#Phillip Graves imagines

[that-sudsy]

Turtle neck Warren Kole

[justanoasisimagines]

You rub my back and I'll rub yours

Summary; When Phil sees your back is aching, he finds the perfect excuse to make his move. Pairing; Phillip Graves x Female!Reader Wordcount; 525 A/N; Hey my lovelies, back with a Drabble. I may write a part two to this I don't know yet. Also my requests are open and you can find my request guidelines pinned to the top of the page! Also Credit to cafekitsune for the banner and the divider!

Phillip observed you lean over as you explained something to them for the third time. You were too patient. Too kind. He'd listened to you explain it clearly. It wasn't hard to understand.

What Phil couldn't understand was how your trousers were standard issue. They fit too perfectly on your body. Highlighting the natural curve of your ass. It was driving Phil crazy, how good you looked.

He wanted nothing more than to be able to call you his. Show every man in his office, that you were his and his alone. He needed you like he needed air. Running his hand over his hair, he leaned back on his chair, staring at you shamelessly.

You remained hunched over for at least thirty minutes. Phil's paperwork remained untouched. He could try, but there would be no point. He couldn't concentrate or perhaps he didn't want to.

Blinking his eyes rapidly, he snapped out of his trance as you straightened out your back, hands holding onto your back, wincing in pain as you attempted to stretch out your aching muscles. Immediately, Phil began to rummage through his draw searching for something.

"Hey Darlin', here," He threw the tube at you which you caught with ease and a wince. Phil's smile when you began to approach his desk, leaning your hip against it as he looked up at you.

"Thanks," Phil looked down at the muscle relief in your hand, then looked back up at you. An opportunity had arisen and he would be a fool not to take it.

"You want me to help you with that Darlin'?" A smirk graced Phil's lips as he observed your eyes widen at his forwardness. "Don't think I haven't noticed the passaway looks you've been giving me for months now. So, what do you say?"

Phil noticed your eyes widen at his proposal. However, his Ma always told him if you don't ask you don't get. The muscle relief rested in your hands as you contemplated your decision.

Phil smiled when you placed the muscle relaxer into his hands, he rose from his chair, taking your hand a hold in his, he pulled you away from the room. he didn't care who could see the two of you leaving together.

He'd deal with them if they dared to turn it into mindless gossip. He would make them fear him if he had to. Pulling you along, he makes his way to his quarters. No one would bother you here.

"Get yourself comfortable Darlin'." Phil locked the door behind him. Not wanting anyone to disturb the two of you.

Phil then proceeded to rub your back gently, taking the time to work through any aching muscles and knots in your back. Phil admired how smooth your skin felt as he enjoyed you sinking deeper into the mattress.

Perhaps if he asked you nicely, you'd give him one in return.

[kombatbrat]

Imagine graves fucking you while watching football and not giving two fucks about the half time show,

That’s it baby girl , take daddy’s cock . Be a good little girl for me , graves said . You was so wet from graves cock . Your shorts pull to the side, his warm cock sliding in and out of you and you was enjoying every minute of it . Graves was rough with you, it made you so so wild and crazy inside . His hands wrapped around your neck. Looking into his bright blue eyes , he was fucking you so good. “Yes daddy , your cock is so good , fuck me just like that Daddy . I want your cum deep inside of me . Please daddy” you said and just like you felt graves cumming inside you . As he did he bury his face into your neck . Taking in your scent and leaving small love bites on your neck, whispering “ I love you babyGirl “

Note : this is my very first Smut I ever wrote please let me if you want more .

[darling-i-read-it]

Shower Before Bed

Phillip Graves x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: phil not eating, smut, unprotected smut(intentions of children in this case), shower sex, blowjob, teasing 

Author’s Note: i really said ‘next graves fic is gonna be so fluffy it hurts’ and then i wrote the nastiest thing i’ve ever written. (I did post the second part to this which is just the barbeque fluff so I was almost right) 

Summary: 

Genre: smut, fluff in part 2! 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

You lifted your head off the couch arm. You could hear the sound of the door opening, slowly, like there was an attempt not to make noise. Your eyes fluttered open and you opened them widely to ward off the quickly coming sleep. The TV was still on but it had since changed from what you put it on. You wondered how long you had been in between sleep. The clock on the wall said 11. Despite Phil being an early riser, he never managed to get home early. 

You heard the sound of shoes being shuffled off. A loud sigh. Clothes being taken off, a jacket being hung up. 

You sat up and looked behind the couch. You placed your hands up on the back of it, putting your chin down on top of them. You watched the entrance to the living room, waiting for someone to emerge. 

Phil walked in slowly, dragging his feet across the hardwood floor of his home. He widened his sleepy eyes at the sight of you and a ghost of a smile haunted his face. 

“What are you doin awake darlin?” he asked but his voice wasn’t louder than a whisper. He almost sounded like one of the people on the TV. Far away, through a screen. 

“Waiting for you,” you said honestly. He hadn’t bothered to change out of his work clothes. He didn’t even realize he was still wearing his bulletproof vest till he tried to bend down and kiss you but it stabbed him in the stomach. Nonetheless, he kissed you chastley, dry lips leaving careful imprints on your skin. 

“You didn’t have to wait up.” 

“I know,” you said. Your voice was a little louder now. He came around the couch and sat down on the couch beside you. You put your hand on his shoulder. “You didn’t change.” 

“Too tired.” 

“Long day?” 

“Hm.” He turned to face you. You dragged your hand up to his neck and his chin. His skin was warm. You shuffled closer to him and started to grab the straps of his vest. 

“Can I take this off?” you asked. He nodded and you started to undo the straps, one by one, carefully. You moved his arm to remove the weight from his shoulders and then lifted it up over his head when you were done. He let you do it, wordlessly. “Have you eaten?” 

“Sure.” 

“Phil.” He pursed his lips. 

“I got busy.” He always forgot to eat breakfast, constantly leaving his protein shakes on the counter by accident. You always cursed him for missing dinner and got annoyed when he went to the gym without anything in his stomach. 

“I’m gonna warm up your dinner. It’s in the microwave.” 

“You didn’t have to make dinner.” 

“I figured you wouldn’t eat.” You started to stand, blanket falling off your lap. He grabbed your hand and dragged you back down to him. 

“Stay here a moment,” he muttered. “Just..stay with me.” You didn’t ask him how his day was. You tended not to. He would vent about it eventually but he had to stir in it first. Sleep on whatever horror he had gone through. 

“You need to eat. Give me one second.” He let you go after some more pushing. You turned on the microwave and grabbed a drink for him out of the fridge. The lights of the kitchen were dim. You brought him back the plate after a couple minutes. He had navigated to the bedroom, slowly trying to find something to sleep in. “Dinner’s served.” 

“Thanks babe,” he said quietly, taking it from you. He always pretended he wasn’t hungry until he had a plate of food in front of him and then it was all over. 

“You still doing the barbeque tomorrow? Almost all the guys RSVPed.” You gave him a look. “Thanks for giving them my number instead of yours by the way.”

“Easier. You’re more organized,” he said through chewing. You grabbed some sweatpants out of the dresser for him. “And yeah, I grabbed the steaks this morning on my way home from the gym.” 

“Did you buy enough for yourself?” 

“Yes,” he scoffed. You smiled and threw some clothes down beside him. 

“I grabbed the paper plates you asked for. And beer. I grabbed lots of beer.” He nodded once. He looked silly with his mouth stuffed with food, his cheeks like chipmunks. “Careful, you might choke.” He rolled his eyes but had to wait a moment to speak because he was still chewing. 

“This is good.”

“Thank you.” You climbed onto the bed, happy to feel the comforter under your fingers. He turned around to talk to you. It was like living with your built-in best friend, someone who always wanted to talk to you even when he was too tired to form sentences. He was so reserved and professional for so long that by the time he got home he was ready to let it all out. 

“You don’t mind that I’m using the house do you? Wes said we could use his next time if it’s a big deal.” You shook your head. 

“I don’t mind at all,” you assured him. “We have a house too big for the two of us anyway.”

“Daddy’s money,” he said, chewing. He was referring to himself. You kicked him, even with the light embarrassment raising to your face. 

