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punkpandapatrixk · 9 months

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🥀Sad Bitch Lilith ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

We live in a world where being too kind, too sweet, too compassionate and forgiving could often lead to disastrous outcomes. This is after all a world where narcissists, sociopaths and psychopaths run free without much repercussion. A sweet girl can’t be pleasant all the time; a goddess needs to carry a machete from time to time.

What most people have yet to grasp, is that Venus and Lilith quite literally make each side of the Divine Femininity coin. Venus represents Light and Lilith represents Dark; even then, they could easily switch roles depending on the situation at hand. Only if you want—you are allowed to embody both Venus and Lilith in their respective glory.

Do you really want to become that kind of idiot who sends love and light to those who have done you much harm? You don’t have to force yourself to be the bigger person in a conflict that was created for the sole purpose of stripping you of power and autonomy. Enablers and gaslighters enforce that kind of idea so you make room for their terrible behaviour. WAKE. UP.

So many women in this world have at some point been a Sad Bitch Lilith at the hands of psychopaths, sociopaths and narcs in whatever role they play in their lives. Hopefully this reading serves to help you turn the narrative into SAVAGE LILITH. The Dark Moon Goddess who delights in revenge for she knows in it lies EDUCATION for the imbeciles who have foolishly disrespected her kind, sweet, friendly, feminine qualities. The Dark Feminine retorts,

‘RESPECT ME OR GET DESTROYED.’

Black Moon Lilith is a Goddess of Redemption. She takes into her own hands matters of delivering nightmare to those who have wronged her. She calculates in the dark. She doesn’t ask for permission. She's a wild woman. She punishes swiftly. She moves history.

She is Karma.

Karma paid in revenge glow up, BITCH🌹

SONG: I’ll Make You Cry by aespa

MOVIE: Gone Girl (2014)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – When My Tears Silently Turn to Diamonds

the way your beauty irritates people – 10 of Pentacles Rx

VIBE: I’m Unhappy by aespa

You’re somebody who’s perceived as abundant and superfluous by others. It’s super obvious from the way you look, the way you carry yourself, or even your family background. You just… exude a rich vibe—whether or not you actually come from old money. Damn, you just have it in you. It’s something you were born with. Even if you didn’t come from a rich background, or even if right now, for some reason you’re struggling with resources, no, honey, listen: it’s your fucking AURA.

People can see either you’re blessed since birth—with money, beauty, talents, whatever—or they simply can smell that you’re gonna make it big someday. Most people you’ve known in your environment, do not like this about you at all. It’s their own fault though, why in the name of fuck are they always comparing themselves to you? Did you ask for that? Never. But they’re always imagining how nice it would be in your shoes without knowing for realz your life story.

They project their insecurities at you even when you’ve never wanted to make anybody feel that way because of your presence. In many ways, I think you’ve tried so hard to make you look ordinary, or in some cases, you’ve tried to show a lot of care and generosity. You’ve tried to make everybody see that you’re just like them even if your circumstances are not exactly the same. It never worked though—maybe it’s even backfired.

Your abundance… is simply irritating to them because you’re surrounded by motherfucking losers, babe.

silencing the negative self-talk – XIX The Sun

VIBE: ASAP by NewJeans

You should be done feeling bad for being radiant. It’s not your fault other people are ugly. It’s not your responsibility that other people don’t have money. How are you at fault when a good company chooses you for the talents and skills you’ve developed which they need? Seriously, it’s none of your business if others wouldn’t work on themselves to be considered an amazing creature in society. You keep being you, honey. You and I know you’re always refining your natural talents and deepening your base knowledge. You’re truly a hustler even if others don’t see that.

When you’re not saddened or confused by others’ terrible attitude towards your blessings, your mindset is really positive like the Sun itself. Of all the Piles, I think your heart is the purest🤣You’re more generous than people give you credit for. You’re always trying to make everyone feel welcomed. If you were a party host, you’d make sure every single person has a good time in ways that suit them. You’re that attentive.

Unfortunately, your Light, indeed babe, seems to attract a lot of harmful bugs. No matter how much you give, it’ll never be enough and nothing you do will stop the gossip and badmouthing and backstabbing. Because essentially, these bottom-feeders are already bitter about their own pathetic lives. They hate you as much as they hate themselves for not having the courage to feel deserving of the abundance you’ve worked hard for.

S A V A G E – 4 of Wands

VIBE: Hurt by NewJeans

‘Leave them at the bottom of the grave they dug for you.’ – something I saw on Pinterest

Because you’re too kind, too giving, I think you’re the type of person who wouldn’t have the heart to leave people behind where they are miserable. Umm… you need to grow up a little bit more and finally see for yourself how pointless that is. You’re just one person, what makes you think you could save everybody? I hope you don’t yourself turn into a megalomania who thinks others wouldn’t survive without your charity.

Leave that toxic environment and you will regenerate yourself. As you do so, you become a vibrational match to some kind of a Soul Tribe situation where you’ll be met with people who aren’t the least bit parasitic. You’ve got to believe you’re deserving of a symbiosis mutualistic kind of relationships and friendships for them to manifest, OK?

As for the anklebiters? Hurt them with your leaving them. Hurt them with your totally ignoring and blocking them. I’m not saying you have to throw a brick at them for all the disrespect they’ve dealt on you. I’m sure your change of attitude will hurt the living shit out of them. And one day, when you’re famous and important, they’ll see you, alright. They’ll see you for all that you’ve always been capable of doing and they’ll regret they didn’t treat you better. And they’ll wallow in immense pain for not having access to you anymore. Nevermore. Leave them hurting in their shame and regrets. That’ll kill them😈

SWEET MOTHER OF REVENGE 🔻💙

VILLAIN ORIGIN STORY – Gold Physician (Herodotus)

Reclaiming Lilith – Priestess of Prosperity

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – You See This Glow-Up? NOW You Jelly

the way your beauty irritates people – Knight of Wands Rx

VIBE: 28 Reasons by Seulgi

First and foremost, you’re a damn rare beauty. I don’t care if you don’t think that highly of your physical appearance; bitch, you’re goddamn attractive. Take it or leave it. Your problem is that you act like you’re ordinary and that irritates the living shit out of your enemies because they think you’re fake. ‘How dare you act ordinary when you’re obviously that pretty. Are you mocking us??’ Yeah… Why the fuck are you surrounded by ordinary beauties? Have you got Venus squaring Pluto? Huehue~

Anyway, in any situation you’re an eye candy and everybody can see that. Maybe you’re dense enough to not see how others see you, but all these friends of yours, they’re hyper aware of how all eyes are on you the moment you slightly move. You stir the air in a way no other human does. It’s because there’s passion and authenticity in you that make you vibrate on a much higher level than most people. Really, you’re a rare gem but this could get you in danger a lot.

You’re the type of beauty that invites enemies actually because of your friendly disposition. Like, there’s this annoying gap that irritates people in ways even they don’t really understand. The gap between your intense beauty/attraction and your general politeness. You’re soft spoken, cheerful and helpful. For the most part, you’re a ball of joy and if you’re a girl, boys like you A LOT. You’re fun. You’re cool. You’re smart and creative. A lot funnier than people assume. You’re the IT GIRL. But the envious ones call you a pick-me LMAO

Envious girls put a lot of effort into brandishing you as a trashy character but by doing that, even the boys could see who’s the real G here. And well, wouldn’t that annoy their trashy asses further?🤷🏻‍♀️They’re literally ruining their own image by trying to ruin you🤡

silencing the negative self-talk – 8 of Wands Rx

VIBE: Forgive Me by BoA

Now that that’s out of the way, let’s have a heart-to-heart. Honey, you’ve got to stop pretending like you’re a sweet Venus all the time. You’re not. You and I know that. Deep down, there’s an evil bitch in you that wants to play with fire. I think you’ve tried to curb your Lilith practically your entire Life. Perhaps on a subconscious level you know this of you and you want to avert your eyes from looking at your Lilith. That’s how you seem fake sometimes.

Highly intuitive people can smell the Devil in you, but you act like you’re an angel all the time. And that’s annoying because your Lilith is literally a men-magnet and this often takes away attention from other girls but you act all innocent💩I’m not saying it’s your fault—I sense that for the most part, you don’t even consciously want this intense attention; I’m saying there’s this mechanism about how you’re perceived by your environment.

Aaand why do you think that is? Of course, because subconsciously, you want all of this attention. You always want to be wanted and liked and desired. You crave that shit so bad because when you were tinier you felt unseen. Un-understood. Unappreciated. Now, doesn’t matter who or how, you just want everybody to see you and want you, but you’re not gonna give them back any of that attention. You want to be unattainable. Actually, you are unattainable. You don’t easily let people get close to you. You don’t want people in your personal space. You just want the a t t e n t i o n.

S A V A G E – 5 of Wands Rx

VIBE: Savage by aespa

You know, this is all just a lil game to you. Deep down, you’re fighting this urge to snatch everybody’s boyfriends and husbands. Sometimes you get frightened by your evil desires because if you were unhinged, you’d want all these married people to want you more than they want their spouses. It’s not even that serious. You just want to come on top of everybody. You’re secretly envious of these little bitches who are—probably—loved by their spouses. And even when you can see there’s no Love in that connection, you’re still jealous that someone wants to commit themselves to these undeserving mediocre asses.

You feel all alone in this world. People are only nice to you because of your looks or whatever else that’s not even that important. And people are also nasty to you because of your looks and everything else that’s not even that important. It’s been one insanely difficult Life for you. You’re sad. You feel abandoned and unwanted in spite of all the shallow praises. And there’s this quiet rage inside that wants to punish everyone for not caring about the REAL you.

Bitch, grow up a little bit and you’ll see that low-quality people get married to their fellow mediocre asses. You don’t play in the same dimension as them so don’t lower your standards🤭One day you’ll see who’s gonna end up divorced and miserable because they all married the wrong people! Nah, that’s not even the important part LMAO The important part is when you’re the one marrying a Soul Mate after all of your spiritual and psychological glow-up that made you a vibrational match to so much REAL LOVE and you’re surrounded by all this money and beauty.

You never needed their kind of a glow-up; you were born perfection. You needed a different kind of confidence to SLAY and be very happy.

SWEET MOTHER OF REVENGE 🔻❤️

VILLAIN ORIGIN STORY – Red Magus (Edward Kelly)

Reclaiming Lilith – Priestess of Happiness

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – You Thought I’d Give It All to You

the way your beauty irritates people – 2 of Cups

VIBE: The Weekend by BIBI

You’re this absolutely weird mix of devil and angel in one body. You attract ALL kinds of people. Young, old. Men, women. Animals and toddlers are either terrified by you or LOVE you to oblivion. People always want something from you, right? They either simp for you or act like you owe them something—usually when their simping doesn’t pay off LMAO That’s really weird… Your entire existence is weird. I like that😉

You’re definitely giving, charitable, although in reality you’re really selective with whom you allow in your personal space. ‘Just because I’m friendly with you doesn’t mean I wanna be friends with you,’ kind of vibe. Nevertheless, people are silly, and they cultivate this weird intense desire within them. They build all these unnatural expectations around you having to give or share with them.

In their sick minds, they demand this. When you don’t humour them their sick demands, they get ULTRA bitter, probably even resentful. And then they seek to destroy you. Weird. Weird. Weird. You never even intended to lead them on. People are crazy when you’re around. The worst part is, they never even had your best interest at heart. They just wanted something from you—energy, attention, favouritism, gentle caress, who the hell cares.

How much Neptunian/Pisces/12th House energy do you have for you to be this way?😷HAHAH

silencing the negative self-talk – Page of Pentacles

VIBE: KAZINO by BIBI

Unlike the other Piles, you don’t seem to have a lot of neg self-talk. You’re sassy, bitchy, and you embrace your negative qualities because you see the value in them. Society ain’t perfect either anyway, what’s so wrong in being me the way that I am? You go, girlie~ You’re a total believer in revenge and vengeance. You ARE the definition of Lilith incarnate. Were you born with it? Did you develop yourself to be this way? Who the fuck knows—that’s your very own secret ingredient~

You’d rather let the mortals hurt and rot in their own stupidity than let yourself be the one to hurt. Unless you’re defending those you care about, you’re never sustaining hurt. You hurl lemons at all your enemies before they could get closer. Any step closer, you squirt that lemon in their eyes. Their fault. You warned them already! ‘Hey, I’m nice but I ain’t no saint,’ is your philosophy.

And when you’re really, really, really done with someone’s bullshit, you ain’t afraid to spill some blood. You’re gonna be smart about it though. You plan quietly and attack unexpectedly with a demonic angel smile on your face. ‘Send a message to your god; you’ve messed with the wrong bitch, BITCH.’

You are a menace to society👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

S A V A G E – XII The Hanged Man Rx

VIBE: Vengeance by BIBI

See, you are one sneaky bitch. Though you are a fucking menace to society, you know how to act righteous. You also know how to act like the victim should the occasion arise—but this is rare because you like to appear on top of everyone. Still, you’re quite masterful at creating sad or horrendous backstories that would justify your wreaking havoc upon your enemies, or even just society at large. Your sense of morality is kinda shrewd LMAO And I think that’s because you’ve been at the mercy of someone else’s shrewd behaviour before, probably when you were a lot younger.

That made you realise you never wanted to be the victim anymore. If anything, you’ll terrorise everyone so you maintain your own safety. WHEW. You’ve got your trust broken in authority. Their rules didn’t protect you or even hurt you. So, you believe new rules should be made in their place. You make your own rules and you don’t care if that hurts some people. You have this dicktionary explaining what kinds of dickhead are worth sacrificing to your new-world agenda.

🤣🤣🤣You’re CRAZY!

I believe in you. I think you could change the world. But I think you’re largely only interested in your own world. The whole world? That’s too much trouble. You aren’t keen on destroying your small queendom/kingdom in exchange for world domination—you smart like that. Keep at that. WHOA.

SWEET MOTHER OF REVENGE 🔻🧡

VILLAIN ORIGIN STORY – Green Magus (John Dee)

Reclaiming Lilith – Priestess of Divination

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

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luveline · 10 months

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More zombie au! Steve!!! Please! It’s literally so good I love how you write Steve all protective <3

thank you ♡ steve zombie au —steve gets sick. you meet a dark-haired stranger while looking for meds. fem!reader 2k

You compare your arm to the bottle in your hand. You've written a list of generic and brand name antibiotics in biro on your forearm, but they're smudging from nervous sweat. You're getting desperate.

Nothing seems to match. You're shaking with aching arms and legs, fucking terrified as you sift through a floor of orange and white pill bottles that nothing is going to match your list, and worse, the pharmacy grows darker by the hour. You don't have a torch.

Things are getting pretty bad at camp. There's not enough food to go around, no batteries, and now Steve's…

A bottle slips out of your hand and knocks into another. You cringe and pick up the next. You've been searching for hours without sitting down, as hiding underneath the bottles is a carpeting of grainy glass from the smashed shelves. Three of your fingertips have cut and scabbed since you got here.

"Fuck," you whisper, glaring at another wrong medication. "Fuck, fuck."

Amoxicillin, ciprofloxacin, flucloxacillin. Anything to stop Steve's infection from getting into his blood. It's a gross wound, oozy and inflamed, and when you'd left him with Robin dutiful at his side his skin had glowed with heat like glass held in the centre of a furnace. Even with his eyes closed, he'd known what you were about to do.

"Don't fucking leave," he'd grit out, fingers twitching up for your hand.

You'd leaned forward and kissed his damp forehead. "I have to go. I love you. I'll be right back."

That was ten hours ago at least. You have no idea what condition Steve might be in, so sure you'd find the pills and be back in arm's reach by noon. How sick can he get before it's too much?

"Shit," you whisper, your fingers tingling.

"What are you looking for?"

You fall backward with a sharp gasp, pill bottles biting into your thighs. Your face swings around but the source of the voice is unclear, empty shelves and aisles either side of you.

"Chill out–"

"Where the fuck are you?" you demand, scrambling onto your feet with the use of one sacrificed palm. Glass like needles serrates your skin. "Fuck! Come out, loser!"

"Hey, no need to be mean. I'm up in the ceiling."

