#mw3 reader insert

[v1x3n]

[lushrue]

tf 141 as police officers anyone? dubcon, afab!reader

this was not how you wanted to spend your weekend.

you'd graciously agreed to go out for your friend's bachelorette party. she'd all but begged you to be there for her last night of freedom, so how could you not show up for her? now, though, after three too many shots and sitting in the drunk tank of the local police station, you were beginning to wish you'd stayed curled up on your couch.

you weren't even entirely sure what had happened. one moment, you were walking to your next bar, your body floating along with the crowd. the next, your friends were catcalling some random men across the street and the red and blue lights started flashing in your periphery.

the officers that arrested you had been nice enough, you supposed. they were understanding of your situation, but not understanding enough to let you out of a public intoxication charge. the more senior one, captain price, had given you your own police car away from your friends after you'd complained about your head pounding. if he copped a feel as he helped you into the seat, no one but the two of you had to know.

his sergeant, garrick, chatted you up as you rode the couple of minutes to the local jail. he was friendly, conversational, if a bit flirtatious. you weren't sure a cop was supposed to compliment a prisoner's hair or the way her dress showed off her tits so much.

but the two cops serving as jail wardens were by far the worst. sergeant mactavish had been the one to book you in, taking your fingerprints and filling out the necessary paperwork to cite you. inhibitions lowered by the copious amounts of vodka you'd been talked into consuming, you told him his tattoos made him look hot. he seemed to take that as a green light, murmuring in your ear about how bonnie you were the whole time he was booking you.

lieutenant riley just unnerved you. you could see him staring through the window of the thick metal door, the bars not deterring him one bit. clearly, he could see as much as he needed to. he hadn't stopped staring since he'd thrown you into the cell.

your friends had taken notice too, the way the officers seemed to take a liking to you. the group of them hatched a clever, albeit drunken, plan to use you as bait to escape. if you were completely in your right mind, you would've refused without a second thought. however, fortunately (or unfortunately) for you, it sounded genius to your alcohol-logged brain.

you sauntered up to the door, standing on your tiptoes to bring your chest into view. you put on your best pout, holding the bars of the small window. "sergeant johnny?" you slurred, your fingers dancing suggestively along the length of the bars. "me and my friends are thirsty. can you and your friend get us some water?"

the giggles of the girls behind you let you know how good your performance was, and you put on the best flirtatious smile you could muster while drunk. the two officers looked at each other, seeming to contemplate for a moment, before they both came directly to your cell. the heavy door swung open, hinges squeaking.

"why don' ya come with us, troublemaker?" mactavish purred, crooking his finger at you. his lieutenant stood behind him, arms crossed over his broad chest.

"we can give ya just wha' ya need."

[witchthewriter]

𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝟏𝟒𝟏 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑪𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑨𝑰𝑵 𝑱𝑶𝑯𝑵 𝑷𝑹𝑰𝑪𝑬

・Price exudes confidence; he could be standing still, his mind thinking of a hundred different things at once and everyone around him feels like they're introuble.

・He has that Dad Presence

・Back straight, rubbing his beard every now and then.

・Whenever kids feel scared in public (like they've lost their parents somehow) they'll ask John for help 100%.

・And he is always ready to help!

・Whenever you're in uncomfortable situations, and you can feel the attention from someone you do not want. Then John is quick to notice. He watches your body language like it's in art form.

・And all he needs to do is stare down that mthfcka and they leave you alone.

𝑲𝒀𝑳𝑬 𝑮𝑨𝑹𝑹𝑰𝑪𝑲

・The thing about Kyle, is that he has a really welcoming vibe about him.

・He rarely makes others around him feel intimidated or uncomfortable.

・HOWEVER, for him, it's like a switch.

・Off = down to earth, kind, soft Kyle, On = is a soldier who is used to getting his hands dirty.

・He will shut shit down immediately. His eyes seem to change as well, his demeanour stiffening, nose flaring, ears almost ringing.

