#enticing mercenary

[princessthatcantfuckingsleep]

Jackal (Enticing mercenary) X Reader

(SORRY IF THIS SUCKS ASS + NSFW)

Inspired by @sleepy-apparition & @itsyourstarboy

As the mage lays comfortably in Jackal's strong but tender embrace, they can feel Jackal's hands start to glide gently over their bodies. Jackal seems in awe at the beauty in front of him, running his fingers down the small curves here and there on her body. His hand runs along the curves of her hips before resting on her stomach. Jackal leans in to give the mage a kiss before leaning back slightly.

Jackal is filled with affection for the mage in his arms, and his eyes are filled with desire.

 

Smirking, Jackal trails his fingers slowly up the mage's spine, relishing the feel of their flesh underneath his fingertips. He glances down, taking in the sight of the mage's exposed neck, and then leans in for something that feels like a kiss, only to place his lips teasingly near their skin rather than making true contact.

 

In a flash of motion, Jackal has positioned himself behind the mage, one arm slung gently over the mage's shoulder, the other reaching around them to pull them in closer.

 

A light groan escapes the mage's lips when Jackal's warm breath tickles the base of their neck. He nuzzles the mage's neck softly, his lips brushing gently against the skin. He can feel the mage's pulse racing under his touch as their bodies begin to heat up. Jackal's own breath quickens slightly as he inhales the mage's scent, a sweet and intoxicating scent that sets his heart aflutter. His tongue trails up the mage's neck, lingering on the soft spot behind the mage's ear before circling back to their neck.

 

As Jackal gently bites down on the mage's neck, they let out another sound of pleasure that sends shivers down the mercenary's spine. Jackal nibbles and caresses the mage's neck and shoulders, his mouth and hands slowly exploring every inch of their body as the mage's skin is covered in goosebumps. Jackal's tongue darts out to touch the soft skin of the mage's throat, which leads to a new sound of pleasure that fills the room with the sounds of pleasure. Jackal's touch becomes more intense, and the heat is becoming intense. Jackal cannot contain himself any longer and moves to kiss the mage hungrily, their lips crashing together in a frenzy of desire. Jackal pulls the mage against him tightly as their bodies press together. His hands roam across the mage's body as he kisses them deeply and passionately. The mage's body relaxes into the mercenary embrace as their lips part......

[bits-and-babs]

𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 — 𝐃𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐉𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍

» PAIRING : Din Djarin x Reader

» CONTENTS : Smuttt. Needy Din- maskless Din is a sub, fight with the wall. Body worship (face… worship?). P in V sex- emphasis more on the P on V sex). Not proof read.

» SUMMARY: Traditions form after Din removes the mask.

» DIN MASTERLIST : here || MAIN MASTERLIST : here

It’s freezing cold to the touch, the sharp edges of his helmet practically slicing your fingers open as you tentatively lift the beskar from his face. You feel his aquiline nose catch on the foam padding on the inside. You utter a sorry.

Din’s palms splay over your hips where you straddle him in the minute cot, leather biting lightly against your bare skin where he digs his fingers in. His eyelashes flutter as the edge of his helmet is pulled up, and he’s exposed to the harsh, untempered lights inside the Razor Crest. Din turns his face to the side, unable to look you in the eye. Even now, after all this time, he’s still momentarily apprehensive about displaying his face to you.

“Hold still for me,” you whisper, so quiet that you’re sure that your own heartbeat muffles your order, drowning your words out with its pulse. It’s thrumming wildly against your sternum, still thrilled by the sight of Din’s eyes on you.

Mercenary, Bounty Hunter, Mandalorian- Mandalore. All of Din’s titles melt away like beskar in an armourer’s kiln when you’re alone. The alloy drips and runs and cools, melding the warrior a far simpler and benign title- yours.

Din’s breath stalls in his lungs as you begin your ritual, his eyes cast to the durasteel hangar ceiling as he feels you press your lips to his with a gentle urgency. One kiss, then another, and another. You barely give him a moment to register your affections, his own lips lagging behind in their response.

“Mhmm~” You hum, but it bleeds into a whine as you settle your bare cunt over the length of Din’s cock. His groan dies behind gritted teeth as you sweep your hips over the length of him, soaking the velvety skin with your slick.

His chestplate is freezing against your breasts as you lean over him, having given him no time to undress when you threw him back against the cot and took what you wanted. Your nipples are hard against the cold Beskar-steel, dragging back and forth slightly as your hips rock against the curve of his dick. It makes you ache for him even more.

Focusing a slow, steady rhythm with your hips, you allow your lips to wander. They trace his jawline, sharp as the spear he carries with him. Din tilts his head back for you, gasping out your name as you bite the skin stretched across the bone. You nip playfully, focusing your attention on the patchy parts of his jaw, where the hair is sparse.

“C-Cyar'ika,” Din groans, his voice pitchy over the wet sounds of his cock sweeping through your folds. The head bumps your clit, and you whine against the curve of his jaw, your chin pressed to his pulse point.

Din Djarin is the prettiest man you’d ever met. His expressions, however, were even more enticing. Hidden behind a mask for his entire adult life, Din never learnt to neutralise his face. It made him emotive, especially in bed.

As you kiss the tip of his nose, you watch as his eyebrows pinch together, then arch up slightly as you let the weeping tip of his cock nudge at your entrance. You settle on it lightly, let the head sink inside before pulling up again quickly, barely allowing him a moment to relish the tight heat. He lets out a groan of frustration, desperation, as you drag your lips over the arch of his aquiline nose.

God, you love his nose. You praise it, its beauty, worship the way it makes you feel when you grind down on it. Humming softly, you can’t help but grin into the kisses you offer as his jaw falls slack, moaning out your name.

“Stars,” he groans out louder, with a sudden urgency that startles you, “Please, I need- I need to feel you.”

Din’s voice without the modulator is impassioned, cracking slightly on a whine as he begs you for mercy. For relief. A vulnerable tone he barely affords you unless you take control. The leather of his gloves digs into the meat of your ass, palms shifting your hips forward to pull your weeping pussy across his length.

Refusing to give into his demands, you continue your affections. You press soft kisses above his eyebrows, then each of his closed eyelids. His eyes- they took your breath away, stealing your attention when he first removed his helmet for you. You’d heard the tales of ‘brown eyes’, but they did little to emphasise their beauty. Deep, rich, laced with Din’s heavily guarded emotions that he’d veiled with beskar.

“You’re impatient,” you finally point out in a breathy whisper, lungs working a little harder as you feel something delicious settle at the base of your spine. Din looks like he could cry, desperation kicking in as he jerks his hips up against yours.

“I am deprived,” he murmurs back, an edge to his tone. The Child had clung to him for days following his last bounty job- he hadn’t had time alone with you for at least a week despite doing everything he could- stolen kisses in the cockpit, even attempting to shut Grogu in his bassinet. Somehow, he always managed to stumble into the room at the most inopportune time, much to his father’s utter dismay.

Sitting up, one of your palms settles on Din’s breastplate, you push strands of his unkempt curls from his damp forehead. Din, as renowned and feared a bounty hunter he is, also keens for you, vulnerable and achy for your affections. He chases your hand, leaning his face into your touch as you care for him.

Rewarding his openness, you reach between your thighs to take his cock in your palm. Din lets out a slight hiss, sucking between his teeth as you work his cock slowly. The drag of your palm against his sensitive flesh has him bucking his hips again, pressing the crown of his head back into the pillow.

“Din,” you whisper his name, watching him squeeze his eyes shut and centre his focus on the swirling arousal that builds quickly.

“Please.”

Pressing a gentle kiss to Din’s lips, swollen from your previous affections, you sink down onto his aching cock.

“Fuuuuck, Cyar'ik-aah-“

@hoeneey @howaboutcastiel @welcometostayingawake @syrma-sensei @ethanhoewke @polaroidpetal @foxilayde @bookfrog242 @wh0reforbucknasty @zakizigekwe @ahookedheroespureheart @buckys-other-punk @anxious-sappho @alexloveskili @captainrexstan @knights-power @southcrnbelle @niallsbunny @hold-our-destiny @vermillionwinter @stormkobra-5 @erenbissexual @alwritey-aphrodite @maggotzombie @deadpige0n @bakerstreethound @whatthehekko @cottagebunny9 @bit-dodgy-innit @peachyproserpina @pedrosprincess

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[ladygoth]

⛦˙♱⋆♱˙⛧ꜰᴏᴏʟ ʜɪᴍ ᴏɴᴄᴇ, ꜰᴏᴏʟ ʜɪᴍ ᴛᴡɪᴄᴇ⛦˙♱⋆♱˙⛧

i am not copying anything since i am the original creator of babydoll, my n1ght4ngel account just got deleted, but thankfully i was able to upload the previous chapters on archive of our own this is chapter five of the black dahlia series, but you can begin to read from here :)

summary - you had ghost fooled and you know you will pay.

18+ daddy kink.

“Let me go with you,” he said as he pulled himself up to his feet, it had been two days since you had met with Fraizer and Ghost himself had to meet with his team-mates in a nearby pub the day after, you had figured that Ghost had been informed of the mission, had carried the intel that Task Force 141 would be teaming up with a group called the Black Dahlias.

You had been sure that they didn’t share your identities because that would’ve meant that Ghost would’ve been aware of your association with the Black Dahlias, and that would’ve led into an awkward and intense conversation.

“You don’t need to go with me to pick up female essentials,” you smiled, ever since you had returned from your meeting with Fraizer, you had been behaving oddly, you did bring back groceries like you have said you would, but as the observant man Ghost had been, he had identified the cold look in your eyes as you had put the objects away.

“Hm,” he grunted, “maybe I just want to spend some time with you before I go away,” he shrugged and thoughtful you had pressed your lips into a thin line before you shrugged in approval. “Don’t know how long I’ll be gone Babydoll,” he shared, “but I’ll be thinking of you every day.”

“Already thinking of the future,” you smiled while the two of you exited your home. “I’ll be by your side, don’t worry.”

One more day until Ghost finally knows who you really are and you could feel your anxiety rise every second, the way he would look at you, it would appear as if he’d knew, but he would eventually say something following after that makes it come off as if he was oblivious to the fact that you were a mercenary and a spy.

To ease your anxiety, you would pull yourself to his lap and guide him into fucking you, you’d ride him like there’d be no tomorrow and currently that’s what you had been doing, to make him less suspicious whenever you appeared like you were hiding something from him. It was bad enough when he had his mask on, so all you would feel was his two piercing eyes examining you, but it was worse when he didn’t have his mask on.

Bare, his face would seem like it was deciphering something, and that was when you’d pull him into a kiss, and pull yourself on top of his lap and gently rock your covered cunt against his length, he’s so easily turned on, so when his size would stretch your sex, he would dive himself into an obsession of fucking his cock up your cunt, his pretty face knitted in a pleased frown while the pad of his fingers would dig into your buttocks, bouncing you up and down his size.

 “Simon, right there!” You whimpered, “ah, you feel so good!”

“I know Babydoll,” he grunted, “so tight around me, bounce on my cock, just like that Babydoll,” he whined, his length twitching inside you, but stubborn, he would hold his load back, edging himself into a plethora wickedness. He would lean his head back, his raspy whines lewd as he would buck his length into you, the head of his shaft licking the soft sponginess of your heat, and compact, your sex would tautly wrap itself around him. “Hold yourself back,” he demanded and tense, you bit down your bottom lips.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as slick love droll would trickle down your chin, desperate to cum but punished by the large man who had sat beneath you. Yet, eventually, with a few more humps, Simon would bring his face closer to yours, his tongue licking your lower mouth before capturing the rest of your lips into an enticing embrace, the kiss strong and passionate as he would continue to buck his hips upwards, his cum eventually quick and warm, coating the softness of your walls with his sticky load. “Oh Babydoll,” he’d whisper, his eyes soft with pure affection and desire.

His hands now at each side of your hips, aiding you into a climatic high, his length still hard and eager for the hearth of your cunt, his lower lips tucked behind his teeth, the expression on his face so provocative and seductive that you could feel the heat of your sex become even more damp intensely. “Daddy,” you shakily breathed out, your hardened nipples printed against your shirt and your bud stinging with arousal, your moans now racing into a higher pitch as you could feel yourself drown into a puddle of peak, your orgasm coating around his size merging with his nectar.

Breathy, you had felt your body gently collapse against his, your face dipped into the crook of his neck. “Your libido has been crazy these days,” he smirked.

“Maybe it’s because I already missed you,” you smiled.

It was the day and you had been averse of what was to come, you had been informed Task Force 141 had been travelling to the Black Dahlia base and you had been teased by Fraizer who had pointed out how you’d been playing with your fingers.

Your closest team-mate AJ who you had been guilty for not being in contact with had been by your side, you two had been brought into the Black Dahlias together and had trained side by side, AJ was an excellent fighter, and was good at the avail of a sniper.

You were a bomb specialist, excellent with guns and had excelled hand-to-hand combat. You were able to make explosives with objects people wouldn’t expect to be bombs, thus that’s how you were able to eliminate high political figures with no suspicion being directed to you.

Your most special creation was a sticker implant, had been the size of a pill and transparent, all you had to do was touch someone, stick it against their skin and with a press of a button they would detonate. Due to you being a skilful asset, Argent, the captain of the entire crew had never wanted to let you go, amongst other eccentric reasons.

