#Mercenary!Reader

[skelswritingcorner]

A Vessel, A Stranger, An Experiment

A/N: This took half a week to write, and is significantly longer. Also, the reader character's canon name is Ailith, but I use Y/N since this is the reader character. She behaves like a stray cat. I mostly consulted tvtropes because the wikis aren't exactly helpful with getting a nail on the bots' personalities. Also, the translator is an idea I took from @tripleglitchwriting's Ignition fics,

This is a partial rewrite of An Unfamiliar Place.

Part 2 can be read here!

Word Count: 3K

Reader character is written with gender-neutral pronouns. POV changes and timeskips are designated with three stars.

Warnings: SFW, mentions of blood and injuries, communication problems, G/T (giant/tiny), mentions of unethical experiments

You knew about your injuries before going on the little ship you called home. It’ll be fine, you remember assuring your most recent client after you got your payment, I know how to mend myself.

Clearly, based on the spike that impaled your torso, you were indeed not. Your client didn’t need to know, you had the money to pay someone to fix you up if you can’t do it yourself. Perks of being a bodyguard for hire; the money makes up for any injuries sustained. At least the cloak hid that from the client; you knew they’d prevent you from leaving the planet if they saw.

You removed your mask and cloak, peeling your gloves off your hands as well as removing your grappling hook, and limped toward the mirror. Shit, you thought to yourself, the injuries are more severe than what you assumed. The spike in your torso was the one you knew about, but there were also bullet holes in your left calf. You checked your sleeves, mostly just small scratches and scrapes. Nothing you couldn’t fix.

Grabbing the medical kit, you went to work. Cleaning the wounds of blood and possible grime, then applying the bandages and wraps. The spike would have to be removed by someone more professional, you need to navigate to the nearest space clinic. Plopping onto the chair, you set the ship to go to the nearest clinic. However, as a precaution, you turned on the emergency signal in case a larger ship with someone more skilled in medicine could help. Hopefully the trip will be quick, and smooth-sailing.

Oh, how much of a fool you were. Oh-so foolish of you. You thought this was going to be anything but a disaster? You fool, you absolute buffoon.

There was a massive ship, you knew it was for something gigantic. How and why did you end up in this situation?! You weren’t sure what to do, so you kept the ship where it was. The ship you were facing was ten miles wide at least, and you might be its target.

Something grabbed the ship. It pulled you closer and closer to the gigantic vessel, until you knew you were inside it. Launching yourself off the chair as fast as you could, you hurriedly fastened your magnetic grappling hook on your right arm and grabbed the smallest weapons you had. No time to grab anything else, you needed to run as soon as you could. You held the handle of one of your smaller blades between your teeth.

Clearly, what was holding you was massive, footsteps jostling both you and your vessel, but eventually the ship you were in was put down somewhere. Once everything went silent, you cautiously opened the front hatch.

The vessel you were in was truly massive. Whatever crew is inside this thing must be members of species ten times larger than you at least. No time to dawdle, though. You needed a place to hide, and with haste.

Using your grappling hook, you descended down to the floor. It gave out midway, however, and you unceremoniously fell. Waves of intense pain overwhelmed you, fortunately the knife in your mouth prevented you from shouting out in pain. You’d check what happened later, though. You needed to find a hiding spot some distance away from your ship.

Holding onto your bloodied side, you scurried to a wall and started searching. Fortunately for you, there were some boxes that were open on its side after a few minutes of sprinting. You used your grappling hook to get to them, and entered one of the boxes. Now all you needed to do was wait. See if the crew is friendly, or if they’re going to kill you. Or if you end up dying from blood loss, which is the most likely option.

✩✩✩

It was Ultra Magnus out of anyone who noticed the object at first, and the blood trails coming outside of it. It’s an organic, and an injured one at that, he thought. Using his comm link, he informed all upon the Lost Light of the injured “intruder.” As they were minibots, Tailgate and Rewind were delegated the responsibility of investigating the interior of said object; see what it was for and if anything about what was inside could be discovered. Fortress Maximus chose himself not to look for the organic, for his size made it difficult for him to detect the source of the blood trails. That, and he didn’t want to squash them, so he checked all the cameras in the ship. Ratchet and First Aid were to prepare a berth, as the blood implied potentially life-threatening injuries. Brainstorm and Perceptor were to prepare some restraints and trapping items, in case said organic was being difficult. Now, to figure out who to find the organic…

Much to his dismay, however, Rodimus declared to find the organic himself. “I’m the captain of this ship,” he argued, “I’m going to search for them!”

Magnus pinched his enstril, a deep sigh coming from his intake. Rodimus has always been stubborn, refusing to heed anyone’s advice and acting without plans. Which, given the potential gravity of this current situation, could be disastrous. “I’d suggest not running off by yourself, Captain. At least bring one other Autobot, two pairs of optics are better than one.”

He could feel Rodimus roll his optics.

“I’ll go with the Captain.” Drift sighed. “I know you don’t trust me, but I’ll do the best that I can.”

Magnus grumbled, “Fine. You go with the Captain. I’ll remain by the object the organic came out of. Based on the size, they shouldn’t be too far off. Follow the red trail, and once you get them, bring them to the medbay.”

✩✩✩

POV: Tailgate and Rewind

When Tailgate and Rewind entered the ship, it was relatively empty, yet had signs of life. The blood on the floor made Tailgate panic a bit, but he carried on with reassurance from Rewind.

There were a few items of note, mostly the mask and cloak on the floor. The mask was birdlike in appearance; midnight blue in color with signs of wear. Mostly scratches. The cloak was a similar shade of blue, and rather bulky. There was a cut on the back of it, with blood around where the cut was.

Tailgate turned on his communicator. “Oh, this is bad.”

“What is it, Tailgate?” Magnus questioned.

“There’s an item on the floor, there’s a deep cut on it and… and I think the organic’s injuries might be way more severe than we think!”

“Ten four. I’ll inform Ratchet and First Aid of this.”

Rewind noticed a container, opening it up to see several weapons. Most of said weapons were blades. “We’re not dealing with just any organic,” he muttered, “this is one that knows how to fight. They could be armed as well.”

Rewind opened his comm link to Rodimus.

Tailgate investigated thoroughly, there could be a bomb on the ship. Every container he opened lacked bombs, however. Replacement parts, some stuff written in an unfamiliar language, and… diagrams?

Tailgate looked at the diagrams more closely. Based on the shape, the form was of a human. There were peculiar additions on the chassis, left bitarlueus, and right side of the midsection. Likely something Perceptor and Brainstorm could figure out.

“I found what looks like a recording device! It seems rather old, but I think it might work.” Rewind’s words broke Tailgate out of his trance, “We should activate our translator modules so we can figure out what it’s saying. Once everyone’s translators are online, I’ll play the recording.”

Once everyone confirmed that their translators were online, Rewind pressed the play button on the device. The words that came out were steel cold.

“If you’re listening to this, you’re on my ship. You’re a sneaky one, ain’t cha? I’ve been given many names; The Masked Merc, The Bodyguard Who Shot That One Guy’s Eye Out, and many other names. You’ll be getting my real identity from my cold, dead corpse. If you’re expectin’ me to cooperate with you if I’m alive, you better be polite about that. I’m willing to throw hands if you try to force anything out of me. I might be a mercenary, but I’m not one to throw hands just for the sake of it.”

The recorded message on the old device ended. The two bots looked at each other, and back at the device.

“Wait, there’s another button next to it.” Rewind pressed the button, and another recording played. The voice this time was much softer, and younger. Likely their first recording.

“Hello. I am Y/N. I’m not sure what I really am in this world, this is my first time experiencing many things. Heh, the consequences of living your first decade of life in a lab, I guess. I doubt I can find my ‘real family’ at this rate, if they even miss me at all. I’m a bodyguard for hire. Rarely need to use my weapons, guess some people find me too scary. Goodbye for now. If you see me, you see me. If you don’t, you don’t.”

Silence.

“So the organic’s a bodyguard. Y/N, huh? Must be a pacifist, from the sounds of it.” Tailgate pondered.

“Or is powerful enough that most don’t even try to challenge them since it means swift deactivation.” Perceptor rebutted through the comm link.

“WE FOUND ‘EM!”

✩✩✩

POV: Rodimus, Drift, and Reader

Once the two reached Ultra Magnus, Tailgate, and Rewind, Drift began checking the blood. “There’s a splatter on the floor here,” he mentioned, “must’ve had a nasty fall before they started finding somewhere to hide.”

Rodimus winced trying to imagine the pain. Why couldn’t the organic stay put until they got help? Weren’t they the one sending out the emergency signal?

“Let’s go find that organic!” Rodimus started walking while looking down at the blood trails, Drift swiftly following.

The two walked slowly, optics scanning for where the blood led towards and listening to their comm links. They heard Tailgate and Rewind’s notes about the organic’s possible injuries, the weapons, and the recordings.

Rodimus noticed a slightly open crate, where the blood trail ended. A squeak from inside was all he needed to justify putting a servos on the crate’s side, and opening it up.

“WE FOUND ‘EM!”

Well, you got caught. Took what you believe is half an hour, but better than dying. You weren’t going to hop onto them instantly though, they might try to kill you. More likely than not, they might not be super cautious. Especially the orange one, they seem like they’ll accidentally manhandle you and make your injuries significantly worse.

Wait, how can you understand them? Are they using a common tongue? You have some handle on certain languages from your years as a mercenary, but you weren’t sure how they knew any of the languages you knew. Nobody mentioned giant sentient robots when talking to you. Actually, they probably did it in whispers since most people are scared of you. Dammit.

The white one tilted their head, “You’re clutching your midsection with your servo. Are you hurt there?”

Well, shit.

You slowly removed your hand from where you were covering your injury. The spike got pushed when you fell, and is currently jutting out from your stomach. Fortunately, or unfortunately, it didn’t end up on the side of the subspace pocket the scientists installed on you, so you can hide that for a little while longer. Your hand, however, was covered in blood.

The orange one held out their hand, or what they called a servo. You did not trust him to handle you gently, and walked further into the crate. They grumbled, something about you being difficult.

“Let me, Rodimus.” The white one held his servo out, “I think they don’t trust you with holding them.”

You approached the servo with caution, touching a digit with your not-super-bloody hand. When they didn’t try to grab you, you slowly crawled onto their open palm. Another squeak of pain came from your lips when your injured leg touched the hand, though.

The servo slowly brought you close to their body, and the one you assume is Rodimus put a servo on the side of their helmet. “Drift’s holding the organic, I’ll go with him to the medbay and have Ratchet look at ‘em.”

“Percy and I will be there too,” another, more younger-sounding voice said, “I think I found something of note.”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. What did they find? The medical kit that’s pretty low on supply right now, your sewing kit, or…

They found the files you took with you when you escaped, didn’t they? All those diagrams and logs about your conditions and states, and how your body responded to the implementations. You should’ve kept that in the subspaces, in hindsight.

“Don’t worry,” the one holding you, Drift, comforted, “Ratchet’s a bit grumpy, but he’s one of the best doctors here.”

He’s gonna struggle with the spike since it’s so tiny compared to them. Unless he has some sort of assistant closer to your size, you’re probably gonna be the one to remove it for the doctor.

They started walking, Drift making sure that you were safe, and that you wouldn’t be jostled too much.

You heard a door open, and heard another approach.

“This is the injured organic? The berth is ready, First Aid and I will take care of them.” you assume that was Ratchet.

Drift walked closer to a large metal slab, gently lowering you onto it. A pair of smaller servos held you, lowering you so that you laid supine.

“What’s the thing they’re holding in between their dentas?” the voice from who you infer as being First Aid asked. You removed the switchblade from your mouth without saying a word. With a flick of the wrist, the blade went out, but you then put it back in its original position.

A red servo took the knife away. You wouldn’t need it right now anyway, but they better give it back once they’re done fixing you.

“We should take care of what’s poking out of them first. It’s incredibly tiny though, I doubt my servos can even grab onto it without slipping.” Ratchet prodded around the injury, making you wince.

You sighed, grabbing onto the spike. A growly voice came from your mouth, “I can remove it for you.”

First Aid grabbed onto your bloody hand, “You’re injured! We should be the ones removing it!”

“And you’re literally twice my size,” you rebutted, “I’ve had worse done to me. This is nothing.” You weren’t bluffing either. Those researchers have done worse things to you with their twisted experiments.

Ratched sighed, “They’re probably right. I know it hurts your spark to have a patient removing something that you can, but it seems that they have… experience with removing things from themselves. Clean the wound and stitch it up once they remove the object.”

First Aid looked into your eyes. Despite the plate on their face and visor preventing you from reading his expression, you knew from his tone of voice and body language that he was worried. He reminded you of yourself, in a way. That hyper-empathy that frequently decides to say hello when you least expect it.

“Ready?”

You nodded, slowly pulling the spike out. First Aid held your hand during this, not caring about the blood staining his servos. Comes with the job, you suppose. Once it was removed, a cloth was put over the gaping, bloody hole.

It took a decent amount of time before all injuries were cleaned and stitched up. They also made you digest some kind of liquid that Ratchet claimed to help speed up the healing process. Throughout, you were as obedient as a dog.

During the time the procedure was happening, Drift left. In his place, two other robots were there. First Aid was lifting your upper body so you could sit.

“The patient was rather pleasant, didn’t try fighting me or anything.” Ratchet reported to the red and blue one.

“Eh,” you shrugged, “You spend half your life as a lab rat, you get used to followin’ orders and getting weird things injected into your body.”

Everyone went silent and stared. Some looked confused, others horrified. First Aid stopped.

“Y’all’re lookin at me funny.”

The white and blue bot, who was likely the one who went into your ship, said those six words you remember hearing years ago, “What did they do to you?!”

Not this again.

“Based on those documents,” the red and blue one spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, “many things. I translated all of them. It appears that the patient,” he gestured to you, “was used in experiments to see if subspace entrances could be added to organic bodies for purposes of smuggling items. Clearly, they were successful.”

