#yes blades GO SPIN FAST

[notllorstel]

EBROwolf time for the spotlight and also by this time Barbie is out.

[munsster]

hell-bent

A/N: basically… give me beefy bucky or give me death (gif creds: @vader-anakin)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: All you want is attention from your boyfriend. Though, during a life/death mission may not be the best time to crave it. 2.6k words

Warnings: smut, man handling, dirty talk, degrading, knife play/kink, blood play!!!!!, uh very mild exhibitionism, pet names (babydoll, doll, princess, minx, baby)

"Babydoll, toss my knife over." A crouching Bucky fiddles with the steel door's padlock before catching your ankle in his left palm, wrapping cooly into your exposed skin.

"Can I have a kiss first?" you coo and bat your lashes to get his blood pumping, the susurration booming in his ears and rushing between his legs. 

He barks out a laugh, face scrunched as he falls back onto his tailbone, abandoning the Fort Knox knockoff before you kick your calf from his grip and shuffle away. His breath finally catches in his windpipe when you scoff, tugging his knife from your belt. Bird-like in your grace, you flit away with a tune tumbling from your lips in a hum. Footsteps thud hard and fast until his hands clasp your abdomen. With the tip of his nose pressed to your ear, his hips shoved up against your back, and in a mumble:

"Listen, the second we're done with this, I'll fuck you until you can't walk, but right now, I need the goddamn knife." His mouth trails to the crook of your jaw as his fingers curl into your taut leather neckline. A hot puff of air fans over your skin when you spin in his arms, spine sinuous and molding into his grasp. Then the edge of his own knife meets his bust, poking at the center of his vest as he frowns.

"And I need a kiss," you say, very matter-of-fact in your own silver-tongued way. The tip of the blade glides up and over his adam's apple until he's forced to tilt his head back, stubbly jaw exposed to your hungry eyes. A blushing pink line rises in the knife's wake, pricking at his skin with ease.

Bucky likes it that way. 'That way' meaning sharp. And 'it' being his knife and his girl.

"Doll?"

Lip tucked between your teeth, you savor the flutter of his lashes when he plucks at the hip of your catsuit, grinning wide like a predator. The spandex snaps against your skin with a biting pain. "Yes, James?"

"Give me the knife. Now." The gravel in his voice has you withdrawing the blade from his skin and pouting like you're innocent. Like his hard-on isn't already strained against your thigh. He meets your gaze then, pupils blown as he sighs. Out of relief or disappointment, he does not know.

"Give me a kiss. Now," you mimic.

"Fuckin— you know what? Fine." Vibranium clamps onto your jaw, tugging you close as his lips meet your own in a searing kiss. The burning cold of his fingertips brings a certain warmth to your cheeks, spreading, curling over your bones and flooding your senses. He groans into you as he licks at your mouth and draws your breath over his tongue. His hands roam your waist, and he lets out a muffled protest when you reach for his belt.

It's worse that he hasn't had a moment alone with you for a week. Libido going haywire at your touch, he revels in it, his low moan pouring down your throat. And his hands. God, his hands. They dip into your waist like cupped palms dip into the fountain of youth after years of wear and tear. His thumbs press hard against rib until you purr into him with the heat of several suns beating down on a forgotten beach.

Then, right fingers drag down your wrist, coiling around the handle of the knife and wiggling it from your loosened grasp. You pull back with a scowl, lips chafed under the wet pressure of his own, and he winks.

"Thank you, princess," he whispers against your temple with a smirk, clapping his palm onto your ass and chuckling when you squeal and back hand his bicep.

"Bastard."

…

"You. Out," Bucky barks, ducking into the stuffy tent and squeezing your hand as he glares at a pissed Sam.

"There's no way in hell you're hogging our only shelter for sex!" Sam snaps.

"Funny, 'cause that's exactly what I'm doing. Now, get out before I strip, and you get to watch me in all my naked glory fuck my gorgeous girlfriend." You drop your forehead to the center of his back, and your face goes hot. Sam shuffles past you, grumbling about ‘horny goddamn rabbits’.

"Little much, don't you think?" But Bucky's not really listening as he zips the hatch shut and pounces on you like a frenzied jaguar, lurching with the smooth coil of his stamina.

"Minx," he growls against the hot skin of your exposed clavicle, "'m gonna go into cardiac arrest with how excited you get me." He tugs the zipper of your suit further, marking the skin with wet kisses down your navel. You clutch the seam of the bedroll beneath you in your restless grip because his teeth pinch your delicate skin and the humid tent nearly drowns you.

"You bring out the knife fiend in me." Off his tongue like a moan, like he's holding back, and when he ruts into you, it's clear he is.

The super soldier's heartbeat pumps in your ears, and you gasp when it picks up, pressing your palm to his chest. He fumbles an eager hand for his thigh pocket, pupils blown at the sound of a steel click. Dopamine floods his senses, the fading light glaring across his switchblade that he finds reflects in your gaze nicely.

"Is this payback?" you whisper. His grin is nothing but cheshire then, scheming with a racing mind as he brings the needle-sharp point to the crest of your cheekbone.

"You know I would never hurt you, princess." He trips the blade low, down your throat to the valley of your breasts where he pauses in thought. His lips hover a breath over yours, and Bucky likes the way you go soft and doe-eyed and maleable in his embrace. "D'you trust me?"

"With my life."

A flash of arrogance crosses his expression, the glint in his eye shining through his god complex. The chill of the blade scrapes over the plump of your breast as he keeps his crystal eyes trained on you. You and your ragged breathing and your fingers curling into his bicep. He just has that effect on you. The corners of his lips rise wickedly at the idea.

"Dunno if I'd be so willing, babydoll," he grumbles, pressing the serrated edge to your sternum, the skin swelling on either side; it starts to sting. "But I guess that's the epitome of trust, isn't it?"

A hiss through your bared frown when the flesh breaks for crimson. He's quick to lap at the wound, driving the blade of his knife through the base of the tent and into the dirt beside your shoulder. His palm flattens against your rib cage as he jerks your zipper fully open and peels the suit from your torso.

"Now, that wasn't so bad," he says, feeling your lungs flood with air beneath his shaking hands. Your head lulls to the side, and if he didn't know better, he would think you were pissed. He thumbs over your fresh cut, hushing you when you squirm. "What happened to my poor girl?"

"Fuck you."

"Doll," he warns.

"I hate you."

"Take it back," he huffs, kneeling between your thighs with his fingertips tweaking your pebbled nipples. While concerned, he's been turned on since noon, no thanks to you. Desperate fingers go to rake your scalp as he leans down to pepper ever present kisses over your jaw. "C'mon, lemme kiss it better."

You look to him like he's the prime suspect in your own murder, and it shatters his poor heart to nothing but ash in his sunken chest. Anger feeds your fire until you flip him off with a smirk that makes his brain do a spine-twisting somersault. Without a second thought, your wrists are pinned to the ground, tight enough to fracture, and yet he still handles you like you're porcelain.

"If you don't ease up, I'll have no choice but to fuck the attitude right outta you. Hmm? Hard to complain when you're busy moaning for me." Sweat flecks down his temple, saliva pooling in his mouth when you blink up at him, jaw unhinged, fingers ticking. He's an animal in this light.

"It's like being a douchebag is second nature to you," you mumble, and you feel him snap with a shift of his weight. An inner gearshift from benign victim to the apex predator. Or maybe he was never benign, just lying in wait.

"Oh, you've earned it now, babydoll."

He strips you of your uniform with a yank, palming for your feverish skin as he licks at your bottom lip. Some volatile form of submission. Like he's teasing you out of your husk just to rip you to shreds. But God be damned if you wouldn't offer him the very weapon of your own demise.

His tac-gear clatters to the ground while he takes your fist to curl around his cock, coated slick with precum. He huffs out a breathy chuckle against your neck when you slowly stroke him. Then his hips buck into your grip as his teeth sink into your jugular.

"See what you do to me? Been hard as a fuckin' rock since the second I saw you. Couldn't help but remember how you taste. Let alone how you feel." And nothing satisfies a super soldier's cravings like the real thing.

He hoists your thigh up and over his hip, 'round his lower back. Like a belt. Like you're his consolation prize. You push the pad of your thumb across his frenulum, tearing something gargled and ragged from his throat. Something almost sentient as he tosses his head back in earnest. Yet all you can do it stare: his eyelids drifting shut, fingers strangling the sheets beneath you, his every muscle tensed like his life depends on it. Not a bad view. Not bad at all.

Then, your fingers tighten with the pulsing vein along his cock, and he has to slip from your hold to compose his sex drive. His eyes blink open to a zig-zag scene that he can't quite register until his eyes uncross.

"Christ, woman, give your poor lover a break. I'm still recovering from just lookin' at you," Bucky sighs. And he falls head over heels for the way you thumb over his dimpled chin and kiss him like an angel, soft and sweet and ethereal like no other.

The illusion shatters, however, when you bring your hips to meet his in one single thrust. Relentless woman with the face of a goddess. It brings him to his knees—or in this case, elbows.

You giggle at his pinched expression, wiggling your pelvis as his tip presses deeper into you cunt. Then it's payback when your back arches and your nails dig into his flanks, baring your neck to his gaze.

"Yeah, right there, princess," he mumbles, "I know you missed me inside this pretty pussy." And the cocky bastard is right. He feels it in the way you stretch to fit his girth, the supple elasticity of your cunt clenching in unfamiliarity. The subtle rotation of his hips is evil in principle but so damn perfect when everything is so warm, so wet, how can either of you resist.

You grasp for his shoulders when he hooks your ankles around his lower back. And oh, does he know how to work at this angle. His tip drives deeper just so he can drag back out again, slow in every roll of his hips. Any protest flies out the door in heavy breaths across skin and fingertips

The dark closes in around you, suffocating as it drenches your skin and renders you undiluted beauty in his arms. With every moan, he picks up speed just to hear you against his throat.

"Bucky." It bubbles from your throat as an ode to his warm body and restless mind. “Love you.”

"I gotcha, sweetheart. I love you, too." His muscles twist around you, and he's close with the stutter of his hips, digging deeper while his metal palm flattens against your tummy. Your fingers comb his hair from his eyes; you look like an angel, blissed out, half-lidded eyes, and he smiles down at you, still so focused despite his unraveling.

The tent's zipper hisses when Sam peeks in with an awfully disgruntled, "what the hell, cyborg? A warning?"

"I think you had enough of a warning," Bucky growls, continuing his thrusts when your head tilts to the side, an embarrassed squeal from your lips.

"Jesus Christ, I thought you'd be done, old man," Sam chuckles.

"Get the fuck out!"

"Fine, fine, just try not to break your girlfriend." A loud sigh from Sam before the zipper shuts with a metallic grinding noise that echoes in your ears as static.

"Sorry, pretty baby, 'pparently someone's common sense left 'im," Bucky whispers, pressing a kiss to the broken flesh of your sternum, lashes batting as a sufficient apology. A harsh thrust then, punching the air from his chest as every fiber in his body coils and snaps to the beat of your heart, filling you with wet heat. He rubs his middle finger over your clit with a vengeful smirk when your back curls with the weight of your release.

…

"D'you always go commando under these things?" he coos, tentative and quiet while the pads of his fingers trace feather-light patterns over your damp skin. Your snug uniform and the way it hugs you hasn't left his mind. Fact, it never really does.

"Yeah, I mean kevlar is surprisingly breathable, so what's the point."

"Noted." Bucky drapes his forearm across your navel, shifting onto his palm and grinning above you like the cat that got the cream: mischievous and pleased out of his mind. "I'm one lucky sonuvabitch, huh?"

"Yeah, you are," you tease, hooking your thighs around his hips as he settles into your body with a chuckle, chest erupting with delight taut against yours. He tucks the hair plastered across your forehead to your hairline with a knuckle, lips puckered against your temple in a kiss sweet enough to give you cavities.

Your hands dive into the sleeping bag, trailing the sweat-slicked sinew in his back, dipping with the tightly-wound muscle before sinking your fingertips into the plump of his ass with a cheeky smile. 

"Little minx." Bucky hangs his head with a grin, nipping for your cupid's bow then pecking lower at your baby-soft lips. Though he knows he went far enough with the tip of his blade, he would never admit it to you. The same way you would never admit that you liked the sting of it. But now that he's left a scar on your chest—an unspoken promise of his and hers, a permanent mark in your complexion—there's truly no turning back.

And he proves it with another kiss that renders you breathless, taking in his solace with wavering consciousness. The line between asleep and awake and Bucky's hands blurr to something more than reality. Though, the noise he makes against your mouth is nothing short of sinful.

From the opposite side of the tent, Sam grumbles, "mind shutting the fuck up? Some of us are trying to sleep."

"Sorry, Sammy!" you whisper.

"No, you're not."

marvel masterlist

[felibrary]

╭──╯ABOUT YOU

PAIRING: sae itoshi x reader

SYNOPSIS: when sae left for spain you were devastated. but suddenly, half a decade later as the sae itoshi; japan's prized possession and football prodigy, stands on your doorstep, realization hits you: you are in love with him.

wordcount: 2.3k | content & warnings: unestablished relationship, both are bad at communicating their feelings in their teens, sae nonchalant era, fluff ; oneshot

author's note: yes i didn't watch bllk season 2 yet, so what??1?1??1 my wonderful babe still needs a fic, hard to believe i never wrote a single one for him

“i’m leaving for spain”

sae doesn't think he'll ever forget this moment; forget the expression that you made as soon as he quietly murmured those words.

how his bedsheets rustled as you immediately got up, the way your sudden movements left creases in his once neatly duvet, and how the blue artificial flavored water from the popsicle dripped down on his bed as you tightly gripped it in your hand.

from initially laying next to him on his childhood bed and watching the ceiling fan spin around in circular movements while sucking on popsicles, to you turning and staring at him in disbelief — it all happened in the span of a few minutes — too fast for either of you to comprehend.

as if the humid summer air wasn't already unbearable enough, the impact of those words had somehow made the atmosphere even more suffocating.

outside there were cicadas who were continuously humming melodies, and the sound the fan-blades created as they spun around made it all seem like another day during summer break.

for a moment everything was how it used to be a few minutes ago; how every summer passed by ever since he can think and remember.

the way you visited his house every day early in the morning — rang his doorbell twice in a row and how he groggily opened it every time you came over as he, barely awake, listened to what adventurous hangout you planned for today.

his mother ushering him to take rin with him to go along as you dragged them to the beach and stayed there for hours. playing, taunting and teasing, and laughing until the sky was enveloped in an orange-pink hue.

building sandcastles like in your kindergarten days, splashing each other full of water until the three of you went to the local convenience store with clothes drenched in saltwater to buy a pack of popsicles, and betting who'd receive one of the “winner popsicles”.

(in all honesty sae always found it a bit childish as he grew older, but seeing the triumphant grin on his little brother's face as he won and how he stuck his tongue out to you, made him crack a small smile.)

and how the days always ended the same: you and sae on his bed, sucking on popsicles as you watched the ceiling fan twirl around in repetitive circular motions. sometimes while talking about what you want to do tomorrow, future plans or sometimes even spending those times in complete and utter silence.

yeah, it's normal for the two of you to stay silent for a while. sae thinks as you don't respond and momentarily everything is just like how it's supposed to be. nothing’s wrong, it's just your normal summer day. an average, regular and peaceful afternoon during summer.

but to his dismay, that illusion of his quickly gets shattered. “when?” you whisper quietly, as if not daring to say it out loud. sae purses his lips, opening his mouth only to close it after a quick moment which surprises him.

was he scared? no that can't be. he wasn't scared when he told his parents and rin because he knew that they'd support him — they knew he was going to be just fine — he knew he was going to be just fine without them.

but you?

sae gulps down the heavy lump in his throat before coughing, preparing to say something — anything. “at the end of summer break, so in a week or so,” he states nonchalantly, as if it were as simple as that. (it wasn't)

although he should've anticipated your reaction — should've known that you weren't pleased at all about it, it still caught him off guard. “and you didn't bother to tell me until now?”

