#accepted: sergei | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tokkiwrites · 10 months ago

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⠀⠀⠀99 problems, what's one more?

in which you're a struggling student but are determined to work for your money. your friend's stepfather is conveniently rich but you can't just accept the money your friend gives you. so you decide to earn it...in a way.

★ ͘pwp, friends step dad kinda, dom!kraven, sub!reader, afab reader, no use of y/n, implied age gap but not mentioned, mention of cheating, pet names, praises & degradation, dirty talk, kind of size kink, pnv unprotected (wrap it up), head f receiving, creampie, lmk if i missed anything.

The crisp autumn air hung heavy as you stood outside the grand estate of Sergei Kravinoff, your friend's stepfather. The towering mansion loomed before you, a stark contrast to your modest student life.

god, how'd I get here ?

Financial struggles had woven themselves into the fabric of your existence, but pride held you back from accepting charity. Determined to work your way through the challenges, you declined your friend's offer of financial assistance. However, fate had other plans. Your friend, aware of your pride and the persistent lack in your wallet, proposed a compromise.

"Just help around the house," they suggested, eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. "Sergei's maid just left the country, and the manor could use an extra pair of hands."

"I don't know..."

"I promise you, he's not that bad!"

Reluctantly, you agreed, ignoring the silent plea in your friend's eyes. Little did you know, this decision would plunge you into a whirlwind of unexpected emotions.

The first day on the job arrived, and you found yourself nervously adjusting your sweater as you entered the mansion. Sergei, a magnetic presence, greeted you with a nod, his piercing eyes assessing you with a hint of amusement.

"Didn't think you'd actually show up." he scoffed.

"Good afternoon to you too, Mr. Kravinoff." you forced out a smile, looking around, trying to adjust your sight to the warm lights of the hallway.

"your room's upstairs, first floor, third door to the left. you don't gotta do much, just so you know. plus, these two weeks will go by fast." he tried to sound understanding and ease your arrival. It didn't really work, though. it wasn't in his blood.

"you've got a good friend, darling."

oh. you liked that more than you'd want to admit. nonetheless, you swallow your stutter.

"I know."

"Well, quit standing there. Go to your room, get yourself some food. I'll be in my office if you need anything."

you nod, listening as his steps grew distant. huffing, you let out a breath you were holding since you arrived, as it seemed. of course, you weren't scared of the work itself. What's a bit of dusting got on you? being here, with the overwhelmingly, delicious,hot step dad of your friend, though? that's scary.

The first day unfolded in a haze of unfamiliar tasks and the lingering weight of Sergei's presence. Climbing the grand staircase, you found the room as instructed, its plush furnishings, a stark contrast to your student lodgings.

As you settled in, thoughts swirled in your mind. "why did i agree to this?" you wondered, grappling with the surreal nature of the situation. The daunting realization hit you: two weeks of trying to keep your cool around Sergei. "It's two weeks. Two weeks is like... two days."

you hate to admit it, but you've fantasized about your friends' step dad more than you'd like. you shiver at the thoughts, flooding your mind again, scrunching your nose up, and plopping down on the comically large bed in your room.

"So, how's the trip with your mom going?"

"barely seen her today. pretty sure she's out banging and about." your friend laughs their way through that statement. "so..she's cheating on your step-dad?" you seem unmoved by her joking demeanor.

"ewww, girl, don't call him that! he's just her boyfriend. and i don't even know for how much longer, honestly." your ears ring, a smile creeping onto your face. maybe this is what you needed to ease the guilt. "that's unfortunate." real unfortunate.

"yeaahh..." they sigh."I'll totally miss his private beach parties."

The next morning, you found yourself in the kitchen, contemplating a menu more extravagant than anything you'd prepared before. Sergei, clad in a well-tailored suit, entered, a sly smirk playing on his lips. "I hope you're not going to burn my kitchen down," he teased. The way his rough voice pulled at your core got you jumping. "Sorry for scaring you, darling. wanted to let you know you gotta water the inside plants today."

"yes, Mr. Kravinoff." you hang your head low whilst cutting some cherry tomatoes. "Stop that." he clicks his tongue, motioning you to turn around and face him. "Look at me when I'm talking, yeah?"

your heart drops to your ass and up to Jupiter, plummeting back into your chest. "Iㅡ sorry, sir. I will, I'm sorry."

"And call me Sergei. I'm not that old."

"Yes, sirㅡ Sergei." kill me now. launch me into an active volcano, please.

"Good." he eyes you. "Good girl." Leaving you in the kitchen filled by the hum of the refrigerator. you wouldn't mind an asteroid hitting the earth just about now. how embarrassing, all soaked and bothered just because of two words he said.

all though you wouldn't mind hearing him saying that again.

that night, as you made your way to the kitchen for a glass of water, you crossed paths with Sergei in the dimly lit corridor. "Can't sleep?" he inquired, his voice low and intimate. The air crackled with tension, and the realization hit you that this arrangement was far from ordinary.

"Uh, yeahㅡ new bed and all." Sure. it totally wasn't because you were too busy thinking about him ravishing you and making you his. "That so?" he quirks a brow up before scratching his beard and leaning in closer. "You might wanna learn how to lie next time, pretty girl." shit.

"I'm sorry?" You gulp at his rightfully directed accusation. "Don't play dumb, doll. Y'know, I can read everything in that cute head of yours just by looking at you." he traces, fingers pulling at the strap of your pajama. The way he spoke, the way he looked at you, and the way he touched you; it all felt like a dream. It was impossible for you to look away, or resist him, or even tell him to stop. Your breath hitched, and you were flooded with a warm sensation as he spoke again, this time inching closer to you.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. In fact, I like it when you lie. makes it more excitingㅡ seeing you struggle so much..." he almost purrs "bet that pussy is real wet for me right now, huh, baby?"

"Mr. Kr-avinoff ㅡ"

As Sergei's lips grazed your neck, a soft sigh escaped your parted lips. The scent of his cologne lingered in the air, a heady mixture of musk and sophistication that enveloped you. His kisses were like a delicate dance, a cocktail of sensations that sent shivers down your back.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted to do this," Sergei confessed in a low, husky voice, his words a seductive melody. The warmth of his breath against your skin intensified the intimacy, and you found yourself completely under his spell.

