#mala protection

[ardenchambres]

man, that’s one hell of a rarepair I’ve come up with! Too bad they don’t end up together.

BY THE WAY THROK IS NOT AS GREASY AS HE IS IN RTTE

I REFUSE TO LET HIM BECOME AN INCEL

Also Throk and Mala are siblings in rkau 👍

[dozzerxb]

this ones are old. I love spinach cookie she's my favorite, and her girlfriend mala sas

[variantia]

BELLUM. new crystals came ... and bc I love my new keyboard and its colors, I put my selenite palmstone on the keyboard and uh ...

I don't think I can express how much I fucking LOVE selenite y'all is this not the most GORGEOUS SHIT you have ever seen

[the-californicationist]

Hello Cali ❤️. Por alguna razón no te había visto más en mi muro de tumblr y me preguntaba si no estabas aquí, por eso busqué tu perfil y me di cuenta que tumblr me estaba jugando una mala pasada.

How are you??? I'm so busy because I have a loooot of work, pero me tomaré el tiempo de leer todo lo que me perdí de ti ✨✨✨

YOU ARE THE BEST, OK? I LOVE YOU ❤️💍

Quisiera que escribieras un smut de John Price CEO/Mafia con un Reader inteligente y astuto, que queda cautivado cuando John comienza a seducirla, porfis ✨

Anything for you, my friend!! I love you so much <3 <3

Wonderland

John Price is a famous mob boss... but you don't know that. All you know is that you've got a crush on a mysterious, handsome man, and you're willing to go all the way to find out if his bite is as bad as his bark.

The parking garage was dark, and the concrete seemed to hold in the cold like a freezer. It felt like ice on his cheekbone, and not even the blood from his eye socket was enough to warm the skin. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, that odd whooshing sound, and in a distant memory he could recall the first time he had ever gotten a black eye. But, all that was gone now. He had ratted out the one man that no one had dared fuck with in the past five years: John Fucking Price.

Those fucking coppers had said they’d protect him. He even had his people outside his house every hour of every day. How could this happen? He had to admit, he wasn’t even scared, he was just pissed off. Fucking bastards. They’d get what was coming to them. Maybe he’d tell them so. Not like they'd give him any more chances.

“Fuck you, Price. I hope those pigs skin you alive,” he spit out the blood that had began to pool in his mouth, and hoped it hit those stupid boots John was always wearing.

John Price slid his shoe away from the red stain that had began to swell on the ground, keeping his kangaroo leather Berlutis from ruin. The fool beneath his feet had no idea what was about to happen to him, and John almost felt sorry about it, if only for a moment. He and Vinson had been friends once. Hell, he’d even stood up at his wedding. 

“Vince, what did I tell you about that bloody mouth of yours? Said it'd get you into trouble, didn't I? Wish there was something I could do for you now, cause you and me, we used to be mates. But, I can't afford friends like you. Not anymore," Price gave the rat a quick shove with his heel and watched as the stain smeared in a thin streak across the cement. He turned to his men,

"Well, lads, I've got a party to get to. You wouldn't mind cleaning things up here for me, would’ya?"

"No, boss," was their quiet reply.

"You'll be sorry, you goddamn pussy!" Vinson was screaming now, "I hope they hang you from the fuckin’-”

Bang! The loud gunshot echoed through the hollow space.

Vinson didn't say anything after that.

"Let's get outta here, Gaz."

"Right away, boss," Gaz opened the door to the limo and prepared to drive John back into the city. There was a big gala at the Genting Casino tonight, and Mr. John T. Price was never late.

He was never early either. In fact, he was perfection incarnate. When he was younger, that wasn't always the case, but after his father died, he had needed to change. No one was fit to rule Liverpool in his stead, and he was thankful that no one had been foolish enough to try. His father had made this town what it is. Liverpool was built by his family, and even though everyone thought the Price regime had grown tired of their reign on the old docks, they couldn't have been farther from the truth.

John had his cut from all of the major casinos, and he traded security in exchange. He owned two of them himself, along with four shopping malls, five bars, three neighborhoods, two apartment complexes, and a golf course - not to mention the property that wasn't in his name. He made sure to give his men plenty of reign over their own enterprises, even if most of them were strip clubs. But, he didn't care. As long as tribute came in every quarter, he never messed around in their business.

He thought Vinson was one he could trust. He'd even given him a car dealership just last month. 

"Don't run it into the ground, Vince," he had said.

But, no. What had the little bastard gone and done? Put a tracker on his car and dropped bugs in his office. After everything he'd done for him, that's how he was repaid? To tell the truth, John never liked violence. It was awkward. But, his father had given him fists and showed him how to use them, so there was really no going against it. Violence and fear were vital pieces of the only language that men like Vince could understand. Now, with another family coming to Liverpool, John had to be on his best behavior. Even if 'best' was a little more loosely defined.

As he lit the tip of his last cigar, he reminded Gaz to grab him another few sticks on the way home. Gaz would've never turned coat on him like Vince did. He'd give him the car lot.

"You want the dealership on Sefton street, Kyle?" He offered.

"Sure, boss. Thanks a lot," Gaz smiled, knowing exactly which business he was talking about, "You want me to pull around back?"

They had arrived at the main entrance. Throngs of people were craning around the limo, trying to see who was inside. John thought about it for a second, smushed his cigar tip into the ashtray, and adjusted his tie.

"Nah," he said, "We'll give them the show tonight."

"Sure thing, boss."

