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stalkedbytrains · 28 days

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Assassin's Monthly: In For a Kill

I ran into her, the Queen of the Kill, while I was doing some research for an article on one of the East Coast’s best gun smiths (Assassin’s Monthly 786, “Mon Chérie Fusil”). At first she wasn’t immediately recognizable. Her punk aesthetic had worn a bit, the boots were no longer thigh high beasts of leather but moderately fancy knee high ones. She’d changed out the leather jackets and the ripped jeans for more comfortable clothing, more expensive. Her scars and tattoos were showing their age, but her eyes were as bright and green and attentive as ever.

Her hair, her hair was the same, if a little faded. Still cut the same though, same as it always was.

It was her for sure. The Queen of the Kill.

The woman behind the name was something of a mystery.

Despite never hiding her identity or her name, few people actually know it. And she was one of the few people to ever leave the amateur assassin ranks and make waves on the professional assassin lists.

She cemented her title as the top ranked amateur for several years after she assassinated a sitting US Senator and presidential front runner.

From there the rank amateur would be thrust into the world of professional assassins, trading in her place at #1 for amateur hitmen to #3856 on the world wide Assassin’s Monthly professional ranking list.

By the time the next month rolled around, the Queen of the Kill not only had a name for herself among professionals (and several enemies) but also had her first AM cover (Assassin’s Monthly 402, “Queen of the Kill”) and rose up the ranks by two thousand spots all the way to #1098.

The career of the Queen has been a wild ride. Having achieved and lost #1 status forty-seven separate times over the years, she’s taken the top spot from such noteworthy assassins as One Shot, Stan Weebeldorf, The Bell Tower, and Hunter 12.

Now, thirty-two years later, the Queen has entered semi-retirement. She’s still got the chops for the game, judging by the number of times she easily could have killed me during the initial interview.

Assassin’s Monthly: Thank you so much for taking the time to talk to me today.

Queen of the Kill: Yeah. I mean I’ve got to keep myself entertained somehow. Your magazine only comes out once a month so I’ve got some spare time.

AM: If you don’t mind I’d like to talk about how you got started.

QK: If you’re sure. I’m sure it’s not as interesting as everyone makes it out to be.

AM: That’s just it, no one talks about it. I don’t even know if there is anyone alive from your time on the amateur lists. We know almost nothing about you before you killed Senator Clark Mathers.

QK: Well before that it was… chaotic, and fun. I was basically… what’s less than a mercenary?

AM: A thug?

QK: Not quite that low. I mean I had skill at least. I was a freelance gun, I guess? Part mercenary, part bodyguard, part assassin. Sure I killed people, but I also protected people who could pay, I ran guns, gold, drugs. I stole from people. Helped in a couple of prison escapes.

AM: Sounds exciting. How long ago was this?

QK: This was… almost forty years ago. I was just a kid really. Barely sixteen. All I had was a gun in one hand and a tenuous lease on an apartment barely big enough for a single bed. So I did what I could to make the money I needed to survive. It was chaotic and exciting and I don’t really miss those days, the days were I wasn’t entirely sure if I would ever live to see the next day. Or if I had enough money to eat.

AM: We’re all terribly curious about how you wound up assassinating Senator Mathers.

QK: Well it’s a complicated, and long, story that I’m not entirely sure I want to go all in on. I had just started my own little, tiny outfit. I was dating someone pretty seriously at the time. He was a rich kid, nice enough, wanted a taste of danger, and at the time I was the most dangerous one around. We’d gotten a deal to run some guns and when the job was a success we were brought in on a larger job. During the course of that job the Senator betrayed me, I got shot a couple of times and survived. From there it was a series of escalation. We’d try to fuck him over, he’d hire hit squads to kill us. And I finally got the last laugh when I took him out during his presidential rally.

AM: Was it true there was a tank involved at one point?

QK: It wasn’t so much of a tank as it was an armored personnel carrier, but yeah.

AM: What happened to the person you were seeing?

QK: He couldn’t handle the danger and the darkness… (she shrugs) I guess he couldn’t handle the evil.

AM: Are you saying that you think you’re evil?

QK: Me? No. I don’t think I’m much of anything. He thought it was evil. So he walked out before I killed Dickbutt.

AM: So he left you before you assassinated the Senator?

QK: Yup.

AM: Have you heard from him since?

QK: No. I never lied to him about what I was. He couldn’t handle it so he walked away. Although I know he’s dead. I think he was one of the people killed in Stan’s rise.

AM: Stan Weebledorf killed your ex?

QK: Yeah.

AM: How does that make you feel?

QK: (she shrugs again and looks away) It doesn’t really make me feel much of anything. I always liked Stan, he was a decent enough guy.

AM: Would you mind talking about your induction into the professional assassin ranks?

QK: That was a weird day.

AM: Weird how?

QK: Well I’m laying low, as low as I could possibly get. Sure I killed Dickbutt for revenge, but there were plenty of people who were willing to pay to have him killed, so I signed up, killed the guy and took my money and ran. You can’t just kill a Senator and get away with it. I was in this shitty little apartment in Northern Canada when all of a sudden there’s a magazine on my desk. There I am on the cover of Assassin’s Monthly, a magazine I never know existed, and I was paranoid as hell. I still never did figure out how you guys deliver or manage to rank everyone. It’s impressive.

AM: I’m afraid I don’t know how we do it either.

QK: A mystery for another day then. Anyways, I find this magazine and I have to read it, I have to know if I’m being followed or what. Then I find out that I’ve been voted into the professional assassin league or whatever and my rating was like bottom of the barrel. I was a little insulted.

AM: Insulted?

QK: This was the first I’d ever heard about assassins and ranks and whatnot. But to find out I was like #4000 was insulting. I was better than that! I wanted to get back out there and get my number out, but then I remembered I was still wanted. So I cooled my heels and waiting for a bit.

AM: It wasn’t long before you were back and making a name for yourself.

QK: I’m very good at what I do.

AM: Have you had any formal training?

QK: Nope. I was too busy surviving to make it to classes.

AM: No family to help or speak of?

QK: (she’s silent for a long moment) No.

AM: I have a few more questions to ask if you don’t mind.