・Like a bull to a red flag, Kyle is ready to attack, to defend and to end whoever made you feel uncomfortable (even in the slightest)

𝑱𝑶𝑯𝑵𝑵𝒀 𝑴𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑺𝑯

・Uses his brawn but also his brain for his scary dog aura.

・He's packed with muscle, but has a natural ability to make certain situations very uncomfortable by pointing out things.

"Ye know true men dinnae harrass women, righ'?" Johnny would say, his arms crossed in front of him, a sneer on his face; a look so deadly anyone would fold instantly.

・He's basically eminating an approaching dog whose growling. Canines showing when he speaks.

・Murder on his mind.

𝑺𝑰𝑴𝑶𝑵 𝑹𝑰𝑳𝑬𝒀

・Only needs to stand near you and people steer clear of both of you.

・Doesn't need to say anything; doesn't even need to glare, he just has a resting ... scary face. Where people feel intimidated instantly.

・But when he has his mask on - or a medical mask (always in the colour black), while folding his arms, then it's over. No one even LOOKS your way.

・So it does make going out in public a LOT easier. No one is bothering you

[clinicallyaccurate]

You ever read a fanfic so scrumptious, so absolutely yummy, pure genuine love for it, the type that has you biting your nail in anticipation and wanting to inject it into your veins in the middle of the night.

Just for you to attempt to read it again the next day or days after, only to realize how absolutely terrible it is and realize you got to have been a completely different person then cause there is no freaking way you actually willingly read that.

[carbondioxda]

It’s unfair that the Task Force 141 should be called The Beauty Force 141. Like fuck you mean every single one of them is as handsome as realistically possible. Not just the game models, the actors too. How am I supposed to shoot enemies in the game when there’s a literal supermodel of them is gazing into my eyes and seducing me whatttefuck.

Military propaganda worked tbh.

[thegnomelord]

Gaz isn't a 'manly' man.

Sure he may be a soldier, but he doesn't believe in any of the shit single men spout on the internet on how he is meant to act and what he is meant to demand from his partner beyond love and respect. It baffles him how some soldiers in his previous units would bemoan their ended relationships when they'd treated their partners like shit.

So no, Gaz doesn't listen to those people telling him he should be in charge all the time. He's content to do more than half of the housework when he's on leave and you're still working. He's happy to 'play housewife' and make you a nice home cooked meal you two can enjoy when you get back late at night. He's elated getting to be the little spoon when you two snuggle up at night, finally able to sleep peacefully when he has his back turned to someone he trusts.

He's especially happy to let you paint his nails and put makeup on him because he loves the face you make when you concentrate, when your sole focus is on him. It's always so hard for him to try and not kiss you because you asked him to stay still and he doesn't want to smudge the lipstick you had so carefully applied on him.

And it makes it even harder to hide his arousal when you grip his chin and firmly turn his head back to stare right at you because he had moved his head to look at something that had grabbed his attention. The sudden motion never fails to send a delightful shiver down his spine, the hard scowl on your face when you see the streak of eyeliner going across his temple leaving him squirming in his seat and whispering a tense and raspy: "Sorry lovie."

Because if he tried to say just one more word he'd end up moan like a whore.

[worms-for-brains]

Yn and past + present Johnny interactions

(I apologize for extremely loose sketches)

[sarahsghosts]

the death and resurrection of jonathan price

john price x female, wife!reader

angst with an eventual happy ending

word count: 2,473

cw: we get a little bit steamy, here, folks. nsfw, we’ll also start seeing themes of ptsd crop up. language.

disclaimer: this is my first time writing anything nsfw so bear with me everyone

chapter 3

songs: break my baby - kaleo

as you approach the dingiest and most rundown apartment complex you have ever seen, you double check the address gaz had given you. this couldn't be right.

your gps had brought you to the worst side of town.

you walk up to the unit that he indicated was john's and stood outside the door, listening to police sirens somewhere in the distance.

you raise your hand to knock. he doesn't want to see you. you freeze right before your knuckles tap the door.

