#cw: graves

[eowynstwin]

Okay, first of all hello! I hope you are having a great day.

Secondly, remember how you said that Price and Alejandro are the only MW2 guys that could be sugar daddies?

I’d like to add two more, Graves and Valeria. Graves is the CEO of a private military company, I bet you that man is loaded. I’d say more about my love for him, but I know that In the Fandom you kinda either love him or hate him, and idk where you fall 😭

Then Valeria, the leader of the mexican cartel, WE SAW that fucking house. Only stipulation would be time and danger. And honestly, my goal in life is to be a pretty and loved thing on her arm. I’d let her do whatever she wants with me 👀

Don’t even sweat it, we love Commander Phillip “Failgirlie” Graves here. (Also did you draw that?? That’s so funny ahhdhwufudhdh)

I did address Graves in the comments of that post, but I agree, Graves would definitely like to be a sugar daddy. I’m of the opinion however that he probably isn’t drawn to people who want to be sugar babies—he just finds people with his same ambition and drive more attractive. Naturally, those people would object to being taken care of, so Graves’ sugar daddy dreams can’t really be realized. He can, however, get away with being very very generous at Christmas and birthdays.

And VALERIA. I can’t believe I forgot her, she would absolutely be a sugar daddy (yes, daddy). Taking care of her little wifey (gn), making sure they were spoiled rotten with everything they could ever want? Valeria to a T.

You’ll always get to have your hair done, nails done, staff to clean your house, people to cook your food, a massive closet full of Gucci, Balmain, Valentino. You want to vacation in Corfu, cariño? She’s already got the jet spinning up. Wanna see the northern lights this weekend? The entire hotel will be rented out, it’ll just be you and her (and some security she will make sure you never have to see). It snows diamonds at Christmas and rains your birthstone on birthdays. You only drive the safest, nicest cars on the market, if you even drive at all. Your name is at the top of every VIP list, anywhere you want to go.

Honestly out of any of the mw2 cast Valeria is really peak sugar daddy. She wants a pretty little thing at her side that knows nothing but comfort, love, safety, and ease.

[one-time-i-dreamt]

Thousands of naked women were dancing upon my grave, there was a deafening howling, and the more they stumped upon the mucky ground, blood began oozing from their feet covering the soil resembling the barrel of grapes, the women having bronze, silver, and gold vases dipping into soil that now look like red wine.

[themaybug]

mortality

[j0celynh0rr0r]

Bloody tears

[jenanigans1207]

The cw: bury your gays

Misha Collins, with a shovel and something entirely unhinged to say: not *my* gays

[lxvvie]

On today's episode of Simps-R-Us: A Drunken Mind Speaks Sober Thoughts, or how your faves show their love after a night out.

cw: alcohol/alcohol consumption.

Capt. John Price - Will gently hold the sides of your face, bring your foreheads together, and peer into your eyes with his own hazy ones. Price tells you how happy you've made an old man like him, that he loves you, and that YOU and only YOU can wear his hat. Solidifies this by actually putting his hat on your head, scooping you up in his arms, and holding you close. And yes, you'll be sleeping like this with your face smothered in his chesticles.

Gaz - Walks into your shared place pretty much blabbering about how you just... "get him". You get his choices in horror films, you get his thinking process, you get his love language (pranking), you just GET HIM. And he doesn't want anyone else to get him and he'll fall out of another helicopter again before he lets someone else get him. ...How did he wind up under the living room table, though?

Alex Keller - The one who's leaning against the bedroom doorway just looking all dreamily and shit at you with his hair all kinds of messed up. Keller is practically crooning 'Boss' at you so you can look at him and he can blow you a kiss. Alex, please get the fuck in bed. He chuckles and shakes his head no 'cause he's too busy enjoying the view and doesn't wanna miss a thing. KELLER, PLEASE—

Soap - (Based on this ask. Thanks for the inspiration, @cas-backwards-tie!) Soap loves you SOOOO much, so, so, so much, goddamnit, that he learned to say it. He learned the say the thing. Yeah... he didn't. It didn't even sound remotely like the thing but you can't tell him shit. Now give him a kiss for being a good boy. His kiss was nowhere near your lips, either. That'll do, Soap. That'll do.

