#graves drabble

[dmitriene]

thinking about domestic philip graves — the softest, he's a crude and cunny man, he was involved in too much to be considered as a good person, because philip is able to kill, to lie smoothly, to use anyone he wants to for his own good.

but it's the side that he buried himself, deep down, so you, his prettiest wifey, would live the domestic life from your best dreams, shared with your lovely husband that takes the best care of you.

phill almost doesn't let you lift a finger up, insisting to be on your beck and call, and who could thought that someone like graves would be so sickly sweet, but here it is, where he's standing on your spacious bright kitchen and cooks delicious breakfast.

that's your phillip, exactly one that others can't see at all, with his straight brown hair tousled in different directions, letting the pale morning sun play with the bright strands and light freckles on his nose, rectangular glasses sitting low on the bridge.

this life puts him at ease, tending to the needs of his beloved one, forgetting about who he is and which patch he choiced, moving with a light sway of his hips as he reaches for seasonings, grey sweatpants sitting low to expose his light happy trail.

your eyes race over his lean back with appreciation, tracing the subtle movements of his muscles and thin red marks of your nails, something to stay on phill's skin after how well he treated you in bed, staying late to hover on top of your body that was sprawled beneath him, arms clinging to his back with each delicious drag of his long cock inside of your tight heat.

that's what makes him move so easily from early morning, contented grin on his thin lips as he moves the frying pan, missing the soft sound of bare feet padding against the floor, before your arms curl against his middle, plush lips pressing kisses against his naked back.

— “ah, good morning to my sweet pea„ philip almost sings, head moving to the side, stealing a glance of your eyes as he smiles ever so brightly, lips stretching wide to expose his sharp little fangs, and you can't but melt again, pressing tighter against your beloved man, which rips a chuckle out of him, before he sneaks a hand around the curve of your body, pressing you against his side tenderly.

that's the life he adores the most, just a simple routine with his precious wife.

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3.

[moongumi]

I love the idea of a perv ghost or graves. like stealing underwear and shit but the reader is into that 🤤

a/n: why not both ehe, grave's a little different i didn't want it to be so similar to ghosts'

not proofread!

↳ ⁀➷ ∵  ❝they like your drawers❞

∵ GHOST ∵

It wasn't uncommon for you to lose your drawers, you often did your laundry in big loads at the end of the week and sometimes they just go missing. But it was that last time, it irked you.

You walk into the laundry room after a long day of doing paperwork, the boring stuff to get your clothes from the dryer. on base the entire building would share the laundry room so it wasn't uncommon to run into different people, you didn't really expect to run into the LT though.

"Sir." You say, walking past him on his way out. He replies to you with a brisk nod. Then when you look at the machine you were using it was slightly open, what the hell?

You got your items, folding your uniform and pyjamas to find all your underwear missing. You groan, rolling your eyes. It couldn't have been him, right? Why the hell would he want—unless he fancied you but...it's Ghost, he wouldn't—well he might actually.

You're only annoyed because you're running out of panties.

The next time you run into him in the laundry room again but this time you're sat right in front of the laundry machine, waiting for the wash to finish to move your clothes to the dryer. You came later than usual, the time you tend to finish doing laundry to try to catch the culprit and well, Ghost stands there frozen as if he wasn't expecting you here.

"Evening, LT."

Ghost grumbles, but responds. "Sergeant."

"Doing laundry?" You ask, looking down at his empty hands with your brows raised. It was obvious now that it was him. Even with his mask and unreadable posture you can just tell.

You stand up leaning against the laundry machine as you unload your wet clothes into the dryer waiting for his response.

He only huffs, muttering to himself incoherently.

You finish your task and take leave your basket a top the dryer, it would take about an hour and half to finish the drying so you were going to leave, do something else while you wait.

You made sure to bump into Ghost on your way out, apologising insincerely, "Sorry, Sir. I should be more careful."

He doesn't say a thing, taking your impact like a tank. You don't see the way he lets out a massive sigh of relief not being caught, or so he thought. When you're gone he felt a bulge in his pants—not the usual bulge but something in the pocket of his cargos.

He reaches in with his bone painted gloves, ragging out a handful of unwashed underwear. He gulps, looking at them. He can't help the way his cock twitches at them, usually he gets them washed—dried but...these were fresh. He can't help but imagine how he was going to fuck his own fists with your panties buried in it. There is a handful of them, he was definitely going to pretend to eat you out with the fabric on his face later.

∵ GRAVES ∵

Your commander is annoying, he talks too much and can't keep his opinions to himself.

It was when you were leant over in the cockpit looking over at the pilot's dashboard. You look behind you, "We're approaching five klicks from target, Commander!"

It's the look on his face, the way he probably didn't even hear you. He's just looking at you with that shit-eating grin on his face. "You wear a thong to work, Lieutenant?" He smirks, looking back at his shadows shamelessly. "Boys, LT. wears the cutest little thong under her uniform."

Your eye practically twitch. Under your mask you sneer with annoyance as he laughs along with the team. You stand, walking back towards the cabin. "Anyone that laughs, I'll make sure doesn't come back alive." After all, you were above all their ranks but Graves.

