#Graves x reader

[quarterlifekitty]

WAIT WAIT WAIT

Which cod character(s) are most likely to become attached and unhealthy obsessed with a medic who was just doing their job??😭😭😭

Well, I think it could happen to anyone depending on what your bedside manner is like!

Soap gets fixated on an especially rough medic. You care about results, not comfort. You know it hurts, and you don’t give these pissants warnings before you jab them with the needle. There is no “this might sting a bit” before applying disinfectant. If they wanted kisses and suckers they should’ve gone to their mommy with this boo-boo. And Soap finds the pain you deliver him to be nothing short of exquisite.

If there is one thing Simon cares about in this world, it’s privacy. His grasp over what he reveals to those around him is iron clad. He awakes one day, in the med bay, feeling like he was hit by a truck, but shocked to feel his mask still on his face. Price is there to tell him what happened after he lost consciousness. Despite his injuries, you didn’t lift the mask. It seemed like the brunt of the trauma was to his abdomen, so you settled for gently probing through the fabric to check for tenderness or any bleeding. You very carefully snipped away the hard shell of the skull piece, both to assess beneath it and also to prevent anything injury if he happened to roll over in his sleep. He’s never known respect like that from a stranger. You never went under his mask and yet he can’t get you out of his head.

Graves does not throw tantrums when things go awry. He does not make other people shoulder the blame. But he does deflect the attention. In addition, he’s always the first to heap on the praise for a good performance. So when you end up being the one to give him his stitches and set his bones, he’s singing your praises to anyone and everyone. And he likes to think he has an eye for talent. An appetite for it, too. Part of the reason he compliments so quickly is that he likes to have plenty of aces in his back pocket. It starts as a purely professional interest, but things get deeper and darker the more he learns about his guardian angel.

[soapysoapysoapysoapy]

Soap had been gone four days. No one had seen you in that time.

Gaz, Ghost, and Price stood outside you quarters. None of them wanted to knock. The silence behind the door was loud enough.

Price finally exhaled, long and tired, and opened it.

The stench hit them first—stale booze, ash, sweat, and something sour. Clothes were tossed haphazardly across the room, some torn. Bottles lined the desk, the floor, the sink. Cigarette butts overflowed every tray. A trail of burned-out matches led toward the bed, where your bare back peeked out from tangled sheets. You were sleeping on your stomach, one arm tucked under the pillow.

“Christ,” Gaz whispered. “Is she even alive?”

Ghost motioned to be quiet, but it was too late. Price stepped forward.

“Time to wake up,” he said softly.

The sound of the mattress springs shifting was the only warning before the crack of a gunshot. A round flew past Price’s head and embedded in the wall just behind him. He hit the floor with military instinct, heart pounding.

“Bloody hell!” Gaz shouted.

You sat up slowly, your hair a tangled, matted mess, eyes wild and rimmed in red. Naked. Gun still aimed, breathing ragged.

When you realized who it was, your hand dropped slightly—but not all the way.

“You’re lucky I missed,” you muttered.

“You sleep with a gun under your pillow?” Ghost asked quietly, though not surprised.

“I’ve slept with worse,” you said, voice flat.

Gaz grabbed a spare blanket from the chair and tossed it to you. “Cover up, yeah? We’re not here to see your tits.”

You caught it, but didn’t bother using it.

“What do you want?” You asked.

“You’ve been holed up since Soap—” Price started.

“Don’t,” you warned.

Gaz tried, gentler. “We’re worried.”

You looked at them, deadpan. “Why?”

“You lost someone.”

“No,” you said. “He died. That’s not a loss. That’s subtraction.”

The silence was heavy.

“Come on,” Price tried again. “You two were close.”

You leaned back, letting the gun fall beside you. You laughed once—dry and ugly.

“He was next.”

“What does that mean?” Gaz asked, confused.

“I was gonna kill him. Like I do with everyone I fuck.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I always mean it. You think it’s coincidence no one lasts? He was next. So maybe it’s better this way.”

Ghost’s jaw tightened beneath his mask.

“Bullshit,” Price snapped. “I’ve seen how you looked at him.”

Your stare hardened. “You see what you want. I never promised anything.”

“That wasn’t nothing,” Gaz muttered.

Ghost’s voice came in low. “There’s only one other person she’s looked at like that.”

Everyone turned to him.

“Graves.”

You didn’t flinch, but you didn’t speak either.

Ghost leaned toward Price and Gaz. “Let me make a call.”

You didn’t open the door for him. He let himself in. The room still smelled like despair.

Graves stood at the edge of the mess like it might swallow him too.

“Sugar,” he said, tone carefully neutral.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, smoking. Still nude, still reckless.

