#phillip graves fanfic

[certifiedfreec]

i can’t stop thinking about neighbor!graves… pt. 2 🤔

thank goodness for the nextdoor app! (pt. 1)

saw this pic on pinterest and thought…yeah…that’s our man <3

🏡 you and your cuddly cat theo are finally settled into your new house! it was a much-needed change to the mundane routine, and the place is adorable. you ultimately picked this one because of its large windows- perfect for theo to sit in the sun and watch what was happening outside. it also has hardwood floor- no more cat clawing at the carpet. hooray! you thought that your sweet kitty was handling the move well, but you notice that he’s hiding under furniture more often. all the articles online said it could take time for cats to adjust to a new place, so you chalk it up to that.

🏡 one afternoon you drag your first big grocery store haul into the house, calling out for your precious theo as you close the door, but he doesn’t show. hm. he normally scampers right up to you when you’re home. you reason that he’s still hiding somewhere, so you go ahead and get started on dinner. after still no sign of him hours later that night, you resolve to checking every corner of the house, and he’s nowhere to be found!! a panic rushes through as you hurry to turn on all your house lights out front and scope your yard real quick, unable to find him in any shrubs or plants. fully planning on walking the entirety of your neighborhood and knocking on every door to make a search party, you suddenly have an idea: maybe there’s a neighborhood app i can post his picture on.

🏡 you immediately do just that, finding the nextdoor app and punching in your information. you post a picture of theo- your favorite one where he’s cuddling with his beloved bird toy- and write a brief caption saying you’re new to the area and that you’d be more than happy to give cash to whoever finds him. within minutes, you’re receiving all kinds of good luck messages and “nope, haven’t seen him”s, and they all make your stomach swirl. damn cat. he’s probably living it up while you’re sitting there terrified for his wellbeing. as you’re waiting beside your phone and watching all the messages roll in, you’re fully prepared to stay up all night and start driving the streets, until a few minutes later a new private message bubbles up onto the screen.

🏡 it’s a picture of a man, pretty fit-looking from the few features you can see, and he’s holding a cat that scarily resembles theo. do you dare feel relieved? you read the comment underneath the photo. “is this him? little guy followed me home on my jog. let me know!” you’re about to cry tears of joy as you zoom in on the picture, pinpointing the unique stripes around theo’s eyes. that was in fact your little guy. you answer in a blur, “yes, that’s him! thank you so much! can i come get him?” the man, whose nextdoor display name is “phillip g.,” answers you in seconds. “i’ll bring him over. what’s your house number?” you send it to him, and he tells you he’s actually a handful of houses down from you. you allow yourself to feel relieved as you wait those dastardly two minutes, nearly jumping when you hear a firm knock at your door.

🏡 you open the door, and you find theo cuddled up to what can only be described as pure handsomeness. look what the cat dragged in- literally. “phillip g.” has dirty blond hair and tan skin, with pale blue eyes and a rugged scar that rests on his sharp cheekbone. he’s got a perfect straight nose and the slightest blond stubble, and he’s wearing a pair of black sweats and a dark grey tee that cling temptingly to him. “there you are,” you finally say, not entirely sure if you’re directing it toward him or your cat (where has this beauty been all your life??). part of you honestly can’t blame theo for following this guy- yeah, he was definitely living it up while you were panicking.

🏡 “hey there,” he replies to you with the most delicious twinge of southern drawl, and you quickly step aside to give him room to come in- he’s pleasantly surprised that you’re even better-looking in person ;) “let’s get ya inside, bud.” phillip steps into your home, prompting theo to hop off and trot over to his food bowl like nothing happened, as if you weren’t just about to go DEFCON 1 for him. it makes you both snicker, and then you thank the gorgeous stranger profusely before trying to offer him some money. he only shoos it away with a “no problem, he’s a great lil’ man,” and he explains to you that theo started following him back to his house during his jog that afternoon. when he got home, he immediately climbed onto his lap. the traitor!! you’re in disbelief; he’s never cared for other people that deeply. you wonder if theo knows something you don’t- perhaps he’s a feline matchmaker? 🙏

🏡 while you two chat about the neighborhood, theo struts back over to the entry area where you are and brushes up against phillip, almost like he wants to make you look like the worst owner ever. “i promise he likes me,” you laugh, and phillip flashes you an unforgettable grin. “i guess i’ll take your word for it,” he teases, and then he adds sincerely, “i’m actually gonna miss him, y’know, he was my little amigo today.” he kneels down to scratch behind theo’s ears and god does his back look good in that shirt, and you don’t even think as you blurt out “well, feel free to visit him whenever you want.” he stands back up to his full height, smiling again. you barely miss the once-over he gives you. “i just might take ya up on that.”

🏡 you’re surprised to see that he actually does! phillip makes a point of stopping by during his jogs sometimes to check on theo (and you, obviously <3), and man oh man does he look fantastic all out of breath in his workout gear :’) he also fills you in on the drama at all the other houses- a wealth of knowledge, this guy is! turns out those jogs are a great way to collect information- he’s very strategic, it seems. theo acts like jesus christ himself has arrived at your doorstep every time he’s over, of course, bounding into his arms and purring uncontrollably. you feel ridiculous when you get a pang of jealousy toward your cat- if only you knew all the ways phillip wanted to handle you :))

🏡 it all feels so nice and neighborly with the way phillip’s checking up on you both, that southern charm working its way into all your thoughts late at night. he hits you with the occasional “sweetheart,” or “darlin’,” and it never fails to make your heart (and something else) pound. you end up exchanging numbers the next time he jogs by, and he uses it at the perfect opportunity to see if you wanna tag along on his next trip around the neighborhood. he totally doesn’t just want to see you in some tight leggings… you tell him you’re not the greatest runner, so he insists on walking instead :’) he’s such a sweetheart!

🏡 like clockwork he’s at your door a few evenings later, and you’ve changed into some comfy clothes that he immediately wants to tear off of you. theo’s incessantly demanding his phillip cuddles, snuggling into his toned arms with no intention of moving. that stunning neighbor of yours looks at you with a mischievous grin. “say, why don’t we bring ‘im along?”

🏡 it’s equal parts endearing and ridiculous, the sight of you and phillip taking turns holding the most spoiled cat in the world during your walk <3 part of you likes to think theo has decided your fate- and you’re not opposed to it at all. it’s a nice evening, and phillip ends up telling you while you’re gossiping about the other neighbors that his career in the military has always prevented him from having a pet of his own. he doesn’t reveal much about it, just that it demands long periods of time from him, and seeing theo has actually done lots for his war-hardened spirit. poor baby, there’s so many other ways you could help him relieve some of that stress :((

🏡 there’s something you say that must kinda insinuate that, because suddenly you’re rerouting to his house so he can get you both some water. might as well stay for dinner too, he’s quick to add ;) he’s just got such a big crush on you that he can hardly stand it! theo already knows the lay of the land when you go inside, and he proceeds to dart off somewhere in the spacious home while you admire phillip’s minimally rustic décor. no wonder theo escaped here, you think. phillip gets your glass ready, but before he hands it to you he puts down a fresh bowl of water specially for your precious boy next to the temporary litter box and food he must’ve picked up for him when he escaped that day :’) yeah, that’s a man right there- look how good he cares for your baby! he could take care of you like that too!! <33

🏡 neither of you really care about the water at this point, and phillip decides that this is the perfect time to show your own kitty some lovin’ ;)) there’s not much buildup needed for you to end up completely spread open on his soft bed, workout clothing shed immediately before his skillful fingers are pumping and curling in your soaking pussy, hitting that sweet spot scarily fast. you always thought he was a sweetie, but you learn that he’s got an ego on him, wanting to hear you beg to cum all over his hand :/ you’ll do anything he asks though, and you’re soon rewarded with that sweet, hot release that coats his digits :’) he makes you clean one of his fingers while he licks your slick off the other- you guys just make a great team <3

🏡 you thought his fingers stretched you? his thick cock practically splits you apart, and he’s cooing at you “doin’ so good for me, darlin,” “knew ya could take it, sweetheart,” “that’s it, baby,” as he watches you bounce along his entire length. your flushed face, your little moans, it’s the prettiest show he’s ever seen! :’)) he’s stopped making you beg to orgasm at this point since the tight circles he’s rubbing on your clit are producing so many, but he is making you tell him who’s getting you to feel this good. “tell me, darlin,’ use your words. who’s makin’ you cum so much, huh?”

🏡 it’s incredible- phillip fucks as good as he looks! he must have more stamina from all that jogging. he puts you on all fours, arching your back with his hand as he feverishly rocks his hips into yours. he loves to watch you suck all of him in-you’ve never felt this full! not much longer after he starts pounding into your tight cunt from this angle, he’s groaning your name along with a strained “fuuuuuck,” and you feel his warm release coat your insides. he’s so glad he got that second workout in!

🏡 you both hop into his unbelievably nice shower to clean up, and pretty soon you’re drifting off to sleep in his bed, whole body sore from getting taken care of so thoroughly :’) phillip holds you the whole night, but when you wake up the next morning he’s got theo in his arms, who is happily purring away. you realize that the little fucker is responsible for all of this, and maybe he’s just as strategic as his neighbor-slash-future-parent. phillip is ridiculously smug when he chuckles at you, scratching behind your sweet boy’s ears. “i hate to tell ya, darlin’, but i think theo likes me more.”

[eggtartz]

✧ 27th October ✧

Phillip Graves // Too Long (f! los vaqueros reader)

kinktober masterlist

warnings : blood, psychological torture, manipulation, the sex part is soft though 🤭

las almas was your home, a place you always fought for. when the accident with the shadow company and the fact that they took your commander, it was reasonable that you were satisfied when their commander, phillip graves was reported killed on action by rudolfo. so imagined your horror when you see him in front of you as you got tied up. you remember that day you were joking around the vaqueros as you went to your patrol alone and the next thing you remember is someone suffocating you. you snarled as you counted how many days it has been since your captive.

"come on, doll. just tell me where the rest of vaqueros is and it won't be too difficult for you" he glimmered his eyes, coaxing you like he has been doing all this time. you responded by spitting on the concrete floor "go to hell, graves" you said and he smiled in disbelief. "i warned ya, doll. hate to see a pretty face like yours broken" he grabbed a brass knuckle from a table behind him, punching your face multiple times that your mouth bleed and you coughed harshly. "giving up, doll? we can do this all night!" he waved his hand in front of you, mocking your thinning endurance. "fuck.. yourself.." you mumbled before coughing again.

"i gotta give it to you doll. you're a tough cookie are you?" he snickered, taking off the brass knuckles. "shame no one's coming for you though" he said as you looked up. you spat the blood in your mouth and spoke "what does that mean?"

graves smiled. the bait is booked and now he needs to pull his fish on the hook.

"i'm just saying, you've been here for a week right? how come not even one vaquero came here to save you, hm?" you visibly flinched at his question as your brain went haywire. when you thought about it back, no one came for you. why was that? "i guess you're not as valuable as they say you are, doll" he added again. the thought of your own team abandoning you mixed with the constant pain was taking a toll over your hazy brain. "you're lying.. they'll never leave me, they haven't found me yet, that's why you don't realize the tears running down your cheek. "oh you poor thing" graves cooed, kneeling in front of you to wipe the tears away. you sniffle, face smeared with dirt, blood and now tears.

"if they did, where are they? it's been so long, they at least have already found where you are but there's no signs, doll. where are they?" he bought his face close to your face as you weep, denying his words. "no.. it can't be., they're looking for me.. i know they are" you sniffle as his rough fingertips grazed against your cheek again. "it feels painful does it? to be left? to be abandon to die?" his words were manipulative, tricking your vulnerable state. you slowly sobbed as you nodded "I understand that feeling, doll but look where i am now. the shadows didn't left me. not like those vaqueros, leaving you to die in a torturous way, did they not?" he said again "I can't believe they'd do me like this.." you sobbed as graves comforted you, you feel exactly into his trap.

"don't cry for the people who left you" he said as he loosened the ropes binding your body. "let me take the pain away. join us, doll" his eyes bore into yours as you weakly leaned onto him, desperate for any warmth possible. he hummed, stroking your hair gently. you buried your face on his shoulders as he took off your ripped vest and the jacket underneath it. "hold me, please.. please.." you sniffle, sounding like a small insecure girl and not the soldier you trained yourself for.

graves shushed you as his hand traced your shirt and unbuttoned it. his warm hands felt comfortable to you as he undressed you easily leaving you bare and naked while he's still fully clothed. "doll? wanna do more?" he asked gently, not wanting to spook you away when you're so close to surrendering yourself. you nodded slowly, wiping your face. "yes, please" he nodded and unzipped his cargo khaki pants, his erect cock sprung out. "it's okay, i'll be careful" he whispered, rubbing the head slowly along your folds as you jolted. he shushed you again, slowly inserting his dick into your cunt while he guided your legs around his waist. "there you go. hold on tight" he said and made slow, sloppy thrusts as you whimpered. any sexual needs you had was always ignored for the sake of your training to be in las vaqueros but now, you felt free in a sense.

you moaned as your tits bounced with his rhythm as he holds you easily with his strength. "fuck, you feel good. if you weren't a soldier, i'd probably make you the barrack bunny, you'd like that wouldn't you?" your pussy clenched, imagining yourself being appreciated for once despite it meant that you'd be treated like a thing to pass on. "I do.." you shyly confessed as he fastened his thrusts. "I know damn well you want that. i know you more than anyone" he smiled as you melted, gushing over his warm length as you milked him. you shuddered as you came all over him and he grunted.