You look up. Peeking out from a displaced ceiling tile is a pale face silhouetted by a matt of dark hair.

"You fucking little freak," you say, though you feel bad immediately. He's smiling and he isn't pointing any weapons at you, which is more than most strangers allow on the road. "Why are you up there?"

"I wanted to see if you had a gun, stupid."

"You're stupid, stupid. What if it was in my bag?"

"Point it at me, then!"

You stare at him in silence.

"That's what I thought," he says, framing a face in two hands like a baby angel on a gift card. "Can I come down or are you gonna keep bitchin'?"

"Don't fucking come down here."

"Or what?" he asks.

"I'll get my gun out."

"Mm, okay," he mocks. "I'll come help you find whatever it is that has your panties in a twist."

"I swear to god–"

"Listen. I'm a good guy, I swear."

"That's what bad guys say."

The stranger laughs a weird giggly laugh and climbs backwards. The ceiling tiles stress visibly under his weight but make no noise as he disappears from view. He swears a couple of times on the way down, unseen, before the stockroom door swings open and he appears in his intimidating glory in the doorway.

"If you kill me," you say, eyeing his spiked wristbands and the machete strapped to his waist with horrified apprehension, "my boyfriend will avenge me. Like, hunt you to the ends of the earth and slice you into little tiny pieces of vengeance."

"That sounds like my kind of party, but your boyfriend has nothing to worry about. I got a girl."

"Don't say rock and roll."

"How the fuck would you guess that?" he asks, hand flying to the back of his neck for a bashful scratch.

"My life feels like a shitty gimmicky horror movie, and you look the part." You bite the inside of your cheek. "I need antibiotics."

"You and everybody else in the world. This for your vengeful boyfriend?"

You don't need him knowing who they're for. He could be an evil guy, and the threat of Steve waiting for you might be your trump card. "No. My vengeful boyfriend left to look for cans in the shelter."

"He'll be back soon, then."

You take a step back. "I'll gouge your eyes out if you try anything, I'm serious. I don't care how big your knife is–"

"I'm Eddie." Eddie smiles at you, shoving his hands into cargo pockets. Despite his weird questions and his choice of apparel, he looks less intimidating in the lingering light of the setting sun as it seeps between window shutters. "I don't want to hurt you." He frowns. "Any kind of hurt."

"Can I have the machete?"

"Nope. I can go put it down somewhere, though, if that's less scary."

You shake your head, and with a great big sigh, lean down to sift through bottles. If he's going to hurt you, he might as well get on with it. The longer you spend talking to him, the sicker your Steve becomes.

"You need antibiotics bad?" Eddie asks, his voice softening.

"My best friend is sick." You toss a bottle, pick up another. "Infection probably getting into his blood. If I don't find something tonight, he's gonna die."

"Well, we can't have that," Eddie says, crouching down to help.

You sweep through bottle after bottle of things you wish you needed. Painkillers, sleeping pills, laxatives. Good shit, and nothing you need.

"You know…" Eddie sighs. "I know you could lie to me, but is it just you, boyfriend and the dying bestie, or?"

You're not sure what the right answer is. Better for him to think you have an army waiting if you get lost, or better to hide them? He could belong to a cult of cannibals. Only… his clothes are squeaky clean. His curls shine with a gloss that comes solely with conditioner, which means he has the time and security to really wash things.

But murders can wash their clothes, right?

"There's a couple of us," you say.

"You're not from that place west, are you?"

You put a pill bottle down slowly. "West?"

"Yeah, there were people there, hundreds of 'em. We got a few stragglers, survivors from the fucking massacre that happened a few weeks ago. One girl said there must've been thirty, forty kids there, it's fucking awful."

You swallow a lump. "Awful," you agree.

"Hopper says we can track down the people who did it if we just follow the blood trail," Eddie says, slipping into a theatrical bravado that won't stick. "I don't know… someone needs to stop them."

You choke, "Hopper? Chief Hopper?"

"Wait, you're from Hawkins?" Eddie asks.

You give each other boggled looks, a thrumming hope building in your chest like a flickering flame in the dead of winter.

"I think you better come back with me," Eddie says.

"I need antibiotics," you say, wanting to explain it to him and now knowing how. Or even if you should. Awesome, Hopper's alive, but that doesn't mean Eddie's group are good people, or that they can help you. There's nothing anyone in the world can do for you right now if they don't have a handful of Augmentin.

"You're from The College."

"I don't have time for this," you say, half apology and half frustration. "Yeah, we were from The College, and now it's gone, and my boyfriend's gonna die if you don't help me find the right pills." You wince and snatch up another stupid bottle.

"I can get you antibiotics," Eddie says, "but you're gonna have to trust me. Can you do that?"

"No."

—

Steve wakes up two days later in an unfamiliar building.

His eyes are made of sand, he can hardly breathe it's that cold, each breath as sharp as a needle as he sucks it in, but there's a roof over his head, a blanket over his chest, and your voice, your laugh rings like a song in the air.

"He didn't do that, you're lying," you say with a laugh, pulling Steve's hand to your chest.

"He did." Steve stiffens at the voice. Deeper, rougher than yours. "I swear on my life, he jumped right into Lover's Lake and swam backstroke to prove he could beat Louisa Park's best."

"Did he beat her time?"

"No, but he had a condom stuck to his ankle when he got out. Wasn't worth it."

"Steve," you say. Steve thinks you've noticed he's waking up, but you hug his hand with a sympathetic sigh. "That's so embarrassing. You better wake up soon, I have making fun of you to do."

"I think I'll stay asleep," he says hoarsely.

You gasp and choke his fingers between yours. "Steve?" You climb up onto the bed, your weight dipping the mattress under his back. Your hand comes careful and warm against his chilled cheek. "You're awake. You're awake?"

He strains to unglue his top lashes from his bottom lashes. You beam at him, the little scars around your mouth from a cruel hand shining in the white morning light.

"What time is it?" he asks.

"It's, like, seven in the morning."

"I've been asleep that long?"

"You've been unconscious for nearly two days," you correct.

Steve can't remember anything. He has the barest memory of your lips on his forehead. Robin splashing cold water on him and calling him an asshole, and then, much quieter, her best friend.

"Where's Robin?" he asks.

"She's being Robin somewhere, you know, she loves being helpful. The kids need help getting settled."

"And you're being lazy," Steve pokes.

He lifts his chin so your kiss lands exactly where he wants it, the stubbly space below his jaw. You wrap your arms around him and hug him severely, squeezing his tender ribs.

"I wasn't lazy, I had to go save you by myself."

"Save everybody," the familiar but impossible voice adds. Steve doesn't want to believe it. He refuses to. "Like, an entire generation."

"I didn't do anything," you say, kissing Steve again, a short path to his chapped lips. "Honey," —your voice lowers, your confession for Steve's ears alone— "I'm so happy you're okay. I was really, really scared."

Steve feels the weight of your fear like a dumbell on his chest, but he's uber confused. Propping his chin over your shoulder and hugging you back, the evil wound on his arm that caused this whole mess throbbing like fire under his bandage, Steve sets his eyes on the boy sitting on the chair next to yours.

"Hey, Harrington," Eddie says warmly, eyes dripping with a put upon affection. "Miss me?"

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Steve asks.

"Saving the day, obviously."

"I can't believe I found one of your friends," you say, sitting up a little to smile at him. You really are gorgeous in his eyes, better than any movie star. Your beatific little grin stirs something, but Eddie's snort stomps it dead.

"We're not friends," Steve says.

You stroke Steve's face with the back of your hand. "Don't be like that. He's really nice…" Your smile melds itself to a concerned frown. "I thought you were kicking it, Stevie. How's your arm feeling? Does it hurt a lot?"

"It's fine," he says dismissively, wrapping his stronger arm around your waist. He's not jealous or anything, it's just cold in here, honest. "Munson, where the fuck did you come from?"

"Right here, Stevie."

"We're not far from the camp," you explain, stroking his face once again. "Or, we weren't when it was there. We're merging with this one to make a mega camp."

"Why would we do that? We don't know that we can trust these people."

"No, but we can trust Hopper." You smile. Steve knows things are gonna be okay, as long as you can smile like that. He leans his cheek into your hand, loved and relieved and–

"Hopper?" Steve asks.

"Jesus, Harrington," Eddie says, rolling his shoulders. "Keep up. If you can't comprehend the easy stuff, you're not gonna believe what we haven't told you."

"What haven't you told me?" Steve asks.

You push his shoulders down into the pillows. "I think you better lay down first."

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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canisalbus · 5 months

Note

Is Lauri, if I read that correctly, Vasco's sister? I think she's been mentioned before in the Modern AU Tag Lore (i think it was something like maybe Vasco's sister marries someone Finnish, hence Machete having cute Finnish socks), and I'm curious about her! Is she as bright and sweet as Vasco?

I love your work and characters so greatly, btw <3

Lauri is the Finnish husband actually! The twin sisters are named Benedetta and Giovanna.

Benedetta, the older sister, is a professional orchestral musician. She plays cello, and her husband Lauri (a west siberian laika cross from eastern Finland) plays trombone, they met at a classical music festival. She's creative, sensible, rational and shy, but may seem a bit conceited and pretentious. She and Lauri live somewhere in the southern coast of Finland with their three children.

I haven't decided what Giovanna does for a living. I think she might do or used to do dressage. She's independent, highly competitive, resourceful and very reliable, but her brutal honestly can come across as hurtful and catty. She's a lone wolf compared to her siblings and has never expressed an interest for starting a family. She travels a lot.

The twins of course share a close bond with each other and as a result Vasco was often left as a third wheel or excluded completely when they were younger. They used to pick on him a bit, in a typical older sibling way. Nowadays Benedetta lives abroad and Giovanna is busy with her own pursuits, so Vasco doesn't see them very often, but they get along fine.

Lauri is calm, friendly and down to earth. He doesn't speak Italian and the rest (apart from Benedetta who is making good progress) don't speak Finnish so they mostly communicate in English. He's easy to like, Vasco in particular enjoys having a brother-in-law, after growing up with girls.

Machete is having trouble finding a common wavelength with Giovanna. He doesn't get her sense of humor and finds her needlessly rude, and she seems to enjoy pushing his buttons. But he immediately took a liking to Benedetta, their personalities and interests overlap a lot (that's how he ended up with those socks).

#answered #majima420 #Vaschete lore #modern au #Vasco

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 2 years

Text

Princess

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Smut (18+), spanking, fingering, PinV, choking, brat taming, slight bit of name calling (slightly dubious to have sex with someone after rescuing them from a kidnapping but we'll ignore that)

Summary: Reader is the daughter of a prolific genral who's been kidnapped while she was trying to party it up with her friends. Ghost and Soap are recruited to rescue her, and soon find out that reader's attitude might be more of a challenge than the gang they're trying to rescue her from.

(No use of y/n)

A/N: I can't get Ghost out of my head and tbh I kinda feel like he'd be so good at dealing with your bratty nonsense if he had to.

- 👑-

You were sure you were going to die.

Not because your family didn’t have the money, not because there weren’t enough resources to save you, or even because of your own natural pessimistic tendencies. No. You were sure you were going to die because your father had made it abundantly clear long ago that you didn’t matter to him.

You weren’t a man. You couldn't carry his title on and you’d grown up learning that that was mostly all he cared for. His legacy. It was one of the few things that cold man spoke of fondly, always lighting up at the mention of your brothers but never you. And as a result you’d grown up living for even the smallest chance at spiting him for it. You partied and drank and slept around with boys that made even your friends curl their lips at you sometimes.

So, you were pretty sure that once your kidnappers realised that, that could only mean one thing. One of those big guns they were carrying was going to end up pointed right in your face then…bang.

It was enough to leave you disoriented, you weren't taking in much. Not that there was much to take note of. Your eyes were shoddily covered over with a scrap of harsh, scratchy cloth and you could only see little slivers of things here and there. Your hands were duct taped to the arms of an office chair and your mouth was similarly covered so as to prevent anymore screams and curses.

You watched sets of boots as they echoed around the frigid room, and saw gun barrels and machetes, men roving across a scuffed up concrete floor. You didn’t catch anything that made you want to see more. Especially when you heard the taunts they slung at you in their thick accents.

“Don’t worry precious, I’m sure a spoiled little rich girl like you will get a good ransom, you’ll be home soon.”

“Bet you’re used to guys with big guns like this, daddy’s men must love you.”

“She’s a cute little thing, we should have some fun with her before we send her back.”

“I’ve heard she likes to have lots of fun, bet we’d slip right into her, fucking american girls.”

If the blindfold came off then that would only mean one thing. They were going to make good on the salacious threats they were now casually slinging your way. The fantasies they were now trading back and forth as they returned to speaking their own language. That was a small mercy at least. Not having to hear about how the last few moments of your life would go.

You could feel your body shaking like an addict in withdrawal and your poor heart was leaping around in your chest like a caught frog. It didn’t help that you were riling yourself up either, imagining what the newspapers would say. Flashing up in your mind like something out of an old batman episode with a blaring brass section accompanying them.

Daughter of a notable general killed in shock kidnapping

Holiday in Cancun turned nightmare as General’s daughter taken in the night

You couldn't even be sure if you were still in Mexico. For all you knew you were in all those other countries that you’d been too busy crafting a reputation to learn about in school. What were they again? Guatemala, Cuba? You were sure those were somewhere close by. Funny the things the mind distracts itself with when you’re stuck tightly in a chair surrounded by leering wolves.

If only you hadn’t been drawn in by that tattooed man with the big arms. If only you’d been a good girl and enjoyed your holiday and stuck close to your friends instead of going out on the hunt for attention from bad men covered in tattoos and cologne that smelt like bad decisions. You could practically hear your father’s growly voice echoing through your mind.

Stupid little girl.

He’d been saying that for as long as you had memories of him. He’d be satisfied now, you lamented. You’d proved him right in the end, he’d always said your lifestyle would catch up with you and you’d be wishing that you’d just behaved for once sooner or later.

At the very least, you figured, you wouldn’t have to hear him say I told you so.

- 👑-

You weren't sure how much time had passed. It could’ve been a few minutes, or it could’ve been hours, but as your breathing grew more ragged behind the tape you knew you were experiencing the last few precious moments you had left.

The men were sounding more and more pissed off as they rattled off curses to each other, filling the room with sharp hisses. They weren’t getting the results they wanted. They’d even removed the tape at some point and had you screaming out for a video, but apparently that wasn’t getting them anywhere either. They got tired with your cries and slapped an even thicker strip back in place.

You were starting to cry, feeling the stiff cloth go damp against your skin and irritating it further. It was so thick and itchy over your eyes, you wanted nothing more than to pull it off. You needed to see, needed to breathe. You were panicking. You needed out, you needed air, you needed to feel safe again.

What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?

You were chanting it in your mind, it rang through your head like a death toll. It seemed like those would be your last thoughts. You’d die panicking and snotty and covered in dried salty tears that mixed into a sludge with your thick mascara.

What the fuck? What the fuck? What the-

Thiew.

Crack.

Thud.

Every muscle in your body froze as you heard an alien sound zip through the room. Then suddenly everything erupted.

The men’s shouts turned into screams and barked orders and suddenly you were being wheeled around in your chair in the dark like a shopping cart. You were whizzed past men that were running and crouching into your limited vision, aiming their guns and returning fire as more bullets wailed into the room. And finally you found yourself slamming into a corner somewhere, banging your knees against a rough drywall.

You screamed behind your gag and listened out as more men hit the ground and the guns grew into a cacophony of bangs. Death’s orchestra played for a solid few minutes, ringing in your ears and distorting the sound of your thrumming heartbeat as it crawled up through your throat and into your head.

You were sure you were going to die.

The battle raged on for a few moments more until suddenly the men’s shouts silenced and the bullets grew sparse. All you could hear was the echoes of gunfire and shrill ringing from your unprotected ears.

What was that?

You swore you could hear voices coming toward you.

“It’s alright, lass.”

You jumped as you felt someone touch your shoulder and cursed behind the tape in your mouth as the unidentified man tried to soothe you. It wasn’t until he pulled your blindfold down and you were greeted with his bruised face and ruffled mohawk that you calmed down, focusing your gaze on his icy pale eyes. He wasn’t one of the men who took you.

