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[yardimsorgulama]

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LUNC COİN TARİHİ GÜN🚀🔥 LUNC YAKIMLARI RESMEN BAŞLADI🔥BUGÜN NELER OLUCAK🔥 FED FAİZ KADARI ETKİLER Mİ🔥 2022 #kriptopara #bitcoin #btc #coin

LUNC COİN TARİHİ GÜN🚀🔥 LUNC YAKIMLARI RESMEN BAŞLADI🔥BUGÜN NELER OLUCAK🔥 FED FAİZ KADARI ETKİLER Mİ🔥 yazımıza hoş geldiniz. Ayrıca LUNC COİN TARİHİ GÜN🚀🔥 LUNC YAKIMLARI RESMEN BAŞLADI🔥BUGÜN NELER OLUCAK🔥 FED FAİZ KADARI ETKİLER Mİ🔥 konusundaki görüşlerinizi alt kısımdan yorum olarak oluşturursanız seviniriz. Bu konu son zamanlarda oldukça günceldir. 2022 yılı içerisinde çok popüler olan ve de…

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[taintedbenevolence]

"𝕯𝖔𝖓'𝖙 𝖙𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖒𝖊." — YANDERE DAN HENG · IMBIBITOR LUNAE x FEMALE READER

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘 — nsfw, short prompt 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — Not proofread! Use of profanities, non-consensual display of affection, obsessive & possessive behavior, (brief insinuations/mentions of) breeding kink. Dan Heng bites and marks reader. notation: any character participants are aged 18 and up. just for the record. I don't write sexual content for minors. please know that.

"I warned you," he huffed with mild irritation, as he thrusted himself inside of you for what seemed to be another, countless time. "Don't test me."

It was a bad enough idea when you had decided to argue, telling him that you'd find a way out, pointing out all the individual flaws of the manner in which he kept you trapped.

You'd begun to find solutions to your inescapable cage with this man, and it filled him with indignation, because he was entirely enraptured by you, and he refused to let you go. The very thought of you escaping was something he couldn't stand.

Being all alone was the last thing he needed. Break his arms and legs, but he'll cling to you like there's no one else he loves more and needs.

But seeing as how you'd decided to try and make an attempt to escape, he had zero intent to let you go now, more than ever. He pondered on just what he'd do to finally ingrain in your head somewhere that you were not going to be leaving – not anytime soon, nor any time later.

He was fine doing anything and everything to keep you by his side.

He'd pump you full of his seed, fill you up with his cum day and night, if it'd remind you that you had no one and no place to go but him and only him, that you were meant to stay with him forever. You would be his and his alone. Right?

He couldn't bear the thought of someone else taking you away from him. With all that he's gone through, he at the very least deserves this. Wouldn't you agree?

Even so, you'd grown accustomed to the feel of your wrists bound by chains and cuffs above your head, your ankles tied down similarly whilst his tail coils around your waist, holding you down in place as he pushes in and out of you.

All nice and tied up, open and ready to take whatever was going to ruin you tonight. Would it be his fingers, his tongue, or his cock this time?

It was a chilling feeling that never failed to scare you—the feeling of helplessness that the Vidyadhara always managed to incite within you. It terrified you—to be taken advantage of in such way without being able to do anything about it.

Whether his carnal instincts were led by his previous incarnation or not, you had not the slightest idea, and frankly, you didn't really want to know either. 

All you could do was stay down while he fucked your brains out. ... You should probably watch your mouth the next time you're mad.

He drinks up your mewls, your abused, puffy hole unable to handle any more, but he licks your tears away, seemingly uncaring about how you beg him to stop. In his eyes, this is a punishment. If you keep acting like this, he really won't be able to be as kind as he wishes to be.

He doesn't mean to hurt you, and if you'd let him, oh how he'd worship your body without leaving a single mark, but he can't help himself if you keep behaving yourself like a brat. Please, can't you comply at the very least once? Would it kill you to show some acceptance for him?

Maybe.

And with how many times he has cum inside you, it upsets him that you really can't be impregnated by him. It'd delight him to see your belly swollen with his baby, but alas, it's only a fantasy.

A fantasy that he can't help but try to indulge in every time he fucks you raw.

Perhaps it's a little wrong of him to enjoy how much you cry whenever he does this to you. Just maybe. Maybe. Your cheeks all red, stained with tears, pretty puffed lips all swollen because of his rough, frequent kisses — it makes his heart swell.

He loves it. He loves you.

His face is nuzzled up in the crook of your neck, teeth sinking into the soft skin, leaving numerous red marks that most likely will stay for a long time, if not forever, his mouth moving to leave more bruises upon your skin to claim you as his own.

"Dan Heng—" You manage to moan, almost choking on your tears, feeling him push in and out with a rapidity you cannot measure. "'ts too much, 'm cumming, please, a-ah—!"

It's all too much. It hurts too much. You feel too much. Too much pain, too much pleasure, it's all mixing up and your brain by now has been reduced to mush, your words a babbling mess as you whine, whine, and whine, to a point where you don't know how you have not lost your voice.

"Mine, mine, mine, please, s' good," you hear him murmur incoherently to you, the only sound left in the area being the wet squelch, the slapping sounds of skin against skin, your unstable cries, and your sobbing along with his sweet moans as he makes love to you. "P-please, don't leave, mgh-"

Any trace of his gentle demeanor was thrown away from the moment he had you pressed on the mattress. There was only a burning need left in him.

A need only you could satiate. An obsession that would never end.

And for what he's done to you, he knows you harbor hate, but he knows it makes you feel good, so why play pretend? ♡

---------------------------------------------------

A / N - It's a little shorter than usual, sorry </3 Writer's block has been absolutely demolishing me, but I'm hanging in there, I've got a few requests which I'm almost done with rn.. Sorry for the inactivity, I'll be hopefully posting more often if I'm not too burnt-out. Getting this one out so I can finally publish the Neuvi request..

#honkai star rail #hsr #yandere hsr #imbibitor lunae #dan heng #dan heng smut #imbibitor lunae smut #female reader #hsr x reader #dan heng x female reader #imbibitor lunae x reader #dan heng il #dan heng imbibitor lunae #yandere male #yandere #yandere boyfriend #male yandere #soft yandere #yandere x darling #dom yandere #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere writing #yandere imagines #hsr yandere #yandere dan heng #dan heng x you #yandere dan heng x reader #saccharine.affinity

[handmade-witch]

Is It Over Now...? Part 2

Pairing: Toxic!Mattheo x fem!Reader

Hogwarts University!AU

Warnings: cursing, substance use (alcohol and marijuana), cheating ((please lmk if I missed any))

Read Part 1 here

[[AN: thank you for the notes and support on part 1!! 💓💓 if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series send me a message or leave a comment. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated! 🥰]]

🎶 Let's fast forward to three hundred takeout coffees later

I see your profile and your smile on unsuspecting waiters 🎶

"I can't believe you took him back after he kissed some other chick."

You and Pansy sat in the library, surrounded by textbooks and takeout coffee cups. Your eyes flick up from your book to glare at Pansy. "*She* kissed *him*." You asserted.

"Sure," she muttered under her breath, sipping her coffee.

"He said it was a mistake."

"I'm not arguing with him there." She says flatly, rolling her eyes.

You felt your irritation build. "He's not like that anymore, Pansy." You snapped at your friend.

Her eyes were piercing and fierce, but hidden in her stare was a softness that told you she was coming from a place of care and concern. "But he was. I just don't want you to forget that."

•••

The incident at the party and the conversation with Pansy was three weeks ago. Since then things with Mattheo settled back into a comfortable normalcy.

After class one day, you exited the psychology building with Luna and Pansy and your eyes fall on a familar pair of brown eyes sitting on a bench in the shade.

"We'll see you guys at dinner!" You bid your goodbyes to them before skipping over to Mattheo.

"Well hello there, handsome." You grin, leaning down to peck his lips.

He holds up one of two takeout coffe cups in his hands. "One iced vanilla latte for my favorite girl." He smirks at you, eyes gazing at you with soft fondness.

He stands and kisses you again, his hand resting gently on the small of your back. With your coffee in one hand and Mattheo's hand in the other, the two of you begin your walk across campus.

"How was your day?" You ask, swinging your hands between the two of you.

"Dreadfully boring." He complained. He gave your hand a soft squeeze, "Better now that I can see you."

"You're such a suck up." You snort.

"Only because I'm crazy for you." He bats his eyelashes at you flirtatiously. You roll your eyes playfully at him. He lets go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side and pressing a kiss to your temple.

"I love you," he whispers into your hair.

"I love you too."

•••

Later that night, your group of friends sat in the common room, lounging on a variety of furniture so that they could wind down from their day. You sat with your legs thrown over Mattheo's lap, your cheek resting against his shoulder. You let out an involuntary yawn, feeling exhausted after a long day of classes. Mattheo's arm wrapped around your shoulder, holding you securely against him and tracing gentle patterns on your arm. The gesture was soothing and relaxing. The topic of conversation shifted to plans for the upcoming weekend.

"Babe, you comin' to the party this weekend? I think it's Ravenclaw house." Mattheo cranes his head to look at you.

You shake your head. "Nope. It's girls night."

"Fuck yeah girls night!" Pansy pumps her fist from where she sits across from you, illiciting a soft snort from you.

"Aww," Mattheo pretends to pout, "it won't be as fun without you there." He gives you a soft squeeze.

"I think you'll survive." You tease, reaching up to pat his cheek.

"You look tired." He says with a teasing tone and slight smirk.

"What makes you-" you interupt yourself with an involuntary yawn, "say that?"

"Wanna head up for the night?"

You nod sleepily, sliding you legs off of Mattheo's lap. The two of you bid goodbye to your friends and head to your room.

Mattheo flops on your bed with an exaggerated groan. You shake your head, smiling softly at him, digging through your drawers for some more comfortable clothes. You disappear to the bathroom for a couple minutes and emerge wearing a pair of pajama shorts and a band t-shirt you had stolen from Mattheo.

"God, you're gorgeous." Mattheo says from his spot on the bed, propped up on his elbows. His dark brown eyes seem to sparkle as they take in your form standing in front of him.

You feel heat rising to your cheeks and your fingers play with the hem of your shirt. "Oh, thank you." You avert your eyes from him, blushing furiously.

Mattheo sits up further, "Oh c'mon don't go shy on me now." He beckons you over to him. When you're close enough he wraps his arms around your torso, pulling you into him. He rests his chin on your stomach, looking at you with a loving gaze. Your hands naturally find themselves tangling into his curly hair.

With a quick motion, he pulls you onto the bed on top of him. You let out a startled yelp as you land on top of Mattheo. He grabs your face, pressing soft kisses all over it. You burst into a fit of giggles. He just grins at you while you struggle to stop laughing.

He lets go of you only for a moment to climb under the bed covers, beckoning for you to join him. He pulls you close to him, bending his head to rest his forehead against yours. You close your eyes sleepily, feeling the beat of Mattheo's heart through his chest. He tilts his head to press a kiss to your forehead. "You're so wonderful. I love you so much." He whispers against your hairline.

You eyes stay closed but you smile, snuggling deeper into his hold. "I love you too, Mattheo." In the warmth of his embrace, you find yourself easily drifting off to sleep.

Your dreams were filled with Mattheo. His eyes, his smile, his voice, his laugh, his kiss, his touch. And as you lie there next to him, wrapped in his arms, your heart feels warm and happy.

•••

On Saturday, armed with alcoholic beverages and a variety if snacks, you make your way to Pansy's dorm room.

"Let's get this party started." You sing as you burst into the room. Daphne is lounging on the bed and Luna and Pansy are sat on the floor. An episode of tashy reality television is playing on the TV. Not long after you arrive, Hermione and Ginny also make their way to the girls night. The six of you get wine drunk and do face masks and eat a little too much junk food.

"Fuck, marry, kill: Professor Snape, Professor Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall." Hermione giggles as she poses the question to the group.

"Oh definetly marry McGonagall. That woman would treat me right." Ginny declares. "Then I would fuck Dumbledore and kill Snape."

"Oh c'mon Snape is not that bad." Pansy whines.

"You're just saying that because he's your teacher crush." You tease. Pansy sticks her tongue out at you. "I would marry Snape, fuck McGonagall, and kill Dumbledore," she lists off.

"I'd say marry McGonagall, fuck Snape, and kill Dumbledore." Daphne adds her list to the mix.

"What about fuck, marry, kill: Thestrals, Hippogriffs, and Puffskiens." Luna asks, her voice airy and light indicating her tipsy state.

"I mean have you seen a Puffskien's tongue?" You ask, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively, eliciting a chorus of laughter.

As the conversation continues, you glance down when your phone lights up with a notification.

From Mattheo:

💬: 'Bout to head out. Have fun with the girls. I love you 💘'

You shoot off a quick response back:

💬: 'Have fun babe! Be safe~ I love you 🥰😘'

•••

The party at the Ravenclaw clubhouse was in full swing. Mattheo hadn't meant to get as drunk as he currently was. The night had started with him entering the party with the other Slytherin boys. He played beer pong with Blaise and they challenged a group of Gryffindors to a game of flip cup. He was enjoying a pleasant buzz and having a good time.

At some point, however, the drinks kept coming. It seemed as if Mattheo's cup was never empty. He lost track of his friends. At one point someone offered him a joint. Now he was collapsed on a couch, his head swimming in his current intoxocated state.

"Hey there," the girl said seductively as she stepped between his legs, "Where have you been?" She leans forward, over where he lounges on the sofa. Mattheo couldn't look anywhere but her breasts if he tried. She had placed herself right in his line of vision and her tight dress left little to the imagination.

"Been busy," he mumbled. Moving his lips to speak took a tremendous amount of effort in his current state.

She reached down, trailing her fingers over his thighs. Her touch made his skin tingle. Without thinking he reached out, placing his hands on the girl's hips. She seemed pleased by this. Reaching out she took a strand of his hair and twisted it in her fingers.

"Want some company tonight?" She purred in his ear. Mattheo's skin felt like it was on fire. 'She smells good.' He thought as she leaned close to whisper in his ear. And, not considering the potential consequences of his actions in his cross-faded state, he pulls her against him and lets her kiss him.

•••

You blinked awake, reaching over to check your phone. Luna was already awake and sat cross legged reading a book. Everyone else was still sleeping. You rubbed your eyes and when your brain registered what was on your screen your blood ran cold. You sat up so quickly that it startled Luna. You were already reaching over to shake Pansy awake, eyes still glued to the screen.

"Leave me alone." She grumbles sleepily. She rolls over, squinting her eyes at you. When she registers the look on your face, however, she sits up just as quickly as you had. "What's wrong." She demands.

You're at a loss for words and your hands shake as you hand the phone to her. You wrap your arms around your knees, hugging them to your chest.

"That fucking bastard." She exclaims furiously. She quickly snaps her mouth shut, realizing that everyone was still asleep, and handed the phone to Luna.

"Oh [Y/N]" she says sadly. She reaches out to rest her hand gently on your arm.

The message on your phone is from George Weasley. It reads:

💬: "I'm real sorry but thought you ought to know."

Attached is a photo of Mattheo with the same girl you had caught him kissing a month ago. The photo was dark and blurry but there was no question. Mattheo lounged on a couch. The girl sat in his lap. They were kissing. One of his hands was resting on her ass.

A month ago you had been seething rage, but now you just felt hollow. The tears slipped quietly down your cheeks and your eyes glazed over.

"God, I feel so stupid." You whisper.

•••

Mattheo groaned, his head pounding in his skull. He rolled over, unconsciously wrapping his arms around the figure sleeping next to him. He inhaled deeply, expecting to smell your shampoo. Through his haze he makes out the alcohol on his own breath but something is... different. His eyes open lazily. The person in his bed, he realizes, is not you.

The girl lying next to him was naked-- that wasn't a good sign. He fought against the fuzzy haze clouding his mind. And suddenly, fragmented memories of the night before came flodding back. His eyes widened.

"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit." He chanted over and over to himself as he shook the girl awake.

"You have to leave. Now." He demanded, scrambling out of the bed. Searching the floor he found discarded clothes that he threw back at her.

"What the...?"

Mattheo looks at her, eyes wild, and points to the door. "I said leave." His tone was hostile.

"What the fuck is your problem?" She snapped back at him, pulling her shirt over her head.

"I have a girlfriend. You can't be here. This was a mistake." Mattheo ran his hand through his messy hair, trying to gain a semblance of composure.

Part 3 coming soon...

The girl grabbed her shoes. "Just saying, I don't think your gonna have a girlfriend for much longer." She exits the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Taglist 💜: @nat1221 @hoeforvinniehackerrr @rorysbrainrot @leviosatothestars

#slytherin boys #Spotify #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #harry potter universe #theodore nott

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 47

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, post partum, csection, suicidial ideation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You moan, breath shallow and fleeting, chest burning, muscles aching. You rock frantically, chasing the spark eluding his touch. Almost, almost, and he loses it again.

You growl as you slip your arm between your bodies and swat away Andy's hand. You swirl your fingers around your clit, bucking in his lap as you restoke the flame. So close...

"Mmm, slow down," he nuzzles your neck, his other hand clawing at the fabric of your shirt, "easy..."

"Can't," you puff and hang your head back, arching your spine as you clench, urging on your mounting orgasm, "come on... just a little..."

You growl as you cum, spasming but keeping your urgent pace. You ride out your climax and draw him closer, burying his face in your tits as you pump your hips. You ignore the pangs your effort sends shooting up your back.

"Baby..." he rasps into a sudden gurgle.

His arm hooks around you tightly as he paws your swollen tits. You feel his muscles tauten then release at once. He shakes as he cums, heaving out his pleasure in gritty grunt. You slow and let him sit back as you fan yourself, gasping to catch your breath.

He closes his eyes as he rests his head against the couch. You grip his hip and push yourself off of him. The condom is glistening with your excess and the oily lube, the inside slick with his cum. You find your leggings and quickly pull them up your legs.

Andy opens one eye and watches you, "that was quick..."

"Gotta get back," you let the elastic snap back against your stomach, "told Dot I was going for a walk..."

"Hmm, it's always... quick," he mulls as his other eyes flicks open.

You sigh and chew your lip as you face him, hands on your side. You shake your head and shrug.

"What do you want? I don't have time for it to be anything else, Andy. I have a child and--"

"And? Where's your husband?" He leans forward, sliding the condom off his softening dick, "hmm? Who's the one taking you grocery shopping? Who's rocking Luna to sleep while you get a nap in?"

"I know, I know," you look away, poking your tongue in your cheek, "hopefully you can understand how my husband's absence might make me a bit... distant. We both know what this is."

"What is it?" He stands and grabs a tissue, wrapping the condom in it before he takes another, cleaning up his hand and sickened dick.

"Are you serious? What do you think? We're fucking. That's... it?"

"That's it," he says grimly and he tucks himself into his briefs, "got it."

You drop your chin. You don't have the time or energy to argue with him.

"Why don't you leave him?" He asks at last.

You scoff and fix your shirt. You go to the black TV screen and check your reflection, tidying yourself before you approach the doorway.

"For you? Andy, come on."

"Why not?"

"Because, I'm not doing that again. Besides, you don't need that mess," you stop and look back at him, "but we can stop this if it's not what you thought--"

"No, I don't want to stop," he interrupts, "I understand now. I just wanted to clear things up."

"Sure," you step into the hallway, "see ya."

You let yourself out, closing the door before he can catch it behind you. You tramp down the walkway and sniff. Of course, you should've known better.

Andy's a lot more sentimental than Lloyd, one week and he's already questioning a simple arrangement. You fuck and go on your merry ways.

Well, that's how things were meant to be with the last idiot too.

You get back to the house. Dottie's voice carries through the airy space as she sings to the squalling baby. There's been a lot of that lately.

"Hey," you greet as you enter the front room, "she hungry?"

"Oh, thank god," Dottie rushes over to you, "I think so, hun."

You take the baby and sit down with her. You're starting to hurt anyway. You slip down the strap of your tanktop and undo the cup of your nursing bra. It's wet already.

You angle the infant in your arm and focus on getting her latched. She suckles loudly as you sigh in relief. The tugging of her feeding eases the tension from you.

"How was your walk?" Dottie asks as she hovers nearby.

"Great. Getting colder out."

"Should take a sweater next time," she girds, "but looks like you got a good workout in."

"Mmm, yeah, needa sweat off this baby weight," you mutter.

"Yeah, well, there's those walking machines upstairs... I been doing about a half-hour myself," she refers to the treadmills in the home gym.

"Yeah, uh, I'd rather not go in there..." you roll your eyes.

This whole house reminds you of him and how he just left you to this purgatory. You don't need to make that any worse. Any excuse to get out is a blessing.

"She's starting to look like ya," Dottie leans over the back of the couch, "isn't she precious?"

You don't answer. You watch the baby. You don't feel that same loathing as before, you're not purely irritated by her very existed but you're not entirely sure what you feel. Indifference, numbness. She's just a constant in your life now.

"I was thinkin', we could go down to the--"

The front door thuds. You jump, squeezing the child tight so she looses her grip on your tit. You swear and relatch her as the hinges swing open and the door hits the shoe rack with a horrid clatter. Dottie spins and lets out a confused exclamation.

"Now what is all this--"

"Get in there, boy!" Harlan's voice booms around the entry way, echoing with an anger you've never heard before, "'fore I lash ya like I shoulda years ago."

You hear something, rather someone, land on the floor heavily. You cradle the baby close and push yourself up with one arm. You walk around awkwardly and come up beside Dottie in the archway.

You see Lloyd on the floor, bloodied and panting, as Harlan grips his ribs and snarls at him. Your chest feels ready to collapse in on itself as you stare at the figure slumped across the hardwood. He raises his head and his sparkling eyes meet yours, dark circles encasing them. He bears his teeth in a smirk and wink, pushing himself to one knee.

