#riddick x reader

[writingkeepsmewhole]

Looks Clear

This is part 8 of Snow In The Dark. I hope you like it :)

Fic Summary: Snow has never known who she was. Being raised in the streets made her strong but lonely. That changed when she met Jack them becoming as close as sisters. She thought she found her family. That all changes when she crashes on a planet with only one rule. Stay in the light.

Part Summary: Snow along with the others decied the best way to make it off the planet alive.

Riddick x OC Snow

Warnings: Language.

Let me know if you want to be tagged :P : @here4thespice @amarokofficial @backseat-serenade-dizzyhurricane @pinkcrystal44 @goblingirlsarah @shelbyteller @classyunknownlover

Part 1 Part 7

Knowing that light hurts the beasts trying to hurt us, everyone quickly takes inventory of everything that makes light.

Despite how bad it looked or not caring how it looked I stuck close to Riddick. He kept me alive more than once today.

Plus I felt calmer around him. More myself. More in control. Something about being next to a man you knew could handle anything that got thrown at him.

So I stood next to him as I stood around the burning cutting torch trying to figure out a plan.

“So we got one cutting torch, we got two hand lights. There’s gotta be something we can rip out of the crash ship.”

“Spirts.” Paris says leaning forward to fan himself.

I was humid and stuffy in this room but it was better than being eaten alive.

“Anything over 45 proof burns rather well.”

“Mmm molotovs my favorite.” I say earning a snort from Jack.

I wink at her and smile. 

“Look, it's better than nothing.” Johns says, glaring at me.

“It was a joke.” I say, lifting my hands up.

I don’t even react as I feel the warm body heat behind me. Johns eyes bouncing to the figure behind me told me who it was.

I don’t know what I did to have the killer of the group be my bodyguard but I would take it. 

“How many bottles you got?” Carolyn asks, getting us in order once again.

“I don’t know, maybe ten.”

“Okay.” She says, nodding and looking over at Johns.

“Johns you got some flares.”

“So, maybe we got enough light.” She says, nodding.

“Enough for fucking what?” Johns asks.

“How thick are you? Do you wanna tell him or should I?” I ask, looking at Johns then Carolyn.

She holds her hand up as to tell me to shut up or she has this.

“We stick to the plan. We get the four cells back to the skiff, we’re off this rock.” 

“Look I hate to ruin a beautiful theory with an ugly fact.” Paris says standing up.

“But that sand cat is solar. It won't run at night.” He says walking over to Carolyn.

“So we carry the cells. We drag them whatever it takes.”

“You mean tonight with all those things out there?” Jack asks, holding onto her legs rocking back and forth. She was scared but doing a great job of holding it in.

I move to sit next to her wrapping my arms around her.

“It’s better to go now then wait them out. We don’t know how long the eclipse is going to last.” I say gently rubbing her back.

“Alright, how long can this thing last?” Johns asks, making me bite my tongue from starting something with him. That wouldn’t help us survive.

“A few hours? A day tops?” He says, very matter of fact.

I clench my jaw ready to shut up but decide against it.

“Didn’t we have this conversation a few hours ago? These people wouldn’t have left everything they own or the ship for that matter if they only had to deal with these things for a few hours or a day tops.” I say spitting the last word.

“I had the impression from the model the two planets were moving as one and there would be a lasting darkness.” Imam says looking at Johns.

“Thank you.” I say, holding my hand out towards Imam.

“Maybe you can only understand men.” I say earning a glare but he doesn't respond to me.

“Mmm.. These suns gotta come up sometime. And if these creatures are phonic about light then we just sit tight and we let the sun come up.” He says, meeting my gaze, the look on his face like he figured it out.

“Okay, where is the water we are going to drink? Or food or oh yeah we’ll probably freeze because deserts get cold at night time and a few days without sun will most likely kill us. If the lack of water and food doesn't. That’s if I put up with you that long.” I say, clenching my jaw.

“Why you little-.” Johns says starting to stand up. 

“Okay enough.” Carolyn says stepping in the middle of the room blocking our line of sight from each other.

“I’m sure somebody else said the same thing, locked inside that coring room.” 

“We need to think about everybody now. Especially the kid.” He says pointing at all of us.

“How scared is this poor boy gonna be out there in the dark.”

“Oh don’t you bring him into this.” I say, clenching my jaw and standing up. 

 “Yeah, don't use him like that.” Carolyn says.

“Like what?” Johns asks, looking disgusted.

“As a smoke screen.” Carolyn says at the same time I speak.

“As a shield.” 

“You deal with your own fear.”

“Yeah it’s okay to be scared Johns.”

“Why don’t you shut your fucking mouth for two seconds and let me come up with a plan that dosn’t involve mass suicide.”

“You came up with one. It's sitting here waiting for the lights to go out so those things can eat us.” I say, the sounds of the creatures outside whaling making me take a breath.

Them clearly hearing us.

Breathing the breath out slowly I move to sit back next to Jack, wrapping my arm around her.

“I’m waiting.” Carolyn says, making me smirk.

I may have to change my mind about her after all.

“How much you weigh Johns?”

“What’s it matter Carolyn?” 

“How much?” She snaps back.

“Around seventy nine kilos.”

“Because you’re seventy nine kilos of gutless white meat.”

“And that’s why you can’t think of a better plan and you want to use Jack as an excuse.” I say joining in.

“Is that fucking right?” He says jumping up, snatching his gun out as he does. 

I don’t flinch.

I watch Riddick stand up stepping in front of him, blocking him from getting to any of us.

“Where are you going?” Johns asks, pressing the barrel of the gun into RIddick’s chin.

I have to stop myself from standing up. The anger I have towards Johns is starting to get to its boiling point. I wanted to hurt him but that would help any of us get out of this.

“This solves nothing.” Imam says, as if he was reading my thoughts.

I watch Riddick smirk, him lifting his goggles and looking over at Johns as the sound of tapping fills the air.

My eyes dropped to the sound seeing a homemade blade right on John’s crotch.

“Okay.” Johns says taking a step and sitting back down.

I couldn’t tell if he was smirking or giving him a fake smile. The look on Johns face creeping me out either way.

My head snaps to the right when Carolyn moves to crouch next to me and Jack.

“They’re afraid of our light. That means we don’t have to be so afraid of them.” She says calmly. Her eyes lifted up to meet mine.

I smile at her then down at Jack.

“You know I will make sure you are safe.” I say, rubbing her back. Jack nods, looking nervous but less scared.

“And you are sure you can get us there? Even in the dark?” Iman asks, looking over at us.

“No I can’t.” She says standing up.

“But he can.” She says looking over at Riddick.

I look up at him, his goggles still off him turning to look over his shoulder at her, the light hitting his face just right to show the silver shine in his eyes.

“That’s the smartest thing you said all day.” I say looking up at her.

She nods and bends down picking up the torch.

“Come on, I have an idea.”

Carolyn leads us back to the entrance of the ship. She uses the torch to shine under the ship in case there are any creatures hiding.

Sticking close together everyone starts to head out following her.

I’m stopped when a large hand grabs my wrist. Looking up over my shoulder I meet the face of Riddick.

Us being swallowed by darkness as the others leave out ahead of us.

“You know not everyone is gonna make it out of here.” He says, his low rubbing voice settling around me. It almost reminds me of the way a cat purrs. Something animal about it.

“Then let's make sure you, me, and Jack are on the list of the ones that do.”

“Is that all you care about?” He asks, sounding like a loaded question which I was trying not to read into.

“Honestly? Yes.”

He smirks, letting go of my wrist and heading towards the door. I stay close to him. The group of us stayed quiet as we walked outside up to the other side of the crashed ship.

“Riddick.” Carolyn whispers it is too risky for us to keep moving forward.

Riddick slides past me, his hand brushing my lower back as he does. I’m shocked by the shiver it shoots up my spine.

He walks to the front of the group, slipping his goggles up to look inside.

“Looks clear.” He calls back.

Johns pushes past me practically shoving me over as he sneaks up next to Riddick, gun in hand. Him having a light on the end of it.

I have to bite my lip to keep from snatching it out of his hand and beating him with it. Thoughts of stabbing him in his sleep enter my mind.

As soon as Johns light shines into the ship a monster comes jumping out towards them screeching.

Riddick drops to the ground, out of the way while Johns jumps to the right landing on his back.

The creature flies over our head away from the light. All of us ducking down. Jack’s grip on my hand tightening.

“You said"clear "." Johns says looking up at Riddick him slightly down a slope.

“I said it looks clear.” Riddick says back, making me smile at the sass.

“Well what’s it look like now?” He asks.

Riddick raises his head taking a quick glance before turning to look back shrugging.

“Looks clear.” He says, making me snort a giggle.

Everyone turned to look at me in a shocked horror.

“I’m sorry that wasn’t meant to be funny, I know.” I say, as Riddick and Johns get up.

Johns casually walked into the ship, everyone following behind. Jack rushed ahead to stay close to Carolyn’s light.

Riddick doesn't move until I reach his side.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to laugh. I think the exhaustion is finally catching up to me.” I say, feeling heat rise up my cheeks.

Riddick doesn't answer him, lifting a hand to grab my chin. I don’t speak as he moves my head to the left and the right, most likely looking at the bruises there.

Taking a shaky breath I let it out as his touch fell from my face, my skin almost burning from where he touched it.

“I thought I smelt blood.” He says, I almost feel like more to himself than me. But he didn’t seem like the type to talk to himself.

“Is my lip bleeding?” I question reaching up to touch my lip.

“Must have been something else.” He says, turning towards the ship, the clicking sound of the creatures starting to grow louder.

“We need to leave.” He says.

I nod following him into the ship.

#chronicles of riddick #richard b riddick #riddick fanfiction #pitch black riddick #riddick x reader #riddick x you #riddick x oc #riddick fanfic #riddick fic #riddick imagine #snow in the dark #pitch black fanfic #pitch black fic #riddick

[yve-barr]

let me see you

riddick x afab!reader

NOT MY GIF! NOT MY CHARACTER!

Warnings: juicy smut, no use of yn, not mentioned so you can choose to ignore this but they are married

No part two

you fumbled with the lock as you rushed inside your apartment. The lock wasn't a hard one, the thing that made it difficult was the man at your neck leaving a hot trail along your shoulder.

You almost dropped the key in your haste, but quickly fitted it in the lock when teeth sunk into your neck.

Turning the key you both stumbled inside slamming the door behind you as he pressed you up against the wood.

his hands traveled up your sides under your shirt, the left cupping your breast the other unfastened your bra.

As soon as he unfastened it he pulled your top off dragging your bra after.

The cool air caught you off guard but his bare chest quickly replaced the air as he picked you up by your waist.

He continued sucking and biting as he pulled off your trousers and panties. His following after.

Soon you were both lying on your bed groping and kissing as you ground against his erection.

The darkness of the room was the only thing hiding you, although his goggles had long since been discarded and his silver eyes glimmered in the faint stream of light from the window.

He lined his shaft up with your entrance and slowly pushed inside, both of you moaning.

Soon he was balls deep in you, and he started moving the feral desire restricting him from coherent thought.

Wet sounds filled the room as he pumped into you.

His hands gripping your waist like a vise he took your left nipple into his mouth rolling it between his teeth, making you moan and gasp.

"look so beautiful like this," he murmured and you barely heard him. Glancing down at him in the dark the only thing you could see was his eyes luminescent against the black.

"wanna see you too!" You mumbled breathlessly.

Although you instantly regretted it when he froze pulling out of you making you whine in protest.

Then he was gone, you could hear his distant footsteps from the hall.

Then nothing, suddenly the lights flicked on and there he stood in the doorway with his goggles pulled back over his eyes, his cock still erect and dribbling precum.

"fuuuu-" you moaned warmth gathering in your belly as he slowly walked back over to you. Slotting himself between your legs.

"this better?" He asked biting your thigh as he pushed your legs up against your chest.

You nodded furiously as he slid his cock back into your cunt, your gummy walks squeezing around him. Both of you crying out in pleasure.

"what can't talk? I mean I knew I was good," riddick chuckles licking a stripe along your jaw, making you whimper.

You feel a familiar tightening in your abdomen as riddick continues to pound you into the mattress.

He presses your legs tighter against your chest and his cock grazes your g-spot making you moan and claw at his back.

"fuck," he moaned as you tightened around him. "So close doll."

You tried to tell him you were close but a particularly hard thrust sent you over the edge moaning and shaking as he fucked you.

Hot liquid met your finger tips as you dug at his back. Arching up off the mattress you clung to him as he came filling you with his hot seed.

"fuck doll," he grit his teeth and kissed up you neck but you stopped him.

"shit," you swore desperately pressing against the claw marks as they oozed blood. "Sorry."

"don't be it was hot," he smirked and stood making sure your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist before he turned the lights off removed his goggles and turned on the shower.

You simply scoffed and shook your head before your mouth attached to his and you let yourself get lost on the feeling of the warm water on your skin and his lips on yours.

#Riddick x reader #riddick #pitch black #Riddick chronicles #Riddick x yn

[furyan-imagines]

YOU CAN PICK: (A) Whether you think of Riddick as simply being a criminal or (B) You think that Riddick is a person who has more to him than meets the eye

"What? Click your fingers and he's one of us now?"

You were right smack in the middle of the small train of humans who had survived the Hunter-Gratzner crash, following behind Shazza and Johns, close enough that you could hear the irritation in the free-settler's question.

"I didn't say that." You could almost hear the smile in John's reply. "But at least this way I don't have to worry about y'all, uh, falling asleep and not waking up."

Jack pushed past you, angling himself to face the two adults leading all of them. The teenager had somehow found a pair of partially-broken goggles and worn them in emulation of the famed murderer trailing behind all of them. "So, can I talk to him now?"

"No."

Continue reading (A) if you feel that you need to stay away from Riddick the criminal

"Maybe it's better if we all keep out of his way, huh?"

Jack looked askance at you, disbelief written clearly on his face.

"I mean there must be many good reasons why Riddick has such a high bounty on his head, right?"

Shazza and Johns both turned briefly. The woman gave you a look that you couldn't quite decipher, but the smile Johns shot at you was a reassuring one. At least you all had a cop watching after the group.

It wasn't that you actually had anything against Richard B. Riddick, but if so many slams and systems had arrests out for him, it would probably behoove you to go the safe route, especially after this fucked-up fiasco of not just having the ship you had been on crash, but having Zeke already killed by one of those creatures that lived on this planet, and another unnamed survivor accidentally killed by Zeke before that.

With a quick glance backwards to see just how far back Riddick was behind you (a movement that definitely caught his attention even from that distance), you hurried forward just a few steps more. You definitely didn't want to die, and right then, keeping yourself as far away from a definite killer would almost-certainly increase your chances of staying alive.

Continue reading (B) if you feel that Riddick has more depth than he shows

"I think he's an interesting fellow," you said quietly to the teenager. At Jack's surprised look, you had to laugh lightly. "I said 'interesting'; not that he is safe."

"At least interesting isn't boring, you know? Which is what everyone else is."

You were about to reply when the noise of a boot digging sharply into the loose sand caught your attention and you turned. Fry and Imam had stopped, looking back at Paris who jogged away from the rest and then fell to his knees, grabbing at something the same time Riddick had hold of whatever that same thing was.

There were a few seconds of pausing before Paris and Riddick rose.

From that distance, you couldn't hear what was said, but then you saw Riddick shake Paris's hand, before downing an entire? bottle of booze. Ah, so that's what Paris dropped.

Whatever it was, your prolonged staring had the effect of Riddick lowering his head after that drink and looking straight back at you. A slow smile appeared on his face as he tipped the now-empty bottle in your direction, almost a toast with the ghost of now-drunk booze.

You allowed yourself to smile back and resumed your march. But you slowed down enough to join Fry and Imam who were now immediately behind you.

Maybe the best way to survive this fucked up, godforsaken place and those predators that had already taken Zeke was to stick to another dangerous predator. Maybe that was the best way to make sure your ass had a seat on that abandoned ship off this planet.

#riddick imagine #riddick imagines #riddick x reader #richard b. riddick #you can pick series #just trying a new format out #you can pick imagines

[maxthefryingpan12]

Fuck it.

Riddick being soft for his wife. Because why the fuck not.(and I know for a fact that he would let his guard down for his wife and only his wife. He’d also be one hell of a husband.)

Riddick x overstimmed! wife! Reader

Summary: you had a bad day and just want to go back to your room and spend time with your husband.

This takes place right after the second movie, so Riddick is the Necromonger leader.

This is fluffy but mature, read at your own risk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The noise of the meeting was so much I almost cried. I couldn’t focus on anything that was being said.

I stepped closer to my husband and murmured in his ear, “I’m going back to our chambers.”

“Okay, I’ll be up soon.” Riddick replied, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles.

With a nod I snuck out of the meeting and to my husband and I’s shared chambers.

Once inside I closed and locked the door, Riddick has a key. from there I sat down in hugging my knees to my chest and taking deep breaths with my eyes closed. A few minutes of silence before I heard my Husband’s heavy footsteps and gruff voice.

“Sorry about the wait, princess. I had to make a final decision before I could dismiss them.” Riddick spoke, closing and locking the door behind him.

“It’s alright, I know you have duties to attend to.” I said, opening my eyes to look at my husband.

“Overstimulated?” He asked me, currently standing at the end of the bed.

“Yeah. And not the good kind.” I replied, looking into his goggles.

“Okay, well how about I draw you a bath with your scented candles and maybe I bathe and baby you until you fall asleep? Have a simple meal brought up and cuddle you in the dark as you eat? Give you a back massage? How’s that sound, Doll?” Riddick suggested.

“It sounds nice, my love.” I replied.

“Boy, do you know how to bring out my soft spot or do you?” Riddick cooed softly. “I’m gonna go get that bath ready, you stay right here and wait for me to came get you, okay?”

“Okay.” I replied just as softly.

Riddick walked into our private bathroom and started the water.

The great thing about our chamber is that it’s dim so that Riddick doesn’t have to wear his goggles but I can still see my way around. It helped with my overstimulation.

Riddick came back out and picked me up bridal-style. He carried me into the bathroom and set me on the toilet seat. He removed his goggles to see in the dim light. The lights were off, the only light was the flickering of the (favorite scent) scented candles. The water was still filling the tub as Riddick threw in a bath salt and turned to me. His luminescent eyes looked me up and down before stepping closer and beginning to undress me. He was gentle and made sure to go slow.

The cool air hit my exposed skin and sent goosebumps across it. Once I was fully undressed Riddick picked me up and placed me in the bath.

“Do you want me to join you?” He asked softly.

“Yes please.” I whispered softly.