Fingers trailed along your spine, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. a soft chuckle escaped Sergei's lips as he savored the effect he had on you.

Time seemed to stretch. stop.

Sergei pulled back slightly, his piercing gaze fixed on your flushed face. "You're so easily affected by me, aren't you? pretty girl." he teased, his voice a velvety purr that resonated with the vulnerability he'd uncovered. A coy smile played on his lips as he leaned in again, a master at exploiting the desire that simmered beneath your surface.

You weren't one to like getting in trouble, situations like these. But right now, you could bathe in forbidden. It was surrealㅡ it was tainted.

Your breathing grew shallow and quick as you took in the scent of his musk, your body reacting to his proximity. The warmth of his breath caressed your neck. His rough fingers brushed your skin again, sending a shiver over your entire body as he pulled you closer, his voice lowering to a murmur.

"Come closer now darling, let me take care of you. reward you." he preyed at your lips with his thumb that you took the liberty to lick with the tip of your tongue. it was salty, and you're sure you could taste ink used to sign his papers. salty and wrong. but it enveloped your tastebudsㅡ your favorite flavor in this moment; a flavor that spoke of secrets and clandestine affairs, a taste that sent a thrill through your senses.

Sergei's low chuckle reverberated through the room, a sinister melody. "This what you want, baby?"

"please.." you sounded more desperate than you anticipated. it came out whiny, needy, and raw. though... you were ready to beg even more.

"naughty girl." he murmured, "so naughty and needy, yeah? come on, babyㅡ say it." he urged, his voice low that danced with promises unspoken. The subtle command held a magnetic force, and you yielded to the gravitational pull.

"I'm so needy, s-sirㅡ please.." the floor spun under you. "come." he motions, and you follow behind like a puppy into his room. As you stepped inside, the air seemed to change, thick with the heady scent of rich mahogany and aged leather.

The walls, draped in dark, textured wallpaper, absorbed the ambient light, casting a warm and intimate glow across the space. The windows were veiled with heavy, velvet curtains. A grand four-poster bed dominated the center, almost menacingly.

You were pulled out of your head once you felt Sergei's palm settle onto your hip and pull your back flush to his hard chest. you could feel the bulge in his pants nestled between your ass cheeks. "Tell me you want this, baby. don't want you regretting it later." and for that moment, he did seem genuine. He did speak warm, and your heart jumped higher into your chest.

"please kiss me." you blurt out.

Sergei's response was immediate, his breath hitching audibly. The scent of your hunger, an intoxicating fragrance, seemed to envelop him, and desire ignited in the depths of his eyes. His hands, calloused and possessive, tightened their grip on your hips, conveying an urgency that mirrored the throb of desire pulsating between you.

A deep groan rumbled from within him as his mouth found yours in an intense, hungry kiss. Lips melded in a dance of fervor, and as his tongue sought entrance, the kiss deepened into a song of passion. his effect on you was evident in the way his touch sent electric currents coursing through your body, every caress a deliberate stroke that fueled the flames inside of your core.

With a gentle but commanding force, he guided you backward until the plush bedding met the backs of your legs. The grandeur of the four-poster bed became the backdrop, and you surrendered willingly to the pull of the moment.

The room echoed with soft moans and the rustle of fabric as Sergei's skilled fingers slid underneath your clothes, exploring the contours of your body. The delicate dance between vulnerability and passion unfolded with every touch, your senses heightened by the intoxicating blend of sensations.

Your body responded like a finely tuned instrument, surrendering to the symphony orchestrated by Sergei. Legs trembling with heady ecstasy, you found yourself immersed in a moment that transcended the boundaries of reason and restraint. you wanted moreㅡ needed more. in the end, what's one more problem next to 99.

"I'm going to ruin this pretty body of yours, doll. make you remember who got you all needy like thisㅡ look at her.." he presses two fingers agains your clothed cunt, "fucking soaked, i barely touched you yet. dirty slut." throwing your head back, you whine, searching for his touch. "sit still. be a good girl and sit still."

you comply. what else were you to do? when he's got your sprawled out on his bed, ready to let him feast on your body.

"just need a good fucking, right? its why you're hereㅡ not money. just want to be fucked senseless." Sergei's laughs almost taunting. "I'll fuck you, don't worry. make you sit on this cock until you can't walk no more."

fuck. this is really happening. it might be all you've dreamed of and more.

a few seconds pass as you hear Sergei pull down his pants, then yours and finally your underwear. "look at her. so wet and ready to be filled just right." he traces his finger between your fold before, without warning, diving between your thighs, feasting on your pussy like theres no tomorrow. afrer only mere minutes you turned into a mess, hair messy, tank top pulled over your head to reveal your breasts, moans dripping from your lips like honey, like it was dripping from between your folds.

" ㅡ'm gonna come-" you manage to choke out. "come on, baby. come on my face- show me how much you wanna make me proud." it's all you neede. you let go, million fireworks going off in your stomach as you writhe under him. Sergei picks himself up from between your thighs, sitting over you with both arms bulging on each side of your head. "still sure you want this, pretty?"

you look down only the catch a glimpse of what might be the biggest dick you've ever seen. you swallow dryly.

"so sure ㅡ" you pant. "good." with that he slowly positioned himself in line with your cunt, teasingly rubbing the red tip all over your wet folds, before pushing in. the pain spreads through your body, stings making you jolt. "look at her, swallowing me so well. doing so good, baby." he takes one of your nipples between his teeth, pulling at it as to distract you from the pain lower down.

finally, after much waiting, he was inside. "look at that, baby, i barely fit in there. tight, little pussy, squeezing me in so good." he was so deep, you could literally feel him in your lungs. its not long until he starts moving, hitting your cervix over and over. you moan and cryㅡ from pleasure, pain and anything in between.

Sergei folds your thighs over your chest, your ankles now on his shoulders. he plummets into you, leaving you no room to breathe, showering you in praises and dirty words. and you loved every second of it.

"shit, baby, you feel how deep i am? fuuck- you're gonna let me fill that pretty pussy with my come, huh?" he speeds up. "yes, yes, yes, p-pleaseㅡ inside" you cry and plead incoherently as your second orgasm hits you.