"you're precious to me. too precious.." he thrusted deep into your wet as you cried moans of pleasure and graves smiled at the view. he loves breaking down soldiers like you, mending you back and recruiting you as one of his own. "fuck!" he yelled when he busted his nut inside you as your cunt drinks it all. he pulled out and soothe your orgasm with rubbing your clit in circles, "c'mon. i'm not finished with you yet"

[icarustypicalfall]

Commander's last love

masterlist • ao3 • fic masterlist • part 4

summary: Training till draining, where tears spill and pride kills. He just wants peace.

Warnings: bad self image, self sabotage, scars, sparring, wounds.

note: i hate u tumblr for deleting the first one >:(. also if y'all want to be added to the tag list tell me :3

tags: @unicorngirly1

**

"Dis moi, est-ce-que tu m'aime? Je suis emprisonné de tes yeux, de ta douce voix. Dis moi la vérité."

Mission [A2626]

Location: [CLASSIFIED]

Time: 15:20:34 - 24/10/2022

What on earth could have prompted Shadow's esteemed company and revered member of the military to rise at such ungodly hours and become the sidekick to two young people?

Well...

After yesterday's meeting (Phillip might start following them from bed) he was certain of two things: the mission was progressing smoothly despite numerous obstacles, and he had a strong urge to push that Sky Diver out of the helicopter at the earliest opportunity. He might even consider pulling off the Gaz move in this unit.

As he sat beside you and Sky on the way back to the base (a logistical oversight), all he wanted was to return home and rest. However, you and Sky seemed to be engaged in playful banter and meaningless arguments out of nowhere. Pardon Phillip's manners, but he couldn't find his blanket and had only managed to sleep for less than five hours. He was on the verge of losing his temper with Martin.

Phillip groaned as the unusual noise grew louder. He snapped, "Is there anything the two of you are better at than opening your mouths?" It wasn't like him to be snarky or mean, as he usually preferred playful taunting. But in that moment, he couldn't deny that he felt... jealous?

Yes, absolutely.

He was also sleep-deprived and in need of a hug. Apart from that, he was perfectly fine.

He had been here for over two weeks, yet he felt as if there was now more distance between you and him than there was between his own shadows and logic.

You stared at him, your brows furrowing over your usual mask.

He wished you would feel safe around him, or at least trust him enough to reveal the hidden beauty that you chose to veil from him. You often let your guard down around your colonel and her husband, as well as some of the other soldiers. Even Sky got to see you. Why couldn't Phil?

It was like a precious pearl locked away in a chest, afraid of thieves. But he wasn't a thief; he would never dare to steal you away from your life, from where you truly belonged. The only thing he wanted to steal was your heart, but apparently, that was as difficult as cupping the surface of the moon and sealing it with a kiss.

Nevertheless, he was determined. He wouldn't give up, even if it meant getting hurt along the way. Even if it meant facing the failure of his broken heart shattering. He didn't want to creep you out; he just wanted to understand the reason for your disdain.

You interrupted, squinting your eyes with what he assumed was a smirk, "Yes, Commander, we train to ensure our joints don't start cracking at 30."

Oh, wrong move.

He glared at you, crossing his arms as he spoke with an air of confidence, as if your remark hadn't affected him at all. "No, doll, I certainly train as well. But what I've seen from the two of you is pathetic. I highly doubt you would have passed boot camp."

Push, prod, bait... anything to leave a lasting mark. A constant reminder of your rejection.

Sky chimed in, his carefree spirit making Phillip want to throw himself off the moving van. "What if you give us proper training, Commander?"

Phillip, providing you and Sky with training? Making you sweat and curse at him? Supporting you as you struggled through your reps? Sparring with you?

His prayers had finally been answered. He tried to hide the grin spreading across his face with his usual proud smirk. "You won't last a single minute."

You laughed, and his heart fluttered. Phillip wasn't exactly old; he was in his thirties, but he still possessed the spirit of a young man. You made him rejoice in those moments of familiarity.

Since childhood, Phillip had always been left out, hated, and bullied. Even his own family favored his sibling, leaving him to live in their shadow. He had thought that joining the army and fulfilling his father's wishes would earn him a modicum of respect. But he was wrong.

That's why he had severed ties with his family, only visiting on rare occasions. He would watch as his brother basked in the limelight. His brother, a renowned lawyer with a beautiful wife and a young son. Phillip grew distant after his mother's death, burying with her the last remnants of affection.

Phillip looked at Sky and felt a pang in his heart. The young man had everything: success, friends, money... and you. The way you shared laughter and giggles made him envious of that connection.

He longed for love, acceptance, friendship, anything. But he had never been good at being vulnerable. All he could do was watch and pray for a miracle to happen. Maybe one day, or perhaps never.

This was the bitter reality that Phillip had to swallow since the day he came into this world.

Later on, the three of you convened in the training facility, finding it empty. It was evident that Phillip had discreetly dismissed the three rookies who were miserably failing at their sparing session. He stood alone, anxiously waiting as the clock's ticking intensified his nerves. To drown out the demons of his loneliness, he turned up his headphones. The reminders of his solitude were silenced.

Having arrived, you entered the room dressed entirely in black. A nod of acknowledgement was exchanged between you and Phillip before you began your warm-up routine. Shortly after, Sky joined the group, offering a brief excuse for his delay. Phillip's gaze lingered on you for a moment, admiring your strength and the flawless execution of your moves, which he doubted he could ever replicate. Caught staring, he coughed nervously before uttering, "Well, sweetheart, care to show me what you're capable of?"

Your laughter filled the room, a soft giggle that felt like the first rays of sunlight in winter. Approaching Phillip, you positioned yourself in the sparing section. He followed shortly while Sky cheered from the sidelines.

Phillip was about to make a snarky remark, but before he could, your fist swiftly found its mark on his chest with a forceful punch that stole his breath away.

Coughing, he grabbed hold of your arm and threw you onto your back. Pinning you down with his knee on your stomach, he lifted your chin, locking eyes with you. "Told ya, sweetheart. No chance," he declared.

Your laughter only caused his heart to ache once again. The grip of your bare fingertips on his bicep burned, torturing his soul.

"No, Commander, she was going easy on you," Sky interjected, causing Phillip to frown.

Easy on him? Was he this old?

Releasing his hold on you, he stood up, attempting to conceal the pain etched on his face as he took a sip of water. Finding a spot to rest, he watched as Sky and other soldiers showcased their impressive moves shirtless. A sigh escaped his lips as he cursed his aging body and the unsightly scars that adorned it. He leaned back, contemplating removing his shirt but ultimately opted to clutch his water bottle tightly till his knuckles turned white.

After the intense training session, you found yourself drenched in sweat, ravenous, and above all, exhausted.

Deciding it was time for a quick bath followed by a well-deserved nap, your eyes roamed the room, landing on Commander Graves who was venting his frustration by pummeling a boxing bag.

To your surprise, your prejudices faded away as you observed him. The man wasn't half bad, and you could even acknowledge some of his positive attributes. However, whenever you caught a glimpse of him, memories of a past life, someone you despised with every fiber of your being, resurfaced.

Driven by curiosity, you approached him, addressing him gently by his rank. "Commander?"

He stared at you in shock, perplexed as to why you were there and not with the rest of the group. Letting out a sigh, he forced a smile and replied.

“Yes, sweetheart? Anything else you want from this old man?”

In that moment, something within you shifted, causing you to abandon your animosity towards him. Without hesitation, you found yourself standing before him, gently holding his bruised hand and carefully bandaging it. He looked at you, feeling defeated yet momentarily at peace. Your cold hands cradled his, softly tending to his wounds as you reassured him, "No need to be upset, Commander. Everyone admires your abilities." Vulnerable to the core, he gazed at you, his guard lowered.

Before turning away and heading towards your room, you whispered, "Oh, and Phill, comparison is the thief of joy."

Phil?

If anything, this encounter healed every doubt he had. He couldn't believe that his name had left your lips. As he watched you walk away, he pondered what had just transpired.

Later that night, as Phillip prepared for bed, a smile adorned his face. However, his happiness quickly dissipated when he received a call from General Shepard. The weight of despair settled upon him as he listened in silence, absorbing the General's words.

No.

Not again.

[skeletalgoats]

We Stand, We Soar

synopsis: Graves proposing to you 🖤

pairings: Graves x GN!Reader

theme: fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡♡♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The sky looks really pretty tonight." Your boyfriend said, turning to you. "But not as pretty as you~"

You let out a light chuckle, blushing before hitting him with your elbow. "Shut up, we both know that isn't true."

"Oh, but it is, sweetheart. You're prettier than all of the stars in the sky."

Cheesy fuck.

Although it's normal for him to flirt with you like this, something about his behaviour this night felt off. He seemed almost....nervous?

Looking at it now, something was clearly up. He was fixing his hair every five minutes, fiddling with his fingers whenever he was listening to you talk, and from time to time he would frantically look for something in his pocket only to let out a relived sigh once he found whatever he was looking for. You would be lying if you said you weren't curious.

Just as you were about to ask if he was alright, your thoughts were interrupted by a sudden view of a field of flowers.

Roses.

"Oh my god-" The view was beautiful. The red and pink sunset was the cherry on top, highlighting the roses into an even more pleasing colour.

"How did you find such a beautiful place?" You questioned, kneeling down to pick out a flower.

"Well, I-"

You didn't let him finish his sentence, as you were already grabbing his arm and dragging him further into the field.

You were excited, racing to a nearby tree you saw. Graves, on the other hand, was trying not to trip for the sake of his own life. It's not his fault his legs weren't built for your fast pace.

Finally reaching the tree, you grab Graves and drag him to the ground, letting a yelp out of him.

"You've done it." He chuckles, hugging tightly and not letting go. You laugh, attempting to push him off of you, but he was too strong. So you bite him. Which surprisingly worked.

"Sweetheart, that hurts!" He laughed in pain.

"Let that be a lesson for you then." You chuckled back, getting off of him.

Graves gets up with a groan, hugging you.

The sky was a beautiful shade of purple now. A few ravens appeared here and there, before disappearing into the shade of the blossom tree.

You both took in the euphoric sight and feeling, until the sun finally set completely. Graves stood up and lended you a hand, in which you happily accepted.

"So, what made you bring me here today?" You questioned, getting up.

This seemed to get a reaction our of your boyfriend, because now he was stuttering over his own words. "Well, I uh- I just thought that maybe- uh..."

He stopped and groaned, before taking a deep breath. "Because today's a special day."

Special day? For what exactly??

And that's when it hit you.

Because now, Graves was infront of you on one knee, opening a small, black box with a shiny dimond ring in it.

"[Name], will you marry me?"

This was almost too much to take in. Your boyfriend took the time to find a ring, and find such a beautiful place to take you out?

You loved him, you really did. More than anything in this entire world. So it's safe to say, you are ready to lock your love together and make it official.

"Yes, yes I will!" You exclaimed, hugging him tightly, crying tears of joy quietly into his shoulder.

"I love you." Graves whispered quietly.

Love is a silly thing, it's not everyday that a special person walks into your life and stays. Finding someone like Phillip made you feel like the luckiest person in this world. You were ready to look into the future with him, live your life with him, and grow old with him.

[mushrubes]

Tapping out

Masterlist | Call of duty masterlist |

Requested : no

Based on character ai { Phillip Graves by @/Unstable-jester}

Pairing : Phillip Graves x reader

Pronouns : you/yours

Type :  fluff

Word count : 657

Content: toxic family, mutual pinning, slightly ooc + non canonical <3

Have a great day !! <3

————

Everyone was standing in formation, shadows getting tapped out by their family members. You stood untouched, staring at the floor, knowing your family wasn't here and simply forgot you. But, Graves, your commander didn't. He was watching over the group on the side, noticing your missing family. Being him, he couldn't let you stand forgotten. After a few minutes of not knowing what to do, unsure of the protocol for this, he walked over, pulling you into a hug. "Pretty sure I count." he mumbled.

You wrapped your arms around him, head in his chest as you fought the tears threatening to spill. "Shh, you've got family here now." his voice was slightly hushed but his warmth was nice and comforting as he squeezed you tighter. You nuzzled your head into his chest, seeking comfort. He ruffled your hair, kissing the top of your head. It was a sweet gesture. one which seemed natural to him. His kindness was rare, but it was soothing. There was always something between the pair of you, an unspoken tension of feelings. You'd always catch him giving you lingering looks or trying to find a reason to stay behind with you once the group had left.

"Thank you." You whispered, your voice soft and gentle, head still pressed against him. His head turned to look at you but you hid your face in his chest. His hand raised, resting softly on your head. "Mhm." he hummed, caressing your head. "Your brother coming for you?" you asked quietly, knowing he had somewhat of a rocky relationship with him. Your question was met with a soft chuckle as he shook his head. "Can't be bothered to visit me." His tone was light and joking but you picked up on the slight disappointment. Graves didn't dwell on it, leaning in to kiss your forehead. "In the same boat then, huh?" you joked, trying to make light of the situation/

"Somethin' like that." he said, pressing you into him more. A moment of silence settled over before he began speaking again. "Not surprised they didn't make it though. Heard your folks didn't want you to join." his tone was sympathetic, eyes soft as he looked down, pressing a kiss to your forehead again. The words didn't sting, having come to peace with that fact long ago. "Haven't spoken to them since I started training years ago." you admitted, brushing off the memory. "I know what that's like." he whispered, his voice vulnerable. It made sense, given what had happened with your family. He looked down and met your faze, a slight hurt behind his eyes. "I don't talk to mine either."

"We've got each other." you sighed gently, looking up at him with a small smile. His face quickly brightened as he smiled back. "That we do." he responded quietly, holding you close. "You know, I don't think I've ever just hugged you like this before." he confessed, voice sincere. "Should do it more often." you muttered, cheeks heating up. "Yeah?" he responded, sounding more cheerful. "What else should we do more often, hm?" His words were playful, the tension thick in the air. "I can think of a few things." you teased, smirking back at your commander. "Such as...?" he continued, a slightly smug grin on his face. There was a definite chance of something happening at this rate.