“It’s nice to have the company is all I’m saying. Plus, I haven’t met some of the new guys.” 

Phil told you all about the Shadows. They were his friends, his family, his crew. You had hardly met most of them but you knew their life stories, their wives, their kids. When you first started to date Phil they used to joke you were like their new mom. Though you were all mostly around the same age, you took the title with pride and a little bit of humor. 

“You’ll like em. All very civil.” 

“They don’t take after you then.” He laughed gently. 

“I’m so civil doll,” he promised. “Speaking of the big house.” He pointed a fork at you, eating another bite that was far too large for him to take. You let him chew it, pretending to hang off the edge of your seat. “We could fill it up.”

“You want a dog?” He narrowed his eyes on you. You tilted your head, playing dumb. You wanted to hear him say it. 

“Not a dog.” 

“Then what? A cat? A bird? Lil hamster?” He couldn’t banter as quickly as usual because he was still eating. It gave you plenty of room to make up for him.

“Baby. Kid. Child.” You nodded, as though you were just understanding what he meant. 

“A human.” 

“Yeah,” he suggested, voice a little quieter. Phil wanted nothing else than to have kids with you. It was his biggest dream. Having kids, being a dad, living the happy life with you. Even when things were shitty at work, he held onto that. 

“What, right now?” 

“I’d never say no.” Your lips turned up to a smirk. 

“Well I’m too tired for the whole thing. You kept me up very late Commander Graves.” He pretended not to be disappointed. “A compromise?”

“I’m listening.” You could see his ears twitch, a thing that happened when he was particularly interested in the conversation. Either that or he was nervous. You smiled either way and crawled off the headboard towards him. He watched you do it, eyes trained on your mouth. He swallowed the lump of food hard, more like a gulp really. 

“You take a shower,” you started. He dipped his chin as you sat beside him, knees tucked under yourself. “I blow you. And then tomorrow morning, we can do that whole baby making thing.” 

He got off the bed, putting down his plate on the dresser. He grabbed his clothes from beside where he was sitting. 

“I’m takin a shower.” You watched him as he tossed his clothes on your bathroom counter, taking off his work shirt with such haste it got stuck on his dog tags. He didn’t bother closing the door. 

You knew that, despite your words, you would get far too carried away and whatever you had planned for the morning would happen within the next half hour. He’d be a perfect gentleman and claim he could wait, even with desperate, pleading eyes. You shoved yourself off the bed and joined him in the bathroom. 

He had his shirt off, working on his belt. He had scars littering his body. You knew the story to each one, though you sometimes asked him to retell them. You walked behind him to turn on the shower. You turned the knob onto hot, feeling his eyes following you as you did so. Because of that you dragged your hand up on the knob slowly, finger tips nimbly touching the tip. You put your hand under the water, ignoring him even as his eyes bore holes into your movements. 

Finally, you turned to him. 

“Warm enough?” you questioned, innocently. He had tossed his belt onto the counter with a clatter but his pants remained on. 

“Yeah, that’s plenty hot,” he said. 

“You didn’t touch the water.”

“I know.” 

You remained desperately far away from each other (which in truth, was about two feet). You tilted your head. 

“Are you going to go into the shower with your pants on? Tsk tsk.” You cleared the space between you, putting your fingers in the hem of his pants. You didn’t meet his eyes, intentionally looking down as you unzipped his pants. He watched your fingers move, carefully, deliberately. 

Eventually, you returned your fingers to the hem. You bunched his pants with his boxers and pulled them down easily, acting as though you were doing him nothing but a favor. You backed up just a tad and knelt down to a squat. You dragged them down to his ankles. You paid no attention to his semi, tapping his foot so he could lift it up. Once you had them off him, you grabbed the pants in a bunch and tossed them into the hamper. 

You stood up. You swore you could hear a disappointed moan leave his lips. 

“Well. Enjoy your shower,” you teased, turning to leave. 

This time he audibly groaned in disappointment. He grabbed your wrist, causing you to turn around. His eyes were wide, lips almost quivering with desire. 

“Baby,” he muttered. The power you had at the tips of your fingers. He didn’t like giving up his control and you knew that but he would never force you to do something you didn’t want to do. He toed the line now, breath heaving. “You’re killin me ‘ere,” he whispered. You let him pull you a little closer. He dragged your hand slowly down his body until your palm touched his dick, now raised and hard. 

You touched the top with your fingers and he slightly buckled at his knees. 

“Get in the shower,” you whispered. 

He didn’t want to leave your touch. It was practically torture. But the look in your eyes told him it was worth it. He set his jaw and did as he was told. 

You were wearing just your pajamas, some sweats and an old shirt of Phil’s. You took off the sweats as he stepped into the shower, leaving the curtain wide open. You could see him out of the corner of your eye, palming himself, watching as you undressed. You took off the shirt, his shirt, and tossed it aside. 

Wearing nothing but your undergarments, you approached the shower. Phil had a thing about taking your clothes off of you. He liked to unhook the bra, let it fall down your shoulders into his hands. You could take the water. Plus, these were old anyway. 

He moved to give you room, putting himself directly under the water stream. His hair was matted down onto his forehead, water dripping down his face. He was too focused to care. 

You stepped over the shower side and let the warm water hit you as it ricocheted off him. His shoulders were broad and strong. It was something you always forgot until you saw him shirtless. He was so..so big. 

You leaned forward, kissing him. He grabbed your sides, pulling you closer to him. You could feel his dick against your stomach, shoved between the two of you. He groaned into the kiss, water covering both of your faces. You bit his bottom lip, pulling it out and then letting him go.

Finally, you dropped to your knees. There was little grace in it, just a hard fall, but the pain in your knees was quickly forgotten. Phil would make comments about the bruises tomorrow. He looked down at you, eyes filled with lust. You grabbed his dick with your hand, slowly pumping it up and down. 

The touch clearly felt amazing because just that made his head fly back. You smiled, staring up at him as he enjoyed himself. 

“Baby please suck it,” he muttered. “Suck it,” he said quickly. You gave up on teasing him for the moment and finally wrapped your lips around him. You moved slowly, pumping your head all the way down his length. You took as much of him as you could until you gagged and came up for air. You licked his tip, holding the base of it with your hand. He groaned loudly, hands finding their way to your hair. 

“You like that Commander?” you asked. 

“Yeah baby. Yeah I like that.” You put your lips back around him, moving faster now. He broke down into moans, gasps as you went further down, seething breaths as you gripped his balls. “Just like that baby, fuck. Fuck you’re doin so good.” 

His fingers were digging into your hair, gripping at whatever he could grab. He pulled at it, trying to guide you. You let him take the control, moving your head as he pleased. He just looked so damn pretty up there, it was hard not to give in. 

He pulled your head off of him completely. To your surprise, you practically whined. 

“I don’t wanna cum on your pretty face tonight,” he muttered. He knelt down, helping you up to your feet. You almost slid back down but he had you in an iron grip. He kissed you, tasting himself on your lips, unable to get enough. He pressed you against the wall, expertly unhooking your bra. He took it off easily, sliding it down your arms, tossing it out into the bathroom. 

He stopped kissing you just to take off your panties, which he did quickly and with minimal struggle. You were soaking wet. It had been a long day without him. Water beat against the side of you both. He shook the water out of his hair, kissing you again. 

You and Phil typically used a condom. You used to be on the pill but came off it after you had been inconsistently taking it. He made no move to find a condom now. You didn’t say anything, gripping his shoulders. 

He pushed your legs so that they were spread a bit. You were both looking down as he slipped in the tip, causing your head to fly back against the wall. If you weren’t so enamored, it might’ve hurt. He took no time shoving the rest of him inside of you, to which you both gasped. The gasps turned to low moans. You put your hands under his arms, gripping his back. 

“Oh fuck Phil,” you groaned. “You’re so deep.”

“You okay?” 

“Move please.” He smirked, doing just as he was told. He started to thrust in and out of you. If Philip Graves could do anything, he could fuck. Your fingers dug into his skin, sliding down his back, surly leaving scratch marks. He grunted as he moved, each thrust considerate. You wanted to say something hot but all that came out of your lips was his name, over and over. He repeated yours back, a whisper, a grunt, and a prayer. 