“i didn't think it was important,” he mutters.

“not important, you say? sae, we're best friends. do you mean to tell me that ‘it's not important’ to tell your best friend that you're leaving for god knows how long,” you retort with slight anger in your voice.

“no, that's not—” sae wanted to explain himself; he wanted to tell you that he didn't want to leave you behind, and the fact that he only told you now was because he didn't know how to bring it up — he didn't want to ruin your day and see your smile falter.

he sighs and settles for a curt “just forget it, i’ll be gone in a week, it's been planned for months now and nothing will change it anyway,” it's far from the thing he initially wanted to say, but does it matter now?

sae sees the way your eyebrows furrow in irritation, how you open your mouth to say something but eventually you just scoff and look away. “yeah, whatever,”

a week has passed ever since he told you that he'd leave and ever since then you didn't reach out, and neither did he.

from continuous door-ringing everyday to a silent house; it's been long since the itoshi’s family home has been this quiet. only the sound of water splashing out of the sink and onto the porcelain dishes was audible, sometimes accompanied by the sound of his mother's humming.

“sae, did something happen between you and [name]?” his mother asks offhandedly, not noticing sae who was peacefully playing with his little brother, immediately stiffening.

for a moment sae didn't know what to say, because technically nothing happened. just a small miscommunication between friends, you'd be over it soon anyway. after all you knew about his plans now, so no need to be mad, right? “no, not really. i’m just busy with packing and stuff, and they didn't really text me either, so i guess we've both been really occupied”

“is that so? today, just a bit earlier, they came over, it looked like they contemplated ringing the doorbell but then left as quickly as they came,” his mother chuckled as she turned off the sink and sat onto the sofa to watch him and rin. “you saw them too, right rin?”

sae turns to rin, eyes wide and full of anticipation. “oh, yeah. i think [name] also came over yesterday and the day before yesterday,” rin murmurs. “i asked them why they wouldn't ring and they looked shocked to see me, but then only told me not to tell you that they were here and left.” he turned to his older brother to look at him, big cerulean doe eyes searching for answers.

sae hisses, and fishes his phone out of the pockets of his sweatpants, opening your chat and messaging you.

sae: let's meet tomorrow, 5 pm at the beach

you: ?

you: mind explaining what's going on?

sae: just come there tomorrow

sae: please?

you: fine

in all honesty, you had no idea what sae had planned. his messages came out of the blue after not reaching out for an entire week.

it wasn't hard to spot sae, his red hair shone brightly in the setting evening sun. “you're early for once,” you note as you sit down beside him.

sae looks up and you'd be lying if you said that the small smile he gives you didn't make your knees wobble a bit, still you didn't come here to fawn over your best friend.

“so what’d you want to talk about?” you ask.

sae's quiet for a moment, looking confused. “i thought you wanted to talk about something. rin told me that you came over but didn't have the guts to ring, so i thought i’d do you a favor,”

was he being for real now..?

you get up, irritated. “if this was the reason you invited me i’ll just go. have fun in spain” but before you're able to fully stand up sae grabs you by your wrist. “wait,” and you look at him, questioningly.

“what, wait?”

“let's talk it out,”

the way he says it so softly and that determination that those stupid cerulean eyes of his hold, almost makes you falter completely. “if it weren't for the fact that you're my best friend, i would've left,” you mutter in (faux) annoyance.

sae doesn't respond and only smiles. “sorry, that i didn't tell you earlier about me leaving. i thought it'd ruin the mood, because you always seemed so happy about the stuff you planned.”

(and i didn't have the heart to tell you about it, out of fear that things between you and me become awkward afterwards,)

you let out a huff of relief. “that's really sweet and thoughtful of you, i did notice that there was something that you wanted to get off your chest but i didn't know how to approach it or urge you to talk about it,”

for the first time this afternoon you take a proper look at him, how his turquoise eyes are intently watching you and suddenly you feel small under sae's gaze.

“admittedly, i do think i would've been a bit sad, but still we could've just used that remaining time to make great memories,” this time you return his smile and sae exhales.

“yeah, maybe you're right,”

“sae, what are you doing here?”

in front of you stood sae itoshi. japan’s football genius; its most valuable player — your best friend.

well, former best friend.

saying his name felt weird because the last time you remember saying it aloud was when you were a teenager.

clinging onto sae, and hugging him tightly before his flight departed and bidding goodbye as he exited through the gates.

after that sae barely texted or called you — he wasn't big of a texter anyway, but the only times he's ever messaged you was on your birthday, new years and his birthday as he thanked you for your wishes and congratulations.

contact “officially” broke after a few years, the little messages and short calls turned into none at all. the only times you ever saw sae was on some interviews on tv or magazines at the grocery store.

“can i come in?” he looks at you through low lidded eyes, before looking behind you. his voice got deeper and hoarse. you think to yourself.

you don't respond — unable to come up with an answer to provide him. what does one even say when your best friend comes back after five years without any announcement beforehand? sae takes your silence as an answer — yes, and walks by you into the living room.

there are a bunch of questions running through your head. “how have you been?”, “why didn't you text me?”, “was it hard to adjust to your new surroundings?” but none of these questions leave your mouth, instead you trail after sae into the living room where you spot him sitting on your couch.

“nothing’s changed,” he notes as he looks around. you sit yourself down the sofa, although a few inches away from him. “yeah, me and my surroundings might've not changed but that doesn't apply to you,” you remark.

sae remains silent but if you were to look more closely you could see that the corners of his mouth are twitching. “tell me sae, what made you think it's okay to come here after a period of no contact? without telling me how you've been, without telling me that you'd come over,” irritation is written all over your face, but you don't care, you just need answers.

“also, wouldn't one normally visit their family first, instead of ones—” best friend lies on the tip of your tongue but is that really the relationship you have with sae? “— best friend?” said person who's been plaguing your mind for the past few minutes now, finishes your sentence.

“sorry?” you're caught off guard, because not in a hundred years would you've thought that sae itoshi would ever verbally announce you as his best friend.

“you wanted to ask me if it isn't unusual if one visits their best friend first, instead of their family right?” sae asks. “yeah pretty much,”

he exhales, “i already visited rin. i told him to get his priorities straight,” usually you'd ask what he meant by that, but you have the feeling that you maybe shouldn't this time and settle to answer him with a small hum of acknowledgement.

“also shouldn't it be clear why i'm here? i wanted to see you,” sae says it as if it's the easiest thing in the world — as if it's crystal clear, and states it like it's the obvious. “i missed you,”

if someone would've told you that sae itoshi missed you five years ago, you would've laughed and brushed it off, reasoning it that sae isn't one to say sappy things.

stupid sae and the ways he makes you sway.

but here you are, experiencing it first hand and feeling how your heart races. still there were so many unanswered questions and as much as you wanted to hug him again, feel how his body molds against yours, you know that you couldn't — at least not yet.

“miss me, my ass. at some point you just didn't bother to reach out anymore,” you scoff. “do you know how hurt i was?” you whisper through gritted teeth.

“let's talk it out, okay?” you feel a sudden wave of deja vu washing over you, as if you've already had this conversation once before.

“if you weren't my best friend, i wouldn't hear you out,” you murmur under your breath.

sae inches closer to you, taking your hand in his and pats over it. this is so ridiculous. the sae you knew would’ve never done this. this is strange and a change but..a pleasant change?

just for this once you'll let someone into your heart so easily again, this is an exception — sae's the only one who'll you allow to do some bullshit but still welcome with open arms again.

“fine,” you mutter before burying your head into his nape and your arms sneak around his torso.

a feeling so familiar, so right.

“i missed you too.”

end note: reblogs are greatly appreciated <3 + tagging @azullumi hey fartzul. there are many times when i re-read your messages to reassure myself, knowing that there's someone out there who supports me regardless of what. tbh, i think those messages really strengthened our bond and i love that. i love how we're able to communicate so well with one another <3. + i hope with the messages i send you im able to make you feel loved enough; that im able to provide you that love that some people weren't able to give you, so that you feel appreciated enough and know that the things that you do for others don't go to waste. your heart is so pure, i love you more than anything.

© FELIBRARY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

[floralscented]

♡ㅤSPORTS CAR! with [ dean winchester ] & [ angel!reader ]ㅤ (18+!!)

. . . dove really likes dean's car. or, let him drive it real far.

notes, i was going to post a dean & angel thing for his birthday... better late than never! have a sports car by tate mcrae inspired drabble as an apology<3 THIS IS SMUT! MDNI! also i don't think it needs to be said, but don't attempt this at home. all actions performed by professionals!

★ ˚⋆

dean only needs one hand to drive.

it was once something you marveled at — his innate ability to speed down open streets, tires squealing in the dusty dirt roads, as one hand steered the wheel and the other crept up your thigh.

skills needed to be exercised and pushed to strengthen their foundations. that was along the lines of what dean had said, once, before his fingers reached the button on your jeans to undo them.

even broken clocks were right twice a day. dean did not need both hands to steer the car, as he told you, and he did not need both to drive well.

he pushes a little harder on the gas, the engine revving, the sound of it miniscule compared to the mewling in the back of your throat as you ground your hips farther down on the length of his cock. his free hand rests firmly on your waist, trying to keep you steady as you squirmed.

"do you want me to crash, baby?" he asks in your ear, words a little breathless, "is that it?"

your lips stutter open and closed in a wordless denial, only managing to shake your head instead of mouth out a response. dean's grip on your hip guides your shallow movements farther down onto him, stretching your tight heat around the girth of his thick cock. "no, you don't want us to crash, dove," he mumbles, his breath hot in the crook of your neck, mouth pressed to the back of your shoulder, "that'd ruin the fun, wouldn't it? my pretty dove likes the thrill."

dean shifts a little beneath you, the act making him bury deeper into you, a little gasp falling from your pouty pink lips. he presses a kiss to your shoulder blade in response, a shudder wracking through your muscles at the light touch. "yeah? tell me how much y'like it, dove."

you weren't sure that you had the capabilities to say something coherent in that moment, but you choke on a response regardless. "yes," is what comes out, and even then, it's more of a gasp than it is a word. dean chuckles low and raspy in your ear, bucking his hips up in slow, deliberate movements that make his foot press harder on the gas pedal. the engine revs again. your head tips back into his chest. "dean─"

"y'know how fast we're goin'?" dean grunts into your ear, the hand on your hip shifting to grab one of your wrists and pry it off of its death grip on his muscular thigh. he lifts your hand to his mouth for a second, kissing your open palm, before resting it on the steering wheel. "not nearly fast enough."

the same hand reaches across you for your other hand, and finally, you pull your eyes away from the expansive back roads to watch his movements. another kiss to your palm, the other joined at ten and two on the steering wheel. "what are─"

"do you trust me?"

never have you nodded yes faster before. yes, you trusted dean. yes, you would do anything for dean. yes, he knew this; exploited it often, prodding at what he knew was your sole weakness. dean's hand on the wheel lifts off, both of them now going back to your thighs.

"make sure we don't get ourselves killed f'me, yeah?" dean's laugh is breathless and airy, the same nervous energy that you'd heard that first night alone with him, when he'd taught you how to drive. the circumstances were different now; impossibly higher stakes.

you swallow thickly, jerking the wheel to the right again when it starts to drift into wrong lane. you're distracted ─ dean can't possibly expect perfection from you when your head is in the clouds and spinning.

thankfully, there's no scolding or scathing comment. the only thing that comes is a slight lift of your hips with his grip beneath your thighs as he shifts again, half sitting and half sat up. dean bends you over the steering wheel just enough for you to keep a steady control over the car, and just enough to─

a mixture of the car's revving engine and his panting breaths in your ear and skin slapping against skin overwhelm your senses. he's buried inside of you now, enough to where you can feel each thrust bruising against your cervix.

"what would the other angels say if they saw my angel, all spread out for me like this, goin' 78 in a 40?" his hands move to your ass, squeezing the skin between his warm palms, using that grip to work you deeper onto him. you're forced to keep your head forward, eyes on the road, when all you want to do is squirm and bury yourself back into his chest and cry out.

you barely manage a whimpering, throaty whine of, "prob'bly say─ t'slow down─"

dean laughs heartily this time, his nose brushing against your jawline, pressing hot, wet kisses down the column of your throat. his head lifts, and so does one of his hands, fingers grasping the hem of your dress and pulling it up again from where it'd slipped back down.

a glance in the rearview mirror reveals the fabric held tightly between his teeth. his eyes are downcast, watching intently as he buries into you, his cock slick with your juices. his eyes flick up to meet yours, one corner quirked upwards. "eyes on the road, dove."

you glance back out of the windshield just in time to see a stop sign─ and blow past it. dean's head hits the back of the seat with a thump as he laughs this time, and the lightness in his voice is enough to make you laugh, too. as breathless as him, a burst of adrenaline sparking through your veins.

how long had it been since dean felt this free? part of you wishes to keep this moment going forever, to travel the universe in the backroads as he finds ways to bend you and maneuver you around in every space of his car, to wail his name in every state. the other part knows you aren't going to last much longer. there's energy pumping through your veins that shoots straight down to between your legs, your foot moving to rest over his on the gas, pressing down harder.

you expect an easy, tiger. it wouldn't be the first time that you'd tested a limit and found the invisible edge of a barrier. what comes out of dean's mouth is a rasping groan and a, "there's my girl."

he doesn't say anything after that, which somehow proves to make everything all the more intense. kansas is wheatfields and long, winding roads that never seem to end.

the wind rushes in through the open windows, your hair blowing in your eyes, roaring in your ears. how long had it been since you felt this alive?

it's a passing thought, but it leaves traces of itself in your blood. dean deserved to live a little, sometimes; you deserved to live a little all of the time, to let him teach you all that he knew and relive it alongside you.

dean's finger pries your mouth open, releasing your lip from your teeth. "make that face again n' m'not gonna last."

you smile, a wicked little thing that he's began to call your devil's grin. you sink further back onto him with each of his thrusts, and he groans all over again, something unintelligible in your ear about being wicked and unfair and other whining sounds that sound more like excuses to keep this dragging on.

you don't want the moment to end. he doesn't want the moment to end. but fate had its pretty ways of cruelty, and you were beginning to feel the telltale signs of impending bliss. you move to bite down on your lip again and find dean's finger instead, his mouth trailing a string of kisses down your shoulder blade. "nice try, honey."

with the growth of your relationship came a longer list of pet names. dove, baby, honey, my girl. each one set a fire ablaze in your belly. you stumble on a breathy moan, your eyes briefly squeezing shut before you remember they need to be open, your lives in your hands, held delicately between your palms.

"i'm─" the words are difficult. dean likes to talk for the both of you while he fucks the sentiments and the sentences out of you.

somehow, the grind of his hips and each shallow thrust becomes more erratic. "yeah," dean says in response, and it's no clarification to you, either, what he's trying to say.

silence again, except for the wind listening in, and the car's rumbling engine. you're racing against time and yourself, each gasping breath becoming throatier, whinier, dean's hot breath on your sweaty skin making you squirm, until─

you cry out, fingers tightening around the steering wheel, your legs clenching together and foot lifting off of the pedal at the intensity of it. dean's pace never slows even as your heart pounds, each thrust more slick-sounding from the orgasm. you almost lift a hand off of the steering wheel to stop him, to grasp his thigh and pause, but his cock twitches inside of you against the fluttering heartbeat of your sensitive walls, and there's no point to stopping him.

always in sync, now, sam once said in passing after you and dean had stopped dancing around each other. he didn't know how true it really was.

dean's cock stays buried in you, filling you up with the thick and hot release of his come. he presses his forehead to the curve of your neck, his foot slowly easing off of the gas finally. the car slows, but your hands don't leave the wheel, gripping it so tight that your knuckles have paled.

