1 - 20 of 25 Works by xenowhore
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The Night Will Hold Us Close (And The Stars Will Guide Us Home) by xenowhore
Fandoms: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
29 Jul 2022
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Summary
“You do win, though.” he says, looking at his feet. “I told you guys no hero stuff, and you—you fucking heroed the shit out of the whole thing. You rolled a nat 20 on dexterity.”
A sound of disbelief punches out of Eddie’s chest. “Steve Harrington, did you just make a Dungeons and Dragons joke?” he whispers into the space between them.
“I’ve been saving it.” Steve whispers back, and he starts to laugh but then it morphs into a pinch at the back of his throat and before he knows it he’s crying—he’s fucking crying—standing in front of this beautiful man he’s been in love with for months when he’s supposed to be consoling him and it’s humiliating and unfair.
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Steve swallowed, trying to find the right words. All of this was still so new to him. If you’d told him a year ago that he’d have a lesbian for a best friend, experience a sexuality crisis and start dating Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson and turn into the world's most enthusiastic sub, he would have had a stroke. Inter-dimensional Eldritch horrors were more plausible! Months into their relationship he was still learning new terminology, treading water while trying desperately to shed every shitty part of his ignorant past. The last thing he ever wanted was to come off as offensive or insensitive, but this was hard. He’d only just discovered that yes, you can like both boys and girls at the same time. Now he was supposed to know all the nuances of drag?
Eddie and Steve watch 'Rocky Horror Picture Show' and Steve gets ideas.
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And If I Told You (would you come running) by xenowhore
Fandoms: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Deadpool - All Media Types
11 Apr 2022
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"Now they had hundreds of hours logged together on their respective gaming consoles. They had unlimited fire-escape access to each other’s apartments. Wade had his own profile on Peter’s Netflix account and a permanent Deadpool-shaped crater worn into the leather of Peter’s couch that, when Wade was out of town, Peter slept in like a really sad dog. There were toothbrushes and shared loofahs and random sharp and really dangerous weapons that Peter would find when he tidied up, rubber chickens and itching powder, bloodstains that wouldn’t come out of the linoleum (and he didn’t really care if they ever did) and bags of pancake mix in his pantry."
Peter calls a phone-sex hotline to get his mind off Wade, but it's Wade who answers.
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"She brings his hand up to her mouth and kisses each knuckle, and it’s some soft shit, something he should be doing to her, and he hates the way his throat closes up and he feels tears prick the back of his eyes. He clears his throat and pulls on his blunt and tries to think about anything except how this girl already has her hands inside his chest, holding the ruined pulp of his heart."
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Lonely Water (Won't You Let Us Wander) by xenowhore
Fandoms: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
12 Feb 2017
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"Peter ducks his head and brings his hand up to clasp Wade’s wrist. “Yeah yeah.” Wade’s skin is bumpy and uneven, surprisingly soft, and Peter holds on. His fingers slide down the bone of Wade’s wrist, hesitant and unsure, and he feels Wade step closer to him in the water."
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I'll Be The Blood (If You'll Be The Bones) by xenowhore
Fandoms: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
13 Jul 2016
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Slowly, so that Wade could see what he was doing, Peter raised his hand and brought it gently to Wade’s shoulder. He rested it there against the warm damp skin, waiting, holding his breath. His lithe fingers spanned outward and rested delicately against the tip of Wade’s clavicle.
“Pete…?” Wade’s face was a kaleidoscope of emotions. Hope, fear, relief. Peter watched them warring across his features, watched his eyes as they darted around the room, down at Peter’s hand and back up to hesitantly look into Peter’s eyes.
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“Th’fuck?” She groans, blinking into consciousness. She’s on her couch and there’s a blanket over her. There’s a horrible taste in her mouth. She smells coffee.
“You threw up.” Says a voice that sounds like it smokes eight packs a day and drinks glass for breakfast. Frank. She cranes her neck and looks toward the kitchen and he’s standing there, clear as day. Frank Castle, in her apartment. Making coffee.
She blinks hard, once, twice. No, scratch that--a shirtless Frank Castle in her apartment making coffee.
Very shirtless.
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And then, insanely, it was nearing midnight and Karen was standing in Frank Castle’s bathroom looking at herself in the chipped mirror. She was wearing one of his old t-shirts and nothing else (it nearly came down to her knees) her blouse and pantyhose folded neatly on the counter, hair undone and falling in thick waves around her shoulders. She’d have raccoon eyes in the morning, no makeup remover here - soap was too harsh for her sensitive skin - but somehow she didn’t care. She didn’t care that her legs were so startlingly pale, that she didn’t have a toothbrush. These things seemed trivial when she considered that in moments, she’d be sliding between sheets that cradled a killer every night.
