#shadow company x graves

[ram-bam-writes]

Pendulum Bloodshed [Phillip Graves x/& Shadow Co]

A/N: Thank you to the lovely @pampanope for the lovely art that inspired this shit… Pls for the love of all that is holy and un, give her some love!

Summary: With Graves’ sole focus on getting all of his Shadows out to safety, he gets himself caught by the Konni group — who’d like to have a few words with him. His Shadows, ready to draw as much blood as necessary to bring their Commander home and give him justice, don’t waste any time making a lesson out of those Konni scum.

CW: panicked Flannel (oc), irritated 7-11 (oc), paternal Peaches (oc), crazy and unrealistic uses of radar lol, interrogations, language, graves being a little shit, a pendulum will always swing both ways… no beta we die like soap, etc

Word Count: 3558

“I’ve lost him…” It’s the last thing any of them want to hear from Flannel. The man’s in his place for a reason — he can find anyone. Between tracking their comms devices, their phones, and fuck, even the not so subtle tracking device in their tac-vests, Flannel is always able to find each and every member of Shadow Co. 

While the young soldier isn’t technically a soldier, and rather an eye-in-the-sky for Shadow, the rest of the team trusts the man to do his job.  So for Flannel to utter those three heartbreaking words… it’s nothing short of shock-inducing. 

Flannel tries not to let the tremble in his fingers affect his typing as he enters the devices’ identification numbers again and again, but each to no avail. He’s got nothing — he’s truly lost their Commander.

7-11 and Peaches watch as the young not-soldier bites his knuckles through the rough fabric of his fingerless gloves, eyes glazing over. After all, he’d been the reason the Commander was taken in the first place, even if that weren’t the entire truth.

“If I had just seen it…” He whispers after removing his hand from his mouth, ignoring the light trickle of blood that seeps through the open slots of the finger holes. “Fuck… That was my job. Mine…”

A hand rests against his shoulder, another prying his lightly bloodied hand further away from his mouth. Flannel swallows thickly, looking up at the surrounding Shadows, lip beginning to quiver. It’s a new feeling for him. He’d never lost someone before, let alone a commander. 

“We’ll find him, Flan…” Peaches whispers soothingly, gently cupping the young Tech specialist’s jaw. “Take a breath…”

It’s easier said than done, really. Despite everything Peaches did to calm the young Shadow over the course of his contract with them, Flannel’s mind won’t stop running.

“Let’s just take a moment—“

Flannel stands abruptly, white-knuckling the table in front of him. 

“We don’t have a moment! Every moment we wait means more pain for Commander Graves! We don’t have time!” Flannel nearly chokes on his own breaths. “I don’t have time!”

Peaches stumbles back a little, not necessarily out of fear, but out of the knowledge that Flannel is not in the right headspace for this. They need their commander back, and for that to happen, they need the one person who puts a tracking device on everyone to be in his right mind. So 7-11 takes a step forward, patting Peaches shoulders before standing in front of the tech soldier.

“Flannel…” 7-11 croons, a hand resting on the frazzled man’s shoulders to steady him, something that’s become a habit. “Tell me something… If I’m talking over the comms, and it’s an emergency, what do you want more: clear instructions or rushed explanations?”

“I…” Flannel’s shoulders slump, his arms flopping by his sides. He’s never been good at the whole ‘calming down’ thing. “I want clear instructions…”

“Even if they take a while to relay?”

He nods. 

“Why?”

“… Because mistakes happen when communication isn’t clear…” “A little more specific…”

Flannel huffs, blinking back his tears. He refuses to meet 7-11’s intent eyes, not quite ready to admit that he needs to slow down just yet. “Because mistakes happen when… when things are rushed…”

As 7-11 nods, and Flannel is pulled into an excruciatingly strong hug by Peaches, face buried in his large chest. “That’s right… you’ve got time… you’ve got enough time to use those skilled fingers of yours and figure somethin’ out…”

He wants to laugh like his fellow Shadows do at the tease, but he can’t get himself to. Instead, he opts for a simple, “Okay…”

After wiggling his way out of the bone-crushing hug he was in, Flannel drops back in his seat, staring at his computer screen. His hands rest on the smooth, hot metal, eyes scanning every little detail. Flannel’s mind has several tabs open, all intermingled together in that spider web the Commander loved so much.

Peaches and Flannel share a look. It’s no surprise that the young not-soldier is struggling. He’s not someone who’s actively in the field — no, he’s the one that’s in the sky or on the ground, hidden away from view, calling out commands and directions and alerts. He’s a multitasker; someone that can handle seeing thirty, forty dots move around on a map, knowing every single one by heart.

He may get frazzled and confused when he’s overwhelmed at times, given how quick his mind works, but he’s always managed to be pulled back down by the rest of the team. Graves and the team put their trust in the man for a reason — something 7-11 and Peaches have to remind the boy of often.

———

Three days. It’s taken three days of searching the island head to toe, and still, nothing. Frustrated, yet still calm, Flannel paces the room with his knuckles back between his teeth. 7-11, Peaches, and a few other higher ranking Shadows stand around the security room, watching the boy pace.

“Okay… what do we know from the Bug?” 7-11 finally asks, eyes fluttering open after a brief inhale to look at the others. 

They’d finally gotten past the rubble of the damaged buildings to uncover the Commander’s vest. It gave the team hope, given that a bug was collected and reviewed by everyone in the current team. It had taken almost thirty minutes for Flannel to re-wire the bug to collect the data, but once he got his hands on it, the team started to buzz with urgency and hope.

“The Konni group…”

“… about thirteen men.”

“They didn’t shoot Graves—“ “—they just held a knife to him.”

“One used his first name…”

“And I think I heard one say something about a warehouse.”

“Yeah, somethin about interrogation…”

“On the coast?”

“Like some kind of shipping dock?”

“I don’t think so — they said he was right where he needed to be…”

“Then a store warehouse?”

“By our building?”

“Yeah… and…”

“… dark, but… and… not there…?”

“Likely… if not… Graves…”

“…”

Flannel’s eyes flutter closed, the sound of the Shadows around him silencing, something Peaches had taught him. Take a breath, close your eyes, figure it out. Slow and steady, exactly like 7-11.

He opens them once more when he stands, walking over to the large map of Ashika Island. He lets his eyes wander over the different buildings, the landscape, the pins…

Ashika Island wasn’t very large, right? He’s here, where they wanted him — so a nearby building… Konni’s been a bitch for ages now, fighting us over and over… but the building… the only shipment areas are in the coast, nothing closer. His pinpoint is still in the same spot they took him. They took off his tracker and hauled him away. Ten minutes, not very far. No eyes in the sky, no vehicles on the ground. So where’d they come from? His pinpoint is still… The labs…

“Fuck.” Flannel’s sense of spacial awareness floods back in his senses, quickly turning to look at the other Shadows. “Beneath us.”

The others stare at him like he’s insane, a chorus of what?’s filling the room.

“Beneath us!” Flannel rushes back over to the computer. “Ashika Island had labs beneath the islands! Beneath! They didn’t take off his fucking gloves.”

Peaches reaches around and grasps Flannel, spinning him in the chair and leaning close. “Clear. Communication.”

But 7-11 has already connected the dots, his low, steady voice filling the room. “A month ago we cleared out the labs beneath Ashika Island. But we didn’t ever go back down there.”

“Because we crumbled the labs, didn’t we?” Peaches asks, loosening his grip on the younger man. He glances between the two Shadows in front of him, before realization dawns on them all.

“But we didn’t crumble them all. We only crumbled the external entrances. If there were connections we hadn’t seen when we blew them to smithereens…” Flannel’s eyes are wide. Peaches finishes his sentence with a simple, “Konni could have… found a way in…”

“No vehicles outside, nothing in the air… They didn’t leave. We really were right where they wanted us. Right above them.” 7-11 grits his teeth, fist pounding the table. “Literally right under our noses…”

It’s as if the entire room has been cast in a frigid, icy chill. Not once had they thought to sweep the underground labs consistently. Why would they? There was no way up, not to them. A dull anger fills the Shadows in the room, the realization that even a single entrance left open has given Konni the chance to infiltrate blurring their already frazzled brains.

