a/n: back on my COD rants because my countries sooo cooked. Not proof read as always but enjoy
MINORS DNI
ever since Phillip has started ‘dating’ you, or more so seeing you at the night in barracks or wherever he could find you- he wanted more. Sure he knew it was wrong, you were a famous military commander- he was just your pmc company hire to get your dirty work done.. well he used to be- but age had worn out his use, hips feeling sore and arms wrapped in scars of past missions that made his men worry of his capabilities.. but he still wanted you. Wanted you to be his, wanted to be able to get spoiled by you, get adored by you, to get shown off at fancy military events he wouldn’t usually be even invited to anymore… to still be worthy and wanted. The fear of being replaced haunted him when he looked in the mirror or found a white hair amongst the blonde dusty hair he had all his life.
It took him a bit to plan something, but it festered in his brain, brewed like fine alcohol until his plans were set and ready. He had wanted a kid since he was 7 anyhow- so it wasn’t all too far off from the grand plan. His plan was smooth in exact execution; beg and whine and give you puppy eyes until you’ve said the famous last words of ‘one time without a condom won’t hurt if you’re sure.’ And then he knew his trap was set and ready
he let you bend him over your barracks warm bed, feeling your calloused hands ghost over his sore body and making him shiver in slight. His legs shook as he tried to spread them impossibly farther to give a show, feeling hot, bothered, and needy
he gasped and groaned when he felt your tongue against his clit, soft licks and suckles making his blunt nails dig into the textured fabric of said sheets. He was impatient, wanting for you to fill him to the brim already, to make his legs shake properly. But this felt much too good to stop- his head buried in a pillow as to not whine too loud though it did very little to help
he finally felt you pull away after how many orgasms he couldn’t count, his body feeling boneless and shaken already. He simply couldn’t think of a word to say other than pathetically crackling pleas of something he couldn’t quite name. To slow down? To speed up? To fuck him till his brains felt like mush? He wasn’t quite sure.
he shuttered a little at the quite usual feeling of the head of your cock sliding into his now well lubed walls, his body clenching around you like a vice and his mind swirling with the relief of the fact he could not be replaced. As long as the idea of getting pregnant worked, which it most hopefully would.
he let out gasped out moans as you finally bottomed out, one of your hands sliding up to cradle his throat before sticking two of your fingers in his mouth to silence him- no need to wake up your soldiers over a PMC commanders moaning. He whined at the obscenity, sucking on the digits as you bucked into him rougher than usual, using him like a living fleshlight. He could swear he felt it in his throat by now- his hips uselessly rolling into your thrusts even though you already had a pace set much faster then he could keep up with
His gummy walls fluttered around you with each deep grounding thrust, his back arched in a way sure to hurt later as you fucked into him senseless until you came inside him, feeling him bite down on your fingers to lot let out a groan as he squirted all over the fucking sheets- overstimulation washing over him like static as he pulled himself off you and lazily put the sheet into the hamper before tugging you down onto the bed and cuddling into your side- aftercare could wake, for the moment he had to silently celebrate being a permanent resident in your life.
this isn’t a request but you’re the only writer i know who writes the monster!au so
dragon!reader and dragon!price are haunting my thoughts. dragons usually have to hold themselves back when sparring because they’re so much stronger than other monsters but with price & reader they don’t need to, to the point where the other members of the 141 are kinda wondering if they need to intervene.
what they do or don’t know is this is you and price courting, testing each other’s strength to assess whether you’re suitable mates. once you have decided you’re suitable it continues in the bedroom, fighting for dominance and testing each other’s stamina as price rides you or you pin price down and see if he can take all the strength behind your thrusts.
OH god I LOVE the way you think! I know @rodolfoparras also did a dragon price some time ago but I'm happy to let my monsterfucker out lol :D I'll consider this a spitball thingy but GOD DAMN did my hyperfixation hyperfixate on this :Ddd kinda rushed at the end but it's 3AM :/
CW:NSFW
What about if dragons measure not just raw strength, but all other aspects as well? They're prideful by nature and with so little of them remaining no self-respecting dragon will settle for a witless brute or a powerless scribe.
