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vampsywrites · 9 months

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II — i remember her hands, and the way the mountains looked.

Synopsis: In which the Sullys approach the mountain clan for sanctuary. The Olo'eykte agrees but proposes one condition: Toruk Makto's eldest son must be promised to her daughter. Surprisingly, instead of the solemn response one would expect, Neteyam agrees almost instantaneously.

Tags: Female! Mountain Na'vi! Reader, Arranged Marriage, Sun&Moon couple, Strangers to Lovers, Neteyam is whipped, Mentions of Jealousy&Possessiveness, Romantic tension, Neteyam wanting to impress his girl, Lo'ak having the time of his life teasing the shit out of Neteyam, Reader has that Tsahik rizz

Word Count: 2.8k | AO3 LINK

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With the village of the Iuva'ri clan now their new home, the Sullys followed you past open fields, their eyes wandering in amazement at the sights.

Everywhere they looked, the hustle and bustle of daily life surrounded them. Hunters could be seen hauling large beasts into the village, farmers had their hands deep in the earth as they worked to ensure a bountiful harvest, and weavers, with their deft hands, skillfully crafted intricate patterns into fabric.

Though the environment was not too different from what they were used to in the forest, it was still a significant change from the wild, cluttered jungle they had known all their life.

While his family was busy taking all of the clan in, Neteyam was fully focused on you. He watched in fascination as the village parted when you walked past, people practically throwing themselves aside to clear your path. From elders to children, they bowed in reverence and greeted you with warmth and admiration, recognizing you as their Tsahìk.

Through the walk, Neteyam also couldn't help but notice how your presence captured the attention of the young men and women around. Warriors, weavers, hunters – they all seemed to be drawn to you, stopping in their tracks with blushing cheeks as they exchanged hushed words. Their lingering gazes and subtle glances, their eyes which seemed to follow you like a predator stalking its prey, didn't escape Neteyam's watchful eyes.

As he observed this intense attention you garnered, a pang of possessiveness surged through his gut, and his tail lashed out in irritation.

Neteyam felt torn, battling with the internal struggle of feeling irrationally possessive. Deep down, he knew he had no right to be jealous. After all, he had no claim over you, and he had yet to truly earn your trust and affection.

The announcement of your courtship clearly took the clan by surprise. While some genuinely celebrated your happiness, others found it difficult to hide their envy. Evident by the glares sent his way from those who might have hoped to be in his place.

This scrutiny only served to intensify his emotions.

"This will be your home now," you called out, your voice calm and welcoming, pulling him away from his thoughts. Neteyam watched as you guided them to a beautifully crafted hut elevated on bamboo wooden stilts. It stood gracefully above the ground, a testament to the skilled craftsmanship of your people. The roof was steeply pitched and thatched with nipa palm leaves, while the walls were intricately woven from bamboo slats.

Tuktirey gasped in amazement, her eyes wide with childish wonder as she marveled at the hut's elevated design. "It's so tall!" she exclaimed, clearly impressed by the unique structure.

You hummed, understanding their awe and sensing the underlying hesitation in some of them.

"You will grow to like it," you reassured with a small smile. "It may be different from what you're used to, but it will keep you safe and warm. Our people have lived in harmony with Eywa and these lands for generations."

Tuktirey beamed up at you. "I can't wait to explore and learn more about your ways," she cheers, enthusiasm evident.

“I am sure you will learn well, little one,” you hum, running a hand through her braided hair.

With ease, you then moved towards the stairs, climbing up with a sense of familiarity as you began to haul their belongings to their new home. The family followed behind you, still feeling a tad bit out of place.

After ensuring they were comfortable, you began to excuse yourself, knowing you needed to give them some privacy. As you walked past Neteyam, catching his gaze, you gently rest your hand upon his chest. After murmuring a quick goodbye, you withdrew your hand and swiftly left the hut. Neteyam’s mind ran haywire, the spot where your hand had been burned with a sudden fire, leaving a lingering sensation on his skin that he couldn't shake off.

Eywa. It had only been a day and already you had an effect on him.

With your departure, the family gathered together, finding a spot to discuss the events that had transpired earlier. Neytiri paced back and forth in the open hut, footsteps loud against the wooden flooring, her mind racing with a myriad of thoughts and emotions.

"Alright," Jake sighed, running a rugged hand down his face, breaking through the tension. "We have to unpack what just happened earlier."

Neytiri nodded, her brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of the situation. Her eyes turned to Neteyam, concern evident in her voice as she asked, "Ma'itan, are you sure of this?"

"Oh, he sure is," Lo'ak answered for his brother, sending a grin his way. "I mean—Did you hear him back there?"

"I will accept this proposal. Only if she will have me," he mocked, mimicking Neteyam's accent in a deep, gravely tone. Kiri couldn't help but hide her face with her hand, trying to stifle her laughter.

"Skxawng," Neteyam snarled playfully and gave Lo'ak a light smack in response, which only made his younger siblings laugh even more.

"Enough, you two," Neytiri's voice rang out, cutting through the air. She shook her head in exasperation, her beaded locks swaying and rattling with her movements. Turning her attention back to her eldest, her tone dropped a timbre as she murmured, "Neteyam, this is a big decision. Are you truly sure about this? You wish to mate with that woman?"

Neteyam's gaze shifted from his brother to his mother, lips drawing into a contemplative frown as the weight of it all settled heavily on his shoulders. The significance of such a union wasn't lost on him. The mating bond was not merely a union of bodies; it was the fusion of two souls, a sacred connection dictated by Eywa. He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to express his feelings.

"I am sure," he replied, his voice steady, despite the turmoil inside him. Neytiri studied his face for a moment, catching the hesitation laced in his expression.

"You do not have to do something your heart is against," his mother whispered, reaching forward, both of her hands finding his tense shoulders, rubbing deep circles into his muscle. Neteyam felt the warmth and reassurance in his mother's touch, and for a moment, he leaned into it, finding comfort in her presence.

"That’s the thing. My heart isn’t against it. I just… I felt something when I saw her." He then hesitated, struggling to unknot his mind and put his feelings into words. "Like-Like a heartbeat."

Kiri's eyes sparkled with wonder, a look of recognition flashing behind her eyes. Her tail swished with delight as she leaned forward eagerly, the shawl slipping off her shoulder in the haste of her movement. "You must have felt Eywa's connection with her. Was it like a calling? Could you feel a mighty heartbeat?"

Neteyam froze, his gaze turning to his younger sister.

"Yes. Exactly that, Kiri," he replied, his voice filled with a hint of disbelief. "It was like… she was calling out to me in some way, as if our souls were somehow intertwined."

Kiri's excitement grew, and she couldn't contain her joy. “Eywa has blessed you with a gift, brother. Rarely do mates feel such a deep soul connection on the first time they meet."

"Soul connection? That’s love at first sight, huh?" Jake interjected, his eyes glinting as he glanced at Neytiri with a knowing smile. "Sound familiar?"

Neytiri's stern façade softened as she smiled back, unable to hide her amusement. "Yes, it does," she admitted with a fondness in her voice. Her eyes sparkled with a mixture of understanding and warmth as she looked at her eldest son. "Neteyam, ma’itan, if you truly feel this connection, then it may be a sign from Eywa herself. The steps you take next will be entirely up to you."

"It's just like those stories we've heard, bro. Soulmates and destined love,” Lo’ak chimed in. “You and her, together, guided by Eywa's hand," he smirked, clasping his hands together and making kissy faces. Neteyam huffed, shaking his head.

"Yeah. It might be like that," he admitted with a touch of bashfulness.

"But let's not get carried away with the dramatics,” Neteyam sighs, snapping himself back to reality. “I still want to get to know her first. I want to take it slow.”

“Slow, huh? Is that what you call asking her to mate with you on the spot?" Lo’ak laughed.

“Lo’ak!” Neytiri hissed, glaring at him disapprovingly.

"I did not ask her to mate with me on the spot!" Neteyam snaps through gritted teeth, his voice rising slightly in embarrassment.

Lo'ak's laughter boomed through the air, thoroughly relishing the sight of his older brother's flustered expression. It was a rare occasion for Neteyam to be caught off guard by his teasing, always having a smartass rebut at the tip of his tongue.

"Yeah? Well, it sure looked like it to me," he snickered, his tail swishing back and forth in interest. Neytiri intervened, smacking him upside on the head. Lo’ak winced in response, and nursed the spot where his mother had hit him.

"Ow, ow, I get it," he groaned, lying flat on the floor. "I'll stop."

"Alright. ‘Nough of that. Come on," Jake said, with a chuckle, huddling everyone close. Once they had formed a circle, he began to address them, his tone taking on a more serious note, "Listen, I really need you kids to be on your best behavior. And I mean it."

Jake shifts his gaze to his eldest son, “Neteyam becoming a candidate for future Olo'eyktan already stirred things up enough. And I don’t even need to tell you just how messy that’s going to be.”

Neteyam heaved out a tense sigh, keeping his eyes glued to the ground. “Sorry, sir.”

“We’re gonna get through this,” Jake continued, dismissing Neteyam’s apology, his voice carrying a tone of reassurance. “Together.”

Neytiri moved closer to her husband, gently placing her head over Jake's shoulder. “What does your father always say?” Neytiri murmured, her voice soft and soothing.

“Sullys stick together…”

“Little more feeling this time!"

“Sullys stick together!”

As the night falls and the stars twinkle in the dark sky, they finally retire to their new sleeping arrangements. Neteyam lays on his makeshift bed, a woven mat made out of palm and leaves, his mind abuzz with thoughts. He gazes out of the hut's opening, where he can catch a glimpse of you in the moonlight, going about your duties as Tsahìk, checking up on a few of the sick and injured in their huts.

Your silhouette against the moonlit backdrop mesmerizes him, and he finds himself drawn to your presence like a moth to a flame. As you notice his gaze, you offer him a reassuring nod before continuing your duties. His heart swells with warmth at the acknowledgment.

With the comfort of your presence lingering in his mind, Neteyam turns onto his back, feeling a sense of peace settle over him. The gentle rustle of palm leaves outside and the distant sounds of the forest lull him into a state of relaxation. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to fall into a deep and restful sleep.

The next morning, the village awakens early. The sky is painted in hues of pink and orange as the sun begins to rise over the mountains. Knocking gently at the side of their hut, you had called for them before the sun could even fully emerge, offering to show them more of the village and its surrounding wonders.

You lead them through the mountains, showing Kiri, Lo'ak, Tuk, and Neteyam the ways of life in this breathtaking terrain. The trees stand tall and proud, similar to those in the forest they once called home, but here they bear a different kind of energy, surrounded by majestic mountains which hold ancient tales of the ancestors before them. The group walks amidst the trees, their senses heightened by the subtle sounds of wildlife and the fresh scent of earth.

As you lead them further, you come across vast rice fields, a breathtaking sight of lush green beauty stretching as far as the eye can see. The fields seem to come alive with the morning sunlight. The stalks of rice sway gently in the breeze, creating a mesmerizing dance, captivating the forest Na’vi.

Amidst the exploration, Neteyam's keen eyes spot a group of mountain climbers in the distance, scaling a rocky hill.

"What are they doing?" he questions, his curiosity piqued.

"They're practicing for the coming-of-age ceremony," you say, your gaze following the climbers. Neteyam's curiosity turns into intrigue, and he listens intently as you begin to explain.

"It's an ascent to the clouded peak," you share, pointing to a towering mountain in the distance, its summit shrouded in mist. "At dawn, the candidates gather at the base. It is the tallest mountain in the region and they must set out on a journey to reach the summit."

Lo’ak whistles, grimacing while he sizes up the daunting landscape before him. "We have to climb that?" he asks incredulously.

“Only if you want to. Your Omatikayan ikinimaya should be enough for you to be recognized in the clan,” you assure him with a pat on his back.

Neteyam stays silent for the next few minutes, his faraway gaze directed towards the rocky mountain. Suddenly, he startles everyone by speaking up, the words slipping from his mouth causing your eyes to rip wide open.

"I want to partake in it," he says, his voice steady and resolute. The sudden declaration shakes everyone, and his siblings turn their attention fully to him, waiting to hear his reasoning.

You too gaze up at him in disbelief. "Are you certain?" you ask, wanting to ensure that he fully comprehends the challenges that lie ahead. “This is no simple feat—”

"I am strong," Neteyam interrupts, sounding a little harsher than he had intended, but it was important to him that you knew of his abilities. "I will be able to train for it well."

Your milky eyes drop to his battle-hardened body, sweeping over his broad shoulders and the ridges of his defined muscles, glistening softly in the sun’s glow. The scars etched on his skin tell tales of past battles and trials, a testament to his experience. Neteyam holds his ground, finding himself flexing subconsciously under your gaze.

"I know you are strong," you retort.

"Yes—"

"But the warriors of the forest are different from those of the mountains," you cut him off with a pointed stare. "It is not just about physical strength; you will have to learn how they train, their techniques, and their ways of life," you begin to move towards him, a challenging look in your eyes. "It is difficult to fill a cup that is already full."

Neteyam's jaw clenches, his gaze unwavering. "Then I will empty my cup. I will adapt," he asserts with passion. "I will prove myself not just to your people but to myself as well. If I am to be chief, I have to embrace your ways."

"Pretty sure you just want to impress her, bro," Lo’ak quips. Neteyam scowls at his remark and, in a swift motion, drives his elbow straight into his younger brother's side. At the impact, Lo’ak immediately folds, nursing his side as his face contorts in pain. “Fuck!”

Ignoring Lo’ak, Neteyam turns back to you, his expression steadfast and unwavering. In that moment, he feels an overwhelming longing to prove himself to you, to earn your admiration and love based on his own merits, not just because of any preconceived notions or expectations.

His determination shines like a beacon, and his sincerity tugs at your heartstrings. It's as if he's baring his soul before you, showing you the depths of his desire to be someone you can truly respect and admire.

With a hum, you settle back, your tail flickering behind you in intrigue. If the rumors carried by the wind from clan to clan about him were to be believed, then you should have known he would want to partake in the ceremony.

Such a bold spirit, evident in those golden eyes of his every time he spoke. The mountains around you seemed to echo with approval, as if Eywa herself was acknowledging his resolve.

"If you are that eager, then I will teach you," you say, the decision firm in your heart. It feels as if a weight is lifted off his shoulders at your acceptance of his offer. Neteyam hums, trying to maintain a stoic expression but the telltale flicks of his ears and tail betray his anticipation and eagerness.

"Do not be mistaken, though. I will not baby you," you add with a daring lilt in your voice. You begin to walk away, the swing of your hips matching the sway of your tail. "Let us hope you can keep up, mighty warrior."

That seemed to only fuel the fire within him further.

Neteyam’s chest rumbles in a deep laugh, a fanged grin stretching across his cheeks. "Yes, ma’am.”

< PREV | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT >

see you in the next episode where the reader works her future husband's ass to the ground xoxo

TAGLIST: @rainbowsocks @milktealvrr @strawberri-blonde

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redbean-nom · 2 months

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Designs for adult versions of the clone cadets in bad batch as Rebellion leaders

The first weird thing I noticed was that they kept specifying that tbb are "defective CTs", whereas iirc most other clones leave out the "ct" part. additionally, "special training" must have been a reasonably expected occurrence for them, since it was used as the Hemlock-jungle-lab excuse. they're also, oddly enough, the only three survivors from a base full of both cadets and adult clones. and finally, all three of them have noticeably different face shapes.

so my guess for their origins is that they're the results of the kaminoans trying to replicate tbb's mutations in a commando template, making them all specialized CC command cadets. From what we've seen of them, they don't seem to have quite as prominent abilities as say, wrecker or hunter, but are definitely above average to have survived that long.

Anyways the mini-backstory for them here is that they end up joining the rebellion around 5 years later (assuming that they're 6/12 and 8/16 in tbb s3, they would be 11/22 and 13/26 here) as the lead squad for the clone rebel cell after rex, wolffe, and gregor retire (and echo and cody are presumably dead).

Bonus: I originally had Deke's hair as dyed blond, but then he started looking too much like Rex (esp with the jaig eyes and partial arc armor) so I changed it back

edit: sorry i forgot to tag spoilers at first! it has since been fixed

#star wars #clone cadets #tbb #the bad batch #tbb s3 #tbb spoilers #bad batch spoilers #tbb mox #tbb deke #tbb stak #redbean art #also i redesigned them a bit because their show appearances were kind of weird looking #also yes they made killing the jungle-sarlacc their entire personality lol #deke is arc-adjacent #mox is commando-adjacent #stak is a pilot #idk how clear it is in the pics but they all have a rebel insignia somewhere on their armor #they also all have a sarlacc-y element somewhere on their armor #deke has his as the focus of his paint #stak has a vine tentacle thing on his helmet #and mox has sarlacc teeth on his helmet #btw staks helmet is a rebel pilot helmet spliced onto the lower half of a p2 clone pilot helmet #hopefully they dont look too lumpy #i think this is the first time ive drawn clone armor in an actual pose that i didnt just copy from refs #and definitely teh first time drawing clone faces #i have. so many ref tabs open rn. why must clone armor be so geometrically complicated #i have more thoughts about the clone rebellion (i have mentally named it jaig cell) idk if you guys are interested in hearing it #also probably another korto vos incoming

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cantstoptheimagines · 2 months

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On Display (Finnick Odair, Peeta Mellark | The Hunger Games)

Summary — The pollen of a strange flower leaves Peeta and Finnick in a haze. As a result, you’re used before the eyes of Panem.

Warnings and Other Tags ➳ Smut (threesome; sex pollen; oral (female receiving, brief male receiving); penetration (vaginal, anal); double penetration (vaginal, one vaginal and one anal); object insertion (anal); public sex and exhibitionism since they’re being filmed in the arena; breeding kink; spanking; bondage (Reader gets tied up with a vine); brief primal and hunter-prey king; brief knife play; potentially free use; slight spit kink; tons of cum).

Notes ➳ Word Count is 4,190. ➳ Reader uses feminine pronouns (she/her). I envisioned the Reader as being from District 5, but I don’t remember if I actually mentioned that or not.

Peeta and Finnick were anything but quiet as they followed you through the thick, green foliage of the arena’s jungle. Katniss had sent the three of you to ‘find more food’, but you were convinced that she only wanted rid of the two young men who trailed behind you.

Understandably so, in your opinion. They were loud and Katniss needed time to herself, two things that did not coincide. Still, you wished you had gotten Johanna as a partner, but she had disappeared with Beetee in the blink of an eye.

Behind you, Finnick twirled his trident with a confident grin as he and Peeta spoke to one another. He was a show-off, dramatically swinging the weapon until one of your ankles began to sting from a strike of cold metal.

You groaned, nearly toppling over in pain from the hit. Finnick didn’t even bother to look apologetic as he received glares from both you and Peeta.

“Sorry,” he chuckled halfheartedly.

“Would you stop messing around?” you rolled your eyes. “You two are gonna scare off every animal within earshot. It’s no wonder we haven’t found anything to hunt yet.”

While Peeta conceded to your request, Finnick decided to give his trident another whirl, “Sweetheart, you need to—”

A sudden wave of golden specks burst into the air, sending both men into coughing fits. You looked down to find that the sharp prongs of the trident had pierced the center of a rather large flower and couldn’t help but laugh at Finnick’s mistake.

It was bright purple at its torn center, which continued to spread the golden dust throughout the air. Red petals sprouted from all sides while thick vines anchored it to the ground. It was unlike any flower you had ever seen before.

You chuckled, examining it for a few seconds longer before your attention returned to the two men. Expecting to see embarrassment and annoyance radiating from Finnick and Peeta respectively, you were met with something else instead.

Their eyes had gone dark, pupils blown so wide that their colored irises almost disappeared. They both glowered at you, chests rising and falling heavily, almost as though they were struggling to breathe.

Your heart suddenly began to race when you felt the air shift. The tension between the three of you could be cut with a knife if it had to be.

Fear coursed through your veins as Finnick’s grip tightened around his trident and Peeta slowly pulled out a sharp knife. One step forward from each sent you bolting into the jungle.

Heavy footsteps followed. You didn’t even bother to look back, running blindly through the foliage. Your heart pounded uncontrollably as you did your best to escape. The sudden turn in your allies left you startled.

But nothing could compare to the fear that filled your stomach when a hand yanked at the collar of your wetsuit. Back hitting the ground, the wind was knocked out of you.

Both Peeta and Finnick towered over you with dark eyes. They admired the way you gasped for any semblance of air as tears welled up in your eyes.

Finnick tossed his trident aside, pulling you up by the front of your wetsuit with a grin. Everything went by so fast — the feeling of being forced back against Peeta’s chest, his knife to your throat, so Finnick could pull the zipper.

Your eyes widened when he exposed your skin. He tugged at the wetsuit until it pooled at your ankles and you’re made to step out of its confines. He wasted no time, immediately indulging himself. He palmed at one of your breasts while wrapping his lips around the other.

“Wait—! Ah! Finnick!”

Behind you, Peeta groaned, still holding his knife to your throat. Heavy pants rebounded off your shoulder as his free hand wrapped around your body to pin your wrists against your stomach. A thick bulge pressed itself against your ass, but you could do nothing to stop it.

You cried out as Finnick kissed, licked, and sucked your nipples. An occasional slap sent shockwaves down your spine.

You were still in a state of surprise, tears breaking through and streaming down your cheeks as you tried to comprehend what was happening.

Finnick stopped, but only for a moment. He ripped up a thick vine and tied it around your wrists, giving Peeta a bit more freedom to touch you.

Finnick returned his focus to your aching breasts while Peeta’s hand, no longer needing to contain your wrists, began to explore your available flesh.

He journeyed down your warm body until he found what he was searching for. His fingers suddenly pinched your clit and ran over your folds.

“Peeta,” you whimpered, unable to even think anymore, completely at the mercy of both men.

He shushed you, pressing the blade of his knife flush against your throat in order to remind you of your place, “Be quiet. We’re just gonna use you for a bit. You’ll have fun too, don’t worry.”

You gasped when one of Finnick’s hands moved behind you to grope your ass. He then took it a step further, running his fingers between your cheeks in order to tease your puckered hole.

“Soon,” he muttered, kissing a trail down to your pelvis. “Want to eat your pretty pussy first though.”