“I’m gonna take this tape off, ye good wi’ that?”

You frowned at the man, unsure if he was speaking english. You weren’t used to that accent, what was that accent? Scottish? Irish?

You only had a few seconds to look up at him blankly before he gave up on getting a response and ripped the tape from your mouth, drawing out a scream with it.

“You motherfucker!” you shrieked, feeling a layer of skin peel from your face.

“Easy! It’s ok! What's the sayin’ agian? Best to rip it off like a band-aid, yeah?” he chuckled.

“Not when it’s fucking duct tape over my face, you- you stupid- oh, oh no, my god, oh my god look out!”

You screamed as you caught a giant man emerging through the shadows and through the doorway into the dingy room you’d been wheeled into. A skull mask obscured his face and a massive gun was braced in his hands, he looked as if he could take on an entire army by himself. He was fuck off sized and ready to kill.

Your rescuer whipped around and raised his gun at your shout, body bracing and ready to defend you. Though, as he faced the hulking behemoth behind him he relaxed and lowered his gun again, cursing you through gritted teeth. Though, he turned back around to you with a smirk.

“He might be a scary lookin’ bastard, but that ones on our side,” he explained, slinging his gun behind him and getting to work on the tape on your wrists. “Sit tight and I’ll get you out of this in a sec, ok?”

“Is she hurt?” the masked man asked, flicking his dark gaze over your slumped body.

“Nah, doesn’t look like it,” the first man replied.

“She is scarred for life actually,” you huffed out, clutching your one freed arm to your chest. “What the fuck happened? Who the fuck are you two?”

“Settle down, princess. For now we need to get you out of here and back to your father, quickly and quietly, yeah?”

His accent was different from the other man’s, though to you it was just as difficult to make out through that thick gravely timbre. That one was definitely english, you thought, it sounded like ones from TV shows you’d watched when you were younger. It made you wonder what the hell the two brits were doing rescuing you when your dad was an American general.

Did he find them on Craigslist or something?

Typical of him to find a couple of brutish thugs to come fetch you rather than calling on one of the teams that he worked with, you thought sourly.

Though, as both your arms were free and you stepped onto wobbly feet you grew to appreciate his choice in rescuers more as they both towered above you. Even if they weren’t American they clearly knew their way around a fight.

“We’re gonna need you to follow us and do exactly as we say, ok? There’s still a few men lurkin’ about and if you want to get back to your family in one piece, we’ll need to avoid them,” the first man said, putting his hand on your tensed shoulder.

“You haven’t even gotten them all?” you hissed, escaping from his hold and backing against the cracking wall behind you.

The room was unfinished, crumbling from bullet holes and exposure to bad weather from the open windows. It looked like something straight out of a movie set, Soderbergh eat your heart out.

“We’ve gotten most of them,” the Scottish/Irish man shrugged, reaching around to secure his gun in his arms once again. “Some probably ran off durin’ the fight, but we can’t assume they aren’t hiding somewhere waitin’ for us.”

“Just be a good girl and do as you’re told, ok princess?” the other man growled, turning away from you and walking back out of the room.

Your mouth dropped open and just as you were about to fire off another retort, it died in your mouth when you heard a shot ring out from the hallway.

“All good, LT?” the first man called out, ushering you behind him.

“Solid, Soap,” the other man replied.

Soap?

That’s just great, you thought, you were stuck with a man named soap and his big ape of a friend wearing a spirit halloween special across his face. You could practically feel your chances of survival drop through the ground and into hell. You could feel the hot flames licking at your feet already, biting at your toes. Or perhaps that was the fact you’d been stuck in heels for an inappropriate length of time. Who knew?

“Alright, lets get movin’. Remember to stay close and stay quiet. We don’t know where these guys are hiding,” Soap reminded you. “Stick to my back and we won't let anythin’ happen to you, alright?”

You were out of sass for the time being. You could only nod your reply as you followed his orders, too afraid of him leaving you behind as he started advancing out of the room.

You might have felt annoyed at the fact they were treating you like a stupid little girl, but you were too wrapped up in the adrenaline of the situation to object anymore. You’d heard the gunfire, could still hear the echoes of it pelting through your ears. You knew you couldn't afford not to listen to the two incredibly patronising soldiers before you.

“Try to keep your eyes up, lass,” Soap whispered, gazing back at you briefly before heading through the doorway.

“Why do I have t- oh fuck!”

You could’ve thrown up as your eyes connected with the bloody corpses that littered the hallway like flies on a roll of catcher paper. There were so many of them. You could feel the bile fighting its way up your gullet as you stopped against the wall and closed your hazy eyes. Bodies. Actual dead bodies.

You’d never seen one before. Yet here you were surrounded by them, queen bee of a dead hive. It was too much. Staying up felt like fighting gravity and you were reduced to a pile on the floor in no time, huddled on a relatively blood free patch and stuck still against the rough chalky grey wall to your side.

“Ghost, we’ve got a problem,” Soap muttered, staring down at you with a worried look.

There were a few seconds of blessed silence where you closed your eyes and everything was ok for a second. You weren’t in a shithole crack den building in god knows where and instead you were back at the hotel, getting ready to go to bed with your girlfriends. Yes. You were going to put on pyjamas and take some painkillers and peace the fuck out till noon the day after.

“Fuckin hell.”

The growl brought you out of your daydream and soon you were looking up at the cold crocodilian eyes of the now named Ghost. Had he expected you to do better in the hallway of a thousand corpses?

“Alright, princess, up you get.”

You whimpered and expected him to offer you his hand to get you to your feet again, but you were taken by surprise when he leaned over you and enveloped you in his huge arms. You weren’t sure what the hell he was doing at first, but all became clear as you were hoisted over his shoulder and sprawling down his back like a chef’s tea towel.

“What the hell, dude! Put me down,” you growled out, thumping your fists against his thick layer of tactical gear.

“Quiet down, sweetheart. It’s not like you’re much use in those heels anyway,” he growled out, tugging on one of your silvery strappy shoes for emphasis.

“You can’t just pick me up like a sack of fucking potatoes!” you protested, continuing to feebly fail to fight your way out of his grasp.

“Apparently I fuckin’ can,” he chuckled, rumbling in that horrible patronising voice of his. “Now…Settle. Down.”

And with that he started moving again, taking you past the tour of bodies that you’d folded at moments before, stepping through them like you might do through a botanical garden. The men were poked full of bullet holes and some even had knives jutting out of their skulls, but it didn’t seem to phase your rescuers. They were in their element. You were decidedly not.

You felt like you were going to be sick and wondered briefly what the terrifying man would say if you were to throw up on him. Would he drop you as revenge? You quivered in his arms as he moved through the halls, following his partner faithfully in the shadows, only seeing by the light of the moon in some sections of the house.

Not soon enough, after being thoroughly traumatised for two lifetimes, you emerged out of the house you were in. Only hearing two more men be taken out before you were free to breathe fresh air again. You cleared out the disgusting smell of coppery blood and gulped in huge breathfuls of clear night air.

Air. Moonlight. Stars. You were in a barren front garden in the middle of nowhere. You could see out for miles toward that inky black sky on the horizon.

It wasn’t like something out of a nightmare anymore, this was real. And it was a new kind of scary. It was night and it was cold and your shivering renewed again as the giant placed you back down on your feet and let you stand on your own.

Why was it so fucking cold?

“You see anyone else?” Ghost asked his partner, sticking faithfully by your side.

“Negative. Think we’re good to move out, LT,” Soap said, giving his surroundings one last careful scan.

“Thank fuckin’ god. Might even get back to the safehouse before mornin’ at this rate.”

Safehouse?

What?

“Um, what do you mean safehouse?” you prodded, feeling the cold start sinking into your clattering teeth.

“It’s a house that’s safe,” ghost ‘helpfully’ provided.

“I fucking know that,” you said through gritted teeth, “what I mean is, why the fuck are we going to a safehouse? I need to go home. I need to get to an airport or something or like- like you should be calling me a helicopter or something! Why would we go to some safehouse and stay here any longer?”

“Your dad ordered us to take you there once we had you secured,” Soap said, staring over at you with a calculating gaze. “Now are you going to come get in the car yourself or does Ghost need to pick you up again?”

Fuck you.

You didn’t give either of them the satisfaction of answering.

- 👑-

“He’s doing this to punish me isn’t he? It’s fucking typical you know! Only he would pull this shit, only my dad would find out I got kidnapped and send in two fucking random Englishmen and not even want to get me home-“

“Whoa! Watch it!” Soap shouted, interrupting you mid rant. “You can call me a lot of things, but don’t fuckin’ call me English, sweetheart.”

“English, Scottish, Irish- whatever the fuck you are! Point is he should be here! He shouldn’t be letting me stew in some random safe house with you two…two- two strangers,” you whined, throwing your arms up in the air. “For all he knows you could both be serial rapists!”

“We’re two strangers that just saved your life, princess,” Ghost grumbled from the front seat. “And if your dad is punishing you, then I think I’m beginning to see why.”

Your mouth dropped like a lead weight and you stared daggers into the mirror, catching Ghost’s cold eyes in the reflection. He was still wearing the mask.

You were driving on country road that stretched almost limitlessly into the horizon but for some reason he was still in disguise. Not that you cared to see his face! No, if anything, you hoped you’d be out of their company much sooner rather than later for him to reveal himself. Though, that wasn’t going to happen it seemed, so you resolved to make that everyone’s problem. Share the burden of being abandoned to Mexico.

“In case you haven’t realised; I’m not exactly accustomed to dead bodies and I’ve just come from the midnight showing of night of the living fucking dead here! I should be getting wheeled into a therapists office right now, not getting bundled up into another strange house, spending the night with Micheal Myers and groundskeeper fucking Willie,” you growled out, penetrating your gaze into Ghosts very soul, hoping he’d feel a shred of pity for you.

However, you weren’t doing a very good job of that. Instead of knocking sense into the big brute you only made him narrow his eyes at you. And to add even further insult, Soap choked back a laugh. Though, he composed himself quickly after casting a glance at the leuitenant and focused his eyes back on the road.

“You’ve got a funny way of sayin’ thank you, princess.”

And that was the last thing he said to you before ignoring you completely. No matter how much you moaned and groused and demanded to be taken back home, neither of the men would answer your cries. Typical men!

They left you to marinade in your own self pity - in a dish that was endlessly deep. Afterall, how could your father not appreciate how stressful your ordeal was? Sure, you both had your differences, but you’d have thought that even he would put his malice for you aside on account of an actual real life kidnapping!

After a few more miles of barren road you found yourselves coming to a small village, and started to slowly roll toward a modest concrete house on the outskirts.

It was two floors high and painted a sandy cream colour, with a small sheltered space to park the car and protect it from the elements. It seemed as if it might just fit you and Soap through its tiny door, the ceilings didn’t look that high. And it was the thought of Ghost being stuck in its old wooden frame that made you finally crack a small smile for the first time since you’d been taken.

“Any complaints about the exterior before we step in, sweetheart, or would you like to save your scathing words for when you’re inside?” Soap teased as he opened the car door for you.

“Very funny,” you huffed, smile disappearing you made sure to knock into the door as you stepped out. “Maybe you can go make fun of some terrorist victims next.”

Soap raised his brows, but didn’t bother to dignify you with a reply. He closed the door behind you instead and walked up to house and unlocked it for you, ushering you inside. Not that there was much to walk into.

There was some basic furniture, a ratty old couch, a table and chairs, a kitchen that hardly seemed stocked and an old orange cloth rug that looked like it had seen better days. The place smelt like old newspapers for some reason, and all in all, it didn’t inspire much hope in you for the rest of the house. And just as you caught yourself thinking that, you knew you’d already proved Soap right. You had many, many, many complaints.

“Well, I drove. So I bagsy first shower,” Soap announced, trailing off toward the creaky wooden stairs at the end of the hall. “Try not to cause world war three while I’m gone.”

You balked as you felt Ghost brush past you, successfully getting through the door. Who had Soap directed that last order at? Jeuss. You were the kidnapping victim and somehow you didn’t qualify for washing up first? What was this?

Chivalry was truly dead. Though, it wasn’t like they’d rode up in white horses when they’d come to get you, no they emerged through a cloud of bullets and snatched you out of the house like a drug bust they could trade in for on the sly.

“And what am I supposed to do now, hm?” You said, turning to the man now shedding his gear like a second skin onto the couch.

He didn’t give you a response though, instead he just finished off pulling the various packs and armaments off of himself until he was left standing in his uniform and mask. He looked a few pounds lighter, but he was still massive compared to you. The equipment didn’t bulk him out quite as much as you’d suspected.

“Is there a phone I can use?” You finally asked, exasperated with the silence.

“No.”

He grunted as he took a seat on the couch and rolled up his sleeves, exposing his thick tattooed forearms. You couldn’t help but feel that that was some kind of threat. Though, your suspicions were eased as he shuffled around and crossed his arms around his head, lying down and closing his eyes.

“So, what? We’re just waiting to see when my dad magically shows up?” You needled.

“You asked If there was a phone that you could use,” he reminded, glancing over at you with slitted eyes. “Why don’t you go get some rest princess, there’s rooms upstairs that you can whine in in peace.”

What!

You clenched your fists at your sides and growled out in frustration. How was it that you were stuck with one of the most insensitive men in the world right after you got kidnapped? In fact it felt like you were being held hostage all over again.

Well you weren’t going to sit there and take it this time!

Before you could think about how bad an idea it was, you marched straight over to the sofa and started digging through Ghosts things. You crouched and moved aside all the smaller pouches and sharp pointy things trying to find anything that might resemble a phone. Though you didn’t get much of an opportunity to look, you were swiftly dragged up to your feet by the masked man and knocked away from his stash.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He barked, not sparing a single decibel from piercing your already abused ears.

“I need to use a phone! I need to call someone!” You screamed back. “I need to tell people I’m alright. My friends must be worried sick and you’re treating me worse than a prisoner! E-Even prisoners get their phone calls!”

You tried desperately to fight against his hold, and screeched and hit against him like a banshee. However the man was solid, his hands were digging into your skin like a bear trap. And even as you tried to scratch at him, it didn’t deter him any. He just held you against him, making you smell the sweat off of him, the bullets, the smoke, you breathed him in as he pinned your hands flush to your body and screamed out as it became too much.

“In case you’ve forgotten, princess, we’re hiding out in a safe house right now because you’ve just been bloody kidnapped! You can’t call anyone because we need to keep the line clear and wait for word from back home. This isn’t fucking vacation, sweetheart, this is a fucking mission,” Ghost roared.

You froze at his words. Your body felt like it had been hit by lightning and all of a sudden you could feel the storm in you shifting. All of the adrenaline was draining from you and just like that, you went from fighting like a rabid dog to blubbering like a baby. You broke down in his arms and felt the tears flowing freely back down your cheeks and fell back against him defeated.

“Oh Jesus,” Ghost muttered to himself.

Of course you hadn’t forgotten you’d been kidnapped. You were just dealing with it all in the only way you could. it just so happened, that when you fell back on instinct to get you through hard times it would result in you being, well as your dad put it, a massive pain in the ass. You were sure that Ghost would say the same.

You didn’t even try to compose yourself, you were too upset to think.

So, as Ghost came to that conclusion too, he decided to take matters into his own hands and picked you up again. Though, instead of putting you over his shoulder this time, he held you tightly against his chest and carried you off into one of the side rooms further into the house.

The floor protested with every step the big man took and even over your shaky sobs, you could hear the wood below groaning like a zombie. He checked in the first door, and then the second on the wall to the right, coming to a stop when he found what he was looking for. Through blurry eyes you could see that you were in a small bathroom. A messily tiled room that contained an old wooden cabinet, a sink and a toilet.

Ghost sat you down on the closed toilet seat and pulled some tissue from the roll, pressing it into your limp hands. You looked down at it like it was alien for a second, not sure what to do until you met Ghosts unwavering gaze. You needed to dry your eyes and get control of yourself.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, princess,” he sighed, turning and reaching into the cabinet.

