#how is this b^tch still alive

[technicianuprisingau]

Meet the Cast: Robobot Armor

I gotta be honest, this one's very amusing since it's littered with swear words, but here's the last one for the day (hopefully), Robobot Armor. I can't believe they are the swearing guy of the team, but shut up lol.

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"Taking you long enough? Alright, f^ck it."

Basic Information

Name: Robobot Armor

Age: 3 months [chronologically]/19 [mentally]

Gender: Genderfluid

Orientation: Asexual

Hometown: Access Ark Green Greens Star Hill, Dreamland, Popstar Unknown ("Okay, actually, how the f^ck do I explain that one?")

Species: Artificial Being [Mechanical]

Ability: Pure

Job: Protector, adventurer

Other names: Truthful Steel Defender, Tincan ("If anyone but Bandee f^cking call me this, I'll make a sh^tty corpse out of them. I am not fighting for my freedom to be called a F^CKING tincan.")

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Born out of Kirby's untimely curiosity with a certain beta test chip, this mechanical suit managed to find a way to break out from their programming and live a life of their own with their now owner and friendly rival. Acting rough and tough to keep others from trying to harm their allies is not a problem, but despite them actually being softer than they let on, their battle system that mimics Kirby's own shows that they were really forged to fight, with less selections but more consistent and greater damage output. They are definitely the strongest member of the team physically, which comes to good use as they can tank more hits in the frontline.

Detailed Information

Goals/Motivation: "I was born to protect the living sh^t out of Kirby - he is my master, I had to. But then, he gave me some pretty damn good experiences, and now, I'll be f^cking fair, I realize there's more than just protecting him all the damn time. So now, I want to experience life. That is all. Screw those assholes who think I couldn't have one as a damn machine."

Hobby: "Well, I've been rather interested in organic life or whatever the hell it's called. I like gardening. Embarrassing for someone like me, you say? Well, you can go f^ck yourself. Learning about plant life is just pretty damn fun to do, especially how accepting they are to be taken care of, unlike some sh^tty people... Oh, and I like sharing all that sh^t with Taranza."

Favorite Food: "...do I look like I can f^cking eat to deduct this? I don't, so..."

Least Favorite Food: "...again, f^cking hell, do I look like..." *shrug*

Favorite Game Type: "I'm a robot, so I'm not damn sure if playing technology would be something I'd do, since I'm one. But f^ck it, just give me those simulation games or something. Gives me some f^cks to care when I get bored- Oh sh^t the doggy just died. Damn..."

Habits: Peppers swear words ALL THE TIME [thanks to Bonfire], tends to pick up Bandana in their arms so he can sleep well, observes every plant or animal they see

Other Liked Things: "Okay, so there's this f^cking red cloth I slung around me. That sh^t was from a flag Kirby just stole. He said something along the lines of making myself feel more accepted in the team since they all wear some sort of fabric or some sh^t. Though..." *mimics Kirby's gesture of holding one arm with the other solemnly* "...it does feel nice. I'll be damn honest, I was dang pissed off that when I was stuck as a damn hologram without my body, I wasn't able to feel it anymore! Kirby wound up getting a new proper one for me once I got my body back but... I'm still damn attached to the old one. Oh, and I also like those f^cking plants people gave me sometimes."

Secret: Actually just wants to be accepted fully as themselves. As being based on the invader armor, they sometimes become a walking trauma trigger for others who had experience with the HWC before. While most slowly but eventually became more open, some still avoided them. They understand that they can't befriend everyone, but the fact they kept making others feel scared unintentionally makes them feel a bit bad for themselves. They also sometimes feel a bit envy on how biological beings can live their life.

Relationships

Best Friends: "As my 'master', Kirby is one. Bandee too. Those two little sh^ts. They taught me a lot, I wouldn't live this far if it weren't be for them. And also Taranza, he gave me a lot of f^cking experiences in this whole organic life thing. To all of you, thank you."

Rivals: "Well, Bandee used to be a b^tch, so we used to beat each other's ass a lot. Nowadays, we still do, but friendlier. He always gives a damn good match."

Enemies: "F^ck you, Bonfire. I proven you wrong, asshole. Oh, and f^ck the old HWC people. Those idiots who thought I'd totally stick around to be their tool or some sh^t."

Family: "...Team Starstruck counts, right? F^ck yeah it does."

Crush/Love Interest: "I don't get what the hell it is and I am fine without it. But my master, Kirby, apparently has one, and apparently he couldn't f^cking admit that sh^t! It's funny as heck!"

Skills and Abilities

Overview:

Due to being binded to Kirby's Adaptor Chip, Robobot Armor shares some similarities with the Technician ability he is holding. They have their own Ability Modes and changes appearance and weapons accordingly. However, they have less choices (they have 13 configurations total, not including Halberd Mode and Final Weapon) but more consistent damage output. In other words, what Robobot Armor lacks in variety, they back it up with sheer strength.

Strength: Being a mechanical being means that they don't have to worry much about pain and durability. Robobot Armor is, well, strong enough on their own. Their strength lends them leeway to break things without having to think much about it, and their size apparently helps them to grapple opponents and toss them around. There's a bit of a wrestler in them, indeed. Ability Modes also makes it possible for alternative battle styles, just like Kirby. Basically? They hit VERY hard.

Weakness: Unfortunately, being a walking hunk of metal doesn't always guarantee that they can catch up to others speed-wise without boosting. Robobot Armor can still be overwhelmed by speed and numbers. They might not be fragile, but at the same time, they can't survive on their own when facing a huge army without help. They usually rely more on tanking hits, but eventually, they still have their limits and they'll be downed eventually with persistence.

"Sh^t, that took way too long now, didn't it? F^cking great..."

[mahikamihan]

little yumi lore, i used to have a plant wall just full of houseplants bc i was bored during the pandemic, but due to Life Circumstances (as well as moving around a lot), all I've left from that collection was one tiny snake plant that I've been trying to kill forgetting to water for the past two years or so 🪴

[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.

[lollipopliccer]

𝔘𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔥𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔱m𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔢 ❦

❦ warning lollipop chaos ahead proceed with caution...❦ soft dom nanami , set in a cabin , sex on the floor , praise , daddy kink , pet name usage , whiny reader , impact play . no matter your height or weight , nanami is taller and can bench you like a feather , idgaf .

word count ; 2.9k

black fem reader (still all can read)

lollipopliccer’s love note ❦ ... hiiii this is the first fic i'm writing, AAAAEEEE i'm so excited, & ofc my first fic is gonna be with nanami... this is me coping the best i can, cus when i tell you... its on site with gege akutami, ooooo. (ಡ᎔ಡ) anywayyy this fic is for me to live in my delusions, because in my mind nanami is alive & thriving and gege can suck it blehhhh. also my use of lowcase letters in some instances, (like when i type 'i', or when i make reference to nanami's nickname (kennie)) this is purposeful. in addition this is gonna b prt 1 cus this was long as hell (i wanted my debut to be perfect eeeee) okay byee and enjoyyy ❦

"No Kento the tree is all wrong, i want the tassels to sit that way and the bloody balls are wonky... no nanamiii, you can’t put all the pink balls next to each other" you whine at your man.

Nanami looks pointedly at you, so you check that tone, which he has reprimanded you on, more times than you can count, but you just love how nice it is to boss him around. Such a patient and caring man, he knew how tired his precious girl was from a full day of shopping for all the Christmas decorations (that naturally he paid for), and organising the Christmas celebration for the next week. so of course he made you sit down on the couch while he made you both hot cocoa and brought your fave choco chip cookies, and peppermint candy-cane treats. Even though you repeatedly protested, wanting everything to be perfect, he wasn't going to hear a word:

"Honey, you're going to sit on the couch. i will bring us both hot coca, then you're going to tell me exactly how you want this cabin decorated."

"-But"

"Do you understand y/n?"

"Hmph yes Nanami"

"Thank you my sweet girl"

"Oh go away" you beam smiling.