He spread your thighs apart, nudging Peeta’s hand away with his nose. He took a deep whiff of your pussy before kissing your clit.

No more time is wasted. Finnick’s tongue lapped at you and he moaned at your taste. You didn’t expect any of this, but you couldn’t stop pleasure from swelling within your stomach. And the thought that some of the flower’s pollen had possibly affected you as well crossed your mind for a brief moment.

“Finnick!” you moaned. “Please, need time! Let me think!”

Peeta busied himself with marking your neck in dark bruises, using his lips and teeth to damage your warm skin, “Cunts don’t need to think. Only need to open up for us to fuck nice and deep. And that’s what you’re gonna do.”

Finnick’s nose, pressed into your slick, took in your wet scent as his tongue continued to taste your pussy. It’s shoved as deep as it can go within you, hungrily lapping at your inner walls.

He pulled away with his face covered in your sloppy essence, and grinned up at Peeta, “You need to taste this. It’s fucking good.”

Peeta quickly tossed his knife onto the ground, deeming it unnecessary. He was far too eager to try you out for himself.

Finnick rises to his feet while Peeta sinks to his knees. You’re traded between them like an object, now chest-to-chest with Finnick, who wraps his arms tightly around your body. He palms at your ass and spreads you open with a chuckle.

Meanwhile, behind you, Peeta almost thanks Finnick, who, by spreading you, provided him with a full view of both your holes.

Peeta dives in and your mouth falls open in surprise. He was much more desperate than Finnick, exploring both your pussy and your tight asshole without a second thought.

He tongues and slurps at your pussy like it’s an oasis, nails digging into the flesh of your thighs to keep you still. You’ve turned into a moaning, squealing mess and every bit of it leaves Finnick laughing in sick amusement. He even began grinding your hips down onto Peeta’s face, who happily took the extra weight in stride.

Everything is so overwhelming that you almost missed the quiet whirl of a camera. You spot the glint of a lens seated in the bark of a tree, steadily zooming in on the three of you.

“They—! Ugh!” you gasped. “They can see us! Hold on, they’re watching! Wait, wait!”

“Let ‘em watch,” scoffed Finnick. “We’re not giving up a pussy we just caught!”

You go to respond, only to interrupt yourself with a moan. Peeta had shoved two fingers into your pussy, stroking your wet walls at an indescribable pace. He continued tasting you without a care in the world, moaning at the delicious tang of your entrance.

“Gonna fuck this hole so full,” groaned Peeta, still slurping and licking and tasting your slick. His words were muffled against your twitching clit. “Gonna breed you so many times. Over and over until your pussy is out of room and can’t take anymore. Then we’ll start filling your ass just the same.”

“Tastes good, doesn’t it?” asked Finnick, and then he wrapped a hand around your throat with a grin. “Better than any meal the Capitol has ever given me.”

“So good,” said Peeta, voice muffled by your leaking pussy. “Wanna fuck it.”

“Get up then,” replied Finnick, “so we can start filling it up.”

Peeta groaned again, “You go first. Wanna eat her ass for a bit. Gotta open it up anyway.”

Finnick’s wetsuit is shoved down to his ankles in mere seconds, exposing his hard, throbbing length. He lifted you into his arms without any effort and wrapped your legs around his waist. His cock is then pushed inside your dripping entrance just as Peeta’s fingers are removed, leaving you to shriek and squeal against him as he rocks you on and off his aching length.

Beneath your hovering body, which is held firmly in place by Finnick’s strong hold, Peeta took his chance. He palmed at your ass and spread you from below, dedicating himself to tasting and fingering your tightest hole in order to work you open.

With a harsh slap to your skin, Peeta groaned, “Gonna be hard to fuck this ass. It’s so resistant.”

“Not the hole we need to cum inside anyway,” huffed Finnick, before he swallowed your gasps with heavy kisses.

“Would still be fun to try out,” laughed Peeta as he pushed a thumb inside, resulting in another gasp falling from your lips. “Bet it’s never been used before.”

Panting into your neck, Finnick replied, “Do what you want. My cum is going in this pussy for now.”

Peeta nodded and then, before you knew it, his tongue was worming its way inside your ass. His nails formed crescents in the flesh of your cheeks as he indulged himself.

The intensity of it all left you shaking and moaning uncontrollably. Your eyes fluttered as your gaze tried to avoid the whirling lens of the camera that continued to zoom in on your sweaty figure.

You could only imagine the expression on Caesar Flickerman’s face. One of both horror and excitement for how this would change his show’s ratings. Two tributes using the body of a third for their personal pleasure had probably become Panem’s biggest scandal within a few minutes.

“Fuck! Ugh!” grunted Finnick, still rocking you on and off his cock. “Gonna cum! Gonna cum! Take it! C’mon, take my cock and cover me in your leaking pussy!”

He cursed upon feeling his tip quiver inside your wet walls. His cum flooded your insides, white ropes shooting deep into your womb, as he groaned.

Balls pressed flush against your weeping entrance, a white ring formed at the base of his length. Peeta quickly left your asshole behind in order to clean up the new mess between your legs.

His tongue ran over your pussy as well as Finnick’s balls. He swallowed as much of the combined mixture of cum as he could.

He then steadily kissed along the expanse of your back until he stood behind you. His chest was flush against your skin as he unzipped his wetsuit and shoved it to his knees.

“Room for me?” he asked, not even waiting for an answer before he began pressing his tip against you.

You wouldn’t be surprised if the other tributes knew your location now as a series of loud cries fell from your lips. The feeling of Peeta shoving his length into you to join Finnick in his rough use of your pussy was almost too much.

Your entrance was stretched beyond belief as it tried to accommodate the two large cocks that wanted to share your wet pussy. Neither Peeta nor Finnick seemed to mind though, both of them groaning at the tight squeeze of your body.

Finnick held you between them, your legs still around his waist, giving Peeta the opportunity to reach around and fondle your tits. Both men eagerly began thrusting in and out of your pussy, each with their own rhythm.

“Taking us both so well, aren’t you? Always knew you’d have a slutty pussy. Sucking in two cocks at once like a whore,” laughed Finnick, digging his fingertips into your flesh. “Should’ve used you when we first met. Could’ve made you my personal cum dump to relieve myself whenever I wanted.”

You whimpered at the thought. Stuck between them, you could do nothing but listen to Finnick’s dirty rambling.

He continued, “We would’ve been on every cover of Capitol Sex Magazine, you bent over with my cock in your battered pussy, all swollen, leaking so much cum that your skin would be stained with it for days. Imagine it, everyone in Panem getting themselves off to images of you being stuffed full. Guess that’s what they’re doing right now since they’re watching your pussy get bred on live television, huh?”

“Shit!” gasped Peeta, turned on beyond belief by Finnick’s disgusting words. “Be quiet! Ah! You’re gonna make me cum already talking like that!”

“Do it,” moaned Finnick. “Cum in her pussy like she deserves.”

Peeta’s cock twitched inside your clenching walls. Endless streams of white cum made their way inside your pussy. Peeta shoved himself so deep that the mushroom-shaped head of his cock met your cervix, making you squirm.

“Oh, don’t try to escape us now,” hummed Finnick. “We’re just getting started! C’mon, let’s show everyone what her pussy looks like before it’s ruined.”

They both pulled out, leaving you dripping with their combined releases. Peeta seized control of your torso while Finnick held your legs, both of them working together to carry you towards the camera that had been filming everything.

Finnick spread you open for the lens with a wild gleam in his eyes. White, creamy cum escaped your pussy little by little. The Capitol citizens were probably discussing how every facet of your body could be used for the pleasure of others as your fellow tributes showed your hole off for the world to see while all you could do was whimper.

“Yeah, fuck yeah, look at all that,” chuckled Finnick, admiring your quivering, oozing pussy. “Sloppy little thing, isn’t she?”

Peeta huffed and nodded in agreement, “She’s messy, but she’ll just have to get used to it. I’m not even close to being done.”

“Here, get her on the ground,” demanded Finnick. “Wanna shove her face in the dirt while I take her.”

They manhandled you into a new position, laughing at your pleas, “Need a few minutes! Can’t go again yet! Please—! Ah!”

Face down, ass up, and completely vulnerable, you’re pulled back onto Finnick’s throbbing cock in no time. Your hands, still tied together, did their best to find a lifeline, only to clutch tightly onto a bundle of leaves when nothing else can be found.

One of Finnick’s hands pinned you down by the back of your neck while the other landed in the dirt next to your head. He pounded into you without remorse. The air filled the sounds of wet, slapping skin and heavy pants.

Peeta, meanwhile, had gone back to the tree that had the camera seated in a knothole. Finnick watched, mouth open with uncontrollable moans, as Peeta safely removed the camera with a satisfied smile.

“Now Panem can get up close and personal,” he said, holding the camera so it had the perfect view of you being fucked into the ground.

Finnick laughed and allowed Peeta to continue. As Peeta offered the best views of your rough treatment, you cried out with each of Finnick’s mean thrusts.

His hips collided with your ass over and over again. His balls kissed your pussy each time, slowly covering them in your arousal.

“Ah! Ah! Oh! So deep, Finnick! You’re so—! Ugh! So deep! Too much!”

His cock twitched inside you, releasing another load of cum before either of you could comprehend it. His cum frothed around his cock, creating a white ring at the base, as it leaked out of your throbbing, swollen entrance.

Finnick pulled out before quickly trading you for the camera, capturing the moment Peeta buried his cock back into your aching pussy for another turn with your sweaty, whimpering body.

“That’s it,” laughed Finnick, cock already hardening again between his legs. “Fuck that thing real good before filling it up.”

Peeta whined, fingertips digging into your hips as he used your pussy for himself. He rammed in and out of your squelching entrance. A combined mixture of their cum dribbled out of you, encircling Peeta’s length as his thrusts remained unrelenting.

He hunched over your back and then wrapped his arms around your stomach and chest. He panted against your skin, fucking you like an animal in heat, bruising your ass with every move of his hips.

“Pretty little pussy, so pretty,” he moaned, pinching your nipples in order to pull a few more babbling cries from your lips. “I want to know where the Gamemakers found those flowers. I’ve never been so hard for so long.”

“We need to take some back to the others,” said Finnick, stroking himself with one hand while the other brought the camera closer to your rolled back eyes. “I’d love to watch Katniss eat this slut out while Johanna shoves a few fingers down her throat.”

“Gonna—! Ugh! Oh!” exclaimed Peeta, hips speeding up. “That’s it! Do you like taking this much cum? Huh? You like taking my load? Here, you can have another!”

He received no response other than your uncontrollable moans. His cock sank into you once, twice, three times more, before gushing white when the tip met your cervix.

“Oh, Peeta!” you cried, tears of pleasure streaming over your skin. “Ah!”

He kissed the skin of your shoulders before loosening his grip. With a sigh, he pulled out of your wet entrance. He spread your ass wide enough for him to admire the way his and Finnick’s combined loads dripped out.

He pushed as much of their cum back into you as he could before leaning down to kiss your other hole. After licking a long stripe over your tightest entrance, he patted your cheeks gently, “Time for your ass to take on a few rounds. Who’s first? You get to pick this time.”

“Oh no, she doesn’t. I’ve got an idea. I say we give the audience a few close-ups,” chuckled Finnick, before gesturing to the camera in his hand. “Let’s put this in her ass before we have a go at it. So everyone watching can see it before and after she’s left gaping.”

Peeta kept you spread open from the back. You were almost completely out of it when the cool shell of the camera was pressed against you.

Both men delighted in your shrieks of both pain and pleasure as they worked together to push the camera inside your body. It was rectangular in shape and a decent size lengthwise, but not so big that it couldn’t be shoved inside your tight hole.

It made you wonder if the Gamemakers had anticipated something like this whenever they originally put the flowers in the arena.

Finnick pushed the camera into you before pulling it out again. He repeated the cycle, covering it in your slick, with a loud laugh, “Wonder what else we could put inside her. She’s taking this thing better than I expected.”

Peeta spit onto the camera, pupils blown wide, as it disappeared in and out of your ass, “The hilt of my knife is pretty long. How big is the handle on your trident?”

“Big,” chuckled Finnick, slapping your ass when you squirmed a bit too much. “We can do that later though. I wanna see what this ass feels like when it’s squeezing my cock.”

Peeta agreed with a smile. His warm hands ran over your skin. One pressed down on the back of your neck while the other groped your ass.

The camera was pulled out of you in an instant. Finnick placed it on the ground near your head, allowing it to focus entirely on your pathetic, drooling expression.

“Giving everyone the best view,” he grinned, and then he moved to kneel behind you. “Ready for my cock? Who am I kidding? I don’t need to ask that question. You’re gonna take it either way.”

His length roughly breached your hole before you could even comprehend his words. He sank deep into your ass, heavy balls slapping against you with each move as he began thrusting in and out of your clenching hole.

Your mouth fell open with a silent scream. You’re exhausted eyes stared back at you in the reflection of the camera lens. You nearly cried at the thought of your expression being shown to the entirety of Panem.

Next to Finnick, Peeta stroked his own length, occasionally slapping it against the swollen flesh of your ass. He groaned upon feeling his cock twitch in his palm, “Gonna cum again. Think I can put it inside her? I’ll be quick.”

You’re easily traded between them. It only takes Peeta a few moments to shove himself inside your ass, pounding his hips hard and fast until cum once again bursts from the tip of his cock.

Quickly as it happened, you were given back to Finnick, who immediately pushed himself inside you again. A toy being shared.

“Look at us loading you down with our cum,” he chuckled, pressing a hand against the newly formed bulge in your stomach, aching and stuffed with their releases. “You haven’t even done it once. Just been taking it like a good girl, haven’t you? We’ll change that soon, I promise. Ugh!”

He rutted into you as his cock let go of another wave of cum. He groaned loudly, head falling back in ecstasy. His pace didn’t falter in the slightest, but only increased. His pelvis struck your ass with every thrust and grunt that escaped him.

“Since I’m in her ass,” he sighed, fingers digging into your sweaty flesh as his gaze moved to Peeta, “you wanna use her pussy for a while?”

You didn’t even hear Peeta’s response, any thoughts or awareness of your own being left entirely at their mercy. Each of your senses had become too drowned out by the pleasure coursing through your body for you to understand their conversation.

Next thing you know, Finnick pulled you up by the hair. Left to cry out in pain, more tears began streaming down your cheeks until Peeta slipped beneath you and you’re dropped unceremoniously onto his chest.

You’re in a confused, whimpering haze, pinned between the two men as a second cock is stuffed inside you. Peeta sighed happily as he took control of your pussy while Finnick cared for nothing but your tight ass.

“Oh! Ah, ah! Peeta, please—! Finnick, ugh!” you sobbed. “Finn—! Peeta—!”

Everything turned into a blur of sweat, tears, and cum as they both laughed at you. Two cocks railing your messy holes wasn’t helpful in letting you know whose name to call out.

“I can’t—! Ugh! Ah!” you whined. “Too hard!”

“Damn right, we’re too hard!” hissed Finnick. “Don’t know how long it’s gonna take for our cocks to go down. Feel like I could fuck your ass forever.”

Hiding away in the crevice of Peeta’s neck, you whimpered and squirmed between them. A knot grew within your stomach and tension took over your core, a wave of pleasure preparing to overwhelm your senses.

“Tightening up, aren’t you?” moaned Peeta, gripping the back of your neck with a large, warm hand. “About to cum again. Do it with me.”

“Me too,” panted Finnick, spreading your cheeks to watch their cocks disappear in and out of you. “C’mon, sweetheart, cum for us. Your pussy’s earned it.”

Your climax took over, forcing both of them into their own. Each of you gasped, shuddered, and moaned at the pleasure you offered one another.

Peeta and Finnick dumped their loads inside you without a care. Your entrances clenched and fluttered around their lengths as your slick gushed out of your body, covering both of them in your satisfied release.

For a moment, everything seemed at ease. The humid jungle air was filled with nothing but quiet gasps and tired groans. The light swish of a sponsorship parachute interrupted the peace that had taken over. The small, silver package slowly descended until it touched the forest floor.

If you had paid it any mind, you would’ve tried your best to collect yourself, Peeta, and Finnick for a quick escape. But the opportunity was missed when the package fell open, covering the three of you in another cloud of golden pollen, as dozens more fell from the sky.

#2024 #on display #the hunger games #the hunger games imagine #the hunger games imagines #the hunger games x reader #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark imagine #peeta mellark imagines #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair imagines #finnick odair x reader

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snippy-tano · 1 year

Note

*waves* hello there!! I have this Image in my head of Tech liking to ramble about bugs (mostly because the fandom has decided to draw him fawning over them and it’s freaking adorable!) so the idea of Tech finding the reader and telling them about random bugs he found because they’re the only one who listens, and maybe starting to worry he’s imposing on the reader’s space, but hint hint reader thinks it’s the cutest thing ever and falls a little more in love every time he comes up to her with sparkling eyes and a new bug fact 💜

(Take your time please! THANK YOU FOR WRITING seriously you are sustaining all of us going through Tech withdrawal and ignoring canon together😂)

here it is friends!

this was so much fun writing. i think Tech grabbed me by the shoulders and wouldn't let go until i finished this because i was actually working on another one-shot when i suddenly skipped to this one. so yay! enjoy!

[my google targeted ads are going to be so messed up from looking up all these bug facts but it was worth it!]

masterlist is here!

taglist is here!

tagging: @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life; @marvel-starwars-nerd; @mackstrut; @dissapointingpancake; @quizznag; @ahsokatano-thetogruta; @welcometothepedroverse; @padawancat97; @fractiouskat; @mandaloriandin; @bantha-shit; @badbatch-simp24; @katelynnwrites; @s1st3r; @leotatombs; @torchbearerkyle; @rain-on-kamino; @the-navistar-carol; @bombshe77; @arctrooper69; @social-mockingbird; @littlebluebatbrat; @get-wr3ckered; @flowered-bicycles; @techissuperior; @dangraccoon; @lilyevans1

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

Little Known Facts

The first time it happened, you weren’t sure why Tech had chosen you.

You thought maybe it was because he had exhausted all other options and you were the newest member of the team. You also thought it was likely because you were the only one left who had yet to turn him away.

You were deep in the jungles of Kashyyyk when Tech materialized beside you, startling you slightly.

“My apologies.” He said and you shook your head after you caught yourself on a nearby tree and continued walking beside him.

“It’s alright Tech. Is everything okay?”

“It is. What do you know about termites?”

You blinked.

“Leave her alone Tech.” Came Hunter’s exasperated voice from several paces in front of you.

“Uh. Not much, just that they eat wood among other things.” You replied and you could hear Crosshair scoff in front of you.

“Your funeral.” He had whispered and you shot him a glare.

“The queen of a certain termite species can lay 40,000 eggs per day.” Tech stated. “They also use vibrations to communicate with one another.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes.” Tech said, somehow continuing to tap at his datapad without missing a step. “They are also a good form of sustenance as they are rich in iron, calcium, protein, and fatty and amino acids.”

Your nose crinkled. “I think I’d rather not eat termites.”

“As would I, but they would work in a severe survival situation.” Tech concurred and you nodded.

“Thanks Tech. Now I know what I can eat if I have no other options.” “You are most welcome.” “Alright you two. We’re coming up on the camp so it’s time to focus.” Hunter called and Tech gave you a quick nod before jogging to catch up with the Sergeant.

After that encounter, Tech seemed to take your willingness to converse with you about bugs as an excuse to bring up every single bug fact he knew. The others of the batch would shoot you sympathetic looks (Hunter), make teasing remarks in passing (Crosshair), and slap you on the back forcefully as a way of offering comfort once Tech was out of view (Wrecker). They all assumed that you were just being kind and allowing Tech to talk your ear off about bugs because you felt bad.

But the thing was, you really didn’t mind.

You had been around the batch long enough to know that Tech rarely got the opportunity to share “useless” facts. He was usually shut down due to it not being a good time. Which was understandable, he didn’t quite have a filter even if you were in a high pressure situation.

But every time he would approach you with a new fact rolling off his tongue or a small insect perched on the back of his hand, his eyes would sparkle.

It had a smile spreading across your face before he even started speaking and a warmth filling your bones.

*~*~*

“Approximately 2,000 silkworm cocoons are needed to produce one pound of silk.”

“Really? That many?”

“Indeed.”

*~*~*

“About one-third of all insect species are carnivorous, and most hunt for their food rather than eating decaying meat or dung.”

“Good to know. I will make sure to avoid bugs if I am injured.”

*~*~*

“The term ‘honeymoon’ comes from the planet of Alderaan, where it is tradition that a newly married couple is provided with enough honey wine to last for the first month of their married life.”

“That’s actually really sweet. How much honey wine would that be?”

“That would depend on the couple, but an average amount would likely be a crate.”

“Wow. I will have to remember that.”

*~*~*

“Ants can lift and carry more than fifty times their own weight.”

“That’s impressive. Has anyone ever tried to replicate that with technology? I would imagine that it would be useful.”

“I had not considered that. Perhaps I will try.”

“I can’t wait to see it, Tech.”

*~*~*

With each encounter you had with Tech, the swirling in your stomach grew more and more insistent. It was hard not to watch him with a smile as he rattled off fact after fact. And he never told you the same one twice.

It was an uninterrupted time you were granted with Tech as most of the batch cleared out whenever he started rambling about bugs. You grew to crave these moments.

And it wasn’t until Crosshair had said something that you figured out why.

“You know, if you like him, you could just say something. Save yourself the trouble of listening to bug facts all day.” He had teased, startling you as you sorted through the newest crate of supplies you’d picked up off of Kamino.

“I do not-” You started to protest, but then paused.

You thought back to every time he approached you with that sparkle in his eyes. How your heart had clenched and you involuntarily began smiling every single time. You started to hope he would come by with a new fact, just for a chance to listen to him talk about something he so clearly loved. You purposefully sought out bugs now, pointing them out in the hopes he would have a fact to share. And every time he did, you felt like you were flying.

Oh kriff you loved him.

“There you go, doll.” Crosshair drawled and you took a step towards him, punching his arm.

“Not your doll.” You hissed, turning back to the crate to hide your reddening face.