Gaz parked the car and leapt out of the cab. His hand was on the door before John could take another breath, and on either side of the door, some of Price’s own foot soldiers took up their posts as bodyguards. When he emerged from the muffled quiet of the limo, it shocked John for a moment to be in such a whirl of chaos.

"Mr. Price, can I get a photo?"

"Over here, please, Mr. Price," a cute reporter was frantic enough to step in front of his men. They picked her up and put her back in the crowd.

John made sure to smile and wave, shake hands with those he had seen before, but he knew it was safer inside. 

The manager greeted him warmly and, he noted, by first name,

"John! Good to see you again, mate. We've got just the table for you, tonight. Wait til you see the legs on these girls! It'll be a night to remember."

"I'm sure it will."

"Ah, sorry, but we don't allow weapons past the main floor," the manager's face fell. So did Kyle’s. 

Gaz cleared his throat,

"I'm sure you can make an exception for Mr. Price. We'll be very discreet."

It was more of a threat than a promise, and John smiled at his friend's heavy tone. Kyle was anything if not polite.

"Uh, yes, we can certainly make arrangements. Right this way, gentlemen," and now the manager was nothing if not nervous. Perfect.

The night continued as well as it could, but he had never really enjoyed gambling. Why make all this money if he was just going to throw it into the wind? But, he could mingle with the right people here. Except that these weren't his people. He had come as a favor to his long time friend, Alex Keller, but Alex was nowhere to be found. 

"Passed out on his missus’ tits, probably!" One of the strangers guffawed at the other end of the Blackjack table. 

"He’ll show, don't you worry," another replied.

Well, John didn't have all night to wait on a man to get to his own party. He needed a drink. When he rose to head to the bar, Gaz stopped him,

"I'll get it, boss. No need to bother yourself with it."

The table was silent. The strangers who had been so brassy before were now silent and transfixed on the pair of men at their table, one of whom was important enough to have his slightest whim catered to at a moment's notice.

"It's alright, Garrick. Play my hand, yeah? I'm headed out for a smoke."

"Yes, sir."

John retreated. The awkward stares and weird glances were too much for him to bear. Surely there was a patio around here, somewhere.

By the time he found one, he was disappointed to see it was occupied.

"Oh, beg your pardon. Thought I was alone out here," he said.

To his shock, it was a woman's voice that responded from the shadows. Your voice. 

"You're fine. You got a light? Fuckin’ matches are all wet..." You fumbled with the book, striking to no avail.

He smirked,

"I have the fire if you've got an extra smoke."

"Fair trade," you smiled back jokingly. 

You were dressed in a clean chef's coat, your hair was pulled up, and you might have been going without makeup, but it was almost too dark to tell. It certainly wasn't casino makeup, that was for sure. John watched as you tugged two cigarettes free from the box, put them to your soft lips, and covered his flame with your hand. Your fingernail paint was pink and chipped. You pulled in the fire of both cigarettes and offered one to him. He took it,

"Thanks."

You grunted in a minimal response.

"So, you're a chef?" He asked.

You raised an eyebrow at him, giving him the glare he deserved for such an obvious question.

He back pedaled, 

"I mean, you work here as a chef. I just thought, with the coat...I mean, where's your big bloody hat? You need the hat."

You laughed. It was wonderful to hear, and he liked the way your mouth moved when you started to speak,

"Yeah, I work here. Have for the past three years or so. Bill signed me on as head chef, and I've been slaving away for him ever since."

"Bill?"

"Oh, he's the culinary manager. Runs all the restaurants in the casino and the hotel. When the last guy disappeared into thin air, they had to scramble to find someone, I guess. What about you? Where's your fancy hat? Based on that Hermes tie, I'm gonna assume you're here with the party."

He mindlessly adjusted his tie, noticing its feel on his neck as she called it out,

"Well, I might be."

"Yeah? You some kind of big-shot?" You eyed him again, challenging him to answer with something more than a yes or a no. You had heard yes and no plenty of times.

"I might be," he wouldn't give in.

"If we keep going like this all night, you might end up being the Queen, for all I know."

You both laughed, but then, you sighed, 

"Oh well, Mr. Mystery. Keep your secrets then," you shrugged and turned away from him.

He couldn't have that.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"Sarah," you spun back around, "Rachel. Tiffany. Willamina. Might be anything."

You had the audacity to wink at him.

"Alright, you got me, love," he moved a little closer to you, "I'm John. John Price."

He extended his hand and waited for the bad news to sink in. No one who knew his name in this town would be dumb enough to be on a patio alone with him at night. He had dodged the media for a long time, but his trials always managed to get leaked. Twelve accounts of assault and battery, two separate accounts of theft, three murder charges - all acquitted of course. But, still, he was no stranger to ducking the law.

"John? Of all the names," you shook your head and smiled, taking his hand firmly, "Pleasure to meet you."

"You as well. You've never heard of me?"

"Oh, Jesus," you lamented, "Are you famous or something? Look, if I'm not in the kitchen, I'm at home asleep. Sorry. I don't even watch TV."

"No, nothing like that, I just - " He thought about it for a moment before you saw him decide to take a different trajectory, “Not famous.”

“Why is it that I feel a little bit like Alice tonight?” You took a long drag and let the smoke fall from your lips, “Like I’m following a white rabbit down a deep, dark hole.”

He chuckled, and you enjoyed seeing his eyes shine with his laughter,

“If you follow me down,” he sidled up to you, his face close enough to yours so you could smell the balsam in his aftershave, “I’ll show you just how deep the rabbit hole goes.”