QK: (she looks over at the French gunsmith still working on a series of rifles) I’ve got some time.

AM: Can we talk about your feud with The Bell Tower?

QK: That lunatic? What do you want to know? I thought your magazine covered most of it already.

AM: We covered it from the outside. I’d like to know what happened from your perspective.

QK: (sighs) Well we were both hired to kill people in the same office. Different people, different hires, same location. Shit happens sometimes. I was prepping my scene. My plan was to find this asshole I was hired to kill and push him off a building. He goes to the roof to smoke a couple of times a day. I’d spent a couple of hours weakening the safety fence to look like normal wear and tear and disabling all the necessary cameras. I was good to go, just had to wait for my guy to take a break when all of a sudden this lunatic comes in a shoots up the place. I find out later it was Bell Tower, like if that isn’t the name of a fucking sociopath. He kills thirteen people, injures dozens of others, fucking shoots me in the chest. Of course I return fire, because I’m a spiteful bitch. That was the last time I ever went on a job without protection. Anyways, turns out Bell Tower killed his hit and mine, and also fucking shot me so I was not happy. Also fuck that guy’s work ethic.

AM: His work ethic?

QK: Look, I’m not one of those sanctimonious assassins that only kills the target and doesn’t harm anyone else. Cause there is no one who is totally innocent. But I don’t just massacre people. That is for dime store nut jobs and racists. I’ve killed a few civilians before, shot through one to kill a man once. But Bell Tower and that crazy bomber friend of his… the fuck was his name?

AM: Olympus?

QK: Yeah, that quack. The two of them figured their lunatic tactics made it harder to tell who was really the target. But it was also carpet bombing a building to kill one guy. It’s a waste, it’s messy, and it’s unnecessary.

AM: So you’re saying that you’ll kill whoever you need to, target or civilian, so long as it is necessary?

QK: Pretty much yeah.

AM: How did the feud end?

QK: Well I’d been stealing his kills for a couple weeks, because the asshole shot me. Your magazine does an article about the fight and the next thing I know that lunatic and his friend blow three floors of a building I’m staked out in trying to get a good sniper position.

AM: How did you survive?

QK: Dumb fucking luck. But I did survive so I set up a fake identity and hired Bell Tower to kill me. When he showed up I killed him.

AM: There’s been a lot of speculation over that fight. What happened?

QK: It wasn’t really a fight. That asshole shot me and blew me up. The second he got close enough for me to shoot him, I shot him until he stopped moving. Then I walked away. It was totally worth all the sanctions your organization levied against me. The whole, no targeting other assassins and planting fake jobs and stuff. I didn’t even know there were rules against that stuff. But I’m still glad I did it.

AM: One last question: how does it feel to be the assassin with the most cover stories?

QK: Really? Are you sure I’m the one with the most covers? I could have sworn that was One Shot.

AM: Well if we put this article here on the cover you will be. One Shot retired last year. For good.

QK: Huh. Interesting. I wasn’t aware I was that famous. Although it is nice to know that two ladies are in the top spots. Too many bald guys in this game.

AM: You know One Shot? You know their gender?

QK: Eh, maybe it’s just wishful thinking.

Chérie: I’m done!

QK: About time Sugary, can we go back to my place for that coffee I promised?

Chérie: Of course.

QK: If you’ll excuse me.

AM: Of course, thank you for your time.

#writeblr #original fiction #my fiction #assassin's monthly #queen of the kill

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weeb-polls-with-pip · 4 months

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Autistic Anime Boys Side A Round 2 Match 3

Propaganda:

Nozaki -

"I think if you watch/read all of Nozaki-kun and can somehow come to the conclusion that Nozaki is not autistic, you are literally watching it wrong."

Yoshida -

"special interest in motorcycles with EXTENSIVE knowledge on the subject."

#tumblr polls #autistic anime boys poll #original poll #umetarou nozaki #nozaki umetarou #umetaro nozaki #nozaki umetaro #monthly girls' nozaki-kun #gekkan shoujo nozaki-kun #taisei yoshida #yoshida taisei #assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #ansatsu kyoshitsu

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mackirate · 2 months

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Mirageification of the April Codex prompt (Vault)

#assassin's creed fanart #assassin's creed mirage #basim ibn ishaq #coloured pencils #vault #codex monthly #asscreed #my art

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libertyreads · 2 months

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March Wrap Up 2024--

What a month that was. Did I read more than what I was supposed to? Yes. Am I mad about it? No. My goal for the year is to stay between 52 and 104 books read which means I need to read roughly 8 books per month (technically 8.6 or something like that) at the maximum. All this basically means is that I have to stick to reading 8 books next month. I blame the fact that my library hold came in 2 weeks early and I really didn't want to get back in line for it since it took so long to come in. Let's get to what I read and what I rated what I read.

Comics/Graphic Novels-- 1. Teen Titans: Raven by Kami Garcia and Gabriel Picolo--3.75 stars (original rating).

Novellas-- 1. Must Love Hockey by Sarina Bowen (Kindle)--3.75 stars.

2. The Dead Cat Tail Assassins by P. Djeli Clark (NetGalley)--4 stars.

Novels-- 1. No Coincidence by Rafat Kosik--1.75 stars.

2. The Three-Body Problem by Cixin Liu--3 stars.

3. The Stardust Thief by Chelsea Abdullah--3.75 stars.

4. Everyone on This Train Is a Suspect by Benjamin Stevenson (Library)--4 stars.

5. Ghost Station by S.A. Barnes (NetGalley)--3.25 stars.

6. The Foxglove King by Hannah F. Whitten--4.25 stars (original rating).

The average star rating for the month ended up being 3.5 stars which was such a surprise given that this is the month with my worst rated book of the year so far. Not too shabby though.