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"It’s funny that I’m nervous. I know your answer as sure as I know the feel of you in the dark when I reach for you after a bad dream. And now, when I slap my hand over the light switch in the bedroom, I know you’re going to turn it back on and whisper that I’m beautiful. That you want to see all of me. And I’ll let you, because you’re the only one who ever has."
Series
- Part 3 of Jaks
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,246
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 5
- Hits:
- 110
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Summary
Raks and Jace share their first kiss :3
Series
- Part 1 of Jaks
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"Raks introduced Jace to an entirely new style of dance, one that captivated him from the very beginning and made him eager to learn more. Raks only told him that he’d learned it from history books, throwing words like ‘middle eastern’ and ‘bedlah’ around, and never spoke more about it. Watching Raks was like having a glimpse into the past, a show from the old days when everyone had one. Jace had never seen television, of course, but he imagined that watching TV was a lot like watching Raks, only better. Like magic."
Series
- Part 2 of Jaks
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"It’s Capable. He would know her touch anywhere, now. Today has been a day full of touches, and he wonders if she realizes that she has put her hands on him more than almost anyone else in his half life. The only other pair of hands he knows as well as his own, the only other scent of skin that he could follow blind through the dark is gone, now. She wordlessly grips his hand and squeezes it, and he wonders if she knows that no amount of comforting can stop the dying feeling in his chest."
Everyone returns to Citadel after the defeat of Immortan Joe and his armada, but not everyone is returning whole. Nux deals with the death of his lancer, Slit.
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Slit can't find his thundersticks, and it's raid day. Nux has hidden them, but he's not going to give them up so easily ;)
Nux and Slit's first kiss.
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Slit shook his head. “Gonna be a Lancer, this one.” he said, his sudden grin pulling the staples in his cheek tight.
“Nah. Looks like a Driver to me.” Nux had shot back with a grin of his own, and Slit snorted, his thick blunt fingers gently running over the pup’s tiny skull, downy with peach fuzz. “Too chrome for a driver. Look,” and he’d grinned even wider when the pup latched onto a finger and squeezed. “little guy needs a shave already.”
Slit takes care of his first war pup. This is the story of how he got his scarf.
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Slit is an asshole with a canteen full of Mother's Milk on a blisteringly hot day, and he doesn't want to share. Not in the conventional sense, anyhow.
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“May I?” Doof asked, holding his hands up in front of him. Nux tried to see his face through the mask but could only see hints of skin here and there, too small to make anything out. “touch your face, that is.” he laughed softly, the sound lilting and pleasant. Not at all the harsh, rough voice Nux imagined he’d have."
Nux and Slit are celebrating after a raid. They're eager to sneak off by themselves when they realize they're being followed by someone who has had their eye on them for quite some time.
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"Nux was wearing panties. Lacy, cornflower blue women’s panties. Neither of the war boys knew what panties were, but Slit didn’t need to. He didn’t care. All he knew was that suddenly, he had never been so turned on in all his half life."
Yup. Self explanatory.
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"It has killed them both to see him unable to perform basic vehicle repairs, to see him left behind hooked to redundant blood bags while they raid without him. Slit has never taken pity on him in front of the other war boys and he knows Nux is grateful. A war boy would rather go under the wheels than have his pack pity him, but it doesn’t stop Slit from shedding his cruel exterior and being tender to him in the dark, soothing his aching body with kisses and sleeping with his forehead pressed against his all night. They breath the same sour, hot air all night long, their mouths inches from one another, and Slit wishes could siphon the poison from Nux’s breath like guzzoline from a jerry can. If anything were that easy."
Nux is dying, and Slit tries to cope.
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"The coupe creaks as Slit climbs up behind him, brushing against his body, securing his hands with the rope. It is smooth along his skin, his fingers still have wiggle room but he wants it tight, tighter -- wants to be a prisoner -- and then his body jerks as Slit finishes the knot roughly with one yank."
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"Slit, this big pup with the feral eyes, he spins fast and shoves the angry pup in the chest. His hands are big and they make a sharp smacking sound in the air. “He’s too little!” he growls, pointing at Nux, who is suddenly so ashamed in the face of his hero. “and you know it!”
Nux is a misfit war pup with a lot to prove. He finds himself over his head in the Fighting Pits and it's up to Slit, another war pup, to give him a hand.