Pairing: Phillip Graves x fem!reader

Word count: 5.6k

Tags/Warnings: cod mwii campaign spoilers; swearing; enemies to those who tolerate each other; kissing; blood and injury; minor violence; cursing; pet names; gunshot/knife wounds; inaccurate military procedures/terms; inaccurate cia procedures; use of codenames/callsigns

Summary: The five times you meet Cmdr. Phillip Graves and the one time he surprises you.

Inspired by the book The Five Times I Met Myself by James L. Rubart.

masterlist • request • faq • taglist • AO3 • ko-fi

01 ˚✧ ┊ The first time; he irritates you.

A guttural grunt escapes your throat, fingers tightening around the steering wheel as the car before you speed up. A series of fucks and dammits leaves your mouth; foot on the accelerator, you follow the asset on the dirty road.

Where the fuck are they, you curse internally, barely missing the rotten fence as you near the end of the farm; this is the only chance to stop the asset with air support Shepherd sent to help you—that be if they were actually here.

The car never slows down, drifting through the abandoned farm, away from you. A static cracks next to you, before an unknown, rather casual voice comes through, “Echo 3-6, this is Shadow-1. Engaging the silo north of your position.”

Finally, you reach for the transmitter next to you, “Shadow-1, you’re free to fire but do not engage near the car, I need him alive.”

“Roger that,” the man says before all hell breaks loose; and to your dismay, you watch in horror as your asset’s car turns right towards the silo, intended to drive right past it the very same second the Shadow Company opens fire. A loud explosion blinds you momentarily as you slam the brakes.

Almost none of the men manage to exit the plane before you storm into the vehicle, rage surging through your veins; the red lightning matching your emotions.

“Which one of you is Shadow-1?” you stop a masked man about to leave, hand on his shoulder as you look around; and your eyes land on the only man without a mask and uniform—dirty blond hair, narrowed eyes shining with blue ice, lips pressed tight. He stays leaning against the side of the aircraft, hands clutching the top of his vest; and you know, even without anyone answering, that this must be the commander.

“Commander, you have a visitor,” the man next to you announces, shaking your hand off his shoulder.

“I can see that,” his voice is vexed, displeased. His men flow by you, leaving only the two of you in the confined space. Face to face, you feel a mix of frustration and confusion while he walks toward you.

Hand tugging at the side of his vest as he nears you, he takes it off.

“You must be the officer, echo 3-6.”

“And you must be the jerk that disobeyed my order and killed my asset,” the words come out like a hiss, voice laced with venom.

With a whoa, his hands shoot up in a defensive gesture, eyebrows raised, “but you gave me good to go, officer,” the commander takes a tentative step towards you, “I can’t foresee the future.”

Standing before you, his gaze sparkles with a mischievous twinkle, only inflaming the boiling rage that churns within you.

“You should’ve double-checked before firing, commander,” you remark, a touch of poignancy in your voice.

Opening his mouth to answer, his radio abruptly interrupts, calling out his name. As he strides past you, he adds, “I’ll remember your sage advice for the next time, officer.”

“Oh, and one more thing,” he stops by the opening, hand gripping the loose rope on the side, “the name’s Phillip Graves, not the jerk.”

02 ˚✧ ┊ The second time; he offers you a helping hand.

The tight bindings on your wrists sting, the beige material becoming stained with your blood as you squirm in the corner of the small, stuffy room. A moan escapes your lips while you try to find some reprieve from the uncomfortable position, only to be reminded of the dire situation you are in by the fresh wound on your leg opening up; more wet, sticky red substance turning the white camo pants into violet.

Foreign voices can be heard outside the room; malicious content behind the words. Ears perked for potential incoming, you attempt to stay alert; the soft light of the dark room and the throbbing pain in your leg makes it difficult to do so.

The sound of gunshots ricocheted through the building, reverberating off the walls; the voices behind the door go quiet for a split second. Air stills as tension fills the room. There’s a distant sound of a helicopter flying over your head. Someone starts throwing commands; three men to the rooftop, two to the north of the building and—

—the door is bashed open. Back pressed to the wall, your eyes follow a masked man, white camo matching yours. All you can see is his eyes; young, too young to be in this situation, the forest green projecting his worry; something isn’t going according to their plan.

Breath hitched, he strides toward you, handgun pointed right between your eyes. It feels like your heart is pounding so hard that it's going to burst right through your ribcage, his finger dancing dangerously close to the trigger.

“Who did you call,” he barks, accent thick, voice shaky, “tell me!”

“First you tell me who sold the weapons to your boss,” it’s a shot in the dark but there isn’t any other way now; you need to find out and this man—this boy might have the answer.

His hand isn’t steady, he’s hurried, impatient. Restive.

“I’m gonna die anyway, who does it matter if I die knowing or not,” you press further. Gunshots grow louder, closer. Multiple boots hit the hardwood. Ash and dust raise as men keep running around, shouting and shooting.

Eyes flickering between the soldier and the door, you keep pressing, urging him to answer. Both of you are aware of the fate awaiting you; just a matter of time and the right (and wrong) decision.

Through the smoggy air, a dark figure creeps into the room, the crimson beam slicing through the fumes with the precision of a sniper; a killer. Within a second, the no, stop makes it just to the tip of your tongue before a click is all that could be heard.

A warm, wet substance splatters over your cheeks. Clenching your eyes shut in revulsion, you let out a moan of displeasure. The soldier's body collapses to the floor with a heavy thud, his vacant eyes gazing up at you.

“Bleeding all by yourself, sweetheart,” the shadow nears you. Blue pools of larimar running over your sitting form before Graves crouches before you. His gloved fingers touch the tender skin around the open wound, examining the damage in the dim light.

“Seriously,” you hiss at him, “what’s with you and killing my intel? And don’t—”

A groan cuts you off as Graves presses a gauze against the oozing gash, applying more pressure than needed while wrapping a bandage around your thigh; the pain radiates through your body like a searing fire, teeth clenched and putting on a stone-cold face in front of the commander himself.

“—don’t call me sweetheart, Graves.”

“Well,” he finally looks up at you, tying the last knot of the bandage securely, “you didn’t tell me your name, and I gotta call y’ something.”

Standing up, his form looms over you, enveloping your figure in his shadow.

“Think you can walk?”

Your eyes burn into his as you raise your still-tied wrist, silently demanding him to free you.

A corner of his lips turns up, knife still tucked up in his vest as he says, “I think I prefer you tied up.”

“Not funny,” you remark but it gets him to bend down to your level again; the cold of the blade grazes over your irritated skin, gloved hand enclosing one of yours in his, steading your wrists. Few slices later, pain shoots up the whole length of your arms upon the freeing; soothing the wrists for a moment, Graves gets up and with a “Let’s go” walks toward the open door. It takes some willpower to stand up.

Once you steady yourself, just a simple step throws you off balance as you put your body weight onto the wounded leg. A hiss alerts Graves, who turns his head to look back at you. With an annoyed huff, he offers you a hand to help you get balanced again before throwing your arm around his shoulders.

His grip around your ribcage is firm but somewhat tender, fingers splayed over your side like a protective shield while he guides you to the door; the other hand grasping his weapon as he walks you out of the building.

03 ˚✧ ┊ The third time, he takes away your breath; quite literally.

Months of rehabilitation and a psychological evaluation later, you find yourself at a military compound. Shadow Company’s provisional base, covered in snow, in the middle of nowhere as the European winter fell upon all of you.

Simple intel mission, that’s your job; what makes it harder is the utter finesse skill of avoiding the commander by all means—so far successfully.

Since the last time you saw him, back when he killed your intel (again), managed to burn down a whole building just to get you out and almost pushed you out of a Shadow company’s helicopter while taking off (which you firmly believe was on purpose), you haven’t stopped hearing about him, especially from general Shepherd. It’s evident that he’s taken a liking to the company, to your dismay.

The hard mat underneath your bare feet squeaks with each slip, hard thuds and thumps spread through the room with each blow. The heat of the room is stifling, sweat dripping down your back, hands wrapped in tape to protect the knuckles.

Focusing on your breathing and the moves, letting the rhythm of your body drive you through the kata, every movement precise and each strike purposeful, you can feel the energy of the room around you and the strength of your own presence growing within.

With each repetition, you take down the imaginative opponent with more ease. A dull ache pulsating in your leg, the gush already healed but your subconsciousness still bringing it up.

Eyes close, focusing on each move, feeling every muscle in your body flex and contract, the silence is cut short by someone clearing their throat. With only the ceiling light above you being lit up, the intruder steps into the light only for you to huff in annoyance.

The man you’ve been successfully avoiding for days has finally found you.

His blonde hair is ruffled as if someone was running their fingers through it, cheeks tinted with a pinkish hue, Graves stops at the edge of the mat with raised eyebrows, lips tightly shut. Jacket open, the combat shirt outlines his dog tags, exposing the taut body hidden underneath; arms resting in his pockets, he takes a look around before his eyes land on you again.

“Most people spar during the day,” he notes, “and with a partner.”

Nearing where Graves stands, you glowered, “I don’t need a partner. I’m done anyway.”

Graves takes his hands out of the pockets, arm extended in front of your body like a tollgate, firm and unyielding. Looking at him, his eyes stern but form relaxed. It’s admittable that even at this moment, him being less than a foot away, he radiates an air of authority, his commander showing.

“I can show you a move,” he says, losing his arm back to his side, “one that’ll take your breath away,” he specifies.

A huff leaves your lips, “That’s childish.”

He sighs, hand running across his cheek as his eyes stay focused on you, “I’m serious. It might come in handy in combat for you.”

It takes a silent moment for you to think; to weigh whether to give in or not. Graves doesn’t show any signs of making fun of the situation as your eyes scan his face, eyes heavy-lidded, tired; but still, he offers to give you a piece of his knowledge—and even if your dislike to the commander outgrows your sense of authority, he still possesses more field experience than you and who are you not to take advantage of his offering.

When you accept the proposal, he nods in return; jacket and shoes off, the mat narrows as the man walks to stand in the middle of it, motioning you to stand before him. Face to face, he directs your body into the appropriate position.

“Pretend to kick me in my side,” he pats his ribcage, feet apart and ready to defend. The moment your leg is in the air, his hand grips the back of your thigh, just behind your knee, the other gripping your shoulder to firmly stop you in motion.

“When you push against here,” he squeezes the leg twice, “you squat down a little,” his body follows his words, “and the other hand goes for either the knee,” the hand on your shoulder leaves the moment he’s sure you can still stand and listen before gripping your other leg, still on the mat, “or the ankle, depending on the size of your opponent,” his cold fingers wrap around the exposed flesh of your ankle, “and you go back into the standing position, pulling your opponent’s body up and forward.”

This time, he doesn’t follow his words; instead lets go of your body, stepping back.

“Sometimes it’s better to not only pull but slam into the opponent as well, disrupt their center of gravity,” he adds, “it’ll send you both down but you’ll still have the upper hand.”

A mental image of his words replays in your head. Nodding along his words, you reposition yourself and motion for him to come closer, “I need to see it in full force.”

Looking at your leg, where the healed wound left its scar, Graves makes sure to understand your demand, “You want me to take you down?”

“I want you to throw me against the mat, yes,” you reassure him, “my leg’s all healed up or I wouldn’t be here, commander.”

Even with doubt painted on his unshaven face, he steps closer to position himself as well.

“I’ll probably hurt you if I do it.”

“Like you haven’t dreamt about that before,” you snark.

“My dreams tend to differ.”

His words send a jolt of electricity through you, resulting in a leg high up, aiming straight at Graves’ ribcage, the same place he patted before. It’d be an admirable attack if all this wasn’t prepared beforehand.

The commander does exactly as he described earlier; all you manage to do is yelp as his fingers sneak around your ankle. Strong pull forward, up, and back. The next thing you know, the heavy mat feels like an unforgiving surface beneath her.

Using enough force, the air pushes out of your lungs completely, throat closing when you try to take a breath as if a lump blocking the airways. Muscles tight, you sit up. Graves stands over you, starry eyes following your movement as you finally inhale, short and shallow but the air fills your lungs delightfully.

“Told you I’ll take your breath away.”

04 ˚✧ ┊ The fourth time; he saves your life.

The embassy is in flames; searing hot, ever exploding, and growing with every passing second. The sound of gunfire and shrieks of terror echo through the halls, smoke billowing out of the windows. Passing multiple bodies, your group moves in unison. Scouting each hall, each room and every single corner for the target—nowhere to be found.

Passing a windowed hall, glass shattered all over the marble floor, your eyes take in the outside scene, the utter chaos; crowds of people, shouting, crying, fighting. Praying. Their families might still be in this hellish building and as much as you wish to help, the diplomat remains the priority number one. You notice the familiar hooded figures of Shadows exiting multiple cars and heading towards another entrance, clearing other sections of the embassy as you work.

Reaching the end of the hall, all of your team stops next to the stairs as one of the soldiers clears the remaining room, returning to you with empty hands; nothing.

“Echo 3-6 to Watcher-1,” you turn on the mic when the last room is cleared, “target’s position unknown, moving the fifth floor. Over.”

“Negative,” the mechanic voice cuts through the static, “regroup with Shadow-1 and move back to the rendezvous. Over.”

The men around you remain still, their eyes fixed on you as you stand there resolutely, gaze trained on the top of the stairs; the flickering flames of the fire dancing like a sinister symphony. A heavy sense of dread clings to you, the crackling of the fire cutting through the momentary silence before you speak again, “What if the target is there?”

“Negative,” another refusal, “fifth floor’s completely taken over by the fire. Regroup and fall back. Over.”

“Roger that, over and out,” you nod to the group. Turning around, a step behind everyone, a sound pulls you back; silence follows before a distant Help! reaches your ears. It’s weak, merely audible but still enough confirmation that someone is still there.

Eyes on the group, none of them seem to notice you falling behind. Fingers tightening around the handle of your gun, a mere second passes before your body turns around on its own accord; one leg follows the other, and stairs pass by as heat envelopes you in its scourging warmth.

Flames kiss up your skin as you move through the remains of a hall, fire closing you in; stupid, stupid idea and stupid me. The heat is unbearable, each crackle sends shivers down your spine. Dread settles in your bones over the realization that this might be the way you go.

Another Help! throws your thought away. Stopping by the closed door, you bang your hand on them, eliciting a shout from the other side; no matter who’s there, you already know you’re gonna get that person out. Going through all this inferno, it’s the least you can do.

Bashing the door open with the butt of your gun, a figure rams straight into you, slamming your back against the burning wall for a second.

“Oh my god, thank you,” a man bellows straight into your face; the target. Before you notice what’s happening, he reaches towards you and snatches your mask from your face, holding it to his face to inhale.

“Wait,” you try to stop him but it’s too late, smoke and ash fill your lungs upon the unexpected moment. The radio on your neck crackles but nothing comes through. Frantically gasping for air, you focus on the mission; bring the target to the rendezvous, that’s your only way out of here—preferably still alive.