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misterivy · 2 years

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#bridget fonda #la femma nikita #point of no return #the assassin #premier film magazine monthly #1993

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heyhellohihowareyou · 2 years

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I guess Chiba really is an emo dating sim protagonist 😂

#assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #assclass #chiba ryuunosuke #gekkan shoujo nozaki kun #monthly girls' nozaki kun

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faline-cat444 · 2 years

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Big round this week

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meltotheany · 5 months

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december reading wrap up | 2023

hello friends! i hope you’re doing well and january is treating you kind already! after this wrap up, you will get my end of the year review with all of my favorites! and i really am so excited to post that soon, soon, soon! but december was truly a really good reading month for me. maybe my best, actually – both in terms or quantity and fives stars! i was able to read 15 things during the last…

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#ACOFAS #assassins apprentice #Book Blog #Book Blogger #Book Review #Book Reviewer #book reviews #lovelight farms #meltotheany #monthly reading #monthly reading wrap up #monthly wrap up #Saga #SJM #sword catcher #the will of the many #yona the dawn

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beejsdevilishsoulmate · 1 year

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Did you know that if you have a uterus and don't have any pregnancies, it was worked out that you bleed over the whole course of period having years, for 8 AND A HALF DAMN YEARS TOTAL!!!

For 8 and a half years overall people are just walking around bleeding and not dying...

Where do I request a refund for all those period products and replacements of underwear, bedding, clothes, etc... Plus all the snacks?!?!?

#personal #a glimpse into manic!stardusts life #I'm cranky because my uterus is getting ready for its monthly assassination attempt #meh #I also have a headache

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sytoran · 8 months

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Could I request a Natasha x reader where R and Nat are driving home from a party but their car breaks down so they call someone to come help them fix it and while they’re waiting they fuck outside on the back of the car…strap on pls

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟎𝟏𝟎 — 𝐏𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐄𝐗

kinktober day 010 | milf!natasha x fem!mechanic!reader

natasha's had a completely shit day, and the last straw is when her car breaks down on the way home. the unbelievably sexy mechanic who shows up to fix her car makes it an unforgettable night.

note. i might've changed the plot so R is the mechanic. trust me on that decision.

cont. strap-on use, daddy kink, horniness, hot mechanic stuff

word count. 3435 (yall are getting fed)

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

In her weathered thirties, Natasha had retired as an Avenger and chose a life that had always been nothing more than a distant dream.

By adopting two beautiful children and becoming a mother, it was almost like she was flipping off the Red Room for what they had done to her. It was an act of justice, a long sought-after victory, throwing away her past but embracing the lessons it had taught her.

However, despite how much the future she carved for herself had changed, one thing hadn’t — and that was the people who had been by her side throughout her journey to normalcy.

Kate, that human embodiment of a golden retriever, was all about ‘bringing the Avengers together, old and new’, and ‘forging stronger bonds in the pursuit of justice’. Hence came the monthly parties that involved the wealth of Bishop Security, too much alcohol, and one too many bad decisions.

For Natasha, the party had spun out of control like a series of unfortunate events: From the raspberry martini Thor had spilled on her, to the ripped dress from a stupid dare from Rocket to climb the fence, and the incredibly awkward seven minutes in heaven with Bruce.

Right now, the ex-Avenger wanted nothing more than to dive under the warm blankets and close her eyes and shut the world out. Go home to her two bundles of joy. Be engulfed in the warmth of comfort and release. Maybe even let Liho sleep on the bed for once.

She needs to get back home a little faster. Natasha accelerates.

Her eyes are on the road, gripping the steering wheel with a steely frown. The road is dark, the lamps are flickering. There’s a thought lingering in the back of her mind, like an itch that simply wouldn’t go away.

It was embarrassing to admit, but Natasha had done far worse: She was unarguably sexually frustrated. After saving the universe and transitioning into a life of motherhood, she hardly had any time to alleviate her stress in that kind of way.

Today was one of those days, then, where she would once again have to retreat into the confines of her shower and spend a little longer than she should. Or perhaps, dive under the sheets and reach into her bedside table for that plastic purple toy.

Natasha steps on the pedal a little harder. She accelerates again – the engine splutters.

"Fuck, shit, don't do this to me now," she growls, angrily slapping her steering wheel while a frown creases her eyebrows.

It only takes the car three more streetlamps to absolutely die out on her, coming to a screeching halt, in the dead of the night, in the middle of nowhere. Comically, the sound of something fusing inside her engine follows right after.

Natasha lets the groan of frustration fall freely, forehead hitting the centre of the steering wheel. The resounding sound of the car honking echoes in the emptiness of the place, like a mockery of Natasha’s misfortune.

She climbs out of the car reluctantly, slowly lifting the bonnet open and staring blankly at the mechanical parts before her.

Natasha was a woman of many capabilities, those of which included being able to assassinate three grown men with a pencil, speak fifteen languages fluently, raise two kids with an attitude more stubborn than hers, save the fucking world, in fact, but fixing cars was not one of them.

Gradually, the car parts in the engine began to look more and more like ancient hieroglyphs that Natasha would spend a lifetime trying to decipher.

She pulls out her cell phone to call someone for assistance, before realizing that basically all of her friends were likely piss-drunk at that stupid party, and would never pick up. (Okay, she also didn’t have a social life other than her ex-comrades in battle, but could you really blame Natasha?)

As the redhead closed her eyes, irritation danced in the darkness of her vision, flickering in specks of white and then burning red. Natasha resigns to her doomed fate.

Calling up the roadside assistance services would mean spending an insanely long amount of time waiting, then having her car towed to the auto-repair shop, henceforth allowing the mechanics there to actually fix up her car, and by the time she retreated into the warmth of her bedroom at home it would very much be far past midnight.

Pulling out her phone with a stately reluctance, Natasha searches up the nearest available mechanic services, dials in the designated number, and begins her wait for comfort and satisfaction.

***

If Natasha previously had any qualms or complaints about waiting for roadside assistance, her mouth was now sealed shut with lock and key. In fact, she would much rather let the mechanic that just arrived assist her in several other ways.

“Sorry for the wait, Ma’am, we were almost about to close shop,” you say, climbing out of the pickup truck then jumping down.

You flick your hair out of your eyes and send a bright smile to your last client of the day, seemingly oblivious to the effect you had on the woman. “I’m Y/N, happy to be at your service.”

Now, Natasha certainly had her own suspicions that she wasn’t entirely straight, but those queries had been confirmed within a good five seconds.

It was too cliche to be real, almost. Natasha swallows as her eyes rake over your tight-fitting white tank top that showed off the most stunning bodily anatomy she had ever seen, each muscle carved from a meticulous sculptor, dirtied cargo pants hanging loose to reveal the band of a pair of black boxers.