They all shut up almost immediately, watching the way you glare daggers into Graves as you sat down. Graves lets you order the boys around, scare 'em. It's good practice.

He still smiles, that little shit. He takes his helmet off and sits down right next to you, purposely right up against the side of your body and hits your leg with his teasingly.

"Got anymore of 'em?" He whispers, his head bumping into yours.

You grunt, crossing your arms. "Shut up."

"You never wear 'em for me."

You scoff, looking him in those pretty eyes of his. "Cause, you don't deserve my nice underwear. I only wear 'em for special occasions."

"Who the fuck are ya wearin' em for then?" He's got a stitch in his brow. You like pissing him off, like pissing off a chihuahua but this dog bites pretty damn hard.

You lean towards him, bumping your forehead against the side of his head. "Who knows, maybe the captain of that team you hate so much."

"Don't you fuckin'—"

You stand to interrupt him, you can feel him seething next to you. "Let's go shadows! Let's take this fuckin' place."

During the mission you can hear how irritated Graves seemed and especially when he stands with you by his side giving Task Force 141 some respect after completing the mission with them. He keeps looking at you from the corner of his eyes as if daring to you fuckin' say something right now to the Captain.

You stand there popping your hip with your hand against the end of your rifle as it acts as a support, you turn your head pretending to make eyes at the Captain and overly nodding. "It was nice serving by your side, Captain."

You can hear Grave's kiss his tongue over his teeth. When you see him from the corner of your eyes his jaw was tight, clenching.

When the Captain gives you his regards, a flirty smile and a nod with his hat you beamed, more at the thought of how mad Graves probably was. It's when you stand and wave towards their squad that you feel Graves coming up to your side, his hand rolling up your hip before he grips it tightly.

You can feel his fingers looking for something, but he can't seem to find it. His brows furrow. Your hand comes up beside him, dropping his prize into his hand. "You wanted it right?"

You smile under the mask pushing off him. He holds it in his hand and you think you can see his cheeks redden. But then he notices you're walking away from him. "Where the fuck are you going?"

"To show that Captain how good my ass looks without 'em on." You point to the panties in Graves' hand and you swear you can see steam coming out of his ears.

He practically chases you down, grabbing you by your belt and holding you against him. You could feel it, pressing against your hip.

"You like making me jealous, don't you?"

"I like seeing you possessive, Sir, " You remark before nodding towards the panties still in his grip. "I'll need those back."

"Nah, they're mine now." He brings it up to his face, pressing his lips against them. "You can ride on the helo back without 'em. maybe instead my hands between your legs, hm?

[sinaminviv]

Listen. I just need this man in many forms and I’m not sorry! (Please reblog to keep alive!)

*You receive a call from your partner at 2AM. Grabbing your phone, you press it to your ear, eyes still closed.*

You: (L/N) here.

Graves: I’ll be there in fifteen.

You: *Mutters* Fuck. Alright. *Hangs up.*

*You roll out of bed, pulling your pants suit back on from the floor.*

*Your leather shoulder rig is next, checking your Glock 48 before holstering it again in the dark.*

*Blazer, push your fingers through your wild hair and step into your slip-on Vans.*

*You grab your 2 phones, keys and jog downstairs to unlock the door and open it - just as Graves was going to knock.*

Fucker always looks impeccable. Except his hair. Tailored suit, Beretta hidden, badge clipped to his belt, fancy belt buckle and all. Bastard.

Graves drops his woulda-knocked hand and quirks an eyebrow at you, those perfect lips pursed.

You: Shut up and let’s go.

Graves: Darlin’ *he steps off the front porch to follow you to his unmarked cruiser.* Why you gotta ruin your professional look with them shoes?

You: I live just to piss you off.

Graves: True. I ain’t mad, tho. You just look perfect up until those goddamn clown shoes.

You: Rainbow race car, *you correct him, eyes glancing at the rainbow checkered print.*

Graves: The others don’t respect you because of shit like this. Always gotta toe the line.

He shakes his head and grabs a cigarette from his pocket and tucks it between his lips, cracking his window open.

The cold, overnight fall air whips in, loudly fluttering his seatbelt strap.

*You light his cigarette and then steal it to take a deep drag before giving it back to him.*

You: The others can fuck right off if their manners are dictated by shoes.

Graves: *Chuckles warmly, smirking as he pulls the cigarette away from his lips, the smoke slipping out his mouth in a messy cloud.* Mm, there’s that sass.

He leaves the rest of his sentiment unspoken, but you hear it, feel it anyway. Sentimental bastard…

[1930sdarlin]

(Meme made by Me, @1930sdarlin )

[cod-dump]

After a long mission with no rest:

Price: Dead eyes, he looks like he's going to kill someone. He's mumbling. Do not ask him to repeat himself unless you want his frustrations taken out on you verbally. Has had four cups of coffee and a pack of cigs. Don't look him in the eye.

Soap: He can't keep focus, what is he even looking at? Trails off in the middle of talking. No, he probably won't finish that thought, better luck next time. He has been chewing on his hoodie drawstrings, don't let him swallow them, please.

Ghost: Has been staring at the spot on the wall for the last twenty minutes without blinking. Is he dead? Or sleeping with his eyes open? Either option is possible. Don't touch him, he will bite. Have tea as an offering.

