#makagraves

[ocaekija]

POV: You're interrupting.

[rottgaz]

cooking up something 👀

[ocaekija]

makagraves but they're bat hybrids...

Graves is a northern ghost bat with plenty of white fluff he spends way too long trying to groom. Makarov is a vampire bat (duh) who's pointed features scare off anyone stupid enough to get close.

See Graves as he casually saunters up to his boyfriend, invades his personal space, and promptly falls asleep. Bafflingly, Makarov lets him and even snuggles closer. He will vehemently deny it ever happened if asked.

While hunting, Makarov would gun for bigger prey, ones with ticks or insects that can be collected to give to his mate later. Snacks in exchange for Graves licking off all the blood on his face back in their nest. Though he'd probably do it anyway without food bribe. Graves couldn't hunt big prey on account of his smaller claws, but he was smart enough to know how to trap them. Lure them into a situation where Makarov could easily feed without risking injury.

Of course they'd have to separate to tend to their own colonies. It's not uncommon for bats of different species to intermingle but what sane soul would choose someone from their rival colony? So their nest is hidden away from their homes, at some midpoint where its not too far and not too close. That way, after being separated for maybe weeks, they can just crash in their pile of leaves and not move until the sun goes down.

They'll negotiate during cuddles because leadership never rests. Who has which hunting area for the month? Are there new predators to look out for? When will their yearly migration start on what route this time?

It's traitorous sure, but their colonies have benefited from their little tryst so there isn't much to object to.

Except maybe mating season. (NSFW under the cut)

Each year their colonies will offer up prospective mates to them and each year they grew more frustrated as their leaders reject ever single one. Konni only recently stopped pushing but Shadow is relentless. Graves barely managed to weasel his way out of it by feigning illness. However, the prospect had rubbed their scent all over him before leaving him alone.

No matter how hard he scrubbed, Graves couldn't get the smell of another off him. It'll likely wear off in due time but he didn’t have time. Not when he could feel that warm pull in his gut twist harder. The flutterings of heat.

He wanted to bury his head in his wings.

The orange and purple streaks in the sky melted away as summer night fell on the forest. Moonlight barely filtered through the trees. It was dark tonight. A moot problem for Makarov; he flew with lethal precision on a route he hated he knew well. He knew this trail better than he did his way around his colony and for the life of him he couldn't find his irritation for it.

A bag of moths slung around his chest and a full belly from gorging himself on a bird, Makarov darted around branches until the familiar silhouette of their nest came into view. He pretends to not feel the delight at seeing it.

His feet land on the thickest part of a branch as the rest of him shifts back to humanoid. As per usual, the entrance to the nest is covered up by smartly placed shrubbery he has to push out of the way to enter the tree's hollow. Dirt is to be expected but there's a film of grime all over the bark and inner wood.

Weird. It was uncharacteristic for a man as tidy as Graves.

Makarov padded into the hall until the ceiling opened up to the sprawling leaves and branches above. This old tree grew dense enough that few would think there was a nest here while also giving them a green canopy lush with dew and fresh air. Under it, furniture carved out and scratched from use sat among bags of bugs and a pile of fruit. Berries to be used as mammal bait. Thoughtfulness preceded him.

His eyes were too honed in on the leafy divot at the center where the biggest leafage they could find layed over softer vegetation. Full flowers dotted the bed with whites and cream yellows. Pretty, yet not as beautiful as his boyfriend unfurled amongst them.

Graves sat up, flushed from heat to toe and mussed, blinking into the darkness where he knew Makarov stood. A relieved purr came out so serene.

"You made it."

"I always do."

Makarov ignored the questioning look thrown his way and walked closer. His mate in their nest all comfy. Welcoming despite the eye roll. In trying to quell the lurching fire in his lungs, he took a deep breath.

Mistake.

Caramel sweetness flooded his chest. Almost buttery with how creamy Graves' scent has gone. The normal burnt wood accord had mellowed out into something herbal and raw. A little spiced too. The type of aroma that announced fecundity.

