Hi! New to your page but very much enjoying your writing!
I seen requests were open and had a thought about a prompt and while my immediate thought was Johnny for this prompt, any and all of the 141 are welcome, but them having a big crush on the girl that works in their favorite sex shop? (Johnny was the first thought because well toys...)
Anyways thanks for reading the idea even if it doesn't spark anything, I appreciate your time ☺️
nonny you are the SWEETEST omg and HELLO??!?! johnny with a SEX SHOP WORKER??? that's so good oh my god i love it lets dive in
johnny is admittedly a horn dog. he likes to fuck! what's wrong with that? it's him and doechii on a soapbox together declaring how much they like sex and he's chill with that reality. part of liking sex is liking sex with himself. just because he's masturbating doesn't mean it can't be fulfilling, or fun, or toe curlingly good. he goes to efforts to make it good, unlike some others he could name who half ass watching porn or who jerk the chicken in the showers like they're on a time limit. no. johnny likes to indulge himself.
and indulgence means toys. lots of them. enter his favorite sex shop. it's a small business sort of place, which he prefers over the massive corporate controlled spaces crowding out the sex industry with their clinical and minimalistic feel. nah, no thanks. he prefers places like this. its his favorite shop not just because of the wide selection, clean space (without being medical or clinical in The Wrong Way), and wide range of operating hours. nah, his favorite shop is his favorite almost entirely because of the staff, or really just the one.
he likes being able to go in and actually have a chat with the girl behind the counter and her perky tits bouncing free behind her shirt, how he can see the tiniest nubs on either side of her nipples that hint at piercings there. how she laughs and playfully smacks him every time he asks her (seriously, fuck, he's so serious about this) if he can have her demonstrate a toy for him. preferably naked. he likes how her eyes linger on him when he's handling the display models, testing how the sexdolls 'realistic' flesh bounces when he smacks it, how the clear fleshlights look taking his fingers, how she squirms and chews on her mouth and blushes a storm when he asks her to tell him her favorites, and then immediately purchases them.
but it's gotten to the point now that his self care time doesn't just include audio porn from his usual favorite creators. it's recommendations from his girl at the shop, and imagining that it's her pussy wrapped tight around his cock as he fucks the fleshlight she suggested with the lube he tasted off her finger has him coming fast and hard every time. but it never quells the ache in his gut, even when he's gone four rounds with himself in a single night and even the thought of touching his dick again makes him want to cry. no. he needs something deeper. something more. needs his girl from the shop to finally take him up on his offers and let him use his collection on her to have her cum harder than she ever has in her life.
maybe after that they could even do something really crazy like date and eventually get married. who knows?
hiiii it's the person who sent you the graves x fem reader request yesterday (idk if you wanna keep track of anons but if so can i be 🦜?) anyway i'm having more Thots about him:
graves bringing his gf(reader) to the shadow company base and having her wander around some empty hallways so he can hunt her down and fuck her (in all his gear ofc. idk what it is about a tac vest but they're fucking sexy). in my head it's a whole cnc/roleplay thing where he's super into it and really leans into his scary military man persona :)
hi pookie!!! i don't have any tracked anons yet but i'd love to start!!! you can definitely be 🦜anon!! (also i hope you liked the first little drabble, this one got...far longer lmao)
you should have known that Phillip was up to something when you walked out of the bedroom that morning to find him still sitting at the kitchen counter with a mug of long cold coffee. the smirk alone hadn’t rung any alarm bells, he was still Phillip, and if he wasn’t smirking he was pouting scowling.
but when you’d asked why he hadn’t already left for work as was his usual habit all he’d said was that he wanted to take you along. show you around.