You gulped down a fat sob that had been threatening to come and sniffled softly instead. As much as you begrudged him, you knew Ghost’s logic was sound. You needed to get a hold of yourself and stop crying in front of him. He was hardly the sympathetic audience for it.

In fact it almost made you laugh when he turned back again and his skull mask caught the light. The hard plastic only served to remind you that he wasn’t going to sit and rub your back and make you feel better about it all. It was like he said, this was a mission for him, and his only concern was getting you out of Mexico alive.

“There you go, deep breaths,” he said in a hushed voice, putting his hand on your shoulder for a second.

The warm contact was comforting for a fleeting moment, his hand was gentle yet firm on you before he took it away. He’d fetched a cloth from the cabinet and stepped over to the sink, running it under the water and stepping back to your side. You’d expected him to hand it to you just like he had done with the toilet paper, but instead he took you by surprise and crouched at your level, stepping down from his massive height.

He smoothed the cloth over your cheeks and down your tear tracks, softly clearing up your sensitive skin. When he’d brought the cloth away and refolded it, you’d half expected it to be a muddied black from your makeup but there were only traces of grey. You’d cried most of your makeup off already. Then, after a few more goes at letting him clear up your face you almost jumped out of your skin when a piercing ring sounded out from the living room.

“Stay here,” the soldier softly ordered, handing you the stained cloth.

Ghost ducked out of the room, and you lamely held the cloth in your hand, listening out to what he was doing. He silenced the ring, presumably answering the phone he’d secreted away, and for a second all there was was fuzzy silence and the low ringing that hadn’t left your ears.

“Mhmm,” Ghost grunted, his rumble cutting clear through your tinnitus. “Yeah we’re clear I reckon. Didn’t pass anyone on the way in…no one awake, no curtains twitching…your daughter is-…mhmm…yeah…ok. Well just so you know, your daughter is…fine by the way.”

The gruff man said the last part quietly, and it was that that clued you into the fact your dad probably hung up before he could catch it. He didn’t care how you were, only cared that you hadn’t been killed by a foreign gang. That probably wouldn’t have done his image any favours, you thought to yourself. What man wasn’t able to protect his family? A high ranking general at that. All that mattered was that you were safe and he didn’t have a PR crisis on his hands. How you were doing was none of his concern.

You gulped thickly when Ghost reentered the room and did your best to put on a brave face. He didn’t say anything. He flicked his eyes over your grave expression and took the cloth back from your hands, wetting it under the tap again and handing it back to you.

“Those must be killing you,” he murmured, gesturing to your feet.

You startled when he spoke again, not used to having a conversation with someone who’s lips were hidden behind a skull facade. It was quite unnerving when his rasp broke through the cloth.

Eventually though you nodded, looking down at your feet and finally acknowledging all the blisters that had formed where the straps had dug into you. The shoes had been new, you’d been excited to wear them when you put them on earlier. Now, they were just another regret among many.

“Let’s get them off, hm?”

You nodded again, caught by surprise by the tender way that he was dealing with you out of nowhere. Perhaps out of pity after speaking to the General. You had no way of knowing if he was sympathetic to that type of thing. He was a soldier afterall. They dealt with much worse than emotional neglect and were often oblivious to the cold way your dad treated you. At least in your previous experience of them...

Ghost got to his knees and softly took one of your feet in his hands, turning it slowly this way and that a couple times, until he caught sight of the tiny buckle. He dealt with it like he was diffusing a bomb.

He carefully took the end of the strap in one hand and lifted the buckle with the other, gently letting the catch come loose. Then he slid the shoe from your foot and repeated the process with your other. You had to do a double take. Was this really the same man that had all but snapped at you like a vicious dog earlier?

“Thanks,” you whispered, still uselessly holding the cloth in your hands. “Did the General say when we could leave?”

Ghost frowned as you addressed your dad by his title, but quickly fixed his eyes into that familiar cold stare. He thought to himself for a moment before he answered you. He was probably scared you’d kick off again, you realised.

“He said he wouldn’t get here till evenin’ at least. Said he’d be bringing a chopper though.”

“Ok.”

You didn’t have anything else to say. You’d run out of words, and steam and any kind of fight and all the things that had kept you going before.

You were going to be stuck with the two strangers until almost the next day. There was nothing you could do about it, no one you could complain to, no one that cared. You might as well just accept it.

- 👑-

You’d ended up taking Ghost’s advice afterall. You’d finished cleaning up in the bathroom yourself and painfully trudged upstairs with your swollen feet, searching out the first bedroom you could find along the gloom of the lonely hallway. The lightbulb flickered and danced as you’d made your selection, chasing you into the room as it mimicked the gunfire you’d seen flashes of not hours ago.

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, not like you thought it would.

You’d been convinced you’d be left sitting like a character in a movie. Painfully watching the walls in the cold silence and mourning the life you could have had if only you came from a loving home. However, as much as you loved dramatics, you weren’t fit to live up to the hurting girl stereotype.

You realised that when you woke up again and the sun was shining through your room like a big bright fuck you. You thought you were getting a moment's peace? Think again. You were going to be awake for the rest of your internment at the safehouse.

You sighed and scanned the room with your eyes, taking note of the peeling paint and sparse bits of furniture, confirming what you already knew. This room was just as shitty as all the rest. It wasn’t like there was any reason to maintain safehouses beyond being structurally sound and stocked with essentials, but it would’ve been nice to provide some comfort. At the very least they could’ve made it smell better, less musty, less like a place people came to rot.

“You’re awake.”

You yelped when you heard the voice break through the calm and looked over to the door, spotting the looming spectre that stood in your entryway. Ghost. Had he been watching over you the whole time you slept? You didn’t know whether to feel creeped out or grateful for the fact he was so concerned about your safety.

“I am,” you finally said.

“Good. I thought I’d bring you something to eat.”

Perhaps he hadn’t been watching over you after all. Maybe it had been Ghost’s footsteps that had woken you up. It wasn’t a stretch of the imagination, he sounded worse than a herd of cows when he creaked across the floors.

You sat up when he walked into the room and caught a glance at the bowl in his hands. Something to eat was a good description of what he’d brought you. It looked like he’d heated some spaghettios. Not exactly the most appetising thing that you could think of, but given you hadn’t eaten since the morning before, you realised that beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Not that you were often, if ever, a beggar. It was easier for your family to give you unlimited access to money and shut you up than it was for them to spend any time in your presence arguing that you should work for it.

“Thanks,” you murmured, taking the bowl off of Ghost after staring at it for a few seconds.

There was a spoon already shoved into the bowl, and when you picked it up, you found yourself wincing at the burning metal. Ouch. Ghost couldn’t have warned you they were hot? You glared up at him, but he was already retreating back out of the room, seemingly content that you had everything you needed.

But you didn’t feel like you had everything you needed at all.

You felt pathetic admitting it, but you didn’t want to be alone. Your ears were still ringing even hours after the firefight had ended and there was nothing to do in that bland room all alone. And now to top it all off it felt much too hot and sweaty. You felt like you might go mad. You softened your features again and called out to Ghost, praying against all odds that he’d indulge you.

“C-can you stay?”

Ghost paused and turned his head, his skeletal mask caught the golden glow of the sun. It didn't look right. He looked out of place in the sunlight. Though, you knew better than to voice that thought, he wasn’t going to stay if you insulted him again.

“If you really want me to,” he finally replied, tilting his head at you.

You nodded and watched as he looked around and found no alternative but to sit on the end of the double bed, and sighed as he plonked himself down. The bed rippled with his weight, and you almost let the bowl spill out of your hands, but thankfully caught it before it could drop.

That wouldn’t have been good, you thought. You’d already set yourself on eating it all when it had cooled. You couldn’t go without food any longer or your stomach would be gurgling like an alien. How embarassing.

“Did you manage to get some rest too?” you asked awkwardly, testing the spoon in your hands again.

“Some,” he answered, casting his eyes over you. “Soap traded places pretty quick.”

“What an asshole,” you snorted, lifting a spoonful of pasta to your lips and blowing on it.

“That arshole saved your life, princess,” Ghost reminded you, voice regaining its husky edge. “Show some respect.”

“I didn’t-I mean…I just figured you could’ve probably used the rest, I was just joking…Sorry,” you muttered, resigning yourself to eating instead of talking.

Ghost watched intently as you ate every last spoonful, but you ignored him, finding yourself greedily taking on more and more as you recognised your own hunger. You forgot about Ghost’s scolding for the moment as you felt your hunger pangs rattling from deep within you. Though, you felt a little better after finishing the bowl. You were going to eat so much when you got back home, you thought to yourself.

You set the bowl down on the floor and looked back at your rescuer, staring awkwardly at him for a few moments. The silence was making your skin crawl. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“Do you ever take off that mask?” you blurted, feeling your cheeks heat up as you said it.

Ghosts eyes took on a glint as you’d said it and if you weren’t mistaken it felt like he was…smiling? You bit your lip and looked away from him, focusing instead on a particularly chipped patch of paint on the wall to his left side.

“Why? Do you want me to take it off?” he asked, amusement lacing his tone.

“I just- I don’t get why you still have it on. The bad guys don’t know we’re here, right?”

“Maybe I’m just shy,” he teased, leaning back on the bed, his forearms rippling as they supported his weight.

You snorted at his answer, folding your arms across yourself. Suddenly you were all too aware of the fact that he was staring at you bare faced, messy haired and still in yesterday’s tiny dress. There was no way that he was shy, and it seemed unlikely that he was ugly under there. He walked and talked like a confident man, like a man that had never questioned himself. How exciting.

“Has Soap ever seen your face?” you asked, picking at the loose threads on the blanket you laid under.

“Why the sudden fascination?” he grumbled. “I thought I was a big scary serial rapist or somethin’?”

You winced as he threw your words from earlier back to you, it felt like you’d been burned with acid. You realised how stupid you sounded now. He’d held onto that.

“I didn’t say that you were one, I said that you could be one,” you corrected, sighing at your own stupidity. “I didn’t know who you both were, in fact I still don’t. I guess- I guess I just got freaked out, is all. Do other people not react a little crazy when you go on rescue missions?”

“Other people tend to be more gracious, at the very least,” he snorted.

You winced again.

You really were a princess sometimes. As much as the nickname had been annoying you all night, the soldier wasn’t wrong to call you it. They’d been good enough to put themselves in harms way and carry you through a sea of threats only for you to turn around and return fire, calling them names.

You put your head in your hands and groaned. You always slung your arrows at the wrong people. Always got prickly with people that tried to help. And they’d helped you more than anyone ever had.

“Thank you for saving me. I know it's a little late, but all the same…thanks for getting me out of there alive,” you murmured, catching a glance at his widened eyes. “And for- um, dealing with me earlier. That was nice of you cleaning me up like that.”

Ghost took a second to recover from you actually thanking him, his eyes staying open and shocked before returning to their usual shadowy state. They looked almost black even even in the sunlight. Though, you supposed it didn’t help they were hidden behind cloth and plastic.

“You’re welcome, darlin’” he rumbled.

Your heart skipped a beat.

“Darling?” you grinned, preening at the warmth in his tone. “Am I growing on you?”

“Like black mould,” he groused, “Can’t get rid of your questions, can I?”

“You did not just compare me to mould,” you growled, forgetting yourself - and who you were facing up against - and shooting toward him with a pillow in hand.

Ghost, cast his eyes from you to the pillow and turned, catching you before you could do anything stupid with it and held you against the wide expanse of his chest again. You were held solidly against him, packed in tight and before you could do anything else, you were disarmed and your pillow was plucked right out of your hands and thrown back to the head of the bed.

“What’d you think you were gonna do with that then, ay?” he growled, his mouth dangerously close to grazing your ear.

His breath was warm on your neck and it raised a trail of goosebumps across your flesh. You shivered in his arms, feeling his words send a shock through your body, and felt yourself go limp in his bulging arms. Why was he suddenly so much more enticing when he had you pinned down like this?

“Ay?” he asked again, releasing a low chuckle. “You think you can attack me, princess? Think you can do a bit of damage with those little arms?”

“I think I could do a lot of damage if you let me,” you breathed, scraping your lip under your teeth.

The lieutenant paused and held you very still for a moment, his arms stiffening over your body like he’d moulded to you. Oh no. Had he not liked that, you wondered. Had you just embarrassed yourself again?

“Are you flirting with me?” he asked, voice not losing his amusement.

Oh good. So he wasn’t disgusted with you.

“Maybe…depends on if you liked it or not.”

“And if I liked it?”

“Then, yes, I was.”

You both sat in silence for a second, you stayed trapped in his arms, holding stock still while he mulled over what you’d said. What now? You didn’t have to wonder very long, he released you and turned your body so that you faced him again, balancing precariously on your hands and knees, capturing your face in his hands so that you were forced to look at him.

“You should be careful who you flirt with, princess. It’s like you said earlier, I’m a stranger in a mask, you have no idea who I am…No idea what I’m capable of,” he trailed, letting your own mind take over the implication he was getting at.

Not that you got the point that he was trying to make. If anything the whole thing was suddenly hotter to you. A rough fuck with the giant soldier that just rescued you from a gang of kidnappers and could pin you down like you were nothing? Hadn’t he sensed your issues from a mile off? Maybe he had, maybe that was why he said what he said.

“Maybe I wanna find out,” you whispered.

You shot forward and kissed where you supposed his lips must be and, luckily, guessed correctly. You could feel him tense up in surprise before yanking you off of him and pinning you under him, holding your body down against the bed with his sculpted body, his legs caging yours in and his hands holding your wrists like manacles.

“Give me one reason you want to, other than spiting your father,” he purred, eyes glowing with amusement and curiosity.

So he did know your game.

“You have a sexy voice,” you tried, fluttering your lashes in a way that you hoped would work on him.

“Fuckin’ americans,” he grunted, laughing lowly to himself. “I want somethin’ better than that.”

“Didn’t think you’d be the type to go fishing for compliments,” you snarked.

With that little comment , you were rolled over quicker than you could comprehend and before you could turn to see what he was doing he slapped you on the ass. It was solid, no nonsense. Enough to sting even though he’d done it through the fabric of your little dress. He wouldn't have to do much to expose you and make it hurt more. He’d just have to flip up the fabric.

“Answer my question,” he growled, still holding one of your hands captive.

“Because I want you to teach me a lesson…because you’re the first person in a long time that’s had me minding my manners,” you sighed, using your free hand to give your body leverage enough to rut against the soldier's bulging crotch.

“Fuck me,” Ghost grunted, voice losing its sharpness as you rutted against him.

“That worked?” you grinned, half shocked that it clearly convinced him.

“You could have any cunt from England, princess, and plenty of em’ would sound like me. You think that they could make you beg like I can?” he questioned.

You were tempted to give him a sassy reply, but already knowing you too well, he hit you with a couple more spanks, this time on your bare ass and finally slipped your skirt up so that he could admire the flesh he was abusing. You gasped as he ran his hands over your cheeks and whimpered when he ran a finger over your slit. You practically feel his eyes glowing like laser sights as he connected with your glistening flesh and paused so that he could dip his finger into you and confirm his suspicions.

“Please,” you whined, praying that he’d start moving it, praying for friction.

“Looks like I’ve got my answer,” he chuckled, removing his soaked finger and slapping your ass noncommittally. “Please what, hm?”

“Please,” you cried out, feeling awfully empty as he’d withdrawn. “Please, I want your fingers. Want you to finger me please.”

“Aw, so cute when you’re all needy, princess. Alright. If you ask me nicely, I’ll give you what you want.”

“I did ask nicely!” you whimpered, feeling your body burning with desire for him.

It felt like he was all you could think of now. The kidnappers and the whole resentment thing you had going for your family was a distant memory and all that remained was Ghost. All that remained was burning lust and a need to have him inside of you, possessing you wholly and taking you for his own.

“You’re such a little brat, princess. I just told you that you could have what you wanted and you just had to go spoil it for yourself,” Ghost said, his voice forging into a chilling point. “Looks like you need to be taught better manners.”

You groaned at his words, but you didn’t get much of a chance to work out what they meant. Instead, his hand rained down hard on your already stinging flesh and he spanked you like it was his next mission. You cried out as the smacks began to burn more and more and wriggled in his grasp, fruitlessly struggling against him and fighting his expert hands to no avail.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” you chanted, giving him what you thought he wanted.

