!Graves being rough in bed any chance he gets.
Pinning your arms behind you, locking them in cuffs like it’s second nature.
!Graves doesn’t have time for slow, tender lovemaking.
It’s quick, messy, and usually in the bed of his truck when he can get away with it.
!He’s rarely romantic.
But on the off chance he is, he swears that sultry southern drawl alone should do the job.
!Graves gets dangerously riled up when he fucks you.
He nips at your neck until skin breaks, teeth sinking in just enough to leave you marked.
!Graves is horny. Constantly.
And he loves being sneaky about it in public.
!Brunch with you and the other Shadow Company members is his favorite setup.
He leans back against the booth like he’s relaxed, slips your hand down and puts it exactly where he needs you.
!He knows you’re just as into it. The thrill of getting caught makes your stomach flip.
You rub your hand across his growing bulge over his pants , while he looks as relaxed as ever- like he isn’t losing his fucking mind.
!Graves makes sure you’re on birth control.
That way he can cum inside you whenever he wants. Over and over.
!He responds best to praise in bed.
Your sounds, your hands gripping him, whispering how fucking good he’s doing— that’s what really gets him off.
!You’re just as manipulative as he is.
You absolutely told him you were a virgin—or a squirter—the first time, just to make him work harder.
!Turns out, he didn’t care either way.
He didn’t take it easy on you at all… and he still made you squirt.
!Graves falls in love with you all over again every time you visit him at work.
What starts as you dropping off files ends with you in his lap, mouths crashing together—then you’re flipped over his desk and fucked like you were always meant to be there.
!Respect gets blurry with Graves.
He won’t disrespect you in the real world—but in bed? He doesn’t give a shit. “You’re gonna fucking take it.” “I don’t care if you choke on it.”
!When he misses you, he bends you over his lap.
Smacking your ass every time you try to move your hands, reminding you exactly who you belong to.
I feel like Graves would end up with a really soft and innocent s/o just because he loves being the 'strong man' lol and even though they're maybe even smaller than him all sweet and shy- he is absolutely whipped for them! Especially if they can cook and be a lil housemaker for him??
♡♡♡ warning(s): nsfw + sfw, fem!reader
─── graves and his homemaker s/o ❤︎₊ ⊹
there's no one on earth more loved and adored by him, despite the stigma surrounding the dynamic you two have. he doesn't pay any mind to their judgements. in his heart, he knows how tender he is with you behind closed doors. and in yours, he hopes.
you never pictured it to end up this way. before, you were like any adult. busting your ass at work, ending each week exhausted and struggling to buy yourself groceries.
and then you met him. chivalrous and borderline self-obsessed. but you weren't being patronized when he acted with traditional courtesy. you weren't a body to be claimed or a trophy to hang on his arm.
you were merely his. all his within months of meeting, and that meant you were to be taken care of. spoiled rotten, some would say. what better way to have it? compared to your old life of hardship, it was paradise.
everything paid for, without a second of hesitation. what little savings you had idle in your bank account, untouched when he's around.
he can and will take care of you — in every way. it's in graves' nature to provide.
no different than he does for his men, only you've been appointed the privilege of seeing the gentler side of him, when the uniform of a commander is rid of his scarred body.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈nsfw under the cut!
˖⁺｡˚⋆˙˖⁺₊˚⊹♡ it's only fair, to be taken care of in every way possible. you've been so good to him, so good for him, right? there's no quicker way to his heart, than someone who enjoys being smothered with his praise.
what better sight, than opening the door and seeing you concerning with such trivial things. he spent the day making life or death decisions, and you're there; concerned with which centerpiece looks best on the dining table. some men would see it as a means for competition, or a degrade — but graves finds it irresistible.
the house smells divine; your scented candles, the fragrance you spritz, and whatever you have baking in the oven. he can practically feel the tension leave his shoulders, how his senses come alive when greeted with the comfort of your shared home.
you've dressed nice for him again, though he always gave no pressure for you to do so. clothes to match the summer heat, hair styled and pinned back to stay out of the way.
you, in your domestic, relaxed state — the one thing better than all the trivial pleasures in life, better than the house you were both standing in.
though you usual greet him, you're immersed in the centerpiece debate. you hold the two pieces up to him, "do you think I should go with the silver candle candleholders? or how about the brass ones?" it's a genuine question, but it's only met with an amused scoff — a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
graves sets aside his luggage, stepping closer to you and your very concentrated gaze. "why do you ask me, sweetheart? it's up to you. and if you don't like 'em, we'll go buy more." he examines the decor in your hands briefly, but his eyes end up back on you permanently.