Ghost - Is the clingiest koala bear on the fucking planet and it's adorable. How clingy, might you ask? Well, his arms are wrapped around you, he has your head tucked under his chin, and he's intertwined his legs with yours. You feel the throaty rumble of "Love you" from Simon's chest and it lulls you to sleep. And then you realize he still has his clothes on. Try to move and see how he tightens his grip ever so slightly. You chuckle and let him know he has to undress and to that, you hear and feel the soft grumble of his "Noooooo...." because don't go. Not when he just got you. This shit is one for the storybooks, though. Simon fucking Riley... WHINING?!

Alejandro - His hair is also mussed. Isn't as stern-looking. Actually has the goofiest, boyish grin on his face. Alejandro pretty much strokes your cheek and tells you verbatim that you make him a better man. Then he proceeds to cover your face in kisses, all while relishing in your giggles.

Rudy - The one who tripped over his own two feet trying to get to you, also missed the mark when trying to kiss you, and fell off the bed. Also falls asleep mid-sentence when trying to tell you he loves you.

König - You actually woke up to hearing König profess his love. Has a tendency to really enunciate Schatz in a somewhat singsong voice. Sings a lullaby in his native German. He tells you he loves you, and over and over again he confesses his love. Then you look up and see him actually cuddling the pillow tightly. Oh. Okay. How cute. You just sit and watch the entire thing. You know like hell König will be mortified when you tell him this story.

Horangi - He'd already come home and settled down for the night. Then, as if he had an epiphany, Horangi sat up from his side of the bed, got all up in your face, and told you how he'd go through hell as a gambler over and over again just to be with you over and over and OVER again. That's so sweet, Horangi, now back to bed you go.

Graves - The one who'll serenade you (Graves can sing?), call out for his Darlin' repeatedly, burp, and tell you he loves you all while in the bathroom taking the longest piss known to man. Good to know, Graves.

Valeria - Actually came home a little pissed because some stupid fuck thought he could talk about how attractive he found you in front of her. Hopefully the broken jaw sent a clear message because she couldn't be bothered to do anything else. She ends her story with a "You're mine!" and plants a big, fat one on your lips. Oh, Valeria.

Roach - He's the one blowing your phone up with text messages and emojis showing his love. Then he reveals that he got lost and could you please come find him? Except he's already in the house. You find him in the dark, grinning like an idiot at the messages he sent you on his phone, and he's so happy that you found him!

Keegan - Is the one staring into your soul after he kissed your forehead so sweetly. You okay, Keegan? "Yes. No. ...Maybe? Baby, jus' let me love you."

[bunnys-kisses]

the father who stepped up

cw: age gap, step-cest, dub-con, forced impregnation, breeding, daddy kink, degradation, graves sucks as a step-father, dead dove-don't eat

well, weren't you just a beauty? graves could understand why he simply couldn't control himself around you. it was an obsession. that was why he hated when you left for the new school year. summer was coming to an end, which meant he didn't see you for many weeks while you were out of town for school. it honestly broke his heart.

he didn't hate your mother, after all he did marry her. but he wanted a newer model. and that was where you came in. at home for the summer. it started out slow, when your mother was out of the house he'd put kisses all over you. then he groped your breasts and ass. until finally you crumbled into him.

then the true fun began. almost every night in your childhood bedroom he rammed his hard cock into you. he watched your breasts bounce with the force of his fucking. he often had to put a hand over your mouth to keep from being too loud.

you weren't even in your mid-twenties and he was having thoughts about leaving your mother and marrying you. he hoped by that point you had a sweet little belly. a sign that he was the only man who ever got to seed you. the thoughts raced in his mind often, even when he wasn't fucking you into the double mattress.

he hated that you had to leave soon, but if anything it made him want to get you pregnant faster. his voice was a low purr in your ear as he said, "you like that, sugar? you like when daddy fucks you nice and good?" then gave you a hard slap on the ass. the house was empty expect for the two of you.

he currently had you on your elbows and knees with your face buried in the pillow and your ass in the air. your tight heat was constricting his cock while made him feel hot all over. he got rougher when he was drinking, the drive to impregnate his step-daughter only became more intense after a few drinks in him.

and after all, you two were home alone so he could finish in you as many times as he wanted or needed. you were on cloud nine with the feeling of his cock stretching your more intimate area in a position that left you vulnerable to pregnancy.