“Call me Soap,” and immediately you had been broken out of your train of thoughts, you had heard the name Soap before, you had remembered Simon complaining about him, “think I’ve seen you before,” he hummed and immediately you had felt all eyes fall on you.

Ghost hadn’t been there, so you had played with your fingers, pondered where he might’ve been. “Me?” You asked and sure, Soap beckoned his head.

“You have a pretty distinct face,” he replied and humoured, AJ cocked both of her eyebrows, infatuated with what he had meant.

“Hook-up culture, Blade?” AJ questioned and immediately you had scrunched your face.

“No, never seen him before,” you shrugged and stubborn the man had examined you once again.

“Hm, does he know you’re one?” Soap asked and reticent you had nibbled on your bottom lip, nervous before you shook your head. “The rest of the crew are waiting; Ghost is out there.”

Silent, you had placed your hands against your hips. “You’re telling me you’re with Ghost and you’ve never told me?” AJ asked and embarrassed your eyes had fell to your feet.

“Enough talking about my love life,” you muttered, “We have a mission to do.”

You could feel his eyes burn into the back of your head the moment you entered the vehicle, there had been many transportations, some Black Dahlias and 141 Soldiers pushed into one of each, and with luck playing with your face, as per usual; you had been stuck in the vehicle with Soap and Ghost, fortunately with AJ by your side.

Though, it didn’t make you feel better that you had Fraizer in the driver’s seat, who would undoubtedly instigate a heated conversation between the two of you. The Humvee had been silent, awkward glances being shared between you and AJ and sometimes Soap who could feel the anger radiate from Ghost’s essence.

You had him fooled.

He had left earlier than you, he had expected you to be at work, as you said, but the moment Ghost had left your premises, you had sent Coco to Jasmine who was willingly open to take care of your pet. An hour later you had made way to the Black Dahlia base and not the 9-5 job Ghost thought you had been occupied in.

He had thought you were a civilian, protected from this area of work, but once again, you had fooled him. A whole side of you he was unaware of, people have their secrets, he knows that, but this data was something he had wished you had spoken to him about.

So, he could avoid this rush of emotions that had poured through him, he had hated what he had felt, and this was all because of you, because you were a lying femme fatale, distracting him with your beauty and sex, and like the fool he was, he didn’t question your odd behaviour, your intense need to keep simple things away from him that would lead into bigger commodities.

He was foolish, and you had him outfoxed, and when the time was to come, he’d be eager to show how deceived and misled he had felt.

to make things less confusing, babydoll from the text messaging series is the same babydoll here, the text messages series is before everything in the black dahlia :)

[green-eyedfirework]

“Are our terms acceptable?” Bruce asked, polite and formal, to end the discussion of payment.  The Defiance company wasn’t any random band of mercenaries, but a full-fledged military in their own right, and in addition to money, Bruce promised lands and titles.

It was a very enticing offer.  It had to be.

Ra’s al Ghul was on their doorstep and Gotham’s military had never been its strong suit.  The old snake’s maneuvering the year Bruce had been missing had destroyed most of their alliances because Dick had been too busy trying to run a kingdom he’d never wanted to rule to notice the trap being set, and now it was sprung.

They needed an army.  And they needed one fast.

“The terms are fair,” a low voice answered.  Slade Wilson sat in his chair like he spent every day sitting at tables across from kings, utterly at ease and wearing the faintest of smirks.  He knew they were desperate.  Everyone knew they were desperate.  They were running out of options.

Slade Wilson and Defiance would gouge them for every single penny, but Dick knew that Defiance kept their contracts.  Ra’s wouldn’t be able to buy them off.  And they needed that.  No matter the cost.

“But your word is not,” Slade said, and Dick tightened his grip on the table.  Slade’s smirk had widened.  “Lots of rumors about broken promises, Your Majesty.  You can see why I’m hesitant to commit.”

Dick breathed in and out.  It was just a ploy to get more out of Bruce.  Slade would agree.  Slade had to agree.

“Is there something that would make the deal more acceptable?” Bruce asked, voice slightly strained.

“As a matter of fact,” Slade’s gaze switched to Dick, the ice blue eye boring into him, “there is.”  A beat of silence, heavy and still.  “A binding contract.”  Another beat of silence, tension rising—“Marriage.”

Bruce blinked, “Excuse me?”

“Marriage,” Slade repeated, a low murmur spreading out among the assorted councilors.  Jason, the only other royal attending, looked abruptly furious.  “I don’t have a partner,” Slade spread his arms, “and you have no shortage of children.  A royal marriage would be enough to safeguard my interests.”

Dick forced himself to keep breathing.  A royal marriage wouldn’t just safeguard his interests, it would catapult Slade to one of the most powerful positions in the country.  It was far, far beyond anything Dick thought the man would ask for, and Dick knew that the mercenary was only so bold because he knew they couldn’t say no.

Bruce’s face was set, jaw hard.  “I’m not sure—”

“That is my final offer,” Slade said, still staring at Dick with an intensity that made him want to shiver.  “I’ll leave you to discuss it.  You know where to find us.”

He quirked his lips at Dick, and turned and headed out.

~#~

“Who does he think he is?”  Jason was seething.  “How dare he come here and dictate terms to—”

“We need him,” Dick said shortly, cutting him off.  “We need his men.  We have no choice.”

“Bullshit we have no choice, we can negotiate—”

“He won’t agree,” Dick slumped in his chair, abruptly tired.  Bruce watched him, frowning.  “If he says that’s his final word, that’s his final word.  A marriage, or nothing.  And we can’t beat Ra’s without him.”

It was Dick’s fault.  It was all Dick’s fault.  If he’d been paying closer attention—if he’d just listened to Tim and sent men out searching for Bruce earlier—if Ra’s hadn’t capitalized on Dick’s weaknesses—

This was Dick’s fault.

“Are you seriously proposing we just sell off one of our siblings?” Jason’s eyes were glittering with fury.  “To a mercenary?”

Dick closed his eyes briefly.  The smirk on Slade’s face.  The intensity—the same one he’d seen years ago, when Dick ran around with the Titans.  He’d known there was interest then too, but Dick hadn’t been quite that rebellious, and Slade had never dared to press the issue.  Until now.

“He wants me,” Dick says hollowly.  “So draw up the deal and get it signed.  We don’t have time to waste.”  Dick had already given up his position as heir to Tim, so there was no chance of Slade seizing the crown.  The only casualty would be Dick himself.

Jason and Bruce were staring at him, silent.  Bruce’s expression was stone-like, Jason was gaping at him.

“Dick—”

“This war is my fault,” Dick stood up from his chair in a fluid, sharp movement.  “If this is the only way to fix it, so be it.”

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Five

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

The man is wearing a dark green flannel, medium wash jeans, brown boots, and a broken watch. He's got a rifle leaning against the table beside him.

With the back of my hand I wipe sweat off my brow. Unfortunately, I was not placed on graffiti cleanup today. Instead, they're making me dig holes for new fence posts on the QZ border. FEDRA is trying to rebuild what the Fireflies blew up, and digging deep holes for hours on end only makes me more bitter towards the wannabe mercenary group. Manual labor paired with no sleep for the past two days is not working in my favor. I have to constantly fight to not pass out from overexertion. But, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered passing out to get out of work.

The hours pass by slowly, but surely. As soon as we get cleared to leave for the day I make a beeline for my apartment, wanting to at least get a shower before I start my activities for the night. I've got a list of things I need to accomplish, and I'm hoping to do so before curfew. However, with the luck I've been having lately, I'm not holding my breath about being back before curfew.

After I've showered and made myself presentable again, I leave my apartment and head towards area four. I'm counting on someone to have reported those poor girls in the alley today, there's just no way nobody found them. And I'm hoping my contact will have some good information for me. As an incentive for information, I brought along a few pills. Information like this is sure to come at a hefty price, and free narcotics usually does the trick.

I locate the familiar apartment and knock on the door. It's not unheard of for regular people to be in area four, but it is unusual. Thankfully, the soldier opens the door and lets me in quickly without asking questions. I stand in the doorway of the rickety apartment and nod to the man standing across from me.

"What are you doing here?" His voice is callous, but curious. We had just delivered to this guy last week and I know he isn't due for another round of pills until next week, so it is weird for me to be here right now. I clear my throat,

"I need information, and I'm hoping you can be of assistance." I start off. The man's eyes narrow,

"What kind of information?" His eyes briefly look me up and down, probably searching for obvious weapons. I move from the doorway to the man's living room, where my voice is less likely to be heard by bystanders.

"I know there have been bodies found. I need to know what FEDRA is doing to find the killer." My voice is stone cold and serious. On our drug runs, I try to stay friendly to the clients, so they keep quiet and keep coming back. But this is something else entirely. The man scratches the back of his neck and takes a few steps towards me.

"How do you know about that?" His voice is equally as cold. I look right into his eyes, trying to pierce his soul so he sees just how serious I am about this.

"I have my sources." I decide against confessing what I really know. He licks his lips and shakes his head,

"Noelle you know I can't tell you shit like this." He sounds frustrated, he has to know something. Otherwise he'd be asking for more elaboration.

"What if I gave you these?" I pull out the small bag of pills from my back pocket. The man's eyes grow wide as he sees them. His gaze flickers between me and the pills.

"What's the catch?" He asks and I shake my head innocently.

"No catch, just information." I say, hoping that the thought of free drugs is enticing enough to get what I need from him. He paces back and forth before he gives in.

"Fine. I'll tell you what I know." He says, eyeballing the pills. I release a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and motion for him to continue on.

"You'll get these after you fess up." I explain my terms more thoroughly to him. Thankfully, he starts talking without argument.

"Three bodies found, ages fourteen to seventeen. Two girls, one boy. All had the same marking on their forehead. All killed brutally. I heard from another guard today that they had concluded the girls had been sexually assaulted before they were killed. Same with the boy." He explains, and my blood boils at his words. It's bad enough these children were ruthlessly killed. But to have been defiled before? It's sickening and awakens a rage in me I've never felt before.

"List of suspects?" My voice is uncharacteristically dark and I take a few steps towards the soldier. He shakes his head,

"I don't have names, nobody has a name. But, I did hear something about a man, or some small group, staying out near the wharf in area five. I guess we've been having perimeter issues around there. It's no surprise, there are a few empty warehouses out there and nobody ever patrols them. My best guess, start there if you want to find who did this. As far as I know, all FEDRA is planning to do is to sweep the warehouses tomorrow and then call it if they don't find anything. They don't want people knowing about this, they're hoping it just stops. They're worried a riot will break out. We don't have the numbers to go investigating this, we still have our orders. My guess is that we're just going to blame the first man who looks at someone the wrong way." He spills more information. My fists clench involuntarily as he says FEDRA is basically trying to sweep this under the rug to stop a potential riot. It seems that good old-fashioned vigilante action is going to be needed after all. Appreciative of his cooperation, I toss the pills over to him.

"Thank you. Those are on the house." I say as I make my way out of his apartment, on a newfound mission.

I feel as if I'm practically flying to area five, near the wharf. I'm familiar with the empty warehouses, there are plenty of transactions I make there. But, I've never noticed any sign of someone living there before. Usually, even just one straggler leaves some sort of evidence. Unless they're dumping their evidence into the water.

I begin searching the warehouses one by one, knowing that this might take a good while to be thorough. I intend to search each warehouse with a fine tooth comb. Those children deserve someone to fight for their justice. And if FEDRA isn't going to get these families justice, then I sure as hell will. I know I would want someone to do the same if it were my child.

The sudden thought of Lucas makes my heart constrict with sadness, and I find myself clutching the necklace that never leaves my neck; a constant reminder of my family who are only with me now in spirit.

The first warehouse proves to be empty, every surface is covered with a thick layer of dust and nothing has been recently disturbed, save for rat droppings here and there. The second warehouse is also empty, but I did find some spent shell casings. Probably remnants of some shootout, but I don't know if the killers had anything to do with it, they seem to be keen on using blades.

With hope, I step into the third, and final, warehouse that sits on the wharf. The creaky old building looks like it could fall over at any second and so I'm careful of where my steps land. I take my flashlight out to look at every minute detail, looking for anything that suggests someone is staying here. I take a deep breath and stand up straight as the faint scent of a fire tinges my nose.

Carefully, I make my way up the warehouse stairs to where a small landing overlooks the rest of the building. To my surprise, there's the remains of a poorly constructed fire. It looks like it's been put out for a while, but was lit recently, as evidenced by the warmth of the wood. The floor surrounding the fire suggests that there were at least two people here, there are two different shoe tracks imprinted in the dusty floor.

I walk over to what looks like a makeshift mattress, made out of broken down cardboard boxes. Crouching down, I examine some scattered papers. There's a hand-drawn map of the QZ and there are circles drawn around areas with accompanying notes. I read the notes scribbled on the edges of the paper and realize I'm looking at the killer's plan. I feel like I could throw up as I read what it written on the paper.

They had singled out their victims, made note of their physical appearances. The notes imply that the killer wanted nothing more than to defile the victims in any way possible. It's almost like the killer, or killers, were playing a game. After I've read everything, I fold the map and tuck it in my back pocket, looking for any other evidence they might have left.