“Okay. One second, princess.” He kissed my forehead then pulled back to remove his armor.

He quickly removed his armor and clothing from his body.

“Move forward for me, Sweetheart. I’m gonna sit behind you.” Riddick told me, removing the last of his clothes.

I sat up and moved forward in the tub to make room for my husband. Once his boxers were off he stepped in behind me and sat down.

“C’mere, Princess. Lay your back against my chest.” He reached to turn off the faucet before pulling me by the waist to lay against him.

“Thank you, my love.” I closed my eyes and rested against him in the warm water.

“It’s no problem, Princess.” Riddick pressed a kiss to the top of my head and secured his arms around my smaller from. “Just let me spoil you tonight.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#x reader #riddick #chronicals of riddick #richard b. riddick #fluff #fem reader #m4f

[gggoldfinch]

Hatchetknife

Richard B. Riddick x OFC (or reader)

(disclaimer: photo found on pinterest ^ )

A/N: I’ve been gripped by the most manic and inexplicable riddick brainrot ever and needed to get this out of my system or I’d deadass explode ‼️I usually don't write oneshots like this so it was a nice breath of fresh air actually. Hopefully now this sexy bald bitch will leave my poor brain alone so I can do something else other than binge watching vin diesel movies

warnings: original female character (descriptions vague enough to be reader insert), possibly a little ooc, very brief discussion of SA (in a non-threatening manner), minor violence & injury, explicit language, forced proximity, only one bed, explicit sexual content, smut, oral sex, praise kink, scent kink, size kink, light choking, biting, pet names. MINORS DNI

word count: 12,114

{AO3 Link}

summary: A low-profile merc masquerading as a man has her ship (and life) invaded by an unlikely guest. She gets found out, and things progress interestingly.

***

There's a ship that's been sitting idle in the upper-east Storage B-Port for weeks now; Riddick knows this. He also knows he hasn't been this incapacitated in a while. It's a hard thing to admit to himself, but he can feel the exhaustion creeping in. He hasn't slept in over 72 hours, and has been fighting and running for most of that time. He's out of his element— stuck in the heart of a congested city-planet rather than out in the wilderness of some uninhabited backwater planet. He's bleeding from somewhere— his side, maybe. His nose is broken, too, and there must be some sort of nerve damage too, because he can't scent who's coming after him anymore. He lost his goggles somewhere during this most recent scuffle, too, so all the neon signs are like miniature suns searing his retinas.

There's an idle ship gathering dust in Storage B-Port. He recalls it looking like a good model, some custom parts. It'll be easy to hijack. It'll be easy to leave this planet and his merc pursuers in the dust.

———————————————————————

Everyone has their own way of surviving in this nightmare of a universe. Some kill, some are killed. That's just something each and every person has to come to terms with while they draw breath. While not exactly thriving, this one particular individual has found their own way to survive. Some may call her a mercenary, and they wouldn't necessarily be wrong— but she prefers to call herself a mere gun for hire. It's easy to make a living when you have a thick head and nothing to lose, going from one job to another with little in the way of possessions and even less in the way of social relationships. She goes where the proverbial wind takes her, planet-hopping and working odd jobs. Sometimes the jobs entail hunting dangerous quarry, but more often than not she's hired for non-violent jobs running security for personnel protection or transport. Honestly, the only jobs she turns down outright are those having anything remotely to do with the Necromongers. Sure it isn't ideal, but it's better than living in the slums of the over-crowded metroplanet where she'd grown up.

It's a risky job, no doubt, made no less difficult by her deliberate choice to fly solo. Solo is safe. Solo, she don't have to worry about crewmates stealing or betraying her, or worse, taking advantage of her. Barely an adult when she'd begun her life hopping between merc crews, she'd learned early that being on her own is better, safer. No— she keeps to herself with nothing but the ship's computer system for company. And, when the occasion rises where she does have to venture out into civilization again—to find a job or stock up on supplies—she takes heavy precautions.

Strong from years of fighting and labor, her body can shoulder the burdensome weight of armor; broad shoulders and sturdy bones make her intimidating and capable. Years worth of mismatched armor plates make up her regular uniform, both metal alloys and plastic prints. Some pieces were taken off fallen quarry—or former crewmates—some purchased responsibly. Each plate has a little story she can recall, fondly or not. When worn all together, her form is virtually unrecognizable, and more importantly, masculine. The crown mantle is her helmet: sturdy, sleek, black, with a visor capable of internal screen display. The vocal distorter programmed into it deepens her voice to a disguised pitch. The suit of armor isn't entirely comfortable, but it's a requirement for her safety.

"Hatchet!"

She swivels her helmeted head, looking in the direction from which she hears her codename. She hadn't been calling herself anything when she'd assumed this masculine persona. Her various employers just began calling her a shortened version of her ship's name—the Hatchetknife—and it just ended up sticking within the merc circle she floats in. No one knows her true identity, as far as she's aware. If they do, no problems have arisen from it yet.

A man approaches her, stocky and shorter than her. He's been her employer for the past several weeks, paying her to be a glorified bodyguard for his uppity son, on probation for yatta yatta yatta. She'd tuned out the rest once she'd heard the price of the paycheck. 350 thousand units just to  babysit an alcoholic man-child for a month while he's on probation. She couldn't pass it up.

Her employer holds out a datapad, the blue screen alight with money transfer information. She's about to receive her payment and get the fuck off this stuffed metroplanet. Maybe she can finally replace some of the older parts on the Hatchetknife with this payment.

"Don't be a stranger, now," the man says amicably once the digital paperwork has been filled. She receives a notification ping on the screen of her visor, indicating the payment has gone through successfully.  

She inclines her concealed head, thanks him for the business, and turns tail to leg it back to the ship. The thing has been docked in storage for nearly a full month cycle now— long enough for the ticket expense to be a bit of a blow to her newly acquired units. It doesn't matter; this planet will be long behind her in only a matter of a few short hours. She's been idle, been on this polluted and overpopulated planet for too long.

And she'll be damned if a little blood on the exterior hatchpad of her ship is going to deter her from getting out of dodge in a timely manner. It's a handprint, maybe a couple, smeared all along the white panelling of the cargo bay door's control console. The cargo bay door is locked up tight though, so she's not particularly worried that any ne'er-do-wells have tried breaking into her sturdy old ship. It's a good model, she tells herself. It has a security system that would alert her of suspicious activity through the link between her helmet and the ship's mainframe. Sure, someone clearly tried to get in, but there's no sign the bay door had been opened recently.

She pays her exorbitantly priced docking ticket and opens the bay door herself. She remains completely oblivious to the other trail of blood, smeared up the side of the ship and leading to the secondary hatch. She doesn't notice the cut wires either, spraying pathetic little sparks instead of warning signals to her security system. To be fair, she doesn't notice much of anything—doesn't even remove her armor or helmet—in her haste to take off. She just charges through the cargo bay, vaults the ladder to the upper deck, and wedges herself behind the control console.

It feels like home, being behind the console. More of a home than she's ever really had, at least. She exhales against the interior of her helmet. Her reflection gleams in the bare windshield, the sleek black glass and metal of her high-tech helmet staring back. Gloved fingers press buttons and flip switches, igniting holoscreens and a rainbow of lights. Meters and regulators all seem to be in check despite the ship's extended idleness, and the hyperdrive kickstarts with a comforting purr. She has to take the ship up and out of the atmosphere before kicking it into warp speed, lest the planet's nasty police force pick a fight with her. Fog and flames lick the nose of the Hatchetknife as it accelerates upward, breaking through the upper atmosphere at a smooth 15 kilometers per second, and an even 75 degree angle. Only then does she crank the hyperdrive and watch as the countless stars warp around the nose of the ship.

She plots an aimless course, avoiding setting a firm destination until she can get her hands on another potential job lead. Upon throwing it into autopilot, the ship's automated computer system welcomes her back on board. Hatchet, it calls her. Not even her own ship uses her true name anymore.

Her boots are heavy as they tramp out of the cockpit. Reinforced steel and acid-resistant soles, these boots are. They're her favorites. They make a robust thump thump as she walks into the narrow hallway of the Hatchetknife. Here resides her bunk, and across from that is the kitchenette and table where she eats and works and sometimes sleeps. It's barely wide enough to fit two people standing shoulder-to-shoulder. She's used to close-quarters; it's almost comforting, like a womb. The hatch and ladder down to the cargo bay gapes at the end of the hall, and this is what she beelines for once acclimating herself with the interior of her ship again. Her bunk looks awfully inviting, but first on the agenda is to shuck off all the armor.

Boots bracketed on either side of the ladder and gloved hands holding tight to the side-rails, she slides down until landing on the grate panels of the cargo bay floor. This area is vastly larger than her living quarters— it has to be, in the event she has to transport sizable goods or heavy machinery. A armory case for her weapons and uniform sits bolted against the side wall, its grate doors barely revealing the contents. She opens the thing up, removing the machine gun strapped to her back to place it on its rightful hooks.

She hooks her thumbs under the seal of her helmet and disables the suctioned airlock. Just as she's preparing to lift the burdensome thing from her head, something collides with her right side, knocking her clean off her feet. It takes only a few frantic moments to realize it's a human being— a male attacker. Her deactivated helmet collides with the metal flooring at an odd angle, instantly disabling the visor's screen as a result of some internal damage. The force of the tackle and impact against the floor has the breath drawn from her lungs in a violent, rattling wheeze. The muscles over her ribs convulse and tighten, sending a shock of panic and pain and adrenaline through her system. With little time to think, no weapon handy, and no opportunity to scan the stranger, she starts thrashing. Amidst the scuffle and blow to her head, she can't quite see clearly, only able to make out a blur of squirting blood. The blood isn't her own— she's sure she would feel it if she'd been shanked in any of her armor's vulnerable spots.

She thrusts a gauntleted arm upwards in the direction she thinks the intruder's head is. Her metal-sheathed wrist collides with something and the oppressive weight above her slumps over to the side.

Hatchet scrambles up to her knees and tears the nearest gun from off the rack. She spins, points the weapon at the stranger's head, and... doesn't shoot.

Sprawled on the cold metal floor is a man. A large man. Bald-headed and covered in blood she knows she hadn't drawn from him herself. It's old blood, old wounds— maybe hours, maybe days. Despite the vaguely stunned look about him from being hit in the head, he wears a wry little smile upon his full mouth, lips and nose bloody from what looks like a previous beating. His eyes glint in a peculiar fashion, almost like feline eyeshine, silvery and shifting.

He holds his hands out by his head placatingly, palms facing upward. Then, he grins. "Okay, okay. You got me." His voice is deep and smooth like rolling thunder. It's almost startlingly in its intensity.

"Who the fuck are you? What are you doing on my ship!? What do you want?" she barks into the voice modulator, keeping the hardy submachine gun trained on him.

"Got a pretty nice ship here, don't you think?" he rumbles out.

"Fuck you!"

He chuckles at that, although the action looks like it pains him. The blood, she realizes, is oozing from a substantial stab wound on his left flank, just below the contour of his shapely pectoral muscle. She swallows thickly, choking down the apprehensive lump in her throat. Still a little off-kilter from the blow to her helmet, she shakily rises to her feet, steady finger not leaving the trigger once. The man clenches his silvery eyes shut, sucking in a substantial breath only to groan it all out again. One broad, tan hand shifts to press against the wound on his side, the other remaining innocently idle.  

Without prompting, Hatchet's line of sight raises to the secondary hatch within the cargo hold. There it is: a smear of blood and sparking wires. That's where he'd gotten in. Must be a determined fella—let alone smart—to have hacked the ship's security system to override the locking mechanism and find which wires would send out a warning signal before they even had the chance to. She looks back to him, curiously tilting her head to the side in observation of him.

"What the fuck do you think is supposed to happen now?" she grits out. The voice modulator gives it an extra bit of bite.

The man laughs, blood staining his straight teeth. "I dunno. Thought you might hand over your ship."

"Hand over my— Do you have a fucking head injury?"

He laughs again and she kicks his calf roughly.

"What about this is funny? Please, illuminate it for me. Because all I see some fucking stowaway who has a gun to his head and a nasty stab in his side. You're not getting my ship, pal. You'll be lucky if I let you see tomorrow."

"Bad timing," he murmurs, voice thick with strain and sardonic amusement. His expression slackens, the crease between his thin brows flattening out gradually.

"What?"

She kicks his leg again; he's unresponsive. Unconscious, actually, judging by the sudden lack of tension in his face and limbs. She drops the gun-wielding hand to her side and lets out a high-pitched wail of frustration.

She's not a cold blooded murderer. Sure, she's had to take a life or two throughout her days, but then again, who hasn't in this line of work. Those times were different— kill or be killed. This is... this is an injured, apparently unarmed guy on her cargo bay floor. Yes, he'd broken in, but maybe he has a valid excuse. She's had to break into places to survive before, it's really not that unusual. And despite all the shit she's been through, deep down Hatchet has a bleeding heart. She'd be pressed to admit it, of course. The sight of the stranger, wounded and unconscious, male as he may be, pulls at her tender and guarded heartstrings.

Fucking hell. She can only hope that someday in the future, if she's ever in time of need, that some stranger will treat her with kindness.

The man is heavy. Not deceptively so, as his height and build imply a great amount of mass, but hell if she's not winded by the time she drags him over to the cargo lift. The small elevator is usually for objects and not people, but it's the only way she can get his dead-weight ass to the upper level where the only cot and good light source are. She hasn't taken her armor off, and at this point she doesn't think she's going to. Certainly not with a strange man aboard, unconscious or not.

Upon both arriving at the upper level, it takes a great amount of effort to haul the man over to the bunk. The space is barely big enough to comfortably hold Hatchet, and she's nowhere near the size of this beast of a man. The cot creaks as she lowers him onto it, his boots scraping the wall as she crams him into the broom closet sized space. Flicking on the overhead light, it illuminates him with white fluorescence. It's only then does she realize he's not entirely unconscious; somewhere in there, he's aware enough to wince at the light coming on. She squints at him for a long moment, scrutinizing the situation. He doesn't show any other sign of cognizance besides for that averse reaction to the bright light beating down on his eyelids. When she decides it had only been some sort of odd reflex, she goes to retrieve the medical supplies from an aptly labeled storage cabinet.

Modesty be damned, she has to remove his shirt. It's barely holding itself together, anyway, and she has replacements to dress him in after she's patched him up. She feels hot under all her armor and layers, nervous as she stares down at the stranger's bare chest. Christ, he's build like a tank. It's intimidating, actually, once she chokes down the insidious feeling of attraction that prickles her skin and bubbles in her abdomen. Anyway—  upon closer inspection, the wound on his side is largely superficial. The extensive bruising along his ribs, however, indicates some unknown level of internal damage. It may only be deep-tissue bruising, or his ribs could be broken. She can't be too sure either way, and makes sure to properly bandage up his torso regardless, though only after disinfecting and stitching up the gash.

His nose is broken, that much is obvious. However, it looks as though it's already been set, so all she has to do is clean the blood, disinfect the small cut on the bridge, and properly bandage it. He has a nice face, apart from the bandaged nose. She can't really describe his features. Harsh, but soft at the same time. She huffs against the interior of the helmet at the thought, crossing her arms and leaning back.

She has stationed herself at the table across from the bunk, cautiously watching over the stranger through the deactivated visor of her mask. Hot and stuffy and heavy as the armor may be, she won't risk taking it off just yet. She doesn't quite have a plan yet as to how this is going to unfold. She'd chosen to spare his life, yes, but that isn't to say she won't protect herself to the nth degree if the need arises going forward. She doesn't want him out of her sight—especially considering her unprofessional lack of manacles—which means she can't program a route into the ship right now. The task would've been made simple if he hadn't gone and broken the screen display mechanism in her helmet. She can't even scan him in this state, to gather his identity or vitals status. She hadn't realized how dependent she'd grown on the visor display until now, having worn the damn thing for weeks straight at this point.

It takes a couple of hours by her count for the stranger to rouse again. He's disoriented at first, but soon grows aware of her shielded gaze burning into him from the other side of the narrow living area. He shifts in the cot, turning onto his wounded side to better assess the situation. He doesn't seem threatened—or particularly threatening—at the moment.

"Rise and shine," Hatchet speaks into the voice modulator.

She kicks a boot up onto the edge of the cot from where she sits barely three feet away. She tells herself it's a show of dominance, to plant her boot right beside the stranger's head, but in reality she probably just looks stupid. The man just looks at her with those silvery eyes, squinting under the bright overhead light. She doesn't shut it off.

"Now here's the deal—"

"How many people you got on this ship?" He cuts her off, tone both aloof and detached despite the situation. He breaks into an odd little grin, then twists his head to scent the pillow. "You hiding a lady somewhere? Fella like you sure wouldn't smell this sweet."

Hatchet's face crumples under the cover of secrecy. She has to school her perturbed reaction for the sake of her anonymity. What the hell kind of guy is she dealing with here, exactly? Not only must she refrain from showing any physical reaction, she shouldn't verbally address it, either.

"Now here's the deal," she repeats. "I spared you once— even did you the favor of patching you up. But, it's not gonna happen again if you try something funny."

The man tucks his chin to his chest to look down at the bandaged wounds, holding a curious hand to his side. She can't quite interpret his expression perfectly, but she thinks he seems vaguely impressed by her medical treatment of him.

"I'm going to take you to the nearest inhabited planet and dump your freeloading ass off at the first dock I come across. You aren't going to resist or complain. I'm doing you this favor— clearly you were on the run from someone dangerous, and I got you out of dodge. I don't expect payment, but I'd be mighty grateful if you didn't do anything violent or stupid." Hatchet kicks the bunk when his eyes slip shut again. "Hey! Are you listening to me?"

He does appear to fall unconscious again, but she can't be totally sure he isn't just fucking with her. Irritated, she sucks her teeth and curses him out, kicking off the bunk to stomp off into the cockpit. Forget keeping him in sight, he can suffocate for all she cares. There's a shotgun under the control console, anyway.

She seals the cockpit door shut behind her. Only then does she feel safe to remove her helmet. Once again she's greeted by her reflection in the windshield, though this time it's her own face that stares back. It's a tired and sweaty face, with hair matted flat to the scalp from the tight interior of the helmet. She needs a nice long shower—that much is obvious—but now isn't the time. Finally breathing fresh, unfiltered air again, she gulps it down greedily and deposits herself in the pilot's seat. The autopilot had taken itself out of hyperdrive some time ago, and now the Hatchetknife careens at a steady pace through open space. The stars are magnificent, as always. The endless, unfathomable sight almost makes her forget her burdensome stowaway.