“Maybe not. But you shouldn’t wait too long to tell him.” He said and you stopped stacking ration bars. He took a step closer, fingers playing with the toothpick in his mouth. “A word of advice, Tech is starting to think he’s imposing on you and your space with his facts.”

“He would never bother me!” You cried and Crosshair smirked.

“Just thought I’d share. Do with this information what you will.” He turned to leave and you let out a laugh.

“Aww Cross! You do care about Tech’s emotional well-being.” It was your turn to tease and you watched as his jaw clenched. But he didn’t deny it before he stepped out of the room, letting the door slide shut behind him.

When he left, you sunk down in a nearby chair, mind racing.

Tech thought he was bothering you? That couldn’t be further from the truth and you had to find a way to tell him. And fast.

*~*~*

You had your opportunity a few rotations later when you made a brief stop on Naboo.

You had only really stopped to refuel before heading back out, but you were going to enjoy the sunshine and warm temperatures. While Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair headed into the city you had parked near, you and Tech had opted to stay behind, albeit for different reasons.

Tech wanted to run a few diagnostic tests on the Marauder and you cited organizing some crates, but really you wanted a chance to talk to Tech alone. And judging by the knowing look Crosshair had shot your direction, your flimsy excuse didn’t work on everyone. But no one made any comments and you were left alone with Tech for what was likely going to be a few hours.

He immediately set to work doing what he had stayed behind to complete and you did take some time to organize a crate or two, but you didn’t do it for long. In fact, you took the time to open up every hatch in the ship with the hopes of helping it air out a bit.

While you waited for that, you found yourself sitting in the grass outside of the ship, head tilted towards the sunlight. You could hear the breeze moving the nearby trees and the tall grass of the fields surrounding the ship. In the wind, you could smell the blossoms of the blooming flowers. Your eyes were closed as you breathed in fresh air for the first time in a very long time.

You heard footsteps approaching you from behind and you waited as Tech approached.

“Is everything alright?”

You hummed in response. “Why do you ask?”

“I thought you were organizing crates and then I turned and you were not there.” He replied and you opened your eyes and turned to look up at him, squinting in the light. Tech shifted and the sun was no longer burning your eyes.

“Sorry, I finished and decided I should enjoy the weather and fresh air while I could.” You said. “You’re welcome to join me.”

“I should finish my calibrations-”

“-come on Tech.” You patted the grass next to you. “Join me. Your calibrations can wait a few minutes.”

Tech hesitated for a second before speaking. “Very well then.”

You smiled as he sat down cross-legged next to you. He continued to tap lightly at his datapad, but you didn’t mind it. You leaned back against your arms and again tilted your face towards the sky, eyes closing.

The two of you sat in silence, but it was far from awkward. You were enjoying the weather and you were enjoying it even more knowing Tech was here with you.

“Did you know-” Tech began only to stop talking.

You opened your eyes and turned to him. “Why’d you stop?”

He stopped tapping at his datapad and you watched as he shifted uncomfortably. “I did not want to bore you with facts you do not care to know. I will leave you to enjoy the weather and return to my calibrations.”

Tech started to move, but stopped when you hand closed over his. You watched as his eyes darted down to your joined hands and then back up at your face.

“I wouldn’t have asked you to stay if I didn’t enjoy your company.” You started. “And I love hearing about bug facts. It’s clearly something you enjoy, so that means I enjoy it too.”

“But - that seems illogical.”

You laughed, giving his hand a squeeze. “Maybe it is, but it’s true. So please, never stop telling me bug facts.”

Tech regarded you with a strange look on his face. “Fascinating.”

You blinked at him. “What?”

He hummed. “Nothing. I will have to experiment with this further.”

You definitely wanted to know what he meant by that, but you didn’t want to push him. So you removed your hand from his and nudged his arm as you shifted to lay down in the cool grass. You moved around, trying to find a comfortable place to lay, but so far weren’t successful. When you noticed Tech watching you, you waved him on.

“Go ahead. Tell me what you were going to say earlier.”

“Your head looks uncomfortable. I will go get you a blanket to lay on.” Tech said and began to move.

“No! It’s okay! It’s not uncomfortable.” You said quickly and he paused, half standing.

“You should still rest against something more comfortable.” He replied and your mind was racing. “Alright alright, I will. But please sit back down.” You said and he looked like he was going to protest, but you gave his arm a tug and he sat down, legs stretched out in front of him.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you shifted on the ground before leaning back, your head coming into contact with his thigh. You felt Tech tense and you looked up at him, hand blocking the sun.

“This okay?”

He didn’t answer you right away, but after a moment, nodded once. “Yes. It is alright.”

You smiled up at him before dropping your hand to your stomach and closing your eyes.

“Alright Tech. What facts have you got for me today?”

“Houseflies find sugar with their feet, which are 10 million times more sensitive than human tongues.”

You huffed. “Knowing that makes me wonder why they love our ration bars so much. They’re pretty bland to us, but maybe we’re missing something.”

“It is possible.” Tech noted. “Did you know that true flies have only one pair of wings, and sometimes, none at all. A hind pair of ‘wings’ is reduced to balancing organs called halteres.”

“I did not know that. But I do have a question.”

“What is your question?”

“Do you know why flies rub their feet together? I see them do it all the time and have always wondered.” You asked and surprisingly, Tech fell silent.

You allowed a moment or two to pass, thinking maybe he was waiting for you to say more. But he still didn’t speak. You held up a hand, squinting one eye open to see Tech staring down at you with a puzzled look on his face.

“You okay? Did I ask a hard question?”

He continued to stare at you like he was studying you. It was equally slightly unnerving and exciting. “Curious.”

Your heart thudded loudly in your chest as Tech continued to stare at you. Even though it was comfortable outside, you could feel your cheeks starting to warm. “Uh, Tech?”

“Right, apologies. Flies rub their limbs together to clean them. It may seem illogical given their appetite for dirt, but this cleaning behavior is actually one of their primary activities as they rid themselves of physical and chemical residues and anything that can affect the sensors on their feet.” Tech said and you gave him another look before letting your hand fall and your eyes close again.

Tech began to rattle off more facts and you did your best to come up with resulting questions. It was peaceful, and there was a part of you that wanted this to never end.

Abruptly, Tech stopped speaking and you squinted up at him. “Everything okay?”

“Over there. It’s a brown marmorated stink bug. They are rare in this region.” He said and you sat up as quietly as you could. You reached for your glass jar that held the remains of your water, dumping it out on the grass. Very slowly, you climbed to your feet. “What are you doing?”

“You said they’re rare right? Let’s catch this one!” You whispered as you began moving quietly towards where the bug was perched on a nearby tree.

“We should not harm it.”

“Of course not. We’ll catch it in this jar to get a closer look and then let it go.”

Tech slowly stood as well, quietly moving behind you as you approached. Just before you reached the bug, it took off. Both of you shared a look before following. It was hard for you to spot, but Tech seemed to know exactly where it was at all times, so he kept you both on the right path. The trees grew slightly thicker and you made probably too much noise crashing through the woods.

The bug stopped high on a nearby tree. You didn’t even hesitate before clamoring onto a large nearby rock.

“Please be careful.” Tech whispered, hands raised like he was concerned you would fall.

“Don’t worry Tech. I’ve got this.” You said, reaching slowly for the small stinky bug. Your foot slipped and you wobbled for a second before righting yourself. You felt the ghost of Tech’s hand appear at your back before disappearing again and you fought the warmth creeping up your neck.

“Almost, got it.” You said more to yourself as you approached the unsuspecting bug.

Two things then happened simultaneously.

One. The rock shifted beneath you ever so slightly, but it was enough to set you off balance.

Two. Now off balance, your foot slipped on the same spot as before and you began to pitch helplessly backwards.

The jar slipped out of your hand and hit the forest floor with a soft thud. You looked at the tree and caught a glance of the bug hopping away as you fell backwards.

You let out a yell of surprise before colliding with something hard. You tried to turn to catch your fall, but weren’t completely successful. Which meant the moment you hit solid ground, the air was thrust out of your lungs in one fell swoop.

You gasped for air, desperate to breathe again. You coughed once, trying to get your breathing back to normal. Your back was killing you and your shoulder was aching from impact.

It wasn’t until you felt the ground beneath you start moving that your current situation hit you.

Your eyes snapped open and you were surprised to see Tech sprawled beneath you.

“Kriff, are you okay??” You gasped. “I’m so sorry Tech!”

“It is alright. Are you unharmed?” He asked, voice a little scratchy.

“Uh yeah. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes. I am fine.”

You let out a breath of relief before tensing. Your face burned as you realized just how compromising of a situation this was. And suddenly all you could think about was getting out of it as fast as you could.

You made a move to get up but were stopped by Tech’s hands gripping your waist. You didn’t move any further, instead raising your eyes to meet Tech’s that were already watching you.

He had the same look as before. One you could only describe as fascination.

It had your stomach fluttering in response.

“Remarkable.” Was all he said and you found yourself unable to respond.

You again tried to move, but Tech’s hands held firm.

“I have been conducting small experiments and I believe I have almost arrived at my conclusion. All I need to do is complete one final test.” He said and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Okay?”

“I would like you to kiss me.”

Your heart thudded in your chest as your face burned. “Wha - what? Why?”

“I told you before, I need to conduct one last test before I reach my conclusion.” He said, as if it was indisputable science fact.

You blinked at him. “And to do that I have to kiss you?”

“You do not have to. Although I would prefer it.”

You looked away from him briefly, trying to process his words.

Was he serious?

He had to be. Tech never said anything he didn’t mean.

But why you?

Why now?

“You’re serious?” Was what you finally settled on as you looked at him.

He gave you a firm nod. “I am rarely unserious.”

He’s got you there.

“Alright, but stop me if you need to.” You stated, trying desperately to hype yourself up.

“I will not need to, but thank you.”

Karking hells.

Before you could say anything else to delay it any longer or completely talk yourself out of it, you leaned down and kissed him.

You didn’t want to overwhelm or push him so you kept it short and sweet, despite never wanting it to end once you started. He didn’t seem all that responsive, but you tried not to think too hard about that.

You pulled back, eyes opening to gauge his reaction.

He tilted his head slightly before opening his eyes and meeting yours. “Once more please.”

Maker, this man was going to be the death of you.

But far be it from you to say no.

This time when you leaned down and pressed your lips against his, he reacted by tightening his grip around you. You slumped further against him without realizing it and felt the rumble in his chest as he hummed.

It was easy to get swept up in the feeling of kissing Tech and before you knew it, you were pulling away because you couldn’t breathe. Your forehead rested against his as you looked down at him, trying to gauge his reaction.

“Well? Did you reach your conclusion?” You asked breathlessly.

Tech nodded once. “I have. I have determined that my feelings towards you are more than platonic.”

You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face at his words.

“Good because lucky for you, I feel the same way.” You replied and he met your gaze.

“Excellent.” He said before raising his hand from its spot on your back to grip the side of your face, pulling you back down towards him. You smiled against him, more than happy to oblige in his request.

The sun had climbed higher in the sky when you finally forced the two of you apart. The rest of the batch would be returning soon and it was important both of you were back and presentable before that happened.

The short walk back to the Marauder was full of lingering glances and shy smiles. When you entered the clearing the ship was parked in, to your horror, you saw the rest of the batch was already back.

Hunter shot you a knowing smile before heading into the ship and calling out to Wrecker instead. Crosshair opened his mouth, likely to make a snide comment, but you cut him off.

“We chased after a bug and it won.” You blurted and Crosshair rolled his eyes.

“Might want to pull the leaves out of your hair if you want that story to be believable doll.” He said before ditching his toothpick and heading into the ship.

“Not your doll!” You called after him, running a hand through your hair and catching several leaves.

You turned when you felt another hand in your hair and you watched as Tech also removed a small leaf. You gave him a smile which he returned. You reached out, giving his hand a squeeze before turning and heading into the ship.

You heard Tech follow behind you as you thought back to your moment shared in the woods.

Who knew hearing bug facts could have such a wonderful outcome?

#seriously this was so fun #special s/o to my bestie caitlin who read this before i posted it to help me figure out the ending #you da best #asks #askBri #tech x reader #the bad batch #tbb #the bad batch tech #clone x reader

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dovithedarklord · 3 months

Text

Age of Mosters - Chapter Sixteen

Pairing: OFC x Simon "Ghost" Riley, OFC x König

Tags: Slow Burn, Slow Build, Enemies to Lovers, Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, POV First Person, Not Beta Read, Medical Inaccuracies, Military Inaccuracies, AFAB OC

Trigger Warning: The story will contain violance, blood and smut in detail. Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

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Author's Note

The small team uncovers interesting clues, and Leona has the opportunity to get to know the new helpers during action.

Hello! :D

I apologize for disappearing, but I was forced to move and the last few weeks weren't exactly easy because of that:') But now I returned and I'm back to posting more regularly!

I have a lot of trigger warnings for today's chapter, please take it seriously! TW: Blood and gore, death, violence, mentions of rape, mentions of abuse, mentions of violence against minors, torture, body horror.

All this brutality has a purpose, but we have to suffer it through first to be able to see it!

Have fun!

I.M.L. - Infected mammalian lifeform. I.H.L. - Infected humanoid lifeform.

if you're interested you can find the story on AO3: Chapter Sixteen

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Stormy wind blows the cool raindrops falling from the dark clouds in my face, and I'm only fleetingly aware of how the bony fingers of the dry branches sticking out of the wild vegetation dig into the straps of my uniform, as I cautiously advance towards the target despite the increasingly hostile siege of the weather. Once there was a vineyard of poetic beauty here, where people retreated from all the hustle and bustle of everyday life, and could immerse themselves in comfortable relaxation and enjoy every expensive drop of the wine sold at a price of gold, away from the big cities. However, fifty years of desolation have left nothing but an overgrown jungle of vines and an endless sea of weeds that envelop them in a suffocating embrace. But this abandoned garden still serves a good purpose, because it benevolently hides all the members of our small team heading towards the huge building resting in the middle of the large estate. And we need all the kind help of nature, because even this can hardly cover the two huge men at the head of our group.

It can't be denied that after our little trio arrived at the scene of our latest adventure, the matters started moving surprisingly quickly, after the Hunter, König, shared with us all the juicy information that he so sweetly extracted from the unfortunate gang member, who they seemingly pulled out of nowhere. After explaining the coordinates, he offered the plan at least at such a fast pace, putting the whole action together with the kind of practicality that can be expected from a member of a KorTac-like, well-oiled machine. And although the fast progression of events meant only positive news for us, but I know that I wasn't the only one who had mixed feelings and came to the rather suspicion-filled realization about what financial motivation lies behind our new team's enthusiasm.

And despite the professionalism with which my two companions move together with our new helpers and their hardworking soldiers, even through the curtain of the pouring rain, I can easily make out the tension that sits in the jacket-covered shoulders of MacTavish, who strides in front of me. Maybe I would think him crazy if he wouldn't be in a flap regarding the success of our mission, since the peace of our already fragile life depends on it, but I have the sneaking suspicion that for once it's not just our operation, twisting into increasingly complicated subplots, that is responsible for the uneasiness that lingers in him and his masked bosom friend.

My bright eyes are inevitably drawn to the huge figure, who cuts through the tangled cavalcade of overgrown plant life as if it were nothing more to him than a few unruly blades of grass, breaking down the army of twigs in front of him with a few careless movements of his long hands, as he moves forward with the purposefulness of a bulldozer. It’s not an exaggeration to say that the man with a rather German-sounding name and dressed in a strange hood successfully planted the sounds of caution in my mind from the very first moment, because even though he is now an ally to us, it wasn't by chance that Shepherd hired another SSS-class fighter to play babysitter on our mission overflowing with sensitive information. The old bastard wanted to play safe by giving Riley a playmate from his own weight group, and if there is even an iota of truth to my intuition that the two mercenaries will also include a very open ear for us along with their helping hand, then in addition to finding the serum we also have to make sure that they don't stab us in the back and inform the old man about every breath we take. Because that would be the logical step if the leader of the colony wanted complete discretion. That he silences us, who know an embarrassing amount about his rather criminal dealings. And who else would be more suitable for this chore than two killers abundantly loaded with credits, who present just the right challenge to my partners.

It's enough for me to glance at the masked Hunter, who is lurking not far behind the guy who resembles a smaller yeti, and his hand clenched on his weapon says enough about how comfortable he feels in the newly established set-up. Of course, those who are in deep shit shouldn't be picky when fate takes pity on them, but I can understand why this terrifying man is still troubled by the fact that the big boss has given us friends who would be able to give him a hard time too. I know that these thoughts have crossed his mind as well, and that is precisely why he remains in his colleague's heels like an ineradicable shadow. Because he wants to be the first to cut his throat if he tries anything even remotely suspicious.

During the raging storm, the few minutes seem like decades until we reach the end of the rows of grapes, and the line of a beaten stone fence appears in the wind-torn, knee-high grass. I obediently follow the Scottish Hunter, who kneels behind the low wall on the muddy ground, and almost immediately takes a closer look at the remains of the hotel stretching out in front of us, that once served as the site of expensive vacations. I have to admit that the bastard who leads the separatist group has pretty good taste, because even though all that's left of the once-luxurious comfort is a battered, empty skeleton, it's still just inviting enough to be suitable for hiding. But what’s perhaps even more remarkable is that, according to König, these people chose the imposing hideout not only because of the nostalgia that reminds them of the prosperity of the old days, but also because even though this den is located right in the middle of the red zone, yet it’s conveniently far from any well-known nest. Of course, this mystery could easily be explained by the fact that such a wandering troupe gains a lot of useful experience when roaming in the wilderness, but they have avoided danger too skillfully so far for it to be a mere lucky coincidence. At the head of this gang is someone who, like Valeria, has just enough experience to avoid the watchful eyes of the authorities and the sharp claws of mutants. Terribly interesting.

"That's the back door. We'll enter there." I hear the voice thick with an accent on the radio that breaks through the rustle of the wind, and I only peer at our hooded tour guide from the corner of my eye. And I'm once again reminded of the sheer size of the hired Hunter, because even though he shrunk himself down to the smallest possible size to the best of his capabilities, his broad shoulders still peek out spectacularly from the cover of the fence. And unlike Riley, whose enticingly massive measurements fill me mostly with excitement, König's stature plants dozens of sinister thoughts in my skull. My masked companion has also been blessed by nature and the kind genes of his species with a figure that commands authority, but our new mate surpasses even that. And I can't shake the suspicion that he uses this magnificent physique with the efficiency of a living weapon, which I have no problem with as long as he doesn't want to test his unparalleled skills against us. I warmly advise him not to do this, because due to the sea of crap that I experienced in these last few weeks, my stimulus threshold has decreased just enough to kill him after the first bad movement. Even if I have to be smart about it.

"It's not that heavely protected." Comes the curt observation from Riley, and now I direct my eyes toward the target in front of us instead of studying our new teammate, because it would be timely for me to dedicate my brain capacity to the mission as well. And at first glance, the whole place exudes a deceptive desertedness, but I dont let the apparent immobility mislead me. Because I immediately understand what the masked man saw so keenly. It's enough to observe the dark figures appearing through the cracks of the boarded-up windows to know that, although the vagaries of the weather are in our favor and there are no more guards than necessary, but inside it’s not certain that we will be so lucky. The task is made even more difficult by the fact that we have to catch the main bastard, because based on the information forced out from the weakest link, none of his subordinates was sufficiently informed about the group's business affairs to be able to spill wherever our stolen serum may be.

"Let's go." König immediately takes the initiative, and even before he would wait for his idea to be acknowledged, he springs up and jumps over the stone wall with such ease, as if our improvised hiding place, which is at least waist-high for me, would be nothing more than a small inconvenience that can easily be crossed.

However, there is no time to hesitate, because as soon as the man, burning with the fever of readiness to get into action, takes the first few meters on the quite open field covered with overgrown grass, he is almost immediately followed by Horangi and his stern-eyed men, leaving us no chance to wait around either. And all I need is a quick glance at the masked Hunter swinging over the wall to know, that the leadership role that his new colleague arbitrarily seized for himself is not really to his taste. Because although he doesn't voice his displeasure with a single word, I have observed him just enough to recognize the tension in his heavy steps. He has enough sense of duty to endure frustration for the sake of our goal, but I know that this charming patience won't last forever. And I have a feeling that this whole impossible situation is getting on his nerves enough to lure his less diplomatic self out of him. He will work together as long as he has to, but not for a minute longer. What a rosy outlook.

Just as MacTavish moves next to me, suppressing a tired sigh under his breath, and nimbly leaps over the fence after his bosom friend, then I finally pull myself together and throw my weapon on my back to swing myself to the other side, following the Scotsman. We cross the few narrow meters that separate us from the building at lightning speed, and I thank the increasingly fierce storm, because we would otherwise be embarrassingly easy targets even in this short distance. And the fact that the surrounding area of the structure is so easy to keep an eye on raises the suspicion in me again, that it could only have been designated as a temporary accommodation by someone who had enough experience to know what difficulty the long grassy wasteland poses for a curious wanderer trying to get close to it. And this makes me more and more curious as to who might be at the head of the separatists, because all their actions so far indicate that they aren't just a simple criminal.

In front of the beat-down entrance, the soldiers wait for the instructions of their leader, who, when he is sure that we have arrived successfully, opens the door without a second of delay and charges forward with decisiveness, raising his weapon in front of him, closely followed by his Korean comrade, who lets us know with just a wave that we'd better follow their example, if we don't want to fail prematurely by waiting around in the doorstep. Although I'm not particularly impressed by the behavior of the two men, but based on the expression on the faces of my two friends, I can be sure that they do not share my lack of interest. This may not be the first time they have had to work with strangers, and maybe it wouldn't hurt their egos to not be in control of the whole operation, but it's all the more likely that they will be at least as comfortable tolerating this treatment from Shepherd's men as if someone were pulling their teeth out. And I strongly hope, praying to any higher authority listening, that this whole circus doesn't turn into a dick-measuring contest in the middle of a world-shattering event, because even Riley, who keeps his cool very skillfully, won't tolerate it without saying a word.