Gaz: Looks like he's about to cry. Nothing productive has come from him since the flight landed. Don't ask him to do anything because it won't get done. Yes, he heard you. No, he will not respond.

Nik: Has been laughing to himself. Did he fly here? Yes. Is he flying back? No his keys are being taken from him, he's passing out in hanger in the back of his bird. Will be mistaken for dead later.

Laswell: She's talking fast but she is not making as much sense as she should. Frustrated, she has her head in her hands. Will fall asleep like that. No, she doesn't want a cup a tea, she wants concentrated caffeine injected into her veins, fuck off.

Graves: If looks could kill... His hair is sentient, he has not touched it since they got to exfil. Southern charm? No, southern sarcasm. He requires thirteen hours of an uninterrupted coma and a pot of coffee.

Alejandro: Incredibly argumentative. Personal space? He doesn't know what that is, doesn't care. Don't be fooled, he's going to start crying if he can't get to a bed in a pitch black room soon.

Rudy: Sarcasm to the max, will make someone cry. If he doesn't answer the first time then don't repeat yourself. He will bitch until he gets to curl up in bed. Don't touch him if you value any and all of your fingers.

Farah: Trying to be overly friendly because she doesn't want to unintentionally upset someone while exhausted. Will say something bitchy then immediately apologize. Please get her some coffee.

Alex: On autopilot, isn't all there. He can go for another two days before passing out. Don’t let him do that. Will say something batshit and then move on without acknowledging it. He's talking to the clowns, do worry about it.

[aeonmnei]

— osamu quietly sighs to himself as he hears an irritated grumble from your side of the bed, along with the soft huff of the bedsheet as you shift uncomfortably. his mild exasperation dissipates quickly, however, when he hears you whimper and sniff.

osamu tosses a pillow aside as he turns over to check on you, spread eagle on the bed with your forearm over your eyes. “what’s wrong?” he asks in a hoarse whisper. 

you’ve got an awful pout on your face, and he can see a tear slide down your cheek and onto your lips in the faint light. osamu watches in slight amusement when you lick it off. he clears his throat. “what’s wrong?” he asks again. 

there’s a pause as you sniff loudly. you dig your palms into your eyes. “it’s hot,” you say, finally. osamu’s deadpan as he leans on his elbow to look at you. that’s all?? “well, yeah, baby,” he replies plainly. “t’s summer.” 

“it’s so hot, i can’t sleeeeep,” you groan, your leg swinging over to land on top of his. “‘m so tired, ‘samu. and that fan’s doing jackshit.” “it’s literally in yer face, babe,” osamu tries, but you let out another weary sob that makes him roll his eyes as he starts to get up, peeling your sticky leg off of him as he does.

“where’re you going?” you mumble, still sniffling. “gettin’ ya a fan,” osamu grunts, feet dragging sleepily across the wood floor.

he comes back a few minutes later with a large handfan, lying back next to you on his side. osamu snaps it open and starts fanning you— face, chest, stomach, and back up again. you relax, settling into the bed contentedly, and he can’t help but scoff.

“yer sucha drama queen, ya know that?” he tells you, his voice full of affection. “seriously.”

note: i think i spent more time debating between a colon and an em dash than i did writing the damn thing

[tojisteddy]

Reader! who ends up pregnant after a one night stand with Graves.

You don’t even really have proof that the baby is his but you know it is because he’s the only man you’ve been with after he fucked you silly right against the hood of his pickup truck.

Don’t ask how he pulled that shit with you.

You just know he dropped you off with a wave and you never intended to be— here.

In a military base office you truly didn’t know, four months pregnant, eyes erratic and knee bouncing like a kangaroo on crack from nerves and irritation.

You just wanted to say your peace and then go home. Maybe have a cry because you weren’t alone and pregnant, maybe have that ice cream you’d been thinking about since this morning. You weren’t expecting shit from the man, not a dollar, not a diaper. You weren’t used to being brushed aside your whole life, this was just another situation you’d need to stand tall on your own. A life altering situation but you could do it. You’ve done it before. You’d do it again. You just needed acknowledgement.

And he turned that corner toward where you sat in the waiting room, your guts almost spilled on the floor, right along it’s the baby. He was just as handsome as you remembered, tall, muscular, blue eyes, pretty lashes, he’s twinkling with irritation, talking to three men who followed right as his heals, maybe he could even tell you what to do— focus reader.

You stood, swallowing down every bit of fear, a little pride—

“Graves?” You called out, thankful it didn’t sound like a croak. It was more of a statement than a question. Not asking for attention, demanding it.

His eyes flickered over to you, a little shock fills his eyes, he gives some hand signal to his men, waving them away, “Give us a second boys.”

A smirk grows on his lips as he comes closer to you, more than amused that you, a one night stand, has somehow gotten a hold of him like this. His fault for knowing the people of that small town you were from. But it’s not like you were forgettable, you were headstrong, much smarter than the ditzy girls than hung around that bar, even more memorable when you let him stick his dick in your gushy walls. Still, you’re as gorgeous as ever in his eyes, even with that uncertain look on your face and the oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants you wore. He’d prefer you in something tighter, a sun dress that hugged your pretty tits— “Well it isn’t the pretty doll from that bar, where did we last meet? In the bar? Nooo, the Honda—“

“—I’m pregnant.” You interjected, tired of the games, you pulled out the sonogram in your baggy pocket. “You’re the father.”