“You look like hell,” he added.

“You always said it suited me.”

He stepped closer. “They said you were bad. Didn’t say you were this bad.”

You looked up then, eyes glassy, voice cracked. “You here to save me?”

“Not my job.”

“Then why?”

“Because you’re not supposed to go out like this.”

Your cigarette trembled. Just a little. Then you ground it into the ashtray and stood.

“I wasn’t supposed to feel anything. And I did. And now he’s dead.”

“You loved him?”

“No,” you snapped. “But I didn’t hate him. And that’s worse.”

Graves stepped forward slowly. “You’re breaking, sweetheart.”

“No, I’m remembering.”

Your voice cracked.

“I’m remembering how I let someone in. Again. After you. And now he’s gone. Again.”

You pushed at his chest. He didn’t budge.

“I’m not doing this again.”

“You already did.”

And then you broke. Collapsed against him, fists pounding once—weakly—before you crumpled in his arms, sobbing. Your hands tangled in his shirt, your tears soaking into his chest. Graves held you like he was afraid you’d shatter.

“I can’t feel anything without it hurting,” you whispered.

His hand stroked your hair, soft. “Then let me make it stop.”

It started with a kiss, bitter and desperate. His hands were steady when yours shook. You tried to pretend you had control, but he didn’t let you.

“You don’t have to win this,” he whispered.

“Then fuck me like I lost.”

You undressed him slowly—not out of gentleness, but because you wanted to feel every second of it. To know you were felt, even now.

You kissed him like you needed oxygen. Scratched down his back like pain might fix something.

When he slid inside you, you bit down on his shoulder, breathing hard through your nose like you didn’t trust yourself not to cry again.

“You’re allowed to feel this,” he murmured.

“I don’t want to.”

“Tough shit.”

Your legs wrapped around him. Your hands fisted in his hair. Your eyes burned as he fucked the grief out of you, slowly, deeply, like he meant to stitch you back together with every thrust.

And when you finally let go—when you gasped and broke around him—it wasn’t his name you said.

It was Soap’s.

Graves held you through it anyway.

[d-emeter]

Types of lingerie they'd go a little feral over — plus-size!fem!reader x cod characters

Includes: Price, Soap, Ghost, Gaz, König, Graves, Alejandro, Rudy, Valeria

CW: mid/plus-size reader, photos of people wearing lingerie!, mentions of sex/sexual activities

Photos are not indicative of reader's body type/skin colour/other physical attributes! Just meant to be examples, but us bigger girls deserve some rep on here (but also why is it so hard to find cute pics of mid/plus-size girlies that aren't ads or extremely edited?)

All rights go to owners of the photos! I tried to crop out their faces as best I could <3

John Price

Price would love anything feminine. He adores when you play into his housewife kink, parading around the house in babydoll dresses and fur-lined robes (preferably sheer). He wouldn't even bother with taking the pieces off once he gets his hands on you, simply pulling and adjusting where necessary. Not above ripping either, but don't worry, he'll gladly buy you some new sets. Maybe he should get you some of those crotchless panties, poppet, would save him a lot of hassle.

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish

Listen, as much as he loves it seeing you all dolled up, there is nothing that gets him going quicker than you in some raggedy, hole-ridden comfy clothes, preferably when they're his. His boxers framing your plump ass so nicely, digging into your flesh a bit when you move and his shirt doing nothing to hide the jiggle of your tits while your nipples poke through the fabric. If he sees you like this, his hands are all over you in a split second. God forbid your shirt is cropped, showing off your soft tummy and the underside of your breasts — you couldn't pry him off with a crowbar.

(you cannot tell me Johnny doesn't own some dumbass boxers like this)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

In fear of repeating myself, I think Simon would also go a little dreamy-eyed over you in your comfies. Except, unlike Johnny, he loves those sweet little pj-sets you wear. He's still a little taken aback every time he comes home to you curled up on his — your — couch. The realization that he has something this sweet to come home to — that he has a home at all, hitting him like a freight train. Like Price, doesn't bother taking your pajamas off when he pounces on you. Just makes it easier for him to tuck you into bed after he's done with you.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

Garters, belts, straps, buckles, the whole thing. And best believe he's the one picking them out, too. You'll randomly find boxes on your bed, the contents in different styles, colours, fabrics. He insists you model them for him, or send him pictures if he's deployed. The sets are an absolute nightmare to get into, but he'll gladly help you take them off, darlin'. Don't mind him though, if he snaps a photo or two in the process. Also loves it when you wear lingerie as part of an actual outfit. What can I say, the man loves showing you off (with the knowledge he's the only one that gets to see the full sets and everything underneath them later).