Sticking out of the cardboard boxes is another piece of paper. I turn the paper around in my hand and read what's written on it. It's a checklist, or more of a goal list, and it's clear as day to me now that these killings were a game, and that there are definitely two people in on this. The listed goals include finding suitable victims, seeing who could stab their victim more, who could kill their victim the quickest without a headshot, and who could get their victim to give up the most information.

On the left and right hand side of the paper there are numbers listed, along with words. The numbers correlate to the listed goals, and the words are all about what they learned from their victims. The killers got information about their victims' personal lives, it seems they weren't after much more than that, which I find to be a little odd. Usually infiltrators want to know where the armory is, where the food is kept. But it seems these people may have a steady flow of food and weapons if their focus was on personal information; making it all seem more like a sport. Like they chose this QZ as their hunting ground. I fold this paper and put it in my pocket as well, and search for anything else. However, that seems to be it.

The lack of personal belongings, weapons, food, paired with the lack of additional fire wood tells me that these people left and don't plan on returning here. Perhaps they knew they were going to be tracked down and so they left before anyone could find them. Maybe they were satisfied with the carnage and fear they created, so they just left before they could get caught. If my experience in this world has taught me anything though, it's that people as vile as this will never stop hurting others. It's possible they may even return here, maybe with more people. Maybe this was some sort of test run, to see what they could get away with. It's hard to know for sure.

I fall back so that I'm sitting flat on the floor, and tears make their way down my face. These predators killed those children for sport and just left without any sort of repercussion.Tears of sadness and frustration fall for the children who lost their lives, for the families who lost their dear loved ones. After a few minutes of anguish, my sorrow turns to anger, and I stand to my feet, wiping my face and making my way back to area one.

Each time my foot hits the pavement, the anger intensifies. These people will not get away with what they've done here, they will face consequences. I will hunt them down until I find them, even if that means I must go to the ends of the Earth. In this world, there is no place for evil offenders such as them, it's bad enough the infected threaten our lives everyday. Life is valuable, and those who don't treat it as such must be taken out of the equation for the greater good and the order of civility.

With one last sniffle, I knock on James' apartment door. He doesn't answer after a few minutes, so I knock again, louder this time. I hear a chair scrape against the wooden floor, and heavy footsteps come my way.

"What?" James' gruff voice demands before he even sees its me. His hard exterior immediately softens as he sees me standing there. I let myself in and am surprised to see an unfamiliar man sitting at the table.

The man is wearing a dark green flannel, medium wash jeans, brown boots, and a broken watch. He's got a rifle leaning against the table beside him, which should intimidate me, but in my current state, it doesn't phase me.

The man stares back at me like he's angry I'm here, like I interrupted something. But, I can't seem to find it in myself to care what I interrupted in this moment. My mind is on one track and one track only. James closes the door and stands between me and the unfamiliar man. He clears his throat and for the first time, I think James is uncomfortable. I tear my gaze from the stranger and look to James.

"I need to talk to you." My voice cracks as I speak. James nods and glances back to the other man.

"Can it wait?" He asks and I bite the insides of my cheeks to keep my anger at bay. I cross my arms, not backing down.

"It can't actually." I keep my words vague because this other man doesn't need to know anything about what I'm doing. James lets out a huff of air and runs a hand through his hair. The other man shifts in his seat. The two men exchange a glance, and I can tell it's loaded with some sort of silent communication. James nods his head, as if he's coming to some sort of conclusion.

"What is it then?" James asks, taking me aback. He knows what's going on, and I'm surprised he even suggested that I talk in front of whoever this man is. How do I know this man isn't going to go talking about everything I say here? I glance quickly at the man, who's now leaning forward on the table.

"Really? You know what I'm here about." My voice is tinged with anger and I set my jaw tightly. James takes a seat across from the other man and gives me a reassuring nod.

"It's okay Noelle, he's a friend. And he's leaving the QZ tonight, he won't talk." James promises me. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, struggling with what I should do. But, I don't see any other option but to tell James what my plan is. With an exasperated sigh, I uncross my arms and start talking.

"Fine. I went back out after curfew and found two girls, both killed like the boy was. I let someone else report them, I couldn't be the one to do it. And so later I went to area four and talked to one of our clients to see what's being done about this. He gave me more information about the kids, led me to the wharf in area five. I searched them all and this is what I found." I take the papers out of my pocket and spread them out on the small kitchen table, giving extra space to the unknown man. The two lean in to see what I've presented. I give them time to read the papers, and I see James' face grow pale. The other man's face seems to be set in anger.

"It was more than one." James states as he finishes reading the papers. I nod my head in confirmation.

"I think it was two. There were two sets of prints on the floor. But I think they left the QZ. The firewood was going cold, and there were no possessions left behind." I take the papers back and put them in my pocket. James scrunches his eyebrows together.

"So if they're gone, what's the issue?" His question shocks me.

"What's the issue? Three kids are dead because of them. One of them died in my fucking arms. They're just going to keep doing this. Maybe not here, but to others. I came here to tell you I'm leaving. I'm going to hunt them down." I stare right into James' eyes as I tell him I plan on leaving. Immediately, he shakes his head.

"No, Noelle, you can't leave." He practically begs. I shrug my shoulders,

"Why not James? I do the same damn thing every day here. I do my duties and then I run pills. Over and over again. These children deserve justice, someone has to fight for them. Why not me?" I tell him, feeling only slightly awkward that a stranger is present for this conversation.

"Who's going to keep things going? Theresa won't." He says, only caring about the pill smuggling operation we have going here. I shake my head, he just doesn't get it.

"There are plenty of others who can run pills just as good as me. Get one of them to do it, James. Hell, I'll even give you a list of who gets what and when." I say, more than willing to leave behind the schedule I've got going with our clients. James throws his hands up in frustration.

"So after all these years you're going to leave? Just like that?" He incredulously asks. I'm almost at a loss for words, he's acting like he's never going to see me again.

"I won't be gone forever. Once I kill these bastards I'll be back and it'll be like I never left." I tell him the truth. I do fully intend on coming back here. This shouldn't take me but a few days. James runs a hand through his hair and then focuses his attention on the man across the table from him.

"Man, do me a solid. Go with her." I'm almost offended that James thinks I need a security detail to go with me. Before the man can reply, I interrupt.

"No James, I can handle myself. Have some damn faith." I protest, but James keeps his eyes trained on the other man. Feeling patronized, I turn on my heel and leave James' apartment before either of them can say another word, slamming the door behind me. Sure, it's a little juvenile, but so was James' blatant display of his lack of confidence in me.

I go to my apartment to gather things I'll need, being sure to bring all the ammunition I have, my good hunting knife, and other survival necessities. I was planning on leaving first thing in the morning, but I know James will just come over here and bother me, so I'll leave tonight before he gets the chance to.

It leaves a bad taste in my mouth, how things left off between James and I, but once I return I'm sure we'll be able to patch things up, we always do.

[plainandgeneric]

Hello there, I think your Godrick x Banished Knight AU is such a cool and enticing idea! I'd love to know more, like what shenanigans ensue and do they have a somewhat happy end - or at least, some happy moments? Just any kind of little headcanons :3

Aw thank you for your kind words!

They do engage in a lot of shenanigans! More below the cut.

This AU is pretty slice-of-life-esque. It covers their escape from the capital and then the almost year-long journey from the Altus Plateau to Limgrave. Even though the game map is already huge, I believe it's nowhere near the actual size of the Lands Between. So it took them a while to get out of the capital, and even longer to get far away from it.

Meanwhile, Godrick has to forgo all the comforts of living as a highborn in Leyndell and get used to roughing it in the wild haha (I do hc him as a picky eater lol). The Knight on the other hand is a little bit roguish. He's used to being hired by the militia and for other manual work, but he doesn't really know how to engage with courtly etiquette and the nobility.

Some HCs for my OC: Despite not being a knight anymore, he does retain certain knightly qualities such as loyalty (for his current employer). His name, past, and reason for banishment are something he no longer remembers, yet he carries a heavy sense of guilt for the things he imagines he had done.

As for a happy ending, I'm not too sure yet. Since Godrick really yearns to go back to Leyndell but that's highly unlikely. Maybe they do find happiness in Limgrave.

But there's definitely a lot of sweet moments between the two. Godrick can be a temperamental bastard sometimes, and the Knight humours him to his best ability. Their dynamic changes from employer & hired mercenary to lord & loyal knight. They eventually became quite reliant and attached to each other.

I do have a comic planned for a "knighting ceremony" where Godrick restores the title to the Knight. Tho I'm very slow at making comics so idk when it'll actually be made haha. Thank you for reading this very long post!!

[chrisredfield73]

Hello! Im super glad i found someone with tf2 requests open, yippee!! Could i please request a Spy x reader where the reader has insecurities about dating cause they feel like they’ll be too attached and scare away their crush (this one being Spy)? I think having Spy, a man usually seen as reluctant to get too close to someone can pair well with someone who gets attached too easily and is scared of scaring their crush away.

Have a nice day!!

A/N: Cocky French man finds absolutely adorable and shy reader. I love this so much, thank you for requesting! I'm also sorry for the long wait, I had to take my mid-term exams!

This was also wrote with 2Fort in mind soooo.

Insert Spy singing Cupid here.

Rough French translations here. (I don't know French, feel free to correct me.)

mon ami/amie- My friend

belle/beau- beautiful/handsome

Je sais que tu m'aimes bien, petit lapin/lapine- I know you like me, little bunny.

mon amour- my love

------------------------------------------------------------------

You sit in the lounge in the Red/Blu base, chewing at your fingernails. You've been thinking about a certain man, someone so unmistakable.. That certain man is Spy. He’s so mysterious and cocky, something you find so enticing. You can’t help but fear what would happen though. What would happen if he found out you like him? What would happen if you confessed and he didn’t feel the same way? That would, undoubtedly, ruin your friendship. You didn’t want to scare the man off or weird him out, it would be so awkward and heartbreaking.

Your overthinking eats at your mind, plaguing it with thoughts of self-doubt and many, many insecurities. You snap out of your thoughts when Spy enters the room. A pit of dread enters your stomach. You want to confess, you want to tell him how you feel about him but you’re scared of the worst things that could happen. 

Spy, on the other hand, knows that you like him. It’s a bit obvious by the way you follow him around like a puppy on a leash. He thinks it’s utterly adorable, so he acts oblivious. He doesn’t want to scare you off by telling you that he knows you like him. He can’t help but smirk to himself when he sees you, speaking in that husky tone, “Hello, mon ami/amie.” He notices the blush spread across your face, the way you nervously shift in your seat.. He loves it. 

It took him a long while to get to the point of getting close to you. He’s still not very open about himself, but he at least sits next to you and communicates with you fairly often. He’s a very untrusting man, mostly due to the line of mercenary work. He doesn’t let himself get attached to others but you’re special. You’re completely unaware that he actually enjoys your company since he plays it off as being bored of the others.

“Hey, Spy.” You say meekly, staring up at the Frenchman in front of you. He lets out a low hum as he takes a drag off his cigarette. He sits down not too far from you but doesn’t say anything. You’re too meek to look up at him, but he’s staring right at you. Little do you know, he’s waiting for your confession. “Do you have something to say, belle/beau?” You look up at him and quickly shake your head, but he knows.. He gets up, walking closer to you. He leans down and whispers, “Je sais que tu m'aimes bien, petit lapin/lapine.” 

He knows. Oh god, he knows. You panic, not knowing what to say. Is this going to ruin the friendship you guys have? Does he like you too? In reality, you couldn’t help but be attached nearly by the hip to this charming man. You slowly nod, deciding to be truthful. He smirks and whispers into your ear, “Don’t be afraid, mon amour.. I feel the same way.” With that, he presses a kiss to your temple before pulling away and walking out of the room.

You’re completely flustered. None of the other mercs saw it, thankfully. Did that just happen…? Maybe the Spy isn’t so keen on distancing himself from you as you thought..

[eashn]

You’re an Idiot Darling - Ch. 1

Rating: Explicit (18+ only) | Mando x Reader

series masterlist | AO3 Link

Word count: 2.7k 

Summary: The Mandalorian needed you to fix the Crest, but then, he went and got stabbed. Now, he needs you to fix him up, too.

A/N - this is the first of a multipart Hurt/Comfort series. Later chapters contains smut.

WARNINGS for this chapter: Violence, no use of Y/N, knives, Star Wars guns, minor antagonist death, swearing, blood

Everything was cast in liquid gold. As dusk fell, the junkyard glowed. Piles of litter and scrap metal glimmered in the final rays of sun—drenched in buttery light.

Despite the scene, something else on the horizon had caught your eye. You rose, wiping the sweat from your brow. No way, you thought. There’s no way.

The Mandalorian’s beskar armor gleamed in the dwindling light as he made his way toward you. You grinned. 

The setting sun rippled across the broad planes of him as he approached, and for a second you saw the same dark, intimidating hunter you’d met so many months ago. You remembered that day distinctly: scrambling out of your workshop as the Razor Crest all but collapsed into your docking bay. In your line of work, that was what you called a “crash landing.” 

“Seems like spaceport control lets anyone on-world these days,” you called out. “Or did you just crash that kriffing ship onto my planet again?” 

Predictably, the bounty hunter said nothing in response. You snorted, all too familiar with his deadly stoicism. After you fixed his Maker-damned ship that first time, he seemed to realize you had a knack for working miracles at a bargain price. So he came back a few weeks later—his nameless green baby in tow. Then, after a month, they came back needing fresh repairs. 