Hatchet pulls coordinates for the nearest inhabited planet. She expands the view on the holoscreen projected across the console. The information, illuminated in a fluorescent blue, scrawls across the screen just fast enough for her to barely be able to read it in time. Her eagerness to be rid of the stowaway slowly melts into a nauseating apprehension. Apparently, according to the data, the nearest planet for several lightyears just happens to be crawling with Necromongers. Fucking Necromongers. If there's anything Hatchet hates, it's violent religious cults that double as armies. She avoids well-paying jobs on the off-chance that those psychos might catch a whiff of her— she's sure as hell not landing her ship in a hive of those wasps.

"Fucking shit!" She kicks the console.

There goes the plan to drop this motherfucker off. It'll take days at the very least to make it to the next viable planet. She tosses her head back and groans loud, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes until they come away leaving splotches in her vision. Venting her frustration, she kicks her heel against the console twice more.

———————————————————————

If Hatchet learns anything during her time in close proximity with the man, it's that, 1. he's a shockingly fast healer; 2. he doesn't like bright lights; and 3. he's quite sharp-witted despite the meathead look about him. In the few days that follow the unexpected detour, she avoids him as best she can in such cramped quarters. They only interact on the occasions when she checks up on his wounds or gives him MRE meals throughout the day—  always outfitted in her armor, of course. He only takes power-naps, never a full sleep, and reacts tensely to loud and sudden noises. He's smug and facetious when he speaks, and brooding when he doesn't. He's like a storm in every aspect of the description: thunderous voice, eyes like lightning, and a stormy personality to match. Despite Hatchet's aloofness, the man has found a way to wheedle himself under her skin. Once he was stable enough to stand on his own, nothing could stop him from getting up and wandering around the ship, hiding in the shadowed areas like a predator stalking its prey, much to Hatchet's chagrin. He makes little quips and witty comments in that deep voice when she's least prepared for them, and he stares at her with those glimmering eyes like he can see right through her disguise. Sometimes, she worries he does. He's like a fucking ghost the way he soundlessly moves around the small ship. That's more unnerving than his appearance, she thinks.

It's all getting rather frustrating. At first she'd been pissed that a man had the audacity to impose himself upon her time, energy, and ship. Now, she can't help but feel a strange tug of loneliness when they aren't in the same room. It's upsetting how the mind perceives human connection. She doesn't even know his name, yet the thought of being on her own again seems... well, lonely.

It does help that he's easy on the eyes, too. She finds herself locked away in the cockpit more and more frequently, brooding long and hard over the increasingly frequent thoughts of how fucking fine the man is. That soft yet masculine face, those thick arms and sturdy torso. The deep, intense tenor of his voice alone is enough to make her weak in the knees. And those eerie, glowing eyes, which watch her every movement like a hawk. Oh, for fucksake...

Hell, in all honesty she might as well be swimming in her armor with the way she sweats when he stands close and talks real smooth. She's afraid she's making it a little too obvious, actually. That carefully crafted persona is slipping through her fingers and all because she's a little hot under the collar about this stowaway she'd sworn to dump like a box of rocks come first chance. It came to a point approximately three simulated days into their time together when she couldn't stand the sight of him shirtless anymore; she ended up handing over one of her spare XL tanks, which still managed to look small on his burly frame. There's a sort of undeniable animal magnetism about him which is almost a little distressing in its intensity. What a fickle thing her trust in others is— and how tragically simple it was for her to get comfortable with the situation.

She doesn't insist on taking her bunk back from the healing man. While he rests his battered body on the cot, she kicks back at the well-worn table every night cycle, sprawled across the bench seat with a flimsy pillow beneath her helmeted head. This way she can keep the stowaway within her line of sight. Once his intimidating nature is overlooked, he is surprisingly amicable and seems rather appreciative of all her efforts. He hasn't tried to attack her, or otherwise threaten her person, which she takes as a sign he'd heard and accepted her deal before passing out on that very first day. In fact, he only ever deliberately menaces her when standing over her shoulder, or appearing out of nowhere. Or when he belligerently thumps his fist over wall panels to deactivate overhead lights he finds irksome.

Hatchet, though she herself is nameless to an extent, finds his lack of proffered identity a little frazzling. Though she's come to accept his presence as a whole, it would make her a lot more comfortable if she had a name and background to put to the face. Which brings her to the locked cockpit, wherein she works tediously to repair the screen and scanning mechanism in her helmet. With her tongue poked out from between her lips and one boot up on the console, she takes the helm apart and repairs it with a notable proficiency, then puts it all back together again. The screen automatically powers on when she activates the airlock seal, illuminating her field of view with digital notifications and vital statuses.

She catches him unaware, aiming her visor at him for long enough to scan his facial features and biometrics. Identification data scrawls across the screen before her eyes, her blood pressure spikes. Under the guise of piloting the ship, she locks herself in the cockpit again and feverishly scrolls through mugshots and bounty reward data.

Holy shit. She's been harboring the infamous convict Richard B. Riddick.

Her jaw clenches, muscle twitching against the interior padding of the helmet as she absorbs the newfound information. She should've known. She should have known. Those eyes— she'd heard the merc legends about those eyes.

But fuck... for a guy who'd spent half his life in the slam, he's certainly been affable within these restrictive quarters, mingling with a complete stranger, no less. It's hard to reconcile what she reads on the screen with the man she's been interacting with for the past few artificial cycles. She yanks the helmet from over her head, roughly scrubbing her palms over her face.

When she returns from the cockpit, nerves gathered to the extent they can be, she finds the man halfway through shaving his tan scalp. She stands at the mouth of the living area, the girth of her armor nearly taking up the entire doorframe. Richard B. Riddick, her reserved and shockingly mannered stowaway, sits at the metal table with a compact mirror and razor— a feeble weapon which she now knows could be used against her in all sorts of ways if she were to get on his bad side. Does he even have a good side to be on? She hopes he does, and hopes she's on it. Largely without thinking, one of her hands flutters up to her touch throat as images of it being brutally slit flicker through her mind.

She sits down across from him, folding her hands on the tabletop. He doesn't pause his grooming, doesn't even glance up. His eyeshine remains trained on the little mirror as he meticulously scrapes the stubble from his head with help from what looks like motor gel, no doubt nicked from the cargo bay below. Hatchet purses her mouth into a nervous line beneath the safety of her helm. She can't help but silently observe the flex of his muscles as he moves, every innocuous gesture striking a flustered chord within her. She swallows against the tightness constricting her throat.

"How are you feeling?" She hopes the modulator eliminates the shakiness she feels in her voice.

Logically, she has nothing to be afraid of. Unless this guy is prone to switching demeanor on a dime—which she has no reason to believe he does, based on what she's seen so far—why wouldn't this passive companionship continue? If anything, Hatchet is more afraid of how he will react to knowing she knows his identity now. Either he's been assuming she has known this entire time and just doesn't care, or knows she's been blissfully ignorant and has taken advantage of the anonymity.

He finally spares a glance at her across the table. His jaw visibly twitches, then one corner of his mouth quirks upward. He returns to shaving his head.

"Better. Thanks." He sniffs, sounding indifferent.

"You... uh. Want anything to eat?"

"Naw."

Hatchet exhales, both relieved and oddly disappointed. The storage compartment for the MREs is right beside him, meaning she would've had to stand right over him to retrieve anything.

"You got any goggles laying around?" His deep voice brings her out of her mind. "Been looking but..." he sucks his teeth.

Her brows raise confoundedly. "Goggles?"

"Yeah, you know. Goggles."

Fuck, he must think she's an idiot. She fumbles for words. "Uh. I'm not sure, probably not. I usually just wear the helmet when I need to shield my eyes. Why do you need them?"

He snaps the compact mirror shut and sets down the razor, using the bloody tank he's arrived in to wipe the remaining gel from his scalp. It looks like he'd shaved his beard recently, too, if the dark shadow on his jaw has anything to say about it. Setting the tank down, no more than a scrap rag at this point, he inhales deeply and briefly sinks his teeth into his plump lower lip. Hatchet bites her cheek hard enough for it to hurt, deliberately keeping her gaze from his mouth.

"I wouldn't need them if you didn't keep turning on all the lights," he replies. A hint of dry amusement hides within his flat tone.

"I wouldn't have to turn on the lights if you didn't hide in the shadows all the time," she retaliates. Riddick chuckles like deep, rolling thunder. Hatchet's pulse jumps; fear, arousal. "I'll keep it in mind not to turn them all on. I know your eyes are sensitive to light," she continues.

He suddenly pins her with a suspicious, scrupulous glare. She realizes her mistake and backtracks, sweating bullets beneath her armor.

"I mean, you squint a lot. And you make your way around in the dark better than in the light. I shouldn't have assumed." She's babbling. She can't keep a lid on it.

If he suspects what she knows, he doesn't let on. He cocks his head to the side, eyes glimmering as they trace the contours of her hefty armor. His gaze stops on her visor, right where her eyes should be. Somehow, she feels like they're making direct eye contact.

A questioning smile graces his handsome face. "Do you ever take that damn helmet off? Or do you live in the thing."

Hatchet's face falls beneath the shield of the visor. Her pulse thumps in her throat; a part of her thinks he can sense it. Her demeanor becomes prickly, unchecked. "Why do you care? You're a stowaway on my ship— what is it your business how I eat, sleep, shit—"

"Fuck?" He raises a thin brow, tickled by his own addendum. Meanwhile, Hatchet flushes a fiery shade of red beneath the helm in question. Then, he huffs a short little laugh— more a harsh exhale than anything. "I have to say, your little getup had me convinced at first. But, I know you ain't a man."

Hatchet's heart skips a beat. She disguises her anxiety with derision. "Disappointed?"

"Not in the slightest, sweetheart." A white canine glints when he flashes that oddly charming smile.

That combination—a quaint pet name and that devastating smile—has her feeling lightheaded and confined within her suit. Her hands slip from the tabletop to clench into fists in her lap. He appears upsettingly smug about his little revelation.

"How'd you figure it out?"

His nostrils flare; he takes a deep breath. "Thought I smelled a woman my first night in the bunk. My nose was all fucked up, but... eventually I figured out that sweet smell was coming from you and not some phantom scent hanging around. I give you credit, you had me going for a little while."

Her brow twinges. What a strange man.

She's faced with an internal conflict. She could deny the accusation, but something tells her that won't work in the slightest. She could keep the helmet  and armor on until they part ways, but really what's the point, seeing as he already knows she's a woman; he looks strong enough to pry the armor right off her body anyway. The most logical choice she can make is to take the discovery in stride and go back to living comfortably, with the addition of a slightly threatening guest who does one-armed push-ups in the hallway and lurks around dark corners. The jig is up. He's just that good. Her choice is practically made up for her.

Hatchet's hands raise, slow and tentative, and she maintains what feels a lot like eye contact with Riddick. Her gloved thumbs hook up under the seal, disabling the airlock and visor screen. Air hisses out from the seam at her throat, loosening the helmet's grip on her head. Somewhat dubiously, she lifts the burdensome metal and glass dome from over her head. It comes to rest in her lap as she shakes out her sweat-dampened hair and takes a deep breath of fresh air.

They look at each other's faces for the first time, unencumbered. The visor distorts perception a tiny bit, so it's almost like seeing him for the first time. A permeable scent of sweat and metal lingers between the both of them, despite both having showered recently in the ship's minuscule wash room. She can also smell the motor gel he'd used to shave his head (so strange— must be a leftover trick from the slam, she thinks). The woman is overcome with a bout of anxiety and shyness upon revealing her true face, and flushes under his heavy gaze. She resists the submissive urge to tuck her chin to her chest and avert real eye contact.

"Well... I guess you know who I am, now." She clears her throat; she hasn't heard her unfiltered voice in ages. Her jig may be up— but she still has something of a trump card on him, too. Sure, he might kill her for it, but this entire conversation is toeing the line of life-threatening risk to begin with. She musters courage to utter her next words; "Just like... how I know who you are now, Richard B. Riddick. Thought I wouldn't do a facial recognition scan?"

Hatchet squares her shoulders and raises her chin by a fraction, feigning confidence. He can probably smell her fear. The man inclines his head, brows raised as a chuckle rolls in like a storm. He almost looks impressed with her mediocre detective work.

He smiles that wolfish smile, showing teeth and smile lines. "So, you think you know who I am now, huh? You afraid of the big bad monster now?"

One corner of Hatchet's mouth quirks downward. "Should I be?"

"If you're smart you would be." He levels her stare with that inhuman eyeshine.

"I only fear true monsters. Men who kill for pleasure and nothing more. I read the files on you. You don't kill unarmed women— children. You don't rape them."

It isn't phrased as a question, but he replies regardless; "Naw."

It's actually kind of relieving that he looks a bit offended by the idea. "Then you aren't a true monster. You do what you have to to survive. We all do out here. I can't fault you for killing people trying to kill you. I won't fault you for anything you had to do in the slam."

There's more she would like to say—to tell him he'd been dealt a really shitty hand—but that feels too intrusive for the context of their relationship. She doesn't want to risk angering him by coming off as pitying.

Riddick narrows his naturally suspicious gaze at the woman. He doesn't touch her previous soapbox comment. "So... that mean you're gonna try to turn me in for a payday?"

"Fucking— Jesus, dude," she guffaws incredulously. "Why the fuck would I turn you in after I did so much to save your ass? You're worth more dead than alive, you know. If I wanted to, I could've."

The big man shrugs. "Who knows. Every other merc would."

"Well I'm not every other merc, am I?" She leans back, crossing her arms over her chestplate.

"Naw, definitely not."

If she'd been any less observant, she may have missed the glimmer of flirtation in his tone and demeanor— in his eyeshine. Stifling heat rises like a kettle boiling, tinting her face a noticeable hue. She can only hope she looks disheveled and sweaty enough for it to pass as an exacerbated flush. Abruptly, she stands from the table, wringing her hands in an uncontrollable combination of nerves and bashfulness. The helmet is dumped onto the tabletop, rolling towards the seated man.

"I'll uh—" Her voice cracks; she clears her throat. "I'll look for those goggles for you."

"Good talk," he calls after her as she hastily turns on her heel.

She pauses her stride, mind running a mile a minute to find a way to gain some sort of traction and authority amidst this interaction. She shifts halfway to turn back and face him.

"Hm. Yes, good talk... Richard."

His uproarious laughter follows her down into the cargo bay where she quickly disappears.

———————————————————————

Riddick is both a complicated human and a very simple man. On one hand, a selfish part of him wants nothing more than to take control of this cramped little vessel and fly it fuck-knows where. It's clear to him that this ship and its pilot are a package deal, which brings him to a sort of moral crossroads. On the other hand, this woman—this merc—has been undeservingly kind to him, more so than anyone he can remember. She has a point, too. He'd been dangerously incapacitated for a short while, in which time she could have easily gone and ghosted him or handed him over to some other scummy mercs. But she hadn't. This lone woman, mistrustful enough of others to go so far as to masquerade as a man, had saved his hide and given him shelter and transport, all out of the kindness of her heart. She isn't threatening or outwardly malicious; he doesn't know how the hell she's survived this long out here. Perhaps her assumed persona has gotten her this far after all, amongst the masses less perceptive than himself.

Fuck. Merc or not, he can't just ghost her now.

And besides— he's a man, and she's a woman. Simple as that.

Even suited up to the jaw in armor and reeking of sweat, her newly revealed face stirs something all-too familiar within him. Hell, her scent alone is enough to get him off. Riddick doesn't even have to know what the rest of her looks like to know he wants to fuck her. And she doesn't seem all too averse to the idea of him, either, based on the subtle changes observable in her posture and scent. His senses are too keen to miss the physical and vocal cues she tries so hard to hide with that modulator and beneath the suit of armor. He knows hot and bothered when he sees it; and it's a fucking ego-boost.

After their little conversation, she'd grown more comfortable— if that's the appropriate word for the scenario. He'd revealed her identity and she responded by completely forgoing the suit of armor. Not that he's curious or anything, but he finds himself asking more about her. She shares that she is called "Hatchet," which he thinks is a little entertaining given her rather docile nature. He also learns that she's been in the mercenary business since her early teenage years, which almost always spells trouble for young women— hence why she'd taken up the persona of a more masculine, faceless merc, rather than be perceived as lesser-than by her professional peers. She's funny too, he pleasantly discovers, when not restrained by that helmet.

He's surprised when she comes up to him a few cycles following their conversation. She's dressed in a tank like his (which he realizes is hers) and a mechanic's jumpsuit, the top of which rests tied around her supple hips. He eyes up her body with a brashness that usually intimidates even the most battle hardened of men. She doesn't even flinch— she grows shy, instead. He stands by his previous statement in which he'd wanted to fuck her without knowing what her body looked like, but he's certainly not complaining now in getting to see her without the bully armor to conceal her curves and soft shape. Even the light musculature of her arms and width of her shoulders is hot.

She holds something as she approaches from the cargo bay ladder, and he quickly deduces it is non-threatening. She sidles up to the table where he has been parking himself at more frequently lately. She wears a sweet expression halfway between anticipatory and nervous— not much different than usual.

"Hey, dollface," Riddick greets.

He cocks his head to the side as he looks up at her, observing her through the purplish hue of his shine-job eyes. He quickly discovered that playfully teasing the young woman almost always earns a flurry of entertaining responses; namely flustered yammering and a red flush which trails all the way down to her full breasts. The pet names come easily, oddly enough. She blushes as expected and leans a hip against the table edge. While toying with the object in her hands, she glances between it and him.

"I uh. I found a pair of goggles, since you'd been asking."

She holds her flat palm out towards him, displaying a set of simple black welding goggles. They're essentially like the pairs he usually sports: midsized circular lenses, held in place by a thick plastic compound. Riddick takes the proffered eyewear and tests the weight in his own palm. The strap is a fabric material rather than a continuation of the flexible plastic, but still appears sturdy. He pulls them over his head, lowering the lenses over his eyes. They block out the Iight sufficiently, subduing the vibrant hue of his altered vision.

He scans the woman through the shades, smiling appreciatively. "Thanks, sweetheart. You're a real peach."

Hatchet releases a breathy chuckle. "Yeah, sure. No problem... Richard."

She doesn't use fluffy little names on him like he's begun doing for her. When she does refer to him, she only calls him by his first name. Which, given the fact virtually no one else does, feels like a more powerful naming. It's humanization in its rawest form. She shifts to sit down across from him. Neither of them can ignore the way their ankles tangle together beneath the table, hefty boots knocking into one another. Riddick watches her throat bob as she swallows. He raises the goggles and leaves them perched on his knit brow.

