#graves cod

You don’t even really have proof that the baby is his but you know it is because he’s the only man you’ve been with after he fucked you silly right against the hood of his pickup truck.

Don’t ask how he pulled that shit with you.

You just know he dropped you off with a wave and you never intended to be— here.

In a military base office you truly didn’t know, four months pregnant, eyes erratic and knee bouncing like a kangaroo on crack from nerves and irritation.

You just wanted to say your peace and then go home. Maybe have a cry because you weren’t alone and pregnant, maybe have that ice cream you’d been thinking about since this morning. You weren’t expecting shit from the man, not a dollar, not a diaper. You weren’t used to being brushed aside your whole life, this was just another situation you’d need to stand tall on your own. A life altering situation but you could do it. You’ve done it before. You’d do it again. You just needed acknowledgement.

And he turned that corner toward where you sat in the waiting room, your guts almost spilled on the floor, right along it’s the baby. He was just as handsome as you remembered, tall, muscular, blue eyes, pretty lashes, he’s twinkling with irritation, talking to three men who followed right as his heals, maybe he could even tell you what to do— focus reader.

You stood, swallowing down every bit of fear, a little pride—

“Graves?” You called out, thankful it didn’t sound like a croak. It was more of a statement than a question. Not asking for attention, demanding it.

His eyes flickered over to you, a little shock fills his eyes, he gives some hand signal to his men, waving them away, “Give us a second boys.”

A smirk grows on his lips as he comes closer to you, more than amused that you, a one night stand, has somehow gotten a hold of him like this. His fault for knowing the people of that small town you were from. But it’s not like you were forgettable, you were headstrong, much smarter than the ditzy girls than hung around that bar, even more memorable when you let him stick his dick in your gushy walls. Still, you’re as gorgeous as ever in his eyes, even with that uncertain look on your face and the oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants you wore. He’d prefer you in something tighter, a sun dress that hugged your pretty tits— “Well it isn’t the pretty doll from that bar, where did we last meet? In the bar? Nooo, the Honda—“

“—I’m pregnant.” You interjected, tired of the games, you pulled out the sonogram in your baggy pocket. “You’re the father.”

alternative link (bsky)

farmer!graves runs that farm as if it were the military. meticulously and with calculated moves. excep sometimes pawns aka farmhands decide to flunk out at the worst possible times and with not enough notice to do something about it.

graves hates more than anything to have to ask you for help around the estate, but with breeding season starting and work pilling up in every corner he find himself with no option than to take in your offer for another set of working hands.

except this man, just like when he was in the military, often lets his personal interest overpower his profesional ones. that's how breeding season starts with you being the first thing getting breed in that farm.

your body laid over a tree on a more secluded area - can't let any of his pawns catch a view of his beautiful wife's naked body -. his shirt laid over the tree to prevent hurting you, but still the blunt force of his hips as he fucks his leaky cock into you makes your body slide. hands grabbing your hips to keep you still as his thrusts get erratic and he burries himself to the hilt, his twitching balls laying heavily against your poor sensitive clit. pearly cum soon painting your gummy walls and, much to his dismay, leaking out as soon as he pulls his dick from you.

Being Graves' favorite dairy cow hybrid meant he spoiled you quite a bit, but he never wanted you to get bratty.

Once a month, he would remind you how easily he could let you get treated like any other cow hybrid. He puts you in the regular stocks instead of the softer, cushioned ones he built for you, strapping your milk filled breasts with the industrial grade milking pumps.

He always gagged you on those days. It only took seconds of the pumps working your sensitive nipples that you would start pleading. Graves had a strong resolve to your tears, but not to your pathetic begging.

After your chest was pumped dry, he'd let the machine go for a few minutes longer, just to hear your cries get louder with each painful pull of the pumps.

girl 🤭🤭 this is delicious

content: MDNI, manipulation???, unhealthy relationship, breeding kink, fem!reader, implied age gap (in my mind)

Phillip knows he’s fucked up before he even enters the house. He knows because of the way the sun is setting in the sky. The way you don’t come running to him when he steps through the door. He knows he’s late home again and he sighs at the questions he knows are coming.