"fuck, baby, fuckㅡ" Sergei closes his eyes, hitting deeper and harder as warm ropes coat your inside and quiet moans slip past your lips. "yeahㅡ look at that." he pulls out, proudly looking at the mess he made of you.

"i might pay you double at the end of these two weeks."

⏜⃞♡⠀⠀🐰 surprise!!! 2.6k words, hopefully you like it!! not proofread, so if you see any grammatical errors, no u didn't. love u all muah dont forget to leave requests!!!!!

#aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron teaylor johnson smut #atj x reader #atj oneshot #kraven x reader #kraven x you #kraven smut #kraven oneshot #kraven the hunter #atj #aaron taylor johnson smut #aaron taylor johnson x you #tangerine x reader #aaron taylor johnson characters

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italian-lit-tournament · 12 days ago

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Italian literature tournament - First round.

Propaganda in support of the authors is accepted, you can write it both in the tag if reblog the poll (explaining maybe that is propaganda and you want to see posted) or in the comments. Every few days it will be recollected and posted here under the cut.

The propaganda here are in order from left to right, first Carlo Gozzi and then Guid Cavalcanti

Carlo Gozzi propaganda by @girlboccaccio

Do you like theatre? Do you like opera? Are you interested in commedia dell'arte? Do you like fables with dubious morales, fairy tales with dark hidden meanings, plays inspired by 16th morally ambiguous short tales and The thousand and one nights? If yes you should take two second and vote for Carlo Gozzi (yeah the funky guy in b/w on the left). Without him we couldn't have masterpieces like Puccini's Turandot and The Love for Three Oranges by Sergei Prokofiev. He was a great admirer of spanish literature and theatre. He defended commedia dell'arte and funky plays when this manners of making theatre were dying. Immaculate yeah? He wrote an autobiography named Useless Memories, truly cunty, right? He was a rate A+ hater when he decided to start shitting against the king of the new modern way of writing theatre, Carlo Goldoni. He died in a Country that stopped existing in the last decade of his life (The Not So Serene Republic Of Venice) and lost all his friends in exile. He was the bitch of the venetian intellectual life. He was the bitch of the coolest italian actresses of the time. He was friend with Francesco Algarotti, the loveboy of Frederich the Great.

Fella, if you love the 18th century, you have only one choice in you hand: vote Carlo Gozzi.

Propaganda in favor of Guido Cavalcanti by @eresia-catara

May I add further propaganda for Guido: He's a noble, he disdains aristocrats, he was Florence's number one Server of Cunt, he was the city's faggot, he was heretical, he went on a random pilgrimage but interrupted it and managed to be buried in a church anyway, he had an archenemy who sent some men to murder him on said pilgrimage, he came back and tried to murder him back in plain daylight, he gave zero fucks about politics, he got exiled because he was considered a menace for the city. He SAW DANTE's poetical talent, encouraged it, shaped it, and through him the whole of italian literature. Think about it. Also they became besties until they evolved to a tormented psychosexual haunting dynamic (see break-up poem) where Dante himself actually exiled him. In the 13th century his poetry anticipates so many of the literary themes of the XXth century, going from fragmentation of the self (his is basically vivisection and dispersion of his parts), to dissociation from one's own mind and body, lack of identity, irony, desecration, his poetry is full of schizophrenic-like hallucinations, reading them is truly a trip, and yet his language is profoundly meoldic and sweet. And there's also gender-fuckery. and theater, of course, because his poems develop like a scene from a theater (adding layers to the dissociation). So really he has it all guys.

Guido Cavalcanti propaganda by @girldante

GUIDO CAVALCANTI PROPAGANDA ABBIAMO:

LA DISSOCIAZIONE SCHIZOFRENICA:

IL COMICO, IL SIMPATICO BURLONE, IL MEMATORE ANTE LITTERAM:

IL MACABRO, IL GORE, I SINTOMI™

IL BREAKUP TOSSICO PASSIVO AGGRESSIVO CON DANTE

in conclusione

#Carlo Gozzi #Guido Cavalcanti #iit - first round

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nadia-el-mansours · 6 months ago

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thinking of Sergei switching to country because he can't bear to listen to jazz anymore

#sergei nikulov #margo x sergei #i'm going through it again friends #he'll marry a margo-lite but hearing piano makes him sick #it's private to her he knows #thinking of him going out of his way to write a message specifically on the last record she accepted #seeing her again for the first time in almost a decade and gifting her more music at the first opportunity #as if desperate to say #“this was all me - I chose them for you - and I remember every second”

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moocowmoocow · 11 months ago

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#margo madison #sergei nikulov #the way she straightens her blazer before she accepts the call #<3

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simon-roy · 11 months ago

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A little press release from Image comics - we're putting out a mass market edition of Griz Grobus! Press release follows:

PORTLAND, Ore. 12/07/2023 — The high fantasy, graphic novel Kickstarter sensation, Griz Grobus, by co-writer/artist Simon Roy (Prophet, Jan's Atomic Heart and Other Stories) and co-writer Jess Pollard, with colors by Sergey Nazarov, will be available in trade paperback format for the first time this June 2024 from Image Comics.

Griz Grobus was originally a popular Webtoon sequential webcomic that leveled up its exposure with the 2021 launch of a Kickstarter campaign for a stunning hardcover edition. The campaign ignited fandom fervor, was fully funded in under a day, and raised nearly $70K—far exceeding the stretch goal. This Summer’s forthcoming paperback edition will bring this roaring success story to an even wider audience of readers.

"Part of what we wanted to make, in Griz Grobus, was a story that felt like a foreign film from a country you haven't heard of," said Roy. "Natural, familiar elements, sitting harmoniously alongside the new and unfamiliar. The proposition of getting to introduce a whole new audience to our little pocket universe, and the worlds within it, is very exciting!"

Set in the same sci-fi universe as Roy's Habitat,Griz Grobus is another tale of life after the collapse of the interstellar empire. But unlike Habitat—where a once utopian orbital community found itself descending into cannibal tyranny—the characters of Griz Grobus inhabit the rural world of Altamira, where post-utopian frontier life has blossomed into something a bit more wholesome.