"Okay, so, I've been thinking," she begins, somewhat hesitantly. "Here's the deal— I'll take you wherever you want to go, so long as you don't, you know, kill me in my sleep and steal my ride or something. I think that's only fair since I didn't do the same to you when you were incapacitated. Also, I guess it goes without saying that I'm not gonna tell anyone about this encounter or your whereabouts. If you don't trust my good will, just think how negatively it would affect my life if it got out among the wrong crowd that I've been in cahoots with an escaped convict."

Riddick barks out an abrupt laugh. "In cahoots, huh?"

Hatchet blanches, her jaw opening and shutting several times before she gathers her words. "W-Well, I'm willingly harboring a fugitive, aren't I? I haven't booted you out the airlock yet— so yes, we're in cahoots."

The man's laughter tapers into a light chuckle. He perches his chin on his fist in a way that makes Hatchet tense with bashfulness. A muscle in his thick forearm flexes, drawing her curious eye. Lately, she's been daydreaming about those strapping arms. She's been catching herself daydreaming about the rest of him, as well.

Her eyes dart back to his silvery ones, clearing her throat. "Well, what do you think of my deal?"

Riddick tilts his head, unable to resist smiling. "Sounds good."

The woman blinks at him, big doe eyes wide as she picks apart his reaction. "Ah... uh. Okay, cool." She drums the tabletop with both hands, fidgeting under his heavy stare.

She pushes to her feet suddenly, and Riddick launches up after her. Instantly he crowds her in the tight space, his large frame taking up a majority of her vision. She startles, automatically pressing her hands flat to his built chest. This draws a rumbling chuckle from him as he gazes down at the flustered woman.

Hatchet's heart rate quickens, the muscle thumping wildly in her chest. That pulse begins its mortifying throb between her thighs, too— a desperate, hot desire which boils up without her expressed permission. It's not an entirely unwelcome feeling, but it's certainly indicative of her poor self-control given the situation. She has no clue if this dangerous convict is about to crush her head like a clump of dirt, or if he's going to make a move on her. Those are the only two explanations for his startling proximity to her.

Nervously, her eyes raise to meet his. She finds his head bowed towards her.

"Uh."

"Why don't you ever sleep in your bunk?" he asks, derailing her frazzled train of thought. "Don't you need your beauty rest, sweetheart?"

"O-Oh? Where are you supposed to go if I take back my bunk?"

He hums and sways his shaven head. "We can share."

Brain unable to catch up with what he's offering, she defaults to thinking in a blunt, literal sense. "W-We can't both fit. It's too narrow."

He steps forward and she steps back, only to realize he's effectively backed her against a wall. One of his beefy arms rises, forearm and fist resting on the wall beside her head. He leans further into her space, smiling as he takes a deep breath of her scent. Fuzzy butterflies explode in her abdomen; she goes weak in the knees.

"Oh really? 'Cuz I got a few positions in mind that we can fit into," he purrs. Hatchet lets out a surprised little noise and he ducks closer. "Aw, don't get all shy on me now, babygirl."

"I'm— I—" she stammers.

Her eyes flick between his own and his lips. That now-familiar eyeshine glimmers with heated desire as he carefully observes her. He leans in real slow— torturously slow. The tip of his nose brushes against hers and she shudders. Riddick's breath is hot as is fans across her face. She finds herself panting heavy through parted lips, her chest rising and falling rapidly against his steady one. Her chin ducks low, shyly averting his advance to where he has to chase her lips.

His full lips are shockingly soft when they do finally graze hers— his mouth gentle and curious at first while he tentatively pecks her. The few kisses he lavishes upon her lips are short and teasing, serving only to rile her up further. The heartbeat at her core prompts her thighs to clench; the action doesn't go unnoticed. One of his broad hands clamps over her upper arm, effectively pinning her in place against the wall. The shared kiss grows more frenetic with each passing second. His other hand slides rather possessively up the length of her back, coming to tangle in the hair at the base of her skull. He uses it as leverage to tilt her head back— a move which earns a quiet gasp and unintentional whimper through her parted lips. With a small self-satisfied grin, Riddick takes the invitation to claim her open mouth, exploring teeth and tongue with his own.  

Hatchet can barely catch her breath— especially not when Riddick slips his tongue past her lips. The pulse between her thighs grows increasingly unbearable and she squirms desperately in his tight hold. That hand holding her arm in a vise grip shifts instead to press against her shoulder blade, pinning her to his broad chest. Her own hands find the courage to come up, fingers taking liberty to slip beneath the hem of his borrowed shirt. His tanned skin is warm and pulled taut over an ample amount of muscle. Her hands are cold—they always are while in space—which results in a string of tangible shivers as she drags her fingers up his sides. The thin fabric of the grey tank bunches up around her wrists as her hands continue their exploration upward. Her right hand is careful to avoid irritating the stitched wound over his left-side ribs. Instead it glides to his smooth chest, squeezing a generous handful of his pec.

He chuckles into her mouth and she swallows the deep noise with fervor. Without warning, he crouches and drops his large hands to her ass, hoisting her up with ease. Her legs clamp around his waist on instinct, canting her hips to shamelessly grind her throbbing core against his hard stomach. Her hands continue to grope his muscled chest and arms, appreciative of his powerful physique. All the while, mouths slot together in feverish kisses.

Riddick pivots on his heel and effortlessly pitches forward at the waist, dropping the woman clinging to him down onto the cot. There's little give to the canvas fabric bunk, but it's certainly more comfortable than a metal tabletop. Not that Riddick particularly cares; he's already swimming in visions of bending her over the table, anyway. Only when he deposits her on the bunk and crouches over her does Hatchet release him from her clinging grasp. Her hands barely leave his chest long enough to yank the tank up over his head, relying on his aptitude to fully rid himself of the thing while she continues her impromptu anatomy lesson. While she latches her mouth onto the pulse point of his throat, he plucks the goggles from his brow and flings them aside. They clatter down somewhere unimportant.

Wordlessly, there lingers between them a mutual agreement that this is consensual. This is needed. This has been building up for a while now.

Riddick's broad hands engulf Hatchet's soft waist, squeezing her affectionately. His fingers push upward, skirting along the hem of her own shirt. She parts her mouth from his neck only long enough to allow him to tug the garment up over her head, hastily followed by the discarding of her sports bra, too. His palms are rough with calluses against her sensitive flesh, and unrelenting when they come up to squeeze her bared breasts. The topless woman licks up the column of his throat to just below his right ear, tasting sweat and skin as she suckles the sweet spot. Her fingers dig into his biceps, keeping him in place as she straddles him. She smiles against his hot skin when he groans. His weathered hands explore her torso, sliding from her chest to her back, then down to grasp her waist tightly.

"Fuck, come on," Riddick grunts into her hair. His hands slip lower to her ass, yanking impatiently at the fabric of her jumpsuit bottoms. "Pants."

It takes no effort for him to lift and flip her onto her back again, taking pride in the surprised expression she wears. Her limbs and eyelids feel heavy as she undoes the tied sleeves around her hips, helping him shuffle off her slate grey jumpsuit. She doesn't even realize he's also slipped off her underwear until she feels the cool air of the ship against her bare core. Fuck, all her constant worrying over her appearance, and in the moment she isn't even concerned. She just needs to feel good with him.

Despite this minor revelation, Hatchet briefly feels a tad in over her head as the burly man holds her down by the hips and leans over her. He eclipses the dim overhead light, his eyes shining magnificently. Those nocturnal eyes are growing on her at a frightening rate.

"Richard," she whispers. One hand reaches up to touch his face, petting his cheek before skating over the stubbly crown of his head. "Fuck, Rich."

He drops his head and growls against her hot, bare skin. The sound rumbles beneath her palm where it presses over his heart. That's a new one— Rich. He's never been called that before. He doesn’t dislike it, mainly because it comes from her.

Riddick leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses down her neck and across her chest. His fingers press into her supple flesh of her hips hard enough for it to dimple under the force. He continues downward, laving his hot tongue over her pebbled nipples, teasing his teeth against her delicate skin. With her head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, she remains ignorant to the garland of lovebites he leaves across her skin, decorating her chest with the constellations of the open universe. His lips follow the line of fine hair down the middle of her stomach, until finally stopping just above the curly thatch at her mons. He shifts his attention, choosing to nip at the skin of her inner thighs. He kneels on the floor and roughly yanks her to the end of the cot for better leverage, earning a surprised yelp from the woman. In the same moment, he tucks his thumbs around the underside of her knees and hoists her legs over his broad shoulders. Her ankles automatically lock overtop his shoulder blades.

Hatchet shudders with delicious anticipation. Her big eyes shoot open and head cranes, meeting his silver gaze from where he has positioned himself between her thick thighs. Without much civility or warning, the man stuffs his shaven head into the tight crevice of her thighs. She is suddenly relieved that he'd taken the bandage off his nose almost immediately after gathering his bearings all those days ago, because now he puts the prominent feature to good use against her swollen clit.

A wanton moan claws out from Hatchet's throat as she throws her head back against the rigid cot. Riddick's breath is hot against her cunt, tongue skilled as he works it into her most sensitive area. Two fingers pry her labia apart to get at a more effective angle. Her hands dart to clamp down on either side of his head, her nails digging crescents into his nude scalp. Panting and squirming, she uses her iron grip on his head to grind up against his big nose. He groans low against her core, the vibrations on his tongue adding to her pleasure. Her thighs squeeze against his flushed ears, and for a moment the thought she may suffocate him flashes through her mind. That worry is ejected out into space when his tanned hands come around to grip her where her thighs meet her hips, dragging her even more securely against him.

Her eyes roll back, body wracked with uncontrollable spasms as Riddick brings her increasingly closer to her peak. His nose is replaced by a skillful thumb, rubbing firm circles around her clit. He continues lapping at her cunt, groaning and taking intermittent gasps for air. Just as she feels that hot coil tightening in her lower abdomen, sees white light flickering beneath her lids, he does the unthinkable. He pulls away. Hatchet whines at the sudden neglect and desperately claws at his head in an attempt for him to continue, leaving red stripes on his stubbly scalp.

"I'm sorry, did I interrupt something?" he asks lowly, smugness dripping from his tongue. That isn't the only thing dripping from his tongue; his nose, mouth, and chin are coated in her arousal.

Hatchet laughs breathlessly. "Fuck off."

She welcomes him with open arms when he crawls up over her again, accepting his lips as he presses down to kiss her. She can taste her own wetness on his mouth, but is largely distracted by his hips slotting between hers and grinding down.

He pulls back for a moment, leveling her with an entertained but mildly miffed eyebrow raise. "You got protection?"

Hatchet has to take a moment to catch her breath in order to answer. "Don't worry, I got that fancy implant. Unless you're riddled with some horrible penitentiary disease?" She smiles brightly, the corners of her eyes crinkling with playfulness.

Her hands cup his face when he returns a dazzling smile. "Me? Who do you take me for? A convict?"

She curls against him when he ducks his face to the crook of her neck, warm and blushing as they both laugh. Unabashed, laughing together. It feels bizarrely intimate, and so completely foreign to the both of them. When the brief chuckles taper off and the weight of the scenario sinks back in, Hatchet wriggles her hips against his, attempting to stimulate some friction. The rough fabric of his cargo pants sparks a little something, but nothing spectacular. Catching on to her renewed desperation, Riddick presses weight against her hips, teasing her with his clothed erection. She mewls softly, grinding up against him.

A calloused hand slides up the length of her body to her neck, first two fingers and thumb pressing lightly against either pulse-point. He squeezes just hard enough for her to squirm with an intoxicating faintness, but light enough for it not to harm her. She swallows hard, feeling the pressure of his palm against her larynx. It would be child's play for him to fully wrap his hand around her throat and squeeze the life out of her. This flirtation with death is not only exhilarating, but it's something she'd never considered as enjoyable before now.

She's too busy with panting against the hand around her throat to realize he'd slipped his other one down towards the apex of her thighs. That is, not until there comes a delicious and unexpected pressure against her swollen clit. She jolts from the sudden stimulation. The moan that slips unbidden from her lips is loud and breathy, and she arches up into his devilish touch. His thumb rubs concentrated circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves, the middle finger sliding lower to tease her slit. Meanwhile, he drops his head to press against her temple, lips leaving sloppy kisses on her cheek.

Riddick groans, rutting against her soft thigh. He drags his lips against her cheek, bottom teeth scraping her skin. A tingly shudder ripples through her body.

"You want it, babygirl?" he growls in her ear. "Tell me you want it."

Hatchet whines when his thick finger breaches her entrance, sliding in easily with the wetness of her arousal. Her toes curl and back arches when that searching finger strokes that hidden sweet spot, her entire body overcome with a delicious shudder.

"Fuck," she pants, "Please. I want it."

The hand at her throat inches upward to clasp her jaw, angling her head for him to effectively whisper in her ear. "Want what, sweetheart? Use your words."

Another finger is stuffed into her pussy; she pants and squeezes around them. An embarrassed flush heats her chest and face at being made to speak her desire aloud. In some little act of defiance, she merely continues huffing and rutting against his hand. Punishment for her disobedience comes swift however, arriving in the form of the ceased stimulation. Riddick sucks his teeth and shakes his head in mock disappointment.

"So stubborn," he tsks.

Fuck— that rich, buttery voice sends a desperate throb straight to her neglected clit. She sobs out a pathetic whine, making a futile attempt to force his hand to continue its work.

"Please. Okay, okay. Please, please. I want you, I need you. Fuck me, please, Richard," she begs, voice coming out ragged.

He brings his lips to the corner of her mouth and smiles into the kiss he places there. "Good girl," he purrs.

Hatchet squirms under him, clit pulsing with an immediate flush of blood at the praise. "Say that again," she pants, sliding her hand over the back of his thick neck. "Please, please, Rich. Say that again. I'm— Hah."

She can feel the fond chuckle under her palm as it rumbles in his chest. He wrestles with the button and zipper of his cargo pants while keeping himself aloft with one arm. "My girl. Good girl."

Each kiss steals her breath away, dizzying her with butterflies and anticipation. It takes a hurried moment of effort, but Riddick manages to shuck his trousers and boxers, leaving them in a pile on the floor with the rest of their discarded clothes. Perched on his knees between the woman's spread thighs, he greedily admires the sight of her laid out before him. There's something particularly special about this woman. She's managed to weasel her way into his frigid heart, and he can't find it in himself to complain. She's sweet, and kind, and sure fucking hot. She too watches him greedily as muscles flex in his arms. He plants his hands on her bent knees, dragging them down the length of her soft thighs. Fingers sink into the fat of her hips, dragging her closer.

One glance at his proud erection is enough to draw a flustered whimper from Hatchet's lips; his dick is thick, befitting of the rest of him. She thrusts an arm up over her face, if only to hide the embarrassed blush which splotches her skin. The big man lowers himself over her once more and gently pushes her arm away, murmuring about her shyness. The weight of his cock resting on her belly makes her squirm, which he seems to enjoy greatly, much to her impatient desperation. He slots his plush lips with hers while his left hand slips around her right thigh, encouraging it up. Her knee brushes the bruised wound over his ribs, but he doesn't seem to care all that much as he pins the long limb tightly against him.

In the space between them, he fists his dick and pumps once, twice. He holds Hatchet's lidded gaze with those intense eyes of his, drinking in the dazed sight of her. He drags the cockhead through the wetness of her arousal, teasing her swollen clit before aligning himself properly. His throaty groan mingles with her gasped noises as he slowly presses into her, sheathing himself within her hot cunt. It's a snug fit, lax as she may be. He bottoms out painfully slow, taking his sweet time in stuffing her full of himself. That hand returns to her throat and gently squeezes while he holds himself aloft with the other arm.

Hatchet sucks her teeth against the slight sting of his size. The discomfort quickly fades into a satisfyingly tense pressure once Riddick gets a steady rhythm going. With her leg hiked up over his side, he continually pulls out almost all the way before plunging back into her, driving her down into the stiff cot with each powerful thrust. She shudders with each drag of his thick cock against her inner walls— with every gentle squeeze of his broad hand around her throat.

"Fuck, babygirl. You feel good," he grunts out. "Such a good girl for me. Real pretty." Riddick groans through clenched teeth when her cunt spasms particularly hard around him. His words are like a match to her gasoline.

The hand at her throat shifts away in an attempt to touch as much of her skin as possible— caressing her breast, tangling in her hair, touching her lips, squeezing her waist and hip. It's almost like a compulsion to feel every part of her warm body, to get lost in her skin and pretty noises. Hatchet's hands perform their own exploration; she can't get enough of wrapping her fingers around his biceps and broad shoulders, her breath panting hard against his collarbones as she clings to him. The middle two fingers of his wandering hand come down on her clit again, sparking electric spasms throughout her writhing body. Those fingers rub circles against her sensitive bud, and every so often slip lower to stroke around the spot where they join together.

An especially rough drag and thrust has the tip of cock kissing that sweet spot within her. She cries out and he repeats the motion with an exact precision. He continues hammering into her at that perfect angle, grunting and shuddering with each of her clenches and moans. Light blooms beneath Hatchet's eyelids, that hot pressure coiling up in her belly once more. The combination of internal and external stimulation is enough for her to see stars and arch into the man like her life depends on it.

Nearly animalistic in his frenzy, Riddick can't control himself when his teeth sink into the woman's shoulder. It feels right.

Hatchet cries out at the sharp feeling of his bite, shock mixing with odd delight. He doesn't use enough force to break the skin, but his teeth leave a sting nonetheless. In retaliation, her nails sink into his muscular back and drag downward to his sides, leaving crisscrossing stripes across his tan skin. Somewhere in the back of her mind she recognizes that she may have torn one of his stitches, but he doesn't make any indication of it bothering him. That delicious tension deep in her belly increases almost unbearably; she bucks up into his fingers on her clit, grinding against the hilt of his cock stuffed in her. His mouth latches onto the slope of her neck and bites again, licking the minimal damage each time he retracts his pearly teeth.

Her orgasm comes suddenly, like fireworks. She spasms around him as she comes, back arching up against his hard front as she cries out. Riddick continues pounding into her— continues rubbing her clit through her shuddering orgasm. The sounds of their sex seem awfully loud in the quiet confines of her small ship.

"There we go. Good girl," he murmurs into her throat.

He pushes up on his supporting arm, putting a bit of space between himself and the spent woman. She twitches and pants beneath him, cunt contracting around his continued thrusts. Her nails haven't yet retracted from his sides, clinging as though grasping for purchase. Riddick sits upright with her legs slung around his hips. One hand wipes over his head to clear away beads of sweat, before both come down to clutch her hips.

"Fuck... Where do you want it, sweetheart?" He punctuates with a harsh snap of his hips, plunging deep into her.

