Call me TK
nb - bisexual - neurodivergent
they/them ☠-Black Shadow fanatic-☠ kofiwidget2.init('Fuel the Fics', '#46b798', 'A875AK7');kofiwidget2.draw(); Become a Patron!
Because of the new tumblr thing going on, whenever I go into search for your lovely fics. Nothing happens, I made sure that this wasn’t just me and multiple other people are having the same problem.
yeah, tumblr is dead, nsfw killed it
i’m on ao3 under bonebo and twitter under bon3bo but i think i’m done here
A million years ago I was the anon who said I checked your blog everyday for new stuff, and I am also the anon who said I wanted to smoke you out. When tumblr dies I'm gonna miss ya chief 😭😭😭
Jesse has been looking forward to Blackwatch’s annual ‘morale night’ for eleven months.
As he rides the elevator down to the bottom levels, he can hear the noise of the gathering getting louder; there’s thumping, bass-heavy music and the occasional shout, and when the elevator door dings open at the lowest floor Jesse slowly smiles.
A dimly-lit old interrogation office serves as the party room, complete with flashing laser lights dancing across the ceiling and a snack tray set up along the wall. Beside the door is a bowl of candy-red liquid and a stack of cups, and Jesse helps himself to a glass before moving in further.
There’s exactly one thing here that he’s after, tonight.
That one thing is currently bent over the table in the middle of the room and clinging to the sides of it with white-knuckled fists, his short hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and body rocking minutely with the force of the agent currently fucking him. Between the noise--the slick, wet sounds of his hole getting wrecked--and the visual--the strong, flat planes of his abdomen distended, the opaque streaks of cum drying on his skin--it’s nothing short of a scene out of a particularly raunchy whorehouse, and Gabriel looks up when Jesse comes over with his kiss-swollen lips breaking out into a smile.
“Jesse, Jesse,” he breathes, on the heels of a raw moan punched out of him by the erratic, punishing thrusts of the agent finishing up inside; and Jesse can only imagine the sight, more jets of cum spilling forth to add to the mess already in Gabriel’s guts, painting him white on the inside.
He shivers and reaches down to give his stirring cock a squeeze. “Yeah darlin’, I got you.”
The faint sound of breathless gasping and wet noise of carnal union is unnaturally loud in the spacious captain’s chambers of the ship currently in route to Palaven.
“Hush, Nihlus,” Saren suddenly growls, glancing down; Nihlus looks over his shoulder and can just barely make out the flinty glint of those narrowed eyes over the stern line of his mandibles, set in a scowl so permanent that Nihlus wonders if he even has any other expressions. “I have work to do. You will either serve your purpose quietly or leave.”
Nihlus wants to rage at him--wants to surge up and demand some kind of respect, Spectre or no, indignant at his mistreatment. Instead he drops his head and widens his stance, settling his elbows on the bed and gradually falling back into his rhythm of grinding his hips backward against the heat of Saren’s cock..
“There you go,” Saren mutters, sinking back on his haunches and returning his attention to the datapad in his grasp. One of his hands finds the small of Nihlus’s back and gives the plates a few half-hearted strokes. “I’m sure you’ll be a Spectre in no time.”
Koshiro is the younger brother to the oyabun--always grew up chasing Sojiro’s shadow, striving to earn the honor that his brother was born into--and if anyone were to see him now, kneeling on the edge of the oyabun’s bed with his kimono jerked up to his mid-back and a leash in his fist, holding Sojiro’s head tucked up between his spread thighs…
Well. Sojiro shivers with delight at the mere thought.
“Go deeper, pet,” Koshiro orders, giving Sojiro’s leash a tug; it pulls on the leather collar around Sojiro’s neck and threatens to steal his breath away, and he leans forward on his hands and knees, burying his face deeper into the crack of his little brother’s ass.