You were stubborn by nature, but Nanami always knew how to take care of you and how to get you to relax for him, pliant to his demands. It was easy to let Nanami take control of the decorations while you sat so pretty for him and demanded, and whined, about the hanging of the stockings being too crooked, or how the phat tree that reached the ceiling of the living room, wasn't giving the right vibes in his elegant holiday cabin, that he asked you to celebrate Christmas with him in. Nanami was perfectly content to fix it all to your desires.

"Baby i think you've rested enough, would you like to help me decorate the tree?"

"AAAAA YES!" you squeal, as you jump up to go and help decorate the tree with your lover. But you can't help but notice how the tree seems to tower over you, as it seems that Nanami’s sheer height has created the illusion of it being normal-sized. You almost swoon.

"EEEEE that's perfect Kento, okay you have to make sure the pink star is placed at the very centre, or else i will legitimately die"

"Tch" Nanami rolls his eyes, but you still catch his smile peeking through, completely enamoured by you.

The cabin was breathtaking, even better than you could've imagined, with Nanami taking the time to ensure everything was as you wanted. Oh, how he made your heart swell.

"Do you like it, baby?" Kento asks you with genuine uncertainty as if you're not literally at a loss for words. He pulls you into a hug, holding you as you rest your head on his chest feeling completely content.

"kennie..." you whisper, "you make me so fucking happy." You can feel him bring your bodies so close together, your proximity to him makes you grow restless- nuzzling your head into his neck. You're welcomed with a wave of his cologne, filling the air with its sensual, rich woody scent. Oh, how he intoxicates you.

"i'm glad to hear that my love." he replies, while you take the time to appreciate him by kissing down his neck, trying your best to mark him just a little bit. Even though Nanami tried to avoid visible hickey marks around his neck, he can’t help but respond with a hiss, sucking in his breath in anticipation of you. He can't blame you, he would never blame his princess, not when you just get so desperate for him; Making it so hard for him to keep his composure.

"Baby, i should feed you first, hmm? You haven't eaten all day and i know you're exhausted from shopping."

You hold Nanami tighter, almost clambering up him like a tree, getting needier and needier for him as he carries you with ease, whilst kissing his neck earning a little moan from your man "mmmno kennie i want you to play with me, hold me please" as you brushed your chest against his.

Holding and caressing your face, how could he deny you, "Sweetheart..." he utters with both your faces so close to each other. The peppermint engulfs him, making his mind run frenzied with filthy, tempting thoughts of all that he could do to you.

"Please daddy," you whine as you run your pretty acrylic nails (that he paid for ofc) through his golden, luscious hair "i promise i'm okay, kennie i swear, i just need you". Even though Nanami is usually the first to say what you need, you know just as well what makes him weak for you.

Kento already losing his resolve, completely melts you into a kiss. It starts off slow, and sensual, but it is intense- oh how it turns you to goo, butterflies fluttering all around.

The kiss grows in intensity as you both grow needy, feeling him through your matching shorts. You try frustratingly to rut against his dick which makes you gasp and whine, but Kento's having none of that whining, biting your lip in retaliation. His princess is going to be good and patient for him, just as he likes.

"I've got you baby, hold on to me okay", he brings you both down onto the carpet, next to the fireplace, right under the Christmas tree. At this angle, you're able to feel him consume you, and how his hard cock rubs your swollen, aching clit over your shorts, you can practically feel his tip already leaking with precum. It's so hard to control yourself when you're with him, he takes such good care of you, and it simply makes you want him inside of you constantly.

"Pleasee" you whine as Nanami grinds against you and kisses you like he's starving, you can hardly breathe. Trying to keep up, you can't help but grab and pull his hair, his top, his pj bottoms, fucking anything-

You whine, trying to get him as close to you as possible, but it's never close enough,

"Patience princess", he begins kissing down your neck, and this makes you melt, surrendering to his control. "That's it baby, mmm i've got you, just gotta be patient for me. Daddy' s going to take care of you, promise." Nanami soothes, though his words do anything but calm you, you moan demanding more.

All control leaves you, feeling a sudden heat as you whine and pant, craving more. Nanami, usually so put together, is losing his composure to the point his throbbing dick aches just at the thought of his tip feeling your warm, sloppy pussy. But he never rushes, no he is thorough, and meticulous in all that he does for you, he will work you till you're fucking broken. A fucking mess.

"What did i just tell you, mmm baby?, i want you to be patient for me, my pretty girl thinks she can be good for me?” *bite*

"Ahhh, yes daddy" you moan, wincing from the mild pain of Nanami's bite on your neck, tethering him to you.

You know how good he rewards you when he has his way with you, how he makes you fucking drool all over him, oh you want it so bad.

"That's my girl, pull your shorts down." As he does the same with you, you watch his body and how he's decorated with your hickeys, his beautifully built body, towering over you. And as he takes down his matching pj bottoms you can see the print of his throbbing bulge, leaving a wet spot from where his impatient tip is begging to be wrapped in your tight, warm pussy.

He knows his demand makes you think he's going to fuck you stupid on his cock, that is always a struggle to take, but he knows what's best, he knows he's going to work you rigorously, till you go dumb for him, his pathetic little slut- he'll scoop you right up and feed you full...

Nanami will have you at his pace. Will work you at his pace. That's when he cradles your head into such a deep kiss, stroking your tongue with his, having your saliva mix together - so messy. So dirty. He watches as a string of spit appears between the two of you as you pull apart; he can't help but push his two fingers past your soft lips.

"Suck."

Without hesitation, you take his fingers into your mouth, coating them with your saliva. You just want to show him how you'll take anything for him, how perfect you are for him, how happy he makes you.

"That's it baby" he praises as you start moaning on his fingers like a starved slut, while he squeezes and lightly strokes your thighs with his other hand. You start moving your hips trying to get him to touch you where you need, oh where you need him so badly, it fucking aches, "daddy, it aches please, please touch me", you mumbled. You look up at him, to watch how his eyes are hung low, yet so intense, and his soft lips, glistening with your last kiss, have you hypnotised. Completely enchanted by you, he won’t make you wait much longer, he never wants to make his baby suffer.

Nanami brought his fingers out of your mouth, while he gripped your plump thighs and he couldn't help but take a bite. Licking and marking you so close to where you needed him. He knew you couldn't take it, he knew how he drove you fucking crazy. It was punishment, punishment for making him so easily swayed as his lady, his soon-to-be wife. The way you mewled and whined made his fingers itch to stuff your pretty little mouth again, his fixation on them was maddening. But he's made you wait long enough, he won't toy with you, not when he has to touch you, feel you, or he might burst.

"So fucking greedy" he chastises, whilst gently bringing his wet fingers down to spread your soaked lips apart so that his middle finger lightly brushes against your clit. You gasp at his touch, igniting your whole body, while Nanami watches intently, taking you in completely; "m'not" you whine,

he leans over you while his fingers take the wetness, only slightly dipping inside, to tease your needy little hole for him to toy with your throbbing clit.

"No baby?" Both of you face-to-face, he circles around your sensitive clit - you gasp and moan, for Nananmi to be right there ready to have you, holding his mouth so close to yours while you struggle just to take his fingers on that tender clit. You move your hands into his hair once again feeling so soft beneath your fingers, making him tingle while he feels your pretty nails tug.

"No kennie, i only wanna please you". Nanami responds to you by sliding his fingers into your soaked pussy, having your wetness give off a little squelch in his motions. This forced a whimper out of you, so soft, so fucking whiny "that's right baby, you're my sweet. girl. aren't you? So. good. for me. isn't that right?" Punctuating each beat of his words with the stroke of his perfectly fitted, long digits that always reach where you need them most, places where you could never get, places that get you so needy and impatient for more, that you begin clutching his shoulders, digging those pretty nails down his back, just how he needs.

"Nghhahh ken-, fuck daddy aah"

"Answer me." he reprimands, smacking your sore, marked-up thigh, once again making you remember how he's trained you, his perfect princess.