Hatchet's wrists demurely cross above her head. Her breaths come in short, exhausted puffs as she wriggles against him. Overstimulation is beginning to fray at her edges, but the feeling of being so full of him overrides the discomfort. She can barely think straight enough to give him a proper response— fucked thoroughly out of her mind.

"Richard—" She groans low in her throat. He's practically rearranging her guts. Tears prick at her eyes. "Fuck. Inside. Please, just— ugh, inside."

He makes a noise halfway between a grunt and a chuckle. "Sounds good to me, baby." She doesn't have to open her eyes to know the smug, cocky, sexy bastard is grinning. "Nngh, fuck."

Riddick's head tilts back, shuddering violently. He groans loud and holds her steady with his fingers dug into her hips. She feels his hot release spill into her, coating her insides as he ceases his relentless pounding. She's overly sensitive from the intensity of her own orgasm, so his sudden stillness comes as a relief for her tender parts. His chest heaves, fingers twitching.

After an extended moment of basking in the bliss of his finish, Riddick slumps forward. While he's careful not to crush the woman, he does rest a bit of his weight atop her. Sweat-slicked skin meets sweat-slicked skin as they recover together, lounging in the afterglow. He remains partially sheathed within her, allowing a minimal amount of his seed to trickle out around his length.

Amidst tenderly petting Riddick's back, Hatchet nearly gets lost to the grips of sleep. That is, at least until his rumbling voice stirs her again.

"I think you needed that." He noses her throat, inhaling deeply. She cants her hips without thinking, then grunts softly at the feeling of him still buried within her.

"Oh?" she chuckles quietly, "Is that right?"

She smoothes her palm over the back of his head, then traces her fingertips up and down his neck and shoulders. He hums against her clammy, flushed skin. Sentimentally isn't even remotely his forte, but this intimacy feels surprisingly good. Odd and unfamiliar, but pleasant. He feels safe to relax in her hold, resting a little bit more of his weight against her capable form.

"Yep. You're a little uptight."

Briefly pressing his lips to the bite-shaped bruises on her shoulder, he lifts his head. She cracks an eye open to peer at him, then sighs wistfully. He really does have a beautiful face. She caresses his cheek.

"And hey, would you look at that. We fit." He grins wide and smug and raises a brow, referring back to the conversation which started this whole affair.

Hatchet drops her head to the cot and closes her eyes again, laughing heartily. "Fuck you, Richard."

#second time ever writing smut and I think it melted my brain #this is way too long to read on tumblr just go to ao3 lmao #pitch black 2000 #chronicles of riddick #richard b riddick #richard b riddick x oc #richard b riddick x reader #goldfinch writes

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

A little bit of self indulgence this Monday. 

ʚ Pairing: Commander Vaako x Fem reader

ʚ Summary: After helping the Lord Marshall conquer yet another planet, Count Vaako goes in search of something to keep, of someone he killed. What will his search reward him with?

Warnings: Slow Burn | NSFW content | Explicit content | First time |  Penetrative Sex |  Fluff

You keep what you kill. That is the Necromonger way. That was what was taught to Andromedus Vaako when he converted, and he made great use of it, amassing ranks and wealth in no time.

Ten years had passed since the day of his marking, and Vaako was now the youngest commander in the armada. He thought he had everything, until an impertinent breeder on New Terra dared to challenge him to one-on-one combat.

The Lord Marshall watched, as did everyone else. Vaako wasted no time, easily dispatching his adversary with no harm to his own person. He dusted himself off and turned to his men.

“Most impressive,” the Lord Marshal said as he made his way to his most promising officer, picking up the dagger the challenger had dropped. “And I believe this is yours now?”

Another dagger. Vaako eyed the blade with barely disguised contempt. “Another knife for my collection.” He said. “I am running out of room for them all.”

The blade in itself was hardly noteworthy, with nothing special to set it apart from the others. “Indeed. Perhaps something else would suit.”

The Lord Marshal looked at the crowd that had gathered. “Who is this man? Where does he come from?”

The locals looked around, mumbling, wondering who should talk.

“He is Prince Irubaan, sire,” someone called out from within the crowd. “He has a palace by the lake.”

That piqued Vaako’s interest. “A palace by the lake?” The Lord Marshal mused. “Perhaps there you will find something more to your liking?”

“Indeed,” said Vaako. Given that it would take several days for the inhabitants to be converted, Vaako had plenty of time. “I will have Toal keep you updated on any developments,” said the Lord Marshal, as he was eager to inspect the new planet that had been conquered. “Good luck.”

                                                         ---*✧*---

The palace was breathtaking, as were the lands it sat on.

"The Prince may have been a poor fighter," said Vaako to his men. "But he certainly had good taste." They all nodded in agreement.

Had he been anything but a Necromonger, Vaako would have settled here as the new Lord. Still, the anticipation of new discovery proved to be too much and Vaako marched inside, only to find himself being greeted by a small battalion of servants. Clearly, word of the Prince’s passing had reached their ears. Vaako stood by the entrance while they all bowed.

"I will expect all of you to convert by the time we leave this place," he said. "And I will expect all of you to bear the mark of conversion."

The servants bowed once more before rushing about their duties. Vaako walked around, taking in everything before him, silently earmarking certain pieces to be given as tribute, for his Lord Marshal would expect no less.

While he was walking around, making his way to the second floor, you rushed out upon hearing the commotion downstairs.

"Come to collect your loot already?" you ask in a huff.

Vaako stood there, stunned. "If you mean did I come here to claim what is now rightfully mine, then yes, I have. And you are?"

"Princess y/n. I am, or was, Prince Irubaan’s wife."

"Commander Andromedus Vaako." Your lack of sorrow aroused his interest. "You are not in mourning for your husband?"

"I will not shed my tears for such a dreadful man," you snort as you study him quietly. The strange armour, oddly enough, suited him, as did the battle-hardened face. A very handsome, battle-hardened face, with kindly eyes. Odd, given he was one of them. "Are you the one that sent him off to the ether?"

Vaako looked at his chief lieutenant, utterly confused. "They believe souls go to this place of eternal rest," came the whisper. "They call it the ether."

The Underverse Vaako had seen evidence of, but the ether? "The Lord Marshal was right, they truly are a strange people," he whispered back before answering you. "Yes. I did indeed send your husband to the… ether."

"Hmph," you never look away or down, instead choosing to look him in the eyes. "I suppose you and your men would be staying for dinner?"

Your lack of fear only served to make him even more interested. Vaako was an invader, part of an army that destroyed millions of lives and reduced entire worlds to dust, and yet you talk to him like he was just another guest. No one had done that before. 

And he was rather hungry.

"Yes," he said, never taking his eyes off of you. "We will be staying for dinner."                                                        ---*✧*---

While dinner was simple, conversation with the commander was not. "So your Lord Marshal is a holy half-dead?" you ask over your wine. "How is that even possible?"

"He had to travel to the Underverse itself," Vaako and the rest started on their food. "It is part of a test all Lord Marshalls must undergo, to prove themselves worthy of the title."

"I have heard of this Underverse," you say with a raised eyebrow. "I also hear your kind does not reproduce? Does this mean relations between mated pairs are prohibited? I mean, it would be a great pity to go to all that trouble of converting, only to spend the rest of your days in forced celibacy."

Vaako was more intrigued than offended by your free way of speaking. "Do not let the Lord Marshal catch you talking like that."

"And yes," Vaako continued. "Propagating the species is forbidden to us," he said archly. "However, physical relations are not."

"That is good then, for the life of a convert would have been one of abject misery otherwise."

"That impertinence of yours will get you into trouble one day."

"So my late husband kept telling me," you retort.

"Your late husband might not have wanted you to say something foolish."  Vaako found himself more interested in talking to you and less interested in his food.

"And yet he was the one challenging a high ranking Necromonger to one-on-one combat. So who is the fool here?"

You were rewarded with a slight twitch in his lips. The others looked on, wondering what was going on.

"Him, most certainly."

"Indeed," you say, nodding and returning to your meal. "Speaking of your race, I also hear you keep what you kill? All of what you kill?"

"Indeed," Vaako said, growing oblivious to everything around him now.

"Even a fallen challenger’s spouse?" you asked nonchalantly, your pulse raising by the way he was looking at you, as if the the others did not exist to him. Even your late husband would never look at you that way. 

Vaako, upon remembering there were others present, dismissed his men and the servants, leaving only the two of you at the table. "Yes, but only if the widow desires it, and only if the Necromonger is unattached."

Interesting, you think to yourself. "So no force?"

"Even we do not believe in force," Vaako said as he looked you over his goblet. "Not in such a delicate matter." 

You simply smile and go back to finishing your meal, while a pair of rich brown eyes watch you the entire time. 

                                                      ---*✧*---

You take Vaako to his new rooms. "These are yours now."

He looked around, taking in the ambiance, the lack of anything feminine. Clearly only one person slept here. “These are not yours as well?”

“No. My rooms are in the other corner of the floor.”

The husband slept in one corner of the house while the wife slept in another corner. “Strange sort of marriage you had.”

You shrug and look around. “I simply made the most of my situation. Do you need anything else?”

“Yes,” The bed looked too big, and he wanted someone to talk to. “I would like it if you stayed here, and kept me company.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I would like for you stay here,” he repeated his words as he looked out the window, to the fields and valleys beyond. In a week, everything would be reduced to dust and ash, and he almost felt sorry for it. “And keep me company. Nothing more, I assure you.”

You raise your eyebrows and cross your arms. “Nothing more you say? You just want my company, you say?”

He smirked this time. “If you had to be around the lot I came with, you would understand.”

That gave you pause, for some of the others he came with were indeed dull. “Very well. I will change for the night and join you.”

                                                         ---*✧*---

Vaako looked on with barely disguised amusement when you set up a line of pillows down the middle of the bed. “And these are for your protection? or Mine?” he said while watching you, taking in how your shift clung to you as you moved. “Or is this yet another odd custom of your world?”

“They are for my protection,” you say, although you find yourself regretting setting up the barrier. “If you get too close in the middle of the night I can bash you on the head with one.”

“Then perhaps I should have kept a panic button with me, so my men can save me from being drowned in goose feathers.”

His chuckle was echoed by yours. “Just stay to your side, please.”

“Fine,” he got into his side of the bed, while you get into your side.

You make yourself comfortable, while listening to the sounds of him settling in. “For how long will your Lord Marshall stay here?”

“A week, maybe a little more, if he hesitates in destroying your world,” Vaako said, as he looked up into the ceiling.

“A week, maybe a little more before this world is turned to ash?” You ask, shocked by the revelation.

“We do not tarry unless necessary,” Vaako could pick up the scent of roses filling the air. He found it was coming off of you. It appealed to him. “And we rarely tarry.”

“Never settling down, always on the move? A bit sad, no?”

“That is our way,” said Vaako, confused now as to what he was feeling. Why was he suddenly questioning what he was taught?

“Strange,” you say. “But I suppose I must accept, since I too will have to follow it now.”

Vaako went silent, only to look up when he heard steel panels moving. “What are you doing?”

“Looking at the night sky of my home-world, I will not see it again when I leave.”

You had opened up the skylights revealing a night sky dotted with a million stars. “Oh,” Vaako sounded relieved. “You wanted to just see the night sky?”

Did he think you were trying to attack him? “Yes, commander. I just wanted to see the night sky. If I wanted to attack you, you would not even know.”

He propped himself onto an elbow. “Oh really? This I would dearly love to see.”

A pillow hit him with a soft thud. “There,” you grin in the darkness. “Satisfied?”

Vaako grit his teeth. “That I was not prepared for,” he said. “Next time I will-- stop that!”

Another pillow, another soft hit. You were giggling now. “You challenged me! If you did not want to--”

The pillow striking you resulted in a pillow fight. “Get back here!” Vaako commanded as you shot out of bed, pillow in hand. “I am the commander and I order you to--”

You took off after playfully throwing the pillow at him. “Make me!” you cry as you run. Vaako straightened himself and chased you, all the while wondering why he enjoyed it so much. 

He catches you just before you make it to the door. “That was uncalled for!”

“But you challenged me,” you giggle. “Let go of me.”

“Or what?” He refused to yield. “What will you do to make me let...”

                                                   ---*✧*---

Your kiss caught him by surprise.

Vaako wanted to pull away but could not bring himself to do so. “Wha--”

His eyes looked down on you in shock. “Have you never been kissed?” 

He brushed your hair back, marveling at how soft it felt. “Never.”

“That is too bad,” you murmur and pull away, only to find yourself being pulled back when Vaako drew you in for a kiss.

It felt awkward, clumsy. Vaako did not know what to do. “Sorry,” he mumbled as his nose kept bumping into yours. You grin, and place your hands against his cheeks. “Keep still.”

This time it was soft, hesitant. His lips brushed against yours, gently at first, his hands resting on your waist before his arms went around you completely.  Vaako had never experienced anything like this before. Not the golden light that lit up behind his eyes, nor the heat that swelled up in his belly. His grip tightened like a vice, his moan as you melted against him was like music to your ears. 

“Yes?” he mumbled as his kisses skimmed your neck, his body pressing up against yours when you grabbed onto his hair.  This time you pull him up and bring your lips to his. “Please,” you breath. In one swift move, Vaako lifted you up and carried you to bed. 

He sat down on the edge of the bed, with you straddling his lap.

"You have no experience at all?" You ask as you undo the lace ties on his tunic.

"None," Vaako kept still, his hands on your waist, his temple resting on yours. How wondrous, he thought, that the simple act of you undressing him was enough to make him go weak in the knees, how your very touch was enough to make his breath go ragged. "Perhaps... Perhaps you can teach me."

Perhaps you could. You slip the tunic off of him, your eyes resting on the hardened muscles they hid. How they fluttered beneath your touch. "So warm," he breathed. 

Soft, warm palms drifted over the surface, fingers tracing lines over old scars, little imperfections on the skin. "Did these hurt?"

"They did," Vaako could feel his breath deepen when your hands neared his abdomen. "But not anymore..."

The barely audible curse stopped you cold. "Please," Vaako takes your hand into his, noting how it fitted perfectly with his. "Do not stop."

Feeling bolder now, you run your hands lower, to between his thighs. Vaako's eyes fluttered as you run a palm over his already erect cock. It felt good. So very good. Vaako fell back into bed, his hands on your waist, his eyes on yours as your hands rested on the top of his trousers. "Yes?" You ask.

He guides your hands to where he wants them to go. "Please."

The lacings were undone, and the deep, strangled moan you hear on that first stroke was intoxicating. Vaako simply surrendered body and soul to you. Surrendered himself to the current that wanted to sweep him away. Nothing in all of his life compared to this. Nothing in all the realms could compare to what you were making him feel, from the desire to wanting to lust. He savoured them all, hoping against all hope that he could experience everything with you, again and again, and again. His hands drifted all over you, gliding up your arms, all over your belly, caressing your breasts. His eyes locked with yours when he heard your breath catch, his arms manoeuvring you so he could be on top of you. 

Vaako's full weight coming to rest on top of you caused a sigh to rise from your toes. Nervous hands tugged on the hem of your night-dress, pulling them over your outstretched arms and tossing them to the ground, leaving you exposed.

Vaako took in every inch of you, his eyes feasting on every part of your body. "You're beautiful, y/n. So beautiful." 

Unable to help himself, Vaako lowered his head, his lips barely grazing over the soft swell of your breasts. Your skin felt so soft and fragrant that he grew bolder, gently nipping and sucking on an already taut nipple, while callused fingers played with the other. You cry out softly, your fingers bunching up in his hair, urging him to take as much as you gave until you pull him back up to crush your lips on his. His mouth felt so warm, his lips so soft, his tongue running against your lips, seeking entry. Arms pulling you up made you yield and you whimper into his kisses while his tongue flicked against yours. How a battle-hardened warrior could be so tender, you muse, as those sturdy arms now hold you like you were made out of fragile glass. So gentle he was, running his fingers up your spine, his kisses fluttering over your skin making you grow slick and hot.

Vaako felt you, all of you. How you whimpered when his teeth grazed your skin, how your breath would suddenly pull in deep whenever he squeezed your breasts, your fingers raking over his skin as lust overwhelmed you, and him. Grinding his hips into you convinced Vaako to take the next step and he went in slowly, moaning as he felt you sheath him with every inch he took. He stopped, wanting to make sure this was still what you wanted. Eyes darkened with lust greeted yours, while your own body was screaming for him to go on. "Do not stop," you press your lips against his as he pushed in deeper, going slow on that first thrust. 

His moans match yours with each passing second, his cock going in deeper and deeper, bringing the both of you closer to the edge. Vaako would let out strings of curses whenever he felt your walls tighten around him, or your nails raked down his back. He would slow down at your urging, then pick up the pace again, his heart racing with every thrust, his body melting into yours as you kept crying out for him, his kisses finally drowning you out as his body gave you your release, his own following with a grunt and a final thrust when he felt himself empty inside of you.

The two of you cling to each other, exhausted and satisfied. Vaako gently eased you back into bed, taking you with him when he rested on his side. A palm resting on his heaving chest made him open his eyes, and he smiled when his gaze rested on you. You grow anxious as this could very well be the only time you have with him. He might lose interest or be expected to be with someone else. It would hurt too much, to see him with another. "What troubles you, y/n?"

He cupped your cheek gently, leaving little kisses as he held you closer. "Y/n, please tell me what troubles you."

You sigh but talk all the same. Better now than never. "What happened between us... Will I have to forget about it, about you, when I go onto that ship?"

He was stunned. Why would you ask such a thing after what the two of you shared? "No. Remember the motto of my people?"

"You keep what you kill." And Vaako killed your husband in honourable combat. That meant you were his.

"I keep what I kill," eyes filled with hope looked into yours. "And I want to keep you by my side, always."

It was your turn to grow stunned. "What?"

He kissed you again, this time with tenderness instead of passion. "Stay with me," he said. "Be mine. Be my lady. What do you say?"

You look up at him, certs in of your answer now. Your place was by his side, and no one else's. "Yes. I will be yours. From now till Underverse come."

Vaako broke out into the biggest smile you had ever seen. He kissed you again, watching you as you fell asleep. When he fell asleep it was with you in his arms and a smile on his face. 