And then, it happened again. And again. Until months had passed, and you’d both become part of each others’ routines. Trust didn’t come easy to Mando; distance and secrecy were just as much a part of his armor as the beskar itself. But after all this time, you’d caught glimpses of what lay beneath it all. It was…unexpected. Soft-spoken. Sarcastic. And stars, did the sight of it entice you to peel more and more of his rigid surfaces away. 

Fuck. 

You hated yourself for it. For these fat, kriffing feelings you’d begun harboring for the Mandalorian. 

You had no idea what he looked like under there; you didn’t even know his name. And yet, this inane, cavewoman part of you felt a thrill up her spine each time he showed up in his piece-of-junk ship. You reveled in the easy banter that crackled between you—shivered at every accidental contact with his massive frame. The coolness of his pauldron on your bare shoulder, or the warmth of his gloved fingers on your arm: every morsel of his touch was engraved into your mind.

Stars, you just wanted to help him. Not with tools and scrap metal, but something softer. Warmer. You wanted to ease the tension from those hulking shoulders after a bad hunt, take all his stress, rage, and frustration away. You wanted the devastating strength beneath that armor to shift and quiver beneath your hands; the calluses from his blaster to scrape against your skin; that rough, throaty baritone to whisper your name, snarl praise right into your ear—

BANG! 

You froze. 

A gunshot had pierced the night. 

In horror, you watched as half a dozen men leapt from the shadows behind Mando, carrying blasters. You grabbed your own gun, barreling toward him. 

“Don’t!” Mando growled in your direction, but you weren’t listening. Six men—mercenaries, by the look of them—were converging on him. He was a frenzy of violent motion: his blaster in one hand and a wicked-looking vibroblade in the other. Darting back and forth, he slashed one man with the knife, then turned to shoot another point-blank in the head. 

It was carnage. Chaos. 

Amidst it, you caught sight of a small, glimmering object. Mando’s kid—his little floating crib. And behind it, a single attacker emerging with his blaster raised, aiming for its surface—

You didn’t think twice before taking aim and shooting the man where he stood. 

The mercenaries went still, watching their comrade fall. You didn’t dare slow down. Even with the distance between you, you could see the taut silence that had overtaken Mando’s frame. You watched the slow shift of his helmet in your direction. 

Then, you watched him realize the mistake his attackers had made. As the mercenaries stood dumbly in shock, Mando holstered his blaster. And with a lightning-quick flick of his wrist, he unleashed a bombardment of dart-like bullets from his vambrace. Whistling birds, you remembered. They were bullets made of beskar. Tiny, but just as lethal as the man that wore them. 

They rained upon the mercenaries, dropping them like flies. By the time you came to where he stood, all six men were on the ground. 

“Stars, Mando,” you panted, doubling over. 

Stoic as ever, he loomed over you. 

“You can shoot,” he said finally, the words deathly quiet. You turned your head to look up at him. 

“Um. Yeah.”

“Is he…?”

“Alive. Only stunned,” you answered the unspoken question. 

He said nothing for a moment. You flipped the blaster in your hand, flicking the weapon’s safety on before tucking it into the waistband of your trousers. The motions were easy and practiced. When you faced Mando again, you found him silently watching them. 

“Where’d you learn how to shoot?” he asked. 

“Uh,” you started. He was observing you with rapt curiosity, fixated on the gun currently sticking out of your pants. Kriff, why was he looking at you like that? “Don’t—don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter.” As a lone mechanic on a crime-ridden planet, you did business with enough seedy people to acquire a sparkling education in self-defense. Learning to shoot was a necessity, more than anything. But Mando seemed…oddly intrigued by this unexpected skill set of yours. The way he was looking at you right now—with that dark, keen interest? 

Oh, stars. Cavewoman You stirred.

FOCUS, you screamed at yourself, shaking your thoughts away. Six men had just attacked Mando, and the logical part of your brain demanded to know why. “Mando, who the hell are these guys?” 

“Mercenaries,” he replied, tart and abrupt.

Well no shit, tin can. You knew he’d given a half-answer on purpose—there was more he wasn’t saying. “But why exactly are mercenaries after you?”

He went silent. “Well?” you prodded. 

“Well, what?” 

Fuck. This was classic Mando. All terse replies and feigned ignorance when he wanted to avoid a question. But the fact that he was evading meant…something was wrong. What kind of trouble had he gotten himself into this time?

“No. We’re not doing this.” You shook your head irritably. 

“Doing what?”

“This!” you snapped. “This beating-around-the-bush routine you pull when you don’t want to tell me the truth!” 

“I’m not—” But Mando hesitated. Going quiet again, he gazed at you. 

In the time that’d passed since he showed up, the sun had dipped fully below the horizon. By now, the sky’s reds and purples were fading into perfect black. He appraised you beneath the falling darkness, marking the indignant stare you were giving him. You watched him with scrutiny of your own, taking in the broad, shadowed expanse of his armored shoulders. 

“Please,” you said suddenly, your resolve fracturing. For you knew Mando. When shit hit the fan, his first instinct was to push people away, especially when they wanted to help. It was the conditioned habit of a man painfully used to doing everything alone. After all the time you’d known each other, you tried to convince him he wasn’t alone. He had allies. Friends. And they could help him when things went wrong, if only he let them in. 

“Please,” you repeated. “Just—just tell me what’s going on.” 

Maybe he saw the anger bleed out of your face, or heard the tremor in your voice. Because when he looked at you this time, something in that rigid stance had softened. He loosed a heavy sigh. And then, impossibly, he spoke. 

“I don’t know for sure, but…I think they’re Guild. And it’s not me they’re after.” His voice was a tight growl through the helmet when he said, “It’s the kid.” 

Your heart dropped. Well, that explained why he didn’t want to tell you.

You’d fixed enough ships for enough bounty hunters to have a working knowledge of how they operated: bound by the Bounty Hunter Code, Guild members were forbidden from attacking each other. You figured that also forbade threats against each others’ adoptive children. Which could only mean…

“There’s a bounty on his head,” you breathed, the realization knocking the air from your lungs. Mando nodded gravely. 

You stepped past him, rushing towards the floating crib that hovered a few feet away. Jabbing the controls at its side, you watched the lid slide open to reveal a familiar green face. The child cooed when he saw you, his huge, glassy eyes twinkling in the dim light. 

“Hey, little guy,” you murmured, stroking his chubby cheek with your knuckle. He giggled at the touch, and you felt your heart clench. How could anyone send a hunter after him?

“Since when?” you asked, feeling Mando come up beside you. 

“Months now.” You turned to find him gazing at the child. While the beskar revealed nothing, you imagined his features were drawn with concern beneath it. 

Months, you realized. That could easily mean the entirety of the time you’d known the two. Sometimes, in these rare moments when another chunk of Mando’s secrecy fell away, you often felt unmoored: left wondering what else lay hidden beneath all his silence. You found yourself asking if he really even trusted you. If, after all this time, you even knew the bounty hunter at all. 

But today, he’d already revealed far more than you were used to. Silently, you thanked the stars for it. At the very least, it was a start. 

“I’m gonna hazard a guess,” you drawled, letting derision drip into your voice, “that these guys are the same reason the Crest needs repairs?” 

He grunted an affirmative. Kriff, you didn’t like the sound of that. “How bad is it this time?” you asked, afraid to hear the answer. 

A beat. And then—

“Bad.” 

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. Mando gave an apologetic little dip of the head. “Shouldn’t you be glad?” he chided. “It’s more credits out of my pocket.”

“Hard to be glad when I know I’ll be spending another sleepless night fixing that dumpster fire of a ship.” 

Images of the Razor Crest’s decrepit engines and carbon-scored hull rose to mind. By now, you knew every inch of that damned ship by heart. The Crest was, frankly, an embarrassment. Just remembering the maddening details of her ancient schematics had your expression souring in distaste. 

Then, Mando said, “Hey,” and your eyes snapped to him. “Be nice,” came his gruff voice through the vocabulator. 

And suddenly, a slew of…other images rushed to mind. Memories of late nights in your hanger with the dark ship looming over you, and the Mandalorian pacing back and forth as you worked. You remembered lighting the fire when the open air got cooler—sitting with him by the crackling flame. Just talking. At some point, the curt, businesslike nature of your conversations had given in to rippling chemistry: the edge of your snark sliding perfectly against the wryness of his sarcasm. And though some part of him always remained distant from you, sometimes, a certain closeness bloomed beside the heat of the fire. 

Your bare leg beside his armored thigh. The accidental brush of beskar on skin. That time he stood watching you repair the ship’s circuits, and leaned in to rub his thumb across your jaw. The way he froze when you jumped at the touch. And murmured, “Easy. There was grease.”  

“We need to get back to my hanger,” you said, forcefully shooing the thoughts away. Focus—you needed to focus. 

“What’s the damage to the ship?” you asked, turning from him and beginning to pace through the junkyard. 

“One of the thrusters, her hull took a hit—comms were down, too, or I’d have let you know we were coming,” he said. Then, he paused, watching as you sidestepped around the heaps of junk metal and rummaged through a pile or two. “What—are you looking for something?” 

“My rucksack,” you growled, rifling through the scraps. “Kriff, it’s around here somewhere.” It was the whole reason you were in the local junkyard in the first place: restocking your inventory of spare parts. You enjoyed mechanic work, but the job had a tendency to make one feel like a glorified Jawa sometimes. 

“I can’t leave without it,” you said. “In any case, I’ll need some of those parts to fix the Crest, and….wait.” 

Something clicked in your head. “Mando, if your comms aren’t working, how’d you know where to find me?” 

You turned to find him following after you, the kid’s pod trailing close behind. “You told me about this junkyard once,” he replied. Yes, you had. “I would’ve checked the market next, then the taverns in town.” All the other places you’d ever mentioned to him, even in passing.

“Were you just…going to check everywhere till you found me?”

“Lucky first try,” he replied. 

You scoffed. At his nonchalance—at the fact that he even remembered such tiny things about you. Then, you fought the warmth bubbling up in your chest at the sheer domesticity of it. 

Your rucksack lay beside a heap of junk metal a few steps away; you made a small sound of relief, grabbing it. “Let’s get out of here,” you said, heaving the bag over your shoulders. “It’s already dark, and let me tell you, this side of town isn’t a place you want to be this late at night.” 

“Which is why you carry a blaster.”

If it was supposed to be a question, it didn’t come out like one. As you walked, Mando was watching you with that keen curiosity again. You gave him a look. 

“You know, Mando, all this disbelief feels a tad offensive,” you said drily, unable to stop the grin from spreading across your face. “Sounds like sexism to me. Pure misogyny.”

“Really,” he deadpanned. 

“Yeah, really.” 

He took a slow, careful step towards you. Your breath caught. 

“That’s rich,” he said quietly, “considering how often you’ve used the phrase testosterone-fueled jackass as of late.” 

You both stopped in your tracks. There was barely a foot between you now. His powerful shoulders were a wall of steel in your face. Shit, you thought, fucking shit. Because as Mando stared down at you with that little tilt of his helmet, you felt your blood begin to pound in your ears. 

Your brain’s circuitry was frying. Switching off every thought but the sight of him, his heat, and his scent. Apparently, from this close, he smelled like gunpowder, warm leather, and musk. 

You tried and failed to fight the needy, sordid thoughts that revelation brought to mind. 

Maker, he was a jackass, wasn’t he. He was a complete and utter bastard for being so perfectly unaware of the effect he had on you. For months, the Mandalorian had been luring you into an unstable orbit, wearing your guard down while keeping all his armor on himself. He made you crave stupid, reckless things. And stars—sometimes, between the heated arguments and passing touches the two of you shared, you found yourself wondering if he craved those things, too. 

It really couldn’t have been just platonic. Right? This strange, fascinated way he reacted to the sight of a gun in your hand—it…it wasn’t normal. But then again, there was no logical way that Mando was somehow aroused by seeing you get violent. That made absolutely no sense. 

…Or did it? 

You were this close to just asking him, honestly. But then, your gaze flicked up to his helmet. And the question died in your mouth. 

He was motionless. The dark line of his visor was silently fixed upon something in the distance. In a moment’s notice, he went completely tense before you. 

“What?” you breathed, feeling the air shift. 

He said nothing. 

“Mando? Mando.”

Talons of fear grazed their way up your throat. 

“Mando!” you cried. You turned to follow his line of sight, only to find:

A bright plume of dust on the otherwise dark horizon. Rippling and writhing, it steadily moved closer. You had no idea what you were looking at—you only knew that it was gaining on you. Fast. 

Then, you listened. You heard the telltale rattle of engines, rumbling through the quiet night. Speeder bikes. 

Fuck. Fuck. 

You looked closer, and sure enough: the glow of their headlights. More than twenty mercenaries riding speeders, hurtling right toward you.

thanks for reading! follow @eashn​ for more!

[angelwheat]

TF2

Demoman X Reader

Demoman is labelled many things.… Smart, funny, talented, kind-natured... and an absolute mess when he’s in love.

(31/3/23) (3071 words) (fem reader)

(image is not mine)

Prior to preparing for today’s battle, the mercenaries gathered in the kitchen at the break of dawn, the sweet aroma of Engie’s pancakes enticing everyone out of their room. Some already sat at the table as the girl entered, instantly noticing Scout sitting sloppily with one leg on his chair as he practically stuffed his breakfast down.

