#the goldfinch smut

[urfavoritedcwhore]

take care of her for me//borisxtheoxfemreader

summary: boris is out of town for a week picking up a shipment of drugs. he knows how lonely you get. you, theo, and him have an arrangement made. (aged up you are all 17)

warnings: (kinda) threesum?, spanking, p in v, oral (male and female, daddy kink, edging, dom boris, sub reader, sub theo, degrading kink.

not proof read!!!

before i start the story, ik the part about boris picking up drugs in a different state is not realistic at all considering his age or his living situation but just humor me, mk?

boris knew how much you hated it when he left, he knew how lonely you got. which is why a few days ago he made plans for you. “y/n, is ok if potter take care of you while im gone?”, he said in his broken english. you looked at him confused, “what do you mean by “takes care of me?”.” you had a slight idea of what he meant but you didn’t want to assume wrongly and have your boyfriend be disgusted by your thoughts. “i mean like, you get lonely,eh? so while i leave he takes care of you. sleeps in bed with you, drives you to school, can fuck you, you know?”, he said so casually you almost weren’t shocked he actually said the last part. you were almost sure this was a trap. i mean, how do you respond to your boyfriend asking if you it was ok if his best friend fucked you while he was out of town? he could the see the loss of words expression planted on your face clearly. he quickly reassured you, “i will be on phone while he does, i wont be mad. you need to be taken care of księżniczka, i understand this.”. you got worried by these words, “so you’ll be sleeping with other women while your gone?”, you said trying your hardest not to sound jealous, although you could tell as soon as the words left your mouth that jealousy ran through them. “nie nie, i will not touch another girl, i swear. i only want you to be taken care of, i take care of myself while you’re on the phone. i can watch and help him make you feel good, which will make me feel good, understand?”, he said. you understood exactly what he was saying, he wanted you to fuck theo on the phone with him whilst he guided theo, listened in, and jerked off. to be perfectly honest this didn’t seem like a bad idea to you. you and boris had never had a “vanilla” sex life. you looked up at boris with a smirk, “if it’s something you want to try, i’m ok with that.”. he looked back at you with an excited look in his eyes, “this will be fun, eh? if you try and don’t like we won’t do again, ok?”, he said reassuring you. you were fairly sure you’d like it though. i mean, nothing would ever be as good as having boris in the flesh, but you were pretty sure you could get off with theo under the right circumstances. “ok let’s do it. as long as your on the phone and talking to me, i think it might be fun.”, you told him. “of course księżniczka, and if he try’s to touch you while i’m not listening you tell me and i’ll beat the shit outta him.”,he said sternly. “deal.”, you replied. which is exactly how you got yourself in the situation you were in now, theo standing in your room in nothing but his boxers, and boris on facetime as you lie on the bed in nothing but his tshirt and your panties.

theo was shy at first, but after a few more reassurances from boris over the phone, he had eventually loosened up about it. theo came over to the bed leaning above you, feet on the floor, hands on your cheeks. “can i kiss her?”, he spoke to boris as he looked in your eyes. “yes potter.”, boris said as you held your phone in your hand for him to watch. theo leaned down and began kissing you gently, as if he was trying his very hardest to keep himself composed. “fuck potter, she’s not going to break.”, boris said laughing as he watched. theo took this as permission to immediately stick his tounge on yours, exploring the roof of your mouth, and intertwining his tongue with yours. he kissed you passionately, as you could hear boris breathing heavily, most likely already palming himself through his boxers. you could tell how much this excited boris just from sounds of his breaths. theo climbed on top you breaking the kiss, and reaching for your underwear before he was quickly cut off by boris. “nie. you have to get her ready first potter.”, he said roughly, “tease her, yes?”. theo moved his hand away from the band of your underwear, and grabbed your phone to prop it up on your nightstand. “h-how do i do that bor?”, you loved the way theo talked to boris like you weren’t even there. you loved feeling like you were boris’s. his property. his girl. “she likes it when you..eh….how you say…slap? nie nie, spank.”, boris said watching theo. theo looked down at you, “are you okay with that?”, he said with some worry in his voice. “i say she okay with that, she likes. don’t worry potter, i do all the time, you’ll see.”, boris told him growing impatient. theo moved to the side of you and flipped you around in one quick motion. as soon as you were on his stomach he began groping your ass and groaning at the way it felt on his hand. immediately, without warming, his soft touches turned into rough slaps. you let out a throaty moan as you lay on your stomach, head turned to the side, and eyes on your phone to watch boris. “is that good księżniczka?”, boris asked with a smirk. “it’s *slap* so good *slap*, fuck!”, you said as the burning pain in your ass grew. theo was not holding back on you. everytime his hand collided with your skin you let out soft whines and deep moans.

“now feel her potter, you can tell she likes yes?”, boris said, you could hear him jerking off from the phone. it suprised you how much he was into this, usually he hated other men even looking at you. you supposed he just trusted theo enough to treat you correctly and under his command. theo gave your ass one final slap and trailed his fingers down you thighs, feeling your pussy from behind. “fuck bor, she’s soaking through her underwear, she’s so damn wet already.”, theo replied with a hint of suprise in his voice. the praise made mixed with his fingers trailing up and down your clothed slit made you moan. boris laughed, “ha! what did i tell you potter? she likes! she gets wet so easily, don’t you шлюха?”. “yes bor mmmm so easy.”, you said still watching him. “just wait till you taste her, eh? swear she tastes fucking amazing.”, boris told theo as he let out a groan. “can i? i wanna see what you’re always bragging about.”, theo asked boris in a voice that was filled with lust. theo’s words only made you more wet. did boris really brag about the way you tasted? your thoughts were interrupted by boris’s answer, “da.”. theo flipped you back around on your back and slid off your panties like he had been waiting his whole life for this moment. “bend knees, y/n. be patient with him, and keep eyes on me, ok?”, boris told you sternly. you quickly nodded and put bent your legs, spreading them apart slowly, as you were told. theo watched, his eyes huge, like he had just found gold. you were surprised when theo spoke directly to you, almost in a purr, “fuck, you’ve got such a pretty pussy y/n”. your cheeks flushed with red, as you had never heard him speak this way before, especially towards you. without waisting another second, he sunk his face into your pussy, making you let out a small moan. boris spoke to you, “pick me up and turn me around, i want to see how he’s doing kochanie.”. you picked up your phone, switching to its back camera with shaking hands. “nie nie nie potter”, boris said,”don’t move head, only move tongue. dip your tongue into her and circle her clit with thumb, da?”, theo didn’t respond, he didn’t even come up for air, he simply followed boris’s directions, making you release a full loud moan. theo of course wasn’t as good at this as boris of course, but damn. his tongue moved rapidly as his finger traced small passionate circles on your throbbing clit. you switched the camera back to the front, so boris could see your face. “ohh, are we being good little игрушка for daddy’s friend? we are aren’t we? you like when he fucks you with his tongue?”, boris flipping his camera to show you him slowly stroking his long cock. “mmm ah ah! fuck! yes bor, yes daddy. being mmm so good, feels so good. i’m gonna cum fuck!”, you moaned to boris as theo kept his pace. “potter stop. stop touching her.”, boris said calmly yet very loudly. theo shot up, making you whine, being left at the edge of orgasm. “what? did i do something wrong??”, theo said, his cheeks red with embarrassment. “nie, you did right, but you can’t let her cum that easy. y/n show him your mouth, da?”, boris said looking back and forth at both of you. though boris didn’t phrase it correctly, you knew what he meant from him saying these words to you often. you closed your legs and crawled over to theo, pushing him down on the bed. theo, now laying on his back looked confused. you trailed your hand down his chest, to his stomach until you reached the band of his boxers. you pulled them down harshly, watching his cock slap against his stomach. fuck. theo was big. not as big as boris of course, boris was huge, girthy, and fit in your pussy perfectly. but theo, he was bigger than what you imagined. “grab me and show me, i want to see her work.”, boris said in a demanding voice. theo quickly grabbed the phone and flipped the camera, right as you grabbed his long thick cock drawing a,“fuckk”, from his lips. you examined his length, softly brushing his red tip with your thumb.