A man’s voice cleared his throat behind you, and you both turned to look at who it was. 

“Garrick?” John asked, clearly annoyed. 

“Yes, sir. Johnny and Simon made it up. They said they know why Keller hasn’t shown.”

John didn’t answer. He simply turned back to look into your eyes, trying to divine some sort of future from them. He must’ve liked what he saw because the next thing you knew, you were being given a golden key card. Top floor. 

Not famous, my arse, you thought to yourself. 

“Why don’t you take the night off, love. Come see Wonderland, yeah? I’ll be right behind you.”

“My, my,” you said, palming the card from him, “No one ever tells you no.”

Another smile, a little colder than the first,

“No, they don’t.”

“Maybe I will,” you pulled the tiger’s tail.

“You won’t,” the tiger growled back.

As you watched him leave the small patio, his broad back stretching that expensive suit, his thick fingers flicking his half-smoked cigarette off the balcony’s edge, you were kicking yourself. You knew you were going up to his room, even though something inside of you really wanted to yank this guy’s chain. But, his dark, purring voice had made Wonderland sound so inviting… maybe just one little peek wouldn’t hurt?

You waited a whole five minutes before slinking off to the service elevator, cutting out for the night. No one was making dinner anyway; it was the bar that was slammed. You’d already cleaned and prepped your station, so no one would miss you. 

You ducked into the bathroom just before the top floor, getting off on the service side in an empty hallway, checking your face for stray flour or coffee stained teeth. You smelled like a pizza oven, but maybe you could sneak a shower before he showed up?.

What a slut, you heard the angel on your shoulder chastise you. 

So, what? The devil’s side replied, indignant. 

You peeled the chef’s coat off of your body. All you had underneath was a black tee. It was cropped a bit too high for work, but you wore it anyway. Your black work pants were covered in flour and dried food. You brushed them off as best you could. It would have to do. You shoved your coat into your bag and headed back to the hallway. 

Luckily, the main elevator was vacant, as was the hallway, so you wouldn’t run into any other guests on your way to Wonderland. 

The angel rolled his eyes. The devil glared at him. 

The elevator dinged, and you inserted the gold card, clicking the very topmost button to the penthouse. 

You’d been up here before. Sometimes, you picked up cleaning shifts on your off days for the extra cash, so you knew the layout. But, that had been in the cold, hygienic light of day. At night, this floor was a sparkling vision. When the elevator doors opened, huge clear windows reached all the way into the ceiling, framing Liverpool’s city center, looking more beautiful than it ever seemed from the ground. 

You took quiet, uncertain steps out of the lift, checking for any signs of life. There were none, so you made your way to the bathroom. Huge black marble monolith slabs were carved in a semicircle, a nautilus that curled around the four separate shower heads, all ready to pour their steaming water down your naked body. 

You stripped, stepping into the stream, letting yourself pretend that you lived in this sort of luxury for a moment. A soft lather of soap and a little shampoo later and you were clean. The single-use toothbrush and paste was in the hidden drawer that no guest would ever notice, so you stole an extra set, scrubbing yourself to a minty shine. 

A pair of black satin robes hung in the closet, so you stole one, tying it around your waist, fully aware that one stiff breeze and the loose-fitting garment would fly right off of you. The soft fabric lay against your skin in the most sensual way, barely touching you and yet making you feel touched. 

You explored the hotel room a bit, avoiding Mr. Price’s suitcase like it would bite you. The kitchen came stocked with ice buckets of champagne, so you helped yourself to one, pouring a glass and lounging by the window, wondering how long you’d have to wait for your date. 

Fortunately for you, only an hour had passed and you heard the elevator ding. Out from the dark lift came the man himself… bleeding from his lip.

“John! What happened?” You put down your wine and rushed over to him. 

He held you back, waving you off like it was nothing,

“Don’t worry, love. Just a bit of a scuffle, tha’s all.”

“But —”

“Seriously,” he grabbed you by your arms and looked you up and down, enjoying the wide opening of the robe as it revealed your body to him, “You should see the other bloke. Let me get cleaned up. Pour me one of those, would’ya?”

Before you could protest, he ducked into the bathroom, out of your reach. You were left standing there, worried and a little concerned for your own wellbeing. You didn’t actually know this man at all, and here you were, lamb to the slaughter, eager and bleating happily. 

While he was in the bath, you decided to do a little research. You searched up his name, and you were finding almost no hits, until you stumbled upon a mugshot.

There he was… the notorious mob boss, ruler of the English underground arms dealing circuit, enforcer and racketeering extraordinaire. And here you were, nearly naked in his room with not so much as a penknife within reach. This guy had been in the armed forces, special forces, black ops — the works. He retired and fell into the armed security world, making a name for himself by pushing out the competition by any means necessary. His father had maintained ties to the dark underground, and now John had taken over the family business, doing shady deals for the government and crime organizations alike. All of it was hearsay, of course, and none of the charges had ever landed a single hit… but you knew the truth. 

John Price was the most dangerous man in the world; Liverpool’s crime arena was just a quiet little hobby for a man like him. If he wanted to, he could make you disappear like a magician behind a mirror. Gone without a trace.

What would you do? Would you run? Where would you go? How would you explain your sudden exit? Food poisoning?

Before you could even begin to formulate a plan, John was out of the shower. He looked incredible. His hulking, heavy form was steaming from the hot water, and his hairy chest was uncovered. He’d slipped into a pair of running shorts and nothing else, so his brutal body was on display for you. He was covered in scars, and he was heavyset, but his largeness was from his strength. His core was bulky and strong, and when he moved, you could see the tight muscles rolling around beneath the skin like a snake ready to strike. 