Heavy sat beside him, evidently becoming agitated as he fought to withstand the boy’s obnoxiously loud chewing. Demoman, Medic, Sniper and Spy sat amongst themselves, not a word spoken as they ate. Although Soldier was no where to be seen, as was Pyro. Assuming they had already eaten, it was most likely that they were each doing something on their own.

“Mornin’, beautiful.” Engineer smiled, handing the girl a plate stacked with freshly cooked pancakes.

She greeted the Texan a good morning and thanked him as she took the plate, settling where Heavy sat as he stood from the table.

Unbeknownst to Engineer, or the girl, his casual greeting sent a pang of jealousy raging through Demoman. The second he heard his words, the Scotsman froze, swallowing hard a mouthful of food. His gaze narrowed sharply, remaining fixated on the table as he gave an exasperated sigh.

Once she sat at the table, the girl glanced to the men still present. “Hey boys.”

Most of them hummed in response, not even looking up from their plates, but Demoman looked to her, his brows raised. He observed her in adoration, seeing the bright smile she gave Engineer faded to a subtle upturn at the corner of her lips.

Despite finishing his food some time ago, Demoman stayed present at the table. Occasionally the girl would chat to the Medic and Engineer while she ate, with Spy adding his input here and there.

Demoman pretended to listen in, propping his elbows atop the table, his hands clasped together and pressed against his mouth. His eye would dart to whoever exchanged conversation, his act making him seem like he was tuned in to the conversation intently. But truthfully, he merely wanted to be amongst her presence.

Although, the Scotsman would miss the glances the girl often sent his way, her eyes filled with the same glimmer of wonder as his own...

--

Battle commenced in fifteen minutes and the team had grouped together in the respawn room. Clashing of metals bounced off the walls as many were loading their weapons, or were cluttering about in their locker.

Scout slouched against the wall with one foot to the tiles beside him, the typical egotistical smirk plastered across his face. He held his beloved, weathered baseball in one hand, sometimes aimlessly tossing the ball up to catch it.

“Heya toots.” Scout cocked his head upwards smugly once the girl turned her attention to him.

Demoman, who perched at the opposite end of the bench both he and the girl sat on, had perked up instantly, his brows scrunching in annoyance.

“I have a name you know.” She sassed, pursing her lips flirtatiously.

Scout seemed flabbergasted, his cheeks flushing beet red, much to her amusement.

“Uh- yeah, yeah...” Scout stammered, his free hand reaching the nape of his neck as he turned away sheepishly.

The Scotsman slumped forward with his arms rested on his knees. He side-eyed the Scout, brows knit together, his jaw tense with burning fury in his eye. In that moment, his infuriated look could certainly kill.

“What is it then?” She asked, rolling her eyes playfully at his blushed state.

Their conversation was mindless, clear to see that Scout was fishing for her attention for no apparent reason. But one could assume that the girl was entirely invested in what Scout rambled about, despite how she was really listening just to pass time for herself. Demoman sighed, wiping a hand lazily across his face.

Two minutes before the shutter doors unlocked and everyone readied themselves. Scout bounced on the spot, eager to race around the battlefield, and determination to win being his only priority.

Demoman seemed to come back to life, a wide and wicked grin outshining his features. The girl couldn’t help but admire him for a moment as she stood a small distance away, sometimes briefly locking eyes before each turning away shyly.  

It’s clear to see that he does his job with great pride. The Scotsman takes his own unique talent and divine intelligence of crafting weaponry into accountability, using his own creation of deadly bombs to both his, and the team’s advantage. He thrives as he gloats and taunts shamelessly when he scores his own little victories.

To an onlooker, it’s quite the unusual sight to see. But as the girl knows the Demoman on a much deeper level, it makes her happy to see him so proud of himself.

Demoman felt a light nudge to his arm, catching him off guard. He looks beside him to see the girl with a sincere expression.

“You be careful out there.” She told, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Don’t ye’ be worryin’ about me, lass.” The Scotsman chuckled, winking flirtatiously.

She giggled as they gazed to each others eyes, utterly charmed by his cheeky smile. The sweet moment they shared was abrupted by the countdown to battle, storming out side-by-side, ambitious to deem their team victorious.

--

“It’s surprising to see you on your own.” A voice piqued.

She whirled around, armed and read to eliminate the man lurking nearby. The flicker of a lighter pulled her eyes to a slim figure revealing himself with his cloaking device, a fiery orange hue illuminating the contours of his masked face as he lit a cigarette between his thin lips.

The Spy plucked the cigarette from his mouth, a devious smirk creeping onto his face. “Usually that Cyclops is latched to your side.”

She only scoffed at his remark.

Virtually planted where she stood, never uttering a word to the Spy, her finger grazed the trigger of the gun she held at her hip as the Frenchman took a long stride towards her. She watched as he twirled his signature butterfly knife in his hand, occasionally flicking it closed only to repeat it with a little trick.

The Spy carelessly tossed his cigarette to the ground, and before she had time to think, he lunged forward, blade in hand. He had used his distraction to give himself an easy advantage as he disarmed her effortlessly.

Winding the girl on impact and causing her to let out a strained yelp, she was pinned to the wall, unable to move, the Frenchman’s blade pressed to her neck. A putrid smell of tobacco wafted from him, almost making her gag as his face came mere inches from hers.

“Tell me -” He began, his voice gravelly. “Where is he now?”

His smirk turned to a devious grin, adding harsh force to the knife he held to her throat, certain to pierce the skin. She gulped in fear, making futile efforts to free herself, as the strangled whimper she let escaped only amused the Spy.

All of a sudden, a firm arm clad in her teams’ colour hooked around the Spy’s neck, dragging him backwards and instantly relieving the pressure the girl felt from being so forcefully pressed to the wall.

“Ye’ best be keepin’ your filthy hands off her.” A strongly accented voice told.

She witnessed with wide eyes a sword cleanly impaling the Spy’s gut brutally, an agonising scream erupting from his throat, before the blade retracted, leaving a gaping, blood-gushing slice in his core. The girl winced when his body fell limp to the ground with a harsh thud.

“Demo -” She placed a hand on her heaving chest. “Thanks.”

“You alright?” Demoman began to fret. “Did he hurt ye’?”

Instinctively, her hand reached to the stinging spot on her neck. Checking her hand for blood and breathing a sigh of relief to see her hand clean.

“I’m fine.” She huffed, taking a breather to recompose herself.

Fortunately, like the moment was timed perfectly, an echoing monotone voice announced their victory. The girl leaned her head back against the wall, peering at Demoman through half-lidded eyes. He appeared so chuffed as he wiped away droplets of blood that caked his sword before flashing a brash smile her way.

--

Celebratory drinks were shared later that evening. A handful of mercs played card games, while some kept themselves busy in the comfort of their own living space. Nonetheless, there was a cheery atmosphere in all corners of the base.

The girl had been flitting between her room and the kitchen all night; solely to grab herself a refill of drink. She would pass by the Rec room, usually the hollering of insults and little jabs leading her their to inspect the commotion. It always seemed to be her usual guess of the Scout.

He played against the Heavy, Sniper, Demoman, and Engineer, but apparently lost terribly at every game, and clearly became infuriated with his team mates mocking laughter. She eventually gave up with reassuring him that he would win the next game when he ended up on the losing end over and over.

On her way back to her room for a second time, she stopped to check-up on the ruckus yet again. Barely getting a chance to reach the doorway, the sound of cards slapping the table hit her ears. She paused on the spot, hearing a chair screech across the floor with a spew of insults following. The Scout soon stomped out of the room, his arms crossed tightly and his face burning a rosy red with rage. She eyed him pitifully as he stormed past her, but figured it best to leave him be.

Prepared to carry on her way, a Texan accent made her freeze.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” She could hear the way he spoke through a grin.

“I- what- she’s not-” Supposedly caught off guard, the Scotsman barely stammered a response, earning a few laughs from those around him.

“I’m just messin’ with ya’.” He said light-heartedly.

Then, the Aussie piped up in his gruff voice. “But you do like her, right?”

Squinting her eyes as she listened intently, the girl leaned against the wall a small distance away from the entrance of the room the men grouped in, beginning to wonder about the Demoman when she never heard him respond to Sniper.

“You think we ain’t noticed how you look at her?” Engineer chuckled.

Unexpectedly, Heavy spoke up and agreed with the Texan. “Heavy noticed today in Respawn Room.”

If only she peered into the room at that moment, she would notice how sheepish the Scotsman looked.

“Tell her, mate.” Sniper sounded so sincere.

“Come on lads,” Demoman’s voice dropped low, sounding pitiful. “Ye’ honestly think she feels the same about me?”

The girl felt her heart sink upon hearing the Scotsman doubt himself. She knew she couldn’t stand and earwig on the conversation all night, and so she devised a plan to get the Demoman alone.

Although nervousness was eating her up inside, she began imitating quiet footsteps on the spot, progressively getting louder until she then moved to enter the room.

“Hey.” She said quietly.

The handful of men present turned their heads in sync.

“Hey there, darlin’.” Engineer grinned, making a subtle glance at Demoman.

As Heavy and Sniper looked to her, she caught sight of the tipsy glint to their eyes; to see Heavy in such a way was rare. Just as her gaze shifted to settle on the Scotsman, he averted his eye quickly to the stray playing card he was mindlessly fiddling with.

“Scout didn’t seem too happy when I walked past him.” She told, earning light laughter from the mercenaries.

Heavy snickered. “Scout is not so good at card games.”

Her body stiffened as she crossed her arms, standing virtually scrunched up.

“Everything alright?” Engineer began collecting the cards littered on the table. “You need somethin’?”

The girl shifted from one foot to the other, tilting her head down meekly as she spoke. “I was looking for Demo actually.”

Demoman locked eyes with her, his brows rising in surprise.

“I was hoping to talk to you... elsewhere.” She smiled, her cheeks dusted a pink hue.

“Aye, sure.” He nodded.

Neglecting his drink, Demoman wiped his clammy palms on his thighs before rising from his seat, noticing the knowing glances sent his way by Heavy, Sniper, and Engineer, each of them poorly retaining a childish grin. The girl had already began making her way to the kitchen, with the Scotsman following quickly in her footsteps. Just before he disappeared, Demoman peered over his shoulder to see the Sniper nod encouragingly.

The Engineer waited until the Scotsman was out of sight before speaking up. “I tell ya boys, he’s a damn mess when it comes to her.”

--

The Scotsman shuffled in and immediately noticed her leaning against the counter-top, her hand placed on her hip. He felt his body tense as he looked her up and down, her relaxed stance making her appear eloquently flawless in his eye. She lazily ran a hand through her hair, it somehow falling perfectly into place with little effort; thus according to Demoman.

Hesitantly, he brought himself to question. “Something wrong?”

The girl smiled reassuringly. “Oh, there’s nothing wrong.”

Demoman visibly relaxed as he crossed his arms, but he couldn’t help squinting and tilting his head in confusion, a meek smile curling his lips. She refrained from giggling at how cute he looked.

“Then what...” He trailed off, not bothering to finish.

“I just really wanted to thank you for saving my ass today.” She bluntly told, soon adding. “And I suppose for all those other times too.”

Demoman lit up in an instant, a bashful smile plastered on his face. The girl felt her heart flutter, his smile alone so wondrously charming.

“I don’t expect ye’ to thank me, lassie.” He assured, his tone cheery. “I’m just looking out for you.”

He rocked on his heels slightly with, what the girl could only assume was, giddiness. The smile he had seemed to never fade. Demoman appeared to be his usual uplifted self. It was a sight she had only seen occasionally over the last few weeks, or specifically when she was alone with the Scotsman. Although, only the rest of the team were the only ones who had figured out why.

“Well, yeah... I know.” She breathed. “But I want to.”

Taking meek steps towards him, Demoman instinctively opened his arms to her. The girl happily accepted the shy embrace as she placed her hands softly on his chest, absentmindedly fiddling with the collar of his shirt. Demoman wrapped his arms around her waist, his touch ever so delicate.

She leaned in slowly, the Scotsman freezing in anticipation, soon kissing his cheek sweetly, feeling just how his smile grew wider the second her lips pressed to his cheekbone. Before she pulled away, the girl trailed a second kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Your smile is charming.” She told, mirroring the grin he had on his face.

Eagerness was running wild through Demoman in that moment, his heart thundering in his chest. The dreamy shimmer to her eyes alone was enough to send his mind whirling, but the way her lips pursed cutely merely beckoned him to kiss her.

“Can I kiss you?” He muttered, glancing from her eyes to her lips.

The girl nodded happily.

Gingerly, Demoman cupped her face with both hands, leaning in hesitantly, their lips soon meeting in a quick, shy kiss. She couldn’t help but giggle at how giddy the Scotsman looked when they pulled away. He breathed a content sigh, lazily settling his hands on her waist again. The girl wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing her body closer to him, never hesitating as she pulled him in for another kiss, only this time it was full of passion.

They each pulled away, finding themselves lost in each others blissful eyes for a moment.

“I really wish you told me sooner.” She said. “But I kind of overheard your conversation earlier.”

Demoman mouthed a little “oh” once the realisation of what she meant struck him. But he soon turned away feeling embarrassed as he recalled all the times he had been jealous of his team mates, even the petty times he would scowl at a friendly encounter between her and another.

