࣪ ִֶָ☾. warnings: pining on bed, hickeys, slightly suggestive but not too much imo, kinda yandere blade, not proofread, gn! reader ; masterlist
࣪ ִֶָ☾. a/n: i was looking thru my old msgs i sent myself and i found this random blade drabble HELPP??? i made this back in 2023 so i cant even remember making it LMAO thats why its not proofread
Recently, Blade has been piled up with new missions after the reveal of Dan heng's true form, Imbibitor Lunae. And what's worse is that, you being in the Astral Express, has made his hate for him burn even more.
Now here you are, being pinned down on his bed, having to bear the awkward silence of the room while Blade glares at you.
"...is there something wrong?" You ask, watching his every move intently. Trying to figure out what he's planning behind those bangs. "Just...stay still." Was all he said before placing his lips on your neck, giving it quick kisses.
You didn't think about it much until you felt his lips open, leaving hickeys all across your neck. "Blade what are you-!" "Shhh, just let it happen, doll." He continues to place more and more until he finally finishes and lets you go.
"There you go...those should last until we meet again, then I'll freshen 'em up."
Content: soft cockwarming, minors/ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT
A/N: wrote this for a friend like last year, so may not be that good like my new writing. Hope you enjoy this regardless!
◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ Mellow sighs of the wind washed over your bare back while your chest was kept warm, pressed up against his own. His bandaged hand had rubbed up and down your back countless times in the last hour or so that you two decided to use for a more intimate reprieve. This would be the first mission the two of you were sent on that was just the two of you, and having completed the main objective and the overall mission, the two of you found that you had quite some time left to indulge in more selfish desires. It was that period of time where Blade was at the peak of pure exhaustion, barely standing atop his own feet as he rounded up the mission and concluded that the mission was over with and Elio's script was left empty until the next "play". You could see it in his eyes and the way his tone was like a rusted knife, yet none of its harshness was directed towards you.
Why would it? You are the only thing helping him live through this day, and the next, and the next after that. He had no way of thanking you for all of it, even if the reprieve of it all was always short lived. So he tries to remain in the moment of the current time, with you so warmly pressed up against him, his cock buried in your warm, welcoming cunt and his mind at an ease. He'd occasionally grind up against you, only to send a warm buzz of pleasure up both of you before going still again.
The static buzz of pain still remained in his mind but it was so distant and far away that he barely even took notice of it as he relished in the hands that brushed through his locks. His head was tilted back, neck supported by the cushions and pillows that made him feel warm for once. You have kissed his neck repeatedly over the span of the last hour, showering him in the soft and gentle kisses that he could drown in. His hand would cramp every now and then, causing his motions to halt and for him to wince - prompting you to ask each and every time whether he was okay. And he was, he told you that. His lashes fluttering open to greet you in the warmth they still managed to retain over the years of hell he survived in. Then after another moment he’d bring his hand up to your nape, bandaged fingers gently massaging before applying more pressure so you’d lean in closer, close until your lips could press softly against one another. The kiss lingers, and he repeats the motions languidly a few more times until he feels like your worries got quelled for the time being, and then his hand returns to your body, massaging your hip and sliding up and down your back in slow circles.
And when you'd buck against him he'd make it a point to keep you still, wishing, needing to hear you whine and plead and scold him to let you move to chase your high.
It was only a matter of time until he lost his senses and pounded you into the mattress.
Blade & number 13 (trying to get the other to dance with them)
wc: 1k & gn!reader. reader is implied to be a stellaron hunter
a/n: posting this separately instead of answering the ask because tumblr decided to delete it(-:
The venue is bustling with noise and energy all around.
Everyone around is lost in the excitement, patiently waiting for the orchestra to return, for the grand party to start. All donned in tailored clothes, some going for masks, some for ridiculously big hats– a scene out of a movie or a novel, if you’d say so yourself. Were it not for your dearest partner’s grunts and huffs every once in a while to drag you out of the sweet dream.
Blade has been assigned to several missions back to back already, you’d understand the burnout and the exhaustion that comes with it. And still, no matter the work or the goals to tick off, you find a way to enjoy each moment– or so you console yourself, in the words of Silverwolf.
The muffled sounds stop in a sudden and a one, a two, a three– you can hear the famous orchestra starting the evening.
You cast a glance Blade’s way. Changed into something other than his usual clothes, the suit fits him perfectly. Elio had said it’d be wise to blend in, even though your jobs were minor compared to Silverwolf’s. Just keep an eye on, and maybe enjoy the evening, consider it a little gift. And grateful you were, practically giddy since you were informed of what the mission entailed.