"just want it to look nice in here," you sigh at his dismissal, turning away to resume contemplation. "we have that supper planned in a few weeks, don't we?" you add, setting the options back on the oak table.
as if the place could be more meticulously decorated. there was barely a trace of him in this house, except for his nightstand and office. you had free reign to adjust the home to your taste, considering you were the one who spent most of your time there.
a gentle chuckle rang from him, followed by a click of his tongue, "don't think it can get much nicer in here, darlin'. i reckon you've left a touch on just about every inch of place, haven't you?" you shoot a flustered look, even though his words are truthful.
it was a silly dilemma, considering not a soul would be criticizing your centerpiece decision. "oh, c'mon, don't do that face... my guys will eat anything you slide in front of them, you know that? could host the damn supper in the closet and you'd charm the daylights out of 'em." he says, soothing every worry down to a simmer rather than a hard boil.
he's definitely good at shutting you up. only, in the most embellished of ways. without fail, a charmed smile spread on your face — as did a surge of warmth. graves cupped one of your cheeks, running his thumb along it, "see? much better than a scowl. now, tell me, what's cooking?"
"you know the rules. i can't tell you until the timer beeps. besides, it's supposed to be a surprise." you replied, making a meek escape from his gentle grasp. displayed on the small screen; eight minutes remained.
with a hasty yank and then a stumble on your end, your back was against his chest. "i don't like surprises, do i?" you felt the sensation of his teeth nibbling along the side of your neck, all in the midst of his patterned kisses. when he was this close, he got deep whiffs of your intoxicating perfume, the freshly shampooed hair on your head, the detergent you insisted he buy. heart-stopping — like it was every time he pulled you close.
it was true, he hated them. the tickle of his lips made you squirm — a futile attempt to slip away and leave him hanging. that never worked, and you knew it. "we're down to five, time's a-wastin'."
somehow, someway, neither of you made it up the stairs this time. all he did to prepare was send the stacks of mail flying from the island; the one you found yourself sitting on. graves stood between your legs, his caressing fingers your means of preparation. though, by the times your legs were exposed to the breeze — you and your body were eager enough for him.
the minutes decreased no matter how hurriedly he moved, and he always stuck to his rules. if there was a time limit, he'd get it done before zero.
"been thinking about you all day," he breathes. "by the looks of it, you have too, sweetheart." his tip prodded at your slick entrance, while the other hand hooked around your thigh to keep it hiked up with ease. wasn't the first time he ravished you on the kitchen counters, it certainly wouldn't be the last. slowly at first, then all at once — he thrusted inside of you.
once he got situated, there was no stopping him. every rock of his hips was purposeful and deep, yet his kisses remained delicate and tender. your moans muffled against his mouth, his lips pinkish and coated with saliva as it roamed your warmed face.
soon, your back was flat against the island with your legs still hanging off and in his grip. with every methodical movement, your walls tightened around his length and edged him closer to a finish. by now, you were certain your appearance was faulty; either ruined by sweat or the constant hands graves had on you.
despite being close within the first few minutes, he had gotten carried away ogling you. your gasps, your squinted eyes, the teeth indents on your bottom lip from how harshly you sunk into it. however, now there wasn't any restraint left in him. the tight coil in his abdomen begged for release, no matter how much stamina that remained in his body.
as the clock struck zero, he bottomed out with the force of his whole body — spilling every last drop inside of you. the oven beeped three times, as if on cue.
a string of curses against your lips as he leaned down to kiss you, sneaking in a few sloppy thrusts afterward. "i'll make it up to you later, make it worth your while." he pecked along your jaw, adjusting the strap of your top that had slid down your arm.
"it was worth my while." you replied between catching your breath, voice still quivering slightly.
he chuckled, fingers still playing with the fabric, "so, what's cooking? have i earned my right to know?" he was right; you always told him once the meal was ready, and that's what it was right now. the aroma hit your nostrils, as intoxicating as he found yours.
your eyes flicked over to the digital screen, still flashing and urging you to remove the pan, then it beeped for a second round as a reminder. "just a roast your mom taught me. thought you would've recognized the smell by now." you uttered, tracing your fingers along his blond stubble.
"hm, something must've distracted me, darlin'," he ran a tongue along his bottom lip, now gazing with admiration rather than hunger.
then, his brow raised with interest. both in humor and intense dread he added, "you've been calling my mother?"