"yeah, daddy wants a full house. and you got a lot of time left to give me all the kids i want. leave school and be my bride, sweetheart." he purred.

you whimpered, "I can't, it's my last year." you wiggled a little but it only enticed him more. you moaned into the covers and arched your back further as he got more aggressive with his thrusts.

he yanked your hair and pulled your head up, he leaned forward to your ear and said, "see, that's the problem. you don't get a say. you're mine, and nothing is going to stop me from breeding that sweet little cunt of yours." he said matter of factly.

you gripped onto the covers and felt butterflies in your stomach. the bed creaked with each of his movements and his heavy breathing was hot in your ear.

he chuckled and gripped your strands closer to the scalp, "you're mine, and once biology works its magic and you end up saddled with a few of my kids you'll see it my way. this is better for you than any degree." he then pushed your head back into the pillow and kept you there by your neck as he continued to ram his cock into you.

it felt like heaven, like the sweetest euphoria he could ever have. he never had it when he fucked your mother. only your sweet pussy left him yearning for more. he knew he'd still want it, even after a little wear and tear from having his big babies.

he continued to thrust in and out of you. he held you down and had his way with you. he was glad you were slowly seeing the picture. he let go of your neck, assured you were going to stay down and his hand trailed along your stomach.

he got aroused further by the idea of you being the most perfect wife for him. he'd cut up your credit card, burn all your shoes and keep that belly nice and full. you only had to rely on him. he was a traditional man and he'd take care of what was his. most times he would consider himself a gentleman, but it was hard to argue for it when he has your back arched and your pussy full. his cock bullied your cervix.

you whimpered and moaned, you clawed at the bed as it hit against the wall. such a sweet symphony. graves' cock twitched inside of you at the idea of you wearing his shirts to cover your swollen middle.

in all fairness you could be nude in your shared home, no one would see you. there wouldn't be a neighbor for miles. whatever his little wife felt comfortable in.

with a few more hard thrusts he finished inside of you, then laid his chest against your back, smothering you. he reached for your pussy and played with your clit as your hole contracted around his still hard cock.

you flailed and tried to move away but he kept you pinned down as he placed with your nub. eventually orgasm crashed down on you like rain and your felt a moan be pulled from your mouth before you felt the energy leave you.

you laid on the bed, soft and limp. but graves wasn't done. your mother would be home in an hour, he thought he could get at least two more orgasms in before he felt content with his breeding.

he slapped your ass once more and growled in your ear, "look alive, sugar, i ain't done with you."

-

you came back that winter break with a slight slope in your belly. all graves could do was smile by the rim of his scotch glass. he could feel the twitch in his pants, especially when your hand went to the bump. he knew, no words needed to be spoken.

he had planted his seed in his step-daughter, and soon he'll suggest that you take some time off school to raise that little baby. after all his brats weren't going to be raised without a mother.

xoxo, bunny

[djpachipikachu]

cw blood and violence but i postef this everywhere else so my tumblr pooks u guys get it too hashtag needed 2 remind myself of the enemies in enemies to lovers

might clean and edit this later to be a proper comic but shrugs fuckin assholes over here

[the-grave-of-andrew]

A little comic/animatic thing I made based on one of my favorite songs right now, Clean by Noah Floersch.

I dont know if this video will works, but i put the comic to the music for easier viewing.

[eowynstwin]

Would they play D&D?