“That’s it,” Koshiro purrs, rocking back on his knees a little to more comfortably settle himself against his big brother’s face. In return Sojiro redoubles his efforts to worship the younger man’s ass, swirling his tongue around the tight pucker of Koshiro’s hole and sucking the taste of his own spit away to the sound of his brother’s moans above him.
“What a good dog…”
Sojiro keens low in his throat at the praise, squeezing down upon the dog-tail plug that Koshiro had seated in him earlier. He shuffles forward on his knees and grabs for Koshiro’s ass, digging his fingers into the firm globes to spread him open wider, to plunge his tongue past the licked-slack muscle and up into his little brother’s guts.
He’d grabbed it weeks ago after a one night stand with a dame immigrating from France, too curious to let the opportunity pass him by--but this is the first time that Bucky has had a chance to dig in the back of his closet and pull out the sleek black box, wrapped in pale ribbon and light in his hands. He glances out the ajar bedroom door and into the hall of his and Steve’s apartment, then to the clock; he should have at least another hour until Steve gets back from the docks.
Plenty of time to experiment.
So Bucky sets the box on the bed and opens it, and reaches in to gently extract his stolen goods: a shimmery satin, cream-colored bullet bra, an all-in-one lace-up girdle and garter belt made of ivory silk, and dark stockings with bold black lines up the back of the calves. Beneath the lingerie is a simple pair of white tap pants, complete with lace trim; they’re sinfully soft in Bucky’s calloused fingertips, and when he manages to squeeze into them he can feel his cock starting to stir against their silky confines.
The girdle comes next--Bucky takes a deep breath before he starts to lace it up, watching each tug of the laces shrink his waist, bit by bit--and by the time he can no longer ignore the relentless pressure it puts on his ribcage, the way it steals the end of every breath, he deems it tight enough.
Bucky has to sit on the edge of the bed to get the stockings on, thanks to the restraint of the girdle. He lifts one leg at a time and pulls them up slowly, watching the fabric stretch around the muscles in his calves and over his knees, pulled taught across his thick thighs before being clipped to the garter belt. When he stands he can feel the soft rustle of the fabric between his thighs, and it nearly takes his knees out from under him.
“Oh fuck,” he breathes, reaching down to give himself a squeeze through the soft layers of underwear--it’s nothing but a tease, nowhere near what his throbbing dick wants, but enough to take the worst of the edge off. He stares down at the bra, laid out on the bed like the completely everyday object that it is, and can’t help the tremble in his fingers as he grabs for it.
He turns to face the mirror, watching his reflection lift the bra and position it over the flat, muscular planes of his chest; slowly, carefully, his fingers find the clasps, and the sound of the hook sliding into place sounds as loud as a gunshot.
Bucky lowers his hands and stares at himself in the mirror--a body undeniably masculine, muscled, the perfect image of an American soldier, all wrapped up in lace and silk with a raging erection tenting the front of his panties. Bucky is so caught up in his reflection, in the indent the delicate silk makes against the muscles bulging under his skin, to notice that he has a visitor.
Until he hears Steve’s voice.
“What a sight to come home to--you’re such a good wife, Buck.”
“You’re so beautiful like this, brother,” Genji purrs, slinking through the shadows of their bedroom as he circles around where Hanzo lies, face-down and naked, on the silk sheets of their bed. “The oyabun of the most powerful clan in all of Japan, stripped and bare, all for me…”
“Not just for you,” Hanzo retorts, his voice slightly muffled by the sheets his face is buried in. His hair is down, long inky tresses haloed around his head, and Genji can’t help but run his fingers through it just to see the shiver that races down Hanzo’s muscular back.
“Yeah yeah, I know.” Genji grabs for one of the lit candles on the bedside table--gives it a gentle shake, watches the melted wax swirl around the wick--and comes back to Hanzo’s side with a devious grin. “I have a job to do.”