"m'gonna pull over," you mumble, easing the car to the side of the road, the right half of it treading spurts grass and the left still kicking dust and dirt up in baby's wake. "because i can't see."

dean's mouth curves against your skin; you feel it rather than see it, since his face has not left the spot between your shoulder blades yet. "you're a little adrenaline junkie in the makin', y'know that?" a light kiss to one of the ridges along your spine as he slumps back into the seat properly, tugging you down along with him in the process. "gettin' off on the speed and the danger."

he catches your elbow before you rear it back into his ribs. this part is a common occurrence of your little escapades. your tricks are becoming easy to pick up on. "you start wrestlin' me, honey, i'm gonna remind you how that backseat feels."

supposed to be a threat but you both know it's a promise, a given. as if you could ever forget how the leather of the backseat felt on your bare skin, anyways.

you twist your neck around once you've fully rolled to a stop along the side of the road, just enough to see the glaze in dean's glimmering green eyes. the moon hangs above his head, now, painting him in a wash of pale blue. he's always been beautiful, but there's something about the post-bliss of him that makes him devastating.

his smile becomes shier when he notices how you're studying him. you open your mouth to tell him everything you love about him, overwhelmed with it all at once, but he intercepts it with a warm, lingering kiss to your cheekbone.

your eyes close, face scrunching up as the single kiss becomes an onslaught of them over that side of your face. "dean!"

"mm?" he's not deterred, and again, you want to tell him every way that you love him. love how he loves, love how his dark eyelashes frame and brighten the pale of his eyes, love how he's always gentle even when he's trying to be rougher with you, love how he kisses and nips purple bruises into your neck in the shape of hearts.

maybe you would have said it, too. maybe you would have opened your heart and let himself make a home within it, right there on the side of a kansas dirt road, frogs chirping their own soundtrack to your unconventional love story.

the low fuel light dings onto the dash. the words vanish from your mouth, along with the courage you'd built up in your sated daze.

"how fast you think we can get to a gas station?" dean asks, the mischief evident in his voice, as he nips your earlobe between his teeth.

you sit up straighter in his lap, not even bothering to move yourself out of his lap, off of the half-hardness still buried inside of you. "let's find out."

the tires squeal as you peel out of your temporary parking spot, and you realize, then, that you don't really need to tell him how much you love him. not out loud. his arms slinking around your waist, cheek pressed to your skin and your dress low on your back, trusting you fully to drive his car, was love enough.

notes, the innocence is a virtue sequel i never planned on making but we all deserved. sorry if it's bad or incoherent it was actually supposed to be at least 1k shorter than this.

tags, @figthoughts @jasvtsc @titsout4jackles @deansbite @whisperingwillowxox @bombarda-babe @whyyouegg @bluemerakis @loverslantern @bitchykittenconnoisseur @jensenacklesantidote @keira-kaz2y5 @sthefferrete @depressionbarbie2023 @honeyryewhiskey @ultravi0lence14 @bleuatlas @minettacreekk @moonstruksandco @moodyquesadilla @severe-mental-illness @cevansbaby-dove @deansbeer @bluestrd @mccartneyqp @im-bili @chevroletdean @angelblqde @lyarr24 @psyches-reid @momoewn @globetrotter28 @starzify @florchids @ryngzmn @aileenunfiltered @beausling @frosttbitessam @amberlthomas

[thatfreshi]

Hi! Can I request a story about Tav having trouble fighting cause Astarion just fed on her and so he gets worried and protective ofc. Maybe they were ambushed at camp or something? Thank you so much for your work! I really like how you write Astarion

Tw - animal attack, lots of gore, themes of death

Recommended Song: Seek and Destroy - SZA

Against better judgment, you let Astarion feed on you almost every night. It's just one of those things, a sacrifice you make, an act of love. After decades of disrespect, scavenging for next to nothing, you thought it'd be nice for him to have something better than animals. While he always insists it isn't necessary, he never passes you up on the offer. A ritual before bed every night, like a lover's embrace, you've come to adore the feeling of his teeth.

This evening in particular, he took quite a bit. You don't mind, considering you go to bed almost right after. Light-headed, woozy, you're wrapped up in his arms.

"Thank you darling."

His embrace almost feels warm when you're this drained. You almost drift off, but he keeps you awake.

"Tav, you need to eat something first."

You groan, absolutely exhausted, trying to keep him in the bedroll.

"Nooo, I'll just do it tomorrow."

He smiles, moving your hair out of your eyes.

"That's not how it works my sweet. Now, let me get up so I can-"

Goblin war drums. The sound of the percussive rhythms bouncing off all the trees, they're not far off, and Astarion knows they're on the way. Karlach starts making her way to every tent, telling your companions to get their asses in gear.

"Tav, Astarion, let's go!"

"Shit."

Astarion whispers to himself. You're still not fully there, in and out of sleep.

"What's going on?"

Double vision, you see two of your vampire lover get up and start rummaging around for his daggers.

"Just- just stay here Tav. It's alright."

You try to rub at your eyes, desperately wanting to figure out what's going on. Before you can ask again, he's gone, and you hear more war drums outside. You quickly realize it's goblins. They must've found where you've been hiding, but your head is still spinning. Trying to get up and grab your blade, you almost fall back to the ground. Steadying yourself for a moment, you try your best to listen to what's going on outside. It sounds deadly, metal, screams. You hear Shadowheart casting left and right.

When you manage to stumble out of the tent, you're tackled by one of their dogs, or whatever wretched things they are. A scream rips out of your throat, trying to hold the thing off. It bites rabidly at your arm, leaving numerous gashes, until it's thrown off of you and stabbed to death, relentlessly.

"Gods damnit, I told you to stay in the tent Tav!"

You're too worried about your arm throbbing in pain to care about the validity of his argument. He's angry, and perhaps both of you aren't entirely certain why. It's your dominant arm, you can barely move it. Astarion goes to wrap your arm, but is quickly overpowered by the numbers again. They must've sent a large party after the lot of you. Halsin and Shadowheart are running out of magic, already drained. It's bad, but it'll end soon. With a couple more fights and a thunderwave from Gale, the rest of the goblins scurry off, knowing they're fighting a losing battle. Astarion doesn't even stop to loot their corpses, running to your side.

"You're a fucking idiot Tav, you know that?"

Gods, he could sound so mean when he wanted to. You know he says those things out of fear, but they still hurt. Despite how angry he is, he starts ripping pieces of cloth from his shirt, wrapping your arm, which is bleeding far too fast. Shadowheart and Halsin come over to supervise, both out of arcana until they get some rest.

"Yes, the two of you standing over my shoulder is quite helpful. Might as well cheer me on while you're at it!"

His movements are ragged, furious, only making your arm hurt more than it does. He's lost though, somewhere in his head, unable to hear the cries of pain as he's wrapping your arm. You're even more lost than before, your blood leaving rapidly.

"Aster, I-"

"Hush."

He then realizes you were going to tell him you were about to pass out, because you almost immediately fall over.

"Damnit!"

He holds you in his arms, your limb still not fully wrapped.

"If the two of you want to be helpful, get me some actual bandages instead of gawking at me!"

Sure, Astarion hates doing things that require hard work, but he knows how. How many times did he have to do something like this to himself, when no one was there to help wrap his wounds? Shadowheart quickly returns with all of the bandage wraps she has.

"We have to clean it or it'll get infected."

"Well, Shadowheart, I don't know how you think you're going to clean it if Tav bleeds to death."

The two healers decide it's best if he handles this himself. While he obsessively wraps your arm, the rest of the camp watches on, knowing he's too possessive to let them help. He doesn't trust them like he trusts you.

And I trusted you to stay put.

There's no way to give you more blood, not in a way that would work for you. For a moment, he simply thinks that he'll feed you some of his blood, and then he remembers. All he can do is hope you retained enough, that he didn't preemptively kill you by feeding on you tonight. Your pulse is still going, but it's slow, and you're paler than usual.

Astarion begins to think to himself, asking why he ever fell in love, why he ever let himself think twice about you. It's easy to play the game when you have nothing to lose. Second thoughts, always, he's always thinking for two people now. It's been his survival, for as long as he can remember, and now you're lodged in his brain.

"Damn you Tav, I can't do this. I can't lose you like this."

He begins to sob as he holds you, still unconscious. This beckons Gale to come over, often a voice of reason for the vampire.

"You've done all you can. Perhaps we should get Tav back inside? Away from the elements?"

Astarion is too distraught to argue, helping Gale carry you back into the tent.

"The second Shadowheart is awake, she'll be back to check on Tav."

"Yeah, if they don't die from blood loss in the middle of the night."

Gale simply sighs, knowing there's no point in fighting with him. He leaves your pale lover to wallow in his misery. Hours pass, you're still clinging on, and Astarion watches over you, panicking every time he can't see your chest rise and fall, constantly checking your pulse. You're cold, your heartbeat dangerously slow, and he keeps wracking his brain about what else he could possibly do. But there's nothing, only fate, only the gods. He sadly chuckles to himself at the thought of even trying to pray, knowing there's no higher power out there, at least one that cares about him.

"W... what are you... laughing at?"

You ask weakly, oblivious to the horrific stress he's been through. Astarion whips around quickly, wondering if perhaps he's imagining your voice. When he sees your eyes fluttering, lost somewhere between dreams and reality, he rushes to your side.

"Oh gods Tav... you- you really scared me there."

He tries to hold back tears, failing miserably. You try to speak again, but groan in pain as the feeling in your arm starts to come back.

"I know, I know it hurts. It's okay my darling, you'll be alright."

He begins fully sobbing, and you have no idea why, without being awake enough to comprehend the situation. Astarion always tries to be strong when you're weak, but watching you teeter on the line between life and death, it was simply too much to bear.

"You can't pull that shit, ever again my love, I'm so serious. I know I'm normally quite serious, but ever more so right now."

Then, a joyful, tiny laugh. Happiness. Happy that you're alive. The memories of the fight slowly start coming back, the beast that ripped up your arm, Astarion yelling.

"Aster...?"

"Yes my dear?"

You start to tear up a little, still a tad delirious.

"I'm sorry."

And then remembers as well, the things he said, the tone he spoke to you in.

"No, no my love I'm sorry. You weren't yourself, I was being entirely unreasonable. I just..."

He almost can't finish his sentence.

"I'm just happy you're okay. That's enough for me."

Your lover slowly and carefully lays down beside you, pulling you into him, being sure not to let your wounded arm drag on the ground. He holds you for a long time, until Shadowheart wakes at dawn, fully rested and ready to fix your wounds. Astarion vows silently that he'll never let it come that close, ever again.

[tachvintlogic]

Imagine aliens being introduced to ice skating.

"Welcome everyone to the 94323th annual Talent Show! We have contestants from species from all across the galaxy showing off their amazing talents! For our first contestant, we have Kalk, a human from Earth, the first human to be our contestant!"

"Yes, Zill, unfortunately Kalk could not show off their talent live on stage, and instead sent us a video. We did send a witness to verify and record their performance so it wasn't faked. Our witness did tell us before the show that we really needed to see this."

"We are starting the video. There's Kalk outside on a frozen lake. Their giving us a bow which is a customary human greeting, and—are we sure this isn't faked? There's no way they could move across ice like that."

"I think they can, hold up they just lifted a leg—ARE THOSE BLADES ON THEIR FEET????"

"That must explain how they're moving like that. Kalk is turning around very sharply and dancing on the ice, which is very impressive and very terrifying. Our witness do not mention if Kalk was injured, so I don't think they're going to fall in the water—okay how are they balancing on one leg like that for so long??"

"Humans have been known as daredevils to use their term, but I've never seen something like this and KALK JUMPED AND SPUN IN MIDAIR! To use a human turn of phase, what the fuck??"

"I completely agree, and Kalk seemed to be about to do another jump... and it was a perfect landing! I've never been so terrified that a contestant may hurt themselves, but this is amazing!"

"And Kalk started to spin on the ice, very very fast, and I'm worried their blades will crack the ice underneath them... and they're moved away from that spot thank goodness."

"And they're about to do another jump and... they land on one foot! That appears to be the end of the performance! Kalk gives a bow... and that's it! Well, what did you think of that Zill?"

"I thought it was terrifying but spectacular. Our other contestants have to really step it up if they want to surpass Kalk."

[sethsclearwater]

plssssss do a blurb where paul is super horny at emily's house and just can't keep his hands off of reader and she's like "wtf is wrong with you?" and he's just like "5 minutes please" and just throws her over his shoulder to quickly fuck in the bathroom and the rest of the pack is cracking up over how ridiculous he is

he is a CLOWN💀💀

...

"princess," paul murmured, coming to stand behind you and press soft kiss to your neck as he slid his arms around your waist.

you giggled, peeking over your shoulder to look at your imprinter, "'s wrong?" you asked softly, offering him a small smile.

"need you," he murmured, pushing his hips into yours to show you what he meant.

you giggled at the feeling, "you're ridiculous lahote," you rolled your eyes, turning your attention back to cutting up the zucchini for emily's new dish.

he let out a low whine, pressing more kisses up your neck, "5 minutes? please?" he asked softly, sounding a bit more desperate than he normally was considering how difficult you were being.

"paul," you giggled, dropping the knife so you could spin around in his arms and run your hands up his chest, "it's never just 5 minutes with you." you teased, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

"the bathroom is open if you need it," emily's teasing voice came from behind the two of you and you immediately burst into a fit of giggles, squealing when paul threw you over his shoulder to bring you into the bathroom, the rest of the pack hootin and hollering about how grateful they were to not have to hear about paul whining about needing you all day.

as soon as paul kicked the door closed behind him, he was setting you down on the bathroom counter and pulling your dress up, "fuck," he groaned when he saw how soaked your panties were as he pushed them to the side, his other hand making quick work of pulling his cock out of its restraints, "such a needy little thing," he murmured when he slide his fingers through your folds, eliciting a low whine from you.

"you're the one who got us into this mess-" you started but were quickly cut off when paul sheathed his length into your cunt, both of you letting out loud moans at the pleasurable sensation.

"what was that you were saying princess?" paul asked teasingly, letting out a breathy chuckle when he started thrusting in and out of your heat, quickly setting a fast pace.

you didn't have the willpower to argue with him anymore, instead just leaned back and allowed paul to slide his fingers in between your thighs to rub tight, fast circles against the sensitive nub between your thighs.

"fuck paul," you whined, eyes fluttering shut as you dropped your head back and allowed the pleasure to course through you.

paul let out another breathy laugh when he felt your walls flutter around his length, letting him know you were closer to cumming than he'd originally thought, "you gonna cum on my cock kitten? show me how good my cock feels in that pretty little pussy?" he teased, pinching your clit when he didn't receive a response from you immediately, eliciting a loud whine from you.

"yes, fuck-" you whined, curling your toes as you felt your orgasm rapidly approaching.

"go on then," paul encouraged, letting out a loud groan when you quickly came undone on him, forcing him to spill inside of you as well, quickly filling you up with his release.

his thrusts slowed as both of you came down from your highs, "holy fuck," paul groaned, pressing soft kisses to your neck as he brought you back down from your high.