Phillip Graves doesn’t flinch. Not to anything.

Not when he got the news his mom was in the hospital. Not when he found out his men had died delivering that weapon of mass destruction, and not when he heard from your sweet lips that you would be having his first child.

He’s unwavering like a mountain, just walked towards you, taking the photos in hand, smirk growing wider as he eyes the little thing. A cute bean.

He chuckles. Fucking chuckles.

You almost leap out of your body, and skin him alive but he pulls you close by the waist with one hand. The other hand lifts your chin to look at him, slowly trailing down from your collar bones, past your plump breasts, to lay a hand on your slowly growing belly. He hums in delight.

“Graves—“

“—Got lucky with you huh? Blessed t’ have you havin my baby. Makin me a real man, huh dolly?”

And you’re even more confused. Eyebrows furrowing, taken aback, “Blessed to have-?”

Phillip folds the sonogram and sticks it in his wallet, “I’m just as shocked as you, I always wrap it up tight. Always. But shit like this happens when you least expect it, don’t they? ‘Nd ‘m sure you came ‘nd worried that pretty little head ‘f yers of the worst. But I’m no bastard darlin, was raised right. Little thangs our kid, so of course I’ll be there for ‘em.”

“Gonna be… partners from now on [+], best if get along, right? For the baby ‘nd such.” He sticks out his hand, all polite.

You hesitate at first, but take it. It’s an agreement, just so you both can be in the babies life and be proper parents.

Sort’ve.

The southern man’s already envisioning you walking down the aisle in a pretty white dress, right after your baby girl or baby boy walks with the ring or the flower basket. You’d unknowingly agreeded to not just being cordial parents to your unborn child but being his woman, lover, friend— all wrapped into one and tied with a bow.

There’s no way a man like that would let a woman like you slip from his fingers again. He was stupid before, he’s sober now. He definitely wrap around you to get what he wants.

Always read the fine print when you’re dealing with a fox sweetheart.

a/n: genuinely don’t think Phillip got you pregnant on purpose (not this time) but he’s thankful for someone as pretty and knowledgeable as you.

[beloveds-embrace]

(Bakery/coffee shop au where you have a specific policy of not serving people what they ask for, but rather what you think they need

141 part || konig part)

The bell above the door chimed, and before you even looked up, you knew this was going to be one of those customers.

The footsteps were confident, unhurried- the kind of walk that belonged to a man who thought he owned any room he stepped into. Sure enough, when you glanced up from wiping down the counter, a man was already flashing you a lazy, knowing grin. The same man you’d seen reading your policy outside right before he’s sauntered inside.

“Well, well,” he drawled, taking in the cozy interior of your bakery like it was a pleasant surprise. “Didn’t expect a place like this in a town like this.”

You arched a brow. “A place like this?”

“All warm, sweet, and welcoming.” He gave you a slow once-over before his grin widened. “Guess I shouldn’t be too surprised.”

You sighed, already unimpressed. “Do you plan on ordering, or are you just here to flirt, sir?”

“Can’t I do both?” He leaned against the counter, eyes alight with amusement. “Tell you what- gimme a black coffee. Strong. No sugar, no milk.”

You barely hesitated. “No.”

His brows shot up, and for the first time since walking in, he looked genuinely caught off guard despite reading your policy. He must have thought it was just a joke, but nope. “No?”

“No.” You repeated, already turning to the espresso machine.

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, most places just give a man what he orders.”

“Well, I’m not most places.”

He watched you work, arms crossed, head tilted slightly like you were the most interesting thing in the room. “Y’know, I can’t tell if you’re stubborn or just like makin’ my life difficult.”

“I like giving people what they need,” you corrected, finishing up the drink. “Not what they think they want.”

A few minutes later, you placed a cinnamon breve latte in front of him and beside it, you set down a brown butter pecan cookie. You wished you could have given him something pink, filled with berries and cream but ah- you knew it wouldn’t fly that well, alas.

He stared at them.

Then he looked back up at you, brow raised. “You real serious about this policy?”

You wiped your hands on a towel. “Positive.”

He scoffed, but he picked up the cup anyway, taking a slow, experimental sip.

And that was when it happened, as always.

For just a second- so quick you almost missed it- his shoulders relaxed. His smirk faltered, replaced with something far more genuine. He let out a quiet sigh, the kind that came from someone realizing, damn, that’s actually good. Better than what I ordered, but I’d be damned if I admitted it!

You pretended not to notice that, and instead, leaned on the counter and smirked. “Told you.”

He set the cup down, running his tongue over his teeth as he studied you. “Gotta admit, you’re somethin’ else, darlin’.”

“I hear that a lot.”

He huffed a laugh, reaching for the cookie. “I bet you do.”

The silence that followed was surprisingly comfortable. He took his time with the cookie, alternating between that and his drink, and every so often, you caught him glancing at you like he was sizing you up- not in an arrogant way, but in a huh, I actually like being here kind of way.

