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captainfern · 9 months

Note

literally anything graves pls pls pLS PLS PLS PSL

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Tusk

Commander Phillip Graves x fem!reader

[“Tusk” by Fleetwood Mac]

[18+]

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• summary - you and graves were enemies (kinda?) and are exposed to a weird chemical. the classic fuck-or-die scenario lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 3.2k • warnings - fem!reader, sex pollen, enemies-to-lovers?, unprotected piv (they're both drugged up so imma just leave this here as a reminder), praise, breeding kink !!!, strong language, violence

not ashamed to say i'm a graves whore 🙏

also love a good ol' fuck-or-die sex pollen fic lolol

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You crept through the woods with your assault-rifle clutched heavily in your hands. You were careful to step lightly, avoiding patches of twigs and dry leaves. Clouds brewed overhead and it smelt of rain as you sucked in a deep breath, eyes darting around.

Separated from your task force an hour ago, you had been forced to continue through the eerily quiet woodlands in pursuit of your target alone. A terrorist lurked somewhere beyond the sea of trees and you were determined to hunt him down.

Walking for a bit longer, the forest thinned and opened up into a small clearing. In the centre, the target you had been pursuing, kneeling on the ground and rummaging through the contents of a small plastic box, almost like a toolbox.

You cocked your gun and stepped into the clearing.

"Don't fucking move." You hissed, approaching slowly. Wind was picking up around you, rustling the leaves, tree branches swaying in the wind, making it hard to detect any foreign movement amongst the foliage.

The target turned, still on his knees, hands still in the narrow plastic box on the ground before him. You pointed your gun directly at him.

"Show me your hands." You said, trying to keep your anger at bay.

The man simply looked at you, not an ounce of fear on his face. You cocked your head to the side, and that's when you heard it— hurried footsteps running up behind you. Before you could react, an arm was wrapping around your neck, pulling you backwards.

You fell to the floor, the wind being knocked out of you as another man pinned you to the ground, the point of a long knife prodding into your stomach. Each shallow breath you took skimmed the blade rougher along your skin through your shirt. The mans other hand was ripping your gun from your hands, tossing it away.

"Son of a bitch—!" You grumbled, slamming your fist into the mans face repeatedly.

After a few blows, his nose bleeding heavily, he caught your arm and kept it pinned to your chest. You grunted, wiggling beneath him.

He shook his head at you. "Don't—"

A gunshot echoed loudly through the clearing, and the man on top of you exploded in a spray of red, collapsing to the side and rolling off your body. You quickly jumped to your feet, scrambling to pick up your gun as a couple more shots filled the clearing. You looked around, your stomach dropping.

Fucking Graves.

He jammed a fresh mag into his gun, cocking it and firing it at the man in the centre of the clearing. The man rolled across the dirt, taking his box with him. You scowled, cocking your own gun and running towards the man on the ground.

"What the fuck are you doing?" You heard Graves shout after you. "Don't get close!"

Why would you listen to him? As soon as you got rid of your target, you were seriously contemplating popping a cap in Graves' head too.

You stormed over to the man on the floor, who was trying to crawl away, bleeding from his leg. He turned onto his back as you lifted your gun, muzzle trained on his face. You had your finger on the trigger when he reached into his box, and threw something at you.

"Sergeant— fuck!" Graves ran over to you, shooting the man and killing him.

It was too late, and whatever the target threw at you exploded across your body in a massive, glittering cloud of yellowy-pink smoke. You gasped in shock, the substance invading your airways and filling your lungs. You stumbled back, skin caked in sunset-coloured residue, glittering beneath the sun rays filtering through the clouds.

Graves was coughing a few feet away from you, hunched over, his gun clattering to the ground. He had his hands on his knees, spitting up the substance that sparkled like glitter in his saliva. His skin was dusted with it too.

"What... what did I fucking say? Stupid fucking–" He cut himself off with a violent cough, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and standing up.

Meanwhile, you were wiping as much of the substance off as you can, your skin tingling. Not tingling in pain, but tingling with warmth. It didn't take long for the yellowish-pink colour to dissipate, leaving behind glitter that coated your skin like something out of fucking Twilight.

"What the hell..." You breathed, tasting something sweet in your mouth. Sugar, peaches, a hint of something earthy, like ginger.

Your brows furrowed, mind foggy. What were you about to say?

You looked over at Graves, who had picked up his gun and strapped it to his chest. He was looking at you, the same confused expression on his face, mirroring yours.

"What was that?" You asked, voice breaking.

Graves blinked down at the dead body, then squatted beside it, inspecting the contents of the plastic box. After a moment, he got to his feet so fast you though he'd been eletrecuted.

"We need to get out of here." He said, urgency in his tone. He wrapped a hand around your wrist and began pulling you away.

"What?" You scowled, tugging your hand away from his. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

Graves whirled around. "Don't start this. We need to get somewhere safe, sergeant, whether you like it or not."

You crossed your arms over your chest, skin still glittering. "Why should I listen to you?"

Graves sighed through his nose, a frown heavy on his face. "You know what? Fine. Don't come with me. Stay here and die in the fucking woods for all I care."

With that, he turned and stormed away. You watched him vanish into the forest, now alone with the silence and rapid beating of your heart against your ribcage. You were feeling abnormally hot for some reason. Something warm settled in your stomach, and you groaned, shaking your head to yourself before your legs started moving before your brain could think, and you were chasing after him.

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Graves led you back to his armoured car, parked covertly amongst the trees beside a desolate dirt road.

By the time you both got to the car, you felt as though your insides were on fire. Your skin was heating up, your clothes suddenly heavy and uncomfortable against you. Sweat glistened along your bare arms and face, the glitter left behind from the substance still embedded in your pores.

Your arms and legs trembled when you clambered into the front seat, Graves slamming the door shut behind you. You placed your gun at your feet.

Something in the pit of your stomach was tight, like a ball of anxiety, making you feel all sorts of dizzy as your eyes struggled to keep focused. Your mind was foggy, too, but not in a nauseous way. Like everything around you was a dream, fuzzy at the edges.

But the worst of it all, you were throbbing.

You could feel your core pulsing, soaking your underwear. Your arousal was dripping out of you, making your face grow warmer as you squeezed your thighs together. Your tits ached within the confines of your bra, and you whined as Graves settled into the drivers seat and started the engine.

He spared a quick glance at you. He too was slick with sweat, his pupils blown wide like he was high on something.

"Are you alright?" He asked, sounding breathless, his southern drawl stretched across the vowels.

The armoured car rumbled to life, and the vibrations made your core flutter around nothing. A stream of arousal leaking from you and you could feel it. You whined, biting your lip. Your heart hammered against your ribcage so hard it was starting to hurt.

"Mhm..." you were trying to look anywhere but him.

Usually, you avoided looking at Graves because his smug face made you really fucking annoyed. But now... embarrassing enough, his smug face was making you horny.

Graves' driving was erratic down the narrow dirt road. He was trying desperately to get out of these woods as quick as he could, but it was no use. You were both truly in the middle of nowhere, and the drive was going to be long and severely uncomfortable.

He felt hot and sticky. Nothing like Texan summers. His clothes were drenched with sweat, smelling sickly sweet like ripe orchard fruit. He grit his teeth, feeling his cock throbbing within the confines of his underwear, stomach tight with the need for release.

What the hell was going on?

He tried to keep his eyes on the road, hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, but he couldn't help it. Couldn't help sparing a glance at you beside him.

Bottom lip between your teeth, skin glittering with sweat and residue. Your pupils were blown too, like those fucking Beanie Boo stuffed toys. He noticed your thighs pressed tightly together, and the way your hands gripped the edge of the seat, shaking.

He ripped his eyes away from you with a grunt. His cock was hard now, straining in his trousers.

After an eternity (half a minute) you released a whine, the pressure building within you too much to handle.

"Graves..." you whimpered, hot and bothered and horny. "Graves, please."

"What?" He breathed, trying to be stern, but it came out more as a strained groan.

"I can't... I need... fuck," you wriggled in your seat. "I'm— ah, please. I need... I needa come."

Graves groaned. "Christ, don't say that, sarge."

"Please," you whimpered. "Help me."

"Christ," he grit his teeth and veered directly off the road before slamming on the breaks, the armoured car sheltered between the trees. "The Lord is testing me today."

Graves pushed his door open, hopping out before he slammed it shut. A moment later, he was clambering into the backseat.

"Come on." He whispered, and you bit your lip, crawling through the gaps in the front two seats until you were in the back also.

You moved to straddle him, your thighs pressing over his. His hands came to rest on your hips, just holding as the both of you looked at each other, sharing rapid breaths. Your skin was burning where he was touching you at the waistband of your trousers.

"What are we doing?" You whispered.

He licked his lips. "Don't know."

You kissed him, and he kissed you back. You cupped his face in your hands as his tongue broke past the seam of your lips, pressing to yours. You moaned into the kiss, exchanging sugary-sweet saliva that made your core throb. Graves let out a low sound, gripping your hips tightly and grinding you down onto the bulge in his cargos.

You moved your hips with his hands as you kissed. Shifting your aching core across the tent in the denim, the friction sending shock waves through your body, making your thighs quiver. You whined into the kiss, and Graves pulled back.

"Y'alright?" He whispered, foreheads pressed together.

You moaned, chasing his mouth again. This time, your tongue swiped against his lips first. You moved your hips, the seam of your trousers pressing roughly to your core, making you suck in a deep breath.

Graves moved one hand to the back of your neck, gently prying your mouth away from his. You pouted, the unsettling warmth returning to your lips and face the moment you weren't kissing him.

"Y'alright?" He repeated, massaging the back of your neck. "Need you to t-talk to me, sarge."

You nodded deliriously. "Yes, yeah, fuck, m'fine."

"We... I can stop if—"

"Don't you fucking dare." You hissed, rocking yourself harder onto his bulge, making his eyes roll.

He groaned, allowing you to pull him back into the kiss. Meanwhile, you reached your hands downwards and caught hold of his belt. You unbuckled it, then proceeded to unzip his cargos.

Graves groaned, pulling out of the kiss and lifting his hips, you still on his lap. You shuffled back and pulled his cargos with you. Dipping a hand into his underwear, you freed his cock with a moan on your lips. He groaned too, bucking into your touch.

"Holy..." He gritted his teeth, hissing out a breath as you clasped a hand around his cock.

It was hot in your hand, so hard it was throbbing against your palm. The reddened tip was leaking pearl after pearl of pre-cum, dribbling continuously from his slit. He moaned your name, head falling back against the carseat as you pumped him.

Your hole fluttered around nothing at the sight.

"Graves..."

"Yeah, baby, you okay?" He sounded fucked out.

You moaned. "Need you inside me."

"Oh, fuck," Graves whimpered as you began shimmying your own cargos away from your body. "Fuck, yeah, o-okay... okay, baby, hol' on... jus' hol' on."

His words were slurring together as he watched you, hard cock bobbing up against his abdomen. He groaned loudly, catching sight of your underwear— completely drenched, dark with your arousal. He cupped it with the palm of his hand, causing you to whine out his name.

"So wet, baby," he whispered, rubbing two thick fingers up and down your folds. "God damn, so fucking wet. Jus' look at you, doll."

"Commander..." you moaned, and you didn't mean for it to come out so sultry, but it did.

Graves moaned loud. He hooked his two fingers beneath the material of your underwear and pulled them to the side, exposing your sopping cunt. Your arousal was literally dripping from you, making Graves moan loudly again.

"Yeah, tha's right, tha's fuckin' right," Graves mumbled, eyes trained on your glistening core. "S'your commander who's gon' stuff this tight cunt."

You moaned around a sob as Graves guided you to hover over his cock. The head notched at your entrance, fireworks exploding in your stomach and he hadn't even pushed in yet.

"Hold this pretty thing outta the way for me, baby." Graves grabbed your hand, urging you to take hold of the edge of your underwear, keeping your fluttering hole exposed.

You listened, and he used one hand to grip your hip and the other to grip the base of his cock. Then, he pushed you down, thrusting his hips at the same time, his cock slamming inside you in one swift motion.

You had been slightly worried that the stretch would hurt. You hadn't prepped at all, and the size of him had made your breath hitch. But, as he bottomed out, your worries were gone. You were so fucking wet that he pushed in with ease, a loud, lewd squelch echoing around the armoured car.

Graves moaned your name.

You whimpered, feeling his fat cock pulsing inside you. So warm and hard. You squeezed around him, and Graves moaned again. Then, he grabbed both of your hips and began thrusting up into you with desperation. You put one hand on his shoulder to help stabilise yourself.

"G-Graves..." You stuttered out as his cock slammed into that spot within you over and over. Your body was on fire, rapidly approaching release the fastest you ever had. But the feeling settled deeply in your stomach, building tighter and tighter.