"This." you murmured, leaning up slightly, your lips meeting his in a passionate kiss as he returned the act with the same fervour and intensity. The tension was now replaced with heat between the two of you as you stayed in the embrace, lips locked in an almost ravenous kiss. The pair of you eventually separated, breathing heavily as your hair was in disarray from the act. Graves ran his fingers through your hair in an almost romantic manner. "Mhm.." he paused, cupping your cheek.

"I suppose we could do that more often after all."

[fictionallystable]

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games)

Relationship: Phillip Graves (Call of Duty)/Reader

Characters: Reader, Phillip Graves (Call of Duty), Original Male Character(s)

Additional Tags: Author Has Played Call of Duty, Childhood Friends, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, slight age gap, Civilian!Reader, Pre-Canon, Jealousy, Angst, Kissing, Time Skips, Slight OOC Graves, Brother's Best Friend.

Words: 1,348 | Chapters: 1/5

Summary:

Your older brother is best friends with Phillip Graves, and you always tagged along on their adventures. As a teen, you hid a fervent crush on Phillip, but it ends in painful heartbreak for you after one tumultuous summer. Many years later, you and Phillip are shocked to re-encounter one another, this time with your hearts fluttering again. But the heartache and broken trust of the past cloud your vision of the man standing in front of you.

A/N: this is a long time coming collab between me and @orphancains, and we finally posted the first chapter. stay tuned for later chapters. can't promise we'll be posting all the chapter each week but we'll try to get it out soon as possible. that being said, enjoy. the fic can also be found on AO3

tags will be updated!!

Chapter 1: The Pool

You ignored the bead sweat trickling down your temple from sitting under the Texas summer sun. There were only a few weeks left of summer break before 7th grade, and you were trying to enjoy it at the park, despite the sun beating down on you. Even your older brother Matty and Phil had wanted to enjoy the day even if they’d both already graduated high school. The two played some light basketball while you sat nearby sketching. After playing for a while, the two of them strode over to you, checking in on you as you quietly concentrated in your sketchbook. 

“I don’t know,” you said to them both as you stared down at your sketch, “I don’t know if it’s worth submitting.”

Phil tsked and took a seat beside you on the grass. He patted your shoulder and furrowed his brow. “Come on. You’re probably one of the best artists I know out of everyone in this city. You’re twelve but you’re better than some of the people in school I know who always brag about their art. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Matty sighed behind both of you. “It’s that our dad has been hounding her about focusing more on math next year. He wants her to be studying with a tutor for her pre-algebra class for this summer instead of this.” Your brother glanced away. “Or make friends…” he muttered quietly, but just enough for Phil to still hear.

Phil rolled his eyes. He was grateful to your dad for letting him linger in his home to hang out with Matty. The Graves family household, a few miles away from yours, was a little bigger, sure. But it was empty. With his parents always gone, his dad was either sending him texts from airports to check in on him every few days and his mom would mainly call him to say she couldn’t attend his football games and track meets because of another work conference. Matty and your parents were kind enough to feed him and sometimes let him sleep over. But he couldn’t help but want to sometimes roll his eyes at how much pressure he put on you and your brother.

“How is submitting a piece of art to a newspaper going to hurt her in pre-alegbra?” Phil looked at your brother unamused. “I don’t wanna be a dick, Matty, but your dad’s a—”

“I know, Phil,” your brother huffed. “You’ve told me before”

“It’s actually an art magazine. It’s MUSE magazine,” you cut in, wanting to stop talking about your dad. “They even said they’ll give us a scholarship, too, if we win. I mean, that’s gotta make dad happy, right?”

He wiped the sweat from his forehead, as he listened to you. He thought about it and shot you a grin hoping it would cheer you up. He couldn’t help but want to see you happy, wanting to see you get the praise and love for your art that you truly deserved. “See?” He glanced quickly at Matty before turning back to you to say, “Yeah, exactly! That’s even more of a reason to submit— even if my advice alone should be enough.” At that, your brother snorted.

At this you turned to look at him, your lips pouting slightly. You still felt unsure about your idea, and he noticed.

“Listen, as soon as you hear back from that magazine, I wanna be the first to hear about it, you understand?” 

You nodded and gave him a small smile. “I will, but what if I lo—”

“Not, gonna happen. I know it won’t,” he stated firmly, as his warm eyes beamed down at you.

Your smile grew more as you leaned your shoulder against his arm. “Thanks, Phil.”

‘ Holyshit… ’ , you thought to yourself as you ran toward the Graves’ home one afternoon. Your parents always reprimanded you for swearing but who cares right now . You clutched tightly onto the new copy of MUSE magazine as your feet hit the pavement. ‘ I actually won !’ You hadn’t bothered to tell Matty or your parents. You wanted to tell Phil first, but he hadn’t come over to visit Matty today—usually Fridays were when they played video games together. You thought it was weird initially but thought nothing of it.

You knocked on the heavy, wooden door, pressed the doorbell multiple times, but he never came to the door. You were confused. ‘ Maybe he’s out back ? ’ , you thought as you trudged over to his backyard’s fence. You were surprised to see it was left slightly ajar, when usually you and Matty always had to wait for Phil to unlock it if you decided to visit his home. Slowly, you nudged the gated fence door open, expecting to see nothing more than the Graves family’s pool, some towering, old trees, and maybe some overgrown grass. But instead your jaw dropped.

By the shining blue pool, Phil had another girl’s hands entangled in his light brown hair. At first you were confused, but you felt your chest tightened when you realized his lips were moving against hers and that his own hands rested on her hips. He was shirtless, his body still drenched in the cool pool water and she wore a light pink bikini. Her own dark red hair was also wet clung to the skin on her pale shoulders. That’s when it hit you: Phil had a girlfriend you didn’t know about, and you’d just walked in on them making out.

You felt your heart stop when from over the girl’s shoulder, you saw Graves’ dark eyes flicker and briefly meet your own. You let out a small gasp, your eyes shifting away quickly. You quickly turned away and your hands clenched tightly around the magazine in your hand, not caring anymore if your artwork featured in it was crushed now. You felt your stomach jolt as you ran back home, fearing you were going to vomit midday in the middle of the street. The red hair. Phil shirtless. The pool. His hands on her hips. The shadows in his eyes. Was that a smirk you saw? Or had you imagined it? It all kept flashing in your head as you jogged back home. You felt like your own brain was torturing you with the images now. 

Back home, as you strode toward your room, your throat tightened. Your lips quivered and you felt the few tears still clinging to your eyes begin to slip through. Matty walked out of his room, about to ask you where you were, when he saw the distress etched on your face. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

You clenched your teeth as you felt the tears begin to flow freely now down your cheeks. You stepped into your room, but turned around to face him. “Nothing’s wrong!” you growled out, before shutting the door loudly in his face and twisting its lock. 

As night fell, you clung tightly to your pillow, your tears staining it as you cried. Your brother continued knocking on the door from time to time, calling your name out in frustration. But no matter what, he couldn’t coax you out of your room. You also didn’t know why you wouldn’t let Matty in. You didn’t even know why your heart broke so much when you saw Phil and that other girl. But from then on, your view of Phil had changed. You didn’t want to face him anymore, to be his brother’s stupid kid sister always lingering around because she had no friends of her own. You were a burden on him. He probably just wanted to hang out with Matty, not you. You wondered, how many times did he want to talk to him about girls or sex, or anything else, and he couldn’t because you were there? 

As you drifted off to sleep, eyes puffy from salty tears, you forgot about the crumpled magazine laying on the ground. Your thoughts only revolved around one idea: You were going to do Phil a favor and avoid him at all costs.

[delusionally-loveless-by-choice]

Lost in a Cornfield..? Pt. 3

Scarecrow!Phillip Graves x Lost!Reader

summary: Terror fills you as you wonder what's next.. what is he going to do?

warnings: descriptions of like skin stuff (not too bad imo?? still warning), he lowkey a freak as in a sadist, screaming crying and general fear concepts, he dark but no super overall descriptions of it, nothin really happens sorry lol

w/c; 1k

Part 1, Part 2

Author's note: Midterms were ass, anyway here's part 3 hope it isn't a total flop. it's short but I hope to make part 4 soon the final part and a bit longer than this (hopefully).

The foul stench hung in the room. 

It was a salty, iron-like pungent odor. 

Much like sweat and blood. 

But there was no blood here, it was all long dried.

You inhale a large breath of the warm air. 

The oxygen hits your brain and--What the actual fuck--your head is reeling with the sudden reality. 

You feel the tears start to drop and they fall steadily as the feeling of dread fills your senses.

The room. The skin. Him. The Scarecrow

It’s almost like he can hear your thoughts, but it’s more likely he’s seen the same reaction you're countless times. 

He’s seen it on the poor souls that were unlucky enough to see the very room you were seeing now. 

However, they were soon added to the collection in the room.

“Don’t ya like it, darlin’?” he asks mockingly.

He hasn’t moved from his spot at the door. Instead he’s relishing in the moment. 

Drinking up your reaction; every breath, every hitch in your throat, every cry, every tear that seeps from you.

But you stand rooted to your spot in the middle of the room. Too scared to move. Too scared to speak.

Finally words don’t fail you, and something coherent is able to form out of your quivering lips, “What’s going on…” a sob interrupts you, and stupidly you continue in order to ask, “what is this..”

The only response he gives you is an amused drag of his white teeth on his bottom lip before he gives you that same charming and alluring grin.

“Scarecrow.. Please…” you sobbed out.

Hot tears streamed down your face. 

Almost seeming never ending; a beautiful river that showcases your fear and desperation. 

He loved every second of it. 

His grin never falters, you aren’t even sure if he can feel any human feeling but if he could, you’re sure he’d feel something akin to a wild childish glee. His glowing eyes burning in the low light being proof of how much he was enjoying this.

"‘What's going on’, hmm?" He echos your question, his tone was almost playful. 

“Oh, c’mon, sugar. Ya don’t really need me to spell it out for ya’, right?” He chuckles out dripping with condescension. 

His words make a loud cry escape from you.

A sob wracks through you as you slowly start to back up, the implication of his response makes your worst fears come true. 

You bump into something and stumble backwards, your hand instinctively reaching out to keep you from falling, all without looking away from the scarecrow. 

But upon touching the object, you rip your eyes away from him and to where your grip is. 

It’s a couch made of human skin. 

You can see the details of someone, what was them, probably what was their hand stitched with another unidentifiable pieces of skin that probably wasn’t theirs due to the different colors the patches were. Pieces of hair poked out from the inside. It was used for cushioning.

Shock makes your reaction delayed. But it doesn’t take a second longer for your scream to erupt. 

Tearing your hand and eyes from the couch, and back to the Scarecrow, you drop to the floor and crawl until your head and back harshly hit the wall.

You didn’t even want to think about how the wallpaper was also the remnants of people sewn together.

The only thing that spills from your lips are cries and begs, “No, no, no, no, no.. please.. don’t do this..”

He still stands at the threshold drinking up your delightful screams, sobs, and begs. With a deep breath he finally starts to walk toward you.

Every thump of his worn boots on the floor makes your heart jump and await the worse.

The fear makes you want to look away from his yellow eyes, but you can’t, and in return you see how his eyes never leave you. 

He slowly stalks closer, his beautiful smile gleaming horrifically. The corners of his smile making boyish dimples show and his eyes crinkle prettily. 

"What's the matter, doll?" His tone is the same sweet and southern honeyed voice he had first spoken to you with. 

The same voice that made you believe he was safe, the same voice that made you believe he was going to help you, the same one that made you trust him.

Finally he stands before you.

He kneels down to your level, his head tilting as he watches your horrified fearful face. 

You sit there paralyzed and you believe he's going to hurt you. 

When his hand reaches out to you, you shut your eyes and flinch, waiting for the worse. 

But instead, he wipes a tear away from your cheek. 

His touch is gentle. 

Still paralyzed with fear, your eyes open wide and though you feel fearful, you look at him.

“You look beautiful with tears runnin’ down your face.” He whispers just loud enough.

“Such a pretty lil’ thin’.'' His grin melts into a smile, it looks kind and sincere but the glint in his eyes warned you that there was still danger.

“Please don’t kill me..” you croaked out, “I thought you were going to help me.. please I didn’t.. i..” you sobbed harder.

“I’m scared..” you mustered between sobs as his hand wiped the rest of your tears.

“You should be,” he finally says and his warm breath fans on your face, “but I’m not gonna kill ya..”

“Pretty lil’ thin’ like you dead would be such a waste to put in ‘ere, plus ya aren’t a pest like the rest of ‘em.” His hand moves from your cheek to your head, running it through your hair, his fingers tangling between the strands.

“No… no, ya aren’t like them pests..” he mutters as he looks you over. 

You don’t know what to say. You don’t know what to do other than watch him with your terrified wide eyes.

His breathing seemed almost strained and he looked like he was restraining himself.

“No, you’re mine, sweetheart.” he shakily breathed out.

Author note: also i have the ending done.. I just have to tie it in with this. (fun fact; I originally didn't plan to keep the darktwist, I had him as actually really sweet and very wizard of oz esque. but this dark scarecrow graves grew on me bec yes he spooky :')

taglist; @itsyellow (added them cus they asked to b tagged also ily)

[gravezgf]

Ain't Nothin' to It - Phillip Graves x Reader

1,159 words, fem reader with she/her pronouns. a bit suggestive but no warnings! My first time writing anything like this so please be kind. Thanks for reading!

Read under the cut!

You nervously fiddled with the lace waistline of your sundress. It hit your mid-calf, a gorgeous navy blue in breathable cotton, with lace on the waist and along the sweetheart neckline. It was one of Phillip’s favorites, and you couldn’t think of a better way to surprise him.

He was coming back home to you for the first time in a few weeks, where he’d been you had no idea. However, he suggested that you go out and have fun, get a few drinks at his favorite hole-in-the-wall before ending the night in your soft king-sized bed. 