König

Anything resembling some cheap halloween costume from party city. It honestly doesn't matter to him what; sexy secretary, naughty nurse, you name it. Literally whatever. He will lose his mind a little if you go as far as to engage in some roleplay pertaining to whatever you're wearing — acting like he's your boss or your patient. Oh, a pair of animal ears can and will make his eyes roll back in his head. (He will, however, ensure that your outfits are of relatively good quality — they've gotta outlast a least a few rounds, Schatzi).

Philip Graves

Ugh, he's so nasty (affectionate). He wants you to look hyper-feminine. His perfect little all-american wife (even if you've never set foot in the usa, or don't yet wear a ring on your finger) in her hyper-feminine lingerie, waiting for her soldier to come home. Frilly bras, lacy undies and silky night dresses in white or pink or any pastel shade. He gets off on the innocence they exude — makes him want to ruin you. And then wife you up. Maybe give you a baby or two.

Alejandro Vargas

Corsets!!! Or anything somewhat structured, really. This man adores the shape of your body no matter what, and the way the corset only accentuates the curve of your waist and pushes your tits up so deliciously has him rock fucking hard. If you choose to add some thigh-highs to that with the plush fat of your thighs spilling over the edge you may as well have killed him. He also has this weird infatuation with the marks the corset leaves on your skin after you (or he) take it off.

Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parra

This poor man nearly faints the first time you wear lingerie for him (and pretty much every time after that). It doesn't particularly matter to him what it is, but he does like it when you stick to the classics: simple lacy bra and panty set. He likes that it makes you feel confident and (relatively) comfortable, as your comfort is always his number one priority. He also just thinks the simplicity of the sets helps accentuate the beauty of your body, rather than distract from it.

Valeria Garza

Anything expensive. Like, crazy expensive. She has the money, amor, why not spend it on something she enjoys? She'll make sure you only wear the highest quality fabrics (and that goes for all your clothing, by the way, she likes taking care of her girl). There are diamonds glittering all over your body, highlighting all your curves and twinkling with every move you make, and a nice string of pearls disappearing between your folds.

(I couldn't find ANY photos of this type of lingerie on bigger bodies, my apologies. Rest assured Valeria will get everything custom-made for you — remember, only the best for her girl)

[gothghostiie]

something babysitter!reader waiting for price to drive them home while he's on video call with one of his friends, the little one in his lap, tapping around on the screen; until it somehow does something to make the screen go weird. he chuckles and shows you, inevitably holding the camera right onto you for a moment and showing you before turning it back on him. all you hear from the phone now is a curious hum. "who's the lil' tulip on the couch?"

[codnasties]

graves with baby fever. he's tracking his partner's cycle. when it's time he's bending her over, breeding the absolute shit out of his poor gf/fiancee/wife and won't stop until she's pregnant

this one specifically for you babes♡♡♡

breeding kink w/ graves 🪦 (🌽 link)

graves had never shown any interest in having children. or at least that's what you believe, because the man had having kids of his own in his mind for a long time until he gave up that idea due to the lack of a missus and his dangerous job.

but you came along, and that idea started popping up in his head every once in a while. because the idea of you waiting barefoot and pregnant for him was on his top things that he wanted and that he now prioritised in life.

so now he's a man on a mission, tracking your cycle to make sure that he fucks you on the best moment. making sure to bend you over the nearest surface as soon and he got back home, getting you completely dumb on his hard cock as he fills you up with his cum.

and he won't actually stop until you come to him with a positive pregnancy test in hand. he will just abuse the fuck out of your pussy, cum in you again and again on the same day and even plug the cum inside of you just to make sure he actually breeds you.

i'm quite sorry for your coochie, because that shit is going to be sore for the longest time until he actually breeds you. and even then graves is unstoppeable

[nyutasomething]

daddy issue? I LOVE DADDY ISSUES 🫶❤️

[j0hnpr1c3sm1ssus]

Btw Phillip Graves has a fetish for taking care of his partner.

Like sure, he does love when he comes home to you cooking a meal, but he also loves having you on the couch, feet propped up, sipping a glass of sweet tea he made for you, waiting for him to come back with whatever he made.

He has a nice house, bigger yard than home (I have a big head canon that Phillip doesn't want children or is infertile, idk why) and you want a deck? The next day there's a contractor there talking about ideas. Then he builds a good half of the deck, you sat outside on a lawn chair, sipping something alcoholic (or lemonade), because he needs you, his little darl, to see him being your big strong man.

I also headcanon Phillip as pansexual, but didn't know it. Fell in love with a man in highschool, and that's why he went to the military. Thought the discipline would straighten him out (yes, I did make a pun).