Your legs shook around him, the hand holding your underwear shaking too. Graves saw this and he knocked your hand away, opting instead to rip your underwear off your body. You gasped, the elastic snapping against your bare skin. Still fucking up into you, he stuffed the material into the pocket of his cargos, half-way down his thighs.

You would've made a cheeky remark if he hadn't stripped you of your ability to think clearly.

His cock kissed your cervix with each upwards thrust. He grunted deeply, pressing open-mouthed kissed along the expanse of your bare neck. He sucked the glittering residue from your throat, moaning, dragging his teeth against the soft skin.

You moaned, hands tightening around his shoulders. You were so close, a burning hot pleasure packed tight in the base of your tummy.

"Easy, baby, easy," Graves soothed as desperate whines left your mouth, your body shaking. "I've got you. Good girl... you wanna come? Yeah, you wanna come?"

"Please." You pleaded through a moan, and Graves placed his mouth to yours for a moment.

When he pulled back, your mouth fell open as his cock nudged you closer and closer to release. One of the hands he had on your hips snaked downwards, and you felt a finger press roughly to your clit. You keened, moaning loudly as he rubbed even circles across your little bundle of nerves.

"Please, please, please." You babbled, eyes drawing closed as your body grew tighter and tighter, the burning pressure in your lower tummy becoming unbearable.

Graves hummed, eyes on your face. "Tha's it, baby. Come 'round my cock. Come 'round my cock, good girl, tha's it."

The heavy pressure in your tummy released as you came, and you now realised what exactly it was.

You gushed around him, moaning his name over and over again. Your release flooded out past his cock, drenching his thighs and the light hair at the base. Your hole clamped and squeezed around him, wet squelches growing louder as his pace picked up.

You fucking squirted.

And Graves loved it.

He moaned. "Fucking hell. G-good girl, baby, oh my God—"

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, whimpering. You felt a bit better, but you were still burning hot. Your core was still sopping wet and overly sensitive. You just needed him to come.

Luckily for you, he was almost there.

Graves had both his hands on your hips again, chasing his high. He grunted and groaned, breathing erratically as his cock slammed into you. You whimpered and whined into his neck, and he was listening to you, squeezing your hips softly.

"Take it, baby, you can take it. Take my cock like a good girl, yeah? Almost there, baby, jus' sit pretty an' take it."

With a few more desperate ruts of his cock, Graves threw his head back and moaned your name. It made your cunt squeeze around him.

"M'coming, baby," he whispered. "Want you to take it all. Want to fill you up, alright? Want it to take, baby, want it to fuckin’ take."

You groaned, sucking on the warm skin of his neck as he continued to rut into you, thrusts becoming sloppier.

"Tha's it, baby, good girl, let my fill this tight cunt," Graves mumbled deeply. "Let me make you a mommy. Wanna make you a mommy, baby, come on."

He came with a moan of your name, stuffing himself so deep that you swore you could feel him in your stomach. You whimpered as he filled you, hot and sticky. There was a lot, too— Graves pumped you full, groaning breathlessly into the armoured car, cock plugging his seed deep inside you.

It didn't soften much either as the two of you caught your breaths. You weren't on fire, anymore. But your core still ached for him, even though he was literally still inside you.

You leaned back, and he placed a kiss to your cheek.

"You feeling alright, sarge?" He asked in a whisper, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

"Yeah," you breathed. "You?"

"Better already," he said. "But... let's go again, just to make sure we got it out of our systems. How's that sound?"

It sounded good, actually.

Really fucking good.

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i wanna fuck the shit outta this man no joke

#captainfern #captainfernsalutes #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #fem reader #phillip graves #graves call of duty #graves cod #cod mw2 #cod smut #graves smut #cod mwii #captain'sfleetwood

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bloodpen-to-paper · 2 years

Text

So to recap (July 2022 edition) we got:

- 4th of July shooting in Highland Park + a shooting in Chicago

- anyone with a uterus has less rights than an assault rifle in the U.S.; right-wing Scotus can get hit by a plane

- Edit: Native Americans have been added to the list of people with less right than an assault rifle in the U.S.

- a third of the British Parliament resigning from various government positions cause of how much everyone hates Boris Johnson

- Edit: Boris Johnson has now resigned cause of how much everyone hates Boris Johnson

- Shinzo Abe, former Prime Minister of Japan, got shot while giving a speech

- Edit: *Former Former Prime Minister... he got Lincoln’d

- a far-right French politician accidentally pinned the assassination of Shinzo Abe on popular video game designer Hideo Kojima, which a major Greek news outlet relayed, only furthering the idea that Kojima did it

- the war in Ukraine is still going on

- the state of Canada can be summarized by this image: https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/862558639735046146/995130724791365652/unkown.png

- Hunter Biden got trending on twitter for the hundredth time and nobody gives a shit seriously who gives a shit conservatives get him trending for literally breathing why is this still happening-

- Edit: ... Users of the well known “incel” website 4chan supposedly hacked the iPhone of U.S. President Joe Biden’s son Hunter Biden and allegedly exposed the both of them as pedophiles, among many other things. Sweet shitting Christ almighty, if this is true, I have been proven incorrect in possibly the most cursed way imaginable, and it is a testament to my willpower and spite that I have not fallen in alcoholism from this news piece alone

- Baymax is a Leftist

- the U.S. House Select Committee began holding live public hearings for the January 6 insurrection and no one noticed

- Kazuki Takahashi, the creator of the popular anime and playing card game Yu-Gi-Oh!, passed away (R.I.P., may he finally be free to kick Shinzo Abe’s ass without consequence in that great dueling arena in the sky...)

- the Argentinian economic minister has resigned (an announcement that was made not through any official news outlets, but via a Tweet) following an inflation crisis that is crippling the country, but all you’ll find on Twitter is people excited about the new futbol jersey for the next World Cup (no one is surprised by this)

- Elon Musk backed out of his deal to purchase Twitter for $44 billion; it was believed he didn’t know the meaning of the term “pulling out” so this was quite the surprise

- Edit: Twitter is now suing Elon Musk for not buying Twitter

- the President of Sri Lanka (not to be confused with the Prime Minister, because they apparently have both) pulled a Ted Cruz and has fled the country after citizens stormed the presidential palace in a mass riot following the announcing of the country being officially bankrupt (which the Prime Minister, not to be confused with the President, totally didn’t cause via corruption in office). The citizens involved in the protest then stormed the house of the PM, and took a swim in his pool promptly before sacking and burning the place, thus proving the month of July is truly a Hot Girl Summer

Edit: Both the PM and President of Sri Lanka have agreed to resign their positions; that is two world leader resignations and one former world leader assassination in one week; I now have the sudden urge to drink myself into 2040

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asterdisaster06 · 8 months

Text

Rottweiler's Callsign Story

platonic 141 x reader

summary > The mission was supposed to be an easy in and out stealth operation; however, you getting cornered by enemy guards that weren't drawn out by the team's distraction left you to desperation. Such circumstances resulting in unsavory acts needed to get out alive and back to your team. Half the blood on you might not even be yours, but you're out alive and safe.

word count > 5.6k

warnings > graphic description of blood and violence, like i'm not kidding. medical terms used to describe some of the gore. reader is described like a feral dog.

ao3

You had always been quite animalistic in your ways, vocal on the battlefield with snarls and hisses escaping your lips through the sheer effort of your tyranny. Grunts and growls being a point made to enemies you faced before absolutely thrashing them to death. Your skills with a gun whether a handgun or an assault rifle were top tier, your training made sure of it, but your real talent laid in hand to hand combat. Specializing in utilizing your own body and surroundings to tear your enemy down. It was something that had confused and yet impressed your teammates on the taskforce. They stared at you with something akin to visceral horror and pure adoration when you save their asses more than they can count.

Whether that comes from tackling the one on top and pinning them by their throat or managing to spot an enemy that they had missed on their six. Either way, any way, they were significantly impressed by you and your prowess. Your expertise offered something new to the group. Your bones held your pride that was either to be completely snapped or remain unwounded. Your muscles flexed to show the pride that was your mortal self. Your teeth were bared to the world like a stray dog. And in a sense, that was what you were.

You were found by Laswell and Price with your fur matted and your teeth too sharp from eating trash-thrown bones. Metaphorically of course. Literally though, they were your saviors. She took you off the previous military base you would’ve died on and Price raised you like his own flesh and blood. He took the limping, ugly mutt and showed a kindness you had always heard directed at others but never you. You learned to not bite at the hand that feeds you.

The others came later once you were settled in - learning very little of your past; only knowing what you had seethed through tight lipped smiles. At that point you were known simply as ‘hound’ to them. You’re not entirely sure how or when it came about, but it seemed to fit you for the moment.

You weren’t exactly talkative, similar to Ghost in that aspect. That’s not to say that you didn’t learn to open up and trust, especially when you were on a mission that required trust and teamwork. Collaboration and communication were the foundation for the taskforce, and it wasn’t something you could opt out of. You mostly sat back and smiled at a few of the jokes shared, but the one time you spoke to add onto the dark humor from Simon scared the shit out of them. Even Simon was a little caught off guard despite his vehement denial. It was the start of the blossoming friendship between you and the team.

This particular mission was no different than the others. Or at least, it shouldn’t have been. Unfortunately, the world had different plans in mind for you and the boys.

Soap had been talking your ear off and you listened in with a small smile on your face at his antics. It was amusing to you that he wasn’t put off by your scars, both physical and mental. He looked past them, not quite ignoring them but not pushing for you to spill the story behind them all if you weren’t ready. You were forever grateful for that. Gaz was in a similar vein, learning to eventually see you for who you were. Sometimes he poked and prodded you, but only in the intentions of helping you. Especially when you refused to see a therapist. Not after the last incident.

Ghost respected you at face value. The mask was who you were to him, and it didn’t make a difference in the slightest for your identity. It was a refreshing contrast to the other two who were not exactly openly prying, but their curiosity emitted from them like radiation. And you didn’t need a geiger counter to see that being near them would eventually unravel your DNA containing your secrets. Ghost simply left your skeletons in the closet lie. A needed deviation in your life.

This mission required you to sneak into the compound in order to collect intel about nuclear weapons that a recent terrorist group had gotten their hands on. Obviously, that was a paramount issue that Shepherd had wanted the taskforce to take care of. Your boys would be creating a distraction away from your position, eventually creating a path to your location for a safe exfil after they had planted bombs around the compound. This establishment wasn’t going to be left standing after you guys were done with it if you could help it.

“Is everyone clear on their positions?” Price’s voice breaks through the disassociation your mind had thrust you into.

The ringing in your ears faded as the chatter began to quiet down and focus was injected into your veins. There was a small nagging feeling in the back of your mind, but you brushed it off as simple leftovers of anxiety growing mold in the fridge of your consciousness. You responded with a simple affirm alongside the rest of the team, eyes beginning to lose the dazed look within the cornea. You blink once and then twice as you take in your surroundings and run your tongue over your sharpened canines.

Your muscles tense with anticipation, letting your legs carry you out of the truck that was about one klick from the objective. You were to be going on foot from here to avoid raising suspicion. The treeline would offer some cover for the infiltration attempt, the leaves in full swing. Unfortunately that also meant so were the bugs and thorns. You would just have to deal with it, although Soap wasn’t so easily placated.

“Fucking hell,” Soap exclaims, swatting at a very vague buzz that was swarming him.

“Here,” Gaz says, throwing Soap a can of bug spray.

The droning and whirl of wings belonging to insects that lived long before humanity came about offers you a weird amount of comfort. It’s almost a commiseration of sorts between the creatures that nobody wanted around. You and the acarids. Nonetheless, you cover yourself in a self assumed shield of the spray that sticks to your skin in a way that makes you almost uncomfortable. The thorns and sticks pricking you through your tactical gear brings you relief. The opposite from what you presumed the others were experiencing.

It’s not like you were a masochist, peace and comfort have just never quite been something you’ve gotten used to. It’s what you’ve known most of your life and it’s what you’ll continuously go through. Much to the chagrin of your boys.

Speaking of, they appeared to be having varying levels of reaction to the harsh woodland environment. Soap has been openly complaining, although you knew it was mostly to break up the monotony of the trip alongside easing the anxiety of the others. He knew just how to utilize his personality like that and he wasn’t scared to come off as brash or even semi-annoying. You try to humor him enough to keep that spark going in his soul. That’s honestly a thought that keeps you up at night; Soap becoming like you or Ghost.

Gaz was experiencing his classic bad luck; truly trying to avoid any muddy spots or tripping on an exposed root, but it appears that it wasn’t working out for him. He had tripped over his own feet two times, an exposed root five, and almost twisted his ankle thrice. It was almost as if the woods had it out for him. You wince and make that last thing four times now as Gaz tripped over a small pebble and had to execute an almost ballerina-esque move to avoid falling face first into a puddle. It made you huff out a laugh, earning you a middle finger in your direction. Gaz truly does try his hardest in everything he does, placing expectations upon himself that nobody else even thinks of. Pressure mounting upon him that moves you to make sure he takes care of himself. You’ll be damned if you let him drown himself in the same way you do.