“Half of it’s yours, honey, don’t you wanna see what your man gets up to during the day?”
which that was a whole other problem, what did he mean by ‘half of it’s yours’ exactly? and with you thus distracted and shocked by his casual notification that oh yeah, he’d already signed over half of everything he owned to you “What the fuck else would I do, babycakes, does that ring on your finger not mean nothing to you?” you didn’t wind up pressing him on why today of all days he decided he wanted to show you around Shadow Company.
it was, of course, an extremely impressive operation. not that you really knew much about military private contractors, or what Phillip and the Shadows did while off on assignment, sometimes for months on end, but you figured you got the big picture idea around the time he was proudly showing off an armory that would make several countries green with envy.
and now he was laying out his usual kit for you, piece by piece, your eyes growing wider and wider as he just kept adding things until you interrupted his lecture on why he preferred a specific kind of knife in this specific holster to blurt out-
“There’s no possible way you can carry all that around all the time.”
he blinked, smirk curling up the corners of his mouth. “That so, sugar?” chuckling, he leaned in, teasing, “Should I be hurt you think so little of how much I can lift, honey?”
“No, I mean,” you huffed, waving a hand at the veritable ton of equipment now neatly arranged on like three different stainless steel tables. “I just mean that…Phillip there’s so much of this stuff, if you tried to carry all of it all the time you wouldn’t be able to move around, and even if you could, it wouldn’t be quick!”
Phillip laughed, denim blue eyes dancing. “You’d be surprised, pretty baby. Wanna see?”
raising a brow, you crossed your arms over your chest. “Only if you’re prepared for me to laugh at you when you get it all on and you look ridiculous and run a four hour mile. No, I’m calling your bluff, you’re just trying to impress me in some weird, macho military man way.”
in a second Phillip had your chin gripped in his hand, pulling your head up to seal your mouths together with a kiss that stole your breath, and several brain cells. when you were a panting, horny mess (god, he knew what it did to you when he groaned into your mouth how good you tasted he did that shit on purpose) he pulled back, smirking wide with his pupils blown, hair mussed from your hands still tangled in it.
“Babycakes,” he crooned, “now that’s a mean fucking lie. You know I ain’t gotta do a damn thing to impress you by now, honey. But if you wanted to see me all kitted up, shit. Happy to arrange it for you, sugar.”
you couldn’t even scrape together the wherewithal to protest or defend yourself, the inside of your head all cotton stuffed and hot from his kiss and wandering hands. he chuckled as he picked you up by the waist and set you down on one of the long metal tables with a warm but firm, “Keep it parked there, sugar, eyes on me, you know how I like it.”
and so you did, trying not to squirm as you watched him pull on sheaths and holsters heavy with weaponry, wrap something that looked suspiciously like a collar around his neck, then came the vest, the gloves, the beige balaclava, the helmet-
why was it so fucking hot watching him get dressed? wasn't it supposed to be the other way around?
but he looked so...dangerous.
in your head you knew that he was dangerous. you knew what he did for a living, and that he was good enough at it that he could afford to, if he wanted, literally buy and sell Dallas itself.
you'd just never really dedicated a whole lot of thought to this side of him before. at least not in front of Phillip, where he could see you quivering in your seat chewing on your lower lip, thighs clenched together as your pussy got hot looking at your fiancé wearing all of his tactical gear.
he wasn't just your fiancé right then, and that was what was really fogging up your head. he was a soldier, the soldier, the best of the best, faceless, unfeeling, unmovable object and unstoppable force.
in the back of your head, an idea prickled.
sometimes he went on missions to try and find people.
what if you were one of them?
what if you had to try and outrun the Apollonian god before you?
by the time the last strap was buckled tight, you were sure you'd soaked through your panties.
trying to ignore it, you hoped he couldn't hear the threadiness in your voice as you teased, "Well you got it all on, but that doesn't mean that you can move around all that fast."
his head tilted to the side, and the fabric covering his face shifted. he'd be smirking beneath it, you knew him well enough to know that instantly. and then he chuckled. low and...vicious.
that was when your stomach flipped, some gut deep instinctive reaction born out of evolutionary necessity. and you got the first inkling that maybe, just maybe you’d walked into a trap.
"Wanna bet?" his voice was muffled a little, but you didn't have any trouble hearing him. all you could hear was him as he took slow, measured steps forward until he was caging you in against the table, blotting out all light, all sound, everything else in the world but him. "How about we play a game, sugar?"
it took a few tries, but eventually you were able to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth to mutter weakly, "A game?"