you slowly leaned down and begin licking the precum off his tip, as you made direct eye contact with the camera of the phone, as you heard both theo and boris groaning. at first you took a small part of his length in your mouth, swirling your tongue around on his tip. theo let out ungodly moans and words under his breath, which was nothing compared to the noise he made when you suddenly took his whole length into your mouth. you used your right hand to wrap around and stroke the small part of his length you couldn’t fit in your throat, and your left hand to gently fondle his balls. theo made noises you’d never heard in your life, loud whimpering moans and screams of pleasure. boris usually just made throaty groans, and soft whiny noises. “fuck dude i’m gonna nut mmmmm her mouth is so fuck fuck-”, you heard boris snap his fingers, and pulled away from theo’s dick immediately, causing him to loudly gasp and buck his hips up, desperately trying to catch your mouth again. “BORIS WHAT THE FUCK?!”, theo yelled irritated. “you can’t cum yet, you won’t be able to fuck her, she needs dick, understand?”, boris explained. theo only replied in a pissed off sigh, flipping him the camera back to selfie mode and setting it on the night stand again, before harshly grabbing you and throwing you on the flat again. he hovered over you, his hands on either side of your shoulders. “can i please fuck her now boris? your killing me, i need to feel this teases pussy.” theo said, his face turned towards the phone staring at boris. this of course made both you and Boris smirk uncontrollably. “someone’s getting impatient, eh? yes potter, you fuck her now.”, boris said trying his best not to chuckle. without a word back to boris, or a warning, theo thrusted his full length into you, making both of you let out a loud moan. boris grunted loudly as he watched your face, stroking his own dick. “fuck boris mmm, how is she still so tight?”, theo said in a rough voice. “don’t know, she always is, is like magic.”. boris said breathing extra heavy. theo slowly thrusted in and out of you, his cock filling you up, yet boris’s sounds were what made you clinch your sheets in your fists. theo had not stopped moaning since he had thrusted into you, and was now kissing and biting your neck leaving bruises on your soft skin. you knew boris did not approve, he was very stern about marking you as his, yet he didn’t say anything, too lost in the moment to care right now. “fuck bor, he feels good.”, you moaned, eyes half on boris, half on the sweaty theo on top of you. boris only let out a moan and and slight smile as a reply. in a split second theo flipped you over and command, “arch”, you did as he said and arched your back. now, ur elbow and knees on the bed, and your ass arched in the air, he began to position himself with you. you bit the pillow in front of you, knowing you were going to be too loud when he pushed into you. just as boris opened his mouth to tell theo to take out the pillow, theo yanked it out and whispered in your ear, “nooo we want to hear you y/n, please you sound so pretty.”, sending shivers up your spine. theo threw the pillow and pushed his length into you, extracting a long moan from your lips. you felt your walls tightening and your stomach forming a knot as theo hit your sweet spot. boris saw the look on your face, as you heard him immediately sped up his hand. “let him cum first, yes?”, he said as he groaned. “yes sir”, you whined as you felt theo’s trusts getting sloppier. “fuck fuck fuck, boris i’m gonna cum.”, theo said, never slowing down his pace. “cum at the same time as her potter. i will count, understand?”, boris replied. you and theo both frantically nodded as boris began to count. “3,2,…..1”, as soon as boris said one both you and theo let out all kinds of noises. theo stayed inside of you and let you grind up and down as you rode out your high. boris let out multiple russian words and a huge groan not long after.

theo took himself out of you and fell onto his stomach on the bed, as you turned around and fell on your back. all three of you panted heavy and sat in silence until boris spoke up, “was that good księżniczka?”. you picked up the phone, “it was a nice replacement for you baby.”, you said knowing boris could fuck you far better, but not wanting to hurt theo’s feelings. boris understood this and chucked, then told you to give the phone to theo, who was now laying on his back grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the nightstand. “thank you potter.”, boris said sincerely, “but if you ever mark her again without my permission i’ll knock you out cold.”, he added with full seriousness in his voice. theo nodded, too happy to care about these words, he passed the phone and cigarette to you and took off his glasses. “do you want me to sleep here y/n?”, he said looking at you. boris answered for you, “yes and drive her to school in morning. now go make her a snack before bed.”. before you could tell either one of them you weren’t hungry, theo was walking downstairs into your kitchen. “you eat and then go to sleep, yes?”, boris asked you in a voice that sounded more like he was telling you. “okay baby.”, you said propping your phone on the nightstand and closing your eyes. you fell asleep before theo even came back upstairs, but when you woke up in the morning boris was still on the phone snoring, theo was asleep clinging to your arm, and a grilled cheese was on your nightstand. you smiled and looked at boris before dozing back off to sleep.

that one was shorter then my other one but hope you like it!!!

translation’s in polish:

•księżniczka- princess

•nie- no

•da- yes

russian translations:

•шлюха- whore

•игрушка- toy

[paradiseismine]

Good Morning - Boris Pavlikovsky x reader

Pairing: Boris Pavlikovsky (The Goldfinch) x f!reader

Summary: you wake up to Boris spooning you and wanting to give you both a very good morning.

Warnings: just plain smut, very little plot lol, some daddy kink, occasional pet names in polish, also broken English Boris ‘cause that’s really hot (sorry I don’t make the rules, file your complaint with either Donna Tartt or Finn Wolfhard please).

The very first feeling you remember having was comfort. It could have been from his nice duvet, or his bed as a whole, or the heat provided by his room and its nearly permanently shut door - it could be as simple as that. You were soon reminded, however, that the comfort came from his lanky arms as they serenely tightened their grip around your waist, denouncing his sudden awakening as his breath on your neck also gained a new rhythm.

Then, you felt it - slowly, delicately, gently burning its way up your neck - arousal. Boris had lifted up the soft curtain of your hair out of his favorite garden of skin on your body, and was now planting wet kisses on it, inhaling your scent like a line of cocaine.

You let out a shy moan, your body quivering at his touch, eyes squeezing shut with pleasure. Boris kept trailing his kisses down your neck until they reached the collar of your t-shirt - that was the end of the line for his lips, but not for his hands.

He untangled his arms from your torso slightly, inserting his right hand underneath the fabric of the only garment on your body. You squirmed in response, adjusting your hips into his, feeling his throbbing erection on your ass, only his thin underwear separating his length from your core, now beginning to moisten. He reached up towards the delicate curve of your breasts, thumbing your stiff nipples mercilessly, causing a higher-pitched moan to roll off your tongue.

“Good morning, kochanie” he whispered, lips lightly grazing your ear as he spoke, causing you to shiver with the touch. Boris chuckled softly and nibbled on your earlobe, knowing perfectly well the effects of hitting that sweet spot of yours.

“Good morning, daddy” you answered, having mentally entered the sexual space of your relationship already. He grabbed your waist firmly in return, a satisfied grin playing across his lips. Little did he know, you were feeling just as lustful as he was. Maybe even more, as you articulated your next phrase with the sluttiest tone you could possibly think of. “Would you like to start your day with a good fuck to my pussy, sir?”

“Yes, love, would like that very much” he replied, his devilish grin practically audible. “Be good girl for daddy and take off that shirt, yes?”

You obeyed instantly as he let go of your sides, pushing the thin fabric up and off your body, before tossing it carelessly into the ground. You then returned to your previous position, grinding your ass back into your boyfriend’s hardened cock.

His fingers traced your waistline and the curve of your breasts gently, savoring the softness of your skin, the warmth of his digits sending another moan to your lips.

Soon, his right hand reached down, agonizingly slowly, as he wanted to tease you to the point of madness - he absolutely loved to have you squirming and moaning in his arms. Boris’ soft fingertips found their way in between your thighs, moistening themselves in your arousal before reaching for your clit with care, tracing tender circles into your already aching, dripping core.

“I love that you don’t sleep wearing panties” he confessed, teeth pulling gently at your earlobe once again. “So easy to touch you like this”

You moaned in response, arching your body into his hand, wanting more of his touch. His lips found your back and peppered it in delicate kisses, whilst his fingers kept playing with your needy pussy. Your moans got more frequent and a bit louder as your orgasm approached, but you wanted more of him.

“Daddy” you called, your voice faint and moan-like. “Please, can I cum with your cock inside of me?”

“My little girl wants to cum with daddy’s cock inside her little pink pussy, yes?” he asked, teeth sinking hard into the side of your neck as his fingers played with your slick arousal. “That sounds perfect, moje serce”

You could feel him distance himself from your back slightly as he lowered his boxers and let his erection free from its tight confinement. His hands positioned your hips at a better angle so he could slither into your drenched hole, as he teased your entrance with his cock’s tip already drooling with precum.

“Daddy” you begged, impatiently. “Please, I want to cum so bad…”

Boris inserted himself eagerly into your soaked pussy, moaning at the sensation. You were so wet, so warm, so inviting. He thrusted softly whilst his fingers resumed their work on your clit. His digits were slipping at how wet you were, your moans increasing as the delicate circles he traced got more and more precise.

Your back arched against his body and your mouth opened in a louder moan, your cunt clenching involuntarily around his thick girth as you came on his cock. He gasped and kept thrusting as the muscles of your core clamped around him, his whimpers and moans a lot more evident now.

“Please, kochanie” he pleaded, his voice slurring with lust. “Ah, please, let cum in the pussy, need to cum inside”

“Yes” you moaned in response, your juices running down your thighs, making splashy sounds whenever Boris thrusted into you. “Please, daddy, cum inside my pussy”

He growled lowly at your nape, his right hand harshly grabbing your ass as he pounded into your soaked core faster and faster.

“Ah, yes” you heard him moan, his whole body squirming as he reached his mercurial high. Soon, you felt your insides being irresistibly filled with his hot seed, so hot it sent a maddening shiver down your spine. “Feel so good to cum in the pussy, so tight, love”

“I love it when you cum inside me, daddy” you panted, feeling dizzy with desire. His cum was already slowly leaking out your pussy, so thick and abundant it couldn’t possibly be held inside. You loved the feeling of his cum leaking from your pussy. It was, indeed, a very good morning now.

[ifangirlalot]

finn comforting and praising thick!reader while they fuck n hes so soo rough while he talks her though it hhhfhhfhfhshs ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

can i be ur 🍥 anon :oo

┊ ➶ 𝓯inn wolfhard x 𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓿𝔂!reader ｡˚ ° | !!𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏!!

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖕 & 𝖕𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖘𝖊 | afab!reader, creampie, curve fetish, praise, spanking

Love Note From Zee ;;

welcome to the filth fam, 🍥 nonnie!

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Finn raised his head from between [Name]'s perfectly rounded thighs, his red lips swollen and wet from sucking on her wet, juicy cunt. He had been there now for God knows how long, he had lost count after her third or fourth orgasm. He had such a hard time resisting the soft thickness of her body, but it got so much worse whenever she let herself wear short skirts with halters and cute little heart shaped clips that left sweet indents in her soft skin.