"Honey..." he breathes deeply, "I'm home..."

You're paralysed in the spot. Your skin speckles with vibrant heat, the kind that makes you itchy. You're dizzy in shock? Anger? Disbelief? You thought so many times of how you would scream and slap and howl at this man if he ever showed his face again.

Yet you can't. He deserves none of that. He deserves exactly what he gave you. Nothing.

You come forward, hugging the child close. He reaches up as you near, "can I hold her?"

You step past him before he can get to his feet and you go up the stairs. Not a glance, not a word in his direction.

"Peaches..." Lloyd hollers as he goes to follow but you hear Harlan hiss and stop him.

Your heart is racing, your ears are buzzing, and your skin is crawling. You close yourself in the guest room and put the baby in her bassinette, leaving her hungry and your chest still heavy. As she starts to cry, you sit and drop your head in your hands, letting yourself do the same.

#unexpected #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the gray man #drabble #series #au #defending jacob #andy barber #andy barber x reader

[keravnous]

desperado! ; tangerine/fem!reader (smut 18+)

read pt. 1 here | read pt. 3 here | read pt. 4 here

The Twins are laying low in Amsterdam. Growing bored of being stuck in the hideout all day, Tangerine decides to explore what the shifty parts of the city have to offer at night.

word count: 12,9k

warnings: i mean if atj can dance then tangerine can too, tango dancing bc it's very sexy and steamy ok; car sex, head while driving, oral (male receiving), masturbation (female), fingering, rough and passionate sex, undernegotiated kinks: (light) spanking, daddy kink (once or twice), unprotected sex, choking, pet names, dirty talk, name calling, hotel sex; they steal a car bc why not, short intro from tangerine's pov, small glimpses into his dysfunctionality, rather slow story development at the beginning, i still have very strong feelings about this angry man so please, have this

title is from the song of the same name, desperado by rihanna

the songs they're dancing to are esta noche en vivo by carlos libedinsky and otra luna by narcotango

mel said: kinda sad we didnt get to suck his dick in bathroom b!tch and I said: same

The air is still warm and a little humid despite the late hour, filled with laughter and the sweet, sweet smell of alcohol and marihuana, sweat and summer. Tangerine takes another drag from his cigarette, watches how the smoke curls into the dark sky, illuminated by the colourful lights of the city. He takes a deep breath.

He sighs, relishes in the way his shoulders relax. He feels alive -- again; finally. It's a real relief, has his limbs going a little slack. He had felt anger clawing at his chest for the past week now, the beast inside ripping his skin to shreds and lashing out with its razor-sharp claws - mostly at his brother. But since he had left the flat about an hour ago it has been curled up rather peacefully in his chest, with a satisfied purr in sync with his heartbeat.

Next to him, the water in the canals lays calmly, reflecting the city's lights and echoing the clinking of glasses and music that wafts through the streets. Tangerine passes by a restaurant, people sitting outside under string lights, drinking, chatting, eating and he watches them as he strolls by. They radiate happiness and it catches onto him like a wave, has him smiling at the sight. He takes another drag of his cigarette, enjoys the way the smoke burns in his throat. Jesus Christ, how he had missed this.

There just aren't enough books, good books, that can keep him holed up in a small flat for a whole fucking month. And thus, he had decided to break - well, bend - the rules a little tonight.

Their contact, Henk, had told him about that one spot where one could get anything: from alcohol to various drugs and weapons, maybe even a hitman. If one's lucky. And Tangerine does feel a whole lot of fucking luck pumping through his veins tonight, making him feel a little light-headed, stardust at the heels of his shoes.

His chest feels light and his feet are practically flying over the cobblestones, a smile toying with the corners of his mouth as he lays his head back, watches the illuminated sky above - exhales smoke, inhales the night.

A group of students staggers by, laughing and cheering, passing a bottle of liquor around. His gaze follows them, nostalgia tearing at his heartstrings as he remembers the times when Lemon and him were just that - young and without a care in the world.

Now, their hands are sticky with blood - metaphorically, he had washed his well and thoroughly after last month's job went wrong - and they are both in hiding. Again.

Lemon insisted it would be careless to go out at night, at any time of the day really - "That's bollocks, mate. You can't just go out, can ya? What if they sent someone after us?" -, but especially if it was just to have some fun. Because fuck fun, right?

But, there is nothing else to do anyways, with the way his brain always, always finds a way back to his own recent failure and how it was linked to Bolivia.

Bolivia -- it still leaves him sleepless and shaking sometimes, just like tonight.

Tangerine had been pacing the living room craving a drink until Lemon fell asleep, and then decided that he needed a change of scenery, something to take his mind of the carnage and its debris.

"Yeah, let's just all go fuckin' insane in that flat, huh", Tangerine huffs to himself, looking at his phone. It beeps, signalling him that he is getting closer to his destination. His feet carry him through the streets of Amsterdam, a warm summer breeze rustles his silk shirt and cools his warm skin as he passes by restaurants, bars and closed book and flower shops.

Eventually, he comes to a halt in front of a launderette: Wassen bij Muriel.

The neon lights inside are on, illuminating the sidewalk in a cold white. He blinks. There is no one inside but an old lady behind the counter and a grimly looking man sitting on a plastic stool in the back corner. He can hear faint music coming from behind the glass door.

To an unsuspecting tourist it would look like a rancid shop but to him, it doesn't. Tangerine knows better, has been to a lot of places like this.

"Alright", he says - lets his neck crack once, twice and throws his cigarette away - before pushing the door open, the bell above ringing.

***

You watch your friend leaning down towards the young woman, sitting in a darkened corner. Your father never wanted you to befriend any of his third or fourth row dealers but you never were one to follow rules, always going for the next thrill, the next rush of adrenaline. But tonight, there's been no rush so far, no tingling of your veins - just pure and blank boredom.

You had picked out your favourite dress in the prospect of being offered to dance with a handsome stranger, even ditched on the underwear to make sure the thin fabric hugged your curves nicely, but the men in here are mostly uninteresting, ordinary - simple dealers or lowlife thugs, street criminals that steal money from unwary tourists.

You watch how your friend, with a quick sleight of hand, exchanges cocaine for money, laughing at the woman like she is an old friend and then makes his way back to the bar. He winks at you and squeezes past a young couple, orders himself a drink.

You swirl your glass between your fingers, watching the remaining puddle of wine running up and down its walls - dripping down like blood - and then bring it up to your lips, emptying it in one sip. The taste is warm and full, rich and you close your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to get lost in the strumming of the band's contrabass and the red wine on your tongue. It reminds you of that one time in Bogotá, when you and your father had visited his suppliers - wine and music melting together with the summer heat, having you dream of the jungle, old villages, and the beaches of private islands off the coast.

Your father had dragged you along once more, this time to Amsterdam, despite your pleas not to - "You will have to take over one day and I want you to be prepared" - and you were gladly sneaking away when your friend invited you to spend the night at his favourite bar.

It is a tango joint and a beautiful place, an old basement with low ceilings and a small bar, people and furniture bathed in colourful neon lights. Purple and red are dancing across faces and sweaty bodies - swirling over the dance floor or pressed against the cold walls, tongues shoved into mouths - reflecting off glasses and expensive jewellery.

It is a place where people like you and your friends get together: the upcoming generation of an international crime elite, sons and daughters throwing away their parents’ blood or drug money, getting high and drunk hidden by the shadows of the night, staying awake until the sun rises again. It's a place where people like you mix and mingle with those working for your families, a welcome change to a certain hierarchy at something a civilian would naively call a safe space.

You open your eyes again, as the band starts to play a new song, blinking while your eyes adjust to the dim, colourful lights. There still are couples swirling across the dance floor to the sensual rhythm of the tango, that the small band in the back is playing. You let out a sigh at both, the loneliness and the boredom creeping in on you, and turn around on your barstool to order yourself another drink as --

Your shoulder suddenly connects heavily with something firm and warm - triggering a muttered Fuckin' hell - and a second later the man, who you just bumped into, turns around. He looks pissed, left eye twitching.

"'M sorry", you say quickly, a little taken aback by both: his anger and his beauty. The former doesn't seem to last very long, with his lips tilting up a little, eyes gleaming mischievously while they dance over your frame.

"Apology accepted, love", he has a strong northern British accent, like some of your father's business partners do.

But he is arguably a lot more handsome than any of them are. Dark, combed, and slicked back hair that curls right over his shoulders building a nice contrast to his light blue, short-sleeved silk shirt, unbuttoned down to his belly - exposing golden jewellery. The necklace shines warmly against his pale skin, glimmering purple in the dim lights.

It might be the alcohol and the loneliness but you really, really want to just dart one hand out, run it over his chest and his neck, feeling his warmth and the few locks of chest hair, smelling and tasting the scent of summer on his skin.

You wonder what he does, what his profession is. The 70s porn-stache, vintage Rolex and golden rings scream Miami and you can't help but imagine him in the hot sun, bare chested, blood on his hands - red red red - cutting open bricks of cocaine -

"May I get you a drink, love?", his voice pulls you out of your daydreams and you blink. He must've caught you staring.

You know, that men like him usually mean trouble. And yet, you can hear yourself say: "That'd be very nice, thank you."

He lifts two fingers up, signalling the man behind the bar that he wants to order something and you notice that his knuckles are bruised. Blue and green mixing with the red of the scab, partially healed. There are scars on his forearm, meandering between his tattoos and up up up his arm below the soft, expensive silk of his shirt.

The goosebumps that erupt on your skin are nothing but pleasant as you immediately know what type of man he is. Everyone in here is on the market for something: drugs, love, sex, guns - but rarely does one sell murder. Real, cold-blooded murder. Ruthless, fast, dirty.

He's trying to hide it but watching him as he discusses the menu with the bartender, it sticks out like a sore thumb: the well-mannered gestures crash with his fucked-up hands, the way he's dressed like a drug-selling pimp refuses to fit in with his sugar-coated talk and the way he moves can't hide a lingering anger, like a raging beast pacing in a cage.

It is a carefully put together façade, but it's no use against you. You know men like him and you know them well. They don't scare you - quite the opposite, and thus the pure and utter danger he emits has excitement tingling in your stomach. As fucked up as it is: it makes you want him - adrenaline kicking in, shooting a tingle right between your legs.

He turns around again and you lean forward a little, deciding to make your move soon.

"'S a Mezcal Margarita alright with you, love?", he asks and you throw him your most charming smile, nodding.

"We'll take two then, mate", he nods and slides a few bucks over the counter, watches the bartender pouring liquid into a cocktail tumbler.

"Sooo", the man turns around towards you and grins, shows some teeth as his hand vanishes in the pocket of his linen trousers, pulls out a cigarette and lights it up. He's taking a looong deliberate drag, puffing out the smoke, "What's your name, sweetie?"

"Y/N", you reply, gaze dropping to his lips and back up, where his gaze catches yours. He has beautiful eyes, blue like the fucking sea and the purple neon lights make them glow with mischief and smugness - dark and oddly promising, inviting - framed by long lashes.

One of your fingers brushes over his hand, that is resting on the counter. The wooden surface is sticky with half-dried alcohol. His gaze holds yours while he takes another drag of his cigarette. You just might lose yourself in the hue that dances over his eyes.

"And you are?", you say, just loud enough to be audible over the music.

His gaze drops to your fingers that are brushing over his golden rings and he chuckles: "Don't ya try stealing those, sugar, I know that fuckin' trick", and you smile innocently, as he leans in a little, "Name's Tangerine, love." There are cheers erupting from the dancefloor, the rhythm of the music picking up.

You pout playfully and his eyes dance over your face, glimmering mischievously. "Oh", you sigh, "And here I was, thinking you'd may even give me your real name."

"Can't, love, m'sorry."

"Mh pity -- who did you kill?"

"Who said I killed someone?", he's dangerously close now, voice a low rumble.

"Your hands", your fingers dance over the crust of his knuckles and his eyes gleam. For a moment he says nothing and then, towering over your sitting form, voice low and rough:

"Aren't ya afraid o'me, love?"

"Terribly", and he grins at that, his eyes holding yours captive.

"Bet you are", Tangerine hums, barely audible and sticks his cigarette between his lips, one hand darting up, has his thumb gently grazing over your chin.

The touch is nice, soft and gentle but firm, in full control. It makes your chest tingle, sends a wave of pleasure through your body. His eyes flick over your face and you find yourself growing a little hot under his gaze. You wonder is he's going to lean in, ditch his cigarette and --

The bartender places two glasses in front of you and it makes you snap out of it for a second, noticing how close Tangerine got. His thighs are touching your knees and his face is so so close to yours, noses mere inches apart.

"Thanks, mate", Tangerine says, pulls the glasses closer. You watch him - slender fingers getting a little wet with condensed water, cigarette between his lips, chain and bracelet rustling with the sudden movement. There's a thin film of sweat glistening on his chest and it has your thighs clench with raw and utter want, wanting to put your lips onto the firm the muscles, licking his skin clean.

The way his body still presses against your knees, is electrifying and you decide to invite him in more. You let your knees fall apart, making way for him. His gaze drops down and he chuckles to himself but moves in nonetheless, one of his hands gently coming to a rest on your thigh, holding you close and in place. The touch shoves the soft, flowy silk of your cowl dress aside, the slit in the fabric exposing your thigh. Tangerine's hand is warm on your skin, rings pressing cooly against your hot flesh, as he starts groping you - thumb digging into your thigh and you gasp quietly.

"Been wantin' to ask -- what's a pretty girl like you doin' in a place like this, huh?", he says, cigarette bobbing up and down in the corner of his mouth.

"My friend sells blow here", you say truthfully - not a full lie and yet not the complete truth, but you know better than to trust a stranger with your ties to your family's business - and piqued interest flickers through his gaze.

Tangerine then, very languidly, takes another looong drag from his cigarette and taps some of the ash on the counter, holding your gaze with his own. "D'you sell yourself, love?"

You laugh at that, violently shaking your head. "Hell, no."

He chuckles, eyes roaming over your face. "Well, looks like I got myself a good girl, then eh?", he knows what he is doing, voice low and deep and you swallow.

"I wouldn't say so", you whisper, "But why don't you come a bit closer and find out?"

Tangerine flashes a grin, shows his bright bright teeth, one of his hands coming up and stroking his moustache while he shakes his head in disbelief.

It's stupid. Very fucking stupid. He shouldn't. He should get the fuck out of here - quickly. This is dangerous. She might be, too.

Instead, he looks up again. Ah, fuck it - fuck the rules. Lemon will get it - maybe. Ultimately, he will, simply has to - with the beast inside rattling the cage.

Tangerine leans in, his hand on your thigh sneaking up, making its way over your hip, your side and then cups your body, thumb digging into your flesh underneath your tit. Your heartbeat picks up as he pulls you close and you nearly yelp, scooting forward on the barstool, your hand coming up and grasping his forearm, holding on to him. "Well, why don't we fuckin' drink to that then, love?", he rasps, the hand resting on the bar pulls your glass in.

With a shaking hand you take it, fingers closing in around the cool glass and you watch him raising his, bud of cigarette nearly touching it. He is exhilarating, demanding and firm underneath the attire of a gentleman and it has your head swimming, wetness pooling between your legs. Excitement bubbles up in your chest, wondering where the night may, will lead.

"Cheers, love", Tangerine smirks and winks at you, both your glasses clink. He is still so so close, your knees still hitting his hips and his tongue runs over the edge, licks the salt away slowly, playfully until he downs half the Margarita in one go, like it's water.

You raise one brow, carefully taking a sip. The salt on the edge of the glass tingles on your lips and the liquor burns nicely in your throat as you take another. It's a hellishly strong cocktail and you wonder if he's a regular drinker. A lot of people like him - call them what you like, assassins, killers, hitmen - are.

Tangerine eyes the glass in his hand, weighs it from left to right a little, then nods to himself in approval while you take another sip. He instead downs the other half of the cocktail and puts the glass back on the counter. It's a quick, routinely movement and you come to realize that you may be right. You decide to not give it too much thought, because he's hot and he freed you from the boredom threatening to swallow you whole tonight and because everything about him has your blood singing with the gleeful promise of adrenaline. You put your glass next to his and look up at him through your lashes. He catches the invitation.

Tangerine throws his cigarette into his empty glass and then leans in again. The tip of his nose brushing over yours, the sensual music entangling both of you as his gaze flicks over your face.

You hook one leg around his waist and he moves in closer, pressing yourself against him, one hand on his arm - to anyone looking over you might even seem like an actual couple, enjoying the night out - and hunger burns in his eyes. His lips brush over yours and you know he's toying with you, keen on him leaning in to fucking kiss you already --

The music stops.

There's sudden silence as the band passes a bottle of whiskey around and the two of you freeze, blinking dumbfoundedly. The silence is odd, stalling both of you but you can't help it, feeling like drowning in the dark dark blue of his eyes, shimmering with green in the purple light. You can hear Tangerine breathe quietly with him being so utterly close to you and it's nice, comfortingly human and you can't help but smile against his lips still hovering over yours, a gentle gesture that is being reciprocated by him.

You're a little dizzy with it too, the alcohol, lack of fresh air and his body warmth mixing together, making you a little unsteady. He has pure and raw want tingling in your belly, your hand on his upper arm clenching around the firm muscles a little, thumb brushing over the soft material. And then, just as the music picks up again, his lips brush against yours: "You don't happen to wanna dance, do ya, love?"

"Fuck yes, thought you'd never ask", and Tangerine laughs, a deep, pleasant sound that rumbles in his chest and offers you his hand.

Yours runs down down down his arm and closes around his, while he's making some room for you to slip off of the barstool and then he's pulling you close again - your body pressing smack against his side as he's dragging you along to the makeshift dance floor.

The crowd still cheers, applauds the band and the bandoneon plays the few first chords of a new song. Tangerine gently takes your hand in his, thumb cupping your index and middle finger as your palm rests against his. His other hand sneaks around your waist and rests and the small of your back, holding you close. He looks at you and you feel like drowning in his eyes, pupils blown wide and you wonder when he'll show first signs of being drunk, with the way you already feel a little warm, light-headed. In a few minutes, maybe an hour you'll learn that he holds his liquor way better than you hold your own.

He is even closer to you now than before at the bar and now you can smell his perfume through the thick cloud of smoke that wavers through the basement's air - he smells nice, deep and rich of citrus and a little of vanilla and cigarettes, reminds you of the summer you've spent in Palermo once.

Tangerine gently places one hand below your shoulder and yours comes up, rests on his shoulder, just as he starts to move to the music. He takes a step backwards, guiding your forward and gently guides you through the crowd - a steady back and forth in rhythm with the tango.

Tangerine's hand still holds yours, guides your arm until it is stretched out and then it abandons your hand, runs down down down your arm very gently, pads of his fingers brushing over your soft skin, hairs on your arms rising. A shiver runs down your spine as his fingers cradle back between yours, a smile tugging at his lips.

One of his legs pushes between yours while he manoeuvres you backwards, hand on your waist holding you close. Tangerine presses himself against you, heat radiating off of his body with both your arms still stretched out and you grip his hand tightly, leaning back. You arch your back, raising one leg and hooking it around his waist as his gaze locks with yours. You can feel his crotch pressing against yours, with the way the skirt of your dress hikes up your legs. He is warm and a little hard already, has the breath hitching in your throat and arousal igniting your loins.

Tangerine leans down a little, lips still curled up in smile and then pulls you up like you weigh nothing and you stretch your legs in a delicate, slight split as he twirls you around, your chest firmly resting against his.

His arm presses onto your back, holds you close until your feet touch the ground once more and he immediately guides you sideways with a few long and slow strides until he comes to a halt. One of your arms wraps around his shoulders as he holds you close and you stretch your leg out, your heel gliding forward over the concrete floor of the basement, stretching your leg out in front of you and then gently sliding it backwards into a deep lunge, your body following the movement. You lean back and Tangerine follows, leans down and towers over your body.

He holds you there for a moment, chest rising and falling, brows furrowed a little before he carefully helps you back up - immediately embracing your body once more.

The music speeds up and so does he while guiding you over the dancefloor, face close to yours with unbreaking eye contact as you swirl over the concrete.

At the next strum of the contrabass, you take a step back, arching your back. Very playfully you sway your hips, shoulders loosely following while one of hands rests on his forearm, the other lays in his hand, feet tapping the floor rhythmically with the movement of your hips.

You know that he has a perfect view of your body, your hard nipples being visible through the thin fabric of your dress. His gaze drops down, watches how the silk plays with your curves, eyes growing a little darker. You move in and Tangerine pulls you close, your hand intertwined with his resting on his chest and his lips ghost over the shell of your ear, moustache tingling. "No underwear, I reckon, love?", he hums, the fingers of his other hand brushing over your waist.

And you shake your head, whispering: "No, none", and it has his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, a low chuckle escaping his throat. "Fuck me", he breathes and holds you close while moving over the dancefloor, one hand gently but firmly resting on your ass cheek, hiking the hem of your dress up a little.

The touch ignites you and you press against him, leaning in, nose brushing over his jaw, eyelids fluttering. You are pressed against each other, movements slowing down and blooming into a languid sensuality in dance: long strides, toying with him a little - turning your head away, stretching your arm out, only for his hand to gently caress it - feet wrapping around his calf, leg pushing between his. Tangerine is patient with the little game you are playing, unerringly keeping the lead and you in your place.

You wonder if he fucks like he dances. It makes your skin going hot, imagination running wild and breath hitching.

The song ebbs and the crowd applauds and the two of you come to a halt as well, but not parting, not partaking in the celebration of the band. You are clawing to him, breath going fast and heavy and so does his, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. His hand momentarily rejects your waist to brush through his hair and then returns. His touch is firm, a little rough and you sigh contently.