"Mmhm." one rough gloved hand came up and took your chin, the scratch of the material making you shiver. "I'll give you a sixty second head start. And then I'll come after you. F'you get out of the building 'fore I catch you, I'll make dinner for a month."
oh god. oh god oh god oh god, he really had seen what you were thinking hadn't he?
the words came out of your mouth unbidden. "What if you...what if you catch me?"
his thumb rubbed over your mouth, pressing against the swell of your lips, mindless of disturbing your lip gloss that got smeared over the black fabric.
when he chuckled again, the sound went right to your clenching, empty pussy. "F'I catch you, I get to do anything I want. Wherever we are. Even if you try and pretend like you don't want it."
a moan slithered out between your parted lips before you could catch it.
Phillip dropped your chin, stepping back and neatly avoiding your hands reflexively coming up to try and keep him close. "Time starts now, honey."
the beige balaclava stretched, his denim eyes burning through your body above it. "Run."
you did.
in the moment it was like some wild animal had taken over your brain. no thought. no plan. no instinct. just something driving you deeper and deeper into the darkly shadowed labyrinthian halls, something that you couldn't even begin to pretend was just plain fear.
sure, there was some fear.
that was normal. healthy. that was a billion years as predator/prey in your bloodline pushing you to run further, faster, harder away from your pursuer.
but the pulse in your pussy? the hot clench of your stomach every time you froze when you heard the tiniest sound before you scrambled through another door you didn't recognize? the way you could feel your nipples tight and needy against your thin shirt Phillip had picked out for you just a few hours ago?
that wasn't fear.
not even close.
god, had he planned this?
of course he had, he must've. but how had he known?
you turned another corner, panting hard, staring at a long line of lockers, most decorated or obviously in use. your heart was racing, drowning out anything you might have heard beyond your own heavy breathing.
and that was when you saw it.
the door just to the left and all the way at the back of the room, opened ever so slightly. a tinge of sunlight falling through onto the dark floor.
you dove for it, but a thick muscled arm wrapped tight around your waist, hauling you backwards into a wide, familiar chest.
and even though you kicked your feet in the air and back at those sturdy legs, and scratched at the thick fabric covering that burly arm, it didn't do a single bit of good.
against your back you could feel the hard threatening lumps of the weapons and various equipment Phillip had strapped on. his other gloved hand raised, curling around the front of your neck, and you froze instantly, brain going blank.
"Caught you," he purred.
even just the sound of his voice like this was different somehow, and not just because of the balaclava. you'd never heard him sound like this, raw and vicious and arrogant. a predator who'd caught his prey.
the arm around your waist shifted, and his gloved hand moved to start playing with your breasts, rougher than normal, like he wasn't taking care to control himself for once.
"And what a pretty little thing I've caught." he sounded so proud, as his fingers found your nipple through your shirt and pinched, hard enough your hips bucked and you whined, way louder than you should have.
he only laughed, low and mean. "Look at these pretty things, could cut right through that flimsy fucking shirt, babycakes, couldn't they? Aw, sugar, don't tell me. Don't tell me you liked being hunted."
you heard it then, the slight waver in his voice. felt the shift in his stance as he continued to hold you aloft against his body. you couldn't feel the press of his hips, not with him wearing his vest and weapons, but you knew, you knew he was hard.
"P-Phillip-"
the hand around your throat tightened. not cutting off air, not yet, just threatening to. "Nah, honey. Don't even think about fucking lying to me."
with a few long strides he turned you to face the nearest blank wall, pinning you against it, barely able to brace yourself on your tippy toes as he reached down and shoved your skirt to the floor.
his groan drowned out your strangled sound of surprise. "Fuck, can see you liked it. Fucking soaked these panties, sugar, feel that?"
another whine snuck out of you when rough, blunt pressure rubbed at your cunt, the sensation lighting sparks up your spine, blinding you for a moment.
"I got a confession, honey." Phillip hooked a finger in your panties and ripped them right off. "I fucking liked it too."
he was still wearing the kit. still wearing the helmet, the balaclava, the gloves. you were completely and utterly at his mercy, dripping wet around his digits as he unceremoniously shoved two knuckle deep inside of you uncaring of the rough drag of the unfamiliar fabric against your ultra sensitive walls, and all you could do was stay there and fucking take it, squirming and moaning until you were dizzy with it.
you shouldn't be as close to coming as you were. he'd barely touched you, and what he had given you had been mean and cruel, but it just made your cunt drip and your thighs shake.