Pollard added: "I can definitely say it is one of the funniest, most delightful things I've ever been a part of, and I laugh every time I read the story, as if I'm reading it for the first time. I hope readers will feel the same warmth when they read this edition, whether it be for the first time, the second, or third.”

Griz Grobus tells two parallel, intertwined tales from the far-off colony world. High in a sleepy mountain village, the overzealous academic ambitions of a young scribe lead to the resurrection of the town’s ancient colonial-era priest-bot. This long-defunct pastor finds himself in a world that has passed him by, but refuses to simply accept his obsolescence, much to the chagrin of the scribe and the local townsfolk. The second story, a mise-en-abyme, is Altamira’s most famous novel (being avidly read by the characters of the first story). It is a fantasy tale about a war-god who gets trapped in the body of a goose, and the efforts of one pacifist cook to delay the war-god’s bloody return to the battlefield.

This lush, intricately detailed, standalone fable is perfect for fans of Hiyao Miyazaki, Asterix, and Arthur C. Clarke.

The Griz Grobus trade paperback (ISBN: 9781534397866) will be available at local comic book shops on Wednesday, June 5 and independent bookstores, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Books-a-Million, and Indigo on Tuesday, June 4.

Griz Grobus will also be available across many digital platforms, including Amazon Kindle, Apple Books, and Google Play.

#griz grobus #simon roy #comics #scifi #image comics #fantasy

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watchtowerindistress · 1 year ago

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(how) to hunt a hunter - sergei kravinoff x fem!reader

Summary: Kraven the Hunter was a myth equal to the Boogeyman. So the prestigious offer to hunt the legendary hunter sounded insane yet like a blast. Who were you as a Black Widow to say ‘no’ to that?

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: blood, violence, sexual tension, language, consumption of alcohol

Author’s note: Don’t judge me for inserting another Black Widow character again. 🤣 I thought it’d be fun to not go the typical route of Sergei hunting you, but you hunting him. Seriously, what is up with this trope, guys? I’m getting out of my hiatus which is rough and I want to just create something fun and not like a full-blown series. I apologize, I’m better with witty dialogue than fighting scenes, I’m terribly sorry. 😅

If you followed my we all have our secrets series, there’s a character who gets a slightly more prominent role in this one-shot than the mere mention. You know, I’m getting Morbius vibes from the trailer, but I guess it’s going be fun? 🤷🏻‍♀️

Read me on AO3

You wiped the damp layer off the mirror and winced at what you saw.

Your battered reflection was staring back at you. You shook your head and even that movement of your wet hair stroking the side of your neck irritated the scrapes and bruises even further.

Needing to breathe through the pain, you exhaled through your mouth, leaning forward on your elbows against the edges of the wash basin.

Wrath was burning in your eyes when you glared at your reflection. The broken blood vessel of your eye was a sore reminder of the absolute failure of a mission.

The blue eyes of Sergei Kravinoff shone on the display of your laptop to reveal your target. You hummed before gazing through the binoculars on the roof of the hotel you to keep track of the infamous Kraven.

Killing him would certainly be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Who could even say that about themselves?

Your phone alerted you to a new call coming in. Almost casually you took it without glancing at the screen. Your eyes were glued to the outside surroundings.

“Kind of in the middle of something,” you said with a bored voice.

“So it was you who took the assignment?”

You sighed. Your wrist almost dropped the field glass at hearing Talia’s voice.

“Did I take it away from you?”

A mirthful chuckle reverberated through the loud speaker. “No, I’m not that desperate to face the Hunter.”

Your eyes glanced sideways at that tidbit of information. “Is that fear? Didn’t know that the infamous White Widow was afraid of anything.”

“Not fear. Just a boring survival instinct.”

A pause lingered in the air.

“What is it for you? The prestige? Something fun?”

“Maybe I like a challenge.”

Talia’s voice turned severe to warn you of the danger. “Trust me on this. This man is no joke. He’s going to enjoy tearing you apart.”

“You sound like you’re talking from experience.”

Talia exhaled. “I knew his father. That family isn’t something to be trifled with. But no, if I want to rupture my lung, I’d rather do it on my own terms. But I also know I can’t stop you if you set your mind to something. All I can offer you are my contacts on sight, wherever you are.”

“No, thank you.” You chuckled. “And don’t pretend like you don’t even know where I am.”

“What can I say? I can’t reveal all my secrets. Stubborn to a fault,” Talia grumbled under her breath. “But I didn’t tell you the whole truth. About Kraven. He’s more animal than man. An absolute savage, mark my words, dushka.” [darling]

“Warning accepted. And to answer your question. It’s a challenge. That’s why I’m doing it.”

“He’d be more than just a challenge.”

“I’m counting on it.”

The unpredictability of this target revealed itself soon enough when Kravinoff didn’t seem to have a single pattern. It was confounding. People had patterns to orient themselves in their daily lives.

You didn’t understand it.

So, the fact that he entered a hotel bar raised your suspicions even more. It wasn’t your ideal preference with the amount of exit strategies the location offered. With wary eyes, you strolled towards the bar, instantly recognizing the broad shoulders clothed in a white dress shirt.

You sighed. This was truly bad. But it wouldn’t be the first time your cover was blown before the job could even start. A curious glance towards the amount of glasses behind the barkeeper made you smirk though.

Kravinoff slightly turned his head the closer you got before you finally sat on the stool, without any space separating you two. If the target was aware of the oncoming hit, then it didn’t matter keeping up pretences.

He pulled the amber-filled tumbler to his lips. “You want to have a drink before we get started? It’s on me.” If the file didn’t give it away before, the accent certainly revealed his Russian heritage.

“Sure. I love to celebrate.” You pointed a finger in the air and motioned for the barkeeper with a “I’ll have what he’s having, neat. Keep the bottle.”

Kravinoff snorted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “That’s funny. Already certain of your victory?”

You watched the barkeeper pour two fingers into your glass before he wandered away. “Just enjoying myself during work.” You sipped a bit and instantly hummed from the smoky taste in your mouth.

Kravinoff raised an eyebrow. “You like?”

You shrugged. “You seem to have taste when it comes to certain refreshments.”

The man grunted at your sarcastic dig which satisfied you if you couldn’t use the moment of surprise to your advantage.