Idk Phillip Graves is my biggest comfort character rn and I'm doing bad.

[criminalamnesia]

drabble that takes place a few years after the end of traitor — ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

you startle awake to the feeling of an arm tossed over your body.

your heart is racing, breathing coming in quick puffs. another nightmare, no doubt, but you can’t even seem to remember it.

your body begins to act— entering fight-or-flight mode, when you remember. it’s not him.

you turn your head as much as you can, eyeing the man laying flush against your back in your peripheral vision.

sandy blonde hair and the scruff of a beard (he’d been growing out since he’d gone on leave).

graves. phillip— the man who had offered you asylum. offered you family.

offered you his bed. (eventually).

your body relaxes. you sink back into the mattress as your breathing slows again. that’s when he moves, his arm circling around you a touch tighter and his breath ghosting the hairs at your nape.

“bad dream?” he asks, his southern drawl thicker in his near-sleep.

“mhm,” you hum back, your hand finding his where it rests on your midriff. “go back to sleep. ‘m fine.”

“talk abou’ it?” he grumbles in his baritone, and you sigh.

“don’t even remember it.”

he goes quiet. you almost think he’s slipped back into a dream when he speaks again.

“he won’t be hauntin’ you soon, honey. we’ll make sure of it, won’t we?”

your fingers lace with his.

“yes,” you say, eyes closing as you picture your revenge.

“we will.”

[savagebite]

Specific things I think toxic cod men would be into

Tw:Ooc, toxic au, breeding, gunplay, no con, drugging, and abuse. Dead dove do not eat .

Price:

I think price is a breeding guy, like really into breeding. Doesn’t matter what you want, he’ll get you pregnant anyways. Documents your periods and ovulation. He wears a tighter shirt and will be more touchy trying to get you horny so you can fuck. Pokes holes into condoms.

Philip:

Guns. Gun to your head, in between your cunt, in your cunt, in your mouth, and in your ass. It’s never loaded, bullets taken out always. He’s not stupid. He’ll threaten to pull it if you don’t listen to him as he’s fucking you with it.

Makarov:

Dude what isn’t he into? He’ll do anything. I can’t see the guy having limits. He’s a physco, he only keeps you as a pet. so he wants to make you extremely uncomfortable and then take care of you to get you attached to him. I see him as a guy who will carve his name into your thigh.

Soap/johnny

Referencing to my toxic headcanons of him I think he’s really into drugging. Something about having your cute little self sitting next to him as he sneaks something into your drink. Taking care of you as you feel as it hits. His big strong arms carrying you to your shared bed. Gently slipping you under the covers and pulling down your pants.

[v1x3n]

[beloveds-embrace]

(Bakery/coffee shop au where you have a specific policy of not serving people what they ask for, but rather what you think they need

141 part || konig part)

The bell above the door chimed, and before you even looked up, you knew this was going to be one of those customers.

The footsteps were confident, unhurried- the kind of walk that belonged to a man who thought he owned any room he stepped into. Sure enough, when you glanced up from wiping down the counter, a man was already flashing you a lazy, knowing grin. The same man you’d seen reading your policy outside right before he’s sauntered inside.

“Well, well,” he drawled, taking in the cozy interior of your bakery like it was a pleasant surprise. “Didn’t expect a place like this in a town like this.”

You arched a brow. “A place like this?”

“All warm, sweet, and welcoming.” He gave you a slow once-over before his grin widened. “Guess I shouldn’t be too surprised.”

You sighed, already unimpressed. “Do you plan on ordering, or are you just here to flirt, sir?”

“Can’t I do both?” He leaned against the counter, eyes alight with amusement. “Tell you what- gimme a black coffee. Strong. No sugar, no milk.”

You barely hesitated. “No.”

His brows shot up, and for the first time since walking in, he looked genuinely caught off guard despite reading your policy. He must have thought it was just a joke, but nope. “No?”

“No.” You repeated, already turning to the espresso machine.

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, most places just give a man what he orders.”

“Well, I’m not most places.”

He watched you work, arms crossed, head tilted slightly like you were the most interesting thing in the room. “Y’know, I can’t tell if you’re stubborn or just like makin’ my life difficult.”

“I like giving people what they need,” you corrected, finishing up the drink. “Not what they think they want.”

A few minutes later, you placed a cinnamon breve latte in front of him and beside it, you set down a brown butter pecan cookie. You wished you could have given him something pink, filled with berries and cream but ah- you knew it wouldn’t fly that well, alas.

He stared at them.

Then he looked back up at you, brow raised. “You real serious about this policy?”

You wiped your hands on a towel. “Positive.”

He scoffed, but he picked up the cup anyway, taking a slow, experimental sip.