Welp, cat’s out the bag.

“Do these documents have any information other than that?” First Aid asked, “Where they’re from? Their name? If they have a family?”

You scoffed, “I was taken when I was a baby, as far as I’m concerned I’m an orphan. And I’m confident it’s too late to try and find my biological relatives, if they’re even alive.”

The white and blue bot covered where their mouth would be, “But do you know what planet you’re from? We can start there.”

“The documents say they’re from Earth, and therefore a human. From that recording Tailgate and Rewind found, their name is Y/N.” The taller bot said.

“Thank you, Perceptor. I’ll look over the documents once we clean and sanitize the berth.” Ratchet nodded.

You were exhausted from the chaos of today. Closing your eyes, you quickly fell asleep.

✩✩✩

Ratchet carried the sleeping human to the scanner, looking at the screen as it was scanning.

“There appears to be multiple points of trauma, both new and old. Along with those, signs of experimentation are shown especially on the upper chassis, left bitarlueus, and midsection. The peculiar crescent scar below their tank shall be noted for later questioning.” He noted on his datapad. “For now, it’s best that they rest.”

After the scans finished, he brought the human to a berth meant for the minibots, and sat on a chair nearby to monitor them.

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Cyberpunk Mercenary

A ruthless mercenary and you, his spoilt little catch.

Mercenaries have a reputation for being mad dogs, so pumped up with biochem they can't even think straight. And Yandere! Mercenary is no exception.

Yandere! Mercenary doesn't care who's paying him, as long as he gets paid. He's put down rebels on Titan and toppled governments on Europa - the flags they fly don't mean a damn thing to him.

Yandere! Mercenary who's spent his whole life fighting. Who dreams of gunfire and chemical weapons and burning up in the atmosphere.

Yandere! Mercenary who rolls his eyes when he gets offered his latest job. Kidnap some rich kid and hold her hostage? Talk about easy money. Hell, he can get the job done and still have time for a drink.

Yandere! Mercenary with his prosthetic arm and cybernetic implants. With his lip piercings and neon mohawk. With his bloodstained teeth and sleepless nights.

Yandere! Mercenary who finds you easy enough. Out on a shopping spree in some fancy boutique. Like you don't own enough shit already.

Yandere! Mercenary who almost scoffs when he sees you. You're everything he isn't. Wearing some pretty pastel outfit straight off the runway, your hair dyed so subtly that he knows it must have cost a fortune.

Weak, spoiled little Earthling.

Yandere! Mercenary who follows you down to the parking garage and shoots your bodyguards full of tranq. Non-lethal, his contractor demanded.

Yandere! Mercenary who grabs the back of your neck when you try to run and slams you into your hovocraft. Your shopping scattered all over the floor and trampled under his combat boots.

Yandere! Mercenary who laughs at the way you claw and scratch at him. Normal nails and not titanium claws? What are you gonna do with those, sweetheart? Tickle him?

Yandere! Mercenary who throws you in the back of his hovocraft and hightails it out of there. Shit, this was easier than he expected.

Yandere! Mercenary who ignores all the threats you spit at him. He doesn't give a damn who your mother is or how rich your daddy is. He doesn't care how many people they send after you. He's getting this job done and getting paid and that's all that matters.

Yandere! Mercenary who realises he should have listened when the first team of guards show up. They almost blast him out of the sky and it's only his quick thinking that gets him out of there.

Yandere! Mercenary who swears as he hauls you out of his wrecked craft and through the neon soaked streets of the slum district.

Yandere! Mercenary who grabs your shoulders and shakes you like a rag doll until you confess that you have a tracker in your neck.

Yandere! Mercenary who pins you against the wall and grabs the knife strapped to his leg. Who wraps his hand around your thigh and pulls your leg around his waist so you have no choice but to press against the concrete.

Yandere! Mercenary who carefully cuts the tracker out of your neck.

Yandere! Mercenary who mockingly apologises when you flinch.

Yandere! Mercenary who licks the cut he left behind. Who sucks at the blood until you stop bleeding. Who trails his lips up your neck before pulling away.

Yandere! Mercenary who's titanium teeth glint red when he grins at you.

"Look at that blush. Did ya like that, pretty thing?"

Yandere! Mercenary who loves the dazed, bashful look on your face. Billionaire princess getting all hung up on herself cause of him? Ain't that a sweet piece of irony.

Yandere! Mercenary who stashes you away in a safehouse while he waits for his boss to contact him. Who realises he was wrong about you. Spoilt, yes. Arrogant, yes. But innocent too. Naive.

Yandere! Mercenary who spends hours telling you stories about the colonies he's visited. And you sit engrossed, eating it all up like you've never heard anything so fascinating, instant ramen bowls scattered across the shitty linoleum.

Yandere! Mercenary who watches your fear of him fade a little with each passing hour. Oh, he still frightens you. But your curiosity outweighs that fear.

Yandere! Mercenary who takes every opportunity to touch you, to reach over you. Who loves the nervous little glances you aim at him, the way you blush when he catches you staring.

Cute. And tempting too.

How long has it been since he's had a woman? Yandere! Mercenary who looks at you and wants to sink his teeth in.

Yandere! Mercenary who catches his breath when you grab his hand and ask to go with him.

"Please," you beg. "I want to see the galaxy."

Yandere! Mercenary who knows that he scares you. He ain't easy on the eyes and anyone with sense can see the notched dog tag he wears - one scratch for every kill.

So why the hell are you asking him to run away with you?

Yandere! Mercenary who finally realises the gold you wear is nothing more than a collar and chains. You're a pretty bird in a gilded cage.

Yandere! Mercenary who, for the first time in his career, decides to run out on a job. Who chooses you over profit.

Yandere! Mercenary who grins down at you as he straps you into the copilot seat of a stolen space cruiser. Nervous and innocent and all his to corrupt.

Sure, he'll show you the galaxy. He'll show you the whole damn universe. All from the comfort of his bed.

[valentine-cafe]

Can I please get a macchiato? [amab reader]

thinking about buying alessio a cute pair of lace lingere and him getting all shy while getting fucked in it...mmm...

˖⁺. “ dolled-up, filled-up ! ” : 

﹙ top male reader x bttm mercenary antihero bf ﹚.𖹭 ݁

. . . alessio 781 x male reader !! 🍓 : ﹙ mercenary ˖ antihero ˖ bad boy esque ˖ enigma  character ﹚

he's always been so cocky and yet now that you have him all dolled up and pretty - he's getting shy. 

﹙ cws ﹚: explicit content ˖ lingerie ˖ edging ˖ penetrative sex ˖ nipple play ˖ rough sex ˖ hand job ˖ creampie ˖ multiple orgasms ˖ mirror sex | wc : 2k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: whoever requested this I am giving you my first born child !! top that top! DOM THAT DOM!

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

Leather is his signature, and yet lace makes him a masterpiece.

Your hands trail over the canvas. Eager to touch. Grip. Feel him. Dig you nails in and create beautiful red lines over his fair, olive skin.

“Such a pretty boy. . .” your croon to his ear is met with a low grunt. Nothing of contempt. The pink on his helix told you all that you needed to know. The shivers that vibrated against your palms too. And those emerald eyes staring back at you from the mirror he faces? Oh, they spoke thousands.

The black lace feels perfect against his skin. Looks even better on him. Both in reality and reflection. You run your fingers over his hips and trace them to his thighs. Trailing them into the slip of the garter you simply had to buy with. You stretch it away from his skin - before allowing it to smack back into his muscular thigh.

You nurse the noise that he makes. Your hand quickly slips between his legs and palms at his leaking cock. Slow. Purposeful. Easing that perfect sound into a long-winded whimper.

“Querido. . .”

“I know baby. I know.”

Your free hand finds his jaw. Tightens and yanks so that he stares at the beautiful piece of art your eyes hungrily rove over. “Look at yourself. Watch as I do this to you, Alessio.”

His name on your lips always has him elated, but this made him dizzy. Makes him weakly buck up into your hand that devilishly strokes along his pulsing nerves. You make sure to shove the soft fabric off so that you an see the way his tip throbs. Pink and begging for your thumb to swirl around mercilessly.

You wet your lips at the curve that his back takes. Your hips keenly following by grinding your wet dick up against his ass. Wanting another go at fucking him raw.

“Need this baby?” Your hiss elicits a whine. With a rough shake of your hand on his jaw - you shove your thumb past his lips and roughly pad down on his tongue.

“Said fucking watch yourself.”

His eyes flutter at the rough treatment. If only to cross when you slip back in. Your groan mixes with his series of moans and you buck your hips up to sink further into his tight rim. It mattered not how much he took your cock. He always clamps like a needy little slut.

Instead of the harsh skin-slapping that filled the room prior, you bite on your tongue and force your thrusts to slow. Ease your dick into his gummy walls. Retreat. Fill again. Till your balls tap at his ass gently and he’s whining about you being deep.

Or going slow. You’re not sure yet.

“That feel good baby? Yeah?” Huffs meet his ear. You stutter your hips against the plush of his ass and grin at the moans that fall from him. His large hands grip at the edges of the mirror and he bends slightly. Steering his hips back into your cock and giving you the perfect angle to bury your hand into his messy black hair.

You so desperately want to fuck him until he’s drooling again. Have him bounce on your cock so you paint his insides and thighs white. But this time you want to adore the lace on him. Trail your fingers over the black fabric and feel the way it frames his body so perfectly. Enhancing some of the beauty spots along his sides. Riding up his waist with each thrust back into you. An invite to grip and yank him back against you, if you do say so yourself.

“So gorgeous. God. Do you have any idea?”

He whines at you. You just so manage to hear the low mutter. The soft shut up. So you curl your fingers into his tousled strands and jerk his face to the mirror properly again. Resuming your harsh treatment with hard. Yet slow thrusts. So that at the very least his plush flesh claps with each smack of your hips. Tempered. Punishing.

“Oh no. You’re not getting away from this.” You grunt through clenched teeth. Just like he’s clenching around your dick. Begging to be filled again most probably. As though your slick isn’t still staining his thighs from earlier. “You’re gonna watch. Gonna see what a pretty lil’ toy you are for me.”

The restraint bubbles away. You start fucking him a bit faster. The wet squelching fills the room quicker. So do his moans that catch in his throat or whine out when his mouth falls open and his face scrunches up.

“A-Am - Am - hhh - or fuck -!”

“Say it. Fucking say it.”

The growl comes from deep with you. Rough like the way you start humping his ass. The way you start slamming at an angle - against that one bundle. So that Alessio can’t even buck back into you properly. All he can do is take it. Like he’s good for; in that pretty lingerie of his.

Your mouth finds his ear. Clamping teeth as you speed your thrusts. Cramming your hips into his and using another hand to shove his legs together. So that he’s squished, pressured — all the more to add to the intensity. “Want you to say you’re a pretty little toy. Pretty little whore.”

“I-I - I-hhh - m- ah! Fuck - po-por f-ffff-fuck please-”

The whining caught in his throat is so endearing. You bark a breathless laugh into his ear and yank him back. Stumbling through your bedroom floor and shoving the mercenary onto the bed. Hands gripping at his forearms as you squish him onto his stomach. Rail him from behind until tears squeeze out of his emerald eyes and his moans turn into drooling words.

You know how stubborn he is. Know that you have to force compliments down his throat. The same way your forcing your dick into his thigh ass. Mercilessly slapping. Addicted to the lewd sounds of his ever-taking hole. The slop of your cum all over his thighs. His own on his abdomen. The sheets.

It’s such a mess. And still - he’s the most beautiful thing that you’ve seen. Something you are ready to drill into his head. Even if it takes all night of you pulling and twisting him. Fucking him full so that he’s crying. He’ll repeat your words. Even if he has to sob it while you are pounding him ball-deep.

“A-Am- Amoor-ciiitttooo -! No - N-No puedo -” ( “I can’t-” )

Liar. He always could. He proves it with the way that his little hole spasms around you when you shove him onto his back and bully your way back into him. Fucking every inch in until he’s stuffed full and arching because of it.

“Yes you - hah - yes you can baby. You can. Look at me.”

Your hand reaches down to caress his tear-stained face. You abruptly slam into him. Cram your hips against his and jostle him further up the sheets. Wrecking the bed like you’re wrecking his trembling body. This position allows you to see just how much he’s creamed himself all over. The sticky substance clings onto the material pooling around his waist.

The sight has you groaning. Your hips stutter to shallow. Fuck him full repeatedly while also grinding into that spot hat has his eyes threatening to roll back again.

Your hand takes a quick detour to roughly tug at the trap of the lingerie. Gentleness be damned. You’ll buy him a new one. Buy him five. Ten - as many as he wants. Anything if it meant getting him to squirm beneath you like this.

Skilled fingers brush the fabric away and you give one of your favourite parts of him some love. Tugging at his nipple piercings before hurling a small wad of spit. So that you can swirl your thumb around the sensitive bud and watch as he crumbles even more.

Your name on his lips is so broken. So pitiful. You simple have to dip your head down and suck on his nipples. All while your hips make bruises on his. Pounding his poor little ass into the sheets until he’s crying out all sorts of phrases in his mother-tongues you can’t eve decipher.

“N-No p-pueeedddoo! D-Dios - ah- Por dios - e-es t-aaan profundo -hngh!” ( “I can’t - oh god - it’s too deep.” )

As if you knew what he was saying, you try to bury yourself deeper. Grip at his thighs and fuck into him with your own desperation. A desperation to claim. To pleasure. To remind. You force yourself away from his nipples slathered in your saliva to instead crane your head over his. Shut your eyes, crease your brows and focus all your strength into fucking his poor hole raw.

“Goood baby I - hngh - fuuckk you’re too fuckin’ pretty -”

His moans sound odd suddenly. You let your gaze fall to investigate. If only to be met with the sight of his head flicked to the side. The back of his knuckles covering the lower half of his face. The mere gesture warms your hearts — to think. The cocky bastard. Your flirty charmer of a boyfriend. Shy over being called pretty and fucked in a lingerie.