“Ma’am?” you repeat, lifting up a heavy toolbox with one hand, failing to notice that Natasha’s gaze is glued on to the flexed muscles of your right arm.

“O-oh,” the ex-Avenger mumbles in embarrassment – Oh, Yelena would cackle to see her like this – “Sorry, what was your question?”

You only tilt your head and give her a polite smile. “I was asking what seems to be the issue with your car.”

Natasha nods vigorously, then walks stiffly towards her car. Her clammy hands struggle to lift the bonnet for a moment, and in a second you’re next to her, single-handedly lifting the cover with a thoughtful smile.

Natasha feels the heat rush to her cheeks and she looks away quickly. She was acting like a lovesick high school girl, for God’s sakes. Get it together, she chides.

When she looks back up again, you have a wrench in hand, twirling it around. Natasha has her eyes glued to your tattoos and the way your fingers spin the tool.

“I’ll loosen this up a bit, see what we’re dealing with.” You say, fastening the wrench into place. Natasha barely has time to nod her acknowledgement before her breath gets stolen from her again.

The muscle of your forearm ripples like a satisfying wave when you jerk the wrench, and Natasha’s breath gets stolen away by the wind. She watches as your fingers expertly wrap around the tool, your other hand gripping the front of the car, and your next effort has Natasha getting wetter in places she shouldn’t.

“I think this part needs to be oiled,” you say, your even voice hauling Natasha out of her erotic fantasy. You look at your client curiously, innocently gesturing towards the toolbox next to her feet. “Would you be an angel and hand me the oiler?”

Angel.

Natasha’s heart races as she bends down to pick up your toolbox. (Okay, she definitely bends down a little too far, but she feels your eyes glued onto her ass, and she considers that a victory.) When she hands you the toolbox, your fingertips graze over her hand, and Natasha’s breath hitches a little too obviously.

By some holy deity’s work, you don’t comment or react to her squeak of surprise, and instead begin oiling up the engine of the car. Natasha flushes a dark red. Your grasp had been calloused, because of course it would be, experienced with handling cars and being rough—

The electricity that had run through her veins from that second of contact was comparable to Thor’s Mjolnir.

You have a little mishap when pouring the oil, the tube sliding in your grasp, and the car oil squirts from the nozzle and onto your front. You chuckle awkwardly, embarrassment tinging the tips of your ears.

Natasha thinks it’s the sweetest sound she’s ever heard, heart fluttering at your awkwardness. Once again, her libido catches up to her, and then Natasha’s eyeing your slick fingers (imagining it was a different type of slick), and the way your dampened shirt clung to your taut muscles.

Maybe you were doing it on purpose, too, facing Natasha as you lift up the hem of your shirt to squeeze out the oil. Her eyes feast on the hint of bare skin she can see, a defined V-line making itself known.

“You don’t mind me working like this, I suppose?” you ask, a grin on your face. “I may look filthy, but I promise I’m excellent with my hands.”

“Show me, then,” Natasha replies loftily, almost second-nature with how the one-sided smirk creeps on to her face. Her skill of seduction was something that was ingrained into her bloodstream.

When you lay down onto the under-car roller and shift underneath the car to begin fixing it up, Natasha’s gaze darkens several hues and she lets her eyes roam over your body again.

She couldn’t tear her eyes off if she tried. She wanted to rake her nails over your taut muscles, watch them flex and ripple under her touch, hook her fingers in the belt-loop of your pants and tug it down—

—to see the unmistakable bulge on a strap-on in your boxers. Natasha licks her lips, zeroing in on the tantalizing sight. It looked big, even while hidden under the confines of your pants. She would take you so good, down her throat or up her cunt, until either of you orgasmed.

Natasha gets lost in her thoughts, nearly drooling as she watched you work. Your tank top moved with every thrust of your arm into unscrewing a certain mechanical part, and the grease slid down the veins of your hands.

The redhead has to sink her teeth into her bottom lip when you spread your legs for a more comfortable position, to stop herself from moaning out load.

Natasha’s got it down bad, eyes once again on your bulge. Her panties are soaked, already, lewd thoughts flitting through her mind with every passing minute that you’re under there.

On the other hand, you were fighting a very different battle.

You weren’t stupid, no, not on any accounts. (Except for dating that one girlfriend who’d lit your auto-repair shop on fire when you broke up with her. But we don’t talk about past mistakes.) Right now, the woman you were attending to was none other than Natasha Romanoff.

Yes, the woman who had saved the universe. The woman who’d inspired you to say ‘fuck everyone else’ and chase your dreams. The woman on TV you’d spent more than a few nights thinking of, your hand in places you’d rather not specify.

More than that, you were quite sure that this woman, in a ripped dress that fucked your mind in ways it shouldn’t, wanted you to fuck her instead.

It was an uphill battle, your rationality versus your pathetic pretty-girl-want-to-fuck instinct. As you lay under Natasha’s car, working on the mechanical parts up there and getting grease all over your hands, you contemplated the reasons why logic was important.

Number One: Natasha Romanoff was an Avenger. If you pushed yourself onto her, she could very much knock you out before you could say ‘sorry’. As much as you prided yourself on your physique and brute force, you weren’t about to take on an ex-widow in a fight.

You look down for one second, as said woman steps a little closer to you, and you have to swallow to bite back an embarrassing sound. One of her hands was resting on your knee while you worked, and it took every cell of your existence not to start spasming under her touch.

Number Two: It was a violation of workplace guidelines. As much as the pay was shitty, you wouldn’t want to lose your job. You still had rent to pay, and you couldn’t keep hiding from your stick-in-the-ass landlord.

“Oh, that looks dirty,” Natasha comments, tone sultry as her hand creeps up higher on your leg. Your breath catches in your throat, grease staining your white shirt while your eyes quite nearly glaze over.

I can show you dirty, your brain unhelpfully supplies, and you shake your head in a futile attempt to clear your head.

Natasha, undetered, leans forward, chest grazing over your torso, the soft flesh of her breasts against your abdomen making your head spin.

Fuck, you just wanted to rip off her pretty dress and— Number Three: You were in public. Having sexual intercourse with your client right here and right now would likely end in a police report for vouyerism. Dingy apartment be gone, for you would be sleeping in a jail cell.

