spoiledbygraves

[spoiledbygraves]

no fucking awoo. no awoo right now. its late. its not awoo time. its sleeping time. go the fuck to bed.

[spoiledbygraves]

update: he's married

SORRY I WENT AWOL GUYS 😓

but guess what...i'm talking to a guy 🤭🤭

AND HE'S A DAD

[spoiledbygraves]

SORRY I WENT AWOL GUYS 😓

but guess what...i'm talking to a guy 🤭🤭

AND HE'S A DAD

[spoiledbygraves]

source - original post deleted, popular reblog

[spoiledbygraves]

Having an age gap relationship isn’t always questionable and concerning sometimes it’s just you giving your boyfriend shit until he acts like the exhausted, tired old man that he is.

One of your favorite bits that you do constantly is whenever you and John are out at a pub together and you get hit on by some 20 something year-old guy you like to respond to advances with your favorite line first by looking over to your boyfriend, and then by looking back to the man trying to get you in his bed “I’m sorry I only date old men.“ it’s funny mostly because they never know what to do and because John always gives you this exasperated look followed by some version of “m’ not fuckin old.”

[spoiledbygraves]

Part One... Part Two

John price can be a meanie. The sweetest husband but fuck, he can be so so mean.

You love that he works so hard. Love being able to quietly support him because after he finishes working, he's back to being yours.

But usually, only after he finishes his paperwork.

He had different plans today. Because, well, why wouldn't he want to take advantage of one of the few times he's working from home?

Your John usually wouldn't be this demanding, this fucking mean. But this was Captain Price, a man of absolutes, if you had to describe him.

And he's basically ignoring you! Just reading his documents that your teary, blurry vision can't even begin to digest.

Your back to his chest, legs spread over his own, and most important, his cock being embraced so tightly by your cunt.

It's too much but not enough, his perfect cock filling out the right places, so perfectly pressing against those special spots.

But that's it! You want him to fuck you! Need him to!

Little hiccups as you sniffle, needing more but being a good girl and not complaining. Can't help the little whimpers that spill though.

Ah yes, those little whimpers that make his lips twitch upwards. You don't even know what you look like right now, huh bird?

Panting and gripping him so tight, trying your best not to just fuck yourself onto him. Every little twitch, everytime you re-adjust even slightly—you nearly curl into yourself and he has to wrap his arm around your chest and bring you back up, flush against his chest.

"Looking a little pathetic there, love, feels that good, hm? So good your brain has all but melted out your ears." He chuckles lowly into your ear.

You let out a choked sob, you two have been like this for over an hour already! Haven't you been good enough? :(

"Quiet down birdie, i'm working" he scolds, barely anything more than a chest rumble.

He snakes his hand down, in between your legs, and oh—his middle finger lands on your clit.

He's not nice about it though, he gets straight to it. Rubbing your clit in tight and fast little circles, no slowing him down.

But fuck, everytime you got too loud, he'd slap your pussy. Making your entire body jerk and you cry out.

"Don't make me tell you again, sweetheart."

Your legs shaking, back arching so slightly, head turned to the side and you sink your teeth into his arm, making him hiss.

Meanwhile! He's still reading his stupid documents! When he should he paying attention to you!

Your entire body tenses, he knew you were close. You expected him to slow down but he didn't. It was so intense, so blinding, he had you scrambling.

Trying to be bad and push his hand away from your clit. He's finally giving you what you need and you decide to be a brat?

Your orgasm was so intense, and for the first time—all over his desk and paperwork—you fucking squirt.

The waves of pleasure just didn't stop, it just felt too good!

As you finally start to come down, feeling trembles, shaking. You can feel him kissing your neck. Brushing your hair off your sweaty forehead.

"Bad bird, you messed up my documents." He almost laughs at your expression. A pout forming on your lips as you sniffle.

God, he just loves having you like this. Like all those quickies in his office when you'd visit, he loves how fucked out you look, loves that he's the one making you so fucking stupid.

He wants to comfort you right now, wants to quietly kiss you and hold you.

But you did make a mess while he's trying to work.

Slowly he stands up, his cock snuggled inside you as he holds you close so he doesn't slip out.

Then he bends you over his desk, moving his hips so only the tip of his cock is inside before slamming back in. You were squealing, hands scrambling to grab onto anything.

He had to punish you after all, didn't he?

「」

Does anyone want a part 2?