It’s such a pitiful sight. Such an endearing one. Your hand returns to brush some of his messy strands back. Before clicking your tongue and drawing out your thrusts again. Slowing them so that you might piston him in that way that shakes his body and slams the headboard into the wall.

“Did I say you could do that?” You snatch his wrist and pin it firmly. Giving a harsh squeeze to remind it to stay there. Before you reach up to cup at Alessio’s reddened face. So that you might tilt it up and pour your loving gaze down into his teary ones.

“You still haven’t said it. Please. Baby please.”

Your pleading combined with your thrusts shallowing once more. Rolling and fucking him just right. There was no denying you this time. Not when you looked down at him as though he was every star in the fucking universe.

“I-I’m - I hah -”

“You can do it. Come on. Say you’re my pretty boy.”

To motivate, your slip a grip under his thigh so that you can toss his leg over your shoulder. Invade his space further. Bring your warm bodies together so that you can make him cum again. You’re not sure how long you might last either. But one thing’s for sure. You’re using his body through the night.

His teary eyes meet yours. His hand weakly reaches to cling onto your bicep - and at last, he rasps out in a trembling voice: “I’m . . . I-I’mmm - fuck -” he gasps at your little spank to his ass.

“I’m your pretty - your p-pretty boy youur prettyy boy - ah!”

You have to reward him by cramming your hips into his. Snatch at his cock and pump him until he’s creaming all over again. The sobs that leave his lips as he tosses his head back into the sheets makes all the strain in your muscles worth it.

No - the sight of him laying there. In that black lingerie that has nothing on his beauty - taking it like your good, pretty boy. That is what makes everything worth it.

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[turbulentscrawl]

Protection

Yet another little blurb series that absolutely no one asked me for. BUT YOU KNOW WHAT? WHATEVER GETS THE JUICES FLOWING AGAIN.

warnings for violence, angst, and comfort. Use of potentially triggering words like "psycho" and "whore."

The manor was a hard adjustment for any new face, but some handled it worse than others. This mystery man was particularly defensive, particularly paranoid of the manor’s nightmarish circumstances. He was stressed, and scared, and confused, and bleeding out in his first match was the last straw needed to tip the scales towards an outburst.

Norton

You were just trying to be friendly when you spoke to him at breakfast. Really. But looking back you could see how a terrified mind might misconstrue your small comforts and placations about death as mocking. He stormed off mid-meal, and you spent the rest of it stewing in quiet guilt. A walk in the gardens would do you some good, you decided, but Norton was still busy with his second helping of steak and eggs and told you to go on ahead.

So alone you exited the room, lost in regretful thoughts, but you didn’t make it halfway down the hall before the new guy appeared again. He stopped down ten feet from you, coiled tight like a cornered animal. He didn’t look like he had calmed down at all, but then he hadn’t seemed calm since he arrived. In any case, it seemed like the best chance you would get to give an apology.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you earlier,” you said, stepping aside to let the fearful man pass, so he could go finish his meal.

But he reacted to your words like a viper strike, flinching and then snapping forward to put his face in yours. His eyes were wild.

“Don’t play coy about it,” he hissed. His hands, at his sides, itched and twitched to grab and you were too fear frozen to move away from them. “You’re part of this hell too, I know it. All of it an act, AN ACT! But you won’t trick me. You won’t get to make it worse for me!” He raved and threatened in your face for what seemed like forever, so close he took up your entire vision and you forgot where you were. Maybe that’s what it was like for him, right now, you faintly mused, still trying to understand. You hadn’t been like this when you first arrived… you or anyone else that you could recall.

He stopped talking suddenly, eyes tracked on something behind you.

You looked over your shoulder to see what had caught his attention and spotted, back through the doorway to the dining room, Norton tipped back in his dining chair and watching. Watching you. Watching him. A steak knife was in his hand and a dare was in his eyes.

Your attention was drawn back by the sound of the new guy stomping off again, hurried, tail still between his legs. When you looked back at Norton again, he tipped his chin to beckon you. When you stepped back through the door, Norton took his foot off of the table (its placement earned a side-eye from Fiona) to lower his chair back to four legs, and kicked out the empty seat next to him for you to reclaim. You sat down meekly, shaken by guilt and fear.

“I was just trying to—”

“I know,” he interrupted, biting again into his food. “And he’ll figure it out himself too eventually. In the meantime, let him be someone else’s problem.”

In a rare show of public affection, Norton leaned over and kissed you on the temple. “And stick closer to me for a while. You’ll be fine.”

Naib

Shit had hit the fan as soon as everyone was back and healed from the match. You and the new guy had both died—you to the chair and him to bloodloss—but a tie was a tie and worth at least a small celebration. But when he joined you, Tracy, and Margey for the tea party, he completely lost it.

He leapt across the sun room table for you, tipping it and all its contents to the ground, and the girls screamed with a genuine shock and terror you hadn’t heard in a while. Your back and knees smarted, all whacked by the scattering wooden furniture. Hot tea seeped into your shirt and scalded your belly. Sharp, broken porcelain lay dangerously scattered around your head. You couldn’t tell what the girls were shouting because you were too focused on your assailant. On keeping his hands off of your throat, out of your eyes, and getting his pinning body off of you. His nails clawed at your face, you knew that much, but if the matches taught you anything it was to not give up on a struggle.

Just as you started in on some dirty fighting Naib had taught you (pulling, trying to rip his ears off), the man himself came charging in like a bull and tackled the new guy off of you. You got kicked a bit in the process—but that was a fair price to pay for being able to scramble to the other wall and watch, secured by Tracy an Margey, as Naib completely wailed on the guy.

Naib didn’t talk about his background much, but you knew he knew how to fight. This was barely a fight—a one-sided beatdown morelike—but in your bitter soreness you felt it was well deserved. Naib knew how to make every swing count, and it was only well after the new guy was limp on the ground that William showed up and hauled Naib off of him. Emily followed next, running to check on the new guy since you were already being doted on by the girls.

When William finally let Naib go, he huffed and puffed and flexed off some of his remaining aggression before spitting out a spiteful, “He ain’t dead. I ain’t that nice.”

Then he turned and shooed the girls off, scooped you up, and marched right out of the room. He held you too tight for your sore back’s liking, but you couldn’t begrudge him the positioning to keep his nose in your hair while walking to somewhere more secluded and safe. His chest was still heaving against your side, still high with adrenaline and worry. His knuckles were split and bloody. The day had only just started.

“Sorry,” you sighed into his neck. Naib scoffed, mouth still pressed to your scalp.

“What for? He’s the cunt.” He kicked open the door to your bedroom, fully pulling back enough to give you a smirk. “Don’t ever be sorry for me stepping in. I’ll take care of everything.”

Ithaqua

The manor sometimes held garden parties to welcome new inhabitants. Usually, though, it had better timing.

The poor new guy had had the awful misfortune of being a valuable player. He was good at getting in the hunter’s face, and the others did all they could to get him off his first chair safely. Because of the great team effort, he’d wound up bleeding out while the Hunter—Ithaqua, your boyfriend—dealt with the others. You knew that wasn’t Ithaqua’s modus operandi; it hadn’t been on purpose. …but he wasn’t exactly sorry about it, either.

As a result, the party was tense in some areas. Specifically, the areas where the new guy went. He walked around with a deep frown and a nervous jitter. He’d been anxious when he first arrived too, but it was understandably worse now, in witness of the two factions being chummy with one another right after one had just killed him. The hunters avoided him from the get go, and the survivors gave up on conversation with him not long after.

And you, well. You didn’t get to see Ithaqua in peaceful settings often.

That’s how you wound up here, you supposed.

“So you’re a fucking traitor whore!” the new guy snapped in your face. He wasn’t quiet, either. “What’s the matter with you! Those monsters beat and torture us and you turn around and hang all over one? You’re probably no fucking better, some kind of psycho killer! You’re the one who should die! You’re the one who should bleed!”

Not being quiet would be his downfall, though. Picking a secluded corner of the hedge maze to catch you in didn’t matter. The wind carried.

He didn’t get much farther into his rant and threats before Ithaqua came whirling around the corner with his “business” mask on. His axe was back in the manor, but the Hunter’s claws and sheer strength could do harm enough to a survivor. Ithaqua snatched the new guy up by the nape before he had a clue what was happening, and dangled him overhead. The new guy screeched in a way that made you feel sick, but you knew from experience there was no talking Ithaqua down. Shamefully, you turned your eyes away.

“You sure like to run your mouth,” Ithaqua sneered at him, tilting his head in that wicked, owlish way of his. “You know, all the other rats take death in stride around here. You clearly need some more practice with it.” Ithaqua ruffled your hair with his free hand before stalking off around the corner with the squirming offender.

When he came back a few minutes later, he was wiping his bloody claws off on his cape.

“He knows not to trouble you anymore,” he cooed. When he took off his mask, Ithaqua’s blackened eyed are far more serene than they should have been for what he’d just done. “Come, the Geisha brought out those little caked you like.”

[fishermanshook]

F!CK BOYS GONE SOFT

( mercenary , batter & prospector ) + gn!reader

# MINOR WRITING SMUT , #ihatewritingdialouge , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

It was a mutual agreement between the both of you that you were fucking for the pure reason of letting off steam after being stuck in this hell hole. 

No feelings were supposed to be caught. No hearts were meant to be thawed. And yet, they find themselves yearning for your touch long after your last session.

꒰wc꒱ 1.7k ( longest fic so far !! )

✦— THE MERCENARY

If being between your legs was where he wished to be, then who were you to deny him access to the most private part of your body? Where Naib works his magic and milks you of your essence while paying you back in waves of pleasure.

The Mercenary looks so lost in his work that you think he doesn’t notice the change in pitch. That you’ve adjusted your grip on his hair to a softer, gentler hold. Your moans are light, airy, and not at all the ones that left your throat hoarse and raspy the night before. No, that can’t be right. And it doesn’t take him long before he finds the spot that pushes you over. The spot that has your back arching off the mattress. The spot that has you screaming his name like it’s going out of style.

And god does pleasure look good on you, as Naib refuses to remove his eyes from you as he watches the aftermath of you coming undone in front of him. Such a passionate and intimate thing for his eyes and his eyes only as your essence coats his hands and tongue. To think he’d pull his head away after you came is just stupid. Have you not learned from previous sessions? You coming only gives him more reason to drop down there and give you more, but Naib holds himself back.

The next few moments are a blur as you try to calm down after your orgasm, but it seems Naib won’t let you. The sound of something being unzipped and his pants hitting the floor pulls you from your recovery. He’s prepped you enough, hasn’t he?

“It’ll hurt a little, but only for a second.” The Mercenary whispers in your ear as a warning to brace for what’s about to come. It makes him wonder, and only for a split second, if you ever realized how much he loves you. The amount of thought and care that goes into every move he makes towards you. Maybe you’re just dense, or maybe it’s not like that. He won’t know until he tells you. Or, until you tell him.

Your hands rush to clamp themselves over your mouth in an attempt to stifle the moans flooding from it. This isn’t the first time you’ve done this (and certainly not the last…), but it’s always a tight fit. A tight fit that neither of you can get enough of. Your hands don’t last though, as the Mercenary is quick to rip your hands away from your mouth. He shakes his head and clicks his tongue. You don’t need him to say anything else.

It’s not long before you feel the familiar warmth strengthen between your legs. By now, Naib’s memorized your every tell that you’re going to come. By the way your legs tighten around his waist and the way your hands reach to clasp his biceps to try and hold on. It’s the way you attempt to not pass out when you feel everything just snap.

“God, I love you so much,” Naib admits before even realizing what he just said. You’ve never seen the man freeze so fast, or go so red. Before his hands cover his mouth you pin his wrists down to the bed.

“Wait—! H-hold on,” you say, still recovering from your orgasm that happened just seconds ago. “What did you say?”

The Mercenary stares at you before opening his mouth to say: “I didn’t say anything.” He’s trying to play it with a convincing tone in his voice, but it’s hard to believe when he practically shouts it.

“No, Naib,” you huff out “Are you playing me?” You question. Your face molds into worry and concern. Instead, he avoids your gaze. There’s nothing else for him to do in this situation is there.

“Fine. If you won’t say it, then I will.” You state before grabbing Naibs face and pressing it into yours. The Mercenary tries (and he really does) to do anything but melt into your touch. In the end, it proves to be no use. Pulling away, you say: “Naib, there is no one else I love more than you.”

“Thanks for confirming what I already know, babe.”

✦— THE BATTER

Not every affair starts with a heated make-out session, but every heated make-out session ends with the two of you having sex. With your lips entwined as your fingers roam through his hair, the two of you make a mad dash to whoever’s room is closer as playful giggles slip out along the way.

It started as just another way to let yourself go and cut loose a little after another night of terror from Ganji. How could you not tell that the Batter saw you as more than just some fuck buddy? That his eyes weren’t only filled with lust, but love for you and you entirely?

Maybe this can be his way of showing you, whether you get it or not. Whether you understand the soft kisses he lays on your chest. Whether you understand the praises that fall from his lips. Whether you understand it's taken him too long to finally muster up the courage to confess to you.

You’ve stripped each other of your clothes leaving both of you bare naked. The only thing covering you are the multiple hickeys decorating your chest as well as between your legs. The pleasure overrides any pain felt from when he initially pushed his way inside of you. Before you know it, you're babbling all over his cock while he presses gentle kisses all over your face. You look so cute like this—all flushed out and pink.

Ganji's smart, but overlooks your cock drunkenness and traces his finger along your jaw and other places. Eventually, his finger meets your back and traces along your spine. His finger does weird swoops along your backside. It's all just a simple way of telling you 'I love you.' without having to utter a word.

Maybe it's the way you moan out his name as your hips move up and down on his cock. Or maybe it's the look in your eyes when he meets them. The Batter's not sure where the courage comes from, but all he knows is that he can't stand another moment of you not being his.

"[name] I- fuck, I love you." He barely manages to grunt out, snapping you from your thoughts to look at him with wide eyes.