Finn's hand stroked the skin of her thigh for a few moments before he suddenly smacked his palm against it. His cum-dumb baby let out a gasp as she jumped slightly, causing her thighs to jostle and jiggle in the most charming way. The corners of his mouth tugged upward into a lopsided smirk.

His teeth sank into his bottom lip as his hand continued stroking, slapping, and groping her sweet thighs. God, he loved those thighs. He loved seeing the skin there pink and marked in the shape of his hand. Loved watching the skin jiggle about. It was just the cutest.

"You've been so good, dolly," he cooed, raising himself up to his knees as his hands went to his waist to unhook his belt. "But, I think you can be even better. Just pull your pretty little legs up there and I'm gonna fuck you 'til you can't see straight, 'kay?"

[Name] mewled and did as she was told, her hands reaching up and curving beneath her thighs and pulling them up so they were resting against her lush bust. Her skirt folded upward, giving Finn an even better, more wide view of her pussy. Her pussy lips were pink and coated with sticky cum from her last few orgasms. Poor, dumb little baby had been violently tongue fucked to her breaking point so many times, she couldn't even speak when she was spoken to.

But he liked it that way.

Finn smiled innocently, as though he wasn't about to violently fuck her into oblivion. "Good girl. Just stay right there for me." He unzipped his fly and folded down the waistband of his boxers. As he moved himself over her, he had to be careful with the way that he pushed his dick in her. Too quick and he'd cum as soon as his tip parted her sweet cunt. Those curves, that soft skin, they'd have him shooting out hot ropes of sperm before he could thrust.

[Name] whined softly, her legs quaking as he thrusted slowly for a few minutes. He quickly had enough of that shit, though, and gradually slid from grinding to pounding. He gripped her neck firmly enough to place pressure on her throat, but not nearly hard enough as to have her gasping for breath. He could hear the loud pap pap pap from her wet cunt as he cock abused her hole. [Name] was squealing and moaning and whimpering beneath him, drool dribbling from her plump, wet lips.

"Oh, that's a good girl," he praised, his voice gruff but gentle despite the rough movements of his hips as he stretched her open again and again. He took his hand off her throat and grabbed her thighs, readjusting them and pressing them against his waist.

"Come on baby, give me a squeeze. I wanna hear my bones popping." Finn demanded, rearing back and shoving back into her rougher than he had been doing. [Name] moaned loudly and did as she was told once more, her thighs pressing hard against his hips. He groaned and threw his head back. His dark hair was damp with sweat as his eyebrows furrowed from the pleasure. "Fuck, that's it, atta girl…"

He gave a couple more hard shoves into her sopping wet pussy before he slowly pulled out. She let him know of her disapproval by letting out a whiny mewl.

"Hush." Finn said, gently yet firmly, as he smacked her thighs, leaving yet another hand print on her skin. He wrapped her hair around his fist like a horse's rein and flipped her over with one swift movement. He moved the skirt up over her again and pressed her face into the mattress. Once he pulled her hips off the ground, he smirked and slid himself back in again, continuing his sexual abuse where he had left off, this time with his fingers roughly digging into her lush hips as [Name] let out muffled, pleasured sobs.

He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep it up without spilling into her. He had to make it count. He grunted with every thrust back into her, his movements steadily becoming sloppy and uneven. Finn bent forward, tangling one of his hands into her locks again as he doubled his speed. Finally, he felt the knot in his navel unravel as he spilled hot rope after hot rope of seed in her sticky hole. One look between her legs told him she'd already came once before, as the white liquid trickled down her thighs and dripped to the soiled bed sheets. He must have been too caught up in ecstasy to notice.

"Good girl.. oh, you're so good.." Finn whispered breathlessly as he slowly pulled out. "Next time, I want you to get off on my head."

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[urfavoritedcwhore]

hey queen since ur reqs are open could you write smth abt boris teaching reader a few words in his language and she gets turned on pls😛😛

of course pookie😘😘

say it//boris x !fem!reader

summary: you want to learn a bit of Russian, and your boyfriend boris is helping you.

warnings: swearing, f1ngering, slight degradation, !minors DNI!

not proof read

lowercase intended

“pleaseee”, you beg using your best pouty face. boris rolls his eyes and laughs, “why do you want to learn so bad.”, he asks as he lights a cigarette, leaning against your headboard. you crawl up in front of him from the end of you bed, “so i can understand it when you speak to me in Russian.”, you say with a smile as you look at him. he looks down at you with a smile, “what if i don’t want you to know what i say to you,hm?”, he asks taking a drag of his cigarette. “cmon bor, just a few words.”, you say leaning up and plucking the cigarette from his lips before placing it between your own. “fine, but only a few, yes? what do you want to say?”, he asks taking the cigarette back from you as you exhale smoke. you smile excitedly, “hmmm how about, hi my name is y/n?”, you ask. he laughs, “that one’s simple. you say, ‘привет, меня зовут y/n’.”, he says in a fast voice. you copy his words, severally butchering the pronunciation. he laughs, “yeah almost.”, he says putting the cigarette out on the ashtray. you think for a moment, “oh oh! i know, what about that thing you always call me? what does that mean and how do i say it? i think it starts with an L.”, you say trying to remember. he raises an eyebrow at you, “we have entire different alphabet from american alphabet. you thinking of ‘л’. is like,”, he makes a “el” sound. “okay okay, but how do you say it and what does it mean?”, you ask him. “you say like, ‘любовь’. it mean like, ‘love’ or ‘my love’ in English.”, he tells you shrugging. “awww you do loveee meee.”, you tease him. he rolls his eyes, “yes, i do love you but, is not my favorite thing to call you.”, he says with a light chuckle to himself. you raise your eyebrows curiously, “what’s your favorite thing to call me then?”.

he looks at you with a smirk, “мне нравится называть тебя маленькой шлюшкой”, he says with a laugh. you crinkle your face in confusion, “what does that mean?”, you ask suspiciously. he laughs and shrugs, “is secret.”. you hate not being able to know what he’s saying, but in a weird way you also find it incredibly sexy. you roll your eyes, “boris.”, you say slightly annoyed. “да, маленькая шлюха?”, he says with a smirk. you disregard his last two words and perk up, “oh oh! i know ‘да’, that means yes!”, you say feeling proud of yourself. “very good.”, he says with a light laugh. you engulf yourself with his praise, “thank you, thank you.”, you say taking a small bow. he looks you up and down, “what else do you want to know?”, he asks. “i don’t know, just keep saying things and telling me what they mean.”, you say shrugging. he smirks, “тебе нравится, когда я говорю по-русски?”, he says looking at you suspiciously. “you lost me, what does that mean?”, you ask with a laugh. “i say, ‘do you like when i speak russian?’”, he says raising an eyebrow and smirking. you blush and nod yes. he chuckles, “why do you like so much?”, he asks with genuine curiosity. you smile and shrug your shoulders, “i dunno, it’s just kinda hot.”, you say embarrassed. he smirks and puts a hand on your thigh, “yes?”, he’s asks looking you up and down. you feel yourself getting goosebumps from his touch, “yes.”, you say quitely. he smirks almost evilly at you, “lay down, we continue our lessons, eh?”, he tells you. you look at him confused but do as he says. you crawl beside him and lie on your back, turning your head to look at him. “you keep practicing how to say ‘yes’, understand?”, he asks leaning up and looking over you. you smile at him, “да”, you say with a giggle. “very good. now, remember to keep practicing when i ask you questions. ты хочешь, чтобы я прикоснулся к тебе?”, he says, still smiling down at you. you look at him for a moment, confused by his words. however, you decide to do what he told you to do, “да”, you say confidently. he moves his hand up and down your thigh, his movements sending chills down your back. he speaks again as he moves his hand closer to your core, “ты хочешь, чтобы я прикоснулся к тебе здесь?”, he says as he continues to trail his hand up, now playing with the waist band of your shorts. your breath hitches as you answer, “д-да”, you stutter. he smirks and brings his free hand up to your face, “i think is enough learning for today, you want these off?”, he says pulling at the waist band of your shorts. you nod frantically, trying to control the rubbing of your thighs. he looks at you squirming and laughs, “ok ok, i take off.”, he says as he slides down your shorts, lifting your hips to take them off fully. he inspects your pussy, only your underwear separating it from the cold air. he slides a finger across your slit and pulls it back, a line of your wetness still connecting the two. he raises his eyebrows, “if i know you like the russian so much i would have speak it more.”, he says sticking his finger in his mouth and licking off your juices. “boris”, you whine, your core feeling painfully ignored. he chuckled, “okay, okay.”, he slides off your underwear in a quick motion. he spreads your legs apart and and begins tracing circles on your clit. “fuck.”, you moan as he continues his movements. “look at me”, he says sternly to you. you shift your head up to look at him and he immediately connects his lips with yours. he shoves his tounge through your lips, licking the roof of your mouth as he continues rubbing you. he disconnects with your lips as you let out a moan into his mouth. he smirks at you before slowly replacing his finger with his tounge. you moan loudly, running you fingers through his hair, “fuck bor keep going”, you moan out of breath. he brings his fingers back up to your clit and trails his tounge down to your entrance, moving it quickly inside and out. you feel a knot growing in your stomach as you move your hips up and down against his touch.

“boris, fuck- boris i’m gonna cum”, you mange to squeak out in between moans. he uses his free hand to tap your thigh twice, signaling his permission. you hold your breath as you come undone on his face, a loud moan escaping your lips as you do so. your body is filled with a wave of pleasure as he continues tongue fucking you while you ride out your high. you moan loudly once again as your legs go limp. he looks up at you smiling with a pussy drunk expression, “you like?”, he asks breathing heavily. you look at him with a smile, “да”.