Most people would be surprised to find out that Captain Price is a forever DM if they didn’t know him. But he’s been playing since 3.5E, and while he doesn’t have much opportunity to play anymore, it wouldn’t be hard to convince him to sit down for a session if he had the time. He’d usually choose to play pre-written modules, but tweak them as he’d see fit. He misses it a lot. However, he will never—repeat for emphasis, NEVER—DM a game for the 141 ever again.

Laswell played with Price a couple times before the job took over both their lives. And actually, Laswell and her wife both played, mostly because the Mrs. batted her eyelashes and convinced Kate to try it out. Their minis, a half-elf ranger and a gnome druid, still sit on a shelf at home cuddling romantically. Laswell knows why Price won’t DM for the 141 from his own firsthand account, but was not there for the catastrophe.

The first time Alejandro played, it was because Rudy made a bet with him about something unrelated and won. Rudy used to play as a kid with some other children from his neighborhood, and he liked DMing partly for the power and partly because he’s always been a cinnamon roll who likes to make sure everyone has fun. Alejo meanwhile played a human fighter, because Rudy told him it was the easiest to play. Alejo fell in love instantly with the game, but none of Los Vaqueros ever have time.

Graves played a TON of D&D in high school but quit cold turkey right before enlisting. He is horribly embarrassed by it and will deny even knowing his old campaign buddies. Phil thinks that Real and True and Good soldiers don’t do cringe shit like that, because they’re doing the COOL shit in real life. He’s been meaning to throw away those dice for years, and keeps telling himself he could probably make ok money if he just sold them instead. He played a human paladin all the way up to level 20.

He likes D&D a lot, but Gaz actually prefers Blades in the Dark or Monster of the Week. He has a lot of opinions about the virtues of d6 gaming systems over what he thinks is an overly-complex ruleset that involves dice with so many goddamn sides, and really, D&D doesn’t support as large a variety of playing styles and—hey, where are you going?? Anyway, he likes to play tieflings, and vacillates between bard and sorcerer. (Also he secretly and desperately wants to play Honey Heist with the 141. Ever since That Fateful Night, he knows it will never happen. It continues to disappoint him.)

Ghost has played once. Only once. Soap convinced him, and by convinced I mean he annoyed Ghost about it into submission. And Ghost wants to play again, actually, but he will literally jump off a cliff before admitting it, because it was That Fateful Night when Price ran the session for 141 which would go down in history as the worst time Price has ever had including active combat. Ghost played a half-orc barbarian, and secretly read through the entire PHB the week leading up to the session.

And finally, and perhaps not surprisingly, Soap is the reason Price will never DM for the task force ever again. Soap is a rule of cool kind of man, plays dwarf and halfling barbarians almost exclusively, and is practically allergic to the PHB, which is ironic because he’s so FUCKING good at minmaxing. This clashes with Price’s very rules-lawyery DMing style, and Soap doesn’t know how to not pick a fight over dumb rules like having to roll survival checks when he wants to know what time it is in-game.

Soap was not, it should be said, actually trying to come to blows with Price—taking the piss out of people is a Scottish love language—but Price had been tired. Price had been on his last cigar. And Price already spent too much goddamn time with these men. The fourth time Soap declared that he wanted to do some especially dumb bullshit that he would absolutely need to make a cascade of d20 rolls for, Price just folded up his makeshift DM screen (a couple of manila folders) and hit the fucking bricks. No one brings up That Fateful Night, but no one will ever forget it.

Bonus: Valeria would shove any D&D player she ever met into a locker. And honestly, they should thank her for it.

[analligatorr]

"no skin?"

"no skin."

I sorta tweeted two days ago something that said if Graves didn't get a skin in this last patch i would draw him naked, and that's what i did.

[m-chromatic]

the integrity soul incident

[j0celynh0rr0r]

Did ya miss me?