“I’m not gonna last,” he muttered. You couldn’t blame him. You had done a considerable job to make sure he wouldn’t last. 

“Cum in me,” you whispered. 

It was all he needed. It was like he saw red, his thrusts no longer slow but now coming without a rhythm. Sloppy and hard he pushed you against the wall. You dug your nails into his back, feeling your own orgasm coming with his speed. You put your hands on his waist, annoyingly skinny. Your mouth was permanently open as you gasped, head jerking. 

You came with a long moan but he didn’t let up. Your head rested against the shower wall as he kept moving, clearly coming to his own end. You rode your high as he did so, bringing your head down to watch his face. He was concentrated, eyes fluttering open and closed, lips against your skin. 

Finally his legs shook, bottoming out inside of you, cumming. You pressed your chest against his and he held you tightly, thrusting a couple more times. His head rested on your shoulder. You were both breathing heavily. He remained inside of you as he kissed your skin, leaving marks on your collar bones that you would have to cover up tomorrow. 

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. 

You kissed the side of his head as he slid out of you. You were both wet now but you had no interest in actually showering. You had gotten what you came for. You dipped your head to kiss his lips and they lingered until you stepped out of the shower completely. You grabbed a towel, wrapping it around yourself. 

“You let me cum in you,” he commented. You turned back to him, drying yourself off. 

“I remember.” 

“Was that intentional?”

“Maybe.” You smirked back at him as you grabbed your pajamas off the floor and started to put them on. “I’ll be in bed Commander Graves. Join me when you’re done.” 

He watched you go, shaking his head. You grabbed his plate and brought it to the dishwasher while you waited for him. You rung out your hair into the kitchen sink before you went back upstairs. You climbed under the covers, adjusting to a comfortable position. 

About ten minutes later, he opened the bathroom door to join you in the bed. The lights were off so he navigated in the dark under the covers. You shimmied closer to him when he put his head down. He threw an arm around your shoulder and pulled you to his chest. 

“Can we still do that in the morning?” he asked quietly. You laughed, a whole chest laugh that caught in your throat. 

“If we don’t I’ll be disappointed.” 

“Fuck, I love you.” You rolled your eyes and pressed your cheek against his chest. He kissed the top of your head. His heartbeat was evening out, getting comfortable. 

“I love you too Phil.”

“G’night doll.”

[lillyrob]

How I feel asking for a Pt 2 😔

[cameronsbabydoll]

your kids asking the cod men (+konig and graves) about area 51

a/n: i know area 51 is in the US but this is just a fun crack fic

♡ john price (dad mode: engaged)

you’re washing dishes in the kitchen. wearing that robe he bought you. your youngest is drawing on the fridge whiteboard. your oldest, spoon in hand, squints up at him like a little detective.

“dad, do aliens live in area 51?”

price, sipping his tea, doesn’t miss a beat:

“they did. we evicted ’em in ‘98.”

you laugh softly. “john—”

“one of ’em tried to take your mum on a date,” he adds, folding the paper, eyes twinkling. “had to break four of his fingers. little green shit never came back.”

he winks at you. you roll your eyes. your kid is stunned.

and later? your child draws an alien with a broken hand and writes “DADDY GOT HIM” on the page.

♡ soap mactavish (unhinged uncle energy but dad edition)

he’s making pancakes in the kitchen. shirtless. your toddler’s sitting on the counter with pancake batter on their nose.

“daddy, do you have alien friends?”

“aye,” he says, flipping a pancake. “one of ‘em owed me five bucks. i never forget.”

you walk in mid-convo and he’s just saying:

“—and their hands are like spaghetti. weirdest handshake ever.”

you: “johnny.”

soap: “babe. he asked.”

later, your kid tries to shake your hand using only four floppy fingers.

♡ gaz (the realist but turns into a menace)

sitting on the sofa with a kid on each side. watching cartoons. sippy cup half-empty. suddenly:

“dad? what’s in area 51?”

he sighs. dramatic. long.

“tax fraud, mostly.”

you giggle from the kitchen. but then—he leans in real close to the kids, drops his voice:

“but one time, i saw a guy walk through a wall. he’s probably still there.”

you shout: “KYLE.”

he grins. the kids are silent for the next twenty minutes, watching the door.

♡ ghost (dad of silence, until he isn’t)

your kid is colouring next to him at the table. he’s drinking coffee in complete silence. you’re folding laundry.

“dad, are aliens real?”

he doesn’t answer at first.

then, softly:

“only met one. didn’t speak. just stared.”

your child: :o

“it blinked sideways,” he adds, sipping his mug. “still see it in my dreams.”

you: “simon.”

“what?” he shrugs. “builds character.”

your kid doesn’t sleep that night. neither does he. bonding.

♡ graves (suburban menace. king of dad lies.)

he’s mowing the lawn. your kid runs up with popsicle-stained hands yelling:

“dad, are aliens real?!”

he stops, takes off his sunglasses.

“kiddo, not only are they real—your mum was one.”

your child: screams

you from the porch: “phillip!”

“how else you think she got eyes like that?” he calls, grinning.

later, he lets your kid wear his sunglasses and says,

“you see any green guys? tell your old man. we’ll handle it.”

♡ könig (gentle giant, terrified)

you’re all sitting on the couch. popcorn. cartoons. one of your kids looks at him and whispers:

“papa… what’s in area 51?”

he stiffens. visibly. clutches the bowl.

“we… we are not allowed to speak about it,” he says, voice trembling slightly. “they made us sign… papers.”

you: “honey. you can tell them it’s just a base—”

“no,” he says, deadly serious. “they scan your teeth.”

your kid slowly covers their mouth.

later, you find tinfoil hats made out of cereal boxes in their room.

[soapysoapysoapysoapy]

Philip Graves x Wife!Reader

Graves was halfway through yelling at a rookie over a botched op report when he heard it—the unmistakable click of high heels on concrete.

He froze. Slowly turned. And there she was.

Hair glossy, sunglasses on indoors, a tight black dress that did not belong on a military base, and those red bottom heels that announced to everyone that someone was about to get their ass handed to them. And not in a sexy way.

“Phillip Dean Graves.”

The rookie took a step back, muttered, “Dead man walkin’,” and made himself scarce.

Graves blinked. “Darlin’, what’re you—”

“You signed our son up for football without asking me.” She took off her sunglasses with the slowness of a Bond villain, glaring at him like she was trying to set his hair on fire with her mind.

Graves cleared his throat. “Now hold on, sugarplum, I didn’t sign him up. I inquired. There’s a difference.”

“You volunteered to coach.”

“Well, I—okay, yes. That part I did.”

She stepped closer. “And you told Coach Murphy that I’d ‘be delighted to bring orange slices every game day.’ Phillip. Do I look like I slice oranges?”

He smiled—nervously. “No, ma’am. You look like you get paid to fire the person who slices your oranges.”

She pointed a manicured finger at him. “Exactly.”

Graves tried the southern charm. Turned it on like a switch. “Now, sweetheart, I know I overstepped. But I just got excited, you know? Our boy out there on the field, me on the sidelines, you in the stands—”

“Wearing heels on grass?”

“Well—yes.”

She folded her arms. “You just decided this without me? Again?”

Graves winced. “I was gonna tell you—”

“Oh? Before or after I showed up at the first game dressed like the Real Housewives of Nowhere, Texas?”

“…that was the plan.”

She glared. “Fix it.”

“But I already ordered the mini jerseys…”

“Phillip.”

“Okay, okay! I’ll call Coach Murphy.” He held up his hands, surrendering. “But I’m tellin’ you right now, baby, the team’s gonna lose without me.”

“They’ll survive.”

He sighed dramatically, then grinned. “Y’know, when you bust in here like that, it does somethin’ to me. Like… disciplinary action, but in a way I enjoy.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I will end you.”

“God, I love it when you threaten me.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Call. The. Coach.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He turned toward his office, muttering, “Can’t wait to marry you all over again in hell.”

“What was that?”

“Nothin’, darlin’. Just, uh, dialin’!”

(He still ends up coaching. She still brings orange slices. But only because their kid asks. And she does wear heels on the field. Red bottoms, naturally.)