“Gear up--” 7-11 commands, leaning over Flannel in the process. He lowers his head, eyes narrowed. “How are we getting in?”

“I don’t know…” Flannel’s eyes search the map, looking at what little info they have about the labs beneath Ashika Island. “Maybe I can find an echo sounding device on one of the nearby ships…”

Peaches doesn’t need to be told twice. “I’ll get the Night Hawk set up.”

“No, not the Hawk.” As calmly as ever, 7-11 stares at the larger Shadow. “These are civilian ships — let’s not scare the fuck out of them?”

“…” An exhale. “Fine. Little Bird?”

“Better.” 

After a nod from the self-designating acting commander, the Shadows filter out, fully intent on getting their Commander back. 

7-11 leans against the wall, his eyes scanning over the young not-soldier as he types fervently across the computer.

“Hang in there, Sir…” Flannel whispers, his eyes searching for reassurance in the older Shadow watching him. His hands fly to his neck, pressing on the comms link connecting all the Shadows as one. As a whole. “I’ve found a marine biology ship about three clicks from the coast. They’ll have one, Peaches.”

“Yup yup…”

~~~~

He hadn’t meant to let his guard down — hell, he hadn’t. But his guard wasn’t up around himself, that was the problem. No, his guard was up around his team. His Shadows. His… his family. 

And there was no way in hell he was gonna let any fall into the hands of the Konni scum that seemed to appear out of the blue. It irritated him to no end, not knowing how he’d let this happen. But they only had him — for whatever reason — and for that, he’s eternally thankful to whatever god exists above.

So maybe it isn’t so bad, being tied to a chair with itchy, rough rope. It was better this way, he thinks. Even with the ache of his ass from the jagged wooden chair beneath him, there’s no fear in his mind.

His Shadows are safe — that’s all he cares about.

Thwack!

Graves sputters up blood, the copper taste filling his mouth as the cut on the inside of his mouth drips crimson onto his tongue. Three days of this hell and all he can do is grin. Did Konni really think he’d give up info so easily? 

“Really? That’s all y’all got? Yer really underestimatin’ who yer talkin’ to, ain’tcha, boys?” He can’t help himself. Maybe the Marines taught him to stay silent, but he loves to be a brat. It’s a power play, really. Fucks with the dynamic; shows he’s not afraid. And pisses off his interrogator. 

For better or for worse.

A Konni soldier leaned close, spinning the metal pipe between his fingers as he eyes the Commander, voice dropping low to utter, “We’ll get you to talk, don’t you worry your pretty little head…”

Graves isn’t quite sure why his skin crawls at those words. Maybe it’s the buzz in his mind from a lack of food, or maybe it’s the way he knows Konni can do anything to him. It might even be the way he can only see out of his left eye — that is certainly irritating him.

“Do as you please, boys, but you sumsabitches ain’t gonna be happy when my boys find ya…” He threatens lowly, if only to keep the facade up. He knows he’ll slump and tremble the moment they leave him for the night, but for now, he can keep this mask up. He has to — if he breaks even an ounce, his Shadows will die.

But the Konni don’t react in anger, merely staring at the man as though he is nothing more than dirt on their shoes. They want him for information or for blood — they don’t care what. And at this rate, they don’t doubt that the rest of Shadow Co will be after them. After all, their team doesn’t leave a man behind, and Konni group knows that.

But for now, if only a little, Graves has comfort in knowing that his team will be after him, sooner or later. He knows his men well — they won’t let him down.

His only hope is they don’t get hurt in the process of trying to save him.

~~~

“Shit, that’s him, ain’t it…?” Peaches practically purrs, pointing at Flannel’s screen. The latter nods, making the entire company sigh in relief. “Thank heavens…”

Peaches, 7-11, and Flannel are huddled around a small tablet in the latter’s hand. Miraculously, the team had managed to intercept a civilian cargo ship with building maintenance equipment inside of it, including the ground penetrating radar system they needed. 

7-11 peers around Flannel’s shoulder, looking down at the not-soldier with a cautious gaze. “So where’s the entrance? We knew where the Commander was this whole time — how do we get there?”

Flannel’s eyes search around their current location, deep within their base. It’s been an exhausting few days, but they’re finally getting close. “Somewhere to the north, based on the hallway I can see on the device…”

“You heard him!” Peaches barks out suddenly. “Let’s find those Konni scum.”

A chorus of ‘Yup Yup’s echo off the walls in the room, almost becoming a radar in and of itself. 7-11 pats Flannel’s shoulder, offering a content nod before leading the small group of Shadows around. 

“Alright, keep going north — towards the back entrance, I reckon…” Flannel’s voice echos through their comms device, something familiar. It helps their shoulders relax, if only a little. 

Familiarity and routine is a soldier’s preference.

“Copy, we’ll keep you posted…”

“As in you’ll let me know when you found it or I’ll find myself hearing an—“

As if on cue, the entire base echos with the sound of an imploding wall. 

“… explosion…” The ensemble of laughs and snickers that ring through the comms eases Flannel’s worries more than he’ll ever admit. “Go get ‘em, boys… I’ll watch yer backs…”

~~~

Graves’ weak laugh echos through the empty interrogation room at the sound of Konni suffering. Bleeding from the nose and several lacerations on his torso, he instantly finds himself regretting the laugh, but the pain is quickly forgotten at the sound of a door pushing open. 

Graves lets out a weak groan, “Took you long enough…”

7-11 hardly finds humor in his words, far too concerned for his commander’s well being to care. He gently cups the commander’s cheek, eyes filled with a delicate glint. “Better late than never…

His hands drop to Graves’ knee, absent-mindedly rubbing the smooth surface. He nods as Peaches rounds the commander, pulling out a blade and grasping at the bindings on his wrists. “We’ll cut you loose. Any injuries we should know about?”

Graves scoffs a bittersweet laugh as his wrists are cut free, shaking his head softly. “Nah, just a bit roughed up…”

7-11’s eyes focus on his body. The crimson, metallic blood seeping from his lips, the superficial but throbbing cuts on his torso, the purple and blue puff around his right eye… He suppresses a low growl.

“No food… sips of water… clumsy beating with a side of mockery…” Graves eyes flutter, the blood loss starting to catch up to him with the loss of adrenaline. “Just the standard shit…”

An eerie silence falls over the group of Shadows, everyone’s eyes focusing in on 7-11. The man in question, however, seems too preoccupied with Graves to care — or comment, in this case. He always knows.

“Right…” He takes a slow, deep breath, eyes closing for a moment before reopening. 7-11 can’t let his thoughts drift too much, lest he loses his cool in front of the man he needs to take care of. “Peaches, escort the Commander back to the medic. Princess treatment.”

Behind his mask, the massive man grins, wasting no time reaching down to pick up the smaller commander. His touch, despite his size, is delicate, concerned only for the commander’s wellbeing.

“C’mon, I’ve got two functioning legs, I don’t—“ Graves eyes go wide when Peaches’ arms snake around his waist and thighs. “WOAH, hey!”

“Humor us, sir…” Graves rolls his eyes at the voice of his beloved Shadow, but grins into Peaches’ chest anyways. 

“Fuckin’ excessive… just sayin’.”

7-11 smiles, but it’s strained. Not at the commander, though. “Only the best for you.” At something else entirely.

“I’ll watch yer back, Peaches…” Flannel coos, trying not to have a heart attack at seeing two blinking lights wandering closer to him. Closer to safety.

“Please stop squirming, sir.” 

“No can do, Soldier.”

7-11 might have enjoyed the banter if he hadn’t been seeing red. Blood thrums in his ears, hands clenching into fists to suppress showing any anger towards his fellow Shadows. “You guys found one of ‘em hiding?” “Yeah. Fucker hid while shit went down.”

A nod.

“He’s tied up and isolated.”

“Good.” The seething Shadow barely spares the others a glance, eyes set and focused on the room next to them. “Because I want to have a word…”

"Y'know, Peaches... a Pendulum will always mirror its previous actions the opposite way, just as hard..." Flannel purrs over the comms link, watching as 7-11's tracking device heads towards a secluded, empty room. "And I think I know a man who's about to embody that precept..."