The air is thick with the smell of acrid smoke. Gasping frenziedly, hand wrapping around the target’s thick arm, you drag the diplomat towards the staircase. Heart racing, head becoming dizzy, it doesn’t help that the man slips through your weakening hold, landing on the floor with a loud thud.

“Fuck,” you curse; breathing shallowly, nausea and headache start to creep on you as you try to move the mass of a man on your own. Everything spins, the flames licking and nipping at your skin like fiery fingers, the heat of it all pressing down on you.

The smoke clogs your lungs, air deathly still; your consciousness gives up on you, darkness succumbing you to the all-consuming fire. Eyes watering, swallowing feels like drinking molten lava, the roaring flames devour all in their wake.

A sharp slap jolts your eyes open. A masked man hovers above you, the larimar blue shining through the mask; Graves.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” he hisses, tapping at your cheek harshly, “not dying on me today.” The blonde turns his head around. That’s when you notice other Shadows hovering around, two of them carrying the hopefully unconscious (and not dead) body of the target while Graves stays by your side; hand on your shoulder blade, he helps you sit up.

“Don’t kill this one or I’ll shoot you,” a guttural cough creeps up your throat as his gaze bores into you. Wrapping a piece of clothing around your lower face, a makeshift mask, his arm sneaks around your waist, effortlessly lifting you up to the point your feet don’t even touch the ground.

“What, he’s intel?” he remarks; one hand guiding your arm over his shoulders, his fingers securely wrapping over your wrist to keep your weight onto him while the other arm stays around your waist—basically carrying all your weight on his side, he adds, “if yes, might shoot him them.”

05 ˚✧ ┊ The fifth time; he kisses you.

Everything is going smoothly, too suently to your comfort, causing a shivering sense of unease creeps up slowly on your spine. The pungent smell of cigarettes and alcohol fills your nostrils, chatter surrounding your lonely form in a dull hum as you sip at the drink in your hand.

A group of men and women sit across the confined space, closer to the exit door than you, talking in hushed voices; the deal going according to the plan, except they don’t know about the closeness of sneaky ears encompassing this place.

Observing the ongoing deal, another man joins the group, whispering to one of the men; your eyes firmly on them, fingertips dancing on top of the full glass, you watch as—

—”Echo, your cover’s blown,” a static voice of a Shadow comes through the second two more men enter your peripheral vision, eyes scanning the area; for you.

“Roger that,” you whisper, earpiece barely picking up. Taking one last sip of the drink, feeling the cold liquid cool your burning throat, the chair squeaks as your feet touch the ground.

Before the men manage to look in the direction of the noise disruption, you slide into the shadows of the nearest hall; too bad the only exit was behind them. Now it’s time to come up with plan b. Swiftly moving along the building, you look out from the window, too high. No stairs. No escape route. No fight; instruction clear—don’t get caught, don’t cause a scene.

Heavy footsteps echo from behind you, enclosing you like a wild animal being cornered; slight panic starts settling in your abdomen. You’re a professional, pull it together. Pull. It. Together. Deep breath in, shallow breath out. Looking to your right, then to your left; first doors locked, second as well.

Footsteps growing heavier, closer, faster; deep breath in, sha—

—hand over your mouth.

A firm figure pulls you backward, calloused fingers wrapping over your mouth, digging into your cheek as he drags you into the third door. The smell of suede, the taste of leather, hot breath fanning over your earlobe as a quiet Shhh echoes in your ear; Graves.

The commander guides you into the guest closet; turning you around, you’re faced with the same wide, larimar oceans of eyes, finger over his tightly shut lips as his hand remains over your mouth. With a reassuring nod from your side, he drops it, looking at the open door, the sound of incoming footsteps filling the confusion and tension surging through your body.

“What’re you doing here?”

What are you doing on this mission? In this city?

“Graves,” you hiss, finger digging in the middle of his chest, feeling the metal of his dog tags beneath the fabric of the blue shirt that only enhances the color of his eyes.

“Check the second room, I’ll check the third,” a man’s voice orders. The third—the third, the third where you are currently stationed, hidden.

Graves’ jaw twitches, eyes fixated on the door; a shadow is cast over the light from the hallway. It feels as if time has stopped, and your breath hitches as the anticipation of being discovered takes hold of you. Heart pounding, breath bated—

Lips on yours; rough, wet. Needy. Hands enclosing your face, covering every inch of your head, fingertips diving into your hair. Graves’ body presses against yours, hips flushed together, a leg between yours. A whimper escapes your bruised lips as his tongue swipes along the lower one before biting, tugging at it, drawing a desperate, humiliating moan out of you.

A hum reverberates in his throat, tongue pushing inside you. It’s wet, sticky; messy. His tongue explores the depths of your mouth. He’s aggressive and impatient. Hunger seers through your touch-starved body, jolts of electricity awakening your desire. Bringing your leg up and around his hip, you push him into you, hips grinding into yours.

Groans, grunts, moans; a mess of two people, air filled with desperation.

Your brain goes completely blank, kiss drunk and empty. The heat of his flesh is searing through the material of his shirt; squeezing his bicep, you feel the muscle flex as he angles your head for better access.

He’s the first one to pull away, your lips following his for a split second before the realization hits you; breathless, confused, and way too eager, you shake your head. Eyes staring at his flushed face, the darkness of his pupils overtaking the blue oceans of his eyes like a stormy night, you can feel the raw tension between the two of you. Not good, not good at all.

Graves’ hands slide from your cheeks at the same time you put your hands on his chest, the tight muscle contracting, heart racing; and you push, leg falling from his hip.

“Why did you kiss me?” you hiss at him. The pink hue that decorates his nose and cheeks only adds to the allure of his pale skin; and if it was anyone but Graves, you'd be finding it hard not to reach out and brush your fingers gently against his flushed cheeks. You’d even say it looked slightly adorable (and immensely attractive).

“Why did you kiss me back?” he bites back gruffly. He takes a step back, his gaze shifting towards the door as if he's trying to make a run for it.

“Why did you use tongue?” Not letting him win this, you continue to press into him. He stands at your arm's length, fingers wrapping around your wrist that still rests against his chest, fiercely putting it away before he shoots you a smug look.

“Why did you moan?”

“Stop it,” pushing him one last time, Graves takes a step to the side, letting you go and head toward the door; the hallway clear.

01 ˚➶ ┊The time he surprises you; and it hurts.

The car ride is silent, a sense of relief settling inside you while you return to the Los Vaqueros’ base. That’s before your phone starts ringing, and Shepherd’s code name appears on the screen. From the peripheral view, you notice Graves shifting, the two shadows at the front seats sitting quietly.

The call is rather informational, Shepherd impatiently collects your report before you even arrive at the base to follow the proper procedure.

“What about the third missile, did you manage to locate it,” he asks, voice calm but concerned. Graves’ eyes meet yours, conveying a strange mix of fear and guilt.

With an exhale, you say, “no, sir, but I’m getting close to identifying the source.”

“Say again,” Shepherd’s voice turns stern.

“I have a meeting with an asset of mine, after that—”

“I did not give you the order to search for the source, officer,” he cuts you off, “give me Graves.”

The man next to you watches with confusion as you hand him your phone without much question. Eventually taking it, he talks with Shepherd for a brief moment; eyes flickering to you, you notice his rigid posture and hand lowering to the zip ties in his vest.

Something is off.

Hanging up the phone, Graves’ attention is now fully on you, freeing the zip ties from their restraints.

“I’ll need you to extend your arms, officer,” he commands formally. As the realization hits you, a chill of dread creeps up your spine. Everything after that happens in less than a minute; from reaching for the radio to inform Ghost and the others (who are currently obliviously riding the car behind you) to inform them of the situation to Graves’ fingers wrapping around your wrists, tugging forward. With your face a few inches from his, you kick up your leg, fighting not only the commander but the confined space of the back of the car.

The element of surprise and strength isn’t on your side as Graves takes out his handgun, one hand gripping both of your wrists.

“It didn’t have to be like this,” the bitter words grate through his clenched teeth.; taking his handgun out, the handle lands harshly against your temple, sending a dull pain throughout your body as he knocks you unconscious.

A loud thud jolts you awake, shaking you from the depths of darkness. Eyes heavy, your head spinning and a throbbing ache radiating from the side of your face; a low groan escapes your chapped lips.

Heaving a groan, you muster all of your strength and spin to the side, outstretched arms seeking the door handle. With a click, the door opens. Pushing forward, the rain pelts your skin, eyes squinting to protect themselves from the onslaught.

As you stumble out, the hard thud of your body hitting the wet asphalt sends jolts of pain through you. The echoes of voices seem to linger in the air, blending with the night as it pours down. A dark figure slumps against the car - a shadow. Reaching for his pulse, you can feel the sickly warmth of the blood that’s already soaked through his mask.

That’s when you notice the man looming before you. Back facing your crawling form, hunched, gun ready to fire as he walks to the side of the car; Graves keeps talking, his voice taunting Ghost (who's nowhere to be seen).

You know what you have to do. Heart pounding, you slowly raise your hand to the shadow's thigh, groping for the handgun in the holster.

It takes you a moment to stable your stance and focus your gaze to aim at the back of Graves’ head, pouring rain blurring your vision but this moment, this second is all it takes for a nearby shadow to notice the imminent danger of his commander, to aim his weapon and pull the trigger.

Like a powerful force, a sharp impact sends you crashing to the ground with a pained groan erupting from your throat. The handgun clatters to the asphalt with a hollow click, Graves turns around sharply; eyes wide, finger on the trigger.

Lowering the gun, he walks over to your groaning figure. Calloused fingertips brush back the wet locks of hair from your face, he crouches down; the butt of his weapon resting over the oozing wound on your chest, face solemn, eyes dull and lethargic.

“Now that was a big fuckin’ mistake, sweetheart.”

BONUS ˚✧ ┊

The heat of Adal’s sun burns into your clothing, seeping through the thin layer of fabric and biting into the skin of your arms. Throat dry, licking your lips, you walk in Ghost’s footprints, the city of Al Mazrah behind you.

Snatching a bottle from Ghost’s backpack, the feeling of cool water running down your parched throat brings a wave of relief.

Reaching the cliff, Ghost stands a step before you, looking through his scope; handing it to you the moment he pinpoints the target’s position.

As you search the area with his instructions, your eyes fall upon the familiar face. Commander Ghorbrani stands surrounded by both Quds Forces and Russians, the ongoing deal going according to plan it seems.

Five words; that’s all it takes for you to get involved in taking the lives of dozens of men - “Visual on General Ghorbani confirmed.”

With Laswell’s last confirmation and Shepherd’s orders, you hand Ghost his weapon back. Securing the sunglasses on your face, you listen to the communication; crouched down, barely reaching Ghost’s mid-thigs as the lieutenant hovers above you, providing the much-desired shadow.

“Echo 3-6, Ghost, you are danger close to the zone,” Graves’ voice whispers into the earpiece, “this arrow’s gonna pack a punch.”

Veins thrumming with adrenaline, looking up at Ghost, an affirmative nod is sufficient enough for him to respond, “Copy. Approved.”

“Send it,” you state into the mic around your neck mic before holding onto the top of the body armor Ghost basically bullied you into wearing.

“All stations, Shadow-1. Missile is ready for immediate delivery, stand by for launch,” Graves continues talking as you hold the mic frequency open for possible communication.

Ghost straightens his back the moment Graves announced that the missile is loose, both of you mentally bracing for the impact as the Shadow commander continues informing about the missile’s actual coordinates.

The blinding light fills your vision as the missile strucks its target, the deafening roar of the impact overpowered by an immense shock wave; grains of sand stung your exposed cheeks like tiny droplets of glass; the sensation of the sharp needles nicking at your flesh rather awakening.

“Bloody fucking hell,” Ghost’ voice cuts through the sound of destruction. Both of you watch as pieces of metal and flesh fly in the air; a dance of death. A pungent, sweetish smell fills your nostrils as you get up to stand next to him again.

“Direct,” you confirm, “target destroyed.” As you watch the last remains falling to the ground, you add, “one would say it’s raining men.”

“Fuck sake, Echo, keep it professional,” Graves’ voice echo in your earpiece, a hint of amusement present in his tone. Ghost shoots you a look of disapproval.

Shrugging, arm extended to what was a meeting ground just seconds ago, you state, “What? It’s true.”

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l0velylecter · 1 year

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you're not my homeland anymore (so what am I defending now?) — phillip graves x afab!reader

THERE'S SOMETHING INTIMATE IN THE WAY HE POISONS YOU: even with his hand around your throat, fingers slowly constricting, you can't seem to fight him. A snake trying to subdue its victims, Phillip dragged his thumb lazily across the column of your neck to check your pulse — eyes flickering to the rise and fall of your chest. He was ready to devour you, sneering because he knew you'd let him.

summary : After his betrayal in Las Almas, as Shadow Company’s Quartermaster, you were left behind to clean up after Grave’s mess. It’s not easy to pick up the pieces of the life he shattered, but it’s even harder to heal when he keeps coming back to undo the stitches. pairing : phillip graves / afab!reader fandom : call of duty modern warfare ii rating : e for explicit, minors don’t interact (mdni!), not safe for work (nsfw!) warnings : descriptions of violence, cursing, descriptions of sex tags : afab!reader, female parts, some plot, somewhat toxic/unhealthy relationship, manipulation, mild backstory for reader, choking, he’s a red flag but red is my favorite color, reader has a ‘i can fix him’ mentality so read at your own discretion, rough sex, angry sex, edging. word count : 2k note : font is normal sized under the cut ! song used for inspiration : exile, taylor swift

01| Twenty minutes is the fastest recorded time of death caused by snake venom, not a second less, not a second later. And twenty minutes is all it took for Phillip to betray you. Your hands were trembling around the monitor while he aimed his rifle at Soap. Knocking a stack of papers in the process, your fingers flew across the keyboard to call for help — Laswell, Price, Garrick, anybody: you were desperate, choking in your guilt as a bullet struck the sergeant. With tears streaming down your face, you screamed into the comms, begging for him to cease fire. The analog clock beeped. Eleven minutes. Then without warning, the noise disappeared, leaving you to listen to the harsh rain against the pavement.

You slumped against your seat.

" Phillip...what have you done?"

Fifteen minutes. After a few seconds, his voice emerged, distant and faraway, distorted by the static.

" It's nothing personal, baby. It's just business." He chuckled. Your face crumbled at the airiness of his tone, bile rising in the back of your mouth as you imagined the smell of blood.

Seventeen minutes.

"I'll see you soon."

The silence that followed was almost deafening, echoing throughout the room. Phillip cut off all communications: ripping the camera from his chest before crushing it under his heel. The sharp ring of the mic's feedback made you rip your receiver out. Nineteen minutes. You caught your reflection against the monitor's dark screen. Even with the blood tricking down your earlobe, you couldn't move.

When they brought you in for questioning, they found you doubled over the table: earpiece dangling weakly from your palm. They needed to take note of the time. They said it was protocol. Twenty Minutes. You tell them as they cuff your wrists. Not a second less, not a second later.