[secretlysimpash]

If you took one of the boys home, and you had a big ol' dog, I think that...

John would do the thing where instead of petting the dog, he just lovingly pats it's side..."The dad pat". And he's definitely sharing whatever he eats with the dog, too (as long as it's safe for the dog, ofc...he wants to spoil the dog, not make it sick).

Kyle would be on his best behavior with the dog...Until you're not looking. As soon as you leave those two alone, he riles the dog up. You'll be on an important call when there's just a cacophony of barking, play-growling, and stomping from a few rooms over.

Since Johnny doesn't like dogs all that much, he would try to stick close to your side...Or wherever the dog will leave him alone. But alas, the dog definitely decides that he's their new best friend, father, playmate, and everything else that involves Soap being as close as possible. Wherever the Scot goes, the big puppy isn't far behind.

Simon is on the opposite end of the spectrum when compared to Johnny. Simon LOVES dogs, and he comes prepared. Every time Simon comes through your door, expect a gift for you...And one for the dog. Suddenly your dog has a skull bandana to match Ghost, and looks almost disappointed when you come home without him sometimes.

The Shadows already have some German Shepard's and Belgian Malinois on the team...So when Phillip sees that you have a dog that's bigger than the ones he's used to working with, he's excited. Phillip is high-energy, your dog has a lot of pent up energy...Take them to the park, and just watch them both run, play frisbee, fetch...They could do this for hours. And when you get home and the dog is sound asleep, Phillip will still have enough energy for you.

König would IMMEDIATELY try picking the dog up like a baby. As soon as he knows the dog won't try to rip his face off, he just scoops it up into his arms. Half as a show of strength ("Look, Schatzi...They weigh nothing to me!"), and half because I can't help but see him as an animal lover. And if you're watching a movie, or cuddling, or doing anything together, nine out of ten times he'll want the dog to come. Sorry, but that's his baby now, too.

[tobeholyistobeempty]

“here’s what’s gonna’ happen.” he mutters, kissing the gun up your neck, leaning an elbow on your thigh. “m’gonna answer this call, you’re gonna’ talk. be honest for daddy. tell em’ you’re tied up.”

so fucking obsessed with the idea of a you x ghost lovers-turned-enemies who just can’t stay the fuck away from eachother. it’s gross and it’s toxic and it’s brutal and it’s probably more insane than it should be but with all the war around you it’s one of the only fucking things left that makes you actually feel alive, so inevitably you end up back under him in new inventive ways each time you cross paths.

maybe you’re working for shadow company during the time graves decides to betray 141 - perhaps you didn’t know it was going to happen because you weren’t directly involved with that mission, after all, but with your rank, ghost has a hard goddamn time believing anything otherwise - no matter how many times he turns it over in his head.

so when he sees you - rather, when you all too conveniently find yourselves in the same map dot city, some shithole for some hellscape intel search while graves and his team are still actively after them - it’s all a little too much for him.

ghost doesn’t know who you’re serving, what your loyalty is, and decides that maybe he’ll just have to get that information out of you himself.

but that’s all little to your knowledge - because you don’t even know the fucker knows you’re here. it’s been a long fucking day. you’re already exhausted, graves has all but sent you to deathrow to chase dead end leads in circles, and everything just keeps getting worse with each passing day. but it’s late, and the motel that you’re staying in has a decent bar that you think you’d like to take advantage of.

you decide one quick drink can’t hurt, can it?

ha.

about as famous last words as any. because, turns out, it can. yes, it can hurt.

it can actually hurt real fucking good when the living embodiment of every mortal man’s nightmares decides (at the most convenient of times, because just so happens you left your gun back in your room) that he’s got questions for you, and isn’t too fucking keen on waiting for answers.

he strikes when the lights have gone out and the bar has closed. when the motel has fallen silent and the only noise is your footsteps as you creep down the hallway that leads to your door. you, however foolishly, drop your guard, thinking you have fuck all to worry about at this point - when suddenly the shadows by your door shift, and the owner of the hand that has the muzzle of a fucking gun pressed to the back of your head tells you that your mistake was waiting until so late, coming here so alone, and not realizing that the shadows in this place are not empty but instead filled with men that can see you just a little bit better than you can see them.

but when the voice sinks in, and you merely smile - dread subsiding as you ask him what took him so damn long to find you - he decides he isn’t too fond of the response. you’re inside your decrepit room only in a few moments after that, tied to a chair, and he’s just looking at you like he can’t quite figure out what’s so damn funny.

you let him have the win, you always do. you know that despite it all, when he’s infront of you like this, it’s never as ghost.

simon riley could never hurt you. not truly.

“who knows you’re here?” he husks, pale eyes surveying the room in a quick sweep. for show, you’re sure. he mapped every inch of this room before he’d even stepped foot inside.

you suck your teeth, fighting to let that shit-eating grin spread. “you mean like, my mom? dad? sister—“

“watch it.” he cuts you off, and the muzzle made of cool steel is pressed at the side of your jaw, shifting your head, turning it away from his. “y’know how i feel about tha’ smart fuckin’ mouth of yours.”

“stupid questions get stupid answers.” you reply back sweetly, tilting your head a little so the steel digs in harder, amplifying the ache for the hell of it. “you’ve got a gun at my jaw, LT. talk to me straight.”

there’s silence, until there’s a hum - he shifts then, crouching beside your chair, stalling at eye level with you. “talk t’ya straight, huh.”

“you act like i don’t know why you’re here.” your chest feels tight, with the way he’s looking at you. it’s a battle with an army of its own to push it down. “you’re looking for the big man, aren’t you? graves. heard he—“

the press of his gun softens momentarily as his free hand finds the other side of your jaw, tilting your eyes back to him, forcing you to look him right in that dead fuckin stare of his.

“y’best be real careful about lying t’me, princess.”

“you can kiss my ass.” you smile thinly, and in the darkness you think you see his eyes gleam, but whether it’s out of irritation or out of something else entirely, you can’t be sure. you exhale. “i had nothing to do with graves’ little villain arc. i don’t know fuck all about it, or where he currently is. you’re wasting your breath.”

the muzzle of his gun trails down, down along your jaw and throat, sparking gooseflesh to life.

“liar.” he rasps, and despite all your moral instincts screaming at you that this is all but a shade off insane, when it comes to this behemoth of a man before you your depraved instincts are just a tad stronger. and when your thighs tense, he notices. “what’s it gonna take, mm? t’get ya talkin.”

you exhale a breath you didn’t even know you were holding - and ghost smiles. you see it through the crease in his mask - but just when he goes to speak again, your fucking cellphone, buried in your jacket pocket, starts to ring.

“well if that ain’t just my fucking luck.” you don’t need to see it to know who’s calling. you ignored check in twice already. too busy at the bar, drowning your sorrows. “ghost, listen—“

oh, he’s listening, alright. listening to the sound of that fucking ringtone filling the space between your words. you can’t tell he’s cocking an eyebrow at you, his eyes not leaving yours as he shifts a hand, reaching for your pocket. you open your mouth, but he’s already withdrawing your phone, snorting after a fleeting glance at the name lit up on it.

he turns it to you, and you try to fight it - but you can’t stop the deadpan. no matter how much you’d already known it would be him.

graves.

“here’s what’s gonna’ happen.” he mutters, kissing the gun up your neck, leaning an elbow on your thigh. “m’gonna answer this call, you’re gonna’ talk. be honest for daddy. tell em’ you’re tied up.”

oh, dear go—

“this your fucking idea of a loyalty test?” you hiss, and you can suddenly feel your blood roaring in your ears, your heart hammering. “are you insane?”

that’s a redundant question, you think, and ghost must agree, because his only answer is to shift the gun in a way that allows him to press a fingertip against your pulse.

you swallow - he’s checking for pulse leaps like a fucking lie detector.

“mhm.” he purrs, absolutely loving this - before pressing a button on your phone, and a low rumble of anticipation rocks through you.

he’s put it on speaker - and the second it connects, graves is talking.