Price had lost hope in finding a mate centuries ago because he's even pickier than most of his kin; in his view, a proper one needs to be strong enough to completely pin him down, needs to be smart enough to see the insults in his honeyed words and give back as good as he does, needs to be clever enough to lead men as good as he does.
A proper mate needs to keep up with him on all levels.
And for a dragon of his age, that's an unachievable set of criteria. Oh sure, many of the dragons he's met over the years have tried to match him, but all fell short, leaving him lonely and unsatisfied.
Then he met you, a fellow Captain, a fellow dragon. Though only a few centuries younger than him, you're a wyrmling in his eyes, your scales like shining metal compared to his muddled gemstones. An arrogant wyrmling if the way you peacock for him the first time you enter the training room has anything to say about it— your wings spreading out and muscles rippling, back straightening out to make you taller, scales glinting in the artificial light; little details that anyone else can brush off as a simple stretch but to a dragon it screams of your interest in him.
His slitted eyes roam across your body, both equal parts disdain and curiosity. "Got somethin' ta say there boy?" His words are rough like sandpaper.
"No, no." You hum as you get into the ring, every little movement purposely done to showcase your hard earned musculature. "Just that you should skip out on this fight. Wouldn't want you to throw your back out old man."
"Old man huh?" His eyes blaze with the same fire at the end of his cigar, your words igniting something in his chest that had long been extinguished. "I'll show you old."
And suddenly he's in the ring, both of you trading blow for blow with the same savagery your progenitors had frightened mankind with for millennia, your claws leaving deep grooves in the concrete when you miss his side, his tail smashing a portion of the ground into dust when you avoid it, the ground between you cracking when you try to push the other away, loose scales and dust and debris littering the ground as you and Price wrestle on the ground.
Both of your teams watch from the sidelines, your team calming the other members of TF141 that this is just how dragons are, pointedly ignoring your victorious snarl when you pin Price down to the ground, your clawed hand harshly pushing his face into the concrete to the point you might break his nose as you bite the back of his neck, forcing him to submit. "I win,"
"Not fer long." He snarls back just as deep, feeling alive for the first time in who knows how long. "Best two out of three." And with that he jerks, remaining wing slamming into your side and knocking you off balance long enough for him to fling you into the wall opposite of him.
You don't know how many rounds you go before you're forced to stop by a very pissed off Laswell, who also pointedly ignores the obvious bulges in what remains of both of your pants, giving both of you a stern talking to about wrecking the damn training room.
You're ready to leave after being chastised like a child but Price is quicker, passing you with a "Good fight back there." rumbling in his throat, the soft scales of his wing brushing along your jaw. Your eyes nearly pop out of your skull when you meet his gaze, and Price has a good poker face but the smoldering look in his eyes and the low grumble in his chest makes it's obvious you've peaked his curiosity.
But that's just the start, the hard part is keeping it. While regular dragons may spend time with a potential mate conversing on scholarly subjects or having philosophical debates, you and him have a more practical way of assessing the other's intellect — Battle plans.
To your teams it sounds like a harsh argument, ideas thrown around and sharp insults tacked on top, their heads ping ponging between you and Price as you look over maps, trying to one up the other. Eventually your teammates leave you to settle this on your own.
"And I'm telling you, old man," You growl, both of you so close there's barely any space between you as you point at the map. "We can push a smaller team through the forest while we lead the frontal assault, our wip's not going to have anywhere to go then." You huff, holding your head up high to make it obvious you're proud of your idea.
Price gives you the stink eye, before he scans the map again, humming to himself. After a few seconds he lets out a scoff. "We don't have enough men for that." He says, but the sharp edge in his tone is dulled. "But—" His tail moves to brush against your own, your rough scales brushing against his smoother ones. "—It has some merit."
Price doesn't draw attention to the way your tails intertwine, wrapping together like two snakes, and neither do you. But the short purr that bubbles out of your chest says everything he needs to know, growing louder when he answers with his own, your shoulders brushing together. "Aight, back to work." He cuts your purrs short, but you can't hide the pleased look on your face as your tails remain coiled together.
Then comes the actual courting dance.
One late evening spent looking over documents in the privacy of his office, your tails once again coiled beneath the desk after successfully having proved your wit to him again, absentmindedly telling embarrassing stories of your respective teams. . . Price has a revelation. You might be it. "Hey lad."
