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honeyed-hedonist · 3 months

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Parings: Jason Todd x afab!Reader Word Count: 4.4k Warnings: SMUT—MINORS DNI. mentions of blood, gore, and violence, oral (f & m receiving), lots of teasing, degradation (jason todd is a big meanie), a lil bit of a size kink if you squint (hims a big, big boy), an obscene amount of dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, jason has multiple orgasms (he’s got stamina, baybee), creampie, cum swapping, and, as always, declarations of love (barf). A/N: I wrote this for my sweet baby angel @heli0s-writes in a little fic swap we’re having because we like to scream at each other about all the fictional men we want to rail us into a pulp. I love you! I hope this makes your brain melt. Tehe 😈 (Reposting from my former blog)

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Jason Todd is a menace. The absolute bane of your existence.

Who does he think he is banging on your door at 3:45 in the morning? As if your neighbors needed another reason to gossip about you. Nevermind all the probing questions that were poorly masked as casual conversation when you were using the on-site laundry room or grabbing your mail. If you had to hear “So, you and Red Hood, huh?” one more time, you were going to rip your hair out.

But Jason has always been brazen—not much has changed since the day you found him bleeding out in an alley between your apartment building and the pet shelter next door. He had a gunshot wound, lacerations over damn near every square inch of him, his mask all but shattered and exposing most of his face to you as you did your best to haul his massive frame up from the ground to drag him inside and patch him up. He had grinned at you the entire time, flirted with you while you fished the bullet out, asked you to dinner as you wiped the grit and grime off of his neck and chest. He hasn’t left you alone since.

You love him, of course. How can you not? He’s 6’4” of muscled steel, all wrapped up in a handsome, roguish bow with a sharp tongue and an even sharper mind. Any woman alive would be hard-pressed to resist his charms and you’re no exception, but it’s difficult to remember those warm, fuzzy feelings when he’s pounding on your door hard enough to wake the dead.

With bleary eyes, you unlatch the locks and yank it open, hissing at him as you fist your hand into the lapel of his jacket and tug him inside, ignoring the wide-eyed look on your neighbor’s face from across the hall. Your annoyance is overshadowing the rest of your senses, so you don’t see the tent in his pants, don’t notice his lust-blown pupils when he shucks his helmet off and throws it aside. Instead, you whirl on him, an accusatory finger pointed squarely at his chest in preparation to scold him.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? Why couldn’t you just come in through the window? I keep it unlocked for this exact reason, Jason! You stubborn fucking ass—mmph!” His mouth is on you instantly—demanding and desperate as he crashes his lips into yours, uninterested in hearing your lecture. His gloved hands lift you off the floor in one fluid motion that has you instinctively wrapping your legs around his hips. You feel it then, the heavy, hard length of him trapped between your bodies and you gasp, an action that he capitalizes on by shoving his tongue past your teeth and into the back of your throat.

The tang of coppery blood fills your mouth and has you retreating, pushing back on his chest to look at him, but he’s right there chasing your mouth, walking blindly towards your kitchen table to set you down. “Jay—honey, wait. Are you—fuck!” His teeth are sharp against your throat, silencing your protest with the harsh sting of pain, grunting as he grinds his hips between your spread thighs.

“Shut up,” He growls, voice low and dangerous, sending your synapses into overdrive, drowning out what little restraint you have left. “Need to be inside you. Need to hear those sweet sounds, baby, just—let me.” Jason’s fingers are shaking when he moves to peel your shirt off, and you know it’s the adrenaline, that he’s high from the violence of his nightly patrol, teetering on the edge of losing control. These nights, you think, are the ones he needs you the most—seeking salvation with your body, tunneling his way to absolution with powerful thrusts of his hips, because if you can love all the fucked up parts of him, can love him even after all of his mistakes, then maybe, in his mind, he’s worth something afterall.

So you nod, your own hands making quick work of the kevlar and leather he’s covered in, helping him shed layer after layer of it off until he’s bare chested and heaving with labored breaths. It’s then that you notice the gashes that cut diagonally across his collarbone, the skin ripped in a way that makes you shudder. Claws? A serrated knife? You can only imagine the kind of monsters he grappled with tonight. His chest is smeared with congealed, drying blood, a trail of it leading down his stomach, seeping into his briefs and tactical pants, staining the tuft of coarse, dark hair that leads to his pubic bone an ugly shade of rust.

His eyes have turned shark-like—a depthless obsidian that makes him look possessed, the usual crystalline blue almost completely eclipsed by his blown out pupils. You should be terrified by the sight, the danger lurking within that endless dark, but your demons have always called to his, so all it does is stoke the flames now licking their way down your spine to pool between your legs. His gaze shifts the second your hands fall to your panties, exhaling a shaky breath as you try to wiggle out of them, to grant him access to the part of you that only he gets to explore.

Jason snarls then, swatting your hands away to rip the flimsy strip of cotton clean off, tossing it over his shoulder where it floats delicately to the floor in shredded ribbons of fabric. And then he’s on his knees, dropping to your floor with a loud thud that has the knick knacks hanging on your walls tinkling with vibration from the force of his herculean frame hitting the laminate. He scoots closer, boots scuffing your floor, the heat of his stare now focused on your puffy slit. Every exhale is a rumbling growl, hot breath fanning out against your pussy as he inches closer and you bite your lip, ready to muffle the sound you know he’s going to tear from your throat the second he puts his mouth on you.

Warm, calloused hands skate up the insides of your thighs, throwing them open even wider to accommodate the width of his shoulders when he leans in. Jason’s nose settles against your slit and he inhales, breathing in the musky scent of your arousal. It leaves you frozen in place, barely breathing when you watch his eyes roll back with pleasure. It sends your pulse straight to your clit and you whimper, the sound acting as a catalyst for him to dive in tongue-first and lick a wet stripe through your folds. He moans at the taste of you, a deep, salacious vibration of sound that rattles your bones. It has you hooking your hands around the edge of the table in a white-knuckled grip, mouth slack when Jason’s deft tongue and plush lips begin to work you over.

He’s precise and purposeful when he eats you out—applying just the right amount of pressure, finding the perfect moments to snag that bundle of nerves with his teeth, gumming at your velvety cunt with his mouth, his tongue attuned to your every need. It takes him no time at all until you’re whining, begging like a god damn harlot, your fingers wound harshly into the roots of his hair, pulling him in, fucking yourself on his face. His girl. Perfect and needy, just the way he likes you.

But, again, Jason Todd is a fucking menace, glancing up at you with that wild look in his eyes, clocking the way your eyebrows are knitted together, the way you’ve got him pressed so deeply between your legs that he can barely breathe—he knows you’re close, can feel your thighs trembling against his ears. He waits, feasts on you until your eyes roll back into your skull, until he knows you’re about to rocket into a release—and then he stops, withdraws his mouth—a mouth that’s glistening with evidence of your pleasure, and offers you a sadistic smile.

“You thought I was gonna let you cum, princess?” He goads, swatting at your pussy hard enough that it sends you reeling, your body jerking with a yelp. “Nah…Tonight you cum on my cock and nowhere else.” Jason rocks back on his heels and stands, towering over you, crowding your space as he takes your jaw in his hand, his grip hard and unforgiving. “Do you understand me?”

There’s a war happening in your mind, because you know he needs this control, know he’s standing on a very dangerous ledge and you have to tread carefully, but fuck if you don’t want to cop an attitude, push him right off that cliff just to see what he’ll do. Seconds tick by like minutes, his eyes bouncing between yours, expectancy evident on his handsome face while you contemplate how much you value the use of your legs and whether you’ll need them tomorrow.

“I don’t take orders from you, Todd,” You spit, jerking your chin free from his hold. Curiosity has clearly gotten the better of you, and the fire your response sets ablaze in Jason’s eyes has your stomach flipping. His mouth curls into a wicked little smirk, and then you feel that same hand of his wrap around your throat and squeeze; hard.

He bends forward, bringing his lips to the shell of your ear, tongue tracing the edge of the cartilage. “So that’s how it’s gonna be, hmm?” Your breath hitches at the gravel in his tone, and now you know without a doubt that you won’t be doing any walking tomorrow, let alone moving. Thank god you have some PTO saved up.

Jason’s spine straightens when he yanks you off the table, the movement so fast you don’t have enough time to process what’s happening until your ass hits the floor and you wince. “Well, would ya lookit that.” He mocks, palm slapping against your cheek before he’s hooking two fingers into your mouth to suppress your tongue. “Since you’re down there already—might as well make yourself useful, yeah?”

Fuck. Sometimes you forget the cruelty he’s capable of, the way he can talk so mean, degrade and embarrass you for the sake of your shared pleasure. It’s exactly what you asked for, and he always delivers. With blush stained cheeks, your face pinched in a glare, you reach for his pants, popping the button open, tugging the zipper down, and shucking the blood-stained bottoms and cotton briefs to his knees. What you’re met with has your jaw working, saliva pooling behind your teeth because goddamn is he hung.

Jason is fucking massive everywhere, so it goes without saying that his dick would carry some weight, but it still astonishes you every single time you see it. Bobbing invitingly in your face, angry red at the tip and oozing precum, veins prominent and pulsing along the shaft just begging for attention, his cock sits proudly above an even heftier set of balls, and you clench remembering just how good they feel smacking your sensitive clit when he pounds you out from behind.

His fingers are still playing against your tongue, sliding over the wet muscle until he breaches the back of your throat and you choke. There’s drool seeping past his knuckles, dribbling onto your chest, and he hums his approval, eyes glittering with the promise of what’s to come. One last pass of his calloused digits before he’s angling his tip and pushing his length into the wet heat of your mouth with a grunt. “This is a much better use for that mouth of yours, don’t you agree, princess?” Jason coos at you, pressing forward until your eyes screw shut, tears trickling down your cheeks when his cock seats itself deep in your esophagus. “That’s a good girl—open up that throat for me. Yeah, just like that—fuck.”

Soggy, spit covered fingers curl against the crown of your head as Jason begins to thrust, fucking your mouth. Your eyes are blurry, crossing each time he bottoms out, breathing harshly through your nose with every withdrawal, your palms digging into the meat of his thighs to keep you steady, to keep you rooted enough to take his assault. Over and over again he drives his hips forward, the slippery sound of the suction of your lips is so fucking obscene it makes you moan. That filthy, wet squelch ringing out as more saliva trickles from the corners of your mouth, bubbling up in sloppy arcs that web between your chin and his cock, matting into his pubic hair, commingling with the remnants of his blood.