Some people are looking your way, intrigued by what got over the two of you, enticed by each other and oblivious to the surrounding world. It's a dangerous thing - letting your guard down, for both of you - but you couldn't care less.

Tangerine smirks down at you and licks his lips. "D'ya know what ya do to me, dove?", he says quietly and you know but you feel the same, and thus, your hand brushes over his shoulder to his neck and you nestle your bods against his.

You wonder if he can feel your raising heartbeat, smell the lust and the excitement spreading in your body. You look up at him, fingers burying themselves in his locks.

"Mhm - do you?", you reply just as quietly and Tangerine chuckles, eyes falling shut.

Your bodies stay like that, closely pressing against each other with the music picking back up. You gently rest your forehead on his temple, leaning onto him as he holds you close. You can't help it, you just want to fucking touch him and your hand runs over his shoulder to the front, gently moves up his throat and then cups his jaw, fingers brushing over the clean-shaven skin. It's soft and warm and you can feel, hear him take a deep breath.

Moving across the floor slowly, Tangerine's body turns into an anchor for your long, ardent strides; his strong arms holding you up during each turn, muscles twitching beneath your touch. He is so so close to you, so warm - each one of his steps lingering with desire and it washes over you like a wave, has the hairs on your body standing up.

You sink against him, falling into his embrace, arms clinging around his neck and his hand is pressed on your shoulder, the other remains in the air uselessly as he looks down in surprise, brows furrowed. He can see, feel your chest heaving, a quiet whimper escaping your mouth.

Then, his lips curl into a smug grin.

Tangerine carefully twirls you around, hands gripping your waist and pulling you closer. Your back rests against his chest and you can feel the tip of his nose brushing through your hair as his hands move over your body - one resting on your belly, the other gently cupping you below your breast, feeling the way your heart races against your ribcage, and his touch sends shivers down your spine, has arousal shooting right between your legs. You remain this way for a few beats, the blood in your veins pumping with the rhythm of the music, feeling his strong frame pressing against you - his breath on your temple and his cologne wrapping you in. His body radiates warmth and you can feel his chest rising against your back, his hardening dick pressing against your ass.

Lust tingles in your stomach looking up at him and, at the next strum of the contrabass, you take his hand and twirl out of his embrace. Tangerine follows and pulls you back in and your hand crawls up his arm, another one resting on his neck. His gaze locks with yours as he leans down, tip of his nose brushing against yours.

The hands on your back keeps you close, a dark shadow resting over his eyes, turning them into a deep deep sea. He slowly guides you forward with two long strides and then firmly hooks one arm around you, lunges backward a little and you follow his movement, bending your leg and resting it against his groin. His hard cock presses against your thigh, and he leans in, lips brushing over yours before straightening both of you back up, heels of your shoes connecting firmly with the ground. Tangerine swirls you over the floor and manoeuvres you through the dancing couples, until he eventually, when the space arises, grabs your hips once more. You let yourself fall, upper body leaning back delicately, enthralled by his strength and the way he guides you through the dance, and he pulls you back up.

Your hand runs up his chest, fingers clawing at the silk as your gazes lock once more. You suck in a few breaths, his scent clouding up your mind, hand running higher and higher, thumb cupping his cheek and fingers resting in his hair behind his ear, earring pressing cooly against your skin.

His lips are slightly agape, eyes you up and down, while his hand presses you close. "Yeah, fuck, you wanna take this elsewhere, love?", he rasps and you nod, eyelids fluttering with the hidden promise.

All the while Tangerine navigates you through the crowd, he holds you close, blood pumping in your ears with the way the music makes your chest vibrate, his scent clouding up your mind - only him him him.

As soon as you are out on the street Tangerine is onto you again, pulls you close in the bright lights of the laundrette and kisses you like a starving man. His arms wrap around your waist, pressing you against him, tits flush against his chest, as his tongue licks into your mouth. Your hands run up his arms, one of them curling his neck and the other cupping his jaw. You can feel his hard dick through his linen slacks and it makes you hot all over, wetness pooling between your legs. You break the kiss, heaving against his lips.

"Fuck", Tangerine huffs, hand on your waist wandering down, cupping one of your ass cheeks. You mewl, eyelids fluttering. You're desperate to touch him, for him to fuck you.

"My hotel's nearby", you whisper and it sounds so fucking needy, "We could take the tram?"

"Yeah sure, lead the way", and you do, stealing another long and sloppy, hungry kiss from him and then he's pulling you close, holds you by his side as the two of you rush down the streets of Amsterdam - heels clicking, sweet nothings on the tip of your tongues. Some people turn their heads, voyeurism kicking in at the oddly hot couple with the air around them cracking with their energy, watching how the two of you rush by - the woman giggling and clearly a little drunk, hands roaming all over the man's chest, while he holds her close, thick British accent wrapping her in.

That is, until he stops dead in his tracks next to an alley on a rather empty street.

"Oi, wait a bloody minute, love -- would'ya look at that", Tangerine looks down an alleyway and you lean in closer, trying to get a look at what he's seeing, peaking over his shoulder on the tip of your toes. His hand is still resting on your waist, fingers splayed out.

"What?", there's nothing. Just cars parked beneath a warmly glowing streetlight in a dark alley.

"That", his finger darts out and points at a beige convertible.

"I -- that's a car?"

He looks a you, a little offended.

"That's not just a car, love. That's a 1966 Cadillac Coupe DeVille."

You blink, watching him while he eyes the vehicle, fingers brushing over his stache absent-mindedly.

"What are you thinking 'bout?", and it doesn't even take him a second to reply: "I wanna steal it."

Well, that's a surprise. "You wanna steal the car?"

"Yeah, I got this fuckin' thing -- 's kinda like compulsion, innit?"

You raise your eyebrows and he looks at you, lips curling up in an amused smile that's looks an awful lot like Sugar I can't change it, now can I? and before he can come up with something witty to go along with it, you say: "Yeah fuck, alright. Let's do it."

He laughs, eyes you up and down. "Ya naughty little girl, eh."

You can feel your skin growing hot, hand brushing over his forearm, leaning in a little. His eyes gleam. "Show me what you can do, babe", and he does, wraps one arm around your hips and strolls over to the car, carefully eyeing the alley.

The windows are rolled down and he grins. "That's an easy one, love, watch it", his hand brushes over your hip and the touch has goosebumps erupting on your arms, running down down your back and you nod - fuck yes, you'll watch.

Tangerine leans against the driver side's door and reaches inside through the rolled down window. You don't know what exactly he's doing but you can see the way his muscles work underneath the blue silk, as he grabs the handle and then, suddenly lifts the door a little out of its frame. The lock bursts, and for a second your muscles tense, body anticipating alarms going off and reading to flee.

Nothing happens; no sirens erupting - just the door swinging open lazily.

Apparently; obviously this is not his first time stealing a car. The thought of him just taking what he wants does something funny to your stomach.

You peak inside. It is an old-timer, with one large seating bench in the front, instead of two seats. Tangerine is holding the door open for you.

"After you, Lady", and he fucking winks at you.

Crawling onto the seats you make sure to make a little show out of it. You can feel his gaze roaming over your body as you bend down, until you eventually sit down in the middle of the front row seat. Tangerine sits down next to you and you immediately close the distance between the two of you, pulling one leg up, knee resting firmly on the soft beige leather and pressing against his thigh. The fabric of your dress hikes up, the slit exposing your leg up up up to your groin.

The sight distracts him for second, as you throw a look over your shoulder and out of the rear window, into the night. The alley still lays silent and deserted - but for how much longer? Tangerine watches you tensing up next to him.

"Easy, love, just a minute", he huffs and pulls an envelope out of his pocket, takes out a set of lockpicks.

"Oh, so you just carry that around with you?", you blurt out, blinking.

"Yeah", he says casually, bends down a little, trying to get a good look beneath the steering wheel.

If you were to be more of a thief and less of a drug lord's lazy daughter, you'd be able to identify his choice as a Lishi lockpick.

You watch him as he carefully sticks it into the keyhole of the ignition, slooowly starts to move the tool forward and feeling for the contact of the wafer. Quiet clicking sounds fill the humid air.

You can tell, that Tangerine is showing off a little, trying to impress you with speed and precision. He squints his eyes a little, brows furrowing and eyeing the small lock while carefully turning it clockwise.

It jams.

"Bastard", Tangerine curses underneath, pulls the reader of the lockpick back and carefully feels for the missing contact, tuuurns it --

The engine jolts alive, purrs lowly and the headlights snap on.

"There ya go", he mutters, "Piece 'o piss, eh?"

You snort at his vulgar cockney but you must agree - it did not take him more than two to three minutes, from breaking the lock to starting the engine. It shouldn't, but it does turn you on a little.

Tangerine is slamming the door shut and whips out his phone, handing it over to you. "Type in the address, love, would ya?"

You do and then quickly discard it into the cupholder - you want him and your fingertips tingle with it, wanting to touch him and being touched by him. The female voice - uncanny valley personified - of the google maps assistant pipes up and if you weren't so very fucking intoxicated by him you would laugh.

Instead, a fresh wave of desperate lust takes over you and your hands are onto him again in no time, one crawling up his arm, the other resting on his thigh and feeling his muscles work as he backs the Cadillac up. Tangerine chuckles, throws you a quick look before he is steering the car out of the alley.

You are aching for him to touch you, to be closer to you, hand tugging at his shirt a little while you lean in, nose brushing over the side of his throat.

"Jesus, love", he huffs, "Can't keep ya'self together, can ya?"

And you mewl, shake your head and then your lips are closing in around the exposed crook of his neck. Your tongue laps over the sweaty, hot skin, tasting him - his cologne mixing bitterly with his sweat and you hum, gently sucking at his soft skin.

"Fuckin' hell", Tangerine's right hand abandons the steering wheel, coming to a rest on your exposed thigh brushing over your skin. The tone of his voice has your head swimming, spurring you on, encouraging you. Your eyelids flutter as your tongue comes loose:

"Want me to suck your cock while driving?", you say, looking at him - the tips of your fingers are playfully brushing over his shoulder, silk of his shirt rustling under the feather-light touch.

He snorts, shakes his head a little with disbelief, before looking back at you. It seems to click.

"Bloody hell, you're serious, aren't ya?", and you blush a little. You can see the way his Adam’s apple bops as he swallows, eyes aimlessly darting over the road, considering.

The google maps assistant pipes up again, chirps out the directions and then falls silent again.

"Yeah, no, that's a very lovely idea", he rasps, and then: "C'mon love, get to it."

And you do, mouth watering at the same time your sight drops down to his linen slacks, the fabric wrapping around his muscular thighs nicely and pressing firmly to his crotch, exposing the outlines of his hard dick straining it.

Your hand wanders up his leg - feeling his muscles twitch as he hammers down the gas pedal, racing by the light switching from yellow to green - and then sour fingers close in around his cock. It is large and hot through the fabric and just feeling it has fresh arousal pooling between your legs, making you hum, before rubbing his bulge through his trousers. Tangerine's right hand leaves your thigh and comes to a rest on your neck, thumb rubbing over your warm skin and making way for you, giving you some space and encouraging you further.

It's a nice, somewhat patronizing touch that is pushing all the right buttons, has you quivering with excitement.

You make quick work of his slacks, pulling the zipper down - already bowing down a little, stretching your lower leg out on the seat behind you - until you open the fly up. There's a damp stain on his dark silk boxers and your mouth fucking waters, before you pull the hem down. His cock springs free lazily and your breath hitches.

Tangerine's cock is large, cut and a little curved, resting between neatly trimmed pubic hair - vein at the bottom pulsing and the tip already flushed, precum glistening in the low light of the passing street lamps.

You can't wait to suck it, taste it, feel it inside of you -- you are fucking hungry for it, spit pooling around your tongue and heart beating in your chest. Arching your back while bowing down between his lower body and the steering wheel, you put your lips onto his dick, kissing from the base to the top, his musky scent wrapping you in, clouding your mind. You can hear him hum, a nice and deep sound, and the city rushing by through the rolled down window.

Your tongue flicks over the head of his dick, lapping at the precum, circling it. The way he tastes - salt and musk - has your head swimming a little, wetness pooling between your legs.

It makes your brain go mushy, hazy and one of your hands brushes over his thigh, desperate to being closer tohim, to make it feel good for him, caressing the warm skin beneath your touch before you blink up at him.

"Fuck, you got a nice cock", you nearly moan as your tongue betrays your brain, impatiently opening your mouth and letting him slide in a little, feeling him pressing hard and hot against your tongue.

"Shit", Tangerine laughs roughly, hand grabbing your neck as his dick twitches against your tongue, "D'ya even hear yourself speak, girl? Fuck."

You smile to yourself, a little coy, and you start to move your hand up up up his muscular thigh, palming his balls through the linen and then grabbing the base of his cock, slowly jerking him. Tangerine groans, breathing loudly, the city passing by.

Spit runs down his dick over taking him in deeper, pools between your fingers and you flick your wrist, moving your hand in rhythm with your tongue.

The car comes to a halt at the next red light, as Tangerine hits the brakes carefully. Your eyelids flutter and then your gaze darts up, meets his while you are releasing his dick from your mouth a little.

Tangerine moans deeply as tongue swirling around the thick head of his dick once more, his gaze boring into yours. "Isn't that just a lovely sight", he groans, right hand brushing through your hair, while the left grabs the steering wheel hard.

Tangerine watches you, traffic light long forgotten, how your tongue licks over his cock, your eyes looking up at him through your lashes. "You fuckin' minx -- ya do like behavin' like a slut, don't ya", and you smile against his cock, a quiet Uh-huh leaving your lips, before they close in around the tip of his dick.

His eyelids flutter as you start to suck, bobbing your head a little, tongue rubbing over the tip of his cock. "Fuckin' hell", he puffs his cheeks and throws his head back a little, exhales theatrically. The traffic light switches from yellow to green and you let him sink deeper into your mouth - the engine roars. You are certain he's close to breaking the speed limit, veins bursting with adrenaline and testosterone but you couldn't care less, the musky taste of his cock hazing your mind, lust taking over.

You feel yourself growing wet, cunt aching and you surrender to yourself, complying to your body's wishes, as one of your hands slooowly dips between your legs and underneath the hem of your dress. Your fingers brush up your thighs and over your slick folds, mentally thanking yourself for not putting any underwear on, mostly due to the unbearable heat and your skin-tight dress - but it sure does come in handy now, too. Your index finger flicks over your clit, just as his cock slides deeper into your mouth.

It feels fucking nice, the way Tangerine's dick is hard and heavy and hot on your tongue, his taste and scent engulfing you, the way you rub your clit has lust spreading through your body, moaning around his cock.

And then suddenly, Tangerine hits the breaks, hand hammering down on the horn. One of your hands darts out, barely catching onto the dashboard as you are thrown forward. Blood rushes in your ears, hastily sucking in a few breaths through your nose while you sputter around his cock.

The maps assistant chimes up in that second, reminding the driver that he will need to go right at the next intersection but --

"Ya fuckin' prick, imma fuckin' shoot ya in the fuckin' head ya stupid twat -", Tangerine yells and your head immediately pipes up, abandoning his dick and looking out of the windshield. Tangerine is just speeding up, passing by the car in front of him, angrily looking inside. "Ya dirty fuckin' chav, I got a right fuckin' lady with me 'ere, ya git", he spits and the man slowly turns his head. First, he looks at Tangerine, a cascade of insults flying his way and then he looks at you, smudged mascara and spit on your chin, your lips wet with it. You can see the wheels in his head turning, eyes growing wide as they drop down to one of your hands - the one that is still holding Tangerine's cock - vanishing between his legs. The man blinks and Tangerine flashes him the finger, before speeding by.

"Fuck about -- that fuckin' arsehole, love, could've killed ya drivin' like that", he grumbles, throws him one last look in the mirror, "Seriously, where did that prick get his license, the bloody fuckin' lottery?"

Tangerine's eye twitches and you can see his pulse speeding up, aorta pressing thickly against his neck, pumping. He is like a force of nature and a mental image of him, covered in bruises, blood and sweat flashes before your eyes - chest heaving and knuckles bruised, hair curling and framing his face like a halo, dripping with blood.

"You're so fuckin' hot when you're angry", you mumble and then you're bending down again, tongue licking over his cock, from the base all the way up the top, flicking around its head and then gliiiding back down.

A growl, a real fucking growl, leaves his chest, hand on your neck tightening. "You better get fuckin' back to it, love, Jesus fuckin' Christ", his voice is coarse and it gets you going, makes you wet wet wet and has your head diving back in, tongue lolling out of your mouth as his dick slides back in.

"Atta girl, fuck", he groans and then his hips jolt up, pushing his dick deep into your mouth and you hum around it. You start to bob your head up and down, meeting his thrusts - your hand abandons the dashboard to clutch his thigh, nails digging into the flesh a little.

Tangerine moans at both, your hot and wet mouth sucking him off and the slight pain that blooms in his thigh, dangerously mixing with the anger pulsing in his chest and he throws his head back.

"Just like that, fuckin' hell love", his hips buck, shoving himself deeper into your mouth. The sudden intrusion has you choking a little as he hits the back of your throat, spit gathering around the corners of your mouth while you sputter around his dick - jaw going slack and his hand finding its way into your hair, fisting it as he starts to fuck into your mouth.

Holding your head in place his cock hits the back of your throat, steals your breath. Your nose is buried in his pubes, inhaling his scent - sweat and musk - more saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth, wetting his locks. You relax your throat and whimper around his dick, the way he uses you has fresh wetness spreading between your folds, squelching sounds filling the air as your finger is joined by a second, rubbing tight circles over your clit.

You moan around his cock, strangled noises escaping your throat while your rock back against your fingers, choking around the head of his cock hitting your throat.

"Shh, shh shh", he tuts, a little breathless, "Daddy's got ya, mh pretty girl? Lemme just--"

Tangerine's right hand lets go off your hair and then you can feel it sneak past your back, a feather-light touch brushing over the silk of your dress. It travels further and then grabs your ass, the sudden rough touch has you moaning around his dick once more. Your eyelids flutter as he pulls the fabric up up up, fists it and exposes you to whoever or whatever may rush past the passenger side's window. Your fingers speed up at the thought while his hand kneads the flesh of your cheeks.

"Fuckin' pretty", he hums, taking another quick look at the way your head bobs up and down his cock, "All over my cock like that, pretty fuckin' slut."

His hand wanders further down and before you can process it, one of his fingers circles your hole, feeling your slick and your plump folds. "Jesus Christ", he nearly groans, "You just love sucking cock, don't ya?"

That you do, whining around his base as the thick head of his dick hits the back of your throat again, with your fingers still working your clit. "Let me help you with that, love", and with that he pushes one finger in, up to his golden onyx ring, nestles it snugly between your hot walls. They clench around him and the sensation - the lingering promise of more - has you squirming a little.

Tangerine gives you what you want, need - finger curling a little, digits brushing over your spongy hot walls, before he slooowly pulls it back out. It circles your hole once more, quickly joined by a second, before he pushes them in again, starting to fuck you fast.

You moan, feet kicking a little and eyes tearing up at the sensation, with his dick pushing further into your throat and your fingers rubbing your clit, quickly has your muscles clench and cunt squirting.

"Yeah, just right 'ere, love, huh? Gettin'ya all loose 'n wet f'me? Such a good girl, aren't ya?", obscene sounds fill the air as he fucks your slick back into you, bottoms his fingers out, rubbing over the spot that has you seeing stars.

Tangerine moans deep in his chest as his cock starts to fuck into your mouth again and you let him use your throat gladly while his fingers pump in and out of your cunt, accompanied by the way your fingers flick over your clit rapidly.

The lack of fresh oxygen has you bucking against his hand, choking and sputtering around his cock that rams deeply in your throat but your stomach still flutters with it, lust igniting your loins and limbs tingling with it.

You can feel the muscles in your abdomen clenching, heart racing in your chest. Your fucking close and he seems to notice, too, his moans barely reaching your ears through the blood pumping and engine roaring. Tangerine nestles his fingers deep deep inside of you, rubbing over your walls and the spot that has you seeing stars, eyes falling shut and moaning against his cock.

It is all too much and your chest heaves as you finally cum, muscles clenching around his fingers, hips stuttering. His dick pulls back a little, tip resting hot and heavy against your tongue and then, his movements still.

"Open up your pretty mouth, doll, lemme see", he rasps, barely keeps an eye out to the street and you comply, fucked out mind making everything a little hazy, a little slow. Your jaw goes slack as you open your mouth, giving him a perfect view of his dick resting on your tongue.

Tangerine looks at you: mascara pooling beneath your eyes, lips swollen and red and jaw wet with spit and then comes too, shoots ropes of hot cum into your mouth. He watches the way it paints your tongue white, some of it landing on your upper lip, slooowly dripping down, running over your chin.

You swallow and then your tongue darts out, licks over your lips and then darts out, licks his cock clean, too.

Slowly, with your mind still foggy and limbs a little heavy already, you get back up. Your fingers brush through his remaining cum on your chin, wiping it away and letting them slip into your mouth, licking them clean. "Jesus, love", Tangerine's voice is a little coarse, gaze darting back and forth between your mouth and the street, as he carefully pulls his fingers out of you and your body closer instead.

You yelp, pressing yourself onto him, of your knees resting between his spread legs. None of you fucking care anymore, lust tugging at your brains dangerously, daringly. His hand, fingers still wet with your juices, brushes over your waist, grabs your ass and you lean in, lick over his throat, tasting his sweat and cologne.

"Can't wait for you to fuck me", you rasp, hands brushing over his chest, his necklace jingling, down down down, hand brushing over his cock and carefully putting it away, his clothing back in place.