“You do,” Hanzo starts, folding his arms beneath his head with an indignant huff. “And you should be honored--”
He cuts off with a hiss, his shoulders arching up as a drop of liquid fire lands on his skin, right over the knob of his spine; but then as soon as the heat is there it’s gone, leaving nothing but a pleasant shadow of a burn that has Hanzo’s nerves tingling. He looks over his shoulder to find Genji smirking and feels himself flush.
“You know that’s not how it’s supposed to be done.”
“I know,” Genji purrs, moving the candle in front of Hanzo’s face, watching the firelight reflect in his tawny eyes. “But isn’t that the fun?”
Cable hates this arrangement--hates the rank taste of Juggernaut’s cock on his tongue, hates the feel of those big, heavy balls slapping against his chin as his mouth is fucked, hates the massive hand wrapped around his throat to hold him down on the bed--but even more than all of that, he hates the thought of his home destroyed and his family burnt to a crisp, all because of his inability to protect them.
And so he suffers through the humiliation, the pain of Juggernaut’s fat cockhead battering against his throat; and when the big hulking brute grabs Cable by his hair and drags him closer to the edge of the bed, all he can try to do is scramble along to save himself some pain.
“Get on your back, bitch,” Juggernaut grunts, slapping Cable upside the head with one meaty hand. The other stays wrapped around his ruddy dick, holding the massive shaft aloft as it droops under its own weight. “I’m gonna fuck your tits.”
For a moment Cable is too stunned by the comment to move; but then he glowers at the big mutant, his hands curling into fists at his sides as he slowly rolls over. “When this is done, and I bring your whole ring down...I’m going to make your death a long, articulate study in pain.”
Juggernaut rolls his eyes. “Whatever, princess. Just push ‘em together.”
Cable hesitates just long enough to take a breath, to picture Hope’s face and hear her voice in his head, and tells himself this is just one more disgrace upon dozens. To stop now, to ruin it now, would make everything that came before worthless.
His hands move.
“There ya go,” Juggernaut purrs, stepping up closer; Cable closes his eyes to save himself the visual of the giant mutant’s cock above his face, and curls his lip when he feels the heat of Juggernaut’s ballsack, inches from his nose. “Ya got nice tits for fuckin’. Anyone ever told you that before?”
“No,” Cable grinds out, squeezing his eyes shut tighter. His fingers dig in a little, nails cutting into the flesh that remains on his chest--and the metal is harder to push, the T.O. making his muscles stiff and not wanting to move, but judging by Juggernaut’s sigh of pleasure above him it doesn’t matter. He keeps his hands still and doesn’t move as Juggernaut fucks the shallow valley between, spitting noisily down upon his cock to slick the way.
I’m DYING PLEASE do more symbrock stuff! I especially loved the gore and nastiness! Make it as fucking gross and weird as you dare I will eat that shit up. That was amazing!
I'm sorry if you've had this question a hundred times already, but do you plan on doing more Eddie/Venom stuff? Cause that story was top notch hot dang.
if there’s interest for more Eddie/Venom stuff i will definitely write more, it’s fun and a nice change of pace :>
He can still taste the copper in his mouth, still feel the crunch of the man’s bones between his teeth; he can feel the rush of the man’s blood bursting across his tongue, feel the energy and power of stolen life seeping into his body like something alive, twisting and coiling low, a searing hot coil in his belly...
It feels good, doesn’t it?
“You--now is really not the time,” Eddie starts, shaking his head as he hurries down the street. All he has to do is make it back to the safety of his apartment, and then he can deal with--with whatever is happening, whatever Venom is doing to his body.
Hey! Don’t blame this on me.
“It’s your fault,” Eddie hisses, repeatedly stabbing the button with his finger to make the elevator doors close and praying that he can get to his floor without disturbance. “Whatever you--whatever you’re doing to me, to do this, stop!”
Venom purrs in his head, and Eddie hates that he can tell just how pleased the symbiote is.
This is all you, pervert.