“sergeant.” he all but barks, and you tense, closing your eyes at the sound of his voice. he’s pissed. “where the fuck are you? you missed two of—“

“sorry, sir.” you say through your teeth, flicking your eyes to ghost. he just tilts his head, as if he’s saying go on, show me that you’re still mine. christ. “i uh, got a little…tied up.”

there’s a brief silence, presumably as graves just stands there (you can envision it in your head, crease in his eyebrows, hand clutching his phone - trying to determine what the fuck that means) before he eventually clears his throat.

“and what could you possibly have gotten yourself so tied up with that you can’t report in on time?” he asks, and you want to laugh, because if only he knew. your hands tense against the ropes, and he speaks again. “that was a rhetorical question, sergeant. you’d better have a damn good excuse for this.”

oh, you definitely have a good excuse, though you’re pretty sure that if you were to tell graves who it was that had you so very busy right now, he might just turn into fairy dust and transport himself through the phone to try and kill you both. (keyword, try.)

you open your mouth to answer but words disintegrate as ghost shifts, standing to his full height.

you look up at him, and the blood that rushes to your stomach is something catastrophic - so disarming that you almost forget graves is still on the goddamn line. you blink, and you’re about to say something, when ghost does something you don’t expect; he tucks the gun back into his holster, before moving to the buckle of his belt.

oh - oh.

“christ,” you breathe out, before you even realize it. and when ghost shoves the phone closer to your face, you realize you couldn’t give less of a fuck about graves at this moment. “sir—graves, i was fucking busy, okay? i had shit to do. you’re the one who sent me out here, into this goddamn nightmare, to do your grunt work. should i be really sitting around waiting for your call while you’re out sucking off the general?” the silence that answers you is deafening. and so is the rage you can suddenly feel permeating the air. you suck your teeth when he doesn’t answer. “right, well. if you don’t mind, i’d like to go the fuck to bed. i’ll call in first thing tomorrow.”

ghost’s fingers drift, starting to undo the latch and you know, with your heart and bloodied soul - that he’s smiling right now.

you hear a low, rumbling growl coming over the other end of the line - it takes you a moment to realize it’s coming from graves - and the next thing you hear is the dial tone as he hangs up, presumably plotting the ways he’s going to make your life hell for the next unforeseeable future.

but then, the belt buckle of ghost’s belt is undone, your phone is tossed somewhere behind him, and you find yourself smirking up at him with glistening lips.

“now, look what you made me do.” you whisper, a lazy drawl. “always doubting me, huh. insane fuck.”

and ghost just snorts at the insult, before taking off one of his gloves with his teeth and shoving it into your mouth. you groan at the sudden taste of leather and dust that touches your tongue - but when he leans over you, lips at your ear, it’s a little too easily forgotten.

“quiet now.” he murmurs, with an audible smile. your eyes close at the sound, and his breath against your neck makes you want to scream. “no more talkin’ less you’re good n’ beggin’ f’me put that mouth to proper use.”

you want to spit at him, just for the fun of it, but settle for biting down on the glove as you shift, trying to bring your legs together. but then he’s crouching between them again, pushing them back open with his bulk, and you can only groan as he rips the leather from your mouth.

“if he finds out,” the words spill out without much thought - as you stare into his eyes. “he’ll—“

“mmm.” he hums, leaning in to press his teeth against your jaw. “he’ll what.”

oh, the things your mouth should say. but if you’re being honest, the only thing you want your mouth to say right now is please.

“i’ll - i’ll be the next one getting shot at.” you hiss out as his hands find your thighs. “christ. untie me, asshole.”

“y’jus told the boss you’re tied up.” he mutters back, and from the heat of his breath alone, you know he’s smiling again. “wouldn’t’ wanna’ make a liar outta’ y’self now, would ya?”

————————————-

a/n: the way i would let this man ruin me is concerning.

[v1x3n]

COD MENS FAVOURITE POSITIONS

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY — lovesss doggy style! loves having you on all fours, preferably your head shoved into a pillow while he pounds into you so fast and hard you start to see stars! loves seeing the fat of your ass bounce with each thrust and he adores when your back arches due to him grabbing onto the strands of your hair - forcing you back while you mewl and whine out!!

JOHNNY 'SOAP' MCTAVISH — missionary, call him a basic bitch or whatever but you don't see how your tits jiggle with each thrust, how if he leans back he can see your full fucked out expression, the slight bulge in your tummy and your swollen nipples. red from how harsh he was sucking them earlier that day. call him vanilla but he doesn't care when you look so fucking perfect.

KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK — cowgirl by far, or once in a while reverse cowgirl, he loves seeing your tits jump as you do too, or if its reverse he loves seeing your arse bounce while you hop on his thick cock. his favourite part is seeing you struggle to continue, your legs weak but you need to finish so its the only option! your thighs shake and your body growing limp when your done is like a reward to him.

JOHN PRICE — loves mating press, holding your shaking legs up so high your legs are next to your ears! your pussy spread wide open for him, your puckered hole on show and your smushed up stomach is all too much for him! your body makes him go crazy, he loves it when he holds onto your plush arse and your legs dangle in the air in front of him. your tired face moaning, screaming out as he uses the position to his advantage - shoving his fat cock soooo deep inside of you!!

PHILLIP GRAVES — as much as he loves every position, his favourite one is 69. he loves your sloppy tongue on his cock, giving his long stripes up and down his length as he kitty licks your sensitive cunt. spanking your arse when you squirm too much. he can feel you gag on his dick as he shoves his tongue into your hole, you choking on his dick due to the pure surprise!!

[nyutasomething]

daddy issue? I LOVE DADDY ISSUES 🫶❤️

[that-sudsy]

Young Warren Kole

[justanoasisimagines]

Darlin'

Requests are open! Credit to @cafekitsune for the divider and the banner

Darlin' I know it's been four months since we made contact last. I didn't mean to go this long, but things have been crazy on my end. I needed to keep a clear head so us shadows go out safely.

I can confirm everything went as according to plan as it could. I lost a few men, but it's what you've got to expect on missions like these.

Being away from you and the children this time Darlin has felt different. I knew I needed to lock in, to focus on what I'd been ordered to do. It's my job after all. Yet I've found myself questioning what you and the children have been up to more often than not.

Has Ruby started walking yet? I told her she needed to wait until I came home so she could walk over to her Daddy. What about Cassie and Luke? Are they behaving themselves? Is our boy doing his homework like he promised he would? What about Cassie's dance classes, are they going well?

I feel like I'm constantly missing out on their milestones. Cassie's dance recitals, Ruby walking, playing football with Luke. Perhaps it's time I start taking a step back, so I can start spending more time with you and the kids.

I can't remember the last time I took you on a date. Even the last time I saw you in a pretty sundress. Darlin' I think it's time we had that conversation when I get home. I know you're going to tell me you and the kids understand. But I don't want to keep missing out anymore.

Spending of, I'll be home within the next couple of weeks, three at the latest. Would you meet me at the base? Bring the kids with you. I don't care if they have to miss school, it's only for one day. I just really need to see them and you.

Give the kids hugs and kisses for me.

I love you all with all my heart.

Phil x

[yandere-wishes]

⋆ ˚｡⋆♡ Darling, I'm Falling, Messed Up Over You ♡⋆ ˚｡⋆

⭒⌒★ Yandere! Call of Duty Men x Reader★⌒⭒

゜。♡ 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝓊𝓈𝒽𝒾𝑒 ♡ ｡ ゜

⋆⁺₊✧ Simon "Ghost" Riley | سایمون "شبح" رایلی

There's a stark, painful limerence coiling tightly between his bones whenever he opens the apartment door and sees you lingering across the void. Your smile reminds him of bullet wounds scabbing over, all so tender yet agonizing to endure. He mumbles his hellos and everts his eyes lest he lose control. Lest he gives in and digs his fingers into your tender body, marring you with his lips and teeth, and tongue. Breaking open your bones as he ravishes the marrow, binding you to him carnally.

He's spitting blood into the bathroom sink, lungs burning from the RPG-7 jabbed into his chest this morning. He can see the bruises blooming across his ribs, swallowing his curses so they don't fall upon your innocent ears. "Ghost?" There's a gentle rap on the bathroom door, your voice feels like honey leaking over his heart. You push open the door, standing chest to chest. "What?" he grumbles, trying to steady his tremoring heart. "I got you this," you chirp, that ethereal smile glowing as you hand him a fluffy toy dog. Simon squeezes the toy, bringing it to his nose and inhaling your scent, high off your essence. There's a click before the war is lost. Simon dips his head, pushing his lips onto yours, his blood seeping past his lips down your throat, drowning you in his aether, claiming you in the rawest way he can imagine.