Tangerine huffs, google assistant chiming out a direction, indicator clicking loudly as he sets it and then his hand comes up quickly, grabs your chin hard and holds your head in place. You look at him, deer in the headlights, holding your breath and then he's pulling you close, locks his lips with yours. He can taste himself on your tongue licking into your mouth, pulls you close.

You don't know how you made it to the fucking hotel alive, with Tangerine's hands roaming over your body, lips locking occasionally while he was speeding down the streets, cutting corners and red lights.

The two of you barely make it through the lobby and into the elevator, until Tangerine is onto you once more, presses your back flat against the cold, bronze metal. "I'll fuck ya so good, love", his dick is already hard again, pressing against you through the linen of his trousers and the satin of your dress, "'S gon' be all you'll be thinkin'bout for the next weeks." In a little more than an hour you will come to realize that he is right. You will be thinking about it for weeks. But now, there are only his lips roaming over your throat, occupying your mind and letting you drift back to a hazy, lustful state, with his hands feeling up your hips, your waist.

Eventually, the elevator piiings lazily and the two of you rush out it, like you are on the run from your own lust, hand clutching his as you quickly make your way down the hall to your suite. You unlock the door and turn the dimmed lights on inside. The room's just like you left it, guns and cash on the coffee table, soft light coming from the bedroom on the left. The window there is still opened, a soft breeze rolling in through the light curtains.

Tangerine throws the door shut behind himself and immediately grabs you by your waist, pulls you onto him, hand on your back on your ass as he leans down, devours you with a kiss. His tongue pushes into your mouth while he manoeuvres you backwards through your suite. Your hands dart out, catching the doorframe of the bedroom and you grab it hard, using it as leverage as you push back against him, your crotch rubbing against his. Tangerine grins against your lips and grabs your hips hard, makes you moan into the kiss.

He breaks it, chest heaving a little. "Fuck, love, imma ruin ya." Your breath hitches at that and your hands let go of the doorframe, wrapping around his neck instead like you're on some sort of fucking autopilot. "Yeah fuck, please", you whisper.

It takes Tangerine a moment, gaze growing a little soft before the beast takes over again, a gleaming dark hue turning the blue into an endless ocean and he hoists you up, carries you over to the bed.

He is carrying you like a caveman would his bagged prey and he tears at your dress just the same, one hand shoving the straps down your shoulders. Then he's onto the zipper, sliiides it down and throws you onto the bed.

You land onto the duvet with a soft thud, tits bouncing a little and his gaze follows the movement hungrily, before he tugs at the hem of your dress, pulls it down and throws it to the ground carelessly.

Tangerine just watches, gaze hungrily moving over your naked form, slooowly starts to undress himself. His slender fingers unbutton the silky shirt, button by button in an agonizingly slow speed. You know he's deliberately taking his time with you and it works, has your body quivering with anticipation and lust, one of your own hands running up your body, cupping your tit. He lifts a brow as he watches you tweaking your nipple and the haughty disdain has your head swimming, legs falling apart. "Please", you whisper, pussy aching for his touch, "--Need you."

The silk falls open, still hugging his shoulder and Tangerine continues watching you, playing with a ring on his finger, just like he's playing with you. It's cruel but it has lust building up in your belly, shooting arousal down between your legs and making fresh wetness pool between your folds in a way that you just know, that his touch will be heavenly.

And yet, impatience taking over, you mewl and in a desperate attempt for any sort of attention - for him to just fucking touch you again - you scramble to your knees, stretching out on the mattress and pressing your body flat onto it, ass high in the air. You know that he'll see it: your wet cunt, glistening in the dim light, hole clenching desperately around nothing. You feel exposed and at his mercy alone, and the degradation and danger of being unarmed like this in the presence of a killer, has your heart racing, thighs rubbing together for any sort of fucking friction.

Tangerine bellows out a laugh, surprised and dark, can't really hide either how turned on he is, and then his hand comes down on your ass. The sound bounces off the walls and has your bods jolting forward, first a gasp and then a moan falling from your lips, hands fisting the sheets. "Ya dirty fuckin' whore", he groans, hand groping your already reddening flesh. You can hear the silk flowing down to the ground and then he is pressing his crotch against you, fine linen against your wet cunt.

It's electrifying, the rather rough material pressing against your soft skin, your slick immediately wetting the fabric as your start to roll your hips against it, rutting over his clothed dick. Tangerine's cock is so so hard, hotly pulsing through the linen and you can feel its curve pressing against your pussy. You whimper, hips stuttering.

"Jesus Christ, love, can feel ya through my fucking pants -- lemme see", Tangerine groans and then grabs your hips hard, stalling your desperate movement, shoving them forward a little. You can feel his gaze dancing over your cunt, hear him whistle lowly, hands spreading your ass cheeks, assessing your slick. One of them comes loose and then --

He gives your cunt a light slap - the slight pain and degradation making your head swim - has you squirming on the mattress, a whiny Daddy, please escaping your lips. Your mind fogs up, all hazy with lust and his perfume, aching your back for him, pressing your chest flat against the sheets.

Tangerine pouts at you, eyes gleaming playfully. "D'you wan'it that bad, love?", and you nod nod nod, wiggling your hips as you chant - a desperate Yes yes yes escaping your lips, muffled by the mattress - hands uselessly darting out for any leverage.

His middle finger runs through your folds and you tremble, goosebumps erupting on your arms, spreading all over your body. He spreads your slick and his other hand comes up, kneads the flesh of your ass, spreading your cheeks further apart. "Always fuckin' wet f'me, innit? Picture perfect cunt ya got, love."

You mewl, throwing a glance over your shoulder to see him watching your hole clench around nothing. His eyes gleam. "Shit", you huff out as his finger brushes over your clit, feet curling a little and he grins smugly - Bastard - and gives your ass another sharp slap. You groan and then his hands are off you, making work of his trousers.

You watch him get fully undressed and your mouth waters at the sight. Tangerine's body is covered in scars, smaller round ones from bullets and larger, longer ones from knives and nasty fist fights and you want to crawl to him on your knees, kiss and lick them, worship them and him - his body, his tool of death - like he's your very personal reincarnation of Ares.

His dick springs free as he drops his boxers, completely exposing his muscular body to you, dusted on body hair and tattoos and scars scars scars and in the moment, that you can see precum glistening on the tip of his cock, you realize that you had already missed it. You fucking missed his dick. The thought has warmth spreading on your cheeks.

There's a light pat on your hip. "C'mon love, turn around. Wanna see your face while I fuck you nice and proper", he hums and your eyelids flutter, humming deeply in your throat at the proposition, turning around and laying on your back.

The mattress dips as he sinks down on his knees, chest flushed a little - the golden necklace dangling between your bodies - and then he's onto you, crawls over your body like an animal, leaves sloppy kisses on your skin, tongue licking over your nipples, stache tickling.

"Oh fuck", you huff, hands darting out and finding his hair, gently tugging at it. Tangerine's lips move over your throat and he sucks, makingyou gasp, throwing your head back as he marks you up.

"Spread ya legs f'me, sweetie", he rasps against your jaw and you do, knees falling apart. He grabs his dick with one hand, the other one supporting his own weight next to your head, rubs himself along your folds, using your slick as lube. "There ya fuckin' go", he huffs and then the thick head of his cock presses against your hole.

"Fuck, yes", you whimper, hot with anticipation, one hand leaving his hair and clutching around his shoulder. And then, he finally - fucking finally - puuushes in, your hole stretching around his girth a little, dull pain spreading excitement across your body.

Tangerine groans. It's a low and honest sound, has his chest vibrating against yours while he looks down to where your bodies meet. "Shit, fuckin' hell", he says, hand abandoning his dick as he slowly slides into you, fills you up and spreads your walls, grabbing your inner thigh instead. The way he spreads your legs is delicious and you hum, his dick is completely seated inside of you.

He lifts his gaze once more, looks at you. His eyes are dark, a stormy stormy sea, a few loose strands falling into his face, curls of his hair freeing themselves from the hair gel. He looks like a fucking god. "Fuck", you say, lowly, hole fluttering around him, stomach tingling at the sight.

"Ya cunt's so fuckin' tight, love", he growls and you can hear, feel it on your skin, that he is having a hard time holding back, "'S perfect, Jesus Christ."

Tangerine rolls his hips, once, twice and you moan, fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulder. "'S good for ya, too, love?", his nose brushes over yours, lips ghosting over your cheek. "Yeah, fuck", you huff, and then he's onto you, licks over your lips with his tongue and shoves it into your mouth, invites himself in. You lick over it, lips locking with his, stealing the air from both of your lungs. It is a sloppy kiss charged with energy and lust, your hands tugging at his curls, making the thrusts of his dick more feral, as he forces himself in deeper, groaning into your mouth. In return you moan, chest heaving against his, tits rubbing over the muscular skin.

His lips brush over the corner of your mouth, breathes against it, stache tingling a little as they move down to your throat, kissing and nibbling at the skin, marking you up.

"Fuck", you gasp at the stinging sensation, pulling his hair and he groans.

It feels nice; the way he is fucking you - you push away the thought that it's dangerously close to actually making love - the way he feels inside of you, how his body feels against yours, but it's also not enough. You need more.

A whine escapes your mouth, all desperate and needy and breathless and his movements still for a second.

Then, Tangerine looks up at you, dark blue eyes meeting yours. "Tell me what you want", he whispers, hand groping your thigh and dick buried deep deep inside of you. You can feel it twitch inside of you and your breath hitches. "Want -- want you to fuck me", you say quietly, "Like - hard."

"Aint' ya just a fuckin' dream, poppet", he growls and then his lips are unto you once more, licking into your mouth, teeth catching your lower lip; licking and kissing your lips until their sore while picking up a faster rhythm, pounding into you.

Tangerine eventually breaks away from you, leaves you panting and straightens up until he's kneeling between your legs - rolls his hips into you with his dick fucking in and out your hole, accompanied by an obscene squelching sound. One of his hands grabs your thigh hard, rings digging into the flesh, and then he's hoisting it up, resting your ankle on his shoulder and you moan at both: how deep his cock now pushes into you and the way Tangerine looks.

A thin layer of sweat covers his cheeks and his upper body, chest and cheeks flushed, a few strands of hair falling into his face as his brows are furrowed, lips slightly parted. You can hear him breathe heavily, occasionally moaning when your walls clench around his cock, squeezing him. He looks like a fucking porn star, with his defined muscles working beneath the skin and the golden jewellery, a soft summer breeze rolling in through the opened window, toying with his hair. Tangerine's gaze is glued to his dick that rhythmically pumps in and out of you, watches the way your juices squelch around the base of his cock, balls slapping against your wet skin.

His free hand runs up your belly and cups one of your tits, squeezes it, rolls the nipple between his fingers - the bracelet around his wrist jingles and the rings are cold against your skin. You hum deeply, breath ragged and fingers clawing at the sheets desperate for any leverage, while his deep thrusts throw you back and forth like a fucking ragdoll, tits bouncing and gasps falling from your lips.

Your mouth falls agape, watching Tangerine through hooded eyes and dark lashes and his gaze crawls up up up your body until it meets yours. It is accompanied by his hand, ditching your tit, and brushing up your neck, cupping your jaw and then falling in the crook beneath it, pressing down. The sudden lack of air has the muscles in your legs tensing and he feels it, too, mischief illuminating his face, his eyes, as you gasp for air. You know he could kill you then and there, watch you as your lights fade out and as fucked up as it is, it has your rutting your hips against him, spurring him on.

Tangerine furrows his brows and picks up a quicker rhythm, hand closing in tighter around your throat, rings pressing down onto your windpipe, and you lay your head back, feeling the stretch as he's choking you. The lack of fresh oxygen has your chest heaving, body surrendering to him and the way his cock pumps into your hole fast and deep, lust igniting your nerves. Tangerine can feel you clenching around his dick, wetting his trimmed pubic hair as you squirt, slick dripping down his balls and staining the sheets below. The beast inside him roars, thrums against the bars of its cage, his ribs and he sees your eyelids fluttering, cheeks prettily reddened.

"Atta girl", he groans, fingers giving in a little and you suck in a few deep breaths, before he presses them back down again. It's too soon and your hands dart up, clutching in around his wrist, bracelet jostling and clinking under your touch.

The cage breaks.

Suddenly, quickly, with the force and speed of a predatory animal, Tangerine lets go off your throat and flicks his wrist, catches both of yours in an iron grip and pins them above your head, down onto the mattress. His body follows the stretch of yours, bending over you, holding his own weight up with a hand that crashes down next to your chest. He is feral and it should scare you, especially as air floods your system again, lifts your mind out of your foggy state just a little, but it just doesn't no fight or flight kicking in. The way Tangerine hovers over you now has your leg on his shoulder bend, too, allowing his dick to fuck into you deeper, delicate pain from the stretch of your back igniting your loins.

Ragged breaths escape his throat while he pounds, ruts into you and you lose yourself in both, the sound of his utter pleasure and the way your body feels: on fire, chest tight with your approaching orgasm and raw lust, pure want, that chews up the ends of your nerves, has your limbs tingling.

Tangerine's hand keeps your wrists in that iron grip of his as he rolls his hips into you, dick hitting your cervix, his fingers digging into the flesh of your wrists. You throw your head back, gasping with each of his thrusts and his eyes follow your movement hungrily, groans as your eyes roll back. There's a strong pull in your abdomen and your hole flutters around his cock, his balls slap against your wet skin.

"Fuck fuck fuck", you whine, high pitched moans falling from your hips as he ruts into you, "I'm gonna cum, oh shit --"

Tangerine's eyes fall shut, a throaty moan erupting deep from his chest when your muscles tighten around him. "Yeah, shit love -- that's it, fuckin' cum f'me", he rasps, forehead coming down to a rest on your shoulder.

And you do after a few more of his deep thrusts, whining and legs kicking a little, shakes erupting in your chest as you press against him. Everything goes white as you ride your orgasm out on his dick, moaning and gasping as he does, too, shoots thick and hot ropes of cum into you, painting your walls and pulsing deep inside of you.

Tangerine moans, coarse and raw and his chest heaves, presses his nose into the crook of your neck - but you barely notice it, too far gone, mouth agape and legs shaking.

It takes you a while to come down again, eyelids fluttering open lazily. There's a hand on your cheek, a deep hum near your ear. "Welcome back, love", Tangerine says quietly and then, "Ya did so good for me, eh?" You mewl, stretching your legs a little. Your whole body feels sore, his cum leaking out of you and into the sheets. All you want to so is to get up and clean yourself up, but your legs are so so heavy and you just feel so so tired. Tangerine seems to notice, too.

"You stay here, darlin', imma get you something to clean you up", Tangerine says, voice coarse but soft and he gets up, just as a fresh breeze rolls in through the curtains, blows them up and sends them flying a little. The forecast prognosed heavy rainfall for next week. The air already smells like it a little - damp and mushy.

The breeze cools your sweaty skin, has you sighing with content while you watch Tangerine's naked form as he is walking to your bathroom, muscles in his legs and butt working nicely with each step.

***

It has been over a week and this is his third night. It starts to feel like a fucking stake out.

He feels incredibly silly. Silly for coming here again. Silly for lying to Lemon - again. Silly for ordering two Margaritas. Silly for drinking both.

Tangerine leans against the bar, elbows planted firmly on the sticky wood, smoking a cigarette. The band, same musicians, play a soft and melancholic tango. The air had cooled down a little after yesterday’s rain and maybe, just maybe, that'll be the summer's first soft goodbye before it will go down in a last great huzzah with a hot Indian summer before autumn takes over the city.

He wonders if he will still be in Amsterdam by then, if he and Lemon will watch the leaves fall. There is an offer for a job in Japan and he is considering to take it. He'll have to talk to Lemon about it.

"Anything else for you, Sir?", the bartender asks. And Tangerine nods, orders another Margarita. The bartender takes the empty glasses away and he stares at the wood. Oh, he's just so bloody fucking silly, isn't he?

He takes another drag from his cigarette, shifts his weight from one foot to another and rubs his eyes. She won't come. He knows.

She just won't. Tangerine did have a suspicion who she was, has heard stories about her father and he knew, as soon as he had laid eyes on her, that he was in big, big trouble. He wonders if he had already taken her away, wanting better for his daughter than a no-good ordinary killer. Did not want the danger in his life that came with a man, who potentially could be holding his daughter for ransom at some point or worse, could get her killed.

He gets it, though. He would probably do just the same.

"There you go, Sir", the bartender says and Tangerine just nods, suddenly feels very very exhausted and just barely notices that something, someone is moving next to him.

"Can you still afford to buy me one, too?", a familiar voice says, "Or did you burn it all on car insurance?" He chuckles, feels a sudden burst of energy surging through his veins, straightens back up and slowly turns around to her.

"Wasn't my fault, 'prick was driving like a fuckin' loony."

She chuckles and the noise makes his head swim, a strange fluttering feeling in his stomach. He wants to tear his chest open and claw at it, rip it out. That is how much it fucking scares him. How much she scares him.

"Wasn't sure if you were coming back", she says, casually, calmly like she thought about it so much she's just used to it by now.

"I'm not leavin' that soon, love", he says, signals the bartender that another Margarita is in order.

"Where you going?"

"Tokyo, love. Probably -- most likely."

"Come back in one piece then", her smile is genuine. And he knows, that he just has to now.

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine smut #tangerine x y/n #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x you #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine imagine #my writing #smut #bullet train #bullet train 2022 #aaron taylor johnson

[justtwotired]

Whispers of the night Lloyd G. X F!reader

Part 1 - previous - next

Warning: slight sexual content

Tag list: @cipheress-to-k-pop @whore-of-many-hot-men @bodieohbo @anyth1ngfor0urmoony @luvizuku @viannasthings

Your pov:

I closed the door behind me and waved at Luna who was serving tables. It was a day before Christmas Eve and it was rather busy today.

Normally I don’t work on Wednesday’s, but Luna, who stood alone today, called me as there was an unexpected crowd.

Quickly, I dumped my jacket in the kitchen and headed out to help the people at the counter.

“Are you guys open tomorrow?” The woman asked me and I shook my head.

“Uh no, seeing it’s Christmas Eve tomorrow we are closed, I’m sorry,” I apologised and the woman frowned for a second.

“But I really need a cake tomorrow,” she said and I internally groaned, how did I manage to be here for five minutes and there was already someone being annoying?

“Do you have an order?” I asked, and took the map where we managed the orders from the shelf.

“No? I just thought to swoop by tomorrow and grab a cake,” she said and I let out a sigh.

“Then I am sorry to say that that is not possible, we do not have the time to make a cake on such short notice,” I said and she looked like she wanted to argue but decided against it.

The woman walked out, without any goodbyes and I turned to the young couple who had stood behind her.

“Can I help you two?” I asked, exchanging looks with poor Luna who was stuck talking to one of our regulars. That woman never shut up about herself and escaping was not an option really.

“Yes, please, is there still room for us to sit?” The girl asked and I nodded.

“Uh yeah, at the window over there I think, other than that we’re completely full,” I said and they exchanged happy looks.

“Great, can we get two cappuccino’s then?” She asked and I nodded again.

“Yes, of course,” I quickly wrote it down together with the place they would be sitting. “Please take a seat, I’ll bring it in a second,” I gestured to the spot and they thanked me and walked off.

I quickly headed for the espresso machine and started two cappuccino’s along with a latte, spotting the small sticky note that still stuck to the counter, an order Luna probably hadn’t been able to fit onto her tray.

As I was steaming the milk, she joined me and quickly started arranging a tray for the two yet to be made orders.

“Can you also make a double espresso and a normal coffee for table four?” She asked and I nodded.

“Finally escaped uphill?” I asked amused as I poured the steamed milk into the two cappuccino cups, only to steam milk again for the latte macchiato.

“God, that woman is insufferable,” Luna shook her head and took the two cappuccinos. “Honestly, can’t we just ban her from the shop? If I hear something about her dog one more time I’m going to barf,” she said, walking off as I laughed.

Half an hour later, most people where gone, only three teenage girls and an older couple who regularly came for just two coffee where seated.

“Thank you so much for helping me out here, you are an angel,” Luna came to stand next to me and handed me some coffee, which I found out contained a pump of caramel, when I took a sip.

“Oh I know,” I grinned, watching the rain outside. “I don’t think we’ll be getting a white Christmas,” I pointed out a tat disappointed.

“Oh god, you don’t have to walk home trough this rain right?” Luna asked, giving me a pitying look, making me chuckle.

“Nah, I already managed to get a personal taxi,” I winked and as if on cue, greenie walked trough the door, surprising even me.

I had called Lloyd, but I didn’t know he’d show up like this.

“You called an uber?” He asked amused and Luna laughed next to me.

“Of course,” she said shaking her head, “when one needs a ride home, call the green ninja,” she gave me a look and I shrugged.

“Hey, Lloyd was busy, and I needed a ride, if you have the privilege, you should use it,” I said and headed into the kitchen to grab my jacket.

“Ready to go?” Greenie asked and I nodded.

“Jup, ready as can be, what are we taking? Motorcycle or the dragon?” I asked him, before he could answer, the door opened and the earth ninja also joined us.

“Can you two hurry up? Red is loosing his mind waiting for N/n,” he said and both me and greenie chuckled.

“Yes, coming,” I quickly walked towards the door and followed Greenie out.

“Bye, Lu!” I waved and she smiled and waved aswel.

“O-oh, bye Luna,” Cole noticed her and also waved, making her chuckle shyly and waved back, her cheeks tinted a bit red.

“I will never get over the fact that you have the hots for one of my best friends,” I said when the door was closed, making Cole shush me as if Luna would be able to hear.

Both me and Lloyd laughed at him while he rolled his eyes and flew off on his dragon.

