#don't fucking look at me
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Spitfire
(Philip Graves x F! Reader)
Call of Duty Masterlist
Rating: Explicit (18+)
Wordcount: 3.5k
Tags: PwP, Quickies, Semi-public sex, Clothed sex, Hate fucking, Brat-Taming, Dirty Talk (Graves has insane rizz in this I don't know why), PiV sex
Warnings: None
A/N: Dedicated to @writeforfandoms who listened to be somehow convert myself to the Graves agenda. Apologies. Also let's see if this somehow gets the mark of moderation on here, yippee
“Been avoiding me, sweetheart?”
You turn, a retort ready on your tongue, but a set of gloved hands seize your hands and hauls them up so they press against the wall behind you. It takes a moment for the flurry of movement to settle, but it takes less for you to look up into the glinting, grinning eyes of Philip Graves, commander of Shadow Company.
The smile on his lips tugs askew on his mouth, up towards the scar on his right cheekbone. Smug, pleased with himself at having caught you off guard, blue irises darting down to the thin press of your lips, annoyance souring your expression.
“Yeah.” You levy back at him, trying to flex your wrists in his grip. “You’ve had me running rookie drills for a week straight, Graves. Haven’t had time enough to wipe my own ass, let alone run into you.”
Graves only tilts his head at you, and you feel a familiar tug of both displeasure and need low in your belly at the vain, self-satisfied sparkle of his gaze. He loves this, you know that. You fight him tooth and nail, snarl and bite at him, only for him to dance just out of reach before catching you by the waist and dragging you back to him. The chase, the challenge of taming you is a special kind of addiction, and you can’t help but rise to his goading, making him work for whatever reward you dare to tempt him with. You are both like pieces of flint- striking each other over and over just so the sparks alight between the touches you share.
Graves tuts at you, pouting, and it makes a little sneer rise to your features, trying to unlock the grip he has on your hands to no avail. When he speaks, you feel his knee pressing higher between your legs, making you stretch up on your toes just to spite him.
“Yet here you are.” He purrs, the suggestion clear in his tone. “I managed to catch you anyways, darlin’.”
You snort. “Yeah, feel like I’ve caught you instead. Like a bad cold that won’t quit, or maybe an STD.”
Graves barks a laugh, head tossing back as the sound erupts from his chest. His hands flex on your wrists, hoisting them a touch higher, forcing you to balance on your toes. It sends a little thrill through you, being at his mercy like this, not that you’ll ever let him see it. You make a little grunt of protest at the motion instead, and Graves only coos at you mockingly, mouth puckering even as you seethe.
You both know that despite the bite of your words, despite the insults thrown between you both, that you’re exactly where you want to be. You hate it. Hate that he sees right through this little game of yours where you snap and snarl at him, only to inevitably end up mewling his name as he presses you into the too nice sheets of his quarters. He can take you apart like he’s dismantling a rifle in record time, knows your body like he’s squeezing down the trigger to your desire.
“That’s alright, sugar. I like having to work for my meals.” He purrs, leaning up to nip at your ear. You can’t contain a little shudder at that, a traitorous reaction that has his warm huff of satisfaction spills across the soft flesh of your cheek.
“Oh I’ll make you work for it, alright.” You manage, though the retort isn’t as venemous as you want, not when his knee rises to barely graze against the apex of your thighs. Your voice is a little shudder as his lips trail down the underside of your jaw, pressing little, open-mouthed kisses against the scant bit of skin revealed by the collar of your uniform. You can feel the smile against your neck, and you again want to snarl at him with just how much he’s enjoying this.
“I’d expect nothing less, baby.” He replies easily, and then bites.
You yelp, knees going weak and dropping you down the last few inches fully onto his thigh. A moan chokes your throat before you can stop it, fueled even further as Graves sucks on the tender spot, forming a dark bruise that borders on painful.
“Asshole.” You seethe, and the chuckle he gives you in return curls with a sharp, thrumming intensity low in your core, building an electric current that pulses on the underside of your skin.
“Just had to leave you something to remember me by.” Graves tells you simply, pressing a half-hearted apology kiss onto the spot. “Can’t have you forgetting about me.”
It’s not like you can, you think. It’s a rarity Graves has left you alone as long as he has this week. More often than not he seeks you out, finds a reason to summon you to his office, comes to check on you in your duties. He slides a few snide comments over in your direction, taunts you so you rise to the challenge, curl your fists and grit your teeth and feel shame color your face that you know how it’ll all end. He’ll goad you, will whisper teasing, mocking little murmurs to you until you bite at him, only to easily turn the tables on your and have you pressed down by the weight of his body.