"What-?"

It's then he thinks he fucked up. That he has demolished all of the hard work he put into this relationship. This is it. This is the end of your bond.

"No, shit I'm sorry just forget what I said," Ganji mutters out, immediately flipping you over so that your lying down on your back. "I'll make you come real hard if you just forget everything I just said, 'k?" Ganji says with caution in his voice. Maybe you're not the only one oblivious in this relationship of yours.

"Really? You love me?"

Ganji tears his eyes away from wherever he is looking at looks right at you. "Yeah. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. If not for you I don't think I'd ever get the chance to say this," you chimed, pulling him in for a long and passionate kiss first. "Ganji, I love you more than the stars themselves."

✦— THE PROSPECTOR 

The bed will break long after the Prospector, Norton Campbell, has had his way with you. He won’t stop until his sheets are soaked in your combined essences until your scent has been embedded into his mattress, and until he can get the words out to tell you how he feels.

For too long has Norton been labeled as your “fuck buddy” and he wants out of it. Every round feels like another chance to prove he’s perfect for you. How many people know your favorite book? Your favorite place to relax? Your favorite position? The sensitive spots on your body? Who else knows exactly where to touch and what to say? All he needs you to answer is if you like him or not.

“Shit—always feel so good,” Norton manages to grunt out after thrusting into you. He knows he’s found your sweet spot (again…) when he pulls a loud moan from your sweet lips. So attentive to your wants and needs that he can’t help but hit the spot again and again, listening as your moans grow louder with each thrust.

The Prospector mutters something under your breath he thinks went by unnoticed. Pulling you from your aroused state to ask him what’s wrong. All he can do is sigh and shake his head as his arms wrap around you. A bit tighter than usual, but not uncomfortable.

“Norton—! What’s the matter?” You manage to huff out. It’s obvious something is plaguing his mind, but the Prospector is as stubborn as ever and refuses to tell you. “Fine then,” you tell him “I guess I just won’t let you come.”

Now that gets his attention, and he instantly slows his pace. You allow him to keep going, but only if he starts talking.

“I’m too scared to say it,” Norton states.

“Why?” You ask.

Norton looks down at where you're still connected. It’s only then you notice he’s stopped. “Because I don’t want it to ruin whatever we’ve got going on. I don’t want to lose everything.” He admits through gritted teeth.

“Do you think it’s that bad that you’d lose everything?” You ask, concern now seeping into your voice.

All he does is sigh before bringing his face closer to yours. “God, is it seriously not obvious enough? Shit, [name] I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time and I didn’t want to say anything in fear of ruining—“ he gestures using his hands to the both of you. “this. A-and I get it if you don’t want anything to do with me after this but you asked so—“

He doesn’t get to finish as you cover his lips with yours. “Silly prospector, I love you more than you could imagine.” You confess before feeling Norton melt into your kiss once more.

note: hiii fish nation…sorry about the random hiatus, it will probably happen again 😆😆😆. thank you all so much for 100+ followers! it means the absolute most to me knowing there are actually people who enjoy reading what I have to write. I wouldn’t be here without you, thank you for everything so far. 🩷🩷🩷. this is so ass oh my gosh

(2024) ©️fishermanshook — do not steal, translate, plagiarize, or repost my work on any other platform

[sunflower39]

[Left] Or [Right]

(Choose wisely 😔🤗)

[mirrorcatcreditcard]

Your honor, they were watering down my favorite character and not letting them be a jerk.

[meowordeath]

A/N: I love Identity V!! especially Eli Clark!! I attempt to make it as gender ambiguous as possible, besides one having the word boob just replace it with pec! i didn’t know a gender neutral term for boob, sorry! :3 btw I'm not sure if someone else has already done this!

Characters | Eli Clark , Ganji Gupta , Naib Subedar and the lovely lady Patricia Dorval

Content warning : fluff , reader with boobs but no specific pronoun, not too inappropriate, jack the ripper And Breaking wheel if those count?

Identity V characters reacting to their s/o clothes getting ripped! :3

Eli Clark

Before the match started Eli got to view your new costume. It looked very ninja like, the clothes were very skin tight. You two chatted while preparing for the match “Remember, just called out and I'll send brooke to your aid, okay?” He whispered to you laying his gloved hand atop yours. “I know, don't worry if I need you I’ll shout”

You smile before pecking him on the cheek. Brooke hoots happily, as Eli gives you one more loving look, before everyone's sight fades.

For first few minutes of the match you had been decoding. Feeling more relaxed as Luca shouted the hunter was on him, making him first kite. Your cipher was a little over half way done, as Luca started kiting toward you. At first you assumed he was just kiting in the area so you didn't bother to get off the cipher.

Your heartbeat started to get more prominent, but you were still very lax, thinking Luca and whoever the hunter was were just getting closer, when a shout rang out through the map. “Beware! Hunter has changed target!” You lifted your head abruptly from your cipher, accidentally messing up a calibration in the process making you shield your face from the explosion.

Soon after you messed it up you felt blades run from your back to your side. You cry out in pain bumping into the cipher as you sprint away, unfortunately the cipher snagged one of the slashes he had made in your shirt. A dark chuckle sounded behind you as you ran.

“This chase is already way more exciting than chasing that decoder,” Jack said licking the blood from his blades. You ran vaulting windows, throwing pallets for distance, you even led him back to Luca. Luca had a flustered look watching you pass him.

Eli knew you were currently kiting and trusted that you’d call out for help, so he didn't want to waste his spectate. “Help me!” Your shout rang out through the map. Eli was quick to send brooke to your aid. Looking through brooke's eyes he was shocked at the condition of your current costume. His face turned a little red.

Jack had only meant to slash your back, but since you messed up the calibration his slash went down your side, slicing open your shirt. It would've been fine with thin slashes, if your crash into the cipher hadn't caused your shirt to snag. It tore and your right boob was pretty much exposed.

You were trying to hold onto some dignity pulling the shreddings of your shirt over to cover it, but vaulting and pulling down pallets. You needed both your hands. Jack definitely had a great view of you each time you pulled down pallets. Eli was quick to find the teams other assist, William, and asking for his help to get The Ripper off you.

William was quick to assist. He stunned Jack allowing you to escape and hide, forcing him switch targets. Eli set brooke to find you, so he could help.

When he did find you, you were crouched behind a pallet, making a pathetic attempt to save your shirt. Eli crouched in front of you, not looking at your chest, instead checking over the wound. “It’s gonna be okay s/o, you can have my trench coat” His voice was slightly flustered, as he shed his coat.

He was left in his white long-sleeve button-up and black tie. You couldn't be more thankful for him wearing his recluse costume. “Thank you, Eli. God, this is pretty embarrassing!” Both your guy's faces have a faint blush, as you button up his trench coat finally covering your exposed flesh.

Eli's nervousness faded as he smiled. Lifting his hand to cup your cheek. “Don't worry, if they say anything, I'll have brooke rose peck out their eyes” he jokes, brooke hoots in agreement.

Ganji gupta

You and Tracy are both hanging out in the manors workshop. She was originally tinkering until you came in, wanting to show off your new costume to her. It had this futuristic theme, and Tracy was quick abandoned her invention to mess with the small gadgets they stuck to you as accessories.

On the front-side of your shorts, you had some sort of tablet with buttons and fun looking controls. It was attached to some belt that had other gadgets, they were all locked to the belt, which was attached to the shorts. Tracy was crouched down messing with them all.

“How mad do you think Miss Nightingale would be if I started taking this stuff apart?” Tracy said with a small grin. You look down and it seems she had already took her screwdriver to a few things. “Well, I guess we will find out” She laughed at your words.

Everything was going fine you were standing as you watch Tracy dismantle each piece of futuristic tech on the belt. Ganji knocked before entering the workshop. He sighed looking at Tracy crouched next to you. “How much longer are you gonna keep my s/o, Reznik?”

Ganji was told this was only gonna be a quick visit to show off the costume. Yet He’d been left waiting out there for at least 20 minutes. “Calm down ‘Gupta’ your s/o came here to show off their costume to me not you!” Tracy taunted, while saying his name is a mocking tone. Ganji scoffed, setting his cricket bat down at the door.

“Who do you think they showed it to first, Reznik.” Ganji sounded like he was subtly bragging, at being the first person to see you in the new costume. Tracy rolled her eyes. “Darn, the screen to this thing just doesn't want to come off!” She said trying to get the screen off, to get the wiring.

Ganji started to walk toward them reaching to pull Tracy off his s/o. “Okay Reznik, I’ve had my fair share of sharing my s/o.” Before He could reach Tracy she had fell back as her force caused your shorts to rip.

Tracy honestly didn't see anything with how fast Ganji was to cover you, He scowled down at Tracy. “I'm sorry...?” She said with a sheepish smile. “Find my s/o something to cover up with Reznik” He said firmly. She was quick to bolt out of the room. “Right! I'll be right back!”

She didn't look back in fear of seeing Ganji's harsh gaze. You could help but rest you forehead against his back laughing. “What are you laughing at? You’re currently in your underwear, if you hadn’t noticed.” He said turning toward you with a slight frown.

“I can’t help but laugh at the silliness of this situation my love. I never expected Tracy to rip my shorts, all so she could get the tablet!” You found this situation pretty funny. Ganjis frown turned into a small smile with your amusement.

“Glad you find this amusing. Though I’d rather be the only one to see my lover without pants on.” His words made your face slightly red. “Okay, perv.” His gaped slightly. “… I’ll remember that the next time your clothes rip. I won’t cover you.”

You smile squeezing his cheeks. “Yes you will, because you love me!” He sighed as you squeezed his face passive-aggressively. “… Yes I will.”

Naib Subedar

You know your lover hates Murro with an burning passion. Mostly because he hates boars, but you thought Murro’s boar was kinda cute.

Unfortunately Murro stayed very far away from you, making it so you barely saw his boar outside of matches.

It was a very nice day at the manor, survivor matches going smoothly, not that you had any matches to participate in today, Naib had about one or tw. With him on the team you didn’t doubt they would win.

In the manor there is an outdoor area, and due to you not having any matches today you want to go walk around in the sun for a bit.

On your way out you were wearing loose fitting loungewear. Not being in a match you didn’t want to put effort into putting on one of your usually costumes.

The sun felt good especially after being inside for most the day, you would take what you can get before Naib decides to ‘lowkey’ glue himself to your side. The outdoor part of the manor was pretty big enough to have a small forest, with a gate surrounding the whole area of course.

In the distance near trees you saw a tail and decided to investigate. Upon getting closer you realized its nust Murro's boar.

“Oh, I wonder why you’re out here by yourself. Is Murro around?” You said crouching down in front of the boar. It kind of just stared at you chewing on grass.

“Right, you’re an animal you can’t talk…” You felt a little awkward as the boar stared you down. “Well… I’m gonna go back that way…?” You stand dusting yourself off. As you stand the boar approaches you. You got back down wanting to pet it.

It did let you pet it for a moment, you got to even rub its stomach. It was fun, until you decided to go back inside and it grabbed ahold of the back of your shirt.

You and the boar had a short staring match. “Hmm, as much as I would love to spend more time with you Murro’s boar i’m sure my boyfriend is done with his match.” You said trying to tug the shirt from its mouth.

The boar refused turning it into a game of tug-a-war. “Let. go!” You huffed out fighting against the animal, you could hear the fabric starting to tear from you two pulling on it.

With one last tug you fell backwards, grunting in pain. It had a good chunk of fabric in its mouth as its trophy. You heard hurried footsteps. looking up you saw Murro. “I’m sorry! I didn't realize my boar had wandered away, forgive me!” He reached out to help you.

Unfortunately Naib had just arrived at the scene to see Murro’s boar with some of your shirt in its mouth, and Murro himself standing over you. In a moment a blade whizzed past, slicing Murro’s cheek causing him to fall on his butt in fear.

Looking behind you, he could see a very angry Naib hauling ass toward you all. In fear he quickly abandoned you. Hopping on his boar he left, running in the opposite direction.

Naib almost ran past you to chase Murro if you hadn’t gotten up quickly to grab the back of his shirt. “Wait, don’t chase after him!” You struggled to hold on to the man.

“I’ll gut him and that boar. How dare he sica damn animal on you.” His voice wasn't a shout but he was definitely furious. He was very strong actually draggjng you as he tried to pursue Murro.

You pull on his ponytail dragging his head back. “Hold your horses, who said anything about him siccing his boar on me?!” You let go of his hair as he stopped for a moment. “What do you mean, his boar was standing over you with some of your clothes in it mouth. How could that not be an attack on you?” He finally turned toward you head tilted slightly in confusion.

Sighing, you lightly pat Naib's cheek. “I wouldn't say it was an attack, I was originally playing with the boar. It only was trying to stop me from walking away, and Murro said he ran over after noticing it was gone.”

Naib’s eyebrows were still furrowed, eyes slightly closed, as of he was trying to see if you were lying for the sake of Murro. “Fine, I won't chase after him, for now.”

You grin pinching your lovers cheek. “Good! Now lets go inside you smell like shit” You say looping your elbow with his to lead him back to the manor. He rolled his eyes. “Whatever dear.”

Patricia Dorval

“Breaking wheel...! That son... sons? Of a bitch!” You say irritated, cursing his name to the sky quietly. He had been chasing you for most of the match before you lovely, kind, sweetheart patricia, took kite.

Inside your head you gushed about your girlfriend as you were trying to remove his spikes from not only your clothing but from your skin, as it had penetrated through the cloth into you.

Pulling them out was a huge pain, It hurt like hell. If only someone could help. You couldn't reach the ones in your back. Your mind drifted to Patricia as you pondered how her kite was going.

“You need help?” A raspy voice spoke out from behind you causing to yell and jump. Quickly turning around your faced wth the sneaky bastard who turned out to be Kreacher.

“Damn it Kreacher, you don't just sneak up on people like that!” You shout at the man hand over your heart. Other one raised as if you were going to hit him.