He turned to you, but even though he wore a smile at first, the moment he made eye contact, his face fell. Somehow, he knew that you knew.

He sighed,

“What did you see?”

He rushed over to his suitcase but found it still locked, looking back to you quizzically. You didn’t move, you didn’t dare. John stepped over to you slowly, deliberately, almost as if he was ready for another fight. 

You turned your phone towards him and showed him his own mugshot.

“Thought you said you weren’t famous,” you whispered. Your voice sounded so small and far away, you almost felt like you hadn’t spoken the words. 

He smiled bitterly, tossing his towel on a nearby chair and sat beside you on the bed,

“Cat’s out of the bag, then?”

“Yeah,” you looked down at your phone, unable to look him in the eye. 

“Go on,” he waved his hand at you, motioning toward the door, “Get out.”

You didn’t move. You should have. Every fiber in your being was telling you to make a break for it. Now was your chance. And yet… you stayed. It was silent for a long while. You could feel his gaze raking over you, hot and heavy. His breaths rumbled in his chest. 

“Go!” He spat, “No one’s keeping you prisoner here, girl. That’s me, alright, and the newspapers don’t even know the bloody half of it. Just go.” 

You reacted to his volume, shirking back a bit, but you still didn’t stand. You looked at him then, searching for the kindness you thought you saw on the patio just hours before, checking to see if it was still there, if it was even real.

When you met his eyes, his fury was masking a very real pain. He was angry, sure, but the ache of being cast out was apparent, even though you were the one doing the leaving, and you just wanted that bit of brightness back again. 

John studied you, watching your every movement, trying to determine what you were thinking but coming up short. He stood right in front of you, his hips inches from your face, and he asked,

“What are you waitin’ on, love?”

A strong thumb lifted your chin, raising your jaw up to look at him again, and he used his enormous hand to grab your face, keeping you there under his will. 

“I know you’re afraid of me,” he commented softly, “I can feel it.”

“So?” You replied, trying to keep your tone steady. 

His voice was bitter and mocking, and as he leaned forward, you could smell his clean, warm skin, 

“You wanna play with the big bad wolf, hm? See if I bite?” 

He grabbed you a little too tightly, trying to scare you. It worked, but you tried not to show it. Instead, you decided to place both of your hands at his hips, your palms flat against his warm belly, feeling the dark hair that formed a faithful trail, guiding your eyes down to his waistband. 

It was his turn to be surprised. You felt his breathing catch as you moved your hands up along his ribcage, rubbing gentle circles into his skin, petting him like a skittish hound, expecting him to snap. 

Letting go of your face, he grabbed your wrist, and just as you thought he was going to stop you, he took your hand and placed it on his chest, stretching your arm all the way up from where you were sat, making you extend your spine as you reached up to him. Your fingers traced the fur that lay flat against his pectorals, and finally, you plucked at his nipples, not allowing there to be any question as to your intentions. 

The tip of his wide finger dipped into the silken collar of your robe, swirling around your neck and following it down to the swell of your breast. He didn’t find your peak, but he didn’t seem to care to. He was just exploring. 

Suddenly, John moved faster than you could even begin to understand what was happening. He had reached under you, lifting you, and then tossed you back down on the bed. You lay, sprawled, trying to catch your bearings, and then you were covered by his huge form, his wide body casting shadows over your vision, cloaking you in his own private darkness.

His mouth was on you like a hot flame, licking and burning and biting and sucking wherever he wanted to, eager to taste every inch of your skin, the imperfections of a wrinkle or a freckle seemed to go fully unnoticed as he devoured you, sucking you down like his last meal. 

You were overwhelmed by the pleasure he was stoking inside of you, and you let a small mewling sound escape from your lips that caught his attention. 

“Mm,” he climbed up your body so that you were face to face, “Enjoying your walk on the dark side, love? Think you’re tainted by me now? Or maybe that’s what you wanted, is it? Something naughty, just for a night?”

You didn’t understand his negativity, nor the self-deprecation, so you tried to protest, 

“No, I —”

“It’s alright. I’ll show you how to be a bad girl. I’ll teach you, love. C’mere.”

His voice was smoldering and sticky, clinging to your ears with some of that same bitterness from before. But, you didn’t have time to worry about that. He was standing by the bedside again, and he grabbed your arms, making your head and shoulders hang part way off of the mattress. You were left staring at his thick thighs and scarred knees, worried about what he was up to.

Then, all became clear. He had dropped his running shorts, and the fattest cock you’d ever seen hung down, shining with drool, ready to be fed into your mouth. 

Your eyes went wide, and although you reached your hand out to try and brace against his legs, it was no use. He supported your head from underneath and bent himself over until the tip of his swollen cockhead touched your lips, the gleaming precome sticking to you like gloss. 

Unwilling to be frightened by his aggression, you opened your mouth for him, laving your tongue across his turgid flesh, allowing him to press himself inside of you. 

His cock was slick on the head but dry on his shaft, so you did your best to wet him, licking and sucking as he pumped himself in and out, already nearing the back of your throat and not even halfway sheathed. 

When he nudged your soft palate, making you gag a bit, you made a noise. You tried steadying him with your hand, and he grunted, grabbing both of your arms by the wrist, holding them above your face, clutched to his hip. Then, he continued to fuck your face, ignoring your writhing gasps for breath. 