"m'sorry, daddy" you're panting - trying so hard to stay focused, trying not to lose it so quickly, so pathetically, just from a few pumps of his fingers in your sloppy pussy, his pretty pussy. "Yes daddy, i'm only good for you, only you kennie" you mewl.

Nanami, gives into you completely, enveloping you in a passionate kiss, bringing your tongues together, stroking against each other. He mirrors the curve and dips of his tongue with his fingers, bringing his thumb to your clit disciplining you like his perfect slut, while he plays with your little bundle of nerves, just how he wants. While he curves his fingers to find the spot, oh that spot that makes you lose your fucking mind, that you can no longer kiss him how you want, so hard for you to keep up. You've given in to him, so pliant for him to play with. You sob, gripping and clutching even harder onto his back, making him hiss and moan in pain. You can both feel his bulge grow impossibly hard, oozing precum on your plush thighs that begin to shake.

"Sshhh baby, i've got you, daddy's got you mmm,"

"nngh ahh kennie i can't, please... ohhh ffuck" you sob rolling your head back and arching your back so pretty for him

"i know baby, i know, but you're gonna take it for me, won't you?" Nanami brings his other hand to pull and hold you down so you're laid out for him, putting some pressure on your pelvis so you feel what he's doing with you more intensely.

Your pants, your moans, whines, Nanami soaks them all up, going straight to his throbbing cock, aching in pain. Wanting nothing more than to stuff you so fucking full, and coat you all over, with his cum, make his cum fucking leak out of you. So you're a drooling mess on his dick.

Alas, he is a patient man.

"Please, i can-nghh can't" you whimper, trying to hold his hand, to get him to slow down, even just a little, just to take it a little easy on your aching pussy.

"Move your hand." he says it so sternly it makes you almost fucking orgasm squeezing your knees together and mewling like a fucking slut. Nanami immediately slaps you (softly whilst still stern), the sting making your eyes prick with tears immediately making you regret your actions,

"Daddy m'sorry" you sob, all while he doesn't let up from fucking your sore little pussy with his fingers. Make you take them without complaint because that's how good girls behave. He separates and holds your thighs apart warning you,

"If you try that shit again honey, i will hurt you, do you understand?"

"Yes sir" you whimper, averting your eyes from him and biting your lip to still try and muffle your moans

"Look at me y/n... there's my sweet girl" as he removes his hand holding your thighs to stroke your face, bringing his thumb to your mouth-

“-Suck baby", and of course, his thumb is in your mouth without a second thought. you suck and moan on his thumb so pretty, while his other hand toys with you. Unrelenting, firm and yet still soft, Nanami holds and fucks you like the most delicate slut, his only slut.

"Daddy- fuckkkmngh ahh" Nanami can feel your pretty pussy clench around his fingers, gripping him in so perfectly so that he finds that little spongey spot, that only he gets. At this point, you're already a blubbering mess, but once he starts to stroke up on your g-spot- so deep. so firm. you feel as though you're going to fucking combust. You grip his arm so firm you almost try and wiggle away, Nanami has gotten you so sensitive it's almost hard to take

"i know baby, fuck, i know..." he softly whispers in your ear, as your eyes roll to the back of your head, your mouth falling agape whilst his thumb is still on your lips, causing some drool to pool down your cheek. You look so beautifully fucked. Nanami is holding on by a thread to not flip you over and genuinely fuck your brains out, he wants to make you come over and over, one after the other, but he will never rush, he is a thorough man.

"... you'll take it for me though, i know you can baby" he softly groans, whilst rutting his pulsing dick on your thighs slightly, his tip so pretty turning red whilst it gently hits the flush of your thighs, angry and throbbing.

"Oh my god aaa fu-kennie! daddy aa-" Your legs start twitching, white borders building as you start tearing up from pleasure. You quickly bring your arms around Kento holding on to him, begging him not to stop, he couldn't possibly do such a thing, he wants you fucking cum drunk.

"I've got you baby, let go, come for me mmm," he says after kissing your forehead so softly, while your hips buck and your body twitches, you're barely coherent, blubbering and begging to cum.

"There's my good girl, you're going to cum on my fingers" keeping his fingers firm and steady, curving into your tight little fucking pussy, while circling your puffy clit so perfectly. You clutch and keen onto Nanami, leaving marks all over him that sting so badly. You look so wildly desperate to simply fuck yourself till all your thoughts are on him alone. But it's when Nanami begins biting and marking you down your neck- exacerbating your pleasure, making you tingle all over as your nipples perk up. Your head falls back to expose yourself to him, moaning and whining to his surrender "Daddy-" you whine "I'm gon- gonna cum" as you finally cum undone, spiralling- you sob wantonly, cumming with a loud whimpering cry.

Having all your pleasure gush onto Nanami, as he fucks your mess back into you slowly which makes you hiss from overstimulation.

"Sshh baby, you made a mess all over daddy, can't have it all go to waste mmm? i have to fuck it all back inside, gotta take care of you mm" he whispers down into a kiss holding you in place while you whimper... so fucking sensitive…❦

[sakuraharuno156]

Let's look at Infinite Tsukuyomi dreams once again:

and see how it's clearly shows Hinata is a really sh*tty person

Worth to mention - this is their perfect world, this is how they wished it to be. No limits, no restrictions, everything is possible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Let's see how they want the world to be:

Gaaras dream:

His parents are ALIVE AND HAPPY. His siblings are with their parents and they are all a close, cute family.

Lee and TenTen:

Lee wants to fight with Neji/Naruto and win, but Neji wanted to fight with Lee and we know they were sparring frequently.

So in Lee's perfect life, he and Neji are still happy with the only difference being - Lee finally won. Sakura is in love with Lee, but she is still herself. She is doing what she is always doing - being loud and happy, SHE IS HERSELF.

TenTen is standing with Neji and doing what they are always doing - judging Lee and Guy

So in TenTen's perfect world - Neji is alive and they are all (weird) happy family like they were before.

Choji, Shikamaru and Ino:

Chiji found love and his father is proud of him. Nice, self-explanatory.

Shikamaru is watching 2 couples (Kurenai x Asuma and Shikamarus father and mother) while doing what he loves - complaining. Asuma is ALIVE and meeting his child, Shikaku is ALIVE and with the woman he loves - Shikamaru's mother.

So in Shikamaru's perfect world, they are all the same people with their loved ones. Shikamaru is complaining and happy to see them together.

Ino is with Sai and Sasuke who are fighting for her and her father is happy and proud of her AND ALIVE. Sasuke and Sai are fighting for Ino but look! They are not blushing, not doing anything OOC, they are themselves but in love with Ino.

So in Ino's perfect world, she is popular (with two guys she is attracted to), her father is happy and proud of her.

NOW TO THE SELFISH TEAM:

Kiba and Shino:

They are both successful, Kiba is the Hokage and Shino found a new species. Not much to add there.

But then, Crème de la crème, this b*tch Hinata:

In Hinata's dream, she is with Naruto (no surprises) and Neji is alive, but is it? Let's break this down:

Naruto is not Naruto. He is quiet, just sitting there. Naruto, the child with SO MUCH ENERGY he cannot stand in one place, just sitting. Naruto the child WHO SPEAKS SO MUCH is just quiet.

In Lee dream - Sakura is in love with him BUT SHE IS ACTING LIKE SAKURA, SHE IS SAKURA.

In Ino's dream - Sasuke and Sai are fighting over Ino, BUT THEY ARE THEMSELVES. They act like themselves. THEY ARE THEMSELVES.

Everyone who dreams of someone imagine them as they are. Sakura is Sakura, Sasuke and Sai are themselves. Even Temari speaking her one word in Shikamarus dream IS TEMARI. She speaks like she usually do when they are together.

But Naruto in Hinatas mind? Quiet. Stagnant. She could have imagined him as himself as a talkative, over-energized, NARUTO, but no. Quiet.

But that's less infuriating - more just annoying.

Now to the infuriating part.

WTF NEJI.

Why is he annoyed? Why in Hinata's perfect dream - Neji is mad and stalking her? Why in a world when they can be friends, when Neji can be proud of her (like fathers in Ino's or Choji's) she imagined him as unhappy?