-`♡´- John "Soap" Mactavish | جان "صابون" ماکتاویش

"I figured you'd miss home so I bought you this" Soap will never understand your obsessions, this rooted topophilia. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't homesick, he'd also be lying if he said he'd really thought about anything other than you for far too long. The highland cow you present to him is fluffy and plump with a sweet smile sewn onto his muzzle. It reminds him of your darling smile…

Then again everything reminds him of you.

Johnny can't help but run his fingers up your spine and your arms. Trailing fleeting chaste kisses to your cheeks and neck, even when your face morphs into worry. He needs to keep you close always in arm's reach; you belong to him in ways that transcend simply being "friends". You've started to notice the highland cow on his desk more often; he seems to lug it around everywhere. Even Ghost and Gaz have started to notice, pointing it out with knowing looks. “Reminds me o' ma bonnie lass. Can’t bear tae part wi’ it.” You're not sure if you were meant to hear that, meant to see that possessive spark shimmering in his soft blue eyes. He's been dropping more hints lately, practically begging you to come over, “The wee coo misses ye somethin’ fierce. How ’bout ye swing by sometime, eh? It sounds all so innocent, it could even pass as gregarious. If it wasn't for the vice grip he has around your hand, nails digging into your flesh.

⋆𐙚⋆ Kyle "Gaz" Garrick | کایل "گاز" گاریک

It had started with that pond, that damned, perfect pond, a minute's walk from the base. Sergent Garric hadn't thought much of it at first, it's hard to focus on the atmosphere, the bustling of the outside when you're so desperate to get away from the inside. To flee from the overcrowded rooms and suffocating loom of war always drumming in his ear. He'd only noticed the ducks and the pond and the strange girl sitting beside it when, on one of his worst days, he'd tried to envision the whole park bombarded, strained to imagine it after a mushroom cloud. It's only then that he really notices you.

He hadn't meant to get so attached, but you'd made it nearly impossible not to. Something about the vision of your mangled corpse along the water's edge had reminded him of that one John Everett Millais painting he'd seen in the museum between deployments. Something about the frightful vision had him sitting next to you, trying to push out the right words to make you look his way. It's been months now, the pond, that perfect, wonderful pond, had glazed over, and yet he still finds you sitting by the water staring as if nothing ever really changed. You had slid him a knitted duck the other day, the same color as dandelions. And Gaz couldn't help the desperate hammering of his heart as he imagined, for the first time, what it'd be like to kiss you instead of standing over your cold body.

٠࣪⭑𖦹٠࣪⭑ Keegan P Russ | کیگان پی راس

He's found he likes sitting on the floor with you, sprawled out on the mohair carpets. Elbows digging into his knees as he watches you thread a needle through polychromy fabrics. Keegan finds it morbidly hilarious how he can feel the same needle threading through his skin, pulling at his dermis, and stitching through his veins whenever you smile at him, whenever your soft fingers trace over his scarred skin. So gentle, so soft, little needles trying to puncture military-grade steel.

He pulls you onto his lap, fingers running up and down your hips. Strumming lovelorn melodies upon your ribs. He ignores the way you grimace, excuses the way you flinch away from his touch. "Sweetheart" he whispers, lips sucking tenderly along your neck, trying to hold you still as you reach behind you. "Here," you say voice utterly monotone, stripped of its usual joy and radiance. You thrust a freshly sewn shark plush into his face. Keegan simply brings his lips to the toy with a wicked smirk. "Do I scare you that much?" he asks, hurt and haughty. When you don't answer, he pulls you closer, hugging you so tightly he swears he hears your bones crack.

ᯓ★ Alejandro Vargas | الخاندرو بارگاس

There's a sharp ache between his bones a treacherous agony every time you walk past him. The hall permeated with your sweet perfume. Alejandro can't help his lingering glance, the way his eyes stare at the places you've passed, at your ghost wavering in time. He'd do anything to kiss you, to hold you, to deprive the world of your existence, and selfishly harbor it only for himself.

There's a fox on his desk one morning, a tiny little doll with a bushy tail and beady eyes. "Why a fox muñeca?" he asks as you type away his latest mission briefing. "Oh, just cause you remind me of El Zorro." Alejandro laughs. He'd give anything to be the bandit that steals you away in the light of a full moon, the tarnished hero you cling to as the world burns. He leans down, lips brushing your temples in a chaste, fragile kiss. He can't help but look down at you, reveling in your beauty. Oh, how he wished he were a fox and you the lovely little rabbit trapped between his teeth. His perfect darling señorita.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Phillip Graves | فیلیپ گور

You remind him of Malibu Barbies lying halfheartedly along the golden sands. Ethereal and unreal, plastic shaped into perfection. But you're not Barbie not really, you refuse to emit that pink saccharine sweetness that most dolls do. Refuse to let him thread his fingers through your silky hair, pulling off his hand from your shoulder and pushing him away when he tries to kiss your cheek. Barbie would never he thinks, hollow, miserable laughter spilling from his lips as your glare tries to penetrate his skin and dig into his organs. You hate him, it's palpable enough, and yet he still harbors your hatred on this tongue like licorice, sweet and bitter, misplaced romance in every way.

The Eagle you hand him is a threat. Only you would know how to threaten someone with a gift, a little plushie of his favorite animal. A death threat wrapped in cotton and fleece. He sleeps with the pathetic thing to his chest, dreaming it was you, praying one day somehow someway you'd let him tuck you between his arms, high off your sweet aroma, nuzzling between your shoulder blades. "You're too Americana, you make me want to gag." Your voice hums in his head lyrical sermon. His grip grows tight around the little bird. He'll have you someday, he swears it.

୨ৎ Vladimir Makarov | ولادیمیر ماکاروف

You're so naive, bright-eyed little dolly desperately clinging to his every word as if it were sacred commandments from above. Precious little fool, devoting yourself to a dangerous man such as he. You're usefulness and eerie desperation are so malleable, he has you eating out of his palm like a well-trained puppy. He can give you martyrdom at his hand, he's sure you wouldn't protest.

Vlad doesn't bother with celebrations, doesn't wholly keep track of dates outside his agenda. Maybe that's why he's so surprised when you present him with a wrapped box one snowy afternoon. A birthday gift you had said, while he rolled his gorgeous mismatched eyes. Inside is a plush toy of a black wolf, Makarove can't help but scuff. Leave it to you to pick out such a childish thing. "It matches your tattoo," you gush, enthusiasm leaking from every word. Big innocent eyes desperately searching his face for a lick of approval and gratitude. "You've more important things to do than play with toys, милый" he scolds, watching as you wilt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Makarove leans closer, brushing your hair from your face as he whispers in your ear. "Although there is something else you could give me for my birthday, маленькая куколка."

𓆩♕𓆪 König | کونیگ

He follows you like a second shadow, masked goliath tailing you through the halls and the training fields. He finds it funny in a dry morbid kind of way, the same way dragons find little princesses so humorous before snatching them away. You certainly could pass for a princess, with your pretty face and sparkling doe eyes, your sweet smile that outshines the sun. Oh, how König could marvel at you for hours, memorizing every perfect detail about you.

"Here," you mutter one day, it's the first time you've ever talked to him. Stopping and turning to him in an empty hall, pushing a stuffed rabbit into his chest. König freezes a cold sweat erupting across his spine. You're looking at him with a stern, annoyed look in your eyes, he can't help but blush under his mask. You look so pretty just like the little bunny you're holding. "D-danke Lie-liebling" the words jab at his throat he can't spit them out correctly, not when you're looking at him, actually looking at him. You don't care what he does with the rabbit, hoping that by giving him something anything to remember you by, the giant may just leave you alone and stop stalking you through the base. It's a misplaced hope, you've only managed to amplify his longing, made him think you love him too.