Your throat tightened around him, but you tried to stay calm. You’d never taken anyone this deep before, but you stilled yourself, ignoring the urge to panic, and you made a point to swallow, feeling your throat squeeze around his head. You could taste him as he painted the back of your throat, salty and sweet at the same time. 

That made him moan, and you felt like you’d won some sort of battle. If he was trying to frighten you, it was going to take more than just a little rough sex. 

“Mm, fuck… Maybe you are a naughty little girl, aye?”

You hummed, making sure you could feel the vibrations travel through his girth. 

He removed himself fully, taking a trail of your own drool with him, gasping from the pleasure of your mouth. 

“Fuck, I need to taste you,” he muttered darkly, crawling over you and settling himself between your legs. 

You tried to lift yourself back onto the bed, but he kept you hanging there, pinning you down with his strong arm, pressing into your belly with his hand to prevent you from sitting up. Finally, after feeling him kiss and nip at your thighs, teasing you mercilessly, you felt the warm, wet slip of his tongue as it fell between your lips, tasting your throbbing pussy for the first time. 

The robe was half-off, and only the tie around your waist was even providing any coverage, and you realized that as he began to eat you, he was yanking off your clothes as well, ripping through the knot of the robe to free you from the fabric. 

Now, his mouth moved deeper, and you felt him seal his lips to your pussy, messily drinking you in. As he fucked you with his tongue, his mouth and jaw were strong enough to rock your body up and down on the soft bed, making it seem as if he were actually using his smooth wet muscle as a writhing cock, thrusting it up into you and reaching deep into your hole.

The scruff of his beard was enough to make you want to come, much less the power that he ate you with. Every deep, curling lick sent sparks into your core, making your pussy drip with eager stickiness. It was hungry for that fat, uncut cock, forcing you to imagine how delightful it would be when he popped his giant head into your pink flesh. 

You were keening for him. Well, it wasn’t exactly for him, per se. The noises you were making were coming from your throat against your will. If you didn’t scream, you’d pass the hell out, you were sure of it. 

“Fuck, that’s it, love. Get loud for me. Ungh… you taste… mmfh… so damn sweet,” he was ruthless, speaking between long suckles from his mouth, commanding you from below. 

You wished you could see him, but all you could see from your hanging position was the giant window, looking out across the sparkling city. So, you called out to him, your voice thick with want, with need,

“John…”

That was all it took. He tugged your hips down until he was above you again, prowling over you like some sort of beast, all snarling unbridled lust and appetite. As soon as he was in position — and your body knew he was in position — everything stopped. He stopped. 

John looked down at you and became… different. The flirty bloke from the patio was back, and he smiled at you. You smiled back, out of breath and already drunk with hunger, but that was all he needed. He kissed you deeply, making you taste your own musk, and as his soft lips slid over yours, you felt the pressure of his huge cock at your hole, pressing through your folds to reach your hot, soaked center. 

You gasped through his kiss, both of you moaning in the same timbre as you felt his heavy dick fit into you for the first time, a sparkling desire swirling within you as every delicious inch of him buried itself in you. He began to thrust himself up into your aching slit, fucking you on half of his length, and then using your own sticky fluid to slip himself the rest of the way in. 

“Bloody hell, this fuckin’ pussy… fuck me,” he groaned, wrenching his eyes shut from the pleasure. 

“Holy shit,” you breathed.

“Yeah?” He asked, seeking your praise. 

“You’re fucking huge,” you didn’t mean to sound so concerned, but there was a part of you that was. 

He sat back on his heels, taking some of the pressure away, staring down at your body lecherously, savoring your tits and fondling them in his hands,

“Alright, love?”

“You feel so good,” you insisted, wrapping your hands around his arms as he enjoyed your body. 

“Tell me again,” he said, grunting again as he fucked his cock deeper inside of you, reaching a new end before dragging himself all the way back out just so he could start the journey again. He upped his tempo, pounding into you with his weight, the loud smack of his body against yours beating into you like a drum. 

“Tell. Me. Again,” he growled his warning, snarling down at you, pinching your nipple to punish you for your silence. 

You were gasping for breath. He was so deep now, you could feel the pressure of it in your belly. Between sharp intakes of air, you hissed, 

“You… feel.. so… fucking… good…”

“That’s my girl,” he bent over you again and that familiar pressure returned. His cock was too big, and yet you took it anyway. Your body was panic and pleasure all at the same time, and he had you pinned down for the ride of your life. 

You weren’t sure how many hours passed that night. He seemed to have the stamina of a much younger man, and every time you dozed off, you’d wake up again to fingers or tongue or cock playing inside of your folds, coaxing you to open yourself up to him. You were happy to oblige, but you were properly fuck drunk. If someone asked you for the alphabet, you weren’t positive you trusted your answer. But, when John Price asked you to open your mouth or your legs for him, you were the top scholar. 

A golden, creamy dawn was rising up over the docks as you stared out the window. John’s hand was rubbing your bare back in long, relaxing strokes, and he was leaving soft, lazy kisses down your spine. You knew you were a mess. Your hair was tangled; you’d thrown it up into a messy bun on the second runthrough, done with trying to pretend to be a pristine hot girl. Your body was covered in his marks. Bruises from his teeth and red welts from a delightful slap on the ass or two were painted across you like little tattoos to commemorate your coupling. 

“You alright, love?” He checked in on you. 