Kravinoff twirled his glass between his fingers. “Who sent you?” he inquired throatily.

“What? No foreplay?”

He slowly turned in his seat until his legs were spread and he was facing you head-on. His eyes were burning with intensity. In any other situation you would have deemed him beautiful in a gruff way. Kravinoff remained sullen and quiet, waiting for you to speak.

You rolled your eyes, knocking back your drink. “You’re no fun. Perhaps I intend to play with my prey before I have to kill it.”

His mouth twisted into a sinister smirk. “You think I’m your prey?” The last word sounded like he tasted something nasty on his tongue.

“Don’t insult me, pet.”

You furrowed your brows at the mention of that so-called term of endearment.

Kravinoff lazily laced his fingers together. “So, what are you? Regular mercenary? HYDRA agent? Talon?”

“Widow.”

Kravinoff tilted his head at that one word in intrigue. “Hmm. It’s an honor-”

Something akin to pride or satisfaction lingered in your stomach.

“-to kill you.”

You clenched your jaw at the self-assurance in his voice. “Well, in that case…” You dared to steal Kravinoff’s drink, just to one-up him for that arrogance of his.

“… give it your best shot, sweetheart.”

Before he could even attack you, you hit his larynx with the side of your hand.

Kravinoff omitted a pained grunt, shielding his throat. He jumped from his chair.

You broke his tumbler on the counter, slashing Kravinoff’s neck.

With an animalistic growl and burning eyes, he seized your neck, smashing your face against the counter. Something like a creak resounded underneath you with the force.

A whimper left your lips. You felt something sharp on your temple.

In one swift move, Kravinoff slid your head along the counter. Something wet trickled down the side of your face. You hissed at the sensation of glass shards against your skin.

You kneed the back of his knee, managing to subdue him and jump him until your legs wound around his neck, making him groan with your choking move.

Your balance shifted as Kravinoff tried to shake you off by grabbing your hips. Trying to take him by surprise and to throw him off his game, you jabbed your fingers into his eyeballs.

With a snarl, he rushed forward against the counter. You groaned in pain at the hardwood.

God, you were starting to hate this assignment.

You were starting to get used to Kravinoff’s burning eyes branding holes into you instead.

“Stop choking me.” There was something horrifying yet fascinating about his ocean blue eyes switching into amber-colored ones. The kind that hypnotized you and rendered you frozen.

“Kinda defeats the purpose of killing you,” you hissed as a retort. Although it certainly delighted you at seeing Kravinoff’s face getting red.

Almost in keeping you at suspense, he slowly yanked out a hunting knife from behind his back and making you grimace in return. There was something about his eyes that revealed what he wasn’t saying.

Seeing no way out of this without getting utterly mutilated by this hunter, you stretched out your arm behind you and grabbed a broken glass. You would learn to fight another day.

Kravinoff winced and eyed his shin darkly.

Without losing any time for him to fight back in retaliation, you pushed against his chest with your feet, making him fall back.

Knowing that the moment he would look up, you had already run.

“I heard you had an eventful day yesterday.”

The humorous statement drew a weary sigh from your lips. Your fingers clenched around the steering wheel at the mere reminder of the mission. Although you didn’t need it since there was nothing that could make you forget with every glance in the mirror or every movement of your muscles.

You inhaled deeply. “You know, it’s funny, when you were dead, the phone remained silent. Now I can’t get rid off you.”

“Allegedly dead. And don’t pretend. You crave our little talks.”

“You here to gloat?”

“Only when it’s warranted. I thought I told you he was dangerous. That’s on you—underestimating a man like him.”

You scoffed in derision. A man like him. “You’re probably right. At least I survived. Who else can say that?”

Your speaker phone remained silent.

You held your breath. “What’s wrong?”

“Kraven has a tendency to kill the people he sets his mind to. So the fact that you’re still alive worries me. He didn’t mention his death list, did he?”

Something moved uncomfortably in your stomach at the concept of an assassin following a list. You licked your lips, remembering how his eyes turned golden. A supernatural hunter trying to kill you wasn’t on your to-do list.

You parked your car in the garage of your safe house before you sped up the stairs.

“No, although there wasn’t a lot of time for talking, if you know what I mean.” You felt the civil conversation at the beginning would make the White Widow only insinuate how you had let your guard down, but you would disagree.

“I’m just saying, Kraven can find anyone, so you better be on your guard.”

A groan left your lips when you inspected the lock on your door, letting your head fall forward. “This isn’t happening,” you muttered in disbelief under your breath. “Got to run,” you called out.

“Don’t die,” Talia sang as a goodbye and half a reminder before hanging up.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, thanks for the warning,” you grumbled to yourself before you inhaled through your nose in preparation. With your gun placed at the back of your belt and your Widow Bites switched on. Silently, you opened the door and pointed your wrist to the floor. Nothing, so far.

“I’m curious, how would you like to die?” you hollered through the apartment. “Any preferences? I should have asked the last time.” You studiously searched every room, knowing he was in here somewhere.

“How considerate,” Kraven’s sarcastic reply came closer than expected. “Not here to kill you.”

You scoffed loudly. “Yes, right. I’ll believe that when I see it,” you whispered.

Finally, you found him. With his back turned towards you and his arms behind his back, taking in his surroundings. You didn’t trust it one bit that someone like him would be vulnerable like that. Kraven’s figure in the kitchen almost made it seem to small with his dominating presence taking up all of the space. You reluctantly applauded that gall of his for invading your space like that and to make a surprise attack like that.

“You changed your shirt,” you observed quietly, taking in his casual shirt, despite there not being anything casual about him. “The other one too bloody for you?”

Humor was laced in his voice as he slowly turned around, sending you a daring glance. “Observant little spider. Just want to talk.”

The guffawing sound coming out of your throat awkwardly switched to a cough. “Sorry, that—I don’t know where that came from.”

“I’m curious what other sounds I can elicit from those lips.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at the blatant flirting. If that could be considered flirting since it felt more like a hit from a sledgehammer. Very direct and hard to get away from. Typical Russian.

You clenched your hand behind your back. Talia couldn’t fault you for staying on your guard. “And I’m wondering about your noises when I do this-”

You pointed your wrist at him, watching in satisfaction at the electric jolt shooting through his chest. Kraven groaned in pain before sending you a dark glare at your own insolence.

