MadGirlWithoutABox



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  1. Rec *

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    Summary

    When Venom was quiet, and when he wasn’t shooting giant fucking tentacles out of Eddie’s body, Eddie couldn’t much feel his presence. Occasionally there was a flicker of something: of anger, of hunger. Right now there was nothing. So maybe Eddie had pissed him off. Or—and this was a thought that Eddie had not had before—perhaps he had hurt Venom’s feelings. He lay there, staring at the ceiling and listening to the couple banging next door. She was making a lot of noise. The blood came up his neck and face a little. And then a little more, now he knew that Venom would be able to feel it too.

    Language:
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    15 Feb 2019

    Bookmarker's Notes

    Woooooooooooooooooooooooowwwww. I DON'T SHIP THEM. YET. BUT LIKE, I KNOW MEEEEEEE, SOOOOOOO.

     

     

    ‘Too much information,’ said Eddie. ‘How do you even fuck, anyway?’

    Instead of replying, Venom plastered a series of graphic images across the inside of Eddie’s skull; a montage of writhing, dividing, slimy flesh, coming together and merging like putty, and then dividing again, leaving small, dark caterpillars behind. He watched, fascinated.

    ‘You do that for fun?’

    It is a biological imperative. For survival.

    ‘No kidding.’ He paused, wondering if Venom could read his mind. ‘Can you read my mind?’ he asked.

    No, Venom said. He sounded disappointed. I can sense your emotions.

    ‘If I get hurt, can you feel that?’

    I would never let you get hurt, Eddie. We’re friends.Venom drew out the word friends with unnerving emphasis.

    ‘Say I burn myself. Or stub my toe.’

    You are clumsy, agreed Venom.

    ‘I asked can you feel it, not am I dumb enough to do it,’ Eddie said.

    I can feel it. Very small, like a thought in the back of my mind.

    ‘Just like I feel you,’ Eddie said quietly. The thought that had been germinating suddenly came to fruition. ‘Hey, Venom...’

    Yeeeees? Eddie could hear the toothy grin.

    ‘You know that means I’m never gonna get laid ever again without you listening in?’

    No need to be shy, Eddie,said Venom. We’re friends. Reproduction is perfectly normal.

    ‘It’s not about reproduction,’ said Eddie, trying to explain. ‘Sex is private.’ Venom made a sound, elicited a feeling in Eddie, that was something very like a shrug.

    Are you shy?

    ‘I’m not shy. I’m thirty-six years old. I’m just, you know, can we figure out some kind of privacy arrangement?’

    Do you even understand how this works?

    ‘Great,’ said Eddie, miserably. ‘I can’t even jerk off without an audience.’

    You can’t what?

    ‘It’s, uh, practice. For reproduction.’

    You need to practice?Venom laughed his sonorous, resonant laugh. Eddie… you are a loser.

    ‘Fine!’ Eddie said, much too loudly. ‘It’s not practice, okay. It’s just a thing humans like to do. Alone.’ He put emphasis on the last word.

    Venom didn’t reply. When he was quiet, and when he wasn’t shooting giant fucking tentacles out of Eddie’s body, Eddie couldn’t much feel his presence. Occasionally there was a flicker of something: of anger, of hunger. Right now there was nothing. So maybe Eddie had pissed him off. Or—and this was a thought that Eddie had not had before—perhaps he had hurt Venom’s feelings. He lay there, staring at the ceiling and listening to the couple banging next door. She was making a lot of noise. The blood came up his neck and face a little. And then a little more, now he knew that Venom would be able to feel it too.

    Eddie swallowed. He was feeling too warm. He always felt too warm these days, metabolism running on overdrive to keep both him and Venom alive. Twisting awkwardly, he pulled his sweaty t-shirt off and let it fall to the floor. The air in his apartment was humid and very still. A takeout menu made a makeshift fan, and he wafted some air across his face and chest. There was a low sound from the apartment over, and someone’s hand slapped against the wall. Next door, Eddie thought, some lucky fuck was balls deep, and here he was worrying about offending his alien parasite.

    He was half-hard, for the first time since Venom’s presence had consumed his life and his waking thoughts. They had reached an accord now. Eddie’s body, while not entirely his own, was stable. He was no longer persona non grata at the network. He could film and write with Venom riding along. And the Brock Report was going to be airing again next week. Apparently Eddie’s dick really liked the idea of financial stability. Or something. He slid an idle hand under the waistband of his sweatpants.

     

    ‘Made things complicated,’ he confessed. ‘And I was ashamed. And confused. I’m a fuck-up, okay?’

    If anyone laughs, I will eat their head, Venom said. A hysterical laugh bubbled up out of Eddie. Here he was, pants around his ankles, jerking it while an alien symbiote tentacle-fucked him. And yet, he was still hard. Experimentally, he clenched down on Venom. Venom responded perversely, growing a little more.

     

     

    Eddie might be the best fucking tentacle sucker in the world, he thought deliriously. Fuck you, Carlton Drake. This is how we do it.