your stomach twists into a tight knot and you shake your head. john loved you. whatever he went through, you could face it together, now that he was home.

you rap your knuckles on the door loudly.

thirty seconds went by. then sixty.

you triple check the address.

after almost two minutes of you standing on the front stoop, you raise your hand to knock again, when the door swings open.

it took everything in you not to gasp out loud.

the man before you was almost unrecognizable as your husband.

his hair was choppy as if it had been grown out and then carelessly sheered down many times. his beard, however, was longer than you’d ever seen it.

his face was gaunt, his cheeks sunken in a little more than you remembered, and his eyes…

john had the most incredible blue eyes you had ever seen. they were vibrant and bright, always so expressive. but this man’s eyes…

cold. empty of all the love and admiration they normally carried whenever he looked at you, but somehow also wild. a little unstable. like the spirit of a cornered animal lived behind them.

you were not previously naive to what john was capable of. you didn’t know the exact details of his job, but you know it was brutal and unforgiving at times. often, when he returned from deployments, it took some time for him to adjust. get his head on straight.

but when he looked at you, there was always compassion. love. patience.

you couldn’t find a trace of any of that in this man’s eyes.

his harsh stare sent shivers through you. he really did look like a stranger for a moment.

but, no. this was john, your john, and he had been to hell and back. he needed you, dammit, even if he didn’t know he did.

your face must have betrayed your horror, because john’s eyes narrow.

he looks you up and down with a cold and unkind expression. when he speaks, his voice is rough, like sandpaper. “what are you doing here?”

you blink. “what do you—”

“i thought i made myself perfectly fucking clear,” he interrupts, “when i told gaz not to bring you around.” he glances around behind you, as if he expects to see kyle with you.

you want to say that he should’ve told gaz not to give out his address, then, but you don’t. “i had to see you,” you tell him, your throat tightening.

something about the statement, your tone of voice, or just you, makes john narrow his eyes further. “yeah, well, you’ve seen me now, haven’t you?” he begins to close the door.

panic seizes you and you put your hand up, holding the door open. “wait!”

john could have easily pushed through you, but he doesn’t. he pulls the door back, again. this time, he looks annoyed. “what?” he snaps.

“john,” you breathe out, trying to collect your thoughts. “i… we… you can’t just shut me out.” you mean it both figuratively and literally.

he watches you for a long moment, before he says, “there’s nothing here for you.”

your brows draw together and you look like you want to argue, but he continues.

“whatever - whoever - you think you came here to find?” he shakes his head. “not here.”

you take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. you truly didn’t expect to feel angry, but your hands clench into fists beside you.

here he was, after all this time, directly in your line of sight and you can’t believe that the singular person keeping you from your husband was himself.

“bullshit,” you snap.

if he is surprised by your anger, he doesn’t show it. he crosses his arms over his chest, almost looking bored.

you take a step closer to him. “john,” you plead. “we can work through this. whatever happened—”

“that’s enough,” he cuts you off, his tone still sounding disinterested.

“john, i love you! don’t do this.” your eyes well with tears, but you blink them back. “let me in,” you urge in a quiet voice.

you take another small step towards him. he mirrors it, moving backwards and maintaining the distance between you both, but allowing you one step over the threshold.

something in his gut, primal and vicious, bellowed inside him at the sight of you. delicate, and still so beautiful. even more so than he remembers.

he had stopped thinking about you after almost a year in the gulag.

you, so ethereal and divine. not even the memory of you could exist in that hell.

no. he had become focused strictly on survival in a way that was primitive and animalistic. most days he hadn’t even felt human anymore.

but here you were in front of him, almost angelic, like something pure and perfect. that desperate look on your face, so fragile, with your brows pulled together in concern.

he wasn’t the man you had known. he hadn’t been for a long time. he wasn't good. he would ruin you. he would destroy you.

it was better that you stayed away.