…You were talking to yourself a little too much today.

Finally, as he dusted the last crumbs off his fingers, he leaned back with a satisfied sigh. “Alright, you win this round. But don’t think I’m lettin’ you boss me around forever.”

You tilted your head, eyebrow raised though you could barely stop your lips from curling into an entertained smile. “Oh?”

“I’ll be back,” he said smoothly, tapping a finger against the counter. “Gotta figure out what other tricks you got up your sleeve.”

“Sounds like an excuse.”

“Maybe.” He grinned. “But it’s a damn good one.”

With that, he tipped his head, turned on his heel, and strolled out after paying- just as cocky as when he walked in, but with a little more warmth behind the smirk. He’d left you even a little note.

Philip.

And sure enough, a few days later, the bell chimed again, and there Philip was.

Just as he’d said he’d be.

Coffee Shop Masterlist.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

alex wright smut perchance? your erik fics sent me down a rabbit hole of richard harmon and im in love with that nerdy ass little film student of a man

A/n: Hehe 👏 i can do that ( Richard Harmon is so fine)

The walls buzzed with electricity. Not wires—energy. The kind that made your skin prickle and your breath stutter. The kind that whispered: the asylum is watching.

You stood in the center of the room, blood dried on your cheek, heart hammering like a trapped animal. Alex’s fingers trembled as he reached for you, his other hand gripping the camcorder like a lifeline.

“It’s asking for a sacrifice,” you whispered, voice cracking. “Something real.”

Jennifer’s screams still echoed from the hallway behind you, fading as if the building had swallowed her whole. And maybe it had. You were next… unless you gave it what it wanted.

Alex’s gaze flicked to the camera. Then to you.

And he dropped it.

“I’m not giving it you,” he said hoarsely. “Not like that. If it wants something real, it’s getting the truth.”

You barely had time to blink before his hands were on your face, mouth crashing into yours—furious and hungry and aching. You gasped, grabbing at his hoodie as he pushed you backward, until your back hit the cool stone wall. Static crackled above.

“Alex—” you breathed, but he cut you off, kissing you again. This time slower. Devouring.

“I’m not letting you go,” he murmured, lips brushing your jaw, your neck. “I’m not letting this place take you too. If I have to fuck you right here to prove it, I will.”

You whimpered as his hand slipped beneath your shirt, fingers splayed across your ribs. His thumb brushed the underside of your breast and you arched into him, desperate for contact.

“Tell me you want this,” he growled. “Tell me it’s not just the asylum.”

“I’ve wanted you since Vancouver,” you gasped, tugging his belt open. “Take me. Use me. If it wants a sacrifice… give it something worth burning.”

That undid him.

He spun you around, pressing your chest to the wall, his hands yanking your pants down in a frantic blur. You could hear his zipper, the low, animalistic groan in his throat as he shoved his cock between your thighs, rubbing along your slick heat.

“Fuck—” he hissed. “You’re soaked already. You need this.”

“Need you,” you cried, pushing back against him.

He didn’t tease. He didn’t wait.

Alex drove into you with a desperate thrust, thick and hard and overwhelming. Your cheek pressed to the wall as he filled you completely, the stretch delicious and deep. The asylum moaned with you—walls pulsing with each stroke as he fucked you like you were the only real thing left in the world.

“Say it again,” he panted, slamming into you.

“I want you,” you gasped. “Fuck, Alex, I want you—I love you—”

His hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back as his rhythm faltered, breath ragged. “You’re mine. Mine. I don’t care if the whole fucking world is watching.”

You cried out as he fucked you harder, hips slamming into yours. The heat, the ache, the need—it was a blur of teeth and sweat and trembling limbs. The wall shook. The static screamed.

And when you came, it wasn’t silent.

You screamed his name, pulsing around him as he came inside you, burying himself deep and groaning your name into your shoulder.

Everything… went still.

The lights flickered. The energy cracked.

And then—quiet.

The door creaked open.

Alex collapsed against you, holding you close, his arms shaking. “You did it,” you whispered. “You gave it what it wanted.”

He kissed your temple, voice hoarse. “No. I gave you what I wanted.”

The motel door shut with a quiet click, and for a moment, you both just stood there. Silent. Breathing.

You were barefoot. Still in your bloodstained jeans. The dried smear of something unholy was on your wrist, and your shirt had ripped across the shoulder. But Alex didn’t look at any of that.

He looked at you like you were the first real thing he’d seen in days.

“Bathroom,” he said, voice raw. “Come on. We need to… clean up.”

You followed him without a word. The light flickered overhead, casting shadows across the cracked mirror. You both looked awful—filthy, hollow-eyed, smeared in things that didn’t belong to you. Yet somehow… you still looked at each other with that same unbearable pull.

Alex ran the tap. Warm water, thank God. He grabbed one of the cheap motel washcloths and started gently wiping your face.

You reached up to stop him. “You don’t have to—”

“I do,” he interrupted softly. “I need to know you’re okay. That you’re still you.”

The cloth dragged over your cheek, then down your jaw. His touch was tender now, almost reverent. You watched his throat work as he swallowed hard, his knuckles skimming your skin like he was afraid you’d vanish.