You look up, your full attention on him. "Yeah?"
With a mumbled grunt too quiet for you to hear Price slides a hand beneath his shirt and pulls a large green scale from the meat of his shoulder blade, the wound healing before it can even bleed.
Instinctively you know what this means, for knowing how a prospective mate treats an extension of you will show how they'll treat you. But you still speak up, needing proof for your own mind that you're not insane and haven't been burning the wrong tree. "What?"
Price glares at you, "Don't play dumb," He says as he slides the large scale across the table to you. "It doesn't suit you." There's an underlayer of heat in his words, blue slitted eyes looking you over in a much more appreciative light.
You can't control the big grin that spreads across your face, "Oh, then what does suit me?" You ask as you follow his lead, yanking out one of your larger scales from your own back and sliding it to him. It makes the difference between you two obvious, his green scale muddled with age compared to your shiny one.
"Arrogant muppet." The gentle way he picks up your scale clashes with his harsh words, cradling it in his hand like it'll crack at the slightest of touches, his face reflected in the surface.
You grin, "Just confident." You feel his sharp eyes judge every minute twitch of your fingers as you pick up his scale. Price's poker face hides the way his heart melts at the loving way you brush a thumb across the surface, how it throbs when you don't immediately attempt to make it shine like some whelps once did, accepting him for how he is by putting it in your breast pocket.
God, he doesn't even know how much he'd fantasized about something like this when he was still young, vestiges of a purr escaping his throat at the tender way you treat his scale. "Right." He shakes his head and places your scale in his own breast pocket, handing you another stack of papers. "Get back to work."
You grin and do as he says, wings twitching as a sign of joy, your tail squeezing down on his and receiving a squeeze in kind.
Price feels like a horny teen when he lays awake in bed late at night with your scale held between his claws. He feels stupid for feeling so giddy at the thought of having a mate, a proper mate, yet his body thinks differently. Just holding it in his hand is enough to make him grow hot, your scent still clings to the scale and Price finds himself holding it close to his nose to familiarize himself with it and Hell his body loves it, cocks growing hard in record time and his thighs wet with slick. The poor thing doesn't even know what to relieve first, his free hand constantly going between stroking his cocks and fingering himself, mind craving the heat of another dragon that he'd been deprived of.
What Price doesn't know is that you're in the same boat, biting your arm to silence yourself as you imagine it's Price you're breeding instead of a pillow, splintering the headboard from how hard you're gripping it in an attempt to not damage the scale.
Then shit hits the fan when during a routine mission you two are ambushed, and while two dragons are no easy prey for mankind, humans have long since gone from using rocks and sticks. You catch sight of a sniper's scope glint seconds before the bullet targets Price, and in only a few seconds to think you throw yourself in the way, Price's scale in your breast pocket puts enough resistance to make you survive the bullet, but you feel it crack, and that. . . that sets you off.
Price doesn't even have the time to lift his gun before you're tearing through the battlefield like a man possessed, anger burning like a volcano in your chest for trying to hurt him, elemental breath and draconic strength unleashed to it's fullest potential.
And Price? Price watches the show with that same heat burning in his belly, forced to bite his lip to silence the pleased purrs as he rubs his thighs together while you tear flesh from bone, mate flashing in his mind. Look how he protects you His mind purrs, Good mate. Perfect mate.
"I'm sorry." You whimper when you've finally calmed down, the battlefield nothing but a ruined crater and the shards of his scale held tenderly in your cupped hands. "I failed, I-"
"Come here." Price cuts you off quickly and pulls you down into a harsh and desperate kiss, all teeth and tongue and need. He parts just a fraction of an inch, "You passed." He growls and only then do you notice the sharp arousal in his scent, your animalistic hindbrain jumping for joy as you kiss back because holy shit he considers you worthy.
And now that he's found his mate? You best believe his body is going to make up for all the centuries he'd spent alone.
It doesn't even take a week for him to enter heat, waking in a daze with his twin cocks hard and his thighs glistening with slick, your scent lingering in the sheets and your side of the bed still warm. The walls almost shake from how deeply he growls when he registers that you're not next to him, just enough sense in his head to throw on a towel around his waist before angerly stomping through the halls to find you, sniffing you out like a bloodhoud.