[spoiledbygraves]

Imagining sucking price's dick under his desk while he's working. he's just doing his paperwork, why does he look unaffected? :(

Then you feel it, his hands gliding atop your hair, careful not to pull your precious hair. His large hands cupping the back of your head.

And he shoves you down, forcing you to deepthroat his cock. Tears in your eyes threatening to spill, then you hear your prize. His low groan, practically a growl.

You can't help but moan around his cock, the vibration forcing a uncharacteristic pathetic noise from him. Your nails digging into his pants covered thighs, your eyes rolling back as if it's you being pleasured.

Well aren't you a sight, bird?

He brushes your hair from your sticky forehead, getting a better view of your cockdrunk self.

Just made for sucking his cock. Bet you're made for swallowing his spunk too.

What a dream.

[spoiledbygraves]

Here's this old man

[spoiledbygraves]

He made the “😐” face and I giggled.

[spoiledbygraves]

assistant!reader who does OnlyFans on the side. John’s pay (and allowance because Price would unknowingly make himself a sugar daddy to his assistants) go towards utilities and groceries, OF money goes towards whatever you damn well please!

Filming a new video for Halloween, dressed as a pretty angel, smiling sweetly into the camera.

Emailing it to your good friend who edits your content for you

or so you thought you sent it to them.

John Price sitting at his dining room table with his team, playing a game of poker when his phone dings with the tone he set specifically for you, and he raises a brow.

“Think it’s an emergency Cap?” Ghost asks, eyes darting from his higher up to his phone, and John pauses. It’s past midnight, you never message him after 10 unless it’s important.

“I’ll just give check.”

[spoiledbygraves]

NSFW, 18+ MDNI!!

Phillip Graves x F!Reader

Breakup sex, manipulation, baby trapping, p in v, southern asshole (my type)

NOT PROOFREAD PLS SPARE ME

“Phil, I can’t, you’re away too much, it’s hard on me.”

That conversation ended with him asking to be with you one last time, he needs it.

Surprisingly it’s not rough and fast paced like it always is. He’s not fucking he’s making love.

He’s whispering sweet nothings to you, his forehead on yours while he softly thrusts into you. His fingers intertwined with yours as he looks down at you with teary eyes, his eyes locked on yours.

“I’ll miss you, darlin’.”

“You’re so perfect for me, I’m so sorry.”

“I love you, I’m sorry buttercup.”

“Prettiest girl I’ve seen, god I was so lucky to have you.”

And of course you melted, of course his love making drew you in, his teary eyes meeting your own.

“I’m sorry for being away, I’m sorry- I never meant to hurt you, sweeth’art.”

His hips stutter before he cums deep in you, muttering too sweet apologies.

“Nobody could ever compare to you, god I was blind.”

A month later he’s back on a mission, and now you’re a month pregnant and alone, waiting for your now fiancée to come home.

[spoiledbygraves]

This was the cutest thing. 😭

[spoiledbygraves]

[spoiledbygraves]

i love philip graves #whatthefuckisakilometer

What would the 141 boys be like if their girl was drunk and got very flirty/handsy with them?

john price

he’d chuckle low under his breath the first time you slid your hands up his chest, eyes flicking down to you with that half-smile of his.

“easy, love,” he’d murmur, one hand catching your wrist, the other steadying your waist. “didn’t know a few drinks’d turn you into such a flirt.”

you’re leaning in close, whispering something ridiculous in his ear, and he shakes his head, amused but trying to keep you grounded.

“come on then, let’s get you home before you decide to start undressing me in front of the lads.”

he wouldn’t push you away—he likes the attention, really—but he’d tuck you under his arm and guide you somewhere quieter, protectively. his palm would settle warm on your lower back, his tone gentle and low.

“you’re gonna regret sayin’ that tomorrow, sweetheart.”

simon “ghost” riley

simon would freeze when your fingers slide under the hem of his shirt. his shoulders tense. eyes widen just slightly behind the mask.

“what the hell’re you doin’, love?”

your voice is slurred and teasing, and you’re pouting when he tries to step back, so he sighs and lets you cling to him a bit more.

he’s not annoyed—more like confused and trying really hard not to enjoy the way you’re pressed up against him.

“you’re drunk,” he mutters, jaw clenching. “and too bloody handsy for your own good.”

but then you whisper something dirty against the fabric over his neck and he chokes. literally coughs and backs away, cheeks flushed.