A/N: i hope this is what you had in mind!! thank you for the request<3

[ifangirlalot]

boris eating out reader hcs??

˗ˏˋ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐇𝐂𝐒 ˎˊ˗ | starring boris pavlikovsky ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

~smut!~ [𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘:] oral (fem receiving), some dirty talk, boris slipping into his native language (which is polish btw), broken english boris because that's adorable, angst

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

⊹˚.⋆ Alright. So this could go one of three ways. One, he's high and/or drunk off his ass, two, he's sober and is feeling particularly charitable, or three, his dad made him feel useless and he feels the need to prove his worth to you so you won't leave him for somebody else.

⊹˚.⋆ Let's start with Boris eating you out while he's drunk and/or high. He's actually pretty fuckin' messy, like Richie is, but like twice as much. He's also very noisy. He rumbles and grunts and groans, kind of like a car engine. You'd be laughing if you weren't moaning.

⊹˚.⋆ Boris is also a really big clit sucker. He'll push his tongue right up against it and flick it about until you're screaming his name at the top of you're lungs. And he wraps his tongue around your nub and sucks it until it's purple. He likes to nip at it and tug it gently before letting it snap back into place.

⊹˚.⋆ Honestly D/H Boris isn't eating you out so much as just licking and sucking. To put it quite bluntly… It's not the best experience, but he tries enough and always makes you cum.

⊹˚.⋆ If he's sober and it's just a good day for him, maybe he's in a really good mood, which is rare for him, he likes to overstimulate you with his mouth. He does it without warning as well.

⊹˚.⋆ He'll sink down to his knees at the most random of times. His favorite is while you're cooking. He wants to see if you can cook your meal without burning it while you're writhing under his tongue.

⊹˚.⋆ You could be in the kitchen just cooking something for dinner, and he'll just kneel in front of you and tug down your sweats with a cheeky grin.

"Ach, kochanie! Spread legs and let me play."

⊹˚.⋆ Sober Boris is practically a professional at oral. Plus, being a polyglot? The amount of movements that tongue can do? Oh good god, it's heaven on earth. Sometimes he'll roll his tongue while he's eating you out and just… AGH, so good.

⊹˚.⋆ Expect multiple orgasms, because once he starts he absolutely refuses to stop.

⊹˚.⋆ Now.. for when Boris needs to be reassured. When his dad has made him feel like nothing more than a piece of human garbage. When he's in this vulnerable mindset, nothing you do will dissuade him. He needs to do something, anything, to prove himself. To make sure he lets you know he doesn't want you to view him as useless.

"Bor, baby.. Come on, you don't have to do this.." "No, no.. Hush, moje serce.. Let me. Please."

⊹˚.⋆ He's very passionate with his tongue movements and he tends to cry a lot and whisper different compliments to you in Ukrainian, Russian, and Polish through his sobs. Sometimes he just desperately begs.

⊹˚.⋆ It feels good, as you'd expect it to, but fuck it's so hard to focus on it when Boris looks like he's falling apart. He's shaking, sobbing, begging.

⊹˚.⋆ At one point, he just stops giving you head and clings to your leg, begging for your love in Russian.

"Пожалуйста, о, пожалуйста, не уходи, я люблю тебя, красотка… Я буду добра к тебе до конца своей любви. Но, о Боже, не уходи..!"

T R A N S L A T I O N S

Ach, kochanie - ah, darling (Polish)

Moje serce - my heart (Polish)

Пожалуйста, о, пожалуйста, не уходи, я люблю тебя, красотка… Я буду добра к тебе до конца своей любви. Но, о Боже, не уходи..! - Please, oh please don't go, I love you, beautiful… I will be good to you until the end of my life. But, oh God, don't go..! (Russian)

[gggoldfinch]

Hatchetknife

Richard B. Riddick x OFC (or reader)

(disclaimer: photo found on pinterest ^ )

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

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

word count: 12,114

{AO3 Link}

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

***

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

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

———————————————————————

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

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

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

"Hatchet!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck you!"

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

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

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

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

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

He laughs again and she kicks his calf roughly.

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Now here's the deal—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fucking shit!" She kicks the console.

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

———————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Naw."

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

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

Her brows raise confoundedly. "Goggles?"

"Yeah, you know. Goggles."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How'd you figure it out?"

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

Her brow twinges. What a strange man.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Naw, definitely not."

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

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

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

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

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

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

———————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey, dollface," Riddick greets.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm— I—" she stammers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hatchet laughs breathlessly. "Fuck off."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So stubborn," he tsks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yep. You're a little uptight."

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

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

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

[the-cheshire-cat-grin]

since im fallin back on the goldfinch train just a little bit a reminder i wrote a fic that i may or may not be adding on to in the next few weeks/months

[sucka4pain]

Guys send in some requests I’m feeling good today:)

[urfavoritedcwhore]

the russian boy//part eight

warnings: swearing, smoking

not proof read

lowercase intended

part eight: the southwest side story

i walk into my house suddenly aware of how exhausted i am. i head up stairs, check the laundry room and see boris's sweater is done washing and lazily throw it into the dryer. i walk to my room and plop on my bed, immediately closing my eyes and drifting into sleep. i never remember my dreams, sometimes i wake up with a fleeting feeling of a story, but that story will never be known when open my eyes. i awake when i hear the front door shut downstairs, i look over and check the time on my phone. i guess i was really fucking tired cause it's already 9:43pm. before i can hop out of bed to greet my mother but a nonification just below the time on my phone catches my eye.

boris

hello new girl, i assume your sleeping because i already try to call 3 times. text me when you wake up.

i look at the text with confusion. did we exchange phone numbers last night? i swipe to open the message and text back a reply.

b͟o͟r͟i͟s͟

boris

hello new girl,

i assume your sleeping

because i already try to call 3

times. text me when you wake up.

boris? how did you get

my number? did i give it

to you last night?

read 9:45pm

boris

i take your phone last

night while you sleep

and put in my number.

you should really make

phone password new girl.

i stare at my phone in bewilderment. no shot this kid put his number in my phone. i can hear his voice in my head as i read the text. i know he's smirking at his own words. i text him back quickly before i put down my phone.

b͟o͟r͟i͟s͟

boris

i take your phone last

night while you sleep

and put in my number.

you should really make

phone password new girl.

you're sneaky as

fuck and i will

absolutely be

putting a

passcode on

my phone. give

me a sec, my

my mom got

home. brb

read 9:47pm

i lay my phone on my bed and head downstairs. "mom?", i call out as i get to the bottom step. "i'm in my room sweetie, give me a second!", i hear her voice say from the back part of the house. i smell a freshly lit cigarette and assume im waiting on her to put it out as i plop down onto the couch. i take a look at my bruised knuckles and fold my uninjured hand on top of them. i wait patiently in on the couch before i see my mom coming out of her room coughing, still in her work uniform. "hey lucybug! how was school?", she asks sitting next to me in the couch with a smile. i lay my head on her shoulder and let out a dramatic sigh, "exhausting.", i say honestly. i decide to leave out the part where i punched other student in the face making her bleed, in hopes of a nice normal night with my mother. "how was work?", i ask her, feeling her warm shoulder on my cheek and breathing in her familiar smell of cigarettes and floral perfume. "exhausting.", she says placing her head on top on mine and mimicking my sigh. she laughs quietly and removes her head from mine before kissing the top of it. "how mad would you be at me if i turned on a lifetime movie and made us a box of questionably old mac and cheese for dinner?", she asks me. i lift from my head from her shoulder and smile, "honestly i think that sounds wonderful.", i say getting up from the couch and heading into the kitchen. "honey, i'll make it don't worry.", she says beginning to stand up from the couch. "no mom, sit down, you've been working too long. it's just mac and cheese i can manage.", i say turning back to her with a chuckle. she lowers back on to the couch lazily and turns on the tv, "what would i do without you?", she asks from the living room. "eat questionably old mac and cheese by yourself and only own the lifetime channel!", i call back to her which i hear her laugh at. i hear the tv switching through channels before it eventually stops on what is undeniably the lifetime channel as i hear a voice from the tv say, "so you've been sleeping with her marcus?!". i laugh to myself. damn marcus you're caught. i pull out a box of mac and cheese from the moving boxes in our kitchen. i place a pot with water on the stove and wait for it to come to a boil before i add the mac and cheese noodles. after the noodles are cooked i drain some of the water and put the yellow cheese powder in the pot,  stirring it with a plastic knife. i cannot wait till we unpack the boxes with the plates and bowls and spatulas. i grabbed the pot off the stove with the single dish towel we have out and grab two plastic spoons as i head back into the living room. i see my mother already passed out, shoes still on, curled up on the couch like a little kid. i debate waking her up to eat but decide that leaving the leftover mac and cheese in the fridge when im done with it is a better option.

i set the pot of the coffee table in front of our couch and carefully take off her shoes, making sure not to wake her. i grab the blanket on the floor that she used the first night we moved in a draped it over her. when i have mom all squared away and tucked it i grab the pot, placing it and the dish towel on my lap and watch the movie eating. the movie was about some wife who figures out her husband has been sleeping with the nanny and conspires to kill them both, i've no doubt seen this one before. or maybe not, i can't tell. to me all the movies on this channel have the same plot line in a way, but that doesn't mean they aren't a guilty pleasure for mom and me.