"Bloody muppet." Price growls as he yanks you by the horns back to his room, the scent of his arousal so potent you're struck dumb, letting yourself be pushed down. Price's claws slice through your clothes, his hole so slick and eager for you he doesn't even need to stretch, just jumps onto your lap and in one fluid motion takes one of your cocks to the root. "Fuckin' finally." Price hisses, instantly setting a harsh pace of bouncing on your cock that would have had a lesser race end up with a crushed pelvis.
You grip his hips for dear life, surging up to mark his neck and shoulders with bites as he does the same, his ass clapping against your thighs. "Mate." Price moans, hole clenching around you, his cocks leaking against your stomach. "My mate." He grips your hair and pulls you into a bruising kiss, "Going to last long for me yeah?" He asks, a bit of mockery on his flushed face as he feels you cum inside him, riding you through your orgasm as the sudden onslaught of sensations frazzles the intelligent parts of your brain. "Not going to disappoint me now are you?"
Good thing dragons have really short refractory periods.
"Not a chance." You snarl and flip him over suddenly, rumbling purrs escaping your chest from the surprised sound he makes. You attempt to pin him down and he squirms out of your hold, another bout of wrestling breaking out between you that has you two tumbling off the bed and onto the ground.
"That so whelp?" Price breathes out when you manage to pin him down, your strong hand keeping his face flush with the floor. "Do you really think you can keep up?" A pleased thrill runs down his spine from the sensation of your weight bearing down on him, his knees automatically locking up to hike his ass up, tail flipping up to display his slick hole for you.
"Do you?" You counter, one hand on his head, the other pressing both of your dicks together, your two tips pressing against his ass. "You're so wet and desperate, should have just pinned you down the moment I saw you instead of courting you." With one sharp thrust you push in, a pained and elated moan tearing out of his throat at the sensation of your twin cocks spreading him wider than any toy ever could, scratching that itch he'd had for who knows how long.
The stretch and burn and pleasure muddles his mind, reduces him to low animalistic snarls and growls as he does his best to push his hips into yours. "Hurry the fuck up." Price orders, whole body shaking from the way you set a harsh pace, bashing on his prostate, your balls slapping against his own, each hard thrust pushing and pulling his face across the floor. "I'll- fuck- fall asleep."
"You sure about that?" You push your weight further on him, forcing his wing to spread out, your own partially wrapping around him, "Seems to me like-" A bit of elemental breath leaves your throat when one particularly strong thrust has his hole clamping down on you, his back arching to push his hips as close to yours as one of his cocks spews cum on the floor, "-like you're not in a place to order me around."
"You- ah-fuck-ah- wanker." His insult would be a lot more hurtful if he didn't whine like a bitch in heat, both of you devolving into primitive snarls and growls with the only thought on both of your minds being the need to fill Price with as much of your cum as you physically can.
a/n: today one of my friends decided to judge what I was eating and now I feel bad 😀👍, anyhow enjoy some slutty graves
minors DNI
“fuck..” graves hummed to himself as he tugged on his lacy lingerie he was wearing, trying to get it to look just right in the mirror. You had been gone with work for the entire day and he was antsy- and horny. All his toys just didn’t fill him up as nicely as you did! He wanted you, and he wanted you home now.
so? He set up his phone, and put on your favorite lingerie- the outline of his weeping cock and his cockring showing through the thin fabric, the hickeys you placed on him last night peaking out, and his eyes staring right into the camera for the perfect photo to send to you
he knew you’d be angry when you came home- riled up and hard from just his photos. God he loved that idea even if it meant he might get a bit of a punishment, that’s what he wanted after all! Today he just simply didn’t want to think and getting used like a toy sounded like a perfect way to make his brain fuzzy.
he sat on his bed and waited for the sound of the key unlocking the front door; a pleasant hum rolling off his tongue when he heard you storm through the house. He knew how it would all happen. He must have done this a hundred times.
he gasped softly when you pinned him to the bed harshly, a bratty smile sliding across his lips until you had tugged aside the panty part of his perfect lingerie. He could feel your hot breath against his skin and the harsh burn of you sliding in with only the prep of him trying to tease himself earlier in the day
his hands ached at how you had pinned them behind his back, his lip almost bloody just from how hard he was biting down- your thrusts made him feel like he was choking on your length in his throat- his eyes hurt from rolling back and yet he just wanted more and more and more. He begged and begged for more until he couldn’t even think of a word, the start of his release creeping up on him and making him whine. He could feel you abusing his prostate, it made him gasp and groan.