Even now, you know where this rendezvous will lead. You can tell by the way Graves cups you through your pants, hears the miniscule, shuddering little gasp you give him in response. He knows exactly where to touch you, which buttons to push to have you melt into his hands- open, pliant, pleading him for more like you’re begging for scraps. He’ll give it to you, will have you mewling and glassy-eyed by the end of this, limp by his expert fingers tracing against the bare flesh of your waist, gripping your nape like he’s scruffing a hissing, feral cat.
“Enjoying yourself there, soldier?” He asks in a low, pleased murmur as you shift on his thigh, eyes scrunched and teeth biting down on your lip to keep your breathy little gasps swallowed deep down so he can’t hear. The friction grazing against your clothed core is just enough to make a murmur of delicious weakness pulse through your hips, arousal slickening your folds shamefully.
It feeds his ego to know he can make you come apart so easily like this. You hate him for it, hate that he’ll crow about how much he’s satisfied you, knowing he can back up his words with his record of your fists gripped into the bed, the claw marks he sports on his back, under his tactical gear. It infuriates you that Graves is good at what he does, that he leaves you dizzy and gasping wetly, the aftershocks of your orgasm making your muscles tremble under his soothing hands. Ire boils your blood, and when you deliver it to him, Graves only laughs, drinks it down like he’s addicted to the burn of your venom.
“Not at all.” You grit back, shooting him a glare despite your warm cheeks. Graves teeths his lip, like he’s excited at the thought of just tasting you, eyes glinting and lips slightly swollen from his ministrations.
“That’s not what you said last week when I had you screaming my name into your pillow.” He reminds you smugly.
“Fuck you.” You tell him even though it’s true.
“That’s the plan, baby.” Graves smirks, cheeks rising pink with a tell-tale lust. “Though I was going to wait until I got you in private so I could take my time enjoying you. But…” Graves trails off, tilting his head in thought, considering.
“This’ll work too.”
You’re given little warning before Graves releases you abruptly, maneuvering you so he yanks at your belt, then scoots your tac pants down to your thighs. You try to shove at him, and Graves stumbles back a half-step even though you really didn’t shove hard enough to warrant it, eyes excited, eager.
“Someone could see.” You hiss at him, and it isn’t a ‘no’. You’ve done this in riskier places, but the idea of being caught by another shadow like this, with Graves having his way with you makes your skin itch under his gaze.
“I’ll kill them.” He promises with a nonchalant little shrug before his head tilts down so his eyes fixate on you. You pause, shocked, and then shudder at the dark intensity of his gaze. There’s a low, dangerous tumble to his words, and you don’t doubt for a moment that he means it.
“Only I get to see you like this, understand sweetheart?” Graves asks suddenly, advancing on you with one large step, a hand raising up to tilt your chin up to him, gripping it so you can’t look away. There’s a storm in the void of his blown pupils, like the thundering, inky clouds that roil over the prairie, promising devastation. You’re caught in the gale of him, nodding in hopes the wind will lift you higher, lash at your skin so the mark of him remains there.
“Good.” He soothes, a little gentler, desire still vivid in his voice as he descends to kiss you. You try to close your lips against him, but his hand that shoots down past your panties has you gasp, allowing his tongue to swipe wetly behind your teeth. Your hands reach up, grasp at him, unsure if you want to drag him closer or shove at him just to hear his breathy laugh at your feigned struggling. There’s no time to consider it, because you moan when Graves’ gloved fingers roll your clit between them just right, legs weakening under you. The length of his body presses flush against you, keeps you from slumping down the wall. You can feel the uneven surface of his gear against your own, both of you too consumed to dispose of it.
The wetness of you slicks across his fingers, and you watch Graves pause so he can tug his glove free with his teeth, tossing it to the side so he can feel you with his bare hand.
“So wet, baby.” He drawls as you pant, try and grip down on his hand curled between your thighs. “It’s just that easy to get you to fall apart for me, ain’t that right?”
You try and hiss at him, try to bite a scathing retort, and instead mewl when he presses two fingers circling against your entrance, teasing.
“Thought so.” Graves huffs, and even with your eyes scrunched shut you know the smirk that splays across his lips, egotistical at the uneven rise and fall of your chest, the little shudder in your hands as you grip at him.