  2. Public Bookmark 44

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    I have a lot of Modern!Assassin stories that are somewhat all tied together or they're in the same "universe" that I'm just going to start posting here. Just to be... organized I suppose

    Language:
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    Chapters:
    15/?
    Comments:
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    368
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    44
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    10 Feb 2019

    Bookmarker's Notes

    IT HAS BEEN ON CHAPTER 15 FOREVER. THERE IS NOTHING NEW. NO HAYTHAM, NO EDWARD, AND WORST OF FUCKING ALL: NO ALTAÏR.

     

     

    Haytham stood over the decanter, hands tugging the dress shirt from the waistband of his pants. “We’ll have to leave in the morning. If we plan to get back in time for my date, that is.” He made sure his movements were slow, watching you for any signs that your gaze might linger on the flashes of his exposed abs.

    You sauntered forward. You kept your gaze on the small table, then his hand as you held out the glass to him. He casually, somewhat slowly, took it from you and set it down onto the table with the others. You swallowed your sigh of relief. “If that is all, Master Kenway--”

    His hands snapped up your arms, throwing you back against the closest thing. It was an old armoire, the crystal and glass upon the shelves clattered, the antiques jostling on their mounts. His grip tightened, fingerbones digging into muscle. His voice was bordering between anger and lust, “Tell me what you really came here for, my dear.”

    You licked your lips, your breath brushing past them as they buzzed with energy and need. And god how you needed. “To give you my report.”

    He stepped forward, knee pushing past your own, his thigh pressed firmly into your knotting center. He knew exactly what he was doing and worst he knew what you needed. “Oh? After all this trouble I went through… I was hoping you would show more jealousy than this.” He leaned his weight forward, slid himself flatly against you. “I am… disappointed.”

    “You wanted this?” There was nothing between you but cloth and heat and you found yourself arching into it. You needed Haytham. You had needed him for so long and to finally have him there, pushed against you... You swallowed down your moan but your eyes were growing hazy by the second. “Do you want me to beg?”

    “Yes.” His hands roughly followed your shoulders to your back. His lips quirked, eyes suddenly lidded as your hips rolled forward into him. His words were crisp but they were dark, as dark as they were when he was about to kill someone, “Beg. Plea. Cry.” His hand clawed at the soft skin along your back, tugging at the base of your shirt. “I want you broken and desperate… until all that is left of you is me.”

  3. Rec 47

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    Eric and Anwar start to become more friendly. Adam has a hard time adjusting.

    Language:
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    516
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    07 Feb 2019

    Bookmarker's Notes

    Ehrmawgawd. I FUCNG LOVE THEM.

  4. Public Bookmark 52

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    A mini series of Loki smut all caused by a gigantic snow storm, trapping you inside the palace.

    Language:
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    14,657
    Chapters:
    6/6
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    52
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    25 Jan 2018

    Bookmarker's Notes

    NOT FINISHED.
    CHAPTER 5.

  5. Public Bookmark 93

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    Brian O'Conner did not have the luxury of waking up in his own time. He was the President and had become accustomed to that fact. What he never expected was to be attacked in the White House. They were good, and it was just him and his lead Agent Dominic Toretto to beat back the tide.

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    09 Feb 2017

    Bookmarker's Notes

    As President there were procedures in place and drills completed but this was not a drill - Brian knew that. He could hear the gunfire in the hallways; it was funny what happens in times of extreme stress. Brian hadn't thought whilst he was in office that he would ever have to defend himself. In fact his agents, Dom in particular had drummed it into him that it was their responsibility to protect him. Brian agreed to that idea in principle but if someone was going to shoot at him then odds are he was gonna want to shoot back.
    He watched in disbelief as a well organised group entered the Oval Office and shot his guard. It was clear to him even in the carnage of the first few moments that the attackers were careful not to hurt him. It told him that they wanted him as a hostage and he was gonna do his damndest to make sure that that never became a reality. The rule was don’t negotiate with terrorists, but Americans get funny and strangely protective of people like the President.

     

    Dom pulled away and there was so many things he wanted to say, but who could he say them to? It was not like he wanted to yell from the rooftops that he and the President had rubbed off against each other. His brain was a little fried and he looked a little mournful at the bed they were viewing on the surveillance camera in the Lincoln Room.

    Brian was slipping the weapons all around his body again, and leaned forward to give him a filthy kiss, “Don’t worry next time I want you to fuck me into the mattress.”

    Dom snorts, “You can’t say shit like that to me Sir. I need to focus.”

    Brian shrugged, “Incentives are important.”

     

    Vince loved Dom like a brother and when he’d emerged from the White House whole and intact (sort of) - he’d never been happier. The guilt he felt over it being his off day hadn’t quite disappeared yet despite reassurances from both Dom and the POTUS. Still he was so not trained for this shit - the lead SAC agent should not be feeling up his protectee in the middle of the Oval Office. It just wasn’t right!

    Vince tried to keep a respectful tone in his head, when he coughed, “Err Sirs. Your meeting is in five.”

    Dom looked irritated even as he was straightening the President's tie. He knew that he would have to hand off as SAC, probably to V but until the turmoil quelled then he would be the one protecting the President. And it wasn’t like he didn’t have an interest in protecting that pretty ass.