02| The court proceedings ended in autumn. It took months before all charges were dropped: compliance, conspiracy, tampering of evidence — just like that, 'treason' was no longer in your record. One final act of mercy they gave you before cutting you loose, knowing that it was easier to sweep their fuck up under the rug this way. You rewind the tape from your interrogations, closing the blinds shut.

" And what was your affiliation with Phillip Graves?"

Crossing your legs on the couch, you pulled the laptop closer. The audio was muffled, bleeding static: a consequence of the metal walls which surrounded the scene that unfolded.

" I worked for Shadow Company.” You replied in the footage, “ I was his quartermaster."

Your interrogators shared a look. His. Not theirs. The needle of the polygraph jerked sideways. Suspicious. Compliant. You cleared your throat, opening your mouth to rephrase.

" I worked in logistics. Mortuary Affairs, subsistences. I distribute materials and brief them on satellite-based imagines. I knew nothing about the missiles or conspiring with Shepherd."

" How could that be?" The man on the right crossed his legs, arms folded around his chest.

Ink continued to glide across the graph paper.

" Evidence showed that you were...intimate with the commander."

Feeling scrutinised, you scoffed.

" What does that have to do with anything?"

" It has to do with everything. Surely, you understand how it makes it difficult for us to believe you were completely in the dark when you and Graves were so...close. Do you deny it?"

Blinking in disbelief, you slumped against your chair. For a brief second, you felt it. All of it. The weight of his arms around your waist. His fingers down your back. You thought of the moon and how his eyes melt into silver under its light. You hear his laugh when you fail to flip the egg against the pan. The scars littered down his spine as he lays next to you. Patchouli and sandalwood crowd the bathroom as you smear your fingers with his aftershave. The gunshots as they cut through the downpour.

The graph wavered. " Do you deny it?" They repeated.

You inhaled deeply, wiping your face with your palm.

" No. I don't."

The curves on the paper thinned into a vertical line. The men scribbled into their notebooks, gesturing to the cup of coffee they had given you. You tell them it's gone cold and stale. And under the yellow lamplight, the officer on the right stared at you almost apologetically — noticing how you’ve been staring at the printed picture of Graves strewn across the table.

“ And whose fault is that?”

That night you deleted all the files on your laptop before unplugging the USB, contemplating whether to flush gigabytes worth of confidential information: videos, pictures, documents down the toilet.

You ended up leaving it above the bedside table.

03| You used to like how warm Phillip's hands were. The weight of each finger pressed against your palm will usually shut you up from complaining about the cold. You've memorized every inch of his skin, the roughness and weight, too familiar to miss. Which is why you didn't need to raise your head to know it was him standing behind you: hand across your mouth.

" It's been a while."

He maneuvered you against the hallway, slamming you with his arm across your waist. When you struggled, he only tightened his grip, lips ghosting against the junction of your jaw and neck. Shhh, he cooed, and you obeyed.

You hated yourself for complying. Noticing this, he let out a small chuckle — lowering the palm across your face down your chin to tilt your head upward, ignoring the small thud your skull made with the hard surface.

" Did you miss me?"

You searched his eyes: cobalt blue, ocean-strong. They shined under the half-light pouring through the window.

Recoiling at his voice, your words were barely above a whisper, " How could you? You fucking snake."

He skimmed your cheek with his thumb. Once. Twice — Smiling at you as if you were having a regular conversation.

" We all need to shed our skin, baby. It's part of the food chain."

There's something intimate in the way he poisons you: even with his hand around your throat, fingers slowly constricting, you can't seem to fight him. A serpent trying to subdue its victims, Phillip dragged his thumb lazily across the column of your neck to check your pulse — eyes flickering to the rise and fall of your chest. He was ready to devour you, sneering because he knew you'd let him.

" You used me, Phillip. And you want to justify that by calling me weak? " You gave him a rough push, struggling against his grip. " I trusted you." "And whose fault was that?" Your breath hitched, heart heavy against the pit of your stomach. “ So was it all a lie then ?” His expression faltered. “ Not all of it.” “ Bullshit,” You spat, “ If you really did care then why didn’t you take me with you ? And what are you doing in my house ? What do you want ?” He laughed, teeth bared and head thrown back as if you’d just tell him a funny joke, before taking your mouth in a hard, biting kiss.

You startled, hands automatically flying to grip his tactical vest to kiss him back. Ashamed at how the response was almost automatic, you tried to break away.

“ I left you?” He fumed, “You think I abandoned you ?”

Phillip pulled you against his chest, breath ghosting against your lashes, “ Last time I checked, you were the one who got too fucking comfortable with one-four-one. Weren’t you the one who wanted to transfer units ?”

You reeled at his aggressiveness, letting his tongue push into your mouth : hands tight around your body. “ That letter to HQ was supposed to be confidential.” You reasoned, pulling away for air, “ And I wanted us, you and me, to transfer. Shepherd’s using you ! He’s going to sink your company and you’re going down with it !” He slammed a fist against the wall right above your head, the loud noise rolling down the empty space. Phillip growled, leaning down for your mouth. His hand hoisted your face up, teeth tugging at your bottom lip : forceful, all-consuming. “ You’re a hypocrite, you know that? Spewing all this righteous horseshit when your hands are just as red as mine.” “ What do you want, Phillip?” You sobbed, eyes screwed shut to stop the tears squeezing their way out. Your cry was silent, almost soundless.

He loosened his hold, boots squeaking against the floor as he took a few steps back. You could have used this opportunity to make a run for it. To escape, to leave. Phillip was giving you a choice. Always, he gives you a chance to leave. But you never do. Instead, you submit yourself to this want, this need.

His hands were warm and familiar, running down your body, scooping you up, carrying you toward the bedroom.

His hands set you on fire, and you'd let him burn you.

04| The heat was blanketing your back, licking up your spine, sucking on your earlobe. His cock, driving in and out of you. Phillip pulled your hips up a little higher, and the change in angle dialed it up even more. White spots flaring in your vision —

“ It’s too much,” You sighed, and it sounded suspiciously like a sob, muffled by the pillow underneath.

Your knees were trembling, struggling to support you. And you would have collapsed if he didn’t hoist you up against his hips. His pace was ruthless, hungry.

And when your arms buckled as you relinquished control, boneless and submerged under the shudder of lightning-hot fire sweeping through you, body strung tight and just on the edge, Phillip suddenly stilled.

You tightened around him, begging him to move.

“ Please,” You whined, “ Phillip, please.” You can sense him watching you claw the blankets underneath, the cold surface of the fabric relieving you of your fever. You tried to wiggle yourself against him, but he had a vice grip on your hips to restrain you. The stillness was almost as painful as the lack of friction.

Without warning, he turned and lifted you to sit astride him, hands holding you against his chest to guide you down onto his cock. You nearly screamed as he set up a new rhythm, fucking you deep, making you take all of him. You clenched around him each time he pulled you up to drop you back down, feeling so full. Past your lips was a high, helpless noise as liquid, molten heat spread inside you, shaking every muscle. When you tried to hide it by biting into his shoulder, Phillip roughly pried you away: hands gripping your chin to look at him in the eyes.

“Look at me,” He commanded, anchoring you.

Your nails left trails of red, crescent moon against his back, orgasm within reach again. You were whispering into his neck, babbling nonsense as everything goes tense and bright — and suddenly you were hit with the feel of your breast against his ribs, the cologne you got him for his birthday mingling with the smell of sweat and sex, his heartbeat racing against yours.

Phillip groaned, voice husky and low as he cursed, hips stuttering to come inside you with desperate, shuddering pulses.

And when you tip to the side and he guides you under the blankets, hands slack around your waist, you asked him again if it was all a lie. You were being lulled to sleep by the exhaustion when you feel a weight against your mouth, a phantom kiss, ghosting against your lips.

05 | Maybe you dreamt it. Maybe you didn’t.

But the next morning, the space beside you was empty. Left with nothing but the imprint of his body against the sheets, your arms and legs ached in protest, as a slow, dull ache took root inside your chest.

The USB by the table side was nowhere to be found.

a/n : first fic after two days, and first fic of 2023 ! What a way to start the year : angsty, angry sex with phillip graves 🤭 i made him so toxic here but dw i know deep down he’s not always like this ( maybe i’m the silly little reader with the ‘ i can fix him’ mindset ) i hope you all enjoy this ! <3

for graves fuckers : @cowboybxtch , @nfr89s , @kenobisjedi & more ! 🥴🥂

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di-writes-stuff · 5 months

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Sad Beautiful Tragic

Phillip Graves x Reader

A/N: I need to write more angst in a way I can’t quite describe.

TW: References to Graves betrayal and all that entails. War stuff, canon typical violence, suggestions of smut but no real descriptions. No happy end.

Summary: In which you look back on your relationship with Graves during his court hearing.

“Hang up, give up, and for the life of us we can’t get up.”

I hate him.

You’ve been forcing yourself to remember that for the past few hours. Watching that damn bastard, the sly smirk on his face every time he knows he’s winning the case. The same one you used to find endearing, now just puts a pit in your stomach that makes you wish you hadn’t eaten breakfast this morning.

You could scream. You want to scream, about how it’s not fair, about how you could’ve loved him, how you did love him. You want to pound your fists against the ground, throw the cup clenched in your hand at his stupid, handsome face. Marr it until you don’t feel that nagging, instinctive affection every time you see him.

The one that quickly fades—for the most part—when you remember what he did. That he prioritized being Shepherd’s little bitch over his comrades.

Over you.

Anger’s powerful. It’s a great, if not the greatest motivator in the world. But coupled with passion? With a love so fierce you would have died for it?

That burns. Drips through you like hot acid at any reminder of betrayal from the trusted.

And that is exactly what you feel when you look at him. The hurt comes first. The shell shock from what he did that still hasn’t quiet faded. Then the anger, and then the melancholy. The kind of animalistic need to get back to how it was before he ruined it. The clawing, desperate kind of fight you’re waging everyday just to believe the lie you think yourself to sleep with.

I hate him.

And yet, it always seems to end the same. The glaring correction at the end that you can’t admit to anybody around you, or yourself.

I miss him.

Overwhelmingly. Painfully. It keeps you up at night. It exhausts you in the day. It separates you from every other member of the task force. Because they can do it. They can hate him for what he did without a second thought.

It’s not as if they don’t see it. The tears that pinprick the corners of your eyes every time his name comes up. It really shouldn’t come as a surprise. From the very start, he’d been chasing you, and you were standing still.

For what felt like the hundredth time today, you were laughing. Smiling. Happy, really, truly happy. All thanks to Phillip Graves.

From what everybody said, you’d really hadn’t thought you’d like him very much. Cocky, horribly flirtatious, stubborn, and risky as all hell. All true, of course. Although, from where you were standing, it seemed like the whole “flirt” part was understated, extremely.

A smirk played on his lips as he stood just too close to you at the control panel of the helicopter, breath fanning over your neck as you drop yet another bomb onto the currently empty base. The mission was simple enough, bomb the enemy base, wipe all their supplies, intel, everything. Without anybody around to retaliate.

Well, it was supposed to be simple. You’ve found focusing has become quite difficult with constant flirtatious praises falling from the lips of the man behind you. “Atta girl.” His voice is husky behind you, a soft chuckle leaving him as you exhale shakily at his comment.

You’re sure you’ll get plenty of shit for this back at base, after all, you aren’t trying very hard to disguise how much you’re enjoying this. At the very least you manage to respond to this comment rather than the breathy laughter he’s been receiving. “You wanna take over? I wouldn’t wanna take all the credit.” You force yourself to meet his eyes, ignoring the way your stomach flips when he smiles at you.

“I think I’ll let ya have this one, doll.” The pet-name sends you snapping your eyes back to the control panel, trying to calm the vivid blush spreading across your face. The self satisfied smirk on his face only growing wider at your response. You clear your throat, your words coming out a bit shaky. “Very generous, Commander.”

He leans in a bit closer, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “Oh, I always am.” The suggestion held in those words sends heat pooling in your stomach, the skin he barely even grazed burning after his touch. Later, he’ll give some proof to that statement.

And God, he was telling the truth.

Your attention is suddenly brought back to the court in front of you, and you’re back in reality. Snatched away from the pretty memory you’d allowed yourself to live in for just a moment. From before he did what he did. Before he ruined everything.

The judges question sends a hush over the room, the one everybody had been waiting to hear Phillip’s answer to. “Did you act on those orders, Mr. Graves?”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you remember that night. Those orders, the ones to kill you and every other member of the 141. The warnings he’d tried so hard to give you, without ever really telling you the truth. Phillip Graves was not the pleading kind, but for you? He’d do it. He did do it.

“Please, baby, I’m begging you. Don’t do this job.” He asked for what felt like the millionth time, trying to keep quiet as to not be heard through the thin walls on base.

When he’d asked to come over, you’d thought it was for the normal reasons. Apparently not, because rather than tangled under bedsheets, you two were fighting over his strange request that you didn’t understand in the slightest.

“Phillip, I have a job, I’m gonna do it.” Your voice is stern, unyielding to his pleas. You can’t help but feel unnerved by the look in his eyes that looks an awful lot like terror. Pure, unbridled fear that he refuses to explain to you.

He takes your hands in his, kneeling down to be eye level with you as you sit on the edge of your bed. His eyes are bloodshot, supposedly from crying. Something you’d never seen the man in front of you do. “Please, sweetheart.”

“I can’t have you on this job.”

Except you were on that job. There to see the horror in his eyes as he realized that along with everybody else, he’d have to betray you too. That he’s have to ruin everything you had.

You still remember the way you’d screamed at him that night, as Ghost dragged you away into the temporary safety the city provided.

“I hate you.”

The words that were ripped from your throat by him, the ones you never wanted to say, but you did. The ones you couldn’t convince yourself of anymore. You’re not even sure if they were true then. Although, you think you come close to it as you hear him answer the judge.

“No…Absolutely not, sir.” Gasps and whispers sound throughout the court, but the only thing you hear is his words repeated over and over in your mind. You try to find the lie, to find some loophole to make his claim false.

But the worst part is, he’s telling the truth. He didn’t kill you, nobody in the 141 was dead, or even seriously injured. Soap walked away with a few new scars, but that was about it.

He didn’t act on the orders.

It should make you feel better, that technically, he refused. That maybe, you could forgive him. But you know you won’t. You know you can’t. Not after all this. Not after the things he made you feel in such rapid succession.

First, love. Burning hot passion that took over your every thought. Then hatred, feigned or otherwise. Then grief as Soap came back with the news that Graves was KIA. Everybody still remembers the way you’d sobbed, animalistic gasps for air coming up from your throat as tears poured from your eyes. They’d heard it all from the closet you locked yourself in. But at the very least they’d had the decency to pretend they didn’t.

Now, you don’t even know what you feel towards him. You can’t exactly say you don’t still love him. Not honestly, at least. A part of you hates him, but not enough to make it true. Not enough to deny the relief that flooded you once you saw him in front of you that day, breathing, whole, alive.

It took every bit of strength in you not to react as he walked into view on the call with Shepherd. That same smirk on his face that never seemed to leave fully, but faltered a bit as his eyes landed on you. You, who stood seemingly emotionless, you who prayed he couldn’t see the tears forming in your eyes over the call.