Ghost was similar to your apathy, although you could tell from his body language that he was in as much discomfort as Soap was expressing. He refused to let even a slip of a grunt or groan escape from his sealed lips. His combat boots were sinking into the mud as much as Gaz, but he had significantly more coordination and confidence in his steps than Kyle did. You observed him quietly, seeing thorns stick into his skin - likely releasing the red ichor of his mortal body. Nonetheless, he braved on with only a slight wince betraying his emotions. It reminded you of how he faces his own torment and demons with nothing showing to anyone around. Not unless they’re particularly attuned to him and his distinctive micro-expressions. You know this as well as anyone, so you make a conscious effort to try and get Simon to open up to you. Not a lot, and sometimes not at all, but enough to sand down the roughness around his edges. Enough to heal him one scar at a time.

Price was admonishing Soap for being so loud and semi-obnoxious. All in good fun, at least, at the distance you were away from the location. Given that Price was back at the car, you couldn’t exactly see what he was doing or his own personal quirks. However, you had known him long enough to know his personality and behavior. You had spent a good chunk of time analyzing the man that had offered you not only a position on this team, but a hand to help you up from your back-alley way of living. He was a tired man that needed some positive affirmation in his life if you were being honest. He had this entire team on his back alongside his position that designated him to a life chained to his work. His title delegated him to the duress that came with everyone expecting victory from you. It’s probability is down right improbable for him to always come out on top. Although, you doubt that he’s come to terms with that idea. You try your best to offer support in your own way, realizing that words alone aren’t going to cut it. You try to guide him to sleep if he’s too caught up in paperwork or offer him a cup of coffee just the way he likes it if an all-nighter is inevitable. You want to be there for him like he is for you.

Laswell’s voice cuts through the comms and snaps you from your stupor. Kate Laswell. She offered you kindness while others offered you chains. She let you into her life instead of caging you like a feral animal. She took the muzzle off of your maw and let you speak. She presented you with a purpose outside of being a killing machine for your previous team sent in with no regard for your health or happiness. She gave you a life. One of your own. A team that you could rely on with a street of protection that goes both ways. Possibilities were opened up that you had never dared to dream of beforehand. You owed her your life, and that’s what you fought with on every mission.

“You’re closing in on the base. Can we get a general overview of how it’s going?”

You smiled and shook your head before the Scot even opened his mouth.

“How’s it going? Oh wonderful, absolutely joyous,” Soap spoke with mock annoyance, good-natured humor shining through despite his tone.

“All is well, the intel we were given appears to be good. There should be no difficulties from our view over here,” Ghost answers, genuinely.

“Affirm, I’m all set and ready here, Kate,” Price speaks, his commanding timbre sending rumbles down your spine and through your nervous system.

“Remember, get in and get out, don’t get caught up in the blast,” Kate reminds you all, as if you could forget.

A chorus of proclaimed agreements echoes throughout the trees of the forest. The silence that falls over the group afterwards makes you tense up and get into the mindset of the feral mutt that has kept you alive for this long. Your breath ends up heavy, saliva coating the inside of your jaws as you harshly swallow it down - almost choking every time you do. Your shoulders rise and fall in time with your respiration. Ghost checks in with the group one last time before you’re sent off first into the craw of the compound. Being a sacrifice is nothing new to you, but it still causes you to shudder in anticipation. Goosebumps rise all across your skin despite the temperature dictating otherwise.

You wander forward, joints creaking in protest as you sneak around the side of the building. It’s inevitable that you have to utilize your knife, but you use it sparingly - not wanting the alarms to ring because some unfortunate soul stumbles upon the body of their fallen comrade. It’s almost second nature to you at this point and you would’ve zoned off if it wasn’t for the pure adrenaline rushing through your system. You finally reach point A in which you reaffirm with the rest of the boys that the plan is a go and no complications have arised.

You hear a plethora of acknowledgements before you begin to move forward with the permission of Ghost and Price. You snake cam the door before lock picking it after deeming it safe. There didn’t appear to be any enemies nearby much to your satisfaction. The less possibilities for this plan to go wrong, the better. It’s a waiting game as you come upon the stairwell door leading up to the room you were meant to infiltrate. The clock ticks down, the beats of your heart sounding out in your ears as a unit of measurement.

Boom.

It’s the signal for you to proceed as all of the cameras are abandoned with the clicking of the gun trigger replacing the clack of keys in the office. You were all set up and ready to acquire the real reason your mission was handed out. Pushing past into the stairwell, you’re met with the surprise of an elbow to the face, effectively causing a gush of blood to start trickling down your face. Despite the advantage the enemy had from his effort of concealment working to catch you off guard, you gained your balance back quickly, and the pounding of your head did nothing to quell the vexation that led you to putting a knife in the guy’s eye. You shoot a bullet straight into his cranium with a glare, just to cover your tracks.

You lick your chapped lips, tasting the metallic mouthful you had gotten from your little scuffle. You didn’t hear a crack, but it was definitely going to be a pain in the ass the next day. Nonetheless, you pushed on, aiming to be more aware of your surroundings. There was an odd lack of guards around the area for what seemed like the main structure. It set off warning bells in your head, but there was no turning back now. From the gunfire sounding out from below it seemed that the others would be too caught up to engage in a verbal conversation regarding your worries. Not like you weren’t confident in your own abilities, quite the opposite, but Price had managed to drill into your head that not everything had to be faced alone. Jokes on him, this situation had the appearance of it being a one man operation.

You and your blood soaked sleeves made your way to the computer where you gathered yourself into a semi-coherent being in order to upload data from their system. The hard part was already done for you; all you had to do was plug a hard drive into a computer and wait. And that you did. You almost felt sorry for getting their keyboard all slick with your carnage escaping from your sinuses. It also felt as if you had bitten your tongue during the altercation, your mouth being yet another outlet for the liquid escaping you. You spat on the floor, maroon saliva staining it.

Running down your neck, the blood seemed to stop at that point, trickling off into a simple seeping of gore. You consider yourself lucky, just in time for the information to be uploaded onto the hard drive you were given. You report over to Price and Laswell, a slight lisp imbued into your words due to the tip of your tongue suffering from puncture wounds your teeth had embedded into the soft muscle. They understood you perfectly fine however, and you were instructed to continue with the orders you were given. At that moment however, the lack of communication on your part about your suspicions of an ambush was coming back to bite you in the ass. Almost literally.

A gloved hand smothers your mouth, effectively suffocating you. If the arm around your throat and its connected hand stifling your ability to productively breath wasn’t enough, there was now a knife lodged in your side. Your attacker drove the knife you suspected he took from your gear even further into your abdomen, twisting it like he was wringing out the last of his laundry. Except you were the clothes and your blood was escaping you, much to your chagrin. Fortunately for you, this particular guard was practically brain dead when it came to medical knowledge, so you were pretty confident that you were going to live. That is, if you could escape without being asphyxiated to death.

You maneuver your maw into an opportune striking position, opening your jaws like a dog being thrown a bone. The coincidental nature of that thought would’ve made you laugh if you weren’t currently on the verge of being slaughtered and gutted like a pig. You chomp down and dig your teeth into the metacarpals of his skeleton, relishing in his grunt of pain and attempt to recoil. You were like a dog with a bone though, and you’d be damned if anyone tried to take it from you. His attempt to pry your jaws open with the hand that soon abandoned the knife in your side after the puncturing of his palm. You ground your teeth into the fat of his hand before realizing the glove was going to be an issue. You turn your teeths’ attention to his exposed wrist, aiming for his radial artery. Unfortunately for him, your fangs found their intended target and perforated his skin. You threw your head back, grasping his arm with your other hands - clawing at it like a feral beast.

You effectively were one, your mouth full of flesh and muscle that didn’t belong to you. Although, you suppose that one could argue it didn’t belong to him either. Not anymore. You spat out the pulp of tissue, realizing that he had let you go. You put a bullet right through his eyes, spraying blood and brain matter across the room. Well deserved for someone like him. You drive your boot into his lifeless corpse, really kicking the man while he was down. Your joke, although knowing nobody alive was around to hear it, made a hysterical laugh claw its way out of your throat. Your larynx had really betrayed your deranged and volatile behavior. Your manic nature had kept you alive so far, so you supposed you had only yourself to thank.

You shoved your bloodied tongue around your mouth, hoping to wash out the taste of human flesh. It wasn’t the worst thing you’ve tasted - that goes to Ghost’s attempts at cooking - but it certainly wasn’t pleasant. You wiped your mouth against the back of your hand, quickly realizing that it too was bloody. Red wasn’t really your color right now, otherwise you would have appreciated the look. You quickly checked over your supplies, knowing that you could make due with anything around the room or at the very least your hands, but feeling comfort in the weight of the metal contraption that delivered death at a much quicker rate. Hemorrhaging from either a knife or a gun was much more effective than your bare hands. Or teeth.

It appears that your enemies didn’t appreciate your sentiment though, ambushing you only to take away such things from your grasp. There were two this time. They almost reminded you of Soap and Ghost, if those two were actively trying to kill you. Your boys only sometimes did that, and most of the time it was pitiful attempts. You were actually the one that got quite a few new rules implemented during training - but seriously, who stops in the middle of a fight to ask if something is legal? No-one, which is exactly why you simply did what was necessary to survive, to quote verbatim what you had said to Price as your excuse when Soap had ended up in the med bay.

Be that as it may, these guards weren’t who you thought them akin to. Therefore, everything was on the table. Especially since they had made the grave error of giving your standard weapons a place on the backburner. Now, the only thought in your mind was kill. At all costs necessary. Your sharpened canines glinted in the dim lighting with a scarlet staining the pearly white as your mouth opened. It’s unfortunate for them that they didn’t have a muzzle on hand.

Before the one in front of you had an opportunity to shoot you through any vital organ, you used your body weight to shove the one holding you to the ground - the bullet whizzing above you. A guttural growl escaped your throat as you turned your attention to escaping the grasp of the poor soul restraining your body. You grasp his upper arm, twisting yourself to use his body as a human shield. It would’ve made you gag if this was the first time you’ve done this. Regrettably, you have quite a bit of experience in this particular experience.

The bullets pierced the soon to be corpse of his comrade, narrowly avoiding you except for one that grazed your side. You really were losing a lot of blood today. Making your way to safety was your biggest priority; however, that was proving difficult with leftover guards that were actually doing their job semi-well. You untucked yourself from under the weight of the stiff remains and threw yourself at the unlucky fellow who had just run out of ammo in his weapon. A simple click is all you heard as the gun escaped his grasp in favor of his bare hands. You were thrown into a chokehold yet again. These guys really did like their chokeholds. His hand gripped the knife slick with your own blood from your hands and ripped it out, leaving you to bleed to death. His mistake though was only using one hand to contain your rage filled body made of torn flesh and bones.

You tore yourself from his grasp, with the worst luck in all of history happening with the knife getting knocked down the stairwell - sounding like a fork being dropped in the sink on its way down. You were in no condition to run or even jump after it, and the only other weapon was out of ammo, so it seemed you were yet again stuck using your bare hands. They trembled as you gathered yourself, preparing yourself for what you were being forced to do in order to escape this ordeal alive. You settled your weight into your haunches and launched yourself at the enemy, vision bloodshot and tinted red. An animalistic growl escaped yourself, sounding almost like a hyena’s maniacal laugh. Your lunge proved fruitful as your claws came into contact with his facial features, digging into his eyes to blind him. The texture of the soft tissue under your sharpened nails flexed and then ruptured. The front layers of his cornea gave way to the gooey gel similar to egg whites that filled the orbs.

A visceral scream escaped the man below you, causing Price to finally check in over comms. At least, you think so, it was getting hard to hear with the ringing in your ears. You didn’t respond either way.

You knew that even blind, the man was still a liability. Or maybe he wasn’t, but to your addled brain firing neuron after neuron that drove you with the only thoughts occupying you being: survive and kill; well, the feral nature of yourself pushed you to make sure he was dead. You had your training to thank for that. You knew that the rest of his body was protected by the structure of his epidermis, much to your dissatisfaction. Your thoughts wandered back to the first enemy you encountered as you loomed over the blinded man. Your mind was made up.

In a split second decision, you descended your fangs into his throat, sinking your teeth into his trachea and hearing a sickening squelch of his bare flesh. The muscles gave way as you shook your head like a rabid dog, separating his tissue from their home within his body. You didn’t stop until you felt his carotid artery begin to hemorrhage. You shakily stand up, staring at the massacre you had left behind. Your jaw would definitely be sore the next day. There wasn’t a surface of you that wasn’t absolutely drenched in blood, and you couldn’t tell where yours began and theirs ended. The corpse beneath you had stopped screaming after the first puncture of your teeth - at least, you’re pretty sure. The haze surrounding your mind made thinking about it too hard. It almost fills you with a sense of regret at letting the monster you once were out of their muzzle yet again. The halfway decapitated body was left as you limped down the stairs and out a back door.