#count vaako #riddick #chronicles of riddick #count vaako x reader #vaako x reader #fanfiction #creative writing #writing #writeblr #imagines #goodnight #karl urban fanfic #karl urban x reader

[ink-and-blood-goddess]

Vaako x Reader One Shot

Requested by @butchers-girl-Hey sorry late Vaako/reader Best friends pretty much hang out all the time. Reader dating someone that nobody likes at all They both have feeling for each other but to scared to say anything. Doesn't show up for a get together as planned. Vaako goes to find them and finds reader being verbally assaulted. (You decide how?) Vaako kicks his ass. Happy ever after after the admit they like each other.​

A/N-After so long. It’s finally finished. Apologies for the long wait. Work and personal life kept me busy as I wrote this out earlier this month. I had fun writing this Vaako request and hope to get more in the future. Everybody enjoy 🙂  

Warnings: Verbal abuse, slight physical abuse, abusive partner, slight violence, and some language

Citrus Scale: 🍎

W.C+:2.2K

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Both you and Vaako have known one another for as long as you can remember. Meeting each other the day that the Necromongers landed on your planet. Slowly starting a small friendship that began to blossom into something more. Feelings for one another.

Though neither of you have admitted feelings, but share something deep down. There was one thing that was standing between you. Your boyfriend. You were dating him before you met Vaako. Everybody, including you, didn’t like him one bit for one reason. Anger issues.

He has a tendency to take his anger out verbally, especially on you. You always thought of leaving him, but always stayed. When you met Vaako, it was your escape. Vaako made you feel safe with him at all times. 

Never made you feel unwanted and stayed close by your side. See, Vaako wasn’t like him. Vaako understood you more mentally and physically. The way he caresses your face gently. Fingers ghosting over your skin. Among other things, Vaako stays by your side whenever the two of you were together for the day.

The two of you hung out almost everyday, creating a small relationship between one another. With each day spent with him, something deep down began to brew. Feelings for the Necromonger. Vaako felt the same way about, but the two of you were afraid to admit your feelings for one another.

Neither one of you would know the outcome if you admitted your feelings after a long time. You’ve kept them hidden for so long, until one night.

Vaako was pacing around in the city’s center. Both of you agreed to meet up for a night out and what time. He was there, but you weren’t. The agreed time was 7PM. He got there beforehand to meet up with you. Once 7PM came, you didn’t. 

Still pacing around, he looked up at the city center’s clock tower. It was 7:38 PM now. Something isn’t right, his mind told him. Averting his gaze from the clock tower, he began looking around the center. 

His Necromonger comrades were also there, either hanging out with one another or going out on a date. A hole began to form inside of his chest. This doesn’t feel right. I have to go see her. Now, his mind was racing around.

Vaako knew where you lived, since you’ve brought him over to your place several times. Your place wasn’t far from the city center, but it felt longer for him as he quickened his pace.

You were up in your bathroom getting ready. All your hair done up and in your finest evening dinner dress. A shimmering silver blue that matched with Vaako’s Necromonger armor. You were rushing through, as you were running late to meet up with Vaako.

Using a steady hand, you slowly applied the eyeliner onto your upper then lower eyelid. Blinking several times to make sure something didn’t get in. After checking for another minute, you gave yourself a little smile in the mirror.

Snapping the cap back onto the eyeliner pencil, you dropped it back into your makeup bag, zipped it, and placed it back under the bathroom counter. Checking one last time in the mirror, you gave yourself another smile.

“Going out I see,” you turned around quickly to see him standing there in the doorframe between the bedroom and bathroom. It looked like he just came home from his job. Grease stains were splattered all over his face and uniform, except his arms and hands.

“Yeah,” you finally said to him, “going out with some friends for the night and I’m already running late.” You lied, moving past him and switching the light off. Both your handbag and shoes were sitting upon the bench that sat at the foot of the bed.

Quickly you grabbed the shoes and slipped each foot into them. Then picking up the handbag, slinging it across your shoulder. The only thing left to grab was your jacket from the desk chair.

Hastily putting your arms through the sleeves and onto your shoulders. As you were about to descend down the stairs, he grabbed you by the arm with a very irritated look on his face. 

“You’re seeing him aren’t you?” He asked in a deeply serious tone. “What are you talking about? It’s just some friends of mine,” you snapped back at him a little, removing your arm from his harsh grasp. “‘Just some friends of mine’.” He said, mocking you in a way. “Are you really spending the night with the girls or just him?”

Him? He must be talking about Vaako. But how would he know about Vaako? You made very sure not to mention him or be seen with him in public spaces. Something felt off with this. “You wanna know how I know about you two,” he said in a very bitter tone. “I saw you and your ‘friend’ together one night. You didn’t think I would know about you two? Well, I know enough that you’re cheating on me with him.”

Okay he was starting to get aggressive now. It was never good when he gets aggressive. Even towards you. He was going to lose it soon. Best to leave now, before something really bad happens. Turning your back towards him, you started down the stairs again with a quickened pace. 

“Hey, where do you think you’re going,” asking you in an aggravated tone. “Out!” You snapped back angrily. “I’m already late as it is and I don’t want to stay here arguing with you. All you do is push me and others around, because of your fucking attitude. Vaako isn’t like that towards me. He doesn’t treat me like a piece of shit like you do almost everyday and is very gentle. You’re nothing more than a fucking creep.”

At this point, you felt your blood boiling within your skin as you raced down the stairs and out through the front door. The mixture of humidity and nighttime greeted you as you came rushing outside. You carefully and quickly walked down the front porch steps. The sound of your shoes echoing against the brick walkway.

Opening the front garden gate, you walked onto the street and started walking away. As you did, you were grabbed by the wrist. His grip tighter than the last.  “Don’t you dare walk away from me you fucking bitch,” he spat in your ear, “you’re not going anywhere.”

You struggled beneath his grasp, trying to free yourself in the process. “Let go of me you fucking asshole,” you said as you continued to struggle. “No. You’re staying right here with me and away from him. I don’t know what you see in him, but you belong with me.”

He was getting more and more physical, to the point of his fingers digging deeply into your arm. Pain shooting up your arm. “He’s everything that you’re not,” you snapped back at him. Anger rushed through his veins now and he’s going to lose it. “Why you little-”

“Hey! What’s going on here,” a familiar voice quickly cut through high tension. Turning to look over your shoulder, you were completely stunned to see who was standing there. Vaako. He wasn’t in his usual Necromonger armor. Instead he was in formal military uniform for special occasions. You were both stunned and relieved to see him.

“Vaako, what are you-” you cried out in pain when your arm was yanked harder. Concern and anger washed over Vaako’s face as he stepped closer. “So you’re Vaako.” your boyfriend spat out, “heard a lot about you around here.” Pulling you closer to him and away from Vaako. He smelled of sweat and oil, making your nostrils burn.

“That you have.” He said in a calm manner. Vaako was shifting his jaw around. “From what I heard. You’ve been seeing my girl for a while. Let me tell you something buddy. SHE’S MINE YOU HEAR. SHE’S MY GIRL!” Raising his voice to the point of shouting.

You were getting very uncomfortable and scared now. Flashing your eyes towards Vaako, pleading for help. Vaako understood and began walking up closer to you. Feeling his grip getting tighter and tighter around your arm, as Vaako was getting closer and closer. Wincing at the searing hot pain shooting up and down.

Towering over both of you, Vaako felt like a shadow looming. “Who says she’s yours?” Vaako asked in a deeply serious tone. His hazel eyes searing, with hot rage. For a moment, you felt fear coursing through your boy friend’s body. This is the first time seeing him afraid.

Without thinking, your boyfriend let go of you and tossed you aside hastily. You fell backwards and onto your side. You winced again, rubbing your very sore arm. 

“I say so. She’s mine and she belongs to me.” He said, while pointing a finger in Vaako’s face. This isn’t going to end well, you thought to yourself. “She doesn’t belong to anybody else. She doesn’t deserve you. Not one bit. Why don’t you get the fuck out of here and away from us.”

“Let me tell you something,” Vaako said bluntly, “(Y/N) deserves much better. The first time I met her, I felt something. I didn’t know at first, until it finally came to me. She’s like nobody else I’ve ever met. She is everything to me. The way you treat (Y/N) is very disgusting and it irks me to the fullest. I’ve never seen a common breeder like yourself treat her with such disgust. Not giving her anything in return, but with abuse and stone cold malic. You’re nothing to her and you’re very much well beneath me. There’s one thing to say. I love (Y/N).”

Vaako loves you? You felt your heart flutter all of a sudden. Vaako was admitting his feelings for you right here right now. Everything was happening so fast, your heartbeat was growing faster. Anger and fury ran through your boyfriend’s whole face. “Alright that’s it. You are going to regret everything. I’m going to teach you, you fucking-” 

He balled his hand into a tight fist and was about to strike him in the face, but Vaako caught it. Then he started to twist his wrist around in the opposite direction. Your boyfriend’s face began to twist and grimace in great pain, while Vaako remained calm. You could hear small popping noises as he continued to twist it around.

As he tried to break free of Vaako’s grasp with his free hand, Vaako grabbed him by the throat at a fast pace. With all his pure strength, Vaako lifted him up with both hands and threw him over several feet like a rag doll. The sound of his body crashed against metal cans and went limp. The force of the throw knocked him out cold.

Your mouth hung open seeing what just unfolded in front of your eyes. Vaako dusted himself off and fixed his formal attire up. Then he walked over to you to see if you were alright. “Are you alright (Y/N),” he asked while kneeling down to your level and extending his hand out for you.

“Yes,” you finally said, “I’m fine. Thank you Vaako.” Grabbing a hold of his hand, Vaako placed his other one on your back and slowly helped you up off the ground. Vaako looked over you, to make sure there weren’t any cuts or bruises left behind.   

“Vaako. You love me?” The question making you blush, looking at him. Vaako gave you a sad smile, with tears in his eyes. “Yes I do (Y/N).” You let out a small gasp, covering your hand over your mouth. “Oh Vaako,” you softly whispered.

“I didn’t know how to tell you (Y/N). I was so afraid of what to say. I also fear being rejected by you. I could not handle your rejection. I couldn’t live with that forever. I just ca-” You cut off Vaako by lifting yourself up, pressing your lips against his. The warmth filling up inside of your chest.

After a moment, you parted your lips from Vaako’s. His face turned to a light shade of pink, feeling flustered. “(Y/N),” he said softly. “I love you too Vaako.” You said with a bright smile.

“(Y/N), how long?” Asking in a whisper. “Since I first met you. Everyday I spent with you, it made me feel special. I also wanted to admit my feelings, but didn’t know how to tell you. After what you did for me tonight, my feelings feel heard for once. Somebody to love me back.”

Several tears ran down his face, hearing your feelings about him. Vaako leaned over and kissed you in return. After such a long time, the two of you finally admitted your feelings for one another. Vaako took in your sweet scent as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

 Lifting his lips away from yours, both of you smiled in return. Feeling all warm and fuzzy all over. “Let’s go now, while the night is still upon us,” Vaako said as he took your hand in his. 

“Yes.” You said as the two of you walked away hand in hand.

#Vaako #SIBERIUS Vaako #vaako fanfiction #vaako fanfic #vaako x reader #Vaako x You #Vaako x Y/N #The Chronicles of Riddick #The Chronicles of Riddick Fanfiction #The Chronicles of Riddick Fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction blog #fanfic blog #Character x Reader #x reader #x you #x y/n #requested #fanfiction request #Requested Fanfic #Fanfic Request

[sanjoongie]

Dual Courtship: Heart in your throat

A Sci-Fi Medley Chapter~

The Cast~

Yeosang, Jongho- Predators Yunho, San, Mingi- Furyans Hongjoong, Wooyoung- Alien (Hunter status) Seonghwa- Alien (Queen status) Ot8 x captain/pilot! Reader

ღPairing: Choi Jongho x Reader (f) x Kang Yeosang ღGenre/Au/Trope: sci fi au, aliens au, predator au, riddick au, established relationship trope, poly trope ღWord Count: 3,034 ღWarnings: Warnings: cnc(consensual non-consent), predator/prey play (no pun intended ><), double penetration (two cocks one puss), fingering (f receiving), slight mxm, marking (blood, claws digging into flesh), fear kink, sub! Reader, doms! Jongho and Yeosang, penetrative sex with no protection, aftercare (for both the sex and the wounds), creampie ღRated: 18+ MDNI, smut with no plot ღSynopsis: the predators version of flirting/foreplay with their beloved captain is to hunt her and fuck her. This is what precedes their decision ;) ღDedication: @downtoamagicalland & @mejuii who will always read the crazy shit that comes from my head, the perfect beta readers ღA/N: I blame haru @stardragongalaxy once again for reviving this in my head. If you only knew the dirty sex scenes that have been planned. Please note: this scene takes place before Seonghwa lays his eggs

You felt as if you were being followed all day. It was a weird feeling to be nursing while you were on a ship, which had limited suspects, and on yours, which you knew every screw and plate of metal. But that didn’t take away from the fact that you were alone in the cockpit right now, and the darkness of space was not comforting as it usually was.

“San?” You called out cautiously. 

San did enjoy sneaking into the cockpit with you when everyone else was sleeping. He would approach with a sly and coy smile and always managed to get what he wanted. Which usually contained either fucking your mouth while he was in the captain’s seat or fucking you while you were in the seat. 

When nothing but silence met you, you attempted to shrug off the feeling of being watched. 

You checked the star map for the umpteenth time but your course was still correct. You were flying outside the regular shipping routes, looking to stay below any other aliens' radar. You checked the local radars for any threat of another ship or meteor shower but it showed complete peace out in nearby space. So you could not credit your feeling of impending danger on that either. 

Your instincts usually led you to the right conclusion so you were really confusing yourself. The ship creaked and a shiver ran straight down your spine. The ship creaked all the time but this sounded like stress from added weight in the vents. You were familiar with this sound because of how much Seonghwa, Hongjoong and Wooyoung frequented said vents. 

You were about to mutter under your breath about living with aliens when you felt a presence behind you. You whirled around in your chair but there was nothing behind you but you swore you had felt a rush of air pass you. 

“Ridiculous,” You cursed and got up from your seat after ensuring the ship was on autopilot. You were going to move to the mess hall and make yourself something warm to sip on. 

However, while walking along the ship that you had begun to see as home with your found alien family, you didn’t feel any better. You swore you could hear brief susurrations above you, like someone was walking along the high upper railings when you moved through the cargo bay but the stray ropes and electric wires simply swayed with a small bump of the dual engines adjusting and maintaining balance. 

Why were you getting so creeped out? Was it because you were so used to having one of the aliens that lived here near you at all times? Perhaps you should wake up Mingi to play cards with and help him win a hand finally…

You whipped around, swearing you felt a breath of air on your neck and this time you did seem to catch a foot on a pipe above before it disappeared. 

Suddenly everything clicked. There had been a conversation a while ago, with all the races seated in various positions scattered before you in the mess hall. No aliens on this ship intended to harm you in any way, but they were aliens, and most of them were natural hunters. They needed to keep their instincts and talents sharpened and honed, and that included being approved to ‘hunt’ you. The perimeters included ‘struggling’ and ‘denying’ that you agreed to any of this. It thrilled the aliens and turned on a few, to seemingly take you while you were attempting to get away. You agreed with them, on all levels. 

You straightened your shoulders and finished making your drink in the kitchen part of the mess hall. You gripped the cup and made your way back through the mess hall and then through the cargo bay. Once you were back in the smaller confines of the hallway, however, the kid gloves were off.

Yeosang, in his full Predator gear, dropped down in front of you, cloaking device clearly powered down already. Your instincts had you drawing your gun, treating this as if the Predator was a true threat. However, what you did not call for was that the Predators were hunting you as a pair. Jongho put a firm hand over yours, halting your gun from even being removed from your holster. You felt this rather than saw it because Jongho had not disabled his cloaking device.

“Got you,” Yeosang whispered into your ear. As your head turned, you watched him remove his helmet completely, drawn in by the slow reveal of the beautiful Predator. 

“Let go of the gun,” Jongho ordered.

You allowed him to lead your hand away from your gun and pull your arm taunt behind your back, almost to the point of over extending it. Jongho didn’t want to break the mold quite yet, it seemed.

You had eyes only for Yeosang at this moment. You couldn't help yourself. The way his arm muscles bulged as he tucked his helmet under his arm was making your heart spike in rate. 

“Are you more scared or turned on, little mouse?” Jongho asked, lips whispering along your trapezius, your neck muscles. 

Yeosang laughed but it was definitely mocking. “Check how much of a mess her underwear is because of how scared she was.”

Jongho, after appearing visible to you finally, stuffed his hands down your pants mercilessly and you moaned when two fingers swiped along your inner folds. “She’s soaking wet,” Jongho announced.

Yeosang cuffed your chin, encouraging you to look up at him. “You’re a fun prey to stalk, moonlight.”

“You sensed us almost immediately,” Jongho said with a sense of pride. “Your instincts are worthy of a non-Predator mate.”

You whimpered as Jongho pushed his two fingers into you without further ado. Your pussy adapted immediately to the intrusion, genes long since changed to taking large appendages within your cunt from Seonghwa’s saliva absorbed through kisses. 

Yeosang didn’t let you go, instead he confidently smirked before he brought his lips to yours. His lips ate up yours but whimpers continued to slip from your lips as Jongho finger-fucked you slowly. 

“Like being taken advantage of in the middle of the hallway, don’t you, little mouse?” Jongho whispered to you seductively. 

Your muffled noises of disagreement could be heard but that didn’t stop Yeosang from drifting his hand from cupping your head to running a claw along your collarbone. “Your quickening pulse is alluring, moonlight,” he said upon releasing your lips finally.

“Please--the ship!” Your protests sounded weak even to your ears, but that could have been because you felt very weak between the two Predators right now.

Yeosang lifted an eyebrow up at your statement. Jongho added a thumb to strum your clit while his fingers moved in and out of you and you were like putty in his arms. That caused Yeosang to frown. “Stop hogging the captain,” Yeosang growled. 

Jongho chuckled. “Come and take her, then, brother.” The two often referred to each other as brothers-in-arms, shortened to brother when the timing called for it. The camaraderie the two had felt for each other while they had hunted you was clearly fading now.

Yeosang physically pulled you from Jongho’s grasp, pressing your back up against the cool metal of the ship. You gasped as your exposed shoulders in your tank top experienced the temperature play. Yeosang dived in to capture your lips once again, eating up your moans as he grinded into your now sensitive core, covered only by the thin material of your pants and underwear. “Why have fingers when you can have me?” Yeosang tempted you. 

Jongho released another chuckle, folding his arms over his armored chest. His stance was wide, his thigh muscles adjusting under the fishnets covering them. “Why don’t we test just how well developed her genes are now? The scanner showed she’s changed quite a lot.”

“Wha--” You paused to swallow and brought moisture back to your mouth. “What exactly does that entail?”

Yeosang appeared intrigued as he stared back at Jongho. “Do you want us both to be stuffed within her sweet cunt?”

You cursed under your breath, not prepared for that at all. “What? Excuse me?”

“Come on, little mouse, you can take the both of us at the same time, right?” Jongho crooned convincingly.