"that was ridiculous," you murmured, giggling as he helped you off the counter.

you spun around in his arms so you could look at yourself in the mirror and work at fixing your hair before you went back outside. paul apparently had different ideas though and was quick to press his hand in between your shoulder blades, pushing you down until your chest was flush with the counter.

"oh my god," you rolled your eyes as he pulled your dress up, already pumping his cock to get ready for another round.

it really never is just five minutes with paul lahote.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

New Turn On » Jefferson/Mad Hatter

Week of October 20th-26th

Pairings: Husband!Jefferson x Wife!Reader

Summary: Jefferson finds out you have a new turn on when he has his scissors out.

Warnings: implied Smut (18+), language, dirty talk, scissor play, name calling (slut), pet names

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

Halloween divider made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

You stood in the doorway of Jefferson’s home office, watching him sharpening the blades of his scissors. You couldn’t help but bite your bottom lip as you watched him. You weren’t sure what it was about his scissors, but recently when you see him with his scissors in his hand, you get turned on. Your mind also went dirty when you seen his scissors. Jefferson didn’t even have to look up to know you were standing in the doorway. He could tell you were standing there. He also heard your breathing.

“Bunny…” Jefferson’s voice snapped you out of your dirty thoughts. “What’re you doing?” He asks, not looking up.

You didn’t say a word. You just continued to stare at his scissors. Jefferson finally looked up. He didn’t miss the way you were biting your bottom lip as you continued to stare at his scissors. He smirked to himself. He put the sharpening block in one of the drawers of his desk and closed it. His scissors were still in his hand.

“C’mere.” He says, beckoning you over to him.

You obediently walked over to your husband.

“Why were you staring at me?” He asks.

“So it’s a crime to look at my own husband.” You said.

You tried your best to not make it obvious that you were turned on by his scissors. Jefferson studied you. He can always read you like an open book.

“Hmm…” Jefferson hums to himself.

He walked around you as he continued to study you. You stood like a statue as he walked around you. Your eyes flickered back down at his scissors, watching him spinning them on his finger. Jefferson followed your gaze to his scissors. That’s when it clicked for him.

“Do these turn you on, honey?” Jefferson asks.

“Yes!” You said too fast.

Jefferson chuckled lowly. He stopped in front of you. He lifted the scissors up to the neckline of your blouse. You could feel the coolness of the metal through your blouse. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“Looks like my wife has a new turn on I didn’t know about.” He says.

All you did was nod your head, confirming it.

“I knew you were a little slut in the bedroom, but you’re more of a slut now, aren’t you, bunny?” He says.

“I’m your little slut.” You say.

Jefferson lightly tapped the scissors against your chest. You moaned at the feeling. He smirked to himself.

“How would you feel if I were to cut your blouse off with these scissors?” Jefferson asks curiously.

“I would love that.” You admitted. “I want you to cut my clothes off of me with those scissors, Jefferson.” You say, almost moaning.

Jefferson chuckles to himself.

“Looks like we’re going to have some fun with these scissors tonight, bunny.” He smirks, lightly tracing the sharp tip of the scissors along the neckline of your blouse. “Don’t worry, darling, I won’t hurt you with them in any way.” He says softly.

You practically moaned when he said that. That night, Jefferson made one of your fantasies come true.

-Bucky’s Doll

[the-slow]

WOE, TERROR PLAYLISTS BE UPON YE

9 playlists, (Tozer, Hickey, Little, Jopson, Irving, Hartnell, Blanky, Bridgens/Peglar, Crozier) 8 songs each. Made in both a davechella "this is what I think they would listen to in the modern day" sort of way, as well as a "the songs are about the character" way. Playlists under the cut. Enjoy!

🦞 Best Shot Here | Tozer*

Built By Nations - Greta Van Fleet

Houses Of The Holy - Led Zeppelin

The Switch and the Spur - The Raconteurs

Iron - Woodkid

Heartbroken, in Disrepair - Dan Auerbach

I Promise - Radiohead

The Curse of the Blackened Eye - Orville Peck

Rounder - Watchhouse

🔪 Morals/Practicals | Hickey

Shove It (feat. Spank Rock) - Santigold

Sinister Kid - The Black Keys

Easy Way Out - Gotye

Judas - Cage The Elephant

Circuit Breaker - Röyksopp

The Future - Mystery Skulls

Big City Life - Kidkanevil

Krazy World - King Geedorah

🥇 Every Gold Thing | Little

Human Sadness - The Voidz

At The Door - The Strokes

You Can Let Go - Half Moon Run

Cowgirl - Ora Cogan

I Am The Dog - Sir Chloe

Romance - Fontaines D.C.

Don't Run Into The Dark So Quick - Jon Bap

The Place Where He Inserted The Blade - Black Country

🦅 Smaller Hawks | Jopson

Don't Call It Love - Zero 7

Tiny Garden - Jamila woods

Private Road - Bent

You Have My Heart - Ursina

If You Let Me - Alina Baraz

Compromised - Tim Atlas

The King - Sarah Kinsley

Leash - Sir Chloe

✝️ Reborn Clean | Irving

Punish - Ethel Cain

De Selby (Part 1) - Hozier

The Lament of Eustace Scrubb - The Oh Hellos

All the Trees of the Field Will Clap Their Hands - Sufjan Stevens

St Jude - Florence + The Machine

Picture You - Chappell Roan

Roses Are Falling - Orville Peck

Cigarettes And Chocolate Milk - Rufus Wainwright

🧊 Spared To Meet | Hartnell

When You Were Young - The Killers

Yellow - Coldplay

Float On - Modest Mouse

Island In The Sun - Weezer

Lavender - Ray LaMontagne

Plum - Widowspeak

Satellite - Guster

Ends of the Earth - Lord Huron

🐻‍❄️ Unnatural With Thoughts | Blanky

Sacred Love - Sting

Life In The Fast Lane - Eagles

Love Me Two Times - The Doors

Reelin' In The Years - Steely Dan

Theresa Maria - Fine Crowd

Moondance - Van Morrison

Free - Seal

Strangers In The Night - Frank Sinatra

📚 No More Herodotus | Bridgens/Peglar

I Melt with You - Modern English

Holland, 1945 - Neutral Milk Hotel

Love My Way - The Psychedelic Furs

I Will Follow You into the Dark - Death Cab for Cutie

Dreams - The Cranberries

My Love Mine all Mine - Mitski

Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God) - Kate Bush

The Book of Love - The Magnetic Fields

⚓Travel Well | Crozier

Untitled 2 - The Green Kingdom ⚓

Fortress Around Your Heart - Sting 🐻‍❄️

You Can Bring Me Flowers - Ray LaMontagne 🧊

There, There - Radiohead 🦞

Would That I - Hozier ✝️

Sunday - The Cranberries 📚

Spinning - Zero 7 🦅

End of Nowhere - Ora Cogan 🥇

*PLUS - 8 songs was simply not enough for Solomon "my beautiful husband" Tozer, so here's an extended playlist:

[fisheito]

Whenever you get the chance, I'd love to hear your thoughts on Yakumo so far in this event! He so shmoopy. So worble

contemplative pout at the screen🦀💭

well, this can be easily accommodated... yes, shouldn't take too long. i'll put it behind the Read More in case ppl haven't caught up on the event:

i thought we were going to have a lovely time with blade oli kuya. no yakumo to plague my senses. ahhh, a winter of joy and wonder. the snake's too busy brumating, so i won't need to worry about--- WHAT IS HE DOING HERE (yes, the angry brow that graced the Helm of my face when he popped up. insidious, that he should appear , even when it's not his featured event. BGONE)

but he's with garu and i can't really be mad at garu so i unclench my brow eventually.

then they misunderstand what "everybody" meant and then i started panicking because i was still holding onto my idea of an untouched bladeolikuya story buthtennt.....

everybody.... everybody means... EVERYBOdy..... ohoohoohohohoo... the whole gang??!? don't mDInd if I dOOO

god morv you really are not worried. that's ok. brainless wonderment will get us the polyclan we deserve

then there's the ONE MOMENT where dante and yakumo stand next to each other without yakumo shrinking away in fear (because he's too busy having a sob over Merry's story) and i felt so incredibly stupid in my rarepairinating like. ah. i understand now. when people got so excited over characters just STANDING next to each other. THEY'RE NOT EVEN INTERACTING. THEYRE JUST NEXT TO EACH OTHER, AND THERE IS NO MEANING TO IT.

AND YET.................... [back on my yakudan nonsense. just ignore it]

and OOOOOOHHHHHH PART 13 BELOVED PART 13 BUMPER BOAT FIASCO

amazing, wonderful, i eat my words from before about not wanting everyone at the fair, no notes, carry on.

i was SO happy when i saw yakumo was paired with blade because that means he's in for a ROUGH RIDE AHAHAHAHAHAHAA

(smooshes them together) bladeyaku. another pair i want to see together more often. suffering circumstances together (well, mosztly yaku suffering. blade is pretty adept at having a good time whereverwhenever)/.

HOOOO boy . HELPLESS in that boat USELESS passenger princess or rather, passenger princess held hostage...? i wonder if he gets motion sickness. i wonder what's keeping him inside the boat. are there seatbelts? (thinks back to Blasting Off Again✨) huh/. i guess not. HAH!

ugh i loved everyone in their silly pairs (trio, in rei's case)

tho now i'm wondering how exactly blade and yakumo were sent flying. my understanding of physics is 😬, so i don't know the exact scenario that would result in the most bladeyaku airtime.

blade invited karu to play... so he knew he was approaching

if karu and blade headed toward each other at similar speeds, they would probably bounce back at similar rates so wouldn't karukuya also be flying away with bladeyaku?

but whAT if, after blade invites karu over and karu starts going FULL SPEED toward them but blade suddenly... stops. just, all motion on the boat ceases. somehow. not even a ripple. he hums patiently. and yakumo's just shaking out of his slippers like ummmmmmmm mr blade theyre coming closer why arent we----

THEN BAM!!!!!!!! TRANSFER OF FORCE!!!!!!! blade yaku fly into the sky!?!?! ... even then,, i'm wondering how they got the vertical in there

if karu rammed em at MegaSpeed, wouldn't they just float backward, or spin around really fast while still on the surface of the water? or was karu's speed SO destructive that as soon as the impact happened the tidal wave following him caught up, and lifted bladeyaku into the air =airborne droidsnake.

RIDICULOUS. i guess i'll never know for sure. it's tough to argue with results, though.

i will now take a moment to thank @fallencelsetial for sending me this recording:

very soothing. exactly what i needed. thank u

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Can I please request Sara, Lumine, and Noelle watching their S/O run through a hoard ot monsters(with a noticeable straight tunnel through a mountain behind them) to give them the lunch they packed for the girl, tears in their eyes at the thought of them going hungry?

(Genshin Impact) Sara, Lumine, and Noelle's S/O bringing them a packed lunch

Me omw to get stabbed by 400 treasure hoarders just to bring Sara a bowl of rice:

Sara hears rapid footsteps approaching her, which she responds by readying her bow, about to let loose an arrow to whatever dumb monster thought they could ambush her-

(S/O) "SARA!"

Sara falters when she realizes its S/O's footsteps they heard.

Many of the soldiers under her command raise their weapons on instinct, but quickly lowering it once they see who it is.

(Soldier) "Halt! What business do you have with the general?"

(S/O) "S-Sorry, I forgot to give her food for the road!"

Many of the soldiers looked at each other in confusion, and Sara could not resist doing the same.

They had departed the city nearly an hour ago.

In fact, they had taken a path through a mountain that was previously crawling with monsters not a moment ago before their arrival.

There were still some monsters crawling around. How the hell did they get here?

Sara awkwardly clears her throat, trying to not blush in front of her own men as she accepts the bento box, filled with cutely shaped rice balls in the form of small animals.

(Sara) "T-Thank you, S/O. This was not needed, but it is appreciated nevertheless."

Now she was absolutely failing to contain the blush as they smiled, wiping away a singular tear.

(S/O) "Thank goodness I managed to catch you in time! Stay safe, Sara. Everyone else too!"

(Soldier) "Thanks...?"

(Sara) "Wait, there's monsters crawling around back there! You can't just-"

S/O dashed back through the tunnel, every monster just seemingly ignoring them on the way back, despite the fact Sara and the other soldiers were ready to jump back in at a moment's notice.

They just...ignored them.

(Sara) "...We continue our march. And no one will utter a word about this incident. Understood?"

The soldiers immediately straightened their backs.

(Soldiers) "Yes, general!"

Lumine's hand readies itself to knock back the attacker with Anemo before hearing a familiar voice.

(S/O) "Lumine, wait!"

(Paimon) "The heck, S/O!?"

Lumine and Paimon turn around and find S/O nearly out of breath, holding a bag.

(S/O) "I forgot to give you this before you left!"

(Lumine) "...Oh, our lunch! Thanks S/O-...Wait a dang second, how the heck did you pass by the...?-"

The two looked at the tunnel behind them.

Yup, still absolutely crawling in slimes. Did they just dodge all that?

(S/O) "I thought you'd be hungry out there and I couldn't bear the thought!"

Lumine noticed they wiped away a tear, which softened her heart a little.

(Lumine) "Hah, you're a sweetheart, you know that?"

(Paimon) "And also crazy! We were dogpiled in there, don't tell Paimon you were following us the entire time!"

(S/O) "Alright, I'll see you at home!"

(Lumine) "WAIT!-"

S/O gracefully dodged every slime that leapt at them without even batting an eye, taking a light jog back to their home, leaving the two speechless.

(Lumine) "...I think we need to take dodging lessons from them."

(Noelle) "An attacker?"

Noelle's greatsword materializes into her hands and just as she's about to spin around and split them in half-

(S/O) "Noelle, you forgot your lunch!"

Noelle's eyes widen in surprise and she stops herself mid swing, tumbling over and catching herself by stabbing the blade suddenly into the ground.

(Noelle) "S/O?! How in the world did you get here?!"

Noelle was handed a cutely wrapped box in green cloth by a smiling S/O.

(S/O) "I just ran and caught up! You're really fast, you know that?"

Noelle leaned to her left, seeing the tunnel she had exited.

There were Ruin Guard in there! The only reason Noelle got through unscathed was because she was built different her vision protected her!

Why and how did S/O get through that without getting hurt?!

(Noelle) "Dear, thank you for giving me this, but-"

(S/O) "I don't think I could've gone through the rest of the day if I knew you were gonna be starving."

They wiped away a tear before nodding in content.

(S/O) "I'll see you back at home, dinner will be ready by then!"

S/O waved goodbye cheerfully and ran straight back.

Noelle's heart dropped and she dashed after them.

(Noelle) "Goodness me, S/O! PLEASE WAIT!"

[preciouslandmermaid]

🕸🕷 my heart is a hornet's nest 🕸🕷

Pairing: Insomniac Peter Parker/Spider-Man x Fem!Reader (code name: “Huntress” + she is Kraven’s daughter)

Rating: T

Summary:  It's been thirteen months since Kraven was killed by Venom. Despite everything, you're still in the city and helping a nerd - named Peter - in his garage try and save the world. It's hard to ascertain where your old life as a hunter ends and your new life begins. Somedays you can't even tell if you're moving forward or not. But, the pull you feel towards Peter is magnetic. And it's bound to end in catastrophe if you pursue him.

Even as part-time Spider-Man, Peter knows his relationships with others puts them at risk. He doesn’t want to throw you back into the carnage, into the fray, to the wolves you claim to be so comfortable around. He can't risk it. He can't risk you. And the long nights in his garage are really, really starting to wear at him.