I saw this guy on reels who was branding his cowboy boots with his wife's initial and i just think that screams phillip graves
@nightunite pookie, get over here. we’ve got the good shit today
I’m not personally huge on Phillip, but I cannot deny the way I giggled and kicked my legs at this
Husband!Phillip Graves who’s undeniably smitten with you, lovesick behind that smooth, charming smile. when he’s home he wants you draped all over him — physically or otherwise. if he can’t have the love of his life tucked against his side, resting your legs over his thighs, hanging off his arm, and so on, then the only sensible next step is branding your initials on his cowboy boots. he’s proud of them, well kept and taken care of like his dear spouse. is it really a surprise when he walks through the front door, boots freshly branded and conditioned, with your initials imbedded in leather?
bonus:
what little information I could figure out about branding cowboy boots
Phillip Graves was probably an actor in some "Fright Fest" kinda thing in his younger years, he loves the thrill of chasing people in a scary mask, making girls shriek and run from him as he terrorizes them around the park... probably got yelled at for taking it too far when he cornered you and made you cry - but he can't help it, he loves the chase. Especially when you're terrified of him.
so i turned this into hcs rather than a story m sorry if its not what u wanted but yeah hope u like ittt !! Js couldnt stop the thoughts of this mannnnn
// CW : tm!reader , pornstar!reader , filth
- Imagine Graves telling ppl his fiance is a trans gay pornstar 😭 everyone would be so shocked that his future husband has sex with other men for a living ?!
- The sex is always crazy lets be real, first, Graves can fuck like ughh yeah so the sex is immaculate
“Fuckkk baby..” Is all Graves can mumble, you basically demanded being on top, your tight cunt gripping his thick cock like a vice as you grind yourself down on him, bouncing up and down as his balls hits your arse.
- He deffo watches ur SOLO porn when he is gone solo only bc he gets jealous , OR the porn you made for his eyes only, videos of you and him fucking like rabbits, or just videos of you getting yourself off as you whine about how much you miss him and his massive cock
- Whenever he comes home from deployment your mouth is on his cock as soon as the front door is shut, just slurping and moaning around it as he fucks into your mouth
“Needed you so bad Sweetheart, needed your mouth. Good boyyy” He whines quietly as he nears his orgasm, after not seeing you for weeks and sometimes months at a time he is so on edge he cums after only 3 minutes.
Phillip Graves *does* own a pair of American flag boxers, and he does wear them when he's home alone, or with you. Are they flattering? The juries still out on that one...However, they make him so happy for whatever reason. Whether that's because they're so dumb looking or he thinks they make him look "cool" is unbeknownst to you. The gleam in his eye doesn't lie. The way his eyes crinkle ever so slightly emphasizing his growing crows feet is enough to make anyone crumble. At the end of the day, you really *do* just love to seem him happy. And by extension, he loves making you happy.
the new and improved freddy fazbear's pizzeria graves fic !
tw : afab!reader, implications of pregnancy (very very minimal), mutual breeding kink (??), out of character graves, graves has a little sister, around 6-7
graves has 2 things that he loves in this world. the first is his family, and the second is you !! he prayed for so long that you and his family would get along, and you do !! his parents invites the two of you over for dinner all the time, you were even invited to his sister, lily's birthday party !!
graves is always so thankful that lily loves you, n seeing you with her gets him thinkin !! he secretly wants to start a family with you, give you the cutest kids :(( all he wants is to have a big family n a few dogs :( he's still a bit afraid to tell you this tho, he's afraid it'll scare you off, and what if you're not prepared :(
whatever the case is, he still loves to talk a whole lot, mumbling out "w'na make you full, baby," when he's about to blow his load :( his hips grind up against yours, his scarred hands moving to your cheeks. "wanna give you the cutest kids, sweetheart, let me, please?" you've never seen phil so desperate, and it gets your stomach tighten. you let out a quick nod, mind fogging up with pleasure :(
"w-words, baby, need words," phil slurs, his lips inches away from yours. you keep your whimpers to yourself, and muster out a pathetic, "p-please, wan' your kids, phil!" how can poor phil keep his composure when you beg so nicely for him :( his lips crash into yours, his tongue feeling like it's burning against yours. you clamp around phil, like you don't want him to pull out ! he didn't plan on it, his seed spilling inside your swollen cunt, truly filling you up♡
𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅
time goes by, and you and graves are once again at his parents' home ! you see lily on the carpet, giggling with the family dog, and her head turning towards you once she hears the door creaking. she gasps out, "ahh! she's so cute!" lily reaches her hand out towards your little baby, swaddled up in a flower-printed blanket. you laugh out, smiling at lily, "mhm, lets go sit. you can hold her."
When Phillip Graves was in high school he went to his school’s technical school for medical.
When he enlisted to the army, his paper work got mixed up with someone else’s and ended up not working as a medic. So he’s a solider with too much medical knowledge. Any attempts at spreading misinformation about medical will be shut down.
Shadow 6: “Yo balls ever get twisted?”
Graves: “do you mean testicular torsion?”
Shadow 6: “?”
Graves: “it’s the medical term for a testical getting twisting within the nutsack and cutting off blood flow. Which can lead to that testical needing to be removed.”
Shadow 6: “sir I was making a joke….”
Graves: “oh..well next time you wish to make a joke try to avoid any medical jokes. My brain reflexively wants to correct medical misinformation… I didn’t suffer through 4 years of technical school for nothing!”