My boots land on the worn marble floor with a wet thump, when, at the end of the line, I cross the threshold into the embrace of the dark little corridor, and my nose is hit almost immediately by the musty smell of mold spreading on the damp walls. Despite the late spring weather, the whole place radiates an unfriendly coldness, and as the intrusive caress of the breeze blowing through the vacant building penetrates my soaked clothes, goosebumps erupt on my back instinctively. The huge house looks lifeless enough to fool the less experienced travelers, but my eyes aren’t the only ones who notice the mud-covered footprints on the dirty stone, which spread along the hallway shrouded in darkness. According to this, these bastards are tough enough to kill civilians, but they prefer to hide from a small thunderstorm within the four walls, even if they voluntarily let the attackers into their dwelling by doing it. I wasn't wrong about these thieves being cruel, but far more stupid than it would first appear.

We start silently towards the depths of the hotel, and the hooded man leading the way guides us to the source of the dull light coming from a distance, dictating a slow but all the more determined pace, with such a soundless softness compared to his height, like a predator scouting for prey. And his caution soon pays off, because as soon as he reaches the end of the passageway, a guy dressed in ragged combat gear appears in the small room before us, who notices the danger coming towards him too late. Because when he breaks away from his deep conversation on the radio and glances towards us, König ia already in front of him with impossible speed, crossing the distance between him and his victim with three wide steps with his long legs. And before the bandit could react, and would be able to open his mouth and alarm his companions, by then, a huge hand already lands on his face, and swallowing the startled shock, which crawls there with instinctive speed when he realizes that he has fallen into the grasp of a giant. But he doesn't even have time to understand what is happening, because with the momentum with which he galloped towards him, the Hunter rams the criminal, frozen in stunned terror, against the nearest wall just as easily. And even if he wanted to, he wouldn't be able to do anything about the attack, because as suddenly as it came, his attacker ends his life as quickly. The crack with which the helpless man's skull splits open when it meets the concrete is stomach-churning, and the once cream-colored plaster is turned into a grotesque painting by the bloody pieces of brain tissue bursting from the shattered bones. And I have to forcefully fight the stomach acid gathering in my throat, when an eyeball appears for a moment from between the gloved fingers, staring blankly at me before falling to the ground with the lifeless body, as it's released by its killer. But perhaps it enhances the discomfort in me even more when our new teammate turns towards us with such cold calmness, shaking off the shattered pieces of slimy meat stuck to his glove, as if he had not just crushed a person's head with his bare hands, but had just swatted a naughty fly.

And even though I know how powerful Hunters are, I can only drive away the surprise mixed with disgust on my face with great concentration, because this ruthlessness surpasses everything that my dark little mind has thought possible until now. It was definitely a successful way to silence someone, but even I can see that it wasn't about efficiency. Because, when he fixes his gaze on his men emerging from the corridor, and takes in the respect and fear that appears on their faces, even I can see the satisfaction with which his back straightens. And I don't need to know this brutal man to understand, that he eased the hunger of his own self-confidence with this gruesome but spectacular stunt.

And when I, behind Riley and MacTavish, wander into the small hall leading to what may be the staff passageways, I have the opportunity to observe the grim expression slowly taking shape on their faces as well. Perhaps they also feel that this presentation didn't only take place so that the soldiers know their place, but also carries an unspoken threat, with which their colleague lets them know that it would be advisable for them to behave well, because someone has joined their company who will be able to cause them problems even without activating his ability. Shepherd… you dirty fucker. You want us to remember that help can disappear quickly if we don't play by the rules. How awfully smart.

"We split up here. One team goes upstairs, the others search through the ground floor." König turns to our small group, still maintaining the noble task of managing the mission, gesturing with one hand to the stairs opening from the back of the place, and then to the corridors on both sides, facing each other. With his tall figure, he easily stands out from among us, as he quickly scans his men, looking for any brave volunteer who would not agree with his proposal. And when he only receives a curt but obedient nod, he turns towards us to find our trio, and his eyes settles on me inexplicably quickly, zeroing in on me with embarrassing speed. And this isn't the first time since our not-so-distant meeting that he has found me so enthusiastically. Ever since he stepped out of that cramped container used for interrogation, he discovers me from time to time again, as if there would be a fucking magnet stuck on my pretty little body, drawing his attention to me as soon as I'm within range.

And although every single one of my facial muscles melts into the determined mask of expressionlessness, as his gaze sinks into mine, a visceral uneasiness awakens in my stomach. Because although I knew from the first minute that we had to be on guard, since probably at the end of Shepherd's leash made of money they are only allies for us until their master orders them otherwise, but he slowly makes it very clear that both his demonstration of strength and his behavior serves as a warning. And it doesn't make me happy at all when I come to the painful realization that, unlike my two companions, I would have a harder time defending myself if our cooperation took a rough turn. I know that he can't harm me right now, since the success of the mission is too important for that, but the little voice in my brain tells me that I'd better watch out for him, because it doesn't mean anything good that he is keeping an eye on me so readily. I could chalk it up to the fact that, being a good Hunter, he is just afraid of the physical integrity of a valuable Extreme, if I'm so exotic, but I can't get rid of the small fleeting intuition that this is about something else. And I don't like the curious glimmer in those sky-blue eyes when I stubbornly raise my head. No matter how big you are, you will need a lot more than that to scare me.

"You're goin' upstairs with Soap." Riley suddenly speaks, thus breaking me out of the tense stare-down duel that I'm unconsciously engaging with the behemoth man, and I turn with the greatest joy to the masked Hunter, who lingers on his colleague for a dangerous moment, before turning his hard gaze on me. "Stay alert." He leans closer, covering us from the audience with his back, and even this small act speaks quite eloquently of how much trust he has for our new teammates. And I can't blame him for that, because even though we need all the help, none of us lost our minds from gratitude. Especially not him, who runs circles in his head similar to my paranoid brain, probably because he has too many bitter experiences behind him to be naive. He knows too, how sensitive this alliance is.

I only hold his gaze for a heartbeat longer, and that's enough to see the weariness lurking in his dark eyes, next to which my trained little senses recognize the tiny little light that seems quite concerned even to my mind struggling with colorful imagination. And after the busy events of the past few days, I don't necessarily feel delusional anymore when it occurs to me, that he will be worried not only about his bff, but also about my safety, when he starts his lonely journey in this ex-resort that has become a crime den. And this lures a faint, but still naughty little curve to my lips, with which I silently tell him that it will take a lot more than a couple of lowlife thieves to make me bite the dust. Unfortunately, no one gets rid of my mean little person that easily. Although I have a feeling that this caution is not for the criminals who roam the walls…

But even before I could come up with a particularly witty answer for him, a hand lands on my shoulder and directs my thoughts, which have strayed into inappropriate side tracks, to their owner. And as my Scottish friend bursts into my field of vision, clutching his gun, he motions with his head towards the stairs leading upstairs, showing quite obviously that it's time for us to get to work before the gang realizes what surprise is being prepared for them in secret.

"Come on, lassie. There are bastards we need to put some holes into." He reminds me, and the serious expression, that has been stubbornly clinging to his features since the beginning of our current outing, softens from the tiny line of the cheeky smile that moves to his stubble-framed mouth. And although it's possible that the circumstances of our alliance have made him more cautious, I know that he has by no means forgotten the many horrors, some of which he owes to the outlaws who loiter here. Even if our adventure in the city is not their making, the bloodshed caused in the research institute is, and I know the man well enough to know that the possibility of paying off some of the many painful promises is responsible for his enthusiasm. And I won't stand in his way for a minute.

"After you." I gesture with one of my hands towards the path leading up, thus handing over the stage to the Hunter to let him turn into the tour guide, if he is already buzzing with such energy. And he immediately seizes the opportunity, raising his assault rifle in front of him, to bid farewell to his masked bosom friend with a last meaningful nod, and head towards the stairs. And I obediently close up behind him with my weapon pointed forward ready to attack, glancing back at Riley once more before disappearing into the maze of spiraling steps. And perhaps it means nothing to an outside observer, as he raises his head and follows the progress of our little duo with unbroken persistence, but my senses, which are desperately quick to notice every small twitch of his, quickly discover the small wrinkles that appear around the painted skin around his eyes. And I can understand from this, that he is parting from us with an anxious heart, but he is much calmer when he can put a safe distance between us and our helpers who are slowly organizing themselves into smaller groups. He would rather be alone among the wolves than expose us to the same danger. And the unpleasant nervousness awakening in my stomach only hopes that the two mercenaries won’t feel like turning against us right now.

But before long, the small gathering disappears from my vision, as the steps continue to turn towards the upper floor, and we are swallowed up by the narrow staircase. The sound of our soaked boots is blessedly absorbed by the worn velvet carpet that runs along the stairs, thus enveloping our silently sneaking pair in a dangerous silence. And the higher we get, the stronger the suspicion gets in my head, because we get to the top floor too easily and undisturbed, as if no one had taken up residence within the walls of the abandoned facility. And although the massive building offers plenty of hiding places, these wretched vermins don't know they have guests, and this silence is far more ominous than what my paranoid mind can bear. That's why my fingers instinctively tighten around the grip of my gun, preparing to pump the very first suspicious shadow full of ammunition.

MacTavish pauses only for a moment at the end of the staircase to cautiously peer out from behind the wall looking for the enemy. And when he is certain it's safe to proceed and no unsuspecting gang members have appeared to attack, he gestures forward with his gloved hand, and I understand his silent request even from the small gesture and follow him as he steps out into the wide corridor framed by carved wood. Once upon a time, it was probably a fortune to pack this tasteful covering here, but now the thin cracks run along them like a spiderweb from the moisture and the iron teeth of time, replacing the former luxury with a ghostly atmosphere. However, it attracts my attention much more, and it also makes my Scottish friend wonder, where to go on the dark road, because each of the two paths opening towards the wings of the building has the same chance of hiding valuable targets.

But I don't have to think too much about where we should head next, for the man precedes me in discovery, and I merely raise one of my eyebrows in interest, when he closes his eyes and sniffs the stale air, like a hunting dog looking after the wounded prey. Although there is already a sassy comment on the tip of my tongue about his methods, he turns his head to the side surprisingly quickly, staring with such intensity at the dark corridor opening on the right, as if he really would be hot on the scent. His super-senses probably recognized the stench of the gangsters lurking between the walls quite accurately, because after flashing his blue eyes at me meaningfully, he sets off across the worn carpet with such determination as if he had actually found his prey.

And it soon becomes clear how effectively his abilities developed by nature detect the enemy, because as we get further into the narrow pathway, the faint noise of our steps is accompanied by the characteristic, soft murmur of human speech, which although doesn't uncovers the topic of the discourse, but reveals that there is more than one person waiting for us on the other side. A gloomy, gray light greets us as soon as we reach the end of the corridor, and following the Hunter's example, I lean against the cool wall, listening to the fragments of words drifting in our way. One of the members is probably wandering closer to us, because the conversation he is having with his friends is gradually becoming more audible, and although I don't know the context, I don't like what I can finally understand from it in the least.

"Take the bitch to the boss in two hours. Until then, do something to wake her up. She must be awake." Murmurs the deep male voice, and the disdain in his tone fills me with disgust without even knowing who he could be talking about so kindly. It's not only the tone that helps plant frustration in my brain, but also the fact that there are civilians here, probably not of their own volition, because it only makes our task more difficult. Because the whole mission quickly progresses from the initial capture of the main scum to hostage rescue. And it's clear from the muffled cursing coming out of MacTavish's mouth that he isn't particularly excited by this unexpected development, and if I have to judge only by the clenched curve of his jaw, then his already not-so-rosy mood is only getting worse.

Based on his steps, the guy barking out his instructions gets closer to us, and when he comes into view at the mouth of the corridor, he stares at the two of us in puzzlement. But, when he could reach for the pistol resting on his belt, my friend with the mohawk springs into action, and cuts the throat of the man with a knife taken from his vest with deadly precision, before the guy would have the chance to alert what a pleasant new company his gang has got in our person. Like a waterfall set free, the blood gushes out of the wound, and with wide-open eyes, desperately gaping, he tries to press his palms to the slit, but the crimson liquid escapes unstoppably between his fingers, and my stomach tightens from the metallic smell. But it's more of a reflexive response than true hunger, and my eyes instinctively fixate on the delicacy that slowly drenches the man's jacket, then draws a dark puddle around him as he sprawls on the ground with one last choked gasp. And luckily for this wretch, because of my self-control and Riley's surprisingly nutritious blood, I don't feel the insatiable urge to crank up his agony with a nice little snacking.

"We're goin' in. On me." MacTavish says, gesturing towards the room with his head, and I nod, adjusting my finger on the trigger, giving him the kick-start to push forward with the determination of a true professional. And when he steps into the spacious room bathed in light, then, without hesitation, he aims at the scumbags that are hanging out there, immediately putting a bullet in the head of one of them, as soon as he jumps up to honor the surprise that we give them.

And emerging from behind his strong figure, I launch myself into the attack, and thanks to the many hours spent with suffering on the shooting range, it's much easier for me to shoot the big guy standing guard in front of the double doors on the other side of the hall, who, thanks to my clever little ambush, falls down to the pale blue tile with a pained scream. However, there is no time to pat myself on the back for my magnificent performance, because much sooner than that, another volunteer charges at me, swinging his knife at me to try to reshape my face. But the lack of coordination in his movements gives me enough time, and my body acts much faster. I bend down to get out of the way of the blade, and taking advantage of his surprise, I point the barrel of my gun at his stomach, so that I can reorganize his internal organs with my bullets at friendly close range. Warm blood splashes on my face, but it doesn't affect me one bit, because it gives me much more satisfaction to see him stagger backwards, with genuine shock on his face, like a wounded animal. I don't feel an iota of guilt, because they didn't show a shred of compassion when they were playing hide ans seek with the defenseless staff in the research institute. Fate gives everyone what they deserve. And I don't even want to deny that it fills me with great pleasure to be able to contribute to its vendetta.

It's all but a few minutes, and all the stray sounds of our incipient fight die down, leaving nothing but the angry pattering of the rain on windows stretching up to the ceiling on the side of the room. The Scottish Hunter finishes off the last bandit as I straighten up and turn around to see how many enemies he has left me. He effortlessly pulls out the knife from the head of a bald man, which he could have sunk into his skull up to the hilt with an impossible force, and then, wiping the blade with a careless movement, steps back, allowing the lifeless body to fall into the empty pool in the middle of the room. And as it lands with a dull thud, it kicks up decades old dirt that has gathered in dirty stains on the dried, mosaic-like tiles.

"There is something behind the door that was worth being protected." I conclude as I take a look at the unmoving criminals spread out on the floor, quickly counting all eight that have got together so intimately in this cozy little hall. And since I suspect that they didn't gather among the remains of the indoor swimming pool because of nostalgia for the past, therefore they could only try to hide something very interesting behind that door, in front of which now lies the still corpse of the humongous gang member I shot.

"Probably the hostages." MacTavish notes walking beside me, his blue eyes fixed on the tastefully crafted solid wood entrance, slowly sliding his knife back into its pouch resting on his shoulder strap. And there is no mistake in his assumption, because it has already come to light that at least one person is being held captive in this magnificent shithole. But even if a dozen defenseless civilians were locked up here, far fewer armed guards would have been enough to keep them in check, especially if they were so weakened that life had to be breathed into them by force. They were trying to protect something else with such fearful concern here.

"Fewer people would have been enough for that. There is something else there." I cast my significant gaze on my friend, and he turns his head to me with his eyebrows furrowed. But as our eyes meet, he understands without words what I'm getting at. If something very important, say a super-secret chemical created by the government, is buried on the other side, then it's very reasonable for a bunch of guards to stand by, vigilantly waiting to see if someone comes to retrieve it.

"Let's go." The Hunter sets off with renewed motivation, and I follow him with no less vigor, because the knowledge that the end of this fucking parade overflowing with chaos can be within arms reach makes my steps much more faster. We cross the room briskly, so that when we reach the threshold of our next goal, I step over the bloodied man lying there and smooth my hand on the doorknob, glancing expectantly at the Hunter. And when he pulls himself together with his assault rifle raised and nods towards me, ready to attack, I push the door open with a decisive movement and let MacTavish charge forward, who rushes past me immediately.

But as I enter as well, and the spacious suite is revealed to me, I'm greeted by nothing but silence and a multitude of unknown crates, which are piled next to each other in rough irregularity, covering the space of a room that was once worth a fortune. And I don't have to tear any of them open to know what's in them, because the smell of gunpowder permeates the air like a disease. Lowering his weapon, the man with the mohawk ventures further into the room, opening one of the large boxes with bewilderment, and when I catch a glimpse of the metallic shine of the almost untouched rifles in it, I'm overcome with confusion similar to my friend's. I expected to find a couple of questionable, but all the more valuable items, but the absence of the hostages, and especially the lack of the serum, raises a series of dangerous questions in my head. Why was it necessary to protect stolen firearms so enthusiastically? Of course, I understand that goods have to be protected, but they can't just walk away, can they?

But when a disapproving grunt-like voice erupts from my Scottish companion, I quickly understand what could have needed such an awful lot of protection besides the rifles. As soon as the first bag full of white powder is found in another opened box, it becomes very obvious that these bandits got their hands on everything that could be used to bring in even the smallest amount of credits. So it's not so surprising that they were willing to cross the wilderness teeming with mutants and slaughter a whole group of unsuspecting researchers for the sake of profit. Of course, that still leaves one question open. Where are the civilians?

But I don't have time to dwell on that, because a roaring bang shakes the building out of nowhere, sending fine plaster dust from the ceiling into my rain-drenched hair. I smooth the damp dirt from my face with the back of my hand, smearing the drops of blood there, only glancing questioningly at MacTavish, on whose face suddenly the apparent gloom deepens, as if he knows that this noise can only mean trouble. And without a doubt, it does, because when he rushes to one of the boarded-up windows and peeks through the gap, he reaches for his radio in the middle of cussing.

"Ghost! What the hell is goin' on there?" He shouts into the device, and his deep voice is filled with such tension that I'm becoming more and more curious as to what his clever eyes could have seen in the yard that caused such concern on his face. But, as I walk towards him, a small, tormented whimper pierces through the chaos that has arisen, which reminds me more of the cry of a tortured animal than of a human being. And that instantly distracts me from the man and the troubling goings-on outside, as the uncomfortable pull in my stomach automatically directs my eyes to the single door on the side of the room.

"We found the target. It's a Hunter and he resists." Riley's hoarse baritone sounds in my ears, but the weight of the information doesn't reach my consciousness due to the noise of the alarm bells going off in my brain. I don't even register as the Hunter, hearing the new information, bursts out in colorful insults, because my legs instinctively take me towards my discovery, and with each step, the soft, muffled sobs become louder, which another voice tries to shush to silence.

"Woods, we have to go!" My partner suddenly calls out after me, but I don't even listen to his urging, because I'm already in front of the unknown entrance, and before he can inquire further about what the hell I'm doing, instead of rushing to the aid of our team with him, I already lock my fingers onto the doorknob and turn it without thinking, opening the wooden panel with a sudden movement.

And the blood freezes in my veins when I see what awaits me beyond the doorway. The light coming from behind me eerily paints the dim little bathroom, and licks at the figure of two strangers clinging to each other, backed into one of the corners. The boy, whose dirt-darkened face is smeared with lines of fresh tears, can't be more than fifteen, but a thousand years of pain and fear are concentrated in his eyes widening in alarm, as he curls up shivering in the embrace of protectively intertwined arms. The bony hands clenched around him bear the angry contours of several old wounds and dozens of seemingly new bruises, and even in spite of this, the woman, trembling, but all the more determined, pulls her protégé's body, weak from malnutrition, to her chest, saying with every cell that she will protect the poor kid even with her last breath. And as my eyes slide down to her ankles, where the thick shackles have rubbed spots blooming in black and purple, and then my gaze moves up and takes in the brownish scales of dried blood on the inside of her thighs, my stomach is clenched with such force by desperate rage that I can only forcefully hold back the scream that threatens to burst out of my throat. Because it doesn't take much logic to deduce who is held here in such high esteem when a Hunter is the leader of the whole fucking group.

"What the hell..." Comes the shocked question from MacTavish as he suddenly appears next to me, both of them flinching in fear at the man's voice. The boy starts to cry with renewed force, and the horrified sob that escapes from his chapped lips squeezes my insides as if someone had hit me in the stomach full force with a hammer. And this instinctively makes my hand reach back and motion to the Hunter to back away, and without taking my eyes off the pair I crouch down, laying my weapon on the ground with such caution as if with each movement I risked them disappearing into the shadows stretching behind them. And without a doubt, they would most likely want to do that, because the utterly distrustful look with which they follow me the entire time reveals that there is nothing else in this world that they wouldn't expect to hurt them, for they have already experienced so much misery.

"It's okay, you have nothing to fear. I'm a Healer too." I point to myself, and I try with every fiber of my being to move tenderness into my voice, which is difficult not because I rarely had to practice it, but because of the rage screaming in my brain, since I would rather gut the bastard who was capable of doing this. "I want to help. Don't be afraid."

And although the terror eases for a bit, with which they press themselves into the musty walls, but as the boy timidly pulls away from the woman a little, his bare legs emerge from under his outstretched T-shirt, and thus every desperate inch of his nakedness is revealed, then something quite terrifying, hot feeling flares up inside me. Because when I see the hand-like marks on his narrow, bony hips, the sure knowledge that the sick bastard who brought them here hasn’t spared any of them settles into my mind with a cruel force. And when my gaze, darkened by recognition, meets the woman's silent, distraught eyes, I can read from them that the horror that unfolded before me is only the tip of the iceberg. Fuck.

⃰

My legs take me almost automatically through the labyrinth of the unknown base, and even I'm surprised by how quickly I rush out into the yard, finding the familiar hangar and continuing my journey there. But my brain is too busy to have the energy to praise myself for my excellent orientation skills. Because every single nerve cell of mine is woven through with that icy rage that has nested itself in all the corners of my body like an infectious disease. And even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to overcome the destructive storm raging under the surface, because I still vividly remember what kind of injuries I discovered on the bodies of the two Healers when I finally treated them after we returned to the KorTac base with the separatist leader in our hands. The mission ended with a rapid success after the minor complication, and the knowledge that we are one step closer to finding the serum should cheer me up, but I felt their trembling under my own hands when I supported them out of that damned cesspool. And it isn't difficult to imagine what kind of treatment they received, if the boy was already clinging to me with fear when MacTavish tried to give him a coat. I saw in my mind's eye every single bone that had just been fused together, every single scar and bruise, and also the wounds that one can only suffer when a beast cannot command its fucking dick and stucks it into everything, it doesn't matter if the hole it found, what or who it belongs to.