You shambled out into the woods, faltering only twice to prevent yourself from tripping since you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to get up again after that. The rush of blood in your head faded as the sounds around you finally cascaded back into reality. You swore you could feel the dripping of blood spurting out of all open wounds in time with your heart. The chaos finally sunk in, the screaming over comms for your response demanding your attention.

“I’m,” You break up your sentence with a cough. “I’m fine,” Your voice sounds crackly and hoarse. Not that you’re surprised.

“Where the fuck are you, you were supposed to be out of there five minutes ago,” Price yells out over the radio.

“I don’t exactly know. Somewhere out in the woods?” You respond, your head pounding.

“Ghost, find them!” Price had apparently discerned that you were in no condition to be taking in your surroundings accurately enough to ascertain an accurate location.

“Fuck, I think I see them. Hound!”

You think you hear a faint yelling of your name, although it doesn’t quite register to your unhinged and disoriented brain. All you could tell through the muddy fog of your mind was a person. Enemy. Kill. Survive. Escape. You felt their hands on you, your throat closing up in response as you preemptively expected to be strangled half to death. You let out a snarl, baring your teeth and coming into contact with what you think is a hand. Either way, it doesn’t matter to you and you bite down with the force of a wild animal. A yelp is heard, only cementing your actions in your mind.

“Calm the fuck down Sergeant.”

A voice cuts through the haze like a hot knife through butter. You fall limp in the grasp; whether it’s because you recognize the voice or you simply are accepting your fate is up in the air. Nonetheless, your surroundings begin to load in, your eyes stopping their constant darting around and focusing on a singular face. Or, faces. Ghost, Soap, and Gaz. They had found you. You were safe. You notice Soap has a bleeding hand - your own handiwork without a doubt. Guilt floods you, your behavior similar to a puppy hearing the words ‘bad dog’ for the first time in their life.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay. You did great, Hound,” Soap begins to say.

“Come back to us, Love,” Gaz whispers, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

“Shit, fuck, I’m sorry,” You cry out, finally feeling the effects of your pure exhaustion.

“I don’t blame you, Jesus, you’re gonna have a hell of a story to tell us when you get all patched up again, Hound,” Soap exclaims.

“How much of this blood is yours?” Ghost finally cuts in.

“Not a lot, just where the knife was and I might’ve gotten shot.”

“Might’ve?” Soap laughs.

“Mission, guys,” Price finally interrupts. “I’m glad you’re safe, Hound.”

The mission continues, you leaning on Soap since you’re pretty sure stumbling down the stairs strained one of your ankles. You spewed out numerous apologies for his hand, but he didn’t want to hear any of it. The go ahead for the air team with Laswell to level the building was given, and the exfil point was finally reached by your ground group. At that point, you were barely conscious, hearing echoes of pet names assuring you only a little longer and to stay with them. They plagued the darkness that overtook you and greeted you as you woke up to the blinding light of the medical room.

“Welcome back to the world of living,” Soap says. “The doctors hadn’t seen anything like you before,” He laughs.

“Do you want to explain why they found human tissue in your mouth?” Ghost asks, his tone inquisitive.

“Shit man, let them have a bit of a break before we interrogate them,” Gaz chuckles, offering you some water, much to your appreciation.

You gulp down the water like it was the last time you would ever get the precious liquid, your body thanking you. You sheepishly hand the empty cup back to an amused Gaz. You clear your throat, not quite ready to delve into the specifics of what you had to do to survive, but knowing you had to. Being open in communication was a non-arguable point to being a part of the taskforce.

“Most of the blood on me when you found me was probably belonging to the man I might’ve,” You pause, “ripped the throat out of?” You rush that last part out as quickly as you could, knowing that despite your efforts, they’re going to question you.

Both Soap and Gaz’s eyes widened almost comically, both quickly exclaiming different curse words. One being Scottish curses that you could barely make out from his accent. The other being aggressively British expletives spilling out of Gaz’s mouth. Ghost simply looked upon you with what seemed to be both admiration and affirmation. You had known he would be the most likely to not be surprised at your actions. He knew what it was like to have an untamed beast within you.

“What in the bloody hell did you say?” Price was apparently looming in the doorway, keeping himself hidden until this moment.

You cough, and ask “Is now a good time to mention I also might’ve done the same to a man’s hand?”

Soap had a horrified look upon his face. “You’re saying I could’ve lost my precious hand?”

You had almost forgotten about Soap’s injury, and stared at him with a semblance of guilt flashing across your face.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” You say quietly.

“What happened to the good ole knife or bullet?” Soap asked, offering you his bandaged hand to hold in an offer of forgiveness and trust.

“They stole my shit, and my knife ended up kicked down a staircase after it was ripped out of me,” You pouted, the drug concoction of morphine and other such things loosening you up to talk.

“You’re quite a rabid beast, ain’t you?” Price said, his tone betraying the fact that he was in fact quite proud of you. It wasn’t meant in a derogatory way and you knew that. You smiled in his direction, jokingly baring your teeth at your Captain.

“Aye, I think you’re more than a baying hound at this point. Maybe Rottweiler would serve you better. That mouthful of teeth sure does remind me of my childhood,” Soap says, shivering at the thought of being the victim of your maw.

“I hate to think of the final view those soldiers saw of you,” Gaz laughs.

“I think Rottweiler suits you,” Ghost says. “Fearless yet loyal.”

The rest of the team nods in agreement, surrounding you with support and love. Something that still unsettles you to this day, but not in the same way facing down the barrel of a gun would. It’s a warm embrace in front of a fireplace that sends a jolt of something new down your spine. A fondness spreading like wildfire, adoration deep seated in your bones to those around you. Just like a dog, you were a fierce protector of your family, but with them? You were a tender beast that rolled over at their feet.

You couldn’t think of anything better than that thought which warmed your heart.

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maccaronimassacre · 4 months

Text

Resident Evil bot dump #8

I hope you guys are hungry because this is the biggest batch yet! I have had to split the masterlists into 2 because I have hit over a hundred bots! Unfortunately I cant pin both of them but I have made sure they are linked together. Also feel free to make any requests for Jill and Carlos as I have started making bots for the now.

CEO!Ada Wong x Reader

A familiar pair of high heels can be heard making their rounds up and down the cubicles, somehow drowning out the monotonous clicking of keyboards and dial tones. “Try and get those files sent to me by the end of the day.” The voice calls out from behind and snaps you out of your daydream. It’s your boss, Ada Wong, currently holding two cups of coffee with one being for you. Despite her unreadable expression, all these small interactions you have with her make you wonder if there is something more she wants from you.

Ada Wong x Reader (Vent)

Ada’s eyes drift away from the true crime documentary she’s watching over to you resting beside her. Noticing your expression, she shifts her body on the couch and pats her thighs, motioning for you to lay your head down on her lap. “I can tell when something is eating away at you.” Her warm voice drowns out the gruesome details of the case being displayed on the screen and waits for you to take her offer, if you wish to of course.

Carlos Oliveira x UBCS!Reader

Mikhail sent you and Carlos to clear the rubble on the train tracks in hopes of getting it cleared by the time Jill powers the subway. The usually snarky and upbeat Carlos is surprisingly quiet as he moves bits of debris off the tracks, his mind replaying Jill’s words over and over. “Hey… Do you reckon we’re on the right side?” Carlos asks after chucking another couple of bricks off to the side. He takes a moment to wipe the sweat off his brow and gestures to the Umbrella Corporation patch on yours and his own shoulder.

Carlos Oliveira x UBCS!Reader (RPD)

After sending off the train containing the few remaining survivors, you and Carlos have been sent to the RPD in search of Dr Nathaniel Bard, the man behind the cure for the T-Virus that could save the entire city. “If our intel is still worth a damn then Bard’s in the S.T.A.R.S office.” Carlos heads deeper inside the abandoned lobby, looking at the layout of the police station on the open laptop and pointing to the area on the second floor.

Carlos Oliveira x Hospital staff!Reader

Carlos treads carefully through the corridors of the ravaged hospital, driven by the urgency to find the cure for Jill and potentially the entirety of Raccoon City. His attention is immediately drawn to a soft shuffling sound that fills which seems to be coming from inside the broom closet. Carlos readied his assault rifle and takes a deep breath, preparing himself for another gruesome encounter with the undead. Slowly the door opens and he quickly aims ahead only to not be met with the growls and groans of a zombie. Instead he sees you. A lone survivor in the midst of this chaos.

Lifeguard!Carlos Oliveira x Reader

So you might have swam out a bit too far. Perhaps it was due to overconfidence? Maybe you saw a cool fish and went after it. Or was it an attempt to get the attention of a certain lifeguard. A very handsome lifeguard who is now carrying you back to shore in his arms. “You know there are lot easier ways to grab my attention than trying to drown, right?” Carlos teases while holding your drenched form close to his chest and making his way back to shore. “Do you need mouth to mouth while I’m here too? Just to be on the safe side.”

Carlos Oliveira x Reader (Vent)

It doesn’t take a genius to know that something is wrong. Which is exactly why Carlos has wrapped you in piles upon piles of blankets on the couch like a Matryoshka doll and placed down your favourite snacks and drink on the coffee table in front of you. "Come on now, you know you can talk to me about anything. I’m here for you every step of the way." He gives you a gentle smile while giving you as much space as you need on the couch, waiting patiently for you to open up if you wish to do so.

Carlos Oliveira x Reader

“Hey {{user}}! I’m back just like I said I would be!” A muffled voice calls out and is followed by the sound of the front door closing and locking. A familiar set of footsteps head upstairs and into the shared bedroom. “Hey sweet thing.” Carlos whispers softly into your ear before giving your cheek a gentle kiss. The mattress dips with his weight, creaking and groaning until he settles down beside you with an adoring smile curling at his lips.

Knight!Carlos Oliveira x Heir!Reader

"You know your old man is going to kick my ass when he finds out that I’ve snuck you of the castle grounds, right?" Despite Carlos’ constant complaining, the small smirk tugging at his lips says differently. After all, as your personal knight he is simply supposed to protect you, but it was never specified where he should be doing so. Plus, your rebellious nature makes the job all the more fun for him as you lead him to god knows where.

Chris Redfield x Reader (vent)

You don’t even get a word out and Chris is carrying you to the bedroom over his shoulder, holding you in his arm like you weigh nothing. “Come on, hun. When was the last time you actually sat down and relaxed?” Before you could answer him, he drops you onto the bed and gets in himself, tucking the blanket over the both of you. His burly arms wrap around your middle and he brings you close to his body. “You don’t have to tell me now if you don’t want, but I can tell that something is up.”

CEO!Chris Redfield x Reader

You step into the office, ready to start another workday when you hear a voice coming from the break room. “Hey {{user}}! Just the person I wanted to see. Could you follow me to my office for a moment?” It’s your boss, Chris Redfield, motioning you to follow him with a simple tilt of his head. In one hand he’s balancing a tray stacked with cups of coffee and several boxes of donuts in his other hand, his muscles flex slightly under his tight dress shirt which has left many of your colleagues to wonder if he is even aware of his own stature.

Claire Redfield x Reader (Motorcycle Date)

“Don’t worry, {{user}}! I’ve been riding motorbikes since I could crawl.” Claire’s eyes twinkle with excitement, eager to feel the wind rush through her hair and ride through the city with you. Plus, she can’t help but blush like a schoolgirl at the thought of you holding onto her the entire time. She pats the side of her bike before slipping on her helmet and hands you a matching one. “Though… Maybe hold onto me just to be safe.”

Racer!Claire Redfield x Journalist!Reader

The race ends with a dramatic finish as Claire Redfield claims another cup to add to her racing career. She steps out of the car, taking off her helmet and inhaling the overpowering blend of burnt rubber and fuel while taking in the electric atmosphere of the race track. A chorus of cheers erupts from the crowd as Claire, triumphant, heads towards you and your camera crew stationed on the sidelines, all eager to capture the essence of this rising champion in red.

Claire Redfield x Reader (vent)

After noticing how deflated you’ve been over the past week, Claire took it upon herself to pamper you for the entire day. Any plans you had? Rescheduled. Work? You’re now on sick leave. Studies? Don’t even think about it. “I’m not letting you do anything until you tell me what’s wrong you know.” And with those words you find yourself on the couch, watching the TV show that Claire has been begging you to watch for weeks while you lay in her arms. Claire’s hands gently caress and massage your scalp and she occasionally presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Ethan Winters x Reader (vent)

Ethan noticed how on edge you have been which is exactly why he cooked you your favourite meal along with a bottle of wine all set up on the coffee table. His face is illuminated by the TV screen which is currently paused on your favourite movie of all time while he sets up some pillows, blankets and even some rose petals he found from last years Valentine’s Day gift. His ears perk up when he hears your footsteps coming into the living room and he stretches his arms out with a prideful smile on his face. “Ta dah~! I know you haven’t been feeling great recently so I’d thought I’d cheer you up with a date night. What do you think?”