You, who couldn’t take it anymore as he cracked the same kinds of jokes that used to make you laugh as he whispered them to you in the middle of the night, your head laying on his chest. Everybody noticed the way his smile dropped for a second as you stormed out of the hangar. Because despite his own ego, despite his constant need to please, the only approval he ever wanted was your own.

It’s the same reason now that he risks turning around to look at you, to see if any hint of approval, or even love still lingers in your eyes.

The same reason his heart shatters as he sees what he’s been dreading this whole time. Hatred, written all over your face as you stare him down. Of course, he’s oblivious to the war being waged inside you just to keep your expression still. To the way his eyes locking with yours still sends shivers running down your spine. Memories flooding back of his hands on your body, his eyes locked with yours as hushed, strained whispers fall from his mouth in between groans.

You don’t even think he realized he’d said it that night, too focused on the feeling you gave him to even notice the words he was saying. It wouldn’t be outlandish to think he hadn’t meant it. To think it just slipped out in the midst of his euphoria, triggered only by the high you were both so rapidly approaching.

Although, now that memories are all you’ll ever allow yourself to have of him, you like to believe he meant it. That deep down, those whispered words were true, unlike the ones you’ve been trying to convince yourself of.

“I love you.”

A/N: Sometimes I’m writing and it’s just like lalalala silly little angsty fanfic 😇✍️ and then all of a sudden this deep, grumbly little demon voice pops up out of nowhere, a single word accompanying it.

👹dick👹

digital footprint goes wild.

- di <3

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luci4theminorannoyance · 7 months

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calling kortac + shadow company boys by full name randomly:

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

a/n: hi! I got motivation and I’m half way done with all my requests so I decided to do this! Original idea from @lxvvie!

graves:

-he IMMEDIATELY sits up, turning his head so fast it almost gave this man whiplash

-southern mom flash backs.

-he ran, dashed, sprinted over to you with his eyes filled with actual worry, thinking you were hurt (or worse you found out he did something dumb again)

-once you told him it was just for fun and random, he just sighed and kissed you on the cheek and went back to what he was doing prior

velikan:

-this man does not give a care in the world, still reading the book he was focusing on.

-looked over at you casually with a stoic expression under his mask and then went back to reading

-chuckled under his mask when he realized that you weren’t even mad or going to ask him something

konig:

-as soon as he hears his full name he is dashing over to the room your in, apologizing for whatever he may have done and almost sliding into the window when he turned the corner

-at the verge of tears (my man has issues and his anxiety is NOT helping)

-once you apologized and said it was only for a joke he calmed down; pulling up his mask and kissing you on the cheek before hugging you and getting back to what he was doing

horangi:

-gets worried thinking your hurt and almost runs into a table- and tripped multiple times somehow

-got genuinely pissed when he found out you were just joking, walking back to what he was doing while mumbling how you should never do that again

-forgave you a bit later and cuddled you on the mess hall couch

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crimsonbubble · 8 months

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cw. nsfw, gn!reader, handcuffs, gear kink, commander kink (?), mentions of cockwarming and edging *not proofread, just pure horny

[literally could not help myself] @waltzthegenderfluidpan @smmy-winchster

MINORS DNI!!

"the quicker you tell me what you want, the quicker i can give it to ya."

his gloved hands are digging into the skin of your naked hips, stopping you from grinding and squirming your hips. his cock is nestled in so deep, pressing so deliciously against your walls. graves tries to bite back a smirk, an airy chuckle leaving his lips as he watches you huff and whine.

he knocks his hips up, bouncing you on his cock. the abrupt action made you cry out, body shuddering as your body falls into his. the sheer contrast of you sitting naked on your commander's lap while he's still fully geared has a new heat rising through your body. "c'mon baby, tell your commander what you want,"

his voice was melodic and condescending, poking out any coherent thoughts in your head. "before I start doing things the hard way." your head is too fuzzy to think straight. the weight of his cock resting between your walls as he makes minuscule movements to make him shift inside you.

it's like you can feel him all over, feeling vulnerable against the eyes of a predator. if you thought the cockwarming and edging was driving you crazy, the way he lifts and drops your hips against him has you drooling and nearly going limp in his arms. you can hear him plant his feet flat against the floor, boots landing heavily on the floor.

you can't control the loud and lewd moans that spill from your lips, the pleasure blinding you. stars dart across your vision as graves buried himself to the hilt before pulling out almost completely. he pulls your body down on him, the swollen tip of his cock rubbing against your sweet spot. "fuck baby-" he can't muffle the loud groan that grumbles in his throat. "god, you make me crazy."

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skylarsblue · 1 year

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✦I have more C.o.D Quotes✦

Gaz: How’s your head? Y/N: Well, I haven’t had any complaints yet. Gaz: …excuse me? Y/N: Oh uh, I think I’ll live-

-- (Somewhere in Greece with a fuck ton of cats) Ghost, watching Price sneeze every five seconds: What a catastrophe. Gaz: No. Y/N: PFFT- Soap: Stop, no, don’t encourage him. Y/N: Ahem! Right, right. Not funny. Ghost: I am purrfectly capable of being funny. Y/N: *struggling* Gaz: Sometimes I wish you didn’t have a mouth.

-- Just a scene of Y/N taking out a bottle of whiskey, unscrewing they cap, then putting one of those lid caps on. (Like the ones you have on those fancy Gatorades) Taking a huge swig and closing the cap on it as Soap watches in amusement, & Price in fear.

-- Ghost: Quit messing with my hand. Soap: Quit messing with my hair! Y/N: Quit being gay. Gaz: PFFFT Y/N: Both problems solved.

-- Y/N, on the comms: You have thirteen seconds before the building fucking explodes you hot topic wannabe- Ghost: … Y/N: And you green gumball son of a bitch. Gaz: Wha-?! Soap: *WHEEZE* Y/N: You have done nothing but ruin my life; I hope you both die.

-- Soap, Gaz, & Y/N: *cackling* Laswell, losing at poker: I miss my wife, Price. Price: *places down cards* Laswell: I miss my wife.

-- Ghost, overstimulated & a lil drunk: AHHHHHH MY BONES Y/N: *frantically getting headphones* Soap, drunk: *wheeze* Gaz: Ah. I know I should’ve- *dies coughing* Soap: *more wheezing*

-- Graves *kicks in door* WHO POSTED MY NUDES ON TWITTER DOT COM?! Y/N: SUCK IT, BITCH BOY!! Alejandro: *aggressively slapping his leg while silently laughing* Rudy: *pointing and laughing* Valeria, in handcuffs: Ha, dumbass.

-- Graves: Bitch, you are gonna get in this car or I’m popping between ya eyes! Valeria: Hey, I know you. I saw your dick on Twitter! Graves: NOOOOOO Y/N: AHAHA!

-- Graves: C’mon Johnn- Y/N: *chucks a rock at Graves’ head* Graves: OW, WHY?! Y/N: NO JOHNNY FOR YOU! He goes by Soap and we respect that! Graves: Ghost calls him that! Y/N: CAUSE GHOST HAS PERMISSION, you EARN the right to Johnny! And I will be damned if anyone else earns the right before me. I been working my ass off to get the Johnny privilege and you will NOT get it for free! Soap, who’s just been standing there the whole time: *leans to Gaz* Have they actually been taking it that seriously? Gaz: Yeah. They’ve also been working real hard to try and get the right to call Captain “John”. Shoulda seen their face when I said they can call me Kyle. Soap: That’s…really sweet, I’ll give’em permission later. Gaz: Why not now? Soap: I wanna see that bastard get chewed out some more.

-- Y/N, perched on Price’s desk: Captain. Price: *sigh* Y/N: Captain I crave violence.

-- Ghost: Your family line deserves to die with you, only shame it didn’t end before you. Graves: ….I just sat down!

-- Y/N: You’re like…the human incarnation of crumbs in the bed. Graves: Oh c’MON THAT’S REAL MEAN Ghost: It’s true though. Y/N: The kinda crumbs that you keep swiping away but somehow they never leave- Graves: Alright! You know what- Soap: Like getting in bed after going to the beach. Gaz: Sand in the bed, yeah. Feels like that when he talks. Graves: I’M JUST GONNA FUCKIN LEAVE! Y/N: *watches him go* Annnd now the sheets have been changed. Ghost: Clean from filth. Alejandro: You all are so cruel and it’s perhaps the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.

-- Gaz: Things Gucci with you? Y/N: It’s Goodwill at best, my guy. Price: I don’t know what this means but I feel like I should be concerned.

-- (Mild NSFW Jokie Time) Gaz: You alright? You been zoned out. Y/N: Hm? Nah I’m good, just having depraved thoughts. Gaz: Depraved, you say? Soap: Oh do tell. Y/N: You just…you ever see someone and think “they have pretty eyes”. And that’s normal. But then the little devil in the back of ya skull goes “yeah they’d look good rolled back”. Or am I just a whore? Gaz: That is depraved. Soap: Got a good point though.

-- Y/N: Ooo! Look! Old pictures of Captain, this one’s dated. You would’ve been…19 in this one. Lemme s-…… Gaz: Lemme see! ….. Price: What? Y/N: …..you were a whore, weren’t you captain? Gaz: That’s the face of an arrogant bastard who fucks regularly. Price: I…might’ve been a bit of a playboy. Y/N: And I would’ve fallen for it you god damn bastard, no ones fACE SHOULD BE THAT NICE!

-- Valeria, painting her nails: I might kill my ex, not the best idea. His new girlfriend’s next- Alejandro: ….. Rudy: ….should I be worried? Alejandro: Move away quietly and pray.

-- Ghost: For the record this is self destructive. Soap, chugging his 5th energy drink in the past hour: For the record, I’m aware of that.

-- MILF!Y/N: Boys. Bed, now. I wanna talk to your captain. Price: No, boys stay. Please stay- Y/N: Go. Price: Stay. The boys: *concern, panic, perhaps a bit of fear* Y/N: Go! Price: Stay! Y/N: You go! Soap: *speed walking* Price: Soap, stay! Y/N: NOW! Gaz: *slowly backing away* Price: Gaz, don’t move! Y/N: YOU GO! Price: SIMON- Ghost: *leaving*

-- Ghost: What was Plan A? Soap: …don’t fuck up. Ghost: And what was Plan B? Gaz: Don’t fuck up Plan A. Ghost: And what did you do? Y/N: …fucked up plan a- Ghost: YOU FUCKED UP PLAN A-

-- Ghost: What’s rule number one? Soap, with dynamite: Party! Ghost: NO! No, not party! No!

-- Graves: How about after this, we get a drink? Y/N: …I would rather gouge out my eyes and blindly navigate a way to turn them into earrings than ever be anywhere alone with you. Soap, grinning: Ooooo brutal! Ghost: Karma.

-- Ghost: Wait…Johnny’s into me? Like…he LIKES me?? Gaz: Oh Si…you poor, sad, dense mother fucker.

-- Ghost: At least nothing of importance was lost. Laswell: …Graves was kidnapped. Ghost: I know. I said what I said. Y/N: Nothing of value was lost but we did shed off some trash! Ghost: Precisely.

-- Ghost: These lights make me wanna pull my eyes out and eat them. Medic!Y/N: *turns lights off in favor of a lamp* …alright, so you’re autistic, good to know.

-- Ghost: Should I get my reading glasses? Y/N: Oh no no, this isn’t an eye test. It’s a GAY test. Now tell me, *holds up picture of Farah & Graves; Price being 1* Number one, or number two? Ghost: Number one?… Y/N: Interesting. *holds up Farah & Soap, Soap being 2* Okay now number one, or number two? Ghost: *gasp* Y/N: Number two, right? Ghost: Maybe I am gay?

-- Waitress: So, I’ve gotta ask, I’m really curious. 141: ? Waitress: Have any of you ever used like…the military language in bed? Soap: Naaaah. Y/N: No, I don’t- PFFFT, I- *wheeze* I’m sorry I’m imagining it- Gaz: *biting back laughs* Y/N: “You gonna come?” Affirmative. *laughs* Soap: *WHEEZE* Gaz: *cackling* Price: Oh lord- Gaz, snickering: Picking up speed. Y/N: COPY- *Laughter x100* The entire team: *giggling like hyenas* Ghost: Uh, that’s a no. I don’t think we’ve done that.

-- Price: *smiles at Soap & Gaz being stupid* Y/N: I like when you smile. Price: …huh? Y/N: Your smile, I like it. Makes your eyes crinkle up and your beard makes you look like a cuddly bear. You should smile more. Price, internally on the verge of tears: *fond sigh* Get back to drills, soldier. Y/N: Yes sir!

-- Ghost: *minding his fucking business* Y/N: You have pretty eyes. Ghost: *chokes on air* Pardon? Y/N: You have pretty eyes. Ghost: No I-…they’re just brown. Y/N: So? Your eyes don’t have to be blue or green to be pretty. They’re pretty because they’re expressive, and when the sun hits them they look like syrup. I like’em best when we’re all at a bar. They get brighter then. Ghost: Ghost: …stop talking, sergeant. Y/N: Copy that, L.T! <3

-- Gaz: *laughing at something on his phone* Y/N: You have a great laugh. Gaz: Hm? Oh…really? Y/N: Mhm. It’s cute, comes from your chest. I’ve never heard you laugh in anyway that’s not genuine. Really fills the room with joy. Gaz: Dude, you’re gonna make me all soft with words like that. Y/N: All according to plan!

-- Soap: *rambling about something* Y/N: *listening intently* Soap: Then-…ah, I been talkin’ at you this whole time, eh? Should probably quiet down. Y/N: No no, I like your voice! Soap: Eh? Y/N: It’s super energetic and loud, and when you tell a joke or talk about something you love, it’s like you can hear your smile. It’s really fun to listen to. I like when you talk! Soap: *inhale* You’re gonna make me cry- Y/N: I have tissues!

-- König: *fidgeting* Y/N: *takes his hands* You have beautiful hands. König: Wh- Huh?? No they are not. Y/N: They are too! König: Nien, they’re rough and calloused, they break a lot of things… Y/N: They also pet stray cats, make the best coffee on base, and create crotchet works of art. They also mend wounds pretty well. Yeah they fire guns but that doesn’t make them less beautiful. König: *he’s actually crying* …Danke. Y/N: Don’t mention it!

-- Rudy: *rolling his shoulder* Y/N: Anyone ever tell you that you have great shoulders? Rudy: Hm? Oh uh…no, I don’t believe so. Y/N: Well you do! Rudy: Ah, gracias. When I was younger I wanted them to be broader, sometimes now I wish they were more narrow. Can never really be happy with’em, you know? Y/N: Well I think you should be. They’re strong! *gently pats his shoulders* They hold a lot of weight, metaphorically and physically. And even when they’re weighed down, you shoulder it and keep moving. You’re real good at that! I like your shoulders. Rudy, prepared to die for them: …gracias. Y/N: No problem! Now c’mon, the guys are waitin’ for us!