Yet a part of you fears dragging Blade into all this, guilt sitting heavy at your belly. The lack of reactions, save for the occasional scoffs when someone dashes too close to him, do not help you once bit. A drink might help, or so you think and return with two glasses, offering one to him.
The drink melts on your tongue, relaxes all the muscles in your body. Known for its balls and events, even their drinks hold no competition. A glance Blade’s way and you can see him slowly sipping his drink, content just to see that much, hoping it might help his mood throughout the evening and until your departure.
Time ticks and by then, everyone in the grand salon has immersed themselves into dancing, swinging gracefully with the melody. The soft notes of the grand piano fills the air, the violins join in, even just from the sounds, you can picture the pianist’s fingers gliding off, flying off the keys, no longer just making music but crafting something sacred, something holy into life with mere presses.
The orchestra carries away the people, and with their melodies, they capture you too. You don’t notice Blade’s staring, nor him gently taking the glass off your hands and offering them to one of the servants making his rounds down there.
The melody rises and rises, picking up its face and with a snap, ends, taking your breath with it.
A moment’s pause and a waltz begins.
Turning hurriedly Blade’s way, hands balled into fists, you look so excited, stars in your eyes– he worries for a second if he got caught.
“Please.” you say in a whisper, and he looks at you with curiosity, please, what?..
“Just one dance, would you grant me this much?” you ask, hands dropping down, stroking the fabric of your outfit now, fiddling with the little embroidered details. Blade stands there, still silent, contemplating an answer, lips parted. “It’d help blend into the crowd too, you know… so we can keep not just an eye but also an ear out.” you try one last time, one last attempt. It feels easier to use the mission as an excuse than to admit you just want to stand closer to him, be like one of those couples you have been admiring for the past hour.
Eyes cast to the side, Blade avoids your gaze. Unsure how to feel when you followed with that excuse just to rationalize your request. Waiting and waiting, another song begins and draws close to an end and Blade realizes too late when he notices the signs of your fidgeting that he’s been making you wait, making you nervous and–
“Fine.” he says, his voice betraying the blunt answer and he reaches out his palm to you.
Eyes wide open, you freeze for a moment and snap out of it when he raises an eyebrow at you, slightly shaking his offered hand. With a skip to your step, you take his hand and a violin fills the air, lazy and faint.
The waltz begins softly, building up, and with it, so do the two of you.
Though you were unsure what to expect, Blade proves to be in control so far, taking the steps accordingly, swinging to the melody.
It is a simple ballroom waltz, easy to pick up on after observing the people for the past hour. Seeing that the expression of surprise is still evident on your face, accompanying a soft smile, Blade feels a satisfaction blooming in his chest.
Were the purpose to truly keep an eye out and listen in, this would truly serve as the most ideal cover to blend in to the crowd– but too lost in your own little bubble, all the two of you can hear, feel, sense, see, and smell are each other; and the fairy-tale music that carries you throughout the ballroom with each step.
Blade holds you close and holds you gently, leading you into the dance, loosening his grip enough so you can dance freely. The dance goes on and you feel lost in his warm hold. For the first time in a long while forlorn eyes carry the gentle autumn breeze within their orbs, a man more than just the blade he wields, broken down to fragments. The melody picks up and Blade leads you for a spin, his other hand waiting in the air to pull you back to him–
In a sudden a loud crack echoes in the air.
The music halts, darkness overtakes the ballroom right after. The both of you frozen in place, Blade prepares to unsheathe his sword, his other hand standing over your skin still, keeping you close to his chest in a protective manner.
At the surprise of the moment for a second, the grand space is dead silent. And soon after follows people’s worried murmurs, followed by a scream that is never missing in such environments.
Silverwolf must be done with her part already.
As you let out a sigh, you feel Blade’s hand relax on you, and returning to his side. Taking a step back, you copy the gesture and remove your hands from his frame.
Warning: Angst, Blade is emotionally constipated, mentions of wanting to die
Blade could never understand why you were insistent about helping and knowing him. You shouldn't have even met him in the first place. This planet was supposed to be uninhabited, the perfect place for him to have undisturbed rest until his next mission.
Yet you were here.
When you found him, you dragged him to the pitiful excuse you called a home despite how many times he told you to go away. You bandaged the wounds he ignored, scolding him for not caring tending to them sooner. You spoke to him like an old friend, never noticing how he glared at you or didn't answer your questions. You gave him warm food and fresh water while calling him your guest. You were kind to him.
It was infuriating.
You were infuriating.
But for some reason, he still agreed to stay with you until his wounds healed. He wasn't sure why he decided to stay. Maybe it was because you reminded him of an old friend. That filled him with too many emotions he didn't want to feel, so he tried to distance himself from you. He tried to have you only interact with him whenever his bandages needed to be changed. His attempts always failed because you followed him around like a baby duckling.