Prompt: "Are you afraid of me?" / "Do I look afraid?"

tags: enemies to Lovers/enemies to friends to lovers, no use of y/n, secret identity, unresolved romantic tension, first kiss, light angst, slow burn, mutual pining !!

🕷🕷 ( read on ao3 ) 🕷🕷

Kraven snaps your name like a whip.

“You’ll oversee this one, huntress.” he says without looking away from the screen.

A mixture of pride and trepidation curdles beneath your skin. Kraven is trusting you, but he trusts plenty of his hunters. You lick your lips. The transfer of Martin Li. You promise Kraven that you’ll put the team together and leave before the hour.

No one questions Kraven’s decision. You don’t get special treatment purely because you’re his blood. In fact, if you look closely (which you won’t), you’d say that Kraven treats you worse than his other hunters. He expects—he demands – more of you.

There will be a target on your back when Kraven completes his hunt and finds a worthy enough predator to kill him. But that’s nothing new. You’ve had a target on your back since you were young enough to understand the way of the world; predator and prey, hunter and hunted, kill or be killed.

You lift your arm-- THUNK!—the throwing knife hits its bullseye.

“Huntress,” a hunter named Erik approached you, “you want five VTOLs?”

THUNK! This one is a little off-center and you blame Erik for distracting you. You exhale, balancing your weight, and lining up your shot. Erik is bold. Kraven named you the leader of Li’s abduction. He shouldn’t be asking questions. Your eyes narrow.

You pivot on your heel, fast as a viper’s strike, and flashing silver spins through the air. It’s beautiful.

Erik makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat.

Your throwing knife wobbles from where its pinned Erik’s hood to the wall. His eyes flick to the blade. He’s lucky you didn’t miss. Otherwise the blade would’ve sank into his throat or he would lack an ear for the mission ahead.

“That’s what I said,” you yank the knife from the wood, freeing him, “wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Erik says, voice tight and clipped, and his eyes darken. You know he is loyal to Kraven, not you. If he managed to kill you – Kraven would be disappointed, but he wouldn’t mourn you. Nature is cruel and so is your father. You sheath your throwing knives while keeping one eye on the hunter.

Erik hasn’t left which means he could be planning his next move. You tense and wait for the inevitable blow. Come on, you think, try it. You’d be happy to fight off your frazzled, nervous energy. You should probably conserve your strength in case things with Martin Li go bad.

Erik nods, “huntress,” and leaves.

You roll your shoulders and return to the weapons cache. I’ll bring Martin Li to Kraven and he’ll have his wonderful fight. He’ll achieve his dream.

Nothing will go wrong. Nothing could. You’ve been planning this for months.

******

Peter wobbles to his feet, his head ringing. Whoever these guys are—they’re serious. The tech they’re using is insane. Invisible drones. Laser swords. What’s next? A few giant mecha-robots intent on crushing Harlem? He shouldn’t think about it – he doesn’t want to jinx it.

He stares into the face of the capable, dangerous stranger with smoke burning his nostrils and scalding his throat.

Dark soot clings to your clothes, your expression venomous and focused, furrowed and tight. The light frames you, bouncing off the east river in sparks, and refracting over the small throwing knives clutched between your knuckles. She’s fast, like really fast. Fast enough that he’s concerned you have a spider-sense of your own. Who the hell are these guys? Miles kicks a drone in mid-air and metal-on-metal crunches together like a compacted soda can.

Peter jumps before the blade can slice through him. It whistles through the air, hits and – literally bounces! -- off a metal pole. His lenses widen. He twists his body. His nerves ignite with impending danger, but he’s in the already dodging the first blade.

He’s Spider-Man.

He can’t stop physics.

Your second blade cuts through the air and burns when it cuts his shoulder. He lands on his feet, a sharp inhale drawn through his teeth, and resists the urge to check the injury. She can’t have that many knives on her!

Your lips quirk, “are you afraid of me?”

“Do I look afraid?”

“Hard to say,” you make a gesture around your face, “with the mask and all.”

“Where’s yours?” he propels through the air with his webs slung behind him, “I thought--” you deflect his punch, “most bad guys—” you stumble backward when he kicks your chest, but recover quickly, “want to keep their identities a secret.”

“I have no shame in who I am,” your leg swings over his head.

“So uhhh...who are you?” he quips. His palms land flat on the cold, metal surface and his spine curves, his body moving like a question mark, and avoiding the onslaught of your assault.

“Serious question!” he says a little louder this time while your silver knife dances through the light as it carves his webs into flimsy pieces.

A burst of green flares flash against the gray smoke. His heart flips. The raft jolts to the side. They’re going to drag the ship underwater! The heavy-duty spears punch through the metal as if it was made of tissue paper.

“We gotta get this ship free!”

Peter spares a final glance over his shoulder and you leap from the other side. Are you landing on another boat? A life raft? Are you going to swim away? He has no clue. He can’t spare any further brain cells on it though. He slides down the tilted raft toward the giant spears that function like fish-hooks into the industrial, military transport raft.

***

It’s been approximately thirteen months since Kraven met his end.

You’ve found that keeping count provides some strange, twisted comfort. You wake up, check your calendar, and strike another tally mark into the wall. It feels good to carve the line into the sheet-rock, little flecks of white catching on your thumb and falling like cremated remains onto the hardwood floor and clinging to your socks.

Sometimes you run into old hunters, vying for territory, and hoping to claim some scraps that Kraven left behind. Many, however, fled to Kraven’s homeland to play out the tragedy of a power vacuum and continue Kraven’s legacy.

None of them have impressed you. Not the ones that have sought you out, hoping to kill Kraven’s kin, and earn glory. And definitely not the ones who you’ve run into accidentally. Those are the worst. They’re cowards. They’re mice. You stumble upon them, trying to eat the crumbs off Kraven’s table, and your retribution is swift and bloody and a pain in the ass to clean up.

You wonder what Peter Parker would say if he knew. You pull your sweater over your head. Peter, the nerd running a research foundation out of his garage, happens to be your only...well, friend is the wrong word...but he’s your only something in this city.

You aren’t supposed to have ‘somethings’. Attachments, as Kraven would call them. Attachments made you weak. You thought it was hypocritical for your father preach this advice when he had a wife and multiple children. Not anymore though, you finish lacing up your boots, everyone’s dead now except for me.

The cassette clicks with a satisfying ‘CLUNK’ into the player and you slide your headphones over your ears. The player was a gift from Peter. No. Gift is the wrong word. It’s on a loan.

“What’s this?” You cradled the cassette player, “it looks ancient.” You twisted the sharp-grooved circles. They remind you of strange teeth. You click the play and pause button. It’s clunky. It’s right-angles and lackluster chrome and the buttons make noise.

It’s the antithesis of the technology you grew up with around Kraven.

You love it.

Peter rolls his chair over to you, “it’s not ancient. Maybe vintage. God, do we call it vintage?” he sounds so baffled that you almost smile, “you know, record players and vinyl are making a big comeback so it’s only a matter of time before Walkman do too.”

He doesn’t wait for you to respond, “do you want it?”

“Huh?”

“I’m not using it obviously.” He smiles, “I think I have a few cassettes lying around and there’s no shortage of music shops in Brooklyn.”

Your fingers tighten around the device. The wild part of you, the part that Kraven nurtured through violence and toxic loyalty, wants to throw the device on the ground. See how sturdy it is and compare it to the tactical, military-grade equipment you grew up with. How many pieces will it break into? A dozen?

You gaze into Peter’s earnest face. His eyes are warm, light mahogany. There are soft lines that kiss the corners of his eyes. You think when he is old, he will have many wrinkles around his eyes, and it takes a second longer than normal for your lungs to refill.

“I’ll borrow it,” you say, unable to accept his random kindness, “and return it before our work is done.”

“Great!” Peter coughs, rubbing the back of his neck, “I mean, that sounds good.”

The cassette clicks, whirring warm in your palm, and switching the song. The subway rushes past in a gust of tepid, moist air that smells both stale and greasy. You scan the crowd. The citizens range from individuals wearing jean jackets with sewn patches, to baggy street wear, to plastic bags on shoes, to gym athletics and smart watches.

Someone gets on the train wearing a camouflage parka. Your spine stiffens. Your fingers twitch to the weapons hidden inside your coat. Do I know your face? You shift your body and peer at the subway windows, allowing the ghostly transparent reflection to reveal the stranger’s face.

As you wait for the right angle, the right lighting, you consider your options. Tail them out of the train—could be a trap, but their numbers are never that high. Get close, press the blade to the artery in their thigh, let them see your face before you sink the blade in and leave on the next stop. The timing would be tricky, but not impossible. Not for you. Bail on Pete and spend the next several days tracking the stranger until you’ve found and confirmed their hideout. An ambush. Quick and silent.

The stranger coughs into their sleeve and your fingers fall away from your knife.

You’re glad Pete isn’t here. You’ve never traveled together and you likely never will. It’s safer that way. It keeps him out of your personal life.

“That’s the problem with attachments,” you mumble to yourself, “you start wondering what they might say if they knew you.”

*****

Pete rubs his eyes with his fists, “do you hear birds or is that just in my head?”

You don’t lift your head from the microscope, “it’s birds.”

He yawns. There have been plenty of late nights in his garage shared with you, but this one feels different.

Maybe it’s because of the mercurial light flickering along the planes of your face.

Maybe it’s the notes by your hands, the edges of your fingers smeared black from ink.

Maybe it’s the unplugged headphone wire dangling from your throat and brushing ever-so-often against your exposed collarbones.

Shit. He blinks, looking away. He can’t get mixed up. He’s grateful to you. You donated the notes first, but then pieces of Kraven’s equipment, and then...you came around more and more. You wanted to see what he was doing, wanted to see his progress, or ‘see how helpful your notes are.’ He likes it. He likes having you around.

But, even as part-time Spider-Man, Peter knows his relationships with others puts them at risk. He doesn’t want to risk you too. And it’s not because you can’t fight. To him, you’re finding your place outside of Kraven’s shadow and he doesn’t want to mess that up. He doesn’t want to throw you back into the carnage, into the fray, to the wolves you claim to be so comfortable around.

The sequences before him blur into gibberish. He peeks up through his hair back to you.

Your name is the first word out of his mouth, followed shortly by “you’re bleeding!”

“I tried to catch the sample,” your voice is laced with frustration, “I can’t believe I dropped it.”

“It’s fine,” he opens the first-aid kit that’s stowed beneath the desk, “let me see.”

***

You blink at Peter. Earnest, helpful, kind Peter. You cradle your hand to your chest. It stings, but you’ve faced hornets stronger than this. The tiny shards of glass bounce colorful reflections from the holiday lights strung around Peter’s garage. The wild voice tells you to dig the shards out with your nails.

The blood is starting to stain the hem of your sweater.

Peter doesn’t blink. He doesn’t flinch away. His offered hand holding the gauze doesn’t shake.

You swallow. Why isn’t he shying away from the woman made of shrapnel? Doesn’t he know you’re lethal?

“What?” his eyebrows lift, “are you afraid of me? Or is it medical care in general?” soft humor folds into his brown eyes, “I promise my co-pays are reasonable.”

His words shatter the stiffness of your muscles.

You say, “do I look afraid?” you extend your bloody hand to him.

His fingers curl lightly and gently around your wrist. He flushes the wounds with water before plucking the glass out with a pair of tweezers. His brow furrows in concentration. Your neck prickles and a tingling sensation travels down your spine.

You’ve seen his furrowed brow a hundred times. However, you’ve never experienced it as the subject. Peter holds an antiseptic wipe between his long fingers. His touch is unbearably gentle and you wish you had something to compare it to.

“This might hurt a bit,” the soft, low rumble of his voice is strangely intimate.

The words fall out of your mouth, “I’m used to it.”

“Are we going to unpack that?” He slides the wipe across your angry, throbbing skin.

“No,” your lips twitch, “unless you have a psychology degree I’m unaware of.”

You’re fascinated by the way his fingers move along yours, light and precise, carefully wiping away the blood and wrapping your hand in gauze.

He says, “maybe it’s time for a career change.”

You smile. “What career?”

Peter chuckles, “okay, I walked into that one.”

His eyes lift to yours and his jaw slackens, like he’s finally caught the creature stalking him in the woods, and his fingers twitch on your wrist. The charged moment hangs undisturbed in the air, sending signals through the ether and rearranging the flow of blood in your veins.

His cheeks flush rosy and sweet. The pink hue reminds you of that pivotal morning a few months ago when Spider-Man gave you a sunrise and Pete’s number and a hope for a different future. Your fingers curl into his. And the carefully wrapped gauze prevents you from feeling the warmth of his palm. The wild voice tells you to rip the bandages off and run home. Your knees bump into his.

There’s always so little distance between you.

It’s a small garage, after all.

You tilt forward and hear Pete’s sharp inhale. There isn’t a moment of hesitation. Not for you. You know when to strike, when to move, and when to hide. It’s been drilled into you since birth. Hesitation is a lack of courage, in confidence, and you’ve never lacked either of those.

Peter’s mouth collides with yours.

Your ever-present and paranoid guard slips and you close your eyes to savor it—savor him.

The pliant softness of his lips melds into yours and your exhale shudders between your lips. His hand slides from your throat and holds your cheek, his thumb pressed into your cheekbone, and your hip bumps into the side of his workbench when you stand.

Peter remains on the stool, his neck arched, and his lithe legs part for you to enter the space between them. The thrill illuminates your chest like a red flare against a black sky. His lips play against yours, eager and a little clumsy, and you clutch the front of his wrinkled cotton shirt.

He mumbles your name.

“Shh,” you nose skims along his, recapturing his lips, because you think words might ruin it. The hanging lights flash their merry little dance. There’s fragments of glass under your boots. Ink stains your fingers, blood stains your sweater, and Peter’s tongue stains your lips.

You’ve experienced blood lust. You’ve felt it pounding through your ears and sharpening your focus into razor-thin virulence. You’re familiar with the excitement of a good hunt, a worthy opponent, a well-matched fight. Spider-Man, you think, I’ve felt this with him. But those were mixed with violence, and blood, and bruises.

This – this moment with Peter – is wholly different. Your heart pumps the same blood, pushing it through arteries and valves, but your hands move to caress, to clutch, and stroke through the fine strands of his hair. Your lungs tremble, not in pain, but in elation. The passion rolls through you in waves of syrup and brushes your skin like branches of fir.

Peter’s phone buzzes – loud and incessant – and he groans before tearing his mouth from yours. His cheeks are ruddy, eyes bright, and his chest heaves with hungry gulps of air. You’re glad to know you aren’t the only one affected by the strong pull of – whatever this is – between you.

“Sorry, I’ve gotta--” he lifts the phone from the table, “hello?”

You watch Peter’s face while he talks on the phone. He’s too expressive. He’d make a terrible hunter. And probably a bad poker player, too. You want to kiss him again just for the hell of it. And feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath your palms, feel his breath mingling with yours, his tongue and the blunt force of his teeth.

“I have to go out, um, do you want to come with?” he tilts his chin toward the garage door, “we could – uh – get something to eat along the way?”

You hands twitch at your sides. Your coat, draped on the desk chair, is laden with hidden pockets for knives and darts and small vials of poison. An arsenal for protection, an arsenal for vengeance, the truth of your soul. A soul that Peter cannot – should not – bear witness to.

“Can’t.”

His expression deflates, but he recovers with an easy-going smile.

He shakes his head, “that’s cool,” and says, “another time then.”

You make a noncommittal sound.