“Trouble!” Kai flew into my side, hugging me making me laugh. “Finally you’re here, these guys where getting boring,” he waved a hand at the others who made offended noises.

“Awe, I missed you too,” I said with a small smile before it fell, “but uh, can we get going? I’m getting drenched and I would appreciate some warmth,” I said making the others chuckle, before calling upon their elemental dragons.

Lloyd held out a hand for me to take, and so I did, before he too, summoned his dragon and we flew off.

“You’ve got to teach me how to do that some day soon,” I said, making him look back at me, “my father never learned me, he never knew how to do it himself,” I explained further and his eyebrows rose.

“I’ll teach you, but let’s get you home first,” he said before pausing, “you can come to the monastery to if you want,” he suggested and a smile grew on my face.

“Yes!” I said excitedly and he chuckled before saluting and taking a turn, changing the course to the monastery instead of my house.

At the monastery, he led me trough the garden, which he hadn’t showed me yet. It was beautiful, all kinds of plants grew everywhere and Lloyd promised that in the spring, the first flowers would start to grow and the whole garden would be full off colour.

I beamed at him and looked back at the garden, imagining it with flowers and other kinds of plants.

The breeze picked up and I shivered, pulling my coat tighter around myself in hopes of warming myself up.

An arm was put around me and Lloyd leaned in close, “let’s get you inside,” he whispered right next to my ear, causing my cheeks to heat up.

Inside, he lead me towards his room and we bumped into Koko along the way.

“Y/n, you’re here, how good to see you,” she pulled me into a hug and I smiled, hugging her back. She put me at arms length and smiled at me, “has Lloyd asked you to spent new years here yet?” She asked and my eyes widened slightly, I looked back at Lloyd who gave me a sheepish grin.

“I was planning on doing that later!” He insisted when he caught his mothers scolding glare. I chuckled at the exchanged while Lloyd crossed his arms and Koko shook her head before giving me an expecting look.

“Uhm, I’ll have to talk to my parents about that first, but I really love the idea, thank you so much for inviting me,” I wasn’t shy in showing my excitement and the woman beamed at me.

“Let us know, I’d love for you to be there,” she insisted before pulling me into one final hug and walking past us, giving Lloyd an affectionate pat on the shoulder before turning the corner.

He took my hand and lead me towards his room, closing the door behind him while I went and took a seat on his desk chair, turning it around so I had my back turned to the desk.

“What are we going to do?” I asked, glancing around the rather empty room.

“Well, I was planning to ask you to join us for new years here, but that plan is ruined,” he hugged and I giggled.

He looked at me and his gaze softened. I sent him a smug smile back and leaned back against the chair a bit more. “What’s the new plan?” I asked, looking up at him and he huffed a small laugh, taking a few steps towards me.

“What do you want it to be?” He shot back and placed both his hands on the desk behind me, causing me to be trapped between his arms, making me look up at him, probably an absolute blushing mess.

“Take a guess,” I breathed out and he looked thoughtfully for a moment.

“Hm, I don’t know, maybe we can watch a movie or something,” he teased and I groaned.

“Oh shut up and kiss me already,” I said and with a chuckle he leaned down and caught my lips in a soft kiss.

My hands clasped around his neck, pulling him into me even more. One of his hands slipped from the desk to my waist, making me softly gasp, he grasped the opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth, making me absolutely melt.

We parted and he pulled me up to stand, and if it wasn’t for his hands on my waist, I bet my knees would have buckled.

He didn’t waist time to kiss me again and I couldn’t help but softly chuckle at his eagerness, he deepened the kiss and I pressed my body against him as much as I could, if I was able to mold into him I would.

He pulled away and took my hand slowly walking backwards and I followed without much thought, when he sat down on the bed, I softly kissed his lips again before sitting down to straddle him. He moved his hands to my hips while mine were tangled in his soft hair.

Pulling away from me, he started trailing kisses from my jaw down to my neck. I sucked in a sharp breath when he placed and open mouthed kiss on my neck and I completely lost my breath when he carefully nipped at my skin.

I had a complete error at that, it took a moment for me to start breathing again and gave me an amused smirk before pecking my lips again.

“Hm?” He hummed teasingly and I let out an airy laugh.

“God, you’re irresistible,” I said breathlessly causing his cocky smirk to grow before placing another open mouthed kiss on my neck and I couldn’t help but let a whimper escape me at the feeling of bliss.

It only caused him to chuckle in amusement before pulling his head back and kissing my lips again.

Suddenly there was rapid knocking on the door and it flew open a second later.

“Are you two joining us- HOLY FUCK!” Kai covered his eyes in horror. “Damn you two horny ass teenagers, at least lock the fucking door!” He yelled and left the room, shutting the door behind him, his yelling voice disappearing into the hallway.

I met Lloyds eyes and he snorted, covering his mouth with his hand and I followed. We silently giggled and I leaned my head on his shoulder.

“Let’s go see what he was going to ask us,” I suggested with a grin and he nodded and stood up, still holding my waist to put me back on my feet.

He pressed one last kiss to my forehead before taking my hands and walking out of the room. I followed wordlessly, looking at him with adoration, I loved this man so much it hurt.

I spent Christmas Eve the next day at James’ house, just like every year. After eating a delicious meal and finishing dessert, the both of us left our parents and my siblings at the dinner table and head up to his room where we could watch a movie.

“So… are we going to talk about it?” He asked smugly making my eyebrows rise I confusion. Nothing remotely interesting happened at the dinner table today and as far as I knew, there was no drama in either our friendgroup or anyone else at school.

“Talk about what?” I asked, crossing my arms and narrowing my eyes while he just sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Listen here, ma’am,” he pointed at me accusingly, “that makeup on your neck might fool your parents but it ain’t fooling me- now tell me, did you get laid?” He asked and my eyes widened.

I spluttered while my cheeks grew bright red. My hand instinctively shot up to my neck where Lloyd had left hickeys the day before. I had covered them up with makeup so my parents wouldn’t start asking questions.

“James!” I shrieked when I managed to compose myself and went to whack his shoulder while he jumped back, laughing.

“What!?” He called out trough huffs of laughter, “it’s a genuine question- you’ve never done it before, I just want to know how it went!” He insisted before turning serious. “How was he? Was he big? He didn’t hurt you right? How was the experience? Did he take good care of you after?” He shot question after question and my face grew even hotter if that was even possible.

“James!” I interrupted him, “I didn’t not get laid!” His eyes widened at this and than he groaned.

“Still not?” He shook his head and rolled his eyes, “give me his number, I’ll tell him you want to get laid or at least suck his dick or whatever,” he held out his hands as if I would ever give him my phone voluntarily.

“What- no!” I took a few protective paces back, hugging my phone to my chest, “you aren’t telling him that,” I hissed. Even if it’s true.

He huffed and crossed his arms. “Hey- if you want to get laid, you hint to that boy you want to get laid, that’s how simple it is,” he insisted and I dropped my head into my hands.

“God- James stop,” I cried out and he laughed at my misery, making me pick up one of his hoodies that hung over his chair and chug it at him, making him try to dodge it but it went straight into his face, causing me to laugh instead while he gave me an unamused look.

#lloyd garmadon x reader #ninjago x reader #ninjago lloyd #ninjago lloyd x reader #lloyd garmadon #lego ninjago #ninjago

[peonierose]

Losing Game (3/4)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Rating: Mature / Angst

TW: Mental Health

Words: 3,000+

Summary: Bryce visited his dad in prison and now he and Luna are oceans apart, but after a scare during his surgery he can only think of one person to call.

A/N: In case you missed the parts before here they are: Part 1, Part 2

2nd A/N: I went a bit off canon with Bryce and what happened with his parents, just as an fyi. Also thank you for everyone for reading this story and giving it a chance 🩷

Side note: I also made a playlist for Part 3, the previous two parts include a playlist as well.

Maui, Hawaii 

A few years ago…

Bryce

I sang along to some song playing on the radio, still pumped from a round of basketball with my friends. I kicked Kainalu‘s ass and ran laps around him. I still can’t believe I beat him this time around, he cursed throughout the game. But it was just a game between friends.

When I turned the corner to our house I saw blue flashing lights, alerting me that something was wrong. I put the car in park and slammed the door as I got out.

Did something happen? This is a pretty safe neighborhood. My parents made sure we had the best-equipped security system around. The best money could buy.

Several cop cars have pulled up in front of our driveway. I saw two police officers escorting my dad into a police car. My eyebrows rose high. Not able to make sense of this whole situation and what is unraveling right in front of my eyes.

I ran towards the entrance of our house where officers were carrying out some of our things. Such as computers, laptops, phones, everything, and putting them into evidence bags. I kept staring as if this was a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

When I wanted to enter our house an officer stopped me.

”You can’t get inside.“

”What do you mean I can’t get inside? I live here.“ I replied, with a sharpness I reserved for people who get on my nerves.

”Please Officer, that’s my son.“ My mom‘s voice came from the entrance. The officer looked me up and down and finally, after what felt like hours passed, he nodded and let me enter.

”Alright. He can enter. But don’t touch anything.“ He called out after me.

I got inside and my mom pulled me to the side.

”Let’s go to the kitchen.“ I followed my mom as if I were in a trance. My body moved, but my mind was somewhere else.

The questions kept circling in my head like hungry vultures ”What the fuck is going on here? Why are there cops in our home? Why did Dad get arrested? What did my parents get themselves into?“

I whirled on my mom, but she put her forefinger on her lips telling me with her eyes not to ask any questions that were burning on my tongue. Then she hugged me and whispered into my ear.

”Listen carefully, we don’t have much time. There’s a small bag in your sister's closet. Take it and get her out of here. There’s enough money that should last you for a while. Since I’m sure they froze all of our accounts.“

I wanted to break off the hug and look at my mom. But she held on tight.

”But…“

”Do as I say ku’uipo. Know that your father and I love you. Take care of your little sister until we figure things out. You hear me?“ My mom hissed. I nodded slightly. ”Good.“

We broke off the embrace and it’s as if I’m seeing a different mom. Not one who kissed my bruised knee when I fell from my bike as a seven-year-old, or who sang me Hawaiian songs when I had the flu.

She put her hand on my cheek as if she sought comfort from me. She kissed my cheek and a feeling of dread settled in my stomach. I let out a breath I’ve been holding in.

After a few seconds, I went upstairs. Before heading up, I took another look at my mom, tired lines had etched themselves into her bronze skin. I turned around, taking one last close look at her before I climbed the stairs leading to our bedrooms.

As I went up I looked for the bag my mom mentioned. Though Keiki is nowhere in sight. I sprinted to the closet and when I opened it I whistled when I saw all the cash, fake IDs, and passports inside the bag. Whatever they did, they must’ve had a backup plan.

I recognized a fake ID when I saw one. I used one to get into clubs and bars while still underage. This isn’t a simple bag, this is a run-for-the-hills, get-out-of-town for a while kind of bag.

I replaced the bag my mom prepared with my gym bag that was slung over my shoulder a few minutes ago. Making sure no one saw me swap the bags I went outside and looked for my sister.

”Kei-Kei?“ I went to my room, and there she was. Hugging her green sea turtle to her chest. I gave it to her last Christmas.

She was sitting on my bed. Scared to death if her tear-streaked face was any indication. Her dark brown hair was held in a ponytail by a pink elastic. I kneeled next to her.

”Keiks? Come on, let's go.“

She looked at me and I took her little hand into mine. Her hands were shaking and I covered them with mine to lend her some strength.

”Go where? I’m so scared.“ Her big brown eyes, so much like my own, were full of more unshed tears.

”I know you are scared. But I’ve got you Kei-Kei.“ When she hesitated I smiled and squeezed her hand.

”I’m scared too, Keiks. But why don’t we go to a safer place? Hmm?“

”Today is my birthday, Bry. Are we going to celebrate with mom and dad?“ She asked, looking up at me.

I closed my eyes. Shit. It’s her birthday. How do you explain this shit show to your six-year-old sister?

”We‘ll go to some friend's house for a few days. You and I will celebrate with some cake and ice cream. Mom and Dad will join us when they can, okay?“

”Okay. But I want a big cake. With mango flavor.“ She said excitedly.

”You got it Kei-Kei.“ I said and smiled at her. When she saw me smiling at her she smiled back, nodded, and wiped her tears away.

I put the bag over my shoulder and hoisted Keiki up, carrying her downstairs. She clung to me and I winked at her which made her smile. Officers were still taking everything and bagging it as evidence.

Damn what the hell happened? I’ll have to ask my parents another time. First I needed to make sure Keiki was alright.

Though from the looks of it, our lives would inevitably change forever.

Honolulu, Hawaii’

Present Day…

Bryce

With a start my eyes snapped wide open, looking left and right, seeing familiar surroundings, making me relax in bed. I reached for my glass of water on the white nightstand next to me, since my throat was all dried up.

I haven’t had memories resurface like this in a long time. Moments from when my parents were arrested. I’ve always wanted the memories gone and I’ve suppressed them. Guess they’re coming back in full force now.

I rubbed my tired eyes. When I turned my head I saw that Luna's side of the bed was rumpled. Though her side was empty.

I didn’t have to be at work until later in the afternoon. As I turned my head I looked at the clock at my bedside. The green numbers said 7.35 am and I just wanted to stay in bed all day, but I knew I’ve got to get my shit together and get out of bed. No matter how hard it is.

I rubbed my eyes again and got out of bed. I went into the bathroom to take a cold shower. Maybe that’ll wake me up.

15 minutes later I was dressed and ready to face the day. The first thing I noticed as I got downstairs was that the kitchen was empty except for Keiki and Evie sitting at the kitchen table talking in hushed tones.

After the flashback I just had, it feels weird to see Keiki all grown up now. As if you fast-forwarded turning Keiki 23, instead of 6.

When I entered they stopped talking.

”Good morning,“ I walked towards the coffee machine to get some coffee. Starting the day without coffee? Impossible.

”Morning Bryce,“ Evie said while Keiki kept herself busy with Cheerios and some mango slices.

Looking at me, her eyes full of questions I don’t have the answer to. I put it aside to answer later. Because as of right now? I don’t know what to say. Honestly.

”You know an apple would be good for you. Instead of all that sugar, you eat all the time,“ I said pointing to the bowl in front of her.

”How about no? Also, I have some mango smartass.“ She said and stuck out her tongue at me.

I grinned.

”Real mature Keiks,“ I replied and sat down at the kitchen table, across from Evie. Keiki's phone chimed and she went upstairs to take the call.

Evie scooted closer.

”Is everything okay Bryce? Luna is usually up before you. She’s usually in the kitchen preparing breakfast or ordering in and singing around. You know, since you and making breakfast usually almost turns into having to call the fire department,“ she grinned but her green eyes turned serious within seconds.

I chuckled but the sound was more hollow than rich with joy.

”It’s complicated. Let’s leave it at that Eves,“ I said, not really in the mood to hash out what happened last week. Too restless to sit, I get up and just lean against the fridge.

Evie got up too and she squeezed my arm.

”I get it, this is between you and Luna. And you want to solve this on your own. I won’t pressure you for details. But Bryce? You’re one of my favorite guy friends, well make that the only one. So if you ever need to talk, or just get wasted? I’m your girl. You went through a lot. I can tell. So if there’s something you’d like to get off your chest I’m here. Don’t bottle it up. When you’re ready we’re all here. For you and Luna. You’re family okay? You’re not alone,“ she aimed a watery smile at me.

I nodded and hugged her, not able to say more than that. She gave me another hug and grabbed an apple from the fruit basket.

”At least one person in this house eats healthy,“ I said teasingly.

”I heard that,“ came Keiki's shout from upstairs.

”Good,“ I shouted back.

I do what I always do when everything gets too much. I go to Manoa Falls when I feel upset. It’s my and Luna’s favorite place in the world.

Sitting there on the moss-covered stones and hearing the rush of the waterfalls? It’s like you’re one with nature. That peacefulness? Food for the soul. When I get there I let the silence and chirping of birds envelop me and ground me. My phone chimes with a text, my heart sped up and I think it might be Luna, but it’s just a Spotify alert. Suggesting a new song to one of my playlists. I unlock my phone to see which song it is. It’s , which must be for Luna she loves Maddie & Tae. I sigh when I lock my phone again.

Only too soon do I have to get back because my shift is about to start.

I got dressed for work and before I was out the door I heard Keiki calling my name and I turned around keys in hand.

”Hey are you guys okay? I could tell Luna was upset about something,“ she asked gently.

I nodded.

”We’ll be okay again. We’re just going through a rough patch. It’s all going to work out,“ I said and kissed my sister on the forehead.

She nodded.

I walked out the door to get to work. Hopefully, work will distract me from my problems for now.

Later that day…

Aubrey got out of the OR. Her brown eyes blazing.

”What the fuck is wrong with you Lahela?“ She asked me.

I leaned on the wall. Trying to get a breath out. But all that came out was a wheezing sound rather than an actual breath.

She noticed I was not saying anything and must’ve seen my face. Pale as a ghost.

”Deep breaths Lahela. Come on. You got this. Deep breaths. In and out,“ she instructed me and I did as she said.

My hands started to tremble earlier during surgery. Again. What the fuck is going on?

I tore the surgical cap away and threw it onto the floor. Tearing at my longer hair. Not seeing where the cap landed and not really caring at this moment.

”Okay talk to me. What’s wrong?“

When my breathing was under control again I looked at Aubrey.

I was breathing slowly, still not able to talk to anyone.

”I had a fucking panic attack. That’s what’s wrong.“ I said a heartbeat later.

”Okay. Just breathe and relax. Just stay here, okay?“ She said and left to give me some space.

This happened before but I didn’t see it as a panic attack.

I thought I just had some anxiety left from the day before when I talked to a family who were seeking answers for a surgery I couldn’t perform because it was too risky.

What if complications occur? They will blame me for it.

It’s a pretty complicated surgery and I didn’t know how well they would handle any complications or repercussions I told them about.

I sighed again. I didn’t even realize that I pulled out my phone and dialed Luna’s number.

”Hey B, what’s wrong?“ She said and I could hear other people mutter in the background. She must be at the store or something.

”Can you come to the hospital? I know we’ve fought, but I really need you.“ I said quietly.

”Of course, I’ll be right there.“ She said. It‘s as if our fight was forgotten.

I don’t even know how I got to the locker room as I’m sitting on the cold, hard linoleum floor. My head is resting between my knees.

As I’m trying to get my breathing and my heart rate under control.

Breathing exercises didn’t cut it. But slowly my heartbeat normalized and I could breathe freely again.

I didn’t know if she’d even come if I called her. After our fight, everything seemed out of balance.

But Luna is the only person I wanted to see. I just wanted to feel her soft touch and smell her guava shampoo. Knowing she’s close and I can hug her when my anxiety is high? Deeply comforted me.

I was still sitting like that on the floor when I felt soft hands caressing the hair at the nape of my neck.

I shivered and when I turned around I saw Luna’s concerned face.

”What happened?“ She asked and opened her arms for me.

I hugged her because I needed her. For the first time in a week after our fight, I felt good again.

It’s as if I‘m a functioning human being, who’s been deprived of human touch for so long. However weird that sounded, it helped to hug her. That physical contact from the person I love is exactly what I needed.

We barely talked, just exchanged a few words here and there. But it’s not like it’s usually with us. Jabs and teasing here and there. Laughter and kisses.

I missed her. I didn’t know you could be in the same room with the person you love, yet feel so lonely. As if you’re miles apart.

She stroked my hair and just whispered some lyrics of a song to me. I think it was ”I Have a Dream by ABBA“.

”My hands started shaking and I panicked during surgery.“

”Oh B I‘m sorry that happened, but I think ever since you visited your dad you came back differently.“ She pointed out carefully as if she wasn’t sure what my reaction would be.

”Of course I did. There are way too many emotions eating me up right now. I just needed to sort them all out.“ I remarked.

”B please tell me what’s going on. Please, I don't know how to help you if you don’t tell me,“ Luna whispered.

”I feel lost. Lost and sad and I don’t know.“ I admitted. I broke down. I wrapped my arms around her as I cried silently and she held me close, showing me she was right here with me.

”I’ll give you anything you want Bryce. I love you so damn much. I’d even eat some oatmeal.“ She shivered involuntarily. The disgust of having to eat oatmeal was evident on her face. She hates it. I laughed through my tears. She pushed some strands of my hair that had gotten longer out of my face and I squeezed her hand.

”Would you be willing to go to therapy? We could go together if you want. Or you could go alone. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable.“

To be honest I’ve been thinking of going to therapy for a while. I’ve been a wuss to go though.

”I’d like that. Know any good ones?“

Luna nodded.

”I do. We can make an appointment. And we can go whenever you feel like you want to go.“

I nodded and just kept leaning into her. I turned my head and looked into her blue-green eyes.

”I never meant to hurt you when I didn’t tell you I visited my dad. I…just don’t know…“

Luna took my face into her hands.

”It’s okay B. We’ll figure it out together. And if you want to spend some time figuring things out with your parents I support you.“ She said and after a heartbeat, she continued.

”I suffer from anxiety and depression. I know what it’s like when it’s getting too much and when I don’t know what to do with my emotions. When I want to scream and cry and just get out of my skin for a while. I get it. That’s what painting is for me. Maybe we can find something you can find comfort in.“ I smiled. Even now when we’re still not sure where we stand exactly, she tries to help and support me. I couldn’t love her more if I tried.

”I always liked working with my hands. Building things. I was always good at it. I once built a princess castle for Keiki.“

”That is so sweet. I bet it was pink.“ Luna smiled softly and I smiled back at her. If there’s one person who loves pink? It’s Luna. But it’s endearing and I love that about her.

”Maybe you can work something out with Adam?“ She suggested.

”You think he’d let me?“ I asked not sure if Adam would let me help with any of his projects.