“i don’t love you. if i ever did, i stopped a long time ago.”

you reel back as if you’d been struck. you stare at him, your eyes holding a mixture of confusion and distress.

then, to his surprise, he saw a gentle fury seep into them.

“liar.” your voice came out harsh and deathly quiet.

he hadn't expected you to get angry. in fact, he thought it was going to be easier to get rid of you than this. he really hadn’t expected you to put up so much of a fight.

“believe what you want, love. not my problem either way. if there was ever something between us, it’s over now. you’ve been gettin’ on without me for a while now, i reckon you’ll be just fine.”

you stare at him in disbelief. you tilt your head slightly and take a step towards him. and then another. this time, he doesn’t step backwards and now there’s virtually no space between the two of you.

you tip your head back to meet his gaze, anger still evident on your face. your eyes flit around his features, desperate for some sign of either deception or affection.

john loved you. he had to.

you crane your neck up so your lips hover over his. “you fucking liar,” you breathe onto them, before you kiss him gently.

he stands there, frozen under your kiss, and you start to think maybe this is how you’ll get through to him. you lean up on your toes and deepen the kiss.

his hands shoot up and grip your shoulders like a vice. he breaks off the kiss and in two large steps, has you pushed against the nearest wall.

he stares down at you, his eyes dark with something savage and narrowly restrained. his upper lip twitches slightly, and his voice is dangerously low as he says, “don't.”

something squeezes tightly in your chest and your gut is telling you not to push him, to get the hell out of there.

but this was your john, and you’d be damned if you ever stopped trying to reach him.

you hold his gaze and, despite all your self-preservative instincts screaming against it, you reach up, sliding a hand over his chest.

you grab a fistful of his shirt and stay like that for a moment, before you use it to pull yourself up to kiss him, again. it’s a hard and desperate kiss, and you pray it tells him everything that you can’t say.

i need you, it says. don’t send me away.

to your surprise, he returns the kiss roughly, almost mercilessly. his hands tighten on your shoulders, and he flattens you back against the wall.

excitement surges through your body and you reach up to trail your fingers across the side of his jaw, under his ear, and onto the back of his head, tugging at the hairs on the base of his skull.

your other hand releases his shirt and begins to trail down his abdomen and towards the buckle of his belt.

his hand shoots down, catching yours tightly, and you freeze, breaking your kiss.

you suck in a breath, your head feeling dizzy, and john tightens his hold on your hand, almost painfully so.

his chest heaves up and down and he looks as though he barely has any semblance of self-control. “this doesn't change a fucking thing,” he says gruffly. “understand?”

you shake your head, swallowing thickly. “i don't care.”

and you don’t - it just feels good to have his hands on you again. rougher, more calloused than before. his hold is almost violent as if he truly doesn’t care about your wellbeing. but it’s still him. there is an underlying familiarity of his hands on your skin.

it strikes you, suddenly, that he hadn’t had sex in three years.

that’s fine, you think. neither had you.

which is probably what explains what you do next: you sink down to your knees.

john immediately releases your hand and begins working his belt and undoing the button of his pants.

he winds his hand in your hair, tightly, painfully and you get to work.

the groan that rumbled low in his throat sends a desire through you that you haven’t felt in years. you move enthusiastically, opening your eyes in time to see him tip his head back, a low curse slipping from his lips. something about it sends a rush of exhilaration through you. you can feel your mascara stinging your eyes, but you don’t care.

it isn’t long before john tugs sharply on your hair, pulling you to your feet. he backs you against the wall and kisses you harshly, teeth clashing. he sucks your lower lip into his mouth, scraping his teeth over it. you wince, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

he reaches down and slides his hands around the backs of your thighs. he grips them tightly, likely leaving bruises, and lifts you up.

your legs instinctively wrap around his torso, and he begins walking you further into the tiny apartment. his lips suddenly latch around the sensitive point at the base of your throat, his teeth scraping the skin.