~~~

The creek of an old cellar door is far too loud for this situation. Huddled in the corner, a Konni soldier sits, a bag over his head and arms tied behind his back. The male tries to breathe, his adrenaline pumping as he struggles to. With tape over his mouth and fear filling his sinuses, he feels as though he’s choking on his own breath.

“Whoever hired you and your buddies is gonna be disappointed…” 7-11’s voice echoes calmly, the epitome of the eye of a storm. He rips the bag off of the Konni soldier’s head, eyeing him lowly. “You could’ve died a quick death alongside your friends there…”

“But here you are…” 

If the sound of a butterfly knife in the Shadow’s hands could instill any more fear, the pathetic man on the floor might have spontaneously combusted from how easy it was for 7-11’s to flick and spin the knife open.

“So, thank you for being a coward…” His eyes are wide and frantic, body starting to squirm at the Shadow’s dark words and the blade taunting his face. “You’ve given me an opportunity to… repay the… hospitality you’ve shown my Commander.”

“Tenfold.”

~~~

The fact of the matter is… simple, to say the least. No one dared ask 7-11 what was left of the Konni soldier they found. In fact, most are sure that he was beheaded right then and there.

But once the Commander had been tucked safely away in an infirmary room bed after a nice hot meal from the canteen, Flannel and Peaches figured it wouldn’t kill to ask.

“C’mon…!” Flannel practically whines, kicking his legs above the floor, firmly sat on top of the nearby AC unit. “Just tell us!”

Peaches snickers softly, rubbing the shorter man’s head, nodding along. “We can keep a secret…”

7-11, who’s eyes are focused on the mirror in the training room, rubs his wrists. He’s been thinking about that moment for a while, and even calmed down, he longs to have done more. “There’s nothing more to be said.”

“Augh!” A huff falls from the techie’s lips, crossing his arms. The action earns a fond laugh from the massive male besides him, head tilting to watch 7-11. “And you had to remove your comms gear before that!”

“And what if I said I blacked out for most of it?” 7-11 questions. “What if that’s the truth?”

The truth? 

Heh.

The truth is, 7-11 gave back what his commander had gotten. Insults, cuts, punctures, blunt force trauma, bruises, blood, gore, and humiliation. All while seeing red. 

So red, in fact, that he knew the worst punishment of all was to chain the Konni scumbag to the wall at the end of it, not sparing a glance while the others demolished the underground tunnels. 

The burn in that man’s lungs from the gunpowder and dust is hell. 

The blood pouring into his lungs from several lacerations is horrific. 

But the knowledge that no one will ever come for him until his last, blood-filled breath leaves him is perhaps the most gut-wrenching of them all. 

Because even six days later, he’s still gasping out wet breaths because his body refuses to die.

“The commander is safe, and Konni has gotten what they deserved. That’s all that matters, hmm?” 7-11 grins, throwing a harsh hit to the punching bag, finally sparing his fellow soldiers a taunting, bloodlust-filled look.

[lxvvie]

Y'all know that whole trend that was going around social media with women calling their significant other by their full name? Yeah, that one. Yet another conversation was had, this time it was about the reactions your favorite babygurls would have if you called them by their full government name because of reasons. Maybe.

Capt. John Price - He's, uh, startled but not enough to drop his cigar this time. Does take a puff of it, though, before addressing you like it's the calm before the storm. Isn't too fazed because he heard it enough from his own mom growing up and he figures he's suave and diplomatic enough to placate you.

Gaz - Pointedly ignores you while giving you side glances here and there which is a major indicator that he's gotten into some shit. Probably. More than likely. Yeah... it was Soap's fault.

Alex Keller - Actually did get into some shit. Does not answer the call of duty.

Soap - You hear 'ah, shit', heavy footsteps, probably a crash, and Soap's peeking his head out from the other room. Has a deer-in-headlights look about him. It was Gaz's fault, goddamnit. He's so adorable. It's enough to make you giggle.

Ghost - You get a grunt. And then it hits him. He stops doing whatever it is he's doing. Fuck, he knows that tone. Simon turns to look at you and he stares into your soul or something like that. What in the hell kind of made-up middle name is that? You spend the better part of a good minute staring each other down before you're all, "I love you ♥️," and Ghost groans and rolls his eyes and goes back to whatever it was he was doing. But not before he grunts out a "Love ya, too." in return.

Alejandro - This is one of the few things that'll actually faze the man. Will damn near break his neck turning to face you to see what's wrong and his eyes will be wide. Oh, the last time he heard his full name called like that was from his beloved grandmother and he'd gotten into some shit then, okay?

Rudy - Ducks his head. Doesn't show his face; he can't bear the sternness of your voice, your gaze. It wasn't him this time, he swears; it remains, though, the way you say his name, an echo in his mind: Ro-DOL-fo. Why'd you have the emphasize THAT part of his name, huh?

König - König.exe stops working. Actually does break something trying to get to you. His eyes are fucking saucers, okay? Oh shit, what did he do this time, Schatz? Are you getting him back after that one time he snuck up on you to surprise you and you dropped dinner? Did you find out about the time he accidentally messed up the laundry and the white clothes came out pink? WHAT DOES HE HAVE TO DO FIX THIS?! Oh, you... just needed him to grab something off the top shelf for you.

Horangi - Also did some shit. Is unapologetic about it. Hits you with a nonchalant, "Yeah?"

Graves - STAYS IN SOME SHIT, OKAY? Saunters in like the smug bastard he is. Smirks and winks at you. "Haven't heard that name in a while, darlin'. What's your fancy?"

Valeria - Pulls a Uno Reverse and calls you by your full government name. Wait―

[sky-is-the-limit]

Now that I'm thinking about it, Alejandro was kinda overdramatic cause if that man took over my base, I'd also give him my house, car, my men to detain, my 3 holes to fill-

[criminalamnesia]

drabble that takes place a few years after the end of traitor — ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

you startle awake to the feeling of an arm tossed over your body.

your heart is racing, breathing coming in quick puffs. another nightmare, no doubt, but you can’t even seem to remember it.

your body begins to act— entering fight-or-flight mode, when you remember. it’s not him.

you turn your head as much as you can, eyeing the man laying flush against your back in your peripheral vision.

sandy blonde hair and the scruff of a beard (he’d been growing out since he’d gone on leave).

graves. phillip— the man who had offered you asylum. offered you family.

offered you his bed. (eventually).

your body relaxes. you sink back into the mattress as your breathing slows again. that’s when he moves, his arm circling around you a touch tighter and his breath ghosting the hairs at your nape.

“bad dream?” he asks, his southern drawl thicker in his near-sleep.

“mhm,” you hum back, your hand finding his where it rests on your midriff. “go back to sleep. ‘m fine.”

“talk abou’ it?” he grumbles in his baritone, and you sigh.

“don’t even remember it.”

he goes quiet. you almost think he’s slipped back into a dream when he speaks again.

“he won’t be hauntin’ you soon, honey. we’ll make sure of it, won’t we?”

your fingers lace with his.

“yes,” you say, eyes closing as you picture your revenge.

“we will.”

[v1x3n]

[lunarw0rks]

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?"

[frogchiro]

What’s gonna happen to hacker girl after no nut november?! 👀

I initially wanted to say she's walking out straight up pregnant but then it came to me- bold of us to presume that they'd last😭

While it totally is a dick fighting competition to them to prove who is better in...you don't even know at this point but you can see your men get more and more aggravated and fussy with every day into this challenge, you only bid your time before one of them breaks.

(Un)surprisingly the first one to break was always brash and loud Johnny :/ But he couldn't help himself! You were just so so pretty in that cute pastel sweater and skirt, bend over a desk and typing quickly away at some code you were writing but the only thing the Scottish man could focus on was your nice, shapely, broad hips and ass sticking out as if inviting him :(

Call him weak willed but...Who the fuck cares?? He's pent up, he's horny and his balls genuinely start to ache from a the build up sperm so the nest thing you know is you letting out a confused 'huh' and the feeling of a large, heavy body covering yours, two bulky arms wrapping around you and that low, growly voice snarling

"Yer way too tempting y'know that lass?"

Obviously the rest of the guys heard the commotion coming from your bedroom and they burst in on the exact moment of Soap holding you tightly against his side right after rolling off of you after his 3rd orgasm, his sperm dribbling out slow and thick out of your poor pussy :(

They were stunned at first but before they could start to yell and argue they saw Johnny's smug grin and your tired, sleepy face cuddled into his neck, letting out tiny mewls whike caressing your belly. They could call Soap a weak willed looser and a sucker but honestly? To him, they were the suckers bc he at least got to cum in their darling first😭💕

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