You helped him after that—stripping off what little could be salvaged, rinsing off layers of fear and grime in the lukewarm shower. When you stepped out, wrapped in thin motel towels, he was sitting on the edge of the bed in just his boxers, head in his hands.

You crossed the room slowly and knelt in front of him, resting your hands on his thighs.

He looked up.

“You picked me,” you said softly, eyes searching his. “Over her. Over the movie. Over everything.”

“I didn’t even hesitate,” he whispered. “That scares the shit out of me.”

You leaned in, lips brushing his. “Then let it. Let’s be scared. Let’s be stupid. But let’s be real.”

He kissed you—slow and deep this time. There was no rush now. No static. No screaming hallways. Just you, him, and the quiet hum of an old air conditioner.

You crawled into his lap again, straddling him as your towel loosened and fell. His eyes roamed your bare skin, full of something heavier than lust—something almost holy.

“Do you want this?” he asked, voice trembling.

“I want you,” you murmured, grinding your hips slowly against the fabric of his boxers. “No cameras. No ghosts. Just us.”

He slipped inside you like a sigh, stretching you gently as his hands gripped your hips. You gasped, burying your face in his neck as he rocked up into you, slow and aching.

It wasn’t like before.

It was soft. Unhurried. Every thrust felt like a promise—I’m here. I survived. I chose you.

You cupped his face, eyes locked with his as you moved together, whispering his name like a prayer. When you came, it was quiet. Warm. Full of love and shaking limbs. He followed with a broken moan, spilling deep inside you as his forehead dropped to yours.

You stayed there. Wrapped around each other. Heartbeats slowing.

Eventually, he tucked the motel sheet around your naked body and pulled you to his chest.

“Think it’s really over?” you asked.

He kissed your temple. “No clue. But if it isn’t… we’ll fight it. Together.”

You smiled against his skin.

You weren’t just survivors.

You were the ending the asylum didn’t see coming.

[writingbluerose]

TWST DRABBLE #3

NBC EVENT ENDING SPOILERS DOWN BELOW !!

There are multiple graves on the ground surrounding Ramshackle. Most of them belong to the three ghosts that like to hangout by the dorm often. But one of the graves belongs to... Skully

He's been going in and out of that grave ever since he realized just who the new person in the dorm actually is. It's you.

He remembers you. You've been his dearest friend ever since you've met in Halloween Town, and became more when you started dancing under the strong light of the moonlight, right on that beautiful spiral hill.

But you forgot, you forgot everything, how could this be? How can you forget him, how can you forget how much you've loved each other? This cannot be, he won't accept such a thing.

That's when, one night where you seem to not be able to close your eyes and sleep he shows himself before your eyes as the ghost he's been for a long time, greets you with a kiss, just like the first day you met, and tries to make you remember everything about him and how much you've loved him.

And when Skully can't hold himself back and kisses you tenderly on his lips, you remember... you remember everything

...and god how much you've missed him

© writingbluerose 2024

[strawlessandbraless]

Cas kissed every one of Dean’s freckles back into existence when he rebuilt his body after hell

[moongumi]

thinking about how if you worked for the shadow company, i.e. graves. and had a terrible father growing up he'd totally use it against you.

very much feeding into your daddy issues to get you to submit to his requests and demands.

he'd click his tongue, shaking his head. "you could've had this done yesterday, darlin', bad girls waste my time...you're not a bad girl, are ya'?"

he knows that you CARNALLY desire praise and admiration, after all you never got any.

"you are such a good girl, i couldn't have done it without you sweetheart. thank you." he doesn't even have to mean it, no, graves NEVER means it. not his thank yous anyway.

don't even get me started on what the man does in bed to keep his shadow under a tight leash, the shit he does to keep you eating from his god damned blood stained hands.

[coyote-with-a-keyboard]

hello!!! Love all your writing, it's hard to find x male reader writers in the cod community but you are certainly a saving grace. Have you ever thought about doing Phillip graves with a male bodyguard/loyal guard dog reader? Remember to drink water have a good day 🫶

a/n: heheheheh dog reader my beloved, i dropped my phone and it’s so shattered atm so this was a bit of a slow write but yk 🤷‍♂️

Minors DNI

Phillip relied on you more than he should, from secretary work to being leader of a mission he couldn’t oversee, you were his jack of all trades and his right hand man. And of course with that, you were also his emotional and physical support

he wasn’t ever quite sure if you cared about him, but he didn’t think it really mattered when you had him bent over his desk while he tugged on the leash attached to your mic collar from your most recent mission you hadn’t even had time to take off when he called you in; needy, whiny, and commanding and begging ordering you to take off your clothes and get to work already. He could feel your cold hands gripping against his hips as your cock hit his prostate with sloppy fast thrusts, your breath coming out in little gasps time to time from the sheer amount of times you had already came inside of him, it dripping out of his sloppy hole onto his expensive desk’s nice wood finish.