Long buried instincts tingled awake. Makarov rumbled a growl in the back of his throat as he quickly climbed into the nest. Graves nudged aside foliage for him and also took off his bag, scooting over. His eyes lit up at the sight of its contents.

"Oh sugar, you shouldn't have." He rustled the moths around in the cloth. "How long did this take you?"

"An hour." Makarov muttered simply.

Graves made an impressed noise, peckishly snacking on a moth or two. "Just because you're getting better at catching bugs don't mean you have to get this many. We have plenty of food."

Nosing at his mate's hair, Makarov hummed indifferent. "You will need extra once our litter is here."

Graves nearly spat out moth wings, choking and coughing in sheer surprise. The audacity. "Scuse me?"

"Our litter." Makarov glanced at him. "It is mating season."

"I know it's matin' season!"

In his panic, Graves shoved the bag of moths away trying to also push Makarov off who was getting extremely touchy. How unfortunate for him that Makarov knew all of his weak points and bombarded him with nuzzles, caresses, and rubs until he simmered down. So cute flustered like this.

"Are you sweet talkin' or bein' serious." Graves gasped between smothers. "Y'know how messy that'll be and if you're just scent drunk, Ima need ya to back up."

"I am not so easily swayed." Makarov mouthed at the sensitive patch of skin his behind his ear, teasing out more creamy hints. "Perhaps you forgot how our last mating went."

Bright red bloomed on Graves' face at the mention. How could they forget?

In the sweltering summer air, they fucked for hours nonstop. All sorts of positions, every place imaginable. It was hungrier than it'd ever been and orgasm after orgasm merely skimmed the surface. Frustration boiled there and seemingly forever until Graves, right on the cusp of another unsatisfactory climax, babbled something about 'their litter'. It rang like a struck tuning fork. The beast wearing Makarov's skin froze, eyes dilating to black pits as the thought looped ad infinum.

Litter. Pups. Their litter of pups. Offspring. Make offspring. Must make their litter of pups. Breed.

Please, breed.

They blacked out soon after but they felt the consequences of their actions the next evening. Sore beyond reason and dehydrated. Somehow sticky yet crusted dry everywhere. Matted fur that needed to be cleaned because there were healthy gushes of cum oozing out onto it.

Graves had swatted Makarov off then but he saw the sad glimmer in his lake blue eyes when the seed didn't take. The relief overshadowed it, didn't mean it never existed.

Makarov nipped at Graves' ear. "Should I remind you?"

That earned him a proper shove as Graves tried to breath in fresh air not tainted with embaressmemt. "No! No. That won't be necessary."

As if that’d keep Makarov from sniffing his mate's delicious scent, so ripe and velvety and—

Sour. A sour musk out of left field. It was faint but definitely there. Someone else's residual on him.

Some one else.

Makarov went deathly still and Graves knew him too well.

"Don't start."

"There is another—"

"No there ain't!" Graves groaned, scrubbing his face with a hand. "Shadow wouldn't leave me alone until I was paired with 'em for a bit. You know how it goes by now. It's nothin', really."

Makarov should understand but his narrow eyes betrayed his doubt. Not that Graves wasn't faithful, rather that another person thought they had a chance. Then scenting him no less. It ruffled him enough that dark fur grew down his neck. He crawled over his mate with sharpening claws and teeth, partial shift into the angered animal underneath.

"I should give you pups then, so no one tries to touch you again."

His words rolled too deep and too dark for a joke. Wide eyed, Graves squirmed in place, attempting make some space for his abashment to sit.

"Holy shit, you're so fuckin' possessive."

The tone was exasperated but not unkind. Graves could chastise him as much as he wanted, the pale tuffs of fur sprouting around his collar spoke more then he did. Most importantly, he wasn't leaving.

An evil glint shone in Makarov’s eyes. He buried his face into the soft fluff, scenting what was rightfully his. Rubbing his all over to prove his point. The stuttering mewl that leaves Graves tossed gasoline onto the fire.

"Alrightly, fine." He sighed fondly. "But who's carryin'?"