“Sorry, what?” he asked, accentuating each word with a slap.

They were softer than the ones he’d been giving before at least. Like caresses against your screaming skin, fiery with his rough treatment.

“Sorry…for not asking nicely,” you said quietly, hoping to god he’d just give you what you wanted.

“Sorry, sir,” he grunted, running his hands over your hot skin.

“Sorry, sir,” you repeated quickly, sighing as his gentle touch soothed your prickling burns.

“That’s better.”

You hummed as his nails scratched down your cheeks and settled into the bed, feeling like the stiff blankets were transformed into egyptian cotton as your head grew fuzzy. His hands really were quite skilled, especially since he was so easily able to have you howling one second and then had you curling up like a cat the next.

“You wanna do this for the rest of the day or you wanna try asking for what you wanted again?” Ghost asked, his voice softening as he watched you relax.

“Mmm, would rather have your fingers inside me please, sir,” you moaned, smiling contentedly to yourself.

“That’s better…good girl.”

Your masked soldier grabbed your hips in his hands, making you feel tiny as he yanked you up like you were nothing. Yanked you into a half kneeling position as you kept your head pasted onto the bed, not having the strength to bring it up. Then finally, just as you were about to start begging again, spat on his hand and pierced his finger back inside you.

You groaned at the intrusion and whined as he slowly pumped it in and out, getting you all worked up and turning you into a moaning mess. You were burning for more, your belly tightening as he worked his digit in and out and circled your clit with his other hand like it was an art. You whined and writhed and clutched at the sheets, crying out as he added another finger and increased his pace. You could feel the rumble that caught in his throat reverberate through your chest. ‘

“So pretty. Your cunt’s so wet and you’re clenching on me so hard. What would happen if I shoved my cock in there? Would you cum right away, princess?” he purred.

You whined out at that and felt your need light up anew, could feel it vibrate around your skull and through your gums. Yes. Stick your cock in me. That’s all you wanted, you wanted the big man on top of you, pinning you down and boxing you in like an animal, fucking into you like you were his own personal fleshlight. Fuck.

“Ohmygod, please fuck me, Ghost!” you cried out, “Please, oh my god please, sir! Please fuck me.”

Ghost chuckled and slowed his pace, bringing his fingers to a near stop. It was like hell, the tingles dampening throughout your body, your high being torn from you. You growled out and tried to claw your way up, tried to face him and see the stupid glint that would no doubt be in his eyes, but before you could he shoved you back down and tapped your ass again.

“We don’t have condoms here, princess. It’s not exactly standard protocol,” he teased. “Doesn’t seem like such a good idea.”

“I don’t care! I’m on birth control and I get checked out by the doctor every month,” you whined, fighting against any argument he could make against giving you his cock.

“Well…I suppose that changes things,” he grunted.

Thank fucking god! You were sure you were going to d-

“Fuck!”

Your strangled cry pierced the room as he replaced his fingers and thrusted into you, shattering you inch by inch with his massive cock. It seemed endless, it was torturous in all the right ways, the burn that licked through your body like a forest fire. He was huge, not that you doubted that of course.

“That what you wanted, hm? That feel good, princess?” Ghost said, coming to a stop as he filled you completely. “Tell me, how does that feel? I wanna know if anyone else has been able to make you as fuckin’ speechless as this.”

You whined out, scratching at the bed underneath you like a trapped animal and breathed in thickly, wondering if your lungs would ever recover from the events of the last few hours. Wondering how to answer Ghost. How did it feel? Did anyone else compare to him? What stupid fucking questions.

Nothing compared.

“It feels so fucking good, feels like you’re gonna split me in half,” you gasped, rocking yourself against him. “Need you to move, need to feel you ruin me!”

“Oh yeah? You need me to move? What a slutty girl telling me such filthy things,” he growled, reaching around and grabbing your neck, not quite enough to choke but enough to let you know he was in control. “Tell me, slutty girl, who’s in charge?”

“You, sir!”

“Who gets to wreck this pussy?” he asked, slowly begining to fuck you, rocking himself slowly in and out of you at an agonising pace.

“You, sir!”

“Are you my little whore?” He asked again, building up speed a little, catching you in all the right places and turning your head to mush.

“Yes sir,” you cried out, feeling yourself coming closer and closer to the edge.

“Good fuckin’ girl, princess.”

You screamed as he upped his pace out of no where and fucked you like it was his job. Your eyes lost focus and your teeth gnashed together and suddenly it was a fight to stay upright as he pounded in and out of you and held your neck tightly in his firm grasp. It wasn’t like anyone you’d been with before, this was a new level of fucking you’d never experienced.

“Fuck!” you cried out again. “Gonna- gonna cum.”

“Yeah? Good, cum for me. Clench on my cock, little slut.”

You moaned out and gripped the sheets underneath you tighter, feeling your whole body shaking as his cock forced you off balnce. Just a few more thrusts and-

It felt like bliss, it felt like a high from a drug you’d just taken for the first time. You came with a muffled scream as Ghost clamped his hand over your mouth and gasped wordlessly as he continued to fuck you. In and out, in and out, it was about all your mind could process as your body zipped and sparked like it had been hit by a thunderstorm.

He kept going like that, absolutely relentless, skewering you and turning you to mush below him, making you feel like dirt at his knees. You were nothing, you weren't any kind of princess, you were just his toy. And you fucking loved it. You loved that he could make you feel like that, but still make you feel so fucking precious as he continued to caress your skin and growl affirmations every now and then.

So fucking pretty.

Mine, princess, you’re mine.

Feel so fucking good, you’re so fucking good.

You cried out as he put his hand around your throat again and put on some pressure, making you struggle a little to pull in air, but not by much. It felt exquisite. The tremors of your last orgasm were still bolting through you and now another one was building. You felt so good, felt so impossibly warm as you struggled beneath him. Fuck, you never wanted this to end. But you knew you could hardly take much more.

“You gonna cum for me again? Gonna give me another one before I finish? C’mon, I know you have another one in you, princess.”

You whined and felt your thighs shaking like they were going to collapse and suddenly his fingers closed tighter round the sides of your throat. You gasped loudly a couple times, trying to pant out that you were close, but the sound couldn’t quite form in your mouth. Then, in no time at all it was hitting you again, that high, that euphoria. Another orgasm.

“Fuck!” Ghost growled out.

You clenching around him had sent him over the edge and all too soon, you were both collapsing into the sheets like falling scaffolding. You clattered down against him and he pulled you close. He bucked his hips a couple times as he finished inside you, grunting a little with the increased sensitivity he felt as you shifted against him. It was divine.

You were both wrecked.

Neither of you said a word as you laid there, both keeping your eyes closed and your mouths open as you panted into the arid empty air. There was nothing to say. You just had to soak in the moment and retreat into each other's bodies, accepting the burning, unbearable heat you were both giving off and enveloping each other in it.

Fuck.

“Is that a better way of saying thank you, sir?” you finally moaned, grinning to yourself as you proved yourself right.

That was one way to teach you some respect alright.

#ghost x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #cod mw2 #cod fanfiction

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rabidbatboy · 3 months

Text

♱ SLASHER ID PACK . . .

NAMES ; brute , slash , michael , jace , myers , machete , ghost , chase , reaper , ryker , bubba , lenz , warden , krueger , killer , thomas , billy , sawyer , bates , malice , retro , hunter , mikey , norman , chucky , freddy , ash , damien , blair

PRNS ; slash / slashs , maim / maims , kill / kills , scream / screams , die / dies , gut / guts , slice / slices , blood / bloods , stab / stabs , gore / gores , mask / masks , knife / knifes , murder / murders , stalk / stalks , rip / rips , chase / chases , trope / tropes , camp / camps , victim / victims , machete / machetes

TiTLES ; the masked one , the final survivor , this bloody victim , [X] who massacres , the machete wielder , the terror of camp blood , the woodsboro killer , [X] who came home , the haddonsfield murderer , [X] with no face , [X] with the devil’s eyes , the one with bloody hands , the one who maims , [X] who knows only violence , the final boy/girl

iDENTiTiES ; slashermovian , maskedslasheric , gorrorslashxic , slasheomic , slashvimic , horrorgenric , slashertix , vintlashic , finalthing, slashgoreic , slasherlexic , horrorgender , myersenvy , horrorprotag , slasherspinnic , chuckycoric , slasherdream , ghostfaceslasher , slasherfilmic , genderslasher , slashlasurvivoric , slasherosic , ghostfaceplushic , killiaclownic , mimyersplushic , slasheric , bloodyghostfaceic , jasonenvy , horroldiem , finalgirlic/finalboyic

🦇 ——— REQUESTED BY ; anon

[ PT: slasher id pack

names;

prns;

titles;

identities; (links)

requested by; anon / END PT]

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sgtyaraya · 2 months

Text

Call of Duty OC

Name: Trudy Saidler

Nikename: Jay

Date of birth: June 01, 1992

Age: 24 (at the time of the events in 2016)

Place of birth: Liberec, Czech Republic🇨🇿

Citizenship: Czech🇨🇿

Nationality: English 🇬🇧

Rank: Sergeant

Specialty: Infantryman

Unit: TF - 141

Family/Relationships

Mother: Adele Saidler (Hofmann) 🇬🇧

Father: Philip Saidler 🇬🇧

Brother: Evan Saidler🇬🇧 ✝️

Love Interest: Gary "Roach" Sanderson🇬🇧💕

Reference/appearance

Trudy on the day she arrived at Credenhill

Parameters

Hair: brown with light strands

Eyes: grey

Pigmentation on the body: freckles

Tattoo: on the left arm

Scars: scratches on the right and left arm, a bullet wound in the left shoulder, suture marks on the right side at the rib level, bullet wounds in the abdomen, cartilage injury of the right ear

Height: 170 cm

Weight: 60 kg

Body type: normal

Equipment

Armored vest: warrior "plates" assault systems

M4A1 assault rifle with a grenade launcher

M14 EBR sniper rifle with silencer for long-range elimination and, if necessary, to cover the group

Pistols: M9 and USP.45

Cold steel: Alpha S D2 knife Tactical Knife and Custom Steel Machete D2 Machete Etsy Knife

Personality

Trudy is a young girl with sociability and good nature. Her attitude towards people depends on how they treat her: if they show a positive attitude towards her, she is a little stubborn. Even so, Trudy is not so trusting, so she does not immediately open up to the interlocutor. Trudy sometimes experiences moments that can cause irritation. And in such cases, she can flare up, allowing her emotions to come out. However, she tries to control her emotions so as not to show them to other people. But Trudy's weakest side is her worries. Everything that she experiences inside herself, she tries to hide from others.

Fears

🔥Pyrophobia🔥is a phobia consisting in a constant, irrational, obsessive, panic fear of fire, fires; an obsessive fear of burning alive, getting burned, or losing property as a result of a fire. (in one of the missions, she almost burned herself in the room in which she was locked, losing consciousness)

Biography

Trudy's parents live in the Czech Republic for most of their lives, they have successfully established their lives in another country, and we can say they have lived in it for most of their lives, and did not want to return to England. Adele Saidler (Hofmann) has opened her own atelier in Liberec, where they now live. The woman is engaged in custom tailoring, previously she was specialized in sewing military uniforms. Philip Saidler is a former infantryman, retired for health reasons, retired, but he helps his wife in the atelier, delivering sewing materials. He also earns a living on the outskirts of the city, but there is no information about his place of work. Before Trudy, they had a son, Evan Saidler [date of birth unknown, died as a teenager, cause of death unknown]. The couple suffered a hard loss, and were very worried about their daughter, who knows about her late brother.

Trudy's childhood, like that of ordinary children, was no different from them. She also had her own hobbies, which her parents reacted positively to, and supported their daughter in every possible way, most importantly. The girl was actively engaged in dancing from the age of 12, from which she developed flexibility, there were even performances on behalf of the school. She also loved to help her mother in the atelier, more often looked after the counter, and thus engaged in needlework, she could also sew some clothes with jewelry. In addition to dancing, Trudy also had hobbies, which she does not mention.

During her student years, Trudy met a girl who was 1 year younger than her, Linda Kovac (Czech). She was always an inconspicuous gray mouse, but Trudy became friends with her on the first day they met, and spent more and more time together. Thanks to her, Linda began to gain self-confidence and even changed her style in order not to fall into the gray mass and stand out somehow. Saidler never sought to attract attention, preferring to wear comfortable and not too bright clothes, and studied like all ordinary students. She needed Czech to learn, so even at preschool age she learned this language, English is considered the main one.

There have been mistakes in Trudy's life, one of them has undermined people's trust. As a student, a guy was in love with her, and he sought her attention in every possible way. The student's infatuation, yes, did not last long. This guy dated her for a joke, enjoyed her trust. After receiving her education, Trudy left Liberec and went to England. After living there for some time, she went to Credenhill, where the selection for group 141 was held. During the trip, Trudy heard other recruits talking about this group, and who is in it, quite big names sounded from the mouths of the guys, which made her interested. Arriving at their base, Trudy did not expect to see the members of the 141 group live. At the time, Captain McTavish was in charge of the selection, and he took up her training in order to make Saidler an experienced fighter. As a rookie, she was sent for additional training to improve her skills and adapt to work in group 141. During her stay at the base, Trudy met Roach, a young sergeant whom she saw on the day of her arrival. At first, things didn't go very well due to distrust, so we gradually communicated. Jay showed a special interest in Roach as a person and wanted to get to know him better, and thus she awakened trust in him. Roach also showed interest in the girl and communicated with her even from a distance. Trudy was very afraid of attachment to people, and hid her sympathy until the last moment, Roach had the same feelings for her. They gradually showed warm feelings for each other.

Participation

Jay began his service under the command of Captain McTavish, took his first part in the Hunting mission, where the goal was to catch Alejandro Rojas, worked in a group with Roach. In the future, she participated in assaults at certain points, provided cover, engaged in inconspicuous liquidation

The history of the creation of the OC

In 2011, I played with COD Modern warfare 2 for the first time. This game has left vivid moments in my memory, from joyful to sad, my favorite mission is "Rock Climber". At that moment, the first character appeared in my head. Since I couldn't draw at the age of 9, I was building a plot in my head. There is an important point, this is the date when I started playing and when I came up with Trudy. This is June 1, 2011, and this date is also Trudy's date of birth.

In her first version, there was no first or last name, I just called her "Emersan", this call sign is taken from another game that I also actively played. As for her appearance, Trudy looked different, not like she does now. In 2018, I visually sketched her portrait, hoping for my memory. Based on this, I decided to change her appearance, and also attached my old works. As time went on, I always wanted to add something, it seemed to me that Trudy was too simple. Although yes, she really was like that. Then, during the redrawing, I already gave her a name. Her name was Trudy "Emersan" Sombra. She later became Jay, the new surname is Saidler. Trudy's redesigns didn't last long, so I changed it again by drawing new references. You can see that she has hardly changed since 2019, there are small changes on her face – freckles and hair color have become darker. Next comes the tattoo. It was a difficult choice, I came up with the first tattoo myself, then I made another, more complex one. The final version was drawn in 2023, and received a reference

Trudy in 2011 to 2022

#call of duty oc #modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod mw2 2009 #mw2 2009 #mw 2009 #oc #oc art #my oc #original character #cod oc #trudy jay saidler #trudy saidler #oc x canon #roach x oc #roach x jay #biography oc

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topazy · 2 months

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Teen spirit

Pairing: Carl Grimes × reader, Maggie Greene × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing, blood and violence

Chapter: 6.01

You try your best to pay no mind to those staring while you explore the different streets of Alexandria. Carl doesn’t seem to notice as he pushes Judith in her pram, or if he does, he doesn't let on. The first few weeks in your new home have been hard on everyone. Noah was dead. While on a supply run, he was torn to shreds by walkers. A few others had died, including Jessie’s husband Pete, whom Rick shot for killing Deanna’s husband, which resulted in your group getting the cold shoulder from a lot of people who had lived in Alexandria since the beginning, and they no longer thought your people belonged in their home.

“I’m glad Maggie isn’t making you go anymore.”