Blade never spoke to you, but you always talked to him. You told him about your relatively uneventful life story. Apparently, you grew up on this planet alone, rarely getting visitors. That explained how you didn't know he was a wanted criminal. If you knew who he was, the life he lived, he was sure you'd be afraid of him. He was sure you would stop being kind to him. Deep down, he didn't want that.
The kindness you showed him was something he greedily consumed. It'd been so long since someone treated him like a person, only ever being seen as a monster or a weapon. He thought of himself as such and still did despite how much he craved the peace you gave him. Because deep down, he knew he didn't deserve your kindness because of all the sins he'd committed.
Blade never reciprocated the kindness you showed him. He treated you coldly, hoping you would stop trying to know him. That would stop giving him your love and charity. You never did, even after his injuries were completely healed and he planned to leave without saying goodbye. If he did, then maybe he would forget you, forget the love you so freely gave him. However, there was a question he wanted to ask.
"Why did you help me?" was the question he asked, the one tearing him mind apart.
When he asked that question, you looked at him with a big smile. "It's hard for me to turn a blind eye to someone in need. Plus... you seemed like you wanted to die. Seeing you like that had my heart aching. Maybe I'm arrogant, but I wanted to give you at least a little reason to live. Besides, spending time with another person is always wonderful; spending time with you made me happy. Even if you don't say much," you told him.
Your answer pierced through Blade's stone heart, making it gain the tiniest crack. You were too good for him. He didn't deserve to have the privilege of knowing you, yet at the same time, he hated you. All he wished for was to die and stop the endless cycle of eternal life he endured. Now, after knowing you, his conviction was wavering, and he was questioning what he wanted.
That's why he left your home without saying goodbye and returned to the life of a Stellaron Hunter. But in quiet moments, you would come to mind, and he would wonder if you finally learned to hate him after he broke your heart.
I have been having this one scene in particular stuck in my mind based on this post !!
Before I go into it though, I just think there is something so nice so good about unspoken trust and intimate relationships between friends(?) and something more. So this little blurb is in the context that reader knows Kafka and Blade and trusts them wholeheartedly, but no one is technically together:
cw: non-sexual predator/prey (unless you want it to be…..I wouldn’t be opposed to it), reader is under Kafka’s influence at one point but reader trusts her
I just imagine reader being a little disconcerted after seeing Blade absolutely lose it. It’s terrifying, he is on a different level than you’ve ever seen him before—and it scares you. It makes you skittish around him, especially when you were nearly caught in the midst of his mara-spurred violence; when you found yourself running around corners, your heart beating hard. Feeling the presence of him nip at your heels, breath down your nape.
He’s losing himself as you lose yourself in this little foreign town trying to outrun him, knowing he’s toying with you, the horrible beast in him rearing it’s immortal head.
Kafka is nowhere to be found. Unbeknownst to you, she’s scouring the city, calm as she is, but urgent to find the two of you after you bolted like a rabbit—and Blade gave chase. It isn’t until she ducks into a back alley that she finds the two of you: you, with your cheek pressed to the ground, and Blade, with his hand spread and braced on your back as he hovers over you. Like he might finally make his kill. Except, he’s not doing anything but keeping you there.
The incident is…troublesome, to say the least. Your once full trust in him has waned and shied away. You put up this palpable distance between him and you, something that leaves him with his tail between his legs once he realizes what he’s done (even if he couldn’t have controlled it).
And Kafka, ever the level-headed woman, sees this all pan out in front of her and decides this simply won’t do.
It takes a plethora of coaxing, but eventually she gathers the two of you together in one room, keeping you tucked to her side. She says she wanted to talk to the two of you, but she has other plans.
Kafka strokes your cheek and tells you to relax. In an instant, you’ve gone pliant in her hold, leaning against her. This is one of the few times she’s ever used her control on you—but you trust her like you always have. She then beckons Blade closer, having him lean over the little table that separates him from you and Kafka.
Blade does as told, going deathly still as he waits for further instruction. Though, the next instruction is for you: Kafka telling you to ‘touch him, he won’t bite, I promise.’
Of course, you do. Your once nervous expression now smoothed over by complete calm as your hand reaches out and traces his cheek. If he hadn’t already been sitting, it’d be enough to make a man fall to his knees.
He, instead, let’s his head hang, turning into your palm.
Your fingers move to his brow, his nose, his lips and his ear and his hair and his lashes.
Blade hadn’t realized how much he’d missed your presence, your light touches, until now. He could crumple like this, fall asleep like this: letting you do as you please, listening to Kafka’s cooed reassurance.