"Fuck," Phillip grunted in a tone you only recognized from when he'd already gone two rounds with you in a night just to find that it still wasn't enough. you'd never heard him sound this base and primal outside of nights like those. "Fuck."
he leaned forward as his hands disappeared, fumbling behind you, his masked mouth pressed against your ear, his body weight keeping you in place.
in the back of your head, you remembered his terms. once he caught you, he got to do whatever he wanted with you.
you could feel the heat of his breath as he bit out, "Gonna feel that fucking pussy on my cock right fucking now. And I don't wanna hear you whining that it hurts or you can't take it. Be a good girl, sugar and just - just fuck - fucking - god!"
Phillip usually liked to tease you. liked to fuck your folds, rubbing the head of his cock against your clit or only fucking you with the head of his cock and asking you sweetly why you weren't satisfied, why you were begging for more, wasn't he being a gentleman by not fucking you with the whole thing? why couldn't you be grateful and just take what he gave you? and only after you broke down into near hysterical teasing would he give in and finally sink deep.
but not tonight.
tonight he rammed balls deep in one thrust and set a deep, brutal pace that had your eyes rolling back, your hands clawing at the paint on the wall like it could help your fluttering, spasming walls around his cock as you struggled to take him, could help that deep point inside of you where he was ramming his cockhead against your womb.
like it could help the rising tidal wave of pleasure threating to hit you and knock you to the ground at any moment as he fucked you in the open for his own pleasure, like you were nothing more than a toy for him to get off with.
patience was out the window and he was proving a point that you didn't even know was in question.
"You belong to me," he growled, not even sounding that out of breath as he just kept pounding, easily catching your hips and holding you up when your knees gave out as you came untouched and unasked for on his cock. "Every inch of your body, and especially this perfect fucking pussy, it belongs to me, and I can do whatever I want with what's mine."
your head bobbed mindlessly, back arching sweetly as you tried to take his cock, every thrust jolting you head to toe. tears stung your eyes, started sliding down your cheeks as you shouted when he shifted the angle almost imperceptibly and started nailing your g-spot on every thrust.
"Say it," he snapped. "fucking say you belong to me, angel."
"I - I be-belong to y-you!"
"That's fucking right." his voice was like a snarl, uncaring of your squeal and your writhing as his hips picked up speed. "Think I don't know how fast you can run? Think I don't know how that pretty head works? Can't fucking fool me, babycakes, you wanted this almost as much as I did. My perfect fucking slut, god, so goddamn greedy for my fucking cock, take it so fucking good, c'mon baby, c'mon baby, c'mon baby fucking cum for me, one more time cum right on my cock or you won't cum this whole fucking week I swear to god-"
you screamed as another wave hit you, your body bucking against Phillip like you could push him off, secure in the knowledge you never could, that he'd keep you pinned against the wall with those hands bruising your waist as every muscle in your body contracted.
you could feel every inch of him inside you. every ridge, every vein, every pulse of his cock as he fucked you sloppy and deep.
and you could hear him, muttering hotly against your ear, "Atta girl, atta fucking girl, darlin', god, that's it, that's it, just stay tight for me feels so goddamn good, let me fill up that pretty pussy, hm? Want me to fill you up with my cum?"
speech was totally beyond you now, black spots blinking in and out of your field of vision, and all you could do was nod and whimper pathetically, weakly trying to tilt your hips back to give him the perfect angle.
"Fuck, yes, good girl, my good fucking girl ain'tcha darlin', just take it, be good and fucking - fuck, fuck!"
he slammed in one last time, all the way, deep enough it did more than just stretch you, it felt like he was about to break you, like one wrong move and you'd be feeling his cock in your throat and not just your stomach.
searing heat filled you as he pumped you full of his cum. your legs shook, the only thing holding you up was his hands, his cock, and the wall.
heat burned over your face and chest as you felt some of that cum start to drip out, coating your inner thighs, sliding down your leg.
all you could manage was a thin, reedy whine.