And why is he spying on her? Why is he not happily with her, or with his friends OR HIS FATHER, but he is just sitting in the bushes and stalking Hinata?

That's again, not Neji, people who imagined the opposite of Neji saw him like Hinata wanted him in her dream.

Look at Road to ninja, a movie when they are THEIR OPPOSITES. What is Neji doing? Stalking Hinata and getting angry. Wow, would you look at this.

(And yes, that's a filler movie, and no I don't like studio pierrot, but COME ON, WHAT THEY IMAGIN AS THE OPPOSITE OF NEJI IS WHAT HINATA WANTED NEJI TO BE)

SHE COULD HAVE IMAGINED HYUGA CLAN BEING FIXED, MAIN AND SIDE BRANCH HAPPY TOGETHER.

But no, let's imagine that everything is like it is, Neji is still her slave (even after his death - she still imagine him as a slave, propably with his curse mark), he is spying on her and unhappy with it :)

Why dream of change, when you can be with your crush (who acts like a completely different person) and still having your slave, but in this world - he is stalking you! Yeey....

I can't, I can't with that character, every chance she gets to do the right thing - she keeps on proving how s*it of a person she is...

[bitethedustfools]

New sagau idea? Part 2

Decide to make part 2 because i have bunch of ideas that probably might inspire you and i do feel these kind of stuffs need to be explored more. Fyi, I don't play genshin but i do know some from watching people gaming. Apologizing once more of these kind of idea/au exist as well.

Decide to make part 2 because i have so many ideas.

1) A violent and heartless player

You play Genshin Impact to pass time and are also a very violent and aggressive player where you'll always yell and throw items to vent or throw insults under your breath, and then back to gaming. In short, It's like a Call of Duty toxic player went into Genshin Impact.

Falling to death or drowning angered you to the point of banging your head and cursing. Not to mention, walking in the game angered you too because the characters were too slow!

You suck at first; impulsive action is not the best choice when you're angry, but you are in some way adaptable. You decide that your anger will be the source of your motivation to go through everything, so everything works out in the end.

Insulting is your mother tongue, so that means the characters and even the NPC are not spared as well. Most of your vicious, colorful insults and hurtful comments went toward people whom you hated and annoyed the most.

You remember the time when you laughed at Timmie's dumb dead birds and wished you had an option to push him off the bridge. His dad probably sensed he was a little b*tch back when he was a baby and went out to get some milk and never come back.

You sometimes intentionally let them die in a fight or or do something all in the name of experiment. You would even build a prison for them in the serenitea pot and just do the f*cked-up stuff that's possible in this game.

So one day, you broke your gaming setup due to your outburst, and somehow you woke up in Teyvat.

You didn't believe it was reality, and you still treated them as characters. Besides, they looked stupid with those stupid clothes on. They would stood out like a sore dumba$$ if they walked around in your world like that.

Anyway, killing Hilichurl or other small enemies is no problem for you. Committing a crime doesn't bother you. You probably don't bat an eye on killing people as well. Besides, all of this is just a game to you.

They're not real to you.

Their death is their fault for picking a fight with you. Should have just looked away instead of approaching you. Not your fault their feelings hurt.

Archons wanted to smite you, and somehow you managed to escape them and deal a few harmless blows. Not that it matters; you will be the one to seek them out and fight them when their backs are on you, and the cycle will repeat.

How you're still alive using a measly weapon because you don't know how to use claymore, polearms, and etc. is beyond you. But hey, anything is a weapon as long as it deals damage and even if it don't, you are still satisfied from letting all your anger out.

Nevertheless, all of the nations are in turmoil, and the culprit is none other than you.

The characters will definitely hate you, or maybe they feel ashamed and insecure about themselves because they want to fix themselves. Some acolytes and the people who believe in justice and peace had 'kill on sight' pinned on your back. They don't even believe that you are a god. God don't act like this.

The Wanderer 4th betrayal definitely happened, and Dottore clones definitely got hunted for sport because they annoyed you Does the Fatui wants to recruit you? You don't know, depends. Do they believe you are the god they worshipped? Also, don't know. Not like you care though.

No one can wreck havoc and commit more sins than you. You, a single person, broke Teyvat's peace and order effortlessly than the fatui with just impulsive anger and chaotic energy.

And if one day you realize that you actually have blood on your hands, you'll probably shrug it off and say it doesn't matter.

If you go back to your own world, no one knows what you have done. Who's going to tell the police? The dead people you stabbed out of annoyance? Those fiction characters that had animosity toward you?

No, will there even be someone alive in Teyvat if you were to return?

2) Streamer and gamer player.

In which you are transported into Teyvat along with some game skills, menus, and anything relevant to a game. That includes the chat box.

You learned that you were still streaming when you got sent to Teyvat, and everyone in the chat can see you. Cool, so it's not a dream; it's real, and instead of playing, you are the player! Where's Aether/Lumine? Why are you here? "AIYO!?? We got to see DAT CAKE!"

You are not aware that you looked like an idiot talking to yourself unless pointed out by the chat. It seems that the chat sees you as part of the game, which means that they can see the characters and NPC thoughts and words while you see them as a normal person.

Cool. Now you have to have the chat got your back, or else you're doomed. Dead. Unable to be revived. You're not sure if you can do that, but you're not willing to try.

Another problem that arises is that the chat tends to troll you or bombard you with loud sounds. It makes it harder to trust them or focus on what the characters are saying when they did this.

Sometimes you beg the chat, like they are some sort of sadistic god looking down at you from above the clouds with their chins high and a sneer.

All because you want some goddamn money because apparently, if they donate money, it instantly becomes moras and you're broke as fuck like cmon, help a fricking clown out.

Strangely, despite everything looked real, you have the physics of a game. The things you find in the game work if you try hard enough. For example, glitching under the Mondstadt's land. With these kinds of things, you don't need to walk when you can just glitch and get sent flying across the nation. Just making use of this bug makes your life easier.

Oh, how did you get stuck on this cliff while you were trying to use another entrance to Sumeru? That's right, it's an experiment to see if it works.

"Don't laugh, chat; I'm doing this out of curiosity and for you. Youre the one whos suggesting this."

The characters in Teyvat thought you were a rather peculiar person, talking to yourself at random times, and you seemed to know too much even though you didn't do any research, merely fighting hilichurls and robbing back the bandits–

–Oh Great Archons! You can fly!? No? It's a glitch? Well, they don't understand enough to understand you, but hey, that's so you. Keep up being weird, player.

Maybe the things you do are… unique and can be considered divine in their eyes. After all, who could walk on air like you do? Or bringing people back to life and knowing so much? No one could do that, so you must be a god!

As a matter of fact, you remind them of a certain figure. That's right! The creator! The creator acted like you too. Always talking to this thing called "chat"

"Um, no, I'm a gamer and chat is chat."

You fail to take into consideration that while everything looks like a game in your eyes, the people are definitely real, and this is what they thought of you.

3) Killer player

You don't play Genshin Impact, but you are quite resourceful, cunning, and deviously smart. You know this game is quite famous, and coincidentally, the prey you aimed to take life is playing it too.

In order to get closer to your prey, you must be fluent in their language. You listened to all that your prey blabbered and what they showed with an interested smile. You even question them once in a while to get them going all for the sake of learning the prey's personality and schedule and how you want to unalive them.

When you did kill your prey and accidentally broke their computer/laptop in the process, you got transported to Teyvat. In a way, you had stolen your prey's fate instead.

(The characters had mistaken you for their creator before but dismissed it because you lacked a certain presence. However, you do feel familiar with them because you sometimes watch over the game when your prey has played before.)

Now, you heard interesting things about this game, and you grew more interested when the characters interacted with you. How amusing! The characters had no idea you were a very sinister and cunning person behind a weak and polite persona.

In terms of healthcare, they are leaning toward supernatural stuff, and the medicine using materials found in this world is also effective. However, they seem to be lacking in a certain area that needs surgery.