You’re sure your face is stained pink from it by now, and you couldn’t care less, not when Jason’s face is twisted so beautifully above you—jaw slack and cheeks red, sweat marring his brow, hair curling at his temples and the nape of his neck. He looks so goddamn pretty when he loses himself in you like this that it makes the ache in your throat worth it, makes tomorrow’s hoarseness a welcome battlescar if only for the vision of him lost in the throes of violent passion above you right now. “Shit—m’gonna cum, princess. S’too good, I can’t—”

You slip your hand beneath your chin, between your bodies, cupping his balls, teasing them, rolling them in your palm, and he roars, bottoming out to cum down your throat. His cock pulses against your tongue and you wiggle it against his length appreciatively, humming while you swallow down spurt after spurt of milky semen until he’s pulling out with a hiss. Jason’s big hand cups your jaw, tilting your face up while he huffs. “Best little cocksucker, baby, but I’m nowhere near finished with you yet.”

Before you can blink. Jason hauls you up and deposits you right back onto the kitchen table, throwing your legs open. Letting out a low whistle, he drags the pad of his thumb up through your folds, swiping over your throbbing clit with a chuckle. “Such a pretty little pussy, hm? So eager, so fuckin’ desperate, clenching around nothing at all. You just wanna be full, don’t you?” He goads, slotting his hips between your thighs, letting the heavy weight of his dick slap against your sensitive pearl until you’re mewling, fingernails biting into his forearms.

“Jay—please,” You whine, your voice scratchy and rough, and he shakes his head, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth while his eyes make a slow trek up to meet yours.

“After your little performance? Not a chance, sweetheart. I’ll fuck you when I’m good and ready, but for now? For now you’re gonna put on a show for me. Let me see how you stuff that needy cunt when I’m not here.” He smirks viciously down at you, wrapping his fist around his length, pumping slow and languid while your face heats with embarrassment.

The weight of his stare presses down on you, hot and heavy, as you guide a trembling hand between your legs, fingers dipping through your slick, peeling your lower lips apart with a breathy sigh. Despite his bravado, you know how bad he wants to be buried in your heat, cock shoved so deep that the tip batters against your cervix. It’s that thought alone that spurs you on, two fingers pushing into that wet, hungry hole with a moan. You hook them upwards, seeking, pressing against that tender little spot that makes your back arch, fucking yourself while he watches, his muscles coiled in waiting like a predator about to strike. It’s maddening—no matter how fast or how hard your fingers work into your pussy, it’s not enough, it’s never enough and he knows it.

“Feels good, huh, princess?” Jason huffs, pumping his dick while he watches you, taunting you with his words. “But you want more—can see it on that pretty face. Those little fingers just don’t cut it, do they? Course not, you need more. Need this fat cock, don’t you?” The whine that pours out of your throat is meek and pathetic, because he’s right and you can’t hide from him—not when you’re splayed out so beautifully like this.

How many nights have you spent lying on your sheets chasing an unsatisfying release at your own hands. It’s never as good as it is with him, because Jason knows you. Knows all the ways to make you keen and writhe and burst. “Go on,” He says, “let me hear you say it. Beg me real nice and I might give you what you want.”

God damn him, you think, because he never makes it easy, not on nights like this when the battle is still fresh in his mind, when the adrenaline is still plowing through his veins. And god damn you if it doesn’t light you right up, heating the already charged air between you both. Your head falls back with a thud against the table and he tuts at you, pulling your gaze back where he wants it—on him. There’s a lump in your throat despite your fingers still working your cunt, the shame of having to beg both igniting your desire and stoking the fire of your petulance. Gritting your teeth, you spit the words he wants to hear at him with indignant venom. “Please, Jason. Want—need your cock. Fuck me, baby, just—” He chuckles darkly, free hand moving to grip your chin, his thumb stroking the hinge of your jaw.

“Oh, I think you can do better than that.” Jason sucks a breath in through his teeth, his handsome face scrunched up with pleasure, and you catch sight of his other thumb swabbing over the tip of his cock, still rock hard and leaking between his clenched fist. “Try again.”

“Fuck!” You spit, fingers soaked as they dive in and out of your pussy with delicious friction. Swallowing what remains of your stubborn pride, you gaze at Jason from beneath your lashes, your eyebrows furrowing, features turning soft and pleading. “Please, baby,” Your voice lifts an octave higher—whiney, simpering—and it works. Jason groans, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. “Fuck me, baby. Please fuck me. Need you, need that cock—please? M’so empty without it. Wanna cum all over you, Jason. Please!”

“That’s my girl,” He croons, tilting his head to capture your mouth in a kiss that’s more teeth and tongue than anything else, distracting you enough that you cling to him, fingers carding through his hair while the head of his cock prods through your slit until it catches on your opening and he drives his hips forward, stretching you apart in one powerful, rough thrust.

It forces a scream from your throat that he swallows, bottoming out until his pelvis rests flat against the pocket of fat above your pussy. “Fuck—give me your fingers, baby. Put ‘em in my mouth.” Jason commands, and you know exactly what he wants, bringing your damp middle fingers up to his face, letting him suck the remnants of your efforts from your skin. You watch, hypnotized, as his eyes roll back and he starts to move, his teeth sinking into the digits while he fucks you.

There’s nothing quite like having a cunt full of Jason Todd. The sting that comes from the sheer size of his dick, the way it stretches you to your very limits, those gummy walls forced open wide to accept every angry stab of his length. He bullies his cock into you, pounds hard enough that your kitchen table slides across the floor with each stroke. But he follows right along with it, hammering into you while his tongue slides between your fingers, sucking on them like a damn pacifier. It’s sinful, filthy, and raw—makes you absolutely feral, crying out for him over and over again, free hand dragging harsh lines down his muscled back so hard you’re certain you’ve broken the skin.

“Mhmm,” he hums, letting your fingers fall from his mouth. “I know, baby. I fucking know—swear to god you were made for me. Take my cock so fucking well—shit!” He growls, righting his posture and reaching for your ankles. Jason locks both of them in one hand, closing your thighs together, making you even tighter, the fat lips of your pussy peeking out between your legs. The sight has Jason grunting like a wild animal. “That’s my pussy, huh?” He asks and you nod, completely lost to the mind-numbing pleasure he’s supplying. “Know it is. Always gonna be mine, baby. Gonna ruin this little cunt for anyone else. Gonna wreck it.”

The world shrinks until it’s just you and Jason, no concern for your neighbors who can undoubtedly hear the way your kitchen table knocks against the wall every time he pounds his dick into your pussy, not a single care other than him and the way he loves you—the brutal way he fucks you. Resting both of your legs against the side of his chest that isn’t cut open, he hugs them close, looks down at you, and god, you’ve never seen him quite like this. It’s mesmerizing.

And then he’s spreading your legs, pushing your shins up and into your chest, folding you in half. The new angle sends his cock even deeper, and you let out another rapturous cry, each stroke pummeling your cervix. He shushes you, fingers mashing your cheeks together in a tight grip. “Eyes on me, princess. Wanna see you fall apart.”

So you watch, helpless and at his mercy, when his free hand wedges between your legs, fingers seeking out the place where you’re stretched around his dick, stroking it lovingly before moving his attention to your stiff, aching bud. Jason tilts his head, dropping his chin to his chest, letting a drizzle of spit cascade down between you. It hits its mark, splashing against the hood of your clit and rolling down until he catches it with his thumb, sluicing it up and over your pearl.

“Don’t you dare hold back.” He commands, and all you can do is nod, tits practically tucked under your chin, body jolting from his incessant, endless assault. And then his fingers start to move and you wail. The friction is a welcome respite from the brutal way he’s handling you. Jason plays your clit like he knows what you’re feeling, flicking and tugging, applying enough pressure that the heat beginning to bloom in your belly burns hotter, a blazing inferno that’s about to consume you. “That’s it, let it out. Come on, angel, give it to me. Soak my fucking thighs.”

There’s always this brief moment before you cum—the universe stilling for the tiniest of seconds right before you unravel. You lock eyes with Jason in that instant, lip pinched between your teeth to try and muffle the noise you’re making. He nods at you, encourages you to let it go, tells you that he’s got you with just the look in his eyes, and it’s the truth. When time catches up to you in the next blink of your eyes, you fucking explode. Your back arches, knees slamming into your chest while you scream and quake beneath him. Jason wrangles you through your convulsions, pins your limbs to the table, coos and hushes you, lavishes you with praise while your cunt gushes around the intrusion of his cock. And what a fucking mess you’ve made.

His teeth grit when he feels your cum wet his stomach and thighs, dribbling down his balls, and that’s the final nail in the coffin for Jason. With a roar of your name, he pumps into you a final time before he, too, loses himself. Jason cums hard—so hard that he damn near goes blind and deaf, vision whiting out, ears ringing as he empties himself into your swollen, fucked out pussy. It’s endless, the thick ropes of spend that now paint your insides. So much that you can’t contain it, a few errant, creamy strands dripping out of the place your bodies are joined.

When he blinks his eyes open again, he catches as much as he can on his fingers, licks it into his mouth, and yanks you into his arms to kiss you. You’re barely conscious, but you kiss him back anyways, and Jason can’t stop the smile that curls his lips as he feeds you his cum from the tip of his tongue. Brushing your sweat matted hair off your forehead, his smile widens, peppering your reddened face with kisses. “You still with me, baby? Or have I fucked you stupid again?”

A halfhearted swat to the side of his head is your answer, and he laughs, the sound warm and infectious. There’s something so sweet about his laugh, it’s always made your chest swell, deep and gruff and perfect—just like him. You both stay locked together, his arms around you in a tight embrace, until your mind finally floats back into your body enough for you to remember how to be a person again. “Hey—as incredible as that was, and don’t you dare get an ego about it—you’re still very fucking injured, Jason.”

Another laugh, his lips smacking against yours in a final peck that has you grinning right back at him. “Yeah, alright, I hear you, boss.” Jason teases, right before easing his softening cock from inside you. There are wounds that need tending, but he’s not quite ready to let go of this moment, feeling whole with your body wrapped up in his arms. He presses his forehead to yours once more, warm breath fanning out against your heated skin. “I love you, baby.” He whispers it, soft and sweet, your heart melting at the declaration.

It’s a sentiment you return without hesitation, arms moving to cup his face—your whole world now held between the palms of your hands—and tilt his face back to level him with your stare. “I love you,” you answer, conviction heavy in your voice as you brush your nose against his “always.” Jason’s breath hitches in his chest, because nothing on this earth could have ever prepared him for the peace, the utter tranquility that loving you and being loved by you has brought him. Despite the lump in his throat, the tears misting his gaze, he echoes “always,” right back to you, kissing you tenderly until you’re both dizzy, until the world around you fades once again, until all that’s left is you and him. Just the way you like it.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #red hood smut #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #fanfic #jason todd fanfic #red hood fanfic #fanfiction #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fanfiction #DC comics

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dragon-ascent · 5 months

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Zhongli consumes silly fiction...and makes it obvious.