-- Y/N: You have good collarbones. Alejandro: What was that? Y/N: Sorry, I know that’s real specific, but I think your collarbones are pretty. It’s like…the rest of you is bulky and strong, rugged. Then you have these delicate bones. I’m probably being too poetic but it’s like a subtle nod to your gentler side, just, built into your body. Alejandro: …you have a lovely way with words, camarada. Y/N: Thank you! I appreciate that!!

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buckysmith · 1 year

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He gets drunk

Includes: Alejandro, Grave, Ghost and Soap

Warning: Adult stuff, mention of alcohol use, 18+ stuff but not to heavy

(Has nothing to do with the headcanons I just love that song and listened to it while writing )

____________

Alejandro: (not my gift)

- he is actually a man who can stand a lot of alcohol

- he doesn't really like drinking games, but if Rudy challenges him, he's not the one to shy away from it

- as I said, he can stand a lot of the devils liquor but holy hell after an amount of it that could possibly kill any other human he’s not the stoic thinking Alejandro Vargas.

- He knows he’s a good locking man so it’s not unusual that some chicas or chicos flirts with him

- some of his team would call you in situations like that, not because he’s a cheater no. They would call you to pick him up because he gets whiny and grumpy about that your not here with him

- ofc you would pick your love sick husband up but to be honest, after one whole bottle of Mezcal he’s fucked up (just to remember you that would most possible kill any other person) and wouldn’t really recognize you

- at first he would tell you to go away cause he’s in a relationship

- when you want to take him with you he gets angry, telling you to fuck off cause he has the most beautiful, loving, kind hearted and attractive S/O in the whole world

- you would giggle about it, telling you your his s/o

- he would try to recognize your face but because of the darkness and way to much alcohol he just couldn’t

- but he would recognize your scent

- yeah, good luck going home after he recognized you

- cough instead horny cough

- anyways, even though he’s fucked up your night wouldn’t end quickly after you got him home

- oh and even in this state your his top priority ;)

(I’m sorry but I think drunk as fuck he would dance/ sing to that song Vamos a la Playa)

Graves: (not my gift)

- He hates drinking games more than anything else

- but if someone challenges him he can’t say no, his ego ist waaaay to big for that

- after a good amount of alcohol he would call you to take him home

- he knows he’s an attractive man so from time to time people would hit at him but he would causally show his wedding ring (he doesn’t even want to look at the people that want him)

- he knows he can’t drive and he doesn’t want to take an Uber (it’s just not safe as someone like him) so he would wait for you

- he would wait till you show up with another drink in his hand

- he’s not quite talkative on your way home, but he would lay his hand on your thigh, murmur a lot of sweet nothings and a lot of dirty things

- after you both got home he would ask you to take his clothes off

- cough alcohol makes him horny and you do too cough

Soap: (not my gift)

- he likes the taste of scotch that sharp, distinct flavor is what he likes about it

- The few times he has with his whole team are most likely to have a serious matter but the rare times when they can sit in a bar drinking with each other and don’t have to worry to get killed end most of the time with a drinking game

- he isn’t as good with alcohol as ghost or price but he would definitely try to win that stupid drinking game

- price would be the one that calls you

- soap would only sit in some corner, with a picture of you in his hand whining that he wants you to be here with you (he’s love sick)

- the moment you’re in front of him, kneeling between his legs and gently touching his cheeks would end with you back first in the wooden floor

- Ghost would definitely take pics/ videos of you too, most likely to tease soap after he’s sober

- You would take your big boy home

- he’s more on the cuddle side

- he wants you to touch him, to tell him sweet nothings and praise him

Ghost: (not my gift)

- no matter how much he drinks, he isn’t able to get drunk

- fr this man can drink stuff that could kill any other human and he’s still fucking sober (at least he seems to)

- But even though he isn’t the usual drunk man, he gets homesick or better he wants to go home to you

- he knows even though he’s still able to put one and one to two he’s not gonna drive home so he would call you

- he’s a ghost, the others wouldn’t notice that he disappeared (at least they would notice when he’s already over the hills)

- love sick puppy

- he had it rough and in times like that he needs you more than anything

- he’s quite emotional when he’s drunk, it’s most likely the only time he’s able to cry and to let out his feelings

- Cuddle with him, praise him, pet him, take care of him, you’re the one he needs the most

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kittsch · 1 month

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ranking cod boys' intimacy style from gentle to rough feat: 141 + los vaqueros + others reader: afab, implied different readers for each cw: explicit smut, kink, fluff, pretty tame imo but lmk if you'd like something tagged NSFW BELOW CUT * MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

1.) the gentlest, surprisingly, is ghost. make no mistake, he'll absolutely fuck the daylights out of you if you ask him to -- would enjoy it, too. but as simon riley... honestly, this man is touch-starved and nearing forty. he is tired, baby. coming home from deployment, first thing simon does is shower (knows you hate the smell of war on him), then take a fat nap with you. if you're in the middle of something, no you're not. he'll literally scoop you up and fireman-carry you to the couch or bed, whichever is closest. simon loves holding you, wants to be touching you all. the. time. his favorite way to nap is wrapped around you like a fitted sheet; skin on skin, nose in your hair as he breathes in the scent of your shampoo. loves it even more when, later, he gets to wake you with soft, open-mouthed kisses on your neck; the flat of his palm sliding down the gentle swell of your tummy, cuping you through your sleep shorts. simon likes you best like this. how you just... melt into him, still sleep-sodden and docile. it's one of the few things that feels right in his life. chemically, cosmically, karmically (somehow--simon doesn't think he'll ever feel like he earned this. you. that he'll ever really deserve to be yours). he takes his time; fucks you slow with his fingers, savoring your muted whimpers as he grinds into your clit with the heel of his hand. to simon, watching you come apart in the firm circle of his arms is kin to a fresco on a ceiling; a sliver of the divine, and he, a sinner, doomed to watch heaven from afar. but by some small miracle, you offer him salvation. when you cum, it's with his name on your lips, so round and lush with love, and fuck--if that isn't the thing to save him, then nothing will.

2.) second is rudy. sweet, sweet boy. he sees you barefoot in a sundress one time. one. that's all it takes to precipitously shift the trajectory of his life to one where he wifes you up and makes you a mother, in that order. you're the first person he's ever envisioned having children with -- the only one he thinks knows will be worth risking everything for. and once that mental picture settles in his mind, it’s all he can think of. it becomes his sole mission to get you under him and fill you with him til it takes. rudy is a missionary guy through and through--wants to see that pretty face, cariño so he can watch your cheeks and chest flush when you're about to cum. and the cute way your lashes flutter ("como alles de pollila, mi amor. fuck--") as he bottoms out in your sweet pussy, stretching you so good. and you're always so good for him -- wrapping your legs around his waist and tilting your hips to take him deeper, deeper. but god help you when he succeeds in knocking you up, you’re never getting a moment alone. consider rudy glued to your side for the foreseeable future. can’t seem to keep his goddamn hands to himself, either. doesn't matter that you’re uncomfortable and prickly and prone to random bouts of inconsolable crying at the worst moments. he takes it all in stride. his love is steady, solid. once, you blurt out something to the effect of i'm never going to be attractive again, my body is gonna be ruined by the end of this. and rudy (after a beat) laughs. pulls you forward til your face is buried in his chest, cradles you there when you try to squirm away. tells you he's literally so attracted to you right now he feels like he should be on some sort of list. he's watching you build a new human being inside your body. you're fucking powerful. he can't imagine anything sexier.

3.) next up is könig. from jump, he adores you; the way you smolder at the edges, the unwavering bite of your tone. kleine katze, such pretty claws you have... and he's perfectly content to settle for admiring you from afar; but where others shy from him instinctually, finding his size and perpetual quiet off-putting, you don't. seem to gravitate towards him because of it. you touch him with a gentleness that should feel foreign, but actually feels like home. this man is fucking gone for you. loves you in a way that irreparably and fundamentally changes him. may or may not have cum more than once to the thought of you: hips bucking desperately into the clench of his own fist. but he knows precisely nichts about romance, even less about flirting. has no idea you've been trying to get his attention for months. ultimately, you have to make the first move. and you do--crawling into his lap one night in a grimy off-grid safehouse after a mission went the wrong kind of sideways. when you draw up the mask he goes rigid, tense; but he almost lost you today. (thought for one endless, horrific moment that he had.) so he lets you pull back the mask--lets you see his face. and when you finally kiss him, it pulls a kind of sound out of him the likes of which he's never made before. a desperate, animal keen that claws at the walls of his chest. and könig's a gentle giant, but he is giant. you're both too hasty the first time; too desperate for closeness to prep properly, so it hurts when he bullies his cock inside you. he's significantly bigger than any of your previous partners -- twice as thick and several inches longer -- and by all rights shouldn't fucking fit inside you, but you're both tenacious enough to make it work. könig is certain salvation resides in the gummy clutch of your cunt when you take him to the hilt; shuddering as you cum around him from nothing but the way his cock stuffs you full and the pressure of his calloused thumb on your clit. it's so unbelievably hot, he cums on the spot; not needing friction or movement when he has you clenching down on him like that, scheiße. after, he takes care of you--holds you close to his chest til your breath evens out and you slip into the dreamless, black pool of sleeping.

4.) alejandro, my love. truly a man of passion. it's a long process seducing you, and he enjoys every minute of it. loves finding new ways to get you to blush almost as much as he enjoys fucking you til you're blubbering and cock-stupid. almost. he likes the idea of having a family with you, but is less pernicious about it than rudy. he knows how he feels about you; is confident it'll happen someday. that said, this man's breeding kink knows no bounds. the mating press was built for him; the perfect mix of intimacy and intensity, where he can look you in the eye as he ruts you so deep you can feel him in your fucking throat. also the most likely to suggest expanding your sexual horizons. frankly, alejandro is bisexual as fuck. loves the idea of you getting railed by another man (perhaps rudy, winkwonk) while he watches; loves the idea of you taking the both of them at once even more, but it's always about you. your comfort and pleasure is paramount, and he'll go to unfathomable lengths to make sure your needs are met. happy wife, happy life, he says, hauling you into a deep kiss when you point out that you're not technically married, yet.

5.) alex is the perfect equilibrium of rough and gentle. initially respects you as a colleague, maybe a friendly acquaintance. internally, he finds your competence and no bullshit attitude deeply attractive, but he's a consummate professional; would never put you into a position where you'd feel unsafe (outside of the obvious dangerous shit you already do). and then--he sees you shoot a gun. the way your body slides liquid-smooth into weaver, the easy roll back into isosceles in the recoil... it gets him so fucking hard so fucking quick. he has to physically remove himself from the range and rub one out in a bathroom stall, images of those firm hands pumping his weeping cock pulling him over the edge. images that don't fade, to his chagrin, even after the initial arousal is dealt with. every time he sees you, it just... pops back up, so to speak. he keeps it locked down as best he can, but fails pretty comprehensively at doing so. alex finally breaks after catching one too many recruits staring after you when you walk away (fuckin' animals--only he's allowed to do that). he seeks you out when you're both off the clock and ends up fucking you on top of one of the washing machines in the base's communal laundry room. the epitome of soft dom, comes pre-programmed with an obligatory daddy kink that you absolutely abuse to get your way. takes you out to nice restaurants seemingly for the express purpose of fucking you in the fancy-schmanzy bathroom. honest-to-god almost passes out when you choke on his cock for the first time; begs like his life is on the line for you to do it again, please, please--oh, fuck baby, yes. that experience reveals two truths to him: one, that he might be a switch, and two, that he might just have to marry you.

6.) now, keegan is a pretty tough nut to crack. it's hard to read him initially, even without the mask--but once you pick up on his tells, he's an open book. and that book wants you upended on the couch within seconds of you both entering the room. initially its just sex; a shared need to vent some frustration and stress. keegan is very private, mostly due to social discomfort and introverted tendencies. in the early days of your relationship, it manifests as him keeping you at a distance. for the first few months, he only ever kisses you when he's balls deep, and leaves after a five-minute come down. you rectify this through sheer persistence and charm. it's clear to you (far sooner than it is to him) that he's weakest to you when you give him big, sweet doe eyes and ask real pretty. this little trick works particularly well when you're riding him slow over the course of an hour, grinding down each time he bottoms out, til he's shuddering and begging you to please go faster--ah. f-fuckin' hell, kid, you're so tight, so good, fuck. when he cums, it's with a crackling whine of your name that pulls the knot of heat in your belly, sending you over after him. then, exhausted and fucked out, he falls asleep with you in his arms. he's still there the next morning when you wake, expression open and lax as he watches you wake. it's the first time you see keegan without reservations, when you realize he's got a gentleness to him--a kind of poet's sensitivity meant for libraries, museum archives, and the kinder side of nature. all overwritten by force to survive, to complete his mission. once you've seen the cracks in his mask, there's no going back for either of you. very quickly, your relationship shifts from distant and transactional to deeply personal; a tenderness blooming in the same garden as the newfound dedication to one another. keegan doesn't say I love you for a long time, but you know he does--you feel it in the way his dark eyes find you in a crowd, always seeking your familiar shape. you feel it in the way he presses your bodies flush from tip to tail while he's fucking you, when being inside of you isn't close enough. you feel it when he, for the very first time, asks you quietly if you'll stay the night with him, because he sleeps easier when you're there. so you stay--the night, and all those that follow.

7.) oh, gaz. such a mischievous little shit. your friend from your training days, you two scrap like puppies over anything and everything. banter is the cornerstone of your relationship, one-upping being a close second. you delight and infuriate one another in equal measure, bickering amongst yourselves til one of you takes a swing at the other. price has reprimanded you both multiple times for horsing around, but you're never in any real danger--you work too well together. there's a kind of shared consciousness between you; a base-level understanding, two wolves hunting in tandem. still, ghost refuses to let either of you sit together on the heli; not since that one time your game of grabass devolved into full-on grappling on the tarmac. ultimately, one of your little tiffs goes too far; ends with you both laid out on a training mat, groaning into each other's mouth as you grind your hips together through your clothes. you both pretend it didn't happen for maybe a week--then it happens again. and again. and again. being 'together' is never something you actually discuss with kyle. it just... happens. much to the chagrin of your lt and captain, the bickering actually increases when you two get together; becomes more like foreplay you can get away with doing in front of your superiors. and if this man isn't an absolute goddamn menace when it comes to exhibitionism. when he wants you, doesn't matter if you're in the middle of a meeting. fuck it--it's happening, and it's happening now. very playful in and out of the bedroom, likes teasing you in every sense of the word. he edges you so long sometimes you nearly kick him in the head when he finally lets you cum. there's my girl--oh shi--ah, haah, good fuckin' girl. he's largely aloof when it comes to his emotions--not the best at verbalizing how he's feeling or what he needs. so instead, he shows you. he shows up every. single. time. kyle's your friend before he's your lover; your partner in (war) crime(s). he's always got your six, you've always got his, and what is love if not someone who'd die (and live) for you?