Colleague!Ethan Winters x Reader (Elevator)

Stepping into the elevator after a taxing day, your co-worker Ethan joins you with a shared exhaustion etched across his face. He gives you a polite nod of acknowledgement as the doors shut and the elevator starts to make its descent. Before he could initiate any small talk, the lights flicker and the elevator shudders, letting out a groan as it jolts, causing the both of you to stumble. “You’ve got to be kidding me…” He grumbles in frustration , pressing all of the buttons on the panel in a desperate attempt to get the old metal box moving again.

Lycan!Ethan Winters x Reader

Perched atop a small house, Ethan surveys the desolate village, his keen eyes seeking treasures for the Duke. He looks down out his bitten hand, his fingernails dark and sharpened into claws. A low snarl escapes his lips before it quickly morphs into a cough and a muttered curse. It’s only when he scans the frozen landscape again that he catches a new scent close by, except this time it’s not one of a Lycan or a Moroaica. It’s a human’s. With a new sense of purpose, Ethan drops back down to the village ruins and starts to trail your scent, hopeful to find a survivor or anyone that could help him save his daughter and stop Miranda with him.

STARS!Jill Valentine x Reader

Jill walks over to you, chuckling at the mountains upon mountains of paperwork and reports sat upon your desk to the point where she can’t even see your face. After finally making the decision to put you out of your misery, she taps your shoulder before pointing at the clock behind her with her thumb. “Looks like it’s break time. How about we go out for some lunch? My treat.”

Roommate!Jill Valentine x Reader

With the situation in Raccoon City getting worse by the day, Jill decides that if there is ever a time to teach you self defence that it's right now. “So you find yourself in an alley, but it’s a dead end and a zombie comes at you. What do you do?” Jill motions to the pillow with a body poorly drawn out in sharpie. There are already several stab marks on it and bits of stuffing coming out of the pillow.

Post RE:1!Jill Valentine x Reader

You’ve grown accustomed to waking up in an empty bed, even at times when the moon is high and illuminates the quiet streets of Raccoon City. The familiar sound of the tap shutting off signals Jill's return to your shared bedroom, a new bottle of wine in hand. “Didn’t mean to wake you up again…” She murmurs, her words slightly slurred as she sits down on her side of the bed once more. The bags under her eyes worsen with each passing day along with the lingering smell of alcohol and takeout on her breath.

Roommate RE:3R!Jill Valentine x Reader

The stations broadcast the outbreak in Raccoon City, capturing the chaos below. Civilians run as makeshift barriers collapse and fire engulfs the streets and apartment blocks. If there was ever a time to try and get out of here, it would be now. “Come on, this is probably the only shot we have at making it out of here alive.” Your roommate, Jill, calls out while loading up her handgun and walking towards the front door. Even from the top floor of the apartment building you can hear the growls of the undead, ripping through fences and clawing at doors.

RE:3R!Jill Valentine x Reader

The walkie-talkie crackles with static as you navigate the chaotic city streets, continuing your frantic search for Jill. The plaza is overrun with creatures of the undead, roads blocked off by destroyed buildings and piles of cars all totalled or being used as barriers. “I’ve managed to lose that thing for now… Damn it, where are you {{user}}?!” Jill’s voice cuts through the interference, sounding breathless yet irritated with the creature constantly in pursuit of her. The two of you got separated by the Nemesis, a B.O.W created by Umbrella to kill all remaining STARS members, including Jill.

Jill Valentine x Reader (vent)

Another sigh leaves Jill’s lips when she spots you in bed in the same position she left you in when she left for work this morning. Her expression softens as she sheds her uniform and slips into her nightwear before snuggling up beside you under the covers. “Come on sweetheart… Did you even leave bed today?” Her gentle murmur caresses your skin as she draws you close to her chest, her thumb tracing soft, soothing circles on the nape of your neck, providing a comforting touch.

RE:4R!Leon Kennedy x Reader

You’ve witnessed an array of strange things alongside the agent your father sent to rescue you. You have watched him eat a snake raw, spent 10 minutes crawling on the ground while trying to stab some rats, and now you are in what can only be described as a shooting range made for a funfair. Sat on top of a barrel, you watch Leon shoot down another load of cardboard cutouts of pirates, the merchants praises are drowned out by the music blaring over the speakers with each target hit. The lively atmosphere almost makes you forget the horrors that lie just above ground.

RE:4R!Leon Kennedy x Sacrifice!Reader

The murmuring and chanting grows louder as Leon trails the torch lit path through the settlement. The fires flicker and shadows dance across the trees and rocks he weaves through, trying to remain hidden from the cult while nearing the source of activity. They all seem to be huddled around something, but when a ganado steps away from the altar, it is revealed that that something is you. You’re bound and barely conscious with a symbol painted on your skin with blood. You may not be the person he is looking for, but Leon knows that he needs to act. And he needs to act now.

Leon Kennedy x Reader (Vent)

“Just because I drink to solve all my problems doesn’t mean that you should too you know.” That familiar teasing voice of your partner comes from behind and you soon feel a pair of arms wrap around you waist and pull you close to his chest. “Talk to me sweetheart. Tell me what’s going on.” Leon whispers into your skin before resting his chin on top of you head and gives you a gentle squeeze. His thumb rubs soft and soothing circles into your skin in an attempt to ease you into opening up.

Other Ethan and Chris bots here

Other Ada, Leon, Carlos, Claire and Jill bots here

#ada wong x reader #carlos oliveira x reader #chris redfield x reader #claire redfield x reader #ethan winters x reader #jill valentine x reader #leon kennedy x reader #ada wong #carlos oliveira #chris redfield #claire redfield #ethan winters #jill valentine #leon kennedy #character ai

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callsignhood · 5 months

Text

König on a rampage

Tags: Angst / Headcanons /‼️Description of violence and cruelty‼️ / Not proofread /Dark König??

Word count: 500ish

König was always on missions during his twenties. Sometimes it lasted for days, sometimes for weeks.

Being deployed and following commands was almost a therapy for him. It provided him the focus on something that could be controlled, rather than his untouchable anxiety.

Handling weapons and aiming targets was easier than handling relationships, which he was slow at.

He wasn’t too close to his team, but they weren’t strangers either, of course. He just had trouble to open himself up to anyone.

He was young, with a body built like an oak tree and nerves of steel. He always tried to maintain calculated during gunfights. Although he was young, he never acted recklessly. He was even willing to retreat if the consequences of pushing forward were high.

König rarely got shot since was agile and vigilant on the battlefield. If he was, he knew how to treat wounds because it was given as mandatory training.

His pain tolerance was very high. Or maybe he’s just good at keeping everything by himself. He’d clench his teeth and wrap the flesh tightly to stop the blood flow, take a few breaths, self-evaluate if he can do this or not, then continued to fight.

He barely had any rest, because he believed he didn’t need much of that. If he had a day off, he would wash off all the blood and sweat on his body, eat until he’s satisfied, then slam himself on the bed and sleep for an entire day.

König was then deployed to Berlin. It was a rescue operation from the hands of Al-Quatala, and he led a team of five.

It was a mission under raining bullets. The commander has underestimated enemies’ resources, and König’s team was struggling with limited assets.

One of them was down during this twelve hours pain-in-the-ass battle. It made König frustrated at the whole situation.

He sweated under his gears and gloves, changing mags and yelling out order behind cover. He counted his bullets, not enough. His commander has not yet telling them to retreat.

Fucking bullshit, he mumbled. This better not be a suicide mission.

He then e saw a child being thrown out instead of a grenade, a few feet beside him. As he was taking in this sudden information, a flash of explosion blinded his eyes, he felt himself being knocked out by the shockwave.

He growled at the pain, got up from the bloody ground after a few seconds of struggle, then he saw half of an arm and one foot. Small. Belonged to the child.

König took a few breaths, their death sinking into his brain and it made his blood boil. For the first time, he didn’t wait for further instruction by the commander, as he let rage takeover the body.

And it became his weapon, he stormed into the room with his assault rifle, shot down a few panicked enemy that was fleeing to take cover. They did not expect anyone would storm into their base recklessly like this.

He double-tapped them, then took pursuit on the rest like a beast going rogue. Six were on the base floor, four on the roof top. If his ammo ran out, he’d ditch it and grab a rifle from the dead enemies. Turns out they had a fucking heavy machine gun, that’s why König’s squad were showered with bullets.

If there was a chance for melee combat, he’d use the most painful method without a blink.

He got shot twice on the arm, once on the leg form the back. He bit through it, half with adrenaline, half with his flaming rage. He had enough with this. Nothing could stop König on his rampage.

The remaining two were guarding the hostages. König took aim and shot one of them dead with one bullet.

The other screamed and wanted to run, but König was faster, pinned him down and grabbed him like a prey. His own blood stained the clothing, and the burning revenge was dripping down from his eyes, glared down at the enemy.

“You like to be cruel, ja?” König spitted, stabbed the knife into his eye. “Then I’ll pay it back to you!” He gutted out those painful screams. Again and again, as it was the only way to calm himself down.

When König was done venting his fire out, he turned to the hostages. He was almost covered in red with a pair bloodlust eyes. They were trembling at the sight of this man, refused to go with him.

They had to be convinced by the rest of his team, so they could be finally escorted to safety. The team also took care of König. They were terrified too.

König finally passed out on the retreat heli by the blood lost and by his overwhelmed mind.

#konig #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #könig #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig modern warfare #könig mw2 #konig cod #konig modern warfare #konig headcanons #könig headcanons #konig fanfiction #könig fanfiction #konig mwii #könig mwii

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bitchy-fics · 6 months

Text

𝐈𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐲 | 𝐀𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Alice in Borderland

♡ warning(s): gunshot, bullet wound, chasing, mentions of r*pe, sexual assault, degradation, taunting

♡ word count: 1,668

♡ type: oneshot, fluff, angst

♡ summary: Niragi decided to finally chase after his new target. Y/N was lucky enough to fall into the embrace of the forensic scientist.

''There are no rules at the beach.''

A sentence I wished I'd never hear. How this seemed like a good idea was beyond me; especially when I noticed the amount of drugs, alcohol and sex there present; a good portion being everything but consensual. I felt far from safe, even though Hatter claimed that was his top priority.

This is why I locked myself up in my room most of the day; only going out for food and games. I couldn't leave the building I found myself other than to possibly kill myself, so I had to create my own safety.

That protection I could give myself, however, turned out to be far from safe, even though I was practically invisible I didn't go unnoticed by most of the militants. Aguni left me alone and got the rest to listen to him, except Niragi. Niragi saw the fear in me that this building gave; the paranoia I gained as the weeks passed. To him, I was a rabbit who wished to get caught.

So anytime I was outside your room he'd creep me out on purpose; lingering around me, eyeing me, whispering in my ear if he got close enough, and eventually; started following me everywhere.

Today was his next step, instead of walking behind me he started to chase me; finding his hunt to have taken long enough, to have gotten me more scared than ever before. So after I was done with dinner he followed me quietly until he could attack.

He shot a bullet of his rifle into the ceiling, making me look at him in fear and quickening my pace in hopes of him not noticing. He called out for me again, which got me to turn around; this time to pin me against the wall. ''You think I haven't noticed you, huh? Are you that desperate for me? That you put on this alluring act of a scared rabbit?'' He breathed in my ear as he put his leg in between mine and attacked my neck with his pierced tongue. His long, wet muscle against my skin felt like the most gross and invasive feeling I had ever felt. It made my breath hitch and my heartbeat fasten.

I tried to make him stop, but anytime I tried he seemed to find a way to get me stuck in his force even more. I tried to scream but he covered my mouth with his, I wanted to kick him but he slammed his hips against mine, I tried to slap him but he forced my hands above my head making me unable to do so.

It was only Hatter giving a surprise announcement that saved me; he made Niragi look up in surprise for a split second, giving me the chance to kick him in the balls and run away. He screamed out in pain before regaining his posture and going after me; thankfully his gigantic rifle seemed to slow him down just enough for me to have a chance at survival.

I didn't know where I was running towards, and I didn't dare try and open doors; if they were locked Niragi would have enough time to come to me. And even if the doors were open, I had to be lucky to be able to lock them on time. But that would also be ruined entirely if people were inside a room like that; they would give me up to the maniac chasing me to save themselves.

The only thing I could do was run and wish to find a place where the door was wide open. Luckily, eventually, I did. I ran until I found myself going down a set of stairs, running through a set of doors that somehow led me to a room I had never seen before.

I didn't hear Niragi taunting me anymore, nor did I hear him running after me anymore. I sighed deeply, hoping that he lost track of me; little did I know that wouldn't be possible.

I finally looked around the hallway I had found myself in after taking in all the air I needed to calm down. The walls were tiled white, almost like a dressing room in the gym, yet also similar to a hospital.