He back away from your shouts ready to coward out, and run away from your aggression. “Wait! Yes, I need help...” You say embarrassed about having to ask Kreacher of all people, to help you.

He was a little hesitant to come toward you, he had a sketical look toward you as you were just shouting but he did anyways. “Stay still and Ill get them removed” He said hand already painfully pulling one lodged in your back.

You try to hold in your pained shouts, refusing to show that this bothered you in front of Kreacher. They were pretty thin the spikes, but very sharp with tiny barbs that makes sense them hard to get from your skin.

Kreacher doesn't exactly have the gentlest hands while removing these from both your clothes and skin. You couldn't tell if he was trying to hurt you or help you.

“You could slow down damn it! Stop removing them fast you asshole, It hurts!” You hiss pulling away as he pulled another one carelessly out.

“Maybe if you could actually dodge breaking wheel..” You heard him mutter under his breath. “What did you just say!?” You say ticked off. “Nothing!!” He quickly says pulling one out to distract you.

He was pulling out the last one when both your hearts started to beat slightly, though it was barely anything to make you fret, polun didn't even know where you two were.

Coward freaking Pierson on the other hand grabbed ahold of the last spike dragging it down your back as he pulled away, bolting.

The specific spike he pulled was at the top so it tore all the way down, making the shirt go forward almost exposing if you hadn’t held it up with your hands. You grind your teeth slightly, turning to curse out to Kreacher.

As you turned your eyes met Patricia's, who had wacked Kreacher down with her ape skull, making his head bleed as he dizzily sat on the ground.

“Sorry I wasn't here sooner s/o, but at least I crushed this roach.” She said walking past him to you. She pecked you on the cheek getting her lipstick on your face, before looking at your back which was now exposed.

You had some blood drops rolling down from the sprike removals. She cut some more of your shirt so that she could tie a not in the back so it wouldn't fall off.

“I would take Kreachers jacket and give it to you, but I'd rather none of his filthy items touch you” She said as she gently caressed your back, careful of the small wounds.

You blushed at her caring gesture. “I should've warn a different costume one with a jacket, that's my bad.” She put her arms around your neck. “Well, I for one really like this costume, too bad it gonna be temporarily out of commission”

She makes it so hard for you not to swoon when shes this sweet. Kreacher groans reminding you two he was there.

Patricia unhooks her arms from around your neck. “Let's leave that thing and go decode the last cipher. Polun will find and kill it” She says loud enough for him to hear.

She grabs your hand pulling you away toward a cipher, while you follow her happily. Patricia was right about Kreacher as he was found & killed after Ganji led the hunter to him. At least the 3 of them escaped!

PLEASE I REALLY TRIED HARD TO MAKE THEM ALL SIMILAR LENGTH!! Hope you like this :3

[teddypickrwritings]

A Rare Moment of Weakness - Identity V x Reader

A/N: Some character lore is just so sad and depressing that I start tearing up…I just want to hug them. I’ll most likely do this with more characters in the future!

cw: PTSD

Mercenary

It was obvious just by looking at him that Naib Subedar was hardened by war. That was just the norm for anyone who served in the military. Naib was not one to talk about his experiences, though. Nobody questioned him, they just let him do what he wanted.

One day, while you were in a match with him, you saw his stoic mask crumble. You had managed to escape from the hunter with minor injuries and were hoping that you would cross paths with someone that could heal you. You had stumbled onto Naib’s cipher just as he missed a calibration and it shocked him—literally. The look of terror that flashed on his face gutted you pretty badly. It didn’t take a genius to realize that the sudden loud noise reminded him of bombs and such.

He wasn’t embarrassed that you saw him mess up. He didn’t shrug you off when you instinctively gave him a hug. In fact…he really appreciated it. A lot. Naib held you for a little longer than necessary, only letting go when he realized you were injured and immediately started to heal you.

“I’ll decode with you…or I can do it for you, if you’d like,” you offered once he was done.

Naib nodded slowly, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Thank you, (Y/N),” he mumbled.

Wu Chang

A sudden rainstorm had interrupted your walk and completely soaked you to the bone. Had you stayed outside longer, and if Xie had not come to your rescue, you would have certainly gotten sick. He had immediately left to find you the second the rain had turned heavy. You had begun to protest when he scooped you up in his arms, but quickly silenced yourself when you noticed just how worried he looked.

“(Y/N), I am so sorry. We shouldn’t have left you alone out there,” Xie said once you had changed into dry clothes. He had managed to calm down for the most part, but his voice was still laced with anxiety. “We didn’t know it would rain. I’ll never forgive myself if you get sick…”

“I’m okay!” you reassured with a tired smile. You reached over and gently squeezed his hand. “Thank you for getting me out of there before it got too bad.”

Xie gave a weak smile of his own, but his eyes still looked pained. He paused, seemingly listening to something. Then he nodded and his form changed to represent Fan. The Black Guard checked your vitals, and after confirming that they were normal, held your hands tightly. “He wanted to be able to save a loved one this time,” he explained. And that was all you needed to hear for you to understand.

Hermit

“Alva, do you ever feel frustrated?” you asked tentatively, watching the inventor writing notes in one of his many journals. His quill came to a slow stop as he pondered your question.

“It is natural for one to feel frustration,” Alva said vaguely. He turned in his chair to look at you with an unreadable expression. “Why do you ask?”

“I was just curious…you always seem so composed. I admire it,” you admitted.

Alva allowed a small smile on his face. “Nobody is ever what they seem, (Y/N). Keep that in mind,” he said, beckoning you over with a little wave of his hand. You stood up and went to him, surprised when he enveloped you in a hug. “I am sorry that I do not show emotions very often. I am…still getting used to the feeling by having someone I can trust.”

You could’ve sworn you felt him tremble a bit when he said that. But the moment was over too soon and he released you. “You have a match, yes? You shouldn’t be late,” he said and gave you a little push towards the door. You left with a smile on your face; Alva trusted you. That was all you could think about.

[myherobkg]

THE ROLE OF A LIFETIME; dungeons & dragons au

Katsuki was born a half-giant and bred to roam the plains with his barbarian brethren. He was a foul-mouthed, ill-tempered, reckless brute adorned in fur and armor with his mighty mace hanging over his back. He was born to rule them all.

But fate had other plans, and his tribe was wiped off the face of the Earth after the King of the skies razed hellfire on them. Returning from a hunt, Katsuki arrived at his decimated home, ruined to ash and rubble.

His family—his people—were there one moment and gone the next, reduced to charred statues. After that, Katsuki wandered aimlessly until he became enthralled by the allure of alcohol.

A young half-giant, the last of his tribe, turned to mercenary work to fund his gluttony.

Katsuki's last payment came from a clean-up job, clearing out a small wooded area infested with monsters. The small village on the outskirts of the wood sent for him, requesting his help for a large sum.

It was an easy feat for a warrior of his stature, and his success wrought fruitful results—a free room at the pub and all the drinks he could ask for.

However, the offer had its contingencies, and Katsuki was forced to enjoy his pints amidst the celebration held for the village people. That's where he met the Businessman.

The Businessman kept two men at his side as he sat down with Katsuki. His companions remained standing behind him.

"Enjoying the festivities, Warrior?" The man started the conversation cryptically.

Katsuki doesn't look up from his pint. The party raged around him, but no one dared touch him in passing. "No."

Clearing his throat, the man decided to skip the niceties. "I have a job for you."

"Not interested," Katsuki gruffs out before touching his lips to the rim.

"I will pay you 100 gold," the Businessman bid.

"I want 300." Katsuki slammed his glass on the table and signaled for another. The man's jaw dropped.

"300 is outrageous. It's a simple delivery to the Earl." He laughed pathetically. "I'm sure the Earl will reward you handsomely for your efficiency."

"You pay me 300 now. I'll have the Earl pay me 500 when I get there."

"So, you'll take the job?" The Businessman clenched his hands into fists with a broad smile before remembering Katsuki's rate. "If you come with us, we can pay for the cargo. However, you must leave tonight."

Katsuki froze, lifting his topped-off drink. "Make it 400."

The man choked mid-breath. "Warrior, I implore you to reconsider your price. Think of the honor you'd receive for escorting such an important gift for nobility."

Katsuki lugged half of his drink down, spilling some down the sides of his face and neck. "It's 400, or you shut the hell up and quit bothering me." His ruby-red eyes glimmered dangerously in the lamp-light.

The Businessman shrank in his seat and waved his hand for his men. The guard on his right went off to get the payment.

"If you wouldn't mind following us as quickly as you can," the Businessman murmured nervously, avoiding direct eye contact. "We can settle you with the cargo, and you can be on your way."

Katsuki looked at the weak man standing behind his employer. It wouldn't take any effort to throw that man through the ceiling, but it somehow felt appealing for the Businessman to bring security.

With this in mind, Katsuki didn't expect any issues from a little side quest for money. Perhaps he was tired from his last battle, but the adrenaline and deep, crippling fear of loneliness kept pushing him to suppress it.

"Let's get this over with." He grumbled, disregarding his last sip of beer and pushing away from the table.

The Businessman and his guard led Katsuki outside to a barn on the edge of the village. The night was calm, and the skies were clear—a good omen for this task.

"The cargo is just inside here," the Businessman murmured, sharing an uneasy expression with his guard, which alerted a few alarms in Katsuki's head. As he led Katsuki in, the guard stayed outside the entrance.

The first thing Katsuki noticed was that there was no "cargo." Two more guards were standing inside, and you were chained to the floor. Your hair and face were dirty, and your clothes were covered in dirt and cow shit.

When you looked up at him, he took note of your cat-like eyes and pointed ears. The chains around your wrists had runes etched into them.

Magic?

"Is this a goddamn joke?" Katsuki asked loudly, making one of the guards flinch. "What do you goddamn hicks take me for?"

He turns on his heel and starts walking out when the Businessman shouts out for him.

Katsuki falters in his step, and something compels him to turn to turn around. He sees the Businessman sweating profusely—he must be desperate to get you off his hands, Katsuki thinks. He catches the two guards adjusting their grips on their weapons: a spear and a bow. The sight of them shaking in fear and regret almost makes Katsuki laugh.

He licks his lips and pulls out a dagger—decides it's expendable. When he winds his arm back, all three adversaries flinch, fearful of being the target. The knife flies through the air between their shoulders, aimed for the floor where your cuffs come together.

Katsuki's taken by surprise when you slam your wrist against the ground, breaking the cuff on your right in one attempt. You tear off the other cuff with ease. He stands back and watches you jump between each man, slaughtering them with your clumsy, desperate hands.

After the men are dead, you're left standing over their bodies with blood on your hands, panting heavily.

With his arms crossed, exuding confidence, Katsuki whistles for your attention. He knows he has it when your head turns, angling your ear to him.

"How did men like them get their hands on a magic-wielding elf?" He questions, sincerely curious.

You turn to face him fully, blood and hay falling from your tunic.

"Auction houses," you answer breathlessly, with sweat matting hair to your forehead. Wiping it out of your face, you trip on your shaky legs to the barn post and release a heavy sigh. "You would've delivered me to my sixth owner. You looked like a good one when you walked in, too."

You were still breathing heavily. Katsuki recognized it as panic.

"I'm not going back," you say quickly as he approaches you. Your eyes are wild, and your appearance makes you look hysterical.

"You aren't going back," he promises quietly, raising his hand for you. Your arm shakes when you reach for him.

When he brings his fur around your shoulders, you bat it away, spitefully refusing it.

"I want to leave," you whisper anxiously, pushing against Katsuki's arms.

"Then cover yourself," Katsuki orders firmly, wrapping his fur tightly around you. His fur, which drapes over his shoulder like a garment, wraps around you like a blanket. "There are still folk wandering everywhere."

"Where are we right now?" You ask as he ushers you out of the barn.

"A village. Heldenfaire," Katsuki answers.

"There's a town in this land. I wish for you to take me there."

"We can discuss the details of our arrangement later." Katsuki threw his cloak over his shoulders and pulled his hood over his head before steering you toward the nearby stables. "Let's first focus on getting a horse."

—please reblog & comment if you like it! do not copy or repost ©

[lririx]

im a lil shy for asking, but can i request for ithaqua and naib headcanons with a feral s/o? like, raised by the wolves type of feral, will bite u and probably has rabies type of feral. if u dont do multiple chars, then just ithaqua would be fine!!

This is my first request thank you so much!

I hope you enjoy it.

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

Ithaqua

•Ithaqua never takes interest in people. He didn't have interactions with people for years until he came to the Manor. He talks to the other hunters to relieve his boredom and pass the time.

•But this changed when he saw you. Fragile but ferocious. Human, yet monstrous.

•He didn't feel threatened or scared by your presence, but felt intrigued, since he saw himself in you.

•You two were similar yet different. Both of you were abandoned by civilization yet he was raised by a human while you were raised by the wilderness.

•He was literate thanks to his mother but you could only utter words and incomplete sentences.

•You were intimidated by him as he slowly walked towards you, which caused you to be on guard.

•You growled at him, hoping he'd back off but he came closer without hesitation.

•Surprised by his action, you clench your teeth, raise and hold your hand in a claw like way, snarling at him as a warning.

•Yet Ithaqua didn't stop. He leaned on one leg infront of you as he reached out his hand towards you.

•You scatched him beacuse you were scared, you were frantic of people. They've only ever hurt you and your pack. They only tought of themselves. How could he be any different?

•Ithaqua looked at his wounded hand and his brows crooked into a slight frown but he sighed, grabbed your hands and pulled you into his chest. He tightened his grip.

•You struggled, bit him, scratched him, kicked him to free yourself of his grasp but he only clenched you harder, with no sign of wanting to let go.

•You growled and howled but it had no effect. As panick grew you moved more rapidly.

•“Shhh…I'm not going to hurt you.” He said as he snuggled his face into your hair like how your pack interacted with eachother, showing their love and affection.

•You don't know why he did that. Why he tried to make you trust him. Even Ithaqua himself doesn't know. He just knows that he wanted to keep you close to him from the start.