Most deaths were common due to hilichurls and bandits, or those whom they called the Fatui, so they wouldn't be examined too closely. You doubt that they even have something that closely resembles fingerprint identification, judging by the lack of technology..m

…Which means hiding and killing is much easier than in your previous world.

Teyvat is such a nice place to have entertainment. It didn't take too long for you to settle here and get comfortable.

Monstadt is a city known for freedom and peace; however, once you arrive here, every night, no doubt a single person will go missing or be found dead. You are normally a silent killer, but you couldn't resist letting them know. Their expression thrilled you.

All those knight roaming around at night, and they couldn't even save a single person. What a pity.

In Liyue, the funeral parlor became rich all thanks to these crimes you were committing. Does a certain acolyte know what you're doing? Maybe not, afterall, there are more ways to kill a person than just a sword and poison.

Accidents could happen, you know? falling off a cliff, in the wrong place at the wrong time, being mauled by animals where people conveniently are not near, or dealing with the wrong person.

Inazuma is much more easier; their deaths could be pinned on one person who is also the source of the nation's tense atmosphere. Hatred, anger and fear rose with each crime you committed, but there is no evidence that you did it. After all, what could a weak and polite person who looked like they couldn't wield a sword do?

Plenty actually. Not that they know.

Sumeru is quite nice. Full of gifted scholars and intelligent individuals. You thought it will be a challenge seeing as you have similar minds and yet, most disappointed you.

All these smart people, and they couldn't string the murder together. Maybe you don't kill the right one which mean the don't care. Oh? Then should you kill the one with that grey hair? He seems to be someone of importance.

You made Akademiya your target. You must admit that you learned quite a lot of precious knowledge in this place. While youre here, might as well pretend to be one and use this time to gather infos.

They did not know and realized how you got into the Akademiya or how you had disguised yourself as one of the scholars. They don't know how you got through security or how one by one are slowly not attending the class or the expedition.

They said that acting confidently like you belong there and becoming part of the background like a plain NPC is always the key to infiltration.

And oh, even if they get suspicious and point that out to you, you know what to do. Lying, speaking half the truth, and gaslighting are also languages you are quite good at.

And Fontaine, oh, Fontaine. A nation that is known for justice when, in fact, it's not always about justice but entertainment. It is a nation that indirectly challenge you as well. Entertainment? Why, you know what kind of entertainment you shall give! It will be something that everyone remembers for the rest of their life.

You are like Jack the Ripper, never caught and never punished. Did the Archons ever suspect you? Who knows. Maybe they did, maybe they didn't.

All you know is that you have an alibi to back you up and a likeable and underestimated personality.

[queenofthedisneyverse]

Lil prowler! y/n reveals themself to spider!Miles

Mentions of g*n violence, b*llet wounds, cursing & character death.

Any one over 16 DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS FIC

Y/n watched as miles approached the finger that looked scarily the similar their boyfriend. He just didn’t have braids and looked more…youthful? 

‘He looks so…pathetic’ y/n thought

They watched as the two look-alikes exchanged a “conversation” or whatever you can call it. Y/n could see how they contrast, Miles G looked more tired and just rugged. The other Miles looked tired too but much more hopeful in the eyes, like life was easy for him. 

y/n loathed that thought, ‘better life, wtf even is that’ 

“Your fathers still alive” G said with the distorted voice in his mask

‘He has a father?’ y/n thought. Quickly thinking back to how nice Mile’s father used to be, how much happiness and kindness he brought to the city. Now that he’s gone…the entire new york fel to ruin. 

“What?” the other miles raised a brow

“Your father” G said more sternly

“Yeah” 

“....oh” 

“ Who are you?” the other miles asked

The mask peeled itself off the figure's face, revealing to be G, your one and only. Miles' face showed terror and shock. 

“I’m Miles Morales, but YOU, you can call me the prowler” Mils G said, not showing much emotion given the situation he’s in. 

You got down from the pipe and walked up to them, not taking your eyes off of the “clone” version of your boyfriend. Your mask peeled off the same way G’s did, revealing your beautiful but tired face. 

You had seen the day Mr. Morales died, you almost died that day. Everything was going fine, everyone was gathered at the park for a cookout. Music, laughter, and smiles was the only thing you could see. Miles was smiling so widely, his laughter being contagious for you. All of it was so nice…til it wasn’t. Some f*ck head gangster decided that the cookout was a good place to test out his shooting abilities. 

Mr. Morales died a hero, he was trying to save you, you were the closest to him at the moment. Miles wasn’t nearby so he had to get someone to safety. You were already shot and losing blood, he had to do something. As he was trying to get  you to safety, he got shot in the process. You had already passed out from shock so you didn’t see it happen but it still stuck with you. 

You feel that you were the reason he got shot, you were the reason he died. Survivors guilt like a mf. Rio and Miles had reassured you that it wasn’t your fault, all of your friends and family reassured you that it wasn’t your fault. But you still can’t help but think it was. 

Y/n stood next to G, eyeing every little trait the clone had that was similar to Miles.

“Hmph…quite scrawny aint he” you joked, putting your arm on G’s shoulder and leaning on him. 

The clone Miles stared at you with sadness and disbelief, it was you, but it wasn’t. His y/n was always cheerful and happy, always with a smile on their face. His y/n died, y/n died trying to save him from kingpin. The y/n he was looking at looked as if they’ve seen better days, there was no hope in this y/n’s eyes, no joy or anything. But this y/n was alive, this y/n is breathing and looking STRAIGHT into his eyes. 

“...y/n?” Miles choked out, with a tear strolling down his eyes. 

“Damn…I must’ve died in his world by the way he lookin’ at me” You said, softly laughing a bit. 

“It’s…you” 

“Yeah it’s me tch…and?” you said with a smirk

Miles took a second to gather his thoughts, you weren’t his y/n. This “conversation” clearly showed that. He had to go, maybe he pleaded more and reached some caring and innocent part of you and G. 

“Please….you have to let me go” 

You and Miles activated your metal claws and put both of them on the sides of his head. Nearly moving in sync. 

“Why would I do that” you both say, looking Miles in the eye with an almost emotionless face.

You were not letting him go

@weirdo09

[darylarry]

im always up for hearing about wincest, i can glean how u feel aobut em based on ur blog BUT i still wanna hear pls and thanks

I cannot put into words how much I love them honestly. Funny thing is back when I first started watching I was still a little young (like 13) and I knew there was something but the incest weirded me out. But here I am now, all grown up, having learnt that fiction is fiction.

What I love about wincest is the codependency, the absolute irrationality, the batshit craziness they bring out in each other.

• Sam kills someone —> How do we destroy the evidence?

• An innocent man dies so Dean lives? —> who tf cares, man, people die??

• Choosing each other over romantic relationships —> we’re just good brothers I mean come on it’s not jealousy??

• Dean made a DEAL to bring Sam back because he couldn’t handle his death AND LEFT HIS BODY THERE FOR DAYS BEFORE SAID DEAL, he went to hell to see his brother alive and well —> just grieving in my own time buddy

• “family, love— whatever it is.”

• “I gave him what he needed and it wasn’t some b*tch in a g-string— it was you.”

• “you’re my weak spot and I’m yours”

• “there ain’t no me if there ain’t no you.”

• Sam’s first girlfriend is literally a female version of Dean

• they’d rather watch the world burn than let each other die

I could go on forever they’re so unhinged and disgusting and freaky I love it sm

[creative-frequency]

Astarion x Reader: Contradictions and Other Counter-Measures Ch.2

Summary: Spending some drowsy time by the campfire with Astarion. Word count: 1417

Previous chapter

CHAPTER 2: Introductions

Yours is an odd party.

A githyanki warrior – an outright pleasure to be around if one enjoys the looming threat of decapitation, both physical and verbal.

A shady cleric, who feigns ignorance when asked more about.

A posh high elf, who claims to be a magister from Baldur’s Gate. You met briefly on the night of your grand escape from the city, but don’t really know anything about him – except that he is unfairly beautiful.