***

You finish setting up the tripwire at your apartment door and wipe your palms on your sweatpants. The windowpanes glisten with raindrops, painting the empty corners dark blue, and blurring the myriad of ever-changing traffic lights.

You scratch beneath your ear, upsetting your headphones, and flop onto the couch. The cassette whirs like a little hamster running through its wheel as the song fills your head and blocks out the honking below. You’ve grown to like the city of noise, the city that never sleeps. It’s a concrete jungle. A unique hunting ground.

Tap, tap, tap --

You jerk upright and your head whirls to the noise. Spider-Man perches on the ledge of your window, his red and blue suit shiny and dripping. You cautiously close the distance and begin to disarm the trap before unlatching it. It creaks noisily as it slides open and old paint chips cling to the windowsill.

The cool wet air is tinged with the scent of exhaust fumes.

“Weird time to visit,” you say.

“I was in the neighborhood.” He slips through the window like a salmon and lands soundlessly on the hardwood floor.

You’re going to have to move. You don’t want Spider-Man keeping tabs on you.

“But this isn’t a social call,” he continues, “I need your help with something.”

You lift one eyebrow, “I’m not a mercenary,” then you add, “and even if I was, I doubt you could afford me.”

Spider-Man laughs. “It’s nothing like that!”

You fold your arms across your chest. Spider-Man gives you the vague details of a criminal that he’s had trouble tracking down, could use your expertise, and fighting skills, and so and so forth. It’s a good pitch, you’ll give him partial credit for effort, but you’re not interested in becoming a vigilante – or a hero.

“So, what do you say? We’ve teamed up before.”

Against the symbiote. But, your motivations were selfish. You weren’t helping Spider-Man or trying to save the city. You were weakening Venom.

“No thanks.”

“What?” His lenses widen, “seriously? After my whole speech and everything?”

“Try a power point next time.” You shrug, “I’m retired. No more fighting for me.”

Spider-Man glances around your apartment and there’s evidence of your hypocrisy across every surface. A case of black, tactical arrowheads sits on your coffee table. There’s several target posters hanging on the wall across from your couch with pockmarks embedded into the paper. There’s unfinished gadgets and an open toolbox on the floor near the kitchen where you like to eat breakfast and tinker.

“You’re a bad liar,” there’s a smile in his voice, “just this once, huntress, that’s all. For old times sake.”

You muster the energy to glare at him, but it lacks true heat. “You mean the old times when I was actively trying to kill you?”

Spider-Man shrugs languidly, “we all have bad days.”

That wildness, the hunter that lives inside you, under your skin and in the marrow of your bones is grinding its teeth and trashing into your ribs. It’s hard to determine where you begin and the hunter ends or if they’re destined to forever be intertwined.

You’re a wildcat, unable to be truly domesticated and all your attempts have been in vain.

But, then you remember the warmth of Peter’s lips, his gentle hands, and genuine laughter. You tell yourself, there is room for softness inside of me, for even tigers can purr.

You tell Spider-Man to wait while you get dressed.

“One time,” you hold up a finger, “that’s it.”

“One time.” he agrees with a nod.

Together, you rush into the monotone rain-soaked evening for your first hunt since Kraven’s death.

[orionlancasterr]

Oliver Cousland - Grey Warden - Reaver

Oliver had visited Antiva once as a child. He’d not liked the scorching hot sun and had spent most of the summer splayed out on the tile floor of the apartment complaining about it. If his parents knew he’d be dancing in it’s capitol city fifteen years later, with an Antivan Crow no less, they’d be turning in their graves but Zevran made the sun bearable. The music and the wine helped.

“What are you thinking about, Amor?” Zevran asked, brushing the back of his hand against Ollies’ cheek.

It was a simple gesture that made his eyes flutter. He’d never been so sweet- so syrupy slow. In the far back of his mind he knew he had to be somewhere. That there was something urgent happening elsewhere but in the circle of his lovers arms, in the bright Antivan sun he could not remember what it was.

“I think I forgot to do something,” He murmured.

Zevran only smiled. He spun them around the deck and Oliver let him.

“The best part about ending a war,” Zev pulled Oliver close to his face, “Is that there is nothing to worry about after the armor is put away.”

He kissed him and the anxiety slipped away. They stayed like that for a long while, half asleep and swaying. Draped across each other like they’d been here a hundred times before.

Yet, there was that nagging feeling again, tugging at his mind. Images of a stone corridor playing just past where he could grasp. He untangled himself from Zevran’s limbs. The weight of the afternoon weighing heavy on his shoulders as he made his way back into the apartment. Footsteps followed. Something was very wrong, the world spun with each step and everything was fuzzy at the edges.

“Makers breath, I feel like shit.” He muttered and reached for the pitcher of water on the end table.

“Perhaps you just need to rest,” Zevran responded.

Oliver filled his hands with water and drank, hoping the coolness would steady him. It did not. Fingers worked circles into his shoulders and he scrubbed his face with wet hands. Nausea rippled through his body. The music off the end of the balcony was getting annoying and the sun made the air miserable and that horrible, nagging thought of forgetting something was drowning out everything that had been good. He dug his fingers into his eyes until white splotches erupted in his vision.

“I need to focus!” He half shouted.

“You need to calm down.” Zevran responded, holding Olivers chin in his hand.

He brushed his thumb along his bottom lip, an easy smile slipping back onto his face. “It’s been a long day, yes? Let’s go lay down.”

“This makes a lot of sense, actually,” A familiar voice sounded behind him.

He turned from Zevran’s touch to find Valen and an unknown mage standing in the center of the room. The two of them felt sharper than the rest of the room. Valen was looking around, taking in the lived in apartment they stood in as if he’d never been there before but Oliver was sure they’d invited their friends since buying it.

“I almost feel bad about this one,” The mage said, eyes fixated on them.

“You don’t have to feel bad, you could stay here with us.” Zevran said.

The nausea was pounding again. Valen was frowning, his blades loose in his hands. He knew that stance. It only worked because he was fast as hell. That relaxed posture and the always shifting eyes.

“I don’t think we can. Ollie,” he was talking over the other elves shoulder to him “who killed the archdemon, certainly you’d remember that right?”

“Why does that matter?” Zevran asked.

“We’re in the fade. You’re kissing a spirit, none of this is real.” This was the unknown mage.

Oliver stared at them. A slight, baby faced elf with a matter-of-fact expression and a nasty purple bruise blooming on their eye. He’d seen them before. They’d been chest to chest with a templar a head taller and 60 pounds heavier yelling something about apprentices in the stone hallway of Kinloch Hold.

A wave of nausea hit him, made the room spin. It wasn’t real.

“A spirit?” He asked the mage who nodded in response.

“A demon.” Zevran corrected and lunged for Valen.

Valen was quicker and lept out of the way, dropping into a low crouch. Zevran stumbled and caught in the wall his uncharacteristic moment of clumsiness leaving space for Valen to drive his blade up into his chest. It was Zevran’s turn to dodge, turning himself to the side and slashing instead at the young mage who looked more like a fish out of water than anything. Their slow reflexes earned them a gash on their cheek and an expletive thrown haphazardly into the room. Oliver just watched. Blood splattered the tile. Zevran spat and writhed as Valen wrapped his arm around his throat. Zev- no the demon, swung his blades around desperately. More like a trapped animal than a man and as Oliver stepped closer it glowered.

“You wouldn’t harm me.” It stated as fact.

A bold assumption but he had watched Zevran die a hundred times before, nightmare after nightmare. What was one more time.

“Oliver, damnit I can’t hold him forever!” Valen snarled.

He twisted it’s arm behind it’s back, wrenching the dagger from its hand and leaned ever closer until their foreheads pressed together. “I’ll tell you a secret,” he whispered, studying it’s eyes. They were a perfect replication. “There is not a person that I love that I have not seen die a hundred times before.”

He drove his dagger under the demons ribcage. There was no blood. There was no cracking of bone or ripping of skin only a guttural hiss to remind him that it was never Zevran even if the light in its eyes died the same as a persons.

They were no longer standing in a homey antivan kitchen. The band had long ago stopped playing and the air was cool against his skin. None of it had been real. Not one moment.

Taglist: @nuclearsludge @adelaidedrubman @socially-awkward-skeleton @captastra @sunstreakerapologist @wishbonemotel @henbased

[aussiepineapple1st]

Hello, hope you don't mind if I make a request! 😃

What about something like this? I've always loved the idea of Leon being nearly killed by the removal of the plaga. What if reader manages to remove the plagas from Leon but the process is too much for him and leaves him practically dead and reader is horrified and panicking and feeling like she killed him. Just an idea! 💕

I do love this idea as well! Thank you for suggesting it! I was thinking of doing something with the removal of the Plaga eventually.🥰😈

Plaga Removal

Leon x F!Reader

Words: 1,551 Contains: Plaga infected Leon, Ashley and Reader, Angst, Whump, Death?

You break free from the control of Saddler as he's shot from someone above you. Falling to your knees you look up seeing Ada with her SMG.

"GO!" She shouts down to you and Leon. You scramble to your feet, rushing to Leon's side. Yes you had the Plaga in you as well, But you had only recently been infected, your own progression with the parasite wasn't as far as Leon or Ashley.

Leon pulls himself to his feet with your help and the stone table Ashley was laying on. Scooping her into his arms you help keep him on his feet while you exit through a doorway. The way being closed with the help of Ada shooting free a statue that falls, blocking the entrance. Both of you fall to the ground, Leon making sure Ashley's head doesn't hit the ground. You groan as you sit up, everything ached. The veins covering your entire body as you examine your arms. You see Leon roll off Ashley, laying on his back. Neither of them were looking very good.

"Leon?" You crawl to kneel beside him. He was staring up at the ceiling, his vision swimming with water above him, around him stood shadowy figures of people. "Leon! Come back to me!" You say gently placing your hand on his cheek.

Your voice pulls him from the trance, everything flashing back to reality as he sees you leaning over him. He finally looks into your eyes rather than past you, his hand reaching up to touch yours. "I'm here." He assured, his eyes closing as he groans in pain.

"We have to get these things out of us, Now!" You say pulling Leon's arm to sit him up. Pulling Ashley's arms you spin in just a way to bring her to lay on your back. "Hup"ing as you stand you your feet, your hands holding under the young girl's thighs.

"Can you stand?" You ask your partner still sitting on his butt. There was no answer. "Leon!" You call his name once more, giving his boot a tap with your own as you adjust Ashley on your back.

"Y.. Yeah, I can stand." He says rolling to his knees, pulling one leg up and pushes on his knee to stand. He steps back, loosing balance, but you keep him on his feet by planting the top of your head in the centre of his shoulder blades. "I'm good.." He assures now getting his balance.

"Good.." You answer walking towards the a long hallway. Your own vision flashes to this other reality, shaking your head to try and come back. Hearing the sound of a body hitting the floor you turn around seeing Leon laying on his front. You look towards the doors ahead of you then back to Leon. You had to get both of them to the lab, but you couldn't help Leon when you had Ashley on your back. "I'll be back for you. Just... Stay awake!" You say turning and walking as fast as you could towards the double doors.

Unlocking the door with the key Leon had entrusted to you, you push it open, stumbling down the stairs and into the lab. Seeing a chair on the other side of the room you sit Ashley on it, walking to the computer and turning on the machine.

"Where's Leon?" Says a weak voice behind you.

You turn to look at her and give her a fake smile. "He's going to be fine, I will fetch him after we get this thing out of you."

Ashley nods and is moved into position. You look to the doors hoping you could see Leon, but it was too dark, all you saw was a void beyond the doors. "You ready?" You ask as you prepare the computer. Waiting until Ashley nods, you then press the 'Enter' button and she is instantly zapped. The three prongs above her doing their job.

Ashley cries out in pain as you kneel beside her, grabbing her hand that grasps the rod tight. "You've got this! Almost done!" You say looking back as the computer blinks a green Successful. Sighing, you see the black veins star to leave her fair skin, small groans leaving her assures you she is alright. Gently puling her into your body, you manoeuvre the young lady to lay on the ground to the side.

Nodding to yourself you hurry out into the hall where you had left Leon, who had now propped himself up against the wall. Head leant back on the stone he was leaning on, arms by his side as he pants heavily, eyes closed. You kneel beside him and place a hand on his chest. Your own way of asking him to wake up.

"I'm awake.." He huffs out, eyes opening in a wince. "Did it work? Is she okay?" He asks. He heard her shouts of pain but your smile and nod to his question makes him relax.

"Yeah, she's okay. Now it's your turn.." You lift his arm over your shoulder and wait for him to help you pull him to his feet. You hold around his waist and the wrist of his hand slung around your shoulder. "Easy does it." You encourage.

A few steps into the lab and Leon's legs give way. Ashely now on her feet rushes over to the both of you. She lifts his other arm around her shoulders and helps you carry him to the chair.

"Thanks Ash." You say giving her a small nod and a smile. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel fine. Much better than before. But is Leon going to be okay?" She holds her hands in front of her chest, worried eyes looking over Leon's exhausted, black veined face.

"If you are okay, then he should be too." You assure. Though you were really hoping you could assure yourself, he was in a much worse state than Ashely had been. Whatever Saddler had just done to the both of you really hurt Leon.

You move to the computer and motion for Ashley to stand back before you press the same button as before. The three prongs zapping at Leon's chest. His body arching up as he grits his teeth. Once again you move to hold his hand, Ashley taking his other. Expecting him to writhe in pain until the computer flashed successful, your heart drops when he goes still mid procedure.

Standing to your feet your eyes widen as you look back to the screen, you could still see the Plaga being disintegrated, so why was he not moving? Your eyes start to prick with tears as you look back to Leon, hearing the computer ding you quickly look back to see it read the green 'Successful'.

"Leon?" You panic, standing in front of him, slightly leaning over his body. "Leon!" You call his name once again, your hand resting on his chest. Nothing, you choke out a sob as you brush his fringe from his face. Sweat on his skin causing his hair to stick to his forrid, but you make sure to brush every strand away. "Baby..? Hey, answer me!" You plead as you press your fingers under his jawline. There was a pulse, but it was weak.

You wrap your arms under his and hoist him towards you, pulling his limp body from the chair. You slip and fall to the ground, landing against a cabinet with a loud bang, but you didn't mind. Tears were now falling from your eyes as you hold Leon in your arms, his right hip on the ground as his right cheek rest on your chest. "Leon Please! Stay with me!" You cry out as you turn him to lay on his back between your legs.

You cry as you hold his head in the crook of your arm, your hand resting on his chest as all you wanted was for him to wake up, to let you know he was alright. "Please. I can't do this without you." You sob into the top of his head.

Ashley watched, tears streaming from her own eyes as she sits on her knees at Leon's feet. She thought he was dead. "You should have done him first." She sobbed to you.

Shaking your head you look over to Ashley. "No.. You are more important. This would have happened if he was first or n-" You stop instantly as you feel a hand rest on yours placed on his chest.

You look down to see Leon's eyes open, looking up at you. "Hey.. What's with the tears? You can't get rid of me that easy." He croaked out.

You just stare down at him, your tears flowing even faster now as you hug his head. "I thought I killed you!"

Ashley relaxed and wipes her tears away, a smile now coming to her lips as she watched Leon's arms reach up to comfort you, gently patting your arm and shoulder. "Okay.." He responds. You pull back and wipe your face free of tears, spit and snot as you try calming yourself down.

"Your turn." Leon smiled up at you. You nod and he gently placed a hand on the back of your neck to pull you into a tender kiss.