Zhongli is literally an old soul. His tastes in literature and theatre are refined and often require a specific frame of mind to be able to fully enjoy and understand.

Pulp fiction is nothing like what he's used to, but since the god is always down for getting involved in new things and broadening his horizons, Zhongli has found himself engrossed in light novels and plays that are all the rage among youngsters in Liyue.

The stories, actions, and lines in such forms of entertainment are...interesting, to say the least. But they make their audiences swoon, and so Zhongli conjures up the brilliant idea to make you swoon with all that he's learned. Then you'll be so impressed!

You're doing your skincare at the vanity table, minding your own business, when your husband comes and leans against the doorframe. "I shall have you know, dearest, I am a player." He places a hand on the nape of his neck and looks at you through hooded eyes.

You snort. "Uh-huh." You get back to doing skincare.

"You mustn't get too close to a player like myself, lest I hurt you."

"So true." You walk up to him and kiss him. "What do you play?"

Zhongli blinks, not having planned this far. "I, er...chess?"

One night you two are getting intimate, breaths intermingled between deep, hot kisses. "Your scent is divine," he murmurs into the crook of your neck, his tail coming out to wrap around your thigh. "It makes a cold alpha like myself wish to rut inside your sweet body until dawn."

He doesn't get why that made you laugh so hard you had to stop for the night.

"Hmm, I think I may need to go bra shopping soon..." you muse, trying to gauge how you look in the mirror, frowning at your chest. "Need to get better measurements..."

Zhongli smiles, ready to shine. "How about you use my hands as your brassiere instead?" he asks, holding his hands out palm-up, sincerely ready to cup you. "Then you needn't worry about shopping for more."

Your face flares up in mortification. "What the heck's gotten into you lately?! Darling, no!"

"Well then, let us at least use my hands to measure you properly."

#sini writes #zhongli #genshin impact #zhongli x reader #fluff #drabble #suggestive

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yoursadisticdommemommy · 2 months

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𝔚𝔢𝔩𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 ❤︎

"Welcome to my house! Enter freely. Go safely; and leave something of the happiness you bring!"

𝕸𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖞'𝖘 𝕲𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝕲𝖎𝖗𝖑𝖘:

🧸👑🦊🌹🐾 🌊 🥝🎃😈😽🪐🧅🐺👻🩸🥀☔🐶🦄🦋🍒🍓⚰️💫🍬⛓️🎀🎬🐰🐉🌻🐻🌼🌸🐍🍑👸🦇🗝️☣️🌙🪿⭐

If you want to be one of my sweet darlings, please send me your emoji, and I'll add it to my list.

This blog is 🔞18+ Only, no minors. You are not welcome in this space; please leave.

Put your age in your bio, or get blocked.

This blog is trans-friendly, kink-friendly, sex and body-positive, queer-friendly, and anti-racism. Be kind, and remember this is a safe space for consensual and risk-aware BDSM and kink.

This blog is for all things BDSM and Kink. Do not interact or stay here if you are under 18. If you are underage, you should not be here, and you are not welcome in this space or on this page. If your age is not in your bio, you will be blocked.

Sadistic Soft Domme and Mistress.

You may refer to me as Mistress 9, Mistress, or Mommy if you feel so inclined. All are fine.

DMs and Asks are open. But I am not looking for a submissive or a relationship. I would appreciate it if you could be kind. Moots can add me on Snapchat, send me a DM love.

Follow my backup, just in case.

I am pansexual and polyamourous. I dom any gender (trans-friendly).

Switch - This page is only about my domming. Hard Kinks and BDSM, I can be sweet, but my venom always comes with a sting, dears. Enter at your own risk. Some things may be triggering to some people.

Visit my Submissive-focused blog here.

Visit my Pet Play-focused blog here.

Visit my Musings blog here.

Most of my posts are queued, so there's content for you when I'm away.

I am not looking for submissives or dom/mes, so don't ask. Don't send your nudes or send requests to be my submissive or anything of the sort. Those are something built on trust over time. However, I'm always looking for pleasant conversation, and you're free to give me your best pick-up line or just a hello, Mistress, to ask about my day. Unless you are one of my pets looking for extra attention, do not try to get me to be your domme in my asks.

Unless they are rude, I answer all requests and messages unless they specifically request not to be shared. I am a busy woman with submissives of my own to tend to, and sometimes, it takes me a while to respond. Be patient, dears, and try to be understanding.

Take a peek into my sadistic desires and just a taste of my dominant desires.

Toy-Free Guided Masturbation

To See My Public Executions, use the hashtag #m9publicexecution

𝕲𝖊𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝕶𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘

♥︎ I am a soft, sadistic goth domme and mistress.

♥︎ My favorite color is vermilion.

♥︎ I love horror movies, gore, and all things spooky.

♥︎ When I'm not dominating my good little pets, I enjoy a variety of interests and hobbies.

𝔗𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔪𝔢 𝔞 𝔣𝔢𝔴 𝔬𝔣 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔣𝔞𝔳𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰

♥︎ My favorite literature includes

Dracula by Bram Stoker

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson.

The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien

Jaws by Peter Benchley

Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton

The Book of the Dead

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll

♥︎My favorite movies include (well, some of them, at least)

A Quiet Place

Scream

Saw

Alien

Strangeland

The Uninvited

Interview with a Vampire

Queen of the Damned

The Autopsy of Jane Doe

Black Swan

Pulp Fiction

Guardians of the Galaxy

Van Helsing

Apocalypto

The Phantom of the Opera

Creature from the Black Lagoon

Howl's Moving Castle

Venom

The Bride of Frankenstein

Little Shop of Horrors

Sweeney Todd

47 Meters Down

Catwoman

Jaws

♥︎My favorite shows include (well, some of them, at least)

Deathnote

What We Do in the Shadows

The Addams Family

Arcane

Chainsaw Man

Fullmetal Alchemist

Hazbin Hotel

Invincible

Love, Death, and Robots

MEGALOBOX

Parasyte

Sabrina, The Teenage Witch

Tokyo Ghoul

WandaVision

Westworld

You

♥︎My favorite musicians to listen to (well, some of them, at least)

Clan of Xymox

HIM

Rob Zombie

The 69 Eyes

Alice in Chains

The Killers

Blue Stahli

Arch Enemy

Anthrax

Blind Guardian

Cradle of Filth

The Misfits

Fit for an Autopsy

Funeral for a Friend

Nightwish

Rammstein

Burzum

The Smiths

Kamelot

Dance with the Dead

Razed in Black

Nine Inch Nails

The Birthday Massacre

Otep

Marilyn Manson

Children of Bodom

Korn

Siouxsie and the Banshees

Depeche Mode

Bauhaus

Bile

Ghost

Blink 182

The Cure

Emilie Autumn

Type O Negative

Sisters of Mercy

She Wants Revenge

Kink and Fetish

𝑳𝒆𝒕'𝒔 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒚, 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.

𝗞𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘀 (𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗜 𝗟𝗶𝗸𝗲)

Sadism (obviously)

Bondage

CNC

Anal

Corruption

Domination

Erotic Asphyxiation

Gagging

Hair Pulling

Impact Play: favorites include whips, canes, paddles, floggers, riding crops, and so so much more.

Narratophilia

Vampirism

Oral

Exhibitionism

Primal Play

Pet Play

Sensation Play

Praise and Degradation

Orgasm Control

Body Worship

Pain Play

Voyeurism

Marking and Collaring

Just to name a few.

𝘽𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨 (𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙉𝙤𝙨)

Mutilation

MDLG

Scat and Water Sports

Body, Race, or Gender Shaming

Sissification

Beastiality

My BDSM Test Scores

Want to know what I scored on that silly little BDSM test? My results are below!

Enjoy your time here; the pleasure is all mine. 💋

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javierpena-inatacvest · 11 months

Text

Movie Night

Summary: You and Javi are trying to pick a movie to watch together. When Javi decides to change into gray sweatpants to get more comfortable... something else besides movie watching ensues.

Word Count: 2.3K

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), established relationship, face fucking, oral (m receiving), mastrubation (f), praise kink, Javi in gray sweatpants (it deserves its own warning), reader has hair that can be held, Javi being a menace but still soft and sweet (because that's just how I roll)

A/N: This was inspired by an ask from an anon (thank you, non, Javi in gray sweatpants is everything), and I'm absolutely feral completely normal about it!!! Also, I had this gif in mind the whole time I was writing this because GOD DAMN 🥴🥵

This can be read as a stand alone, or as a part of the It's Never Too Late Series!!

“Forrest Gump?”

“No…”

“Jaws?”

“No, not that either…”

“Pulp Fiction?”

“Not that one…”

“Well ya gotta pick something Osita.” Javi sighed, laughing to himself at your indecisiveness as he put back the VHS tape choices he had pulled out for your weekly Friday night movie. Ever since the two of you had started dating, Friday nights had been exclusively reserved for you and Javi cuddling up on your couch, eating the pizza he picked up on the way home from work, and catching him up on the many movie classics he had missed since his time away in Colombia- a well deserved way to end both of your weeks. The first few weeks of movie night picks had been easy- mandating that Javi had to watch all of the Star Wars and Indiana Jones series (your two personal favorites) before moving on to anything else. You had let Javi pick what movies he had wanted to watch from there, mostly to curb any time wasted from your indecisiveness on choosing something.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna pick?” You groaned, squatting down next to Javi as the two of you sorted through the movie collection under the TV stand.

“Osita, I’ve picked like, the last 3 weeks in a row. I promise, I don’t care what we watch. I’ll make it easy on you. Here…” Reaching back into the TV stand, Javi pulled out a few random movies, scattering them on the ground before looking back at you. “I’m gonna go change out of my work clothes, pick something from these by the time I get back. Only 4 choices. Can’t be that hard, ya dork.” Javi chuckled, pressing a quick kiss onto your forehead before standing back up and making his way towards the bedroom.

‘Fine…” You grumbled, shuffling through the choices that Javi had left. Reaching down next to you, you picked up “The Princess Bride”, deeming it the best of the 4 random tapes Javi had pulled from the TV stand, popping it in to the VHS player before settling back onto the couch, curling up in one of the blankets you had draped over the sides. “I picked something!” You shouted towards the bedroom, hearing Javi’s footsteps beginning to make their way down the hall.

“See? Knew you could do it, Hermosa.” Javi’s voice trailed behind him as he stepped into the living room, playfully rolling his eyes at you. “So, what are we watching?”

Truth be told, you hadn’t heard a single word Javi had said since you had watched him enter the living room- Not after seeing what he was wearing.