”Of course. Adam loves you like a brother. He’d help you. Especially if he knows it helps you to feel calm.“

I admit feeling ashamed and mortified that my hands would start to shake again. Is something wrong with me?

”There’s nothing wrong with you B. Sometimes emotions boil over. It’s when you’ve bottled things up too many times. I know that. That’s why I’ve turned to art. When I create art it lets me get out some emotions I‘ve been feeling. We can do some painting together if you want.“

I didn’t realize I'd spoken out loud. I nodded, not able to look at her, afraid she’d see how emotionally exhausted I was.

First visiting my dad, our fight, and now this panic attack during the surgery. Maybe some vacation would do me some good. I‘m sure I can work something out with the chief of medicine. Alana is amazing and she‘s very understanding.

”I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my dad. I just didn’t want to share it because I was scared that if you saw and knew everything you’d…“

”What? Run away? B there’s nothing that could make me run away from you. No matter what happens. Sure I was hurt that you didn’t say anything, but I understand that sometimes certain conversations aren’t that easy. Especially when it’s with a family member you haven’t talked to in a while. But whether we fight or if we have a make-out session all day, a relationship is never easy. But we work on it. We compromise, and most importantly we love each other. Come hell or high water.“

I looked up at her and I could tell from the expression in her eyes that she meant every word.

She hugged me again and I simply leaned into her, borrowing some of the strength that she was offering. We sat like that for another 10 minutes, until Luna had a pained look on her face and I could’ve slapped myself by letting her sit on the ground.

”B not to be rude, but can we maybe go somewhere else? I feel a bit uncomfortable sitting like this.“

”Oh my god I’m sorry of course. Here let me help you up.“ I got to my feet and helped her up.

”Thank you. For being there for me.“ I kissed her soft lips, giving you that warm, cozy feeling as if you were coming home.

”Always.“ She smiled tenderly.

I knew we’d fought, but things will get better again. I believe that.

#Losing Game (3/4) #Luna Auclair #Bryce Lahela #Keiki Lahela #Evangeline Auclair #Aubrey O'Neil #open heart #CFWC

[sidekick-hero]

Suitcase of Memories

Authors: @legitcookie and @sidekick-hero l Artist: @luna-fortunaa l Artist: @maikaartwork | Beta: @acasualcrossfade | Beta and amazing cheerleader: @yournowheregirl

ART 1 | ART 2 | FIC

In a bygone era, two men overcome all societal norms and find an instant, powerful connection that defies all odds. Their secret love blossoms in the shadows, forming an unbreakable bond. However, fate eventually intervenes, cruelly tearing them apart. Fast forward to the present day, Steve awakens from a startling dream that feels surprisingly real, like he was really there. The memory of it haunts his every waking moment, making him question if he somehow recognizes the mysterious, curly-haired stranger playing his guitar at a street-corner, although they have never met before. Steve continues to cross paths with this enigmatic figure, Eddie, until they surrender to fate and their instant attraction. As their relationship deepens, Steve's dreams become increasingly vivid, detailed, and intense, leaving him with an uncanny sense of familiarity. They also strangely reflect the growing romance and struggles of his newfound relationship. Is it all just a coincidence, or is there a deeper connection that defies the boundaries of time and fate?

Read more under the cut for another sneak preview of Chapter 1!

"How was the rush?" he asks Robin absentmindedly as he goes about cleaning the machines and the counter. There's a dreamy smile on his face, the image of a man playing his guitar and humming softly to himself in his mind's eye.

"Eh, not bad, but - why are you smiling?" Robin immediately catches it, and Steve tries to wipe it off his face for plausible deniability.

"I'm not smiling."

"I have eyes, Dingus. What's up? Did Lisa call you?" Steve looks at Robin, at a loss, before the proverbial light bulb turns on and he just stops himself from snapping his fingers. Right, Lisa.

"Nah, I texted her, but she didn't text me back," he says with a shrug, not really caring. She was boring and self-absorbed anyway, there was no chemistry between them. Not like he thought he had with —

Robin's eyebrows shoot up in surprise at his obvious disinterest, and he knows there's no point in playing dumb. He's been dying to tell Robin all weekend, and here's the perfect opportunity. "I just met someone. Sort of."

This isn't really anything new, Steve meets someone almost every week, but Robin still makes a gimme gimme gesture at him. "Details, please. Drown out the tragedy that is my love life."

Steve snorts. "It's not that big of a deal. He was playing guitar on the corner near my bus stop, and I just... met him." Saying it like that makes it seem so insignificant when it felt anything but.

"What's his name?"

"I don't know."

"So you didn't actually meet him."

"Technically. But it was weird, Robin, he seemed so familiar. Like I've met him before. I even asked him about it, but he said no. Just gave me a line, like I'd be hard to forget."

"It wasn't a line," comes a voice from the customer's side of the table. Steve whips his head around to find his mystery man standing there with a grin on his handsome face. Steve gawks at him and the man adds, "Okay, maybe it was a line."

"Oh, fuck - I mean, shit - hi." He wants to punch himself, hard. Smooth. So fucking smooth. The floor never opens and swallows you when you need it most.

The man cackles with glee and Steve turns even redder, quickly approaching scarlet.

"What can we get you?" Robin the Saint cuts in before he can put his foot in his mouth any more than he already did, nudging Steve in the side to put on his best customer service smile.

"Uh," Cute Guitar Guy begins, his eyes darting up to the menu and scanning it quickly. "Whatever's sweet enough to cause instant cavities."

"You're not on the menu, Stevie," Robin whispers in Steve's ear, laughter obvious in her tone, and Steve elbows her gently. He wouldn't mind being on the menu for this particular customer.

"A mocha with an extra pump sound good?" Robin asks, already grabbing a cup, marker in hand.

"Yeah, that sounds good," the guy replies absentmindedly, his eyes never leaving Steve's. As their gazes lock, Steve has to suppress the shiver that wants to run through his body as the current of electricity hits him again. He can feel it crackling under his skin and wonders if the man in front of him can feel it too.

He hopes he can.

Undeterred by both of their obvious distraction, Robin continues with her customer scheme. "Name?"

Cute Guitar Guy’s eyes stay on Steve as he replies with a sudden weight in his voice, "Eddie," before remembering his manners and giving Robin a kind, sincere smile.

Robin moves away from the counter to start working on the drink, sending a sly smile in Steve's direction as he continues to just stand there looking at Eddie. He's sure she's going to make fun of him later.

"I'm Steve," he tells the guy, desperate to say something, anything.

"I see," Eddie says, pointing to Steve's nametag, and Steve feels like smacking himself again. Fortunately, Eddie seems more charmed than appalled by his inability to carry on a conversation like a normal human being. "I suppose it would be stupid to use another line like 'You come here often?'" Eddie asks, smiling widely at him, and Steve's knees weaken at the sight, wanting to trace that smile with his tongue, especially the newly formed dimples.

Steve huffs a laugh. "You still could. Maybe it’d make you stop by more often if I told you I do?”

“Oh, you can count on that, Steve.”

They grin at each other and Steve thinks that he would take a hundred more fucked up days like Friday if they led to something like this. The thought reminds him to ask, "Is that your regular spot? Playing at the corner?"

Leaning closer to Steve, Eddie rests both elbows on the counter. "What if it is?"

"Then I might have to skip the bus more often," Steve says, mimicking his stance.

He hears Robin snort behind him, but chooses to ignore her in favor of looking at Eddie, who has just pulled out his wallet to pay for the drink. Steve puts his hand on the one holding the wallet and feels another crackle under his skin. "On the house."

Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, but his eyes dance with mischievous delight. "And do all of your first time customers get this kind of special treatment from you?"

Go big or go home, Steve thinks as he leans even closer to Eddie. "Nah," he says looking up at him from under his lashes, "Only the really cute ones."

The smile on Eddie's face softens, the mischief replaced by something more genuine, more real. He pulls a strand of his hair over his mouth to hide it, but it's too late, because Steve knows he's going to fall asleep tonight with that smile on his mind.

Eddie opens his wallet, pulls out a $5 bill and puts it in the tip jar. Steve wonders if it's the same one he put in Eddie's guitar case the other night. "Thanks, Stevie."

The nickname makes Steve smile, liking the easy way Eddie creates a feeling of familiarity between them. He's not sure if Eddie is thanking him for the free coffee or the compliment, but either way his answer would be the same. "Anytime."

They continue to lean on the counter, staring at each other as if the rest of the world has ceased to exist, before a customer behind Eddie clears his throat loudly, startling them both. "Are you two done? I'd like my coffee today, please."

Rolling his eyes, Eddie steps aside and waves his arm in a sweeping gesture at the disgruntled customer.

"After you," he says in an exaggerated voice and gives Steve a wink before walking over to the pickup counter to wait for his drink. Just then, more and more customers begin to pour in, the lunch rush in full swing, and Steve moves to take their orders, help Robin prepare drinks, and hand out snacks and baked goods. He tries to keep an eye on Eddie to see if he's still there, but after a particularly large order from a group, Steve is distracted long enough that when he looks back, Eddie is gone.

His face must show his disappointment because Robin puts a gentle hand on Steve's back and says, "Eddie asked me to tell you goodbye. He really had to go, but he looked just as bummed out about it as you do.”

That's at least something, but Steve still feels deflated. He didn't even get his number.

#steddiebang23 #steddie #steddie fanfiction #steve x eddie #barista!steve harrington #musician!eddie munson #steddie au #my writing #the biggest and most heartfelt thank you to this crew #Jen and I couldn't have asked for a better team to put this together #it was a whirlwind and sometimes a fight but having all these amazing and wonderful people in our corner made it possible #💜💜💜 #and to Jen: thank you for being my platonic writing soulmate and more importantly my friend 💜🥰🫂

[dyinglikenarcissus]

Another One

Grey!Alpha!Steve Rogers x omega!black female reader

Look. My muse has been working overtime lately. Every time I finish something, I think of some new smutty situation to put Steve in.

Warning: 18+ only! Like seriously! This one is not for babies. You have been adequately warned and you are responsible for the content you consume. Smut, dub/non con, forced procreation, breeding kink, nursing kink, cum inflation, A/B/O themes, gym setting, a cute little teddy that I want a man to untie from my body too, alright these are no longer warnings 😂

Please don’t copy or repost my work, thanks! Plagiarism is rude

Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated ☺️

3k words

Master List

“Up.”

You glare up at your mate as he demands one more rep from you.

“Up!” He repeats more forcefully. “I know you have it in you, luna. One more. You got this.”

He stands above you at the ready to help you if your arms show any sign of giving out. But he’s not going to help with this one. He wants one more good one and if you think you can rerack on your own, he’s going to ask for another.

You let out a load groan as you press the barbell from your chest one last time and lower it slowly back down. You almost scream as you lift it again.

“Good job, moon! Hell yeah!” Steve grins as he helps you rerack seeing your arms shake beyond control. You whine softly as you drop your arms to your sides.

You hate arm day.

Steve offer you a hand to help you sit up before adding more plates to the bar for his set. You couldn’t deny it, he’d done everything in his power to get you back to pre baby weight. You were stronger than you ever were before. Of course the stretch marks will never leave you, a sign that you brought a brand new life into this world, and the loose skin is an issue for time but you hit your weight loss goal last week and you weren’t looking back.

It did help that you had the most amazing alpha at your side through all of it.

You watch as his one size too small shirt stretches across his broad chest and and enormous arms as he easily stacks plates onto the bar.

“Alright, up, pretty moon.” You sigh at the nickname and the prospect of standing but let him pick you up and place you on your feet anyway. The two of you met on the night of a full moon and it just stuck.

“Spot me?”

You laugh at the idea. He’s got like 300lbs on this thing but you humor him anyway. He doesn’t really need your help, he just likes to look at your boobs while you stand over him.

“You got this, baby,” you smile, holding out your hands as if you’ll catch the bar if it fumbles. A small coo from the other side of the room catches your attention as your baby wakes from his nap.

“He’s probably hungry,” Steve grunts. You hum an affirmative and go to cradle your first baby.

He looks just like your mate. Blue eyes with flecks of green, light hair, strong nose. He got your dark skin and tight curls though. He’s perfect. You wonder back over to your mate bouncing the child softly in your arms.

“You see how strong your daddy is? One day, you’ll be as big and strong as him and you’ll beat him at arm wrestling.” Steve lets out a strained laugh making you smile. You sit on an empty bench and nurse him bringing some relief to your filling breasts.

“I know that face; you need to pump,” Steve states so sure of himself that he doesn’t even look at you for confirmation as he racks his bar easily and sits up to watch you.

“I just did before we came down,” you sigh.

“It’s good. I was worried you wouldn’t be able to produce enough. I guess they’re catching up,” he chuckles gesturing to his own pecks. “Want me to go get it?”

“No, hopefully he drinks enough,” you sigh, switching nipples to give the other some relief.

“If he doesn’t, I’ll take the rest,” Steve winks grabbing some dumbbells for rows.

You bite your bottom lip at the comment, attempting to press down the heat flushing your cheeks.

Your boobs grew two cup sizes during your pregnancy and Steve loved it. He massaged them, sucked them, bit them, loved them at least once a day. But despite all the stimulation, your milk still came in late. It was there. It was painful as hell but it was as blocked up as the interstate at rush hour.

You had to give your baby formula for his first week but soon enough it started flowing and it had yet to slow down.

It was like your son and mate had some kind of bond. Steve wanted a taste and your baby was all too happy to share. You roll your eyes as he soon falls back asleep in your arms leaving your tits aching.

Steve is on you the second you put him back down in his play pin.

He has your sports bra up over your breast and your back pressed against the wall as he sucks at your nipple. You let out a low whine and wrap your arms around his shoulders to pull him closer. You need this. You need him.

“Please, Stevie,” you whimper. His rough fingers pinch your neglected nipple pulling a moan from your lips. “Please, please, please,” you chant.

“I know, luna. I know,” he mutters switching breast, tweaking your now empty one and quickly draining the other. You gasp when his free fingers press against your slit through your shorts. “This need attention, too, moon girl?”

“Yes, please,” you whisper. He easily tugs down your spandex shorts and drops to his knees in front of you.

You were the only one he’d get on his knees for.

He sucks at the wet patch forming at the junction of your thighs through your panties. He always claims that you taste better after working up a sweat. More pheromones probably but he goes feral after a good workout.

It helped burn calories.

He lifts you from behind your thighs, keeping your cunt pressed to his mouth as he carries you to the bench he just vacated.

He lays you across the bench before tugging your panties down and tossing them away. He is being oddly tame.

Which makes you think he’s up to something…

But when he wraps his lips around your clit, your mind goes completely blank. He sucks roughly as you arch into him attempting to get more. His tongue flicks your sensitive bud in such rapid succession that you start to wonder if he’ll ever get tired. There’s a knot deep in your belly that tightens with every flick and you know you won’t last for as long as he’s willing to go. Pleas and whimpers fall from your lips but Steve just ignores you, keeping his steady pace.

He knows exactly what he’s doing. He doesn’t need your coaching with this either.

He spreads your legs a little further as you reach that high, humping against his face, chasing your end until-

“Uhuh uhuh huhuhhhng!” You moan as the knot snaps in two leaving you shivering and your hips rolling as you ride out the pleasure.

But Steve doesn’t stop.

It gets to to point where it’s uncomfortable and tight and raw and it almost hurts before-

“Aghh!” You cry squirting all over your mate’s face.

That’s when he stops. That’s when you finally flutter your eyes open to see him looming over you. Face soaked with your juices and a predatory smirk on his lips.

But he doesn’t pull out his throbbing cock and make you feel him for days?

He only swipes a bit of liquid off of his face with a finger before sucking it off. “Delicious,” he sighs and grabs a towel to dry himself. “Let me know when you’re ready to finish that set,” he bids grabbing his dumbbells once more for flies.

Leaving laying across the bench still wanting and unfilled. You suddenly want to be stuffed with him, dripping for days, wasted off of his cock. But he just goes back to his workout, completely ignoring those feeling that must be working their way through your bond.

He gives you a quick glance and a smirk so you know he feels something.

He is definitely up to something.

He continues this pattern of behavior for the next two weeks. Even on the weekend, when the two of you have all the time in the world to fuck like rabbits, he’d eat you out or finger you off or let you ride his thick thighs but he’d never fill you the way you needed.

“Baby,” you call as you walk into the bedroom after a shower in just a blush pink teddy. Steve is lounging across the bed with his sketch book in hand working on his latest masterpiece. “Have you been feeling a little off today? I think there was something wrong with dinner. I’ll talk to the chef tomorrow.”

“There wasn’t anything wrong with dinner. Youre fine. You’re just going into heat.”

What? “I’m on the pill,” you scoff, shaking your head at your mate.

He lifts an amused brow at you before shifting closer to his bedside table. “You mean these pills?” He holds up the little case of daily suppressants and birth control you’ve been taking since you gave birth but this one looked like a brand new unused pack. “What you’ve been taking are multivitamins.”

“What? Steven, what did you do?” You hiss crossing your arms over your chest. You could’ve gotten pregnant after all this time? Months spent healing from your c-section and in the gym trying to get your body back and he was just-

“Hey. Calm down,” Steve commands seeing the distress on your face and getting up to console you. He wraps his big arms around your shoulders and you’re instantly relaxed though you shouldn’t be. Has his scent gotten heavier? “I switched out your pills last month because I want another baby.”

“But why?” You cry attempting to push away from him.

He doesn’t let go.

“You are gorgeous, my little moon goddess.” His fingers undo the bow at the center of your chest holding your sleeping garment together. “Every man’s dream. The perfect little house wife. And you’ve worked so hard to look this perfect. But you look even better when you’re full of me. Round with my baby. A statement so everyone knows you’re mine.”

You pout, pressing your forehead to his chest. “We could have talked about this,” you insist trying to keep your wits about you as his musk settles over you. Spicy and fresh like woodsmoke in the rain. You could get lost in it.

Lost in him.

“Talk? I don’t need to talk to you about this. Haven’t I given you everything you’ve ever wanted? This big house? That fancy electric car? Vacations to five star resorts? Dinners at Michelin star restaurants? I shouldn’t have to ask you for another baby. I shouldn’t have to ask you for anything. You owe it to me.”

Well, when he puts it that way…

You know it’s the hormones talking but his words are true; you’ve never wanted for anything since becoming his mate.

What’s one more baby?

You attempt to tug away from him one last time and this time he lets you go, reluctantly giving you a choice.

But you know there isn’t really one.

Not when his scent is that heady and stifling. He’s close to rut and you’ve just become his favorite prey and you so want to be eaten.

You let go of the tight reign you have on your body and its like a flood of slick coats your thighs just at being in such close proximity of your mate’s strong presence.

You sit on the bed and scoot your body up to the head board all the while keeping contact with those ocean blue eyes. A muscle in his jaw twitches as he watches you, lust blowing out his pupils with every breath. You lean back across the pillows he was just propped against and spread your legs showing your lack of underwear and what his on coming rut is doing to you.

“Good girl,” Steve growls. His grin is feral as he climbs on the bed after you.

His lips meet yours in a clash, slotting together like they were made for each other. One of his hands hold up his bulk while the other grips your waist possessively, massaging the junction of your hips with his thumb.

“Do I need to get you warmed up or are you ready to be bred?” Steve rasps against your jaw as his kisses trail down to you neck.

“Breed me, please, Stevie!”

“Have you missed being full of me, luna? Full of your alpha?”

“Yes! Please! Fill me! Stretch me!” You beg as his clothed cock presses against your slit, teasing you. He continues to rub against you. Your slick and his precum smearing across his boxer creating a wet patch in the fabric. You can practically feel him through the cloth. It’s big head starting to breach your core despite its restraints.

Just a little more…

Then the cloth is gone and he sliding into you with one harsh thrust. You cry out at his roughness but he gently rocks his dick inside you, letting you adjust to his girth. He shushes you softly and runs a big hand over your hair to calm you. “You’re alright. It’s just me. Just your Stevie. Your alpha.”

“Alpha,” you pant.

“Yeah, my little omega moon?”

“Please, fuck another baby into me.”

“Whatever you want,” Steve promises and pulls all the way out just to thrust back into you. Over and over he thrusts so roughly you scream but you need him to be harder. Faster.

Your nails claw at his back while he rides you mercilessly.

He finally reaches under you and tugs your back up so you arch just enough to brush that spot that makes you weep.

You sob into his neck. All of your senses are already on fire as it is. He knows you can’t last through much more of this.

Your sighing grunts reach a high crescendo as you cum flooding around him. All the previous clawing for him gone. Now you want him as far away as possible because you know he’s nowhere near done.

“Don’t you dare push me away,” Steve growls knowing you’ll be far more sensitive now.

“It hurts, alpha!” You whine, tears streaking down into your braids.

“You want a baby, don’t you? Now turn over so I can fuck a knot into you.” He spanks the side of your ass making you yelp but you turn over quickly to avoid his wrath.

“So beautiful,” he sighs, running a hand down your spine, warming the already heated skin with his touch. “Absolutely perfect for me.” You whimper and wiggle your hips at his words, waiting for him to spear you. Steve grips your hips, massaging deep into your muscle tissue once more before pressing into you. You arch your back at the feeling but he gently coaxes you into rounding; his big hands splaying across your belly to make sure you feel him deep inside of you.

“Stay just like this,” Steve instructs and you think you nod. All of your senses are firing like crazy so you can’t be sure.

Then he starts thrusting. And it’s the most intense thing you’ve felt in a long time. Being on suppressants for so long stopped your heat and sex just wasn’t the same unless you both wanted tear each other apart. But now, with your mate’s dick so far into you you could almost taste it, you felt so complete it hurt.