And that was when it happened, as always.

For just a second- so quick you almost missed it- his shoulders relaxed. His smirk faltered, replaced with something far more genuine. He let out a quiet sigh, the kind that came from someone realizing, damn, that’s actually good. Better than what I ordered, but I’d be damned if I admitted it!

You pretended not to notice that, and instead, leaned on the counter and smirked. “Told you.”

He set the cup down, running his tongue over his teeth as he studied you. “Gotta admit, you’re somethin’ else, darlin’.”

“I hear that a lot.”

He huffed a laugh, reaching for the cookie. “I bet you do.”

The silence that followed was surprisingly comfortable. He took his time with the cookie, alternating between that and his drink, and every so often, you caught him glancing at you like he was sizing you up- not in an arrogant way, but in a huh, I actually like being here kind of way.

…You were talking to yourself a little too much today.

Finally, as he dusted the last crumbs off his fingers, he leaned back with a satisfied sigh. “Alright, you win this round. But don’t think I’m lettin’ you boss me around forever.”

You tilted your head, eyebrow raised though you could barely stop your lips from curling into an entertained smile. “Oh?”

“I’ll be back,” he said smoothly, tapping a finger against the counter. “Gotta figure out what other tricks you got up your sleeve.”

“Sounds like an excuse.”

“Maybe.” He grinned. “But it’s a damn good one.”

With that, he tipped his head, turned on his heel, and strolled out after paying- just as cocky as when he walked in, but with a little more warmth behind the smirk. He’d left you even a little note.

Philip.

And sure enough, a few days later, the bell chimed again, and there Philip was.

Just as he’d said he’d be.

Coffee Shop Masterlist.

[soapysoapysoapysoapy]

Soap overhears it by accident.

He’s sitting at the edge of the armory, wiping down his rifle, half-listening to a conversation between Graves and some visiting brass—arrogant pricks with too much rank and not enough war in their eyes.

One of them leans in, smirking. “You ever tell ‘em how you got that scar, Graves? The one that runs from your cheek to your ear?”

Graves grins. That smug, Southern-charmed confidence that’s too polished to be real.

“Oh, that story?” he drawls. “Yeah. I got that one the day I tried to walk away from her.”

Soap’s chest tightens. He listens.

“She’d just finished an op, still in her gear, blood under her fingernails. I said something stupid—probably deserved it. She turned, looked at me, and next thing I know, there’s steel at my face and I’m tasting copper.”

Graves runs a finger down the curve of the scar. It’s old. Deep. Personal.

“She stopped just short of the jugular. Looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘You walk away now, you don’t get to come back. Ever.’” He chuckles low. “Closest I ever came to dyin’. And I’ve faced down missiles.”

Soap feels his grip on the cloth tighten.

Another officer laughs. “So why’d she let you walk?”

And that’s when Graves says it. Calm. Like it’s just a fact: “Because I’m the U.S. government’s golden boy. And she knew what I was worth.”

Soap’s blood goes cold.

Graves leans back in his chair. “I’m the only man who ever got to walk away from her and live. The rest?” He whistles. “She doesn’t leave loose ends.”

Soap’s halfway out of his seat before he realizes what he’s doing. Rage bubbling beneath the surface. Not jealousy—fear.

Because it means what they have? This thing between them? It’s a countdown. And he’s not the exception.

He’s a temporary indulgence. A disposable release.

And when she’s done? She won’t give him a scar. She’ll give him nothing.

[d-emeter]

Breakfast, lunch and dinner (or: cod characters and how they eat you out) — plus-size!fem!reader x cod characters

Includes: Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, König, Graves, Alejandro, Rudy, Valeria

Note: take this as my formal apology for being inactive for so long :') exam week had me hanging on by a thread and i'm also suddenly moving so. yay. expect some more action after like... this week i hope

John Price

Listen. Getting eaten out by Captain Price is not, in any way, meant for your pleasure. No, this is him disciplining you. It hardly even matters what for. Maybe you have been teasing him, sliding your hand up his thigh under the table, rubbing your ass against him while passing by him. Maybe you've been a brat all day, complaining and huffing and puffing about everything, barely listening to any of John's requests and/or demands. Either way, sit on his desk and spread your fucking legs, doll. He'll be edging you for what feels like hours, tongue moving so torturously slow that all coherent thought has seeped from your brain aside from how badly you want to cum. Too bad, bad girls don't deserve to finish this easily.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

With Simon, it's always a surprise what position you'll end up in. The only certainty you have is that it's definitely not what you'd expect, and sometimes you wish that for once he'd just lay you down and get busy. But alas, he'll have you kneeling with your face in the pillows, or bent over the back of the couch. Maybe he'll have you hanging off the edge of the bed so all the blood flows to your already overheating brain. You're clinging onto whatever you can get a hold on, mostly in pleasure, and sometimes in fear of falling when he has you up on his shoulders and leaned against the wall. Well, he doesn't exactly hear your complaining over your moans and whimpers, he argues, and he wouldn't dream of dropping you.