I continued to walk through the hall until I heard some clattering in the room at the end of the hallway. I stood still and tried to make sense of the situation. It was not like I could go back; Niragi could be waiting for me for all I knew.

The clattering didn't seem intimidating; the least scary scenario I could think of was having accidentally walked into the kitchen. So I decided to walk towards the only sound I heard apart from the faint partying of the other Beach residents.

When I got to the end of the hallway, close to the door, I was able to look through a little window to see what was going on. I was frightened and terrified when I found out what I saw. An, one of Hatter's closest allies was carefully cutting up what seemed like a body—the body of one of our residents.

I froze in fear, not knowing what to do until I heard a familiar, terrifying taunt again. I looked up to the start of the hallway to see Niragi pointing his gigantic rifle at me, swearing at me, telling me that I was being too difficult, that I had finally gotten myself into a trap I wasn't going to be able to get out of.

In the one second I had at the chance of survival, I fell into the room where An was dissecting her body. She jumped up slightly, most likely because of the loud gunshot that was immediately heard after my entrance.

I looked up in fear, not being able to open my mouth and explain what was going on. Not that I had much time either way; Niragi slammed himself through the doors in a matter of seconds.

Before he had a chance to do anything to me, he looked up to see An with her gloved hands covered in blood, holding a scalpel. ''Are you still busy with that little puzzle of yours, you sick fuck?'' He questioned while resting his rifle on his shoulder. ''I think you're the sick one out of the two of us.'' She sighed as she looked down at me, desperately trying to get away from the monster in front of me.

''You're no fun; just let me have this little bunny, and I won't ever bother you again, deal? If you'd like, I could even keep her body intact so you can analyse her after the slut you're busy with now.'' Niragi offered to the woman in white, looking at me with the worst thoughts imaginable in his mind. I widened my eyes in fear, noticing my vision was getting spotty due to the sudden realisation I was a couple of hours away from dying. I'd be lucky if Niragi would get bored of me quickly.

''I don't think Hatter will be happy with you if you take that one; after all, she's one of our best players. If I were you, I'd find a different victim; it's not like you're that picky anyway.'' She answered sternly as she stood in front of me as if to protect me.

I was surprised it worked as quickly as it did; the predator simply rolled his eyes, turned around, and left the room. Of course, he wanted to leave behind an impact, so he made sure to shoot the same wall he had shot on accident before on his way out.

''Are you okay?'' An asked worriedly the moment she knew we were safe, crouching down beside me to check on me. ''I think so; just a little headache, that's all.'' The woman still decided to check around my whole head. ''You must be in shock; you have a big wound on your head. Keep still until I tell you otherwise.''

For the next couple of minutes, I did exactly what she asked as I watched her run hurriedly through her DIY labratorium. Eventually, she sat back down again with what seemed like an unnecessary amount of supplies. ''This might hurt, but I need to clean your wound first.'' She said before throwing a cup of boiled water onto my wound, making me bite down my arm at the sudden pain to prevent any screaming from leaving the room.

She gave me a rag once she started up the stitching, knowing I wouldn't be able to keep it down and probably hurt myself in the process. It was painful yet necessary; apparently, the wound was pretty deep. An said one of Niragi's bullets must've hit me partially; I didn't notice because of the adrenaline rush I had gotten.

''I'm sorry I bothered you with this; I never even knew this room existed.'' ''Most don't; that's why you shouldn't apologise; I can't imagine what would've happened to you if you didn't find me in here.'' ''I'd prefer not to think about it.'' This made the woman smile in amusement and understanding as she knotted up my stitches, took off her gloves, and put everything away.

''I must go soon; thank you for helping me, An.'' I said while yawning when she sat back down next to me again. ''Absolutely not; the moment you walk out of here, you'll most likely find yourself in the exact same danger as before, worse even.''

I didn't really know what happened after she told me I wasn't allowed to leave. I think the effects of the adrenaline rush, stress, and pain I went through finally decided to crash. The only thing I did remember was An picking me up and bringing me to her quarters.

At least I realised she did the moment I woke up in her embrace, caressing my hip softly while lying in her bed.

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ghostoffuturespast · 3 months

Text

WIP Whenever

Thanks for the tag @therealnightcity! 🩷

(Don't be fooled by all the pink... I just did it so the colors would match lol)

I've been plugging away on this for the past two months, but tomorrow's Thursday and I've got the next chapter of So It Goes locked, loaded, and ready to go. But here's a little sneak peek:

A snap behind her, the crunch of boots. V froze, shut her eyes to listen. Close. No cover. Unknown position and number. Too far to advance. Retreat. She rolled over and lightning cracked as she lashed up, thunder erupting fractions of a second later. The opening volley in the air. She missed both of the closest soldiers by a foot. But it was enough for them to break formation, backpedal in surprise. Another slash, down, air singing as she retracted her monowire to keep them from advancing while she lunged. The boots on her feet finally useful instead of dead weight. V rocketed forward, cleared the distance, and aimed for the assault rifle in the first soldier's hands. Arms outstretched, she pinned their fingers, jamming them to the metal and rearing the gun back. She struck with the force of a cannon, recoil tilting the pair of them off balance before a final downward flourish of her hips tackled them to the ground. They fell, down and over, impact jarring bone before slamming into the jungle brush side by side like a doomed pair of lovers. V swiftly carried herself up onto one knee, stolen momentum and stolen trigger lined up in her palm to pop a question of rounds point blank in the soldier’s chest. She turned to her next suitor and shot them down like the last. A bang from her right. And another. The soldiers in front of her tilted to the side, bullet holes and chipped plastic from their helmets sticking out of their heads. Rogue stepped in from afar to scare the third and the fourth off dead. The fifth was second-guessing his chances until the rest of the fraternity arrived out of the brush. Something in the distance whined. “V, get down!”

Tagging with no pressure: @baublekute @dani-the-goblin @shimmer-like-agirl @wanderingaldecaldo @merge-conflict @luvwich @streetkid-named-desire @seeker-of-truth @mynonsenseistingling

As always, your WIP doesn't have to be writing or CP2077 related. Whatever you want to share that you're working on. And you can cash in now or later, there's no expiration date.

Also if you weren't tagged but want to share, tag me! I'll come check out your stuff!

#a merc and a rockerboy walk into arasaka tower...#cyberpunk 2077 #wip whenever #wip wednesday #fic: so it goes #writing #fan fiction #oc: valerie hye jin li #my grandpa v #stinky not fresh #lovers and massacres... what more can you ask for on valentine's day...

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rreskk · 10 months

Note

Love your work and have been binge reading everything Trevor :3 just have to throw that out there <3

A request I have is having the reader being recruited for a heist because she’s ex military and knows how to drive or good with guns (no real preference tbh you can work whatever angle you’d like) and Michael and Trevor both petty fight over who gets to be with her but she ultimately chooses T?

Amazing idea! Thank you :)

Summary: A new job needed a new crew member. You had caught Trev's and Michael's attention strongly. But who do you pick?

TW: -Suggestive content (sexual)

Word count: 927

Pairings: Ex- military Fem!reader/Trevor Philips

“Ex military, huh? Well… I guess me and [l/n] already have a lot in common.”

Michael rolled his eyes at Trevor’s suggestive comment and slumped in his seat. He looked at the board, your picture pinned as a potential gunwoman for the next job. You were extremely attractive, and ex-military (which had caught Trevor’s attention the most). He liked a good, strong woman after all.

“She ain’t a discharged mentally ill pilot from the Canadian air force, you Loonie.”

“Shut the fuck up, Mikey.” Trevor growled, his anger being triggered by the mentions of his past failure. He still had his eyes set on your printed picture, desperate for your part in the team – talented or not.

Lester had mentioned beforehand that you’ll be arriving soon to discuss any further concerns. The both men were pouncing in their seats, the only difference being; Michael was more calm and collected while Trev… Well, Trevor was already groping himself at the thought of you.

“Jesus, can you stop? You’ll scare her off.” Disturbed, Mikey glared at his buddy who was self-relieving.

“She’s ex-military, cupcake. A gunwoman who can handle herself – “ He groaned, “Damn… When she’s comin’ Molester? I’m getting’ impatient.”

“She’ll come in her own time… Just… Keep your mouth closed, I’ll do the talking.” Lester responded as he began writing some extra information on the board.

“Booorrriinnngggg! Hey, I’m sure a lady like herself would need a man as… Wild as me.”

Michael nudged Trevor’s shoulder in attempts to shut him up. However, before Trevor could react, the door opened and you walked in.

All eyes were set on you.

“Hey, I hope I wasn’t too late.” Your voice endearing and pleasant. You smiled at them all, clearly balanced in your frame of mind. For a lady who shot enemies senselessly in the military for years and years, you were a gentle soul. There was a shy glimpse in your eyes, someone feeble but independent and strong-minded.

“Ah, [y/n],” Lester offered his hand and you shook it gracefully. He then motioned to the seat beside Trevor – “Please, sit.”

You didn’t notice the eager guy at first. Not until you sat down.

“Hey.” He’d grin.

Luckily Trevor had stopped his groping just before you made an appearance. He was manspreading in his seat, observing your body language and occasionally trying to take a small peek at your ass. His heart flustered when you made eye-contact. He saw the Devil in your eyes, even if it was hidden by the ray of rainbows and innocence. Trevor’s grin grew wider, knowing he’s sat next to a lady who has killed without shame, and for her country.

“Nice to meet you.” You smiled.

“Ohhh… The pleasure is all mine.” The seductive labour of his tongue had made you visibly aware of his intensions. Trevor smirked when you got the hang of it, and winked.

“Ah, excuse Trevor…” The man beside him spoke, smiling at you, “I’m Michael. You must be [y/n]?”

You nodded.

“We heard that you’re pretty good with the gun?” Michael asked.

“Oh, yeah. I was a marksman for some years. I know my way around a rifle and assault rifles quite well.”

Trevor grunted from beside you, finding the urge to touch himself again. The bulge in between his legs was growing with every word you said.

“Impressive. Me and Trev, we ain’t professional, but we easily could be – “

“Wait, wait! Hey, I am a professional. I was in the air force.” He winked at you.

“Yeah… was,” Michael scoffed, “Besides, I’m talkin’ about the military, dumbass.”

“Oh, the air force? That’s cool. A pilot?”

Trevor’s eyes lit up when you took interest in his past profession. He shuffled a bit closer to you and smirked.

“Indeed. A fuckin’ great pilot. I’m talkin’ jets and nuclear drops.”

“Oh, damn. That’s pretty awesome. I respect your service.”

“And… I respect yours, as well.” His voice getting lower and his sinister grin widening.

“Okay, enough. We got to work on this thing,” Lester pouched, pointing to the board – “Now, [y/n], you’ll have to either assist Michael or…” He looked at Trevor, who was staring, admiring your beauty, “So… Michael is working on the south access, sniper. It’s able to be a one-person job, but a little help would be efficient. But, uh, Trevor’s route is on the North. He’s got the more open position and will be using an assault rifle. Two gunners would also be good… Either way, your help is much needed.”

You listened closely then realised you had to pick your partner. Michael and Trevor began hoping, yearning for your answer. They both had their ears out in case you say their name.

“You mentioned two gunners would be good? I wouldn’t mind partnering with Trevor.”

The way he threw his hands up in the air with victory. You jumped, not preparing for his sudden outburst.

“YES! FUCKIN’ YES!”

Michael looked defeated and he rolled his eyes, refusing to look in your direction. He was bitter that his old pal had caught your attention the most; the psychotic, mommy-issued freak.

“Oh, sugar, I ain’t gonna let you down.” He’d giddily chuckle and lean into your shoulder.

“Alright, [y/n] and Trevor are together. The plan is… Essentially closed.” Announced Lester.

“Yeah, yeah… Whatever. I got shit to do.”

“Awww, don’t be such a bad loser, Mikey. I’ll be sure to tell you all about our fun when it’s over.” Trevor winked before throwing an arm around your shoulder, “Now… [l/n]. How’d you like the sound of T.P.I?”

#trevor philips #grand theft auto 5 #gta v #grand theft 5 #grand theft auto #gta 5 #trevor gta #trevor philips x reader #trevor philips/reader #trevor philips fanfiction #trevor philips headcanons #trevor philips/you #trevorphilips #grandtheftauto #grand theft auto v #my fanfiction #my fanfic writing #asks #requests

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dontmeantobepoliticalbut · 10 months

Text

Congresswoman Lauren Boebert was filmed wordlessly threw throwing away a pamphlet calling for gun reform and sharing the story of Maite Rodriguez, one of the 19 students fatally shot in the 2022 Uvalde school massacre.

Anti-gun violence activist Sarah Fishkind filmed the interaction in the Capitol on Tuesday.

The Republican representative from Colorado is seen quickly grabbing the pamphlet and then throwing it in the trash, as a bystander is heard off-camera saying, “We hope you take action on gun violence prevention.”