“I was trying to have a normal conversation. You know, trying something new. You make this really hard though.”

You frowned at his ability to talk or even standing upright as you sauntered over to a close cabinet. With calm movements, you attached a silencer to your gun, not needing any more unwanted guests.

“I’m not really interested in talking after our last conversation, you know-”

Your wind was knocked out of you when something pushed into you, making you crash to the floor. You gasped when the back of your head bumped against the wooden floor. Shaking your head, you sent him a thunderous expression. “Now that’s my kind of conversation,” you hissed before you swung your thighs around his neck, squeezing with all your might.

Kraven grunted, closing his eyes. With sudden movements, he stood up and the next thing you knew was that he had pushed you against the wall, making you groan from the sudden impact.

Between your legs, you felt him puff out in breaths, “You know, not that I’m complaining, but I think I’m starting to get used to that.”

His flirty tone of voice made you look down in reluctance to discover him humming contently between your thighs. Spite made you squeeze even tighter and punch against his shoulders with your elbows.

“Stop with your pointy elbows,” Kraven hissed in warning.

“Stop invading my safe house, Kraven svolotsch!” [scumbag]

Your eyes widened when Kraven moved backwards and threw you onto your back as you both fell to the floor. He seemed to have a thing for knocking the wind out of you.

“What did you just call me?” he exhaled next to you.

“You heard me,” you whispered in return, trying to catch your breath.

“You know, I do love our conversations,” Kraven murmured reverently.

“What do you want?” you finally asked in disappointment.

“Now, you want to talk?”

“Now I want you out,” you exhaled tiredly.

“You wound me, pet.”

“Stop calling me that.”

Kraven sighed, slowly sitting up. “Who paid you?”

You opened your eyes, uncertain about his intentions. “Then you’ll kill me?”

Kraven raised his eyebrows, almost like he couldn’t believe you even uttering those words to him. “One less Spider in this world would be a pity. Tell me their name and I’ll reimburse you for your troubles. This, I promise you.”

You inhaled deeply, not knowing if Kraven was the kind to keep his oaths. “Or what?”

“These people are going to kill you if you don't deliver, unless you’re interested in a third run?” Kraven raised his eyebrows in challenge. Probably for some reason sharing the same opinion as you.

“Maybe I haven’t decided yet,” you teased as you leaned on your arm while your hand reached for his thigh which sustained the injury during your last altercation.

Kraven narrowed his eyes with his tilting head in consideration. “Uh, what are you doing?” he whispered hoarsely.

You clenched your jaw. Something wasn’t right, you thought, as you let your fingernails stubbornly search for the cut on his leg.

Kraven swallowed before he cleared his throat. “Why are you stroking my leg? Is this some sort of Soviet seduction technique I didn’t know about?”

There wasn’t an injury. Your heart was racing in your chest at the implication of it.

“What are you?”

Silence enveloped you two. Kraven stared at you in contemplation. “Tit for tat, Spider.”

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes and stood up to stretch your legs. “I don’t know their name. It didn’t matter. He only called himself the Benefactor.”

“Mysterious,” Kraven grumbled behind you.

“Drink?”

“Without poison, if it’s possible.”

You turned your body to reveal the fakest smile you could muster for him. “Only for you, sweetheart.”

“Oh, you treat me too well,” Kraven purred while cocking his head. “So, how does he contact you?”

“Encrypted connection via messaging server.” You offered a shot of vodka for him to take.

“Tell him to meet.” Pushing the brown locks away from his face, he threw back his drink.

“Well,…” You mulled over his offer. “…there’s only one choice to make. How do you feel about dying?” you inquired, putting the glass to your lips.

You tapped your fingers against arm, waiting for the stop of the descent of the cargo elevator. All the while ignoring the stares of two other henchmen standing next to you.

Someone cleared their throat. “Are you like the real deal?”

You pursed your lips at the awkwardness of it all, being in the lair of the so-called Benefactor and being surrounded by fanboys. It was strange. Usually, you were used to people being terrified of your past. Like they couldn’t fathom the possibility of an assassin walking among them. Or that they’d rather didn’t see you being part of society.

“No, I just like dressing up,” you replied dryly, sending them a smirk over your shoulder. “You want me to turn on my batons?”

“Can we take a selfie?”

You considered that for a few seconds before shrugging. “Sure. You want to get the body bag too?”

“Is there really a body in there?”

“What can I say? Needed something large in size to fit the dude.”

Both seemed speechless for a second and made up their minds. “Neat. Come on, huddle together.”

You tilted your head, making a peace sign with your fingers before the camera made the sound of a snapshot. “Nice.”

“Thanks so much.”

You cleared your throat. “My pleasure. Until next time, fellas.” Your fingers made a saluting sign before the doors opened to signal your destination. “Got to deliver something,” you muttered before you wandered down the hallways of the complex.

You had to hand it to those villains. They certainly had the extravagant taste for the finer things in life such as a hidden lair for your base of operations. You turned the corner when the HQ became visible down a set of stairs. Judging by the set of computers and a few people strolling around, tending to their tasks.

In the center of the base a man stood. There was something about him that compelled your vigilance. You trusted your deepest instincts that told you that you were dealing with the Benefactor of all people.

You did a double-take towards the set of stairs, mumbling to yourself, “Huh, that’s a lot of stairs.”

Almost like your voice carried over to him, the man turned around, staring right at you. “Welcome. It’s an honor to be in the presence of a Black Widow.”

Your body tensed before you took a deep breath while carrying the body bag down the stairs, being mindful of every thunk as you descended.

“If you say so.” Your curious gaze met his. There was something about him that felt familiar. The man appeared in his late 60’s and wore an aviator jacket with the lapel lined with fur. “Have we met before?”

The Benefactor cleared his throat. “I don’t think so. Is that the package?”

You narrowed your eyes at the dismissal. “Depends. Are you the Benefactor?”

He smirked when he lowered his head. “Sometimes.”

You placed your hands on your waist, dropping the body bag fully to the floor. “Very cloak and dagger,” you mused. “And to answer to your question: no. I just carry my accessories in there. Really practical if you know what I mean.”