Since Carl was no longer going to ‘school' Maggie said you didn’t need to either, on the condition you help out with different chores, one of them being looking after Judith. “Me too,” you say, leaning down and tickling the baby’s cheek. “It means I get to hang out with my favorite girl.”

“Carl, Hope.”

You turn to see Father Gabriel walking over. Maggie had overheard him telling Deanna that your people were dangerous and shouldn’t be allowed in the community a few nights prior, so it was surprising he would speak to any of you.

Carl’s tone is sharp. “What?”

“You heard what I told Deanna about your group.”

“What is it you want?” You ask.

“It was about me, not you or your group. I know that now.” Gabriel admits, “I want to help. You tried to reach me back at my church, but I’m ready to learn now.”

“I think you need to tell everybody.”

The older man’s eyes gloss over slightly. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

Carl starts to push the pram again, but strops and sighs. “Come by around three. We’ll start with the machete.”

When Gabriel is out of earshot, you say, “That was nice of you.”

He shrugs, “Suppose we gotta keep being nice to each other since we are all going to be living together. Besides, I think he’s still struggling with what happened at his church.”

You smile softly. Carl has always remained kind to others, even when he’s angry. “Yeah, I think you're right.”

—

“Hope, Hope!”

Hearing your name being called, followed by a thumping noise coming from the bathroom door, you turn off the water and go to step out, but slip on the shower, stubbing your toes on it and letting out a string of curse words.

The banging continues. “Hope! Hope! You need to get out of there now!”

Hearing the urgency in Carl’s voice, you grab a towel, and you step behind the door and open it a crack to hear him say, “What’s going on?”

“We are being attacked; you gotta help me keep Judith and Enid safe.”

The fear in his voice causes your heart to start beating faster and faster. Scrambling, you start pulling clothes on, doing your best to ignore the blood coming from your toe. When you open the door, you see Carl looking towards the staircase, directly at the front door, one hand tightly wrapped around his gun. Hearing you flinch while putting shoes on, his gaze jumps between you and the door. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” you lie, trying your best not to whine in pain as you tie the laces on the dirty, worn-out white converse. “Who’s attacking us?”

“I’m not sure. They climbed the wall and just started killing people. Enid saw a man kill Shelly with a machete. They are worse than the dead.”

A large part of your new community, including Rick, Michonne, Daryl, and Abraham, had left Alexandria to lead a herd of walkers away, meaning you were lacking fighters to defend your home. At least you still had Carol, Rosita, Maggie...

“God, Maggie!” You hold onto the banister and pull yourself up. “I need to find her.”

“You can’t go out there; it’s not safe.”

“But she’s my sister.” Tears well up in your eyes. “I can’t lose her too! I’ve just lost Beth; I can’t, I can’t.”

Attempting to comfort you, Carl holds you and places his hands on your shoulders. “Maggie is one of the strongest people I know; she will make it. I promise.”

You knew Carl couldn’t promise you that, but you needed to pull it together because right now nothing was more important than keeping Judith safe. You wipe away a fallen tear. “Okay, let’s do this.”

—

When you went downstairs, Enid informed you that the group invading Alexandria was called the Wolves. It wasn’t clear what they actually wanted; some members of the Wolves were looting houses, and the others were tossing petrol bombs and destroying everything they could.

Sitting back to back in the hallway, watching the front and back doors while Enid kept an eye from upstairs, Judith slept blissfully unaware of all the chaos going on in her crib.

Hearing a loud noise, you flinch. “What was that?”

“It sounds like a car horn.”

You chew on your bottom lips, and the blast of the horn would draw any nearby dead to the scene. “This is just going to keep getting worse, isn’t it?”

“No, my dad will be back soon, along with everybody else, and we will all be fine.”

You let out a deep sigh. You didn’t want to be so negative, but the fear of something bad happening to those you loved weighed heavily on you. Slowly, you look away from the back door and face Carl’s head. A few seconds pass before you lean in and kiss him on the cheek, “Thank you.”

He blushes, and you return to watching the back door. You’re unsure of how long you will wait for something to happen when Carl jumps to his feet and runs out of the front door.

You catch a glimpse of a wolf chasing Ron. Just as you reach the front door, Carl shoots the man in the leg and aims his gun at him, but the wolf tearfully starts begging for his life and for help with his leg. You watch in horror as Carl hesitantly lowers his weapon, and the wolf viciously grabs the barrel of his gun. You sprint to them and pull the trigger, shooting the man in the head.

You just killed someone.

You offer Carl your hand and help pull him to his feet. “Oh shit, your foot.”

You look down and see blood soaking through your shoe. Gulping down, you say. “It’s fine. Ron, you need to come inside with us now.”

“Come on, man, it’s not safe out here.”

Ron thinks it over as you go back towards the house, with a slight limp in your step, and Ron goes to follow but spots Enid in the doorway and storms off.

—

Carol came by to check on you, Carl, and Judith. She informed you that they had taken one of the men prisoner, but the rest of his group had either run off or been killed. You were even more thankful when she told you your sister was fine.

“Thank God,” you say sincerely.

Carol smiles at you and says, “I’m glad you kids are alright. I’m going to go let Maggie know you are here; she was looking for you.”

Just as she leaves, Carl comes back into the room with a first-aid kit in one hand and a note in the other. “Enid’s gone; she left a note sharing, ‘Just survive somehow.’”

He sits on the edge of the couch. You go to grab the first-aid bag from him, but Carl keeps a tight hold of it. You roll your eyes playfully at him and say, “I can do it myself.”

Carl gives you a doubtful look. “You won’t do it right because you’ll not want it to hurt.”

He had a point.

After you were sure there was no more immediate danger, you removed your shoe and sock to assess the damage you had done coming out of the shower, and to your disgust, one of your toes had bruises and was swollen, and one of the nails had split, causing the bleeding.

Not wanting to seem like a big baby, you bit down on your tongue as Carl cleaned your foot and wrapped your toes together with a bandage.

“You know, I really could have done it myself.”

He shrugs. “I know, but I don’t mind. I remember watching my mom bandage a woman called Jacqui’s foot up after she tripped and fell in camp one day.”

“What happened to Jacqui?” You ask curiously, since you hadn’t heard him mention her before.

“She killed herself.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“She had given up.” Carl shakes his head. “I sometimes think about the camp I stayed in when the outbreak first started and miss it. The day my dad found us was probably the best day of my life.”

“I miss the farm; I miss my daddy.” Feeling your eyes start to tear up again, you pat at Carl’s hand. “But if you hadn’t left that camp, then we never would have met.”

You sit in a comfortable silence for a few moments, then Carl moves closer to you, saying, “Thank you. For saving me.”

“Don’t thank me; you would have done the same thing.”

Closing your eyes, you try to push the memory of what happened to the back of your mind. You take a sharp intake of breath when you feel Carl press his lips against yours lightly. He pulls away after a few seconds and says, “I…I… shouldn’t have...”

You kiss him back. You remain lip-locked with Carl, your best friend, until someone clears their throat. You jump back, and Carl stands up, his face flushed red with embarrassment. “Hi Maggie,” he says nervously. “I’m just going to go and check on Judith.”

Maggie has a wide grin on her face; she found it amusing how awkward you looked. “I came as soon as Carol told me where you were; she said you'd hurt your foot.”

“I hurt it earlier, but it’s fine now.”

“Really?” She sits down on the edge of the table across from you. “Carol said it was bleeding and bruised.”

“It was, but Carl bandaged it.”

“With his mouth?” She laughs.

“Don’t.”

Maggie tries her best to hide her growing smile with her hand. “Okay, so I gotta ask, do you know how protection works?”

“Yes.”

“You sure? Because I remember what it’s like to be a teenager with raging hormones. You are both smart kids, but you’re almost nearly sixteen.”

Heat rushes to your face. “Oh my god, Maggie, seriously?”

“Hope, I’m being deadly serious. This is an important subject, and I just need to know how much you learned before.“

You cut her off. “Of course I know how babies are made. Why the sudden interest in my sexual education, aside from trying to embarrass me to death?”

“I’m pregnant.”

#carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes/reader #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes fanfiction #Carl Grimes/you #carl grimes fanfic #carl grimes x you #teen spirit #teen spirit 6.01 #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead fanfiction

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blue-hair-and-pronouns-tourney · 6 months

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Our Lady of the Passion artwork credit to @thatneoncrisis

Propaganda

Our Lady of the Passion/Pash:

-Nepo baby soldier girl. Unimaginably hot. Total loser asshole.

-She’s part of a paramilitary organisation and the planet Earth has a crush on her.

-First of all, that is her actual name, it usually gets shortened to Pash. Considering how much internet humor the Locked Tomb books tend to have in them, she may ver well quite literally be 'Blue hair and pronouns'. Pash is the nephew of the super badass, somewhat murderous rebel leader which might have gotten her promoted a lot faster. As is seemingy family tradition she absolutly hates necromancers (Very understandable). She is very badass and, despite her disdain for swords, has two machetes strapped to her tighs.

-Our Lady of the Passion, usually referred to as Pash, is a member of Blood of Eden and serves as a bodyguard. Pash is compact and average-sized, her cheeks littered with shrapnel scars and her nose crooked. She keeps her hair buzzed on one side and long on the other, dyed a bright blue. Nona describes her face as "super-cool and fierce and handsome".

-She has blue hair, she has pronouns, and she’s willing to throw down over getting other people’s pronouns right. And she’s got two machetes. What more could you want????

-The soul of the Earth has a crush on her

Jinx:

-She's so traumatized and insane and awful. I love her.

-natural blue hair and probably doesn't care about gender or pronouns because who has time for that when your hallucinations are screaming at you?

#our lady of the passion #jinx #the locked tomb #arcane #round 1

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myowangs · 7 months

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#a girl named machete #selfie #california #beach #shadow

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yuheartss · 2 months

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THE GIRL OF MY DREAMS?

IN WHICH— Rick grimes meets and takes in the most sarcastic girl known to man in one of her sarcastic comments she tells him that she’s the girl of his dreams

wc : 884

warnings! - fem!reader, poc!reader, unedited , lowercase intended!

a/n: this ws just in my notes I thought I’d finish it or whatever 🤷🏾‍♀️

You hid in the trees after the war between the governor and the sheriff ended it had been days and you were going in circles soon you got tired of that your stomach growling and attracting even more walkers you sighed and clutched your stomach and looked around hoping to find that prison the governor always led you and your former group to “ugh..where is it?” You muttered underneath your breath

You whine as you see two walkers make their way towards you your vision weakened slightly to your loss of food and water you stumbled your way towards them muttering “my black ass better not die..” and just when you were about to hit two gunshots rung in your ears you turned to see — look at a blurry figure that lowered its gun and trudged towards you

You stumbled back rubbing your eyes to make your vision clearer “wha-“ you started the figure now turned man grabbed your arm and pulled you close to his chest he whispered in your ear “I saw you with the governor, what are you doing here?” His voice low and threatening you shivered under his gaze

“Im not workin for the governor anymore alright? I just..can I not switch sides?” You stumble over your word’s slightly your lack of sleep,food and water finally caught up to you the man held you in his grip tighter “can ….can you let me go? S’ startin to hurt” you pleaded knees buckling from your overall dizziness

“You look like you’re about to pass out” he acknowledged now holding onto both of your arms “no shit Sherlock I’ve been out here for days” you sneered with a voice full of sarcasm the man opened his mouth to say something back but you fainted

your head leaned in his chest your limbs were limp the man sighed, took off your backpack and put it on his back the machete that you were carrying made it’s way to the back of your backpack as he wrapped his arms under your back and legs he hoisted you up to carry you bridal style

A while passed you you could hear voices “why did you bring her? You clearly said that she was working for the governor” a male voice protested “let’s at least give her a chance to explain herself Glenn” another voice, woman, reconciled “we’ve already had a virus attack do you really think it’s best to let another’s person here?” The voice “Glenn” spoke

“She wasn’t bit Glenn” an elder voice spoke up “she’s fine” you heard a lot of shifting and two sets of footsteps came towards you “watcha gon’ do with her?” A more gruff man asked you heard pants shift as if the other person had just shifted legs “ask her some questions first” that same man from earlier responded

You stir awake you rubbed your eyes and sat up “where am I?” yawning you stretch your arms glancing at the two very good looking men that stared back at you they looked at each other than back at you the man that you met earlier spoke up “your in the prison, now what’s your name?”

You turned your feet so they were on the ground you pushed yourself up off the bed and stood in-front of them “if I told you that then I wouldn’t be as mysterious anymore” you joked earning a scoff from the man with the crossbow “just tell us your name, no time for jokes” the man replied crossing his arms you sighed as your stomach growled “Y/N..” you trailed off looking at your stomach

“Soo…can i know your names or what because if I get killed i at least want to be killed knowing the names of two hot men that’ve killed me” you explained in a matter of fact tone “you talk too much” the crossbow guy turned to leave “okay well fuck you too then” you rolled your eyes

The first man was still standing there and staring at you “staring problem much?” You taunted putting a hand on your hip “maybe…I’m Rick” he readjusted his arm position “and the other guy was Daryl” you nodded as Daryl came back with some food and water “Hershel wanted me to give this to ‘er” Daryl told Rick handing you the food

You were hesitant to eat “come out of the cell you can eat at a table” Rick noticed your unease as you walked out of the cell to see a couple standing on the next floor by the stairs an order man sat down at a table looking at his medicine from your right you see a boy protecting a blonde and the baby that she carried the whole room was silent except for the footsteps of you, Daryl and Rick and the soft coos of the baby

“Where were you trying to go?” Rick spoke up just as you sat down next to the older man “here“ you answered sniffing the food before taking a bite “why?” He asked standing next to you as you ate “so you could meet me, the girl of your dreams” Ricks face once serious turned into a look of shock and amusement “the girl of my dreams?” He repeated

#rick grimes #twd #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead x you #the walking dead x y/n #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #black!reader #fem!reader #naowrites໑⃝

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femoso-seben · 8 months

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Immortal Shenanigans

Task force 141 x immortal Freader

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3

TW: Gore, implied gore, violence, blood, Torture

Well, shit.

Like a sardine in salt, you could not slip out of this. You weren’t killed no simply knocked out. You awoke chained up and sore. You look over to see a group of armed men watching you. You realize what your fate has in tale for you, and you feel your lips twitch into a smile.

How fun.

The task force slowly explored the large warehouse. The smell of blood was strong. Blood coated the ground, so much blood. This was a killing place. The men turn to each other with a grim expression.

“HAHAHAHA!” They froze and slowly began to inch their eye to the noise. Peer around the corner and witness a violent scene.

There that mysterious girl, YN was chained down her leg and being sawed off. Blood pooled on the ground and all over the frazzled men. They kept trying to kill her, yet she kept coming back.

“Is that all you got?” You tilt your head laughing. It was incredibly painful but this was the funniest thing to you, as funny as being burned alive by witch hunters.

“Shut bitch!” One yes shooting her in the eye. You slightly fall forward pain disappearing before waking up in pain. How many rotations have you gone through? Maybe 10? Were you killed 10 times?

That’s fun.

“Hey, how long are we gonna do this, I’m bored.” You finally ask smile dropping as you gaze into the eyes of your supposed killer. He glared at you and hit you in the face.

“You punch like a bitch,” you grumble the chair falls down. Blood soaks down your arms and you rip your arms out of the demonic hold of the restraint. You slip your hands out and silently wait for them to set you up.

“Tell me how you know them!” The terrorist bellows hitting your neck with a machete.

“Bro, are you trying to get baptized in my blood? Because Jesus Christ will accept you—“You were hit hard in the sternum by a foot. They had these hateful gazes burning into your soul. You snicker and begin to laugh, religious people are so funny.

Someone prop you back up. You twist your body grab their gun from them and begin to shoot them. They shot back riddling your body with bullets. So much blood oozed out of the wounds. All of them fall dead and you untie your foot with the machete.

“Damn, what a moment.” You groan stretching your body out. You pick up your sawed-off leg and begin to reattach it to your body. You look around, there is so much blood on the floor. Like a perfect mirror.