•Your bond gradully became stronger after that.

•He always stays by your side and never leaves you except for matches which he can't do anything about.

•He'll give the death stare to anyone who dares to look at you even with the slightest hints of anguish.

•On the other hand if anyone has the audacity to become a little to friendly with you he'll bark at them to piss off.

•He's an absolute sweetheart to you though.

•He's constantly cuddling with you and kissing you everywhere.

•He always sings you to sleep. Lullabies his mother sang to him. Thoes melodies are very precious to him and him sharing them with you shows how much he loves and trusts you.

•You two always play with eachother like wolf pups. Run around the big yards of the Manor, play hide and seek, and even playfully bite eachother.

•He gets so excited whenever you bite him he's like a child that just got a new toy. He'll be giggling so much it just melts your heart.

•He always takes you to the Manor yards on the weekends to watch the moon together and you two usually fall asleep on the trees.

•On days were the moon is full he'll even howl with you.

•He always cuddles and holds you tightly when sleeping. He'll get his coat and puts in on top of you to keep you warm.

•And if you're scared of the dark, he'll always have his lantern on by your side.

Naib Subedar

•Naib didn't have a reaction when he saw you. You were just a new guest of the Oletus Manor. Someone who has to play these games like the rest of them.

•He's pretty closed off towards people except for the few friends he has. But that doesn't mean he's mean to anyone and that includes you.

•One day during a match the hunter was chasing you and you got injured. Naib came to help you out a bit and by the end of it the hunter decided to change targets.

•When they were finally gone he wanted to patch you up but you roared at him. I mean you haven't ever interacted with people and you've only seen them while they were trying to hunt you and your pack.

•He wasn't expecting that and he flinched for a second. “I want to help you.” He said. But you couldn't trust him. This is his way of fooling you he doesn't actually want to help.

•That's what you were thinking of but his presence casted a serene aura. He was scary, you felt that energy of his, but that was overshadowed by that tranquility of his.

•You relaxed you shoulders a bit, thinking maybe he's not so bad. But he reached out his hands to you and that scared you a bit so you took a step back and bared your teeth at him.

•“Please we don't have time.” Naib said a bit annoyed, but he tried to keep himself composed. He didn't blame you. He knew trusting people was hard but now is not the time to be hesitant.

•He got on one knee, his hand still hovering waiting for you to take it. “Trust me.” He said. “I'm only trying to help.”

•His ambiance calmed you down bit by bit. Loosening your muscles, you walked towards him and took his hand.

•He guided you to sit and you complied. “It's going to hurt a bit.” Naib said and put disinfectant on your wounds then started to patch you up.

•After that he always looked after you. If you were uncomfortable around someone he'd step in and take you away from them.

•If you were sitting alone he'd drag you along with him. He never let you feel gloomy or feel like you were in danger, because its Naib. Its his instinct to protect. Well that's what he thought. He didn't realize he was developing feelings for you.

•He’d help you read and write so you could have conversations with the others more easily.

•The Manor provides any food you’d like but Naib made you food himself whenever he got the chance because “The food made by the people close to you tastes better.”

•He wants you to feel calm and safe when you’re around him.

•Naib always gets you toys to play with. He loves playing catch with you. Butterflies flutter in his stomach when he sees you run around and laugh happily.

•He scratches behind your ears alot too. He's really good at it and you just fall asleep on his lap.

•Whenever he's on a match and you miss him you go to his closet and take one of his clothes and wear them since they smell like him and it makes you feel like he's with you.

•When he comes back he just sees a little puppy who is curled up and is sleeping with his clothes.

[skelswritingcorner]

A Question, A Scar-Covered Body, A Sister?

Part 2 of A Stranger, A Vessel, An Experiment! Read the first part here.

Synopsis: After the incident on the Lost Light, First Aid brings Ailith (canon name of reader characters) to her original destination of the clinic.. However, there was a gift waiting for her when they arrived. Angst galore.

She/Her pronouns are now used when referring to the reader character.

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: SFW, Mentions of blood, mentioned kidnapping, mentions of unethical experimentation, probably some other stuff

(Edit: I forgot to turn some layers back on when I originally saved the image oop- It's fixed now)

Before the story…

It was a broadcast from Earth, of an interview with a black-haired woman. “Miss Makayla MacArthur,” the interviewer asked, “what motivated you to join the Intergalactic Negotiations Program?”

Makayla sighed, “Twenty something years ago, my twin got abducted. They were alien creatures, and they took her. I strongly believe that she’s still alive out there. This is the best opportunity I have to find her.”

The interviewer’s face softened, “I’m sorry that happened to you, Makayla. What will you do when you find her?”

“It depends. Will we realize that we’re sisters when we meet? I’ll try to bring her back to Earth, even if it’s for a brief moment. She doesn’t know about our niece! A family reunion would be in order. We’ll have so much to catch up on.” She put her hands in a steeple.

“Do you have something you plan on giving her?”

“Well…” Makayla sighed, “I plan on giving her a box and a letter. I won’t refer to her by name though.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, it’s been twenty years! I don’t think my sister remembers it, so I don’t want to call her something she won’t recognize.”

The interviewer leaned forward, “What else will be in the box?”

Makayla started counting on her fingers, “A few photos, and clothes. We’re identical twins, so what fits me is probably gonna fit her.”

The interview went on for another twenty minutes, and eventually concluded. The blue-visored Cybertronian finished recording the interview. He had a feeling that this could be relevant.

✩✩✩

“So,” Ultra Magnus looked at Rodimus, “the small object was in fact, a ship. Is that correct?”

Rodimus nodded, “And it had a human inside it, who is currently in the medbay recovering from her injuries.”

“Along with that,” he scrolled through the datapad, “there were documents about experiments, most likely performed on her. Ratchet did a scan that confirmed this as well, along with other various injuries.”

Rodimus gave the datapad to Magnus, who looked at the report. He tilted his helm. “What’s with this thing slightly above the pelvis?” He pointed a digit at a white shape around the pelvic area, overlapped by a crescent-shaped trauma area.

“Beats me. I’m pretty confident that it’s deep inside her.” Rodimus shrugged.

“Maybe there’s another document we haven’t gotten yet explaining it. Hidden in a more obscure place.”

“That’s probably the case. Anyway,” Rodimus stood up, “I’m gonna go ask Ratchet about Y/N’s condition. If Megatron is confused, explain the situation if he hasn’t gotten one yet. Also, inform the others on Cybertron.” He didn’t wait for an answer, simply leaving the office and walking to the medbay.

The doors to the medbay opened, and Rodimus saw a familiar gray figure.

“Megatron?!”

✩✩✩

When you woke up, the helms of several people were looking down at you. One you recognized as Perceptor, another being Drift, but there were a few unfamiliar faces. One had an orange face with yellow eyes with a mask covering his mouth, another that was white and purple and had horns coming from their forehead, a blue one with a single yellow optic, and a gray one with red optics.

“So this is the human you all have been speaking of?” The gray one asked.

“How in Primus are they so small?!” The blue one asked. Loudly. Making you get up and give them a stink eye, even if it caused you a bit of pain.

A chuckle to your left distracts you, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to crowd around someone that’s injured.”

The blue one rolled his eye, “Whatever you say, eyebrows.”

The doors opened, and someone entered the medbay.

“Megatron?!” Rodimus yelled.

Oh. You know that name. Other mercenaries have warned you about a giant robot with that name. If you caught his eye, you were doomed. After all, the group he led destroyed the homelands of several mercenaries you knew.

“Perceptor explained everything to me,” Megatron said, “I just had to see for myself. Humans usually aren’t present in this solar system.”

“Well,” you cracked your knuckles, “I haven’t seen any humans other than myself during my travels. Also, most of the people who hire me don’t know either. I like to keep my identity… well-hidden from the masses. I barely know who I am anyway, so it’s easy to do that.”

“You don’t even know yourself?” Ah, the purple one is speaking now.

“It’s hyperbole, but technically true,” you rolled up the sleeve of your left arm, “I don’t know my family, my ancestry, or any way to return to my birth planet. All I know is that I was experimented on to be sold as a smuggler. That, and the skills I acquired after years of being a mercenary.”

The purple one put a clawed servo on his chin. “Tailgate told me as such.”

Rodimus walked up to you. “How did you even end up like that, anyway? The injuries, not the… subspace thingies.”

You sighed. Might as well explain it now. “It was when I was doing a job,” you explained, “I got myself hurt pretty badly, but my client didn’t get a scratch. They tried to have me go to a clinic nearby after the job was done, but I told them that I’d be alright.”

“Why did you do that, though?” Drift’s optical ridge furrowed, “Your client knew you got hurt, why didn’t you heed their advice?”

“The moment I receive my payments in full, the contract ends. They are no longer my client, and therefore no longer obligated to show concern about my wellbeing.” you growled out the last part.

“You should’ve listened to them, though.” You sighed at that comment.

“As I said earlier, I was experimented on,” you justified yourself, “if I went to another clinic, they’d essentially keep me captive and do a bunch of tests on me. That, and I don’t know if any of them are connected to the experiments and will try to bring me back to that wretched place. And I’d rather not have to deal with them again.”

“Why do you go to one specific clinic, then?” The purple one asked.

“Cyclonus, I think that might be too-” you cut off Drift from saying anything more.

“It’s because the sister of the mercenary who took me in works there. The people there were the first to treat me with empathy, despite me being so difficult to them the first time. All the other clinics I’ve been to, they’ve been too scared of me and think I’ll mangle them.”

They’re all looking at you.

The blue one laughed, “You, scary? You’re not scary at all!”

“I think that’s when she’s wearing her mask and cloak, Whirl.” Drift said. You nodded, confirming his guess.

“Anyway,” Rodimus ordered, “let’s give the human some privacy. Perceptor, Brainstorm, you both plan on asking her about the documents that have been translated, right?”

“Correct.”

“I’ll leave you two to it then.” Rodimus left the medbay, followed by most of the others. Perceptor and the one with the yellow eyes stayed. That must be Brainstorm.

Perceptor took out a datapad, looking over at some data. “I’ve looked through all of the documents, along with Ratchet’s scans of you. I’d like you to confirm some things.”

“Go ahead.” You gestured.

“According to these documents, you’re from Earth. Do you have any memories of that planet?”

You shook your head. No shit you didn’t remember anything, you were a year old! “Some species don’t have memories until they’re a few years old. I was taken at roughly eighteen months old, way too young to form memories.”

“That’s strange. We Cybertronians remember everything from when we were first created, excluding amnesia.”

Perceptor wrote something on the datapad before asking another question, “Were your eyes originally golden?”

“Nope. I’ve read those documents multiple times, my eyes were originally brown.”

“Isn’t gold also the color of the subspace openings on your body?”

Well, damn. “Yes? It was also the case for the other experiments.”

“Now, a third question. Do you know what this thing is?” Perceptor pointed to the intrusion shown on the datapad.

Right. That. The documents explaining it are in the subspace on your left arm as far as you recall. As it was inside your uterus, however, it’s something very few know about. And you’d rather not explain to a bunch of mechanical beings something you only know the basics of.

“I think that’s none of your business, Perceptor.” you crossed your arms. They likely don’t have ultrasounds on the Lost Light anyway, so it’ll be hard for them to find out.

The mech grumbled. “You’re making this difficult for yourself, Y/N.”

“Explain why you want to know what it is so bad then.” You stared directly into his optics, “Because it’s pretty fuckin personal. And don’t just say ‘I need to know for scientific reasons’ either. You better have a good justification.”

“Because it might be a dangerous object that could kill you, and may need to be removed.” Perceptor justified.

You scoffed. Based on the documents you stole, it just prevents fertility and menstruation until removed. Prevents uterine lining from building up. All the uterus-having subjects (or an organ with similar functions), including yourself, had it implanted once puberty was entered. So far, there’s been no complications.

“I’ve had it for twelve years and it hasn’t killed me yet.”

“How has it not-”

Laughter. You and Perceptor looked at the source: Brainstorm laughing his ass off.

He composed himself, “Sorry, sorry. It’s just the way you two are bickering. I’m confident that the object is medical in nature. It’s meant to prevent pregnancies, correct?”

Right on the money. “Surprised to hear you figured it out without cutting me open to check, but you are indeed correct.” you put your hands on your hips.

“So I am right!” Brainstorm smiled with his eyes. “Also, can you show us how the subspace works? Are you able to pull something out?”

Say no more. You put a hand in the subspace on your left arm, pulling out a mechanical object. Something you won after a bet.

“That’s… an optic. An actual optic. How did you get this?” Perceptor asked.

“I got it after winning a bet.” you replied.

“What kind of bet would lead you to owning a Cybertronian optic?”

“Drinking contest. I don’t know why they even placed the bet in the first place, it’s common knowledge that no matter how much I drink I physically can’t get drunk. I’ve tried several times.”

Brainstorm chuckled, “If you could even consume highgrade, Swerve would love you as a customer. It would be a good experiment if you could.”

“That would be one of the few experiments I’d consent to,” you chuckled, “once my injuries have finished recovering, that is.”

Oh. You just remembered. “I just realized that I should probably go to that clinic. I lost a good amount of blood, I might need a blood transfusion.” you grimaced.

“That makes sense. I believe Ratchet and First Aid were communicating with someone at the clinic you mentioned. You had the coordinates set on your ship’s navigator, correct?” You nodded at Perceptor’s question.

“It’s possible that holoforms may need to be used to get you there,” he commented, “I don’t know how large the facility is.”

“It’s pretty big, actually.” you replied, “I’m probably their smallest regular patient, which makes some things a bit difficult to do. Most rooms are about four times my height. I’m sure at least one of y’all can fit without feeling cramped.”

Well, at least the smaller ones. Probably First Aid.

“I’ll inform Ratchet, then.” Perceptor nodded, then left the medbay. Brainstorm quickly followed.