What Should've Happened in That Season 5 Cutscene... 🪦

I just can't accept that Farah is allying with the maniac. I support Alex decking the mofo to the ground and Farah making sure he stays dead.

(jk I love Graves I'm excited for what the future had in store with Farah and Graves forming an alliance.)

Got a midnight inspiration and created this dialogue and I made it into a lil comic strip!

Hope you love it! (❁´◡`❁)

[crimsonbubble]

Reader being the cute barracks bunny from the shadow conpany👀 that is so sweet and does what they want🩷👀

cw. nsfw, gn!reader, free use, exhibitionism, voyeurism, marking, cum play, oral, overstimulation, fingering, somnophilia *not proofread, just pure horny

[GOD PLS WHEN IS IT MY TURN 💳💥💳💥💳💥] obviously everything is consensual and discussed prior to the events also @waltzthegenderfluidpan is the reason for the somno part- special tag for @smmy-winchster

MINORS DNI!!

minding your business and suddenly your pants are tugged down and you're being bent over the nearest solid surface

being passed between a group of them bc they're all so pent up and stressed with work and need an outlet :(((

most of the time you don't even bother with underwear bc you know someone is gonna rip them off you

they'll corner you wherever you are so they can have you

doesn't matter who's watching

except maybe their commander

but the more the merrier

imagine rewarding the shadows by waiting up for them after a mission in only a bunny headband on

they're so handsy with you

always groping and fondling you at the most inappropriate times

imagine touching graves while hes trying to get through briefing and he just decides to bend you over the table and finger you in front of the other shadows

stands directly behind you with a hand against your lower back to keep you against the desk while he just fingers you open so brutally

he'll let the shadows run a train on you after so they'll focus on the mission bc he knows both of their heads are only thinking of you

he'll send in another few shadows to collect you and take care of you

they'll run you a bath to help you relax but you'll end up getting finger fucked again bc they just love you so much :((

you respond so sweetly to their touches, how are they supposed to keep their hands to themselves when you're making them so hard each time you whimper and cry for them :((

one shadow taking you out of the bath and drying you off while another runs off to get you some clothes

but they only give you baggy, oversized shirt and a pair of thin underwear

only bc they like to play with you while you sleep :(( you squirm and shiver and let out short and cute gasps when they touch all your sensitive spots

two shadows find their way between your thighs so they can both taste you

they love leaving all kinds of marks on you; hickeys on your neck/chest/thighs and bruises on your hips/thighs

they also deeply enjoy coming all over you especially your chest, thighs and ass

but once they're all finally done, you get sandwiched between two of them as you sleep

[k6tzie]

hi! new fan of your works here. may I request for p-links for graves? gotta love my American babe😩 no pressure though!

GRAVES P☆RN LINKS

(thank you for the request anon! i'm glad you enjoy my content and i'd be more than happy to provide links about our cocky king graves😌 hope you enjoy lovely x and please do feel free to leave any requests 😊)

american commander with a huge cock, shows you, a civilian, just how 'hard' the job gets :( pulling you back to his own barrack after you've been a brat all day - he's so mean making you do extra laps and paperwork but now he gets to flaunt you to the shadows next door! the exact angle he records at with his cracked iphone 8 content mornings after a hard session the night before <3 he's lazy from all the work, give him a break! don't tell him to go faster because this is just how fast he'll start going, plunging his thick fingers inside you.. he's got experience with riding horses and all that hip movement, what made you think he lacks pleasing you?? don't worry, he can breathe. just you keep riding yeah? oh well if it isn't the consequences of his own actions, teasing you and expecting mercy, silly perfect titties for graves :) nuzzling your pretty face on his clothed, rock hard could make him cum then and there playful graves just watching the cum string back and forth, you know he's just got a goofy smirk pulling over mid hiking after this photo was taken

[yawnderu]

A/N: We made it to 3k less than a month after I reached 2k followers 🥺<3!!

I was genuinely not expecting this when I first made my account, but so far I've gotten so much support and I've met so many lovely people. I'm always reading your comments and reblogs, you mfs are hilarious JFEHJBFEHJB💕Onto the nasty sinful monkey sex now.

Synopsis: tired of working a dead-end job with no rewards, your childhood best friend offers you a job at his company, promising the stress levels are minimal and the pay is good. You accept with no second thoughts, not realizing you were tricked into becoming a stress relief toy for his men.

CW: humiliation, hard sex, gangbang, double vaginal, triple penetration, unsafe sex, creampie, 14 vs 1, cum swallowing, bukkake, spit kink, cockdrunk reader, deepthroat, handjobs, size kink, watersports.

Being a commander who saw his soldiers as family, Graves knew he always had to watch out for his men, reward them for their hard work and loyalty, and what better way to do that than with a sweet little thing like you? Their own personal stress relief toy, who was tricked into taking a job at the Shadow Company, yet so willing to please. So eager.

"You're enjoying this more than you should." He's teasing you, of course, yet his cocky expression does nothing to help the pooling warmth on your stomach. One of the shadows is sitting behind you, gloved hands hooked under your knees to keep your legs open while Graves grinded his clothed boner on your bare cunt, the fabric feeling almost painful if it wasn't for how wet you are.

"Maybe I am." You manage to reply, barely able to speak between whiny moans and soft gasps, his cock rubbing in all the right places, but the stimulation wasn't enough. No, he had been teasing you like this for the past 20 minutes, making his men watch as you became a putty mess in his hand. The shadows were men of discipline and self-control, keeping their hands folded politely behind their backs, ignoring their painful, throbbing cocks until their commander allowed them to use their brand new chew toy.

"I want you to know," He began, hand slipping under your chin firmly to force you to look up at him, hard cock rubbing faster up and down your cunt, pressing into you harder. "That I ain't playin' with you, Stray. My men will do anythin' I tell them to. Last chance to pull out." He warned and you shook your head no, his cocky smile growing even wider as his other hand went to squeeze your tit, looking for any signs of discomfort and much to his delight, seeing none.

"I can take it." The words are more of a reassurance to yourself, gaze drifting around the room and counting the men inside. 14, including Graves. You swallow thickly, nervous eyes drifting back to Graves, who simply raises an eyebrow in return, waiting for you to realize just how fucked up you are if you don't pull out.

"I can take it." You repeat, slowly believing the words more and more. He simply smiles and ruffles your hair affectionately, the same way he always did growing up.

"Attagirl." He pulled away from you and you can see the satisfaction in his eyes, knowing you'll do a good job for him. He nods to his men and they quickly get to work, hands groping you all over, long fingers entering your cunt roughly to the point you're becoming nothing but a whiny, whimpering mess. They're rough and impatient, your wrists being grabbed and forced onto their hard cocks until you're willingly jerking them off, hands barely able to wrap around their thick lengths. It's intimidating, yet so hot to be locked in a room full of hormonal, pent-up military men.

"On your knees." One of them commands, yet you're forced on your knees before you can even try to get up. Four cocks are in front of you and you begin sucking with no hesitation, eyes closing as you give into your role at the company. Your lips wrap around one of them, slowly taking him deeper until he gets too impatient and forces your head down to the base, the gagging noises your throat lets out simply making it feel better.

"Good girl." You don't even know who's praising you, but it's enough to give you the encouragement you needed, starting to bob your head up and down until you're pulled off the cock, a new one being shoved down your throat. They're using you— you know it, and you're letting them. You get passed around, tasting and sucking on different dicks while your hands keep themselves busy, deep moans and groans coming from above you. They get too impatient quick, the man you recognize as Oz wrapping his fingers on your hair, pulling on it until you willingly get up, throwing you into bed and opening your legs wide with brutal force. You look down, eyes widening as you see just jow thick he is.

"You said you could take it, ain't that right?" He uses your words against you, the tip of his cock rubbing up and down your folds, your head dropping back as a moan escapes your lips. That's all he needs for confirmation, hands firmly holding the curve of your waist before he buries his cock to the hilt in one thrust. A pained moan escapes your lips, eyebrows furrowing as your nails dig into his arm— the pretty, long acrylic nails Graves paid for earlier that day.