He’d been checking in all night. For all his ruthlessness, he never crossed a line, and he never forgot to make sure you were safe. Sometime in the wee hours, he’d even made you drink a bottle of water and eat some fruit to hydrate, teasing you with grapes like some sort of earthly Baccus. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Looks like it’s time for me to get out of your hair. Not sure I should be seen by the public in my current state.”

“You have work, or…” John looked confused. 

You thought about lying to him for a moment. It would hurt so much less for you to just break it off now in the soft dawn glow rather than a painful goodbye over cold breakfast. But, you didn’t.

“No, just… don’t wanna fool myself into thinking this was something that it wasn’t.”

Your truth hung there in the air for a moment, but before he could open his mouth to reply, you heard the elevator ding.

You turned to look at it, but he didn’t. Instead, he pulled you off the bed and forced you to the floor. It was so fast that you didn’t even realize what he’d done until your nose was in the carpet. Then, you heard a sharp, snapping pop of something hitting the bed.

You watched in horror as John’s hand reached under the mattress and pulled out a small pistol. He held it like a professional, calm and trained, and shot twice. Then, it was quiet again. 

He helped you to your feet, and he was telling you something, but your brain wasn’t registering his words. What had happened? Why were there bullet holes in the mattress? Who had he shot?

Then, you saw it. A man’s body was laying across the door of the elevator. Wanting to descend, the elevator’s alarm wailed, beeping and beeping. 

John grabbed your jaw and made you listen to him,

“We have to go. Now. Get your clothes on. Now. Now.”

“Okay…” You couldn’t move. It was so hard to even lift your arms. They felt like solid lead. You just wanted to sink back to the floor. Maybe if you could just…

“Hey! Now!”

He shoved your clothes into your hands and you started to put them on, doing your best not to look at the elevator. John was packing a black bag, half-dressed himself, and checking the windows over and over, looking for something in the streets below. 

“There’s no time, c’mon, love.”

You felt his hand cover yours as he led you to the elevator. You watched him ruthlessly kick the body away from the doors and push you inside. Once you were in, the doors closed and you rode in silence with him. You could only hear your heart in your ears. 

“...to my car. Stay close to me.”

“Okay…” It was all you could say. No other words even dared to come to mind.

“Hey,” he held your face in his as the floor numbers dropped to the teens, “You’re alright. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Okay.”

The doors opened, and you found it extremely weird that the lobby was empty. There were no workers, no guests, not even a custodian. It was just a big, silent cavern in what was usually a lively casino. 

He was leading you out to the parking garage, and just as you stepped into the concrete enclave, you heard the screech of tires round the corner. John stood in front of you and gripped the gun in his hand, but he didn’t move away. 

The car stopped in front of you, and you braced yourself, hiding behind your lover as much as you could. 

“Get in, boss! They’re right bloody behind us. Soap, shove over,” a man’s voice came from the car. He was in the driver’s seat, and he was wearing a ballcap with the Union Jack emblazoned on the top. In his passenger seat was a man in a black balaclava, and in the back was a bright-eyed man with a mohawk who you guessed had to be Soap.

“C’mon, love,” John shoved you inside just as a black SUV rounded the same corner, the engine roaring when it saw Price’s car. 

Gunshots rang out, and you knew some of them had hit the car. You worried for John, but he stood straight up, aiming carefully for the driver, and fired his gun. As if you were in some sort of action movie, the SUV careened off-course and slammed into several parked cars. Men began to pour from it, armed to the teeth. 

John jumped in beside you and made you kneel in the floorboards, holding his body over yours protectively. 

“How’d they find out? Gaz!” John yelled at the driver, shouting his name when he saw another SUV approaching from the side. 

Gaz swerved, narrowly missing being rammed, and sped off down the highway, trying to run from his pursuers. 

“No idea, mate, but they think it was us who tore up the warf. Banno’s man must’ve turned snitch. Only explanation.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” the masked man sighed, rolling down his window to fire shots at the SUV chasing you down. 

“Who’s the bonnie hen, boss?” Soap peered down at you before turning his attention back on the car chase. 

“Uh… she’s…” John tried to explain, but you realized that you never even told him your real name, “I dunno.”

“You dinnae ken?” Soap’s brows knitted together.

“Soap! Shut up and shoot, mate,” Gaz turned his attention back on the fight.

“Well,” the masked man grumbled loudly, “She’s stuck with us all the way to Hadrian’s Wall. Heading to Katie’s house. No place else is safe.”

“Aye, good call,” John agreed. 

Finally, after leaving the city, your pursuers turned back around and left you to your escape. John helped you back into the seat and checked you for injuries. 

“John… I’m…” Your voice shook with fear, and you felt all of that stress tumbling down into your chest, turning into shock and tears. 

“Shh, it’s alright, love. I’ve gotcha. I’m… I’m sorry. Should’ve known better.”

“Better?” You whispered as he held you to his chest.

“Aye. Thought I could be a normal man for a night. Hit on the hot bird at the bar, go to a fuckin’ party. But, nothing’s normal right now. I’ve put you in this mess, and I’m sorry.”

You didn’t have a reply, not one that made any sense, and as he held you, you watched the English countryside come into view. Rolling green hills still wet with their dew made everything that had just happened to you seem so far away, but you could smell the gunpowder on his hands as he pet your cheek, and you knew that nothing could be further from the truth.

[pablitogavii]

Resolved Anger

“You’re not going! End of conversation!” Pablo was practically yelling at me at this point while still getting ready himself for this stupid party.

“And you are!? Mete a la mierda Pablo!” I was sitting on his bed wearing his oversized t-shirt with eyes crossed in front of my chest.