You swear you sensed him before you saw him. The scent of his spicy cologne, the sharp thud of his boots on the wooden floor, his firm hand on your shoulder before he slid in between the stool next to you, offering you a wink and a smile. Oh, how you had missed this man.

“No hug for your best girl?” You pouted teasingly.

“More than a hug, if I get my way,” he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his larger frame.

He released you, only to hold you by the wrists and step back, taking a good look at you. He sighed, pushing you gently back onto your stool before taking a seat himself. He motioned for the bartender to come over and ordered a whiskey for himself and your favorite drink for you. With the social lubricant, you felt your emotions even harder. The joy that leapt in your stomach when he flashed that big smile, laughing freely at a story you were telling him. The flush in your cheeks as he told you for the millionth time about how much he missed you when he was gone.

When Phillip noticed you were good and soused, he grabbed your hand and pulled you out onto the dance floor. You had two left feet, but Phil, he was a dancer from way back. He could whirl you around with the best of ‘em. But tonight, he just pulled you close and swayed you to the old country love songs humming from the speakers. He hummed the lyrics lowly, leaning into you. He exhaled a breathy laugh when your feet got confused, but only held you tighter. 

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” He said it in almost a whisper as he pressed soft kisses onto your neck.

“I think so, how much?”

“A whole sky full. Probably more,” his eyes shone the most beautiful blue in the hazy neon lighting. You couldn’t help but kiss him, and if you could’ve melted into a puddle then and there, you would’ve.

He had one hand pressed into your back, the other cupping your face, as your arms rested on his shoulders, and you let yourself fall into the kiss. You were almost numb now, in a good way. The smell of that cologne, something cheap but one he had loved for years, the Zach Bryan song tumbling through the speakers, his lips against yours, his stubble scratching against your face. 

When you broke from the kiss, you swore you felt like a kid all over again. You rested your face on his chest, and you swayed there, where it felt like just the two of you, for what felt like hours.

He climbed into the drivers’ seat of the old blue pickup, after buckling you into the passenger seat. The old radio was playing the classic country station, Phillip’s favorite. He hummed to the George Strait song that was crackling through, and placed his hand in yours. He squeezed it tightly.

It reminded you of when you were kids. It was maybe your fifth or sixth date, and time had escaped you both. There you were, racing down those rural Texas roads, praying that time would slow down, just for a few minutes. You both knew well that breaking curfew would spell a grounding for you, and your dad’s displeasure towards Phil. You swear that you can still make out where you began playing with the lose threads of the fabric seats, nervously tugging at the string as a cloud of dust rose behind you. 

That time, much like this one, Phil had grabbed for your hand. He ran his fingers over your knuckles at the red light, cursing quietly to himself. 

Now, all these years later, at the red light, he pulled your hand into his, except this time he gently rolled the wedding band on your finger. Instead of damning the light for not turning fast enough, he hummed contentedly to the song on the radio. The city lights slowly turned into the occasional street light as he drove out of the city. Finally, you were heading home. 

The drive home felt quick compared to the drive from there to the bar earlier. He opened your door like a gentleman, only getting slightly maimed by your border collie, Maple. He walked you carefully up the porch steps, and you rested on the cool wooden planks as he unlocked the door. You had your hair pushed up, cool summer air brushing the nape of your neck, and had kicked off your shoes. Phillip thought you had never looked more gorgeous than you did at this very moment. 

Upon making your way into the house, you made a drunken beeline to the comfort of your bedroom. You had made the bed this morning, and you cursed yourself. You had been proud of the fresh sheets and pressed duvet, but it only made it more complicated for your inebriated self. Still yet, you were snug as a bug by the time Phillip reached your room, shirt off, pajama pants on.

“Wanna get out of your good clothes before you get too comfortable?” He said, yawning midway through. Your only response was an annoyed groan that sounded half you, half Chewbacca. Not getting the hint, or not caring, Phillip gently lifted the duvet and laced his fingers in yours, coaxing you to sit upright. He fumbled through your bedside dresser before finding one of his old shirts. It didn’t take too much begging to get you into it, and you thought about how you’d thank him for his kindness in the morning. 

He tucked you back in as sweet as he could before climbing under on his side. When he proposed drinks before coming home, he didn’t exactly imagine this outcome. Then, he looked down. You looked sweet in a silly way, mouth slightly agape, breaths even. He listened for your breathing, that soldierly part of him that he could never quite turn off. You were asleep, he could tell by the gentle cadence of your inhales and exhales. He tried to match it. In the end, he settled for wrapping his arms around you, knowing they’d be asleep in the morning. He pressed a kiss to your head. He had missed home. He had missed you.

[kruegerspillow]

‘She's my collar.’ — A Phillip Graves fanfic.

Writer’s note: Y'all I'm so sorry for taking a long break out of nowhere akshsjsh.. School has been stressful and tbh no one can say otherwise. Anyways, this fanfic is for my Graves girlies out there 🤭 he’s so underrated.. This isn't proofread and I'm currently writing this while I'm half asleep, so I apologize for any mistakes.

Prompt: Your commander, Phillip Graves, had miss you dearly after a long mission you had to attend to, but he had a lil’ surprise for you once you got back to base.

Genre: NSFW, smut, 🔞MDNI🔞 please.

Warnings: Phillip is such a gentleman in here, he also did give some after care 🤭. Reader is a women. No use of y/n. PiV. Prepping from Graves 👁👁, fingering, praise from Graves (yes that's a warning), a pinch of degradation??, cliffhanger (sorry 😵‍💫)

It had been weeks, hell, maybe even months — since you've last seen your commander, Phillip Graves. You had a few missed calls from him, and you knew how he is when you're away from him. He always needed you by his side.

So, here you are. You've gotten an order to go to your commander’s office by one of his shadows, and you knew he needed you more then ever. You knocked on the door quietly, hoping for a response.

“Commander Graves, this is [name].” You murmured out, your voice a bit raspy from all the fighting you've done.

Not even a few seconds later, the door had swung open and Graves had pulled you in by the hand. He immediately nuzzles to your neck, his warm breath meeting your skin. Goosebumps rises on your skin as you looked him up and down— he was dripping wet. Seems like you've interrupted his shower, but he didn't seem so irritated about it.

“Darlin’.. you've been gone for a month or two, no calls, no text, no nothing.” He grunted out, his hand sliding down your waist as he pressed an eager kiss on your jaw. He was desperate, a bit more then desperate.

His free hand raised up to caress your cheek, and he was painfully hard, even if he just had seen you again after the long period of time. He pants, like a dog in heat, he was unhinged.

“I'm sorry, Graves. Didn't worry you too much, did I?” You replied back, your voice soft and sounded like music to his ears. You tried to ignore the mounting sensation beneath your lower abdomen.

A smirk tugged on the corner of Graves’ lips and he chuckled softly, before he locks the door and pins you right against it. He didn't reply, instead, his teeth sunk into your neck, the burning and pleasure sensation mixing together. You bit your bottom lip, before letting out a soft moan, which encouraged Graves to continue on what he’s doing.

He continues nibbling and nipping on your neck, his hand reaches down beneath your trousers before meeting your soft, silky underwear. You were dripping wet already, and he knew that very well. His hand slips underneath your panties and played with your clit, making you let out a strained whimper. He was still gentle, and he wasn't rough.. yet.

“So wet already? Pathetic.”

You felt like you've jinxed yourself after that. That cocky tone of his rung into your ears and your hips instinctively grinded down his fingers. He grinned darkly before taking your legs, wrapping it around his waist before pinning you against the door. His unwraps the towel that was only cover his lower bottom, and his cock sprung free. His tip glistened with pre-cum already, and his veins were bulging out. You gulped at the sight, your clit getting wetter and wetter.

“Gonna take this cock like a good, pretty girl, hm?” He teased you a bit, which made you nod your head quickly.

His hand reaches down to your bottom, prepping you first. His fingers rubbed on your clit, before he enters one of his digits in you. You moaned, feeling yourself getting stretched open by his large fingers. He practically groaned at the noises you made, and he continues fingering you gently. Without a warning, he adds a second finger. You whined, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“Y—yeah, please..”

His cock went harder at the sound of your submissiveness and he fingers you even more roughly now. You were getting close, and he knew that by the way you clench around his digits.

“Cum for me, like a good slut you are.” He says roughly, his fingers increasing it’s pace even more.

And there it is, you've been tipped over the edge and you let go. A moan of his name left your mouth as you orgasmed on his fingers, panting quickly. He smirked before carrying you to the bed, he laid you down gently on the bed, before getting on top of you. His messy blonde hair, his toned abs, his eyes.. you were lost in everything. He snapped his fingers.

“Focus on me, attagirl.”

That nickname that he had always used on you has an effect on you, and oh, how sweet it sounds to your ears. He positioned himself, the sheets rustling beneath both of you. Suddenly, he roughly pushed himself in you. You were about to let out a sharp moan, but he shoved his two fingers in your mouth— shaking his head and making a disappointed expressions.

“Shh, shh.. Don't want the Shadows to hear, do you?” He teases you, before he looks down at the both of you.

He was only half-way in, damn, he was big. You were already a quivering mess, and he’s ready to push you even further. He pushed in further, but not enough for him to fully rest in you.

“Jus’ a bit more, it's a’ight, you can take it like a good whore you are.” He groans out, and he basically grunted so loud when he was fully in you.

He grunts, before starting to move. The bed was creaking and your vision was blurry, but Graves didn't care— not even a single bit, even. He quickened his pace for a period of time whenever you looked away from him.

“C’mon, girl, look at me, yeah?” He grunts out quietly, his hand forcing your face to look at him.

He thrusts in deeper and deeper, hitting your g-spot, making you let out lewd noises that were so pleasant to Graves’ ears. He didn't care about how loud you were anymore.

He quickened his pace, panting and grunting after every thrusts he did. You moaned, feeling yourself getting more closer and closer to your second orgasm.

“G—Graves, I'm gonna— I'm gonna cum..” You whined pathetically, your eyes rolling back to the back of your head as he ruts into you.

“Atta girl, cum for me, baby.”

With one final thrust, you both had came. He pulled out his cock before resting it on your stomach, letting his spurting cum drip down your soft flesh. He panted, trying to catch his breath as he drops down beside you and pulled you close to his chest. A small giggle left your mouth as you panted, feeling safe in his arms. You felt something harden against your back again.

“Ya’ ready for a round two, pretty girl?”

[bellgraves]

FLUFF 🩷

Phillip Graves x Fem!reader

I wrote a fluff!!! It's a puffy, fluffy romantic fluff so you have been warned!! 🤭 (As usual sorry for any grammar mistakes!)

Promise of daisy flower

Phillip Graves was thrown into the gulag in foreign country. He was sitting in his dark cell and couldn't believe that he allowed this to happen. The mission was simple, yet he and his team were ambushed. He heard noises behind the bars. The commanders were arguing. Graves didn't speak their language, but he was smart enough to understand few words.

They didn't know what to do with him. One of them wanted to kill him, the other wanted a huge money ransom for him.

The second one tried to persuade his collegue that he knows who Graves is and that he is worth millions. The other said he pisses on money and he wants him dead. Right now.

Graves felt a lot of different things. Anger, dissapointment... Sadness.. The situation was so bad that, Graves thought that probably he won't make it this time.

But the truth was the only thing that he had in his mind was you. His girl. Your beautiful face, smile, eyes.. He felt deep regret. That he won't see you again and that he won't have a chance to tell you goodbye. He knew that when you will find out that he died, you will be shattered. He knew how much you loved him. That vision of you crying when you will find out what happened to him, broke his heart.

He didn't want to die...He wanted to live with you. Experience so many things. Give you more love that you deserve. If only he had more time... He would give you the whole world.

The third guard joined the two others.

'American?! Kill him.'

Graves decided he won't die without fight. He will die like a soldier. Fighting until the end. Maybe he will break them some bones so the guards can remember him.

He stood up and was waiting for approaching people. Just when the bars were about to open a huge explosion took place. Bricks fell everywhere. Graves fall into the ground hidding his head with his arms. He heard screams and shooting.

'Graves?!! Graves where are you?!' it was a similar voice.

'Dipaolo!! I'm here!!' Graves couldn't see almost anything because of falling debris.

'Vance!! Erikson!! He's here!!' Three Shadows entered the cell. They gave Graves a weapon.

'We are taking you out of here Commander' said Vance.

'Let's rumble boys' said Graves before he jumped out of the cell, shooting any enemy that he could see.

****************************************************

You were on the way to the base where was Graves. He sent for you, because he had to see you. You didn't understand what exactly was happening. You only knew that your boyfriend was on a mission, he is stationating somewhere and he sent men for you to bring you to the base. You were in the car, driven by a Shadow who took you from the airport.

'I'm sorry, for asking again, but everything is alright with Phillip Graves? He didn't get hurt or something?' you asked with worry.

'No, ma'm, everything is alright with Commander. We are stationing close to the borders. He just wanted to see you, so I'm bringing you to him.' Shadow replied.

The drive took few more minutes when you finally started to notice a military base. It was a camp in a field.

There was many tents with people runnning left and right, bringing supplies, weapons and other stuffs.

You get out of the car and let the Shadow to lead you.

You saw Graves coming out from the biggest tent. He was wearing his tactical vest, with blue collar shirt.

'There you are beautiful!' he rushed to you and gave you big hug.

'Phillip, are you okay? What's happening? I was so worried' You took his face into your hands and looked at him. You examinated him, looking for a wounds.

Graves smiled at you and kissed your cheeks.

'Come with me for a walk, sweetie.'

You followed him out of the base. You walked for sometime on the fields, until Graves stopped. He looked down and plucked a flower out of the ground. It was a simple white daisy. He came closer to you and looked deep into your eyes.