"Shit... S‐slow down, asshole." The way you struggle to take him is almost cute, a cocky smirk pulling on his lips as he shakes his head no once, holding onto you tighter while he slams in and out of you. You don't have much room to complain before another cock is being shoved into your face, your lips willingly wrapping around the tip, hollowing your cheeks while your tongue circles all over it. Your whiny moans are muffled as you slowly begin to suck more and more, the pleasure of being groped all over and being fucked good slowly getting rid of any hints of regret you may have.

"Fucking slut." Oz says, hand coming up to gently pinch and pull on your nipples while he fucks into you faster. All you can do is nod, tears dotting your eyelashes at the mix of pain and pleasure, using the cock in your mouth to cover up the embarrassing sounds escaping you from being a used like a whore. Your body is manhandled into another position, a different shadow underneath you who wastes no time on fucking into your cunt, filling you just as much as Oz was. Your hands are kept busy jerking off more cocks while your mouth is put into good use again, muffling the moan of protest that threatens to escape when you feel the tip of a dick teasing the entrance of your ass.

"Wait—" You manage to speak when the shadow takes his cock out of your throat to give you time to breathe, only to be interrupted by your throat being forced open again. You close your eyes tightly, trying your best to relax, the folds of your tight hole slowly being eased, the man is being surprisingly gentle for someone who holds so much power over you.

"Good girl." He praises softly, voice deep with desire, yet holding so much care. His hand gently caresses your ass as he bottoms out, giving you time to adjust before his hands rest on your waist, pulling you up and down his cock, the thin layer of skin diving your ass and cunt making the pleasure even greater. It doesn't take much before you're willingly slamming your hips down, moving in your own pace and fucking yourself into the big cocks inside you like a greedy whore, too eager to wait.

"Lovely girl, ain't she?" You can recognize Grave's voice, choosing to ignore it for now as you simply focus on feeling good. It doesn't take long until the men are taking turns with you, wet cunt leaking everywhere, yet none of them seem to care. You wince as you feel a second cock on the entrance of your pussy, nervous, yet eager to please. You don't even have to lift your head to know whose cock it is— fucking Phillip Graves. The man who got you into this situation on the first place... which you're now glad happened.

He's surprisingly gentle as he squeezes his cock into your airtight hole, the pain of the stretch only being overpowered by the feeling of a cock slamming back into your throat, nose hitting dark, curly pubes every single time the masked man makes you deepthroat him. Your whiny moans are mixed in with the lewd, wet sounds of your holes being used and abused. You lost count of how many times you were filled, mind too hazy from all the overstimulation, yet you can register the door closing behind them, leaving you alone with Graves.

''Attagirl.'' He praises, his hand running down the length of your sweaty hair as his soft cock settles into your cum-stained lips, half-lidded eyes looking up at him with curiosity. Your mouth is suddenly filled with a warm liquid and you swallow without thinking about it, eyes closing once he's done pissing into your slutty mouth. He slowly pulls out, putting his cock back in his pants and admiring the mess his men did of your body, covered in cum and small bruises from their strong hold when they were fucking you.

''I got another job for ya. Ever heard of the 141?''

[lxvvie]

Phillip Graves, your handsome, friendly neighborhood asshole, has had his eyes on you from the moment you moved next door.

He helped you move in, of course. Helped you get situated, meet your other neighbors, and if there was anything that needed fixin', he was there to lend a hand. Or two.

Bastard's slicker than a can of oil; he has something up his sleeve, you feel it in your bones, but it's that smile. It's the goddamn smile, the southern drawl when he says howdy and calls you darlin', and most importantly, it's the barbecue.

The fucking barbecue.

He calls it the Gravepit. His underground barbecue pit and the place where he makes magic happen. The first time he invited you over, you swore he put crack in his food, it was so damn good, but Graves laughed it off and said he had the magic touch. All while his eyes bore into yours. Intensely. And he sent you on your way with leftovers to last the next couple days.

The next couple of times he had you over, he needed you to be his taste tester. Don't know what for, his food is always delicious, but you accepted because free food and good company when in reality, it's because Graves wanted to sus you out and plan his next moves accordingly.

And when he got the intel he wanted, realized that you were, in fact, as attracted to him as he was to you—no need to fight it, darlin'—Graves made his move. With the barbecue.

The fucking barbecue.

Long story short, he invited you over to sit and eat with him one Saturday afternoon. It started out with talking, talking turned into flirting, and flirting turned into you bent over the couch while he fucked you savagely from behind. And god, you felt better than everything he dreamed and stroked himself to, darlin'.

And that evening, when you were well and truly fucked, Graves fed you. Good, slow-cooked meat with all the fixins. Didn't send you on your way with leftovers this time. Hell no. Graves was gonna fuck and feed you until the cows came home, darlin'.

Told you he had the magic touch.

[coyote-with-a-keyboard]

Past, present, future

a/n: well, writing creativity hits me at the worst times. Including when I have a concussion! This one is for my silly moot @fortheb0ys

Minors DNI

Phillip was stressed. If stressed was even the right word. He was tired, and bored, and yet constantly busy busy busy. It was starting to make his head swirl so damn much that he decided to toss off his work and jobs to his poor second in command and go back to his little home town in the middle of nowhere Texas

He wasn’t there to see family, hell no. He had put his parents in a retirement home in Dallas years and years ago. He was going just to fish where he used to fish and enjoy how little that town changes- as if time was slowed there. He pulled up to his hotel happy as a clam and practically running to the local bar, enjoying as many drinks as he wanted to calm down, until he saw you walk in. Oh fuck

he hadn’t seen you since high school, since he left the whole backwater town to try his luck in the military, and told you by note. By note! He really did regret that now, how he had probably shattered you. Sure you two never ‘dated’, his parents would have slaughtered him for something like dating a man- but you two sure did everything a couple could. Nights spent together hidden away in a camping tent, secret kisses and hickeys littering him in the morning… he had really felt like shit having the nerve to show up here now, feeling wheezy and sick to his stomach.

he sat nervously next to you at the bar, letting you look him up and down as he drank a shot of whiskey, then two, then three. And a conversation started between you, about how your lives had ended up and how you’d stayed in the little country town and definitely flourished- calloused hands and well built figure filling in where you once were younger and softer, and the more he drank the more comfortable he felt around you, chuckling at your jokes and leaning into you as if he was head over heals again.

Four shots, five shots, six,

he was feeling real sick now, he wasn’t a lightweight by any means. But he had definitely lost track and gone above any standard he usually had. He felt Ick all over, barely wanting to walk out the door let alone leave you and go to his hotel- not that he could walk that far in the state he was in. He needed you in more ways than one, so he begged you pathetically to carry you home. Your grip and warmth grounded him enough that he got a grip while you carried him, softly nuzzling into your chest and hoping you’d stay just a little longer and indulge him just a bit more.

he didn’t deserve you, he knew that. You were his a long time ago and he had royally fucked up- but he missed everything about you, every little detail was making his mind spin with old memories he had thought he had forgotten. He let you carry him into your house without a single protest- too in bliss and too drunk to bother you with the idea of carrying him back to his shitty hotel, especially when your house smelt of your cologne and safety.

he almost melted in your bed; whining and pulling you next to him before utterly dozing off, and clinging to you as if you would disappear if he let go

he woke up with an utterly pounding headache and a hangover worse then death himself- sitting up with a groan before remembering where he was, and that he was in your jacket from the bar… he has definitely made a fool of himself in front of you. But he supposed it was better then being alone in your apartment- he laid practically on top of you, feeling your even breathing as you slept. He had missed the feeling of being oh so close to you, but he still wanted to be closer- okay sure, it might be a bit wrong but he couldn’t help himself but kiss down your neck softly, his hands wondering and his body slipping down a bit, in no hurry to wake you up- just wanting to feel you.

he mouthed at your boxers a bit, shaking you awake enough to get a groan out of you and a tired nod as you tossed your head back on the pillow tiredly, still half asleep as he tugged your boxers down your legs and wrapped his pretty lips around your cock-head, taking you inch by inch slowly and choking a bit until he had every inch in his mouth, little gasps coming out of his stretched lips as he breathed you in, tears and spit dribbling down his face. He was focused on solely you, only little grinds of his hips against your leg giving himself physical pleasure