"Shh," Phillip soothed, hoarse and breathless. he shuffled closer, leaning against you and the wall a little more. with him that close you could feel the barest hint of a tremor in his own thighs pressed against your own. "Fuck, sugar. Gimme a second. Still fucking cumming."
and he was. you could feel every pulse, every twitch of his cock inside of you like this, could hear every mutter and moan he made as he rode it out.
when it was over he let out a long, relieved sigh, like an itch that had finally been discovered and scratched to satisfaction.
"Good girl." his hands gentled, arms sliding around your waist and mouth pressed against your neck, humming like a lazy cat in the sun as he carried you over to a long bench and sat down, keeping you in his lap, his softening cock still inside you.
you whimpered, jolting, but his gloved hands rubbed over your thighs, your belly, up between the valley of your breasts to cup your throat.
"Shh, s'alright, babycakes," he crooned. "Jus' need a little breather. Jus' wanna feel you a little longer."
one of his hands left you briefly, and you heard his helmet fall to the floor. and then his mouth was on your neck, smothering every bit of skin he could get in kisses.
the two of you moaned when an after shock of pleasure made you clench down on him again.
Phillip's hand turned your face to his so he could kiss your slack mouth. "Gonna be the fucking death of me, honey."
pouting, you forced out a disagreeable sound.
he just laughed, smoothing his hand over your stomach, squeezing the inside of your sore thigh. "The ideas you come up with? Having me hunt you in my own company building? God, that was so fucking hot."
for the moment, you refrained from reminding him that it had been all his idea. you were too fucked out and sleepy to bother with it for the moment.
Phillip's hands were checking on you, massaging muscle, testing sore spots, gently soothing abused skin and muscle as you climbed down from your high.
"Better be careful," he cautioned, smirking against your throat. "Or I'm gonna want to do this all the time. Gonna want to put you on those pretty knees in a conference room here, bend you over my desk and fuck that tight, pretty little asshole of yours."
you just moaned in response, which of course made him laugh.
I just got a new jumpsuit and didn't realize anytime I need to use the bathroom I need someone to untie me because of the way it lays on my back. (It's stupid and annoying but it was my first time wearing it so I didn't know)
Now I'm just picturing a pretty bird going up to the 141 and asking them to undress her (because she's tipsy, can't find her friends, and needs to use the bathroom but her own outfit is holding her hostage lol) what would the boys reactions be?
YELLING I HAVE TO YELL OMG I LOVE I LOVE I LOVE!!! (also bestie that sounds so annoying it would have to be the CUTEST jumpsuit for me to want to keep it once i had that realization)
ok here we go:
price:
he's been aware of you, dancing and singing along to the songs over head across the club that he only agreed to come to because soap and gaz threatened mutiny if he and ghost didn't come along. (and to prevent possible crimes. it's happened before when they're unsupervised.) he's been enjoying watching you dance, but hasn't made a move to interrupt you. it's not his scene and he's got a great view. figured when you needed a breather he could swoop in and introduce himself. but then you glance around the club, frowning and swaying a little, and when your eyes find him you beam and beeline right for him. you're obviously a little tipsy, a little handsy, giggling with slightly glazed eyes and a flushed, pretty face (he wonders if you look like this when you've just been fucked, hopes he can compare from personal experience) and you ask him for some help in the bathroom. and he would say no, he's a gentleman and much as he'd like to you're in no state, but then some asshole sitting beside him tries to swoop in and he has to shut that shit down fast. he takes you in to the staff bathroom after speaking with the bartender (and exchanging a little money), and is a perfect gentleman about it. really. (there were like three mirrors in the bathroom and he got a good fucking view when he was leaving to guard the door from the outside while you peed, and he was definitely looking through his hand shielding his eyes when he came back in.) and if he lets his hands linger a little as he laces you back up, if he kisses your shoulder and lets his hands drop to squeeze your waist - well then who could blame him, really? he drops you back with your friends with your number in his phone and a kiss to the cheek. "See you 'round, pretty bird."