And yourself. As far as the others know, you’re just the unluckiest sorcerer alive who happened to be visiting the city during the nautiloid attack.

All four of you are sitting around the campfire, exhausted and wary, weighing between asking or sharing more and how much to trust and say. By some degree of a miracle or insane luck, no one is injured after the day spent exploring the wilds and the campsite spot seems to be relatively safe.

“So,” Astarion begins, because of course it’s him who has to break the weary silence. “Anyone feeling like this will be our last tentacle-less night?”

The already familiar “Tch,” comes from Lae’zel. She is the driving force in your group and usually she is driving her sword through anyone’s chest who happens to stand in your way. The githyanki warrior isn’t one for idle chatting.

Your gaze wanders around the group. It is only fair that they don’t know much about you, just as you know next to nothing about them. Still, you can’t help the feeling that it will take a while to find the cure for your shared tadpole issue and in the meanwhile you’ll be travelling together. It would be for the best to start making friends.

“Would be a shame if it was the last,” you reply to Astarion as neither of the ladies seem to be in the mood for a casual chat.

“Shame? Our orifices should be bleeding and our skin sundering already,” Lae’zel says menacingly. “Although, the night is still young.”

Everyone else shares an uneasy look.

“Come morning, we need to find a way to the nearest Crèche,” Lae’zel continues.

Shadowheart scoffs. “You keep saying that, but how is that our best option?” she asks.

“My people have been fighting the ghaik for aeons. We are hardly the first ones to be infected. There are protocols for this,” Laezel explains, annoyance shining through each carefully chosen word.

“We can decide our next move in the morning,” you suggest before the two continue their ceaseless arguing. They’ve been at it for the better part of the day, ever since you helped Lae’zel escape the goblin trap.

“Fine,” Lae’zel says, “but I trust you will agree this is our only possible course of action.”

Shadowheart rolls her eyes and gets up without saying another word. She is the first to retire for the night.

Lae’zel leaves soon after and you’re left sitting on a log next to the pretty, pale elf. Now that you’re alone, you become very aware of his presence next to you. You shuffle slightly further away.

“They seem to be becoming fast friends,” Astarion remarks.

You snort in a very unladylike manner. “Can’t wait to wake up in the middle of the night to watch them scrap it out.”

Both of the mentioned parties keep their tent flaps closed. The nights so far have been dry but cool, but the campfire is the only source of warmth in the middle of the woods and you’re reluctant to leave its area of effect to rest.

Absent minded, you stare into the dancing flames of the campfire and pull up the old family ring that is kept attached to a necklace. The intricate surface has darkened during the years from the lack of proper care.

“I see you never actually got rid of the ring” Astarion says and you almost drop the said item.

“Oh right, you saw it back then…” you mumble.

It’s been over five years so the details of that night are hazy at best. When thinking of your escape, your first thought is the oppressive feeling of being chased, but right after that there is also the burst of excitement, sourced by the looming freedom.

You would never tell it to Astarion, but you have sometimes wondered what became of the beautiful curly-haired elf from the tavern. And now he is here, very much sharing the largest mess you’ve ever been in your life. The tadpole hums in your head, reminding you of its presence.

“Tell me, which noble family are you from?” Astarion questions, though he doesn’t really seem interested in the answer.

“First name basis not enough for you?” you quip and run your thumb across the family crest on the ring.

“Darling, I’ve seen the headlines and that crest. I am only asking out of courtesy,” he says.

Your mood sinks. Of course you would happen to run into someone who recognises you as a noble. Knowing that Astarion is a magister in the city, it shouldn’t be a surprise that he is familiar with family crests and reads newspapers.

You draw in a long breath and sigh. “So you already know I’m a Caldwell.”

“‘The disappearance of the patriar’s daughter’ – it’s everyone’s favourite mystery,” Astarion recites with a short chuckle and paints the headline into the air in flourish motions.

“I’m sure it is, but please don’t tell the others. I’ll… tell them when the time is right,” you plead in a hushed tone.

Astarion bows slightly. “Your secret is safe with me, my lady.”

He jests, but it still makes you smile. Reasons to smile have been few and far between during the last day.

“Thank you, though I think I like ‘potato sack woman’ better,” you say. It was the first thing that slipped out of the elf’s mouth when he recognised you at the beach.

“I’m sure you do. Why did you leave Baldur’s Gate in the first place?” Astarion asks, more curious towards the answer to this question.

“Who wouldn’t love it here instead of the noisy city?” you retort and drop the ring in its chain back underneath your shirt.

Astarion scoffs. “You traded balls and gold goblets for this? Unbelievable. Yours is one of those stories the Mouth digs up whenever they have nothing else to write about.”

“Hm. How nice of them. Maybe I’ll tell you the real reason later.” You used to hate having secrets, but this one you’ve been carrying for so long that it’s already an instinct to dodge all personal questions.

“Alright. I’ll hold on to that promise,” Astarion says slowly with an inspecting – or maybe it’s suspicious – look.

“What about you? How are you adjusting?” you ask in turn. As a magister he must be used to a more comfortable lifestyle.

Astarion sighs and turns to gaze at the stars. “I admit, resting in the dirt is a little novel.” If you didn’t know better, you could say he sounds almost excited.

“It has a certain charm to it, doesn’t it?” you smile and a yawn forces its way out right after the words.

“Indeed. But you should get some rest,” Astarion says gently, “I’ll keep watch tonight.” 

Your brows raise at the thoughtful offer. If anything, you would’ve thought he would be the first one to declare that night watch duties are far beneath him.

“Thank you, Astarion, though I’m not sure if I’ll be able to sleep any time soon,” you reply, feeling pleasantly drowsy and warm thanks to the crackling campfire and numbness from the exhausting day. Maybe you wouldn’t mind spending time talking with someone who shares these recent odd experiences, but it’s getting difficult to think in complete sentences. You should really go to your bedroll.

Astarion seems to be scooting closer to you with an impossibly charming grin on his perfect lips. The perceptive eyes take in your drooping form. In a passing thought you wonder why isn’t he as tired as the rest of your group.

Astarion hums quietly: “Well, if you want to spend time with me, you only need to say so.”

Some amount of clarity and consciousness returns to you with a flush of abashment.

“What? Uhh, I’m off to bed…” you stumble to reply, promptly standing up and your jammed brain is wondering did you hear the elf correctly or are you just half-asleep.

“Whatever you say, my dear. Now off with you,” Astarion says with a little laugh.

You definitely heard him right.

-

Next chapter

My Writing Masterlist

[djappleblush]

Cang lan jue crew really woke up and chose violence, like, "we're not moving on today" and I respect it.

Behold! The BTS that was just as painful as the actual drama scene. The way Dylan Wang and Esther Yu were both so immersed in their characters, the way Dylan had a hard time recovering from his emotional outburst as he embodied his character so well to be able to deliver the pain and heartache onto the camera, the way Esther stayed by his side and comforted him, saying, "I'm still here, I'm still alive" like b!tch how can you rip my heart out again like this? I thought I already recovered but apparently I didn't. Y'all know that moment when you thought you've moved on from the pain and then something happens that reminded you of that pain and made it 10x worse? Yeah, this is what this BTS did. The director/producer/writer knew what they were doing.

[vivianquill]

Emberfish AU Masterpost

ight, since I was asked, here's the masterpost for the merdude!Tango au.

Scraplets are grouped into 'arcs' and listed in rough chronological order. Some of them overlap, in that case they are in order of first posted. After that are the misc posts with enough worldbuilding to qualify being put on here.

If you want more worldbuilding or have any questions, just ask! I love answering asks <3 they fuel my brainrot for this au as well.

Update:

This au has now (mostly) been cross-posted to ao3! It's still messy, and these ficlets will continue to be posted to tumblr first, and then updated on ao3. Probably in batches when i get a round tuit.

the ao3 fics can be found here!

Prologue Arc

Tango's POV - meeting his new pod

Rescued Arc

Tango's POV - etho isn't the only washed up one

Impulse's POV - marine rescues take mer, right?