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish

As with Price, this has little to do with your pleasure: it's all for his own benefit. Please, lass, he loves your cunt, and she loves him, doesn't she? Come on, let him have a taste. He could give two shits about where you are or how convenient it is— if he wants to lick your pussy, he's going to. He's down on his knees while you're desperately clinging onto the kitchen counter, or the shower wall, or the shelves of your pantry. Hell, you'd have to hope and pray a sales associate won't come by your changing room in fear of them hearing all of his moans. Oh, and you quickly find out you cannot wear a skirt around him, because it won't come down from your hips if he has any say in it.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

He's devastatingly methodical. He knows your body better than you do at this point, and he's not afraid to use this to his advantage. He can work you just right, but the worst part is that he will refuse to. Unless you kindly ask him for it, that is. Tsk, pretty girl, use your words. Let him know where you need him, what you need him to do. He's hovering close enough that you can feel his breath on your neglected clit, your cunt clenching around nothing in desperate search for friction of any kind, but he won't do anything until you tell him in excruciating detail what you want. And be aware, any time you stop talking, he's pulling away in a second.

König

Oh, König... Sweet, wet-rag-of-a-man loser that he is, will completely lose his mind any time you allow him near your pussy. He can practically feel his brain melting while he's drowning himself in your slick, and he looks like it too. His eyes have rolled back, face flushed and his eyebrows scrunched in pure, unadulterated pleasure. His body has turned to complete mush, his cock leaking against the sheets and hands clawing onto any part of your body he can reach (which, with his arms, is basically everywhere). Unintelligible mumbles made into your cunt, teetering the edge between praise and begging. He is a little inexperienced, Schatz, so you'll have to show him how you like it. Shove his face between your folds and ride his nose, and you'll have him moaning like a bitch in heat. When he finally comes back up for air you can tell you're not the only one that reached heaven just now.

Philip Graves

I'm going to speak my truth here, he does not strike me as the kind of man to give you oral all that much. I am SORRY, but it's true. He usually prefers to get you nice and ready for him with his fingers, or by having you ride his thigh, or simply from the absolute filth he spews into your ear while dry-humping. However, on the odd occasion that Phil does get down and dirty, he aims to make it special. It's strangely sentimental, actually. It'd be outside on a picnic blanket after his homecoming, or in your shared bed after your anniversary dinner. Anything that reminds him how much he loves you, and how much you mean to him, and he's going to show you with his tongue. There's reverence in every suck, praise in every lick and prayer in every word he murmers into your core. You're his goddess and he's just here to worship you, baby.

Alejandro Vargas

For Ale, it'd be a form of gratuity much in the same way it is for Graves, though the difference is that he'll use that as an excuse even for the most menial things. His belly nice and full after your homecooked dinner, grin on his face and asking when his dessert is being served. You've been so good to him, amor, welcoming him home with a smile and a kiss and a plate waiting for him, now let him thank you properly. You fixed the button on his shirt that had fallen off? Well, put it on and lay yourself down, time to lap at your cunt in thanks. It's gotten to a point where you're convinced he just decided his goal in life is to pull as many orgasms from you as possible. Not that you're complaining, of course.

Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parras

Eating you out is, in many ways, a means to an end for Rudy. He wants to make sure you're properly prepped and ready to take his cock, so it's almost instinctual for him to bury his face between your soft thighs for a while before inching himself into you. It's part of the routine, the way he thought sex was supposed to go. It's not until you explain to him that it can actually be the main event, and that you'd thoroughly enjoy it if he maybe put in a little more effort, that it dawns on him just how much he can actually do down there and how much time he's wasted not doing it. Now, tesoro, you may have shot yourself in the foot with that one, because he now can keep you pinned down for hours, just suckling away at your clit and fucking you on his tongue, dumb grin on his face after your fifth orgasm renders you basically comatose.

Valeria Garza

The only way Valeria will actually relax for once is with your pussy in her face. Seriously, you've tried everything else: lavender baths, deep tissue massages, even trying to get her to meditate. But no, the only time you actually see her shoulders lose all their tension is when she's between your folds. She's had such a long day, vida, come sit on her face. She's not even groping you the way she usually does during sex, hands instead playing idly with the fat of your thighs and ass while all her worries melt away. There are no thoughts running through her mind aside from how good you taste, how pretty you sound and how nice you feel under her hands.