he was still unsatisfied however, even with his own orgasms covering his stomach and chest in a sticky overstimulating feeling, he still needed more. Needed his guard-dog of a man to fuck him stupid. He tugged on your leash harshly whenever you got too slow or didn’t hit his insides just right, muffled whines and curses leaving his lips when your thick cock dragged in and out of his gummy warm walls

he swore he could feel you in his throat, your cock-head rutting against his prostate ruthlessly. Not that he’d tell you that, he was feeling bratty, and it was nice to have the illusion of power for a moment even if he knew your hands alone could wring his neck like a chicken

he bit into your arm violently as he came for.. perhaps the fourth time, already starting to shoot blanks as he reveled in the slight sting it left in its trail, feeling more globs of your semen drip out of him as you fucked into him even harsher then before- the overstimulating feeling of the heavy smoke from his now discarded cigar, of the sheer pleasure-pain and fucked out bliss coursing through his nerves being a mix that was driving him insane

[n1ght0f-nyx]

though he'd never say it, philip graves is a submissive man when it comes to you. letting you stand over him like a goddess, taking his hair in your fist and guiding his mouth over your cunt, praising moans coaxing him as he sucks your clit and burries his tongue as deep as it can go. let him worship you, its all hes got when hes not out fighting (committing treason) for his country. let him smother himself in your ass cheeks, you are his safe-haven and he needs you to keep it that way with your praise and cum. suffocate him, its the only way he can breathe

[cod-dump]

When they're sick:

Price: He's fine stop asking. No he has to get his work done, no time for rest. He said he's fine! That cough is normal, yes puking is normal. He's got shit to do!

Graves: End of the world, he's dying. This is it, this is how he dies. He's laying in bed crying until the second he can breathe out of his nose again.

Nik: Wait, he was sick? Since when? You're lying, he never gets sick.

Ghost: He's working until his bones break. He needs to be watched or he's trying to get out of bed. Will behave as long as he's constantly supervised. Is that medicine orange flavor? He's going to kill you, cherry only.

Soap: He's either absolutely fine or he's dying, there's no in between. Don't touch him he bites or if he doesn't have any head pats he's going to cry.

Gaz: Oh, he's taking a sick day. He doesn't want to risk getting anyone sick. Is he dying? No, his doctor says he'll be fine. He'll be fine, he'll catch up on sleep.

Laswell: Don’t touch her she'll stab you. Don’t look at her she's fine. Her wife made her soup, don't even look at it. Why is she still working? Who else is doing her damn job? Exactly.

Alex: He can handle being shot better than a cold. He hates everything, he's melting, he's dying. Tell Farah he tried (he'll be fine in two days).

Farah: Sick? Does it look like she has time to be sick?

Alejandro: He's doubled his work load. He gets more productive when sick. He has his spicy soup, he's going to live forever.

Rudy: Sick? He's immune to all such things. He hasn't been sick since he was five.

[lookingformoondrop]

+ Yandere Andy (for my previous request for suggestive themes with a fem reader and him :33)

Yandere!Andrew Graves x f!reader - Drabble thing

TW: TOXIC ANDY, Yandere themes, obsession, possession, manipulative Andy, suggestive themes, foul language, Andy can't keep his hands to himself, threats & intimidation, Andy calls Reader dumb bunny, not proofread.

♥︎Notes: I think out of all the yandere content ive ever written, this is the most toxic. Please readers, if your irl relationship mirrors any of this behavior, LEAVE THEM. Andy is extremely toxic, and if given the chancs hed lock up his bunny for only him to see. I dont condon any of this behavior, but i support Andrew's rights and wrongs. Hope this meets your expectations <3.♥︎

When dating Andy, there are certain types of rules you must follow.

They're silent rules, sure, never spoken outloud, but you've been with Andy long enough to know that if you break them... there are consequences.

♡

Rule No. 1 : Never dare speak to another man

You can still remember this rule vividly.

It was sometime in April, and you had practically begged Andy to drive you to the mall for new spring dresses.

When he finally agreed, you both drove to the mall and walked around for an hour, just window shopping all the sweet spring deals.

You found a lovely dress and went to try it on. Unfortunately, you realized the size was too small, so you asked Andy to browse the store for something bigger.

This is when the incident happened...

When you finally finished changing, you walked out of the clothing booth with a couple of other items and one adorable shirt that lacked a price.

You searched for a store employee and spotted a young man.

"Excuse me, but is there any way you can find the price of this shirt? I can't seem to find it," you handed the shirt to the employee, and his cheeks turned a dusted pink

"W- Well sure. I can just ask my co-worker to-"

"Fuck off."

You jumped at the cold voice beside you and noticed a very pissed off Andrew. His hand was suddenly on your hip, squeezing your flesh very aggressively.

"I- I'm sorry, sir, but I was talking to this young lady, not you," the young worker looked nervous.

But Andrew was having none of it, "fuck off before I forcibly make you." His eyes narrowed on the man, as he pushed you against his chest.

The employee retreated for the employee back door, his tail practically in between his legs, leaving you absolutely dumbfounded.

You pushed at Andy's chest, "Andrew what the fuck?! He wasn't doing anything wrong, he was literally just helping me find the price tag for some-"

"Do you like pissing me off? I disappeared for not even 5 minutes, and you're letting men drool over you? "

His grip on your hip got tighter, assuring that it would leave a mark for later.

At a loss of words, Andrew leaned in and whispered into your ear,

"You're making me sad, Y/N... Do you honestly want another man?"