He had changed out of his work attire and exchanged it for a fitted black t-shirt and gray sweatpants that left very little to the imagination. Javi had insisted to you that they really were the only pair of sweatpants that he had, but there was a part of you that was convinced he knew just how irresistible he looked in them, and that the sight of him in those pants made you absolutely feral.

“Hmmmm?” You replied, visibly shaking your head to try and reel yourself in from the thoughts you were already having after seeing your boyfriend walk into the room in his new outfit. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked, what movie are we watching?” He nodded towards the TV as he sat next to you on the couch, legs splayed open in a way that had the outline of his bulge perfectly pressed against the gray fabric of his pants. You could practically feel your mouth watering as you looked down at his lap- you were trying your best not to stare, but you couldn’t help but swipe your tongue along your bottom lip breathing heavily as you looked up at Javi.

“Or…” You smirked, working your way across the couch to crawl into Javi’s lap, straddling him with your legs on either side of his, running your fingers through the dark curls of his hair. “We could not watch the movie and do something else.” Your hands began to travel down Javi’s body, resting on his chest and grabbing at fist fulls of his shirt as your hips pressed down into his, feeling him starting to become hard underneath you, your kisses becoming desperate and frantic.

“Something else, huh?” You could feel Javi’s boyish grin between the presses of your lips, his hands working their way up and down your body before digging into your hips as you rolled them against his lap.

“Mhmmmmmm.” You nodded, reaching down to palm at Javi’s dick, straining against the fabric of his pants. “God, you look so good in these. You know what these sweatpants do to me, Jav?” Your kisses left Javi’s lips, slowly trailing down his body in hot, wet presses against the exposed skin of his neck and soft fabric of his shirt. You slid off Javi’s lap, kneeling on the ground in front of him, tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants, springing free his cock, already painfully hard and leaking with precum. Javi lifted his legs, shuffling his pants down to pool around his ankles, letting your hands and kisses wander up his thighs.

“Fuck me, Hermosa…” Javi groaned, leaning his head back against the edge of the couch as you planted hot kisses along his length, one hand slowly stroking the base of his shaft, the other running up and down the skin of his legs. “You wanna suck my dick, baby?”

You smirked, gently shaking your head from side to side, looking up at Javi. “I- I want you to fuck my mouth, Javi.”

Javi’s eyes went wide, jaw immediately going slack as your words left your mouth, visabally taking a moment to process your request. He reached down to cradle your face, forcing your gaze up towards his. “Baby… I don’t- Hermosa…are you sure? I don’t wanna hurt you or anything.”

Regardless of what either of you wanted in the bedroom, rough, soft, or anything in between, Javi’s first priority had always been making sure that first and foremost, you were comfortable. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about your request before- as much as he loved going down on you, Javi absolutely lost his mind every time you went down on him, and the thought of you on your knees, taking his cock deep down your throat as he fucked your mouth had him rock hard.

“Javi,” You giggled, biting down on your lip, raising an eyebrow at him, “I’m positive. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t want to. I wanna make you feel good, baby.” Grabbing the hand gently cupping your cheek, you tugged at it, forcing him to stand up, running your hands up and down his thighs before removing one to lick a broad strip down your palm and wrap it around his shaft, slowly stroking it, making him groan.

“Fuck me.” He muttered to himself, watching you wrap your hand around his length and taking him into your mouth, swirling the tangy mix of his arousal and your spit around your tongue. He ran his hand through the dark curls of his hair, trying his best to keep his composure, already so worked up from just the thought of what you were about to let him do alone. “If it’s too much, you let me know, okay? Tap my leg or my arm or whatever, and I’ll stop, no questions asked, I-”

“Javi. I love you, baby. I wanna choke on your dick. I promise I’ll be okay.” You smirked, nodding in reassurance, hand still twisting around the base of his shaft, making its way up to thumb at his tip, red and leaking, sliding the mix of your saliva and his precum up and down his length.

“Jesus. Okay, Hermosa. Open that pretty mouth for me, baby girl.” He reached down, thumb tugging at your bottom lip before sliding his hand along the back of your head, carefully cradling it as your jaw hinged open, sticking out your tongue for him to place his cock on. Your eyes batted up at him through heavy lashes, gripping around the back of his bare thighs as you let your mouth relax, his length hard and heavy against your tongue as you took him between your lips. He eased into your throat, setting a slow pace as his hips gently rocked as you took him deeper into your mouth, hearing him audibly moan as your fingertips dug into the skin of his legs, urging him to go deeper, pulling him closer to you. “You sure?” Javi looked at you, eyes wide as you nodded, humming against his cock in approval, as if he knew exactly what your little gesture had meant.

Javi pulled back, pausing for a moment, a devilish smirk spreading across his face before pushing all the way back in, making you hollow your cheeks and breath through your nose, brushing up against the curls at his base, the sweet and musky scent of him filling your nostrils as you inhaled. “Oh fuck, Osita. Holy shit.” His voice rasped, hitching in the back of his throat watching your mouth fill with his cock. His fingers ran through your hair, tugging a little tighter as his thrusts began to quicken, his grunts and moans becoming louder with each push and pull. “Fuck, such a good girl taking me so well. So fucking pretty when you suck my cock baby, holy fuck.”

His other hand met his first, cupping the back of your head as he fucked into you, hitting the back of your throat as tears welled in your eyes and drool pooled from your lips as his cock consumed your mouth. You loved sucking Javi’s dick because you knew just how good it made him feel- watching his face all blissed out, leaving him a moaning and muttering mess. But this? Looking up at him through your heavy lids seeing the pure euphoria radiating off of him? It was unmatched.

You couldn’t help but rub your thighs together, trying to ease the ache that had rapidly been building between your legs, feeling the wetness pooling in the fabric of your underwear. Desperate to ease your own needs, you shifted one of the hands that was holding the back of Javi’s thigh, bringing it down to snake down your sweatpants and the waistband of your panties, humming in relief around Javi’s length as you rubbed your clit, already throbbing and pulsing before your fingers had even touched it. Feeling the absent grip of your fingertips in his leg, Javi looked down to see you touching yourself as his cock thrusted in and out of your mouth, making his jaw even more slack, while his pace became more frantic and sloppy.

“You touching yourself, baby? Fuck- sucking my cock like this got you all worked up?” Javi groaned through gritted teeth as you nodded up at him with watery eyes, hollowing your cheeks to try and keep from gagging as he brushed against the back of your throat. “Fuck meeee.” He whimpered, not sure how much longer he was going to last watching you, feeling the tingle at the base of his spine already beginning to grow. “Dirty fucking girl. I’m not gonna last much longer, baby- shit- be a good girl and make yourself cum on those pretty little fingers for me, yeah? Wanna see you- oh fuck- wanna see you cum for me before I fuck myself down your throat.”

Sliding deeper into your panties, you felt the slick covering your folds as you dipped your 2 fingers inside your heat, the palm of your hand bumping against your clit while you touched yourself, feeling equally as worked up and close to finishing as Javi was. Saliva spilled from the sides of your mouth as tears slid down your cheeks as Javi’s cock filled every inch of your mouth, the veins of his dick throbbing along your tongue. You could feel your pussy begin to flutter as your hands slid in and out of your dripping entrance, arousal pooling in your belly with each brush of your palm along your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your whimpers and moans humming around Javi’s cock had him reeling, his fingers gripping tighter around the ends of your hair as he cradled the back of your head, as he pushed deeper down your throat.

Suddenly, you could feel the coil inside you snap, your cunt clenching hard around your fingers as your orgasm ripped through you, your eyes squeezing shut and the breathing through your nose becoming heavier as you came. Knowing that you had hit your high, Javi sought relentlessly to reach his own, desperately thrusting into you. “Fuck me, Osita. Fuck. I’m so close baby, shit, gonna fill up that pretty mouth of yours. Meirda, Hermosa, ay dios mío, voy a-aahhhhhhhhh (Shit, Beautiful, oh my god, I’m gonna-ahhhhhh).” With one more push of his hips, Javi’s spilled himself inside you, hot ropes of his spend coating the back of your throat as his cock throbbed, milking himself of every last drop before pulling back out of your mouth. Both of your breaths were slow and heavy, Javi’s hand resting under your chin, tilting your messy, wet face up towards his as you swallowed, taking his cum down your throat.

“Jesus Christ…” He whispered to himself, his jaw still slack and eyes wide as he looked down at you, a devilish grin now growing across his face. “Fuck me. Fuck, that was so hot. You okay, baby?” He asked, pulling you up to stand as you used the back of your hand to wipe the spit still dripping from the edges of your lips.

“More than okay.” You smirked, pressing up on your tiptoes to plant a hot kiss on his lips, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. “We’re gonna have to get you new sweatpants, Jav.” You giggled, still laughing at the fabric pooled around his ankles. Javi tilted his head in confusion, reaching down to shuffle his pants and boxers over his legs.

“Why’s that, Hermosa?”

“Because if you keep putting on those sweatpants every time we’re supposed to watch a movie, I don’t think we’re ever gonna watch a movie again.”

Taglist

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @dappydelta @blackfemalenerd

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rad-roche · 6 months

Text

Pulp Covers And How To Paint Them

With the rise of cheap printing in the early twentieth century, mass-marked paperbacks swept the world, each offering lurid thrills for obscenely low prices. Sex, sadism, and incredible violence for as little as ten cents. An easy purchase to slot in between fifty cigarettes a day and enough bourbon slugs to kill a small garden.

Pulp fiction is where some of the greats of American literature cut their teeth, including the big three, Raymond Chandler, Ross MacDonald and Dashiell Hammett. The contents of these stories, both the dizzyingly good and astoundingly terrible, have been absorbed and digested and remixed and regurgitated in nearly every permutation imaginable, fuelling pop culture some one hundred years on. This isn't an essay on that. Nobody likes to open a tutorial and be greeted with a wall of text. The history is for another time.

But it is about how to paint it.

Don't let the pre-amble intimidate you, it's not as hard as it sounds. You will need:

Painting software with some image editing capabilities. You don't need all the bells and whistles of Photoshop, but I wouldn't recommend something like MSPaint, at least not to start with. I'm using Clip Studio Paint.

A really beat-up paper texture. The grungier, the better.

A lightly-textured brush. Here are the specific brushes I use, 99% of which is the well-named rough brush. Try and avoid anything with any impasto elements.

Go to your colour-picking tool and use the 'select from layer' option. Doing all the painting on a single layer is going to make your life easier.

A complete willingness to make mistakes and, instead of erasing, painting over them. It generates much more colour variation and interest! Keep your finger off the E key.