ghost:
like price, he'd been dragged to the club against his will. soap has been begging him to be his wingman (why is anyone's guess, it's not like ghost's great at. like. talking to birds.) and he finally gave in and agreed just to shut him up. he's having a rough time, honestly, it's loud and crowded and not his scene at all, but what's making it bearable is the pretty bird in a jumpsuit having a ball out on the dance floor. he's trying not to be obvious about watching, but soap's caught him a couple times, enough to tease him (annoying little shit, he'll have the fucker run drills til he pukes), enough even for you to notice, flashing him smiles and even waving at him across the floor. (he froze for a full minute before his hand twitched, raising halfway before he realized you weren't even looking at him anymore and he put it down.) he watches you look around, craning your neck, trying to find something, and is arguing with himself about his instinct to walk over and ask what you need when suddenly you're walking over to him. his ears and face burn with heat as you brace yourself with a hand on his upper thigh to lean in and ask sweetly against his ear if he'll help you out of your jumpsuit, and he can't speak for a long moment, his brain just static. until soap (he knows how to get the LT back online) tries to offer to help and ghost surges to a standing position, bristling like an angry cat "sit the fuck down, sergeant. i can handle this" he walks you into the mens bathroom like it's nothing, and one barked order has all the drunks scattering like rats. he locks the door behind the last of them and ensures the bathroom is clear (and selects the cleanest stall) before his shaking hands get you out. he spends the time you're in the stall firmly telling himself not to get hard, that it's just being a good samaritan or whatever. it's no big deal. but then you come out, batting your eyes and asking for help, one hand holding the waist of the jumpsuit up and the other covering your tits, and he nearly falls to his knees. yeah, he decides as he fumbles to try to get you redressed, he's gotta get your number or something. "So love. Where do you live?"
gaz:
this is one of his favorite bars. not too overpriced, not too 'hole in the wall', frequented by people his age rather than just the old locals who's grandparents went and sat in their same chairs however many years back, and yet it's not totally overwhelmed by tourists. it's really the perfect bar. it's his go-to when he wants to blow off steam or get a good old fashioned or, like tonight, dance. he saw you come in with your friends, huddled together like a pack of lionesses on the hunt, all dressed up and ready to swoop in for the kill. he took one look at you and groaned out loud, enough for the bloke next to him to look over at you and your friends and whistle softly. he swooped in before anyone else could get a chance to, glad to escort you over to the dance floor, supervise your trips to the bar, one eye on the bartender and any other man who dared try to get close, his other eye on you as you talked. you're a lightweight, that much is for sure, or maybe you just don't drink that often if all it takes for you to get all cute and tipsy is two vodka crans and a few sips of his beer from the bottle he keeps dangled between his fingers while his arms are around you. you smell and feel like heaven, and he'd originally been planning to take you back to his, but he's not sure that's on the table anymore when you stumble back, giggling against his chest. and then you lift that pretty face and ask him so sweet to help you find your friends because you 'need help' in the bathroom, and he swears he nearly goes blind as arousal hits him hard and fast. he plays the gentleman at first, offering gallantly to help you find your friends, but would you look at that, nowhere to be seen? oh well, he's happy to help if you'd like, baby. he takes you to the ladies' room, a charming smile and a short explanation preventing any alarm from rising as the bathroom empties. he keeps his eyes closed ('fumbling' or really just groping and feeling up your hot skin and the perfect give to your body under his hands), babbling apologies when his hands 'slip' as he unties and then reties you. by the time you're all laced up again your hands are running over his chest, your thighs pressing together and a needy look replacing the tipsy gaze in your eye. he cups your chin, smiling charmingly. "I think I'd like to do that again sometime. But maybe at my place, and not a bathroom. And you'd take it all the way off...and keep it off."