Makarov paused for a second. He had to think for too long to understand the question. Maybe he was already scent drunk. That idea dissolved once he felt the slippery wetness streak across his thighs. Slickness that did not come from him.

He could only chuckle as he snaked his hand down between them then cupped the obscenely wet groin, rock hard and dripping.

"You ask even though your body has already decided."

Graves sharply inhaled, arching up into the touch despite his protests. His mouth was open trying to say anything in coherent English and yet a tinny sqeak escaped as Makarov decided to press fingers right at the tight entrance. His cock wanted to be the one pressing into him, throbbing insistently against Graves' weeping dick.

"Your kind could carry many, yes?" Makarov crooned with inky pride. "You are strong enough to carry my litter. So strong for me."

Ticklish breath made Graves blush and squirm more. Desperation was leaking into his voice. The sound he made when a finger finally breached him—the airy squeal colored with want. It took all his willpower not to bite down and lap at the wound. His blood would taste so good right now.

"Our pups will be like you and me. The best of us. Swift, deadly, smart, beautiful, and you would bear them so well. You will make sure it takes, yes? I do not mind tending to you all night if you promise to bear our litter. You will bear them, won't you? "

Makarov spoke pure filth into Graves' ear while scissoring him open. His hand was drenched in slick and proceeded to coax out more, honing in on a tender spot mercilessly. Bucking hips tried to throw him off but it was no use, he played with his mate for ages: licking at his neck, lazily rubbing them together, and grazing his canines along that bobbing jugular. The lovely noises fed and buffered his greed, his soul patiently waiting for the tightly wound sensibility to snap.

Snap it did.

Graves flipped them around so fast, Makarov took a bit to feel the other body grinding against him. Sopping wet drooled onto his abdomen as he was straddled in place by muscular thighs. Claws out, the off-white fur fluffed and puffed around his collarbone, Graves was heaving with starved eyes. Vibrating with need. He swallowed down weeks of restraint.

"I will gut you if I'm not bred by sunrise."

The cruelest smile split Makarov's face.

"Yes."

They kiss like they're still trying to win a fight but their arms work in tandem, lining Graves up and Makarov slamming home.

Autumn coated the forest in warm yellows and browns even in the dead of night. Crunchy leaves hang onto their branches as the winds blow through the trees. Most wildlife was beginning to prepare for the cold front to come.

It meant Makarov had to go farther for his meals but he didn't mind.

He soared through the same route he took everyday. A bag of moths slung around him. At the old tree, he landed with practiced grace and pushed past the dry shrubbery into his nest.

Moonlight filtered through the leafy canopy to cast a gentle fall glow onto their little cove. There was still food piled in the corners. Nuts and seeds that haven't spoiled yet sat next to newly caught insects. Fresh flowers that bloomed this time of year dotted their bed now bigger stuffed with more foliage. Just the one that grew around the tree because anything else was too far for Graves.

He sat up as Makarov padded closer, immediately gunning to cuddle next to his mate. Protective claws gripped at him tight as if he'd disappear unless held.

Graves just laughed. He took Makarov's hand and guided him to hold his heavy belly. Their litter should pop out any day now.

"See? I told you we'd still be here."

"I know. I was making sure."

[rottgaz]

i like to think my reaction pictures show my personality amazingly others just don’t appreciate it 😿🙁

[x3no9]

A little MakaGraves time ❤️🖤

[ocaekija]

First Morning After (Full + Updated Fic)

Entire comic in one place. I also rewrote the accompanying fic, adding extra✨spice✨and a whole lot more desperation. It gets nasty; you've been warned.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Please enjoy <3

[ocaekija]

makagraves but make it angel!Phillip (re: my prev hcs) and Makarov doesn't know.

Wouldnt it'd mean the Christian relics could have actual magical powers...

Imagine Makarov gets his hands on one, an ornate ring that belonged to some orthodox saint. I read somewhere that OG!Makarov was literally Russian Orthodox Christian and that probably still applies to the reboot as well. So he's careful with it but treats it more like a trophy then anything truly sacred.