Good reference! That painting is a master copy of Mitchel Hooks' art for Day of the Ram. Find a style you really love and want to learn? Have no clue where to begin? Do direct studies!

Let's not worry about whatever is happening in the background. It's probably fine. Let's get started! Pulp magazine art is a lot more varied than you might first think, so don't agonize over having a style that 'fits' or not. I'm also specifically aiming for something you'd see on the cover after printing, not the initial painting they would use for printing. The stuff I'll show here is a pretty narrow band of it, but here are some general commonalities. This is a painting by Tom Lovell.

Let's dig into this.

The colours are very bright and saturated, but the actual values, the relative lightness and darkness of them, are actually grouped very simply! You can check this by filling a layer full of black, putting it on top and setting its mode to colour. If the value of a painting looks good, you actually get a lot of leeway with colour. But here's what I think is the most important thing to keep in mind.

The darks aren't that dark, and the lights aren't all that light! Covers are paintings reproduced on cheap paper. Anything you wouldn't want to happen in the printing process, you lean into. Value wash-outs, lower contrast, colours getting a weird wash to them, really gritty texturing. So let's get painting! Here's my typical setup.

That bottom folder is the painting itself. The screen layer is the grungy paper texture. To get the effect you want, put it down, invert its colour, then set it to screen. That washes out your painting far, far too much, so to compensate, I put a contrast layer up on top. Fiddle around with the settings, but this is where mine ended up sitting.

Note I'm saying this before even starting the painting: you want to do this as early as possible. This is where the 'select from layer' colour picker comes in handy. You can paint without worrying about the screen or contrast layer. Something not looking right? Enable your value check layer and keep painting. When you turn it off, it'll still be in colour. Here's a timelapse so you can see what that looks like.

And when you check the values...

They're pretty simple! This isn't a be all and end all, but I hope it serves as a decent primer. I want thirty dames on my desk by Monday!

#rochedotpng #art tutorial #art resources #couldn't find a thing online about this style so here's how i do it #pulp #it's how i did the death shroud one more or less

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thursdaygxrls · 1 year

Text

Seeing Her

summary - george might (maybe) have a small crush.

pairing - george weasley x fem!bookworm!reader

disclaimer - i don't own any harry potter property. this is unedited because i wasn't in the mood. i don’t own the gif fr.

warnings - just fluff. maybe a little ooc??

He never gave much thought to how full his mind had grown of her until McGonagall struck her desk with her palms. That noise - the searing slap of flesh meeting oak - knocked a sudden realization into the bubbling pot of his mind.

"I do hope you boys are satisfied with yourselves," the older woman chastised through permanently pursed lips, "Professor Flitwick's hair is green!"

"Not purple?" Fred spoke up from next to him.

"This is no laughing matter. You boys are lucky the Professor has a sense of humor. If it were Snape or me in his position, I hope you realize the consequences would be more drastic than detention." She replied. This conversation had fallen upon George's deaf ears, though; his thoughts were much more full of things other than detention:

It was like a dream the first time he saw her - and not just because he had a black eye. He'd just left quidditch practice (or rather, was removed after he and Fred had gotten into a small tussle with the Slytherin bludgers who didn't understand Gryffindor booked the field for practice) when he passed the courtyard. Eye swelling with the beginnings of a bruise, he noticed a hazy glint coming from a line of trees. He could see her; she was only a few meters away, rolling some sort of ring or watch around in a way that caught the light of the fading sun. There was a book in her hands, something with a bright, poppy color, that hinted at it being a pulpy mystery or romance. What caught him the most, though, was her expression; her brows were creased, eyes set in concentration, lips downturned into a frown. Whatever she was reading was pissing her off, and for some reason, the sight of this unknown girl becoming increasingly annoyed at her imaginary tale made his mouth curl into a smile.

George returned to his dorm with that same smile. Of course, though, he'd forgotten about the girl within the hour and found himself following the rinse-and-repeat routine of a mischief-less night. He'd still forgotten when he woke. And when he brushed his teeth. And when he messily knotted his tie.

The funny thing about her was her persistence. He had not even taken a step down the ever-shifting staircase when he saw her. She was far below him and growing farther with every second, but there she was, pulpy fiction novel tucked under her arm. This time, her face was adorned with a grin as she followed (who George could only assume was) her friend towards the Great Hall. This sight caught the boy off guard for long enough that he nearly tripped over his feet when the steps relocated to the right.

George was even more aghast to learn that she was in his potions class. He'd just set down his books next to Fred when an invisible force compelled him to turn around. Following its lead, he found the mystery he'd yet to even consider mysterious seated only three tables away. His eyebrows raised in small bout of surprise as he noticed the the cover of her novel had changed to reveal a more gothic image of a knotted tree: Wuthering Heights. He hadn't cared much to track her progress on the pulp book, but it was still a small shock to see her ready to take on another story. Again, he smiled, noting the title of the new book.

"What'cha looking at?" Fred asked him, interrupting his gaze.

"Nothing," he replied, turning away, "Trying to view things from my purple perspective." Fred let out a low chuckle, his bruised cheek raising as he matched his brother's grin.

It wasn't as if George was seeking her out or anything - actually, it was as though she were seeking him. He saw her everywhere, from breakfast, to the halls, to classes, to the courtyard. He even dreamed of her a few times - nothing special, just the image of her resting along the hazy vignettes of his mind. Throughout all this, he had taken a subconscious interest. She ate away at muggle books faster than he'd ever seen anyone do; she loved cheesy and classic romance alike, and no title was safe from her grasp; it was painful to watch her brows knot and furrow as she became increasingly frustrated with what she was reading; when she was around her friends, her eyes lit up like her ring hitting the sunlight. These were easy things to notice, though. It wasn't hard to see how her hands moved wildly as she explained some sort of crazy story to those at her table in the Great Hall. It was so easy, in fact, that George's studies moved from potions to her every time the class began.

Though George had given plenty of thought to her, he hadn't realized just how much thought he'd donated. At least, not while he and Fred were plotting revenge. Though the bruises on the twins' faces healed over a month or so, their egos had yet to heal. They'd planned their revenge perfectly. The Slytherins who'd given them the shiners left dinner around the same time each night. The twins concocted an elixir that, with just one small drop on a person's head, would dye their hair for days. They'd positioned themselves on a balcony above the route which the Slytherins normally took. It was perfect - but, it wasn't. George took in the hall below him, scanning for the unsuspecting students, when his eyes caught something else. Her.

She was in the hall alone, book in hand, but unopened. It was odd. Normally, if she was by herself, she'd be focused intently on a book. But she wasn't. She was gently thumbing the pages of the novel, looking around the hall inquisitively. Was she waiting for someone? Or maybe she was-

Her eyes met his. His eyes met hers.

Not once in the weeks he'd taken up his sudden interest had she actually looked at him. And now she was. No - she wasn't just looking at him, she was seeing him, and with those eyes. They were so much brighter when they met you head-on - deeper, too. They held indescribable emotions. Curiosity? Maybe - he didn't know, nor did he really care to, because for five seconds, they saw each other. Then, George dropped his vile of elixir right onto Flitwick's head.

"Anything interesting going on up there?" Fred poked George's head. He hadn't even realized they'd already left McGonagall's office.

"Huh?" He mumbled, flicking his eyes around at his surroundings.

"She's got you bloody whipped, eh?" Fred showed off a toothy grin.

"What? Who?" George nearly scoffed at this sudden accusation.

"The girl you've been ogling at in potions. Your neck is gonna get stuck if you keep turning to look at her." He laughed. George scoffed, shoving into his brother.

"Just ask her to go to Hogsmeade with you. Take her to the Leaky Cauldron, get in a quick snog, and get over it already." At Fred's words, George let out a dry laugh and shook his head.

"Fred, you're mental." He let out a breathy chuckle.

"Nothing else? That's all?" Fred cocked his head, "She must've got'cha good. Maybe a couple quick snogs'll do it."

It was going to take more than a snog or two to get this off his mind now. He didn't even know her name - it was nothing. Just a couple stolen glances. But Fred noticed. When the hell did Fred notice anything? Maybe more people noticed. Maybe she noticed. George squeezed his eyes tight as he lay in bed that night - this strange, twisting anxiety had overtaken him and was turning his entire body inside out. Did he want her to notice?

George decided, as he woke up, that whatever it was he was dealing with, he had to get it over with. Before he did that, though, he would have to start his day. Pushing his toothbrush past his lips, all he could think about was her smile, or the way she frowned, or her lips pressed into a line every time she concentrated. When he tied his tie, his thoughts traveled to her wide eyes, full of laughter. He didn't even know her name.

He had a plan. He was going to talk to her - actually talk to her. He'd show up to potions early, ask her about her book, finally figure out her name. He was so focused on his preparations that when he began to descend the stairs, he didn't notice the oncoming pedestrian traffic, and - boom.

George stumbled back, quickly recovering from whoever he'd knocked into. The recipient of his force, though, wasn't as lucky: they ended up straight on their arse.

"Sorry!" He spoke quickly, "Didn't realize the stairs move." His smile (which had formed only a moment ago) faded entirely when he realized who he bumped into. Her. It was her, and she was early for breakfast.

"They tend to that," she replied, picking herself up. If he were a bit more suave, he might've helped her to her feet. Instead, he watched her stand, almost awe-struck by her movements. His gaze moved bashfully, eventually landing on the book that fallen to the floor along with her.

"Your book." He motioned to it quickly. In an attempt to make up for his lack of courtesy in helping her to her feet, he dove for the novel. And so did she. Their foreheads met with another smack, and they separated themselves before either could retrieve the object.

"Two for two, huh?" She let out a small laugh as she rubbed her head.

"Sorry," he repeated with sincerity as he successfully acquired her book from the floor. Once again, they were looking at each other. Seeing each other. George's lips parted.

"I'm George," he spoke, losing every ounce of confidence he normally possessed.

"I'm Y/N," she replied, "Could I have my book back?" George acquiesced almost immediately. He flashed a small smile that she quickly returned. Then, as the steps shifted once more, she began to walk away.

"See you in potions, George!" She called in an earnest tone. George grinned to himself. It was, after all, somewhat of a success. Even if he did - did she just say 'see you in potions'?

#harry potter #hogwarts #weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley fluff #george weasley #fred weasley #y/n #george weasley x y/n #fluff #crush #harry poter fluff #thursday writes

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organical-mechanical · 6 months

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@bogleech

It is so, so incredibly rare for me to just devour a piece of fiction.

Even with the fiction that I enjoy, I never really find myself getting truly invested.