She placed her fingers under his chin, turning his attention to back to her. The Scotsman met her gaze, those alluring eyes making his heart skip a beat.

“I never took you for the jealous type though.” She surmised, giggling softly.

“I can’t help it.” He vouched meekly. “I mean, the way they talk to ye’...”

His words trailed off, the smile on his face faltering subtly. The girl reached to hold his hands, seeing him light up again.

“I had my eye on you the whole time though.” She confessed. “No pun intended.”

They shared a little laugh, just before the girl pressed a chaste kiss to his temple, just beside his eye where it creased as he smiled, her affection ever so loving and reassuring of his biggest insecurity.

In that moment he swears fell in love all over again...

[cosmica-galaxy]

Imagine the main 4 in the players world experiencing a snow day. I think they’d be bewildered seeing everything covered in white. Headcanons?

Yes! The Player's world is unique and strange with new things to experience! Here's the headcanons! ❄️ SNOW DAY~ ❄️ -Hank- + Upon walking outside one morning and seeing everything being a blinding white, his eyes squint hard from behind his goggles as he looks around. The world is encased in a thick layer of snow and there's a strong chill in the air that makes him shudder. + After being blasted by the white glare on the snow, he steps outside and takes in the sound of the snow crunching under his feet...it's strangely stimulating. + A few minutes later and he's actively investigating the world outside. Kicking the snow around and knocking into things to see the layers of snow fall to the ground. It looks almost wholesome watching the most wanted man in Nevada become so invested in such a way. + Once you get properly dressed enough to come outside, you join him and decide to show him some snow-related fun activities! You teach him how to make snow angels, make a snowman (or a snowgrunt in his case, since his doesn't have any eyes or a mouth...), and you both engage in a playful snowball fight. + You both were up the earliest and Hank was more than happy having you to himself for a while. But that eventually ends when there's a loud hoot and holler coming from the house that was approaching rapidly... - -Sanford and Deimos- + Both Sanford and Deimos woke up a bit later and upon seeing you and Hank gone (with worrisome jealous expressions shared between the two of them) they were attracted to the sound of your joyous laughter coming from outside. + Upon walking out onto the porch, Deimos lets out a loud curse and squints his visual cross in response to the blinding white glare coming off the snow, similar to Sanford as well. Once their 'eyes' adjust to the brightness, they are both surprised to see the world outside had changed overnight. + Sanford visually shudders in response to the cold (also because he never puts a shirt on...) while Deimos takes a deep breath and comments about how good the outside world felt. (Having a higher body temperature is a blessing in winter and a curse in summer...) + The pair then take notice of how Hank picks you up and tosses you into a mound of snow, enticing a happy squeal to come from you. Both of the mercenaries feel jealousy bubble up inside of them and neither waste time in rushing out into the snow. + Each one lets out a holler and a whoop as they tackle Hank down as your eyes widen from your little place in the snow mound. The ground was freezing, but it was certainly softer than normal. Both Deimos and Sanford pile up on Hank as the mercenaries roll around and wrestle one another in the piles of snow. + You joyously laugh as Hank eventually gets the upper hand and throws Deimos aside, making him bonk a tree and get covered with a thick layer of snow that falls out shortly after. You hurry over to make sure that he was okay as Sanford and Hank continue to grapple one another, finding Deimos perfectly fine...and even still warm! + Once the two brutes get over their power struggle, you demonstrate the same fun activities you showed to Hank. Both of the mercenaries make their own little snowgrunts, snow angels, and a big snowball fight free-for-all...you just didn't expect to be ganged up on by all the grunts! - - Doc - + The house being strangely quiet is what roused him from his sleep. Usually, if a place was too quiet...something was amiss. So he gains the incentive to leave his nice warm bed to get his clothes on...was there a chill in the air? + Upon getting up and walking by some windows in your home, he sees the sheer amount of brightness outside and that piques his curiosity...not only that, but the front door was left open. So that’s where the chill was coming from... + He gets on the porch and takes a look out into the world, seeing how the Player's world practically changed overnight. It was now bright white and there was a cold chill in the air. He blinks slowly as he lifts a foot and presses into the ground. + Which was a bad idea, because he didn't put his shoes on. He immediately retracts it and shudders in response to the chill that took hold on his foot. Uh uh. There was no way he was going out in that. + Then, he takes notice of the others as they come back into the front yard. Chasing the poor Player and trying to strike them with artificial weapons made out of the cold ground cover...are those three little grunts made out of snow....? + Despite the fun that the others were having, Doc refuses to step outside. He instead watches from his place on the porch. Regardless of his building jealousy at seeing the rest of his crew messing with HIS precious Player, they all seemed to be enjoying themselves. + Feeling himself grow more and more cold, Doc walks back inside and closes the door. He fires up the source of heat that would warm your lovely home back up and begins to make warm drinks for the rest of the crew. Cause he had a lingering hunch that you all would stay out there until you were nearly frozen as the ground was. + He even throws on some breakfast for you...and the crew, of course. + By the time you all come inside, you are all shaking and kicking snow off your boots and batting it off your clothes. Your face is red and you were shaking. Which made the others feel a little bad, but much to their surprise, this was 'normal' for humans to get once they've been out in the snow for hours. + Doc had managed to surprise you all with breakfast and warm drinks, to which you happily thank him graciously and take the hot chocolate from his hands. Not noticing the blush that crosses his face when you give him your gratitude. The others were also pretty thankful as they take their shares of coffee and all of you sit down to have a nice body-warming breakfast. -- After you all had your fun in the snow and were slowly warming up-- you all, with the exception of Doc because he doesn't like being crowded, decided to pile on your couch and watch some movies to help pass the day along. You were all nice and warm snuggling between the three mercenaries that surrounded you on all sides, each one radiating heat like a warming blanket as you stayed sandwiched between each of them. You couldn't have been any happier on a cold snow day.

[princessthatcantfuckingsleep]

My masterlist

•PRISON BREAK•

prison break fanficions

•JACKASS•

jackass moodboards

-WWE-

• RHEA RIPLEY •

•DOMINIK MYSTERIO•

• THE JUDGMENT DAY •

• JUGMENT DAY'S GIRL •

WWE moodbords/Fanfictions

•HOLLOW VA•

Jackal (Enticing mercenary) X Reader

[hawnks]

Mad Scientist x Recalcitrant Lover He Brought Back To Life

A continuation of this which is a continuation of this

…

He makes tea.

She would question what secret crevice of those barren cupboards he’d pulled it from, if she hadn’t watched him pick the leaves from the overgrown kitchen garden directly.

“Valerian, mint, hearthroot,” he informs her, knowing that she’d be curious about the selection, despite her mood. It’s a variation of what she used to make for herself every night.

The revelation doesn’t please her. In fact, the reference to their past only makes her frown deepen.

They sit together on lopsided stools, waiting for the water to boil. Pietro has his hands folded between his knees, squeezing and releasing, trying to steady himself as he teeters between bliss and anguish.

“I missed you,” he says. “I’m glad you’re home.”

Kelsi won’t look at him.

He has to bite back a smile— even this, her volatile temper, he pined for. She was always temperamental, prone to large, all consuming feelings, depending on the day, how well her plans were going at any given moment.

Pietro could scarcely keep up. At her mercy, then and now.

“I’m sorry for the mess,” he says, trying again to ease the tension. “My mind has been…elsewhere, recently.”

She mulls that over. There’s something different about him, the way he holds himself. He’s still meek as ever, but there’s a cat-like surety to the way he moves that escaped him in years past.

“Experiments?” she asks.

He palms the back of his neck. “Well, yes.”

“On yourself?”

“Well…”

“What was it?

“Root of atropa purella, mostly.”

An incredibly toxic plant if handled incorrectly, and not one Pietro showed any interest in previously. Kelsi was aware of the theories surrounding its properties, but it’s deadliness outweighed anyone’s desires to look into it. Until recently, evidently.

Finally, reluctantly, she peeks at him.

Eager to appease her, he rolls up the sleeve of his shirt, placing his arm on the table between them for her inspection.

The veins are blackened— elsewhere the effect is vague, easy to miss, but here the skin is thin and the color is stark, as is the pronounced musculature.

Kelsi touches his inner wrist, gently, investigating the effects. She draws closer, gaze intent, excited. He can feel her breath.

She’s so warm.

He’s craved this for so long.

He clears his throat.

“The dose I took was a work in progress. The recipe is quite finicky. A fine line between enhanced strength and instantaneous death.”

She squeezes him gently, testing the sinew. “You’ve developed a taste for body building?”

“It was for a client of mine.”

Her gaze turns sharp. “So you’re an herbalist mercenary, now?”

That was… true. Not quite how he’d phrase it, but he’s produced potions with effects both benevolent and otherwise. He would have done anything, frankly, to procure the funds for his venture. Experimenting on his own body was the least of his crimes.

Kelsi never liked the idea of using their knowledge for material gain. Still, she can’t hold back the inquisitive light in her eyes, can’t stop herself from asking, “What else did you make?”

Here— a foothold. Something to please her, entice her. He tenses under her touch.

Cheeks flushed, he starts, “Would you like to see—“

The doorbell rings.

It’s been so long since he heard it, he thought it had stopped working altogether.

Kelsi pulls away from him, startled.

Pietro grits his teeth.

He grabs the hatchet leaned against the wall. “Excuse me, for a moment, darling,” he says, marching towards the front door.

Kelsi gawks for a moment, before following.

“Dr. Pragma.” She bustles at his side, trying to catch his eye. His strides are almost twice as long as hers. “Doctor! What if it’s a guest?”

He doesn’t slow. “I don’t have guests.”

The ringing has stopped, replaced with the frantic pounding of fists, calls to open up. And beyond that, the buzzing of an encroaching swarm.

Pietro leans a shoulder against the door. “State your business.”

The voice on the other side is fretting, high and fast. “Doctor! Sir! Please let me in. Oh, lord. Can you hear me? Let me in, please!”

“State your business,” Pietro repeats, impatient.

“I’m from the Botanical Society — please open the door!”

“Not interested.” Pietro turns to leave, only to be stopped by Kelsi’s disapproving glare.

She tuts. “Doctor, that’s your colleague.”

“Ex-colleague.”

“Let her in.”

Pietro sighs. He shoves the door open, sending the young botanist reeling backwards. She’s quick to scramble into the safe haven of the castle on hands and knees.

“I thought you got rid of those,” she wheezes.

“Yes, well, they’re quite tenacious.” Pietro raises the hatchet. “Now, you have exactly ten seconds to explain why you’ve trespassed—“

He doesn’t even begin counting before the girl rushes in one breath, “I’m here to investigate an unauthorized use of magical herbs and/or mycelia on the premises.”

Pietro eyes her for another moment before lowering the hatchet. He scoffs. “You have no proof.”

The greenhouse is barren. All of the other plants on the estate have either withered or grown wild from neglect. Even most of the equipment used for brewing tonics and potions was sold off or traded for the mechanisms materials.

“We do.” The girl raises a trembling hand to point at Kelsi. “Her.”

Pietro glances at Kelsi. If she weren’t standing there with her arms crossed this exchange would already be over. “What about her?”

“Well, she was dead, Sir. Now she’s not.”

“And?”

“That would be indicative of a misuse of the mystical properties of a regulated species, Sir.”

“No it’s not.”

“It’s… not?”

“She was never dead.”

“But, we have the certificate—“

“She came back on her own.” Pietro nods, settling on the excuse. “A miracle.”

“A miracle?”

“Yes. A regular, run of the mill miracle.” He waves dismissively. “Are we done here?”

The girl pulls a notepad from her inner coat pocket. She flips through it, before whispering, “I’ll need to take a blood sample back with me so we can—“

The hatchet brushes her throat. Pietro’s expression is nonplussed. “Touch her and die.”

In the kitchen, the kettle whistles.

[protecterfromafar]

a fair trade

❥ Eremite Daythunder/Gender Neutral Reader ❥

you are saved in battle by an unexpected enemy...but they're owed payment, without anyone to help nor a single coin on you, the eremites offer an exchange you'd be foolish to turn down

❥ 18 + only | rated e | explicit sexual content

❥ dubious consent, voyeurism, bukakke, anal sex

❥ read on ao3

Were it not for the pounding in your head, you might have slept in a little bit longer than you should. But it was only until your vision cleared after some time that you were suddenly acutely aware of your surroundings.

No, this was not your comfortably quiet teapot, nor any accommodations in Sumeru that felt familiar. There was a calm scent of incense in the air, and light background chatter, none having voices you recognized…save one.

“Oh look, the lost birdie finally woke up.”

You recognized that voice, but it didn’t soothe you, at least not yet. It only now dawned on you that you were in the midst of Eremite quarters, filled with enemies all around you. You quickly threw your hand out, trying to summon your weapon, but nothing appeared. “Hold on there, little traveler, don’t be so hasty.” The supposed leader of the group, strongest out of the mercenaries in the room, drew your attention. “Looks like someone doesn’t understand what kind of situation they’re in. Do you not remember?”

Your head ached still, despite being awake, but your memories flashed across your mind in fragmented pieces. You had been exploring…it was late in the night, Paimon was fast asleep…and then…

His voice.

“If anything, you should be thanking us for saving you. But you should know we rarely do anything because of the…graciousness in our hearts.”