8.) soap proudly describes himself as a pleasure dom, which is mostly true. but he's got serious switch potential. which you know for a fact because fuckin' hell, does that boy whimper somethin' pretty when you throat him juuuuust right. he's such a 'tits' man, it's crazy. loves to hold you close, feel your breasts smashed against his chest while he drives deep into the tight clutch of your cunt. but most of all, soap loves being on his knees for you. this man definitely moans while he eats you out, tonguing your pussy like it's a mouth. he feels big in every sense of the word--in sex, in love, in anger. and make no mistake, he loves you deeply. you two have some serious yelling matches, storm about slamming doors til the neighbors threaten to call the feds, but it's just your way. you're both headstrong and stupid; arguments are bound to happen, and any unresolved hurt feelings get a solid patch-job from the frankly earth shattering makeup sex that follows. like rudy, soap wants a big family with you, and he knew early. actually doesn't tell you just how early til years down the line. how after your first official date, he called his ma and asked if she'd send his nan's ring, please? because he's pretty sure he just met his future wife. said ring which glitters on your hand now, as you reach over and flick his forehead teasingly. tell him he can stop trying to romance you, you're already married. and could he grab more diapers on his way home from work?

9.) as are all things with graves, your sexual relationship is about power. he's an asshole in the worst way--condescending, smug, underhanded, sneaky in his sexism so you always look like some hysterical woman when you retaliate. the kicker? it turns you on as much as it pisses you off. he's happy to string you along, work you into a lather just to leave you high and dry. lord help you once he gets a taste of you--bending you over his desk and cramming you full of his cock with precisely zero prep. he kisses you, loves you, fucks you like he hates you. because he kind of does--he just wants you more. graves loves it when you cry, wipes your tears with his thumb before forcing it into your mouth. coos when you offer your neck up to him--yeah? want my hands on ya that bad, sugar? gonna be a good girl for me, hm? fuck yeah you are--and proceeds to make you cum so hard you black out. your 'relationship' (which it is; ring on your finger a year in, a little one on your hip not long after) is intense. toxic. would be just downright miserable if it wasn't so fucking hot. you cling to each other with gouging force; a livid-blue kind of love, painful and permanent. he carries a picture of you in his wallet: a small polaroid of you in your wedding dress, ashing a cigarette with one hand while the other flips the cameraman (him) the bird.

10.) and the roughest of them all: price wants more than to love or fuck you -- he wants to possess you. he's so tightly controlled everywhere else in his life (has to be for his work), doesn't seem the type to lose his head over a bird. but when he meets you, something shifts. you're soft. impossibly good. flippant and stubborn as a mule, sure -- you drive him up the fuckin' wall with your headstrong antics. (so goddamn petulant. so sure you're fuckin' right.) but war and death hasn't stained your world, left your indomitable spirit unsullied and intact. which, unfortunately, means you haven't gotten a thorough education on the importance of discipline. price wants to consume your disobedience; crack your rose-tinted glasses under his heel, roll the ambrosia of you in his cupped tongue. he'll do more than make you fall in line -- he'll make you want to do it. it's really just a matter of time before he acts on it. when he does, it's decisive. unsubtle. he crowds you up against the door of your flat on a sticky summer night, brandy on your breath. sinks a hand into your hair, holds you steady as he brings your mouths together with bruising intensity. he fucks you before he ever makes love to you; sinks his teeth into the velvet of your shoulder as he crushes you flat to the tabletop using just his bodyweight. snarls low when you keen wordlessly, overwhelmed and empty-headed at the deep burn-sting of his cock stretching your pretty little cunt, the lewd slap of his thighs against your ass. he batters you til you're not sure what's sweat and what's tears; til your skin bears a mural to his cacoethes, all blue and purple like a deep west sunrise. til there's not a person alive who won't be able to see you're his. always have been, always will, right dove? go on--tell him. tell him who this pussy belongs to.

written by kittsch, do not repost. not to be used for bots nor AI of any kind.

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gothicflowers · 1 month

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“General I’m not going to betray these men for no good reason” Graves growled at laptop as he spoke to Sheppard. “We have no reason to make a enemy out of the 141, this puts a target on my men’s back for no reason”

“I hired you, you’re going to as I say” Sheppard said plainly, his arrogance shining through.

Philip laughed and shook his head “Fuck you, my men ain’t doin’ shit” anger spewing from his voice “my men ain’t your military, I control what they do. Not you”

Sheppards eyes seemed to darken on the screen making graves question, what did he get his men into. “You see Commander… I’m not against playing dirty to win. It’s in your best interest to follow through with my demands and play dirty”

Graves sneers “My best interest? Fuck you”

“I don’t think you understand my words commander. Your men ain’t the only thing you got to lose, so you will do as I order” Sheppard lets out a low chuckle “you see, I’ve had eyes on that pretty little thing you try to keep hidden”

Graves freezes in place “What the fuck did you just say” his teeth grinding together and his fists clenching. If the General was in this room with him now he’d already be strangling him.

Sheppard scoffed “It would be a damn shame to put a few marks of that pretty face” Sheppard switched his camera off, the picture feed changing to a live video of graves sweetheart sitting on their front porch peacefully “you do what I say and you’ll still have your lover when you get home” Sheppard leans back in his chair satisfied with graves terrified expression “and if you don’t listen to my orders Commander, I’ll give them the courtesy of it being quick and painless”

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agoofyannoyancetolaw · 3 months

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Command

a/n: I wrote this out of pure spite and the fact that I got another cold and realized I hadn’t posted in forever 😭 this is an utter blurb and I’m seriously writing this after my sixth sick nap of the day. Literally no idea what this even is ngl

minors DNI

“Please just tell me what to do- please?..” graves whimpered through the phone without a care in the world if you had speaker on or not, your voice being the only thing keeping him awake other then the blunt feeling of his plastic dildo against his rim

“you know what to do baby, come on- you really miss me that much?” Your static voice humming through the phone followed by his whimpers and whines as he lowered himself down on it inch by inch and accompanied by little huffs of breaths from you as you lazily stroked your aching cock. You could easily imagine what he looked like, down to the little tears dotting his eyelashes and his slack jaw.

this wasn’t the usual late night call for you, but he had practically begged you for you to at least call him so he could have some relief

graves needed to be told what to do! years of work and military and pmc work wearing at his mind.. he needed something to do in his retirement before he went damn insane. Waiting for you to be back from your missions was so boring and he was so pent up for the months you were gone :(

he had waited for a full week for you to be able to call, and when you could it was very late at night, sleep already making his eyes all blurry. Your voice was more static than usual on the call, but it was enough to make him get all hot and bothered.

“feels good, hm? Doesn’t feel the same without me though?” He could hear you mutter with a soft chuckle

“y-yes sir..” graves mumbled back, If you could see his face now he’d be bright red. God your such a tease. “Can I- I-“ graves said, his little whimpers and winces audible through the speaker

“can you what? Use your words?” You remind him. You knew what he was asking for but hearing him stumble over his words so easy from just a simple toy and a phone call was too cute of an offer to pass up.

“can I go faster, please? Please please please I promise I won’t be too loud?” His words were already broken, punctuated by little breaths as he worked himself up and down the toy, still not content! He wanted you- he wanted your hot breath on his neck or your cologne filling his senses. This isn’t fair at all! He could already feel the warm coiling and constricting feeling building up in his mind by the time you gave him permission to go faster

it only took minutes before you could hear his pretty moans from the call, his breath getting heavy and you could practically see his eyes rolling back. You had seen him like that so many times to the point you already new he was close.

“C-an I?” Graves whispered into the mic in between broken whimpers and whines, his gummy walls clenching around the plastic as he patiently waited for you to give him permission- like a dog waiting for its treat.

Before you could even finish replying you could already hear him gasp and moan as he painted the towel below him white. Hanging up and knowing he would be cleaning himself off and waiting around for you to get home again.

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loveindefinitely · 5 months

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nsfw thirst feat. philip graves + john price.

okay but like. if graves wasn't a war criminal and all that.

imagine the absolute animosity between him and price -- the competition for control, the little digs at each other, the arrogance of graves going against the pure determination of price.

and then there's you.

graves, forcing your head into the sheets of your bed, hips in the air as he slams into you, aggressive and mean about it. dominating in every sense of the word, seething about how fuckin' good you feel, how much of a slut you are, how much he needs to be inside you.

and then price -- sitting there, hands clasped together where he's bending forward, arms resting on his thighs. he'd be glaring at graves, his expression softening when he'd land on your trembling body, your drool leaking onto the pillow, your desperate noises.

he'd be so nice to you, so kind, as if to shove it in graves' face that he was better in that sense. standing, price would gently lift your head from the shifts, thumbs softly brushing away your pleasured tears as he shushes you, telling you what a good girl you are, how perfect you're being. and you'd whine, moan, shaking for more, and he'd oblige.

price fucking into your mouth not too long after, abusing your throat, making you choke on his girth, all the while graves lands hit after hit on your ass, grunting where he thrusts into your warmth.

it'd be a competition, then, who'd be better. who'd fuck you just the way you need.

between graves' absolutely primal, ruthless way of fucking, and price's more purposeful, languid methods, you'd be an absolute cum-drunk mess between the two men.

and they wouldn't care -- not for a single moment.

a/n. oh my goddd graves has me in the chokehold tonight and i have NO CLUE why. but iomdsomjkmovj need them both an UNMEASURABLE amount y'all it's so bad

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ghostkinnie · 1 year

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COD BOYS WHEN YOU DIE IN THEIR ARMS

pairing: ghost, soap, price, könig, alejandro and graves.

warnings: angst, mentions of death and blood, gender neutral y/n.

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY

- Simon was an empty shell for a long time until you came along and showed him what it was like to live again. You turned his life upside down and taught him what love was.

- But there you were now. Bleeding in his arms for a bullet coming from a sniper that he didn't find and didn't kill. He had failed.

- The only thing keeping Ghost sane and human was now dying in his arms and becoming cold as ice.

- And there was nothing he could do to save you. Once again he would lose everyone he loves because he was unable to protect. He had believed in happiness but it was taken from him again.

- " Please... Please Y/N don't leave me. Open your eyes. Please...Don't leave me alone...."

- But there was nothing else to do. You were dead and Simon went back to being a broken, empty shell. A ghost that would wander in solitude.

●●●

JOHNNY "SOAP" MACTAVISH

- You are Johnny's sunshine even though he is a contagious explosion. You were everything that made this man smile.

- You "were" as you now hung lifeless in his arms. He had arrived too late.

- And for not arriving sooner now he had the love of his life dead in a pool of blood. He would never forget. He would never forgive himself.

- He would brush your hair out of your face and stroke your cheek one last time as desperate sobs wriggled out of him.

- "Love? Please love answer me...! Y/N breathe.!"

- He would scream and just leave your side when Ghost or Price dragged him.

●●●

CAPTAIN JOHN "PRICE"

- Losing a soldier has always been difficult for Price. He is the captain and responsible for the lives of his men.

- But in the end he always had to move on.. but not this time. Not when the shot hit the only person he lived and died for; you.

- "Baby?! Call the fucking doctors now!...Little one I'm here now I've got you."

- But it didn't matter how quickly the doctors arrived or how much he called your name. There was a lot of blood and you were already choking on it.

- Price would beg you to resist but he knew. He knew you were gone and taken a part of him with you; his happiness.

●●●

ALEJANDRO VARGAS

- Alejandro is a romantic man and in the moment the two of you got into a relationship he knew you would take over his mind. There was only you for him.

- He would die for you and he always told you that. But what he didn't know is you who would do it throwing yourself in front of him to receive a stab.

- The knife would still be stuck in your belly when he grabbed you and looked at you in complete despair. He had never been so afraid.

- He would scream for doctors, carry you, kiss your bloodied hands and be by your side every final second.

- But being by your side wasn't enough to save you. And the scene of your last breaths would haunt him forever.

- ¿Mi amor? Por favor...Talk to me.."

●●●

KÖNIG

- You were the most precious thing in König's life. Everything that kept him stable and close to complete happiness. You were his life.

- And he was a boy so lost in love that he believed you two would be happily ever after. He really wanted this.

- But all of König's dreams of you were shattered when a gunshot rang out and a bloodstain formed on your chest.

- That was it. Nothing could be done. You were dying and König could just scream and hug your body so tightly it could break bones. He was so scared.

- Liebe? Mein Leben?...Bitte.. Wake up wake up wake up.. WAKE UP!"

- Panic fills his body and he knows that after that day he would be a broken man.

●●●

PHILLIP GRAVES

- Graves met you during missions of the 141. You were a bomb of energy and transformed his life into pure joy. He was lost in you.

- It happened during the betrayal. He intended to take you with him and keep you by his side no matter what.

- But one of his shadows ended up shooting you. And the only thing Graves could see was your body collapsing lifelessly to the floor. What was the point of living if the love of his life was dead?

- A scream of pure pain escaped his lips and he rushed to drag his body to safety. But it was no use. You were no longer breathing.

- I'm sorry! I'm sorry it's my fault! It's all my fault please...Please don't die!"

- But you were already dead and it was his fault.

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miniwheat77 · 25 days

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Crimson. (Graves x Reader.)

!nsfw, smut, p in v sex, stepcest, unprotected sex, choking, alcohol, drinking, no minors! NOT EDITED

Phillip gets drunk and mistakes you for your mom.

You weren’t super close with your mom or her new husband, but you had no choice.

You were going to college and since your rent had gotten raised, you had no choice but to stay with them. It was only for a year, until you were finished with school. You knew it wouldn’t be forever.

The first few months were alright, it was awkward because of course Phillip would try to play dad. He was a little overbearing and irritating considering your mom wasn’t a super active parent anyways. So when he wanted to have family dinners and wanted movie nights with the three of you, it got weird. Nevertheless, you put up with it. You wanted to tell him that he wasn’t your dad, that he didn’t have to try to do things your father never did. Sometimes when he was a little too harsh, your mom had to remind him that he wasn’t your dad and to take things easy because of how your dad had treated you before he left.

You noticed pretty quickly that something was up between your mom and him, and you figured out pretty quickly what was going on, that she was seeing someone else. You didn’t say anything to him because it’s not your business but even you’d caught her in lies about where she was going. She was gone on business trips all of the time, but her phone location never moved from the town you lived in. It was suspicious but he didn’t suspect anything, it wasn’t your business.

You only had a few months left and than you’d never have to deal with this again, you can do anything for a few months.

At least that’s what you try to tell yourself.

You’re sitting on the living room couch, resting your head on your hand and flipping through channels on the TV, trying to find something to watch. Your mom is out helping your grandma, or so she said. You called your grandma to ask how things were going.

She said your mom wasn’t with her.

It was funny that she was such a sloppy liar and Phillip never noticed. You didn’t know if he was oblivious or just plain stupid.

Phillip was out with his friends from work, he said he’d be out at the bar for a while and “not to wait up for him” not that you would but he was trying to be funny. He got a lot of eye rolls out of you, that was pretty much it. He tried really hard to make you laugh and see you smile but he never got it.

Your eyelids are getting heavy and the sound of TV starts to get drowned out until you hear keys rattling outside the door. You hear them hit the ground immediately after. A faint ‘shit’ coming from the other side of the door. You snort, standing up. You open up the door for him, seeing a smile on his lips. “Hey baby, sorry.” He’s slurring his words, clearly drunk. “Uh.. did.. did you drive home?” You ask him, trying to look passed him.