At some point Graves visits and is looking around the collection of stuff Makarov has in one of his many residences when he sees the ring on a little velvet cushion. Of course he instantly knows what it is, trying not to sweat bullets or else blow his cover.

Makarov misinterprets the aversion as fear of damaging stuff and he take the ring out, thinking to show it off.

Big mistake.

Cause through the ring, corporal illusions don't work and Makarov sees something very bright and angelic where Graves stands.

When Makarov holds it up to his eye, he sees wings and a cracked halo on Graves who looks increasingly alarmed at the scrutiny.

"What are you."

Graves tries to stammered something about the trick of the light or how they must've drank too much while shimmying over to the exit. Only for Makarov to cage him in, pinning him to the wall. He double checks that he isnt going crazy, moving the ring over his normal human hand that appears as is to Graves' arm that glows only through the hole.

"You are not human." Makarov accuses. "Show me what you are."

Graves again tries to get out of this and earns himself a jab to the ribs for his troubles. Makarov's grip is ironclad, they're not going anywhere.

With no other choice, Graves relents and drops the illusion. In a blink, what was a rugged aged commander became a being as white as snow.

Graves doesn't shine as much as he used to and his wings have lost their original luster, but Makarov is in awe all the same.

He runs his calloused gun-scarred fingers through the soft feathers, marveling as they fluttered, unused to human touch. His hands smooth over everything inch of glowing skin. When Makarov glances up at the cracks in Graves' halo, he taps it a few times as if making sure it was real.

"You fell."

"Yep."

Graves is stone still. He could break free and fly away if he absolutely has to, but he gets distracted by how enthralled Makarov was. Human hands eventually settle on his hips and dug into him. Makarov hadn't blinked in minutes, a possessive heat swirling around his eyes and gut.

"An angel." Makarov states the obvious like a prayer.

Graves falters at how they huddled closer. "Don’t get any ideas now."

Instead, Makarov takes Graves' hand, brought it up, and kissed each knuckle with a reverence.

"I've had an angel by my side."

Vindication and fascination rolled into an inky black tone. Graves is a sheepish mess as he pushes at Makarov’s shoulders to make space, muttering something about getting attached to a megalomaniac.

Makarov hears none of it and yanks his lover's hand towards him, slipping the ornate ring onto an angelic radiant finger. It fits perfectly.

Graves gets to so embarrassed he reverts to human form and attempts to pull the relic off. It doesn't budge.

"My angel." Makarov purrs into Graves' ear. "You stay with me."

The retort Graves has disappeared as Makarov mouths at his neck, humming Russian prayers and sermons he'd memorized as a child. He, like he had then, worships God's creation with all of his soul. His damned blackened heart will chain this one to him as well.

[x3no9]

Had an Anon request something like this 👍

“Are we certain this is Makarov’s daughter?” Captain Price asked, as he leaned over the desk and studied the high school yearbook.

“Yes. We have very solid intel Captain. Laswell herself looked into this for weeks.” Gaz spoke with a stern look on his face.

“Fuck. That’s the ticket to getting that bastard. And this time, I’m pulling the bloody trigger.” Soap growled and Ghost nodded in agreement.

“Easy lads. Trust but verify. As soon as I speak with one of my contacts, we can fetch the lass and see if she visits her Dad on occasion.”

“We have a Mrs. Makarov to track down?” Soap added.

“Nothing on record. Just need to grab a strand of hair from her and we’ll find out right-quick.” Gaz told them.

Soap and Ghost sat hidden in their dark grey SUV. “Doesn’t sit right with me, Johnny boy.” Ghost grumbled.

“What? We aren’t going to hurt her you know that.” Soap assured him with a gentle pat on the thigh.

“Right. This better not turn into a shit fest.”

“Again, don’t worry that pretty head of yours.”

Ghost sat up and watched the bodyguard walking just a few feet from Makarov’s daughter. They followed the car until it stopped outside of very nice townhouse.