i end up finishing the movie, it only had about an hour left in it anyways. i get up and stick the rest of the mac and cheese in the fridge, and walk back into the living room turning off the tv. i grab my purse from beside the couch, take out my cart, and hit it as i walk up the stairs. when i walk into my room i nearly scream. "BORIS WHAT THE FUCK?", i say as the tall skinny boy sits on the ledge of my window smoking a cigarette. when he only replies with a smile, i shut my door a jog over to him, "how the fuck did you get up here?!", i yell whisper as he flicks the ash off his cigarette and out the window. he looks at me, "latter.", he says nodding to the window. i look out the window placing my hands on the edge of it and turn my head down. sure enough there's a large metal latter against my house leaning up to my window. "you don't lock your phone or your window, very dangerous new girl.", he said with a cocky smile, throwing his cigarette out the window and jumping into my room. "you're fucking crazy. what made you want to drag a fucking latter over here, climb to my window, and scare the shit outta me?!", i said still in disbelief. "you say you will be right back, then you don't answer for twenty minutes, so i come over. then you not in your room, so i sit and wait.", he says shrugging like his answer is obvious. "YOU'VE BEEN UP HERE FOR THRITY MIN-", i'm cut off as his hand presses against my lips. he makes a "sh" noise bringing his free index finger up against his own lips. i nod my head and he takes his hand away from my mouth. "do you want me to go?", he asks with a smile too large for his face. i think about this for a moment. i would rather not walk in and find him siting in my window when im not expecting him, but i don't want him to leave. i give him a defeated look, "no i don't want you to go.", i say rolling my eyes. he kisses me on my cheek, "i know.", he says smugly before hopping on my bed. "SHOES OFF SHOES OFF!", i say panicked running up to my bed. he quickly throws his shoes off and puts his hands up in defense of himself. "sorry sorry, i did not know", he says with a dorky smile.

"give me one of those cigarettes.", i say referring to the back that i know he has. he reaches in his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. i reach for them but just as my hand touches the box he playfully pulls them away, "what do i get if i give you, hm?", he asks. i toss the pen on his lap, "you get to hit my cart and not get thrown back down the latter.", i say making a "gimme" motion with my hand. "the answer i was looking for was a kiss, but this works too.", he said inspecting the cart in his lap. he hands the pack over to me and i place a cigarette between my lips as he hits my cart and lights the cigarette for me. i take a long drag of my cigarette, exhaling the smoke with a sigh. i plop down on the bed beside his and lay flat on my back. he follows my lead and drops his body flat as well. as i smoke my cigarette, flicking ash onto the tray on my bedside table i feel him staring at me. i turn my head to him, "what", i say giggling as my eyes meet his. "so beautiful.", he say brushing my hair out of my face with his index and middle finger. my face turns a bright red, i feel the heat of my blush. i never know what to say when someone tells me this. i honestly don't believe it. i'm by no means beautiful. the top of my head shows my true hair color, a rusty brown, compared to the rest of my bleached light hair. my eyes are a dark brown, almost black. i have a tooth on the bottom row of my teeth that's slightly crooked, it's the only thing i see when i smile. my nose is wide, and my cheeks are chubby. my fingers are too long, and my stomach too pudgy. i am by no means a person that comes to mind when you think the word "beautiful". but instead of saying all this and sounding like a D1 complement fisher, i say what i always say when someone tells me this, "thank you.". "i mean it new girl. you are the greatest beauty i've ever seen.", he says staring into my eyes. "yea well ur not too shabby yourself", i say to him before looking back up and my celling and taking another drag of my cigarette. after i exhale the smoke i put it out in my ashtray and get up to grab my laptop. "what are you doing?", he says with a cough as he blows out smoke, sits up on his elbows, and reaches over putting my cart beside my ashtray. "im gonna turn on a movie for us!", i say sitting back down beside him and logging into my laptop. "and since you snuck in my room, with no warning, im planning to turn on the movie i was going to watch tonight.”. i open my movie library and click one of my all time favorites, west side story. he scoots closer to me, his leg touching mine, as well have his shoulder touching mine. he read the title of the movie, "i've never watched before.", he tells me squinting at the name. i'm not suprised at all by this, but i put a hand over my heart and open my mouth in shock. "boris you're telling me you've never enjoyed the great cinematic masterpiece that is west side story? well i'm so glad you met me, i'm gonna pop your west side cherry.", i say dramatically. "is good movie?", he asks suspiciously. "it's a great movie.", i correct him. i hit play in the movie, changing the subtitles from English to Russian so that he can understand the movie better. his eyes light up at this small action and he smiles like a child when he sees the russian words in the small black boxes on the bottom of the screen as the characters speak their dialogue in English. i giggle to myself at his reaction, then rest the laptop on both of our inner legs. we begin watching the movie and at the first song he groans, "you tell me is great movie! great movies do not have singing and dancing new girl.", he says turning his head to me. "shhh! no criticisms!", i tell him, leaving my eyes glued to the movie. as the movie goes on he grows more interested asking questions every so often, "wait so why can't they dance together?", he asks. "because her brother is a shark, and he's a jet.", i explain pointing to maria and tony.

"i don't understand.", he says confused. "tony is in her brothers rival gang.", i tell him, to which he gasps in realization at. about five minutes later he makes the connection that the real reason they can't be together is because maria is Puerto Rican, and her brother doesn't want her dating a white guy. "that's not fair!", he says to me when he comes to his realization. "that's like the whole point of this movie boris, just keep watching.", i say with a proud laugh that i've gotten him invested in this movie. as we come to the final 10 minutes of the movie he's become completely engulfed in the story, his eyes never leaving the screen. when he sees tony get shot he lets out a huge gasp, "NIE NIE HE SHOT TONY NEW GIRL, HE SHOT TONY.", he exclaims pointing at the screen. "WHY WOULD YOU NOT TELL ME TONY DOES NOT LIVE?", he asks. i laugh harder than i've ever laughed before, "because u didn't want to spoil it for you boris!", i say when u finally catch my breath. the movie ends shortly after, "who will maria love now?", ask says looking at me like i must know the answer. "i don't know boris.", i say as i stretch. he thinks about this for a moment, "very good movie, no very great movie. is like us.", he says like im supposed to fully understand what his words. i giggle, "what do you mean its like us?", i ask looking at him curiously. "we see each other, and immediately like each other, but we must keep it secret so that nobody fights.", he explains to me, "we are like southwest side story, because we live in the southwest, eh?", he asks me with a smile. i laugh, "sure boris, we're like a southwest side story.", i say. he compared us to my favorite movie couple. this boy may truly be my favorite person ever.

end of part eight, part nine out soon!

this was definitely the most fun part to write:))

[ifangirlalot]

what finn’s characters are like during s3x? I FEEL WEIRD REQUESTING THIS BFISJSJSAJDJS

˗ˏˋ 𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐂𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐒𝐒 ˎˊ˗ | starring the fellas

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

~smut!~ [𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘:] too many to pick out, just a shit ton of nsfw shit.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

✧˚ finn ۫ ׅ ✧

Is he a top or bottom?

Well, it kind of depends on the day. Sometimes if he's feeling particularly stressed, he just wants to watch you ride him and praise him while getting his head rubbed. But if he's pissed off (or just bored), he wants to top. When he tops, you know you're probably not going to be in the same position for more than a couple minutes.

What are his favorite positions?

Finn likes missionary. He's an old fashioned guy who thinks eye contact is a private kind of intimacy. Doggy is definitely a hella close second though. He's a hair tugger, so it's a lot of fun to pull your head back by your hair while you're on your hands and knees in front of him getting impaled from behind.

How freaky is he?

Once again, it kinda depends on the day and the mood you catch him in. Being a celebrity, Finn's hella paranoid the second that zipper goes down an inch there's gonna be cameras all over the damn place, so public sex is a no-go. He'll fuck you anywhere in the house though. In fact, the bed is hardly ever an option. He loves shower sex and car sex, kitchen table sex ain't too shabby either. He has a thing for having his hair pulled and, as narcissistic as it may sound, he likes it when you call him by his characters' names. It gives him an excuse to change personas.

How noisy is he?

He doesn't have any loudass moans, but he has some breathy ones here and there. He groans more often than not. Occasionally he whimpers.

How long does he usually last?

About ten to fifteen minutes on a bad day and up to an hour on a good day. (Dude has almost spooky levels of self control.)

Protection or no?

Absolutely. He can't risk knocking you up right now.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

✧˚ miles ۫ ׅ ✧

Is he a top or bottom?

Top, all the way. He's somewhat controling and he also doesn't like sitting still for long, so he hardly ever lets you ride, as that would kind of give you the wheel and he's not about that. He likes to decide when you have sex, where you have sex, for how long, and in what position. He makes all the decisions, and you know. You're probably gonna be hella sore afterwards. Like hella sore. My man has hella high libido.

What are his favorite positions?

Miles has favorite positions that don't even have names, that's how fucking freakshit he is. He loves it to the side the most though, with his fingers wrapped around your ankle, holding it up, his grip usually pretty tight. His other hand is usually clamped over your mouth.

How freaky is he?

Miles is a FREAKSHIT. Most of the time, he twists you into positions that he's made up, and you know for damn sure he'd got an entire chest he keeps in his closet that he uses for "playtime". He's also maybe a tad bit creepy with the kinks that he has at times, but that's kind of to be expected. You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to be his girlfriend.

How noisy is he?

Not very. He lets out a few breathy groans here and there, but most of the time he's pretty quiet. It's kind of creepy, but also maybe a little bit attractive?

How long does he last?

As long as he wants to. It really depends on how horny he is, but averagely about thirty to forty-five minutes.

Protection or no?

Lmao, no. Good joke, though.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

✧˚ boris ۫ ׅ ✧

Is he a top or a bottom?