You saw your weapon then, tucked at the taller man’s side. He grabbed the hilt of it, waving it around before throwing it back to you from his comfy plush bed against a back wall of the room. “You’re more than welcome to fight your way out, if you wish. Though…given your state, I wouldn’t advise it.”

He made a show of himself as he hopped to his feet and made his way to the center of the room, his gait overflowing with pride. He stopped, extending his bare arms out as a prowess of his abilities. Any other day you could take him with ease…but…

“Our saving grace comes at a price. Though it seems you have naught a single ounce of mora on your person…there are…other ways…you could offer in payment.”

He swung his arm down to his side in a languid motion, fingers dancing over the fabric of his pants. You couldn’t help but feel your gaze ooze down his half-naked body, soaking in the sight of his large pectorals, pronounced abdominal muscles…and…oh.

You followed the movement of his hand, noticing the way his fingers parted to outline the girth of his cock, hiding behind just one layer of light fabric.

Oh…oh…oh…

“What do you say, traveler? I would say I offer quite the enticing deal.”

Fuck. You cursed in your head as he realized how he’s hypnotized you. Your legs began to quiver, your skin rising in temperature at the man’s implications. He cocked his head back, a teasing grin on his face, his blonde braid accentuating his sharp jawline. Though his eyes were still covered by faded red satin, you knew whatever was hidden beyond there would only cause your resolve to waver even further. 

What made everything worse…you could tell you were not poisoned. You had spent enough training with Tighnari that you were very aware of your mental state and how to combat unwanted toxins. This was your own will…that made your sword clatter to the ground with a heavy thud and the much bigger man before you to clap his hands together.

“Excellent choice.”

He didn’t even have to wave his finger to beckon you over. Something dark inside you compelled you to step forward. Your mouth felt parched the closer you got, the size difference much apparent now. You swallowed thickly, trembling in his presence. Under different circumstances, you could have him at his knees faster than he’d known was coming.

Now it was your turn to sink to your knees, surrendering your pride in exchange for your freedom. Though, as he reached down to caress the back of your head, perhaps this exchange was angled in your favor after all.

“You’re quite more obedient than I pegged you for, lost one.” His deep voice echoed in your head as he pushed your face against his hip. “You seem rather eager for this…are you touch-starved, hmm?”

You whined softly as you made contact with him, breathing in his alluring and musky scent. He gently guided your head across his groin until your nose brushed against the apparent bulge of his pants. You exhaled deeply, parting your lips to mouth around his clothed girth.

“Pretty…” The mercenary murmured above you, playing with your hair absentmindedly while he watched you. “You want my cock that bad, hmm?”

Your insides churned at the thought of having this inside you. “I…want to taste it.” Your voice sounded so small, but you felt a burning sensation across your skin that could only be satiated…with pleasure.

“Taste what?” His lips curled coyly, nudging his outlined erection against your face, one hand still on the back of your head to keep you from backing away. “What do you want to taste?”

Why was it so hard to talk, to form words? “Y-you..your…cock…”

“Mmm, better.” The blonde man licked his lips, using his free hand to tug at the hem of his pants just low enough, teasing you slowly until his cock sprang free of its confines. The tip of it glistened with precum…

I bet it could soothe my parched lips.

The lewd thoughts betrayed your self-control, but you could only berate yourself with your lips against his warm flesh. You dragged your mouth along one side until you reached the end of his cock. Your eyes flas upwards, watching his confident face as you manage to open your lips wide enough to take the dripping tip against your tongue. 

You couldn’t help but moan as his salty precum coated your tongue, almost making your eyes roll back into your head. But you managed to keep shaky eye-contact with the tall Eremite as you slowly started to take his cock to the back of your throat.

It was no easy feat; his girth stretched your lips to your limits, tested your reflexes to be as calm as they could be. Though, it was pleasing to see his mouth fall agape every little inch you took inside of your mouth.

“Damn, little bird, that tiny mouth sure can fit a lot.” He grunted softly as he obviously felt the back of your throat against his cock. “Hmm…I don’t think I want to share you tonight.”

As defeated groans filled the room, it became apparent to you that the pair of you were not alone. There was a whole room full of mercenaries watching you swallow cock like your life depended on it…they could see your desperation.

You pulled your head back, lips wrapped just around his tip as your eyes started to water. But gods, you wanted more. Before he could nudge your head forward with his palm, you swallowed his cock again yourself. Your eyelids fluttered closed as the tip knocked against your throat again, stuffing you absolutely full. But it wasn’t enough to completely encase his entire length, so you bridged the gap with your hand.

“So eager…” He hummed in delight as you bobbed on his cock, tongue lolled out to feel the thick vein on the underside of his cock. “Look at the little bird, trying to swallow me whole.”

Just as you were about to slide back, both of his hands now found the back of your hand to keep you still. You gagged a little in surprise as he shallowly rocked into your mouth, rutting the tip against the back of your throat.

“Suck, baby, hollow those tiny little cheeks.”

Though your eyes watered and your lungs burned, his allure had you obeying with ease. You sucked as hard as you could, tightening the slick cavern of your mouth as he fucked your mouth like a toy.

It seemed to be enough as he grunted in delight above you. His hips came to a stuttering halt, pulling back just enough to feel your heavy breath against his cock as he came. Your legs quivered as you felt his hot seed slide down your throat, sticky and hot all the way down. His scent was so strong, it was almost all you could focus on…woody, spiced, salty musk. 

It was shameful that you felt wetness between your legs…almost cumming completely untouched by gagging on thick cock. Eventually the Eremite slipped free of your mouth, letting you heave much needed air and swallow thickly around his cum until there was a mere shadow of him in your mouth.

“Was that the taste you wanted?” He was on one knee, now eye-length with you as he tipped your chin upwards with a finger. 

You couldn’t form words, mind too hazy with the memory of his cock overtaking your brain. He didn’t seem to mind, leaning forwards to capture your lips in a sticky kiss. You moaned into it, lips parting easily as you let his tongue taste his handiwork. You felt dizzy from how good it felt, especially when he sucked on your tongue like it was candy. 

“Don’t think we’re done yet, little lost bird. You’re…far too clothed to be done.”

A shiver spread across your body, standing up on shaky legs as he ordered you to. Now you got a good glimpse of your audience, half of the men in the room with pants around their ankles and cocks in hand. 

Oh gods… 

Your face flushed, but you started to lose focus as warm, strong hands slid along your bare sides to the hem of your top. 

“Let us see what you’re hiding here, hmm?” 

You gasp as he pulls the fabric over your chest, bunching it at your collarbone to reveal your bare skin. Your nipples were hard as ever, especially as cool air brushed against them. But your exposed nubs were hardly as embarrassing as how swift your own pants came free, undergarments and all, showing a room of very horny men your body, naked from the waist down. You squeaked, especially at how evidently wet you were, dripping precum on the floor beneath you.

A collective gasp echoed across the room, especially when the tall, blonde’s hand slid between your legs and teased your leaking mess. 

“Our guest got quite aroused by shoving a cock in their throat.” His sly voice did not help as quieting your desire. “What kind of mess will they make when they have a cock in their tight hole?”

You moaned as his hands slid down to your hips. You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed, being exposed to so many people, your arousal on display for all to see. But…but…

You wanted that cock inside you more than anything else.

As his hands slid along the back of your thighs, you bent over slightly, as much as gravity would allow. You pressed your backside closer to him, shaking as he squeezed your ass cheeks. 

“Mmm, baby, I can’t wait to see your tiny little hole gaped around my thick cock.”

Just his words could be enough to get you off…if you so much as laid still and listened to him sweet talk you, surely you’d come without even touching yourself. You cried softly, shoving two shaky fingers against your bottom lip as you prepared for the onslaught.

Two thumbs spread your ass apart, giving the tall mercenary ample space to dive his tongue in. The first contact had you whining, summoning the strength to not fall over as he tasted you. He wasted no time in tonguing your hole open, lapping at the muscle until he could slide a hot tongue inside. You could feel yourself dripping profusely, no doubt starting a puddle between your legs as he licked you wide open.

“Little bird, you taste divine.” He murmured against your skin before sliding a thick finger in your hole. It was so good but you wanted more. Each stroke of his finger relaxed the tense muscles inside. His impatience matched yours, another finger soon joining to scissor you open. You yelped at the burn of the stretch, but your hips started to meet his fingers in a desperate rhythm. 

“M-more…” You quietly beg, anxiously sucking on your finger as he teased you open. 

“More?” The man only chuckled. “Are my fingers not enough?”

Tears welled up in your eyes. “N-no…I want…more…”

You didn’t notice the other men in the room started to draw closer, touching themselves to the sight of you being pleasured. All you could focus on was now three girthy fingers pushing inside your ass, and a hot mouth sucking dark marks in the soft flesh of your cheeks.

“Your insides are caving in for me so nicely.” You can feel his words against your skin. “Fuck, I want to ruin you so badly.”

“P-please…” You begged, reaching back to spread your cheeks apart on your own. “Your cock…p-please…”

You heard a whistle, but you’re not sure whose voice it belonged to. There was rustling behind you, no doubt the much taller man rising to his feet. You heard a heavy sigh behind you before the weight of a thick cock rested in between the curve of your cheeks.

“Well…when the little lost bird asks so nicely, it would be a shame if I didn’t oblige, right?” There was a resounding noise of approval all around you. Everyone watching wanted to see just how wide your ass could stretch with their leader’s cock. 

He teased you further, gripping his cock and slapping it against you. You whined, pushing your ass back as far as you could on trembling legs, still spreading your bitten cheeks apart. “I-inside….I want it so bad…”

“Mmm, so desperate.” His voice was deep and haughty, still sending shivers down your spine. Eventually he finally nudged against you with the slick tip of his cock, and it suddenly occurred to you just how big he was. Taking it in your mouth was one thing…it didn’t even fit all the way. But at this angle…he could…

The tip of it catched on your tight muscle; before you could even moan, he roughly grabbed your hands and pulled your arms back so you wouldn’t lose your footing…and then he thrust deep inside of you.

Your scream filled the room, your back arching with his strength as he penetrated you like nothing has ever done before. You nearly came at the brutal sensation, dripping madly onto the cold floor at how he sheathed himself fully in your tight ass.

“Mmm, what a lovely tune you sing.” He murmured against your ear, sitting still for now. Whether he was showing mercy in letting you adjust to his girth or just merely enjoying how your insides squeezed him madly, you did not care to know. 

But soon he was pulling out, dragging your insides with it before pushing back inside to what felt like your stomach. You cried out, pleasure and pain mixing into a sensual coagulation. You began to care less about your audience, tongue lolled in a drooling mess and eyes nearly rolling back into your head.

“You’re gonna break the little bird.”

“Mhm, I sure hope so.”

He thrusted inside you roughly, bottoming out almost every time. He was filling you completely, pressing against your belly with his cock. 

“G-good…feels so…good…”

“Who knew you were such a cock-hungry little traveler…” The tall blonde man pressed against you, rubbing his heavy balls against you. “Is this how you take out our brethren? Fuck them with this delicious little ass of yours until they climax to exhaustion?”

“N-no…” You whined in retort. “I don’t…”

The Eremite chuckled in response. “Oh, so I’m the first to capture your little hole and claim it?”

“Mm…mm…so big…”

He chuckled even more, amused at the state of your mind before he started fucking you again. 

At that point, you didn’t care what was happening to you. A thick cock was destroying your insides, and there were many more now hovering dangerously close to your body, a chorus of moans and grunts joining your delighted screams.

Little by little, you felt droplets of hot sticky cum on your skin, painting your back, dotting your face, nearly covering you. You threw your head back, mouth agape as you moaned, wanton as you silently begged for some of it to coat your tongue.

You forgot when you came, everything was electric around you, and the Eremite gripping your hands did not care for soothing your overstimulation. At one point, you swore you could feel lips between your legs, swallowing your own cum as you were fucked within an inch of your life.

And just when you thought it couldn’t feel better, the thrusts started to stutter, becoming uneven as the man behind you started to lose himself. 

“You take cock so good…you want my cum as well?”

“Yes!” You screeched in delight, shaking as you felt your body burning in pleasure. “Cum deep inside me! Fill my hole with your sticky cum! P-please! R-ruin me…”

“That’s more like it, little bird. I’m going to fill you so full, you won’t be fulfilled with any other cock.”

For some reason, that thought was encouraging.

He slammed into your ass as roughly as he could, moaning as he spilled inside you. His cock throbbed, more so than before, pumping cum into your stomach that you felt it start to swell. The discomfort subsided for delight…oh how round your tummy was getting!

“Full…full…so full…” You chanted nonsensically, looking down at yourself at how ruined you looked. His cock was inside you for what felt like forever, and it pained you when he finally did slide out.

Without any strength, you fell to your hands and knees in a puddle of cum that didn’t make it on your body. With your ass in the air, you felt how much it gaped, how your pink hole clenched around nothing but slowly oozing cum. 

You slid down even further on your chest, your arms not being able to hold up your body any longer. 

“Look at you little bird…you don’t seem to be so lost anymore.” You felt teeth grazing your ass cheek again, no doubt leaving another claiming mark. “Stay as long as you like…we’ll be sure to treat you well.”