the little whine that slips out was completely outside of your control. “john,” you whimper, breathlessly. “i—”

one large hand shoots to back of your head, the other sliding under your ass to help support you as you still cling to his waist.

he balls his fist into your hair and tugs harshly, tilting your head back forcefully. “stop talking,” he growls in your ear.

he ungraciously drops you down onto his bed. your back has barely touched the lumpy mattress before he’s on you, pulling at your clothes.

your head spins as his hands swiftly work their way up and down your now exposed body. not in the loving and generous way like he used to, but in a selfish and aggressive way, groping and grasping your flesh like a man starved.

he isn't patient nor gentle with he pushes himself into you. “fuck,” he hisses through his teeth.

he grabs a hold of your wrists, one in each hand, and pins them to the mattress as he rolls and snaps his hips back and forth against yours.

he shifts his weight forward and it was possible you felt pain prick in your wrist bones as he does. you really don’t notice as you are riding a high that is building quickly and zealously.

after years of being touch starved, it doesn’t take much to undo you. the familiarity of the two of you coming together makes your heart race and your head spin.

every time he pushes into you, you shift your hips up to meet his, which elicits that same guttural groan from deep in his throat, that you heard before.

that sound from him, his matched enthusiasm, is the last thing you need to tip you over the edge. “i'm—” you gasp, screwing your eyes shut. “i'm going to—”

without slowing his pace, john releases one of your wrists and clamps his hand over your mouth, his hand covering the entire lower half of your face.

white spots dance behind your eyelids as you reach your peak. john’s pace doesn’t slow as you ride through your high, whining and moaning behind his hand as the post-orgasm sensitivity makes you begin to whimper.

his hands tighten on your face and wrist, and he leans down, pushing himself further against you, his face pressed into the crook of your neck, grunting as he finished.

his wild beard scratches your skin, and you feel his sharp breaths hot against your throat.

he lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours. for a moment, neither of you move, but you feel his hand loosen on your mouth. you pant hard, your chest, slick with sweat, rising and falling against his.

you only now notice that he hadn't even gotten undressed.

you wait for him to collapse onto the mattress next to you like he always had in the past, but instead, he pushes himself up and climbs off the bed. he stands there, looking at you as you laid still, a panting, sweaty mess. his eyes rake down your body one last time before he turns and walks towards the adjoining bathroom.

as he left you there, he said one thing, his voice gravelly and his tone impassive.

“you can show yourself out.”

part 4

masterlist

—-

TAGLIST: @fruitymoonbeams-blog @evergreenfields

[temeyes]

and he says he doesn't burn

[cas-backwards-tie]

⟡ vladimir makarov masterlist ⟡

--oneshots--

under the moonlight

--series--

the long road | After your fiancé’s murder, you’ve come up with a plan to avenge him. Now in Russia, you’re thrust into a country, a language, and a fake identity you know next to nothing about. Forcing yourself into his life was easier than you’d anticipated, now the only problem is you’re worried someone’s catching onto your lies.

[v1x3n]

[l0v3tast3]

ghost with a cute lil succubus gf :3

mdni! f!reader

simon loves having a succubus as his girlfriend. he loves when he's finally coming home from a mission and barely has the door closed before you're jumping into his arms— it's sweet and romantic at first, kissing him deep and slow and clinging to him, but it doesn't take very long to turn dirty. your legs are wrapped around his waist and it's just too easy to grind your soaked pussy against his growing hard-on, too easy to sink your nails (claws) into his shoulders and suck on and nip at his neck.

simon loves having a girlfriend with a long devil's tail topped with a heart and little horns poking out of the top of her head to match. he loves pulling your head back and rubbing around the bases of your horns, feeling you melt while he walks you both to the bedroom. you'll whine and beg for him to touch you more, more, more, and of course he obliges. simon lowers you to the bed and puts his hands and mouth everywhere. he sucks on your nipples while you're whimpering and (futilely) trying to push him down further. he leaves indents of his canines down your belly before he's kissing your thighs.