࿔✮࿔ Sebastian Krueger | سباستین کروگر

He's taken to watching you through the day, following you wherever you go, just out of sight so you'd never catch an inkling. He leaves you handwritten notes describing how beautiful you look in your new dress, how pretty your new hairstyle is. He doodles little hearts and kisses all in a suspicious red ink. Leaves you voice messages enunciating how much he loves you, how he wishes he could carve out his heart and leave it between your ribs. The funny part? You have no idea your haunting admirer is really your dear teammate Sebastian Krueger.

He notices the eyebags one day as he bullies his way to you through the mess hall. "You look tired, schätzchen." You jolt awake, eyes scanning your surroundings in fear, when they finally land on his masked face, you relax. "Yeah, just...just haven't been sleeping well." Krueger has to bite his tongue to suppress his chuckle. He sees you pacing around your apartment at night, trying to find any clue as to who keeps breaking in, who is stalking you so acutely. You reach into your bag and hand him something fluffy. "Here I got you a present." He studies the plush cougar toy you've given him. Funny he thinks, Krueger, cougar, how did he not see you buying this?

"You knew they mean different things, right?" You can't see the eyebrow he has raised, but you giggle -such a heavenly sound to his ears- "Yeah but they sound the same," you lament, looking up at him with those pretty doe eyes. "I love it (y/n), danke." Oh, how he's going to treasure this little toy, it even smells like you, how thoughtful. Is this your way of saying you like him too? Have all his nights of stalking and all his letters penned with his own blood finally paid off?

.✿. Nikto | نیکتو

There's a permanent lassitude tucked away inside him. There's not much left in the world that can make your heart skip a beat when you've seen every terror, felt every torture. No, Nikto had grown all too used to the permanent numbness, wearing it like a second skin. Until you showed up, Kortech had called you emotional support or something equally as degrading. Or maybe they hadn't meant anything by, maybe it's Nikto who refuses to hear you addressed as anything less than divinity, less than purity in its rawest form. The little кукла that had smiled at him…at them told him honeyed jokes and whispered girlhood secrets in his ear in hopes of earning a chuckle. Instead, Nikto had clawed out his heart and presented it to you with a desperate smile.

"I want you to have this " You're sitting on his cot, legs tucked under you, and he's trying not to blush at the heavenly feeling of your knees touching his. Your arms are outstretched, presenting him with a plush lamb tied pretty with a pink bow. It reminds Nikto of one of those pastoral portraits he'd see in the churches back home. It fits he thinks, he'd always thought of you as nothing less than holy. He cradles your gift with a tenderness he didn't know he had. "It looks a lot like you, милый" he tries to compliment. "Really? I thought it looked a lot like you."

Sorry for any errors in the other languages, I used Google Translate for them all. 😅😅

[darling-i-read-it]

Barbecue

Phillip Graves x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.2k 

Warnings: general sexual insinuations, literally tooth aching fluff i love him so much it hurts, drinking, guys being dudes

Author’s Note: i literally swore to myself i would write this, the plotless fluff needed to happen and it needed to happen now frankly. Also I just made up a bunch of names for the shadows!

I wrote this as a technical part 2 to Shower Before Bed but it’s not necessary reading! Just like. Made sense in my head lol. 

Summary: Literally just a get together with the Shadows at Phil and his ladies house 

Genre: fluff 

Song: Maps by Yeah Yeah Yeahs 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

“Babe, where's the propane?!” 

“Under the grill?”

“It’s not there!” 

“I don’t use that grill Phil!” 

You were inside the kitchen, grabbing all the side plates you bought from the store. Phil could make a mean steak but he wasn’t really sure how to do the side things. Lucky for you, buying chips and various salads was easy. You could give him hefty lifting. 

He walked in through the sliding glass door. 

“I feel like it’s in here,” he grumbled. 

“Then you are welcome to look handsome,” you mumbled, grabbing a couple bowls. He walked around you, opening under the sink. You knew it wasn’t there but you let him look anyway. 

After a very enthusiastic and slow to rise morning, Phil got right into preparing for guests. You had some people around sporadically but never that many. He had basically invited the entire squad over. 

“Did you try the garage?” 

“I did not.” He turned on his heels. He made it barely to the garage door down the hall when he turned back around. He walked back towards you in the kitchen. You raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Yeah?” 

“It’s outside. I just remembered.” 

“Is it under the grill?”

“It’s not under the grill,” he said and walked back through the sliding glass door. You rolled your eyes. You waited a bit, pouring some chips into a bowl. 

“Hey Phil?”

“It’s under the grill.” You nodded slowly. You figured. You grabbed the bowls and brought them outside. The sun had risen high in the sky. A perfect day. Not too hot, not too cold. You put the bowls down on the table and turned to him. He was leaning over the grill. 

The shirt he was wearing was tight around his arms. Your eyes scanned down his arms, following the veins down to his hands. You walked up behind him. He stood up all the way, almost bumping into you. 

“What’re you doin darlin?” he questioned. You wrapped your arms around his waist. He chuckled. Your face was scrunched up into a smile as you put your hand on top of his. You lifted his hand in front of his face. 

“You have such prominent veins,” you whispered, bewildered. 

“Baby,” he breathed. 

You traced down his arm. You placed your chin on his shoulder and leaned your head against his. Your touch was just a mere flutter. He could barely feel it, a tickle on his skin. You smiled cheekily. 

“Never noticed before,” you muttered and moved away. That was the lie to end all lies. You had noticed plenty of times. He groaned when your touch left him completely. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“If all goes well!” 

There was a knock on the door, raspy and aggressive. He turned on his heels. 

“I got it,” you called, going back into the house. You weaved through the house to the front door. 

Wes was on the other side. A taller member of Phil’s squad, lanky and apparently one of the best sharpshooters of all time. You smiled at the sight of him holding a tin of potato salad. 

“Wes!” 

“Oh if it isn’t lil miss Graves!” He teased. You smiled, moving aside to help him in. 

“Phil’s in the back starting to cook. You should probably go teach him how to do that.” 

“I can’t get a word through to that man, you know it.” You laughed, watching him go. It felt odd to have other people in your perfectly tuned home. It wasn’t bad. Just different. You walked onto the front porch, putting up the sign you had made that read; Come around the house!

You would get tired of walking through the house and you had no interest in letting bugs in through a propped front door. 

-

About an hour later, the backyard was packed. Music had started to play, though you weren’t sure where it was coming from. The grill was surrounded by men, there were discarded beer cans on the patio. 

“I did not say that,” Robbie muttered. He was a large man with tattoos, a beard on his face. 

“You did!” John called. “I thought I was gonna have to call it in but you just told the fucking mafia you were unarmed.”

“I wasn’t unarmed though,” Robbie countered. 

“Yeah no, I know that.” Your laughter melded into theirs. You were sitting with a couple of the guys around an unlit bonfire. “I thought they were gonna shoot you for being dumb.” 

“Wait, this was the Baikal job?” you questioned. 

“I thought it was Petersberg,” Robbie mumbled, lost in thought. 

“It was definitely Baikal,” John argued. 

“Oh yeah, because we were by that lake. I remem...wait, isn't that classified?” Your eyes went wide at the information and you grabbed the beer can off the table. Their eyes floated to you in bewilderment. 

“I coerced him,” you said, trying to salvage it. “Or something. Might’ve been pillowtalk.” 

“Oh God girl,” Robbie muttered. “You’re in for it. They’re gonna kidnap you for information instead of us!” 

“No ones getting kidnapped.” Phil approached behind you, his words floating above everyone else's. He sat down beside you on the porch couch. It smushed you to the side because there was barely enough room for two. You didn’t mind. He had gained a cowboy hat since you saw him last. He put his arm over the wicker back, rubbing circles into your shoulders. He loved to be touching you, especially in a place with a bunch of other guys. He had no qualms about having a woman in the Shadow Company but they tended to not wanna come to extracurricular activities. You couldn’t blame them. 

“Your girl knows about Baikal,” Robbie said. A couple other guys had joined the small circle. Phil grimaced. 

“She’s an honest one isn’t she?” He patted your back. You rolled your eyes. You two hardly had enough chairs for everyone. Wes sat down on the couch arm. “And I definitely remember telling her,” he lied. Everyone chuckled. 