'Baby I need to tell you something. When I was in the gulag...I realized something very important...'

'Wait. You were in prison??' You asked shocked.

'Yes, but only for few hours, it's nothing serious baby. The thing is... I had a time to think about something. Please let me finish.' Graves looked at you with need.

'When I was there...all I was thinking about is you. How much I love you and how much I want to give you the best life possible. I will never forget the day I first met you. I knew since then that I love you with all mt heart. There...in the prison...you were light to my darkness. I was afraid to die... not because of fear but because I wouldn't be able to tell you something very important...' Graves knelt down on one knee and held out the flower to you.

'My love...will you marry me? I promise I will be the best husband that you could ever dream of. I will love you and protect you with my life. You will never feel sad or alone... I will do everything to make you happy and feel loved..so please.. will you be my wife?' Graves gave you flower and kissed your hand, looking at you with anticipation.

******************************************************

'No way!! He is proposing with flower!!'

'I thought he will give her some million dollar diamond ring. How can Graves be fucking cheap like that?!'

'Gulag is doing something with people minds, I'm telling yall'

Shadows: Dipaolo, Erikson and Vance were watching you not too far away.

*******************************************************

You didn't care that Graves didn't give you a ring. You felt overjoyed and happy. You hugged him tight and said the most sweet words that he could ever hear:

'Yes! Of course I will marry you Phil. I love you so much.'

Graves give you passionate kiss on your lips. You could swear you saw one tear wandering on his eyelashes.

Suddenly you heard clapping and whistles. You looked back and you saw three Shadows rising their thumbs up amd smilling.

'Mission complete Commander!!!' yelled one of them. The other two were laughing happily.

You smiled and waved to them.

'I love you so much baby. When I'm gonna come back from deployment, I promise you, we will go to buy you the most fancy, expensive and beautiful ring.' Graves kissed you again.

' What I want is you to comeback safe to me Phil'.

'I will. You have my word. I need to stay here for two more weeks. But after that I'm coming home sweetie. And we are getting married. Hell. We are making babies too. I want to start a family with you'

You stood together hugged for some more time until you had to go back to the car. You couldn't stay in the base.

When you were driven back to the airport you holded flower that Graves gave you close to your chest. When you entered the plane, you asked the flight attendant to gave you glass with water and you put your flower there. Until you get into your apartment, you were holding your flower all the time. You finally were in your bed and you looked at it and smiled. It was Phillip's promise to come back to you.

For my lovelies 🥰

@candy616 💖💖

@xxavengingangelxx ❤️❤️

[jgvfhl]

Back at it again at the crispy creme at the local pirate owl's pirate ship, wiping my queer little talons all over activision's american military posterboy antagonist to turn him gay

Words: 9233

Rating: Teen+ for language mostly, nothin spicy here

Chapter 1/1 (but read the author's note, there's a catch)

Pairings: Phillip Graves/Nik (implied eventual nikpricegraves)

Summary: A late night personal crisis yields some surprisingly positive results.

@cod-dump @worldseer @brainrot-palace

[lunarduty]

𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝙀𝙔𝙀𝙎 𝘼𝙎 𝘿𝙀𝘼𝘿 𝘼𝙎 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙀

☾ definition: dacryphilia refers to sexual pleasure or arousal from seeing tears or hearing the sounds of crying. 141 + ALEJANDRO + RUDY + GRAVES X F!READER TAGS | nsfw, smut, crying, mention of a safe word, f!dom, overstimulation, orgasm denial WC | 3,099

JOHN PRICE

… sees you cry and praises.

if john could see your eyes right now, he’d tell you not to be embarrassed. would probably coo at you like a prized horse. ask you what was wrong, and if there was anything he could do to help.

problem was, you weren’t sure what it was you were crying over - the bite of wood against your skin, or john’s tongue between your thighs.

both were agonizing in their own ways. both BURNED with something that hurt too good to admit. both demanded your attention, but as always, john eventually won the fight for it. the tiny little scrapes and bumps caused by the old wood of his desk had started to numb when the tears came. john’s fingers pushing into your cunt acted as a sort of balm. you couldn’t feel anything but him.

his broad shoulders had kept your legs spread for far too long at this point, so they eventually began to ache too. they tremble and quake around john’s shoulders. you know he feels it, and thinks it’s because of his tongue and fingers.

he’s not far from the truth.

and just as soon as john’s eyes shoot up, you’re throwing your head back. eyes squeezing shut, shuddering breath disguised behind a moan, hoping to just cum on his mouth and he doesn’t have to know he caused the tears that seem to burn your eyes. he’s kept you on the edge for so long, it wouldn’t be hard to simply focus on his tongue and let go.

there’s a burn behind your eyelids. more tears form when his fingers curl and his tongue flicks a certain way.

“john,” you breathe out, ending his name with a pant. “it’s… i-”

“look at me, love.”

it was an order. plain and clear. your head snaps up immediately, finding his half-illuminated eyes in the lowlight of his office. dark hair looking raven black, eyes blown up to match - but even then, you see them LIGHT up with amusement. even in shitty lighting, john catches the glimmer of tears. right on the edge of falling down your pretty cheeks - you probably don’t even notice. it only makes him harder.

he laughs in a low rumble. “so fucking pretty, aren’tcha?”

you nod; panting, writhing, crying.

john leans his head in closer, pushing in his fingers as far as they’ll go. “pretty girl gonna cum for me? all sweet and tight around my fingers? keep watching me, love - gonna cum now? yeah, go right ahead, dove. you more than DESERVE it.”

the orgasm hits like a truck when john grinds his tongue against your clit. just before your eyes squeeze shut again, a tear finally breaks free and glides down your cheek - warm and flushed from a climax that he’s sure someone must’ve heard.

john has always promised he’d never make you cry, but this is a damn good exception.

☾

KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK

… sees you cry and dotes.

gaz has always gone on and on about how much he wants to keep you separate from his work. to leave all the roughness behind when he’s with you. it was never really a problem until tonight - sweet and gentle and slow to a fault. 

too sweet. too gentle. too slow. 

kyle is careful to keep a STEADY pace - a careful rock of his hips, lightly grinding against yours when he’s pressed in deep, making you feel each and every inch of him before gradually pulling out to do when same thing over again. and you know he doesn’t do things without an express purpose - after extending your orgasm a few times, it’s safe to say that your safety isn’t the top priority for once.

he hasn’t gone much faster than this languid pace. selfishly listening to your stunted breaths and pained whimpers of his name. 

if you ask him to go faster, gaz slows down. if you beg for something harder, he smiles and kisses you and tells you to be patient. 

but what has all this patience gotten you? two incredibly drawn out orgasms that fucking ACHED when they hit and kyle stubbornly keeping his thrusts slow and torturous under his guise of being gentle. it’s all a little too much. too intense. your eyes squeeze shut, face nestled against kyle’s neck, hips shifting up when he buries his cock in to try and grind out another orgasm. 

unfortunately, gaz knows you. knows your movements and knows your sounds - the shortening of your breaths and desperate whimpers and choked moans and… sniffles?

his pulls his head up immediately, eyes narrowing in on the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. and gaz grins - he can’t help against it. his cock pulses when a finger comes up to brush a tear away before it has a chance to fall down your face.

“poor baby,” he coos. if you weren’t so wound up, you might’ve noticed how tight his voice sounds. “it’s alright. doing so well for me. gonna make you cum again, don’t you worry. just hang in there, yeah?” his words are breathed against your lips, and by some miracle, gaz picks up the pace. hips picking up speed, even rocking a little stronger and it isn’t until you heard the slap of skin do you truly realize how SOAKED he got you.

the initial tears were caused by kyle’s torturous pace. a new set follows the old when he finally fucks you properly. gaz doesn’t mind - he likes wiping them away.

☾

JOHNNY 'SOAP' MACTAVISH

… sees you cry and teases.

“why’re you crying, bonnie? did you hurt your feelings or something?”

soap knows you won’t respond. not that you could.

the pace of his thrusts are too rough. too quick. too deep. using all his weight to slam into you again and again, not letting up for a moment. the worst part is, you know he has the stamina to keep going, even if you beg him to slow down. to let you breathe air that doesn’t taste like him.

your nails dig into the skin of soap’s chest as you shake your head. everything ached in a delicious way but it wasn’t your feelings that were hurt. soap moves his hand from his bruising grip on your hips to clasp around your jaw, shifting your head to look him straight on. he wants you looking at him, even through WATERY eyes. 

soap grunts as he shifts into a better position to fuck you in. his hair is mussed from your fingers. skin blotchy and flushed from exertion. he still grins at you. “then why’re you crying? want me to stop? is that it?”

“no!” you cry out - half a moan and half a shout.

a thoughtful hum vibrates against his ribs as soap’s fingers release your jaw, only to come up and wipe away a tear that leaked from the corner of your eye. “ahh, i get it, lass,” he breathes out, continuing his rough thrusts with a deep groan. “you’re cryin’ so pretty ‘cause you like getting fucked so good. am i right? my girl loves getting fucked ‘till she cries?”

you’re silent. eyes falling shut, mouth agape, head tilting back to ignore soap’s teases and just feel the addicting slide of his cock. he slows his thrusts only to grind against your pelvis and it’s such a massive difference in sensation that you nearly cum on the spot. it works to make you cry out his name.

“fuck- johnny!” and you do. so, so prettily.

☾

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY

… sees you cry and worries.

simon’s face still hurt - a spot right over his cheekbone, purple and swollen and it aches almost enough to make him forget about how sore the rest of his body is.

it’s easy enough to ignore. it’s not liquor or ibuprofen that dulls the pain. his old methods of healing after a rough mission seem useless in the wake of pressing you back on the couch. it’s the touch of your skin, the smell of your hair, the noises you make that really pull him back together. you’re careful not to tug at him too hard or touch any of his TENDER aches, even when he begs you to.

yeah. it’s easy for simon to forget how close he was to not be here fucking you.

his fingers dig into the armrest of the couch, forcing his throbbing body to move as fast as he wants it to. an impromptu fuck on the couch wasn’t exactly planned tonight - you went on and on about how much you wanted to take care of him. but you’ve been clinging to him all night. never letting him out of your sight. it was just a natural progression and simon sure as shit wasn’t complaining.

“fuck, lovie,” he groans out slowly. if you keep moving your hips like that, he’s not gonna last much longer.

and fuck, simon was so close, he could taste it. feel it building in the base of his spine and how tight his stomach gets and it all makes it a little easier to forgo his aches to simply drive into you again and again. your arms wrap around his torso, brushing against tender ribs - when simon hisses, he’s unsure if it’s the pain or the sudden tightness around his cock when you jolt. simon’s mind goes blank and he’s just so fucking close and…

you make a new noise. unfamiliar to the ones simon has memorized when he’s fucking you. his eyes are HAZY and unfocused when he looks at you, and he didn’t quite know what he expected to find. tears accompanied the sniffle he heard, and your hand comes up to wipe them away in haste.

simon’s hips freeze instantly. “hey, hey, hey. what’s wrong? you okay?”

fuck, did he do something wrong?

to his surprise, you scoff. smiling despite wet cheeks and red eyes and simon blames his impending orgasm for how slow he is to understand. “i’m okay,” you reassure him. when your fingers trail up his spine, simon can barely breathe. “i just love you so much. don’t be so RECKLESS next time, okay?”

your legs tighten their hold around his hips. pulling him closer even when simon wants to pull back and really make sure you’re okay. you don’t allow it, instead grinding up against him at the same pace he’d been fucking you in - still sniffling and wiping a tear away on his arm.

simon swears he’s never cum so hard in his life.

☾

ALEJANDRO VARGAS

… sees you cry and stares.

morning has always been alejandro’s favorite time of day.

pinkish gold sunlight coming in through the window promises a beautiful day that he’ll likely be too busy to truly enjoy but welcomes all the same. alejandro hears the bustle of traffic outside - your place isn’t nearly as nice as his, but it’s closer to base and he’s never been known to waste time with you. alejandro is just a little tempted to rip his gaze away from you to enjoy the sunrise coming over las almas.

but he doesn’t. he never does. you’re just too fucking pretty.

alejandro kills two birds with one stone. pulls you out of bed and leads you over to the window just as the sun paints the clouds a deep gold. it saturates your skin in such a perfect way where alejandro can’t help but to touch it. touch your face, your neck, your shoulders, your back, your stomach, and well, he knows your pussy would look fucking HEAVENLY under the light as well.

“pretty fucking girl,” alejandro groans out. he usually likes watching his cock sink inside of you, but there was something about the glow of your skin pressed against the window that makes him just stare at your face. his thrusts are slow and deep, and your breath fogs up the glass, and you keep tugging your shirt down when alejandro pushes it up because you’re the one who has to face your neighbors every day.

when you came along, he didn’t think there could ever be a more beautiful sight than when you first smiled at him.

you proved him wrong with just a few tears reflecting the sunrise.

alejandro could’ve came right then and there. his hips did a little stutter and he grunted when you let out a little whimper while squeezing your eyes shut and he just watched a tear glide over your cheek. he almost pulls you away from the window to flip you around. fully face him so the glass doesn’t GREEDILY soak up all your tears because he’s fucking you so firmly against it.

“al- alejan- fuck, i’m so…”

“i know, baby. keep looking at me. yeah, lemme see those eyes. fuck…”

he kisses you. has a hand tangled into your hair and twists your neck into a better angle and kisses you to taste the salt on your lips and it’s like a bomb went off. alejandro’s hips pick up their pace and you rock back against him and fog up the glass even more when you shudder on his cock.

he cums with your tears wiping off against his own cheeks and salt on his tongue.

☾

RUDOLFO PARRA

… is the one to cry.