You’re gonna need a plan. Your main grappling hook was taken from you while you were asleep, and those two likely have it. You have spares, yes, but you’d rather have all of them in case one breaks. You also need to find where your ship is, as most of your supplies are still inside along with your spare clothes. What you’re wearing right now is bloody, and you’d like to wear something that is not covered in your own blood. The magnet boots should help when dealing with the Cybertronians and navigating the vessel.

Along with that, you need to figure out how to deal with them if any try to kill you. The blasters in the subspaces should work at least a little, but do you have any weapons that can give you an advantage? You have cable cutters, but that will only work if their cables are exposed. Can any of your blades cut through their armor? If you’re able to, you might need to see if any weapon dealers around these parts have anything that can give you the ability to fight them. Trying to sneak away for long enough to get them is another story entirely, though.

The door opened. Ratchet and First Aid walked in, with First Aid beelining to you. “We established a connection to the clinic!” he exclaimed, “When we told them about you and your injuries, they told us to bring you there as soon as we can. Also, apparently there’s something for you there? They said it’s best if they tell you about it when you arrive.”

“As long as you can get me to my ship so I can change out of these blood-covered clothes.” you said. It’s likely the best way for you to figure out where your ship went if they can bring you to it.

“The ship’s probably with Nautica, she wanted to check it out. I’ll escort you there.” First Aid picked you up with a delicate grip, likely to prevent accidentally hurting you. Given the strange condition of your body, however, you’re probably gonna end up dislocating a joint before he harms you.

Entering the room, you saw a purple and yellow Cybertronian. Most likely Nautica.

“Hey there! That must be the owner of this ship, right?” She reached a servo to you, “I’m Nautica. Nice to finally meet you!”

You couldn’t do a proper handshake with Nautica, so you just held her pointer finger and shook it.

“I’d like to enter my ship to get something. Is that alright with you?” you asked.

“Of course! I made sure to clean the blood where I could. Had to use my holoform to do that, though. Here, I’ll carry you to it.” she picked you up gently, transferring you to the entrance of your ship.

“Thank yo- ack!” you stumbled, quickly being caught by Nautica.

“Be careful!” she exclaimed.

First Aid grabbed you. You didn’t know how he got up to where you were so quickly, but before you knew it he was holding you up. “I’ll help Y/N. It’s probably a bad idea to let her be alone for a long period of time with her blood loss anyway.”

Oh, this might get uncomfortable fast. You were fine with First Aid seeing you all battered up and bloody, but the concept of him watching as you got changed made your stomach flip. And you’d rather not show your tits and bits to someone you’ve only known for a single solar cycle.

Before you could protest, though, he carried you to your ship. While he did put you down on your feet, he waited a bit before letting go. He even followed you to your quarters, where you hastily grabbed a crop top and a pair of pants. You’d grab a jacket after changing. When he tried to follow you into the bathroom, you put a hand over his chassis. “You’re not going in here. I don’t know how y’all view nudity, but for us we usually don’t do that around people we’ve only met for a day.”

“Oh!” First Aid backed up, “Sorry about that. Nurse instincts, I guess.”

You walked in, closing the door behind you. There’s no windows in the bathroom, so he couldn’t peek even if he tried. You knew he had innocent intentions, nothing perverted or anything, but you needed some time to yourself.

Quickly removing your blood-stained clothes, you ran some water and used a cloth to clean some dried blood off your body. After cleaning what you could, you put on the clean clothes. You’d usually not wear a crop top, but at this point you didn’t care. You had a jacket anyway.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, holding a hand over the stitches. Despite Ratchet being significantly bigger, the stitches were done expertly. You looked at all your old scars, and at the subspace entrances on your body. Never were a fan of looking at ‘em, it always reminded you of the fact that you’ve been mutilated. Not enough to be unrecognizable as a living being, but enough that people would stare if they knew. It’s why you covered yourself entirely. Strangers have no right to know what’s going on with your body after all, why should they look at it? Of course, you couldn’t do that with the ones on this vessel; they all know. Might as well not hide it.

Walking out the bathroom, First Aid was just standing there. At least he didn’t try anything, that was reassuring. You went back to where your jacket was, back turned to him.

“What’s that purple and blue thing on your back?” he asked. An innocent question.

Shit.

You always knew that you bruised easily, most likely a consequence of a condition you have but don’t know the actual name of, but you didn’t expect that the fall from yesterday would bruise you.

“It’s a bruise. I don’t know why, but it’s pretty easy for me to get bruised. It’s an organic thing, it takes a few days to heal. Don’t worry though, as long as I’m careful it won’t hurt.” you explained, putting on your jacket. “I’m ready now, let’s go to the clinic.”

First Aid picked you up, being mindful of your back. Nautica helped the both of you down, but not without making a comment about the fact that he was holding you.

“That worried? You’re holding her like she’s made of glass.” Nautica commented.

“Y/N’s still my patient, and is still recovering!” he countered, “Also, humans are way more fragile than Cybertronians! It makes sense to be careful!”

Oh, if he knew about how roughly you’ve been tossed around in fights. Or how roughly you’re often treated in general. In fact, being treated so softly was unfamiliar to you, but a welcome unfamiliarity. How they’re gonna freak out if they pop a limb out its socket if that happens will be priceless when it happens.

The both of you walked, well, technically just First Aid since he was carrying you, to a smaller ship docked in the vessel.

Why is Rodimus there?

“Hey, Captain!” First Aid greeted the orange mech, who was waiting by the smaller vessel.

“Yo! I wanted to get here before you two left. How’s Y/N’s condition?”

“The usual. I did experience some blood loss, so I might be at the clinic for a solar cycle or two. That, and I’d like this injury to be documented with them.” you replied.

“Also, there’s a nasty blue and purple spot on her back that she says is fine but I’m not sure if it is.” First Aid added. If you could, you would’ve covered his mouth. You couldn’t though, so you gave him a stink eye. Fucking snitch.

Rodimus took a bit to reply, “Oh. I’m neither a medic nor an expert on humans, so I’m not going to try reassuring you.”

“Aaaaanyway,” Rodimus started walking away, “Mags needs me for a meeting since Y/N is probably going to have not much choice in staying on the Lost Light with those injuries. Something something ‘We need to inform the officials on Cybertron about the organic on the ship.’ See you two later!”

You looked up at First Aid, “Who’s Mags?”

“Ultra Magnus. He was the one who noticed your ship and the blood coming out of it, surprisingly. Best not to call him Mags though, something about shortening a senior officer’s name being an offense.”

You understood that. A lot of people in important positions don’t like having nicknames, likely because it makes them appear less threatening if they accept a nickname. It’s something you’ve weaponized when doing non-bodyguard work, but the people here don’t need to know that.

When you and First Aid entered the ship, the coordinates were already set. First Aid placed you near the navigator, making sure that you wouldn’t fall.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Luckily, the ride was rather smooth and quiet. Neither of you said anything until the vessel docked.

“We’re here, I’ll carry you to the entrance.” First Aid picked you up, and carried you there.

✩✩✩

“Welcome! What’s the purpose of your- Y/N?!” the receptionist jumped up from her seat, walking up to the both of you.

“What happened? Why are you being held by a Cybertronian?!”

“Y/N was injured badly, a spike impaled her, a cut on her back, and what I think is a bullet hole in her right cadulen.” First Aid explained. “We didn’t know that her ship was the one sending an emergency signal at first. We patched her up as best we could, but she mentioned needing a blood transfusion since she lost a good amount of blood.”

The explanation eased the receptionist. “That’s good. I’m glad that she’s alright. I’ll inform the doctors right away.”

Using her communicator, she informed the doctors on call. After a minute, an all familiar face walked up.

She was a being with four yellow eyes and light red skin, with tendrils coming from her skull neatly tied behind her. Relatively human, but still noticeably not. This is the one person who you consider family right now; Doctor Daule. You call her Aunt Daule, however.

One set of arms held a datapad, with the other set crossed in front of her. She had to look up to see you.

“Eirii told me. Are you able to walk?” she asked.

“Oh! Sorry,” First Aid set you down, making sure that you could stand before letting you go, “She stumbled some time ago, so I thought it was best if I carried her. I’m also a little uneasy about transferring my patient.”

“Don’t worry,” Daule smiled, “I’ve known Y/N for years. You can trust her with me. Besides, a group of humans just came by last solar cycle. I took a DNA sample from one that looks a lot like her, and she gave me something to give to Y/N.”

Wait, someone that looks a lot like you? You’ll have to ask later. Aunt Daule supported you with her right arms. “You’re also a medical professional, correct? You can come with me, I have some questions for you.”

First Aid followed the both of you. Aunt Daule walked you into a room where the IV was just finished being prepared, setting you down on the bed. As a nurse prepared your arm for the IV, you asked a few questions.

“You said someone that looked like me was here, right? Do you know their name?” you asked.

“She said her name’s Makayla.” Daule answered.

“Is she still here?”

Daule shook her head, “No, she left the same day she came. Makes sense though, she had to bring her injured colleague to us. She wanted to stay in case you came by, but her Captain needed her somewhere else.”

Oh. Guess reuniting with family needs to wait.

“You mentioned getting her DNA, is there a match? Do you need another saliva sample? I haven’t eaten anything in the past solar cycle, so I should be fine on that.”

“It matched pretty quickly, said there was almost no genetic deviations between either of you too. Anyway,” she walked over to pat you on the head, “I’m going to talk with him for a bit,” she gestured to First Aid, “the nurses will check you out. I’ll be back soon.”

They both left, leaving you with the whir of machines and the feeling of lightheadedness slowly leaving your body as the blood dripped into you.

✩✩✩

The two walked into an office. Daule sat down in the chair. “We should introduce ourselves. I’m Dr. Daule, I mostly take care of the smaller species at this facility. I was also Y/N’s caretaker for some time.”

First Aid nodded, “I’m First Aid. Currently stationed on the Lost Light as the Chief Medical Officer-in-training.”

“You’re a medic, that’s good. That means some of these concepts should be somewhat familiar to you. But first,” she put her top hands in a steeple, “how did you end up finding her? From my knowledge, Cybertronians are not only rare around these parts, but also one of the largest species in the universe.”

“We noticed an emergency signal coming from a vessel, and one of the people captured what turned out to be her ship and put it somewhere. Eventually, the second in command noticed that the entrance was open and that there was a blood trail leading out. I was with the CMO preparing the medbay. We were able to take care of her, but as I’m not that familiar with organic biology, I had a feeling that it would be best to bring her to people who can actually treat her.” First Aid answered.

“I’m glad that you found her and did all you could. In fact, I think it might be best if she stays with you until she’s fully healed.”

The mech stalled, “Why do you say that? It’s likely best if she stays here, right?”

“Well,” Dr. Daule grimaced, “there’s been a recent incident that’s making our clinic a little bit packed. Y/N doesn’t need to be here for too long, probably just a cycle or two then have her return to get the stitches out in fourteen cycles. Besides, she needs to socialize more.”

“Oh! That makes sense. Just give me the care instructions, I’ll inform everyone once I get back on the ship. It’s best if we all know so we can prevent Y/N from being reckless.” First Aid nodded.

“Once the nurses come back and tell me what’s going on, I’ll write a care plan. Make sure she doesn’t do anything strenuous, the stitches might break." She said, “Also, there was no dressing on the stitches, so we’re going to add some. I’d rather not have the stitches redone if possible, they’ve been done rather well.”

“Anyway,” Dr. Daule got up and walked to the door after grabbing a box, “I’m going to check on her. This is what her sister asked me to give her. Follow me.”

✩✩✩

The nurses did plenty of checks on you, along with putting dressing on the stitches. After some time, Aunt Daule and First Aid returned. There was a blue box held in her lower arms.

“What’s with the box?” you asked.

Aunt Daule brought the box to you. “Your sister brought this to us. Said this was for you, in case you were alive. I know it feels weird to get something from someone you haven’t known since infancy, but try not to think about it too much, Y/N.”

You opened the box, opening the letter. It was in the language the planet you were raised on spoke.

My dear sister,

How long has it been since you were taken from home? Twenty years? We couldn’t even hold our heads up back then, and now it’s possible for us to meet again at a bar and drink together. I miss you so much and I’ve known you for so little. It’s ironic in a way; identical twins who won’t even recognize each other. You’ve shaped my life in so many ways. Even as you were declared dead, I never stopped searching for you. I’d look up at the night sky and wave, imagining you waving back at me. I went into astronomy, learned all I could about the world beyond Earth, with the thought of meeting you again.

I joined a space exploration program for the possibility of seeing you again. I knew you were somewhere out there. If you’re reading this, then I was right all along.

I know the possibility of you being alive is slim, but if you are, I’d like you to have these. The clothes you have might look weird on Earth, right? I bought some and washed them for you. I don’t know what style you like, so I mostly went with simple solid-colored stuff. Mostly black. I feel like you’d like black.

On the back of this letter are some coordinates and addresses. These are the places mom, dad, and I live. And our big sister too! I can’t wait for you to meet our niece. When we meet again, tell me your name, okay? I want to address you properly.

Your long-lost twin,

Makayla MacArthur

P.S. We have a weird gene that makes it so we can’t get drunk no matter how much alcohol we drink. You might’ve figured that out already, though.

Opening the box, the first thing you saw was a picture of a little girl next to two swaddled-up infants. The girl had black hair and brown eyes. Two pieces of paper had names, and the one on the right simply said ‘When you tell us your name again.’

It was you. You and your sisters. Another photo, far more recent, was of an older woman holding a child. The note on that said, ‘It’s our niece! Hope you don’t mind Chloe using your old name for her middle name.’

There was a third picture, with who you believe is Makayla, in a night blue uniform. She looks almost exactly like you, without all the experiments and scars. Brown eyes instead of your golden colored irises.

You thought you were a lost cause. That nobody would be looking for you on Earth. Oh, Makayla, how she proved you so, so wrong.

MacArthur. MacArthur. Y/N MacArthur. It’s going to take getting used to having a family name. An identity beyond being an experiment.