simon loves to get you desperate for him and especially loves how easy it is to do. it's basically your default setting around him— until he's rubbing the tip of his cock against your pussy. up and down from your hole to your clit and back, "y'think you deserve my cock? huh?" muttered while his free hand is keeping your hips from bucking up. you're nearly teary-eyed while you beg and plead until he shuts you up by finally pushing into you. you can take him, you're meant to take him, and still, by the time he's buried to the hilt inside of you, your eyes are rolling back and claws are leaving more scratches on him than he had gotten during his last deployment.

simon loves hearing your vocabulary reduced to whiney pleas and praise— "fu-ck- i missed your cock- missed it so much- ah-!"— and other mindless babbles. he loves how your capacity to speak noticeably diminishes with every new way he manhandles you; hunched over you with a hand on the headboard as leverage, then lifting your lower half to meet his hips as he kneels, then folding your thighs to your chest in a breeding press that makes you go nearly limp. "missed this cunt," he'll groan, "made just for me, right, princess?"

(ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ likes, comments n reblogs are always appreciated!!

[ghouldtime]

Alone. Truly Alone.

A fanfic based on the Alone Operator, for all the monster lovers out there Pairing is: Alone Operator (aka Simon Riley)/ Gender neutral Reader / John "Soap" MacTavish

Prologue/Drabble: Tomorrow

Chapter One: Going into an abandoned military facility for a quick job for some extra cash wasn't your best idea

Chapter Two: You go to collect your reward and end up with leaving with more than the money alone

Chapter Three: Johnny didn't want someone who asked questions - to him, anyways. That didn't mean you wouldn't try to get your own answers

Chapter Four: 20% done - You try to talk some sense into Johnny and get Ghost the one thing he wants

[writingfromasgard]

Lamb Chop [Price]

[Masterlist] | Captain John Price | Requests are Open

gif by Shadow0-1

Synopsis: John Price doesn't mind the little girl who waddles over into his backyard while he's repairing his broken fence and certainly doesn't mind the lovely lady who comes to retrieve her.

cw: single mother x John Price //// AN: This was supposed to be longer but i cant remember where i was going with it, might write more later

John's ears perk up as he hears a familiar babble on the other side of the fence. It's a nice summer's day so working outside seemed like a good idea. The little girl he's been hearing for the past few months waddles herself through the hole in the fence before her mother can grab her.

Her big eyes look up at him, a stick in one of her hands. She babbles a bit more before hitting the bottom half of the plank, mimicking the movement of his hammer driving in a nail. He chuckles at her attempt, halting his work as an flurry of apologies come next, a woman stepping into his yard to retrieve her daughter.

"I'm so sorry. I should've been more watchful." You apologize, hauling the toddler up on your hip. "She's faster than she looks when she gets curious."

"No trouble at all." John reassures you. "Don't mind the company. Last tenant had a dog that chewed up the boards so I'm fixin' them up."

You pause a moment, taken back by the smile and sparkle in his eyes. You clear your throat, extending your free hand to introduce yourself.

He shakes your hand firmly, "John. I would've introduced myself when you moved in but I didn't want you to feel crowded given the other neighbor's welcomes."

[callmecoke]

Phillip Graves x fem reader smut

Cw: depression, comfort sex, use of the word “daddy”, its just wholesome. Crying (from emotions) during sex. PRAISE. The fluffiest smut ever written. 

Phillip knew you were having a really shitty week, with the way your eyes were downcast and the smile you forced when you tried to reassure him that everything was fine. He wasn’t that stupid. He knew that faraway look of yours, where you stare off into a spot and your mind has travelled to some distant place, away from all the stress and grief. 

He always does his best to help you as much as he can. Gives you space, cuddles, love, all the affection you could desire. He’d whisper into your ear all the reassurances in the world that you were loved and valued. Sometimes it would work, just him being there, caring. But sometimes, the glint in your eye wouldn't fully spark. So, he knew he had to show other ways he cared in a more physical, real manner.