a wet spot of pre had formed in his lingerie, and his blonde hair all messy by the time you pulled his cockring off, making him cum all over the sheets with a pitiful whine at the mere stimulation. His mind was starting to get foggy and dizzy, words tumbling out with spaces in between and his southern accent punctuated by moans, whimpers, and mewls. He could barely think straight until you painted his gummy walls white, his body shivering in bliss when you finally pulled out and let him catch his breath.
thinking about gaz (bc he's severly underrated and deserves to be talked about more)
gaz who tears up whenever you fuck him. sometimes it just feels like too much and you're just so deep that it's overwhelming. when you guys first sleep together you stop midway bc you thought something was wrong. he was quick to tell you to keep goin.
gaz who is undoubtly a tease. we see how he interacts with price and laswell, you can't tell me that man doesn't enjoy hitting some nerves. especially if it means you'll pound him into next week.
gaz who is so obvious with the complete adoration that he has for you. everyone knows how much he loves you just based on the way he talks about you. also when he looks at you he just melts and gets heart eyes. the rest of 141 will tease him about it.
gaz who sometimes needs reassurance. he sometimes doesn't feel as though he pulls his weight as much as the other members so he needs someone to tell him that he is enough and all that he does is enough.
gaz who lowkey has an oral fixation. it isn't super obvious but you can tell by the way he'll lick his lips a little too often, or the way he will drift off a little bit during informational meetings no matter how much he tries to focus. he say anything in public/around the members but once y'all are behind close doors, he'll take anything you'll give him. fingers, dildo's, your own dick, etc.
gaz who gets flustered when you leave hickeys in places that people will notice. he's not used to that when people point it out he gets all warm and starts stuttering and thinking of reasons to try to change the subject.
gaz who does leave marks on you, but leaves them in more hidden places, your back, thighs, chest. he likes the possession but he also likes that you don't just parade it around.
gaz who doesn't fuck around when it comes to you. yk the reaction he had to graves in MW3, yeah imagine that but x100. anyone who tries to disrespect you will be on his shit list, it can be a recruit, sergeant, captain, doesn't matter, he doesn't play around.
gaz who actually loves bondage. as someone who is expected to be on go mode all the time, he feels like he doesn't actually get a chance to relax. so bondage is a way for him to get out of that mindset. it forces him to put his trust into you (not that you don't already have it) and just let all the stress just melt away.
gaz who thrives off of praise. it wasn't something he was super used to hearing so when you first told him 'good job', 'good boy', 'you're perfect', it sends a little shiver down his spine. now when you compliment him it puts a smile on his face and makes him so bashful.
i could probably go on and on but these are the first that comes to mind.
𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤(𝔰): sea slayer! Zenitsu Agatsuma x monster [lamia implied]! Reader
Zenitsu, being a hunter of sea monsters, never felt confident in this role, being too timid and fearful.
But when one day the sea monster pulls him into the water, purring and saying that such a pretty human can't help but be 'good breeding material', and that 'the cubs will definitely be beautiful and healthy', Zenitsu definitely feels too enthusiastic; he should pass out or scream, but shivers and blushes when you lick his tears, saying that your 'human pet should not cry!!! you will take good care of him!!!".
And when you kiss him, wrapping yourself around him, and take off his clothes to start breeding as soon as possible, Zenitsu only whines, especially when your cold fingers touch his warm skin, or when you squeeze him even tighter, purring that he is so cute and sweet, kissing his face.
You can't be so sweet, you're a monster.
And he has to resist to get out, in case you eat him, but you just laugh and purr that your pet can play as much as he wants before you breed him until he loses consciousness from stimulation; after all, because of the activities of monster killers, many died, so the two of you will increase the population! Or, if the impregnation fails, you will save him as a cute pet, because he is so pretty.
It is always good to have the soft and pretty mating toy that does not resist and wants to be bred.
He can only be cute and obedient, he does not have to think about something or prove something! A pretty human can be dumb and trust you and your decisions.