“it’s okay, rudy. doing so good for me. i’m almost there, you don’t have to cry.”

was he crying? fuck, he was. rudy didn’t even notice until you smiled at him fondly, bringing a hand up to brush away a tear that broke past his lashes and threatened to fall down his face. 

rudy waits for the hot flash of embarrassment to hit him, but it never does. maybe it’s because this is you. but it's more likely because he’s so fucking close to cumming, he can’t focus on anything else but you. keeping his hands locked around your hips, strong enough to keep them moving back and forth even when you try to slow them down and draw out his orgasm. 

you hadn’t even notice rudy’s big, wet eyes until you attempted to slow down. keeping a more steady pace in his lap to give your thighs a rest, and yeah, to wind rudy up just a little. he works so hard. he DESERVES to get fucked out of his mind now and then.

maybe you went too far, though. when you try to stall your hips, his hands make sure they keep their pace. his own hips buck up off the bed to get even deeper.

“i know you wanna cum.” it’s difficult to keep your voice steady. to not devolve into harsh pants and groans like he has. “but not before me, okay? make me cum, rudy. fuck, make me cum…”

he huffs - such a large demand for someone so fucked-stupid. rudy is so smart, so capable, and so fucking useless right now that maybe it’s too much to ask of him. so to help him out, you pry his hand off your hip. bring it up to your mouth and slide the whole length of his thumb between your lips, letting it glide across your tongue.

rudy instantly gasps and his hips jolt up. you can feel his cock throb even harder inside of you.

but with his thumb coated in saliva, you bring his hand down to where you meet. rudy takes it from there - give him a task, point him in the right direction, and he’ll complete it. he rubs his thumb in tight, DESPERATE circles while his other hand keep your hips in a deep grinding pace until you cum all over him.

it was good. fucking fantastic. but not your favorite part.

rudy knows he’s finally allowed to cum, and he does. so achingly beautiful in the way his jaw drops open, saliva stringing between his teeth. eyes hazy and wet with damp cheeks and a pink nose and when he groans, his voice is hoarse and choked. 

eventually, when you fall against his chest, all you hear are rudy’s hard panting and his sniffles.

☾

PHILLIP GRAVES

… sees you cry and laughs.

graves can be a real asshole sometimes. sarcastic, arrogant, and you know him well enough to know that he kinda likes it. makes him feel larger than life. untouchable. now is no different.

“c’mon, hun. i wanna hear it. y’can’t cum until i hear you say it.”

your arms are thrown over your face, hiding the way your teeth grit together and your eyes screw shut and how your jaw hangs open to gasp for air whenever graves bullies his cock even deeper with each thrust. and to be honest, you barely heard what he said - it was all just white noise. still, you know what he wants. and you’re a little too PROUD to give in.

there’s silence. graves scoffs and you feel him lean forward to grip your arms in his hands. being ripped away from your face reveals a little tremble of your lips, tiny red splotches on your cheeks, and tears lining your eyes. 

graves laughs as if it isn’t his fault. torturing you and playing with you. resetting the goalpost of what you need to do to cum.

the laugh is deep and GENUINE - the kind you’re treated with in the middle of the night away from his shadows, saved especially for you. the grin that accompanies it isn’t bad either. but the laugh is like a slap to the face (something graves might’ve inflicted if his hands were free - after all, you haven’t said your safe word.)

“my poor baby.” he says it so condescendingly. with a quirk of his brow and tilt of his head. as if he and his cock hadn’t caused the tears. “bet it’s gettin’ painful, huh? bet a good orgasm will make you feel right as rain.”

you slowly nod because god, you need to cum.

so graves hums, still wearing a smirk as he shifts on his knees. you whimper under the movement, spine arching, eyes solely focused on him. “then you gotta ask permission, right? c’mon, hun. sound off for me. i know you can do it,” he encourages while his fingers trail slowly down your body. going straight where you needed him the most.

normally, if you weren’t so wound up, you might’ve gotten smart with him. but as extra initiative, graves bends his spine a little. pushing his cock in just a little deeper and plainly getting off on how you gasp and your eyes finally push out hot, wet tears. 

this has gone on for too long. everything from your pussy down is throbbing.

“shadow 0-1…”

“hearin’ you loud and clear, baby.”

“requesting permission to cum…”

[lunarw0rks]

the scenario: you’ve been really pent up lately, stress between work + everyday life and graves decides that he’s gonna help you de-stress (by riding him 🤭)

in the act, you’re practically fucking yourself stupid, like into oblivion…deep in. and you don’t even realize how overstimulated graves is getting until he literally pulls you off him (he came about three times prior)

🗝 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔯𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔣 🗝 𝔭𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔭 𝔤𝔯𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔰

a/n: anon -- send me that audio you were talking about, too!! ;) not proofread/edited. warning(s): nsfw, established relationship, overstim. (g & r), stress relief but make it steamy, husband!graves, fem!reader ───have a request? ˗ˏˋ ASK BOX ˎˊ˗

As if the day couldn't have been worse, you dropped your keys when you made it to the door. Every muscle ached as you bent down to pick them up — now upright with a tight scowl on your face.

The lock struggled until you jerked the key around a few times, finally hearing the click when it budged. With a flustered grown, you stepped inside and shut the door behind you, greeted with the comfort of your home. Dim and quiet, but still preferable over the migraine-inducing fluorescents of your workplace.

Your purse slid off your shoulder, falling somewhere on the hard ground. Frankly, you didn't have a care in the world about picking it up. That was a task for the morning — the first day of the weekend after a hellacious work week.

You made your rounds in the kitchen first, cracking open the first bottled beverage you could get your hands on. Flavored water, though if it would've been alcohol, you weren't in any mood to refuse. You finished the drink with heavy breaths, setting it down on the counter.

"Tough day, darlin’?" His well-acquainted voice hits your ears soothingly, shifting your attention from the counter below you to him. Wearing one of his old PT shirts and boxers, still visibly disheveled from lying in bed.

You bite back the urge to be snarky, reminding yourself that it’s indeed not the fault of the man comforting you that’s got you so worked up.

“Just work.” You mumble, then let out a defeated sigh. It’s your shitty boss, it’s the overwhelming workload, it’s everything, really.

With his lips pressed into a line, he nods as if he’s simply accepted your answer. You know by now that his wheels are turning, however.

“Mind if I help?”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

You didn't get a full breath of air until his back finally hit the mattress, nor did you bother to get undressed fully. Instead, straddled him in your work clothes; panties pulled aside, button-up disturbed and slightly open from his yanks.

Graves found it best to say nothing unless it was muttering a comfort or praise into your ear. But you still hadn't let go of those frustrations yet — even with his honeyed worship.

Even after you pulled your first orgasm, even after his warm spurts of cum filled you — you had no desire to stop.

The silver lining? Whatever got you so worked up had long passed. Now, all you could scrounge in your psyche was the sensation of your husband's cock crammed up inside you.

His tip, reddened and slick with his seed and your arousal, still upright and swollen despite how long you've been using your cunt as a means for abuse. Nothing but a toy, at least while you were in the midst of a sour mood.

But Graves had no qualms about that; watching your tits bounce, your face contort as you moaned, the sweat rolling down your forehead until it went between your cleavage. His rough hands are on your hips, aiding you in swallowing every inch of him. Each time you'd clench or constrict around him, he felt another jolting sensation — inching him towards yet another release.

You hadn't stopped once, only slowed when you needed to readjust or cope with the burning of your thigh muscles. The pleasure was too divine to halt entirely — evident in how you had successfully overstimulated yourself and him.

"That's it, doll. Look at you..." Though his smirk had turned more into a muddled expression of ecstasy, his praising and bluster prevailed. Your soaked, pillowy cunt pulsing around his length, rendering him officially pussydrunk.

The lude squelches increased in volume when you began rocking against him at a wicked pace, feeling your third orgasm approaching rapidly. Remnants of the previous were leaking out of you, either spilling down your inner thighs and onto the sheets or being fucked back into you when he would thrust upward to meet you.

Graves' head snapped back against the pillows, yet again ready for another quick release. Every time he thought you would be too fatigued to continue, you rutted and got more desperate for another rush of erotic euphoria. It was too much, even for him — but you were too goddamn attractive like this, using him as an appendage to fuck away the frustrations, mouth wide open, hair ruinous and damp with sweat.

With the little strength he had left, he found himself determined to make this orgasm triumphant over the others. Before, all he had done was lay back and be used, but currently he found himself sitting up to meet you chest to chest.

His speech was slurred, as desperate as your bellows of pleasure. "Good girl, gorgeous. Keep usin' my cock— gonna cum again, aren't you? Atta' girl." His thumb found your puffy clit, circling and applying pressure to surge your approaching finish. Focusing on much of anything when so deeply stimulated was hard enough — however, this, he could manage.

How your moans had gotten louder, how you began to tremble all over again, it was worth it. Your eyes rolled slightly, head in the crook of his neck when you came undone around his cock for a third time. Nails dug into the tanned flesh of his shoulders, muscles tightening as the coil in your abdomen expelled all at once.

Overwhelming pleasure coursed through you, heightened by the two climaxes before. This one is the most daunting, the most fiercely shown on your body.

He had reached his own finish while you were too lost in your own. You only noticed when you heard his desperate grunts, that hot searing deep inside you as his cum spurted deep within you. Your back seemed to be stuck in a partial arch, every muscle in your thighs burning and aching for rest. But your mind was a fog, a fog with only one thing on your mind; more pleasure.

Graves fell back against the mattress as the remainder of his intense orgasm retreated, completely out of breath and flushed.

With less effort than before, your hips resumed a meek grind, powering through the ache of over-exertion. Another whimper slipped you as your nerves fizzled with the mounds of stimulation resuming all over your body.

His eyes shot open again, hands digging into your sides and forcing them to halt, "no more, sweetheart, you're exhausted." He slurred, taking a few seconds to lift you off of his now softening length. His cock fell limp against his thigh, slick and with a milky ring where you had creamed in the heat of the moment.

"I-I'm sorry, baby. Got carried away, huh?" Your chest heaved repeatedly, eyes lidded and drowsy — and all from your own doing. He barely lifted a finger, so to speak, and you were fucked-out. To think seconds ago you were desperate for another release and rutting again was miraculous. You found yourself slumped on top of his sweaty chest, still in the midst of catching your breath.

"You could say that darlin'. Don't think there's anything left down there." Graves chuckled slightly, though the expression was subdued with exhaustion.

He snaked up an arm, brushing away your sweaty strands and pressing a kiss to the side of your head. "Christ, you're shaking."

The sheets shuffled as they rubbed against each other until the throw blanket was draped over your trembling frame, engulfing you both into a literal bed of warmth.

Your eyes drooped without effort, the flutter of his heartbeat muffled as your senses dulled. The last sound you heard before plunging into much-needed sleep was his soothing voice. "Get some rest, sweetheart. Just sleep for me now..."

[gildedkrone]

Could you maybe write a Jealous!GhostxMaleReader...maybe Ghost gets jealous of Reader and Graves?? Dunno just want to see a jealous Ghost....I like how you write Ghost...it doesn't have to be Graves, it could be a member of Shadow Conpany...

- ☁️

Don't listen, I'm near 🔞

My first request, so I thought I would put a bit more effort into this fic than usual. It ended being written from Graves' POV? So I'm not sure if it's exactly what you wanted but I hope this is somewhere along the lines of the request :3

Relationships: Ghost x bottom!Male Reader Synopsis: A jealous Ghost fucks you into oblivion and Graves hears every single bit of it. Contains gratituous smut. A/N: NA Master List

“Hey there, sweetheart, need a hand?”

Phillip Graves, that was his name, right? Commander of the Shadow soldiers currently milling about the base as part of a joint operation between the 141 and Shadow Company. You follow his eyes to the crates of beer in the storeroom.

“Oh, Graves, right? Yea sure!” You heave two crates of beer off the floor and Graves trails his eyes over your way your shirt exposes your chest and abdomen with each exertion of your body.

He is not salivating. He is just admiring another soldier preparing a feast as part of the collaboration, a dinner and night of celebrations. Nothing untoward and nothing scandalous. Your request for him to grab the drinks jolts him out of his naughty daydream and he nods with as much grace the Shadow is known for. That is, not much.

The men are gathered in the rec room when both you and Graves return with alcohol. Soap and Gaz help themselves to a bottle each before you can put the crates down. Graves imitates your actions and places his crates down.

Ghost is sitting in an armchair all by himself, while Grave’s soldiers are fanned out around the room. Some eating, some drinking, mostly engaged in conversation or tabletop games. You crack open a bottle and he has to resist grabbing choking that sinuous neck and the bobbing of your throat. Ghost is nowhere at his chair and once he reestablishes visual contact, Ghost is standing by your side.

“You want a bottle, Ghost?”

The masked freak shakes his head and the smile on your face makes him green with jealousy. He wishes it was him on the other side of the smile.

“Of course, the LT himself doesn’t drink beer.” You dug around your pockets and reveal a metal flask. “Bourbon, straight from Kentucky.”

Ghost rumbles something affectionate and takes the flask. The mask is raised up to his nose bridge and Graves catches a sight of the pink lips and perfect teeth.

“Thanks, corporal. Appreciate your efforts.”

“Anytime, LT. Anything for you.” The skeleton hand on your shoulder lingers for too long for Graves’ liking.

The man looks up from you to meet Grave’s gaze. Inside, he spots something feral and territorial curling in the lieutenant’s eyes.

Stay. Away.

---

The rest of the night goes smoothly. Graves gets to spend time with you on the dance floor and his hand even wrapped around your waist at one point. You don’t seem to be too phased by the close proximity to him and he flashes a grin, all teeth and vibes.

He catches the boring gaze of Ghost, intensifying each time he went anywhere near you. Fuck him, he doesn’t own you and Graves is free to flirt with whoever he wants. The skull man is free to kick rocks if he doesn’t like it. Eventually, you are too tired to continue partying and excuse yourself from the dance floor. Graves watches as you say something to the lieutenant and his eyes are overcame by something fond and soft before a pat by a skeleton hand sends you leaving the room.