🏷️: @phoenix666stuff @maehemthemisfit @greywardensaywhat @growingupnrealizing @starcrossedreaders

[sreabhadh]

I still don't know how Tumblr works. I am still infected with severe strains of the TexAid, Vortex, Combaticons and MechAu diseases though. I have completed part 2/3 of what I've been calling Vortex's death story and am going to attempt to post it with a link to the part 1. Don't know how this works or how it'll go, but eh we'll give it a shot lol.

This is just my take on Vortex's death story, based on Keferon's Mech Au, art, and writing, along with the art and writing of many others that have hopped into this Au and produced some wonderful and inspiring things that have latched onto my brain with a death grip.

If this story interests you, then I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it!

Part 1, if that works 🤞 ☝️⬆️👆

**********************************************************

Vortex’s head pounded sluggishly. He fought for control over his eyelids, willing them to open. When they did, they immediately closed, and he squinted them back open in the painful light. It was hard to make out his surroundings- his eyes were open now but his head was still spinning. He was upright, and he could feel his weight sagging against heavy restraints. Could hear the beeping of monitors and feel IV needles poking through his skin, fluids pumping through his veins, could feel the medical tape on his skin. Another fucking experiment. Or was someone patching him up after a battle? Vortex growled, trying to remember what had happened before he had fallen asleep. There had been a fight. Something bad. Something that made him angry. Then something that had made him happy. He killed someone. Why had he killed someone?

They deserved it, he knew that, but why- the image of Swindle bleeding out flashed in Vortex’s head, Swindle, dangling lifelessly from Brawl’s massive (and massively burned) arms as he barreled through halls, trampling anyone and anything else in his way. Brawl in hysterics. Med techs struggling to sedate Brawl, Brawl raging at them. Swindle’s skin getting paler as the white medical linens on the cot became a darker and darker shade of red. Onslaught and Blast Off trying to calm Brawl down. Swindle in critical condition, hooked up to a dozen machines. They didn’t know it then, but they had been supposed to die. Swindle in particular.

‘Thin the herd. The small one’s the fastest, but he’s also the weakest. Worst fighter among em. The weak link.’

Vortex snarled. They had deserved it, but they deserved so much worse than he had given them, so much worse. They had tried taking Swindle from them. And it might’ve worked. If Swindle didn’t wake up then it would’ve worked. They almost took the others too. Brawl had been so severely burned he’d had to be sedated to heal. Blastoff and Onslaught weren’t in great condition either- they weren’t as fast as Vortex, who had an easier time dodging, and had taken a lot of hits.

The bastards…the bastards who had done it… decided to hook up that weird machine to Swindle’s mech without telling them what it did or that it would make him quint bait… Tex only had memories of killing a couple of the white coats, and one of them had already been dead before he did most of the stabbing. He could remember the feel of the blood on his hands, the sounds of the blade and the other lab coats screaming…he hadn’t been able to kill them all. Or most of them, unless he was just forgetting those killings. Fuck. He might not- probably wouldn’t (but wanted to hope he might)- have another chance to kill them all. Fix his mistake. He should’ve snapped and killed them all ages ago. Cut to the chase and spare his team the misery. Shit. He’d been hoping if he killed enough of them it would leave a big enough power vacuum for Onslaught to take over. Now what would happen? Would Onslaught be blamed? Why hadn’t he been able to kill more of them? What happened?

Vortex tried his usual tricks for slipping out of medical restraints, but these ones were different, sturdier, and the usual tricks didn’t work. If he had gotten caught, why was he alive? His stomach hardened, like someone had filled it with rocks. Were they using him to keep the rest of his squad in line? If they were, that might mean Swindle was doing better. Or they just wanted extra insurance. Or an extra lab rat. If they thought they could keep him trapped here forever to run their sick experiments on though, they were going to have a surprise on their hands. It didn’t matter if he was half-drugged, half-dead or both, he would get out and figure out who had done this to him. Then he’d repay their ‘kindness’ with his own. Maybe he could even finish his killing spree from earlier- there were a lot of people left on his list.

Vortex spun his head around, grunting at the painful vertigo that accompanied the motion. He was in a lab, but not like any of the medical labs he’d been in. The equipment in here was far more complicated than anything Vortex recognized, and the other items were more macabre than he was used to seeing openly displayed in mecha labs. He hadn’t even known jars came in sizes large enough to hold body parts that big. He just hoped they were all quint parts, not human. Not for any love or concern for his fellow species- it was just that Tex’s unit wasn’t particularly on good terms with the higher ups, or anyone else in the facility. And Vortex had always assumed that if he didn’t die on the battlefield or trying to kill everyone, then that’s where he would end up. Cut up in pieces, preserved in jars for future study.

Besides the jars, there were vials with eerie glowing liquids, a faint foul smell, diagrams on the counters, blueprints pinned to the wall- shit, those were prints of Vortex’s mech. What were blueprints of that doing here? What did they want him for, what were they trying to do? And who were they? The guards would’ve shot Tex on sight after what he did, and anyone he assaulted would’ve done the same, assuming they had any amount of skill with a gun. Who-

Vortex spotted it. A mask, helmet-thing, made to cover the entire head. A singular yellow optic dominating the center of the face.

One eye. Shockwave.

The beeping of the monitor increased sharply, and Vortex felt the sweat as it suddenly gathered on his brow. He shuddered involuntarily, body going hot and cold. Vortex remembered what happened before he had been knocked out. Shockwave. He remembered. No no no no no no no no no no no no no no

Vortex struggled against his bonds with renewed effort, he didn’t care what he broke in the process. He could get help later, relocate any joints he popped out of place, set any broken bones, stitch up or bandage any cuts, he didn’t care how much it hurt or how long it took to heal, he had to move, get out, now-

Somewhere behind him, someone cleared their throat. Vortex froze. Please, please, please, don’t let it be him. Please, anyone, but-

“Vortex.”

Vortex bit his lip. There was no way it was anyone but Shockwave, wasn’t it?

“If you move around too much I will have to sedate you immediately. The procedure isn’t complete yet.”

Vortex swallowed. What he wouldn’t do for a few dozen cigs and a room to himself right now. “What procedure?” he asked, hoping he sounded more angry than frightened.

The voice ignored him, and Vortex could hear shuffling notes and typing as the scientist worked.

“What procedure?” he repeated, voice hoarse with dehydration, anger and fear.

The typing stopped. The man released a small breath; impatient. Vortex could hear the chair as its occupant moved to stand, could feel the vibrations through the floor as they walked toward him.

Vortex felt his breathing still and gritted his teeth as the man stepped into view. He was a man, in appearance - but Vortex could hear the quiet fizzing sound and see the slightly blurry quality to the skin. He was wearing another hologram. He was wearing the face of Shockwave, the old one from the earliest days of the mecha program, when Shockwave himself had been a pilot. He had a handsome face, quite different from the polished mess of impervious robotics Vortex knew must be hiding underneath. It was little wonder the man had so many masks. He looked so different like this, so normal, Vortex could almost believe he was there just to give him a check up.

Along with context and common sense, the set to the former pilot’s former face and the look in his eyes told Vortex there was nothing so casual or carefree about this visit. This situation. Vortex was slagged. Well and truly fucked. He’d be lucky to get out of this alive. Then again, he might be luckier to get out of it dead, depending on what Shockwave had planned for him.

Questions rolled around in Vortex’s head, spinning and colliding with each other as he fought his body’s urge to shake like a leaf in the wind. Shockwave regarded him, eyes cold. Vortex shivered. Under that gaze he felt like a misbehaving piece of equipment, about to be dissected, deconstructed, and pinned to the wall. Pieces either discarded or replaced entirely, shoved back together until he did exactly what he was supposed to, nothing left except what they wanted. What Shockwave wanted.

“It’s not important for you to know. I could explain it all to you, but it wouldn’t matter, even if you understood.” Shockwave cocked his head. “You’re not going to remember this, you see. It could get messy if you did, afterall, and I want this to go as smoothly as possible.”

Vortex was silent for far longer than he wanted to, struggling to get his mouth to open and his voice to work. “Won’t remember what?” he managed.

“This part of the procedure. As well as the first few days before it.” Shockwave shrugged nonchalantly, and a tiny part of Vortex’s brain recognized that most would see the simple gesture as extremely attractive done with Shockwave’s appearance and aloof mannerism. Mostly Vortex recognized how little Shockwave cared about Vortex’s plight, his life or his concerns.

“Take too much off and you might not work the same, but take too little and you’ll simply go back to killing people. I’ve calculated how much I need, and once I’m done with this and the rest of the prepwork, you’ll be ready for the final doses. It’s a long shot that any of this works, but that’s what tests like this are for. If it works on you I can study this method until I’ve perfected it. If it doesn’t…well I have other hypotheses to test.”

“What are you doing to me?”

Shockwave smiled, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes- and not just because they were holograms or something.

“I’m resurrecting you.”

Vortex forgot how to breathe for several excruciating heartbeats.

“This is the first time I’m attempting it, so there’s no guarantee it will work, but all science starts somewhere.”

“If it comforts you, I will give you a favorable death- a heroically tragic last stand fighting insurmountable odds. You’ll go out in a blaze of glory- though, perhaps, having seen footage of your fights, I should say you’ll go out in a blaze of gore instead.”

Vortex felt his throat muscles working, but nothing came out when he opened his mouth. His questions had been spooked into hiding, his defiance shocked into submission. His body quivered, and Vortex cursed his lack of control over his own limbs.

“You’re quite resilient, even for a pilot. I dare say you’re the best candidate for this experiment- you’re arguably the best fighter we currently have, and your bond with your mech…”

Shockwave shook his head vaguely. “I frankly haven’t seen anyone as in touch with their mech as you are since..." Shockwave's eyes grew distant, a shade colder, and mournful, the edges of his lips twitching into a fondly bittersweet smile.

"It’s really quite impressive.”

Shockwave's eyes refocused, and he smiled pleasantly at Vortex. This time the expression touched his eyes as well- the sight made Vortex’s stomach twist painfully.

“You should consider this an honor. If this project works, you may even thank me. It’s not everyday one gets resurrected as living metal, after all. It’s almost statistically impossible.”

Living metal? Living…metal? Did this have something to do with the blueprints of his mech on the wall? He hoped not. What would be left of him, assuming this ‘experiment’ worked in the first place? Would he survive? If it didn’t work and he died, he died. If it did work, what would happen then? What would Shockwave do, what would Vortex become? Would his teammates- his brothers- even recognize him? Would he even see them again? He’d gone into this assuming he would probably die… did the others have any idea where he was, what had happened? No, they would’ve burned the base down looking for him. How long had it been? A few hours, a day, several? Were they okay? Did Onslaught have things handled, had Swindle recovered yet?

He needed to know. And the best source of information, until he got out, was Shockwave.Vortex summoned his anger to overpower his fear. So what if he was the phantom Vortex had been having nightmares of since he was a kid? He was just another person, which meant he had to have a weak point somewhere. He just needed to stay alive long enough to locate it. Then he could gut him like anyone else and return to his team. The thought was comforting, though it was more false bravado than Tex would care to admit.

“What about my unit? What’s happened to them? You must have a lot of guts if you think you can stop them.”

The scientist tilted his head curiously. “They have their uses, and are an exemplary fighting unit. However, be that as it may, I’m afraid your little ‘combaticons’ aren’t ever going to be the same.”

Vortex snorted, letting the false bravado take over, baring his teeth like a cornered rat. “And the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Shockwave sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The fingers made contact with his nose- not clipping through, fizzing, or blurring like Tex had expected them too. Wait. Was that his real face? He had been certain it wasn’t. He looked too normal. How did that work?

Shockwave pulled a stool from beside the counter, and sat down, regarding him with strained patience. He raised a finger.

“As you know, your leader, unit 10, ‘Onslaught,’ along with unit 12, was on track to graduate the pilot program and was soon to join the table with mecha’s elite. That was before you went rogue.” Shockwave paused, giving Vortex an appraising look, as if checking to make sure he really was smart enough to know that much.

Vortex grunted. Shockwave gave him a disapproving look, but continued speaking. “They still are, for now, but whether they make it or not is up to them. If he goes rogue like you did, we will have to scrap him as well, though I’d rather not do that- he’s exactly what I’ve been looking for to get mecha turned back around. Too many in the company have grown lax- plump with riches and lazy in their authority. It’s what allowed you to pull that stunt you did, and it’s wasting resources. I believe with Onslaught- and ‘Swindle,’ mecha’s performance would increase substantially.”

“Which gives me more time for this.” Shockwave made a broad gesture to the lab. The scientist’s eyes narrowed piercingly. “And that is something I happen to value greatly.”

“The other two- 13 and 14- I have no personal issue with- they do form a liability however.”

“If you hurt either of them, Onslaught will never help you,” Vortex spat. Onslaught always protected them. Kept them going, kept them safe. Except… Vortex was here, hooked up, chained down, and at the lead scientist’s mercy. And Onslaught wasn’t here. Swindle had nearly died. Brawl had been sedated, Blast Off and Onslaught were full of stitches. Vortex was here. They’d all been hurt, and Onslaught hadn’t stopped it. Hadn’t been able to. They’d been hurt again, but the base was still standing. Where was Onslaught’s rage? Didn’t he see mecha needed to burn for their lives to change? Where was he?

“Hm. Perhaps. I have more control than you realize… but I understand your point. No, I don’t intend to harm them. There will be those who would wish to eliminate them, along with the rest of your crew, but they are veterans. Their experience is valuable, and your sins will have removed competitors from the board. That is favorable to certain members of mecha. Your unit members won’t be without a measure of support. That will allow them to continue serving in mecha as pilots, which is mercy enough after what you’ve done. Not that anyone will know that.”

“Know what?”

“What you’ve done, of course.”

Vortex scoffed, offended. “I murdered multiple head mecha top dogs. They’re dead. With a roomful of witnesses you didn’t let me vaporize. You’re dumber than Brawl if you really think you can hide something like that.”

“Murdered? You must be mistaken. They were each given a leave of absence. It’s not mecha’s responsibility if they were met with misfortune after the fact.”

Vortex’s jaw dropped a millimeter. Shockwave said that so easily and smoothly, like he was discussing the weather or what he wanted to have for lunch. When Vortex killed things, he was as messy as he could be- it was more fun that way. But at least he felt something when he was violent- even if that feeling was bloodlust. Shockwave clearly didn’t feel anything. They were just obstacles in his way, like a piece of shrapnel keeping a wound from closing. Removed, disposed of, and never given a second thought. Vortex swallowed. The rumors of Shockwave and how dangerous he was hadn’t been exaggerations. If anything, they probably didn’t do him justice.

“And the lab coats who saw me do it?”

“Gas leak. Caused by the ineptitude and negligence of the executives we unfortunately had to let go. The poisoning from the gas caused dizzy spells, short-term memory issues, and some minor hallucinations. Truly an unfortunate accident, but those responsible have been punished, and those affected have been repaid.”

Shockwave’s face was a mask of feigned concern, which Vortex found revolting. Sick two-faced bastard. He’d even covered up Vortex’s murder spree. Vortex wasn’t particularly proud of said murder spree, seeing as he hadn’t actually killed enough people to call it a spree, and it had been over way too soon, but still. He still would’ve gone down in history and in hallway gossip as the mad pilot that snapped and killed a bunch of people. Rumors spread and carried weight, even when they weren’t true. Now, it was, what? Swept under the rug and sanitized like it had never happened? Like he hadn’t done that, and it didn’t matter one way or another.

“And what about me?”

“You were never there. You were preparing for a solo mission while the rest of your team healed from their injuries.”

“My team will notice.”

“Your team is busy licking their wounds. When they wake it’ll be too late. You’ll be dead.”