“No- course not honey, I’m not that dumb.” He laughs, pushing you back. You look confused as he’s touching you, why is he touching you?

“Sorry, didn’t mean to get home so late.” He laughs. You try to create some distance between the two of you but he’s still pushing you back slightly. “Been thinking about you all night- missed you.” You laugh awkwardly, trying to push him back. “I think you’re drunk, maybe you should get some-“ a gasp leaves your lips as he forces you back onto the couch. “No, I mean I really missed you.” His smile is gone now, he’s nudging your cheek with his nose, forcing himself between your legs. “Wait- Phillip- I’m not“ he starts to attack your neck with kisses, nipping at your skin. Your lips part slightly and you want to push him off.

You really want to.

Your heart thumps in your chest, he reaches for the zipper on his jeans. Your words get caught in your throat. Why are you letting him do this? He grinds himself into you, sloppily kissing along your jaw.

He pushes your shorts to the side and before you can protest anymore, he’s inside of you.

His thrusts are sloppy and he’s a little rough. You don’t make much noise besides pants and whines. Never making another move to stop him even when you know you should. You know this is wrong. Before you can stop him, he’s finishing inside of you with a groan. He moves off of you, mumbling something else but you don’t catch it. He just barely gets his jeans back on before he’s passing out. You stare at him, lips parted, eyes wide. What the hell just happened?

You stand up, trying to create some distance between you. You just had sex with him. Your step dad.

You turn away, rushing up the stairs in a hurry. The burn of his skin on yours. The feel of him inside of you, it throws you into another world. You shouldn’t have liked it.

What’s wrong with you.

—

“I uh.. don’t remember much from last night. But I had a good time with you.” He smirks at your mom. She reaches for her keys. She laughs. “What are you talking about? I was at my moms house helping her clean things up. That’s why you went to the bar in the first place, remember?” She laughs, taking a drink of her coffee. He looks confused for just a second.

“Oh hey Y/N. Didn’t see you standing there.” She smiles. He freezes. It clicks in his brain what might’ve happened. Turning to look at you. He sees it in your eyes, seeing you avoid his eye contact. It only confirms his suspicions. “I have to go to class now.” You mumble, turning and hurrying away. “Have a good day honey.” Your mom calls. “I have to go to work, I’ll see you later.” She says bye to him before leaving along with you. Fear courses through him. What the hell happened?

He has no choice but to wait for you to get out of class, deciding to watch tv on the couch. He’s eyeing his watch as the seconds tick by, it feels like forever. Every hour that passes, he’s looking at his watch.

Finally, he hears the handle being unlocked, you open up the door. Your eyes widen slightly when you see him and he stands up. You think of an excuse, you forgot what?

“Don’t.” He sighs. He can see you’re looking for an escape. You swallow hard.

He turns the tv off, tossing the remote down onto the couch and crosses his arms. You step inside, closing the door skeptically behind you.

“What happened last night?” He asks. He sees you swallow hard, avoiding his gaze. “I.. I was watching tv when you came home.” You stare off, fiddling with your backpack strings. “I think..” you gulp again. “Think you thought I was my mom.” Your voice is quiet.

“Did I…” he starts but stops himself, clenching his eyes shut.

“Did I force myself on you?” He takes a step toward you.

You swallow hard. Looking down. He did, but you made no effort to stop him, and you fucking liked it. You try to shake away the voice in your head. You feel guilty. His stomach falls at your silence. He doesn’t remember much but he remembers being inside of something… inside of you.

“Y/N.. I’m so sorry.” He breathes. He takes a step toward you, seeing the way you try to take a step back but the door is there. “I… how can I make this up to you? I.. I swear I would never hurt you like that. I was drunk.” He tries to plead with you. “I know.. I know you wouldn’t so just.. forget about it okay? It was a mistake, just… forget it.”

He sighs. How is he supposed to just forget about forcing himself on his step daughter?

You break away from the door and make your way for your room, he lets you go even though he knows he shouldn’t.

He returns to his spot on the couch and sighs. Putting his face in his hands. He closes his eyes and rests for a second, his mind moves at a mile a minute.

A memory breaks through the darkness, and he hears moans. The memories from the night before seeming to flood his mind. His hips thrusting into you, the squeals and whines you were letting out.

His eyes snap open and all at once he remembers everything.

He hesitates, feeling heat pool in his lower stomach. He glides his hand over his growing erection. He shouldn’t be feeling this way over you. He needs to just forget about it like you said.

—

It’s been weeks.

He’s tried to forget about it but around every corner, he’s craving what he felt with you. He’s been distant toward your mom but he doesn’t think she’s even noticed. She’s always been so busy with her job. He knows you still feel something. When he touches you by accident it sends chills up your spine, cheeks warming up and you’re drawing away from him in a hurry.

“Hey. So.. I was thinking.”

Your mom speaks up at dinner. “Since I’ll be gone for work this weekend, maybe the two of you should do something together.” You swallow hard, looking up from your plate at her. “Like what?”

She laughs. “Y/N, come on. At least try okay? And I don’t know. Maybe go to the movies or.. bowling or something.”

“Uh.. yeah. I’m sure we can find something to do.” He tries to laugh his nervousness off. He notices the way you seem to shut down, staring off into space as you try to finish your dinner. You’re thinking about it.

He’s thinking about it too.

You eventually excuse yourself from the table and it’s got him thinking, what on earth can the two of you do this weekend? Your mom will want pictures of course.

The moment she’s gone, that same heat is pooling in his groin. He thinks about you and how you felt around him, what little he remembers. He hates that he had you drunk, because now all he wants is you while sober. He’s frustrated. He goes to find you. It’s still early, you might not be awake just yet. He knocks at your door, to his surprise, you answer. You open the door but take a step back when you see it’s him. “Did you think anymore about what you want to do this weekend?” He asks. You shake your head. “I.. no. There’s not much to do here.” You avoid his gaze. He chews on his lip.

“I can take you shopping.”

You shake your head. “All my money is going into school right now, I can’t.”

He laughs. “Why would I invite you if I expected you to pay?”

“What? No- no. I don’t want you to do that.”

“I.. look. Just let me do it alright? As an apology.”

You freeze up. “That sounded so much worse than I intended it. I don’t want to buy your silence, I-“ he sighs. “It’s fine, but you don’t owe me anything.”

“Well.. let’s go find you some stuff for school, how about that?” You nod your head, agreeing with anything he says. “Alright- fine.” You nod. “Great, get dressed and than we’ll go.”

He disappears down the hallway, you close the door. You’re so frustrated.

He’s so caring and so handsome and your mom is out fucking around making a fool of herself when she’s got a guy like him at home. You’ve never met a bigger moron. You sigh, hurrying to get dressed, really you just want this over with.

You don’t know why you put makeup on, why you perfect it, or why you put nice clothes. It’s just your step-dad.

Who you already screwed once.

You shake yourself out of your thoughts. Your brain is a fucking curse lately, it won’t let it go.

He was drunk, he wasn’t thinking right. That’s it.

You make your way downstairs, the nerves set in and your hands are sweaty. He’s got jeans on, a dark blue long sleeve shirt. It squeezes his form in the most perfect ways. What the hell were you thinking agreeing to this? He’s just finished tying his boots when you take a step off the bottom stair. “Ready?”

You nod your head. Still avoiding his gaze.

He leads you to his truck and you climb into the passenger seat.

His truck even smells like him and it’s clean inside. He’s fucking intoxicating. You want to scream at how perfect he seems. How the fuck is she doing this to him? You looked at her location just before you came down the stairs and she’s at his fucking house again.

You seem to curl into yourself, turning your knees toward your door.

“You know.. we’re going to have to talk about it at some point… right?” He mumbles. “Yeah, but let’s not do that today.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me, I’m not some fragile vase that’s gonna fall apart.”

“I shouldn’t have done what I did.”

You snort.

“Y/N. Please. Just listen to me alright? I’m sorry.”

“It’s not like you took advantage of me, you were drunk. Just drop it.”

“Y/N, I forced myself on you, there’s not much of a difference there.”

You laugh. “Yeah, aside from the fact that I barely tried to stop you.”

The words have left your mouth before you can control it. Your eyes widen. “What?”

You stay quiet.

“I don’t think I… I don’t understand.” He breathes.

“I could’ve pushed you off of me. I could’ve fought harder. But I didn’t. I let you fuck me.”

His blood is running cold in his veins. You haven’t even left the driveway yet. He swallows hard at your admission. “I know it was wrong of me and I’m trying to forget about it. I don’t know what I was thinking. You came onto me and I didn’t know what to do.” He hasn’t even started his truck yet but he doesn’t think either of you are going to be making it to the store today. “Is that why you didn’t tell your mom?” He asks. “What? No.” You mumble. “Then why didn’t you?”

“Because then she’d get to feel like the victim and she’s not innocent here either.” You don’t know why you’re going to tell him. You’re going to ruin their marriage and they’re both going to hate your guts but you can’t live like this anymore.

“What are you saying?”

“Phillip I know you’re not this dumb. She’s fucking someone else.” He freezes up.

He actually had no idea.

“When she says she’s going out of town or going to help my grandma out, she’s lying. I mean for fucks sake, she’s at his house right now.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because she’s lying. I have her location, you don’t?” He shakes his head. “Look.” You hand him your phone. He sees it, and what drives this entire situation home, is that he knows whose house it is. A coworker of hers. A guy. He laughs. He should care more than he does but he just doesn’t. He gives you your phone back. “I’m not gonna lie I expected you to be more sad.” He sits there for a second. He looks angry.

He starts the truck, throwing the column shifter into reverse. He throws his right arm up onto your headrest and spins around, looking out the back window and speeding out of the driveway. You hold onto the seat. He’s pissed. Once he’s out onto the road, he throws it into drive and speeds down the road. “What are you gonna do?”

He laughs. “Think you’ll find out soon enough.”

The house is only a couple blocks over and he reaches it quickly, pulling into the driveway, making sure to spin his tires in the gravel. Once he’s done that, it doesn’t take long for your mom and the man you assume she’s been sleeping with emerge out into the front porch. Phillip stands just to the left of his truck, arms crossed. He takes a couple steps forward and you climb out of the passenger seat too. Feet landing in the gravel. “So.. this is where you work?” Phillip laughs. Your mom is dead silent. “What are you guys doing here?” She’s clearly caught. “Ah, father daughter bonding. Maybe bowling. The movies. How to catch a cheater.” He swallows hard. “Y/N. Maybe you should go.” Your mom mumbles. “You shouldn’t see this.” Phillip laughs, shaking his head. “She’s fine, I’ll give her a ride when I’m done.”

“Phillip can we just talk? Alone?” Crocodile tears stream from her eyes. “Oh, don’t let me interrupt. Me and Y/N are going to find something to do. And I hope your stuff will be out of my house by the time we’re back. Y/N is more than welcome to stay with me until she’s done with school, but you and I are done.” He shakes his head. Climbing back into his truck. “Y/N. Are you going to go with him?” She asks in disbelief. You shake your head. “Being with my dad taught you nothing.” You mumble. She almost misses it. “Y/N.” She calls. You ignore her, climbing back into the truck as well. He pulls out of the driveway, heading back down the road.

When he pulls back into your house, you wait until he makes the first move. “You alright?”

He nods his head. “I’m great. Honestly, I haven’t been paying that much mind to anything with her since you’ve been around.” He chuckles.

“I thought you would take this harder.”

He shakes his head, surprised by the eye contact you’re finally making with him. “Nah, not gonna lie I haven’t thought about anything but that fucking pussy since I’ve been inside of it.”

Your lips part in surprise. “And I know I came inside you, tell me. Did you buy something for that? Hm?” You swallow hard. “I’m on something.” You mumble. Turning your head to the passenger window. “Yeah? Thought maybe since you’re a bad girl you went up to your room and fucked my cum deeper into that pussy.” You clench your eyes closed, why is he doing this? Is this his revenge?

“Cat got your tongue now? You’re not scared are you? I sure hope not.” He scoffs, laughing. “Didn’t even try to stop me.” He mumbles.

“Come here.”

You turn to look at him quickly. “What?”

“Sit in my lap.”

“No- I-“

He reaches across the center console, placing a hand on your thigh. “Fucking me isn’t going to help you get revenge.”

He laughs. “I don’t care about revenge. These last few weeks I’ve done nothing but regret what I did, I felt like a complete asshole for coming onto you like I did. But you liked it.” He clicks his tongue. He scoots all the way over and props himself up, grasping your hips and forcing you into his lap, straddling his legs. “And maybe now I won’t feel so guilty for wanting more…” he rakes your body with his eyes, slowly moving them up until he makes eye contact with you. “I don’t remember very much, but I remember how good you felt. How tight you were. Haven’t thought about anything else but you squirming while I give you more.” He grasps your hips and you can’t help it, moving them back and forth into him. The way he talks to you- it’s too much.

“I.. you’re not doing this with me just because you’re mad at her, right?” He can see that you’re nervous. “No sweetheart. Trust me, been holding myself back for a while now.” His voice is barely above a whisper. He reaches for his zipper once more, tugging his cock through the hole. He glides his hand up his cock, rubbing his thumb over the fat tip. You swallow hard.

He’s stone cold sober now, and you’re more nervous than ever.

Thank god his windows are tinted like this.

“You want to feel me?” He mumbles. His eyes are dark, full of lust. You mind your head. “Here.” He reaches for your pants, helping you get at least one leg out of them, tugging your panties to the side like he’d done to your shorts a couple weeks ago. “S’alright. Nothing to be nervous about.” He mumbles. Raising you up so that you could line him up with your entrance. “I know I didn’t treat you right before. Don’t think I even made you cum..” he laughs. “So selfish of me, I’ll make it up to you.” He leans in, attacking your neck. Feeling him on you, inside of you. You tilt your head back as you sink further and further down into him, until your thighs relax and give out as he fills you up. They shiver slightly but as he forces you to rock back and forth you sit up. You keep your head tilted back as you raise yourself up, then back down. Picking up the speed as you ride him.

“Oh fuck-“ he breathes. You clutch the seat, moving your hips back and forth on his. His eyes are dark and glossy as he watches you, you’re not looking at him so you don’t see the admiration he has for you, but it’s there. His eyes flash to your chest and he pushes your shirt up over your breasts, tugging your bra down and tugging one of your nipples between his lips, sucking at it. You shake on him, the pleasure he’s giving you is unmatched. “Fuck.. oh fuck.” You whine. You’re panting above him. “Fuck baby, get in the back.” He mumbles.

You slide off of him and he groans out, you climb over the center console and into the back seat. He follows quickly. You lay back on the seat and he moves himself between your legs. Feeling him there again is foreign. Something you never saw happening ever again. He slides back inside of you, his cock parting your folds and filling you up.