The pair got out the moment the sun went down, and broke in, taking the guard down with a stun dart. Soap saw an older woman sleeping in a room near the kitchen and left her alone.

He found the daughter and very quickly used some chloroform to keep her sleeping. They were in and out in five minutes.

“We got her. Rendezvous in thirty.” Ghost told Price over the phone.

“Elsa Makarov? Wake up sweetie.” Price’s voice cut through her chemical-induced slumber.

She rubbed her eyes and then froze up. She looked at the Captain with big pretty blue eyes. “Why am I here?” She asked, gripping the couch cushion beneath her.

She saw she had a blanket on so she pulled it up to her neck.

“Look, we just need to know a little bit about your father. We have been trying to… locate him.” Price spoke as gently as he could, but it was still gruff.

She wasn’t loosening up so they had Gaz come in. “Elsa. Your Dad hurt a lot of people. We need to find out where he is so we can make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“I won’t let you hurt my father!” She shouted as warm tears trailed down her soft cheeks.

She had dimples just like Makarov, and dark, straight hair. But her eyes were a stunning blue.

“Does your Mom have blue eyes, Elsa?” Gaz asked her with a friendly smile.

“Mom?” She looked confused.

“It’s ok. We can try again later. Are you hungry?” Gaz asked her.

She nodded.

“Ok. I will order a pizza.” He patted her on the shoulder.

“Do you have any salad?” She asked.

“We can get that too.”

Captain Price got through to Makarov and let him know they had Elsa.

“If you touch a single hair on her head… fuck it. I will kill you just for talking to her.” Makarov was seething. The angry breaths of air coming through his nostrils were audible as he spoke.

“We intend to find your woman too. Unless you turn yourself in. You know I am a patient man… but patience doesn’t last forever. I will do what needs to be done.” Price’s threat was clear.

Several hours went by and Price got a call from none other than the former Shadow Commander himself.

“Captain. General Graves here. I am going to be taking Elsa off your hands.”

“Stay out of this.” Price told him. “This has got nothing to do with you.”

“Trust me, Johnathan. It has everything to do with me.” Graves’ tone was suddenly dripping with menace. “I have my sights on you and your boys, I’ll be there in an hour.”

“What the fuck?” Soap caught wind of the conversation.

“Looks like General USA has his hand in this.” Price told Soap.

“He has no power over you.”

“He technically does, remember?” Price told Soap.

Graves arrived with a handful of soldiers, all dressed in black. Graves himself was wearing an elegant black button down shirt and matching suit pants. He had a platinum watch on too.

His look raised some brows with 141. Graves was always a jeans kind of guy. Elsa rushed to him. “Dad!”

Soap and Price’s necks snapped in her direction. Graves hugged her tightly. “Did anyone hurt you sweetie?” Graves asked her, locking eyes with her as he inspected her face a little.

“No. I had some food and they asked about father.”

“Excuse me, what the fuck is going on?” Soap asked with a frown on his face.

“Whoa, language.” Graves snapped at him.

“Are you some kind of … guardian?” Price asked, also completely confused.

“I’m her Dad.” Graves told them. “Run on over to the car, Els’.” He told her.

“Makarov is her father.” Soap corrected him.

“That he is, Johnny boy. And I am her Dad.” Graves smirked over at Price and Soap.

“Adopted then. Why would you two be sharing a child?” Soap prodded.

“Vova wanted a legacy. My twin sister was the surrogate.”

“So the mother is your twin sister.” Price stated with a hint of lingering confusion.

“Look… Vladimir and I are married. Does that clear up the problem? You nabbed the wrong kid today. She is my daughter too. Stand down.”

Graves left the two men to their bewilderment and called Makarov.

“I have Ellie, honey. Everything is alright.”

“Did you kill the bastards?” Makarov snarled.

“No, handsome. Not the right way to handle things in the heat of a war. Are you coming home tonight?”

There was a deep sigh on the other end. “Yes, my love. I need to see you two again.” Makarov sounded like a different person. His anger was temporarily diffused.