It's boring without you on the dance floor and Graves leaves his men in favour of turning in for the night. The base is huge and Graves stumbles around, trying to find his room and it is just bad luck Ghost is who he sees first.

“Ah, lieutenant, mind showing me the way to my room?”

Ghost doesn’t seem to be too pleased to see him, judging by the arms crossed but mainly, the eyes give away his ire and displeasure at seeing the other man.

“Down the hallway. Room 103.”

Graves thanks the man not before he is slipped a radio.

“You left this at the party.”

Wait, what? The last time he checked, the radio was still affixed to the holster on his arm. Before he can object, Ghost is gone.

---

“Ah, faster! Michaelo!”

The room is dim and the man lying on the bed touches himself gently to the sounds of porn on his phone. Fuck, Graves swore when the woman in the video takes the monster dick fully. His dick is semi hard and his hand gently strokes the organ to nurse it to full hardness.

“Shit!” Graves takes off his headphones. That isn’t—

“Ngh! Fuck, it’s not—” His phone clatters onto the floor as he jumps off the bed in search for the source of the sound. Sounds of a man being pleasured are definitely not from the video he is watching. His search stops at the radio Ghost passed him earlier. The green light flashes periodically, a sign the radio is receiving a signal.

A moan.

Not just any, but yours. He rushes to the table and grabs the radio. Raspy moans of desire. There is no mistaking it, that is you on the other side of the radio. Who the fuck is doing this!

“Ah, ah! Fuck, slow down!”

If he closes his eyes, his mind fantasizes the scene. You are all drunk on pleasure, mouth open as a thin trail of drool slicks down your cheek. Someone, a mystery person, bringing you waves of pleasure. Their hands? Or their mouth?

It should be him. It’s all so wrong. He should be turning off the radio and reporting whoever was doing this. But his mind taunts him with finding out just who you were with.

Graves retreats to the bed and lies down. His hand creeps ever closer to his dick and your moans are there again. The radio is jammed against his ear and his dick jumps at the breathy and sinuous moan. It tortures his soul to hear it and not be the one eliciting it.

His hand is no longer under his control and starts stroking.

“Fuck! Shit, what has gotten into you!” Sounds of wet slapping noises punctuate your groans into pauses. The other person doesn’t say anything and Graves is so fucking turned on, it hurts. Pre is all over his hands and the sound of his hands are filthy, but not as much as those in the radio.

Then, he hears it. A whimper, all soft and delectable. His hand grips the base of his dick and arrests his building climax. Shit! His favourite porn didn’t come anywhere close to the performance you are putting on in a room somewhere.

He wants to cum just as you do with your mysterious partner.

“If you—ah!—keep doing this, I won’t LAST ah!” The duvet is in between his teeth as his hands are moving at a feverous pace against his morals.

“Have you learnt your lesson, yet?” Graves stills his hand. Mr mystery is speaking.

“Yes! Please, I will be your good boy! I—ngh—will stay away from him!”

“That’s a good boy. Taking me so perfectly; I can feel you spasming like a cheap whore. Are you close, pet?”

His traitorous mind paints a picture of another man railing you hard and fast, bitching you in the process into a mindless whore who lived for cock and cum. Who, dares, to claim you?

“Yes, I’m—so—fucking close! P-please!” He grunts at the desperation in your voice to climax.

His finger scrambles to turn the knob on the radio to max volume and then, he can hear so much more. The faint creaking of the bed under the powerful thrusts of your partner, the whines and whimpers escaping your mouth driving him crazy and the reserved grunts of the man. Wet sounds of slapping and something obscene fills the room and Graves thumbs his dick roughly. The burn is something real and he desperately wants to know just who it was.

Who was bringing you so much pleasure, dear cock addled slut?

“Say it. Say that you want to cum.”

“Mmmh! Please, let me cum! I want to cum!”

“Say that you are my little cum addict.”

“I’m—” A sharp thrust breaks your speech and you groan. “Y-your cum addict!”

“Good boy. This is what you wanted, right? Flirting with that poor excuse of a man to rile me up. Well, this is your reward, love.” And a sharp squeal at what Graves imagines to be a bite on the neck.

Flirting with him? Who can it be, to be upset at Graves?

“Yes! Yes, I-I am all yours! Yours to use, sir!”

Sir? His hands pause and grip his prick loosely. Was it a nickname, or something more?

“That’s what I like to hear. You need to be bitched more often, love.”

“Yes! Yes, I want to be bitched! Fuck, please, ah!”

The knot in his abdomen is tight and squirming as Graves lets himself imagine the mystery man to be him. Your tight ass squeezing him hungrily like a sleeve thirsting for cum and all he has to give. The pillow fluffs at the commander’s head falling back into it.

“So beautiful and all for me. Do it, cum for me, sweetheart.”

That’s the cue and Graves’ eyes are closed in a grimace as he times his finish with yours.

“Ah, yes sir! Thank you! I—fuck!—” And the noisy squeal and cries of a man drowning in orgasmic bliss spearheaded by his lover’s dick. Graves chokes a cry as he came with a shout and a spray of cum over his heaving chest.

The orgasm leaves him boneless and he struggles to collect his thoughts. The radio flops onto the bed as a sweaty arm rests on an equally sweated chest. The radio is silent and the light is extinguished; no more transmission by whoever is doing this. He won’t admit it, but this ranks high on his naughty escapades.

Fuck, he really shouldn’t have done this. The mess on his cooling chest is hardening into sludge and he swipes a finger through it. Grabbing a bathrobe, a shower is in order to get rid of the stains of his scandalous voyeurism.

---

He steps out of the room into an empty corridor and heads for the communal toilets. Pass room 120 and the door to the room opens without warning. Graves slows and Ghost steps out from the room still dressed in his combat fatigues. His gloves, however, are gone and Graves sneaks a look at the exposed hand. Black nails? Maybe the man truly was a freak. He looks closer and there’s something dripping? A viscous cloudy liquid coating the thick fingers and Graves can’t stop his mouth from running itself.

“Howdy, you’ve got something on your hand, lieutenant.”

Ghost’s eyes remain impassive and he raises his hands to look at them and back at Graves. A glint in his eyes is all the warning he gets and Ghost is breaking eye contact. Then, those hands are wiping against the dark fabric of his tactical jacket and—

White and milky liquid separate into strings upon contact as they stain the pristine clothing.

That is—

“You look shocked, commander Graves. Do you need a medic?”

“Is that … cum?”

Soap’s hearty greeting stumps Graves as the sergeant rounds the corner and he makes a face at the sight of the Shadow commander. Sidling up mischievously to the American, he lobs an arm around Graves and pulls him close under a gaze Graves would describe as victorious belonging to the masked man.

Like a roman victor on a pedestal while luxuriating in his opponent’s defeat.

Soap chuckles. “This is why we don’t mess with the LT’s property, Graves. Did you truly think the corporal would be interested in you?”

“In someone who can’t even use his dick right while LT can do it all with just his arm?”

Mortification and humiliation burns and scorches his face.

---

Ghost wasn’t truly worried when he saw Graves flirting with you all night. You smiled and assured him you could handle the grabby Shadow commander and your lover nods, trusting your judgement but still hanging around to intervene if the bastard tried anything. Your cheery disposition and innocence was a fire drawing in the moths of military men and Ghost stayed to keep an eye on the man.

---

Graves swallows and the taste in his mouth all night—he knows what it is now. Ghost pulls up his mask to lick a line across his still dirty fingers.

His mind conjures an image of you, a man in the throes of desire and thoroughly debauched by the fist in your ass and your dick, angry and leaking in protest. Why would a man be lost in the height of rapture ever be interested in him?

Those lips mouth something. Sweet.

Total defeat.

[fictionallystable]

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games)

Relationship: Phillip Graves (Call of Duty)/Reader

Characters: Reader, Phillip Graves (Call of Duty), Original Male Character(s)

Additional Tags: Author Has Played Call of Duty, Childhood Friends, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, slight age gap, Civilian!Reader, Pre-Canon, Jealousy, Angst, Kissing, Time Skips, Slight OOC Graves, Brother's Best Friend.

Words: 1,990 | Chapters: 2/5

Authors: @orphancains & @collinnmckinley

Chapter 2: The Dinner.

Chapter Summary: Your parents invite Phil and his new pretty girlfriend to dinner, and things take a turn but not for the better.

A/N: Here we are, the next chapter. I hope you guys like it :).

the fic can also be found on AO3

tags will be updated!!

Phillip was already out the door after hanging out with Matty at his house all day. Usually, he expected to run into you and even let you watch as he and Matty played video games. Sometimes you would even jump in and play for one of them. But you were locked in your room the whole time he was there. Phillip figured it was just that you were studying like your dad wanted you to. But when he said goodbye to Matty and walked away from near your bedroom door, he noticed that that was when you unlocked your door. 

As he started walking toward his car, Phillip noticed that he’d left behind his copy of Madden in Matty’s room. Turning around, he cursed to himself. When he knocked on the door to your house again, this time your mother answered the door.

He gave her a stiff smile. “Hi, I just forgot one of my games in Matty’s room,” he said.

“Oh, I hadn’t even realized you’d left already, Phillip.” She glanced down at her watch. “It’s almost time for dinner. How come you’re not staying over? We’ve always got a spot for you at the table, as you know.”

Phil staying for dinner wasn’t unheard of. Usually his home was empty, and he’d end up ordering takeout on his dad’s credit card. But he was still testing the waters with a new girl he met, Marisa. And after his date with her the other day where they kissed after swimming, he thought maybe he could start taking things more seriously with her beyond a short summer fling.

He grimaced at your mother’s question. “Actually, I was going to have dinner with a friend of mine. Well, actually, she’s a girl I’m interested in.” He dug his nail into the palm of his hand when he realized what he’d said. Why couldn’t he just call Marisa his girlfriend? 

Your mom leaned against the door frame, eyes widened slightly as she understood what he said. “Oh, I see now. I can see why you’d—”

“Even better!” your dad emerged from behind your mother. He was a tall, looming man, always dressed in a suit from work and his skin taut always taut from grinning. “Maybe you having a girl over will finally convince Matthew to start looking for another girlfriend. And someone better than that other girl. Never liked her.”

Your mother scoffed at her husband.

Your dad continued, “Phil, by all means, bring the girl over. You don’t even have to stay long if you don’t want to.” 

Phil swallowed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah sure I’ll—I’ll let her know she can come over.”

Your dad clapped his hands together proudly, while your mom retreated back into the house upon hearing this. “Fantastic!” he boomed.

You sat across from the dinner table from Phil and his new girlfriend. You tried not to stare, but peaked her a few seconds at a time to get a good look at her. She had long dark red, wavy hair that she wore in a messy, loose ponytail. Her eyes were green, her bands dusting her face just above them. Dark freckles littered across her otherwise pale nose and cheeks that she had painted with a noticeable blush. She could’ve been 16 to 18 years old, but you couldn’t tell. You’d never seen her before, aside from the brief moment at Phil’s pool. But she had to have gotten to know Phil from somewhere. 

They talked and chattered for the first ten minutes of dinner, your dad refusing to let any moment go by in silence. You’d learned she was planning to go to college to become a travel nurse to see the world. The two had met when she was walking. You wanted to roll your eyes at this, but instead silently listened and idly stabbed your steak with your fork.

You hoped and prayed that she would just ignore you, so that you could ignore her. But she had to start asking you questions.

“Phillip told me you draw,” she started with a small smile. “I tried drawing when I was really into cartoons when I was a little kid , but I stopped.” It didn’t escape you that she emphasized the word ‘kid’ as she spoke, you never liked it when people treated you as such so to say that you didn’t like the way she said it would be an understatement.

Without thinking, you narrowed your eyes into a glare but said nothing back. Phil furrowed his brow in confusion at seeing you turn so taciturn. He’d hoped you and Marisa would get along great, especially since she had little sisters of her own.

Right next to you, Matty noticed how tense you’d become. When he spoke to you alone before dinner, you were calm and otherwise happy. Yet, as soon as you took your seat across Phil and Marisa, you grew deadly quiet. “Yeah, actually, she’s an amazing artist,” he spoke up. “She doesn’t just draw either, right? She also is pretty good at painting.”

Marisa didn’t say anything in return. The silence grew thicker and more suffocating, but Matty kept on nervously rambling in hopes that someone else would speak.

“In fact! One of her artworks recently won an award. In this magazine—I think it’s called MUSE , right?” He looked over at you for an answer and you reluctantly nodded. He still beamed as he bragged about you.” She’s even going to get some scholarship money for it.” But at this you only pursed your lips and wished you could disappear from being in the dinner table’s spotlight.

From the corner of your eye, you could see your dad shifting uncomfortably. You’d purposefully avoided telling him about your art winning a prize. He thought you were totally devoted to your other school studies this summer. But Phil instead folded his arms on the table, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “That’s great! Congrats, Y/N.” 

When you didn’t reply to him, Phil continued. “Maybe you can show the drawing to Marisa and I to have a look at it?”

Marisa hummed. “I never heard of that magazine. Did a lot of other people also submit their work, or was it just kids?”

Without uttering anything, you stood up from your seat, the legs of the chair groaning loudly as you did. You wiped your hands with your napkin before tossing it onto your plate. Until now, you didn’t realize your hands were trembling from your ire. You’d barely touched the food on your plate, but you could not stand to sit there any more. You refused to look back at Philip, or Marisa, or even Matty for that matter. 