soap:
he fucking loves going to clubs. gay clubs, strip clubs, german clubs, overpriced nightclubs, hole in the wall barely staying afloat clubs, underground punk clubs, whatever, he loves them all. and while he loves dragging his team out with him whenever he can, he doesn't drag them out every time he goes, think how much work that would be to make sure they have a good time while he's working his magic with a pretty hen. so he's alone when he sees you across the dance floor, and he's instantly in love with the way your hips move. he's never been shy about wanting a lass a day in his life, and you're not different in the least. you move against him like a goddamn dream and he's been half hard for the last few dances, his hands on your hips and his mouth on your neck, and he would press for more but he's admittedly had a few drinks and so have you, so he's trying to keep a clear head and at least pretend to be a gentleman (even if he's already put a hand on your tits and squeezed when they put Buttons on earlier, smirking when it made you shiver). but then you turn around, crowding close, and manage to convey to him that you have to find your friends for some 'help in the bathroom'. he grins like a wolf and says he can give you everything you need. admittedly his mind is in the gutter and he doesn't even care about the women gasping in shock when you tow him inside, just smiles and waves at them all. and of course he's disappointed when you reassure them that you're not having sex, he's just helping you with the back of your jumpsuit. (he thinks it's fascinating how all the women take one look at the back and immediately nod, empathetic noises coming from them) no one leaves and he's all smirks and wandering hands, praise pouring out of his mouth at your dancing skills, how good you smell, how pretty your skin is, hen, wow, look at that when the top slips and he gets a good peek over your shoulder at your tits before you cover them. the other girls giggle as you playfully smack him before ducking into a stall, and he just smiles and leans against the wall waiting for you. "you're a really good boyfriend" some girl sighs wistfully. "my Tom would never set foot in a ladies room" he doesn't correct her, just thanks her and tells her to ditch Tom, which is met with raucous applause. when you emerge from the stall he plasters himself to your back as he ties you back up, playfully saying "such a shame to cover all this back up, lassie. but i can take you back to mine and get a proper look later." your eyes meet his in the mirror, blushing hard, and you ask, "is that a threat?" "no, hen, s'a promise."
imagine if Nikolai, methodical and calculating to a T, met someone who's forgetful, chaotic, and just fully disorganised at a coffee shop or something when they tripped on their own foot and spilled their overly sweet (thankfully cold) drink on his clothes and they're so flustered and embarrassed and he's jyst thinking "aww, poor thing needs me"
ANYWAY NO PRESSURE BYEE
UM YES ABSOLUTELY I LOVE (also sorry this took me literally forever to get to, i had to exorcise graves from my brain first haha)
lets break this down, shall we?
nikolai has one true vice. sure he smokes, and he fucks, and he drinks, but he doesn't treat any of those like vices, like things that if he were denied he'd tear apart entire countries for. no. his vice is control. and he controls everything around him. and he can't understand, doesn't even bother to pretend to understand, why other people don't get the same satisfaction out of it he does.
nikolai is careful. he's smart and he's careful and he uses both of those things like weapons, because in his business if you're not careful and smart you're dead. it's second nature to him now, the methodical sweeps of all rooms he enters (only after he's researched the building it's blueprints and history and ownership etc the night before), the triple checking of intricate locks (that he made with his own hands or under his supervision because there's no such thing as too careful), all of it.
nikolai has every moment of his life planned out, every year, every month, every day, every minute. and he likes it like that. he's got built in failsafes for when those plans get shot to smithereens, especially as situations develop and blow up in his or the 141's faces. but that's only to be expected, in his line of work. he prepares for multiple possible shit shows, he's got plans for a hundred different types of apocalypses, the man views life as a chess game, one that he is indisputably winning.
nikolai loves a routine, and especially he loves his new morning routines when he turns into his coffee shop and finds a new face tucked away in the corner of the shop at four forty each morning, studying on a lilac ipad with matching headphones and an external keyboard. she's fascinating, because it just took one morning for him to realize she was his exact opposite. the papers she pulls out from her bag are crunkled and crumpled and disorganized. her pretty hair is always slipping out of the haphazard knot she's stuck it in on top of her head. and she's clumsy. she got up to ask for a refill the first morning he noticed her. it wasn't a tiny shop, and there were just the two of them in there, if he hadn't known better to pay attention to her hands he would've thought she was just a pickpocketer when she tripped over nothing and landed hard against his chest.
nikolai might have a new vice. because it's plain to see, watching her shuffle anxiously through her papers and try to find hastily scrawled sticky notes she's left for herself (the one she's looking for at the moment is stuck to the bottom of her shoe), that she needs some order in her life. that she needs discipline. and nikolai is going to give it to her. going to fill her life with structure, not to suffocate her, sweet little chaotic whirlwind that she is, but to give her the proper environment to truly blossom. to ease that tearful panic in her face when she realizes she can't find the note, that vanishes into a blinding smile when he offers it to her between his fingers after a careful extraction.