[libingan]

— temptations.

warnings: non-penetrative say gex, internalized homophobia, religious guilt and stuff, angst

a/n: im suck ASS at writing angst, but ive had this thought in my head for DAYS now so i decided to finally write it!!! thinking of adding a part two, but that depends on how many of yall will eat this shit up LMAO

pls forgive me if its bad im dogshit and writing but like non of my irls are interested in this shit HAHSWHSA i mean, we play call of duty mobile, but thats it, they dont care much abr the lore

commander phillip graves was a man of iron discipline and unyielding principles. he thrived on control, finding solace in the regimented life of the military. his stern demeanor and sharp gaze commanded respect and fear in equal measure. he was a man who believed in strength, in the rigidity of rules, in the necessity of keeping emotions tightly leashed. vulnerability was a weakness he could not afford, and he had built his entire life on that foundation. his devout upbringing and the stern teachings of his father had instilled in him a strict moral code, one that left no room for deviation or indulgence in forbidden desires.

yet, beneath the steel exterior, a single, forbidden desire gnawed at the edges of his sanity: his feelings for one of his soldiers.

you.

every time he saw you, his pulse quickened, his breath caught. self-loathing twisted in his gut. how could he, a man of iron principles, be so weak? love was a dangerous distraction, and love between men was an unspoken abomination. the teachings of his faith haunted him, whispers of sin and eternal damnation echoing in his mind. his father's voice, a specter of disdain and disappointment, reverberated alongside: "men like that are disgraceful." graves had built his life on those beliefs, constructing walls around his heart to keep out anything that might expose his vulnerabilities.

but you shattered those walls effortlessly. your strength, your determination, your unwavering loyalty—it was everything he admired in a soldier, everything he could never accept in himself. graves clenched his fists until his knuckles were white, willing himself to get a grip. he could not afford to lose control.

yet when you came to him that night, seeking guidance, seeking solace, something inside him snapped. the iron walls he had built around his heart crumbled, and in a moment of devastating weakness, he let himself feel.

you stood there, looking up at him with those eyes that had haunted his dreams. he couldn't resist any longer. with a trembling hand, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. the warmth of your skin sent a shiver down his spine. before he could stop himself, he pulled you close, his lips crashing into yours with a desperation that bordered on madness.

he poured all his suppressed emotions into that kiss, every ounce of his forbidden longing, his guilt, his shame. his hands roamed over your back, pulling you tighter against him, needing to feel your warmth, to drown out the voices of condemnation in his head. the room seemed to spin around him, the world narrowing down to the intoxicating sensation of your lips against his.

“sir,” you gasped against his lips, “can’t… not with... the door... open.”

a feral growl rumbled in phillip’s chest. he broke the kiss momentarily, his breath hot and ragged against your face. with a fierce, almost primal urgency, he grabbed your arm and pulled you inside his quarters. the door slammed shut behind you, the finality of the action echoing in the quiet room.

he guided you swiftly to his bed, his grip insistent and firm. as he pushed you down onto the mattress, his eyes burned with a conflicted mixture of desire and frustration. the room was charged with a palpable tension, every movement driven by a need to assert control and escape his inner turmoil.

after slamming the door shut and pushing you onto the bed, phillip’s voice was rough, almost breaking with the intensity of his struggle. “i need you so damn bad,” he growled, his eyes dark with a mixture of desire and torment. “but if anyone knew… if they found out, i’d be sent straight to hell.”

as he looked down at you, his breath catching at the sight of you beneath him—eyes wide and lips slightly parted—the thoughts of damnation and guilt evaporated. the sight of you in such a vulnerable state ignited an overwhelming, burning need within him. he couldn’t think of anything else but the urgent, consuming desire to be with you.

“fucking damnit,” he curses, hands sliding down your body until they reach your hips. phillip’s gaze darkened with desire, wrapping your legs around his waist, crotch pressed up against your own. a low hiss escapes him at the contact and he shoves his head into the crook of your neck to hide his pleasured expression, inhaling your masculine scent.

he tried desperately to imagine that he was touching a woman, hoping it might help him regain control. but as the thought lingered, he found it completely unarousing. the fantasy fell flat, failing to spark any desire. the only thing that stirred his pulse was the undeniable reality of you beneath him, your warmth and vulnerability making every shred of restraint and control dissolve into nothingness.