[gothghostiie]

being friends with someone from a different wealth class is so weird because. why are you genuinely shocked and amazed as you tell me that your weekly grocery cost is just a third of what it used to be now that you're shopping at a discounter without brand names - and why do you expect me to be as shocked and amazed??

anyways this makes me think of graves so much. that fucker grew up wealthy - not even necessarily rich, but very comfortable. upper middle class and above. it has been this way all his life and still is, he earns good money. house is decently big (far too big for one person), he drives a nice, new car, has a new phone, goes on vacations, shops brand names; whether it be clothes or food or god knows what. he doesn't think twice when he needs something, things that break or need replacement out of nowhere wont leave him with no food for the rest of the month. this is normal, his normal. the people around him are the same, so he doesn't know anything else.

that is until he meets you. you didn't grow up nearly as wealthy as he did. you wouldn't necessarily call yourself poor either, but money was always an issue, you never really went on vacations, never had the newest phone, the newest car, trendy clothes or furniture. brand names are out of question unless they're at the thrift shop for cheap, sudden expenses meant a lot of stress, money almost never went into savings and if it did it got taken out rather quick out of necessity. shopping at the thrift, at discounters, couponing, shopping for specials, planning meals after what's on sale this week. you barely got to get treats or anything out of the regular budget really, no matter how little or big it was.

now imagine graves surprised when you start dating and he sees the cracked phone screen on the rather old model, the old car that's not even second hand anymore, more like 4th hand at this point. the small apartment you live in, the furniture you mostly thrifted or took from your childhood room, the very loud washing machine that seems to be at the risk of falling apart if you look at it wrong. the clothes that are thrifted, hand me downs or even handmade, the shoes that have seen better days. he's shocked and genuinely a bit concerned, because what is this? why and how do you live like this? fridge stocked with a bit more than the necessities, panty full of generic food brands. When he goes shopping with you he's surprised by you not pulling into the same stores he frequents, surprised at how you compare prices, how you seem to only get what you wrote on your list, nothing more. his baffled when your total comes out to be not even a third of what he usually pays - and even more when you take off around 25% more by coupons.

it also breaks his heart when you call him crying about how your fridge broke, sobbing into the phone as he's just stunned - what do you mean you can't afford a new fridge? something you need? he's shocked when you tell him that you found a cheap one on Craig's List but that it's still so much, but you need it and it frustrates you badly - he can barely even comfort you because he's so genuinely shocked. it's only then when it sinks in just how differently you live. how wealthy and well off he actually is. and how you didn't even think to ask him to lend you money for a new fridge, almost cussing him out for even suggesting it because there's no way you can ever pay that back.

the delivery men still knock at your door the same afternoon and graves is getting another equally tearful call, being cussed out and thanked over and over again.

[bunny-jpeg]

fox!phillip graves

cw: pwp/smut, hybrid!au, fox!graves, bunny!reader, breeding, pregnancy, innocent!reader, possessive behaviour

bunny says: *big shrug*

graves had a thing about taking in strays. the little bunny who came into his nice home. he was a well to do fox, and he couldn't stand the sight of you there near the edge of his property in so little. you were going to catch a cold!

but don't worry, the fox hybrid would take care of you. he bathed you, dressed you, fed you. he was just smitten by you. he even let you snuggle up with him when he watched the football game on the big television he had.

"do you like that?" he asked as he stroked your ears, "do you know what game this is, little one?" he pushed the hair out of your eyes.

you nodded, "i..i think i do."

he chuckled and got behind those long ears, "aw, well. let me explain the rules to you." he then reached over and pulled the throw blanket further over top of you. you were so frail, something this small and weak should be protected. and graves loved saving the day.

when you saw a streak of orange around the large house he owned, you'd chase after it. usually it was graves' tail. you were just so innocent. over the next few days he'd ask questions about your life before he met you.

you were a virgin, you had no bunnies hidden somewhere, yes the tail was sensitive, and you loved stews. it was honestly endearing. he promised he'd make you all the stews you wanted.

you were often cuddled up beside him. he wasn't a wildling like you, he was a proper man. he told you he led a group of strong men. and you looked up at him with those darling eyes of yours.

"but i thought you were the strongest man."

he chuckled and kissed the top of your head. he rubbed your face, and made you look at him, "i am darlin'."

it wasn't hard to get him to sink his heavy cock into your sweet bunny cunt. he sat on the edge of the bed, naked and his cock at full attention. he watched you strip from the clothes he bought for you. you were still getting used to the cute dressed and delicate fabrics.

there was a lot he had to teach you about the finer things in life. he was aroused at the sight of you. his little bunny. who was sweeter than apple pie and softer than marshmallows. he wondered how you managed to survive this long.