The staring between the Benefactor and you lingered far longer than you expected it would.

Then he smiled widely.

“You’re funny.”

“I haven’t been called that before,” you surmised before you dragged the bag closer to him and pulled down the zipper until it ended around his middle.

The Benefactor hummed curiously and leaned forward until he could really see him. “Hmmm, he looks really fresh,” he replied as an observation.

What?

“I’m sorry?”

“The injuries on his face, I mean. There were stories about him, you know. Is it true that he can regenerate?”

Was he trying to mount him on a wall, or something? Or what was it about this talk of admiration?

Your gaze wandered around in scepticism at this strange diversion. ��What kind of supervillain are you?” you asked with a hoarse voice.

The Benefactor chuckled under his breath. “I wouldn’t call myself super, not yet. But I have plans.”

“Hmm, don’t we all.”

He clapped his hands together, like you had just rejuvenated his spirits. “How hard was it to kill him?”

You stared at him calmly, knowing what was about to happen. “I think you know the answer to that,” you whispered ominously.

“Yes, I think I do.” Something glimmered in his eyes which gave you the incentive to turn on your Batons with their red glare.

Kraven’s eyes opened.

Ever so dramatic, you thought, as you inwardly rolled your eyes.

You didn’t gave away any warning before you doused the whole facility into complete darkness. There were gasps around you from the sudden blackout. Instead you turned off your Batons and switched over to your blades.

Something growled in the dark before you saw those golden eyes, like some sort of harbinger.

“You wanted me. Now here I am,” Kraven hissed menacingly.

“There’s no need for violence. I just wanted to see what would happen.”

“Okay,” you exhaled loudly. “Now watch this happen,” you promised sinisterly and threw the first blade.

Someone shrieked in shock when the knife pierced their leg. “Oh my—Goddammit!”

“Finish this, Kraven. I’m starving.”

You heard something powering up. With every second passing, a mechanical sound echoed in the air before something set into place. You turned your head just when night vision goggles jerkily snapped in your direction.

You suppressed a shiver and opted for the (more) silent tactic, swinging the baton around before shooting electricity through it at the last second.

Someone grunted before they fell to the floor.

“We don’t have all day, by the way. What’s taking so long?” you hollered and jerked back when the thrusters of an exo-suit flew past. “What the hell?”

“I know what I’m doing,” Kraven exhaled, hovering in the air, somewhere near the ceiling. “You deal with your henchmen and I’ll take care of this one.”

The alarm deafened your ears before red lights pulsed rhythmically into the dark, giving you the opportunity to watch—wait a second—the Vulture pressing Kraven against the wall.

“Are you sure?”

“Is this concern I’m hearing?” Kraven growled inhumanly before wrestling against like a rabid animal, tearing with all his might against one of the wings.

“If you want to fight the Vulture, be my guest.” You turned your head and watched in suspension as a new group of henchmen ran inside.

“Oh hey, fanboys!” you called out, waving a hand in greeting at the familiar faces.

They looked uncertainly at each other before one whispered to the other, “I don’t want to fight the Black Widow.”

“If it’s any consolation, if Kraven hadn’t taken so long, we would’ve been out of here already, so…” You twirled your batons in the air. “I’m not really giving you a choice, fellas.”

~Kraven POV~

Kraven was done with this bird man. He didn't mind heights, but this Vulture was messing with his good nature. The thruster’s engine made spluttering noises the longer his fingers viciously tore at it.

“This is all just a big misunderstanding.”

Kraven sneered at the pilot. “Tell that to me a few days ago when you tried to have me killed. Sending a Widow after me? Seems pretty clear to me,” he hissed with venom in his voice.

“Let go of the wing and we’ll talk.”

“The time for conversations is over, ptashka.” Feeling the itching in his fingers, he yanked out his hunting knife, ready to strike and not caring that they would fall several meters to the ground. [birdie]

“Okay, fine.”

Kraven frowned in anger when he was instead pushed, making him land on all fours.

Vulture’s landing was a bit inept, with the wing's engine sputtering. His arms were raised.

“Cease fire for now?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Kraven exhaled unevenly, feeling wrath still bubbling under the surface, sending you an expression of aggravation over his shoulder. Hoping you would understand not to cross Vulture for now without speaking.

“Can’t make any promises for her though,” Kraven mentioned casually while pointing towards you, like he was discussing the weather.

Thankfully, you fastened your batons at your back again.

“It was an invitation,” Vulture explained vaguely. “A test if you will. To join our circle.”

“Recruitment?” Kraven was getting bored already - this wasn’t really tickling his fancy. He raised an eyebrow with a sneer. “Not interested in joining anyone’s club. I have my own agenda to follow. I'm not bending towards anyone’s rules.”

“We respect your … hunts if you will.”

“We?”

“A collection of people who have been wronged. Like-minded people such as yourself. We could use someone like you who loves the thrill of the hunt. Because that’s what you do, right? You absolutely live for it. To hunt your prey until it grows tired.”

Kraven hummed noncommittally. Not sure yet of this secret club. But this bird man certainly could appeal to his baser nature. “I’ve reached a decision.”

Vulture tilted his head in fascination, but didn’t reveal his eyes behind those goggles.

“I won’t kill you … yet. For drawing me out like that. But you have aggravated me with your little games by making me neglect my work.” With every sentence, Kraven took a step forward, needing to drive home that he could kill them for their impertinence. “So, I’m going to take off and then I’ll debate with myself if I should drop by in the future. Be thankful if I don’t.”

He turned away, knowing with absolute clarity that they wouldn’t be stopped.

“Not even curious?” Vulture called from behind him, trying to dangle one last temptation.

“Too busy.”

“Even for a spider?”

Kraven clenched his jaw in agitation as he stopped in his tracks. And there went wrath all over again. His gaze met yours.

And there he thought he wouldn’t have to kill anyone.

Kraven turned his body, unable to stop the clenching of his fists. “Come again?”

“Oh, not this one,” he said, waving a hand at you. “I wouldn’t dare cross a potential asset.”

“Not interested,” you negated with absolute certainty.

Vulture shook his head. “Not interested … too busy.” With careful movements he took off his night vision goggles. “I thought it could interest you to hunt a certain … Spiderman.”