His voice sent shivers down your spine, making that spot between your legs ache, and that chilling feel graze your skin with goosebumps.

"Andrew, I don't want anyone else! Please don't be sad, I'm sorry for misleading you," Your eyes got glossy from the guilt that weighed down on you.

He sighed, disappointed. He gripped your wrist, using the hand that was on your hip to rip the clothes you had out of your hand and onto a random display table.

"You're not a very good girlfriend. But I love you anyway."

He walked towards the exit, caressing your hand while he did.

You quickly leaned that Andrew was not going to tolerate any sort of social interaction with other men, and if you broke this rule, he'd be very, very disappointed in you. Simple as that.

♡

Rule No. 2 : Where you're going, what you're doing, who you're with, and why is all of Andy's business.

A year into your relationship, you decided to take a spontaneous girls trip with your friends to a different state.

You'd only be gone for a couple of days, and since Andrew was always busy working, you figured that he wouldn't mind.

Thinking this, you texted Andrew.

Andy

I'm sorry I haven't texted you. How was your day? **

You

It was good! I'm actually packing right now for a trip. **

Andy

.... **

Andy

What trip? **

You

A girls' trip. I figured since you're busy all the time, I could take this weekend to vacation! **

Andy

.... Where will you be going? **

You

My friends cabin**

Andy

Who will you be going with?**

You

My friends? **

Andy

Whose Cabin? Which friends? Whats their number? How can I contact them? How many nights are you staying? What's the wi-fi situation like? How far away, is it? What's the exact location? Who knows about this trip? When will you be coming back? Will there be any men there? Is it just girls? Will you be changing in front of them? Will you be sleeping separately? Whose car are you taking? How will you get there? By what transportation? Do your friends have boyfriends? Are there any wild animals?**

You

I... Andrew, how could I answer all these questions? I dont... I dont know.**

Andy

Then you shouldn't be going. **

Andy

It's in a location I've never been to nor seen before. So many things can happen to you, my dummy bunny. It may be a cabin, but I know you can't handle being alone for so long. Save me the trouble, Y/N, you're not going. **

Andy

I'm only looking out for you. You're the love of my life. How could i possibly live with myself if something happened to you? Y/N, you're the air that I breathe, the food i consume, the blood i need to pump my heart. Are you trying to run away from me? **

You

No! Andy I swear I'm not! I won't go if it makes you uncomfortable. I just thought... **

Andy

You don't think many things through, dummy. You're such a headache sometimes. **

Andy

So, what's for dinner? I'm hungry. *

♡

Rule No. 3 : You belong to Andy, and only Andy.

"Hey Andy! Guess what I found?!" You walked up to Andy who was lounging on the coach watching some shitty news.

"What's that, Y/N?" He lazily turned his head towards you.

In your hand was an old photograph of you and an old prom date, taken long before you ever met Andrew.

You were cleaning your bedroom and found a couple of old boxes underneath your bed. Once of which, held many old memories of your youth.

"It's all the prom pictures my mom took of me! Don't I look cute?" You leaned your upper body over the coach back and showed Andy the dusty photos.

You expected a snort, a grin, maybe some mockery for your cheesy dress but instead Andrew tensed up his jaw, his eyes narrowing.

He grabbed the photos from your hand and slowly looked through them.

"You are very pretty, Y/N...." his hand squeezed the photos, to the point of crinkling them.

"Andrew, the photos are being!-"

Suddenly Andrew stood up and quickly crossed the distance between you two, letting the photos be dropped to the floor.

You gasped as Andrew smashed his lips against yours.

He grabbed onto your face, pressing his body into yours.

His lips were warm and slightly chapped, the brief smell of mint and cigarettes overpowering your head.

He broke the kiss, a strange hunger dancing in his eyes as he looked at you.

"You're so beautiful... You're so beautiful being mine, and mine alone. Mine, mine, mine, and mine, until the world comes crashing and burning. " He grinned at you, a dark shadow crossing his face.

"Andrew! I- I know im yours, but the photos are being stepped on-" You tried protesting, but instead, you felt Andrew kiss you again, this time going deeper. His hand squeezed your cheeks, attempting to make your jaw open, in a way asking for entrance.

You couldn't help but open your mouth wider, a victim to the rose colored glasses he always placed on you.

Your eyes closed, while Andrews' opened.

He stared at you with a strange intensity.

You, of course, could never hear his thoughts, but if his words were spoken outloud he would scream how much he wanted to rip that prom date to shreds.

Watch him bleed out of your hardwood floors until it stained from that fuckers punishment.

You belonged to HIM.

You were HIS.

And darling, he would go to heaven and drag you back to hell with him if he had to.

He broke the kiss and squeezed you into a hug,

"Promise you wont ever leave me, okay?" Andrew rested his head on your shoulder. You breathed heavily, wiping the saliva from your chin.

You nodded in a daze, the ache between your legs overpowering any kind of hesitancy you had.

Andrew smiled into your neck, reaching his hands under your ass to prop you up around his waist.

"Come on... I want to continue this in the bedroom. I want to see more of you..." He said in just above a whisper.

"Only you..."

Thank you for the ask (and patience)!<3