You pressed your lips together. “I’ve never tried…but I want to.”

“Me first,” Yeosang announced. He licked and sucked your neck as he grinded into you some more, until he couldn't take your sweet moans any longer. He easily ripped your pants and underwear off, your tank top being ripped down the middle, to make you completely available for him. He pushed down his own armored loincloth and his girthy cock sprung free. He did his best to rub himself against your wet folds but once the tip of his cock flirted with your eager hole, he pushed right in.

“I’ll never get enough of this sweet cunt,” Yeosang grunted, already quickly moving in and out of you. 

One of your legs curled around his waist instinctively, hips bucking to meet his thrusts. “You’re driving me wild, Moonlight,” Yeosang snarled.

Jongho patiently stood by as Yeosang had his fill but put a firm hand on Yeosang’s shoulder to stop him before he could release his seed inside of you. “Brother, it is time.” He dropped his loincloth to the floor, stepping neatly out of the confines.

Yeosang reluctantly pulled out of you and you spared a brain cell to wonder if they had already made plans for this before Yeosang took a stance behind you and Jongho in front of you now. “Hello again, little mouse.”

“Jongho,” You couldn't help but pout at the loss of Yeosang inside of you.

“Did Yeosang stretch you out enough for me?” Now Jongho was smirking. 

“How about you focus less on my dick and more on your own,” Yeosang suggested.

Jongho placed his taloned hands around your waist and helped you hop up so that you could wrap your legs around his waist. Your slippery cunt rubbed up against his straining cock. The both of you groaned at the feeling but now was not the time to indulge. You had already been stretched out by Jongho’s fingers and Yeosang’s cock, but you still enjoyed the delicious stretch it was to take Jongho’s cock inside of you. You made pleased noises and Jongho’s gummy smile came out to play. “You always make the best noises for me, little mouse.”

Once Jongho was fully seated inside of you, Yeosang kissed your shoulder. “Get ready, moonlight.”

Jongho kissed you in distraction, sucking on your lower lip, even so much as pulling it gently with his teeth and growling. Yeosang angled his cock from behind you, prodding your hole and you moaned into Jongho’s mouth when Yeosang slowly entered you. 

“Just a little bit more, you can do it,” Yeosang encouraged. He didn’t sound any better, his voice tight and high.

When the two of them were deep inside of you, everyone was breathing heavily. Your mind was simply white noise, adjusting and simply drinking in the feeling of both of the Predator’s cocks within your cunt. 

“Ready for some movement, little mouse?” Jongho asked, your head having fallen on his shoulder and he kissed the crown of your head.

“Please,” you whimpered and then there were truly no thoughts in your head.

Jongho moved slowly whereas Yeosang’s thrusts were quick. They moved in the opposite rhythm of each other, somehow in sync with each other. You could hear the pathetic mewls leaving your mouth but you found that you couldn't care less about how you sounded. The two cocks fucking you felt so good, you were almost sure you were being spoiled, and one cock might not do moving forward.

“So good,” You whimpered, causing both Predator’s to chuckle a chuckle only men have when a woman is weak for them. “Wanna come. Will you come inside of me? Both of you?”

“Mark her first, then we can come inside of her,” Yeosang commanded.

Jongho stared at you adoringly. “Little mouse, these are badges of honor. We respect your instincts, courage and most importantly, your ability to bring all our races together. It will hurt for a bit and we will have to be gentle with you while they heal, but I hope you wear them with pride, my mate.”

You nodded, bracing for the pain of being marked. Yeosang cupped one side of your waist, Jongho the other, as their opposite hands prepared to cut you with their talons. Jongho’s carefully sliced your breast, the long claw marks moving from your side and under your boob. Yeosang claw marks drew up and around your shoulder, deep only enough for a scar but not as deep to cause any permanent harm. You winced and cried out but the pain was soon washed away as Yeosang bucked up into your heat.

“It’ll be okay, little mouse,” Jongho assured you, holding still while Yeosang set his pace.

“It hurts,” You whimpered but Yeosang kissed up your neck as a distraction this time. 

Jongho was soon moving inside of you and you moaned in bliss. Yeosang was playing with your pussy, pulling out completely and then pushing back in, making your pussy accommodate both girths over and over again. Jongho was the constant inside of you, thrusts remaining deep inside but due to this, he was closer to coming first. 

“Fuck,” Jongho cursed, biting down on his lip.

Yeosang laughed in derision. “Gonna come already, Jongho?”

“Shut up,” Jongho snapped, eyes closed as he attempted to pace himself.

“Is it because our captain’s tight little heat is so good or do you enjoy my cock sliding along yours inside of her?” Yeosang teased his fellow Predator.

“Shut the hell up, Yeosang, and fuck our captain’s pretty pussy,” Jongho snarled.

You had slipped so deep into your headspace, being stretched so deliciously with two cocks, that their conversation was simply passing over your head. You groaned lowly, some spit dripping from the corner of your mouth, head lolling slightly like a ragdoll. 

Yeosang smirked and continued to play with you and seemingly Jongho as well. His dick stayed inside you, thrusts pushing against Jongho’s cock and thus your g-spot. Jongho and you were a moaning wreck soon enough, Jongho’s milky cum mingling with your own as your toes curled and your back arched. Yeosang came next, placing his hands on your ass and spreading your cheeks. You could feel all their cum dripping down their cocks and out of your hole, leaving a puddle on the ship’s floor.

"Am I interrupting?" A voice cut through your orgasm-induced brain.

"You are," Jongho murmured.

Yunho said dryly, "Well, perhaps you would consider having your rituals not in the middle of the hallway." He walked around you three, arms behind his back. 

“Didn’t anyone ever warn you it’s not a good idea to pass by a Predator when their back is turned to you,” Yeosang snarled.

“You’re not threatened by my presence…are you?” Yunho couldn't help but poke.

Slowly, both Predators adjusted until Jongho had you in his arms, careful of both your shoulder and your breast. His large arms were more than ample coverage to hide your nakedness, at least for your sake. Yeosang’s stance was one that was battle ready. You opened your mouth to halt Yeosang but Yunho was already on top of it.

“I am jesting,” Yunho laughed, “I am no threat. I will simply pilot the ship until our captain has recovered.”

Yunho walked down the hallway, taking the same path that you had been working on with your drink, long since dropped and spilled. 

Yeosang turned to Jongho, with a quizzical look on his face. “That’s not like a Furyan to turn down a fight--or a fuck.”

Jongho ran a finger down your cheek tenderly, “I think our captain has changed us all, Brother.”

The two Predators took you to their quarters, quickly ripping their bedding from their bunks and gathering it together so that all three of you could rest together. A wet cloth was given to you to wipe away any access cum but they both supervised to make sure you did not wipe more than necessary to be clean. 

While Yeosang discarded his armor, Jongho pulled a bottle that looked to be self-made. “This is a remedy we make on our homeworld,” Jongho explained, motioning for you to lean over so that he may dress your shoulder wound first. “First, you make the bottle from a beloved hound's skin and then the tree that sacrificed its sap for you. You sew the bark and skin together. The mixture is the sap of a tree known for both its healing properties and for its sticky factor. We introduce some nanos that also speed the healing. It’s only made for brief wounds, or marks we would like to keep from a battle.” 

You watched for a moment, enamored with the blue-green glowing fluid as Jongho spilled some onto his finger to apply to the claw marks. Jongho pursed his lips sympathetically when you winced but he promised you would feel better come morning. 

Yeosang had removed his armor and was about to take off some of the netting when you halted him. “Keep that on?” You asked shyly.

Yeosang smirked, ducking his head and allowing his hair to fall in his face. “Anything for you, Moonlight.”

Once Jongho had removed his armor as well, you laid on your back on the makeshift bed, Jongho and Yeosang turned on their sides to gaze at you. You were already slumbering, moving to a deep sleep to heal your body.

“She did well today,” Jongho said, pride in his voice once again.

“She took her marks and our cocks like a proper mate should,” Yeosang agreed. “You still never answered my question, however, brother.”

Jongho sighed loudly but ultimately admitted what Yeosang already knew to be true. “I enjoyed the slip of your cock against mine.”

“Good,” was all that Yeosang said and promptly fell asleep.

“You bastard,” Jongho cursed but followed suit. 

All Posts | A Manic Queen

Taglist: @hijirikaww @flurrys-creativity @mingsolo @starlitmark @k-pop-ology @pyeonghongrie

#pirateeznet #cultofdionysusnet #mfu-net #ateez smut #choi jongho smut #kang yeosang smut #sci-fi medley #ღatz #topaz's work #atz smut #jongho smut #yeosang smut #haru🌠 #ateez x reader #choi jongho x reader #kang yeosang x reader

[annwayne]

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Thanks for the tag @klynnvakarian !

Wip Titles Game

Star Wars

Cad Babe X OC HURT HURT

Ari x Bane

The Red Logs: Murder in a Bar

Crosshair x Jedi!Commander

Hunter x Reader Request

Sith!Obi-Wan x Jedi!Reader

Stargate Atlantis

Alice in Atlantis

Mission Fic

Predator

Feral!Predator!OC x Amber Park Ranger OC

Riddick

OC x Riddick isekai Fic

COD: MW2

Crashed Dove

Haaaa I have a lot. Ok tags. No pressure. @nimata-beroya @freesia-writes @wolveria @bagheerita @chaniis-atlantis @l-lend

#hey I got six that’s a lot more tags than usual #tag game #wip title game #ask if you’re curious but they are pretty bland titles xD #I usually don’t think of names till it’s time to post the fic

[writingkeepsmewhole]

 It ain’t me you gotta worry about

This is part 6 of Snow In The Dark. Been a while I know but hope you like anyway.

Fic Summary: Snow has never known who she was. Being raised in the streets made her strong but lonely. That changed when she met Jack them becoming as close as sisters. She thought she found her family. That all changes when she crashes on a planet with only one rule. Stay in the light.

Part Summary: Snow gets saved by an unexpeacted friend.

Riddick x OC Snow

Warnings: Language. Mentions of abuse.

Part 1 Part 5

Let me know if you want to be tagged :P : @here4thespice @amarokofficial @backseat-serenade-dizzyhurricane

As soon as we reach the ship I can’t help but notice the shadow moving on the ground. Looking up I see large spirals coming over the horizon. Iman’s boys take off running into the ship for Carolyn.

“Crap.” I say looking at it knowing the eclipse was starting. 

 It doesn't take long for everyone to decide that we have to get off the planet as soon as possible. Sharon getting the doom buggie up and running it definitely going to help us get the rest of the power cells back to the ship. They were heavy and would take hours to carry from the crash site. Hours we didn't have. The buggie was solar powered.

I hadn't seen Riddick or Johns since my "chat" with Johns. Something I was happy and nervous about.

Happy because the more I was away from Johns the better and nervous because I didn't know how Riddick would react.

I knew I was nothing to him, just something to pass the time with or entertain himself for the time being but something told me he wouldn't be pleased with my new found bruises.

Just a gut feeling that he would be upset.

We all climbed into the sand cat quickly, a twisted thought that we all wouldn’t fit if the people who had died were still alive.

“Where’s Riddick?” Jack yells, making me look at her.

She was right, him and Johns was still MIA.

“Leave him.” Paris says, shocking me. Making me wonder if he would say that about any of the rest of us.

“He wouldn’t wait for us.” He says just as Riddick jumps from the roof of a nearby building. Him landing right behind Paris.

“I thought we lost you.” Paris says nervous, making me roll my eyes. 

I can’t stop the small smile as he quickly sits down. It’s wiped from my face when Riddick tilts his head towards me.

I knew what he saw. We all did, it was kinda hard to miss. He moves closer to me, standing next to where I am sitting.

“Johns!” Sharon yells, and starts to drive forward slowly.

I kinda hoped she would leave him, but he quickly comes out of the building. Him starting to climb on the buggie. Riddick surprised me by helping him up.

Him holding him on the edge for a second. I realize in that moment that he knows. Riddick knows what happened to me. Or rather who did this to me.

It wasn’t even an hour ago when he threatened to kill Johns for busting my lip. Now I had his literal finger prints on my jaw. I didn’t know what would happen but I knew this wasn’t going to end well. 

Riddick only held him there for a moment, staring at him but it felt much longer. My stomach twisting in knots watching the interaction between them.

Riddick helps him on the sand cat then turns around.

He settles himself next to me. Glancing up at him he looked angry. Everything on him was tense. As if he was daring anyone to look at him wrong.

We rode quickly towards the crash site. The impending eclipse is right behind us.

Jack looks over at Riddick, pulling her found broken goggles over her eyes.

I didn't even get a chance to smile at how cute she was being. Riddick pointed behind her to the very large bone hanging ready to knock off anyone who was standing up.

Jack quickly ducks down out of the way. I don't bother moving, already sitting down so I wasn't expecting when Riddick's large hand was placed on my back pushing me down as he squatted out of the way.

I realized I wasn't out of the way like I thought the bone was only a few inches from the top of my head.

We all sit back up only under the ribcage of the animal for a minute.

I checked on Jack with my eyes, she was fine. My next thought is Riddick.

When did I start caring about him I'll never know. 

He glances down at me then looks straight ahead once again.

We reach the crash ship quickly, all of us climbing off, except Sharon, and the kids.

I rush into the crash ship seeing where I can help.

I stop seeing Riddick and John's packing power cells. Riddick packing two at a time. Despite them weighing almost eighty pounds.

I was definitely impressed. Hearing Jack call for me I quickly rush back out just to watch a plant rise from the sky. I block out the sun as everything around us goes black.

Darkness settles around us along with the silence. At first that’s all there is silence, dead silence. 

Then I hear it. A chirping that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Looking in the distance I watch a black cloud rise, the noise growing louder. 

The creatures twisting around each other. It almost reminds me of a dance.

“Beautiful.” Riddick says, his voice closer to me then what I expected.

I look over my shoulder seeing the winging beast take to the sky. The sound of them settling around us, it makes me feel on edge.

“Get back to the ship.” Carolyn says, then yells, her along with the others rushing towards the ship as the monsters start rushing towards us. It felt like they would swoop down and snatch me up any moment.

Adrenaline shoots through me, rushing up my neck, waking my mind up. Telling my body to move. Now. My legs move on their own. The survival instinct makes my limbs pump faster.

I turn ready to sprint to the door, seeing Jack ahead of me I know she is fine. Not looking back, I focused on running. Getting to the ship. Living.

When I feel something hard slam into my back I fall forward, smacking into the ground. The air in my lungs gets knocked out of me.

A heavy weight is laying on me. The hot breath of another person fanning over my ear. Fingers wrapped around the back of my neck.

“Don’t move.” His deep voice says, the sound resonating deep in my stomach.

I feel the rush of air as the swarm of creatures fly over us. Missing us by inches and flying back into the sky.

It’s quiet for just a moment. Just long enough to make you want to stand up. I couldn’t if I wanted to. Riddick’s large frame keeps me in place. I had no intention of moving. The itch in the back of my mind telling me it wasn’t safe yet.

I hear Jack yell at Shazza to stay down. Riddick flips off me to land on his back next to me as another woosh of wings fly over us.

Laying flat on my stomach, my face looking to the left. I watch him lay perfectly still. Like death wasn’t inches from us.

I take a deep breath through my nose, the smell of Riddick mixed with earth fills my nose. Claiming me.

The sound of Shazza’s screams reach us. The creatures fighting over her torn in half body flying off.

Riddck stands up, reminding me of a cat the way he moves. Him looking to both his left and his right before dusting his hands off and offering me one.

The gesture snaps me out of my daze. Pushing myself up to my knees I take his broad hand and let him pull me up with ease.

He drops my hand as soon as I'm standing and starts walking towards the crashed ship like he knew I would follow him.

I do follow him, kinda shocked he just saved my life. I thought he was the monster on the ship.

“Please, I really think we should go inside.” Paris says pulling Jack with him.

He must have held her from going to Shazza. I feel a bitter coil of jealousy in my stomach realizing she didn’t scream for me once.

“Come on, let's go.” He says, just as me and Riddick reach the ship. Carolyn looked in shock and like she was going to puke.

The hairs on my neck bristle up hearing another round of screeching. The three of us turned to look in the distance. 

I take a breath hearing more rocks crumble, telling me more creatures are coming.

“What is it RIddick?” Carolyn asks, as Riddick takes his goggles off.

“What is it now?”

“Like I said it ain’t me you gotta worry about.” He says, as another flock of monsters rush towards us.

#pitch black fanfic #pitch black fic #pitch black #riddick #chronicles of riddick #riddick x reader #riddick fanfiction #richard b riddick #pitch black riddick #riddick x you #riddick x oc #riddick imagine #snow in the dark

[yve-barr]

riddick x guardian angel reader

part one

NOT MY GIF! NOT MY CHARACTER!

Forgive me if it's not all correctly in order I haven't watched it in a while.

Part two in my drafts but only released if specially requested cause honestly I'm to mentally tired to finish it with no motivation

⚠️Warnings⚠️

Blood, canon violence, animal cruelty, self harm to survive,

please enjoy!

The first time he saw her was the discovery of vaakos betrayal.

He lay at the bottom of that cliff his leg snapped in two and his numerous wounds bleeding. The pain almost as blinding as her glowing light.

"am I dead?" He scoffed.

She merely smiled and shook her head and reached out her hand to pull him out of the rubble.

"it is not yet your time."

"so you know when it will be?" He had asked the pain vanishing as she lead him through the desolate land.

"I do," she smiled pulling a gourd from thin air and filling it with water pouring down from the cliff.

"where am I?" He said taking the gourd when she offered it.

"not furya, so I suggest you get up," she replied playfully and then she was gone.

He glanced around but when he tried to take a step he fell, instead of hitting the ground however he found himself buried back underneath the rocks.

the pain in his body burned almost as much as the sun against his eyes when he finally dug himself out.

Feebly he crawled over to what looked to be water but on closer expectation it was a sulfur pit.

But that was only the beginning, his leg needed setting otherwise it wouldn't heal properly.

Finding a descent crack in the rock he placed his foot inside it.

Gritting his teeth he snapped his bone back into place.

He cried out, his leg felt as though a thousand suns had replaced the flesh. And the nerves with barbed wire.

In the distance he heard the yelps of some sort of big dog, and he knew he screwed up.

The sounds grew louder as he crawled towards the sulfur pit.

He hit the surface with a splash quickly taking a deep breath before submerging fully.

Opening his shrieking eyes he saw the dog like creatures staring down at him, his lungs burned and small eel like creatures nipped at his open wounds.

slowly his eyes were forced shut by the acidic sulfur pool.