I stare straight ahead as I enter the vast space of the hangar, and I'm only vaguely aware of how readily the soldiers passing by move out of my way when they see the frozen expression on my face. At other times, it might fill me with morbid joy to see what effect I can have on my environment, but now only one goal guides and directs me towards the container resting in the corner. I want to show that fucking sadistic bastard with my own hands, what kind of torture can drive a man to the point of begging for death.

But when I get close enough to the large metal cage, a strong figure appears in front of me almost out of nowhere, and it takes me a second to realize who is standing before me through the fog of fury raging in my head. The Korean man holds out one of his camo-clad hands in front of me, causing me to halt and take a deep breath, trying to muster every last spark of my self-control before I would jump on him with an inarticulate yell and help him stand aside.

"You can't go in, there's an interrogation going on." Horangi declares firmly, and even though I can't see his face, I can sense from his accent that he is very serious about his statement intended as an instruction. And maybe it's not customary for them to allow simple Healers to interfere in the busy work of the Hunters, but right now I don't care in the least what traditions and rules they keep here. Because my patience is hanging on by a thread, and every single obstacle that stands between me and my victim dangerously stretches my tolerance to the point of snapping.

"If you don't get out of my way, I'll kill you." I inform him without a flinch, and I flash my eyes at him with such a significant warning that even a brainless idiot would be able to understand that I'm one step away from sending him to the other world. And in any other case, maybe with my sharp tongue and brilliant mind, I would come up with a good little ploy to trick and manipulate him, but this isn't the point where I feel like wasting my precious time on such things.

He examines me silently for a moment, and I can almost hear the battle of arguments in his head, with which he considers how much it pays off for him to stand in my way now. He also knows that if he wanted to, he could easily overpower me, but I know that the murderous temper in my eyes promises him enough trouble if he insists on following the protocols. And it seems that my aura has become sinister enough to make him come around, because he steps aside with a staged sigh and folds his hands in front of his chest, turning his attention back to guarding instead.

"They don't pay enough for this." He grumbles almost to himself, shaking his head in resignation, but apart from the sounds of his complaining, does nothing to keep me back in my little action. And I only give him one last fleeting glance, and then without any further hesitation, I tear open the door perhaps more violently than necessary, because the anger pulsating in my muscles removes all caution from my limbs.

As the small room opens up in front of me, all eyes are fixed on me almost at the same time, my presence interrupting the important conversation spiced with violence that they are currently having. My senses catch the grimness with which Riley turns towards me, and if I were a little calmer, I would stop to analyze the force with which his fingers tighten around the knife clutched in his hand, as he studies the motionless look on my face more closely. But even though the Hunter attracts my attention, I can only focus on one person now, and he sits in the middle of the room on a battered chair with such superiority, as if he weren't surrounded by three mountain-sized men trained to kill. And even though König slowly grasps a hammer in his hands, which can mean nothing but pain to him, he has the strength to put a cocky grin on his face. And suddenly it becomes quite obvious that, in spite of the beating they gave this scumbag, they still haven't managed to get him to talk. Never mind. I'll handle this.

"Woods!" MacTavish turns to me, and from the concern in his voice, I can sense quite simply that now he doesn't want me to witness all this bloody fun in the least. And certainly not because he wants to spare my sensitive psyche from watching someone being tortured for information, but because he saw exactly the effect it had on me when I had the opportunity to admire the handiwork of this separatist bastard on his two victims.

Without a sound, I close the door of the interrogation room behind me, and it seems that our prisoner is slowly realizing that a new guest has arrived at the party organized in his honor. And as his eyes glide over me, and I discover in them the disgusting hunger with which such sick fucks usually ogle at their prey, then the anger pulsing inside me spreads to my limbs like lava. Because the first reflexive thought that pops into my mind is the body of the two Healers shaking with terror as this pair of filthy eyes stares at them from the threshold of their prison.

"You finally brought a hottie here!" Exclaims the bandit cheerfully, not even noticing how the masked Hunter takes a threatening step towards him because of this small remark, perhaps hoping that this will be enough to shut this idiot up. But it seems that although he is running a race with wisdom, unfortunately, it's still faster than him. Because if he had any sense, he wouldn't raise his head like an alpha male, and he would know what a tight spot he was in. "This is an Extreme! I've never fucked one before... Come here baby, let's talk!" He whistles to me, as if he was just trying to lure a dog to him, and there is no doubt that he doesn't regard my kind as more than pretty, useful little animals.

"Shut the fuck up!" MacTavish gets angry on my behalf, and shakes the leader of the separatists with such anger that the chair cries out with wild creak. And other times, I would feel the warmth rising in my stomach at my friend with the mohawk trying to protect me and my honor, but this turn of events awakens such a worrying joy in me that even I get scared for a minute. And I can clearly perceive the confusion on the face of the Scottish Hunter, when a seductive smile appears on my face suddenly in place of the icy anger, as I stroll closer to the stage with comfortable steps, where I will show the performance of my life.

"It's all right, Soap." I carelessly wave to the aforementioned person, and I can tell from the arch of his worriedly furrowing eyebrows, how much my mood, which took a one hundred and eighty turn, fills him with doubts. But soon he will understand what's going on, he doesn't have to be afraid. "You want to talk to me? You're in luck because I've been waiting for this opportunity. And now that you're sitting here all tied up like a gift... It all feels like a fucking miracle." I note, slowly running my hands along the line of my breasts hidden in my T-shirt, and the gaze of the captured criminal follows the path of my mischievous little fingers with such diligence, as if he were hypnotized. And it's likely the case, because it doesn't even register to him how unnatural is the carefree airiness with which I bypass a grim Riley, and with which I push König away with a soft touch, who, despite our brief acquaintance, backs up to the wall of the container without question.

"You have good taste, baby." The man grins with satisfaction, and it's easy to read from the superiority prevailing on his features that he really believes this to be true. He thinks he is a real jackpot, and I fell in love at first sight and danced in front of him, perhaps in the hope that such a big and strong Hunter boy would finally grace me with his attention. Because it's ridiculously obvious that according to his beliefs, a Healer is born only to serve. How cute.

However, when I arrive in front of him and lean forward, my hands slide onto his thighs, and my fingers sensually squeeze the flesh under the blood-stained fabric, then I see uncertainty run through his mind for a second. But that little spark that would prompt suspicion doesn't last long, because as I kneel between his legs tied to the chair, the two little brain cells that might still be functioning in his head go silent with alarming speed. His pupils dilate almost magically, and it's pathetic how his mouth hangs open as I slowly start massaging the tortured muscles with my palm. How terribly stupid.

"Why don't we play a little, hmm?" I ask softly, giving him a lustful look from under my eyelashes, conveying innocent longing to him with every cell, as if I had no greater desire in this world than to play with him. And it's true. It's an insignificant detail, that he and I are thinking of different kind of fun.

"Now?" The first recognizable wrinkles of doubt appear on his forehead, when reality suddenly penetrates the sensual images dancing in his fantasy. And I have to forcefully suppress the laughter that rises in my throat when he fixes his gaze almost shamefully on the Hunters who have retreated to be the audience. As if the sense of embarrassment had revived in him for a moment, and he would be disturbed by the witnesses, before whom he acted so confident a minute ago. But I don't allow him to sink into this wandering fear, because as one of my fingers travels up to his face and redirects his concentration back to me, I press closer to him, making sure that every inviting inch and curve of my body comes into contact with him.

"Don't pay attention to them. I'm a little shy, but I'll make an exception for you." I purr sweetly, smearing the blood that escaped from the cut across his face with my thumb, as I stroke the damaged skin almost soothingly. I can hear the air getting stuck in his throat as I slowly raise my crimson-painted finger to my lips and clean the delicious liquid with my tongue. How awfully simple.

"You're a little whore, aren't you?" That disgustingly amused grin returns to his face, simultaneously throwing aside any sanity that might have lurked in his head. But I don't blame him for being frivolous, because I know exactly what qualities genetics has blessed me with, and I've managed to sweep my victims off their feet many times with this and my perfectly honed manipulation. After all, what kind of predator would I be if I couldn't lull the vigilance of my prey?

I capture his gaze with unceasing enthusiasm, as I pull away from him to sit on my heels, and the disappointed moan that escapes from his mouth is pitiful. But I won't leave him anxious for long, because I grab his tattered shirt and release it from the grip of his pants with a firm movement, so that my nimble little hands can find their way to every unprotected inch of his stomach. And as my palm smooths over the hot skin, I feel how willingly it shivers under my gentle touch, like a real bewitched idiot.

"You like that, hmm?" I hum sensually, and when my curious energy slowly creeps into him through my fingers, goosebumps rise up under my hand as he closes his eyes accompanied by a sigh full of pleasure. And this is the number one mistake that a smart person would never make. They would not lose sight of their enemy, who, although approaches him with nice words and even kinder gestures, still wants his fall. But one learns the most from the lessons they suffer on their own skin. And now I will teach him wisdom that he will never forget.

In my mind, the intricate network of blood vessels weaving through his body appears, and my practiced little skill doesn't need more than a few seconds to find those extremely interesting little veins and arteries that will now play such an important role in pleasing this big boy. And as the slow wave of my energy causes the blood to start flowing out of the sensitive body part, I direct my eyes with the keen attention of a snake in ambush on the man caught in my claws. I don't have to be disappointed, because even I can feel in my fingertips how the typical tingle that is so characteristic of malfunctioning circulation appears in his muscles. And this disturbs his self-absorbed intoxication just enough, because his eyebrows meet with such incomprehension, as if he had just woken up from a deep sleep.

"What…. what's happening?” The disoriented question breaks out of him, and he fixes his gaze on me suspiciously, as if he would already start to suspect that he didn't quite get the entertainment he signed up for. And I no longer feel the need to continue my masterful performance, which he has so stupidly fallen victim to so far. And when the seductive mask slips off, and a cruel smile crosses my face in its place, I can almost see foreboding flashing into that weak mind of his.

"You may start to feel weird down here because I'm directing the blood out from your little friend." I note simply, as if I were stating a completely self-evident fact, and the stupid expression that appears on his face was worth all the pretense I had to show. His eyes widen almost comically, as he stares at his lap with such shocked dismay, as if he would hope that this moment will dissolve into the bizarre image of a terrible nightmare. But no. The mouth-watering feeling is very real, as after the blood slowly trickles away under my blessed ability, a numbness mixed with pain awakens in that tiny little tool of which he is so fucking proud.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He blurts out, and although he still wants to look very stern, I can hear his voice cracking with recognition. Now he can start to notice this unpleasant spasmodic feeling quite sharply, which arises as a result of my vile little activity, and which causes a dull ache to creep into his groin. And there is no more charming sight in the world than this stupid meathead sinking into despair. "Stop it, you sick bitch!" He snarls at me, emphasizing all his threatening aggression, but unfortunately, he doesn't seem dangerous as he begins to strain wildly against his unbreakable shackles. Because although he may be a Hunter, and he has increased strength and endurance, the chains prepared by my friends were invented for bad boys like him.

"Oh, what's wrong? I thought you wanted me to play with your dick..." I pout with fake sadness, cooing to him with such contemptuous disdain, as if I were just trying to reason with a hysterical child. And from the small tantrum he throws, which causes him to try to tear his hands out of the thick handcuffs amidst loud grunting, he seems no more than a overgrown baby. "Oh, my bad. I forgot to tell you that I like it rough." I spit, putting an edge imbued with caustic sarcasm in my voice, and there is nothing charming in that grin that flashes all my teeth, which I twist on my mouth.

He would try to speak, and maybe he would swear at me with some very macho harshness, but as I speed up the adventurous migration of blood from his cock with another burst of energy, a tortured moan erupts from his throat from the sharp pain that surely penetrates him by now. Small drops of cold sweat surface on his forehead, and I almost feel sorry for him from the look of terror on his face. But that's not enough. Because although he's slowly realizing what a sadistic little game I've lured him into, I still don't see the despair I'm looking for.

"Maybe I should make blood clots in your veins. You know what happens when a part of your body doesn't get blood, right? No nutrients, no oxygen..." I dwell on the endless possibilities, tilting my head curiously, and even he, with his small brain capacity, can understand what the consequences are when the tissues are left without blood supply. And, as he comprehends that neither his physical strength nor his ability to intimidate will get him out of this situation, then dread glides through his features with such a spectacular fastness that it's a joy to watch.

"Please don't..." He begins to plead, and the hoarseness that moves to his voice from the panic bubbling up in his throat is music to my ears. And when I see the first glistening pearls of tears in his eyes, the hatred burning in my stomach swells with contented joy, because the visceral desperation that takes shape on his face is quite wonderful. And the sugary-sweet smile that curls up the corners of my mouth at the sight of his misery may even seem sick, but this bastard deserves every moment of suffering, because there is so much pain stuck to his hands that no amount of shame and agony can wash away. And I'm not afraid to become ruthless and mean to help him taste what it's like to be truly defenseless and helpless.

"Oh, no, no, no! Don't cry! This is fun! It's like an experiment!" I lean closer to him, caressing his belly with mocking tenderness, and he jerks under my hand with reflexive speed from the delicate gesture. Shuddering, he tries to pull away from me, as if he wanted to merge with the back of the chair, but it's futile to think that he will be able to escape from this difficult situation. I enjoy it too much. "If we wait long enough, it will fall off! Or even start to rot! But don't worry, you'll still be able to get laid! Maybe you'll be able to fuck yourself with your own dick!" I continue my musing with unhinged glee, watching as his teeth clench with painful force, as his sanity and self-respect clash for dominance. And when a choking sound escapes from him, with which he tries to stifle the silent sobs shaking his chest, then I know I've broken him.

"Please, please... I'll do anything, just don't..." He whimpers, and a thick vein on his neck pops out from the effort he uses to force these pathetic words out of himself. I know he'd rather bite his own tongue for stooping so low, but he is just the kind of cretin that can be led on by a trick like that. He gets rid of every ounce of self-esteem in an instant with his plea, no doubt hoping that a pretty woman like me might have enough compassion to take pity on him. But he picked a fight with the wrong person. Because the circle of those who can create such tender feelings in me is very narrow. And of course, nasty pests are not among them.

"If you want me to stop, then start talking." I willingly offer him the obvious solution, and when he looks at me wild with desperation, I can see the long series of thoughts going through his head, with which he tries to process what I'm asking of him. And there can definitely be important information in that ugly little head of his, if even when he is up to his neck in a stinking pile of shit, he vacillates about whether to share it with us. "Because the clock is ticking." I remind him, imitating the rhythmic clicking of the hands of the clock with my index finger, and I can feel him twitch with increasing tension under my hands with each small tap. A suffocating minute passes as I stare unblinkingly at him and drum with unbroken enthusiasm on his bruised stomach, sending the blood further and further away from his jewels with each movement. And now the tears are starting to flow in rich streams on his face, which is almost purple in color, mixing with the sweat, which is slowly covering every inch of his skin from the pain caused by my little game.

"I don't have the serum!" He finally surrenders, almost shouting his confession, as his mouth opens wide with a tortured whimper, when I continue my treacherous little activity just to be sure. "I sold it to a guy named Rat! He has his network in Colony No. 2, he said he'll hand it over to his customer there!" He spills the info eagerly, and even though every word is raspy with the aching pulsing with even force in his lap, the obedience with which he surrenders to my will is music to my ears. And suddenly I'm filled with intense pride from the knowledge that I could be of such great help to my friends who are shrouded in eerie silence leaning against the wall, and that I got the information out of this asshole that had become our prey, which they didn't manage to beat out of him. Each vermin requires a different approach, it seems. And I'm lucky that not a prouder and smarter person is the head of Vultures, because it wouldn't have been possible to back anyone other than him into a corner so easily by threatening to make his junk fall off.

"There you go! It wasn't that hard, was it?" I pull my hands out from under the sweat-soaked textile, patting his thigh with such belittling tenderness, as if I wanted to praise a dog that performed a clever trick. And the relieved sigh with which he finally calms down a bit is quite sweet, and as soon as a breath of his confidence returns him, and he fixes his eyes on me expectantly, then I simply push myself away from him to stand up, turning my back on him to head for the interrogator's door without any further discussion. And now, for the first time, my undivided attention is diverted from my prey long enough for me to catch the expression on my companions' faces, and from the way MacTavish's brows furrow in bewilderment and dread, I have to forcefully suppress the outline of a cheeky smile that wants to curve at the corner of my mouth. I forgot that even though I had already entertained Riley with my slyness, the Scotsman hadn't yet had the chance to witness my questionable tactics.

"Hey! What are you doing? You said you would stop!" The leader of the separatists finally comes to his senses, and I just glance at him over my shoulder. And although I know that the trauma of the two Healers won't be nullified by my little revenge, it cannot be denied that the stunned distress with which he gapes at me, dispels the anger gnawing at my insides. And I wish that the two of them could see how deep a hole such a freak can crawl into, if sufficient methods are used to help him back to the edge of the abyss. But maybe it will give them a little joy to know that the bastard, who so indulgently laid his filthy hands on them in every way imaginable, will be forced to live out the rest of his pathetic life with his dick rotting away like a useless leather hose in his pants.

"It's a shame that I'm a filthy liar." I shrug my shoulders with noble simplicity, telling him with every inch of me that this is no longer my problem. And from my periphery, I can clearly see how my masked companion coks his head to the side in interest, and as our eyes meet, I see the dark little sparks in them when he realizes how freely I used the strategy that he presented to me so kindly during Valeria's interrogation. I've learned from the best.

"You dirty little bitch! Once I get my hands on you, I'll gut you! Do you hear me?!" The criminal indulges in his scary threats, and every muscle in his face tenses with rage as he spits his curses at me. And when I only raise my head with a pitying look, he loses himself in his rampage with such vigor that the chair he was enslaved to begins to shake amidst wild creaking. But no matter how hard he struggles, no matter how hard he tries to tear his hands from the chains, a D-class fool is unable to perform the same magic tricks my friends can do. Because my Scottish friend and his bosom friend would have already folded bows out of the metal by now. How utterly sad.

However, it seems that our new helper gets bored much sooner with this ridiculous interlude, in which our prisoner sinks more and more violently by the minute, because König appears in front of him so quickly, and grabs the separatist leader's throat without any warning, that every sound of his angry protest boils in his throat in a second. And he doesn't even have time to react, for the Hunter lifts the guy up by the neck along with the chair to then throw him to the ground, and as he lands on the floor of the container, the chair breaks into pieces with a tortured crash. And even before the outlaw could collect the thoughts of opposition in his brain, dulled by surprise and pain, his attacker makes sure that he stays where he had so kindly laid him down.

König's foot chruses on his victim's chest like a press, and an interesting hissing sound leaves the throat of the man lying among the pieces of broken furniture, as his mouth slowly opens to shout, but only a forced groan comes out. And although from the hooded Hunter's perspective, it all seems nothing more than when someone methodically tramples on a bug, I know how much strength it takes to coax this sick sound out of someone. The morbid sight lasts just a second longer than it should, just long enough for the halfwit writhing on the ground to feel how fleeting and senseless end his life has came to. And it occurs to me that there is no hesitation in this, only pure cruel pleasure, because as the protective wall of our prisoner's ribcage gives way with a sudden crackle under the heavy boot, even though his face is covered by the loose fabric, I see the satisfaction flash in the cold blue eyes, with which he watches the foamy path of the blood gushing from the lips of his prey stretched out in the dirt.

And I know that I'm not imagining those cheerful little wrinkles that appear around the skin covered in dark paint, as he turns towards me, towering above the now motionless dead body, and our gaze intertwines. And because of this, the restless voice in my head warns me to be careful in a tenth of a second, because I can't think of a good explanation for why I discover the invisible line of a smile around his eyes emerging from under the textile. What the hell?

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dameronology · 1 year

Text

illicit affairs [d.d] - one

summary: the mandalorian is hired for a job - finding the missing king of the planet tanadoia. falling in love with you isn't part of his plan. [masterlist]

warnings: none for this chapter!

enjoy, and let me know if you want to be tagged

-jazz

Tanadoia was the spitting image of the ideal planet.

Half-urban and half-jungle, it offered the best of both worlds. A bustling city, tangled with skyscrapers and thriving industries and the home of an ever-growing economy, paired with a thick jungle, heavy with trees and wildlife and sparkling lakes. The coaxium mines on the city’s edge only added to its appeal, making it richer than some of the planets in the Core Worlds. More and more people were flooding to get a taste of it, either as a tourist or a citizen. The culture was growing and so was the public interest in it.

And blessed be the bastard who was chosen to rule it.

Chosen was a strong word, actually. You’d been born into the Royal Family a little over twenty years ago - somewhat against your will - and shoved onto the throne a little after your eighteenth birthday. It was funny that literally every other person who roamed the galaxy would have killed to have been in your position. You would have slaughtered a thousand men to get out of it. The title was a like a collar round your neck; your expensive bracelets a shackle, the crown a weight on your head that was sure to dampen your spitfire nature. That was something they’d tried to whip out of you in finishing school.

(It hadn’t worked).

You tried to stay well-behaved, tending to your duties and even going as far as marrying the pig of a man that your mother had found for you. James liked the money and fame that came with the throne, so he didn’t care all that much that you refused to go near him. You truly feared the day that people started asking for an heir. For now, though, you slept in separate bedrooms and put on the face of a happy marriage every Friday come the weekly council meeting. It was all for show. Everything was for show.

He wasn’t around all that much. You slept in separate rooms and he occasionally joined you at council meetings when they started to ask about him, but by all intents and purposes, he meant nothing to you. The last time you had kissed him was for a photo on your wedding day almost three years ago. He spent most of his time frequenting brothels and trying new types of spice - all of which was paid for by the royal account, of course. James could fuck off for weeks at a time and not say a word - so, when you didn’t see him for nearly two months, you didn’t think much of it. In fact, you hardly even noticed it until your mother was kind enough to point it out.

“I’m sure he’ll turn up. There’s no need to spend so much money on a bounty hunter of all people-”

“- James is our king,” your mother’s voice had been curt. Far too curt for this early on a Monday morning. “You have a duty to find him.”