slowly, phillip began to rock his hips against yours, his movements deliberate and measured. he could feel the tension in your body, the way you responded to each shift. he savored the needy, high-pitched whine that escaped your lips, a sound that drove him wild with desire. the rhythmic motion between you became a shared, intoxicating dance, and with every whimper you gave, his own need only deepened. “f-feels so damn good,” he mutters through gritted teeth, soft grunts filling your ears.

phillip pulls away momentarily to make quick work of unbuttoning his and your jeans, pulling out both of your cocks from its confines. he swallows the lump that forms in his throat at the sight of your body, still fully clothed aside from your…

phillip’s gut churned with a volatile mix of disgust and arousal at the thought. his blue eyes locked with yours, a stark reminder of the gravity of your situation. he was about to call it off and throw you out, but when you wrapped your legs around him, pulling his hips down and pressing the most intimate parts of yourselves together, his mind went hazy and lost all clarity.

“oh, god…” you moan, and phillip feels a surge of conflicted anger and desire. he has half a mind to reprimand you for invoking His name in this chaotic moment. but as he feels the heat of your body pressed against his, the anger fades into a raw, uncontrollable need. his grip tightens, and he’s consumed by the relentless desire to be closer, to lose himself completely in the moment.

instead, he begins thrusting, maintaining his slow and steady pace from before.

and, fuck… it feels so much better. phillip struggled to contain the noises threatening to escape him, rubbing your cocks together as if his life depended on it.

you were lost in the moment, every sensation magnified and overwhelming. the way phillip moved against you sent waves of pleasure through your body, each thrust and press igniting a deep, euphoric ache. you moaned softly, your senses completely absorbed by the intense heat and friction between you. each touch, each shift brought you closer to the edge, your body arching and shifting in response to the overwhelming pleasure. you couldn’t help but surrender completely to the feeling, your mind blanking out as you rode the exhilarating tide of desire.

“i-i’m—i’m close…” you whisper, hands clawing at phillip’s back, clutching tightly at the fabric of his shirt. he only grunts in response, hips stuttering as he feels his own orgasm bubbling within.

phillip keeps his head buried against your shoulder, unable to bring himself to look at you. the shame of indulging in such debauchery is overwhelming enough, and the thought of seeing you reveling in the pleasure only deepens his guilt. he’s desperate to avoid the sight of your enjoyment, fearing that it will amplify his already unbearable self-loathing. his focus remains fixed on the intense sensations, trying to block out the reality of what’s happening and the torment of his own conscience.

despite his inner conflict, he could not help overwhelming tide of pleasure surging through him. he could sense the moment building, an intense and uncontrollable wave of sensation. as the pleasure reached its peak, his grip tightened, and he released a ragged breath against your shoulder, the crescendo of his desire manifesting in a shuddering release. the experience was both consuming and disorienting, leaving him breathless and momentarily lost in the overwhelming intensity. your body responded instinctively, arching and trembling as you reached the peak of your desire. the intensity of the moment left you breathless, your cries mingling with the rhythm of phillip’s movements.

afterward, he lay there, staring at the ceiling, a storm raging in his mind. what had he done? what kind of man had he become? he had betrayed his principles, his honor, everything he stood for. he turned to look at you, your face peaceful in the dim light, and fury surged through him—not at you, but at himself. how could he have allowed this to happen?

“get out,” he said, his voice trembling with barely restrained anger.

you stirred, confusion clouding your features. “sir?”