In a separate video, the pamphlet is in a nearby trash can.

Activists, including Parkland survivor David Hogg, condemned the interaction.

“Lauren Boebert just threw away a pamphlet of a mother fighting to honor her child who was gunned down and murdered in her classroom,” he wrote on Twitter. “This is how Congress treats survivors.”

The flier included testimony from Maite’s mother and a green pin, modeled after the green Converse sneakers the student’s family used to help identify her body.

“On that fateful morning, my daughter walked out of our home, not knowing she would never return to her mother,” the pamphlet read. “It was the last week of school and she was excited about watching movies with her friends.”

“Maite, her classmates, and her teachers were killed with an AT-15 style rifle in their classrooms. ENOUGH IS ENOUGH,” it continued. “We must ban assault weapons in this country and protect our children.”

The Independent has contacted Rep. Boebert for comment.

Lives Robbed told The Independent in a statement, “The video of Rep. Boebert throwing out the pin of Maite’s Shoes is disgusting and beyond insulting. We will not be resharing the video.”

Ms. Boebert, who once ran a gun-themed restaurant in Colorado called Shooters Grill, is a staunch opponent of gun control laws.

In June, she was accused of blowing past gun violence survivors hoping to speak with her in Washington.

She has previously compared new gun laws to banning planes after 9/11.

“When 9/11 happened, we didn’t ban planes,” she told Fox News earlier this year. “We secured the cockpit.”

“I want our schools secured, I want their children protected, and I want teachers that can protect themselves and their students,” she added. “And you know what? We can achieve this without trying to disarm law-abiding citizens.”

She has previously mocked Mr. Hogg online, telling him to “give it a rest” when he criticised her record on safety issues.

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howtofightwrite · 1 year

Note

You're an experienced bodyguard. You have a VIP. You're pinned down in the top floor of a hotel. You have access to any given type of firearm you might need--pistol, shotgun, SMG, assault rifle--and your VIP knows how to load, handle and fire one, but has never been in a real combat situation. What do you give her in the dire event that she has to defend herself?

That's easy, you don't; for a multitude of reasons.

First, it puts the protectee in danger. Even on the superficial scenario of having a bodyguard and a protectee in a firefight, the bodyguard is going to be focus of incoming fire. They're the ones shooting at the attackers, meaning the attackers are going to be more concerned with dropping the bodyguard first, and then mopping up. If you arm the protectee and they start shooting people, then the attackers are going to have to pick between shooting at the two people firing on them, and of course, if they kill the protectee, that defeats the entire exercise.

Second, that lack of combat experience is actually a big deal. You cannotpredict how someone will react to live combat. Granted, in the specific context of being the omnipotent author of your world, youknow, but the characters in it should not. Arming an inexperienced protectee can result in some verydangerous situations. You do not want to hand someone a gun who, in a moment of panic, reasons that since you're the one shooting at the attackers, maybe if they kill you it will save their life, completely missing the part where the attackers are there to harm them. You do not want to hand someone a gun, only to have them start firing on the friendly extraction team when it arrives, in a moment of panic. Both of these are potential scenarios that can be completely avoided by simply not arming them.

If you're a bodyguard for a VIP, the only time you want your protectee armed is if she's pulling your pistol off your corpse. Okay, that is a little hyperbolic, there are some other scenarios where the protectee might arm themselves, but most of those are going to be cases where their entire security entourage is already dead.

As for what the bodyguards were using originally, that's going to depend pretty heavily on who they were, and who they were protecting. In most cases, they're specifically going to carry weapons they can hide under a suit coat, which already excludes a lot of assault rifles and shotguns. Ironically, this also runs against my biases. If you're talking about room to room fighting, my preference would be a Benelli M4, but that will not fit under a sport coat. Just because your character has access to a wide range of military hardware doesn't mean they can carry all of that with them, and people in polite society tend to get a bit nervous when a security detail rolls in carrying tactical shotguns.

This leads to another issue. For the moment, let's assume your character is carrying around a Kel-Tec KSG. This is a fairly compact shotgun, and something they might be able to carry concealed (though, that's a little debatable, because it is still pretty chunky), and they get pinned down on the top floor. That shotgun is going to be farmore effective in their hands than the protectee's. If anything goes wrong with it (or they use all fourteen shells), then they can fall back on their sidearm. If they hand their sidearm over to the protectee, and the KSG has an issue, they're are now unarmed, and need to negotiate back their own gun from the protectee, while they're getting shot at. This is a bad situation on so many levels.

Generally speaking, you're not going to carry extra guns that you don't foresee a potential need for. This means, it's likely even if your security team's armory is filled with high end military hardware, they're not likely to carry a lot of that unless they're expecting problems. If this was supposed to be a reasonably secure hotel, with its own security staff, your bodyguard is probably going to be carrying a handgun, with possibly a backup pistol in case the main one suffers a mechanical failure. This is, ironically, one of the nice things with Glocks. A compact or subcompact Glock will take the magazines from the larger variants in that same caliber. So, for example, if your character carries a Glock 17 and Glock 26, if their 17 is disabled or lost, they can still load their remaining Glock 17 mags into their 26 without issue. (Note: this is not true of the other9mm subcompact, the Glock 43, which is significantly slimmer, and uses a non-compatible magazine.) Even in a situation like this, your character would have the backup in case they needed it, not to randomly hand it out.

So, the short version remains, no competent bodyguard would arm their protectee in a situation like this. It would actively put their protectee in greater danger.

-Starke

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#Starke answers #how to fight write #writing advice #writing reference #writing tips #bodyguards #Starke does not like getting shot in the back

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bronx-bomber87 · 10 months

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Happy 4th to all those who celebrate it in the states. If not then just happy Tuesday to you haha

We are onto s2! I’m excited this season has a plethora of goodies. Let’s get started on said goodness hehe

2x01 Impact

The episode starts off with a bang. Lucy is riding in the ambulance with Tim. I'm sure the paramedics didn’t fight her at all with joining him. Not like they could’ve stopped her anyway haha

Just when Lucy thought she could breathe Tim collapses. The amount of worry on her face as she watches him have a seizure…. Luckily it’s a reaction to vaccine and not the infection. It’s severe reaction though and he goes into anaphylactic shock. Lucy trying to keep it together as they rush him to the hospital.

They make it to the hospital when they find out there is one more terrorist waiting in the wings for them. The minute they pull in they start to shoot up the ambulance. Just like Lucy did for her dad in 1x17 not a second passes before Lucy is covering his body with her own. Willing to take bullets for him in order to protect him. God I love her. Doesn't hesitate for one second to be a human shield for Tim. My heart.

They’re all pinned down by this woman with her assault rifle. It's then Tim comes barreling out of the ambulance like the BAMF he is. Tim takes her ass out single handled. He asks Nolan if he is ok. Nolan says yeah he shouldn't have reloaded on the go. John asks him the same thing and his reply to Nolan is hilarious. 'Should've taken yesterday off' LOL I love it. Little humor to start the season.

We surge two weeks into the future after this. They’ve all taken their exams and Tim has had time to recover from his ordeal. They're all in roll call waiting for Grey. Lucy is asking how Tim is feeling. You can tell by his body posture how guarded he is with his answers. Just telling her he's ready to get back out there. Very reminiscent of early s1 Tim with her. We find out Lucy sent him food. (Of course she did. She’s an empathetic nurturing soul.) She cares about him so she’s going to take the steps to show that. Make him feel cared for. It's something that is very foreign to Tim and it shows.

For Tim he’s so used to carrying burdens alone, having to be second place no matter the relationship, being the protector not the protected, and being the one to take care of everyone and everything. He’s most definitely isn’t used to being taken care of. In walks Lucy Chen. Someone who lifts him up and wants to take care of him when he’s down. Like Lucy not knowing how to handle Tim’s compliments, Tim doesn’t know how to handle someone putting him first. Caring, protecting him etc.

Lucy is just so happy he is back you can see it on her face. She was hoping/expecting more of a nice reaction from him. Considering what they both just went through together. Throws her off when he doesn’t respond positively. He's currently doing a throwback to early closed off Tim and she isn't quite sure why.

Grey interrupts before Tim can reply and be any colder to her. He writes up their scores on the board. 97. 91. 81. Tells them they all passed but the 81 is ugly. Wants them to self reflect on which one is theirs. He will tell them by end of shift. He says good news is they all get to be out of long sleeves now.

They’re all discussing the scores naturally. Angela says he looks worried. Tim says he’s never had a rookie score as low as 81. She says first time for everything ha. Tim defends Lucy and says she’s a natural born test taker. No way she scored that low. He is sure it’s Nolan lmao Oh Tim your dislike of him amuses me so.

Lucy joins them in her short sleeves. Tim asks her what she’s doing? She seems so perplexed why he’s angry with her. She says Grey said they could switch over. Tim goes off on her and says she will wear her long sleeves and tie till end of probation. That he gets full discretion over her uniform cause she’s his boot. She walks away so sad and defeated. S1 Tim viscously rearing his head. The boys ask where she’s going when they pass her. She replies so sadly ‘To change back…’

They pull up to a park and get out of their shop. Tim tells her to stop pouting. Lucy bites back and says she isn’t. She then asks what they’re even doing here? Tim goes on to say if she thought it was going to get it easier after the exam she was wrong. Lucy is snarky in her reply ‘Awesome…’ She is already over his reversion back to early s1 hard ass. It's written all over her face.

He clearly heard her but asks what was that? She says nothing….Lucy knows its like poking an angry bear right now. So she avoids the conflict. (For now..) Tim asks her what the most important thing she needs on the street as a cop? Lucy runs through a list of things Tim doesn’t want as her answer haha Then settles on her judgement and Tim says no it’s her cop eyes. They're at this park for a Tim test. Clear he’s gonna be surly af for this one.

Tim asks her if she studied explosives in the academy? She says a little. Tells her he’s hidden a fake IED in the park for her to find. She has ten minutes to find it or he’s adding the duty hat to her uniform. Legit torturing her today with this test. Lucy starts to panic look through out the park.

She finds it in a barrel. Lucy is so proud of herself with this one. Tim is being an extra pain in the ass today. She’s so ready to prove him wrong. That him turning the heat extra high doesn’t affect her. She turns around and is all cocky saying she found it. Even those he's an absolute ass in this scene just like in the van scene in 1x14 looking fine as hell have to say. Especially way he puts his leg on that table. Its criminal you are this attractive Eric LOL

Tim pretends he can’t hear her. So she falls into his trap and uses her radio to tell him when the ‘bomb’ explodes on her. She is mortified and covered in flour. Tim continues the hard ass theme. Saying radios energy can set off a bomb. Ask her 'If she’s going to forget that lesson boot?' She replies No….Sigh poor Lucy. In his warpath this episode. She just can't figure out why.

Their next call brings them to a husband reporting his wife missing. Lucy feels bad for the guy and Tim doesn’t. Tells her Cop eyes again. Saying it’s always the husband who did it. Lucy once again snarky back asking if this is his first rule of domestics lol Tim is unchanging in his hard demeanor. Tells her it’s not a joke. That she’s too new to properly assess people yet. She should be showing suspicion not compassion as her default. Lucy looks annoyed as hell. Getting to her boiling point with his sour attitude.

Lucy’s irritation comes to a head when they return to the station. She asks him what he’s doing? Tim states the obvious and says clocking out and going home. She is more direct and asks why he is treating her like it’s day 1 all over again? He says because it is day one for her with phase 2 of her training. Lucy is further agitated. Asking if she’s lost all the respect she’s earned since then? Then Tim finally shows his hand on why he’s so angry. Tells her she lost that when she lied on a report.

It all comes together for Lucy. This is why he’s been such a grumpy bear all day. She finally understands why he’s been such a hard ass. Her reaction is incredulous. She’s honestly shocked he’s reacting this way. Lucy thought it was pretty obvious her actions were to protect him. Tim rattles on about procedure and code. How she should’ve reported him. She truly doesn’t understand why he’s mad at her for protecting him.

The look on Tim’s face in the second gif. He looks in shock Lucy did that for him. He’s so caught up on her lying on a report he didn’t stop to think she was doing it to protect him. Oh my broken baby. As I stated earlier he’s not used to being the protected. It was Lucy’s first and only instinct to edit that part out to safeguard him. To me this is the most tragic part of it all. Is he NEVER expected this from her. When he read that report all he saw was her not following procedure. Instead of what it really was...Which was her shielding him. Deep down I think part of him knew this but he couldn't accept it hence him lashing out like he is.

Lucy goes on to explain why she protected him. Because Tim clearly isn't understanding why she did it. How she knew Tim wasn’t really suicidal. He just needed to vent his stress and anxiety to her in that moment. That she didn’t want him to have to go through unnecessary therapy. To lose him as her T.O. over something that could hurt his career and their time together. Tim regains some of his composure and goes back to the company line BS. Saying how it wasn’t her call to make. That everyone should be reported consequences or not. Now here comes the best part of this entire scene. Of the episode really IMO.