he hummed softly at the feeling of your hand grasping in his hair, before getting thrown off rhythm at a rough tug from you, pulling him off- a small drop of pre-cum and spit connecting his lips and your soaked member before you forced him back all the way down. You had gotten a lot rougher, and it felt so so good to be gasping as those big blue eyes of his poured with tears- looking like a mess. But he was your mess again. Yours.

he choked and gagged every so often, but worked you up until you were grasping his shoulders tight enough to bruise, painting his throat white as he swallowed every drop down, cumming in his own pants untouched before he pulled himself away and rolled beside you

“missed you, sugar.” Was all he could mutter as he caught his breath

[sky-is-the-limit]

'I make guarantees.'

Phillip Graves x F!Reader

Summary: As a member of the TF141, it comes naturally to be aggravated by Phillip Graves. Pair that with every fiber of your body, mind and soul desiring him, and you have a ticking bomb ready to explode. Basically, porn without plot.

CW: Angry sex, jealousy, possessiveness, degradation, violent/explicit language, mention of blood (minor), unprotected sex.

WC: 4,712 words (oops)

Notes: I'm not a writer!

Phillip Graves was no ordinary man. He was the sort to blaze through your soul like a wildfire, allow you to feel the kind of passion and intensity you only find between the lines of a fantasy tale and then leave ashes behind, forever engraved in your skin.

As if sensing his gaze, you turned to look at Phillip. You only spared him a passing glance though, smirking just before turning back to laugh at a joke Johnny told, too crest for the other man's tastes.

This was the second mission where you had to collaborate with the Shadow Company for a more effective outcome, meaning you had to be in his overwhelming presence once more. Someone outside watching in would think that you hated each other, whenever you'd interact. You always tested his limits, toed every line that you could cross with every action, with every takedown.

Perhaps you did, deep inside. Hated him for igniting feelings in you so intense that would only resonate to you either banging your head against a wall or let him fuck you against one.

Phillip showed his interest straight away, from the very first interaction the two of you had during your first mission, his arrogance and cockiness oozing out of him as though he had no ordinary blood running through his veins. Pair that with the way he was talking to Johnny, the closest squad member to you, you had to turn down his advances, which unsurprisingly, hurt his fragile ego and ever since, all remarks exchanged between the two of you were like bullets destined to kill.

Once more, you found yourself in the common area of your temporary base, left alone to face him. Your leisure time of listening to Soap's silly dad jokes and good conversation over coffee was cut short when Phillip walked in.

Johnny did not have the patience to ignore him and his snarky comments that he had to physically get away from him, and you did not blame him one bit. Was it your pride or something else forbidding you from exiting right after?

''It's pathetic really.'' His posture was starker than usual, his eyebrows furrowed, his lips tight as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Though you had your back turned on him, you could feel his gaze devouring you whole.

The abruptness startled you, but keeping your composure, you set your coffee down on the table and turned to look at him.

''Your entire existence? I know.'' The words came out in a furious rush and you felt a bead of sweat drip down your back under your black shirt. It was a nasty habit, at that point. You couldn't even finish one argument without starting another and the one brewing was the second one that day.

''How you flirt with him to get my attention, Y/N.'' Phillip's voice was low and irritated, and it set your emotions ablaze, a roaring inferno within your mind. 

“Of course, because it's always about you. I definitely talk to my squad member specifically to get your attention, silly me.'' The minute he walked in, you prepared yourself for this. It would be abnormal for an interaction between the two of you to not turn into an argument.

''He's so boringly predictable that I caught you looking at me at least 50 times. Go on though, I do enjoy the show.'' Arrogance was dripping off his tongue like second nature, along with that all familiar smirk that made your insides hurt.

''Don't you ever get tired of hearing your own voice, Graves? Or do you get off of ticking every box in the 'how to be a perfect narcissist' list?'' You shrieked, hating the way your voice came out your throat but the way in which he threw his shoulders back and laughed in a cruel tone made you see red.

Suddenly he was much closer, leering down at you. It wasn't clear to know who moved first, or who would next.

''Me? A narcissist? You're the one who wants every man's attention on you.'' He growled lowly and stood to full height, his demeanor making you swallow thickly as he loomed closer and stared you down. Out of habit you straightened your spine, lips curling back into a scowl.

''Shut your fucking mouth, Graves-" The blood running through your veins was pumping hot, you wanted to pour it out and paint everything around you red, so it matched the fury riding you with every word he threw in your way. Phillip's response didn’t ease you any.

''Is that what you did to earn your spot hm? Fuck your way to the top?'' His tone dripped with scorn as he responded to you, his words carrying an edge sharper than a sword.

''Say that again, Graves. I fucking dare you.'' Spitting the words with teeth bared, and fists clenched as you circled each other, you poked at his chest firmly, the muscles twitching beneath your fingertips.

Your gaze met his with stubborn defiance, nearly ready to just explode and punch him. Maybe that would make you feel better, knocking some sense into his enormous ego.

There was nothing you despised more than another man undermining your career and progress, belittling you as if you were not greater than all of them combined when holding a sniper riffle in your hands.

What made it worse, was that you knew Graves was doing that to get a reaction out of you, to push your buttons without meaning a single word pouring out of his mouth. It was a facade, you knew that. The first thing he ever said to you, was to compliment your skills, which made his intention even more infuriating.

''You could try that with the Shadow Company next, I promise to give you a higher rank if you use that mouth-'' It was as though your hand had a brain of it's own, moving automatically with force to meet with his cheek and the corner of his mouth, leaving the tender skin red to the touch and the corner of his bottom lip reddening with drops of blood.

''Is that all you got?'' He mocked, his voice gravelly as his fingers wrapped around your wrist tightly, preventing you from moving an inch. Your anger dissipated in the favor of fear the very second you saw his expression.

You were volatile and explosive, but that's how you craved it, and even then, your desire to be fucked by him had trumped all your wrath, in fact, your rage had just heightened it. It was pure madness and the was no rational explanation to it nor that you cared to find one.

Glowering, hands itching to hit him once more, you turned on your heel, aiming for the door and intending to get black-out drunk with Simon as you assumed that he was downing his fifth beer by then, when he grabbed you by the back of your neck and hauled you against him.

You struggled, clawing and scratching his arms as they banded around you and held you trapped. He was chuckling in your ear, you could feel how turned on he was, and your inner voice was crooning that you got just what you wanted, but you ignored it. You wanted to fight yet your body had something entirely different in mind while a flow of slick started to soak up your panties as Graves pressed his manhood into you.

''You fucking-'' The thoughts running wild through your mind interrupted your own words, the ebb and flow of your gazes intensifying by the second though it felt like an eternity of his blue eyes piercing through your soul like he could sense every filthy fantasy hiding behind them. You didn't dare to move and in the end, you didn't have to.

You were both breathing heavily, tension wrought to the extreme as you were staring at each other, not really fathoming how you ended up like this. It was pure excitement, trepidation, like you were desperately waiting for something to happen.

This was the culmination of whatever instinctive, subconscious game the two of you had been playing from the very first mission you'd embarked on collaborating with him, a game of push and push between the two of you until the breaking point.

Graves pushed forward, his lips brutally meeting your own. He bit down on them, hard and cruel, loving the cry you whimpered out as he savored you whole. His hand moved from the side of your head to the back of it, tugging the hair there to tilt your head to his.

The agony was a pleasure as you reciprocated his intoxicating kiss, angry and violent as you teared at his lips. Your sharp teeth aggravated the wound on his lip, and you tasted blood on your tongue.

''Fucking brat-'' He instantly pulled back, his fingers grasping your jaw to keep you in place.