“i said get out,” he repeated, his tone as cold as a winter’s morning. “this was a mistake, and it won’t happen again. and if you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone, you’ll be wishin’ you hadn’t.”

you stood, pain flashing in your eyes, but you didn't argue. you knew better than to challenge him when he was like this. you gathered your things and left, the door closing softly behind you.

you quickly fixed yourself up, the weight of his words heavy in the air. with one last, pained glance at him, you turned and left the room, the door closing softly behind you.

phillip sank onto the edge of the bed, his face buried in his hands. the room felt oppressively quiet, every corner echoing with the aftermath of what had just happened. the intensity of his emotions left him numb, and he struggled to reconcile the fierce desire he’d felt with the crushing guilt that now consumed him. he stared at the floor, haunted by the memory of your face, his faith, and his father’s voice insulting him for the man he grew up to be.

after a long, agonizing moment, he shakily reached for the small wooden table beside his bed. with trembling hands, he picked up an old, worn Bible and a rosary that lay beside it. clutching them tightly, he buried his face in the pages of the Bible, his lips moving silently in desperate, fervent prayer. the rosary dangled from his fingers as he sought solace, trying to find some measure of peace and forgiveness amidst the chaos of his own making.

[cod-dump]

Graves: Did I ever tell you about the time my mom shot my dad dead when I was 12, and the arresting officer sat me down for a little talk?

Price: Is that where you learned to stick your nose in other people's business?

Graves: Probably. Anyway--

[bunnys-kisses]

hiii!!! can I get carrot cake + pastry braid + peach cake with any COD character?? x

🩷🩷

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! there are all kinds of things and hopefully you find something you like! i accept prompts outside of call of duty, so please! submit something! comments & reblogs are also appreciated!! as for this anon, thank you for the prompt! and thank you for letting me choose which character, that's always fun for me! i hope you enjoy!!

carrot cake ("swallow it. all of it.") + pastry braid ("your job is to make me cum. now get to work.") + peach cake ("if you spill a drop, we start all over.") served by commander phillip graves (call of duty)!

cw: smut/pwp, dark-ish fic, manipulative!graves, power imbalance, uprotected sex, office sex, clothed man/naked woman, smoking

it didn't hit you till later while at home with your newborn, that the training that your commander phillip graves gave you was not what the rest of the prospects went through.

you were bright-eyed and bushy tailed, you were such a sweetheart. graves once watched you put your entire team before yourself in training. he watched you bruise and batter yourself for the sake of others. but those gleaming eyes of yours, how your smile lit up your face... no, no, you shouldn't be a shadow. you should be phillip graves' wife.

"i don't know what to say, darlin'. you're just not good enough yet." graves sighed as he leaned back in his chair and grabbed a cigarette from his shirt pocket. he got the lighter from out of his pocket as well and lit up the smoke. as he exhaled smoke he said, "deadlines are soon, i want to make sure you're the best of the bed." his tone was almost scolding and it made you frown.

"i'm sorry, sir." you mumbled, your shoulders were hunched as you accepted his sharp words. you frowned a little and tried to make yourself smaller.

"it's alright, beautiful." he said, softening his words with a compliment, "why don't you get undressed for me and let me see what can be done tonight." he shifted in his seat a little, spreading his legs further. you could see the bulge in his slacks, " remember. your job is to make me cum. now get to work."

you got out of your fatigues that you had been in most of the day, you could feel graves' heated gaze on you as everything came off. including what you wore underneath. it was then folded neatly and put on the desk. you were stripped bare for him.

he took another drag on his smoke. and smiled at you, "pretty as always." he leaned forward for a moment to get a closer look, "is that a new mole on your hip. let me see."

you stepped forward and he put a calloused hand on your hip. feeling the bit of fat on them. it was enticing. he never understood men who wanted their women stick thin. wasn't the most enticing part of a steak the bit of fat that came with it. he ran his thumb across the mole on your hip. you quivered a little, "i think it's always been there, sir."

"probably." he said as he put the smoke in his mouth, the end of it glowed a little as he inhales the rough smoke. even if that wasn't a new mole, your stomach would soon be lined with stretch marks. he leaned back and gazed at you, around the smoke he said, "sit." then patted his lap.

he put the cigarette out on your collarbone with one last exhale of smoke right in your face. his words were low, "swallow it. all of it." in reference to the smoke in your face. he watched your squirm and it only aroused him further. pretty little titties, pretty little cunt. you were a siren, a tease for him. you shouldn't be running around base trying to win a position as one of graves' shadows. pretty things should be kept a home.

he put the cigarette into the ashtray before he moved you to get his cock out of his slacks, "do you remember how to do this?" as if he wasn't deep inside of you less than twenty-four hours earlier. he watched you nod before he leaned back into his leather desk chair once more.

you straddled his waist, a bit of a weird angle given the size of the expensive office chair. you could feel graves' cock up against you and with a little help, you sank onto his length as he trained you. you could feel his nestled in your gut, and it made you warm all over.

he put a rough hand over your mouth to keep you quiet with his other on your hip. his hand smelled like cigarettes as you closed your eyes a little bit and started to move your hips. rolling them up and down his cock.