“M’kay, I’m done,” you announce, slapping the underside of the car as a sign of accomplishment. You purposefully slide out from under the car in one swift motion, allowing Natasha’s hand to graze over your muscled thigh.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight that greeted you when you looked up, though.

There Natasha Romanoff leant over your body, one hand inches away from the bulge in your pants, the other tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She was leaning forward, exposing a cleavage that hung right above your torso, dark eyes surveying you.

Fuck, dark couldn’t even begin to describe it. Natasha’s gaze was like an icy blast and molten lava all at the same time: Her pupils were severely dilated, a spark dancing within it. The deep colours of her eyes were like a kaleidoscope, pulling you in, entrapping you in a haze of lust.

It was entirely wanton, arousing, filthy. Her ruby-red lips curved into a vulture-like smirk, gaze trailing downwards to your body. Everywhere her eyes rested on lit a path of hellfire. Those sinful hands crept on to your bulge, splaying over your false cock as you exhale shakily.

Number Four: Natasha Romanoff was looking at you like you were a full banquet service, all five courses, free of charge, complimentary champagne included.

And honestly, was there really anything more important than that?

“Thanks for your help,” Natasha murmmurs, physically climbing onto you as you laid on the under-car roller. “Let me repay that kindness.”

You let out a strangled groan as Natasha pushes herself down onto you and kisses you, her hands sliding under your shirt to scrape at your abdomen.

Oh, finally.

“Fuck,” you gasp against her eager lips, hands flying to palm at her ass as you deepen the kiss. Your brain hasn’t quite caught up to yet, the only you were registering being the sweet mouth you were exploring and the intoxicating flowery scent of Natasha’s perfume.

Your hand cinches around Natasha’s neck like a vice-grip, your tongue invading the confines of her mouth, the rocking motions of your meeting mouths drawing long gasps and whines from Natasha.

Her hands, on the contrary, are relentless: From the sides of your face to your washboard abdomen, sharp nails marking you as if you’re hers.

Having relinquished your power for long enough, you grab handfuls of Natasha’s ass and lift her up; You get up, too, a mess of entangled limbs as you throw her over your shoulder, kicking away the roller and moving to the bed of your pickup truck.

Natasha’s left dripping at your display of effortless strength. You hoist the two of you up onto the pickup truck, paradoxically carefully laying her down, and you stall for a moment.

“We’re so gonna get caught,” Natasha whispers with a stupid grin on her face.

She looks up at you with a breathtaking smile, twilight reflecting off her eyes, dancing in the atmosphere that surrounded the two of you.

The pair of you were completely exposed to the midnight air, in the middle of nowhere, but if anyone were to drive past it would be blatantly obvious what was happening.

You smirk, tugging her dress off with an assured confidence. “Maybe,” you reason, thumbing at one of Natasha’s nipples so she arches off the surface with a breathy gasp. “Or maybe not,” you continue, a big hand sliding under Natasha’s lithe body to undo the clasp of her bra and toss it somewhere.

“Y/N!” Natasha squeaks, as your greedy hands massage the mounds of her breasts. “Did you throw my bra onto the road?”

You hum your approval cheekily, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses from the swell of her breasts and down to her soiled. “Yes, angel. I’ll pick it up later, bring it home with me to jerk off–”

“Oh my god—”

“Yeah, and I’ll— oh fuck, angel, your panties are fucking soaked. Not so innocent, hm?” You question with a dark smile, two fingers running over the outside of her undergarment, arousal sticking to your fingers.

You watch as the older woman before you flushes from head to toe. Strings of slick cling to your thick fingers, and you suck on them as Natasha moans lewdly.

“I’ll let you taste it later, don’t worry,” you add helpfully, shucking down your own pants and boxers. The strap-on springs out, and Natasha’s drooly lips open to push out a shaky breath of arousal.

“Daddy,” Natasha says, instinctually, at the sight of your gloried muscles and the ivory strap that hung between your legs like it was made to do so.

Your grip on Natasha’s hips bruise, the term nothing new to you but so entirely different when it came from Natasha fucking Romanoff. The sense of pride that washed over you was nothing compared to the carnal desire to fill her up and make her scream your name.

“Oh God!” Natasha wails out, fingernails digging into your forearms as you slide the head of your cock inside her. It wasn’t the longest, but it was girthy, and Natasha’s hole was stretched out as you pushed slowly.

“Not God,” you pant into Natasha’s ear, slapping her ass as she cries out loud. “Daddy, hm?”

“Yes!” Natasha moans, legs wrapping around your huge muscled back as you begin to thrust. Her hands try to interlock behind your back for support, but your shoulderblades are so wide that she can’t even fully wrap her hands around it, and that fact leaves her even hornier than before.

You’ve got Natahsa pinned to the ground under your body, pounding so hard that the whole truck shakes. The grease from your clothes goes all over, slick and sweat coating the two of you, pleasured cries and low grunts emanating from the pickup truck.

The squelching sounds of her pussy are absolutely filthy, as you pound into her spongy spot like your life depended on it.

“There, please!” Natasha wails, helplessly clinging on to your back as you bring her to a ferocious orgasm. Her legs kick under you, hook around the side of the truck as you jackhammer your hips into her pussy.

“Almost there already, angel?” You ask heatedly, mouth working on marking up her tits. One of your hands had both of Natasha’s wrist above her head, and the other was on her hips for support as you thrusted into her.

Your response comes in an earth-shattering orgasm.

“Daddy!” Natasha moans out, filthy and drenched with desire. Her pleasured cry is so loud that it scares a flock of birds out of a nearby tree, and you flinch violently at the sudden sound of nature’s rustling leaves, like you forgot you were in public.

Natasha breaks out into a laugh at the absurdity of the situation, then moans again when another wave of orgasmic pleasure washes over her. That causes you to join in on the laughter, your cock jostling inside Natasha. She whines again, and you pepper kisses over Natasha’s sweaty forehead with nothing short of amused affection.