You whistle and pull your phone from one of the dead terrorists. You took a selfie covered in blood sounded by your blood. You're so tempted to post this saying photo shoot. You chuckle and walk through your own blood.

“What the hell!” You look up to see those four again. You give them a peace sign and a large smile.

“Hey boys,” you call out walking up to them giggling.

“Is all this blood yours?”

“Who else?” You asked back like it’s obvious. It was there was no other dead body here.

“Why is there so much blood?”

“I have a lot of blood,” you shrug.

“Why the fuck were you laughing,” the mustache man ask… you really have to ask them for names.

“What’s your name?”

“Price, this is Gaz, Soap, and Ghost.”

“Dumb but ok.”

“Why were you laughing?” Ghost asks.

“Look at it from my perspective, that’s shits funny.”

“You were being tortured.”

“Nothing more painful than being set on fire.” You retort like it was obvious.

“You have been set on fire?”

“Soap, I was around during the witch trials in Europe. I was burned alive several times,” you nod your head with a smile.

“Why were you being tortured?” Price asked arms folded.

“They thought I was with you, not the fact I’m a very nosy archeologist who was following after my pots!”

“What is with you and pots? Is this a sexual thing?” Gaz asks, you turn to him with a ‘what the fuck,’ look.

“No, I’ve been around for the progress of pot making. To me, pots tell an unspoken human history.” You explain to Gaz who only nods but still looks at you with mild disgust.

“They thought you were with us?” Soap ask.

“Yeah, apparently you guys are being watched…” you state, “Did that box of pots get back to the museum?” You ask.

“Yes. How long have you been here?” Price asks.

“Maybe three hours, what day is it?”

“Friday.”

“Rad I’ve been here for three days,” you laugh and walk off.

“Where are you going?” You stop walking and turn around.

“My Airbnb, why?” You ask turning back to them. What’s with their deal?

“If you’re being targeted, we have to keep you safe,” Price steps forward looking down at you. You sigh and nod understanding their standpoint.

“Let me make a call though my colleagues must think I’m a flake or something. I mean I am, but I don’t ghost people like this.” You laugh and call your archeology buddies.

“What is her deal?” Soap asked looking at you with concern in his eyes.

“I don’t know mate, maybe it’s the price for being immortal?”

“She’s all over the place, manic if you ask me.” Ghost mumbles. The others nod she is manic a little wild, and definitely needs to be on medication.

The task force slowly led the enigma of an immortal with that back to base. How will they explain this to Laswell? They look at her covered in blood and riddled with holes. In her clothes. She looks perfectly fine besides her outer appearance.

“I miss historical violence.” She states breaking the silence.

“What!”

“Yeah like whipping, beheading, hanging, ugh just being tortured brings back some fond memories.”

“Your fucking weird.” Soap states.

“That is true!”

“You’re insane.”

“That is also true!” You adamantly agree with their sentiment.

“Why do you agree with them?” Ghost asks leaning forwards to see your face.

“Because I did lose my mind, being immortal fucks you in the head in a way so unique it makes you crave for something.” The others grew quiet that makes perfect sense.

“Also I’m the worse at getting shit done, if you think you procrastinate I can take decades to do something.” You honestly state.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s the most insane thing you’ve done?”

“Besides diving off Niagara Falls, I say being a nurse from the American Civil War all the way to the Vietnam War.” The entire truck grew silent. You’ve seen war.

“Really?”

“I dressed up as a guy and became a field medic. I’ve seen a lot of death, I was there in Japan when the atomic bomb dropped.” You state somberly. The truck grew cold as no one wanted to say anything. They’re shocked, you're a veteran, and they didn’t even realize that.

“I was one the first to suggest a special unit to take on harder missions the average soldier couldn’t do. And here you all are,” you smile looking at all of them with a sense of pride. They were your making, indirectly but still yours, just like your living descendants.

“So… you’re a medic?”

“I was a medic not anymore.”

“You’re a veteran?”

“Technically I’m not because I lied when I was a nurse and then a field medic.” You explain to Soap who’s trying to wrap his mind around this new information.

“Oh, also I was in New York when 9/11 happened. That was horrific.” Everyone seemed to hold their breath, Ghost joined because of 9/11, so this was a big shock for him.

“You have a colorful history,” Price mutters breaking the silence with his calm demeanor.

“What can I say, I live long enough to be around when shit goes sideways.”

The truck arrives at this military base and they lead you to HQ from the looks of things. People stop moving and just stare at you, you completely forget you’re covered in your own blood. You’re used to being stared at, always doing dumb things.

“John— on my God!” You look over to see a middle-aged woman stepping backward.

“Laswell, this is the woman who we’ve told you about.”

“The immortal one?”

“Yup.”

“Hello, Laswell.” You turn to her with a warm smile.

------

1.3K words

@josieguts

#soap cod #141 #cod x reader #call of duty #captain price #john soap mactavish #modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #kyle gaz garrick #task force 141 x reader #crack fic

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yaut-jaknowit · 11 months

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The Hunt

Pairing: Gawtin (Female Yautja) x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Primal play, gawtin hunts you down, hunting, teasing, light edging, fingering, impact play, smacking, rough sex, lots dirty talk, use of 'girl', praise kink, multiple orgasms, mind numbing orgasms.

Word Count: 5880 (11 pages on word... damn. I'm down for this Yautja)

Summary: As you cooked dinner for Gawtin and Qui-oky, the former arrives home. But you notice something different about her. She's... seems to be more in her predatory state. Her eyes narrowed on you. Only on you. She towers over you, crowding you into the counter as you cooked, holding her child. She leans down and whispers, "Run."

Author Note: I'm seriously down for Gawtin. Like badly. She could rip off my head and I would thank her. Hope you guys love her just as much as do.

Ao3

Masterlist

Eyes. Sharp, deadly eyes followed every step that you made around the kitchen. Without hesitation, you knew who it was. No one else could stare at you like that. You trembled but stayed focus on the task on hand. It was your turn to feed the family tonight. Best of all, it was something you had personally gone out and hunted yourself. All by yourself.

Pride filled your stomach as you sprinkled some spices Gawtin got from the market lately. They were like nothing you’ve ever smelled before. Unlike the ones you’ve seen on earth, these had blues, purples, and even pinks in the mixture. Whatever it was, the name unreadable, was delicious on any meat you put it on. You were excited for tonight’s dinner.

Despite your previous experience with cooking for Gawtin, times that shall not be remembered, you had hoped this would turn out better. It had to be. This was all for her, even though her kind doesn’t need to eat meat cooked. In a way, you were gifting something to her. Due to the fact you weren’t the greatest at hunting. You wield pencils, not machetes.

Besides all that, Gawtin still cares for you. She lets you be at her side with her child. She lets you care for him like your own. Qui seems to love you just the same, ooman or Yautja.

Speaking of the devil…

Qui’s hands slapped against the wooden floor of the kitchen. The child marched his way through the area as if he owned it. A mission playing inside of his mind, that you believed was happening inside of there. You raised a brow down at him once he stopped at your feet. Qui babbled in Yautja as he peered at you, stubby mandibles twitching as he talked. Then, with a short arm, he reached out and grabbed at your leg.

Similar to a cat, his nails were deadly sharp. The muscles along your calf tensed but you didn’t jerk away as they sunk into the flesh. You bit at your lower lip, throating closing up to prevent any sounds. With his painful hold on you, Qui-oky stood up on unsteady legs.

Why out of everything else in the kitchen had he had to use you?! With a shake of your head, you bent over and scooped the wobbling child off of the ground. Qui squeaked at the sudden movement but chirped happily since he was face to face with you. You lightly tapped the tip of his inner mouth with a finger. “Hey, kiddo. Wanna help me cook something for your mama?” you teased him and held him to be resting on your hip. One of your arms had him propped up underneath his butt. A spot he was content to sit in.

He didn’t understand a word on what you were say and stared blankly. “Yeah, I know. I’m not yet there, Qui. I got a few more months before I’m willing to try out in public. Before then, I’m gonna stick with what I know best.” Before almost forgetting the meat on the firepit, you flipped it over and stirred a pot of brew. “Maybe in the process you’ll learn some English early. Don’t tell your mom though.”

“She wants me to learn more Yautja and I’m truly trying… I just don’t have the mouth for it. Ya know?” The poor child looked at you with questions rolling inside of his small head. You sighed with a shake of your head and refocused on the pots and pans in front of you. “You don’t. It’s okay. One day though. We’ll both further our learning about the other. For right now-“

The front door hissed as it opened. There, in the doorway, appeared Gawtin in all of her glory. Without missing a beat, you twisted your torso to look at her with a hand still holding a wooden spoon. “Oh, hey, love! Back so soon? I haven’t finished cooking yet,” you called out to her as she strode into the dwelling. Then, you turned back to the food in front of you.

From what your ears caught, she made her way over to you in the kitchen. Qui chirped at the sight of his mother and babbled at her. A hard, warm, thick body molded into your backside. A protective arm slid between you and the metal stove as you were pulled slightly back. Purring vibrated down your spine to each limb attached.

You smiled softly at the gesture. The spoon was carefully set down to the side. With your free hand, you patted at the limb around your waist. “Well, hello to you too.” Her purred thickened. Gawtin leaned down to snuggled her mandibles into the crook of your neck. Sweet and comforting.

Until you felt a familiar wet muscle slither out and lick at the skin there. You tensed up, eyes widening at the realization of what she was doing. The child on your arm felt heavier. “Gaw-Gawtin…” you spoke her name lowly, partly in warning of what she was starting. But she knew. She knew what she was doing. Let alone to you.

She let loose a deep snarl, the hold she had on you tightening and crushing you to her. “I am not necessarily hungry for food right now,” her voice low and grumbly. You were suddenly hit with an arousing need for her. This was about something you had discussed with her earlier in the week. You couldn’t believe she was doing that now. Right now. With Qui.

Though Gawtin couldn’t see you, a brow was raised silently at her. In your grasp, Qui-oky chirped and twisted his small body to face his mother. Said older Yautja returned the same noise and tugged him away from you. All the heat he easily produced was stolen away with him. He began to babble at her while using his arms to help him. You stayed though, unable to move with her there.

Gawtin kept her mandibles pressed into your soft, fragile flesh. They twitched, sharp ends dragging across your skin. “Run.” Then, the Yautja pulled away from you.

Just like the human you were, you stood frozen in your spot, unable to move. Gawtin released a thundering growl. Goosebumps ran down the lengths of your arms, towards your fingertips. You gasped before scuttling away from her. A glance was thrown back at her as you escaped through the front door.

The look of a predator was all you saw.

Sweltering heat bared down on your feeble body. Sweat rolled over your skin in thick rivers. Your shirt stuck to your body uncomfortably. Out of all the time you’ve resided on this planet, this had to be the hardest you’ve ever run before for this long. It was bad. To the point your lungs ached for a break. But this was different. You wanted to give Gawtin a small challenge in finding you.

It would be impossible to hide or run from her. It was inevitable she would find you in the end. All you could do was put as much distance between you and a predator breed for this exact thing. That made a cold trickle down your spine. In a good way. This was the best thing to happen to you in your life. You couldn’t want anything different or to change.

To add to the challenge, you took a note from things you’ve read and watched before. Add a little common sense in there, you used a creek to travel north, with the wind. All you could hope the direction of the wind wouldn’t change too drastically and give up your position. Who knows. This planet was beyond weird when it came to these things.

Despite being in a jungle designed to kill anything and everything edible, you didn’t feel in danger. Instead, in the back of your mind, you knew there was something watching you. Something that would always keep you safe. Even if that same thing was hunting you at this exact moment.

When your lungs refused to bare the unneeded stress, you slowed to a simple walk. The sweat that coated your skin was brushed with a breeze that helped cool yourself down. It almost felt like being splashed with creek water on a hot day. One of the best feelings out there.

This far out and without paying attention, it was completely up to Gawtin to return you to the safety of her dwelling. This wasn’t pathing you’ve taken before. To sum it up: you were lost.

With the trust that filled your very being, you knew this wasn’t a bad thing. You were safe and sound, even surrounded by creatures more than happy to swallow you whole.

As the sun was close to hiding behind the horizon the tall, thick jungle trees blocked out, you felt the need to stop. Not for water or even a bit from a nearby safe berry bush. No. Eyes. Familiar but not, watched you. Heavy and piercing. You cursed underneath your breath, gaze snapping all over the place. An attempt to find where she was. Where the predator was hunting you from the shadows of her home planet. This was her hunting grounds.

You swallowed the thick lump stuck in your throat, unable to find the creature hiding. Gawtin could be anywhere within the three hundred-sixty degrees around you. Anywhere. And by the time you find, it would be far too late. You bit at your bottom lip, thighs squeezing together.

The back of your hand swiped at the pooling sweat at your forehead. Then, you continued your pathing onward. Wherever these lands would take before someone else did.

“Gawtin?” you spoke up, voice quivering, not with fear. No, with anticipation of what’s to come.

The jungle around you was still, as if the trees and foliage themselves were holding your breath as well. Nothing dared to even tremble, let alone move a single inch. Your breath was caught in your throat as you stood as a statue.

Running or escape were no longer options. They’ve long been thrown out the moment you had past the threshold of her dwelling.

A small part of your brain told you speak, say something. Maybe distract her so you could have more time to think. “Gawtin? Come on, love. Let’s talk about this?” you tried to reason with the creature hunting you down. Off to your left, there was a short snort. One you knew far too well to think of anything else. Your head snapped in the origin’s direction. Yet, it was completely hopeless. Her scales kept her well-hidden.

Now, to your right, there was a deafening growl that caused goosebumps to expand across your skin. Your head whipped around so fast you believed you had received whiplash. That was the least of your worries currently. But, there was no sign of her. You cursed lowly underneath your breath.

Sounds of tsking sounded above the ground in front of you. You gasped and jumped back at the sudden different location. “Babe?” you questioned as if you didn’t already know. So stupid. If you were in a different situation, you would’ve smacked yourself in the face.

Those eyes never left you. They were glued to your form worse than the damn sap that these trees produce.

“Run.” You jumped once more at the voice now behind you. Without taking more second to fool around, your feet start to pound against the forest’s floor. Leaves and other foliage crunched underneath each step away from the creature hunting you.

Despite your lungs and legs burning at the second run of the afternoon, you push past and kept moving along. Trees loomed over you, as if crowding to see when she’ll capture you in those deadly claws of hers. Shit. This was more than getting your blood pumping. It had your whole body feeling alive with buzzing energy.

Heavy weight shoved into you yet mindful. An arm snagged around your waist as you went down with the sudden move. You choked on a scream, arms out to catch your fall. Your body was pushed into the ground, face down as the same weight bared down on you. Nothing could help you escape. That didn’t stop you squirming and wiggling worse than slimy worm.

One of your arms was able to reach out and claw uselessly at the ground. Nothing but dirt built underneath your nails, unable to gain anything of purchase.

Then, a massive paw grasped around your petite wrist and pinned it down as well. Everything around you went completely still. You shuddered, goosebumps rising once more. Thick, redden tipped tresses swung into view. They tickled the expanse of your back, making you gasp at the feeling before shivering again. “Fuck,” you bit out and stopped moving.

It was pointless now. The predator has caught her prey and wasn’t going to let it go now.

Warm, humid breath fanned over your exposed neck. Keratin on keratin clicked against each right behind your ear. A growl rumbled around your fragile skin. Claws bit into you, almost drawing trickles of blood. “Gawtin,” you whined and tried to shift mindlessly underneath her.

Her free hand found its way to your throat and tightened its hold. You gulped, throat bobbing. “Keep saying my name. It is not going to be of help.” Your only reaction was to groan out her name once more. There was nothing you could do to escape. She rumbled above you, adding a small fraction of her weight onto you again. You moaned, thighs clenching together. Just a reminder of how powerful she is with just her weight.

Gawtin then shifted her body to sit back on her haunches. With the grip around your neck, the predator easily pulled you to your feet. Despite the fact she had lost height, Gawtin was still taller than you. Not as towering but enough to make a cold sweat roll down your spine. She pulled you towards her, as close as possible.