You were sat on the throne, legs crossed and crown dangling haphazardly from the end of your finger. Morning sucked as it was, but even more so when you were woken at the crack of dawn to be forced into a dress and corset and these stupid high heels. You rolled your eyes, momentarily staring out at the view of the Tandadoian skyline across from you. There were a few ships coming in out, probably carrying cargo and passengers.

“He has a duty not to fuck off every time he feels like it,” you shot back, slumping in your seat.

Your mother faltered for a second, a foul look on her face at your use of language. “You’ve sworn your life to him and to the throne.”

“No, you made me take the throne when father died-”

“- I’ve already found a bounty hunter. He was recommended to be by a High Magistrate on Nevarro.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re taking recommendations from Greef Karga now?”

“He says that this hunter has never missed a shot or failed a task.”

“I highly doubt that,” you muttered. “We have one of the best militaries in the Outer Rim and they’ve missed plenty of shots.”

“He’s on his way as we speak,” your mother replied. “His prices are dear but I think it will be worth it. You should be the one to greet him. Make a good impression.”

“When do I not make a good impression?”

“One of the hand-maidens will be with you shortly. She’ll escort you to him.”

Standing up, you stalked away from the throne room and back to your quarters.

Tossing the crown and heels aside, you entered your wardrobe and pulled out a pair of more comfortable boots. Your holster was hidden towards the back with your pistol, which you slid up your leg and hid under the skirts of your dress. You pulled a thick leather jacket over your shoulders too - Tanadoia was cold right now, and you needed something to protect you from the cold of the winter whilst you were out wandering.

The palace was quiet today, thankfully. It always was on a Monday. Most of the soldiers were out on military duty or on practice runs, and most of the staff were tending to their morning duties or taking in deliveries. That meant the gardens were empty, dusted with snow and lonely beneath the bright white Winter skies. The grounds of the palace stretched on for miles and miles, only ending when it reached the wall. You hated the structure; it was a prison to you, keeping you in your place, reminding you that you were never truly free so as long as you were the monarch of this cursed planet.

The hangar wasn’t too far from here. How easy would it be to just slip onto a ship and sneak away forever? It wasn’t like money was a problem, and there were hundreds of people out there who could have given you identity-

-you stopped in your tracks when you saw a strange man exiting the hangar. Every morning, a file was laid out to you with an exact list of people exiting and entering the planet. He wasn’t on it; a tall man in a suit of Beskar armour was surely someone you would have recognised, or at least noted.

You could have called in security, or a bodyguard, but wasn’t that just extra trouble? You hadn’t been secretly paying one of the military leaders to train you for the last five years not to use those skills at some point. The element of surprise was on your side.

Quietly approaching him, you ducked behind a pillar and peeked over, only to find he was gone. Not even a second later, you felt a large hand grab you by the waist - you managed to snatch him by the wrist, tugging him away from you and onto the ground. How the fuck had he snuck up on you? Not that that was your biggest concern right now, because you hadn’t at all considered the weight of his armour in your plan of attack. Actually, now it was a plan of…defend.

The Mandalorian was only on the ground for all of a second before he had you flipped over on your back, pinned beneath his spear.

“That’s not the warm welcome I was expecting.”

You thinned your eyes at him. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m the bounty hunter that the queen called for.”

“Oh, right,” you murmured. “You just…you don’t look how I - I mean how the queen told me you would look.”

The bounty hunter stood up, pulling back his weapon and offering you a gloved hand to help you up. He might have been the first person you’d come across in your entire life that didn’t know you were the queen.

“Where can I find her? They made it out like it was an urgent mission-”

“- not that urgent,” you cut him off, holding onto his forearm as he pulled you off your ass. “Just a missing king.”

“That seems urgent,” he replied. “Are you palace security?”

“Of sorts,” you murmured. “I’ll show you the way.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

“So…what’s your name?”

Silence.

“Right…well,” you trailed off. “I can tell you’re a Mandalorian so…I’ll just call you that.”

“Okay. What’s yours?”

“Uh…”

“You don’t know your own name?”

“Jane,” you replied. “My name is Jane.”

“That blaster you pulled out…that’s a traditional Tanadoian pistol. I haven’t seen many of those around. Not since the fall of the Empire, at least.”

“Yeah, they’re kind of rare. It’s a family heirloom here. It used to belong to the king.”

The Mandalorian looked at you (or at least his helmet did). “So how did you end up with it?”

“It was a gift from The Queen.”

“Is she nice…this Queen of yours?”

“I suppose,” you shrugged.

“Right,” he nodded. “I’ve heard she can be very difficult. One of my other clients also said she was entitled-”

“- I am not entitled!”

You froze, clamping a hand over your mouth. Having stopped in your tracks, you turned to face the Mandalorian. He seemed unphased…humoured, even. Not that it was easy to tell, but he tilted his helmet slightly, not saying a word as he waited for your next move.

“You know who I am, don’t you?”

He nodded. “Assuming that I don’t extensively research all my clients was a weak move on your part.”

“Weak move?” you blinked in surprise. “Coming from the man who saw me, knew who I was and still chose to deck me?”

“I could tell what you were doing,” he shrugged. “I can’t say I was expecting the monarch to sneak up on me.”

“In any other country, that could have gotten you killed.”

“You were going to attack me first.”

“I wasn’t attacking you…I just saw a strange man in my palace and I wanted to defend myself.”

The Mandalorian shook his head. “Right.”

“I like your blaster, though,” you said. “What is that…an Amban phase pulse rifle?”

“It does the job,” he replied. “It’s not as fancy as yours.”

“Mine is all bells and whistles,” you shrugged. “I’ll show you the armoury when I get a chance. You’re gonna need to stock up if you’re going to be following in my husband’s footsteps. The planets he visits are…well, you’ll find out for yourself.”

You’d reached the palace by that point; the guard saluted you as you passed. He seemed slightly phased by The Mandalorian beside you. You tried to refrain a smile at his reaction.

He had an oddly refreshing presence. In fact, he was the first person you’d met in your life that hadn’t suddenly bowed down and began worshipping you. The only person that had ever conversationally - and maybe intellectually - challenged you were was your father. He was long gone now, and it had been a while since someone had bitten back.

“It might be none of my business, your majesty, but you don’t seem eager for me to find him.”

You grimaced. “Honestly? That’s because I’m not.”

“So why are you paying me to do it then?”

“I’m not. My mother is,” you replied. “James and I have an image to keep. One of a true love, a happy marriage…anything to keep the public happy. The longer he’s gone, the more worried they become, and god forbid the palace look bad to our citizens.”

The Mandalorian nodded: he could see more of the monarch in you now, however bored you seemed. The sudden change from how you’d been outside to how you were now didn’t go unnoticed. It was almost concerning, the quick shift from an easy-going, chatty person to someone who was almost afraid of what might happen should she not find her husband.

“I understand,” he nodded.

“That’s why this has to stay a secret,” you said. “If anyone knows that he’s missing, or that we’ve hired a bounty hunter to find him? There’s gonna be a lot of questions, and I have to answer them.”

You wandered further into the palace. The Mandalorian followed, eyes wandering over the high ceilings and expensive furniture. The walls were lined with paintings and restored weapons; portrays of former monarchs, ending towards the throne room with yours. It was intensely detailed - millions of brush strokes that formed a younger, brighter you. You hadn’t aged - not at all, really - but it was clear you more tired now. More weathered.

“You have my word,” The Mandalorian said. He stopped for a moment when you reached the throne room. “I’ll do my best to find him.”

“Right,” you nodded. A second passed and you cleared your throat, forcing yourself to perk up. “C’mon, I’ll show you the armoury.”

As to be expected, the armoury - which was only a short distance from the throne room - was just as impressive as the rest of the palace. The walls were lined with weapons; guns, spears, seismic charges in various sizes and knives of every shape and colour. The Mandalorian had thought that the armoury aboard his ship was impressive.

You were stood behind him, fingers slowly tracing over the walls. It was a surprise to him that you even had this many weapon; Tanadoia, after all, was a seemingly peaceful planet. It wasn’t one known to enter into battle.

“Take what you want,” you said. “It’s not like we use it, right?”

“This an impressive collection.”

You smiled. “Thank you. Getting to order in our weapons is one of the only things I really get to do and…well, I like to be prepared.”

“Do you know how to use all these?” The Mandalorian asked,

“Oh, obviously,” you shot back.

“So why don’t you?”

You faltered for a second. “I never get the chance. Our military has little reason to use them and even if they did, I would never be allowed to join them.”

“In my culture, our leaders fight with us,” he replied,

“Yeah, not so much here I’m afraid,” you sighed. “I’m not even allowed to leave the palace unguarded, let alone the planet.”

The Mandalorian glanced at you. It was clear that you were unhappy: that bright spark in your eyes that you’d had when you first met was completely gone now, replaced with some sort of willowing sadness. His job had meant he was especially good at reading people, and you were no exception to the rule. The version of you that you’d been in the five minutes where you were pretending not to be queen had been boisterous and upbeat; almost infectious in your energy and wit. Now? Now you were just sad. Cracking under the pressure and conformity that the throne put on you. It left him to wonder how many people had actually seen that version of you: the funny, happy one; the one that knew how to fight and apparently knew how to use every single one of these weapons (though he didn’t doubt it).

Maybe it got to him a little, knowing that had you not been a queen, you probably would have been in the same profession. A bounty hunter or a smuggler, at least someone he would have come across in his journeys. Maybe an ally of his.

“I’ll find your husband,” he said. “And this will remain a secret. You have my word.”

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mhbcaps · 4 months

Text

I got tagged again for this by @chevvy-yates :3 thank you!

OC INTERVIEW: Sanctuary Zelenko & Joey Armas

▪ NICKNAME:

"Named myself Sanctuary after my favorite cologne, back when I was twenty. Company went under a year later, and then someone drank the rest of the only bottle I had. You remember Axis, baby?"

"That dumb piece of shit? Wait, that why you scrapped with him? Over the cologne?"

"Yeah. That's how I ended up with this. Couple people called me Zipperface for months."

"I 'member that. Won't lie, I thought it was pretty funny."

"'Course you did. Answer the question."

"Oh, my mama prob'ly named me Joseph or John or something but I've been Joey all my life."

▪ GENDER:

"I want you to guess."

"C'mon, I don't wanna be here forever. I'm a boy, and they're Sanctuary. 'f you try to make it make sense, your little head'll explode."

▪ ORIENTATION:

"I'm a man of many tastes."

"Nah, he likes anybody who looks like they'd grab his hips and make him beg. Isn't that right, baby?"

"Ain't denying. Hey, what're you squirming for? You asked the question, choom. We're just bein' honest."

▪ NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY:

"Born and raised here, but my parents both came from Ukraine. Don't really know what that makes me."

"You know more than me. Which is fuck-all, honestly. Whole family is dead now, though, so what's it matter? Sorry, 'm I makin' you uncomfortable again? Don't feel bad. Not like you killed 'em. Fuckers who did were taken care of years ago, don't worry."

▪ HEIGHT:

"Depends on what boots I'm wearin'."

"Flat, he's five-nine. And I'm five-eleven. I like to wear heels, though, so people look at me. Nothing gets someone's attention like a nice pair of heels. Or a big fucking knife."

"Yeah, I got the big fucking knife covered."

▪ STAR SIGN:

"Scorpio."

"I ain't even sure what my actual birthdate is. My citizen record says March twentieth but Mom always said she was just guessing. So that's, what, Aries or somethin'?"

"Not like it matters."

"Yeah, don't believe in that shit anyway."

▪ FAVE FRUIT:

"Ate a banana once. Real one. That shit was good."

"Where the hell'd you get a real banana?"

"Got a donor once who had a suite at the Highcourt, years back. Dub did her copycat thing and got in pretending she was a girlfriend experience or something. Stole everything she could carry. Not much, bitch had scrawny arms, but she got the fruit and some sweet threads."

"Don't remember that."

"Nah, it was right before we met. I remember, 'cause I was wearing the guy's underwear when we did meet."

"Do you still have the underwear?"

"No. Had to toss 'em after I got stabbed one time. Would've kept them 'cept that the bloodstain looked like I shit myself."

▪ FAVE SEASON:

"You think the twenty-degree flux we get counts as seasons? Well, it's winter, anyway. Shorter days, less sun."

"Fall. I make good money in the fall. Everyone's done partying for the summer, got their new implants, lookin' for glory on the streets."

▪ FAVE FLOWER:

"I dunno dick about flowers. I don't even know what kinds I got tattooed on me. Guess those would be my favorite, 'f I knew what they were called."

"I don't pay much attention to flowers, either."

▪ FAVE SCENT:

"Sanctuary. ...You didn't like it when we were talkin' about my "orientation" or whatever. Gonna really hate it if I go into detail about scent."

"I use pomegranate shampoo."

"Yeah, that's part of it."

▪ COFFEE, TEA, HOT CHOCOLATE:

"Don't like hot drinks. I'll drink lemonade, though."

"I used to drink coffee, but these days caffeine just fucks me up. I have enough headaches without it."

▪ AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP:

"Who keeps track? I'm a night owl, anyway."

"I try to get a reasonable amount in so I don't kill my patients."

▪ DOG OR CAT PERSON:

"I've never met a dog. Friend of mine has a cat, though, and I like her well enough, so that's one-zero in cats' favor."

"I like 'em both. Hunters and survivors, in their own ways."

▪ DREAM TRIP:

"Somewhere with a lotta trees. Grew up in the concrete jungle - a little more green'd be nice, y'know?"

"Yeah. I wouldn't mind visiting Ukraine. I don't know how much green is left, though - anywhere."

▪ NUMBER OF BLANKETS THEY SLEEP WITH:

"Two, so we each have our own and nobody's stealing it - baby, what are you doing?"

"Fuuuuuuuuck! My fuckin' fries are cold. 'Cause I've been sittin' here answering stupid questions. Are we done now?"

"We're done now."

▪ RANDOM FACT:

"I'm fucking hungry and now I gotta eat cold fries, that's a fact for you."

#sanctuary #joey #long post

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missfrieden · 2 months

Text

Tech as a father Chapter 40

Wow, 40 chapters posted now, thanks to all who read it and enjoy it. And also I got my hug in the last episode.

Masterlist

Chapter 40: Hair gel is now part of the gear it seems

As Tech returns with Orion, his smirk is barely concealed. He had made sure to return to the temple a little later than Amanda, hoping to avoid raising any suspicion. However, his brothers are quick to notice the dishevelled state of his hair, and they can't resist the opportunity to tease him.

Wrecker grins widely and nudges Echo. "Hey, Echo, look at Tech's hair. It's all messy. You think he was wrestling with some jungle creatures?" Echo chuckles and adds, "Yeah, or maybe he had a run-in with a particularly aggressive tree branch." Crosshair, with his usual dry humour chimes in, "I didn't know the forest had such strong hairstyling skills."

Tech, trying to maintain his composure, clears his throat and retorts, "Gentlemen, you have quite the imagination. I was simply enjoying some fresh air with Orion, that's all." Hunter, always the perceptive one, raises an eyebrow but decides not to press the matter. "Alright, Tech. Just remember we're on a mission here." Tech nods, a faint blush still on his cheeks. "Of course, Hunter. Always focused on the mission." He holds Orion a little closer, hoping to divert their attention from his moment with Amanda.

Wrecker, always one to seize an opportunity for fun, leans over and tries to ruffle Tech's hair back into position, but it seems to be a lost cause. He grins widely, clearly enjoying the playful banter. "Tech, the fresh air managed to get you smirking too, huh?" Wrecker teases, undeterred by Tech's attempt to explain it away. Tech ducks away from Wrecker's playfully rough touch and replies, "Well, Wrecker, there was a strong gush of air... you know how unpredictable the elements can be."

Crosshair, with his usual sass, adds, "Yeah, Tech, was the air strong enough to mess up your always perfectly styled hair? I didn't feel a breeze strong enough for that." Tech smirks and retorts, "You'd be surprised, Crosshair. Sometimes nature can be quite unpredictable." He glances down at Orion, who seems more interested in the conversation than the state of his father's hair.

Echo chimes in with his characteristic dry humour, "So, Tech, did this mysterious gust of wind also rearrange the armour pieces on your knees? Quite the breeze, huh?" Tech sighs and decides to play along, "Yes, Echo, it seems the wind was so intense that it decided to redecorate my armour. Very unpredictable weather we have here." The squad shares a collective laugh, lightening the mood in their makeshift camp area around the Havoc Marauder.

As the banter continued, Tech's smirk didn't fade. He appreciated the light heartedness of his brothers, even if they were just teasing him about his earlier escapade with Amanda. Wrecker, with his usual boisterousness, chimed in, "Tech, next time you go for a walk, don't forget to take the hair gel with you, just in case the wind decides to have another go at your perfect styled hair." Tech chuckled, "Noted, Wrecker. I'll make sure to add 'emergency hair gel' to my field kit." Hunter, the ever-watchful leader, interjected, "Alright, enough fun, everyone. We have work to do. Tech, you're on surveillance duty tonight." Tech nodded in agreement. It was time to shift their focus back to their mission, but he couldn't help but think that sometimes, even in the midst of their dangerous missions and secret endeavours, or his secret ones, his brothers managed to bring a touch of warmth and camaraderie into their lives. And that was something he wouldn't trade for anything, to be able to have such a family is something he will always be grateful.

Chapter 41

Reblogs are very welcome and I am open for feedback, as english is not my first language, so maybe my sentences may be weird sometimes, or I write a word wrong even with google, or I use a wrong word for an item.

Tag: @spectacular-skywalker @aalizazareth @neyswxrld @clonethirstingisreal @sleepycreativewriter @moonwreckd

I know it is shorter, than usual. But when I wrote it, I found the idea funny. And no matter how long I mulled over it, there was no way I could make it longer or drg it. So here you go.

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dove-da-birb · 9 months

Text

Decided to try this out

I know this has probably been done before, but wanted to try this out. So I love RPG and D&D; so take this alignment test and a class test. Feel free to choose from the various clans that exist in D&D. And then do this picrew.

Neither of the tests, or the picrew, belong to me btw.

This can be you or an OC btw. I decided to do Fantasy nonsense me.

My results [below the cut]

Alignment

Chaotic good; A chaotic good character acts as their conscience directs them with little regard for what others expect of them. They make their own way, but they are kind and benevolent. They believe in goodness and right but have little use for laws and regulations. They hate it when people try to intimidate others and tell them what to do. They follow their own moral compass, which, although good, may not agree with that of society. Chaotic good is the best alignment you can be because it combines a good heart with a free spirit. However, chaotic good can be a dangerous alignment when it disrupts the order of society and punishes those who do well for themselves.

Class

Ranger; You are a ranger! Your skillset is a blend of naturalistic knowledge and personal survival skill. Rangers are at home in even the wildest and least hospitable of places, such as vast jungles or suffocating caverns. They are skilled hunters and nimble warriors, a base which they supplement with impressive tracking skills and a vast knowledge of their prey obtained through observation and experience. Some rangers bond with an animal and battle alongside it as a partner, while others practice complex combat maneuvers or place a focus on stealthy ambushes. Some even focus on harnessing the magical power of nature, much like druids. A ranger is a skilled and self-sufficient skirmisher who uses their mobility and skillset to fight effectively at any distance - especially against their favored prey.

Dove, a chaotic good ranger guiding others. Writes stories and knits in their free time. Has a mailing pigeon for messages and letters.

Tagging

@azulashengrottospiano

@leonistic-spams

@hydrating-rambles

@ithseem

@krenenbaker

@silvers-numberonefan

@hisui-dreamer

@vioisgoinginsane

@twistwonderlanddevotee

@identity-theft-101

@xxoomiii

@eynnwwyjth

@officialdaydreamer00

#tag game #IT'S DND!!!! DND BEYOND!!!!#don't mind me being a nerd #ranger dove #i'd either grow my hair out long enough to put it up like in the picrew or chop it all off so it doesn't get in my face #funny enough i do know how to do archery; semi-good accuracy

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kpop-stories-21 · 10 months

Text

Adventure section | Jungle Trouble

Group: ATEEZ

Pairing: Mingi x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Rating: 18-21+

Genres + AUs: Non-Idol AU, Indiana Jones AU, Smut

Content & Trigger Warnings: Indiana Jones!Mingi, Assistant!Reader, established relationship, voyeurism, unprotected sex(wrap that shit up kids), spit as lube, everything is consensual, minor character death at the end, traumatic ending

Summary: While traversing an undiscovered jungle in search of another priceless artifact, you and Mingi expect to be stopped by a rival treasure hunter. Instead you're captured by a local tribe with an interesting way of offering freedom.

Tags: @kpop---scenarios @stardragongalaxy @jeonrose @skittlez-area512 @mybiasisexo @skeletor-ify @biaswreckingfics @anyamaris @trashlord-007 @liliesofdreamsskz @rdiamond2727 @naturalogre @thelargefrye @yoonguurt @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @sanjoongie @bxffietheblxxdy

If you want to be added to my taglist, click here

Network pings: @cacaokpop-fics | @kdiarynet

MDNI banner courtesy of @cafekitsune

Event Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Feeling somewhat rested and refreshed, you rose from the couch and made your way to the Adventure section. You were more determined than ever now that the end was in sight, and so you strode forward with purpose. You were doing this for the sake of your mom, after all.

You located the glowing book and opened it without hesitation, eyes used to the flash of white at this point.

Gentle hands shook you awake, and you were greeted with the sight of Mingi standing over you, glasses askew and suit slightly wrinkled. "We're here Y/N. Ready for some exploring?"

You sat up at once, a wide grin on your face. "I was born ready, Min!"

Collecting your things the two of you stepped off the train, breathing air far fresher than what was in the city. You followed Mingi to the hotel you'd be staying at, practically vibrating from the excitement coursing through your veins.

After checking into your room and changing into more appropriate clothing, you and Mingi began to make your way into the deep jungle, using only the map you had acquired since no guide was brave enough to take you.

Mingi had to pull out his machete almost immediately, hacking through thick vines and brush that seemed to have a life of their own. By sundown you seemed to have made no progress at all, whatever got cut down somehow grew right back up behind you.