Awful Hospital is one of those rare instances where my eyes were glued to every single word— almost every other page acknowledged something that I either thought a lot about as a kid (and heard no one else talk about) or something think about now

Anyway, the idea of the same guy coming back to life over and over again in a different (but formulaic) manner, fully aware that he’s been revived but unaware that things have been slightly rearranged is something that had been on my mind for YEARS but never really articulated, so… here are some Jays (and the accompanying slobs; not to scale)

ANKLE FRACTURE + TASER

I had a really hard time figuring out what sort of weapon you could reasonably use alongside crutches. It was either gonna be a steel-toed boot or a taser, and since he already had something chunky on his other foot, I decided that a taser would be more clear design-wise.

JAW FRACTURE + BRASS KNUCKLES

Let’s face it. Jaw wiring looks freaky as hell.

In my mind, this one is sick of having to punch food to a pulp to be able to squeeze it past his teeth.

SKULL FRACTURE + SLEDGEHAMMER

The combination just felt right.

#awful hospital #awful hospital spoilers

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venusiancharisma · 6 months

Text

Cult Classics vs Astro Notes

Which Cult Classic film would you be, based on your sign? You can look to your big 3, in terms of moon sign being your emotional state, rising would be the film you're perceived as, and sun would be most relateable... this is meant to be fun, so ENJOY <33

Aries - "Fight Club" (1999): An intense, adrenaline-fueled journey of self-discovery and rebellion against societal norms.

Taurus - "Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory" (1971): A story that indulges in the senses and teaches the value of practicality and appreciation.

Gemini - "Pulp Fiction" (1994): A fast-paced, witty, and multi-faceted narrative with clever dialogue and unexpected twists.

Cancer - "The Breakfast Club" (1985): An emotional exploration of the complexities of relationships and the importance of understanding and empathy.

Leo - "Moulin Rouge!" (2001): A passionate, dramatic, and visually stunning tale of love, creativity, and self-expression.

Virgo - "Inception" (2010): An intricate, layered puzzle that requires precision, analysis, and problem-solving skills to navigate.

Libra - "The Royal Tenenbaums" (2001): A quirky, aesthetically pleasing story that explores the dynamics of relationships and the pursuit of harmony and balance.

Scorpio - "Donnie Darko" (2001): A dark, mysterious, and psychologically intense journey that delves into the depths of the human psyche.

Sagittarius - "Into the Wild" (2007): An adventurous, philosophical quest for meaning, truth, and freedom beyond societal constraints.

Capricorn - "The Godfather" (1972): A powerful, ambitious, and strategic narrative that explores themes of loyalty, tradition, and the pursuit of success.

Aquarius - "The Matrix" (1999): A revolutionary, mind-bending story that questions reality and champions individuality and innovation.

Pisces - "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" (2004): A surreal, emotionally profound exploration of love, memories, and the blurring of fantasy and reality.

These pairings are based on the general characteristics and themes associated with each zodiac sign, and how they align with the central ideas, motifs, and tones of the respective cult classic films.

ADDITIONAL... :)

CULT CLASSIC CHARACTERS: GENDER IS INTERCHANGABLE, it's the energy.

Aries - John Bender (The Breakfast Club): Bender embodies the rebellious, independent spirit of Aries. He challenges authority figures and social norms, refusing to conform to the expectations placed upon him.

Taurus - The Dude (The Big Lebowski): The Dude's laid-back, pleasure-seeking lifestyle and his appreciation for the simple things in life align with the Taurus vibe.

Gemini - Ferris Bueller (Ferris Bueller's Day Off): Ferris's quick wit, adaptability, and ability to talk his way out of any situation are classic Gemini traits.

Cancer - Amélie Poulain (Amélie): Amélie's emotional depth, creativity, and desire to help others from behind the scenes reflect the nurturing, imaginative nature of Cancer.

Leo - Margo Channing (All About Eve): Margo's dramatic flair, confidence, and commanding presence on stage and in life embody the Leo spirit.

Virgo - Clarice Starling (The Silence of the Lambs): Clarice's intelligence, attention to detail, and dedication to her work as an FBI agent reflect Virgo's analytical and perfectionistic nature.

Libra - Cher Horowitz (Clueless): Cher's charm, social graces, and desire to create harmony and balance in her world align with the Libra archetype.

Scorpio - Lisbeth Salander (The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo): Lisbeth's intensity, mysterious aura, and ability to delve into the dark corners of the human psyche reflect the depth and power of Scorpio.

Sagittarius - Buckaroo Banzai (The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension):Buckaroo Banzai is a true Renaissance man, embodying the Sagittarius traits of versatility, curiosity, and the pursuit of knowledge across multiple disciplines. He is a neurosurgeon, particle physicist, rock star, and adventurer all in one.

Capricorn - Michael Corleone (The Godfather): Michael's ambition, strategic thinking, and commitment to family and tradition align with the Capricorn archetype.

Aquarius - Neo (The Matrix): Neo's journey to question reality, break free from societal norms, and champion individuality and innovation reflects the Aquarius spirit.

Pisces - Edward Scissorhands (Edward Scissorhands): Edward's emotional sensitivity, creativity, and struggle to find his place in the world while maintaining his unique identity align with the Pisces nature.

These character-zodiac pairings are based on the dominant traits and themes associated with each sign, and how they are embodied by the respective cult classic main characters. Keep in mind that this is a subjective interpretation, and there could be various other characters that also represent each zodiac sign in their own unique ways.

#astrology #zodiac #natal chart #sagittarius #libra #astro notes #capricorn #astro observations #virgo #cult classics #cinema #film

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salty-says · 11 months

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Going back to my roots and writing. (Haven’t written fan fiction for 3 years 💀). Anyway the One Piece Live Action has caused me to become very active on tumblr and fall down rabbit holes.

So here is a little Drabble about Shanks x Luffy’sMom!reader

A/N: LMFAO I DIDN’T KNOW ANY OP PLOT RLY BEFORE WRITING THIS AND I KNOW KNOW LUFFY’S FATHER IS GARP’S CHILD NOT HIS MOM 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

Being the daughter of a marine admiral meant that she grew up with an instilled hatred for pirates. Garp put her through training early on in hopes he could mold her to become a great marine like himself.

She developed fighting skills and had a strong sense of justice. That was until she went out on a mission in her teens to monitor a suspicious group of pirates. The other marines she went on the mission with decided to take their anger out on said pirates beating them to a pulp. A nasty feeling resonated within her chest as she watched her fellow marines serve their definition of justice.

That night made her start to hate the marines and the sham they were. She disconnected herself from Garp and moved to Foosha Village to start her own life away from the marines and her father.

She was very wary of pirates still. Always held onto some lingering fear for them deep down, always looked behind her back.

On the island she bought a quaint cottage and began her own garden in hopes to sustain herself without having to rely on the villagers for supplies.

After a couple of years, she found her place on the island and even become well know for her fruits and vegetables. She always brought her fresh produce to the market each morning, where she had a cute booth. The villagers adored her and also took interest in her mysterious past.

She sometimes found herself going to Party’s Bar after she made good friends with the bartender, Makino. They would talk about all there was to talk about on the island. Sailors, pirates, bandits all passed through.

However one day, old memories began resurfacing. Ones she thought she repressed long ago. She ended up going to Party’s Bar to get shit faced in hopes of shutting everything out.

At the same time as she was downing drink after drink, some sailors stopped on by at the bar. One of them was clearly very interested in her. So in her drunken state she let the man take her to an inn on the island to stay the night.

She didn’t think much of that night until one day she started feeling unbearable nausea. She went to the doctor and found out that she had gotten pregnant.

That was 9 years ago. Her small cottage now occupied by her and Luffy. She absolutely adores Luffy and would do anything for him. Sure he would frustrate her here and there but she was his mother and she loved him more than anything.

She was keen on Luffy’s interest in pirates and sailing the ocean. She decided to not share her own reservations about pirates, as she wanted Luffy to establish his own opinions when she herself couldn’t at his age.

a pirate ship became very well known around Foosha Village. A grand ship with a Jolly Roger with 3 lines across the left eye. She was aware of their presence but didn’t take mind as long as they didn’t interfere with her.

Often Luffy would come back late for dinner beaming about the stories he heard from a man named “Shanks”. She learned that he was the captain of the ship that housed itself at the docks.

With a simple reminder of him to be careful she encouraged Luffy to learn more about Shanks and his crew.

One day while she was at her booth in town, a red-haired male approached her. Instantly she noticed how cute he was and how the white shirt he wore let her admire his toned muscles.

With a blush she darted her eyes back to his face and he deeply chuckled. She smiled, “How can I help you today sir?”

“I’m looking to purchase most of your stock,” he smirked at her.

She quirked her head to the side and smiled, “Either your throwing a big party or heading out to sea.”

“Maybe both,” the red-head shrugged.

She giggled and began showing him the crates of fresh produce. He handed her some berry, “got any plans tonight?”

She blushed, “no, none really. Probably just going to make some dinner for me and my son.”

His smile faltered a bit at the last part, “Ah, I presume your married then. Sorry if my advances made you uncomfortable.”

She threw up her hands in dismissal, “Oh no. You didn’t make me uncomfortable. Actually your advances are quite welcome,” she leaned on the counter, “and don’t worry there is no husband you have to worry about.”

“Aye, how lucky am I?”

She smirked, “quite lucky”

He chuckled and leaned forward towards her, “I never introduced myself. The name’s Shanks.”

Her eyes widened a bit and her body shifted away from him. He quirked his eyebrows at this, confused by her sudden change in composure.

“..pirate,” she quietly murmured to herself. Shanks in hearing this now understood her sudden shift. “I can assure you sweetheart,” he grabbed her hands gently, “I’m a very good pirate.”

Her eyes lightened and body relaxed at his touch. And with a slight apology she told him her name. “Only a beautiful name such as that can suit a beautiful woman such as you.”

She blushed. “It’s scary how much you’re flustering me. I don’t think I would let you leave this island if you keep this up.”

“I wouldn’t mind staying a while.”

“I think my son would like that. He’s very fond of you. Your name graces our dinner table every night.” She rolls her eyes.

Shanks’ eyes widen a bit connecting the dots, “I presume Luffy is your son then?”

“Aye”

“That make sense now. He did say his mother was wary of pirates because she used to be a marine. And looking at you now, I’m glad you’re not one anymore because you’re way too beautiful.” He kissed her knuckles.

Her face turned red. “Please take me out to dinner before I pass out from how flustered you’re making me.”

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

#red haired shanks #shanks x reader #shanks #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece live action #opla #opla shanks

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lilmajorshawty · 22 days

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which venus placements make someone have a good taste in fashion art movies etc.???