And that’s how the two of you end up entangled on the back of your pickup truck like lovesick fools, a mesh of sweaty and slick bodies, sounds of pleasure and laughter scaring away any other creature that might disrupt Natasha’s sought-after comfort and satisfaction.

requests are NOT open... i just received this request all the way back in february, and so here it is haha..... im sorry to that one anon 😭 reblog to save a life xx

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

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stalkedbytrains · 30 days

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Assassin's Monthly: Retirement is Just Fine

“Come on Sugary,” she asked, her chin resting in her hands, green eyes following the broad woman with the surprisingly delicate hands. “All I’m asking is for us to go get two cups of coffee.”

“Oh it is two cups now?” asked the woman with the French accent and slightly graying dark hair. “A moment ago it was only one.”

“It’s a negotiation tactic,” the middle aged woman shrugged.

“I see,” Sugary sighed. “But you know I cannot stand the piss you Americans call coffee.”

“I’ll make you some. I’ll roast the beans and grind them all by hand. The whole shebang.”

“Not in that dreadful thing you call a kitchen. I cannot set foot in there in good conscience. Lilith, it would not know fine cuisine if it was painted on the walls.”

“You drive a hard bargain Sugary. Fine. I’ll redo my kitchen. Rip it all out and go down to the studs. And I’ll get a fancy, modern kitchen with all the amenities and then you’ll come over for four cups of coffee.”

“Oh, we are all the way to four now?”

“If I’m redoing my whole kitchen? Yeah, four,” she said with a smile. Before she could continue a man in an expensive suit and a stylishly unshaven face entered the armory.

“Sherry!”

“Chérie,” the green eyed woman corrected him. “It is French.”

“I knew that,” he grumbled as he looked over the woman that corrected him.

Her face was starting to show lines of age. The little black dress she had on showed off as many scars at it did tattoos that were all starting to fade slightly from time. Her hair was also showing signs of losing its luster if not it’s color. But her eyes were as bright and fiery as they’d ever been.

“Holy shit!” the guy all but yelled. “It’s you!”

“Sugary? Who is this guy?” she asked without taking her eyes off of him.

“Relax,” the French woman responded. “He’s a headhunter for the old men up north. The Council? The Cloakroom? Whatever they call themselves these days.”

“You’re her! You’re the Queen of the Kill! You are the top contract killer ever! Oh man, I was actually at the rally when you killed that Senator! Oh, please tell me you’re here because Sherry’s making you a gun. Please tell me you’re back.”

“Nope. Still retired,” she said as she took her finger off the trigger on the concealed pistol she had trained on the man. “I just come in every week or so to try and convince my favorite gunsmith to get some coffee with me. And every time it ends up with me doing something outrageous. Today I’m apparently remodeling my entire kitchen.”

“If you’re doing some construction, it’ll cost you some decent money, and I can offer you a super easy job that’s basically just cash in pocket.”

“I don’t take jobs from people off the street. Besides I’m retired.”

“I know, I know, you’re out of the game. You stopped working, what, six years ago?”

“Seven.”

“But come on, I heard you take some jobs you find interesting or if you’re unnaturally bored. Since you retired you did three jobs, right?”

“Four.”

“God the bidding war over your last job was insane! My employers were very upset we got knocked out so early. Come on, how much did they pay you?”

“Thirteen,” she said lazily, still looking at Sugary who was smiling slightly while filling bullet casings with gunpowder.

“Million? Holy shit! Who orders a hit for thirteen million?”

“Seriously? I have confidentiality stuff. And don’t ask me how many people they paid to have offed either.”

The man sighed, “Can you at least tell me who it was for? I swear it was one of the Sheikhs.”

“Nope, a Canadian.”

“Really?”

“The fuck do you think?”

“Ok, ok. But the Consortium will pay you a million and a half to kill three people by the end of the month,” the man continued with his pitch.

The woman rolled her eyes.

“Look, it’ll be super easy. Three targets. The only restrictions are that they all have to be taken out at the same time, and it has to be by the end of the month. I can give you half a million per head.”

Sugary shrugged.

“Make it an even two million and you’ve got a deal,” she said.

“What about one point seven five million and I get you a meeting with the Italian home designer Benito. He’s my brother’s wife’s cousin. He can redo your whole kitchen into the fanciest fucking kitchen to ever exist.”

Sugary raised an eyebrow.

Seeing the look on the gunsmith’s face, the woman sighed and said, “Fine. I was bored anyways. I’ll do it, assuming everything works out with your credentials and stuff. And I guess I’ll need a gun Sugary.”

“Sugary?” the man asked. “I thought you said it was Chérie.”

“It’s French for ‘sweet’,” Lilith said. “You know sugary sweet? Ah never mind.”

“I don’t know where she got it either,” Sugary said.

“Either way. I’ll need a new gun. I’ll need the lightest hair trigger you got, and as little recoil as possible,” the woman mused.

Sugary reached across the small counter top between her and the woman and grabbed her to pull her into a kiss that lasted a few seconds too long to be strictly friendly.

“Oh to make a gun for you again? It would be a pleasure!”

“And I guess I’ll have to bring the coffee here since you’ll be working,” the woman sighed.

“You know I won’t accept-“

“I know, I know,” she said as she stood up and moved to leave the room. “A double espresso from that one place, with one cream and four sugars. I remember.”

“Merci my love.”

#original fiction #writeblr #my fiction #assassin's monthly #queen of the kill

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charlietheepicwriter7 · 29 days

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Talia found Yasmin's hide out only two days after the bomb.

It wasn't easy. Yasmin had hidden herself well - her monthly reports had never mentioned an acquaintanceship with Vladimir Masters, the absolute gall of that girl - in the middle of nowhere Wisconsin. She bypassed the few security measures with ease, eventually finding her daughter sitting at a kitchen table, hyperventilating.

"What happened?" Talia's voice was cold and demanding.

"The-" Yasmin gasped before stealing herself. "The Fentons are dead."

"I know the Fentons are dead." Talia circled the girl. "One split navel to throat, the other strangled. What. Happened?"

"The Fentons discovered their son was a Meta. Specifically, they thought he had been replaced with the extradimentional species they study." She took a deep breath. "By the time I had discovered their actions, Daniel was... dissected on a table."