It depends on how high he is during the fucking. If he's sober or moderately high, he likes to be on top. But if he's balls to the walls high, he's a little bby and must be treated as the pillow prince that he is.

What are his favorite positions?

Doggy. At least for dom Boris. He likes to pound behind you with your hair wrapped around his fist like a horse rein. Preferably with a mirror in front of you so he can watch while he smokes. He's a lil freak thang. Subby Boris likes to be ridden because BOOOOOBS in his face.

How freaky is he?

Boris likes public humiliation, whether he be the one being humiliated or the one doing the humiliating. He also likes watching you touch yourself while he's forced to watch with his wrists tied to a bedframe (this is sub Boris, btw. Dom Boris wouldn't put up with it.) He also likes spanking (him spanking you, he doesn't like his ass being touched because he's a bitch.)

How noisy is he?

Extremely. My boy does not care if someone else is in the house. If he's getting pussy, PEOPLE WILL KNOW ABOUT IT.

How long does he last?

Again, it depends on how high he is. Dom Boris can last for twenty minutes, but with sub Boris you'll be lucky if it lasts more than like ten.

Protection or no?

Sometimes, yeah. But the other half of the time he lowkey forgets and you have to get him to smuggle in some Plan B from the store.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

✧˚ ziggy ۫ ׅ ✧

Is he a top or a bottom?

A top. A very messy, very cocky top. It's kinda funny how confident he is in his abilities. He is also a bottom. Pet his hair and watch him whine, I dare you.

What are his favorite positions?

He likes to go down on you. Albeit, he's very good at it, but he also a sloppy thruster. But at the same time, it kinda adds to the experience because somehow he manages to hit the right spots with every pound. Plus, look at him up there with his little gold chain. He's so cute.

How freaky is he?

Ziggy may be an awkward teenager on the streets, but he's a freak in the sheets. He has this fantasy where he really wants to record your sex so he can use it for tissue time later, but he's too much of a bitch to ask you. He's also hella good with his tongue, it's actually kind of surprising. Plus. You know. He look good as hell down there on his knees like the champ he is.

How noisy is he?

Lmao very. But only when he's actually having sex, if he's just beating it, he's pretty quiet. But during the real deal... Yeah, that loud ass moaning and swearing Evelyn hears from Zig's room is indeed her son getting to third base with a lady person.

How long does he last?

Thirty minutes tops for him. Not bad.

Protection or no?

Usually yeah, but for quickies he just pulls out and spills everywhere, which most of the time his mom finds because his stupid ass didn't clean up.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

[ A Note From Zee ]

Y'all, this took me way too long. I'm gonna have to split this into two part. Next part will include Trevor, Mike, and Richie.

[netherfeildren]

Fear of God : Masterlist

Artwork is The Goldfinch by Carel Fabritius

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC

Summary: What was monstrousness? What was it, but a certainty that there existed within you multitudes of desires, needs, guilts, impulses – humanity? At the end of the world, when the dust has finally settled, Joel grapples with what it is to take hold of your own monstrosity – your own humanity – and live with it. And what it is to bear that truth in the palm of your hand held towards the person you love, offer it to them, and have it be accepted for what it was. Courage, above all else, it is courage that is necessary to go on.

-OR-

Big bad Joel Miller falls in love and doesn't know how to deal with it.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content: Age gap, smut, angst, grief, PTSD, canon typical violence, discussions of medical procedures/illness, emotional unavailability, pregnancy

Word Count: 55K

Read on AO3

Chapter I: I dreamt that time had ended

Chapter II: Although a monster [Joel] could be charming in company

Chapter III: Your bitter heart, heals my heart

Chapter IV: Mouth full of blood

Chapter V: Love humiliates you

Chapter VI: The indignity of suffering

Chapter VII: For: Before

Chapter VIII: The Fisher King

Chapter IX: What should we believe in next?

Epilogue: Birdie

Birdie's House: Extras

Did the loneliness die that night?

Summary: Birdie and Joel’s first time.

I am a lantern

Summary: Birdie realizes she’s pregnant.

Joel

Summary: Writing exercise, not part of canon story line - Joel passes away.

My Whole Life

Summary: The family celebrates Joel’s birthday.

Updates Blog : Follow and turn on notifications for new writing!

🎶 FoG Companion Playlists:

- Apple Music

- Spotify

(This is not only a compilation of songs that reminded me of the story, but also songs I listened to over and over again during my writing process)

[saturnplaza]

✩•̩̩͙˚𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍˚•̩̩͙✩

(updated)

Hiya :p My name is-- Saturn//Jayde They/Them I'm non-binary =] ALSO I'M QUITE GAY 🩷💛💙

I YAP ALOT, I LOVE TALKING AND I'M A SUPER HUGE NERD -- I love Ryan Ross, The entirety of My Chem, Resident Evil Two, SO SO SO MUCH MORE I CAN'T KEEP TRACK OF IT. IF YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT I'M INTO JUST STALK MY BLOG XD PLEASE SEND ASKS AND INTERACT WITH ME, I LOVE INTERACTING WITH PEOPLE WHO LIKE THE SAME THINGS AS ME AND WHO ARE COOL!! I LOVE INTERACTING AND MAKING FRIENDS IN THE FANDOMS I'M IN --- On that note...

I AM IN ALOT OF FANDOMS TOO MANY TO RECALL

SOME THOUGH, ARE:

(TOP FIVE ONLY CAUSE WE'LL BE HERE FOREVER)

BANDS: ✩ My Chemical Romance ✩ Panic! At The Disco ✩ Fall Out Boy ✩ Peirce The Veil ✩ Periphery

VIDEO GAMES ✩ Resident Evil (all) ✩ Silent Hill (2 & 3) ✩ Life is Strange (BTS & 1) ✩ Red Dead Redemtion (1 & 2) ✩ Detroit Become Human

MISC. (Mostly shows//Movies) ✩ Creepypasta ✩ I am Not Okay With This ✩ The Goldfinch ✩ Shameless ✩ Quackity (On the VERY rare ocasion)

I do alot of things -- I'm all over the internet.

LINKTREE!!!

-- I Write --- I Edit --- I Do Art --

WRITING

Writing is a big thing for me, it always has been-- I've always had the urge to be creative or get my thoughts out and well that's what I do.

I write alot of things I write:

FANFICTION -- (Yikes...)

FANDOMS I WRITE FOR:

 (This list will be updated as I go)

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

Resident Evil:

Leon Kennedy

Carlos Olivera 

Ada Wong 

Claire Redfield 

Jill Valentine

Detroit Become Human:

Connor RK800

Gavin Reed

Life is Strange:

Chloe Price 

Nathan Prescott

Max Caulfield 

Bands (More to come)

Ryan Ross (P!ATD and The Young Veins)

Vic Fuentes (Peirce The Veil)

Kellin Quinn (Sleeping With Sirens)

Mikey Way (My Chemical Romance)

Frank Iero (My Chemical Romance)

Pete Wentz (Fall Out Boy)

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

!!NOTES!!

I Mainly write X reader but I can dabble into pairings as long as they’re legal, not creepy, make sense, etc. 

MASTERLIST AT THE BOTTOM

!!ALSO I AM A MINOR I DO NOT WRITE SMUT!! (I will write very close, it can  get spicy but I stop it at a certain point)

ALL OF MY FANFICTION GETS PREMOTED ON THIS BLOG AND POSTED ON MY:

A03

https://archiveofourown.org/users/SATURNPLAZA/pseuds/SATURNPLAZA

I ALSO WRITE ON LIVEJOURNAL !!!

If you are more intrested in more intamite writing, or blogging this is where you'd want to be--

https://saturnplaza.livejournal.com/

SOCIAL MEDIAS

TikTok -- https://www.tiktok.com/@saturnplaza : 

I EDIT WOOO WHOOO. I have always loved editing and I am pretty good at it (I may just be biased cause its myself) --- I edit alot of random things I'm into --- Fair warning my upload times do very --- But I am very active with moots and fandoms ---

Tumblr -- You don't need a link we're on my blog: AH YES, my infamous blog where I yap about the most random shit cause I am the queen of yapper town. I am very active and intarct alot with people.

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

!!ALSO I'M LITTERALLY RED ROOT GERARD WAY!! ------------------------------------------------- MASTER LIST UNDER CUT

MCR:

ALL: TRAUMA BRINGS LOVE AMONG OTHER THING CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO

P!ATD:

RYAN ROSS: MY KIND OF SABOTAGE IT MAY BE WRONG BUT IT FEELS RIGHT

[godjustkys]

╰┈➤ ❝ masterlist;

FANDOMS I WRITE FOR;

- Teen wolf

- Marvel Cinematic Universe

- Supernatural

- The Walking Dead (AMC)

- Merlin (BBC)

- Dune

- Game of Thrones

- F.R.I.E.N.D.S

- The Maze Runner

- Lord of The Rings

- The Hobbit

- Harry Potter

- Brooklyn Nine-Nine

- IT

- Diary of a Wimpy Kid

- Dead Poet's Society

- Shameless

- Handsome Devil

- The Black Phone

- Sweet Home

- Arcane

- Spider-man Universe

- The Goldfinch

- The Last of Us

- The Beekeeper

- Weak Hero Class 1

- Bad and Crazy

ANIMES;

- Demon Slayer

- My Hero Academia

(the anime list will get updated as long as I continue watching anime.)

Characters I will to write for;

Teen wolf:

- Stiles Stilinski

Stiles Stilinski x top!m!reader (smut)

- Scott McCall

none yet..

- Derek Hale

none yet..

- Allison Argent

none yet..

- Lydia Martin

none yet..