Your eyelids felt heavy…your worries could wait for another day. Maybe you could stay a little longer. You reached a trembling hand behind you, pressing two fingers into your desperate gape…

“Empty…so empty…”

Someone lifted you off the floor; their hands were strong and rough, but you trusted them for now. Replacing the cold floor was warm sheets, free of rank cum and so comforting. There was a warm wall behind you, chiseled to perfection to keep you from turning over.

And just as the dregs of sleep took you asunder, you felt your insides being full again, your walls clamping down in delight. The pleasure took you to sleep…

…until you awoke the next morning with your face against a pillow and that familiar slap of hips against your ass cheeks greeted you faster than the warm rays of sunshine reached you.

[downtofragglerock]

So its a pretty general consensus that after spherus magna is reformed, a lot of the dark hunters sort of...scatter 

It makes sense, a lot of them were really only there because of bad deals they couldn’t get out of, where actively being threatened, or just couldn’t leave because of the political situations/had nowhere to go, and the whole fresh start that a new planet offers is pretty enticing

The question is what they end up doing afterwards

sure plenty of people have their own ideas, but here’s mine:

A bunch of them form an acting/performer troupe

They basically become the muppets, except they’re all former mercenaries

[fluffyprettykitty]

Criminal

Pairing: Matt Murdock x villain! female! reader (no specifications!)

Word Count: 2220 words

Outline: The devil of Hell's Kitchen has been chasing you for hours when he finally catches you he's only interested in one thing.

Warnings: swearing, restraints, spit, power play, suit kink, glove kink, praise kink, degradation, vaginal sex, use of condoms, pet names, dirty talk, spanking, rough sex, orgasm denial, not beta-ed, all mistakes are my own! tell me if I forgot to tag something or tagged something wrong!

Author’s Note: Requested by a lovely anon.

P.S: dividers by @firefly-graphics // banners by @maysdigitalarts

Main Masterlist ・❥・Matt Murdock Masterlist

NSFW UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DNI.

It was a game and you know it would come to an end for you. You weren’t near as fast or as agile as he was, always seem to match each and every one of your movements. Maybe you shouldn’t have come down between the narrow alleyways leading to the old factory but maybe then that was exactly your plan. His voice was intriguing, and you knew you could have him, once you took his mask off his face. You knew his reputation and his nature, you were intrigued and always tried to find him. 

What you didn’t expect was him locking you against the wall with handcuffs- maybe his voice was too distracting for you after all. You huff and puff as you take in the sight of the man dressed in all red like a devil. Momentarily you wondered what kind of man does that and how he chooses that but then again you were never one to question people’s kinks. 

The basement underneath the old factory was moist and dirty, filled with dust and forgotten memories. That’s where the devil of hell’s kitchen had chased you all the way from downtown and managed to outsmart and pin you precisely against the wall. He was relentless and precise, each of his movements perfectly calculated and yet incredibly chaotic in his harmony.

There was something so alluring about him, you felt like you needed to observe him like his understudy. 

“You are going to give me everything you want.” His voice is demanding, and unfriendly, setting a blaze inside your soul. 

“Fuck you red, I am not giving you anything.” You tug at the handcuffs behind your back wrapped around your wrists, your body pushed against the concrete wall. You might have been a petty criminal but you wouldn’t give up yourself so easily.

“Tell me, where is the box?” You spit out at him, trying to kick the chains away but is futile and he only seems to get angrier. 

“I am not telling you anything, fuck you.” You spit out again and he only snarls hitting his fist against the wall. You find this enthralling and enticing and you wonder how far can you truly push him. 

There is something so incredibly intimidating about him and yet the way he growls and cracks his neck arouses you. You’d be lying if you’d say you wouldn’t let him do anything to you. Settling back in against the wall, confined by your battle suit you press your legs together. Maybe your plan won’t work, you were hoping to be the one to intimidate him. 

If you give out any information you are as good as dead for your boss. You were only a mercenary after all. You look at him trying to understand him, while he is kneeling down. Seems almost insane what he is doing until he comes closer to you and spreads your legs apart. The fire inside you is burning more as you try to keep your voice hostile and determined. Any crack would give you away. 

“You are going to give me exactly what I want.” You roll your eyes even though you can’t help the way you feel. Taking a deep breath you narrow your eyes and frow your brows and look at him. “I am not telling you anything.” Matt chuckles and then lands a hard slap directly to your crotch area making you squirm and groan. Certainly not what you were expecting. But exactly what you have been craving. 

“I know exactly what you want. I have been smelling your hormones all through the building. And that’s how I know you are going to give me anything I want and even more than that.” You scoff at that and proceed to spit at him again trying to kick him as well. There is no way he was able to smell like that? Or was there? 

“You are going to tell me everything and if you don’t I will make sure I will take it right out of you.” His palm pressed roughly against your pussy and you are trying hard to resist the urge to rub your hips against his. You could have everything that you wanted very very soon, only if you listened to him. But that wasn’t you. And you couldn’t give away the information, could you?

Instead, you build up the courage to look straight at the red eyes of his suit and smirk knowing something like that could only build your arousal further. 

“Never.” 

“Very well.” 

There is fumbling, him trying to work out the way your suit works tugging at the zippers and the ends of it, while you are squirming your body away from him. There is a sound, you recognize of cuffs, and once again quicker than you could see your hands are unchained from the wall and cuffed against your back. 

“Where is the box? Just need one pretty word from your lips, sweetheart and we will both be on our merry ways.” 

With a smirk, you shake your head.  “The answer is right inside my pussy.” 

He doesn’t seem amused, his expression unchanged. “And that’s where I will look for it.” He roughly shoves you on an old nearby wooden chair and forces your legs apart. You fumble and try to hit him but his grip is strong. 

“Play nice and I will treat you so good, you know you want it.” He whispers against your face as his fingers are caressing your face and you let your legs ease breathing quietly as you are only observing him, your eyes darkened with desire and lust. 

Once again you spit at his face and that’s exactly when he loses his patience with you. He lands a hard slap against your face before moving to unfold your zipper quickly while you are fixated on just observing. Your plan was to have his pleasure and then just give him a fake location, maybe in the hopes of making you even angrier thus seeing him once again. 

“So wet for me.” He shakes his head as he pushes the zipper all the way down, your underwear soaked in your own wetness. The whole interrogation was driving you wild, more than crazy with desire for him, this situation but you were determined not to open your mouth. He begins to rub his gloved hand up and down your clothed pussy looking at you with a smirk as your hips naturally backed up at his touch. 

“Good girl.” He chuckles and after a few more rubs he pushes your panties to the side, revealing your pussy to him. He looks at you for what feels like forever.

“Look at how you are clenching for me, sweetheart, you want my cock so bad and all you gotta do is give one word. Funny how that works.” You shut your eyes at him as he lets out a laugh, that aroused you even more. You hear a fumble once again and then all you can see is him freeing his cock from his suit and is just the best cock you have ever seen. Your eyes widen at the sight but before you could even react you watch as he throws his gloves on the floor then proceeds to spit on the right palm and then grab his length. 

What you didn’t expect was the sight of him placing a condom over his cock, and you almost whimpered at the lack of physical touch you could potentially feel. This could be your only chance of having him. Yet when he came closer to you and started dragging the tip of his dick over your folds, you had to bite the insides of your lips not to moan. The very next moment he pushed the tip inside your velvet walls, and there was blood coming from your mouth at how bad you were biting your lips shut. 

How could he feel so good? So big, so fulfilling?

“Fuck, sweetheart, you are squeezing me so tight, have you never been fucked by a big cock before?” He coos as he doesn’t give you time to adjust instead shoving his cock further inside your vagina. Your wetness eased him to just slide it all inside.

“Feels so good, I might have to fuck you all night long.” He muses while his hands go around your back. To your surprise he is taking the handcuffs off instead opting to hold your wrists together with his hand, his other hand going to your neck lifting your chin up to look at him. 

“Feels so good, sweetheart…” He groans as his slow strokes turn into deep thrusts, hitting all the way to your cervix, your wetness easing him in and out, setting a very fast and brutal pace. The grip on your chin tightened while his cock was throbbing inside you. You clenched him so good, milking his cock for all its worth, matching his movements. The sensation was unique, rough and dirty, and completely uncivil, it just felt so right.  

“You like this?” He shakes his head mockingly. “I will only give it to you if you give me one word. The right word.” He whispers between grunts spitting on your face in the process as his cock is hitting your g-spot so perfectly like no one ever has before. His cock was just heaven, big fat and his balls heavy and hitting your thighs with each thrust. 

“If you want this, you gotta help me, sweetheart.” He says so condescending that it makes you clench once more, bringing you so much closer to the edge.

Unfortunately, you weren’t the type to be able to cum just from vaginal penetration and he must have sensed maybe at the way you tried to jerk your hands away from him. You needed to cum, you needed to reach the edge and soak him even more and you need him to finish inside you, you desperately wanted the condom off, riding his cock back every time he took a small break to wait and see if you’d respond. 

Daredevil is hitting your sweet spot again and again until you begin to scream, your lips weary and dry as he chuckles at your reaction, knowing right now he has you right in the palm of his hands. Not being able to withhold anymore you decided to give it your all. Giving him a fake nearby location. That will be your way out. 

“Felix.” You shout abstrusely. 

“The package is at Felix.” You huff out screaming and moaning your legs trembling. 

“The old bar close to the docks?” He asks, stopping his torturous pace at once, trying to understand if you are lying to him or not but you are confident in your (fake) answer. 

“Yes.” You breathe looking at him, you want to plead, you want to moan, you want to scream. And he lets you, with one quick movement he sets your hands apart and brings his thumb over your clit rubbing it roughly making you orgasm instantly. You are shouting and groaning, clenching his cock so tight that it makes him cum, spilling his seed inside the condom, feeling the warmth of it right inside you. How you wish you could have it, spilling right out of your hole down to your thighs. 

“Good girl. Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He chuckles as he slowly pushes his cock away from your folds, your pussy sensitive and overworked. The sudden loss makes you whimper and whine. He felt so good inside you. You watch him as he slowly takes off the condom, throwing it close to his disclosed gloves. A thought runs through your head, seeing it flash right before your eyes as your try to catch your breath, slowly pulling your legs close. 

“Maybe I got more.” You whisper hazed out and delirious in the waves of pleasure. Your pussy never felt more pleased, no cock had ever fit you better and the thought of never having him again made you sad. 

“Oh, I am sure you do.” He coos. Maybe he was capable of also sensing your feelings? You watch him as he zips his cock back inside his suit and momentarily you wonder how the fuck it even fits in there. 

“But first you need to rest.” He smiles as he comes closer to you and then proceeds to lift you up taking you in his arms. You wrap your hands around his neck and observe him with a kind expression on your face as he moves you to a small room with a single bed and an old kitchen. 

“Brought a lot of girls around here?”

“No, usually I bring them to my own bed.” You chuckle at that and allow him to clean you up and rearrange your suit settling you on the small bed. 

Daredevil took care of you, letting you sleep till the early morning before leaving you with the intention of going to Felix. He held you gently in his arm without ever taking off his own mask. 

When the morning comes, you would feel guilty when he goes to the bar just to find nothing there. But for now, you slept peacefully inside his arms. 

If you want to be notified about my future stories please follow my library blog @fluffyprettykittylibrary and turn on notifications!

[silversnowblossom]

Excerpted from Act III: Dreams, Emptiness, Deception:

Alhaitham: After all, the promised reward was so great that hardly any scholar could have refused. The sage told me, "Once you've completed this assignment, I can give you a glimpse of divine knowledge."

Cyno: A most enticing offer.

Alhaitham: Unfortunately, those academics don't know me at all.

Alhaitham: Their words contained one key piece of information, namely that "Divine Knowledge" indeed exists. That gave me all I needed to know.

Alhaitham: From my perspective, the sages are far from trustworthy. Think about it: Isn't it a little strange that they're so willing to share Divine Knowledge with anyone, even as a reward?

Alhaitham: So, I began my own investigation following the lead of the Divine Knowledge Capsule. In the end, I realized my wisdom in committing to this rather than collaborating with the sages.

Alhaitham: Had I been less guarded, I probably would have ended up like that Ayn Al-Ahmar mercenary, incapable of remaining sane for long enough to hold a conversation.

Cyno: You mean that the sages originally planned to dispose of you using one of those capsules that drive people insane?

-

Why is no one talking about how the sages attempted to all but assassinate Alhaitham? I definitely feel like for Kaveh, this, even more so than Alhaitham’s crazy plan on Jnagarbha day with the whole pretending-to-use-the-divine-knowledge-capsule-as-a-distraction thing, would be what stands out to him. 

The sages’ arrogance in attempting to create a new god and the way they treated the Dendro Archon is one thing—of course, it’s an injustice, and the Sages probably deserve worse than their current punishment for it, but like Alhaitham, I don’t see Kaveh giving his full devotion, his fealty, to a god just because, and he doesn’t know Lord Kusanali, not really. But this—trying to unceremoniously dispose of Alhaitham, like it’s nothing, like Alhaitham’s life, his mind, is something they can just throw away on a whim—

That would have Kaveh furious. 

If Alhaitham was an ounce less willful, less cautious, an ounce less Alhaitham and more like other people—Kaveh could have lost him. To the Sages and their whims. 

… Of course, Kaveh would probably have had to find this out from Cyno, since we all know Alhaitham’s not going to tell him anything. Alhaitham probably honestly wouldn’t even find it worth mentioning.