He looks down at you, that same look in his eyes. You can’t deny the passion the both of you share. He grips your thighs as he starts thrusting inside of you at a bruising pace. “You look so good underneath me.” He breathes. He raises up one of your legs, lining kisses along your calf. You close your eyes relishing in the pleasure he’s giving you. Feeling chills rise on every inch of your skin. You never realized just how fit he was, he always tried to be modest around you. Always wearing a shirt and shorts while you’re around. His stomach is toned and his arms are big and muscular. No wonder he can move you with so much ease. You clench your eyes shut, panting out. The knot in your stomach is getting tighter, about to unravel. The closer you get, the more uncontrollable your moans become. He knows you’re almost there. Your thighs shiver as he fucks you, deep and hard. You didn’t know what you could be missing out on, but he’s showing you.

He glides his hand over your bare stomach, shirt still pulled up. “Such a good girl for me.” He growls. His hand moves further and further up, his hand resting on your throat. He rests it there but doesn’t put much pressure there. “You trust me?” He asks. You nod your head. “Don’t freak out, m’gonna make you feel really good.” He applies pressure to your throat, and your eyes widen just slightly, apprehension apparent in your gaze. But you don’t stop him. You bring your hand up to rest on his wrist and look up at him. Your eyes are glossed over like his. He applies more and more pressure until you close your eyes. Skin flushing crimson. He applies just enough pressure, sending you somewhere else.

He lowers his other hand, thumbing your clit. Your lips part, and when you cum, your entire body shakes and convulses but he keeps his hand there. Cutting off your oxygen. Only when your high is ridden out does he let go, hearing you suck in a harsh breath of air. You’re panting, breathing in the air like it’s limited. One more thrust from him and he’s hissing out, hips bucking into you. You cry out at the overstimulation, but he relaxes his hips, resting his forehead on your chest. You look up at the ceiling of his truck, eyes wide. You have never cum that hard in your life.

He rests for a minute, regaining his breath and you do the same. You’ll for sure have bruises around your throat but you think you’ll like to see them the following day.

“Sorry if I was too rough.” He finally draws away from you. You blush, looking down. “No… no you weren’t I liked it.” You breathe.

“Still got the whole day ahead of us. Still got time to go to the mall.” He shrugs. A smile on his lips. “You don’t have to buy me stuff.”

He laughs. “You look like you haven’t had new shoes in ages Y/N. Let me take care of you.”

“You know you have no obligation like that to me.. you don’t have to do that.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t have to do anything, but I want to do this.”

“Can I at least get cleaned up first?” You blush. He shakes his head. “No. I like the thought of you walking around with my cum dripping down your legs.” He smirks.

“Jesus Christ.” You mumble. “I’m kidding, yeah. I’ve got to get new locks anyways. I meant what I said though.” He stops you just as you’re about to get out of his truck. “I want you to stay here, with me. You just got used to me, no reason you should have to go and get used to some other guy, alright?” You nod your head. “Thank you Phillip.” You smile. He grasps your chin, forcing you to look up at him, leaning into you. He presses his lips to yours, something he realizes he hasn’t done just yet.

When he finally lets you go, he watches you as you walk up the front porch.

He’s going to have to deal with your mom later, but that price is right for you. You’re a good girl and he can take good care of you, despite your age gap.

You’re his now. Wether your mom likes it or not.

#call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 #mw2 smut #phillip graves #graves x y/n #graves smut #graves cod #graves x reader

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crimsonbubble · 8 months

Note

I’m BEGGING you more reader being the barracks bunny for the shadow conpany, but this time reader acting all tough and bratty towards them but deep down she just wants their attention after they’ve been ignoring her and focusing more on their missions:(

brat tamer!graves??? brat tamer!shadows???

cw. nsfw, gn!reader, brat!reader, brat tamer!graves & shadows, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mandhandling, oral, masterbation, slight choking, dacryphilia, spanking, fingering, edging, overstimulation *not proofread, just pure horny

[IM SO HAPPY YALL ARE LOVING THE SHADOW COMPANY X READER STUFF SJSKSBSJ] special tags for @waltzthegenderfluidpan @smmy-winchster

MINORS DNI!!

you're sitting by the shadows as they get their mission briefing except no one is trying to finger fuck you into oblivion

you know that their line of work isn't the easiest but they usually spend any and all moments of their free time with you

so when they're all getting ready for missions, they reduced you to an errand bunny

asking you to get things for them, drop things off for them to other people and only being rewarded with kisses to your cheek or forehead

going to bed cold and alone bc all of your fav shadows are out on field

once the mission is done and they're all back, you've resorted to minimal contact with all of them

doing the bare minimum, sneaking off after mumbling snarky remarks and giving them all the cold shoulder

it's only a few days into the cold shoulder treatment and all the shadows are getting more and more irritated as you deny their advances

a shadow finally speaks to their commander about it, who advised them to let him handle it

graves corners you when you're alone in the common room, his stare is stern yet gentle

there's no real need to ask what was wrong, graves knew what was wrong

without any thought, another snippy remark leaves your lips. you froze as soon as you processed the words that fell from your lips

as graves manhandled you over his lap, he all but ripped your shorts and underwear down your legs

not a second later and you feel a hard smack to your ass

it was just one after the other, leaving your cheeks red and sore with handprints

you were shaking in graves' lap, tears soaking into the couch cushions

feeling something cold drip onto your aching hole before fingers were pushed into you, immediately curling them up against your sweet spot

you tried to squirm away, the harsh and quick pace he set was overwhelming

graves simply held your hips down, continuing his onslaught on your slicked hole

a few shadows decided to stay and watch the show, watching how easily their commander gets reactions out of you

there's too many sensations you're feeling, it's all muddling together

just as quickly as the pleasure built, graves had pulled away

the fullness of his fingers leaving you empty and aching

the process repeats for god knows how long, the hours started blending together

bringing you to the edge of sweet sweet relief before all of it was snatched from under you

it left you squirming, needy and sore in your commander's lap, pleas falling on deaf ears

there's noises of shifting around you but you don't have the strength to look

before you know it, you're being placed on the now empty coffee table

your shirt is tugged off of you, hands immediately honing in on fondling and groping your chest

your pushed up on the table, your head hanging off the edge

you peer up at the shadow in front of you, eyeing the way their cock twitches mere inches away from your face

they tap their tip against your cheeks before slipping through your lips, their hand on your neck as they used your mouth

your hands were led to more cocks, their hands encasing yours and they fuck into your fist

graves' hand is still between your legs, rubbing against your sweet spot

with a quick whistle, graves moves, his position filled by another shadow

it took mere seconds for the emptiness to be filled again, filled with a thick and heavy cock

each thrust made you gag and sputter around the cock in your mouth

the ones fucking your hands, encasing yours with theirs, squeezing your hand around them tighter

they fucked into your fist even faster, nearing their release as they watched you choke around the cock in your mouth. their release coated your hands in a sticky white gloss

the shadow fucking your mouth, held your head up as he spilled in your mouth

swallowing without a second thought and sticking your tongue out like you always do

the shadow that's situated between your legs, uses the moment to his advantage

holding your thighs up and apart as he spears his cock into you, he twitched twice before painting your walls white

as you tried to process what just happened you were moved from the table to rest against someone's chest

you felt it before you saw it, two cocks pressed against your hole

sandwiched between two of the biggest shadows to take both of their cocks at the same time

one quickly slipped in, holding your hips down as the other shadow slipped in beside him

the stretch burned, making you shiver and arch your back

they moved in opposing rhythms, never leaving you empty

each moan was breathier and whinier than the last

you could barely keep your eyes focused long enough to see the shadows that still have yet to have their turn are hungrily stroking themselves

you're beyond fucked out by the end of the night, clinging onto whoever is in front of you

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skylarsblue · 1 year

Text

✦Even. More. Incorrect C.o.D Quotes.✦

Y/N, pinning Soap’s arms with their thighs in sparring: Haha! Eat shit, Scotsman! Soap, struggling: FUCKIN’ ‘ELL, The hell is in your thighs?! Y/N: Pure spite and protein, bitch! --

Someone: Hey Johnny. Y/N: Oh, no, only Ghost can- Soap: Oi! Only Y/N & Ghost can pull that off, it’s Soap to you. Y/N: Yeah he- wait me too? *gaaassp* Ohhh is this what favoritism feels like?! Soap: Pfft, maybe! Y/N: I enjoy it a lot! <3

-- American!Y/N: Fuckin’ git, he’s off his rocker, that one. The entire team: … American!Y/N: *dramatically smacks their hand over their mouth* Gaz: *laughing* Was that genuine?! Y/N: AH, I’ve been conditioned! I’ve been colonized! Soap: COLONI-*WHEEZE*

-- Fem Fatal!Y/N: What th- what is this, a spy movie? You want me to infiltrate by being some eye candy?! Laswell: It’s the best option we have. Ghost: I disagree with this. Soap: Me too! This feels real nasty, I think. Fem Fatal!Y/N: *sigh* Fine, I’ll do it. God gave me these tits for a reason, might as well use’em for somethin’. Gaz: PFF-no no, don’t be funny, this is a bad situation.

-- Graves: No! You can’t, cause if you take it- …you’ll be hurting my feelings :((( Ghost: You know, I was thinking about that. And, the thing is…I really don’t care.

-- (In a ride back to base; just makin’ conversation)

Gaz: Do you find boys attractive? Or girls. That’s one what to check, if you’re not sure. Y/N: *chuckles* You think I’m not sure? Y/N: Everyone’s attractive to be honest, even if it’s just something small. Like, some people have really gorgeous hands. Y/N: I don’t know…I’m a little bit in love with everyone I meet. But I think that’s normal. Gaz: …hm, suppose that’s a fair answer…

-- Soap, laughing: You watch it or might just start fallin’ for ya, L.T! Ghost: …would you like to? Soap: Eh-…huh? Simon: Would you like to? Fall in love with me, I mean… Soap: ….well I-…well, yeah. I wouldn’t mind…if you’d let me. Simon: …I’d let you. Soap: Well then, guess that’s it then. Woo me, Si. Simon: I’ll do my best.

-- Someone: I don't need advice from a team of virgin losers. Y/N: VIRGIN LOSERS?! *grabs Price’s shoulder and motions to him aggressively* You gonna tell me you think this man doesn’t fuck for a living?! HAVE YOU SEEN HIM?! Gaz & Soap: *for the millionth time trying not to laugh* Price: *he’s not encouraging it but he does look kinda smug*

-- Gaz, on TikTok: Everyone’s always like “Kyle how’d you bag a baddie, how’d you bag that baddie bruh-“ I didn’t bag shit. Y/N picked me up from my neck, threw me over their shoulder and I’ve been on it ever since. (Zooms out to show that he is in fact, on their shoulder) Gaz: And I ain’t got no plans on getting off anytime soon-

(This also works with Soap & Ghost)

-- Y/N: Why’s it always you got mommy issues or you got daddy issues? Me personally? Both my parents got me messed up, the side I pick? Is mine. I ain’t Hannah Montana- Y/N: 🎶but I got the best of both worlds!~🎵 Ghost: *he’s laughing on the inside, I swear*

-- Ghost, on the verge of dissociating: Why be sad…when you can just be ✨g o n e✨ Soap: Si, no-

-- Graves: Punch me. In the face. Didn’t you hear me? Y/N: I always hear “punch me in the face” when you speak, but it’s usually subtext. Graves: *huff* Well I- *gets punched so hard he falls over* Y/N: ….that felt good. Ghost: I’m so proud- Price: Stop encouraging them.

-- Soap, bursting into the briefing room: Y/N got into a fight! (Insert running scene) Price: Soldier, what hap- Ghost, sliding up in front of them: Did you win? Y/N: Of course I won. Ghost: Nice. Price: STOP ENCOURAGING VIOLENCE-

-- Y/N, in a vent above a room: Soap, it’s me, the devil! Soap: *wheeze* Gaz: *trying so hard not to laugh* Y/N: I’m here to convince you to do SIN. Come with me. Steal candy from babies and from small businesses! Soap: *WHEEZE*

-- Y/N, passing by: *does that super flirty “up & down” look* Hey König…~ König: Hallo, guten morgen. Y/N: *smiles and keeps going* König, as soon as they’re gone: *deep breath* Ohmeingottohmeingott *tiny scream*

-- Ghost after being asked about his feelings on Soap: *heavy breathing* ……..nextquestion-

-- Gaz, a menace on TikTok: Batches be on the lookout for Captain Save-A-Hoe, cause he savin’ hoes. Price, minding his business: ? Y/N, dramatically “swooning” in the background: I WANNA BE SAAAAAVED *falls* Price, unaware he’s having a thirst trap made for him: ?????

-- (I think bullying Graves is funny)

Graves: Let me tell you how this is gonna work- Y/N: You ain’t gonna tell me shit. Graves: Listen!- Y/N: Suck my dick. Graves: Listen to me!- Y/N: Suck my dick. Graves: Shut up, listen to me! Y/N: Suck my dick, you fuck man. Graves: Listen!! Y/N: Suck my dick. Graves: You will be here and listen to my ord- Y/N: You’ll be here sucking my dick. Graves: Listen to me, now! Y/N: Go fuck yourself.

-- Y/N: I would rather lead my team into a pit of fire, than have them wield guns for your ignorant usurper cunt of a general. Price: *mans is so proud it’s showing in his chops*

-- Simon: Your eyes are like sapphires…jeez…ahem, that’s pretty corny though, huh? Soap, swooning: No, not at all. Anyone would like it…aha… Simon: …uh…is this- Soap: Working? Oh yeah, thoroughly wooed, sir. Simon: Good, good.

-- Price: Please tell me you didn’t drag the boys into this. Y/N: I didn’t drag Soap & Gaz into this! *insert banging on door* Price: Who is that? Y/N: I think you know.

-- Soap: I wouldn’t wish that ‘pon my worst enemy. Unless, of course, we’re talkin’ ‘bout my enemy Philip Graves. Soap: Fuck you, Phillip(/neg), you know what you did.

-- Gaz: So you have feelings for this person. Just rip the bandaid off. Y/N, with daddy issues: It’s Price. Gaz: *inhales through his teeth* Put the bandaid back on.

-- Y/N: …Ghost? You’re into Ghost? Soap: Mhm…thoughts? Y/N: And prayers, Johnny. And prayers.

-- Gaz: Are you straight? Y/N: *chokes on drink* Don’t ever fucking insult me like that ever again.

-- (Some type of escort mission or somethin’)

Price: This woman wouldn’t know how to fix a broken fingernail. Fem!Y/N: Honestly, you lot have to be the most boorish, crude, pig-headed men I’ve ever met. Price: Hey, I’ve seen the high-bred boys you’ve hung out with, princess. I’m the only man you’ve ever met.

(Insert overly intense sexual tension here)

-- König: How does that even make any- *knife sound* König: *looks down at the knife in his thigh* Did you just- *takes knife out* Did you just stab me? What is your problem?!

-- (I’m only using Alejandro cause the dude in the audio had a slight Spanish accent, mans is definitely a feminist)

Alejandro: It’s not natural for girls to fight. Fem!Y/N: Now it’s not natural for a man to be as stupid as he is tall, but mm. Here you stand! Alejandro, in love: …

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