nikolai definitely has a new vice. because she likes to fight his changes to her life. his being in it permanently, for one, was something she tried to fight, though it lasted an amusing six minutes before he had her cumming on his fingers. she's a stubborn, willful thing, but that just makes it so much sweeter, so much prettier when he can get her to bend to his will. and he always, always gets her to bend. at least when it's important. the other things, like whether or not she can keep her own apartment after they're married, he lets her have free rein over. it makes her happy, and it's not like she's going to be spending any time there anyways. not when he's got her addicted to the taste of his praise on her tongue as he forces her tight pussy to take his fat cock for the third time in a row.
i saw your requests are open so PLEASE write some Graves x fem reader, literally any scenario is fine there’s just not enough content about him 😭😭😭
😘😘🩷🩷 anything for you pookie
graves is the ultimate equal opportunity man. he gets horny looking at all kinds of people, likes looking and feeling and fucking all kinds of bodies. but his absolute favorite is a girl with some fucking curves on her. he wants a girl who’s soft and plush and pampered, who he can dig his hands in and grope and grab and leave deep bruises without really hurting. a girl who he can fuck the way he likes, hard enough to break the goddamn bed, deep enough to bruise her fucking cervix, hips snapping and teeth locked in her throat like a goddamn animal. likes a girl who doesn’t look a half second away from snapping in half if he kisses her too rough. wants a girl who’s soft enough he can really sink in when he’s sore and battle bruised and everything fucking hurts. wants to send her to get her hair done, her nails, get massages and scrubs and fancy makeup and clothes and everything he or some high priced personal shopper can think of to spoil her rotten. because if he’s going to be the way he is, rough bloody hands and a small black heart, then his woman should be the softest, plushest thing in the world, spoiled and preened like a prized show cat, a high priced toy only he can play with
I LOVE collie soap and cat mc so much!! I imagine she starts kneading on him, purring up a storm, while stuck on his knot. Soap doesn’t mind if her claws almost dig into him a bit while she makes biscuits on his chest (he thinks it’s cute)
eeeeeeee I’m so glad you liiiiiike and that’s actually exactly what happens how do you see into my brain? he’s actually obsessed with her claws and fangs, pops a boner every time he startles her and she hisses at him on reflex, or she scratches him up for real during sex. she always makes it up to him by taking his knot like a good little kitty
How do you like get past the smidge of like cringiness or second hand embarrassment. Like idk it's hard for me to start them cuz I'm like 🧍♀️ brother I can tell ur forcing your voice to be like that and it's weird.... Or sometimes lines aren't bad but they're like idkkkk. Maybe it's just me haha
genuinely you either just gotta roll with it or find a different va. i struggled with that too and there are some that even if the 'script' is like, linked into my goddamn brain, i just can't get past the voice. but i kept trying different subreddits and users and found some that are fucking DREAMYYYYYYYYY
i'm thinking about one of them that's genuinely nasty and it leans into the cringey audio in a very good way (they're on a porn set so he does Bad Porn Actor Voice Out Loud and then is whispering filthy shit into the listeners ear).
.....do y'all want recs? and if so, how nasty can we get? for context, the one mentioned above is brother/sister incest
I saw ur tags on my last post and I just want to thank you because oh my GOD you're so painfully right good god
also I love ur username
EEEEEEEEK TOTALLY NOT FREAKING OUT LIKE A FANGIRL
I mean I’m chill. I’m good.
lmao thank you, i spend a lot of time thinking about these dorks and their codependent ass relationship, haha, and I feel the same way the boys do about getting to fuck price, like a gift from the gods, truly. please don’t talk to me about soap getting off each time the others do and Gaz has to lay down on the fucking floor after catch his breath and it turns to frotting with Soap while they watch Ghost wreck the captain….goddamn. (also I ADORE your writing and it may or may not (as well as your moots who I found while scrolling your blog and the 141 tags) be a huge reason why I gave in and made my own blog lol)