"my little bunny." he purred as he took you by the hips and got you seated on his cock. he'd make sure that his cock was situated firmly against your cervix.

"feels big." you whimpered.

"yeah, yeah. always hurts the first time, but i promise you'll feel good soon." he held onto your softer hips. no longer were you skin and bone. making sure you were fed.

you held onto his shoulders as he started to help you get comfortable with the pace he liked. his tail moved on the bed behind him as he watched you begin to move on your own.

"like a pro, huh? you sure you've never been with a man before."

you shook your head, "no. only you."

well wasn't he special. he hoped you'd get used to this position with time. as it was one of the more comfortable ways to have sex when pregnant with kits. his hands trailed up and down your sides. you'd be making a good mama for his babies.

the pleasure began to curl up in your gut as you continued to ride him. he was right, it was feeling better!

"such a cute little bunny." he purred. he looked perfect from those blue eyes to those perfect teeth. with just a bit of his fangs poking out. bunnies and foxes rarely get along, so it was quite the sight to see two fucking.

your heartbeat was in your throat as you continued to feel his cock nudge up into the deepest parts of you. you ran your nails across his shoulders as you arched your back.

"please, phillip." you whimpered.

He palmed your ass and grabbed it, "good girl." his voice was low, "see you know where you are in the food chain." he chuckled softly, his voice was tinged with venom, "bunnies need to keep their cunts full. reason why you breed so fast. but i think you're more suited to live a comfortable life with me. be full of fox seed." he flashed his white teeth at you.

you covered your face your hands, a little embarrassed by your words. but he took them away from you. he looked into your eyes he held onto your hands in his larger hands. he bucked his hips with a rapid movement.

"don't hide yourself from me. i want to see my mate. don't make me tie you up."

"no, phillip." you whimpered. he placed your hands back on his shoulders and continued to thrust up into you. he controlled the pace, he was a man who had to be in control or else.

he watched your breasts bounce with each thrusts of your hips. you bounced on him like it was a game, but he knew that from the look on your face you were feeling very good.

"pretty bunny." he purred, "i love the sight of your little body fucking yourself onto my cock. i have so much to teach you." he chuckled darkly, "make sure you know how to please your mate. but you're a good learner aren't you?" he took you by the face to look at him square in the eyes.

you nodded, "yes, phillip. i'm a good bunny." you looked so cute, how you stuck out your bottom lip. your head felt hazy as you continued to move against him. your bedroom felt hot as did the pit in your stomach.

"gonna breed your little bunny cunt so nicely." he purred, "that's what you were made for right? for me? that's why nothing else tried to touch you in the forest. no one tainted you for me." his voice was harsh as he felt the rush of pleasure in his body.

you two continued to hump together, the two of you fucked like the animals you were. mating like beasts. he couldn't wait until you were all plush with his kits. he knew you'd be such a good mother to them.

he grabbed at your ass and thrusted up into you even harder. he leaned up and made out with you sloppily. you moaned into the kiss as you both climaxed at the same time.

he slumped a little from the rush to his head. he pressed his face up against your chest as he tried to catch his breath. you held onto him as you started to come down. well, you've never felt something like that before.

when he came to his senses, he looked up at you once more. he smiled, "get on the bed. i ain't done with you. not until it takes." there was a predatory nature in his eyes as you scrambled to get under him once more.

a few sloppy kisses on the lips and he sank his hard cock into you. you kicked out your legs for a moment from the feeling of his heavy cock in you. but then mellowed out, accepting that your bunny cunt was going to be used tonight.

-

you puffed out your cheeks and rubbed your lower back. one kit shifted which awoke the other. it wasn't easy being a bunny taking care of two kits.

graves loved the sight of it though. anything you needed, he got for you. he made sure his bunny mate was taken care of! nothing less than the best for you. you were still quite clingy as you waddled through your large home to find your mate.

you were clay between graves' fingers. he was going to make you into the ideal den mother. and he'd be the proud father of all your children. don't worry there was enough room in the house to make sure that your little babies were all safe and sound.

you found him in his office, what he noticed first was the belly as he entered his field of vision. he reached for it and then your hips to put you down onto his lap. he kissed your neck and his cock stirred in his pants.

"my perfect mate." he chuckled, "just perfect. now why don't you get cozy on the pull out bed and let me finish this." he loved his mate. he loved you so much.

this was a lot better than being in the forest. graves may have fangs. but he'd never hurt his little cotton tailed rabbit. <3

xoxo, bunny

[nyutasomething]

someone in the chat asked the guys to flex, and samuel did it with his cat

everyone: 🤣

cat: 💪😳