Zedaph's POV - first impressions

Impulse's POV - the infamous pole incident

Skizz's POV - temper temper

Tango's POV - wordz r hard

Kidnapped Arc

Tango's POV - grand theft mer

Jimmy's POV - new mer who dis?

Skizz's POV - HE SAID THE THING--

Tango's POV - a new place 2 electric boogaloo

Martyn's POV - don't get in the water if you don't have gills. idiot.

Tango's POV - please stop fighting i am BEGGING you-

Jimmy's POV - welp. everyone is still alive. so far.

Martyn's POV - you would think that they would be done fighting by now, wouldn't you?

Jimmy's POV - I sure hope this is the last fight

Martyn's POV - Things are looking up now

Those Left Behind Arc

Etho's POV - this might be a problem. . . for team siz, anyway.

Impulse's POV - i told you it might be a problem

Etho's POV - miscommunication sure is a b*tch, huh?

Tango's POV - a first foray into the au

(^^^This one is technically not canon, i was simply trying stuff out)

Misc posts:

vesper ask - mer & mimicry

kimi ask - about team zits

kimi ask - Doc & the hivemind

kimi ask - the pod™️

vague plot things

kimi ask - the pod™️ is looking

kimi ask - siz might be in trouble

kimi ask - siz + pod dynamics

kimi ask - ranchers dynamic

more plot things! introducing: Joel and Lizzie!

b ask - more about grian, pearl, and joel

b ask - Etho's backstory :]

klm-zoflorr ask - more about pod dynamics!

b ask - how martyn found tango

b ask - more about bdubs!

worldbuilding, ramblin about Joel

[nanaosaki3940]

So I finally read Sakamoto Days manga chapter 163 and peeked into chapter 164 raw scan leaks on Twitter...

No pictures from leaks are shared but still read this at your own risk...

Basically what happened was Sakamoto and Nagumo were talking to "Akao" and tried to convince her to stay in Uzuki's body but "Akao" didn't like the idea and told Sakamoto to kill her off while she was still in control of Uzuki's body...

"Akao" got into a heated argument with Sakamoto and Nagumo when suddenly this announcement came out...

We learn about Nagumo's first name which is Yoichi, hence his full name is Yoichi Nagumo. 🥰

Nagumo's not in the Order anymore and is now seen as a traitor to JAA; meaning he's currently unemployed. 😶

And now Nagumo, Sakamoto, and Uzuki are on the wanted list of JAA, and other assassins are ordered to kill them off right in the spot if seen anywhere. 😨😱

Even Shin and Shishiba were shocked after hearing that announcement... like WTF?!?!?!

And right after that Uzuki took back control of his body and this happened...

Old man Takamura came into the scene and is about to carry out the order of JAA!!!

Now I snuck a peek into the chapter 164 spoilers and you can read the raw scans here -

but WTF is going on right now?!?!?!?! WTH is wrong with this old geezer yo?!?!?! Like he's going after Nagumo and Sakamoto and is trying to kill them off?!?!?!

And unfortunately, he even landed a hit on Nagumo and slashed the upper part of his body!!! 😭😭😭💔💔💔

Luckily Nagumo is still alive though but not sure for how long!! Is he gonna make it out alive or is he gonna die we still don't know about that yet. But since Nagumo is a major side character and loved by the entire fandom, I don't think Mangaka Yuto Suzuki would take out Nagumo like this. I mean I know he isn't a b*tch like Gege Akutami, so there's still a chance Nagumo might survive and won't die.

But my biggest problem with this upcoming chapter is how the fans are reacting to it. Like Nagumo got injured and Sakamoto's fighting Takamura to death, but the readers are excited to see our heroes getting bodied like that. I mean like seriously??? Sakamoto and Nagumo are our main heroes here, and if Takamura is trying to kill them off, then he's the bad guy here. You should pray for our heroes, not cheer for the old man who's trying to kill them. I get that Takamura is OP af and is a cool character despite his little screen time, but he's here trying to kill off Nagumo and Sakamoto and that's not something to be excited about. Like those readers are actually excited to see Nagumo and Sakamoto getting bodied and injured who also have the potential to die even, just because Takamura is back on the scene and is showing off his moves. It's so crazy how people want Takamura to succeed in the mission as if they really want Takamura to actually kill off Sakamoto and Nagumo. That's unhinged at every level possible.

These unhinged readers make me sick for real, y'all!!! 😭😭😭

[padfoot-lupin77]

Marauders era characters as random thoughts I’ve had

(sorry for the curse words)

(inspired by a post Alle (@atyd1960)

made back in November)

•Marlene: how the fuck am I still not popular?

•Regulus: what a lovely day to die

•James: oh no, this character just died, that’s so sad but rn I really need to pee

•Remus: ughh. humans.

•Alice: wait. That wasn’t my thought. Wtf. Did some spirit possess me? Seriously though who thought that this wasn’t me

•Lily: I want a tattoo. On my shoulder. A complex butterfly. Yes. *goes back to doing English homework*

•Dorcas: *about her past self* YOU’RE A FUCKING GENIUS!

•Pandora: there’s a lack of purple in our lives

•Sirius: someone’s dying today and it’s not gonna be me

•Peter: I’ve been alive for, what, one hour? No, no wait, awake. I’ve been awake for one hour.

•Hestia: I need to talk with whichever part of my brain arranges my dreams.

•Mary: Lucinda, you b!tch!!! (While not knowing anyone named Lucinda)

[web-novel-polls]

Popular Danmei Character Tournament

CW: MAJOR spoilers for 2ha, s*x, genitalia mention, animal mention, self-sacrifice mention, non-serious murder/death threats mention, derogatory language as a joke ("d*mb*ss" and "b*tch")

Mo Ran from the Husky and His White Cat Shizun

Submission: dumbasses need representation too

He’s obsessed with his Shizun (Chu Wanning), but for plot reasons, he “hates” Chu Wanning. Still wants to fuck him tho (he thinks this is normal)

Constantly doing a fucking limbo contest where the bar is understanding his own feelings (he’s underground)  

The author pulls him and the reader through the redemption of a century kicking and screaming. 

Canonly has the largest d*ck in the cultivation realm (that we know of) - “Seen when bathing at Deyu Hall; an absolute unit, truly awe-inspiring” (Ch.131) - that leads to Chu Wanning having an entire crisis

“Because like people, an ox has gotta eat. For the sake of eating, a lot of work has to be done. If one day you can’t work anymore, then no one cares if you’re alive or dead.” - Ch.65, Ox Eats Grass 

The reason behind his “hatred-yet-not-hatred” for Chu Wanning is wild - he purposefully chose to take the Flower of Everlasting Hatred to save Chu Wanning, causing him to become Taxian-jun 

His story is also incredibly tragic, but we don’t talk about that 

Mu Qing from Heaven Official’s Blessing

Submission: He's so powerful and so pathetic. The duality of man

Mu Qing can split a tower bell in two yet can’t admit he wanted to be friends with the MC Xie Lian. He tried to sacrifice himself as soon as he did.

Randomly started reciting a poem about his least favorite coworker’s dick just to fuck with him (Feng Xin) 

Said he would kill Xie Lian if he was sent him as a bride

Apparently spent two hours telling Feng Xin how ugly his statue was in the Nan Yan Temple on Mount Yujun (source)

Is just kinda a bitch (affectionate)

[tziporarosen]

Saw this group doing an arcane reaction and the scene at the end where sevika is sitting on the couch lighting her cigar, he says “NO AGAIN?!” Because the b!tch is still alive 😭 I find it so crazy at how sevika is just immortal at this point. She’s survived jinx, a bomb, vi with hexteck and vi again, so much more probably that we haven’t seen. This woman is invisible 😭💀

[sleepdeprivedsimp234]

So i was watching a bunch of funny GC videos on YouTube and I got the inspo and motivation to give the OG13 a GC. This will probably be very OOC, but I like to think of this as how they act without the other states. So um- enjoy? (Also yes I know that ME technically isn't one of the OG13 I just added him for fun)

================================

Yorkie: WASSUP F*CKERS

Masshole: Why do you have my phone?!