You could hear your mom, stunned at your behavior, calling for you as you stormed away. Matty rubbed his hand across his face in frustration, he understood your anger. It wasn’t just a drawing. It was an oil painting, something that you’ve been working hard to perfect, and he knew that Phillip flipping the conversation of your painting to   one about Marisa and him would annoy you. And Marisa’s question felt like a bomb had gone off in the middle of the dinner table. In the corner of your eyes as you walked off, you could see your mom burying her face in her hands, and your dad’s face was hard as stone with rage. You knew you’d get an earful tomorrow.

But at that moment, you didn’t care. Seeing how Marisa and the others saw you as nothing more than a child who drew dumb doodles, and hearing how Phil reacted to the news of your prize sent a bitter feeling rising up your throat to your mouth. In your room, you once again locked your door. This time you did not cry out in sobs like you had days before, but a few angry, rapid tears streamed down your face before you buried yourself under your bed sheets. 

Phil let out a sharp breath when he entered his car. He heard Marisa shut her door beside him as she entered too. He hadn’t imagined that dinner could go disastrous. Yet, here he was afterward with Marisa who also had permanent red blush across her cheeks from how riled up she’d gotten.

Before getting in the car, Marisa stayed inside the house talking to your mom about what sororities are worth looking into for college, while Matty and him lingered out in the front yard. Matty had never looked so serious to Phil, even though he’d known him since they were little kids. 

Phil drove silently, Marisa looking out the window of his car with hard eyes while she clutched tightly onto her purse from her nerves.

“God, that was something,” she breathed out, taking her red hair out of its ponytail and running her hand through it. “Not exactly what I imagined this night would go.”

Phil opened his mouth to speak, but Marisa continued. “Honestly, your friend Matty’s sister is such a little shit.”

Still driving, Phil felt the muscles in his shoulders constrict and his jaw clench. 

“Like, I tried being nice by talking to her about her drawings or whatever, but she was such a brat. I know she’s going through puberty and all, but— hello ? We all have to go through puberty. It’s not an excuse to be such a bi—”

Without letting her finish Phil turned quickly, slamming his foot on the brakes and stopping his car on the side of the road. He stayed still in his seat for a second before starting speaking to her with gritted teeth and voice so low she feared the worst. “Marisa, I swear to fucking god,” he took a deep breath before continuing “if you don’t stop talking about her like that, I’m going to veer us both off the damn road before you get home.”

Eyes wide and mouth ajar, Marisa clasped onto the window beside her in shock. When Phil turned to look at her, his eyes were hard and filled with what she could only describe as hatred in that moment. He breathed deeply again, pursing his lips and put his car slowly back into drive. The drive back was mainly quiet, aside from the sound of the car’s engine and the muffled music coming from passing cars. Phil couldn’t comprehend why he was feeling so angry, but then the words began to spill from his mouth without him realizing.

“She’s Matty’s sister,” Phil spoke with anger still lingering in his voice. “But I’ve known her for years, long enough that I know if she’s sad even if she doesn’t show it. That if she’s ever felt lonely, it becomes my responsibility to make her feel otherwise. We’re not related by blood, obviously, but what we have is beyond being related by blood. She’s my little sister. And I told you that before we even got in the car, but you clearly didn’t understand what I meant.”

Phil finally pulled up to her home, pulling in her driveway and parking the car. He thought the drive back would clear his mind, remind him that he still wanted to date her. But instead, he couldn’t look at Marisa without resentment and disgust clouding his vision.  

“I think it’s best that we stop seeing each other,” he muttered, loud enough for her to hear.

Marisa stiffened before finally nodding quickly, still shaken by his reaction. Unbuckling her seatbelt, she noticed Phil continued to avoid looking at her. 

Once she shut the door to his car, he breathed out before cursing to himself. He realized how tight his hands were around the steering wheel and attempted to loosen and move his fingers.

As he drove back home, he couldn’t help but feel more regret for tonight flooding him. He wanted to find a way to make it up to you.

[delusionally-loveless-by-choice]

Lost in a cornfield..? Pt2

Scarecrow!Phillip Graves x Lost!Reader

summary: You learn a bit more about Mr. Scarecrow! There's something he wants to show you? What can that be?

warnings: horror aspects coming in later in the chapter >:), mention of blood, likely incorrect depictions/references to wrong periods because I forgot that light bulbs weren't invented until like 1879 (googled it), he kinda turns dark so big contrast to the first part loll

w/c - 2k

Part 1, Part 3

Author's note: its ass and its got a part 2 :)) also on ao3 under Phillip graves tag. also I know this is not a Phillip graves gif, I just wanted something to fill in so I might change it later

Oh, God, what hell is this place? You can’t help the horrified look that sits on your face, it’s paralyzing and a moment of vulnerability. 

One that the scarecrow catches.

He stares at you, watching the realization finally sink into you, and he can’t help the grin that stretches on his face as he watches your expression.

He sighs, clearly amused. “I don’t just protect this ‘cornfield’. In all honesty, this land is strange compared to the one you know.” His tone was matter of factly, “I’m a guardian of sorts, one that is bound to serve it. It’s more work than it sounds, but this job isn’t really my choice, more of a burden and purpose, y'know.” 

“This land.. It’s dangerous.” He makes sure to face you directly as he says this, you can feel the intensity of his tone. “There are things in the field that would do anything in its power to take advantage of your vulnerability. It also doesn't help that you’re their favorite meal: human.” He says the last part with an air of amusement; and though he’s looking at you, the way his straw hat is tilted, it hides a clear view of his eyes. 

His response doesn’t help your wariness. 

The scarecrow seems to take note of this. 

He then says, “But I’m not gonna let that happen.”

You nod and exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Well that’s reassuring.” You nervously chuckle. But it’s only slightly reassuring to your instincts that tell you that this field, this place, is more than dangerous.

"Just remember: this place has its creatures, but it has me too." He pauses, then adds: "I've lived here ever since I was a kid, so I know every nook and cranny of the field. Ain't no pest that's gonna sneak past me."

You see something move further within the corn. Graves snaps his fingers, and the plants rustle to block a pathway. "If we head left, we'll bypass these critters."

“Did.. did you just control the field..?” You ask bewildered. 

"Yes... The corn is a living, breathing organism. I can influence its growth and motion to an extent. The plants listen to my will." The scarecrow replies simply.

He pauses, and grabs your wrist to make you look at him. "Don't worry. The field is friendly to me--I grew up here, after all."

You look up at him, you finally get a look at eyes. They were blue but there was a yellow haze that slightly glowed further reminding you he was far from human. Whatever he was, he was terrifyingly beautiful, in the sense that you didn’t know what he was. Perhaps he was just a true eldritch horror. 

He pulls you along to walk after him.

No, he can’t be that.. Those are monsters after all.. and he’s a guardian, not a monster! You reassure yourself.

As you think and walk, you are reminded of his presence by the yellow haze of his eyes glancing toward you. He lazily turns his head away from you.

You can’t help but ask him, “How.. old are you, Scarecrow..?” this curious whisper of yours makes his ears perk.

He takes a minute to respond, as if he was thinking.

“I’ve been around for about… two-hundred and thirty years, or so.” He finally replies. “Thankfully my age and good looks don’t seem to go hand in hand,” he chuckles. 

The scarecrow smiles, then adds: "I'm proud that I've kept this place safe for so long--doing my duty, serving my purpose."

You don’t do much to mask your surprise. 

“Oh, that’s.. a long time..” You muttered.

Both of you walk for a bit, before you decide to speak again. 

“Uh.. so is there ever an end to this field? Or where are we going?” You asked, it wasn’t in an irritated tone but it sounded so.

He let out a short dry chuckle. “Sort of.. the best you're getting for an exit or end here is the house.” 

Finally with a smooth swift gesture with his hand, the corn in front of the both of you opens up.

There then lies a large acre of land, one that wasn’t infested with the corn. Though it was surrounded by the endless crop, in the middle sat a farmhouse.

It looked abandoned. A home that hadn’t taken up well with time.

The white paint was peeling, the wood of the home looked rotten. One storm, and the house is reduced to nothing.

Yet, there the home stood.

As he walked towards it without a second thought, you were gagged. 

Oh fuck, you distastefully think, but if he said it’s “a way out”.. Guess I shouldn’t judge..

“Follow me, this big ol’ thing has too many hidden entrances and exits.. I’ll take you through the safest.” he gestured for you to follow him as he made his way to the back of the farmhouse. 

You politely nod and follow him, trying to mask the faces you make at the house. 

He turns around to face you, walking backwards as he proudly says, “This beauty is the safest place to escape to in the fields.”

You smile at his pride, it's admirable and slightly adorable with that grin he has on. 

Though, as you look at him, your eyes trail down to his left side. On his waist, his flannel shirt adorns a large red stain.

You grab him by the arm and make him stop walking. A worried face plastered on, you ask, “A-Are you bleeding? Oh God..!”

"Huh? Oh, this?" The scarecrow asks, looking down at the stain, he seems unconcerned by your discovery of blood on him. "It's nothing, just old blood. I've been hurt in these fields many times before, and I've made it out alive."

“But this blood, it ain’t mine, darlin’,” he says with a sheepish grin. Almost like he’s trying to reassure you. But it seems to do the opposite, until you remember the encounter you two had earlier with that critter, as he calls them.

“Oh..” you mumbled. 

He gently pried your hand off of his arm, and started walking again. This time he directly leads you to the entrance he was talking about.

There are weeds, and junk, and rotten pieces of wood lying around. Then finally, there is a shitty little “door” that looks more like someone tried to board a window up instead of a door.

He unhooks the latch and pries open the door.

A wave of dust and spiderwebs go flying, and inside there lies only darkness. 

“C’mon, let’s head in.. there’s something I wanna show ya..” he says excitedly. 

You watch him duck and make his way in, and it doesn’t take longer than three seconds for you to follow after him in fear of being left behind.

It seems it was a basement of sorts that you entered through. It was dark so it was hard to see, but his blue eyes held that yellow glow that seemed to be all he needed to see.

He walked up some stairs and unlocked a door, one that presumably led to the main level of the farmhouse. 

“This way!” he called over to you.

You followed him deeper into the farmhouse.

He was slightly more ahead of you, solely because you were simultaneously looking around at the inside of the farmhouse.

In the main level of the home, there was some light shining from the orange hued sun outside that came in from the boarded up windows. 

The house smelled of wet wood and dust. Not surprising. 

What was slightly surprising was the furniture and general state of the home. The furniture looked so old.. very 1790. If the home was well taken care of maybe the entire place would seem homely.

Instead it felt haunted.

Not innately sinister, but just abandoned. By the owners and time.

You finished looking and turned a corner to find him. 

He stood at another staircase, holding his straw hat.  

This one clearly led to the second story. 

“All done?” he asked with a grin as he set the hat on the railing of the staircase.

“Guess so..” You mumbled and grumbled. “I thought you were taking me out of this place, not deeper into it. This farmhouse is probably dead in the center of this place with all the endless cornfield surrounding it!” 

“In time,” he quickly says, “right now it’s best that you’re here. The farmhouse,” he pouts his lips in a manner that makes it seem like he’s picking his words wisely, “has its own set of.. securities.”

His eyes make it back to yours, and before you can answer he speaks again. “Now you ready for what I wanna show you?” he asked with a grin. 

It was charming and alluring; his pearly fangs poking out and dimples on display.

It was enough to make any thoughts, defenses, and protests you had melt away.

You find yourself rolling your eyes and smiling back at him. 

“Alright.. what do you want to show me?” you finally ask with a raised brow.

“Jus’.. follow me.. It ain’t something I show to just anyone..” he says as he turns and starts to make his way up the stairs.

As you follow him up the stairs, he walks down a hallway, it’s not very well lit. 

You see the shitty discolored floral wallpaper that was definitely put up later in the owners residency from 1790. Behind the wallpaper you see the cracked walls and rotten wood that somehow surpassed the weird time.

Even in the shitty lighting you make out pictures that are hung up on the wall.

They show a family, a big one. 

One that probably lived in the house at some point and were the last known occupants before it turned into whatever it was now.

“Was this your family?” You ask him. 

He only hums, and you take that as all the confirmation you were gonna get.

You tear your eyes away from the wall and see him standing at the last door of the hallway.

It was especially dark, and for some reason you felt your body start to feel like it wanted to run. 

“C’mere, in here.” he says with that same charming grin, it makes you want to trust him even when your body is starting to vibrate with the urge to run.

He goes to open the door, and of course it creaks when it opens, it’s an old ass house.

And of course the inside is dark as shit, there’s no electricity, the house is from the near 1800s.

“After you,” his charming southern accent rings like sweet honey, and you walk right into the room.

He of course follows right after you and shuts the door behind him. 

The bit of light that shone from the hallway disappeared.

The sound of the door closing, the consumption of the room in darkness, and the click of the door being locked, cause you to turn around in the now dark to face the direction for which you think he is in.

The darkness doesn’t last, with a snap of his finger candles are set and the room is illuminated in a dim light.

Finally you get a good look at the room.

It’s small, and it smelled putrid.

You saw that the boarded up windows had curtains, but the material wasn’t cloth.

“What is..” you trailed off as the slow realization creeped in.

It was skin. 

Human skin. 

Your head reeled, you turned and saw that the rest of the room was adorned in furniture that was also made up of patches and pieces of skin stitched together. 

Your eyes wide, they searched desperately around the room but were only met with skin.

It covered every surface. 

The floor, the walls, the furniture. 

It was all human skin.

There were even a few faces stitched into the wall and ceiling, portraits that blended into the wall. 

Confused teary eyes wildly looked around the room.

You whipped around to find the scarecrow. He stood right where he had been, leaning on the locked door, the same grin plastered on his face.

This time it did nothing to ease you. Instead it felt sinister, taunting.

Your trembling lips try to say something but your voice dies in your throat.

Finally that southern voice you had some to familiarize yourself with spoke, his tone sickeningly sweet and that yellow hue in his eyes burned like the candles that lit the room, “What ya think? Beautiful, right darlin’?.”