“Oh my God Wes, sit here,” you said, getting up. 

“I am not about to kick a lady out of her seat,” Wes persisted. You were already standing. 

“I’ve got the best seat in the house, don’t worry,” you promised. He gave you a look, hesitantly sliding into the spot you had been sitting in. 

“What’s that?” he questioned. Phil was mid sentence when you sat on his lap. He let out a soft surprised sigh. There were a couple of ‘ooo’s’ from the onlookers but you had known most of them for years and couldn’t care less. Phil put an arm around you to keep you steady. You brought your legs up over the couch side to get comfortable. 

“What were you saying?” you questioned, rejoining the main conversation. 

“I was saying that you like to tell everyone confidential information and it’s a security risk,” he teased. You rolled your eyes. 

“At least she’s cute,” Robbie argued. Phil squeezed his grip on you. 

“Makes everything easy,” he assured his friends. You rolled your eyes. 

“Where’d you get the hat?” you asked. 

“Joey brought it for me. House warming gift.”

“We’ve lived here since June.” 

“And he hasn’t been over since then,” he argued. “What, does it look bad?” You shook your head, a laugh sputtering from your lips. 

“You look handsome.” You grabbed the hat from his head and put it atop yours, leaning into his chest. That earned a couple more ‘ooo’s’ from your onlookers. “What, he does!” you argued. 

“No, not that darlin,” Phil grumbled, though his voice was lighter than he likely intended. 

“Your man there is a cowboy. Believes in all the rules,” John explained. Joey peaked his head out from behind him as you starred with wide confused eyes. 

“There are rules that come with a cowboy hat?” you snorted. 

“If a girl takes a hat from a cowboy and puts it on her own head then…well she has to ride the cowboy,” Joey said. That caused more commotion. Your cheeks flushed but you tried to own it as best you could. You liked being so linked to Phil that it was the source of conversations. He was rubbing your back, hand toying at the hem of your shirt. 

“Oh darn,” you joked. You turned to face Phil completely. “You believe in that bullshit?” 

“Yes ma’am,” he explained. “It’s strict.” Your eyes were locked in a careful intimacy. You could’ve taken him right there. 

“Sounds like we have dessert plans then. I’ve gotta start kicking you boys out early!” Chuckles followed from your words. 

The overlapped conversations continued. You chimed in when you could but mostly you listened. Phil held you safely in his arms, drinking his beer with his free hand. He did most of the talking, making crude jokes about battle and telling stories you only half understood. He didn’t tell you to leave even when you were sure his legs had fallen asleep underneath you. 

The sun set. Someone started the bonfire. The conversation continued. Beers were passed around. Jokes were told. Your eyes started to droop. People started to leave around 11, funneling back to their own homes. 

It was around then you finally stood. 

“Thanks for being my chair,” you said to Phil as you slid off of him. He let out a groan, stretching out his legs. 

“Don’t say I never make sacrifices for you.” You extended your hand to help him up. You pulled him aggressively and he caught himself by grabbing your hips. The reaction was natural. He was so close and he smelled like a bonfire.

“Those steaks were fire boss,” someone said. He let go of you to mingle. 

“It was nice to see you again,” Robbie called towards you. 

“You too. Y’all are welcome anytime. Well, not anytime. Call first.” A gentle, tired chuckle. You walked people to the front door. 

Before you knew it, the house was empty again. Save for Phil, of course. When the last Shadow left you shut the door behind him with triumph, locking it and then turning on the security system beside the door. 

You shuffled out back. Phil was picking up beer cans. 

“I’m exhausted,” he said with a light laugh. 

“Me too,” you admitted. You had gotten tired a half hour ago. “It was nice to see and meet everyone though. I’m glad you’ve got so many good guys looking after you.” You lazily approached him. He tossed the beer cans in the recycle bin and wrapped his arms around you happily. His cowboy hat had returned to his head. 

“They’re good men.” 

“I know,” you hummed. You cupped his face. It was torment being around him so long and not being able to kiss him silly. You took the opportunity now, slipping your lips onto his. He responded sleepily, kissing you like it was breathing. 

“I love you,” he muttered against your lips. 

“I love you too Phil,” you whispered. “We can clean this up tomorrow. I’ve gotta crash soon or else I’ll fall into the fire embers.” He held your hip tighter.

“Not on my watch.”

“I know. Never on your watch.” You made an effort to leave his grip but it just tightened. 

“I like hanging out with them,” he started. His voice was far away. The fatigue had gotten to him which made his words loopier. Could also have been the alcohol. “But I don’t like the way some of em look at you.” 

“They’re all nice to me,” you said, titling your head in confusion. You hadn’t gotten weird vibes all night. 

“Sometimes I catch em staring too long. I don’t like it.” You hummed in response. “Gouge their eyes out then.” 

“For you? Anything.” He kissed you again. You brushed his hair back out of his face. 

“It’s bed time for you baby.” He nodded once. 

“Love you.” 

“Love you too. C’mon.” You looped your arm around his as you started to walk inside.

“That cowboy thing is a rule you know. They weren’t fuckin with you.” 

“I’ll make it up to you when we’re not exhausted.” 

“Promise?”

“Promise.” His low hum sealed the deal. You took the hat off his head as you walked into the bedroom, tossing it onto the dresser. Even as you went to get clothes to sleep in, his hands remained on you. You traced his veins with your thumb. This is what being content feels like, you thought. This. 

[certifiedfreec]

i feel like there would be some subtle signs that ghost took an interest in you…

- one time you were showing him something on the computer, and he took that massive 6’4” body of his and leaned it right over your shoulder to read the screen. as if that wasn’t close enough, he rested one of his big ‘ol calloused hands on the desk beside you, effectively caging you into your seat. you could practically feel the warmth that radiated off of him when he did that. (he really likes the smell of your shampoo, by the way.)

- he watched you make your coffee one morning, memorizing your order down to the number of sugar packets you used. after that, you’d head down to make your morning cup and all the exact ingredients would mysteriously be laid out on the counter for you. he’d pick on you later about drinking coffee instead of tea, though. maybe he’ll make you a cup for you to try- back in his own office, of course ;)

- everyone in tf141 knows you’re a perfectly capable soldier, so they think it’s odd that ghost always finds ways to provide extra backup for you during missions. guarding you from danger, making sure your area is clear of threats…he can’t help but want to protect and take care of his fellow teammate, though he has a list of other ways he’d like to take care of you :’)

i feel like there would be some subtle signs that keegan took an interest in you…

- he saw your phone screen after training one day, immediately zeroing in on the artist you were listening to. later that evening he casually brings up the exact same band/person, because he’s coincidentally one of their biggest fans! maybe he’ll ask you to go to one of their shows when you’re off duty… looks like you’ve found yourself a concert buddy ;)

- he bullies you, but it’s with the best intentions. it’s more like him relentlessly nagging at you until you match his snarky energy and give him some sass back, which he loves to provoke from you. you always have the best comebacks when he uses his dry humor on you, and he thinks it’s adorable. he definitely likes to push your buttons, but he’d like to undo them even more <3

- ever since he revealed your “shared love” for your favorite artist, he sends you music recommendations for you to listen to (that will hopefully make you think of him whenever you hear them!). pay attention to the lyrics, because he might be trying to tell you something with them… :))

i feel like there would be some subtle signs that graves took an interest in you…

- if you have any snacks or candy on you, he’s nonchalantly stepping right beside you and doing that “underhand-behind-the-back” gesture for you to shake some into his palm. (sometimes he imagines that’s what your lips taste like- omg who said that???)

- he let you wear his jacket during an operation where you were in the freezing cold outside for an extensive amount of time. he watched you shiver through your orders, trying your best to be a good soldier for him :( he walked up to you and draped his shadow company jacket over your shoulders (which smelled deliciously like him) and flashed you that toothy grin. “you look like you’re ‘bout to get frostbite, soldier. take this.” (he was definitely thinking of some other ways that he could warm you up…)

- he took his time when he read through your file, and wow, it looks like your city’s professional football team rivals his. it’s the perfect way to initiate banter with you. he’ll be giving you a hard time about it for sure, and maybe he’ll make some interesting bets with you depending on how well the season’s going ;)