“Sugar? I’m home.” He calls out as he makes his way into the kitchen. You’re standing there, a pout on your pretty lips and your arms folded across your chest. Phil can’t help but smirk slightly - he secretly loves it when you’re mad. He loves coaxing you out of it with his words and his hands and his mouth and his— No, he thinks. He can’t go there yet.

He reaches out to you, his big hands landing on your hips. He dips his head, pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot behind your ear. You can’t help but melt slightly, moving your hands to his chest. “You promised you’d be home for dinner.” You whisper, pouting harder than ever. “What’s so important at that job of yours that means you don’t come home to your wife?” It’s not the first time you’ve asked about his job and it probably won’t be the last.

Phil just chuckles, squeezing your hips and feeling the soft fabric of your nightgown beneath his fingers. He pulls back, cupping your cheek and brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. “Baby, what have I told you, hmm? My job is nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about, yeah?” The words and the way he says them… it makes your insides feel all warm and soft, but you still try to put up a little bit of a fight.

“But—“ A finger to your lips shuts you up. Phil shakes his head, his eyes flashing with annoyance for a split second.

“Shh, sugar. You leave my job to me, okay?” He fixes you with a look that makes you shrink, nodding instinctively. As soon as you submit to him, a smile spreads across his cheeks. “That’s my good girl.” He drawls out, squeezing his hips before stepping back. He roots around in his bag and excitement swirls in your stomach when you realise what’s coming. A gift.

Phil turns around, a smug look on his face as he holds out a sleek black jewellery box. “Here we go, doll. For my good little wife.” You snatch the box from his hands with a squeal, opening it to reveal a beautiful (expensive) diamond necklace. A gasp falls from your lips as you run your fingers over the precious jewels, all annoyance at him being late and all queries about his job conveniently pushed from your mind.

“Phil! They’re gorgeous!” You beam, looking up at him. You place the box on the kitchen counter before stepping towards him and looping your arms around his neck. You press your lips to his, murmuring into the kiss. “Thank you… I love it…” His hands settle on your waist and you sigh, causing him to break the kiss with a chuckle. He dips his head to your neck, kissing across your skin as he speaks.

“Not as gorgeous as you, baby…” There’s a satisfaction in his voice now. He knows he’s succeeded in his plan to distract you. Again. “I think I still have some making up to do, though, yeah?” He mumbles, his hands dropping down to squeeze your ass while his teeth sink into your neck just enough to make you squirm.

Before you can say anything, Phil lifts you up into his arms. You giggle, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you to the master bedroom on the top floor of the house. He kicks the door shut behind him, depositing you on the bed. He groans when you land on the soft mattress, looking at your body sprawled out before him like a feast. This is what he makes it all worth it, he thinks. Coming home to you.

You watch as he unbuttons his shirt, letting the fabric fall to the floor. Slowly, he kneels on the bed, picking up one of your ankles and kissing along your leg. Your calf, your thigh, your hip… He pushes the material of your nightgown up over your hips, nuzzling against your stomach. You reach down, running your fingers through his hair. Phil sighs, eyes fluttering closed as he rests his forehead just above your belly button.

Maybe he should put a baby in you, he thinks to himself. That would be the biggest distraction of all - a fat baby on your hip to take care of. You wouldn’t keep asking him questions about his job then. Maybe it would be a boy, a son. Someone to carry on the Graves family name. Plus he’d get to see you all round with his kid, marking you as his in the most primal way—

A growl rumbles from his chest, making your breath catch in your throat as you watch him crawl up your body until his face is inches away from your own. He grabs your chin, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. His hands roam over your body as his tongue explores your mouth. He nips lightly at your bottom lip before pulling back to speak.

“Mine.”

😏 commission~ artist is @/YuLinXD on twitter

moving my posts to tumblr rn