Venus in Aries or the 1st house:

They tend to be very stylish and might where clothes that have a more street look. This could be trench coats and or sports ware or they can even wear ripped jeans and a sort of masculine look. The men and women can tend to be into anything that involves the body as art, so sports or movies that have action and or confrontation may be more their aesthetic. If We are talking romance this would also include movies like the notebook where their involves a open and more confrontational expression of feelings for one another.

Venus in Taurus or the 2nd house:

They can also be very stylish but they tend to wear clothes that are more comfy and skin tight. They like the touch of fabrics and can be super picky with what they wear and how they wear it. Very rarely will they “dress up” unless they have Saturn aspecting or 10th house energy as they tend to seek comfort over looking “cute.” Ironically because they have very nice bodies they tend to have extremely sensual looks in their sports or casual wear because of how well it fits their bodies. Art wise they tend to be painters and drawers. They can also adore exotic dancing or make up but this is lesser as compared to painting. Movies wise they tend to be traditional and like the oldies. But I would say even some shows like the OA, stranger things, Dark, or some of the older shows like F.r.i.e.n.d.s or seinfield fit them as they love security and sensuality

Venus in Gemini or the 3rd house:

These guys and gals tend to be very spontaneous when it comes to style but as a rule most with this placement love their dark colors maybe even more than Scorpio’s. They tend to wear a lot of crop tops or ripped jean looks. They love form fitting looks but also anything that has a sort of flowy and eccentric twist to it. Movie wise I’d say movies such as mr. and mrs. Smith, pulp fiction, kill bill, or even noir films, pesky blinders, anything science fiction related like “life” or Prometheus suit them as they tend to be into the darker themes of life but also like a light duality if serious vs joyous. They are advant dancers and can be very into tarot readings or astrology as an expression of themselves. Many tend to enjoy all forms of art but might be more in the observant end then actually doing it.

Venus in cancer or Venus in the 4th house:

They can have a moody way of dressing. This can sometimes be dressing indie or goth depending on their emotional state. They tend to have this e-boy, E-girl look to them at times but most of them tend to dress very soft and gentle almost in a way that makes them look tiny and fragile. They have a natural sad girl and sad boy aesthetic that can make their outfits seem unknowingly grunge without really trying. They also have a very strong ability to project themselves so many are into YouTube, or having vlogs because they naturally see outsiders and people around them in a mothering light. Art, for them can include drawing, creating clothing or literal branding. Movies for them I would say anything that is rom com! Anything that reminds you of home.

Venus in Leo or Venus in the 5th house :

They have a bright way of dressing! Similar to Aquarius Venus, they like their bright colors and tend to really place a focus on their lower back so you can see those curves. and if it’s a man typically the outfit somehow manages to center to their face so you can see that smile. They typically enjoy very high class material and can be sticklers for an old homage to a brand! So don’t be surprised to see them rocking classic ware. Movies wise? They tend not to watch very many and if they do they have to be emotionally significant or make an impact on them. A lot of their movie choices have to do with impossible choices or moments of passion. Mission impossible or friends with benefits with Mika kunis and Justin Timberlake come to mind. As far as art? They tend to be very good at dancing! Naturally too, some of their other talents include performing and acting and I also mean this literally, they make amazing actors.

#mine #send in the asks

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msmk11 · 2 months

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I saw that you wanted some tangerine requests. I'd say I'm pretty good at requesting those🤓☝️.

OK, so I really like this concept.

Tangerine and reader have met before. Maybe it was at a gala. Maybe it was on a mission, I'm just gonna leave that open to you. But the point is, they have had multiple meetings before. Maybe they flirted on the mission or maybe they just got into a fight, again leaving that for you.

Basically, Lemon Tangerine and Reader have all been assigned to do a mission. And before that mission happens, they're planning at a dinner ( They don't really have the worry about blowing their cover because the diners kind of like in assassin's diner where assassins can meet up)

And a scene like this happens (ripping off of pulp fiction) And instead of talking about the pilot, he brings up her career as an assassin.

https://youtu.be/O3tGImqhrMo?si=1FVe6VFQSvZC7UfR

They flirt, they plan, Lemon feels awkward

And they both leave thinking about each other. I love this concept so much!!!!

Sorry for any grammar mistakes

I’m Sorry, Thank You, I’ll Always Protect You

Tangerine x fem!reader

WC: 3.5k

CW: lots of cursing, mention of weapons and blood, mentions of food, mention of alcohol, smoking (just cigarettes), mentions of death/fighting (it’s a Tan fic for goodness sake)

Author’s Note: Thanks for requesting lovely! Hope you enjoy! (This fic is also proof that I can’t write briefly for the life of me.) (also, side note, for the sake of the fic, your codename is viper)

The charming classical music playing softly in the background hardly matches your agitated mood. Your handler had just given you a new mission. One that, to your dismay, was not a one-man job, but rather, required you to work with partners. You always preferred to work alone because having a partner could get messy fast. Whether it was because they were too gutsy, not gutsy enough, or they were a cocky, arrogant asshole, you’d been thrust into one too many less-than-desirable situations because of the interference of a partner. Therefore, going into this mission, you are, rightfully, hesitant, and you pray that you haven’t been partnered with a total fucking idiot.

You anxiously check your watch for the umpteenth time, drumming your fingers on the dark, wooden table. Your new partners are not late, yet, but the dread pooling in your stomach makes you anxious to get this meeting over with as soon as possible.

“Viper?” A deep, heavily British voice declares.

“That’s me,” you say, looking up. And then your voice dies in your throat.

“Oh, bloody fucking hell,” the man in front of you curses.

It’s him. That arrogant bastard you’ve had the unfortunate luck of working with before. His twin is here too, of course, and you’re thankful for the slightly more pleasant company.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite twins, Peanut Butter and Jelly,” you drawl.

Peanut Butter and Jelly- your own personal nicknames for the twins. Ones that, to your delight, really pissed off the brunette.

“Told you not to fucking call us that,” the mustached man grumbles, sliding into the booth across from you.

His brother follows after him, and you notice the smirk he is trying to hide, “You’re just mad that you’ve been dubbed Jelly.”

“Yeah, ‘cos everyone bloody knows that peanut butter is the better part of the fucking sandwich. And I’m the better twin, obviously, so I should be peanut butter” he growls.

“The masses would disagree, Jelly, you fucking prick,” you retort.

His jaw tenses and you can’t help but revel in the feeling of getting him all worked up.

“Well aren’t you still a fucking daisy,” he replies.

“And as charming as always,” his brother adds, winking.

“Always a pleasure to see you PB. Though I suppose I can’t call you that on the job. What’ll your code name be this time?”

“I’m Lemon,” he responds, “and my brother here is going by Tangerine.”

You snort, “like the fucking fruits?”

Tangerine glares at you, “Yes, like the fucking fruits. What’s so funny about it?”

You hum and sigh dramatically, “I don’t know, Tan, it just seems a little silly, don’t you think? I mean, I can see Lemon being intimidating, because you never know what you’re gonna get with one. But Tangerine sounds pathetic, really. It’s the snack of grubby-handed children.”

You’re pretty sure his mustache twitches, and his hands certainly close into fists, “It’s sophisticated, yeah? Classic. No one likes fucking lemons.”

You feign mock offense, “I do. I like lemons a lot, actually. Tangerines, not so much.”

“Well sorry if I don’t really value your fucking opinion,” he spits out.

“I like lemons too, mate,” Lemon tells him.

“Well fuck me then.”

In your most teasing, seductive voice you reply, “Later baby, we have work to do first.”

Tangerine chokes on his spit and you hide your smirk as you pick up the menu.

Lemon coughs uncomfortably as he follows suit, “so what’ll it be tonight? We’re paying.”

“Like fucking hell we’re paying for her,” Tangerine protests.

Though you can’t see it, the grimace that flickers across the brunette’s face tells you that Lemon has kicked him in the shin, “Be fucking polite will ya, brotha’? Can’t go around dressed like that and then not pay for people.”

Lemon isn’t wrong. Every time you’ve seen Tangerine, he’s been dressed to the nines, fitted in the finest of suits and decked out in gold bling. It’s a wonder to you that he ever dresses nicely at all, considering all the blood that ends up on him by the end of a mission.

The brother with frosted tips, you think, has always had more swagger and appropriate mission-clothing. He is usually dressed more casually in a jean jacket and semi-formal shirt. Tonight, it’s a blue button-up with a Thomas the Tank Engine tie.

Before Tangerine can make some nasty reply, the waitress appears at the table asking if you’re ready to order. It’s a sight to behold, watching the cocky douche switch from his true, unpleasant self to a polite British gentleman.

“Yes, darling. I’ll take the steak, medium rare, and a whiskey f’me, please.”

You’re not surprised he orders a fucking steak, and, for some reason, it really pisses you off. While Lemon orders a burger and fries, you scan the menu looking to order whatever will tick him off the most.

“And what’ll it be for you, ma’am,” she says to you.

“I’ll have the most expensive thing on the menu, please,” you tell her sweetly. And then, you motion to your counterpart, “Tangerine here is paying tonight, and said to treat myself. Quite the doll, isn’t he?”

Tangerine masks his grimace with a charming smile, one that makes the waitress blush a little.

“Only the best for you, love” he says through gritted teeth.

You ignore the way your heart flutters the teeniest bit at the nickname.

When the waitress walks away with your menus, the brunette merely glares at you.

You only give him a sickeningly sweet smile, “Thank you, Tan. You’re awfully generous.”

He inhales sharply, trying to stay calm.

“If ya didn’t have such a pretty face, I think I’d punch ya right now. Lucky for you, darling.”

“Lucky for you too, I guess. Wouldn’t want my blood to ruin your shiny, new bling,” you retort, judgmental eyes trailing down to his adorned fingers.

“Right well,” Lemon interrupts, “can we get down to business? Please. You two’s bickering is making my hair whiter than it already is.”

Tangerine bites his tongue and nods while you just smirk.

Lemon turns to you, “Viper, I’m sure you got the briefing?”

You nod.

“I can tell this job is gonna be a lot more fucking difficult than our last one. We gotta save one person from a whole ass gang. It’s gonna be bloody.”

You lean back casually in your seat and cross your arms, “Won’t be a problem for me, Lemon. These sorts of jobs are my speciality.”

You dig through your bag beside you and pull out a pack of cigarettes. You put one to your lips and then curse, “Bollocks, forgot my lighter. Either of you happen to have one on you?”

Lemon shakes his head, “Nah, don’t smoke. Already put my life at risk everyday for my job. Not about to tease fate with those killers.”

The cigarette hangs loosely between your lips and you smile lazily at him, “to each their own, I guess. Tangerine?”

He shrugs nonchalantly and smirks, “Might, if you give me a cig.”