“I’m not taking you to lions den, where every footballer will try to fuck you enana!” He said putting on his leather jacket.

“You’re the only footballer who can fuck me then huh cabrón!?” I said angrily while he smirked nodding his head and leaning in closer.

“Dame un beso..” he said demanding it more than asking for it and I felt a shiver move down my spine.

He always claimed to be my “protective friend” but it’s a load of crap since every time we are close like this, he ends up between my legs..

“You know how footballers are hijo..keep them away from her” my dad said and Pablo squeezed my thigh underneath the dinner table.

“Te lo prometo” Pablo answered while I tried my best to control my breathing.

“Ya enana!” he was impatient and I sighed touching his face and pecking his lips with a pout..maybe this makes him let me go to the damn party!

“Take..me..with..you” I said between each kiss and he smirked rubbing our noses together.

“No y basta!” He said and I signed pulling away from him which made him roll his beautiful brown eyes at me. Idiot!

He was done getting ready adding that addicting perfume before walking up to be curled up in bed.

“Besito before I leave bombocito?” He said moving behind me but I was in no mood and he could tell.

“Estás enojada conmigo huh?” He said touching my arm and turning me to lay in my back so I can see him.

“Si..” I answer quietly because whenever he was hovering above me like this, it becomes hard to breathe.

“Hmm and if I give you your mimitos before bed?” He said and I felt my own excitement rise..I always loved when he would cuddle and kiss me to sleep.

I just nodded shyly and he leaned in leaving kisses on my neck pulling me on top of him while laying down on the bed.

“Vale, veni aquí cari” he said and I moved pulling on his jacket and he took it off to make me more comfortable. I nuzzled my face into his neck and he was playing with my hair.

“Que haces conmigo? Hm?” He said moving my hair back and looking down at my face with a smile. That damn smile..

“No te vayas..” I said sadly and he signed kissing the top of my head softly. It wasn’t that I wanted to go to that party so much that I knew girls would be hitting on Pablo like always

“Sleep..and I’ll be back quick” he said but that only made me grumpier. I tried pulling away but he wouldn’t let me and I couldn’t fight his strong muscular arms.

“Que tengas huh? You really wanna go that badly?” He said wrapping a strand of my hair around his finger and I shook my head.

“They will steal you from me..” I said and he smiled pulling you in and kissing your forehead.

“Tan preciosa..” he said and I sighed shrugging my shoulders while he moved on top of me.

“How do you think I feel when you mingle around footballers..” he said and I giggled..I knew Pablo was jealous and I loved him for it.

“Only one is on top of me every night..” I said and he smirked proudly kissing my lips and enjoying the ways my fingers played with his hair.

“Hmm estás mala..muy mala amor” he groaned when I started to scratch his back as he caught my lips kissing them passionately.

Then his phone rang..what a incredible timing boys have!!!

“Hola? Ah si, hermano..estoy list..oooh” he didn’t expect my lips sucking ontoo his neck as he gave me a warning look that made me smirk in amusement.

“Basta enana!” He said but I kept leaving hickeys all over his skin while Balde was talking about the plans for the night.

“Si que estoy escuchando cabrón!” He said while I laughed knowing he wasn’t paying attention to anything but how I made him feel now.

“Bueno! I’ll see you later Balde!” Gavi got off the call when I started kissing down his chest and unbuttoning his shirt.

“Que haces mi vida?” He said and I smirked leaving a trail off kisses and giving every one of his abs special attention.

“Making you stay with me..” I whisper seeing his jaw clenching.

“How am I doing papi??” I stopped looking up at him with arms behind his head and his eyes closed. Clearly he was very into it..

“Keep convincing me princesa..” he said and our eyes met as he held my cheeks and kissed my lips.

“J..joderrr” he groaned as I undid his shorts and started sucking him off needy for more.

“Ahhh princesa..mía..tan buena” he was playing with my hair taking off the rest of his clothes and pulling down by my legs to get on top.

“Im destroying your pussy tonight!” He sounded so angry and hot that I already had pool between my legs.

“Do it papii. I’m all yours “ I moaned making him smirk proudly.

“This was your plan all along .. huh traviesa!?” He was pounding his cock into me making my mind go blank.

“Yes! Please don’t go..just fuck me all night instead” I begged making him twist me on my stomach and get behind.

[krowturnedkid]

Mala Suerte:Xio shouldn’t have to deal with the consequences of my failure to protect him. My actions sent Xio down a dangerous path, but there’s still good in him. He’s just lost. Bring him home.

Me:

[pedrosyouknowwhat]

nena mala

Summary: After the fall of the godfathers, Peña takes his personally desired target.

Pairings: Dark! Javier Peña x Dark! Reader

Warnings: consensual turns to noncon, hate fucking, drug trafficker reader, probably very uncannon because I am in the first season but I needed to write this, reader is veeery horny, un protected sex (p in v), oral sex (f receiving), choking, slapping, arresting (?, fingering, creampie, if you dont know Spanish i can translate it for you, degradation, tell me if I missed anything.

You celebrated the fall of the godfathers; finally achieving a monopoly of the cocaine trafficking into USA. Your club boomed with people, some friends, some willing to change sides after events and some clueless of what was being celebrated.

You pulled the hem of your dress down as you slithered through the crowd, a bottle of expensive whiskey in one hand as men dragged their eyes over you; if only they knew how dangerous it would be for them to even try something. Escobar and those guys may be upfront, but you slipped through shadows and actually fucking knew how to launder money.