- Isaac Lahey

none yet..

- Jackson Whittemore

none yet..

- Peter Hale

none yet..

- Malia Tate

none yet..

- Kira Yukimura

none yet..

- Liam Dunbar

none yet..

- Theo Raeken

none yet..

- Jordan Parrish

none yet..

- Erica Reyes

none yet..

- Ethan Steiner

none yet..

- Aiden Steiner

none yet..

- Christopher Argent

none yet..

- Mason Hewitt

none yet..

- Danny Mahealani

none yet..

Marvel Cinematic Universe:

- Tony Stark

none yet..

- Peter Parker

none yet..

- Bruce Banners

none yet..

- Thor Odinson

none yet..

- Loki Laufeyson

none yet..

- Steve Rogers

none yet..

- Natasha Romanoff

none yet..

- Stephen Strange

none yet..

- Wanda Maximoff

none yet..

- Clint Barton

none yet..

- Bucky Barnes

none yet..

- Carol Danvers

none yet..

- Shuri

none yet..

- Sam Wilson

none yet..

- Okoye

none yet..

- Wade Wilson

none yet..

- Pietro Maximoff

none yet..

- Vision

none yet..

- Yelena Belova

none yet..

- Peter Quill

none yet..

- Gamora

none yet..

- Nebula

none yet..

- Matt Murdock

none yet..

- Frank Castle

none yet..

- Xu Shang-chi

none yet..

- Eddie Brock

none yet..

Supernatural:

- Dean Winchester

'What a perv.' Dean x top!m!reader (smut)

- Sam Winchester

none yet..

- Castiel

none yet..

ALL; SUPERNATURAL HEADCANONS (NSFW)

(I have little knowledge of supernatural.)

The Walking Dead:

- Rick Grimes

none yet..

- Carl Grimes

none yet..

- Michonne

none yet..

- Negan

none yet..

- Daryl Dixon

none yet..

- Eugene

none yet..

- Rosita Espinosa

none yet..

- Maggie Greene

none yet..

- Glenn Rhee

none yet..

- Carol Peletier

none yet..

- Andrea

none yet..

- Gabriel Stokes

none yet..

- Dwight

none yet..

- Simon

none yet..

Merlin:

- Merlin

none yet..

- Arthur Pendragon

none yet..

- Morgana Pendragon

none yet..

- Guinevere

none yet..

- Lancelot

none yet..

- Mordred

none yet..

- Gwaine

none yet..

- Percival

none yet..

- Elyan

none yet..

- Leon

none yet..

Dune:

- Paul Atreides

none yet..

- Leto Atreides

none yet..

- Chani

none yet..

- Feyd-Rautha

none yet..

- Duncan Idaho

none yet..

- Stilgar

none yet..

Game of Thrones:

- Ned Stark

none yet..

- Catelyn Stark

none yet..

- Robb Stark

none yet..

- Jon Snow

none yet..

- Theon Greyjoy

none yet..

- Sansa Stark

none yet..

- Arya Stark

none yet..

- Tywin Lannister

none yet..

- Jaime Lannister

none yet..

- Cersei Lannister

none yet..

- Tyrion Lannister

none yet..

- Tommen Baratheon

none yet..

- Joffrey Baratheon

none yet..

- Daenerys Targaryen

none yet..

- Jorah Mormont

none yet..

- Sandor Clegane

none yet..

- Samwell Tarly

none yet..

- Margaery Tyrell

none yet..

- Tormund Giantsbane

none yet..

- Brienne of Tarth

none yet..

- Podrick

none yet..

- Ramsay Bolton

none yet..

- Jaqen H'ghar

none yet..

- Grey Worm

none yet..

F.R.I.E.N.D.S:

- Rachel Greene

none yet..

- Phoebe Buffay

none yet..

- Monica Geller

none yet..

- Ross Geller

none yet..

- Chandler Bing

none yet..

- Joey Tribbiani

Joey Tribbiani dating headcanons (SFW+NSFW)

The Maze Runner:

- Thomas

none yet..

- Newt

none yet..

- Minho

none yet..

- Gally

none yet..

- Frypan

none yet..

- Aris

none yet..

- Janson

none yet..

Lord of The Rings:

- Frodo Baggins

none yet..

- Samwise Gamgee

none yet..

- Pippin Took

none yet..

- Merry Brandybuck

none yet..

- Aragorn

none yet..

- Legolas

none yet..

- Boromir

none yet..

- Faramir

none yet..

- Galadriel

none yet..

- Arwen

none yet..

- Éowyn

none yet..

- Éomer

none yet..

The Hobbit:

- Bilbo Baggins

none yet..

- Thorin Oakenshield

none yet..

- Kili Durin

none yet..

- Fili Durin

none yet..

- Tauriel

none yet..

- King Thranduil

none yet..

- Elrond

none yet..

Harry Potter:

- Harry Potter

none yet..

- Hermione Granger

none yet..

- Ron Weasley

none yet..

- Fred Weasley

none yet..

- George Weasley

none yet..

- Draco Malfoy

none yet..

- Blaise Zabini

none yet..

- Oliver Wood

none yet..

- Seamus Finnigan

none yet..

- Luna Lovegood

none yet..

- Neville Longbottom

none yet..

- Dean Thomas

none yet..

- Severus Snape

none yet..

- Sirius Black

none yet..

- Regulus Black

none yet..

- Remus Lupin

none yet..

- James Potter

none yet..

- Lily Potter

none yet..

- Bill Weasley

none yet..

- Bellatrix Lestrange

none yet..

- Cedric Diggory

none yet..

- Lucius Malfoy

none yet..

- Narcissa Malfoy

none yet..

Brooklyn Nine-Nine:

- Jake Peralta

none yet..

- Amy Santiago

none yet..

- Charles Boyle

none yet..

- Gina Linetti

none yet..

- Rosa Diaz

none yet..

- Terry Jeffords

none yet..

- Ray Holt

none yet..

IT:

- Richie Tozier

none yet..

- Eddie Kaspbrak

none yet..

- Beverly Marsh

none yet..

- Bill Denbrough

none yet..

- Stanley Uris

none yet..

- Ben Hanscom

none yet..

- Mike Hanlon

none yet..

- Henry Bowers

none yet..

- Patrick Hockstetter

none yet..

Diary of a wimpy kid:

- Greg Heffley

none yet..

- Rodrick Heffley

none yet..

Dead Poet's Society:

- Neil Perry

none yet..

- Todd Anderson

none yet..

- Charlie Dalton

none yet..

- Knox Overstreet

none yet..

- Steven Meeks

none yet..

- John Keating

none yet..

Shameless:

- Fiona Gallagher

none yet..

- Lip Gallagher

none yet..

- Ian Gallagher

none yet..

- Debbie Gallagher

none yet..

- Carl Gallagher

none yet..

- Liam Gallagher

none yet..

- Mickey Milkovich

none yet..

- Mandy Milkovich

none yet..

- Kevin Ball

none yet..

- Veronica Fisher

none yet..

- Jimmy Lishman

none yet..

- Karen Jackson

none yet..

Handsome Devil:

- Ned Roche

none yet..

- Conor Masters

none yet..

- Dan Sherry

none yet..

The Black Phone:

- Finney Blake

none yet..

- Robin Arellano

none yet..

- Vance Hopper

none yet..

- Bruce Yamada

none yet..

- Billy

none yet..

- Griffin

none yet..

Sweet home:

- Cha Hyun-su

none yet..

- Lee Eun-hyuk

none yet..

- Pyeon Sang-wook

none yet..

- Jung Jae-heon

none yet..

- Seo Yi-kyung

none yet..

- Lee Eun-yu

none yet..

- Yoon Ji-su

none yet..

- Jung Ui-Myeong

none yet..

Arcane:

- Jinx

none yet..

- Vi

none yet..

- Viktor

none yet..

- Caitlyn

none yet..

- Silco

none yet..

- Sevika

none yet..

- Ekko

none yet..

- Vander

none yet..

- Mel

none yet..

- Jayce

none yet..

Spider-Man Universe:

- Peter Parker (A. G.)

none yet..

- Peter Parker (T. M.)

none yet..

- Peter B. Parker

none yet..

- Miles Morales (Earth 1610)

none yet..

- Miles Morales (Earth 42)

none yet..

- Miguel O'Hara

none yet..

- Hobie Brown

none yet..

- Pavitr Prabhakar

none yet..

- Gwen Stacy

none yet..

The Goldfinch:

- Boris Pavlikovsky

none yet..

- Theodore Decker

none yet..

The Last of Us:

- Ellie Williams

none yet..

- Joel Miller

none yet..

- Tommy Miller

none yet..

- Tess Servopoulos

none yet..

- Abby Anderson

none yet..

- Dina Woodward

none yet..

- Lev

none yet..

- Yara

none yet..

- Jesse Pinkman

none yet..

- Manny

none yet..

- Owen

none yet..

- Mel

none yet..

The Beekeeper:

- Derek Danforth

none yet..

- Adam Clay

none yet..

Weak Hero Class 1:

- Yeon Si-eun

none yet..

- Oh Beom-seok

none yet..

- Ahn Su-ho

none yet..

- Park Hu-min

none yet..

- Kang Woo-young

none yet..

- Jeon Seok-dae

none yet..

Bad and Crazy:

- Ryu Soo-Yeol

none yet..

- Do In-beom

none yet..

- K

none yet..

- Oh Kyung-Tae

none yet..

- Boss Yong

none yet..

- Andrei Kang

none yet..

Demon slayer:

- Tanjiro Kamado

none yet..

- Nezuko Kamado

none yet..