As you set up camp and put together a quick meal you constantly felt like you were being watched, yet everytime you scanned your surroundings, you saw nothing: no shadows, no shapes in the dark, nothing but moon-touched plants and trees.

After eating it was time to rest and you snuggled up against Mingi, relishing the warmth of his large body engulfing yours and holding you close. You slept uneasily, but still woke moderately refreshed the next morning.

The middle of the jungle was quiet and unmoving, not a creature in sight. The only sounds to be heard were the soft falls of your footsteps and the sharp chink! of Mingi's machete as he cleared the path. You'd known this artifact had otherworldly powers or something similar, but you were not expecting the surrounding area to be affected like this. It was rather bizarre, and had you very much on edge.

You were so caught up in your own thoughts that you failed to notice when Mingi stopped walking, resulting in you slamming into his back.

You winced, rubbing your smushed nose as you went to stand beside him. "Jesus Min, what the hell are you…." Your voice trailed off as you caught sight of what made him stop.

Standing in front of you and blocking the way forward, were several green-skinned natives. The colour was so smooth that you couldn't tell if it was paint or just their natural skintone. Looking behind revealed another group of them blocking the way back. Puzzled, you turned back around and nearly screamed when you found one of the natives suddenly inches from your face.

"This man…he your man?" The male queried in broken English as he gestured to Mingi.

You nodded. "Yes, we are together."

The male murmured something in a strange language you surmised to be his native tongue, then spoke again.

"You…your man…must see chief." He motioned for you to follow him.

You glanced at Mingi in confusion, and he shrugged helplessly. "Might as well see what they want." He whispered. "They might even be able to tell us where the artifact is."

You nodded your agreement and the two of you stepped forward, indicating you would do as requested. The native man turned and began to lead you away.

You and Mingi followed the natives for what seemed like hours, the sun directly overhead by the time you reached the secluded village. Your guide took you straight to the largest of the huts, where a huge man was seated on a chair that greatly resembled a throne.

"This our chief. You call him Tekona. Me called Nokri."

You and Mingi both bowed to Chief Tekona, and you noticed a flash of surprise in his eyes at the respectful gesture. Clearly his past encounters with civilisation had not gone over so well.

Tekona turned to Nokri and said something in their strange language.

"Chief Tekona say you trespass. This our land, strangers no welcome."

"Please tell Chief Tekona that it was not our intention to trespass on your land, we are just passing through in search of a special treasure that is very important to the people of our village."

Nokri translated your words and listened to the chief's response.

"Chief Tekona say he no surprise you look for treasure. Many your kind come looking, none leave our village. Trespass call for punishment."

"What kind of punishment?" You inquired shakily. Mingi wrapped a comforting arm around your waist, holding you against him protectively.

"Normal punishment death. But Chief Tekona say you have heart bond with your man. Kill you would anger gods. Give different punishment, respect gods."

"So what's the punishment?" Mingi asked gruffly.

"In two day, we have ceremony to honor gods. You become one with your man, we observe as vessels of gods. After ceremony, Nokri show you where find treasure."

Despite the choppy wording, you and Mingi both knew exactly what Nokri meant. They were asking you and Mingi to fuck while all of them watched like a bunch of perverts. You opened your mouth to reject the proposal when Mingi stopped you, gazing at you seriously.

"If I have to choose between this and death, I'll gladly choose this any day. Anything that allows me to spend another day with you will always be my top priority."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you blinked back tears. "Oh Min…are you sure?"

He nodded. "Yes, my love. We will be alright, I believe I have a plan."

You smiled softly. "Alright then."

Turning back to Nokri, you informed him of the decision made. "You may tell Chief Tekona that we agree to do as he has asked."

Tekona looked pleased when your words were related back to him, and said as much.

"Chief Tekona say he pleased. Will have wife show place to stay."

A short young woman who looked close to your age came out from behind Tekona's throne and approached you shyly.

"Her called Wyveria. She fourth wife of Chief Tekona."

You smiled kindly. "That's a lovely name."

Wyveria nods in acknowledgement before leading the two of you to an empty hut near the village centre. Once inside you all but collapsed on the straw bed, Mingi coming over to lay behind you and hold you close. You both fell asleep immediately.

The two days before the ceremony passed quickly, and you awoke that morning with a snake of dread in your belly. You were trying your hardest to stay positive, trusting that whatever Mingi had in mind would make the whole ordeal more bearable.

Wyveria came for you at noon on the dot. You could feel your hands beginning to shake, but Mingi quickly took them in his own and held them tight. Not for the first time, you thanked your lucky stars that Mingi was such a protective and adoring man.

The villagers were all gathered together, leaving an empty space in the midst of the large circle they had formed. Once you and Mingi came into sight, everyone suddenly vanished. Out of some unseen place came Nokri's voice.

"Chief Tekona say maybe easier if you not see us. Make you forget we here."

"Tell him it is much appreciated, and we thank him."

Silence stretched through the air for a long moment as you and Mingi faced each other. Then he leaned forward and kissed you deeply, the heat of his embrace igniting a fire under your skin.

"Damn." You muttered after parting for air. "This might be easier than I thought."

Mingi chuckled. "Then let's get these off you, yeah?"

He kissed your cheek before slipping your blouse over your head. Settling onto the ground, he gently pulled you into his lap. A hand came up to massage one breast while he took the other in his mouth, licking and sucking your nipple. You sighed out a moan, fingers tangling in his hair.

"Relaxed yet, my love?" Mingi looked up at you with a cheeky grin.

"Mmm, very." You replied, smirking.

"Time to kick things up a notch, then."

Carefully, he laid you back on the smooth stone and pulled off your trousers and panties.

"Fuck, love, you're soaked. Been a while since we had some fun, huh?"

"Too long. W-Wanted you for a while now, Min."

Mingi eyed you curiously as he pushed two fingers through your dripping folds.

"That so? You should have told me, you know I'd make time for you."

"I- fuck- I didn't want to bother you. Shit, right there Min. Y-You were so busy…."

He curled his fingers, hitting your sweet spot repeatedly and cutting your words off.

"You should know better than that, my love. I've told you before you will always be my first priority, no matter what."

Heat gathered in your stomach, and you knew you wouldn't last much longer. "G-God, Min, gonna cum!"

Mingi immediately removed his fingers and hurried to undo his own pants. He held out a hand to you and you knew exactly what he wanted. Gathering as much saliva into your mouth as you could, you spit into his hand. Pulling his hand back with a smirk, he coated his dick and moved to hover over you.

"Ready, love?"

"Mhn yes! Min, please, just fuck me!!"

"Of course, my love."

He set a brisk pace, not going too hard since he didn't fancy scraping your back along the stone. Still, he managed to go hard enough to have you cumming almost right away.

He worked you through your orgasm, pulling you into an upright position so he could fuck into you harder.

"Love the way you take my cock, Y/N. Always so ready for me to fuck you dumb, fill your little pussy with my cum."

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, teeth and tongues clashing as he swallowed your moans.

"Jesus, M-Min, you're gonna make me cum again!" You moaned, feeling the impending heat once more.

"Yeah? Then cum with me, my love. Let everyone know who fucks you best."

Your second orgasm crashed over you like a tsunami, pushing a scream from your lungs.

"Fuckkkk Min, oh my god!!!"

The two of you came simultaneously, nails scraping down Mingi's back as you rode out your high. Leaning forward, you pressed your forehead against his and smiled wearily.

"Love you Min."

He kissed the tip of your nose and smiled back. "Love you most Y/N."

A bucket of water and some rags appeared beside you, presumably from one of the villagers, and you let out a small laugh.

Mingi chuckled along with you, then slowly slid out and began to clean first you, then himself. He helped you get your clothes back on, then pulled you into a warm hug.

"I'm proud of you, my love." He whispered tenderly, cupping your face in his hand and smothering you with gentle kisses that had you giggling.

The following day Nokri woke you both around noon and declared he was ready to take you to the treasure. Grabbing your gear you followed him out of the village and back into the jungle.

Before long the three of you came to a large cave, and Nokri turned to you excitedly.

"This it! Treasure inside!!!"

The instant you and Mingi stepped inside the ground began to shake and rumble beneath you. Large cracks formed in the ground and you stumbled back, watching helplessly as Nokri fell into the rapidly widening abyss.

A loud cry had you turning back toward Mingi, and your heart dropped at the sight of white-knuckled hands gripping the edge desperately.

"MINGI!!"

You ran over, grabbing hold of his arms and struggling to pull him up. "I got you Min, you're not dying on my watch!"

Mingi just shook his head resignedly. "I'll be alright, love. Take this and I'll see you again soon." He shoved something into your hand and ripped his arms from your grasp.

"MINGI, NO!!!" You screamed as your fianceé fell to his death and the world washed white.

You were still screaming when Seonghwa found you on the floor, face wet with tears. It had taken a great deal of shaking to bring you back to your senses, as he was loath to slap you a second time.

"Are you well?" He asked in concern.

"No, Seonghwa, I am not fucking well right now!" You snapped, frayed nerves getting the better of you. "I just watched the man I believed to be my fianceé fall to his death!"

Seonghwa flinched at your words as if you'd hit him. "I see." He said coldly, eyes flashing purple again. Standing to his feet, he turned and stalked off without another word, leaving you in front of the Fantasy section with the uncomfortable feeling that you had just screwed up royally.

#cultofdionysusnet #library of illusion event #kdiarynet #cacaokpop #ateez #mingi x reader #ateez smut #ateez mingi #mingi smut #maturefanfic #21+#au #fanfic

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hekateinhell · 8 months

Text

Vamptember, Day 7: Reverse AU

adult vampire!Claudia and little mortal!Lestat | M | 1.3k | tags: abuse and SA mentions/references, gore, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

New Orleans, 1808

Winter in New Orleans makes the evenings draw on longer.

Meaning that Claudia has to create her own entertainment lest she go mad with boredom; she takes what she wants and does as she pleases.

How many other women can say that?

Sitting in front of the vanity, turning her head from side-to-side, pondering which role best suits her temperament tonight.

Pity she had been a poor white’s daughter at her death, malnourished to the point of missing her menses at the mature age of twenty. Oh, how utterly brutal the beatings were when her father and brothers caught on and arrived at the wrong conclusion!

Whore. Slut. Witch.

Such a rabid pleasure to crush each of their skulls between her hands the night she’d returned to the dingy little shack by the river. A giggle escaping her at each agonizingly slow crack of bone, delighting in their futile struggles. Dark torrents of blood igniting the demonic thirst inside her, and finally, the gelatinous messes — more fun than mud pies — gushing as she digs her thumbs into their eye sockets.

Eyes that had violated her long before their ever hands did.

“Witch!”

“And yet it’s you that shall burn at the stake tonight, father dearest! Fancy that!”

She beams at her reflection at the memory, the blonde ringlets that cascade over her small breasts bouncing as she trembles with poorly suppressed anticipation. Not a wasteful eater, no, but she does enjoy playing with her food.

Finishing touches, a robin’s blue ribbon in her hair, her corset cinched tight to create the hourglass figure she most certainly did not possess.

Childbearing hips that would never bear onto her a child, the son that the Lord she once prayed to for deliverance had sent to her in her dreams. A promise that one day she would have final dominion over the male sex.

Flesh of her flesh, blood of her blood.

Holy Mary, mother of God.

It’s humid when she sets out, but then again, it’s always humid in New Orleans: a sinner’s city, a gambler’s paradise. Fragrant roses combine with the stench of urine and decay as she makes her way down the cobblestone streets, taking in the sounds of the night. A child cries, a man yells to his wife: You stupid bitch!; a horse and carriage trot by, the mud almost reaching her shoes; a drunkard’s piercing laugh.

“Hey, pretty lady, what are you doing all by your lonesome? Don’t you know what happens to dainty little things like you in places like these?”

Sounds like a tramp but means well. He has two sisters at home; one older and one younger. Claudia reminds him of the youngest.

“Oh, I didn’t know! I’m new to the area, you see, and terribly disoriented! I don’t mean to trouble you Sir, but it is awfully late and now I am awfully frightened… If you could please escort me to my home, I have been trying to find my way back for hours to no avail!” She knows what men like to hear.

She can be demure.

Helpless.

“Of course, darling,” he proffers her his arm which she graciously accepts, “I know this city like the back of my own hand.”

Perfect.

A quick, satisfying break of his elbow and his knees soon follow before she takes her first drink of the night, the gambler’s luck running dry as his sweet blood runs down her throat. His heart pounding on her tongue, the glorious resistance she craves gradually fading. No, no! Fight me more, handsome. Fight me just as hard as I fought them! Alas, it is finished and Claudia pulls back, wiping her mouth on her lace glove.

She stands in the shadows, still clutching the body, savoring the aftertaste. Not an evil soul, merely one made unfortunate by virtue of his sex, as she had once been.

A hunter as shrewd as she, a woman who’d been raised to have the survival instincts of a prey animal in the jungle, shouldn’t have been caught off guard by sudden wailing so high-pitched, Claudia cringes into herself. Relentlessly loud and surely bound to attract attention!

The body hits the ground with a wet thud as another, much smaller body barrels into her skirts, clinging to her legs.

Images flash through the child’s mind; he can’t be older than five. A brute of a father raising his fists. A mother cold and impassive, her nose in a book as her children wept for her affections, even her scolding lacked interest. “Quiet down, Lestat.” Blonde and beautiful yet gaunt — Claudia had she lived another ten years, perhaps. Lived the wretched life she was destined to have, like her mother before her and her mother before her.

This woman doesn’t want her child, and the decision is made.

“There, there,” she drops to her knees to embrace the boy. His hair tangled unkempt, a shade strikingly similar to hers. His face covered in dirt, the scrapes along his arms and legs still oozing blood. Delirious from terror, hunger, and exhaustion, and in the darkness, he thinks she is his mother.

Claudia swallows back her thirst.

“I didn’t mean it!” he sobs as he presses himself flush to her chest, burrowing into her sharp collarbone. Tears, dirt, and mucus smear all over the cotton of her dress, her hardened skin. “I didn’t mean to run! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I want to go home! I’ll be good! I’ll listen, I promise!”

Yes, Claudia's decision has been made, but not here.

“I know, dearest,” she lifts him off the ground and he settles momentarily, soft and warm. Pulls back to stare at her face, large grey eyes blinking at her.

He touches her cheek, curious and gentle. Frowns.

“Mama, you’re so cold.”

There’s a second where she can feel his hummingbird heart quicken, little rosebud mouth pinching as he sniffles loudly, the tears gathered on his long lashes suspended as he holds her stare with intensity. But then it passes, and he rests his head on her shoulder.

“You need a blanket, Mama,” he sighs and drops his sticky fingers from her cheek, bringing his thumb to his mouth instead. She, too, had suckled her thumb until far too old an age.

Back home, she cleanses his face.

He whines in his sleep, whimpering into her palm. Fragile and pitiful as the newborn kittens her brother Edgar had drowned to punish her.

Her clothes are too big, and the doll’s clothes are too small. She cuts a nightgown three-quarters of the way short. The candle flickers and so does her confidence, but it’s too late now. His lifeblood flowing over her tongue, his little heart going and going, refusing to give up! Burst after vibrant burst, innocence devoured.

Mama, Mama… I love you, Mama.

Claudia groans with it, the flavor of unrivaled purity unlike anything she's ever sampled before. She's never had to catch herself at the very edge of the precipice before; the shadow of a thought passes through her mind that perhaps she doesn't have to — she'll gorge herself on this one and find another to suit the same purpose: make for herself a son sculpted in her unholy image alone.

But this precious heart! It still won't surrender! How can she trust that she will ever find another with not only the looks to match hers, but one that reflects back to her her own unbroken tenacity?

“Mama’s here,” she tears open her bodice, exposing her breast, the dark blue vein at the underside. Makes the incision, guiding the child’s mouth to it. She will be Thetis reimagined in the spirit of the new age, submerging the baby Achilles in the River Styx to grant him immortal life, this time careful to fully saturate the heel.

The greedy thing latches quickly, reflexes of an infant still nestled in his subconscious as he takes all that Claudia has to offer.

It must be the male in him.

“Mama’s here,” she repeats, stroking his hair, humming a long-forgotten lullaby.

Once, a poor woman’s only comfort to her daughter. Now, a little boy’s dirge.

“And you’ll be good for your Mama, won’t you, Lestat?”

#my first vamptember this year rip ACTUALLY I WANTED TO WRITE THIS ONE LAST YEAR AND NEVER GOT AROUND TO LMAO #claudia #lestat de lioncourt #vampire chronicles #vc #vamptember #prompts

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neon-junkie · 2 years

Text

Hunted

Summary: You're eager to learn a thing or two off Hunter, and despite his dad jokes and flirting, he's an excellent teacher. That is, until he puts you in your place by hunting you down, and enjoying a mutual reward.

Pairing: Hunter x f!Reader (she/her)

Word count: 5.7k

Tags: Pred/Prey, Training, First time, Friends to lovers, Mutual pining, First kiss, Flirting, Vaginal sex, Oral (receiving), Outdoor sex, Dirty talk, Pet names, Feelings confession.

Notes: This was written for a lovely supporter!! I don’t write for Hunter often, so hopefully this is in character :) Please remember to reblog if you enjoy x

There's only so much that the cooling system in your armour can do, a mere victim to the sweltering heat of Yavin 4. It was Tech's idea to land here, mumbling something about an abandoned base that is bound to have some form of leftover stash. Even if it's just a couple of ammo rounds and barely-in-date ration bars, it'll do. You've learnt to become grateful, especially since the late Republic is no longer here to tend to your needs.

Hunter almost looked disgusted when his armoured feet met the ground. His hands came to rest on his hips as he scanned the area, sensing far more than you and the others can. He nodded, and like a (totally not in denial) father figure, he grumbled, "yep, this'll do."

Little did you know, Hunter meant this planet will be perfect for tracking lessons, seeing as you've been pestering him about them.

What? Hunter has a valuable skill that you need to learn. Who knows? It might save your ass one day.

Or, perhaps, get you in trouble...

Speaking of trouble, Hunter doesn't seem too fond of your inability to grasp his skills swiftly. To you, Hunter is currently gesturing to a handful of broken sticks, deep within the jungle, as part of your lesson. However, to him, they're an obvious sign that a large creature has recently passed through the area, and is following the stream that flows beside you.

"I just..." you mumble, staring at the broken sticks again. "...I don't understand how you can notice these things."

"I was born and bred for this," Hunter mindlessly shrugs, as if being bred for war is normal. As much as you respect the Kaminoan's work, they could have raised the Troopers with more respect. To them, they are forever disposable, even the desirable ones like the Batch.

To you, however, they are all valuable lifeforms, who could have reached far greater depths if they were given the opportunity to.

"You know how I feel about that," you scowl, expressing your disgust, not hidden by a helmet. Hunter's face is tucked behind his helmet, but you know that he's sharing the same disappointed expression as you.

Hunter's covered gaze moves from yours as he scans the area once more, probably picking up elements that you can't. You've always wondered what it must be like to be in his shoes, quite literally, to feel the ground shift and move beneath his feet. Hunter's ability to track greater than any being can, is one that you'll forever be envious of, minus the cons to it.

Hunter has had his fair share of sleepless nights, too overstimulated to even pull the covers up. Not to mention the headaches, earaches, and uneasy stimming whenever things are becoming too much. Still, we all have our downfalls, and this is Hunter's.

"Come on," Hunter urges as he takes the lead, letting you follow behind like a soldier. He meets the stream, and gazes at the soft ripples in the water before crouching down. Gloved fingertips dip into the cool stream, and Hunter listens to the sound it makes, sensing something that your simple mind cannot.

"Don't tell me you've learnt how to track through water, too," you tease, peering over his shoulder, attempting to understand what he's reading.

Hunter chuckles beneath his helmet, and pulls his fingers from the water, wiping them dry on his armoured thigh before standing beside you. "Would you be jealous if I did?" he smirks.

Jealous.

Yeah, that's certainly the word for it.

You cross your arms across your chest as you send him a scowl, your expression not fading when you hear Hunter chuckle at your frustration. "Maybe finish teaching me the basics, before you go splashing about in the water?" you suggest.

"I'm trying," Hunter groans. He shifts his weight, standing beside you, and a large, gloved hand rests on your armoured shoulder as Hunter's other hand gestures at the stream. "You see the way the water is moving?" he asks.

You nod, and watch the stream flow, still unsure on what exactly Hunter is gesturing to. "Streams don't naturally flow like that. They're steady, calm, at ease-"

"-So, the opposite of Wrecker?" you joke.

"Or Wrecker after he's had a good meal," Hunter chimes in, and softly laughs with you. "There's a disturbance to this flow. It's heavier than it should be, and those ripples don't often form naturally. Something is up the stream, possibly having a drink, and we're seeing the long aftermath of it."

Your lashes bat heavily as realisation takes over you. "Oh," you mumble.

"Yeah, oh," Hunter nods. The hand that was on your shoulder moves away, and with it, you let out a breath that you didn't realise you were holding. More deep breaths are sucked in an out as you attempt to steady your beating heart, knowing that Hunter can probably hear it thumping away in your chest.

Steady. Relax. He's just your Sergeant. Nothing more, nothing less.

But if he's just your Sergeant, then why have you spent countless nights fantasizing about him, hidden deep in the darkness of your dorm? That rugged expression, those wild curls, that glisten to his cinnamon brown eyes. He's a catch, a total dreamboat, and you're a woman who can barely sail.

Hunter calls out your name, and only then do you realise that you had zoned out into nothingness. "Mhm, sorry," you shake your head. "I was... watching the water."

"Right," Hunter slowly says with a nod. "That's good, because you're going to track whatever's up that stream."

"Me?!" you squeak.

"Yeah," Hunter says with another nod. "I've set you up for success. Just follow those basics I taught you."

The basics, huh? So, all you need to do is look out for broken sticks, footprints, and huge piles of shit! Yeah, okay, that's so easy.

With a groan, you cast Hunter a scowl before getting on with the task. Your eyes scan the dirt, and you look for anything out of the ordinary, hidden within the thick layers of the jungle. It doesn't take long for you to find more broken sticks, and a sarcastic comment begins brewing in your chest, only for it to fall flat as you realise that they're forming a trail.