With her long, pink tongue, she licked up the side of your face and bellowed lowly. Her purple eyes seemed to sharpen, narrowing down on your form before expanding. The predator then picked you up using the hand around your throat. You squirmed, clawing at her fingers at hint of fears entered your veins. She sat down on ground and brought you with her.

You were maneuvered to sit in her lap, back to her chest. Your legs were thrown on either side of her own, forcing you to spread wide to accommodate her size. The only thing protecting you from Gawtin’s thick fingers from plunging into you was the shorts you wore.

Yet, with the predator behind you, that or anything wouldn’t stop her. Her massive paw grasped the fabric and pulled hard. The cloth was simply torn from your body and thrown off to the side. You gasped and wiggled in her lap. Which had her tightening her hand around your throat. Instinctively, you stilled, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

A part of you wanted her to run a digit between your folds, to feel how wet you were. The other side of you was completely embarrassed on how much slick has pooled from you already. How wet you were from being hunted by your lover. You keened and jutted your hips up for some kind of attention.

Pain spring from in the inside of your thigh. A husky growl sounded from the beast behind you. Immediately, you cried out, head flung back to rest on her chest – too short to touch her shoulder. Shit. It hurt. It hurt so good. You shivered, unable to stop yourself, and began to lightly pant. “Gawtin, please. I need you so much, love,” you begged, hands coming to rest on her thighs. The thick muscles underneath the skin rippled at the touch.

“So sweet with your begging. But it is not going to get you anywhere, love,” she mocks you, voice low and barely audible with how grumbly it was. You keened with a pitiful huff, yet you kept still. Moving has only rewarded you with a stinging slap. A lesson well learned.

Gawtin took note of this and purred for you with content. The hand on your thighs slid up your feeble flesh to cup your soaking cunt. This was what you’ve been begging for. Any sort of touch to have you coming in her lap. But this Yautja was smart. The touch was light, fingers nowhere near entering you. Yet, Gawtin’s claws barely biting into your skin, only causing dents. Her palm had a gentle feeling. It wasn’t enough. Not even close.

But, you couldn’t hold it in. You squirmed in her lap again, jerking your hips to rub against her hand. It offered a little relief. Before she moved her palm completely away to grasp at a spread thigh of yours. Those nails of hers that weren’t trimmed bit harshly into the flesh, leaving marks that would later be cared for.

You hissed at the pain. Nothing of words escaped your lips though. This was part of the show. “Be good little ooman for me, love.” And you wanted to. You really, desperately wanted to. But, it’s her. She makes you want to act out, want to be a rebel, a brat.

With a drop of courage, you stilled. “No,” you stated then used a hand to dip between your legs. Before you had even a chance to touch yourself, a massive paw snatched you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she snarled and moved so her face next to your ear. All her noises could be heard, loud in clear. The hand in her grasp was forced behind your back, between the two of you. Her hold on your neck tightened and stayed that way. Less blood was making its way to your mind, forcing you to feel dizzy and lightheaded. That heightened everything going on with your body now.

“Such a naughty ooman. So dirty.” Diligent finger crept up the inside of your thigh, but you didn’t move. “Letting a Yautja purposefully hunt you down, to use you at their whim.” Now, the edges of your vision were starting to darken, body beginning to go lax. Gawtin read this swiftly and loosened her hold. More blood was allowed to go through your arteries to reach your brain.

A clawed digit ran through soak folds and skimmed over an electricized nub. Without meaning to, you gasped and arched your back away from her chest. Your hands didn’t know what to do. They hovered at your sides, shaking. Not a clear thought between your eyes even as the feeling ebbed away, leaving you desperate for more.

That hand moved past your sight and to the mouth of Gawtin. All you could hear was the slippery, long tongue of hers lick up the juices she scooped up to taste. You shivered. Then, her fingers were back to the apex of your thighs.

One semi-intelligent thought came to mind for yourself. You forced your body to stay, to be good for her as Gawtin did the same thing again. You whimper harshly, eyes squeezed shut as you bit at your lip. Curses were swirling inside of your foggy mind. All you could think of doing was rutting into her hand like a dog in heat, wanting nothing else but her. Just her.

“Learning, are we?” Gawtin teased, voice causing vibrations to up your ear drum. You whined but kept still, somehow, someway. “Yeah, you are.”

One digit pushed past your folds, slowly slipping its way in all the way to the knuckle. Your eyes rolled back, head thrown back to rest on Gawtin’s shoulders. Your walls locked down on her thick finger. That didn’t compared to when she curled it. It dragged and pressed against your g-spot as she scooped your essence out of you again. All to taste you again.

“Gawtin, please… I-mmm, I need… you, badly,” you whimpered. The muscles that lined your thighs were tensed but you didn’t move besides that. You bite at your bottom lip harshly to stop any noises.

In your ear, Gawtin grumbled a laugh that shook you to your core. “What was that? Hm? I couldn’t hear you,” she taunted you. Her hand came back down to your cunt and shove her finger back in. The teasing, it was wearing you down to the bone. Your mind becoming mush under her administrations. Gawtin’s hand squeezed again at your neck. Instantly, you were a puddle in her lap. “Good, so good for me.”

Dazed, you nodded your head. Her upper hold stroked the length of your neck before returning the firm grasp again. Gawtin chittered something in her language, not that you caught it, brain turning to goo.

This time, two fingers plunged into the depths of your core. You cried out into the jungle around, like wounded prey. Gawtin squeezed harder, as if threatening, showing you how dangerous she is. One snap of her wrist, and she could have you dead. Your walls flutter around her two digits inside of you.

Now, Gawtin began a pace that slow, methodical strokes that had butterflies roaring in your stomach. They raced up each vein in your body to the tips of your fingers. This is what you wanted, the bare minimal and it stroked that fire deep in the pit of your belly. It made you desperate, blabbering for more. Anything Gawtin, your Yautja was willing to offer.

Talons that have killed hundreds, created divits on the back of your neck. Her hand easily smothered your throat without any trouble. Your core clench, releasing more of your essence onto deadly, skilled fingers. They played with you like a musician born to perform. Your knees threatened to pull up to your chest, feeling hair of embarrassment.

Something in the back of your head whisper dark thoughts. Any of her species could possibly hear you right now, hear how dirty you were being for Gawtin.

Next thing you knew, there was a stinging smack to the inside of your thighs. You yelped, muscles tensed before the hold on your throat squeezed as a reminder. A reminder to stay still and be good. You did your best, body starting trembling worse now. Yet, you couldn’t pinpoint the reason on why.

The hand below returned by cupping your sex then Gawtin grinded the heel of her palm straight into the hoof of your sex. The whine that sounded afterwards was incredibly shameful. But, she didn’t let you have single moment to drown in any thoughts.

Fangs that have the power to simply tear out your throat touched the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder. The sharpened ends skirted up then down before softly latching onto your shoulder. This is where you shuttered harshly.

All the sensations she sent through your body simultaneously had you dizzy and disoriented. Gawtin knew. She always knew. Ever since it was made official you were hers, she’s learned your body from the insid-oh! A thick, callused finger prodded at your empty core. From the inside out.

The tip of her claw was dulled yet careful on pushing to the first knuckle. “My little prey, forced to take what I give. No room for arguing or escaping. You are mine, little artist. All mine to consume and taste and hear all those wonderful noises you make,” she whispered after letting your shoulder go to speak. Her long, forked tongue danced up the shell of your ear.

Gawtin pushed further into your body and refreshing her mind of your cunt. The way it fluttered like Ezail – winged creature – around her finger was delicious. Your juices leaked out like a river onto the soil of her home planet, in the jungle, taking you like prey. Gawtin relished in the blazing heat that sucked her digit further in until her knuckles prevent her from going any deeper.

It was pulled completely from you. Even with your head slightly tilted back to make room for the size of her hand, you watched at her hand came up. Her middle finger soak, glistening with slick. The Yautja leaned forward, just far enough so you could see out of the corner of your eye. Like the way she knew you would be. Then, with that ridiculously long tongue, it started from the base and licked up to the very tip of her claws. You felt how that affected you then felt the way she shuttered.

“I can never get enough of you. You taste so… unique, new, and down right addicting. I will never get tired of your alien taste. I will take you in all ways possible. You will no be able to think after I’m done with you.” As the predator spoke, Gawtin voice hardened, thickened with a promise of what’s to come. This was a promise she’ll keep and won’t let you forget for a single second.

Your throat vibrated with a mixture of a whine and groan that stemmed from somewhere deep. “Gawtin.” It was a beg, though you wished to as demanding as she could be.

A hiss sounded from Gawtin’s vocal cords. Once more, she squeezed at your neck and limited the blood from reaching your brain. It heightened the feeling when Gawtin touched your cunt again. That same middle finger skimmed through your folds and gather what leaked out. Instead of bringing it to her mouth, she pressed it against yours.

Without hesitance and with obedience, you parted your lips, awaiting. Gawtin entered and let her digit rest mindfully on your tongue. Soft, plush, moist lips sealed around it and sucked it further in. Tangy, slightly bitter, yet it had an powerful sweet taste. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Holy shit.

This time, you didn’t mean to but you squirmed impatiently in her lap. Truly, you were learning but it was hard, a difficult task of staying still as she teased you like this. Apologetic words stumbled out of your lips without trouble. You didn’t know if they were understandable but you tried.

“Shh, shh. It is alright, little one.” Rough hands petted at your sides, one rubbing something wet onto your skin. “Just tell me what you want. I will grant it.”

One of your shaky hands reached for her wrist, she met you half way. Despite being a terrifying hunter that’s trained for hundred of years, Gawtin let you easily guide her hand back to your core. Her hand slipped from underneath yours to rest on top of it. Then, she pushed yours to cup your own sex.

Soaked and swollen. “Feel that?” A gentle tense of her arm forced you to full embrace what’s she’s done to you. You couldn’t help the hoarse cry and the buck of you hips. With her there, holding your hand firmly, you unintentionally grinded against your palm. Curses words drooled from your slickened lips. “Good girl.”

This was torture. Completely so. There was no way around it.

Gawtin let you pulled your limb away, though it just fell limply at your side. You gritted your teeth then hissed through them, a light pant starting. “I need you. I need you. Gawtin!” you shouted at the end, voice echoing throughout the jungle that surrounded the two of you.

Immediately, her palm was cupping your cunt once more. The two claws that weren’t dulled parted your folds for the ones that were. They were soft, gently on pushing into you, ensuring there was no discomfort once-oh-ever.

This alien was big, massive compared to your meek form next to an apex predator. A finger itself was thick, but now with two filling you… they stretched you walls, carefully till her knuckles kissed your folds again.

All of the tense muscles that were coiled tight unfurled. You sunk into the body that made up Gawtin, skin molding to hers.

If only you thought was it. Thick digits curled slightly and pressed up as they retracted. You harshly gasped, back arching away from Gawtin. Your nails clawed down her muscular thighs, leaving nothing in their wake. Her name was somewhere falling from your lips in the meantime. Gawtin plunged back into your body, the obscene noise it created would’ve had you blushing hard. If only you were in the right mind.

“Mmm, I love it when you say my name like that,” she purred straight into your ear. Then, that glorious tongue of hers tasted the flesh along your neck.

Naked as the day you were born, everything was exposed. Gawtin was more than happy to take advantage of that. The hand not filling you currently captured a beaded nipple between two finger. Instantly, that sent a fresh wave of buzzing energy to your ignored clit. Though, the way she stroked expertly at your g-spot had you feeling close to the edge. A razor sharp edge. One that will completely swallow you whole and leave you nothing to lay on.

Both arms were digging into the flesh that made up her upper thighs and hips. Those were you lifeline, what you needed to survive. It was all you could do in the moment to keep from going insane.

All because of Gawtin. All because of your Yautja, your mate.

“Those sounds… you only make them for me. All for me. For no one else, right?” You didn’t have the thought process to speak. All you could do was dumbly nod your head. You heard the way she purred with delight and twisted your nipple. You cried out with your chest rapidly moving up and down. God, you were desperate for to do more. To stop tormenting you with these subtle light touches.

In your ear, she hissed at all the little sounds. All of them were swallowed up by her ears, letting no one else have them besides herself.

There was nothing computing in your brain, not a thought worth wild. You chewed on your lip to try and contain any noises possible.

Her heel laid on top of your clit. That former attempt was forgotten and abandoned swiftly without notice. As Gawtin’s fingers fucked into your body, she was talented enough to softly grind her palm against you. You gasped out in shock, toes curling in reaction.

One of your hands reached behind and mindlessly grasped at a thick, dark dread. It filled your hand as you tugged on it, thumb rubbing over the rubbery texture.

By God. A dark, thundering snarl cascaded from Gawtin’s throat. Beautiful in its own dangerous way. Not that you had anything to worry about. The heel completely flattened against your clit and sent an overwhelming wave of pleasure throughout your veins. Her thick fingers plunged deep into your body to start a vigorous pace.

That sent you off. Your back arched off of her lower torso. All the muscles in your legs coil, toes curling. Your hands white knuckled the skin that made up her hips. A heavy gush of fresh essence dripped out of like fine wine. Gawtin didn’t care.

All that was on her mind was the way you looked, striking and beautiful. You clung to her as you reached the peak, feeble nail desperate to create marks. Your walls clamped down at first, as if it suck her fingers somehow deeper into you needy body. Then, they start flutter. Hard. Gawtin didn’t relent and focused solely on that bundle of nerves hidden away in your core.

That kept your frame feeling suspended in space, floating in the ecstasy she drove you to. Every muscle taunt, as if ready to snap.

Nothing could truly escape your vocal cords. Besides the croak you first made before it became overwhelming, throat closing up. Gawtin bathed in the fact she left you speechless, a furled and soaked mess in her lap. And the smell. Pauk, you smelled like the sweetest fruit imaginable. And once you relaxed, she will force you onto your shoulders and eat you out. She will force you to give her that sweet nectar you produced for her.

Gawtin kept her fingers going. One hand tweak at your nipple. Other, filling your cunt like that way it should be as you came around them. There was no stopping this well oiled machine from giving you pleasure.

That’s when the Yautja released something that had a smirk growing on her mandibles. As your body slow drift back to rest against her but you squirmed from the overstimulation growing from the pits of your stomach. A desperate cry sound from your throat, crackling. You weakly tried to pull away either limb from a part of yourself to let up on the onslaught…

But Gawtin didn’t budge an inch. Your legs begin to shake, trembling. With what little power you hold, you fought against her. This alien wasn’t moving a single centimeter. And that’s when you felt it. It had to be impossible. This hasn’t happened before, not that you can think of. You whimper with a pathetic whine and shook.

You came again. Powerful. Overwhelming. Mind numbing. This time, your vocal cords worked. “Gawtin!” White noise filled your ears. You couldn’t make sense of what was happening; what was up from down, left from right. All you knew, could remember was Gawtin’s name. You sung it like with a broken cry that tore at your throat.

Hours. It had to be hours that passed by before you floated back into your body. To feel a hardened, hot body molded to your back. Sweat clung to your skin like a sheet. Even though, it should’ve felt incredibly uncomfortable, you could care less about the feeling. What you focused on was the rubbing of hands, petting at your sides.

Your lungs were panting for air, trying to fill themselves up as much as possible. You lolled your head back against a meaty shoulder with a throat groan. The entity you rest against vibrated with a laugh.

Heat swaddled your throat. A thumb stroked along your pulse point, soft. You couldn’t help but moan again. “There is my little artist,” her voice smooth like butter on a hot plate. It soothed you, made you become pliable. Well, more than last time. “You did so good go for me. So well.” The praise was immediately sent to your blazing clit. You wiggled in her lap again, mindlessly. Fuck, that felt good.

The grasp on your throat pinched your jaw then turned your head towards Gawtin. A groan lazy escaped from you. “How do you feel?” She had her pinkie continuously running over your pulse point.

A aloof smile graced your lips. “More,” you whined. Immediately, Gawtin’s eyes narrowed straight onto yours. Her body hardened against yours, hand tightening around your neck. Her face bent down for a moment to bury into the crook of your neck.

“You are playing a dangerous game.” A forked tongue licked up the side of your neck before Gawtin had to sit up, the strain too much for her. You gave her a lopsided grin.

And her fingers returned to your oversensitive clit. “And I will join in this game.”

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