-x-
A half-hour later finds Eddie with his back against the apartment door and his pants around his ankles, his hoodie tossed aside and his cock still jutting up hard and hot between his thighs.
Still having trouble?
“Really?” Eddie groans, hand stilling along his shaft as his head falls back against the door with an exasperated sigh. “Can you not--will you leave, please?”
He can feel Venom’s petty delight as something dark and hot, low in his belly. No.
“Of course not,” Eddie mutters. He stares down at himself--slumped against the door with his thighs splayed, cock still stubbornly flushed and hard in his palm--and then shrugs. “Y’know what? Fuck it, then. If you’re going to stay, then you’re going to be useful.”
And this is how Eddie finds himself with the hulking mass of symbiote manifested around him, black tendrils wrapped like racing snakes around his thighs and his cock, coiled around the heavy weight of his balls.
This is interesting, Venom purrs, leaning in closer until the shifting mass of his head is inches away from Eddie’s dick; his jaws part, and Eddie can’t help how his heart skips a beat at the sight of that tongue, impossibly long as it unfurls from a bristling cage of bloody teeth. The very tip licks up the side of Eddie’s shaft, slick as it curls round the crown. Has cannibalism always turned you on?
“S-shut up,” Eddie hisses through gritted teeth, curling his hands into white-knuckled fists by his thighs; the pain of his nails biting into his palm is enough to curb the pleasure of the symbiote’s tongue, to keep Eddie from bucking his hips up into Venom’s mouth.
It was the blood, wasn’t it? The rush of crimson…
“No!” Eddie snaps, but even as the protest leaves his tongue he knows it’s a lie--and what's even worse is Venom knows.
Yes it was. The bloodsplatter, the snap of weak bones…
Eddie groans and screws his eyes shut, helpless against the building pleasure as the symbiote’s tendrils jack him off. Each wet touch of Venom’s tongue sends another shiver down his spine, and when it wraps around the base of his cock and squeezes tight, his toes curl.
...the taste of life, bodies in pieces, seeing the places you were never supposed to see...beating hearts and bloody viscera…
“Oh, fuck, fuck,” Eddie gasps, grabbing for his cock with desperate hands and stroking himself over Venom's own inky tendrils, each tug pulling a breathless moan from his lips. “Fuck fuck fuck--”
Maybe next time we can play with our food, Venom suggests, voice a sinful growl in Eddie's head, his chest, his throat; and in the next instant he's cumming, howling his delight in a voice not entirely his own.
“You look just as beautiful as I knew you would,” Sojiro purrs, standing behind Hanzo in front of the mirror with his hands perched lightly on the young man’s waist. “My jewel, my prize…”
He leans in close, his breath washing warm over the shell of Hanzo’s ear. “How do you feel, my Hanzo? Tell me.”
His hand slips down one of Hanzo’s thick thighs, reaching in to gently squeeze at the interested erection already tending the front of Hanzo’s kimono; and Hanzo gasps low in his throat and rolls his hips up into the touch, hungry for more.
“I feel...I feel hot…” Hanzo darts his tongue out to lick his lips, and delights in the lingering cherry sweetness of the pink gloss Sojiro had provided. He leans backward slightly--just enough to tip his head back and nuzzle at Sojiro’s well-manicured beard, to feel the hot brand of his father’s cock tucked up against the cleft of his ass. Hanzo looks up through his dark lashes at Sojiro’s face, and feels a thrill low in his belly at the unabashed lust in his father’s hooded eyes. “I’m so hot, chichiue...won’t you help me, please?”
Sojiro’s voice drops to something lower, something hungry.
“You know I will, sweet boy.”
He has Hanzo facedown on the bed mere moments later, the hem of the pastel blue kimono flipped up to bare his ass; and Sojiro digs his nails into his son’s firm cheeks to spread him open wide, and dives into the tempting sight of his soft pink hole.