Talia closed her eyes. She knew from Yasmin's reports that she'd been acting as the Fenton child's primary caretaker since her adoption and a fondness had developed. "Yasmin-"

"Don't, Mother." She snapped. "Don't act like this is anything less than a tragedy."

"I know-"

"He was a child-"

"Everything's been taken care of," Talia said. "As far as the authorities are concerned, Jasmine Fenton died in that explosion you caused. You need to return now-"

"No!" Yasmin bolted to her feet, glaring at Talia. "He's dead, Mother! An innocent child, the child I raised as my own, is dead because I couldn't protect him! Don't you dare try to sweep this under the rug like... like Danny was something shameful! I'm not leaving! I have to-"

Time Out.

Yasmin shut her mouth mid-sentence, giving Talia time to convince her off her self-destructive path.

"What happened to Daniel is a tragedy, Yasmin. But wallowing in grief and what-ifs only leads to further pain." Talia sighed. "The Fentons and the research you were so fascinated with are gone now. You made sure of that. It's time for you to return home and put that knowledge to use."

Yasmin stared down at her hands. Odd that Talia hadn't noticed, but Yasmin's hands cradled a small, dark blue jewel, polished into a smooth, oblong oval. It glittered under the candlelight, like stars in the sky.

Yasmin swallowed the rock and spoke, refusing to acknowledge what she'd just done. "You are right, Mother. The time of Jasmine Fenton is gone now." She stared straight at Talia, no trace of fear in her gaze. For a moment, Talia wondered where her child had gone. Yasmin never met her eyes unless prompted to when she was growing up. Now she was met with a younger version of herself with cheap dyed-red hair, with the same level of determination that made Talia the Right Hand of the Demon Head. "I will mourn for Danny... on my own time. For now, what is my mission?"

Talia studied her daughter. There was a reason why she'd hidden the girl so far out of the way of her Father and her son. Yasmin was a strong fighter, but had her father's heart, despite her willingness to kill. She'd always reminded Talia of a bodyguard rather than an assassin, but Yasmin wanted to go her own way, wanted to study everything. For years, Talia had indulged her daughter, but now it was time for her to return to the fold.

"For the next month, you will be training to remove any weakness the Fentons may have left in you. After that, you will be guarding an ally for me."

"Which ally?"

"A boy a few years older than you, a son of the Bat." Yasmin didn't react to the mention of her father. Good. "His mind is infirm, but by the time you finish your training, he will be ready to strike a blow against Gotham. You will act as his guard during his training and act as my spy while he's in Gotham. Do you understand?"

For a moment, Yasmin's hand brushed her stomach before she forced her fists to her sides. "Yes, Mother. I will do as you ask."

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #jasmine al ghul #yasmin al ghul #c: talia al ghul #c: clockwork #c: danny fenton #reincarnated danny fenton #Or re-grown might be the better term #danny needs to regrow his human body after the Fentons killed him #danny could have been reincarnated properly; it would have taken a few years maybe decades but it would have happened #clockwork gives Jazz/Yasmin the choice to raise Danny as her own son from her own blood #and when Jazz compares her life as an assassin/spy to that as Danny's (sweet loving Danny who adored her) caretaker #she knows which life she can't live without #also Yasmin does know Damian exists but has never met him #she knows there's a heir and knows its her full-blooded brother but that's it - no emotional connection so she doesn't care #I can see this ending up Anger Management with a side of pre-reveal Red Hood Jason thinking he's the baby daddy #with Jazz violently disagreeing with that assumption

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mackirate · 3 months

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Drew this for February's Codex monthly prompt (ship) and forgot to post it here but better late than never

#codex monthly #ac4 black flag #assassin's creed fanart #the jackdaw #miniature art #asscreed #my art

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libertyreads · 3 months

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March TBR--

I'm hoping the month of March goes a little better for me reading wise. I felt like I got a decent amount read in February (while still sticking to my goals for the year) but a lot of it was so mid. I'm ready for any of these books to just grab me by the throat and keep me hooked. I have two rereads in preparation for new releases later this year. I also have two NetGalley ARCs and a hockey romance (because I've read one every month of the year so far, why not keep that going?).

The Stardust Thief by Chelsea Abdullah-- This is one of those books you hear about a ton on the bookish spaces of the internet and I decided it was finally time to see what all of the hype is about. In this one, we follow Loulie al-Nazari as she and her jinn bodyguard are forced to help the sultan find an ancient lamp that has the power to revive the barren land. There is a ton more in the synopsis, but like a lot of reviewers these days, I feel like synopses are starting to give too much away. I'm hoping for some City of Brass vibes and lots of adventure.

The Foxglove King by Hannah Whitten (Reread)-- I read this one a year ago and I'm excited to dive back into it before the next book comes out. In this one we follow Lore who escaped from a cult beneath the city of Dellaire over 10 years ago. Lore's job as a runner sustains her, but when a run goes wrong and her power is revealed she's forced to work for the Sainted King to find the person in his court responsible for the deaths of entire villages on the outskirts of the country. Thrust into the Sainted King's glittering court, Lore becomes tangled in politics, religion, and forbidden romance. This was my favorite book of January last year so I'm excited to reread.

The Three-Body Problem by Cixin Liu-- A first contact with aliens story that's been translated from the original (and set to be released as a Netflix show soon) and follows the outcome of a secret military project that sent signals into space to establish contact with aliens. Will the alien civilization on the brink of destruction be welcomed on Earth or will there be a fight against an invasion?

Teen Titans: Raven by Kami Garcia and Gabriel Picolo (Reread)-- Before the next in the graphic novel series comes out, I plan on doing a quick reread of this one. Number one in this series introduces us to Raven who is forced to move to New Orleans following the accident that takes her foster mother's life. But that accident has also taken her memory. Then strange things start happening. This is a fun series and I'm glad I get the chance to reread it.

No Coincidence by Rafat Kosik-- Translated from the original Polish, this is the first novel in the Cyberpunk 2077 series. Apparently, this series includes collected editions of limited series, standalone graphic novels, and also full length novels. There are four authors who have contributed to it. It is all based on the game Cyberpunk 2077. My understanding is that you can start in a few different places. I hope it's true. Let's talk about the actual book now. This one appealed to me because of the cover. But the synopsis really got me. A misfit group is forced to do a heist thanks to some good, old-fashioned blackmail. The gang includes a veteran turned renegade, a Militech sleeper agent, an amateur net runner, a corporate negotiator, a ripperdoc, and a techie. They must come together to pull off the deadly heist. Also...is this the third book in this TBR about people being forced to work for people above them??