Graves wastes little time in spreading you out on his fingers, and soon your fists curl into the straps of his vest to anchor you. His wet, pressing kisses drink down the sounds you offer him, swallow them with a knowing smile. You bite down on his bottom lip and Graves groans, like he’s addicted to the pain, kisses you in search of more.
“Fuck, baby.” He gasps, a little desperate, voice rough. “Gotta get myself in this sweet little cunt of yours. Can’t wait any longer.”
One boot kicks your feet a little wider, has you hoisted a little higher against the wall as he frees himself from his pants. If you part your legs just a little wider for him to angle himself between them, Graves mercifully spares you his taunting as he slides into with one smooth, powerful thrust.
“Fuck.” He snarls as you brace your damp forehead against his, moaning openly. “Fuck, that’s good. Sweetest little pussy I’ve ever had.”
He’s quick to set a pace, short little punches of his hips that angle up just right, graze against the slick clutch of your walls in a way that has you fumbling for him, a wet gasp tearing from your throat. Pleasure laces up your spine, a drum that pulses with every sharp jolt of his hips pressing into yours. You feel the stretch of him beat that rhythm higher in your chest, unfurling something thorny but good into your taut muscles- poisoned off your vexation and endless desire for him.
Just like this, you think. Here, one of his hands lifting a leg as far as your pooled pants will allow, angling himself so he can thrust deeper, fill you in all the ways you love to hate. His mouth laps against your neck, sucks a fresh bruise at an odd angle that has one of your hands digging into his short hair. It’s messy, it’s rushed, and the fire that licks between your bodies threatens to blaze out of control, scorch both your forms even as the world narrows down to the feeling of him fucking relentlessly into you. Your toes curl with it, your voice spilling out the secrecy of your desires loudly into the planes of his body flush with yours.
“Yeah, that’s it. That’s it.” He pants as he leans to kiss you once again, hips stuttering for just a moment as you dig a hand under his collar, fingernails pressing harshly into his pale skin. “Mark me up, baby. Dig in, make it hurt.”
He’s drunk on the pain, your commander. He needs it like he’s addicted to violence, to the jolt of a rifle, to the slice of a blade that beads red against the pad of his thumb. He sports the marks you give him like war medals, hisses at the sting and then asks for more.
“I think I like you like this.” He confesses, slowing his hips to a lazy roll that has him pressing the zipper of his pants against the inside of your thighs. “All wet and ready for me. Maybe I should keep you like this, all needy and mewling in my room just so I can have you whenever I want.”
You can’t stop the groan that tears from your throat, dragging and far too loud for the debauchery of the sight he offers you with him kneeling behind your naked form, draping himself over you and taking you with little ceremony. You feel a gush of arousal coat the girth of him that presses up a little deeper inside you at the sound you give him.
“Yeah?” He asks, tone hinting his disbelief. “You’d like that, huh? Just waitin’ for me to get back and tame you, little spitfire? Have you callin’ my name so loud that all my men on base can hear you holler, huh?”
You suck your teeth, try and summon a response, but you don’t get a chance before Graves angles himself again and begins to thrust into you with rapid, squelching thrusts that have you wail.
"Ohh I know, sugar.” He soothes, kneading the bare swell of your ass in a bruising grip. “It just feels too damn good, you can hardly speak, huh? Got you all mewlin' and wordless for me. Pretty thing.”
“Shut up, Graves.” You manage, voice cutting but breathless, pinching the skin of his nape in retribution.
Graves laughs.
The angle of his hips has you split perfectly on his cock, has bright bursts of electricity blossom with every thrust. It drags the delicious coil of your muscles higher, has your veins thrum in a clenching need. You feel like he’s trying to burn you from the inside out, the flinting sparks of his touch setting something inside you ablaze, scorching out of control until the only thing left is the choked little series of groans that fog against his cheeks.
“Goddamn, darlin. Look at the sight of you.” He breathes at your half-lidded gaze, starry with bliss and unseeing as you clench eagerly on his cock. “Prettiest sight I’ve ever fuckin’ seen.”
He kisses you, a low languid contact that’s so different from the sharp drill of his hips that knocks against something too bright, too warm inside you. It stretches outwards, glows golden in your veins, sizzles hot and draws pleasure thrumming through every fiber it can reach. It’s right, the way he fucks you, expertly unraveling you into putty in his hands.
“Where's that bite now, huh?” Graves goads, and you can hear the strain in his voice as he fucks into you vigorously, seeking out his own pleasure. “Have I got you that cock-drunk you can't remember how to insult me? Poor darlin’.”