After all, if a pretty human was 'smart' and didn't want to mate with you, he wouldn't have come to your house. But you will make sure that the cute pet is always at home, happy and well fucked! He can just sit there, you will take care of everything!
Pretty mating pet just needs to keep his soft thighs spread and tell you if he feels uncomfortable. And when you touch his hard cock through his pants, purring that he is already ready to mate, such a lustful pet, Zenitsu gets dizzy, but whines, letting you kiss his neck and ears, moan and sob, slobbering; scratching you while you stroke his cock.
The weak, submissive pet, whining for you to kiss him. So needy and dumb. You are obliged to take care of him and breed him until he can no longer cum, whimpering that you have overfilled him, only to tremble and not be able to speak clearly while you give him even more.
When you lift his legs, Zenitsu twitches slightly, trying to snuggle closer to you, whining weakly, but his whining becomes an ecstatic moan when you stretch him with one push, which makes him grab your shoulders with an astonished expression, drooling, sobbing briefly.
And even when you start pushing even harder, biting his shoulders and neck, squeezing his nipples, the pet chokes, wrapping his arms around your neck while you fuck him, pinning him against the cave wall.
"M-more— more... please, mor— e"
And even if he's not too comfortable, his body is too busy with you to try to stop your thrusts into his hole.
Phillip Graves’s who has a tad of an oral fixation and is a bit of a kinky little dude mfhfhffmf
Minors DNI
phillip graves who loves sitting under his own desk, holding onto your legs and rutting up on your combat shoe desperately with your dick weighing on his tongue, softly sucking and giving little kitten licks even if your simply doing his own paperwork and only half hard
Phillip graves who loves to ride you so that he can lean and bend to kiss you as much as he can and let you see all the pretty expressions he’s making while his soft walls clamp around your member like a vice
Phillip graves who begs for two fingers in his mouth against his tongue to keep him quiet when he’s squirming and whining while you prep him
Phillip graves who needs you to spit in his face if it means he can feel it slide down his sweat and tear covered cheeks while he feels your cock hitting the back of his throat while he looks up at you with his big blue eyes and teary lashes
Phillip graves who loves when you cum in his mouth so he can taste you deep in his throat for half the day and every time he feels a hickey or mark fade he will like he needs another one
Phillip graves who almost orgasms untouched at the thought of you kissing him roughly with bites and nips until he tastes blood on his tongue and lips and can’t think of anything but the moment itself
Could I request a fic with eating out Phillip graves under his desk. Him squirming in his seat, trying to focus on work. Ftm graves has my life.
a/n: was just thinking about this, enjoy the Christmas post my guys
minors don’t interact
graves, even in the holiday season he enjoyed a bit too much, was busy as he always was.
always too busy for time with his boyfriend especially, even when they had moved onto base with him. It made him feel so utterly guilty- but it wasn’t in his direct control. Especially not with letter after letter from whatever shady characters wanted his attention that he had very little time to respond to and even less time to ever prepare for
He had been pent up for weeks, and nothing was fucking cutting it; fingering himself in between missions etc only ended up with him more whiny and unfocused and not satisfied.
Luckily for him, your boredom had lead to sneaking into his office before he sat down to spend the next hours overworking on documents he had little care for
he almost jumped out of his seat when he felt your hands sliding up and down his jeans, looking down with a little hitch in his breath to see you there. He was tempted to say something but too tired and touchstarved to force the words out of his throat, enjoying your simple touch of sliding up and down his legs and around his hips. He let his muscles relax, almost melting into the seat before getting shocked back into posture by you tugging off his belt and sliding down his jeans and boxers in a fluid movements, your tongue sliding through his folds and sucking against his clit before he could even begin to calm down
he bit his lips to contain his groans and whines, one hand clenching the side of his chair as he tried to get anything done, your pace so slow; teasing him to make him shaking and overstimulated, to finally get rid of that pesky pent up feeling the both of you had let stack up. his knuckles went white with how he clenched his pen in his left hand, signing his name shakily on a document he kept having to reread because he simply couldn’t focus, the warm feeling deep in his core building exponentially. He whined and whimpered breathily, your mouth around his slight T-cock and your tongue sliding up and down his thick folds making his eyes roll back.
he finally gave up after a painful long fifteen minutes of attempting to focus, leaning back into his chair and moaning and gasping, his lips puffy from how hard he had bit prior. He bucked his hips up into your mouth, trying to get more friction even though he was already utterly worn out. He finally came when you slid one of your digits into his needy hole while sucking on his clit, his body jerking slightly as he let the electric feeling shutter through him. Collapsing boneless and spent on his chair, his fluids stained across his nice leather chair and the lower half of your face as you got up from your kneeling position and simply smirked. Not a single word. Just a smirk- and he knew by the time he collapsed into bed you’d have a proper gift for him.