You shivered at his words, a new heat blooming over every surface of your body. Your cheeks tingled and you squirmed in his grip, squeezing your thighs together as you calculated your next move carefully.

"You're such a bastard!" You quirked your head as you breathlessly yelped, almost fearlessly before sliding your arms free of his hold and threaded them into his hair before pulling him in to capture another kiss, hotter and even more passionate than the last.

Phillip responded in an instant, letting his tongue slide against yours, hungrily whilst he tangled his free hand in your hair, gripping painfully, deepening the kiss, like it could be the last thing he ever does.

Your body seemed to burst into a flame of mingled rage and lust, and you knew he felt the same from the desperate, almost angry growl he made the sensation overwhelmed you both. 

Sinking your nails into his scalp, you pressed your hips hard against his erection, feeling him gasp into your mouth before lifting his head to take another look at you, his fingertips never leaving your jaw.

Phillip licked his lips unconsciously as he stared down at you, but before you could say anything, he had brought his face once more closer to yours, his eyes half-lidded and full of desire.

''And you're a fucking slut.'' Once more your hand was lifted in the air, intending to slap him for a second time, but he caught it as it swung for his face and took hold of your other before you could attempt it again. With one swift move, he maneuvered your body around and pinned both of your wrists in a firm grip behind your back before your brain could catch up to what was happening.

Head shaking, arms straining as you tried to break out of his hold, huffing and giving in when he only held onto you tighter, walking both of you closer to the wall, pressing your front hard against it. Panting, furious, your heartbeat thundered somewhere in your throat. The Commander's form was a solid taut weight caging you in, imposing, all muscle, a hard line of his desire against your lower back.

''Someone needs to fuck that attitude out of you, Y/N.'' The words made your toes curl and your hips arch, betraying how desperate you looked, splayed out on his command center for his pleasure. The side of his face was so close to yours that you could feel him breathing down on you, his lips at the shell of your ear.

The other hand that wasn’t currently wrapped around your wrists moved to hold your jaw, squeezing tightly to the point of discomfort.

Briskly, he released your arms, spinning around to pounce on the man before you and quickly pressed your back against the wall once more so you can be chest to chest.

''And that's gonna be you, Graves?'' You met his fire with your own, staring unflinchingly into the heated pools of stormy sea. The question was as close to begging as your pride would allow.

''No one else can. No one else can fuck you the way you deserve but me, soldier.'' He stated, face lowering to yours and his tone low and menacing, the promise of retribution sent shivers down your spine.

The grotesque snarl of words should have made you put him in his place, despise of the outcome. Any other day you would have, but instead, your body had different plans.

''Is that a threat, Commander?'' You croaked out, a smirk settling on your face. How you managed to still be coy in a situation where you knew you had no power was insane and the look on his face confirmed it as his fingers around your jaw grew tighter and you winced in pain. 

''Oh, I don't make threats, Sergeant. I make guarantees.'' There was that deep chuckle again. The one that vibrated up his throat until it bubbled out to bless your ears and slither goosebumps down your spine.

Darkly, he challenged your moral compass that was screaming for you to get away from his intoxicating presence. The smirk formed on his lips was wicked, provocative. The prey was finally caught.

''Let's see how far your arrogance can take you then, Commander.'' With a hint of sarcasm, you challenged him back, deliberately imbuing his title with a sensual cadence. His skin was flushing to you calling him by his rank, a blotchy red slowly encroaching from his throat to his cheeks. It was an interesting kind of power to have over someone. 

For a few seconds he just stared you down, eyes adapting the darkest shade of blue. The sensation simmering down in your abdomen was quickening the pace of your heartbeat trying to burst out of your ribcage in a mingle of fear and arousal. It was taking over every single nerve in your body and there was no way of stopping it, not that you desired to.

With a quick use of his brute strength he hoisted you up, having you scrambled to wrap your legs around his waist while his hands moved to your ass to hold you up.

''You won't even comment on the fact that someone could walk in right now and see you in such a mess, Y/N?'' Phillip murmured gravelly, his lips biting the soft skin of your throat intending to break the skin as he was backing you closer to the table behind you, quickly hoisting you to sit on it. He settled between your legs, hands gripping just above your knees.

''God, you must be so fucking desperate for it, huh?'' He was right, of course. The possibility of someone walking in was more than enough to let shame start creeping in your system and yet all it took was one look at his face. The way the moonlight was shining through the window to define his cheekbones even more, experience visible through the wrinkles decorating the corners of his eyes as they stared into your soul.

''You're taking your sweet time with this, Graves. I'm starting to think that you're all bark and no bite.'' You can’t help the smug smile that spread across your lips as you saw the flare of anger flash in his eyes, finding the way he was so quick to be irritated, quite fascinating.

That little defiant glint still sat in your eyes, and he was absolutely determined to remind you who was in charge by the end of the night.

"Oh, I'll show you how I bite.'' He growled, thrusting his clothed erection against your center, a loud whimper escaping your lips to the friction. 

Gasping, you felt his lips leaving a wet trail down the length of your jaw before he settled in the hollow beneath your ear, an erogenous zone he’d discovered, devoting his attentions there. All your body could do in response was cling to him, mewls and sighs falling haphazardly from your lips.

“I dream about your cunt,” He stated, lifting his head up, smoldering eyes locked on yours as your elbows struggled to keep your balance against the wooden surface.

"How it feels.  How it looks.  How it tastes. I dream of fucking ruining you till you can't move to save your life." Every filthy word out of his mouth was a direct attack to your throbbing core as he maneuvered your hips upwards to yank the fabric of your jeans down to your ankles, legs exposed to the cool air of the stone room.  Your gaze followed his, eyes glued hungrily on the obvious wet spots in your panties.

''Fuck- Do it then.'' Clearly, you weren't thinking when your mouth formed the words, "Fucking do it, already-" But it was spoken harshly between the ragged breaths of your desire, and it was all the invitation he needed.

"You're not the one who gets to make commands here," He growled, taking a sinful pride in the drawn out whimper that he had dug out from you.

''Pathetic.'' And so he lifted one of those large hands to your face and pressed his thumb into your mouth, the pad of it resting on your bottom row of teeth as he dragged your jaw down, forcing your mouth wide open.

Trembling with a sudden onslaught of unexpected arousal at having someone else's fingers between your lips, feeling the flutter in your soaked cunt again only this time it was more intense, fiercely with your legs shaking to the sensation.

Your hands moved on their own as Graves' thumbs pressed deeper into your mouth, gliding and pressing at your tongue as you slid them down the length of his body, feeling every defined muscle underneath his blue shirt, going lower and lower, until you were curving one palm around the shape of the Commander's cock confined within his dark shaded jeans.

Impatience took over you, lifting the hem of your shirt, hastily tugging the fabric up and throwing it to the side and before you could touch him again, his hands were at your sides, sliding over the mounds of your breasts and then there was another tug and a louder ripping sound as he teared your bra at the front.

His own pupils, now blown with a heated desire, locked into your glazed expression. Having his fingers toy with your mouth earlier had already caused a small string of saliva to run down your chin and he couldn't help the smirk starting to flicker onto his lips. He had barely started to touch you and you already looked all sorts of fucked up. 

Your outrage couldn't even register before his warm mouth was on your skin, sucking at your nipples, pinching and biting and rubbing the soothing pad of his thumb over each one after any rough treatment. The chill of the night air was an electrifying contrast to the warmth of his mouth and hands as you were openly moaning and writhing to the way he massaged and teased every inch of nakedness before him.

''Me or you?'' You hum innocently to his previous remark as you pressed your palm against him, stroking the long line of heat firmly, and he hissed as his hips bucked forward just as desperately, his hands suddenly coming up to catch both of your wrists, bringing them down to your sides, the grip just tight enough to sting.

Indignation flashed in those midnight blue eyes. There was something off from his normal heated gaze. This look he was giving you was more than just argumentative, more than just fired up. It was absolutely primal. The heat had shifted. While usually he was more reminiscent of a volcano during an eruption, now he seemed to be the moments before, it was a slow heat. Dangerous. 