Tagging: @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @ravenmoore14 @blackmagicwoman

#steph writes #watchtowerindistress #kraven the hunter x reader #kraven x reader #sergei kravinoff x reader #sergei kravinoff x you #aaron taylor johnson x reader #kraven x you #kraven the hunter x y/n #sergei kravinoff x y/n #kraven the hunter x you

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argyrocratie · 2 months ago

Text

"Catastrophe for somebody, salvation for others. Desertion is flooding Ukraine" by assembly.org.ua

"Imagine: the rulers start a war, and no one goes to it!"

Donations to support the authors are possible at this link. Many thanks everyone for such a great contribution!

(...)

The article "In the long hot summer, Ukrainian and Russian soldiers broke records for the growth of desertions", which was published by us on the first day of autumn, turned out to be just in time. (It is available in Russian, in English, in Spanish, in Italian.) A number of feedbacks came from both sides of the front. From discussions in local chats of Kharkov:

"I have a small observation, several busified ones, who haven’t been very critical of the authorities all this time, now quite console themselves with the thought that those at the top know better. While you are "free", your thoughts are within the framework of social currents and have the opportunity to wag. As soon as you get into a collective with outlined tasks, in most cases, your thoughts are in the same tunnel as everyone else. A busified, getting into a collective of previously busified, but already resigned to the situation, mentally assimilates with them, accepts their point of view, creating a comfort zone (swimming against the current is always uncomfortable). There he’s drawn into the topic and also begins to think that everyone else is a scoundrel and an evader, motivation appears. Until he gets into slaughter. There comes awareness and often SOCh [desertion]."

"I have three – a godfather and two deceased acquaintances who went voluntarily from the first days, but when they came to Kharkov, we drank together, no one shouted that I’m an evader, but on the contrary, that there’s nothing to do there. One, a volunteer too, is already abroad. He went for 2 weeks and has been there for half a year already. He said that just to take a rest..."

"A guy worked nearby, and he had a dog. So he dressed it up in a camouflage vest, a yellow and blue leash. And he himself walked around with all sorts of patriotic bracelets and tridents on his backpack. On the way to work, he was accepted by the TCR and he went to training. Then I see after 2-3 months he is hobbling. I thought he was drunk, but everything turned out to be much more interesting. After training, they were taken in tarpaulin trucks somewhere to the front line. And right when unloading the personnel, they got hit with something cassette-like. So, he wasn't drunk, his legs were cut up by shrapnel, and they hadn't pulled out all the shrapnel from the body yet. They sent him home from the hospital to finish his treatment, but didn’t write him off due to his wounds. And the guy said during conversation that he f*cked all this, he was going to go into SZCh. That's how quickly his surge of patriotism passed."

On September 9, we received a letter from Gorlovka, controlled by the far-right "Donetsk People’s Republic" since 2014:

"The saddest thing is that if you start telling people that soldiers need to desert the army and turn their weapons against those in power, people will widen their eyes and say, "Do you want 1917 to happen again? For brother against brother again, and for people to swell with hunger? It's better if we endure, otherwise it will get worse." We have photos of those wanted for escape on our streets. And the inscriptions: "Betrayed the republic, betrayed comrades, betrayed himself." I’ve heard the opinion that we have a lot of SOCh. But "a lot of" is a flexible concept. And their captures aren’t published here."

We will not cite the name of the person who spoke out.

(...)

Alas, after the end of the Vietnam War, such a type of anti-war activist as a military serviceman engaged in agitation and propaganda among his colleagues was practically forgotten. This is exactly what a Russian leftist who introduces himself as Sergey Thälmann wrote to us about on September 2. In addition to other important inside information, his letter helps us understand why there was no widespread desertion among Russian conscripts in the Kursk region, despite the fact that this seems to be the most logical choice for those poorly prepared for battle:

"I’m a conscript, there was no distinct choice. I actively educate soldiers and explain the injustice of the conflict. Of course, I’m not very fond of anarchism, but I believe that there’s no way without anarchists. Anarchism is the heart of communism, and Marxism is its mind.

I’ll say right away that there’s a strange atmosphere among conscripts – for some reason everyone wants to see the war. And when you start explaining that war is not a shooter, not a computer game, their desire immediately disappears. However, there are even such young people who defend Russian capital. They speak in the paradigm of "friends – foes" about Ukrainians and Russians. This is truly frightening. Many sign the contract, but... Taking into account both material and superstructural values. That is, with the desire to see the war. Consumer society has washed away the human brain so much that 19-year-old guys in Balashikha [near Moscow, – Ed.] want to go to Kursk. And it seems to me that such an atmosphere is not only here.

Well, and interesting observations: many officers are outright Nazis. For example, I talked to the communications chief of the mortar division of the 4th regiment. And he told me that I need to read... German thinkers of the 1930s. And there are hundreds of such ones here. Although there are adequate people... On the faces of the mobilized you can see more fear, despair. I talked to so many mobics here – not a single one wanted to fight. Some worked in a plant, some as an electrician. But conscripts are the opposite. Maybe because many are from the provinces, where life is boring and there are few bright emotions. Or maybe because in a consumer society, the consumer can consume absolutely any product provided. Even war becomes a commodity for sale.

In the companies there is also such a concept – military-political information. There they say absolutely terrible things. About how Ukraine almost burns people alive, and almost exclusively hits peaceful cities, ignoring military objects. As if the AFU isn’t an army, but... some small bandit who shoots at everything in sight. The main thing is that they hush up how in Russia, too, they pack people and forcibly send to war.

What can we get here, two concentrated capitals clashed with each other. Their most loyal dogs came out of their kennels)) Ukrainian capital is just as chauvinistic and concentrated in the form of financial capital as Russian. No government can be defended, they are both criminal, both thieves. And war is a war of slave owners for the strengthening and reinforcement of slavery. To support one of the slave owners in it means to be against the oppressed, that is, against the slaves. Against the serfs. Against the proletarians.

By the way, to those who say that Ukraine is a victim. Supporting a young and inexperienced robber in a fight with an old and fat one is supporting robbery as such and further robbery of one of them."

...

#russo ukrainian war #anarchism #desertion

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