“Also, apparently the elasticity of your skin and flexibility isn’t normal for humans. According to your sister, it’s because of a condition called Ehler-Danlos Syndrome. I’ll explain some of the other things she explained once your scars are healed.” Daule added. “I’ll write up a care plan for you. You’ll be staying on the vessel that found you until you’re fully recovered.”

Honestly? You’re fine with that. The people on the Lost Light have all been kind to you so far, especially First Aid. Kinder than most people from the planet you’ve lived on for your whole life, despite knowing nothing about you.

“That’s fine with me.”

“Well then. Rest up, you’re gonna need it Y/N.”

[stolenwetfloorsign]

Blue toned action webtoons with overpowered protags my beloved.

Mm yes, beat up everyone, be so uncomplicated. I hate tension, I hate real plots.

[valentine-cafe]

heyo! may i please get a tiramisu?

(top!m!reader)

thinking about alessio cockwarming a very nerdy reader who's just reading and telling him about how interesting his book is meanwhile alessio is just thinking the whole time (oh my god please just fuck me already i literally cannot take it anymore—). reader already knows how desperate alessio is getting but he just wants to see how far he can push the other man until he inevitably loses it.

— 🫀 anon

˖⁺. ﹙ antihero mercenary bf x top male reader. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . can't do this to me !! 🍒 :  antihero ˖ mercenary ˖ enigma character character﹙ verse 781 alessio. ﹚

you adore tormenting your mercenary boyfriend with cockwarming and reading out your favourite books on science and biology cw: cockwarming, brat taming, riding

“Are you following, Alessio?” You hum out quietly. Before turning to the next page of the book. You know why he is struggling to answer your small questions and conversations with him. Too focused on the warmth of your tight hole.

The feel of your asscheeks spread apart for him to stay inside of and not move at all felt like absolute sin.

He was balls deep inside of you, and you told him not to move. Not even once. It was too distracting whenever you began to clench around him as you read through your book on biomedical science. Explaining the basics of it to him. Expressing just how fascinating it all was to you.

Yet each word failed to make their way to his ears. His mind too engulfed in the attempts he made to stay still as long as he could. It was an evil joke. You made him so needy and for what reason?

If it wasn’t because he knew you would immediately give him the brat taming experience should he start anything. Such as taking over as top. He would have done it.

All he can do is drool and whine on your shoulder, in response to your questions.

Eventually you had enough of it, smacking the book closed, to grind down against him a bit. Humming at the sounds that begin escaping him, deep from his throat. Head thrown back with black locks licking against the chairlean the both of you were sitting on.

“Fuck— Please— Please I need you it’s too much.” He manages. Triggering something in your brain to take action.

The book is put down, left carelessly on the table, while you begin riding him. Back against his front, and your head thrown over his shoulder with a hand gripping at the back of his head to bring it up to face yours.

“Is this good enough for you, huh?” You croon at him. Pressing your lips together in a feverishly frenzied kiss. The pace setting to a moderate one for now. Just to get him going a bit more.

You let out a shaky breath and shake his head, as his eyes begin to cross at the friction that he is finally granted. Your gummy walls squeezing the life out of his throbbing cock. That desperately fucks into your, with agitation rushing through his entire system.

“You’re so fuckin’ mean.” He sniffles, drawing a laugh from you. While you start going faster.

“And you’re too pretty when you cry.”

Oh, nevermind how much he tries to hide away from you at the words. Your grip on his head prevents him. Leaving him to stare into your eyes with a face that slowly heats up. A rare sight for many, and only you to behold in this very moment.

[turbulentscrawl]

Steamy Rescues

Sorry, I'm just thinking about hot men saving my life today. Let me drool in peace

Warnings: suggestive stuff, delicious men

Naib

Your time in the chair was nearly up when Naib suddenly slammed into it at full speed. One second you were struggling against your restraints, cursing and consumed with desperate thoughts of freedom, and the next his hands were next to your head. Initially you fell silent because you were startled, but that quickly melted into a perverted sort of awe as you looked over the mercenary.

He was looming over you, muscles tense, toiled taut like a spring. His tight shirt was torn open like he’d been caught by the collar and wrenched himself free, leaving a teasing view of his sweaty, scarred, heaving chest. Some of his hair had slipped free of his hair band and clung to his damp face and neck. He was out of breath too, each exhale fanning down on you, panting less like a rescuer and more like a predator who’s cornered his prey. There was a certain musk wafting off of him…it was a bit maddening.

“I know, I know,” Naib said quickly. “You can tell me I look like shit later. We’ve got to GO.” He grabbed the bar pinning your torso to the chair and, with a flex of his biceps and feral grunt, ripped it off you.

“I’ll tell you something alright,” you gasp quietly, briefly wondering if your nose was bleeding.

Naib seemed to pay no mind to your mutterings. The last cipher popped, and the siren blaring in the distance gave you both a rush of adrenaline that overrode any lingering pain. Taking that que, Naib grabbed your wrist and all but dragged you sprinting to the gate.

When you were home free, though, he held your gaze daringly and asked, “So what did you want to tell me?”

Andrew

You had heard the disturbance of dirt nearby, but were too preoccupied with struggling to notice the source. The next second, Andrew’s dirty blonde hair (literally) popped out of the ground between your legs. He was already cursing under his breath, and shaking, just a bit. You vaguely remember hearing about Andrew being claustrophobic…. But those thoughts are washed away when he roughly grabs your thighs for support and you realize the exact position you’re in.

He had emerged a little too close to the chair and was having trouble getting out without sliding his body up against yours. The chair wobbled forward a little, hanging you over him, as one of the feet dangled into the hole he’d left in the dirt. He grabbed your caged forearms next, managing to haul himself out enough to be level with your chest.

“Can’t you help me?” he hissed, face flush with embarrassment at his predicament.

“I’m a little preoccupied,” you snap back, thankfully still having sense enough for it. Andrew clicks his tongue, hangs his head in what’s probably supposed to be shame…but his mop of hair hides his face and most of your lap from view, bringing even mor lewd thoughts to mind. “Y-you know, I’m kind of on a time crunch here!”

“Shut up, I know!” Andrew shouts. As soon as it’s out he clenches his teeth and looks over his shoulder for the Hunter, and without bothering to climb out of his hole starts fumbling with your restraints. When you pop free, the angle and weight of him clinging to you throws you both to the ground, your chest right on his face.

He screeched like a schoolgirl, but his tomato-red face was endearing enough to override most of the fear you felt for the remainder of the match.

Luchino

Though no one called him such, Luchino was a healer in his own right.

His skilled hands had patched you up twice already this match, and though the pain from Michiko’s cuts lingered, you could hardly complain when you thought about how Luchino had loomed over you. He was a polite man, but no-nonsense. Whenever you appeared at his cipher, alone and bleeding, he shoved you to your knees beneath him and got right to work. You couldn’t say if it was the adrenalin, but you were acutely aware of the heat radiating off his body the whole time. Of the gentle ghosting of his claws on your back, making you shiver. When he tied the bandages tight—too tight, almost, but he said that’s how they’re supposed to be—he grunted and huffed in your ear.

“All done,” he said, smirking. “Take these, too.” Luchino straightened up, but instead of returning to his cipher he applied some of that mystery serum to his forearm—his sleeves rolled up deliciously—and peeled away a hard patch of scales. You were too entranced by the oil-slick glisten it left on his skin to question why he was handing them to you.

Before you could stand, a butterfly alighted on your shoulder. Luchino reacted incredibly quickly; you blinked and he was hunched over you again, arms caging you fully to his chest. A sound like cracking glass met your ears the same time as his displeased hiss. Before you could ask, he grabbed you by the waist and threw you into a forward sprint, ordering “Go!”

[fishermanshook]

ASK: Hi:) if you feel like it how do you think ganji norton and naib would react to reader saying they feel safe with them?

“TRUST IN ME!”

( batter , prospector & mercenary ) + gn!reader

occ , angst in naib & ganji’s part , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

To fall in love is a risk not all are willing to take. Putting your heart on the line could result in rejection and heartache instead of love and happiness.

To fall in love in a place like this is out of the ordinary, but not exactly uncommon. And as you find yourself sinking more into your lovers embrace, you can’t help but whisper the words;

“I trust you.”

꒰wc꒱ 1.3k

✦— THE BATTER

You say it to him after a match where one reckless move could’ve killed you.

It’s night when the Batter, Ganji Gupta, holds you tight in his arms. Maybe a little too tight for your liking, but you did put him in a frightening situation earlier today. You recall shoving him out of the way in order to save him from a blow to your head. You don't remember much after that. Just blurry memories of being in Emily's office and then, returning to your room with Ganji.

“Ganji,” you sigh, clawing at his arms in an attempt to free yourself from his grasp, even if it’s just a little bit. “You’ve gotta loosen up a little bit, please. I’m really sorry I did that earlier, but you needed to get out…”

Ganji is quick to stop your rambling by holding you (somehow) even tighter than before. “[name], you got hit on the head with an axe. None the less, a Detention hit. If I—“ Ganji sucked in a deep breath of air, letting it fall from his mouth before speaking again. "If I hadn't used my last ball I don't think you would've struggled out in time. And I don't want to think about having to leave you behind because that was your last chair."

Immediately, Ganji stiffens and sits ups. he seems to have finally processed what just happened.

"[name]. you could've died. And for what?" Ganji repeats the question while shaking you by your shoulders, tears pricking at his eyes threating to fall.

You cup his face and put your forehead to his, allowing his to fulling chompreheand the choice you made during the last match.

"I understand it was stupid of me," You start, closing your eyes. "But I don't do things without reason."

The Batter quickly wipes away at his falling tears, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "Then why did you do it? You said it yourself, it was a stupid choice."

"Yes, but I did it for you. I did it because I have put more trust into you than anyone else in this wretched manor. And I knew, that even if I didn't make it out during that last game, that you would still be okay. Surviving another match means surviving another day. And for you, I'd do that again."

"God," Ganji wipes at his nose. "I hope you don't."

✦— THE PROSPECTOR

You say it to him when you’re tired and vulnerable. when anything can happen.

It was early in the morning when the Prospector, Norton Campbell, snuck into your room to pry you awake from your slumber. With your bedroom key in hand (you gave it to him in case of an emergency), he tip toed into your room. He couldn’t help but silently laugh as he peered at your morning appearance. Hair a mess with a side of droll staining your pillow. Cute, but he can stare more later.

The Prospector is quick to shake you awake, pinning your arms to your side so you don’t land a hit on him in fear of being attacked. As he hovers above you, he explains that there’s something he wishes to show you.

“But Norton,” you whisper into his ear “the sun isn’t even up yet.” You hoped the darkness of your room could conceal the light blush on your face.

“Exactly why I want you to come with me. I promise it’ll be worth it.” Norton mumbled, pulling you out from under the covers. Sliding on a pair of shoes, you drag your achy body behind him and follow the Prospector outside the manor.

Fresh dew covered the grass outside, making it a bit wet and chillier than usual outside. Fortunately, Norton had came prepared. Set up outside was a big fluffy blanket with more than enough pillows to spare. Two mugs of coffee residing inside.

“Ever seen the sunrise?” Norton asks, already knowing the answer based off your shocked expression.

You shake your head no as the Prospector reaches to grab your hand and lead you towards the spot. It didn’t take long to get settled, and when you did, you found your head in the core of Norton’s lap.

“Oh? What’s this?” Norton teased “cold aren’t ya’?” You shiver in his arms as a response. Before grabbing his face with your hands. It’s a weird position, but Norton doesn’t mind. Instead he leans into your touch. A soft smile on his face.

“Have I ever told you how much I trust you?” You ask with genuine curiosity.

“I’m not sure, have you?” Norton questions, brushing your hair to the side of your face.

“No, I’m being serious. Stuck in a place like this leaves everyone fending for themselves. But because I have you, I have someone to watch my back. I really appreciate that Norton. I trust you more than anyone else in this manor.”

Norton looks at you with sad eyes as he bends down to place a gentle kiss upon your forehead.

“I trust you more, doll.” He says as the sun starts to rise. Showering you in its warmth and light, a feeling he now resonates when it comes to you.

✦— THE MERCENARY

You say it to him during a particularly risky match where everything seems to be on the line.

There are time where a match can go inexplicably well, where everything goes absolutely perfect and you survive the game with all your limbs intact and the egotistical pride that comes with it.

Those aren’t all the time though, and when both sides are fighting it out until their last breath, it turns into a messy and an undoubtedly long match.

This seems to be one of them, and you’ve collected more than enough scars and bumps and bruises to prove it. You’re more than sure you’ll have to make a stop by Emily’s offfice, but now’s not the time to think about that. You must stay focus on your current task: stitching up Naib.

Sangria got him good this time as a long scar has taken shape on his back. Naib bites down on his bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the whimpers of pain he feels. He thought he was better at this. Better at pretending he wasn’t hurting. You know him all too well though.

“m’ sorry, ‘m sorry I know it hurts. I promise I’ll be done in just a second.” You say in attempt to comfort and reassure him. All he does is nod his head and sucks in a breath of air in order to steady himself.

The Mercenary is off the second he feels you tighten the last of his bandages. You’re quick to jump onto a cipher machine as well to catch up on the progress that was lost.

—

This match has been nothing short of a living, breathing disaster.

You still can't shake the ear piercing scream Fiona let out as she was hit down again minutes later, and you won't forget the horrible cut that now runs across Naib's stomach. You’d stich it up but you don’t have the time for it. Not when Fiona needs rescuing.

“Naib, take over the last cipher. I have to go in.” You tell the Mercenary, racing past him. He stops you, grabbing—no, shaking you by the shoulders.

“No, please, [name] don’t go in there. It’s not worth it we can, we can get—“ he continues to trip over his words out of fear and desperation. “please [name], I don’t wanna lose you.”

“Naib, I promise I’ll be out soon. I trust you, I wouldn’t go in if I didn’t.” And that’s that. You place a quick kiss on his forehead before dashing off towards Fiona’s chair. You hear him scream your name out afterwards.

note: KILLS MYSELF THIS IS ACTUALLY TERRIBLE [crys]

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