"I'm not in the mood for games.'' Graves breathed heavily, bending over you to nip at your lips before hearing the sound of his belt touching the ground to finish what you started, freeing himself.

You couldn't tear off your eyes from the obscene sight in front of you as he took himself in one hand while the other came to rest high on your thigh, his thumb brushing against your core, tantalizingly close. He stroked himself once, twice, pressing himself against you and pausing for a moment, just long enough for you to grow restless.

He sighed, the sound more like a growl than anything, steam escaping from his nose.

''I should've done this a long time ago.'' He ripped your legs apart, tugging onto your dripping underwear until it was on the ground, grunting as your slick coated his fingers before he rubbed his cock against your entrance. Every part of your body tightened, a bare spark of pleasure almost exciting you when his cockhead scraped your clit.

You couldn't believe that someone you absolutely despised was giving you some of the best pleasure you'd ever felt. Wanton moans fell from your lips as he jackhammered your cunt. His hand tangled in your hair and yanked your head back.

''You like that hm? You like being treated as a little slut?'' His voice was raspy and full of lust before he pushed forward, drawing all air from your lungs with a loud yelp as he buried himself deep inside you.

''Commander-'' Despite your efforts, the call was loud, urgent. He didn’t start slowly. He was rough, punishing, desperate, taking you with everything he had, as though he was claiming you right where anyone could walk in to see it.

Phillip sped up his pace exponentially, sweat breaking out across his forehead. ''Answer me-'' You became a boneless mess under the power of his ruthless thrusting, slamming into you with such force that you were sure there would be bruises where his hip bones met yours tomorrow.

''Fuck- Yes, damn you!'' You mewled loudly, then covered your mouth with one hand, fearful of passersby. He pulled your hand away, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up into his eyes as he took you against the shaking table.

''I can tell by the look on your face." He said gruffly. ''You can’t get enough of me can you?'' You placed your forehead on his shoulder, embarrassed to look at him.

''Look at me, Y/N.'' He said in response to this. You slowly looked back at him. ''Good girl.'' He muttered, grabbing your hips and pounding into you.

His hips bucked slowly, riding his twitching length inside your warm folds as he withheld his own noises. ''Beg for it, go on." He gave a firm, sharp smack to your ass, gripping on it tightly whilst using the sound to hide the low groan he released.

He didn't want to hold back any longer, but he refused to let you have your way, especially when you were already so close to come undone under his touch. Your dripping cunt was leaking onto him with every deliberate thrust, letting him glide in and out with ease.

He hunched back over you , pressing his chest down onto you as much as he could without breaking his hold on your arms. "Fucking beg-" He gave a feral groan before sliding out of you without the intention of going back in. A strangled whine escaped you, once again, jerking your hips back against him, trying to provoke him, to get him inside, get him to continue, anything. He refused to relent.

"Whimpering doesn't count, doll." He whispered against your ear. His tone is hard, unyielding. Prick.

His stubbornness was torturous for the both of you. It was a battle to see who could break their composure first and he was about to go fucking berserk. Eventually, you lost it. It wasn't until he had pulled back and dragged his tip to the entrance of your sopping cunt once more that he finally heard you gasping a loud breath as he slowly prodded against the heat.

"Please- Fuck, just- please!'' Your desperate response seemed to please him enough, the sudden build-up of pressure and heat in your body was allowed to be released as his length was quick to plunge into your body, sending the entire table to lurch backwards slightly.

The sounds coming out of your mouth were obscene, not really caring that the two of you were doing such a private thing in a place that anyone could walk into at any moment.

He was not gentle, or tender but you hadn’t expected Phillip fucking Graves to be that. His thrusts came fast and hard as he took his pleasure cause that was what he thrived in. Take and take and take, though you gave gladly, growling out praise in ragged whispers that you couldn't barely grasp.

You grabbed tightly onto his shoulders, screaming out in delight as he fucked you into you in a brutal. You felt your legs tingle and your mind go numb. All you could focus on was the warm feeling in your stomach, the bundle of nerves within you going crazy.

The hot tears continued to pour down your cheeks with each merciless thrust ripping through your body as your teeth pierced the soft skin of your lip, the taste of iron touching your taste buds whilst the wet slaps of his body against yours filled the room, accompanying the pain shooting through your core.

''Crying? Is this too much for you, baby?'' There was sarcastic, mock-disappointment in his tone, the repetitive press into you and the wonderfully satisfying stretch of his cock only deepening the catharsis of the intimacy you were sharing with him.

He grabbed your hips and started pounding you with newfound vigor. You could feel yourself clenching around him. It wouldn't be long before you peaked. You dipped a hand between your legs and started rubbing your clit, willing the moment to come faster. You closed your eyes and sighed, both in pleasure and exasperation.

''Too good- Commander-'' This time, you needed no further prompting and there wasn’t a single hint of brattiness in your tone as you submitted to his request fully, whining for him. Waves of ecstasy pulsed through your body, overwhelming you. Noises you didn't recognize poured out of your lips as your body began to spasm and convulse around him.

''That's my fucking girl.'' His last words came out in a rough growl as he pulled out of you again, before thrusting back in, so hard that you started seeing stars and shriek with pleasure.

The room was filled with your sounds, no longer able to control the moans and whimpers that left you as pounded into you, white dots clouding your vision to your orgasm overwhelming your body hard, shattering as he thrusted and swirled, setting off a wild pulsing in your clit that triggered your insides, and you came all over his cock with a scream followed by a shudder of shaky breath.

Graves kept his ever-the-rougher pace, holding you tighter and tighter, but you felt the slight stutter in his hips that suggested that he was close to his own climax. He started gasping out sentences, heavy statements that surmounted to desperation. ''You're mine, fuck- all mine-''

You could feel yourself growing light-headed in the best way as his embrace restricted your breathing to a further degree, and you gasped sharply as he said your name, the syllables transforming into a vicious growl just as he sank his teeth into your shoulder, deep enough to draw blood and deep enough to make you cry out in pain. 

Cleansing, freeing pain, the kind that purged every transgression you knew you’d enacted against him, and him against you.

He followed shortly after as he began to shake subtly, his movements sporadic and wild as he lost control of his body. You surrendered yourself to his control as he pumped aggressively into you, dictating what he needed from your body as he arrived upon completion whilst tightening the grip on your hair almost painfully as he emptied himself inside you.

The weight of his body collapsing against you felt almost comforting in that moment, gasping and absentmindedly rubbing soothing circles into your scalp where he’d just been tugging your hair by the roots.

''So..'' he started, his voice strained and weak. ''Learned your lesson yet?'' Cocky bastard.

You chuckled quietly, and you could feel him smile against your skin.

''Think I might need a few more lessons, Commander.'' Shamelessly, you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat up as he lifted his head to take another look at you.

''I might have to thank the fucking Scot after all.''

[codnasties]

POOKIE YOU MUST DO ONE WITH GRAVES I BEG 🙏🙏🙏🙏

to all the people that have been begging for graves, i got u ;)

possessive graves 🪦 (🌽 link)

graves is a possessive man, and he doesn't take it lightly when someone messes with his pretty lady. for him, the only thing worse than that is one of his own, one of his shadows, flirts with you. he just takes that as an offense of the greatest levels and he feels like he need to prove a point: to show his men who's you really are.

so he just gets all members of shadow company together, and just shows them. he sits you on his lap so that your now exposed pussy is facing all of his men, letting them get a good look at the one thing they will never get to have a taste off.

he gropes your tits after harshly pulling them out of your bra, and rubs your clit briefly and sharply slaps your cunt, making your arousal gather and start to slowly drip onto the floor. and then he starts roughly fingering you, curling his digits inside of your weeping pussy while trying to keep you from squirming and running away with a strong forearm looped around your neck.

he's not going to stop until your juices have created a puddle on the floor and they have made his pants wet, telling his men to get a good look, because it's the last time they are going to see your sweet middle because your are his.

[v1x3n]