You roll your eyes at him and sigh. You pull out another cigarette and give it to him. He pops it in his mouth and then pulls out a silver lighter from his suit pocket. He flicks it on with one try and holds the lighter to the tip. It lights and smoke pours out. You watch the way his pink lips blow out a ring of smoke, and it’s for much longer than you’d ever admit. He takes another long, slow drag and you know that he’s testing your patience. As much as you want to nag him to hurry up, you don’t, knowing that if you did, he’d only purposely take longer. Finally, he holds out the lighter towards you. You go to take it from him and he swiftly pulls it back.

“Like fucking hell you’ll take this, love. This here is my nicest lighter, and I’m not going to let you fucking break it.”

You huff, “Fine, fine. Do whatever the hell you want.” And under your breath you mutter, “Asshat.”

You lean across the table, cigarette between your lips, and he reaches out to light it. The tiny flame pops up, and his hand gets so close to your mouth that if you moved forward just a little bit, your lips would connect with his skin. It isn’t an unpleasant thought, and that’s what disturbs you the most. Once it’s lit, you quickly pull away and take a long drag. You close your eyes and let the smoke work its way into your lungs, calming you.

“So for the mission,” you sigh, taking another inhale of smoke, “I think one of you two needs to be in charge of getting the hostage, so I can help take out the mob.”

“Yeah bloody right,” Tangerine argues, “Lemon and I are a team. You’re not fucking spliting us up.”

You lean forward and narrow your eyes at him, “For the sake of this mission, we’re a team. And if you have a fucking problem with that, Tangerine, I’m going to have a fucking problem with you.”

Tangerine is about to spit something else at you when Lemon interferes.

“That’s enough bickering from you two. We all have to work together, whether you like it or not. So you two best sort yourselves out now, because I swear to god, if I die ‘cos you two can’t get your shit together, I’m going to come back and kill you both.”

You turn and look at Lemon seriously, “Last I recall, I was the one that almost fucking died last time because of your shithead brother.”

(flashback)

Though it had been nearly three years since your last mission together, you could remember that night clear as day. It’d been a double-profit job- you three were assigned to attend a charity gala and steal a diamond necklace being auctioned off while also partaking in a little shill bidding to hike up the price of the necklace. A heist/scam job, in your opinion, was an easy cash-grab in comparison to your usual missions as an assassin. Tangerine and Lemon had thought so too. The plan had been simple: you and Tangerine would appear at the auction as a wealthy couple interested in buying the necklace, and drive the bidding price way up. The highest bidder would pay a hell of a lot more than the necklace was worth, and that chunk of money would go straight into the pockets of your employer.

Lemon, on the other hand, had gotten hired to be a part of the auction staff, which gave him the chance to switch out the diamonds for a fake.

You’d shown up that night in a sleek, midnight blue dress that hugged your curves and shimmered slightly like the night sky. Tangerine had worn a suit that matched in color, though it was adorned with white stripes. He’d looked really bloody good that evening and you’d hated him for it. It’d left you feeling just a little flustered and distracted- a dangerous mindset to be in on a job. The early half of the night should’ve been easy. All you’d had to do was lay on the charm thick with the wealthy folks and spread the word that the shiny, new couple was interested in the diamond necklace. Greedy as that lot was, you and Tangerine had known that you two’s feigned interest in the necklace would get it a lot of bidders.

As it turned out, the job hadn’t been so easy, not because the objective had been hard, but because Tangerine’s hands had been all over you all night. Deep down, you’d known it was all part of the appearance you were putting on, but after a while, his touching had started to get to you. The horny part of you had been delighted to have his big, calloused hands on your back and bare shoulders. But the other, more serious side of you had been uncomfortable with his touch. As a woman in the field, you’d rarely been taken seriously and were often only seen as a piece of meat. In that moment you had begun to feel the same. It’d felt like Tangerine was showing you off saying, “look how sexy and wonderful my (fake) wife is”. And as the night had progressed, those two conflicting emotions had come crashing together, leaving you angry and overwhelmed.

The auction had set off without a hitch, and the two of you had braced yourself when the diamond necklace was brought out. Once the bidding war had started, all eyes were on you two, and Tangerine’s hand had casually made its way to your thigh. That, for some reason, had been your breaking point, and you’d hissed under your breath, “Get your hand off my fucking thigh, now.”

Tangerine had only been half paying attention, too focused on the bidding going on, and so he’d only mumbled, “quiet, darling.”

That had really pissed you off and you’d begun to curse at him under your breath. You’d gone to force his hand off your thigh, and that’s when shit had hit the fan. You’d looked down for one second, and then you were on the floor, Tangerine on top of you. There’s been shouts and screams and the loud bangs of gunshots. Bewildered, you’d tried to sit up, but had instantly hissed in pain. Everything had happened so fast, you hadn't noticed the bullet that had grazed your side. The one that, you would later learn, had been aimed right at your chest until Tangerine saved you. It seemed your mission had been leaked, and people had been sent to take you three out. Though you’d only been grazed, your counterpart had forced you to stay in hiding while he’d run off to take care of the last of the men.

When the job had been finished, Tangerine had hauled you up and out to the side of the building where Lemon had been waiting with the car. It was only when you’d driven a few miles away that the shock had finally settled and was replaced with fear, anger, shame, and embarrassment. And instead of dealing with your emotions healthily, you’d lashed out at Tangerine. You and him had gotten into a screaming match- you’d blamed him for invading your space and treating you like a wounded animal and he’d called you negligent and over-emotional. The night hadn’t ended in any reconciliation, and he’d been a thorn in your side ever since.

It seemed like he always popped up at the most inconvenient times, often messing with your missions or just plain pissing you off.

Those past three years of tension culminated into your hatred for him today, and the fact that he’d somehow gotten more handsome since the last time you’d seen him didn’t help either.

(Back to present)

“Oh bloody ‘ell, here we go again,” Lemon curses.

But then, the unexpected happened.

You’re tense, biting words already at the tip of your tongue, ready to argue whatever point Tangerine makes.

Instead, he quietly says, “I wasn’t ever gonna let you die, love.”

Your heart literally stops beating in your chest for a moment, and you swear that his gaze softens a little.

“I was aware of our surroundings the whole time, and also knew you were off your game that night. Your death was never an option. I wasn’t going to allow it.”

You begin to butt in, trying to defend why you were off your game

Tangerine only interrupts you, “And you don’t need to explain to me or anyone why you were off your game. You just gotta trust that we also know what we’re doing. And you gotta trust that I- we- got your back. It’s also why I think you should be in charge of the hostage. It’s safest if Lemon and I work together to protect you while you go for ‘em. Anyhow, you yourself have said that ya work best alone .”

He turns to you and Lemon with a slightly vulnerable look on his face, “No one’s dying on this mission, I swear by it.”

If Tangerine couldn’t already tell that you and Lemon are slightly shocked by his emotional outburst, the silence that follows certainly does. You hold Tangerine’s gaze, his blue eyes piercing into yours, and a series of words seem to be exchanged:

I’m sorry.

No, I'm sorry.

Thank you.

I’ll always protect you.

In your peripheral you see Lemon shift uncomfortably in his seat and you cough, finally breaking eye contact with Tangerine and taking another drag of your cigarette.

Tangerine inhales deeply through his nose and takes a drag too.

Then he says, “Although I know you could take those men out quickly, Viper, I think we’ll work better as a team if Lemon and I can simultaneously take the guards out while you move ahead. We basically have twin telepathy and work like a well-oiled machine. Plus, you can most easily hold your own if you run into anyone on your way to the hostage.”

You wave him off, “No need to flatter me, Tangerine. You two could hold your own just as well.”

“Not from what I’ve heard,” he tells you, “Everyone’s been talking about your job in Peru.”

“Ah my moment of glory,” you say with a smirk and a roll of your eyes, “pretty sure I peaked then.”

Tangerine smiles at you a little, an actual, genuine smile, “What was it actually like, that mission? People tend to always fucking throw things out of proportion.”

“It was a solo mission where I was just supposed to take out the CEO of my client’s rival company and her guards. But it ended up being an ambush. It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle, of course, but Christ, it was bloody.”

“And how’d you do it all by yourself?”

“With a knife and a gun. See, im pretty good with knives. Can throw ‘em, stab, slice, the likes. I even tried something new with a knife on that mission, out of necessity.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you impatiently as he blows out another puff of smoke, “What was it?”

“Nah, too gory,” you say calmly, taking another drag of your cig.

“Love, I’m a fucking assassin too, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Using a knife, it’s different from a gun, Tangerine. It’s a lot more cruel and I’d rather not tell it to you,” you reply somewhat shyly.

“A hundred other people already know though,” he counters, “and it might change what I think of you.”

You pause, thinking over your next words carefully, “that’s what I’m afraid of. I know we’re in a nasty business, but I’d rather not have my partners think I’m a monster.”

Tangerine puts his cigarette out on the windowsill and looks at you softly, “that’s not what I meant and you know it. It’d only make me respect you more, not less.”

And then, he adds, with a teasing smirk, “not that I could respect you any less than I already do.”

You roll your eyes and suppress a giggle. A fucking giggle.

“Well I’d rather not risk it. And anyways, there’s too much pressure, now that I’ve built it all up.”

“Fucking tease,” he whispers playfully, and kicks your leg lightly under the table.

You hide your blush under the guise of looking down to put out your cigarette. When you look up, you catch Tangerine’s gaze again, and the tension is palpable.

When the waitress suddenly arrives with the food, Lemon vocalizes exactly what you’re thinking, “oh thank god. Jesus Christ.”

You dig-in to whatever the fuck you ordered, using it as a distraction from Tangerine.

*****

The rest of the dinner is quiet and, as promised, Tangerine pays. Lemon leads the way out, and you’re acutely aware of every movement of your body as Tangerine walks behind you. When you get to the door, he grabs it from Lemon before you can, and he’s so close to you his cologne makes you woozy.

When you make it out to the parking lot, Tangerine sends Lemon off to find the car while he escorts you to yours. Though you unlock your car, he opens the door for you. As you get settled, he leans against the roof, and it makes his muscles bulge deliciously.

“You be safe tonight, Viper, and I’ll see you in a few days.”

You nod, “goodnight, Jelly, don’t miss me too much.”

He winks at you, “I won’t, cos I’ll see you in my dreams tonight.”

You roll your eyes and scoff, but internally your stomach does flips.

Tangerine watches as you pull away, a sort of ache in his chest. Lemon pulls up in the car and he gets in, still thinking about you. Before he has a moment to process anything, Lemon smacks him upside the head.

“Ow, fucking shit,” he curses, “what the bloody hell was that for?”

“For being fucking whipped for The Viper, you dumb shit.”

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