He had you on your back, mewling with his cock nice and snug in that pussy while he leaned over you. His hips thrusted in a deep rhythm, letting you feel each ridge and vein along his shaft as it entered you again and again. He panted over you, his heated breath fanning over your lips as he had his toned chest pressed against yours, as physically close as he could be to you.

Each forward tilt of his hips drove a deep whimper from your mouth, a moan spilling out as the head of his cock grazed up against your clutching walls.

“That’s it, baby, you're doing so good.” He panted, groaning out as he focused on fucking his swelling cock deep into you. “My good girl... Fuck, so good.”

He lifted one of his legs up and firmly placed it on the mattress, giving him the leverage to piston his cock faster against you, the mushroom tip of his cock hitting against your sensitive g-spot with pinpoint accuracy, causing you to jolt and close your eyes, tiling your head to the side with a loud audible cry.

Graves gently, but with an urgency, cradled your face with his hand and brought it back to look at him, pressing his lips firmly against your own in a desperate, seething kiss.

“No no, look at me,” He said between kisses. “Don’t take your eyes of me, okay sweetie?”

You continued to moan and whimper as he fucked into you, his hips ruthless but his hands and lips so tender and full of yearning. “I…I can’t…” You tried to capture words between whimpers but couldn’t find them between the love and the searing pleasure. Tears welled up in your eyes and spilled down your cheeks, which Graves caught with the pad of his thumb as he rubbed them away.

“I know, baby, I know.” His voice was almost cracking as he spoke, the emotions and approaching orgasm stumbling his speech. “I got you, okay? Daddy’s here. Daddy’s got you.”

The tender sweetness of his words spurred on your desperately aching pussy, and the tightness in your stomach coiled tightly. He felt the walls tighten around him, and he knew it was coming. In the same way, he knew his own orgasm was brewing. He quickened his pace subconsciously, moaning loudly into your mouth as he held your lips in his. He wanted to whisper more and tell you that he loved you. Tell you that everything was going to be okay. But the words were lost when he opened his mouth and a gutteral groan escaped as he reached his peak, his cum erupting in strips inside you. But his pace only continued as he eagerly tried to get you to that peak.

“Let go baby…Fuck.” He said shakily, the sensitivity of his orgasm faltering his words.

“Fuck…Graves!” You cried out holding him as close as you could get to him before the chord snapped and your orgasm rushed over you, your pussy clenching and uncleching around his softening cock in rythm with your heartbeat.

Everything paused for a moment, and you both did not move an inch, only allowing yourselves to pant with your foreheads pressed together. No words were spoken past then as you two held each other, and as the two slept the rest of the night until morning, you felt calm. Any stress or depression in your body had left to make room for the tender love you two had for each other.

[thegnomelord]

Simon Riley hums to himself when he's alone.

He picked it up from his mom who'd hum the songs of her youth to distract her son from the drunken shouting of her no good husband. Every note clean, mellow, and quietly pulled from her throat with meathooks so little Simon would have to strain his ears and press his head to her breast extra hard to hear anything over the litany of slurs ringing through their empty home, the walls echoing the words as if to show the house itself did not want them.

The habit carried over to him, to self soothe without looking weak, be it when he was up all night studying for exams or in the bowels of a Mexico with his blood creating pools around him. It was an instinct by this point, to hum in his scratched up and raw voice so nobody could hear how broken it actually was.

The first time he did it with you, it was because he. . . He wanted to do it. Huddled on the couch watching some movie he didn't care about, with your head on his chest, feeling that Simon Riley was still alive. He felt the desire to hum bubble up inside him as he nuzzled his nose into your hair, the old songs he'd learned long ago all but leaping off his tongue.

The notes weren't as pretty as hers, his vocal chords couldn't produce clear or melodic sounds with how many times they'd been screamed raw, but you didn't care about that. You just cared that it was him who was making them, that he could be without the high concrete walls he'd usually build around himself.

Simon didn't know why that made him as happy as it did.