It’s the mixture of spite and potent desire at his words that has you tighten around the press of him inside you, rippling over his cock and eliciting a sharp, choked groan from him in turn.
“C-close.” You whimper into his shoulder, fingernails pressing half-moons that threaten to bleed against his flesh. Graves is just as lost in it, hips slapping against yours as he ruts into you. The hand on your ass drags you to him with every thrust, fingers flexing and leaving indents that you know will leave you wincing as you sit for the next day or two. It only has that coiling, searing arousal inside you tighten further, your voice rising as you begin to climb sharply towards your climax.
“C’mon baby, c’mon baby. Give it to me.” Graves grunts, gritting his teeth as you squeeze down on him. “Let it go, let me feel it.”
It’s sudden, like a tether snapping unexpectedly inside you. It takes a single breath and then you’re gone, feeling the reverberation of it lash outwards through your limbs, bringing the bright boil of your blood to a fever pitch. Your walls grip down on him and you hear Graves hiss at the almost painful squeeze of you onto him, pressing you impossibly further into the wall behind you, trapping you between the unyielding surface at the relentless drive of his cock inside you.
He fucks you through it without stopping, has your wails trail off to little overstimulated whimpers as his pace doesn’t falter even as the aftershocks of your climax tremble through you. As they fade, the sting of too much begins to dawn over your senses, forcing you to grasp harshly at him, voice whimpering in search of mercy. He’s close, you can tell, but he doesn’t stop, making you at last choke out a breathless plea.
“Graves, please-”
Graves swears, hauls you flush against him as he grinds his hips up into the tightness of your cunt, rocking forwards until he finally releases a long, unsteady groan, spilling into you. You feel the heat of his release pulse low and sticky deep inside you, and make a mental note to bite him later for making you walk around with his cum slowly dripping into your panties.
It takes a moment for you to both to even out your breathing, chests heaving as you come back to yourselves. Your hands relax from their grip on Graves’ tac straps, feeling blood rush back to your fingers from how tight you had been clutching to him. You brace your head on his shoulder, feeling your hips murmur with a little weakness that you know will have you wobbling around for the remainder of the day. You want to seethe at him for it, but find yourself not caring in the face of your ruinous orgasm. Your body feels warm, sated, damp as Graves huffs against your neck.
“Fuck, sweetheart.” He breathes at last. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
You scrunch your eyes shut, something pulsing low through you for all of a moment before it’s swallowed down again. It’s as close to an ‘I love you’ as you’ll ever get, the two of you caught in an inevitable collision that will only end once one of you fizzles out like a shooting star in the midnight sky.
“I think you’ll kill me first.” You huff back at him, craning your head to look him in the eyes. “Just gotta figure out how I’ll get you to do it.”
Graves grins at you, eyes heavy with satisfaction, cheeks flushed red in a way you’ll know he’ll have to hide in front of his men. It’s a little bit of revenge, you think, another score in this endless tit for tat that you both can’t help but be addicted to.
Graves at last separates himself from you, withdrawing even as you give a little hiss of discomfort. He goes so far as you hoist your pants back up, teasing another touch to your clit through your panties and chuckling as you jolt. You shoot him a scathing look, unable to hide a mischievous little smile underneath your sneer.
“Come see me tonight, why don’tchya?” He prompts as he tucks himself away and runs a hand through his hair, back to being the commander, the arrogant hero he thinks he is. “Unless you want me to chase you down again.”
You smile, feel your heart beat a little higher in your chest with excitement. He turns away from you as if to leave, but glances over his shoulder as you call out to him.
“Catch me if you can, Graves.”
Graves shoots you a lopsided smile over his shoulder, eyes twinkling with that tell-tale knowledge of later.
“Oh I intend to, darlin.” He drawls lazily, confident as always. “Just you wait.”
#philip graves x reader#philip graves x you#cod mw2#call of duty mw2#modern warfare 2#mw2#x reader#reader insert#Don't fucking look at me#This will be the only thing I ever write for him I PROMISE-#oneshots
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I’ve come for revenge
i w h i m p e r e d
w h a t t h e f u c k
#gummyanswers#GummyBunny#suggestive#haha you fucking simp#low quality sketeon#NOBODY LOOK AT ME#DON'T FUCKING LOOK AT ME#GOODBYE#I'M LEAVING#TWO FUCKING NIGHTS IN A ROW#I HAVE BEEN SUBJECTED TO THIS DISGRACE#I SIMPLY CANNOT
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ok but obi-wans visible happiness and geninue smiles returning when he's in the presence of anakin's children. anakin's light and goodness reflected and living endlessly in his twins.