Vortex flinched like he’d been struck. “You said I’d be resurrected.”

“If it works. You’ll have to die first, but if you survive, that will mean it worked, and I can continue the experiment.”

“You-”

“You will be dead to them either way,” Shockwave interjected coldly before Vortex could spout the string of curses in his head. “Speaking of which-” Shockwave rose slowly. “You have delayed me enough. It is time.”

Shockwave came closer- though not close enough to bite- and adjusted some dials on the machines Vortex was hooked into. Vortex could feel the sleeping drug or whatever it was entering his system. “Sleep now, and cease distracting me with your pointless questions. When you wake you won’t remember this happened, and when you die you’ll be a hero. Try not to fail. If the experiment fails, I may have to try again on one of your other units, and I would like to keep their services for now.”

Vortex tried to cuss, but whatever was pumping in his veins was working real damn fast. His tongue felt like lead and his eyelids began to droop. His head hung down, too heavy to keep up, his limbs began to go limp, and as his senses faded into the ether, he heard two words, cold and soft, like a breath of frigid winter air right down his back.

“Goodbye, 11.”

**********************************************************

Hopefully it won't be too long until part 3 is out (and I figure out how Tumblr works and have them all neatly linked together) but 🤷‍♀️ We'll see lol.

[puddingchoo]

Putty in your hands

Muzan x f/reader, NSFW. Swearing. Sexual content. Consensual stuff. Muzan might be off character.

Generally have no idea what I’m doing cause this is my first time writing🫣

————

As you wondered through the western house to your bedroom you couldn’t help that your mind wondered to a certain Demon King.

Muzan made you his wife after meeting you in town, he was about to devour you. However you knew from first hand experience about what demons were and the Demon Slayer Corps. He became slightly obsessed with you after you told him you held information regarding a certain Blue Spider Lily. Therefore you couldn’t be killed.

Muzan was impressed and pissed off that a human dared to bargain with him and tell him to his face that ‘he could go fuck himself and his demons but you need my help’. He had looked at you as if he wanted to strike you down in a millisecond. But he couldn’t. You had something he needed. And there was just something about you.

So after almost ending up as a bloody human meal deal he decided to accept that he couldn’t kill you but in order to keep you within arms reach so you wouldn’t run off and alert the Demon Slayer Corps he proposed and you two got married. All in the same evening. The very same evening he almost made you his dinner. Your head was spinning for weeks afterwards because your mind couldn’t comprehend just how quickly Muzan moved things along.

That was six months ago and here you still were in the Demon Kings den trying not to be slain by a ruthless, paranoid, angry man.

You sighed heavily as you reached your bedroom door. No. Your joint bedroom. Muzan had…insisted that he needed to make sure you weren’t going to escape. Which you weren’t going to do in the first place because demons equals super speed and it also equalled a super fast death.

Opening it slowly you peeked inside.

It was odd to see Muzan at home when all he did was work, work and yes more work but yet there he was eyes closed, arms under the pillows, his head resting on his arms. Blankets thrown over his waist almost exposing that ass you couldn’t help but stare at when he walked on by and his naked back and shoulders looked delicious in the moonlight.

You gulped as you pushed the door open to step inside the room. Closing it behind you with a soft click to not disturb the man in bed. You stepped towards the bed with trepidation in your veins as you finally reached the side of the bed. Looking down at Muzan who was seemingly “asleep” you couldn’t help noticing that heat had risen to your cheeks and heat was forming in your abdomen. You had to admit that Muzan, despite being a demon who ate humans, he was far more handsome than any man you’d ever met previously.

You bit your lip and almost moaned at the sight of him upon closer inspection. His body was exquisite and it looked like if the gods had carved it out themselves despite his wrongdoings to others. The pair of you hadn’t really been intimate except for fake kisses, but your feelings, wants and needs had been growing since you married and now you found yourself wanting him.

Fuck it. You took off all your clothes and got into bed. The voice in your head warning you that you could end up a bloody mess; the voice was pushed out almost instantly. I’ll die trying. You thought to yourself as you were now bare.

Your eyes watched Muzan’s back slowly rise and fall with each breath. The muscles were begging to be touched. Shuffling closer to the body next to you was as nerve wracking as you thought but you were determined. All because you wanted him.

Bending over his upper body you placed multiple kisses just between his shoulder blades. He didn’t stir or move. The fact that Muzan didn’t move stirred you on. So you continued placing kisses between his shoulder blades, moving up and down his body. You placed one of your hands on his back; gliding to the firmness that was his ass. Oh how you wanted to pinch and squeeze it!

It was then you realised you just had to straddle the man. Moving up on your knees you swung your left leg over and settled on his lower back. Screw it. I’m doing this and if I die well I can die happy. The movement caused Muzan to stir but you were quick to place your entire body weight on him and hold him down. Still giving his back kisses which soon turned into nips and small bites. Your hands roaming his skin, eager to feel the muscles beneath.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asked, voice deep and commanding. But you sensed that he didn’t mind and he certainly made no effort to stop you.

“Just giving you some cuddles and kisses. You rarely take any days off” you replied kissing the spot where the back of the neck met his shoulder.

“Well there’s nothing to do. All those intolerable, wretched beings are completely worthless right now. But that still doesn’t answer my question as to what you’re doing to me.”

You sighed and shifted closer to his ear. You managed to get a peek of the left side of his face as you moved closer. That crimson eye of his seemed to be glowing as it watched you in a mixture of curiosity, mild annoyance and surprise. The voice in your head returned and told you that what you’re doing might be the cause of your doom. Shut up and let me do this!

“I just thought I could help you relax” you whispered to his ear. And without waiting for a response you licked his neck whilst wrapping your hands around his torso. His eye widened and shifted towards you as if to roll over. His curly raven locks swinging softly as he moved. In all honesty it helped. You snaked your hands and arms even further until your fingers found his pectorals. Looking at him dead in the eye the tips of your fingers found his nipples. His reaction was almost instantaneous; he moaned slightly.

Well well well look at that the Demon King can moan. As you continued playing with his hardening nipples his curly raven hair shifted again as he moved his head.

The position that the pair of you in wasn’t exactly comfortable so you decided to change that. Moving slightly off Muzan, who gave you a mild look of confusion only for it to disappear when you grabbed him to follow your movements. Now you were spooning him. Your naked flesh pressing nicely against his back. Your breasts flush against his back.

“Shall we continue m’lord?” You asked in a whisper against his ear. Your hands travelling to his chest once again. But this time one hand moving along his well formed abs and moving even further down to his waist until your hands had reached his hip.

“Do you have any idea what your-“ Muzan’s sentence was cut off when you suddenly held his slightly hardened member in your hand. The smirk you had on your face was reflected in his eyes when he turned his head to look at you. The slight blush on his cheeks became darker when you suddenly started stroking his cock. His eyes closed and his face contorted to that of pure pleasure.

“Unghh” Muzan’s voice suddenly became a musical masterpiece.

Your eyes fixed on where his neck and shoulder met and decided that you’ll do anything to hear that voice of his. In fact you made it your mission to make him putty in your hands. You moved closer and without any warning you bit into his neck, careful not to spill any of his demonic blood, whilst gripping his cock and moved it up and down.

“Fuck!!” Moaned Muzan as his cock was stroked faster.

“That’s a pretty nice voice you have there” you whispered into his neck knowing full well he could hear you.

“Silence. Have you any idea-“ once again his voice cut off as he groaned out, his pleasure rising. His cock hard and weeping precum. Your hand and fingers smearing it all over his tip and down his shaft, till it was slick with his own fluids. Your left hand gripped his cock tightly, as you breathed heavily against his neck and the right hand that was on his chest moved up to his hair.

You threaded your fingers through those soft, raven curly locks and pulled at them. Muzan groaned at the action. Vaguely thinking that you’d never behaved like this before but then again he couldn’t have imagined you’d be like this seeing as you had never been intimate. He only wanted you around for your information. But now he wasn’t so sure…

The fingers in his hair pulled more of his face towards you, the grip making him moan slightly and pant. The vague thought of ‘were you always this demanding?’ came to his mind.

Looking directly into those glowing crimson orbs of his you leaned closer to his face. Without hesitation you smashed your lips together in a kiss that could only be described as desperate and messy. Muzan groaned and cooperated and moved his mouth in tandem with your kiss; thus making it deeper. Soon your kiss would dissolve into tongue, lips and spit.

You moaned slightly, the hum going into his mouth. He stilled just for a fraction of a second before he moved his arm and cupped the back of your head to push it into his face and lips more.

The hand on his cock smeared more precum around the tip and stroked him faster. Muzan groaned into your mouth loudly when you gripped him even harder. Taking your mouth away from his, thus breaking a small string of spit that you two shared, you turned your eyes down, trailing over his body, his hand still at the back of your head. You turned bolder by taking your left leg and hooking it over his left side. The change of reaction on his face was instantaneous. His brow furrowed and you could hear his teeth grind together.

He then surprised you by turning around towards you with your left leg still over his hips, your hand still on his cock and his left hand no longer at your head instead the right hand was cupping your face. It slowly moved downwards, igniting burning pleasure through your veins as he suddenly cupped your wet core.

The moan that left your lips echoed throughout your room. I hope the maids didn’t hear that. But that thought was quickly silenced by the fact on of his fingers suddenly began rubbing your clit in expertise. Your mouths fused together in another messy, sloppy kiss with the pair of you moaning.

The hand that rubbed you also made contact with the opening and those fingers found their way inside, stroking your walls, making you soaking wet. You moaned loudly against his mouth, the feelings that coursed through your body were incredible. And you also couldn’t quite believe who and what was gifting you this blinding pleasure. A distant thought also came to mind: the fact that the Demon King was allowing you to touch him in such a manner was beyond something you could think of but fuck it! You were enjoying the moment whilst it lasted.

“Well look at you. Aren’t you a sexual deviant? So wet for me when I’ve barely given you anything” Muzan said against your mouth after he broke the kiss. In response all you could do was moan.

He chuckled as his fingers continued moving inside you, twisting and curling. He chuckled again when he heard you moan as he added another finger.

You decided that you’d up your game seeing as he upped his. With one hand on his cock the other under you, you moved your free hand to his chest. There you pinched his left nipple then moving to his right and pinched again. His back arched a fraction. His eyes watching your face as it contorted into a smile and then you moved your hand to his neck, pulling him harshly into another kiss. Breaking apart your lips you moved your kisses downwards to his chin and neck. Kissing further down you reached the junction where his neck and shoulder met your hand moved to his hair, clenching it in a fist and tilting his head back.

The groan that left his lips stirred you on and you bit into his collarbone. Another moan left his lips as he thrusted his hips upwards and the hand that still was wrapped around his cock moved along with the movement.

“Fuck sake woman!! What the hell are you doing to me right now” he hissed as you continued biting and nipping his neck whilst still stroking that hard cock of his. Nobody had done this to him in all his centuries of immortal life. So he couldn’t quite believe what a human woman he married off the street was doing to him. You were practically strangers and yet here you were manhandling him in such a way that made him harden even further.

“Trying to make you cum” you replied again this neck. “Is it working?” You teased him.

Muzan growled lowly and grabbed one of your tits, squeezing hard and pinching your nipples. Both of his hands then moved to your waist and moved you on top of him. You felt mild disappointment as your hand let go of his cock but allowed him to move you how he wanted. Your naked flesh touched his own, your breasts plush against his toned chest. The skin on skin contact making you both moan.

Now face to face with the Demon King your face was reflected in his eyes and you could clearly see that you had an aroused blush on your cheeks. Well of course you were aroused who wouldn’t be. You could also see that Muzan was in a no better state either.

Moving his hands to the cheeks of your ass he gripped the globes of flesh and squeezed tightly. His hands then moved to your waist and kept them there.

Taking initiative, you sat up. Your ass brushing against his hard cock; his lips opened and he let out a breathy gasp. Suddenly getting a rather brilliant idea you lifted yourself on your knees, ignoring his brief look of confusion, and scooted back until your soaking core was directly over his cock before lowering yourself down and pushing his cock against his abdomen.

His cock felt so hot and you could feel it pulsing against your nether lips. Looking at his face you noticed that a look of intrigue was on his handsome features. So you started rocking your hips, his hands still on your waist and you looking into his eyes. He gasped and moaned. Your core soaking his length with your arousal as you humped his cock.

Gripping your hips he moved you faster. Chasing his impending release that was building ever since your hand met his cock.

“Fuck!” He gasped, increasing the speed of the rocking. One of his hands let go of your hips to travel down to your clit and began stroking it.

“Ah fuck!” You moaned as his fingers increased their movement and was in tandem as your hips.

“Fucking don’t you dare cum. You’ll cum when I want you too. My little slut” Muzan as but demanded between gasps but his words made the heat in your abdomen spread.

Of course you increased the pressure on his cock by moving your hips faster. You had no idea how close he was.

“FUUUCK” Muzan shouted. In retaliation he moved his fingers at an inhumane speed. You felt your climax approaching you at a speed that made your back arch and you gasped. You couldn’t keep up with the sensations that were coursing through your body.

Suddenly your climax was upon you and your mind couldn’t comprehend was what happening until you were convulsing on Muzan’s cock. You moaned, gasped and swore. Muzan was in no better shape because he was withering beneath you and swearing, the words sounded nothing like anything you heard before. You felt Muzan’s cock grow harder and hotter and then it happened.

Muzan came all over his stomach with a shout but he didn’t stop the movement of his hand on your hip or the hand that was frantically stroking your clit. He chased his orgasm and yours until the pair of you were panting until you collapsed on top of him. Fuck the mess that was amazing!! You thought as you laid there. Muzan’s hands were your back, slowly massaging the muscles. Your face resting against his neck, your warm breath tickling his skin. The quiet was peaceful, that was until Muzan’s voice broke that silence.

“What was that all about?” He asked you as his hands continued their ministrations on your back.

“I already told-“ you began but Muzan cut you off.

“Bullshit. Don’t give me lies. I want the truth” Muzan said as his hands stopped. You sighed audibly. This was the embarrassing part, you were never good at telling people how you felt. But after what you two shared you had to tell him.

“I…I wanted you” you said so quietly that if Muzan was human he wouldn’t have heard you.

“Well of course you’d want me. I’m nothing short of perfection that was placed on this miserable earth” he replied, he almost sounded as if he was boasting.

“Yes I know but I also started liking you as well as wanting you” you stated with a slight edge in your tone.

“I did have an inclination that you liked me. I waited until the right time for you to make a decision” he said, his hands stopped on your waist again.

“You mean you knew?!” You said loudly, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. You tried so hard to not flush red but failed miserably.

Muzan chuckled your reaction.

“Oh yes but I didn’t know you’d creep in the bedroom and do away with me like you have done so” he turned to face you. Then he suddenly did something you weren’t expecting despite everything you previously shared. He gave you a chaste kiss on your lips and you felt yourself reciprocating his kiss with your own.

After you two broke away you looked into his eyes and saw a slight warmth. A fraction so small you wouldn’t have been able to see it until now. One of his hands had come up to stroke your cheek and cup your face. You both smiled at each other.

All of a sudden you found yourself on your back against the covers with Muzan hovering over you. A predatory look in his eyes. The slits of those crimson orbs standing out. Are his eyes glowing more than usual? You thought as you looked up at him.

“Good. Now that you’ve had your fun I shall have mine” he growled as he inched closer to your lips. At that moment you noticed his cock was hardened against your thighs and you gasped.

And with that Muzan kissed you fiercely and this time made you putty in his hands. All. Night. Long.

Spoiler: reader couldn’t walk the next day ;)