Please do Graves x Male reader, where they are exes, but after Graves finds out male reader is dating someone else, he tries to win them back? (can be nsfw or not, don't mind) 😭 btw amazing blog :3
a/n: thank you! I had my VERY late birthday party this weekend so that was fun, and doing requests is a wonderful way to unwind from this weekend haha
minors DNI - kind of dub-con because he’s drunk as fuck and your mean
Phillips was anything but a loyal man, from work to personal life he would lie, cheat, and steal to get the upper hand. It’s what made him the best..
one problem, he was also the most sulking self pitying kind of man, the kind of man that sat in his bed for days when you told him it wasn’t working
he was prideful, he was sinful. He knew that… but he missed you so so badly. It was as if someone had cut a hole through his chest and taken his heart with it, and for once cheap booze and cheaper parties didn’t fix it. Even his men were starting to notice the sadness in his eyes at overly stupid things that reminded him of you.
it made his head, chest, his whole body and soul ache with a clawing need every time without fail, from stupid shows you liked to stupider things you used to say
on one of his far too many bar trips he hazily spotted you, already brushing off his shirt to try to charm his way back into your arms or at least getting you riled up and jealous when he has to do a double take. Some little twink of a guy perched on your lap as if you aren’t his?
okay he’s definitely getting himself over his head now- but he’ll be boiling over with hatred for weeks if he doesn’t do anything, so he steadily walks towards you as if he wasn’t on his third shot and kind of wasted from his light beer chugging earlier
he wrapped his arm over your shoulder, completely ignoring the guy on your lap, sharp smile gracing over him as if he was a living saint and not the person your trying to ignore, sickly sweet small talk dripping out of his mouth until the man on your lap slides off and walks away offended
It gave him some sick pleasure in his drunken haze, seeing your anger bubble up in your words like toxic chemicals. What he didn’t expect was for you to act on his teasing tone and drag him to the dingy bar bathroom- stumbling along as you pulled him around like he was a rag doll.
he couldn’t focus with the bright lights of the bathroom, wincing as his worn knees hit the cold tile in front of the stalls toilet you has dragged him into. His hands gripped at your pants on instinct with your hands tugging at his hair, his lips wet with slight drool as he kissed over the bulge of your jeans
your belt got tossed away pretty fast, his pretty lips sucking at the tip of your hard cock as he tried to get comfort from your touch. There was none, of course. Just rough, like putting a dog into its place by dragging it outside. He couldn’t take it, mind flashing back to when he was happily kneeling on your soft carpets with praise and gifts and adoration. He deserved this, sure- but it still hurt in a way this simple fuck wouldn’t fix
he suckled on your cock slowly, sliding it deeper into his throat every minute or so, gagging on it when his nose was flush with the base, trying not to pull away and cough, too desperate to not ruin the moment he needed so so badly
he didn’t look up at you, too scared to see the lack of love in your eyes- although he could still feel it like a ghost haunting the corners of his dizzy vision, too busy trying to please you to will it away.
he wasn’t quite sure how long it had lasted, but he had came in his pants twice at least, tough fabric against his sensitive nerves making it a overstimulating sensation. His eyes were glossy, hands gripping onto you for purchase as spit and tears soaked down his face to the tile below
He felt you bruise the back of his throat with every buck or thrust of your hips, his body letting out a needy whine muffled by his full mouth whenever you did so. He swallowed when you came, his throat painted white with your cum as you tugged him off of you, sliding your buckle on and calling him a cab in the dingy bathroom before patting him on the back and walking out calmly, as if he wasn’t still on his knees, trying to shake off his feelings and to sit up enough to drag himself back to base..
at least you might text him in the morning… he hoped.