The purchase was an impulse one--something Shepard bought during one of the wilder trips to Omega, under the recommendation of a beautiful Asari with a coy smile and soft, curious hands--and standing in front of the mirror now, staring at herself wrapped up in a sapphire blue, black-ribbed corset with matching stockings and panties, she can’t deny that she feels ridiculous.
But Garrus is sitting on the bed behind her, his body bare and thighs spread; and there’s the faintest sheen of blue over the seam of his groin, the protective scales shifted away to let the first few inches of his stiffening shaft slide free. He’s leaned back on one hand with his eyes fixed on Shepard’s body, unabashedly staring at the tight curve of her supple ass and the slight divot where black lace meets skin.
Shepard turns and cocks a hip. “See something you like?”
“Not just one something,” Garrus purrs, beckoning her over with a curl of his talons.
Shepard falls into him in a way that is comforting in its familiarity, in the mutual displays of trust two cheated, jaded souls still have--Garrus’s teeth meet her neck and she gasps against his mandible, breath washing hot over the scars marring the painted plates.
“Do that again,” Shepard breathes, fingertips trailing down the hard ridges of Garrus’s lean body, over each plate and sensitive seam until her questing hand finds its prize: the slick, textured length of his cock, fully freed of its slit. It’s hot in her hand, heavy--she gives it a testing squeeze, and delights in seeing Garrus’s toes curl even as his sharp teeth sink further into the meat of her shoulder.
They break apart after Shepard’s breathy cry--and when she dives back in for another kiss, her hands petting over Garrus’s fringe, she can taste copper on his sharp teeth.
She pulls back with a breathless smile. “I take it you like the corset, then. Personally, I think blue brings out the used-to-be-dead in my skin tone--”
“I think you look amazing in blue.” The corners of Garrus’s mouth twitch, fighting against a smirk. “Of course, I may be biased.”
The hotel room that Kakuzu had rented for them tonight is cheap.
There’s hairline cracks in the drywall and cobwebs on the ceiling, and the floor is covered in a yellow mat that is closer to dying turf than carpet; the room stinks of mothballs and fake-floral aerosol, and Hidan is fairly certain that some of the stains on the bed’s thin sheets are older than he is.
But then again--as he arches up against the coarse threads that bite into his skin, sewing him face-down to the bed limb by limb--that’s kind of the point.
Kakuzu is a monster above him, hulking and growling, mask and cowl discarded in a rare show of broken restraint. The strong muscles in his back and shoulders ripple under his dark skin, bulging and moving with every stitch he places in his partner; and beneath him Hidan howls, curses, keens, his bare body grinding and rolling against the bed in a desperate, familiar way.
“Are you humping the bed?” Kakuzu scoffs, raking his painted nails down the pale, tempting expanse of Hidan’s back and leaving crimson trails of blood to well up in his wake. “That’s fucking disgusting.”
He knows Hidan probably isn’t listening, if the way he bucks against the bed is any indication--his partner is a fucked-up freak who gets off on all of this, on every insult and torturous injury, and by now Kakuzu kills him on a bi-weekly basis more out of habit than any actual hope that the annoying bastard will stay dead.
“Mm, yeah, and...” Said annoying bastard turns his head to shoot Kakuzu a shit-eating grin, his lips shiny with spit and violet eyes crazed, bright, shining with that unique brand of fucked-up high that only a masochistic immortal can achieve. “It feels so much better than getting fucked by your pencil dick, you dusty old--”
Kakuzu stops the insult with a hardened punch to the left side of Hidan’s ribcage, his fist breaking through bone to the tune of Hidan’s piercing scream. His questing fingers plunge deeper through bands of firm muscle and wet viscera until he finds the fluttering muscle of Hidan’s racing heart, pounding a frantic tattoo against Kakuzu’s fingertips.
He smiles, letting the stitching in his jaws relax to pull the expression unnaturally wide.
“Are you scared?” he growls, before he wraps his hand around Hidan’s heart and starts to squeeze.
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