Yorkie: F*CK YOU THAT'S WHY

Papa (PA): Wtf is wrong with you guys

Yorkie: b*tch stfu

Masshole: fr

Papa: 😑

Joi-sey (NJ): why am I here

Maine: I would also like to know.

Joi-sey: Nobody asked you 😑

Maine: I don't remember anybody asking you either so stfu 🤫

Georgia: It is too damn early for this... Why must y'all always choose violence??

Mary: I would like to know this as well, but I've just stopped asking and accepted it as one of their traits hun.

Georgia: Ughhhhh

Respect Your Elders(DE): Why tf is my phone blowing up

Yorkie: Cuz we're conversing duh 🙄

Respect Your Elders: Silence fetus.

Yorkie: B*tch.

Respect Your Elders: Infant.

Yorkie: Old man.

Respect Your Elders: Toddler.

Yorkie: Old hag.

Mary: Aight let's stop fighting!!

Yorkie: Stfu <3

Respect Your Elders: Stfu Mary.

Mary: 🥲

Southie: Hey guys 👋

Joi-sey: Hey babes 😘

Southie: Hey handsome ✨❤️

Masshole: Ewwwww get a room 🙄

Joi-sey: Oh shuddap Masshole. We don't say nothin' when you and Penn are sitting together on the couch and lovingly staring into each other's eyes and sh*t 😒

Rhodey: Actually we do say stuff-

Joi-sey: Yea but not out loud.

Masshole: ....Stfu <3

Joi-sey: 😌

Nutmeg: Will y'all stop bullying each other for once-

Joi-sey: No ❤️

Masshole: Nah ❤️

Connie: *sigh*

Georgia: Yorkie wanna cuddle 🥺

Yorkie: Is that even a question- I'm on my way.

Northie (NC): Gayyyyyyy

Yorkie: Oh shut up ion say nothin' when I walk past you and TeNnEsSeE making out in the hallway, so don't start.

Northie: 😳 you saw that

Yorkie: Yup 👍 I had flashbacks to middle school when I would walk into the hall and see a couple playing tonsil hockey.

Masshole: Ok but FR THO

Yorkie: YEAH THEY ALWAYS BE GOIN AT IT LIKE BRO AINT NOBODY WANNA SEE THAT 🥹

Masshole: ONG. AT LEAST GO INTO THE JANITORS CLOSET OR SOME SH*T 😒

Yorkie: YEAH. IM JUST TRYING TO GET TO MY NEXT CLASS AND TRY TO GET THROUGH THE DAMN DAY WITHOUT GETTING DRUNK AND JUMPING INTO A BUSY ROAD FOR FUNSIES 😭

Masshole: ...Damn you alright bud

Yorkie: I'm fine <3

Masshole: Okay then...

Papa: Wtf was that...?

Georgia: Idk but I have my Yorkie with me so I'm fine with it 🥺❤️

Yorkie: Stfu-

Georgia: He's blushing rn

Mary: Hun if you don't send a picture right now then no more coffee ❤️

Georgia: Sending it rn hold on...

~georgia sent a photo~

*in the photo York has his face hidden but it's still quite obvious that he is blushing like crazy*

Papa: Pfft-

Virgin(ia): Awww how cute 🥺

Joi-sey: How long have you been here

Virgin(ia): T h e w h o l e t i m e.

Joi-sey: Alright then...

The Shire (NH): Ay Yorkie ya still alive?

Georgia: No he's asleep.

Masshole: Good. He needs it.

Rhodey: Aww Masshole does have a heart :)

Masshole: Stfu before I come over there and kick you like a football out the window :]

Rhodey: 😶

Masshole: Damn right.

Mary and Papa (at the same time): Your cute when your mad 😒❤️/🥺❤️

Masshole:... Stfu ❤️❤️

Virgin(ia): I'm so lonely 🥲

The Shire: You and me both 🥲

Connie: I feel y'all :')

Rhodey: There's an emoji for that y'know 😒 "🥲"

Connie: Idc 😑

Rhodey: Whatever

.

.

.

.

.

(the next day)

.

.

.

.

Yorkie: Guys guys guys guys-

Respect Your Elders: What did you do now child?

Yorkie: Ok first of all, f*ck you. Second, I found a rat snake :)

Masshole: Put it back where you found it.

Yorkie: Why tho 🥺 He's cute 🥺

Masshole: Okay, what do rat snakes eat 😒

Yorkie: Birds, bird eggs, squirrels, rats- Oh. OH-

Masshole: Yea dumba$$. Knowing that it eats squirrels, it would probably eat your long rats too.

Yorkie: B*tch they're called ferrets.

Masshole: Point still stands.

Yorkie: I'll put him back 🥲

Masshole: Atta boy <3

Yorkie: F*ck you <3

Joi-sey: Knowing him he'll probably abduct some random garter snake he finds in the woods

Connie: Probably 😑

Papa: Yea that's accurate

Everybody else (-NY): ^

Yorkie: Man I feel betrayed 🥲 F*ck all of you ❤️

Georgia: Even me darling 🥺

Yorkie: Yes you too traitor ❤️

Papa: DAYUM-

The Shire: Dang no hesitation 😭

Georgia: I- Love you too I guess 🥲❤️

Yorkie: ❤️

Yorkie: EEK I FOUND A GARTER SNAKE 🥺 IT'S SO TINY 🥺

Joi-sey: Yup thought so.

Masshole: Goddamn it- New York stop abducting random animals

Yorkie: But-

Masshole: No buts 😒 Put it back.

Yorkie: It's cute tho 🥺

~Yorkie sent a picture~

*in the picture the snake's snoot is right in front of the camera*

Yorkie: 🥺

Masshole: Dangit it is cute- Y'know what? Fine. Tell me when you get home.

Yorkie: YESSSS :D

Masshole: 😒❤️

Respect Your Elders: Awww does the big bad Masshole have a soft spot for his little brother 🥺

Masshole: Del istg I will kick you out the window

Respect Your Elders: Pfft- yeah right 😒

Masshole: ....

Respect Your Elders: Uhhh guys?

Papa: Hm?

Respect Your Elders: Why do I hear footsteps approaching my room?

Rhodey: That's probably just Mr. Bay State coming to kick your ass out the window.

Respect Your Elders: Uh oh- Baby are you not going to help me 🥺

Rhodey: Sorry Love, but I ain't gettin' in the way of that

Respect Your Elders: Babe 😭

Rhodey: It was nice being with you <3

Respect Your Elders: Jersey? Penn?

Papa and Joi-sey: Sorry Del/Ha nope.

Respect Your Elders: Traitors 😭

Respect Your Elders: Oh god he's knocking on the door-

Respect Your Elders: HE JUST KICKED MY DOOR DOWN-

Respect Your Elders: GUYS HELPHDKGSKADHSU-

Yorkie: Damn he got him 😔

Joi-sey: 😔

Papa, and Rhodey: 😔

Mary: Y'all I just heard a thud outside my window 😥

Joi-sey: Probably just Del.

Mary: WHAT?!

Papa: Backread.

Mary (after backbreading): OH GOSH- WHY DIDNT YALL HELP HIM 😭😭

Yorkie: Ya really expected us to get in the middle of Death's work?

Mary:... Fair enough 😭

Georgia: Is he still alive??

Mary: Well- he's groaning in pain so yeah I think so 👍

Georgia: At least he's alive.

Masshole: Hey I'm back :)

Mary: Hun why did you kick Del out the window 😭?

Masshole: He was running his mouth 🥺

Mary: No books tonight, youre sleeping <3

Masshole: Nuuuuuu 🥺

Mary: Sorry Hun 😘

Masshole: 😔👍

Yorkie: 😎🕶️🤏🙂🤭

Masshole: 💥

Yorkie:👀🏃🏃🏃💨

Masshole: Damn right 🙂❤️