“fuckin’ hell. alright. we’re leavin’. now.”

he’d throw his jacket over your shoulders and pick you up if he has to. no chance he’s lettin’ the others hear the filth coming out of your mouth when you’re this tipsy.

johnny “soap” mactavish

oh, he loves it. the second you start getting handsy, giggling and trailing your fingers over his tattoos, he’s beaming.

“whoa there, bonnie,” he laughs, arms wrapping around you without hesitation. “didn’t know ye turned into such a lil’ menace with a drink in ya.”

he lets you touch him, playfully catching your wrists when you get bold, holding them up between you with a wolfish grin.

“behave,” he says, even though he’s definitely not discouraging you.

but he knows you’re drunk, so he won’t let it go too far. he’s still protective—just the type who lets you get it out of your system while teasing you to hell and back.

“you keep talkin’ like that and i’ll have t’ remind you in the mornin’ exactly what you said—word for word.”

phillip graves

graves is leaned back in his chair, drink in hand, boots up on the edge of the fire pit when you stumble over to him with that tipsy grin and all that sweet mischief in your eyes.

“darlin’, you’ve been starin’ at me like i’m dessert all night,” he drawls, lips quirking as you plop yourself right into his lap like you’ve got no shame left in that pretty little body.

you’re giggling, nails dragging lightly over his chest, your words sticky-sweet and slurred.

“you’re so big, phil… jesus, what do they feed you in texas?”

he damn near chokes on his bourbon.

his hand finds your hip, firm but not rough, grounding you as he leans in close with a smirk, voice low and honeyed.

“sugar, you keep talkin’ like that and i’m gonna forget you’re drunk.”

he lets you run your hands over him, lets you press your mouth just shy of his neck, but he ain’t about to take advantage. not his girl.

he’ll shift you so you’re sitting more sideways on his thigh, wrapping an arm around your waist like a seatbelt, fingers tapping against your leg to distract you from grabbing at his belt again.

“alright now, calm down, sweetheart. you’re handsy as hell and we got an audience.”

if anyone dares make a comment, he gives them a look that shuts them up fast. then he’s tilting your chin up, all fondness and southern charm:

“you wanna act like a lil’ tease, baby, that’s fine. just know payback’s a bitch come mornin’. and i got a good memory.”

[spoiledbygraves]

What would the 141 boys be like if their girl was drunk and got very flirty/handsy with them?

john price

he’d chuckle low under his breath the first time you slid your hands up his chest, eyes flicking down to you with that half-smile of his.

“easy, love,” he’d murmur, one hand catching your wrist, the other steadying your waist. “didn’t know a few drinks’d turn you into such a flirt.”

you’re leaning in close, whispering something ridiculous in his ear, and he shakes his head, amused but trying to keep you grounded.

“come on then, let’s get you home before you decide to start undressing me in front of the lads.”

he wouldn’t push you away—he likes the attention, really—but he’d tuck you under his arm and guide you somewhere quieter, protectively. his palm would settle warm on your lower back, his tone gentle and low.

“you’re gonna regret sayin’ that tomorrow, sweetheart.”

simon “ghost” riley

simon would freeze when your fingers slide under the hem of his shirt. his shoulders tense. eyes widen just slightly behind the mask.

“what the hell’re you doin’, love?”

your voice is slurred and teasing, and you’re pouting when he tries to step back, so he sighs and lets you cling to him a bit more.

he’s not annoyed—more like confused and trying really hard not to enjoy the way you’re pressed up against him.

“you’re drunk,” he mutters, jaw clenching. “and too bloody handsy for your own good.”

but then you whisper something dirty against the fabric over his neck and he chokes. literally coughs and backs away, cheeks flushed.

“fuckin’ hell. alright. we’re leavin’. now.”

he’d throw his jacket over your shoulders and pick you up if he has to. no chance he’s lettin’ the others hear the filth coming out of your mouth when you’re this tipsy.

johnny “soap” mactavish

oh, he loves it. the second you start getting handsy, giggling and trailing your fingers over his tattoos, he’s beaming.

“whoa there, bonnie,” he laughs, arms wrapping around you without hesitation. “didn’t know ye turned into such a lil’ menace with a drink in ya.”

he lets you touch him, playfully catching your wrists when you get bold, holding them up between you with a wolfish grin.