For some unknown reason once his eyes had closed instead of the burning and swishing he felt a cool breeze and his lungs no longer felt like taught elastic.

"get up," your sweet voice called. "Get up!"

Slowly your voice got more distant and his cloths began to dampen, his lungs begining to burn.

"it is not your time."

Splashing above the surface of the water he gasped for air.

The creatures had vanished, and so had you.

He did not see you again for a short time.

Intact the next time he did see you he had just pressed the point of the sharp bard against his skin when you materialised Infront of him.

"what not whisking me off to wonderland this time?" You shook your head but did not smile.

"you listened to me, about the water?"

"didn't have many options," he said adjusting his hold on the sack of venom.

"but you do now, so maybe put that down," you said.

"can't do that lady," he tilted his head smirking a little.

"of course you can't," you rolled you eyes and picked up a bowl from thin air.

Riddick was about to ask how you did that, but the barb was already in his arm the venom sleeping into his blood stream.

Quickly you were on your knees Infront of him, your own eyes staring into his obscured ones.

"deep breaths," was all you managed to say before his whole body stiffened and started convulsing horribly.

He collapsed over head in your lap (or more precisely over the bowl) his whole body stiffened and shaking.

You ran your soft hands up and down the back of his neck, slowly removing his goggles.

He gagged into the bowl and you sighed running your right hand along his upper arm, the other rested on the back of his neck.

You expected it to be over soon.

Soon you'd summon the stair way and lead him down to hell.

"It's your time," you muttered sadly, making to shift his quaking body away.

But you gasped when he grabbed you left wrist.

His voice barely loud enough to hear, he croaked out, "not today."

You just sat there in shock as he continued to shake and vomit.

As you had previously suspected he soon fell limp and you cast the bowl aside resting his head in your lap his face turned to the side.

hurriedly you checked the pulse line on his wrist that only you could see.

and it beat, in steady slowed beats.

Never in your millenniums of life had you seen anything like this, he should have flat lined a whole minute ago.

You had previously scoffed at other angels who had claimed for this to happen to them.

you knew what this meant.

Scared you removed his head from your lap and stood pacing back and forth in the cave.

A small creature whimpered in a cage made of bones.

Walking over to it you crouched down infront of it.

"what should I do little one?" You asked it, not really expecting an answer, but to your suprise it tilted its head and looked over your shoulder at the unconscious man. "You think I should do it?"

The little dingo creature yelped in agreement.

"but he's a serial killer? He'll go to hell if I do this it'll tie my fate to his, I have a place in heaven, I have a duty to do, other souls to watch over and inevitably lead to the afterlife," the little creature pushed it's muzzle trough the bones and sniffled.

Carefully you reached your hand through the gap and stroked it.

Smiling you sat there for a while, but then a sound from behind you made you stop.

the man on the floor, grumbled slightly stirring.

And you were forced to make a split second decision.

as he slowly came to you walked over to him and replaced his goggles and left.

Back into the crystal white beyond, until he would need you again.

For the next few days riddick continued to grow his immunity to the venom, but not once did he see you.

You saw him though.

Everytime.

You would appear to find him shaking on the floor and you would pull him against you and run soft hands down his neck, his arms, his back.

You'd sit until he was safe then you would attempt to leave but every time he'd shift or his hold on your arm would slacken and your stay.

But always there was the knowing in the back of your mind about what this meant, and always you knew what this man was and where he was going.

Everytime was the same until it wasn't.

You materialised onto the planet looking for his shaking form but instead you saw him sitting on a rock his head on his fist, thinking.

"your my angel aren't you," it wasn't a question.

"I am," you answered still.

"when an I going to die then," he said looking to you. "And I know about the lying thing before you try."

"the lying thing? You mean that if I lie to you I'll be indebted to you?"

He nodded.

"good for you, but I don't know when you'll die," you smiled meekly.

He frowned.

"I thought I did but, your time has been and gone, yet your still here."

Silence fell upon the room.

"and if you know what that means I'll be quite shocked," you said.

Cautiously he shook his head and you nodded yours once before turning to leave.

"good luck."

And you were gone

#richard b riddick #riddick #riddick chronicles #riddick x reader #pitch black

[furyan-imagines]

I'm trying a new format for imagines out. It's modeled after the old 'Choose your own adventure' series, but because of Tumblr's format, I think I can only put one layer of choice to each imagine.

Not sure how this will work/take off, so we'll see.

You can send some requests in for this if you like, but life has gotten much busier in the time I've been gone, so there's no guarantee I can get to it at all. But I'll try.

#riddick imagine #riddick x reader #riddick imagines #you can pick series #first one of this is up on my blog

[maxthefryingpan12]

Requests are open!

Someone please request something, I’m begging. I have no ideas on what to write!

You can request virtually anything of me(fanfic wise).

But I don’t do:

-incest

-stepbrother or stepsister

-characters that are canonically under the age of 12(they have to at least be in 7th grade, people.)

-fics that go against confirmed character sexualities(such as a male reader x Robin Buckley)

-large age gap (reader has to be at least 18 if I do it)

-shows/books/movies that I haven’t read/seen(it makes me nervous about messing up the character)

-ACTUAL PEOPLE(as in celebrities themselves, not live action characters, i am also talking about real people who have had shows made out of them)

-children x adults(unless platonically)

-rape play, dubcon, CNC, stuff of that nature(the concept makes me uncomfortable)

-toxic!(Character) x reader

I will write a variety of other things and I will write for a VERY LARGE variety of characters and fandoms.

I will write for:

Riddick

Percy Jackson

Tmnt

Magnus Chase

Marvel

Mha

Aot

Harry Potter

Detroit: Become Human

Howl’s moving castle

Epic(2013 movie)

DC

Supernatural

OHSHC

Divergent

EAH & MH

Heartless

Skyrim

Portal

Fnaf

Httyd

Star Wars

Sally Face

Stranger things

Creepypasta

Wakfu

Demon slayer

H x H

Fairytail

The promised Neverland(fluff only for now)

BNA

Twilight

The Hobbit & the Lord of the Rings

Haikyuu

The black phone

Rise of the guardians

Sinbad

Pirates of the Caribbean

The spiderverse

The hunger games

Naruto

Hazbin hotel & helluva boss

Hellboy

Encanto

Strange magic

Shera

The book of life & Maya and the three

SCP

Your boyfriend game( I can’t remember the title)

Yandere simulator

TBHK

Twisted wonderland

Mystic Messenger

MeChat

Sing & zootopia

Among us

Mulan

That’s all I can remember for now.

A/n: I couldn’t fit all the tags :’(

Do I need to beg again? I’ve only gotten two requests since posting this and one of them was my friend irl.

Update: I’ve gotten 4 now.

#fanfic #mha #bna: brand new animal #riddick #x reader #epic 2013 #tmnt #harry potter #percy jackson #magnus chase #h x h #fairy tail #the promised neverland #the hobbit #the lord of the rings #demon slayer #Sally face #stranger things #fnaf #twilight #portal #creepypasta #star wars #Wakfu #how to train your dragon #skyrim #heartless #ever after high #monster high #marvel

[gggoldfinch]

Hatchetknife

Richard B. Riddick x OFC (or could be x reader)

Word Count: 12,114

A low-profile merc masquerading as a man has her ship (and life) invaded by an unlikely guest. She gets found out, and things progress interestingly.

#I can't believe I actually wrote this in three days flat. that's what I call insanity #literally no one asked for this and probably no one will read it either but I needed to write it for myself ya know #pitch black 2000 #chronicles of riddick #riddick #richard b riddick #richard b riddick x oc #richard b riddick x reader #goldfinch writes

[ink-and-blood-goddess]

Happy New Year 2024

Hello everybody and Happy New Year 2024

First off, I'd like to apologize to those who requested over two years ago and last year for not getting to their requests done, as I got to deal with my job and family life on a daily basis. However, that'll all change for the New Year. I've got a lot of catching up to do, so please be patient.

Secondly, I've changed my blog name to something more appropriate since the first name didn't sound right to me.

Third, I'm going to start writing fanfic series for the first time. It's my first time writing a fanfic series since I started this blog two years ago, so I wanted to do something different this year.

Lastly, I'm going to be doing fanfic masterlists for better navigation on my blog to find them more easier to look up. My inbox for requests is still closed, but my DM (Direct Message) board is still open for requests 24/7. I am going to be doing one or two character requests lists for this year, but I'm still planning that out.

So let's make 2024 the best year for fanfiction and for fanfiction writers :D

SIDE NOTE: As as BIG heads up, I'm finally getting back to writing part II of The Gentle Giant and I'll have that out when I've got the time to finish it...

Upcoming Fanfic Requests for 2024:

First Time

Secret Lovers

The Lovers of Ammit

Doctor’s Notes

Birth of a Miracle

Within His Grasp  

Getting Under His Skin

Heroic Savior

In-Between The Sheets

Lucien Crown x OFC

Harry Osborn NSFW Headcanons

In Between the Bloodshed

Different

Vaako x Reader One Shot

Just a Little Bit

Speechless Angel

Our Plus Sized Wonder

A Birthday Surprise

A Different Kind of Angel

Star Shaped Freckles

The Beauty and the Serpent

Feral Elf

In the Heat of the Moment

Mine to Keep

Hide and Seek Little Lamb

Don't Be Afraid Little Mouse

His Companion

Upcoming Fanfic Series for 2024:

My Dark King (Vampire!Vaako x Female Reader)

The Dark of You (Riddick x Female Reader)

The Beauty Underneath (Raoul x Deformed!Female Reader)

#fanfiction blog #fanfic blog #fanfiction #fanfic #character x reader #x reader fanfic #x reader fanfiction #arthur harrow #arthur harrow fanfiction #top dollar #top dollar x reader #top dollar fanfiction #michael kenmore stargate atlantis #michael kenmore fanfic #michael kenmore #vaako #vaako fanfiction #harry osborn #lucien crown #milo morbius #michael morbius #lucien crown fanfiction #milo morbius fanfiction #aziraphale fanfiction #azirapahle #crowley #crowley fanfiction #legolas #legolas fanfiction #lucian underworld

[sanjoongie]

𝔻𝕖𝕔.𝟚𝟜- 𝕄𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕠𝕖

A Sci-Fi Medley Chapter~ Holiday Special

The Cast~ Yeosang, Jongho- Predators Yunho, San, Mingi- Furyans Hongjoong, Wooyoung- Alien (Hunter status) Seonghwa- Alien (Queen status) Ot8 x captain/pilot! Reader

ღMy submission for 25 Tips for Surviving the Holidays Event held by @kvanity-main ღPairing: Park Seonghwa x Reader (f) ღGenre: sci fi au, aliens au, predator au, riddick au, established relationship trope, poly trope ღWord Count: 1,434 ღWarnings:  kissing, slight bdsm with Seonghwa's tail, mentions of Seonghwa potentially laying eggs 😵 ღRated: 18+ MDNI, fluff, suggestive ღSummary: You decide to hang mistletoe over the door to the captain's quarters and are pleasantly surprised when Seonghwa becomes obsessed with it. ღDedication:  @stardragongalaxy thank you for encouraging me to write this soft piece for myself 💞 thank you @downtoamagicalland for beta-ing, she knows exactly what this piece means to me 😭 ღA/N: this takes place shortly after all the aliens have found a home on the captain's ship. They are new to their lives with each other and are learning. Takes place before Jongho/Yeosang’s chapter and Hwa's egg laying (someday i'll get a timeline posted)

ღNetwork tag: @monsterfvckersunited ღdivider by @cafekitsune

"What is it?" Seonghwa looked up to the hanging piece of greenery that was above the entryway to the captain's quarters.

You smiled happily and crooked your finger. "Come meet me under it?"

Seonghwa moved cautiously, his eyes glancing up towards the mistletoe and then back to you. "Not trick?"

You shook your head. You couldn't help but find Seonghwa's rudimentary Common Tongue still cute. "It's not a trick Seonghwa, I promise, you'll like it."

Once Seonghwa stood in front of you, still towering above you with his tail swooshing behind him nervously, you explained. “Us humans put mistletoe above the doorway for opportunities or reasons to kiss each other.”

Seonghwa’s eyes zeroed in on you immediately. “Kiss?”

Your smile grew bigger. “Yeah. If two people meet beneath it, they must kiss.”

Seonghwa leaned forward and pecked your lips and you couldn't help but giggle. “See, no trick.”

You were about to step away when Seonghwa’s claws carefully slid through your hair and cupped the back of  your head. He deepened the kiss and you sighed into his mouth, happy to oblige. You stood on your tippy-toes and wrapped your arms behind Seonghwa’s neck.

“Get a room!” San called from down the hallway.

“That is her room, you idiot,” Jongho replied.

“Well, get in it then!” San insisted.

“Does he not understand the mistletoe?” Yeosang drawled.

“I do too!--ohhhhhh,” San let out the last word, “Now I get it.”

Seonghwa released you finally, eyes looking up at the mistletoe again. His eyes shone, curious and happy. He sounded out the word “mistletoe” and looked pleased when you informed him his Common Tongue was getting better.

Over the course of the next couple days, the various aliens showed up. Jongho made you squeak as he gruffly pulled you to his chest and kissed you breathless. Mingi stared at the mistletoe like it was going to jump at him but still received his kiss with a happy smile. Wooyoung screeched as he ran down the hallway, only to throw himself around you and give you a throaty kiss that had you dazed for a few minutes after, then cackled and shouted at Hongjoong that he kissed you before him. Hongjoong approached you slowly after, held your face in place with one hand, carefully slotted his lips between yours and then left with a swish of his tail. Yunho was curiously studying the mistletoe, but when his hands moved to touch it, you slapped it, fearful of any allergies or bad reactions. That got you flat on your back, Yunho’s warrior instinct reacting too quickly. He pecked your lips and then helped you up, his ears slightly red. Yeosang let you come to him, kissing the corner of his lips tenderly first and then receiving a proper kiss. He nodded like everything made sense and then went on his merry way. San had a cheeky grin on his face, almost boyish in his approach, but none of that was in his kiss, which was messy and had you wiping your lips afterwards.

But Seonghwa was the one that was enamored with the tradition. He found all manner of reasons to be in front of your room. He had questions about the flight pattern the ship was taking, he stumbled through vocabulary questions, he offered you food to eat, the list went on. But each encounter always ended up with the both of you under the door and Seonghwa waiting for his kiss.

Seonghwa had alternative motives for all the kisses, that perhaps only Hongjoong and Wooyoung would have understood. Seonghwa knew it was a matter of time before he went through the cycle of wanting to lay eggs. His body would prepare for it, especially since his feelings for you seem to soar beyond his heart’s expectations. Seonghwa was connecting with you, had been connecting with you, on a level that was only reserved for mates. So he needed to prepare your body for his needs. His saliva had a genetic code within that adapted bodies to alien’s needs. There had been situations in his ancestor’s pasts where genetic adaptation was either required for survival or for improvement, but this time, it was for his heart’s needs. He wanted you to carry his eggs. 

If the result was more reason to kiss his mate, Seonghwa couldn't necessarily complain.

Next place of attack caught you off guard. You were in the cargo bay with a tablet, keeping track of the stock you had, when you heard some bells jingling. You cocked your head to listen better and you heard it again. You were about to turn around to see what manner of mischief the aliens were up now but time was not on your side.

A long tail wrapped itself around you, effectively making you drop your tablet in surprise and trap your arms against your body. It didn't have a distinct tip so you knew it was Seonghwa and not Hongjoong or Wooyoung. There was a surprise hanging above you from his tail, however. Green mistletoe, with bright red berries and some bells.

“Kiss?” Seonghwa wondered behind you.

“Seonghwa!” You couldn't help the way your heart skipped a beat.

“Please?” Seonghwa whined. When you nodded, he tilted your head to look back at him and he kissed you. This time, it was almost like he wanted to crawl in your mouth, completely invading and taking control.

When the kiss ended, you were panting. “Hwa,” You murmured. Seonghwa loosened his tail so you could turn into his embrace but still kept it around you, mistletoe jingling merrily above you both still. “We can’t continue to stand out here if you’re going to kiss me like that.”

Seonghwa looked up towards a vent opening and back down to you hopefully. “I don’t think so, mister,” You scolded him. “We will walk to another room. You damn aliens and your vents.”

It was easy to pull Seonghwa into one of the containment cells. Seonghwa had been injured when you first met him on this ship and you had helped nurse him back to health in this room. So Seonghwa somewhat found comfort in this particular room. Since it was the beginning of your history with Seonghwa, it only made sense that you pull the alien into this room. 

Seonghwa was on top of you as soon as you laid down on the small bed where once you had nursed him back to health. It was like he was addicted to your lips. The small jingles of the bell on his tail sounded softly as his tail continued to move behind him, a clear indication that he was enjoying his kisses. 

“Captain?” Seonghwa wondered between peppering kisses along your jaw and down your neck. 

“Mmm?” You barely were able to lift your mind from the lust-filled cloud that was your thoughts right now.

“Mate?” Seonghwa asked, having made it to your collarbones now, sucking a love bite.

“That’s what we’re here for, Hwa,” You couldn't help but laugh.

Seonghwa raised his head and shook it, clearly frustrated with his limited vocabulary. He growled and snarled, not out of anger, but in his own language. He shook his hair out of his face and tried again. “My mate?”

One of your hands, that had been previously on the small of his back urging him against you, fluttered up to hold onto his arm. You’re not sure if your heart is beating properly right now. “Are you asking me to be your mate?”

Seonghwa shook his head again, this time a charming crooked smile pulling at his lips. He tapped his heart and then tapped yours with a claw. “Now. Mate.”

You felt tears fill the corner of your eyes. It’s not that you had hoped love would bloom after you had nursed Seonghwa from his injuries when you found him on this crashed ship with the Furyans. But you had fallen for the Alien Queen, who was so fiercely protective of you. The fact that he already felt the tug between your two hearts meant the world to you, despite having anatomically two different hearts.

“You’re right,” You half laughed and half cried, “How silly of me. We’re already mates, aren’t we?”

Seonghwa’s tail jingled merrily over you both once again and you both leaned into a kiss. “Mine,” he snarled against your lips.

You sighed happily, “I’m yours, Seonghwa.” You entangled your hands in his hair and deepened the kiss, feeling your heart beat in happiness. Guess it was a good idea to hang mistletoe after all.

All Posts | Dual Courtship

Taglist: @hijirikaww @starlitmark @k-pop-ology 

#kchristmas #kvanity #kwritersworldnet #pirateeznet #cultofdionysusnet #sci-fi medley #ateez smut #park seonghwa smut #seonghwa smut #atz smut #ateez x reader #park seonghwa x reader #poly!teez #topaz's work #ღatz