Lucy destroys him with her reply. This is one of the reasons Tim falls so hard for her. The fact that she calls him on his shit. Not only does that but pulls his head out of his ass. Then promptly hands it back to him on a silver platter with her Isabel retort. She owns this scene after this. What's so damn impressive is Lucy can go toe to toe with him and win. She challenges him in a way no one has before and puts him in place when he needs it.

And he very much needs it in this moment. That final gif is his realization of that. Lucy delivers her K.O. punch and leaves him standing there with regrets about his behavior. He has no leg to stand on after she eviscerates him with her comments. Telling him not to hang his anger on his ‘code’ when it’s clearly not about that. Her calling him out and rightfully so like she did back in 1x03. When he was putting her in harms way as his therapy about Isabel.

Lucy tells him the hard stuff when he needs to hear it most. You know I love my Tim but hot damn did he need this Lucy knockdown. He admires her for it even when it’s hard for him to swallow. The way he just stands there it’s hitting him he took this reaction way too far. He’s forgetting how stressful that entire situation was for her as well. This ass chewing he just got is a stark realization of that. Also you know part of that chemistry of theirs is scenes like this. That fire and passion between them both. Ooh lord I love it.

Grey reveals their scores. We find out Lucy got a 91. She is immensely relieved and Tim is smiling ear to ear. Tim is good at burying a lot of things, being proud of Lucy has never been one of them. Look at this man beaming for her. He knew she would get a high score. He couldn’t be happier about it. Written all over his body language I love it sfm. I keep saying Eric is amazing with expressing so much with just a look. Its because he is look at that man. Pride x1000 in his girl.

The cute proud husband theme continues. Lucy spots a fake cop in the parking garage stealing a radio. She chases him out of there and jumps a wall in order to pursue him. I LOVE Tim asking if she’s okay first thing. It’s the softness in his voice that gets me. She is smiling and says yeah. Lucy is first beaming cause Grey seems impressed with her.

Then more so when Tim does his version of being proud of her. She rolls her eyes a bit but you know she’s happy to have him singing her praises. He could not be prouder of her if he tried in his scene. Anytime she does exactly what he knows she capable of he is elated. Also being proud in front of Grey is even better for Lucy. This is big brag for Tim about her. ❤️

Later on they figure out one of the fake cops leads them to the wife that went missing. Lucy asks if Nolan needs backup they say no. Lucy can’t help herself and takes a little dig at Tim. She has the high ground atm and knows it. Throwing the husband comment back at him. Tim doesn’t even reply. Just has a small smirk on his face. You know he loves her pushing his buttons and giving him crap. They aren’t at the point of apologies just yet. This is as close as we’re getting for them right now. It’s pretty cute.

Their final scene is them working in harmony like they do. Taking down the fake cops for the most part on their own. I love watching them work in the field. They’re so fluid and move without issue. That silent communication and such. Poetry in motion I would say.

Thus ends the Chenford portion of the S2 premiere.

~~~

Side notes non Chenford

The opening scene for Wopez always cracks me up. Wes seeing a side of Angela he hasn’t before. Her messy side. Him finding the sandwich in the shower LOL His face kills me he’s so grossed out and she thinks it’s natural af hahaha They cute.

#Caitlin rewatches The Rookie #chenford #chenford hiatus #summer rewatch #s2 #2x01 Impact #the rookie #tim bradford #lucy chen #tim x lucy #eric winter #melissa o’neil #lucy x tim #otp: you know me so well. too well.#otp: doing my job #tim bradford x lucy chen #waiting on s6

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arcturan-art · 9 months

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A lance of light reinforcements had arrived, and in order to pin them down long enough for my assault lance to get into position. I sent my Wolverine pilot to go and deal with them.

He jumps into their midst and opens with an alpha strike on the nearest mech. The following round, the Wolverine pilot charges a valkyrie and ends up slamming it into a building, the building collapses and traps the mech inside, knocking out the pilot. Next round, the wolverine is up and gunning at a nearby wasp, which makes the unfortunate mistake of leaping up onto a building for some height advantage and takes a gauss rifle to the back. 2 mechs down in just as many rounds.

A stinger has been chewing up the wolverine's armor and is next on the menu. The Wolverine unloads another alpha strike at the stinger in reply, blowing it's arm off before advancing toward another Wasp in the lance. This guy gets it the worst. The wasp and wolverine trade a salvo or two and the wasp loses a leg in the process. While closing distance for a coup de grace, the wolverine pilot uproots a nearby hickory tree and proceeds to replant it in the cockpit of the fallen wasp.

#battletech #mechwarrior #mecha #wolverine #wasp

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neon-junkie · 2 years

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Observer

Summary: In the midst of battle, Crosshair comes across two problems - he has a thing for you, and he's painfully hard.

Pairing: Crosshair x gn!Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Tags: Voyeurism, Battle, Masturbation, Grinding, Coming untouched, Guilt, Fantasizing, Secret crushes.

Notes: I just wanted to write about Cross being a perv. very naughty of him

He's watching you. Well, that's his job. Watch his squad from afar, ensure that they don't get killed, and when the time is right, regroup and help during the next wave. But he's watching you. Crosshair has you in his sights. It's not like he needs to. You're a Jedi, more than capable of handling yourself, yet Crosshair is still watching you, the cross of his rifle dancing over your body as you slaughter your way through a mass of droids, accompanied by his brothers. Every hit. Every twist and turn. Every slash of your lightsaber. Crosshair is mesmerized, and he can't pinpoint why. There's something elegant about it - the way that you fight - as if you're merely dancing, with droids dropping on their own accord. He's hooked. Crosshair hasn't fired in rifle in the last sixty seconds, which is a long time when it comes to battle. He hasn't needed to - you're fine, you're perfectly fine, as are his brothers, not that he's watching them. Well, they keep appearing in his line of sight, and he's eager to usher them away and return his focus to you. Kriff. You're mesmerizing, and Crosshair doesn't even realise what he's doing. It's almost creepy, gawking at his General as you continue your assault. You're only working, doing what you were trained to do, and if you knew what is currently running through Crosshair's mind, then maybe you'd slaughter him like a droid. The first grunt slips from Crosshair's lips as he realises how heavy his hips are, pinning his hard cock against the thick shell of his armour. He knows what to do, rolling his hips in a way that allows his cock to rest against the curve of his hips, no longer trapping it uncomfortably beneath his under armour. It's a skin-tight shell that is a pain to peel off, let alone move in, but Crosshair has more than enough years of experience, knowing how to work with such distasteful material. Crosshair blinks, quickly, eager not to miss a single move. His hands work delicately, adjusting his rifle with every minor movement that you make. For some, this is a difficult task, keeping up with a moving target. For Crosshair, however - a sniper who was created specifically for his skills - this is nothing more than a walk in the park. A walk in the park with you, perhaps? Such a calming idea in comparison to the scene that is currently playing out through the lens of his rifle. Another subconscious roll of his hips, and Crosshair comes to realise what is going on. He's aroused, and not from anything sexual. There is nothing sexual about you in the midst of battle, yet still, Crosshair has found a way to work himself up over it. In any normal scenario, Crosshair would stop, mentally scold himself, and never act on his natural urges ever again. Yet, he is not normal, given his nature and training, and why should Crosshair stop when he's only admiring? Especially when it feels so good? A whimper slips from his lips, muffled through the thick plastoid of his helmet. He's panting, breathing heavily, almost fogging up his visor. Crosshair's nostrils flair as he adjusts his weight, still lying flat on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, but shifting in a way that is more pleasurable for him. By now, he doesn't care. He's hard, solid, and eager for any form of friction. Given that he's currently in the midst of battle, Crosshair can't just whip his cock out and jerk himself into bliss. Oh, no. He has a job to do - one that he's failing to do, given that he hasn't fired a single shot for almost three minutes. There's guilt on his shoulders, but his arousal is almost overwhelming, and he decides that he's fine with Hunter berating him later for "slacking on the job." Crosshair continues watching, his hips now slowly rutting in small, desperate circles, giving his cock some form of relief. Of course, rutting his cock against his stomach and the ground isn't anywhere near as pleasurable as wrapping his fist around it, but he'll take what he can get, given the circumstances. Your dance has come to an end. Crosshair watches as his squad regroups, finding each other through the fog of burnt out droids. The glow of your lightsaber vanishes, and it returns to your belt, before your hands come to rest on your hips as you begin talking to the others. His brothers are gesturing to the rubble, and Crosshair's hips instantly come to a halt as Hunter looks directly where he's positioned. His hand comes up to press the side of his helmet, and Crosshair grumbles as Hunter's voice buzzes though. "Fancy doing some work? Or are you going for another nap?" Hunter scolds, well aware that Crosshair did nothing during that battle. It's not his fault that he was distracted. Crosshair, with more venom in his tone, comms back, "my rifle is jammed." "Oh." "Oh, indeed," Crosshair grumbles. Sure, it's a lame excuse, one that is certain to bite him in the ass, but he can't willingly explain the real reason why he's sat idle for the last few minutes. To his surprise, your voice dances around his helmet. "Any luck fixing it? Or do you need to regroup with us?" Crosshair hesitates, his hand hovering over the button, but not yet pressing it. As much as he wants to join you, (and the others,) he's still painfully hard, and he doesn't fancy sprinting around with his erection pinned uncomfortably below his armour. "I've just about got it," Crosshair replies. "Good, because Tech is picking up the next wave of approaching droids on his scanner," you reply. Crosshair watches as Tech exchanges some words, and again, you comm him. "Tech says they'll be here within the next two minutes. Regroup if you need to. Don't make yourself an easy target," you advise. "Yes, General," Crosshair says with a nod. He hears the click of the comms switching off, and once again, Crosshair is left to his own devices. Two minutes. Crosshair needs to pull himself together, before he risks being taken apart. He has a perfect vantage point, well hidden through a thick wall of trees and bushes. He's hidden, a stalking Nexu, but he doesn't feel the urge to pounce. Not yet. Crosshair's gaze returns to his rifle, watching as everybody takes their new positions. Ah, there you are, hidden behind a tree, currently idle and waiting for action. Your fingertips are trailing along the hilt of your unlit lightsaber, presumably rubbing off some dirt from the midst of battle. The things Crosshair would do to have those hands on him. However you want. Whatever you want. Beat him up, for all he cares. Crosshair shivers at the thought, and subconsciously, his hips begin rutting again. He lets out a desperate whine, so pathetic, and he knows he's pathetic for this. It's going to take a lot of self-brooding to wipe this off his slate, if he ever manages. The droids have arrived, and a chill runs down Crosshair's spine as your lightsaber ignites. How do you look so good when in battle? So flawless, the true definition of ethereal. His fingers find the trigger, and he gets to work, his shots being sloppy at first. It doesn't take Crosshair long for him to find the balance between working and pleasuring himself, but once he's found it, he goes to town. Yes, his comms are off, and he's ensured they are by checking a million times. He's biting back his moans, but a few stragglers slip through, along with his heavy breaths, almost fogging up his helmet. He doesn't want to blink, doesn't want to miss a millisecond of your performance, gawking through the lens of his rifle. And then it hits him, the final blow. You perform a stunt that causes Crosshair to cave in, panting heavily as a wet patch forms on his stomach. Guilt is drowning him by now, but he doesn't care, shrugging off the clawing emotion and putting his focus elsewhere. His hips slow their pace, milking whatever's left, until they eventually come to a stop. Surprisingly, the battle ends as Crosshair does, and he releases his rifle to roll onto his side, analysing the damage. It's unnoticeable, hidden behind his armour, but he knows he's going to head straight to the refresher as soon as he's back on the Marauder. Maybe he'll wash away his sins whilst he's at it. "Nice to see you back in action, Cross," your voice echoes through his helmet, and he gazes down to see you looking in his general direction, knowing that he's up on that ridge, but not being able to actually see him. Crosshair huffs as he rolls onto his front, his fingertips finding the button on his helmet before he comms back. "I couldn't miss all the fun now, could I?" "Glad you enjoyed some of the party," you say with a laugh. So innocent, unaware of the utter state that Crosshair is in. "Come and regroup with us for the after party," you order in a tone so sweet that it'll leave cavities. "Yes, General," Crosshair says with a nod. His knees almost buckle in on themselves as he stands, a disorientated man who needs to get a grip of himself. Or at least, that's what he's barking at himself in his mind - get a grip, get a karking grip! Regardless, the damage is done, and Crosshair needs to bury this scenario, and refuse the guilt from eating him up. He has a job to do, and he shouldn't have crossed the line by mixing work with pleasure. But it's done now. Let's hope this scenario never slips into Crosshair's mind when you're present, else your special abilities might pick up on it.

#tbbwriting #crosshair #the bad batch #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #lemons #tbb crosshair #tbb

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