“behave,” he says, even though he’s definitely not discouraging you.

but he knows you’re drunk, so he won’t let it go too far. he’s still protective—just the type who lets you get it out of your system while teasing you to hell and back.

“you keep talkin’ like that and i’ll have t’ remind you in the mornin’ exactly what you said—word for word.”

phillip graves

graves is leaned back in his chair, drink in hand, boots up on the edge of the fire pit when you stumble over to him with that tipsy grin and all that sweet mischief in your eyes.

“darlin’, you’ve been starin’ at me like i’m dessert all night,” he drawls, lips quirking as you plop yourself right into his lap like you’ve got no shame left in that pretty little body.

you’re giggling, nails dragging lightly over his chest, your words sticky-sweet and slurred.

“you’re so big, phil… jesus, what do they feed you in texas?”

he damn near chokes on his bourbon.

his hand finds your hip, firm but not rough, grounding you as he leans in close with a smirk, voice low and honeyed.

“sugar, you keep talkin’ like that and i’m gonna forget you’re drunk.”

he lets you run your hands over him, lets you press your mouth just shy of his neck, but he ain’t about to take advantage. not his girl.

he’ll shift you so you’re sitting more sideways on his thigh, wrapping an arm around your waist like a seatbelt, fingers tapping against your leg to distract you from grabbing at his belt again.

“alright now, calm down, sweetheart. you’re handsy as hell and we got an audience.”

if anyone dares make a comment, he gives them a look that shuts them up fast. then he’s tilting your chin up, all fondness and southern charm:

“you wanna act like a lil’ tease, baby, that’s fine. just know payback’s a bitch come mornin’. and i got a good memory.”

[spoiledbygraves]

John Price who fucks you for the first time and now it’s all he can think about. Your warm cunt wrapped around him so tightly and your nails digging into the backs of his thighs. When he showers the day following, he traces the marks with his fingertips and his dick is immediately hard at the reminder of you. His hand wraps around his length and his head fills with images of you in front of him, soap running down your body collecting between your tits. He comes within 3 minutes.

John Price who hasn’t seen you in days around base, no matter how far he wanders. Not until a meeting the following Friday, you’re sat in a chair, leg crossed on top of the other and hands resting in your lap. You try to look engaged in what’s being said, but he can tell your mind is elsewhere. And when the meeting ends and you stand, reaching your arms behind your back to stretch with a groan and a sliver of your stomach showing, he’s hard again.

John Price who shows up at your room later that night, his head shamefully hung low and dick straining in his pants. When you open the door wearing a tank top and sleep shorts he has to fight himself from grabbing onto the flesh of your thighs. Instead he just stares at your bare legs in front of him, already thinking about how he’s going to leave marks of his own.

[spoiledbygraves]

drug dealer ghost taking care of someone way younger than him. the guilt eating him from the inside out. he knows he shouldn't be anywhere near them and they definitely shouldn't be handling drugs this way. ruining themselves at such a young age. yet. despite all that. they were the only one he ever led into their apartment. letting them sit on his lap. spoiling them.

trying to ignore the little noise in his head that said this is wrong, you're a goddammed creep. but the way their light weight pressed against his. their head resting against his chest. feeling their slowly rise and fall. it stirred something deep. maybe it was the fact how naive they seemed to the fact that he was probably grooming them.

did he really care? not really at least. as long as he kept them shielded from ever knowing the truth. they seemed rather happy getting spoiled. the way the bounced off the couch and into his arms. their arms clinging to his neck before their legs wrapped around his waist. and fuck. looking up at him with those big fucking trusting eyes. to say he didn't love the way they looked at him was an understatement.

even when ghost pressed on with personal and intimate questions. they answered right away. anything. they were young. parents definitely didn't know how to do their fucking job correctly. he knew he was twice as bad to feed into this.. thing. to even encourage it. but fuck if it didn't make his cock feel good. how gentle and soft they were against him. innocently pressing their weight against his hardened cock.

he vowed to himself he wouldn't touch them. at least not now. maybe not ever. he couldn't bare to touch something so innocent and vulnerable right there in his arms. the thought of what he'd actually done would eat him alive. would kill him. for now it remained gentle touches. pressing kisses on their forehead or caressing their back whenever they had a bad fight with their parents.

he fucking meant it. he'd do anything for them. even if it meant keeping his desires in check. a couple of touches here and there wouldn't hurt anyone, right?