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when rysn is using the new fabrial to get around the ship on her own instead of having someone carry her and the crew raise their fists to her in solidarity bc they respect how hard she's trying
#don't fucking LOOK AT ME#😭😭😭#rysn ftori#dawnshard#dawnshard spoilers#the stormlight archive#book tag#makilah.txt
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fdhgbskjljkf;dahblkjd;ghfdjkbl;ahjdkljgdbf;ajklbkjrfglds;vgsfvkl;sk;
#kit speaks#i'm beyond words i'm speaking in tongues at this point#worst thing is this isn't for roleplay hanusa would NEVER this is for ME#DON'T FUCKING LOOK AT ME#i love my squid husband who does nothing but be bisexual and lie
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Gods she is so hot, I want to feel her make my teeth crooked with the sole of her boot
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Megan. Are you all right?
#law & order#law and order criminal intent#criminal intent#mygif#cigif#megan wheeler#mike logan#danny ross#criminal intent 6x17#lawandorderedit#criminalintentedit#userdundun#crimeshowsource#pretty sure this was the first and only time he called her by her first name 😭#freckle bby#like he's her annoying older brother but he also cares about her#they're ride or die#don't fucking look at me
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i hope whichever writer at larian that wrote the bg3 party banter somewhere, somehow feels good about the fact that i'm impulse buying a perfume sample at 3am because of them 😩
#i looked through a bunch of options but if any of u are curious#i settled on cesare borgia by deconstructing eden#should i tag this?#...#astarion#don't fucking look at me
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cute little things like tucking you in bed and kissing your forehead and letting you suck on my tits while i slowly jerk you off until you cum all over my hand. and then fall asleep all happy n smiley.
#I'm. I'm okay. I swear.#don't look at me#don't fucking look at me#personal#nsft#....yeah#thoughts lmaooo
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Chapters: 1/6
Fandom: Masters of the Air (TV 2024)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Gale "Buck" Cleven/John Clarence "Bucky" Egan
Characters: Gale "Buck" Cleven, John Clarence "Bucky" Egan, Robert "Rosie" Rosenthal, Harry Crosby, John B. "Jack" Kidd, Ken Lemmons, Curtis Biddick
Additional Tags: Period-Typical Homophobia, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But also somehow, Canon Compliant, at least until the epilogue of episode 9, hand-wavey explanations of how old-timey technology works, anything I get wrong about the show is intentional canon divergence, not me not remembering, Bucky Has Self-Worth Issues, Buck can't handle his own feelings, until he can, no beta we die like curt, not a songfic, but not not a songfic, Canon-Typical Violence, the only thing more egregious than my comma use is my use italics, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Smut, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, thigh fucking, Fluff, Slow Burn, but they also bang in chapter one
Summary:
Buck puts his hand on his shoulder and pushes him back down, "I think you've had enough tonight, Bucky. How 'bout we get some fresh air?"
Normally, his first instinct would be to drink _more_, just to be contrary, but not with Buck. He likes the undivided attention Buck gives him and the heavy feeling of his hand on his shoulder, so he'll do what Buck asks.
Bucky's head falls back against the booth as he smiles at Buck, "That's usually my line. You tryin' to get me alone, sweetheart?"
Buck huffs a laugh at the harmless flirtation, "Shoot, Bucky, you found me out."
Warmth starts to bloom from Bucky's chest, creeping up his neck and into his cheeks, his smile threatens to split his face. He hopes that Buck just thinks it's the alcohol, shit, _he_ hopes it's just the alcohol.
Or:
I lost my damn mind and did a cannon rewrite from Bucky's POV
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I'M NORMAL! I'M NORMAL!
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Reform is the Abbacchio album
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babygirl are you knife because i. want you inside me
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Audiophile geocities page where it's made increasingly obvious that they want to use their hands as much as possible and berates new models for taking away intimacy in the playing process
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Due to extensive trauma, I am now knowledgeable in all of the ways to best inflict agonizing pain on my enemies :D
This is a threat.
#don't fucking look at me#don't fucking touch me#don't fuck with me#i am not only capable of but am willing to commit murder#threat
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“i love you”
“me too. i love you so much”
#to my star 2#don't fucking look at me#crying shaking throwing sobbing punching the air–#what am i supposed to do until it comes out?
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