"pretty thing. i think all of this training will do you well. you're learning so much." he chuckled a little, hearing your muffled whimpers as you struggle to take his entire length. you felt full. he continued, "it's about behaving, that's what makes a good shadow. to listen to your commander and be good."

you clutched onto his shoulder with one hand and his wrist with the other. you pressed his hard further onto your mouth. you felt all the rough patches, the dried skin and the callouses. all the build up from years of combat. your hole fluttered around his length and he loved it. you fit with him perfectly.

he had trained you. but you weren't primed for combat. you were primed to be sent back to america with the graves' last name and a sleepy little baby. once again, pretty things belong at home. he'd be an idiot to let you out on the battlefield. you didn't need guns or gear. you needed a nice big home and full womb. motherhood is a battle you are more suited for.

you whimpered as you continued to ride him. feeling close to your future commander, letting him nudge against such soft areas. your stomach twisted at the intensity of it all. you were soaked and vulnerable. you were twisted up in between graves' fingers. you were an angel to him. soft in all the right places, perfect for graves to sink his teeth into.

he can already smell the cooking dinner, the drawings on the fridge and the home you'd share. the swell in your middle, the soft kisses when he came home followed by the alone time you'd have after the kids were put to bed. that dream was only possible if you got pregnant.

his voice was in your head, clouding it with a sexual want, "if you spill a drop out of that sweet pussy, we start all over. shadows can survive on little to no sleep, hun. so i can keep you up all night." one his swimmers just had to reach the finish line and you'd be leaving the services. no more dreams of being a shadow when your middle pokes out. can't be stealthy with a baby at your hip.

it was depraved, you should feel filthy for letting yourself get stuffed full of his seed. unprotected too. silly girl. no one that dumb should ever dream about become as elite as a shadow. you were too soft.

"graves." you whined.

"shh. shh. keep moving." he said lowly. everything about him swirled in your head. polluting any sense of reason.

you weren't even too sure if you came at any point. it didn't hit like a train but rather a leak in your skull. everything felt hazy and hastily pieced together. your face was flushed and your wetness had dripped down graves' balls. graves was very well aware, that without you knowing he had managed to already fill you once. he tried nott o show it across his face, but he was fucking a second load into you.

but the over-stimulation from the first time made it easy from him to cum again. it was like he was a live wire ready to spark. and your moans were muffled but still so erotic. graves picked a good one.

when he came again, he watched your expression as he dumped inside of you once more. making sure to stay in you for a moment so his seed had nowhere else to go. and in all fairness that's where it belonged.

"sir." you said meekly.

"i know." he replied as you slowed down. he watched you unfocused gaze, the rush of it all was just too much for you. now how were you going to be a shadow if you got overwhelmed like this? his hand grazed your stomach and his cock twitched inside of you, giving one last spurt of cum.

he then lazily kissed you. he tasted of smoke. it clogged your head further and made you core throb. his voice was in your ear, "no be good for me and take everything i've given you." and before you knew it, you were placed over the wooden desk, trying your best not to let any cum leak out while graves slid into you once more.

if your womb was going to be stubborn about giving him a baby, then he'd simple have to flood it, giving it no choice.

now, you had a newborn son tucked into your arm while you made sure that he was back asleep. your tummy was still soft from carrying him for nine months. the ring on your finger caught well in the low light of the nursery. you lived in a nice house outside of autsin, texas and cooked meals for your husband. you were mrs. graves, a far cry from the shadow you attempted to be.