Oh, Hunter was right...

"That's it," Hunter compliments as he watches you work, following the trail of broken sticks. It moves between the trees, twisting and turning along the jungle floor, soon leading to broken pieces of bark on one of the many trees.

Your eyes flick over to the stream, and it's rippling even more, the flow bouncing due to a disturbance. The more you walk along it, the more unsettling it becomes, and before you know it, you've found the source.

"There," you say with a hush as you crouch within the treeline, revealing the culprit. A Runyip stands there, taking in its fair share of water, unaware of your presence.

"Judging by its size, it's not quite an adult, meaning its mother must be close," Hunter comments as he crouches beside you, keeping his tone lower than yours.

"We should get out of here," you suggest, knowing that lingering around an overgrown infant will only result in you and Hunter being trampled to death.

Hunter nods in agreement, and automatically takes the lead, continuing along the treeline.

Before you know it, the Runyip is long gone, leaving you and Hunter to talk freely without any fear. "You did good," Hunter compliments as he comes to a stop, his hands automatically finding his hips as his body enters standby mode.

"I had a decent teacher," you say with a wink.

Hunter scoffs as he repeats your word, "decent," with a shake of his head. "Maybe if my student wasn't so stubborn, then she would learn faster."

"Oh, it's like that, is it?" you laugh, jabbing back at your snooty Sergeant.

The minor nod that Hunter makes means that he's smirking, it's just a shame his expression is hidden beneath his thick, plastoid helmet. "Easy, girl," Hunter tuts, with a tint of... something laced within his tone.

His tone isn't normally that deep, is it? Sure, it's often steady, calm, collected, a true military Sergeant through and through, but that tone was almost... lustful?

Your entire body tenses at his words, and only now do you curse your past self for not opting for a helmet when you were given the opportunity to. "I want you boys to be able to see my pretty face at all times!" you had jokingly explained, only for your smug expression to be burnt away after Hunter replied, "as if we could ever forget."

"So, are you going to behave now?" Hunter questions as he crosses his arms across his chest, his shoulders somehow appearing broader than they already are.

"I have been behaving," you scoff, matching his playful demeanour. You mock his stance, crossing your own arms, and puff your chest out ever so slightly. Sure, he's got some height on you, but you can easily bring him down a peg or two.

"Drop the attitude," Hunter orders with his military tone, before easing up, and returning to that alluring tone from moments ago. "I'm going to test you, alright?"

"Test?" you repeat, and raise a single brow. Using all your power, you attempt to ignore the sweat forming above your brow, and that chill running down your spine. Test...

Hunter slowly nods, "mhm," he hums. "You've learnt some light basics to do with tracking, and with that knowledge, you can also prevent yourself from being hunted."

"Oh," you sigh, and nervously bounce on your heels. "I see where this is going..."

Hunter nods again, and outstretches his palm as he asks, "go on?"

"You're going to show me exactly why they call you Hunter, right?" you groan, knowing that this is not going to end well. Sure, you can fight, and stay on the run, but it's never easy when an enemy is right on your tail, especially one whose forte is tracking others.

"Yep," Hunter confirms. "I'm going to hunt you."

Automatically, your thighs clench together, and you're certain that Hunter heard the heavy breath you let out. Hunt? Kriff, this isn't going to end well. No doubt, your Sergeant will realise what a freak you are, and the Batch will fly away, leaving you all alone on this jungle planet.

Well, that certainly is an exaggeration, but one that you're expecting to happen.

"Hunt?" you repeat with a single brow raised, ensuring that you two are on the same page.

Hunter slowly nods, and lets out a firm, "yes. Hunt."

"So, uh..." you trail off, and vaguely wave your hand as you attempt to find the right words. "What happens when you catch me? You gonna eat me?"

"Something like that," Hunter casually shrugs with a soft grin on his lips. "But you're not going to let me catch you, aren't you? You're a big girl, you'll manage just fine."

"Uh..." you sputter. Surely Hunter realises what he's doing, right?! There's no way that his choice of words are purely innocent.

Is he... flirting? Your Sergeant, flirting with you? Maker, no!

Unless...?

Hunter notices your uneasy stance, and rests his hands on his hips as he questions, "are you not up for the task? You're more than welcome to say no-"

"-No! No, it's fine..." you interrupt with a wave, eager to see how this will play out. "I'm fine... I just, don't really know how I'm going to keep up."

"We'll find out," Hunter states. "So, I'm going to give you a minute's head start. After that, I'll be right on your trail."

You bounce on your heels, eager to sprint for your life. There's only so much knowledge in that ditsy head of yours, and the main thing that is calling out to you, is to run and find somewhere to hide. If you're lucky, maybe, just maybe, Hunter will stroll past without noticing you.

Although, that's unlikely, given his advanced training, and years of experience in the field.

"Ready?" Hunter questions.

"Ready!" you agree with a firm nod. "Bye!" you shout, and take off running, disappearing into the dense jungle.

You're almost certain that you heard Hunter chuckle as he watched you run for your life. What? You're in a panic, and for some silly reason, you're eager to prove your worth.

Sure, you have strong points in other skill sets, but you're eager to show Hunter that his first lesson with you wasn't a total waste of time. Using your knowledge, you follow the stream, running up against the current. Perhaps it will break off soon, or lead to an area that you can hide in?

The further you go, the thicker the water runs. You can hear something heavy, crashing away, causing the ripples to tremble more and more. You soon find the cause - a waterfall! Ah, perfect!

A minute has passed, and no doubt, Hunter has begun. You have a slight advantage, knowing Hunter's strengths and weaknesses; one strength is his sense of smell, and from what you've learnt, you know that your scent can be washed away, or at least, muffled.

After grimacing at the water, you begrudgingly step in, wincing at the chill around your ankles. You submerge yourself up to your shins, and head towards the waterfall, eager to get this over and done with.

Stretching one hand out, you feel the pressure of the water, squinting your eyes as stray droplets meet your face. It's not too strong, safe enough for you to rinse your scent off. Your hand stretches out again, feeling the depth of the water, and you find that there is nothing behind it.

Hmm, a cave?

Time to get this over and done with. With a deep breath, and your eyes scrunched shut, you force your way through the water, biting back a screech as coldness washes over you. Quite literally.

Whilst the water hasn't completely soaked you, it's done more than enough damage, and hopefully, it's masked your scent. Your hands come up to wipe excess water off your face, and after a few heavy blinks, your sight comes into focus.

Oh, you were right! There is a cave back here!

You move up the ledge, and take a moment to shake yourself dry, or as dry as you can get. The weight of your clothing isn't unbearable, but it's certainly going to slow you down. "Kriff," you grunt as you take a seat, and begin pulling off your boots. Puddles of water flow from them as you tip them upside down, and give them a shake in an attempt to dry them off as much as possible.

After letting out another deep breath, you decide that this is a suitable hiding place. There's enough light peeking through the water so you're not in total darkness, although the eerie tunnel sitting behind you isn't helping relax your nerves.

Your focus is put on fastening your boots up, leaving you unarmed for a few moments. Unbeknownst to you, a certain someone is far more skilled than you ever thought, and has you in his sights.

Hunter is looming at the edge of the waterfall, watching you through the cracks in the water. He smiles to himself, admiring the face you're pulling whilst double-knotting your laces, as focused as you can be. Perhaps Crosshair was right - Hunter is growing soft on you, but Maker forbid he ever admits that!

Your hands come to rest around your knees, tucked up against your chin. You're not exactly cold, but you're not warm, either. Curse your stupid idea to get yourself soaked, although you should dry up when you're back in the open, surrounded by the humid jungle air.

Looking up, you focus on the water, admiring the way that it dances as it falls. The perfect opportunity has presented itself - you're distracted, and finally, Hunter can sneak in unannounced, and quite literally pounce on you.

The scream that you let out is certainly heard back at the Marauder! "Kriff," you hiss as you realise who has their grasp on you, none other than your Sergeant!

"That was easy," Hunter smugly states as he pins you down on the cave floor, his hands on your shoulders, and his body looming over yours. If his helmet were off, you'd wipe that smug expression off his face. Instead, you're somewhat thankful that you can't see his gaze, knowing that you'd blush within an instant.

"Don't get cocky," you huff, feeling rather disappointed that you didn't last longer. "How did you find me?"

"I spent some time watching you pluck up the courage to dip through the waterfall," Hunter explains with a chuckle as he slowly removes himself from your grasp, sitting back and offering you a hand upright. "Got to be quicker next time, girl."

"You're a scoundrel," you curse, "and a pretty bland teacher."

"Bland?" Hunter repeats with a light stutter, and a swift shake of his head. "Are you certain you're not talking about yourself?"

You let out a synthetic gasp, acting shocked at Hunter's playful insult. Rather than throwing one back at him, you decide to throw yourself at him instead - quite literally. You pounce on Hunter, reminding him of your strong points. Tracking may not be your forte, but fighting definitely is!

Hunter lets out a laugh as he allows you to wrestle him to the ground, his helmet being knocked off in the process. Cinnamon brown eyes finally meet yours, laced with a playful glisten, and there's a warm glow to Hunter's tanned cheeks as he smiles at you. "Careful," Hunter smirks as he looks up at you, pinned beneath your weight. "Wouldn't want you to get ahead of yourself," he bites.

Before you can even muster another witty reply, Hunter has flipped your bodies, now pinning you beneath him. Thick curls brush against your jawline as you playfully fight, trying to push his weight off, but it's no use. Hunter's hands find your wrists, and before you know it, he has your wrists pinned above your head, and is straddling your hips in a way that prevents you from quite literally kicking up a fuss.

"Ugh," you groan, and meet his flirtatious gaze. "Go easy on me, Sarge," you demand, to which Hunter softly laughs, and to your surprise, eases up.

"Why? Can't handle it?" Hunter smirks.

Kriff. Alright. He's flirting, isn't he? The banter, his expression, the play fighting - all common symptoms of two idiots who refuse to confess their attraction to one another.

The ball is in your court, and now that Hunter has physically eased up on you, you're able to switch the tables once more, and pin him down to the floor. However, whilst fighting for your life, you don't consider the position that you're in - quite literally - and before you know it, you're straddling his crotch, with your hands pressed on his armoured chest.

To both of your surprise, Hunter lets out a soft huff, a sound that you've never heard before. It seems that Hunter hasn't either, as his eyes widen, and his chest rises and falls nervously, pressed beneath your palms.

Silence fills the air, minus the crashing waves of the waterfall, and the occasional deep breath, exhausted from your play fighting. Hunter is gawking at you, calculating his next move, deciding on where he wants to take this - or better yet, where you'll allow him to take it.

Finally, his outstretched hands move from the dirt, and large palms dig into the curve of your hips. Warmth flows over your body, and you fight the urge to peel all your layers of clothing off as Hunter's thumbs begin subconsciously stroking back and forth.

Hunter calls out your name, and when your eyes are on his, he mutters, "I don't know what you're doing to me."

"Uh..." you apologetically stutter, and automatically begin easing up off him.

"No-" Hunter exhales, and holds you firmly against him. "I mean... in a good way," he tries to explain, but words fail him.

Your body attempts to relax, but it's understandably hard to when you're straddling your Sergeant after a heated play fight. "Care to explain?" you suggest with trembling breaths, finding it hard to calm your nervous expression.

Hunter firmly nods. "You..." he plainly states, and has to pause to think about his wording. "You're a distraction," Hunter mumbles again.

Oh, he is so good with words!

"To... our lessons?" you wince.

Hunter shakes his head softly, laughing at his mess of confession. "Yes, but I mean... in general. I, uh..." he stutters again. Hunter gulps, and licks his lips before returning his focus to you. "It's so hard to be in your presence... in a good way, I mean! I'm able to tune out distractions, but you? Heh, that's impossible."

Oh.

Hunter's pupils are wide, gazing up at you, awaiting your reply. His curls are fanned out perfectly over his shoulders and the cave floor, barely scruffed up from your banter. It's as if he was sculpted by the Gods, unable to look 'bad', no matter how rugged and ruined he seems.

However, a man of such beauty grows impatient, and removes his hands from your hips in fear that you're about to reject him.

"No-" you hiss as you place them back. Your mouth opens and closes multiple times, fighting the urge to spill out your confession, but how can you word such a thing?

Instead, you resort to your natural urges, and fumble as you press your lips down against your Sergeant's. Hunter lets out a soft "mhm!" as he comes to terms with what is going on, before relaxing, and kissing you back.

The ice has finally broken, and all it took was one moment alone together - a rarity around the Batch. You're kissing your Sergeant... your Sergeant, who has a needy grip on your hips, and is even more eager to slip his tongue into your mouth.

The hands on your hips wander along your body, soon pressing your chest to his, finding a comfortable position to snuggle up together. You didn't even realise you were slowly grinding your lips until Hunter breaks the kiss with a soft mewl. Blown, auburn eyes meet yours, along with deep and rosy cheeks, and a silent expression that states, "we're going to be here for a while."

Hunter glosses over your expression, and lets out a soft sigh before asking, "is this okay?" as he hooks his fingertips into the waistband of your pants.

"Yes," you coo with a nod. "Is this?" you repeat as your fingertips find the fastenings to his cod piece, dancing over them, but not removing them.

"Please," Hunter responds with a swift nod.

You two sync up with each other, moving so gracefully, peeling each layer off in between kisses and sweet compliments. "You're so beautiful," Hunter says in a deep and desirable tone as he pulls your shirt off, leaving you in your underwear. "May I?" he questions, his thumbs ghosting over your nipples, blocked by the thick fabric.

You eagerly nod as you let out a, "yes," in a tone that could be considered desperate.

The warmth from Hunter's hands cause you to shiver, such a contrast in comparison to your damp state. Thank the Maker that Hunter has been thoughtful with your clothes, lying them out to dry, rather than bunching them up in an unforgotten pile.

His lips are cold, at first, wrapped deliciously around your nipple, until the warmth from his mouth joins the rest. Hunter switches between your breasts, always fondling with whichever one his mouth is leaving unattended, eager to ensure that you're constantly feeling wanted and desired.

The back of your head gently meets the cave floor, and Hunter is practically on top of you, devouring you piece by piece. He lets out a deep groan as he adjusts his stance, and automatically, his crotch finds yours. This time, you're the one letting out a groan as Hunter ruts his hard member against your panties, his under armour barely keeping his length covered.

"This needs to come off," you whimper as you pull on Hunter's under armour, tugging the fabric on his shoulder.

"Does it?" Hunter chuckles with a raised brow.

You frown, and Hunter laughs once more as he replies, "I suppose it does..."

He reluctantly pulls away, and you watch in awe as Hunter frees himself, tugging his shirt up and over his torso, before shuffling out of his pants. To your surprise, Hunter isn't wearing boxers, and you're unsure if that's down to the garment feeling rough due to his heightened senses, or he really is one of those people.

Regardless, the sensation of Hunter gliding his erect cock against your clothed mound is one that you'll forever treasure, along with the groan that he makes before locking his lips with yours. "Your turn," he mutters as his fingertips find the waistband of your panties, and he pulls them off in a swift, yet elegant motion.

"Maker," Hunter groans as he gazes down at you, now fully bare. You instinctively go to cover yourself up, and Hunter swats your hand away, clicking his tongue in a scolding tone. "Don't you dare," he threatens as he pins your hands to either side of your head. "I want to take in all of you," he groans, and repeats, "all of you."

Hunter's lips find your neck, and you watch through half-lidded eyes as he makes his way down your body, ensuring to kiss as much of you as possible. His hands gradually remove themselves from your wrists, only for your fingers to intertwined with his locks when he begins kissing over the curve of your hips.

Needless to say, his hair is gorgeous, and the noise he makes when you tug softly on his curls? Perfect!

But Hunter swiftly regains the upper hand, and this time, you're the one letting out elegant sounds as he introduces his lips to your lower ones. Large, calloused hands begin prying your thighs open, his biceps flexing as he holds you in place.

His stubble is the perfect amount, not too prickly, soft enough to show its presence against your sensitive inner thighs. His mouth, however, is certain and confident, lapping you up as if you're his last meal, running his tongue over your folds before gently sucking your clit.

"Hunter-" you whimper, your voice barely audible against the crashing of the waterfall. Hunter hardly reacts, other than a soft hum, so you turn up the heat by moaning, "Sarge."

Hunter groans against your folds, his hips instinctively grind against nothing. Finally, auburn eyes gaze open to look up at you, full of lust and want. He removes his lips from yours, and his breath is hot against your damp core. "Call me that again, and I'll ensure that your walk back to the Marauder is sore," he promises.

You let out a soft laugh, a smug grin remaining on your lips, "I do apologise, Sergeant."

Hunter practically growls as he moves up your body to lock his lips with yours, your taste lingering on his tongue. "You're playing a dangerous game, mesh'la," he says with a soft laugh.

"Play along with me?" you coo. Your hand slips down between your bodies to find his erect cock, and Hunter's mind instantly wipes blank as you gently pump it, before guiding it between your legs.

Hunter doesn't respond verbally, instead, he gently pushes his hips forward, moaning with you as his cock slowly slides into your heat. Thick, soft curls dance along your shoulder as Hunter rests his head there, groaning against your skin as he bottoms out. His muscles are flexing beneath your palms, his body fighting between the urges to hold back and be steady, or pound you into oblivion.

"Kriff-" you find yourself swearing. "H-Hunter, you're so..."

"I know," Hunter murmurs, and plants a tender kiss to your forehead. "But you're going to be a good girl for your Sergeant, and take it, hm?"

The look in his eyes is something that you never want to fade. He's drunk on you, enticed with everything you have to offer, and little does he know, you have so much to give. "Yes, Sir," you agree with a gentle nod.

Hunter lets out a light hum as he props himself upright, finding a comfortable position above your body. He barely finishes praising, "good girl," before beginning his thrusts, slamming into you at a quick and heated pace.

There's a smug grin on his lips, oh-so-happy about the sudden moan that you let out - a moan that has gradually faded into softer, steadier ones, now matching Hunter's light grunts.

Minus the verbal expressions, the thundering crash of the waterfall covers up the echoes of skin against skin, not that anybody is close enough to overhear you two. Oh, no, you're out in the middle of a jungle, perfectly hidden from prying eyes. The only things you two need to be cautious about is how you present yourselves when back on the Marauder, but given the forming bruises on each of your necks, the Batch will swiftly come to realise what's happened in their absence.

To your surprise, Hunter's hips come to a halt, and his hands slip down your body to weave their way beneath you. You find your lower half being pulled ever-so-slightly upwards, angling your hips in such a way that, when Hunter begins thrusting again, you're quite literally seeing stars.

"Karking hell," you mutter, your lips remaining open as your chest rises and falls with excitement.

"Good position, huh?" Hunter questions, followed with a cocky laugh.You don't need to verbally reply - a simple nod is more than enough to confirm that being folded in half is doing wonders for your pleasure, despite the knowledge that you're definitely going to need help walking back to the Marauder. Achieving orgasm isn't going to take much else, despite the fact that you're enjoying the ride.

"Go on," Hunter states with a gentle nod. "Touch yourself for me."

You blurt out, "yes, Sir," before removing a hand from Hunter's bicep to slip down your body, finding your clit and rubbing tenderly. The sight causes Hunter to groan, and you can tell that he's torn between wanting to watch you play with yourself, and wanting to watch your expression change with every thrust.

"Ladies first," Hunter smirks, but his expression is briskly swept away when you flex around his cock, totally knocking him off course. You know exactly what he wants, but you're praying that his chivalrous persona slips off when the time comes.

A few more flicks of your fingertips, and you're practically sobbing as you orgasm, the sight and sounds turning Hunter into putty. He stutters, both physically and verbally, his hips struggling to keep up a steady pace, and he turns into mush as such a sight. You, the woman of his dreams, the woman that he's been secretly pining after for kriff knows how long, is mewling and moaning as she orgasms on his cock. Yeah, how can he prevent himself from crumbling at such a thing?

Hunter presses his forehead to yours as he lets out a series of deep breaths, filling you up with shallow and out-of-pace thrusts. His eyes scrunch shut, and a firm, but gentle hand finds yours, entwining your fingers together - a calming and tender gesture during a frantic series of emotions.

When Hunter has finally recovered, he lets you know by finding your lips, and smothering you with a series of tender, yet lustful kisses. "Thank you," he mutters against your lips, and you break the kiss to ask, "for what?"

To both of your surprise, Hunter pauses, his eyes drifting into the distance, before focusing back on you. "I... I don't know," he says with a shrug.

"Hm," you ponder. You push your body upwards, resting on your elbows, which gives you the perfect position to plant another kiss on Hunter's almost-swollen lips. "I understand," you coo.

Hunter softly exhales, and finally decides to remove himself from you. He lets out a pained groan, the type that a grumpy old man lets out when he rises from his chair, rarely on his own terms. Hunter rolls onto his back besides you, and automatically, his hand comes to rest on your thigh, his thumb stroking back and forth subconsciously.

Silence fills the air, but it's not the awkward kind. The first person to break it is you, letting out a soft laugh that causes Hunter to perk his ears up, and question, "what?"

"I can't believe we did it," you confess.

Hunter turns to face you, and his expression soon matches your own as he chuckles along, a twinkle in his eyes. "That was some tracking lesson, huh?" he sarcastically comments.

"What can I say?" you shrug, "I had a good teacher."

A bewildered expression looms over Hunter's face before he bursts out laughing again, rolling onto his side to plant a series of kisses along your cheek and shoulder. You can't help but return the favour, and soon pull his head down for a searing kiss, so full of lust that you're tempted to go again, if it wasn't for the ache over your body, seeing as you've been lying on a rocky cave floor for the past half an hour.

But until your Sergeant decides to make a move, you're happy staying here. Hunter seems rather happy too, one arm propping his weight up, whilst a warm hand roams over your bare body, kneading and grabbing at every single part of you, almost as if he's silently confirming that yes, you really are here.

The only thing that you two need to worry about is how the others will act when you both come limping back to the Marauder, and given how Hunter's comm is silently flashing - muted during his hunt - it seems that you'll soon be facing their teasing comments and disappointed glances.

Oh well!

#tbbwriting #the bad batch #hunter #tbb hunter #hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #tbb #reader insert #star wars #f!reader #female reader #the bad batch fanfic

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