- Zenitsu Agatsuma

none yet..

- Inosuke Hashibira

none yet..

- Genya Shinazugawa

none yet..

- Kanao Tsuyuri

none yet..

- Aoi

none yet..

- Shinobu Kocho

none yet..

- Tomioka Giyuu

none yet..

- Rengoku Kyojuro

none yet..

- Uzui Tengen

none yet..

- Mitsuri Kanroji

none yet..

- Obanai Iguro

none yet..

- Shinazugawa Sanemi

none yet..

- Muichiro Tokito

none yet..

- Gyomei Himejima

none yet..

- Muzan Kibutsuji

none yet..

- Akaza

none yet..

- Douma

none yet..

- Gyutaro

none yet..

- Daki

none yet..

- Kokushibo

none yet..

- Murata

none yet..

HASHIRA; hashira headcanons, pt.1 (angst)

My Hero Academia:

- Izuku Midoriya

none yet..

- Katsuki Bakugou

none yet..

- Shoto Todoroki

none yet..

- Tenya Iida

none yet..

- Ochako Uraraka

none yet..

- Denki Kaminari

none yet..

- Eijirou Kirishima

none yet..

- Tokoyami Fumikage

none yet..

- Shoji Mezo

none yet..

- Momo Yaoyorozu

none yet..

- Hanta Sero

none yet..

- Kyoka Jirou

none yet..

- Mashirao Ojirou

none yet..

- Mina Ashido

none yet..

- Yuga Aoyama

none yet..

- Monoma Neito

none yet..

- Shinsou Hitoshi

none yet..

- Rumi Usagiyama

none yet..

- Keigo Takami

none yet..

- Aizawa Shouta

none yet..

- Hizashi Yamada

none yet..

- Oboro Shirakumo

none yet..

- Touya Todoroki

none yet..

- Tomura Shigaraki

none yet..

- Toga Himiko

none yet..

- Jin Bubaigawara

none yet..

adding anime back cause I watched demon slayer,,, :3

[gggoldfinch]

Can we have a little sneak peek of what you're cooking for from eden sequel? Please?

(if not, then that's ok)

YOU ABSOLUTELY CANNNNN I was hoping someone would ask hehe !!! 🤭 Luckily you've asked at an opportune time bc I just hit 6k words and am prob gonna wrap up the end of the "chapter" at around 8k maybe possibly

She wakes without remembering having fallen asleep and finds herself fully in the ghoul’s embrace. With her back snug to his chest, his hold is almost protective— possessive. It’s the first time she’s awoken in his arms—aside from when she’d dozed on the horse, which didn’t really count as sleeping in the first place—and it makes her stomach flutter despite her persisting bitterness towards him. She manages to turn over beneath his weighty arm, facing him. Morning light streams in golden motes through the broken windows and walls, through the gaping holes in the roof, casting the man’s sunken eyes and hollow cheekbones in heavy shadow. The cattleman hat is put aside somewhere, his other arm folded beneath his bald head like a pillow; her father’s shotgun lays within reach. His eyes remain closed and his body still. She can’t be sure he’s actually asleep, though.  Breathing feels difficult as she observes him in this singular momentary peace. Those eyelashes are the only hint of gentleness across the span of his features. Fingertips ghost over his gaunt cheekbone without making contact with his taut skin and she frowns. His gruesome visage grows increasingly more pleasing to look at with time and it makes her angry. It makes her angry that she wants him inside her again. She wants to hate him, but she can’t. She rolls back over, huffing in frustration.  The arm slung around her middle tightens deliberately just then, sliding from her waist up to her ribs, crushing her back against his hard chest. The ghoul’s face nuzzles behind her ear, growling low and content in his throat. He hadn’t been asleep at all, it seems. “Well g’mornin’ to you too, sweetheart.” He audibly grins, stretching languidly against the length of her body. His rasping voice teases her, stroking her sour disposition into something more agreeable. 

also, from a little later on:

“Where are we going?” she finally has the courage to ask. “What are we doing?” The cowboy has been silent about their journey thus far, and she only vaguely knows his purpose out here past what she’d fleetingly overheard the raiders discussing before he’d slain them all.  “I’m trackin’ a bounty. Yer along for the ride,” he replies after a belated moment, patting her belly in a manner almost affectionate.  She doesn’t know what a ‘bounty’ is, but she has seen him stalking around in the moments when he rests the horse, following signs on the ground and in the brush that her untrained eyes cannot see. She’d thought nothing of it previously, merely chalked it up to him being strange. Now it makes sense. She can see it in his eyes— always focused, always vigilant. He’s hunting.  “A bounty is a person?”  “Yes’m,” he grunts.  “And that’s what you do? Hunt people?” She cranes her neck to curiously gaze at him over her shoulder. His face is close; she can see the minute texture of his fibrous facial tissue and the cavern of his nasal cavity.  One corner of his mouth ticks upward, curving pretty lips; he’s pleased with her deductive reasoning. “Somethin’ like that, sweetheart.” “Why?” His grip around her tightens by a fraction. Unbidden heat pools between her straddling thighs and she must resist the urge to readjust the cant of her hips.  “You sure are askin’ lots o’questions, huh?” Teeth flash in a partial smile. “What’s got you chatterin’, li’l bird?” 

[toolazytodecide]

Damn, I forgot what it was like posting in a popular Fandom

[gllrimes]

𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝑬𝒍𝒊𝒐’𝒔 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈!

𝑹𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔:

I will be writing smut, fluff, comfort, and angst. I'm not experienced with writing as much as other writers are, so don't expect the best.

No sa or rape of any sort because we don't tolerate that.

No piss/shit/fart kinks ya dirty fucks.

No pedophilia. Age gaps only can consist of five years apart in my story's when 18+

No human servitude.

I write for any sexuality and any gender.

I do write drabbles and hcs.

I don't write agere/little space on this blog, I'll set up another blog for that!!

I don't care how old you are I can't stop you from reading my stuff 😕🙏🏻

Requests are open!!

𝑭𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒎𝒔 & 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝑰'𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓

The Walking Dead:

Rick Grimes

Carl Grimes

Daryl Dixon

Negan Smith

Glenn Rhee

Ron Anderson

Enid Rhee

Maggie Rhee

Michonne Grimes

(Bonus: I might write for others too. Maybe Shane idk.)

The End Of The Fucking World:

Alyssa Foley

James (last name unknown)

Heartstopper:

Charlie Spring

Nick Nelson

Tao Xu

Elle Argent

Darcy Olsson

Tara Jones

Sahar Zahid

Issac Henderson

13 Reasons Why:

Clay Jenson

Hannah Baker

Justin Foley

Alex Standall

Jessica Davis

IT:

Bill Denbrough

Richie Tozier

Beverly Marsh

Stanley Uris

Mike Hanlon

Henry Bowers

Patrick Hockstetter

Victor Criss

Belch Huggins

The Flash (IMDb):

Berry Allen

Cisco Ramon

Caitlin Snow

Harry Potter:

Harry Potter

Hermione Granger

Ron Weasley

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Draco Malfoy

Tom Riddle

James Potter

Remus Lupin

Sirius Black

Mattheo Riddle

Theodore Nott

Regulas Black

Stranger Things:

Mike Wheeler

Will Byers

Jonathan Byers

Nancy Wheeler

Lucas Sinclair

Dustin Henderson

Steve Harrington

Henry Creel

Eleven

Eddie Munson

Criminal Minds:

Spencer Reid

Aaron Hotchner

Derek Morgan

Penelope Garcia

Jennifer Jareau

Twilight:

Bella Swan

Edward Cullen

Jasper Hale

Alice Cullen

Rosalie Hale

Carlisle Cullen

Emmett Cullen

Jacob Black

Seth Clearwater

Esme Cullen

Thirteen:

Tracy Freeland

Evie Zamora

Mason Freeland

Melanie Freeland

Anne With An E:

Gilbert Blythe

Anne Shirley

Dianna Berry

Cole Mackenzie

Jerry Baynard

The Goldfinch:

Theodore Decker (older and younger)

Boris Pavlikovsky (older and younger)

The Turning:

Miles Fairchild

Kate Mandell

Flora Fairchild (NO SMUT)

When You Finish Saving The World:

Ziggy Katz

Lila

American Horror Story:

Tate Langdon

Violet Harmon

Kit Walker

Lana Winters

Zoe Benson

Kyle Spencer

Cordelia Goode

Fiona Goode

Jimmy Darling

James Patrick March

Elizabeth/The Countess

Kai Anderson

Winter Anderson

Ally Mayfair-Richards

Austin Sommers

Mr. Gallant

Edward Mott

Rory Monahan

Shameless:

Fiona Gallagher

Lip Gallagher

Ian Gallagher

Mickey Milkovich

Mandy Milkovich

Carl Gallagher

I Believe In Unicorns:

Davina

Sterling

Tokio Hotel:

Bill Kaulitz

Tom Kaulitz

Georg Listing

Gustav Schäfer

Slashers/Halloween movies characters:

Max Dennison

Billy Loomis

Stu Macher

Sydney Prescott

Bo Sinclair

Lester Sinclair

Vincent Sinclair

Jason Voorhees

Freddy Kruger

Michael Myers

Jason Dean

Patrick Bateman

Brahms Heelshire

BONUS singers/actors/youtubers:

Sam Golbach

Colby Brock

Jake Webber

Albert (flamingo)

The Sturniolo Triplets

Finn Wolfhard

Noah Schnapp

And finally... ALEX TURNER 😋😋 (he's so husband material)

!!PLEASE USE THIS RESPECTFULLY AND WISELY!!