Must Love Hockey by Sarina Bowen (Kindle)-- This short hockey romance follows a woman who has an allergic reaction at a hockey game and is rescued by an equipment manager whose name she doesn't manage to catch. I've read and enjoyed Sarina Bowen before so I'm hoping this is a fun and quick read.

The Dead Cat Tail Assassins by P. Djeli Clark (NetGalley)-- The Dead Cat Tail Assassins are not cats. Nor do they have tails. But they are most assuredly dead. Those sworn to the Matron of Assassins--resurrected, deadly, wiped of their memories--have only three unbreakable vows. First, the contract must be just. Second, even the most powerful assassin may only kill the contracted. Third, once you accept a job, you must carry it out. And if you stray? A final death would be a mercy. Eveen's newest mission brings her face-to-face with a past she isn't supposed to remember and a vow she can't forget.

Ghost Station by S.A. Barnes (NetGalley)-- When I tell you that I was squealing the day I found out I got access to this book, please, do picture it as a cute and dainty squeal instead of the insanity that actually unfolded. I loved Dead Silence from this author so when I saw they had a new space horror novel I HAD to try to get an ARC. Space exploration can be lonely and isolating. Psychologist Dr. Ophelia Bray is assigned to a small exploration crew and she is determined to make a difference. But as they begin establishing residency on an abandoned planet, it becomes clear that the crew is hiding something. Her crewmates are far more interested in investigating the eerie planet and unraveling the mystery behind the previous colonizer's hasty departure than opening up to her. That is, until their pilot is discovered gruesomely murdered. I cannot wait to read this one.

This TBR is giving me such a good feeling. There's Sci-Fi, there's Fantasy, there's Romance, there's Sci-Fi/Horror (a beloved genre pairing for me), there's a graphic novel. I'm just hoping March is such a good reading month. I kind of need it.

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skyriderwednesday · 2 years

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Jez and Val a.k.a. Side-eye/Femboy combo, sorry not sorry

#val broke jez's nose the day they met and then went on to grow up into the prettiest assassin in ankh-morpork #pierce your own ears in the dormitory bathroom so that you too can spend your monthly allowance on costume jewellery and poet shirts #meanwhile jez *is* judging you but it's also because his glasses are falling off so he can't see

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unexpected-character · 11 months

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Hoodies and Koala

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Warnings: none (if you think there are please tell me so I can add them)

———————————————————

You just got home from work and you feel so stressed and burned out however you still have to finish your report. You have to present last month's stocks to the board. You thought being the CEO would surely have perks and less load but you are dead wrong. You're still a slave of the 9-5 but sometimes because of all the projects you got to sign and check you have to bring work home with you. After you showered and changed, you settled in your home office to finish everything up.

A few hours since you got home, juggling of keys can be heard by the door. Due to how busy you are, you didn't even hear the penthouse door open and close and your girlfriend calling out your name checking if you were home or not.

As Natasha went in further, and found you concentrating in typing like a lunatic on your laptop. She saw how you were not enjoying any of what you are doing and wanted to help you out but first she have to shower and clean herself up first. She too had a long day. She just got off a mission that almost, almost went downhill due to a rookie agent that tripped the alarm wire. She had to double her efforts and knock all the hydra agents down before they get caught. Thankfully everything finished without any further hitch and just want to come home to you and cuddle.

She dressed herself with shorts and your favorite hoodie, now hers. It was big covering her shorts with it and comfy that she likes to just bury her nose in it as it smells like you.

She was by your office doorway trying to get your attention. She already have called your name a few times yet you haven't acknowledged her presence.

"Detka..."

"Moya lyubov..."

"Y/N!" She shouted, this caught your attention away from the screen.

"Hey, princess. You're home." You said looking at her lovingly. Admiring her outfit and how she simply looks beautiful and sexy without even trying.

"I've been trying to get your attention, lyubov but it seems like you weren't able to hear me and your eyes were glued to the screen."

"Sorry, baby. I've been just stressing out because we have tomorrow's monthly report and I had to finalize the numbers. Even crossing the t's and dotting i's of contracts for tomorrow."

You got up and stretched you've been hunched over the laptop for hours now. You walk towards your girlfriend and gave her a warm welcome home embrace. The height difference is just perfect.

"Princess, is this my hoodie?" Moving your head a bit to look at the hoodie she's wearing. She looked at you and said,

"Nope. This is mine now." snuggling back to your embrace.

"Uh huh, so when I was looking for this yesterday and you said you don't know where it is... you had it all along did you?" You said dumbfounded.

"Shhh! Cuddles. Can we go to bed now, detka?" She said almost in a sleepy tone.

She jumped up to lock her legs around you, she's lucky catching her like this is a second nature for you. For an avenger and ex-assassin, she can be very clingy and baby when she's with you. If someone walks in and find you guys like this, her attached to you like a koala, surely they'd think something was wrong.

"Sorry, princess but I have to finish my report first. How about I take you to bed, love?" You said while carrying her towards both your bedroom. She didn't reply and instead snuggled further as if you two can get any closer than this.

As you put her down on the bed, she won't let go. You tried to pry off her arms but she won't let go.

"Baaaaabe, I have to finish my report."

"Nooooo"

"Princess, come on now."

"No!" She said stubbornly.

You had no choice but to lift her up again. She yelped and you just chuckled.

"You're an ass."

"I told you to let go."

You walked back to your office and settle yourself down on your chair, her still snuggled on you.

She raised her head to look at you as if asking 'what the hell!?' and you just look and raised your eyebrow with a smirk.

She leaned in and kissed you passionately, as air was needed as you both stopped but foreheads still pressed and nose rubbing on each other.

She snuggled back, putting her face in the crook of your neck, feeling her lips on your neck. She gave you a small kiss. You kissed her shoulder.

"You're lucky that I love you, Romanoff."

"I love you too, moya lyubov."

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha x you #jealous natasha #natasha romanoff x top reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha x y/n #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

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