“That’s it, luna. Let go,” Steve mutters as he pounds into you. The way getting a little tighter with each stroke as your walls contract with pleasure. “So tight for me.” You whine into the pillows, completely surrounded by your mate’s scent and his body you just want to let go but your body keeps fighting off that second orgasm.

You want it so bad.

“Please, alpha! More!” You cry.

Steve practically snarls as he rips your from buried position in the bed to press your back against his chest. His huge bicep wraps across your shoulders holding you in place as he fucks into you.

“Didn’t think you could take anymore,” he chuckles in your ear. All you can do is moan dumbly as he takes what he needs from you. “Fuck,” he growls as he drags himself against your walls. “You’re so close, luna. Cum for me. I just need a little more. Please, I’m so fucking close.” His begging sets you off. He needs you. He needs this from you. You choke on a sob as you cum for him once more. “That’s it, moon! Good fucking girl!” He barks and chasing his high, pressing you back down into the bed with a hand at the center of your back as he ruts into you. Soon he floods your core, pressing deep into you so none of it can escape leaving it trapped inside you. You whine as he stuffs you, your belly aching from his trapped essence as he continues to fill you.

“Fuck,” Steve groans and you feel his knot press against your already tight entrance only to pop once it’s firmly inside of you. You whimper at how full you feel, cradling your bloated stomach with one hand while attempting to claw away from your mate with the other.

“Mmmm you’re not going anywhere,” Steve hums giving a sharp tug to the knot and making you gasp. “Come here, my little moon.” He falls on to his side and pulls you against him. “Try to get comfortable.” Comfortable was the exact opposite of anything you were feeling right now but you huffed and dropped to your side next to your mate. His big hand rests on you belly making you groan at how tight you feel. “I think you have room for a little more.”

“No! Please! Ste-“ you’re cut off by a gasp as he presses his hand against your lower belly causing a little more friction inside of you as he thrust the little bit that he can. All you can feel is his tip pressing right into that spot and all you can see are stars.

It’s all too much.

Far too much!

You get close to the snap of an orgasm before your eyes flutter shut.

They snap open again at the sound of a distant cry.

The room is completely dark around you. The covers pulled comfortably over your body as you’re snuggled into your mate’s pillow.

You feel so full. Everything aches. You yawn and attempt to turn over but find yourself helplessly tangled in your mate. Steve’s legs are slotted between yours, his arms wrapped around your chest as he holds you to him. His knot has got down but his cock is still warm inside of your body, keeping all that cum in place while he sleeps. You attempt to move once more before giving up.

“Stevie,” you call. “Steve!”

He hums softly before pulling you a little tighter to him.

“The baby-“

“I’ll get him,” Steve groans before stretching with a yawn. That big, hard body leaving yours cold with its absence. “Want me to get him a bottle?”

“No. Bring him here, please,” you sigh, your breasts as full as your stomach. You take a deep breath and sit up with a soft groan.

Did he sleep at all?

You stare down at your bloated stomach, almost as round as you were at four months. You run a hand over it tentatively. So tender.

“You’re already glowing.” You hear the smile in Steve’s voice as he returns with your son, holding him against his chest like the precious treasure he is while he wails.

You just smile and hold out your arms. Your little boy starts suckling almost instantly as Steve leaves the room again.

A little girl would be nice. Someone to dress up and play princess with. But giving your son a brother also sounded ideal. You sigh and run your fingers gently through his curly locks.

Your mate soon returned with a plate of fruit and cheese and crackers. He even wrapped up pieces of meat up to look like flowers.

“Since when did you make charcuterie boards?” You laugh.

“Since I asked the chef to leave one last night,” he smirks and feeds you a strawberry.

Always up to something.

“So you’ve had this planned for a while?”

“Maybe,” Steve replies cryptically making you smile.

“All you had to do was ask.”

“You know I prefer to take,” Steve grins holding up a cherry for you. He can take all he wants. “Eat. You need to keep up your strength. I’m not done with you.”

Dividers by the wonderful firefly of course we all know I just wanted to write something moon themed after seeing them

Master List

#alpha Steve Rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x black female reader #alpha steve Rogers x black female reader #alpha!steve Rogers x omega!reader #alpha steve roger x omega reader #Steve Rogers x black!female!reader #steve rogers x black!reader #alright I’m done with these tags #if people can’t find it this website is just fucked #dark steve rogers #grey steve Rogers

[padfootastic]

summary: from euphemia to james to sirius to harry to lily luna—traditions passed down through the generations of potters. love in the form of feeding your people, aloo paranthas as a labor of love etc etc

a labor of love

(also on ao3!)

August, 1970

“Jamie, breakfast’s ready!”

Loud steps thundered around the house as her ten year old raced down the stairs. Euphemia didn’t even bother to reprimand him at this point—she knew it was a pointless endeavour. Instead, she made sure the safety charms on the staircase were always updated.

“HiMumGoodMorningWhatsForBreakfast,” James’ words came out in one single whoosh of air and it was only because this was her child that she had extensive experience with that she could decode what he was saying.

She smiled gently while placing the plate in front of him. “Aloo parantha, honey.”

“Yesss,” James hissed in pleasure, a quick fist pumped in the air, before bending forward with his nose mere millimetres away from the paranthas.

Euphemia swapped the back of his head with a ‘tsk’. “James. How many times have I told you not to smell your food? You’re not a dog.”

“Ma, you don’t get it, okay. It smells so good,” he replied with a goofy, cross-eyed expression. “Seriously, whenever I go to heaven, I just know it’ll smell like fried potato and ghee and coriander. Life can’t get any better than this.”

Euphemia could only smile at the innocent look of wonder on her son’s face as he tore a piece off to stuff it in his mouth, hoping it always stayed there. If she had to keep making him aloo paranthas every morning to keep it there, she’d happily do so. 

August, 1976

Sirius huddled closer into the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest and trying to count his breaths so he didn’t go so fast anymore.

It was some ungodly time of the day and he was sitting on the floor, pressed right up against the corner of the living room of Potter Manor, having a minor—really, not a big deal at all—panic attack about…well, everything.

It hadn’t been two days since he’d run away from Grimmauld Place and already the hopelessness was settling into his bones. He couldn’t stop replaying the words and curses and taunts and Reg’s face and—

“Sirius?” A drowsy voice cut through his spiral. He shouldn’t be surprised.

James always had a way of doing that.

“H-Hi, Jamie,” he replied, straightening up and wiping his eyes in a futile attempt to hide the tears he could feel pooling there. It wouldn’t work, he knew that, James always, always knew but he still had to try.

Sure enough, a pair of sock clad feet (adorned in little animated snitches) stopped right in front of him. His gaze traveled slowly, reluctantly, up to see James looking at him with a complicated look on his face. It was a mixture of sadness and frustration and resignation. Sirius hated that he put it there. James wasn’t made for expressions like that—he should always be happy, smiling, and this felt wrong, wrong, wrong.

Before he could do anything, though (not that there was much in his control), a hand entered his vision, palm up in invitation. Without even thinking twice about it—he would always choose James—he let himself be pulled up and straight into strong arms that were the only thing keeping him whole and grounded so far.

The hug ended in less time than it took for him to draw a full, shaky, breath. The abruptness of it left him reeling. 

“Come on,” James said, tugging him in the direction of the kitchen. Sirius followed, confused, letting himself be manhandled into the kitchen stool and watched James take something out of the cooking cabinet.

“Boiled potatoes,” he explained, already moving on to the spice rack. “Mum always keeps some ready to go.”

With quick, practiced movements, James had them peeled and mashed. Another sealed container was retrieved—‘Dough. For the rotis’—and a flat top griddle was placed on the stove.

Sirius watched the whole thing in a daze, unable to identify a single thing but being comforted all the same. It felt almost like a ritual; the rhythmic movements of James’ hands as he rolled the dough into balls, and stuffed them with the potatoes. Watching him smooth it out into a round, flat shape. 

“I didn’t know you were so proficient in the kitchen, Prongs,” Sirius finally said as the kitchen warmed up from his best mate’s ministrations, the smell of ghee-fried dough and spiced potatoes permeating the air.

“I’m not, really,” James shrugged. “But aloo paranthas are—they’re different, you know? Everyone should know how to make them.“

“I’ve never even tried them.”

“Well, then, everyone should have them at least once in their lives,” James said, firmly.

He placed a plate full of warm, steaming—aloo paranthas in front of Sirius and without even knowing what they really were, he could feel the rest of the tension seeping out of him. It’s a temporary relief, to be sure, but that it happened at all is enough to both awe and excite him.

He looked up at James with wide eyes, only to receive a knowing smile in return.

“Have a bite, Pads,” James pushed the plate closer. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

And he didn’t.

As he sat there and entirely demolished four of the wonderful paranthas—after days of not feeling the slightest pang of hunger—Sirius was helpless against the warmth that suffused his entire being, not just from the heat of the potatoes, but from the boy in front of him who’d decided to take a chance on him. Decided to welcome him not just in his arms but his house, his family. 

August, 1995

“Sirius, why are we here?” Harry asked, confused. A minute ago, they were in the garden, talking about something or the other, and then suddenly his godfather had grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the kitchen.

“Because you, my dear Prongslet, have been severely, unforgivably wronged and it’s time to start rectifying that,” Sirius proclaimed, which really didn’t help.

“…huh?”

“You just told me you’ve never had anything but bland, boring British food. Ever.” Sirius stressed the last word, making a point Harry wasn’t quite sure of.

“Yes…because the Dursleys are raging racists and Hogwarts isn’t too creative with its culinary choices,” Harry slowly said, feeling eerily like he was defending himself for…not being able to have a diverse palette?

“Exactly. If James had a grave, he’d be rolling around in it.”

Harry’s eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Look, I was supposed to do this for you since the day you were old enough to eat solids. That I didn’t…well. Let’s not go there right now. But now that I do have the chance, it’s practically first on the list of my godfatherly duties—“

“What is, Sirius?” Harry asked, slightly exasperated. The man was making no sense.

“Making aloo paranthas, Harry! Come on, keep up, it’s bad enough you’ve gone this far without—any longer and I swear, James will find a way to come back to wring my neck and tie you to a chair just so he could force feed you,” Sirius finished, a slightly haunted look in his eyes like he was speaking from experience.

Harry blinked. What—?

“Now, luckily for us, the boiled potatoes are already done. You’ve got me to thank for that bit of foresight, of course, never go without since fifth year—“

“Why?”

“—because they’re so versatile—“

“Right, of course, how silly of me.”

“Yes. So, now you’ve gotta peel and mash it, and none of that ricer or fork nonsense, either, okay? You’ve gotta really get in there with your hands.” Sirius demonstrated by taking one slightly cold potato from the bowl, expertly peeling and crushing it between his fingers. He kept going until it was almost smooth, with just the smallest hint of texture. Once done, he turned expectantly towards Harry, eyebrow raised and ‘go on’ written all over his face.

Still slightly bemused, Harry stepped forward and gingerly took a potato of his own. Trying to peel it was—not as easy as he thought and everything else faded away as he concentrated on making sure no brown bits remained. It was a surprisingly soothing task. When he had his first potato peeled and mashed, he turned to Sirius proudly.

“There. What next?”

Sirius nodded in approval. “Now, we do the rest of it.”

And standing there shoulder to shoulder, the two of them managed to get through a veritable mountain of boiled potatoes, interspersed with Sirius’ stories of the Potters, a rare, greedy pleasure for Harry.

“Your grandmum, Euphemia, she’d make this for breakfast every so often. It was James’ favorite and she could never resist his great, big eyes—you get that from him, by the way. Not many people could, mind, but it was particularly effective when he wanted to scam some paranthas out of her.”

and “Your dad wasn’t the best in the kitchen, but this was one thing he was absolutely adamant he learn. Spent hours with Effie and Rani perfecting it, as well.”

Once the potatoes were done, Sirius directed him to the spice cabinet. “Now, this is the most important bit, Harry. Everyone makes their aloo paranthas in their own way. You can have different people following the same recipe and all of their final results would still taste different.”

Harry nodded in understanding. It was a bit like Aunt Petunia’s prized Roast Dinner—she always claimed no one else could make it the way she could, not even letting Harry close to the preparation of it. 

“The first time I had this was in fifth year—similar to you, come to think of it—and I’ve experimented after, right? It was so good I had to. I went to many, many places in muggle London—roadside stalls to fine dining, you name it—and not once have I felt the same as when your dad made it with his eyes still half closed and the paranthas a little burnt on the edges and a bit undercooked in the middle. There’s no competition. So. It’s all in the spice, yes?”

Sirius handed him the container of carom seeds. “That being said, the most important bit?”

Harry leaned forward, eager, all hesitation forgotten in the face of a piece of his culture, his family being passed down to him like this.

“You’ve got to—“

August, 2017

“—measure with your heart, okay, Lils?”

Little Lily Luna Potter, only nine but adopting an air of maturity of someone much older, nodded solemnly, taking her dad’s word as gospel.

“This isn’t just food—this is you telling someone you love them. It’s a warm hug. Feeding someone, taking care of them, is no small job. So, forget all this measurements nonsense and just get in there,” Harry finished, nostalgia coating his words as he quoted his own godfather word for word.

“Get in there, Daddy!” Lily-Lu repeated empathetically.

“That’s right,” Harry chuckled, using one hand to ruffle the riotous mane of red curls piled on top of her head. “The next thing to go in is the powdered spices. Which ones are those, again?”

Lily-Lu squinted thoughtfully. “Coriander powder, red chili powder, tyoo-mer-ic, and cumin powder. That’s all of it, right, Daddy?”

Harry smiled at her serious countenance. “There’s just one more you’re missing.”

She frowned, biting her lip and mumbling under breath. “One more? Coriander…chili…cumin…and—and—garam masala! It’s garam masala, isn’t it?” The last few words were said in an excited shout, almost loud enough to startle him but he could only lean forward and place a quick kiss on her forehead in approval.

“Sure is, sweetheart. You’re a quick one, aren’t you?”

“I’m smart, Daddy, you and Mummy say so,” Lily-Lu returned, self-satisfaction radiating from every inch of her little frame

“That’s because you are; the smartest of us all, isn’t it?” Harry teased, while carefully mixing the spices with the potatoes. This one he’d do himself—Lily-Lu’s hands weren’t the steadiest yet.

“Oh!” She exclaimed suddenly, leaning forward. “The salt! You forgot the salt, Daddy.”

Harry blinked in surprise, looking down at his array of ingredients and realised he had.

“Huh. So I have, it seems. Would you like to do the honours, Lulu?” He extended the container towards her, smiling once again at how she was practically vibrating in excitement.

Harry was—not just glad but utterly ecstatic that he could do this, had the opportunity and ability for it. And he had no one but Sirius to thank for it.

Taking care of me even from the afterlife, aren’t you, Siri? he thinks with a silent offering of gratitude to the universe. I don’t think I can ever thank you enough for it, for everything. 

“And now, the absolute final step?”

“The chopped coriander!” Lily-Lu chirped, already reaching forward to clasp a handful of coriander he’d prepared beforehand. She sprinkled it all over their mixture with a high, bright giggle and Harry could’ve spent an eternity in that moment, with his child beside him and the weight of his family behind him.

#euphemia potter #james potter #sirius black #harry potter #lily luna potter #this is perhaps the most personal thing i’ve ever written. #no other piece of work has more of me and my life in it #and i don’t it will either. i’m not a huge fan of ~reality yeah? #but i was eating aloo paranthas my aunt made me today. feeling exceptionally content. #and remembering the time my grandma made the same for me #and how the way my aunt and mom make it is the literal same taste bc rhe learnt from their mom (grandma) #and how i’m learning to make it the exact same way (about. 75% there i’d say) #and i’m feeding my friends and enjoying seeing the joy on their face #so aloo paranthas are like. nostalgic. and a labor of love. and a symbol of family and affection and generational habits passed down #so u have a whole fic around it bc projection is what i do best #i’m still v apathetic to identity headcanons for the same reasons as before #but this had to be done so that issue is put to the side for a while #also like. why is posting on tumblr so fkn difficult my god #why does it not accept formatted stuff 😭 #i’m sure there’s a way to do it but i’m either too stupid or too lazy #but that and the weird spaces it adds between paragraphs will be the death of me some day #anyway. enjoy! i have lots of thoughts about it so feel free to come talk to me about it #massively restraint in myself in the tags & authors notes #this was just supposed to be a lil tumblr drabble but it. just. Grew? #so yah. #pen’s writing

[daughter-of-melpomene]

𝐑𝐄-𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆… 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐑𝐀 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍

❝ Rosaline Craven was many things. A daughter of the Scared Twenty-Eight. A proud legacy Slytherin. One of the best Chasers her house's Quidditch team had seen in a while. But more than all of this, she saw herself as one particular thing: the bitter rival of one Ginny Weasley.

From a very young age, Rosaline had been warned by her parents to stay away from the Weasleys. Destitute, filthy red-headed blood traitors, she had been told, all of them. No one a proper young pureblooded lady should ever acknowledge. And while Rosaline had never had any problem with Muggleborns or the pureblood wizards who supported them, she was also a young girl with a desperate need to please her parents, and in her mind, the only way to do that was to conform to their beliefs. So when she and the Weasleys’ youngest child and only daughter both joined their house Quidditch teams in their fifth year, Rosaline saw the perfect opportunity to earn her parents’ pride: by beating a child of the blood traitor family that the elder Cravens seemed to dislike so much.

Over the course of their fifth year, Rosaline and Ginny became honest-to-goodness rivals, and not only on the Quidditch pitch. The two girls sought to outdo each other in every possible area that they could - to get the better marks in any classes they shared together, to get more attention from the classmate they were both flirting with, and even to get more praise from the idiot Potions professor who had invited them both to join his “Slug Club,” even though neither of them truly wanted it. Rosaline never bullied Ginny or sought to humiliate her in public; that level of cruelty wasn’t in her. She simply tried her best to outdo the redheaded girl, to prove to her parents that their daughter was capable of competing against a mere Weasley and winning.

But as the two girls enter into their sixth year at Hogwarts, a petty rivalry becomes the least of the two girls’ problems. Lord Voldemort and his followers have taken over Hogwarts and the wizarding government, and now that the students of the wizarding school are left to live in fear of the new headmaster’s regime, Ginny, along with Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood, have restarted the not-so-secret defensive group that Rosaline remembers from fourth year.

Now, despite all the protections from the cruelty of Hogwarts’s new teaching staff that her bloodline affords her, Rosaline chooses to rebel and join the new Dumbledore’s Army. To hell with all the pureblood supremacist rhetoric that’s been pumped into her over the years; she will not stand by and do nothing while her fellow students live in fear of being tortured for no reason other then that the power-hungry new Death Eater teachers can.

As their sixth year continues and rumours of Harry Potter, the key to Lord Voldemort’s destruction, being on the run continue to circulate throughout the school, Rosaline and Ginny find themselves growing closer as they openly defy Headmaster Snape’s authority. Rosaline never imagined that she would find herself feeling this much for someone she has been taught her whole life to disdain, but the longer the terror at Hogwarts goes on, she feels herself being drawn to Ginny more and more.

Rosaline Craven is many things. A daughter of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. A proud legacy Slytherin. One of the best Chasers her house has seen in a while.

And whether or not she can ever have the relationship she desires with Ginny Weasley, Rosaline is sure of one thing: she will die fighting for the cause of Dumbledore’s Army before she returns to the wrong side of this war. ❞

General Taglist: @hiddenqveendom, @foxesandmagic, @auxiliarydetective, @artemisocs, @reyofluke-ocs, @endless-oc-creations, @stanshollaand, @ginnystilinski-reblogs, @luucypevensie, @ginger-grimm, @arrthurpendragon, @fakedatings, @impales, @claryxjackson, @dancingsunflowers-ocs, @eddysocs, @lucys-chen, @ocappreciationtag. (Also tagging @manyfandomocs.)

#my ocs #reintroducing my ocs #ch: rosaline craven #oc: rosaline craven #fic: delicate #queerocs #fyeahocsofcolor #ocapp #ocappreciation #ochub #allaboutocs #fyeahharrypotterocs #harry potter oc #golden trio era oc #lightning era oc #wizarding world oc

[ipegchangbin]

Bestie.

You’re username is I peg Changbin.

I want more peg Changbin thoughts.

And maybe Changbin with oral fixation?

Hm?

Hm?

Hmmmmmm??

sorry for making this ask marinate for a few days but this is the death of me: at the same time, this is the very thing ive been waiting to discuss for about 2 months now. luna you precious soul you have opened a can of worms.

the concept itself of a big buff man suddenly becoming so vulnerable under your frame is honestly attractive. regardless of your build, the contrast of someone supposedly built to be strong and full of capability willingly submitting to you is such a power trip in and of itself. so seeing changbin (a man who could easily break away from restraints with sheer strength, a man who can manhandle you easily whenever he wanted, a man whose loud and raspy voice can command you instead) submit and disregard everything he can do to you out of pleasure??

that’s hot.

changbin wants—no, needs and craves for you to fuck him, fuck everything out of him until he’s dumb and pleading for nothing but more of you. i bet he loves everything about pegging, from the thought that you get to control him to the sparks of pleasure that he simply can’t get from anything and anyone else.

couple that with an oral fixation though? YES ABSOLUTELY.

changbin’s lips are juicy and enticing. full and plump, and everyone knows that his natural smirk has to be one of the prettiest things about him. that’s all good, but it rivals the satisfaction and beauty of seeing that lopsided smile wiped away, plush blushing lips wrapping around your cock instead. at the same time, it’s cute to watch them drool over and beg to be used.

he was probably the one who insisted on trying this in the first place. the pout he gave you while introducing the idea did not help your case at all. he fell in love with the idea of taking you in any way he could. if you owned his ass, you should own his pretty little mouth, too.

if your strap were double ended, you would feel how his head pushes it further into you, pleasuring you both. changbin, ever so obedient, would love to service you like this even if he was the one waiting to get his ass ruined.

no amount of porn compares to watching him have a go at your dick. the tongue that spits rhymes is circling around the tip of the strap. his throat hits it too when he goes deep. he probably even intentionally sucks on the side so that you could see the length poking at his full cheeks. when his cheeks hollow out as he’s sucking you off, you could see his dimples. he even groans lowly before pulling away. the mere sound of his desperation mixed with his wet mouth makes you feel like the most powerful person in the world.

you wonder where he learned all of this from.

“f-from you.” changbin wipes the spit away from his mouth.

you scoff at it and pat his head. “i taught you well?”

“too well,” he pumps the cock with his other puffy hand. “want more of it, want more from you.”

“how cute. ass up for me now, yeah?” and he just obeys immediately like the good boy he is. (or good girl? you should ask what to call him tonight)

he’s beautiful. he’d be looking at you through hooded eyes as you prepare for a long night. he was eyeing your cock as you lined it up to his entrance. you could tell by how hard he was that he was just as excited about this as you.

…definitely not projecting rn ^_^

thank you for sending this im foaming at the mouth. one of these days ill make an even more comprehensive post about pegging changbin and it will be the end of me.

#skz smut #sub!skz #sub!changbin #<3 eggielix #💌 ipeginbox #💬 z is writimg #welcome to ipegchangbin lore we are past the point of no return #luna you dont get it YOUVE RUINED ME #I WANT TO PEG HIM SO BAD

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 45

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, post partum, csection, suicidial ideation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"How was it, dearie?" Dottie asks as you get in.

You keep your cool. Something about that house dampens your spirits. You look her in the eye grimly and shrug.

"Luna baby missed ya," she chimes, "first time away from ya and all."

"Oh?" You tweak a brow apathetically, "she hungry?"

She sighs, "you're her mama."

You narrow your eyes. She can probably read your thoughts across your face. Yeah, and what about her father?

"I pumped all that milk before I went. I can't feed her now, I had some mimosas," you turn your palms out, "you'll have to start the formula."

"Nothing wrong with that. I sent you out to have fun," she gives a clamped smile, "I got enough for the youngin. She's still nappin'."

"Great," you mutter, "I'm gonna lay down."

"I'll bring her up to ya before I tuck in," Dottie offers.

"Sure," you turn away and drag your feet to the stairs.

Your escape was all too brief. The afterglow fades quickly as you climb up to the second floor. The giddiness of making out with Andy in his backseat dissipates as you're drowned in the gloom of that house.

You go into the guestroom where you've made your nest and undress. You lay under the blankets, in silence, without a light. For once you just want to know where you stand with a man and with Andy it's clear. You both just need to forget about all the shit in your life.

Just two more weeks. You won't have your body back, you don't think you ever will, but you will be able to enjoy it. You didn't realise how much you'd miss intimacy until it wasn't there. Not him, never him, just the feeling of another person against you.

🍑

You sit on the bench and tie your sneaker. You don't feel great. Your hips hurt, your back hurts, and you're tired as hell. Still, you don't want to stay in that house.

You stand up and check the stroller again. The baby's secure and staring at nothing with her glassy eyes. You don't get it. She just lays there, then shrieks, then dribbles down milk and sleeps again.

"Oh, sweetie, you off somewhere?" Dottie comes out from the kitchen.

"Just a walk. Been long enough I can move a bit better," you say casually.

"And you're taking the sweet one with you?"

You hear the hopefulness in her voice. She wants you to love the baby. She wants to believe that child is the one redeeming quality she can claim for her son.

"Yeah, might as well," you say as you turn and grab the stroller, turning it to angle after you as you approach the door.

"You want me to come with y'all?" She asks.

You swallow. Don't show your hand.

"If you want," you say dully.

"Ah, don't let me get in your way," she thinks better of it. "I'll be here."

"Won't be long," you say as you get the door open and back out, carefully pulling out the stroller with you, keeping it even as you roll over the edge of each step.

"It's getting chilly out, you got enough blankets?" She calls after you.

"All good," you assure her.

She watches you go, waving from the porch as you twist the stroller around. You keep an even pace as you head through the gate. You don't want her to see your eagerness. You wait until you're beyond the property to pull out your phone. You rest it on the handle and read the last message from Andy. He's coming.

You don't go very fast. You still feel very much unready. You look down at the baby as she rests her fist against her cheek. Something about her nose reminds you of him...

You shake your head. Don't. You don't want to give him that power. He threw all that out when he disappeared.

As you get to the corner, Andy appears. He wears a dark blue hoodie over a grey tee. He approaches with a smile and peers inside the stroller brightly. He leans in to coo at the baby.

"She's getting big."

"I guess," you utter.

"We're Dot?" He looks down the sidewalk.

You frown. Shit. Did you misinterpret?

"I left her behind. Why--"

"Making sure," he winks and leans in to give you a kiss, surprising you. He hooks his arm around you, holding you to him as he deepens the gesture. You push on his chest until he finally relents.

"Andy," you gasp.

"What? I can't help myself. You look... good," he grins.

"Don't lie," you roll your eyes.

He chuckles, "something about your cynicism is really sexy."

"Okay, now you're being a jerk."

He tilts his head and turns to stand beside you. You fall back into step as you give a cautious glance up and down the street. Who would even care? Lloyd isn't around and even if he was, he didn't chat up the neighbourhood.

You head down towards the park. As you get to the bench, you grab Andy and sit at the outskirts of the grass. You brace your lower back and grunt as he holds onto the stroller and kicks down he brakes.

"You okay?"

"Bad back," you hiss as you lean against the metal backing, "been like this for years."

"Old football injury?" He kids.

"You're funny," you sniff.

"I try," he rolls the stroller back and forth, soothing the baby. "So..."

"So..." you look off towards the playground where parents watch their children scream and run around.

"When do you think you could... sneak out?" He asks, fingers tapping above his knee.

"Um," you can't help a smile, cheeks hot, "when do you--" you stop yourself, "you know I can't... do much for at least another week and a half," you keep your voice low.

"Of course, I wasn't-- I hope you don't think--"

"I know, Andy," you bite your lip and look away, "let's not complicate this. Because it's already fucked up so let's just enjoy it while we can."

He nods and lowers his lashes, "yeah, I can do that. How about... I give you a massage tonight? Promise not to get handsy. Purely practical. Get those muscles loosened up."

You scoff, "I might be able to figure something out."

"I could always come to you," he suggests, leaning in to push his shoulder into you.

"We'll see," you look at the baby. She's fast asleep. Yeah, this isn't going to be easy.

🍑

Andy says goodbye at the corner. You don't need Dottie catching on or making any suggestions. You know at heart where her loyalties lie.

You come up to the house and nearly trip on the wheels of the stroller. You recognise the car in the driveway. Right, good timing.

As you walk along the pavement, the front door opens and Suzanne appears with a glint in her eye, "there you are."

"Suzanne," you greet her breathless, "how are you–"

"So when was I going to find out the baby was here?"

"Um, I've been…tied up."

"Of course you have but Lloyd didn't even mention it," she beams over at the baby, "aw, thank god she doesn't take after him."

"Right, well, I guess he isn't much into sharing his private business–"

"A baby is kinda a big deal. I thought at least he'd take time off."

You stare at her. You try not to show your irritation, "well, you know, he's always been a workaholic."

"Not fucking really. He took one job and cut contact a week ago. It's why I'm here. Thought the fuckwit might be laying low."

"Nope, not here. Just us."

"And Mama Hansen. Yeah, I met her. Just as unbearable as her son," she tuts, "I'll make sure to send his ass home once I find him."

You nod. You don't know how to respond. You're not sure how to lie when your tongue won't work. She watches you and her forehead creases between her brows.

"Alright," she pokes her tongue into her lower lip and clicks, "when's the last time you saw him?"

You just look back at her blankly. Her eyes darken and she grits her teeth. She rests her hand on her hip, shifting her blouse to reveal the butt of a handgun.

"Oh, I've been waiting for this day," she smirks, "Lloyd Hansen, you're fucking dead."

She spins on her heel and storms towards her car. You push the stroller after her, "wait, Suz," you plead, "he's not worth it."

"Yeah," she opens the door, "but you are. You just take care of the pookie bear," she faces you again and makes a face at the stroller, "and I'll send his sorry ass home. Hopefully in one piece."

#unexpected #andy barber #andy barber x reader #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #drabble #series #the gray man #defending jacob

[megumishousewife]

Sharing A Bed With the Tokyo Revengers Cast

Takemichi

Bro is so awkward, He’ll probably start crying be crying because he’s thinking about Hina beating his ass

He’s the type to either let you have 70% of the bed or he’ll just sleep on the floor

Yes, he’s the cuddling type, but you’re not Hina so your chances of that happening is slim to none.

My friend doesn’t care if you need to have more pillows. He’s so generous, he might just give them to you

He’s not a kicker, but Michi isn’t the best sleeper either. He’s a toss-and-turner due to all of the flashes of the future, past, or he’s just having a dream about Hina

Overall, he’s an 8.5, a very nice dude to sleep with, but you might end up having the bed to yourself

Baji

You’ve probably made the worst decision in your entire life

Baji is very 50/50. I feel like he doesn’t sleep much, but when he does, Baji sleeps like a baby

YALL CUDDLING WITH PEKE J >>> The cat absolutely adores you

Speaking of Peke J, he’ll cuddle up with you and sleep by your legs or finds a way to snuggle with you while you are sleeping

Depending on how much Baji likes you, you could possibly end up having extra covers. I’m convinced his room is somewhat cool due to him leaving his window open for Peke J or any other stray cat that wants to enter into his room 

He’s not sleeping on the floor….unless you’re on Chifuyu-level of friendship. Speaking of Chifuyu, you guys have sleepovers with each other and argue about who’ll take Baji’s bed like HE’S not the one who lives there

Mikey

No just no…my friend Mikey….you might as well sleep on the couch

I BET HIS BED HAS CRUMBS ON IT!!!! (sorry Mikey stans)But, I see Manjiro as the cuddling type. He’ll even make sure you have enough room on the bed for you!Kicker, I mean, BIG KICKER! Be careful, those legs are vicious.For the most part…he’s fairly okay. I’d advise you to use the restroom before sleeping because his legs WILL wrap around you within ten minutes or less

Draken

He’s a gentleman, you might as well have the bed for yourself

But if you happen to share a bed with him, he’ll make sure you have your side of the bed and he has his side

Draken isn’t the type to be very touchy-feely with his friends, but he will respect your personal space

If you want to cuddle…you might have to be on Mikey-level/ Emma-level relationship

Mitsuya

You’d have to feel comfortable with sharing a bed with two extra, little people because I promise you, Luna and Mina will be in the bed with you

His sisters absolutely adore you! During their after school naps, they’ll ask you to cuddle with them and hum a lullaby

Mitsuya will always make sure you’re always comfortable, even if his little sisters are pestering you (knowing good and well you enjoy them so much)

Also, Mitsuya really isn’t even thought of! His sisters just took you in themselves

Hakkai

My nervous little baby, DON’T TOUCH HIM IF YOU’RE A GIRL!

He’ll spazz out because he’s nervous and overwhelmed by your presence. And, he’s already nervous when he talks to girls then YOU TOUCHED HIM!? He’s passing out-

Hakkai may be stuttering the whole time you’re napping, talking to himself. But, if he has a crush on you, he’d be dead silent the whole time

You’ll get settled, yes, but you watching a movie with Hakkai nervously get the bed ready makes you think he needs an asthma pump

Nahoya (Smiley)

Are you even getting a nap?

I bet Smiley and Angry shares a room and all they do is argue about ANYTHING

Souta: Why is Y/N sleeping with you? Do they think you’re better than me?

Nahoya: Little brother, it’s not a big deal! If anything happens to them, I’ll be there to save them!

Lowkey, you would just alternate between them, so you don’t see why Nahoya is gloating

Yeah, Angry might be slightly annoyed that you are with his brother tho

To be honest, Nagoya might kick you out of the bed. He’s the type to fight in his sleep so he’s a kicker (or a puncher) like Mikey

One time, you woke up and saw him smiling in his sleep. You didn’t know whether or not to be concerned or just think this was a normal thing (Souta confirmed that it means his brother is having a good dream or he’s fighting in his dream. He also finds it bizarre, but got used to it)

Souta (Angry)

HE’S SO HAPPY! (Even though he still has a slight angry face) Angry sees it as a sleepover so he’ll be happy to have a friend  there

If he is super nervous, he might not want to snuggle with you, but you could probably convince him if you know him well

Enjoys watching movies before going to sleep with you. Usually, he doesn’t care that much about genre but horror movies are a hard NO for him. He’ll watch them for you but when a jumpscare happens, he’ll hide in your shoulder or your chest

Chifuyu

He’s also a happy bean when you ask to share a bed with him

He’ll make sure you’re comfortable and he’ll provide all the cuddles and kisses! Whatever you want

You’ll probably be half asleep and hear him mashing buttons to a video game or exclaiming/ gasping at a romance manga. Also, he’ll read a romance manga (with voice acting) to you while you sleep if you ask him

Not to be weird, but he enjoys watching you sleep. You look so peaceful and that makes him feel relaxed

I bet he’s the type to play with your hair as you sleep (what a sweetheart!)

#tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers #takemichi #baji #mikey #draken #mitsuya #hakkai #smiley #nahoya #angry #souta #chifuyu #tokyo revengers x reader

[mariacallous]

The Czech Republic threw open its doors to Ukrainians after Russia’s invasion and today hosts over 300,000 refugees. Yet attacks on Ukrainians are rising, encouraged by radical political forces, disinformation and, it’s claimed, Russian intelligence.

“Are you Ukrainian?” 48-year-old Zdenek H. asked as he stopped his car in front of Lilia Kostysyna and Tetana Tolsttihina in Plasy near the Czech city of Pilsen in August. When they nodded he leapt out and brutally beat them in front of their young children. Lilia spent three days in hospital.

In contrast to the mood of defiance towards Moscow and solidarity towards Ukraine that persists among the majority of the population, summer has been awash with incidents of intimidation and violence towards refugees from the war-torn state. An alarming report by the legal organisation In Iustitia highlighted how hate crimes directed at Ukrainians are continuing to “significantly increase”.

While Lilia Kostysyna was still recovering in hospital, a 35-year-old Ukrainian man died after being beaten outside a nightclub in Teplice. The Luna Club swiftly announced a ban on Ukrainians. Police charged a Czech man with the murder in mid-September.

Fertile ground

Since the end of COVID-19 restrictions, populist and radical political forces and peddlers of disinformation have been busy whipping up anger.

The fiscally conservative policies of the government, the war in Ukraine, the influx of refugees, and the cost-of-living crisis have provided fertile ground. Protests with a reactionary and nationalist flavour have punctuated the past 18 months or so.

Adding to the pressure, the populist political opposition, picking up where they left off during the 2015 migrant crisis, insists that the government’s enthusiastic support of Kyiv comes at the cost of neglecting citizens at home.

“The widespread aid to Ukrainians by the current government is disproportionate to the aid to our socially vulnerable citizens,” claims Tomio Okamura, leader of the radical-right Freedom and Direct Democracy, or SPD.

This narrative has helped drain support for hosting Ukrainian refugees across Czech society. Data from CVVM shows that 75 per cent of people were happy to accept people fleeing the war in spring 2022; a year later that number had fallen to 56 per cent.

The antipathy extends from parliament’s nationalist populists and radicals to the margins, where an array of extremist forces, sometimes operating as non-parliamentary political parties, preach a cocktail of authoritarian, anti-democratic and pro-Russian narratives.

The rise in violent attacks on Ukrainians “reflects the influence of critics of the involvement of the Czech state in supporting Ukrainian refugees and the Ukrainian government in defending its territory,” In Iustitia stated. “It is… violence intended to express intolerance towards refugees or support for Russian imperialism.”

The government’s vocal boasting of its generous donations of weapons and military equipment to Kyiv, and of hosting more Ukrainian refugees per capita than any other state, have offered these reactionary forces grist for their mill.

Disinformation networks pumping out fake news have run with such topics to rouse anger among poorer and less-educated Czechs, and to extend the series of increasingly pro-Russian “patriot” protests over the last year or so.

“Rallies are organised where Euroscepticism is propagated, calls for the current government’s change are made, and calls to withdraw the Czech Republic from NATO, along with protests against providing military aid to Ukraine and against support of Ukrainian refugees,” noted a report by the Ukrainian Support and Cooperation Centre (USCC).

Crime and punishment

Czech disinformation networks will tell you that Ukrainian refugees are stealing identity cards in order to access social services, or that shops are banning them to avert theft.

The In Iustitia report highlighted “misleading information disseminated about the newcomers, including references to their allegedly higher crime rates.”

The attack on Lilia and Tatiana did not come out of the blue. Days before, radicals had been busy rousing anti-Ukrainian feelings in Pilsen over the rape and attempted murder of a 15-year-old girl by an 18-year-old Ukrainian man.

Demonstrators, bedecked in Czech flags and chanting “My jsme doma!” (This is our home!), marched through the city in protest.

Reports that a 16-year-old Ukrainian was responsible for raping a woman in Prague compounded the situation, fuelling claims of rife criminality among Ukrainians.

Senior government officials leapt to try to quash the growing narrative. President Petr Pavel warned against those seeking to whip up fear for political ends.

Interior Minister Vit Rakusan pledged that the police would deliver justice in the cases regardless of nationality, while cautioning that hate speech would also be prosecuted.

“Czechia remains one of the safest countries in the world. The crime rate in this country is not growing with the growing number of foreigners,” he insisted at a press conference.

According to In Iustitia, 0.4 per cent of Ukrainians in the Czech Republic committed a crime in 2022. The figures for Slovaks and Poles run from 2-3 per cent. Ukrainians were, however, the target in 22 per cent of all hate crimes in the first half of 2023.

Strange bedfellows

Ironically, the extremist networks have had some of their biggest impact among the Roma, a minority, numbering around 250,000, that ordinarily is the most common victim of hate crime in the Czech Republic.

Anger against Ukrainians was sparked by the tragic death of a Roma man during a fight on a tram in the second city of Brno in June.

Despite efforts by community leaders to calm the situation, anger has sizzled throughout the summer with protests and marches, at times flavoured with intimidation of Ukrainians.

Extremists, including political figures more used to pumping out racist rhetoric against Roma, have encouraged the anger, while disinformation networks have made false claims of further Ukrainian crimes against this minority.

Roma social media influencers like David Mezei, who talks of knife-wielding Ukrainians who should “go back to where they came from”, have worked to deepen the antipathy.

“These figures have a huge impact among the most economically deprived sections of the Roma community, which, as in mainstream Czech society, is the most vulnerable to radicalisation,” explains Miroslav Broz, a veteran Roma rights campaigner from the Konexe NGO.

Income and education are the main factors that influence the perception of refugees, notes Martina Kavanova from PAQ Research. “The poorer population… has a less positive attitude towards accepting refugees,” she says. “This is related to the fear of a reduction in support from the state [and] competition on the labour market.”

This competition has pushed some Roma to adopt the symbols and language of Czech nationalists, points out Broz.

Weakness

Activists, government officials and the security services all note that the targets and tactics suggest Russian involvement. That the long history of discrimination afflicting the Roma is not only being exploited by nationalists, anti-system activists and conspiracy theorists, but by the Kremlin also.

“Russian intelligence knows that these social divisions are one of Czech society’s weaknesses,” asserts Marketa Kocmanova, a radicalisation expert at Charles University.

“Both the Roma and Ukrainian communities have experienced discrimination and unequal access to resources, contributing to feelings of frustration and resentment,” says Lucia Fukova, government commissioner for Roma affairs. “The influence of disinformation campaigns and foreign propaganda, particularly Russian narratives, has added a volatile dimension.”

The direct involvement of Russia in spreading disinformation in Czechia was confirmed in September by Security Information Service (BIS) chief Michal Koudelka. The head of the counterintelligence agency claimed that Moscow had sought contact with leading figures of the anti-government demonstrations and paid huge sums to Czech personalities to spread the Russian narrative.

[izzy-the-chaotic-gremlin]

Fictional charters I think the Twins and Aconitum would get along with / be besties with

Liz First!

Mabel - Gravity Falls

Luz - Owl House

Pinkie Pie - My Little Pony

Sr Pentious - Hazbeen Hotel altho they would probably scare this ever liveing hell out of etcher at first

Skid and Pump - Spooky Month

Susie - Spooky Month

Streber - Spooky Month

Cain - The amazing Digital Circus

Millie - HellvaBoss

Fizzarolie - HellvaBoss

Mt now!

Dipper - Gravity Falls

Hunter - Owl House

Gus - Owl House

Pomni - The Amazing Digital Circus

Susie - Spooky Month

Kevin - Spooky Month

Alastor - Hazbeen Hotel

Vagie - Hazbeen Hotel

Luna - HelvaBoss

Moxie - HelvaBoss

Blitzo - HelvaBoss

Aconitum's turn!

Fluttershy - My Little Pony

Ragatha - The Amazing Digital Circus

Wendy - Gravity Falls

Twilight Sparkle - My Little Pony

And quit literally any shy plant /animal loving character

@random-obsseser @keylimepizzapie

Pls let me know if y'all don't want to be tagged in this kinda stuff

#wendy corduroy #fluttershy #tadc ragatha #blitzø #moxie #Luna #Gus owl house #Pomni #Kevin spooky month #hazbin hotel alastor #Vagie hazbeen hotell #Susie Spooky month #hunter owl house #Luz owl house #dipper pines #fizzarolli #helluva millie #streber spooky month #skid and pump #cain tadc #Sr pentious #mabel pines