A gentle tap on your shoulder made you twirl on your heels, almost slipping due to the alcohol in your veins, and you came face to face with one of your guys. He leaned in to your ear, whispering discretely.

"Hay un chancho acá; del DEA."

Your eyes scanned the venue, squinting to see through the party lights until your gaze fell on him. Thick shoulders bulging from a thin shirt, tan skin and tell tale porn star mustache. Javier Peña, your darkest dream. He stood by the bar, dark eyes scanning around. Oh, how you wished that he would chase you too.

"Gracias." You whispered back, patting his back, before making your way to the bar. Smoothly, your perched yourself beside him, as if pretending to order.

"Gabriel," You called your bar tender, perhaps louder than you should. "Un caipi porfa."

It must had worked, because you felt him settle beside you.

"Isn't that bottle enough?" He teased, thick accent sending shivers down your spine. You realized you still had the bottle clenched in your hand, embarrassment slightly rose your cheeks.

"This goes back to the bar;" You lied through your teeth, placing the bottle in some confused bar tender's hand. "Gotta keep my establishment running."

You looked over your shoulder to him, towering over your back. A glimpse of understandment flashed through his eyes, and you could almost eat him up right there.

"Ah, so you work here?" He questioned, but it felt teasingly. His forearm propped itself next to yours.

"I am the owner." You clarified, grabbing the Caipirinha that was served to you as your voice slurred. The cold glass wet your hand, almost as much as he was wetting your thong. "La mujer de la noche."

You gave him the name of the bar in a singsong voice, shoulder gently nudging against his chest. Almost as if it was a signal, his free hand fell on your lower back.

"Then congratulation on the business," He chuckled, taking the drink from your hand confidently and sipping it. "Celebrating anything tonight?"

He nodded to your extravagant outfit, the little black dress that clung to your body and the golden jewelry. True gold, not anything the other girls around you had. A smile forced itself in your lips drunkenly, but you couldn't actually tell a DEA what you were celebrating, despite how your intoxicated and excited mind wanted to.

"Nothing special; I could dress up like this to do my gardening."

You felt so hot flirting like this; you wanted Javier Peña to notice you for years. You almost got jealous seeing him running around the Godfathers, and seeing his veiny hands up close made you wish he would bend you over and cuff you up.

"Then I'd really like to have you as a neighbor." He joked and you laughed, as if his DEA salary could ever afford a house next to your fucking Villa.

"You surely are better than the ones I have." You retorted. Your only neighbors were now in jail.

"They give you a hard time?" He asked, and you were devouring the amount of attention he was placing on you. You leaned in closer, chest now perked barely grazing under his pecs through the thin clothing between you, and you smelled his perfume; whiskey, cigarettes and eucalyptus.

"I'd probably say I give them a hard time, considering how they look at me." You bit, using the excuse of the loud music to get as close as possible. He looked down at you, and you almost could see his mind hesitating his response.

"Then why don't you take me back to your place and give them something else to look at?"

You almost squealed, but you had to kept your cool. You bit your lip, because you possibly couldn't take him home. It was a one way ticket to a tax evasion fine, and if he searched hard enough, you'd probably end up in the same place as your neighbors.

"Can't leave the club like this," You said, painfully, seeing disappointment in his eyes made you panic; you spoke quickly, fearing he could take it the wrong way. "but my office is free, and right upstairs."

You didn't play along the game, you had faltered, but Javier was so close to you, you couldn't even think properly. He looked surprised at your crassness, but the smile didn't falter from his lips, tucked beneath that dreamy mustache you wanted to feel scratch your skin.

"Lead the way then." He muttered, eyes dangerous. As you turned around, draping his hand over your shoulder, a grin plastered on your face.

You barely reached the stairs when he had spun your around and slammed you to the wall, lips pushing against yours. An arm slithered around your back as a hand gripped your ass, hard. You melted like jelly into his arms as he pressed his hard onto you.

"Come on," You whined, the second his lips left yours and begun sucking your neck. "I wanna sit on that big nose of yours."

You felt your cheeks blush instantly, but words spilled out of your mouth carelessly. He roared in laughter, so you just pulled him into your office.

He ferociously pushed you into your zebra print couch, falling along you. The fabric of his jeans dragged against your open thighs, zipper falling almost like a puzzle piece against your panty clad slit. You moaned at the feeling, soaking through so much you wouldn't be surprised if you had left a spot. A hand hiking up your dress, your tangling in his curls while the other dig your claws into his shoulder.

He pulled away and you almost whined at the loss of his body heat. However, as he slipped off your underwear you couldn't be less bothered. He eyed your cunt, hungrily as he spread your thighs further apart. Leaning over, he placed a kiss over your dripping slit before licking a stripe along. Your eyes rolled all the way back as a breathy, needy moan erupted through your stained lips.

He ate you like a man starved, playfully dragging his curved nose over your clit, as if making you remember your words. His tongue fucked into you, lips wrapped around your soft point, the alternation of events making you buck your hips wildly and his fucking mustache just rubbed perfectly against your mount. He brought you to the edge only to drag himself away from you and observe how you kicked your heels against the couch, clenching his hair tightly, attempting perhaps to get him closer.

"Gonna give you the good thing," He groaned darkly, fingers now working your heels off you, hastily. Once he got them off, he plunged two fingers into your weeping cunt, making your gasp at the sudden intrusion as a small sting formed around the stretch of his fingers. "Can't believe a fucking club owner has this tight of a pussy."

You ignored the sexism and stereotype in his words, eyes clenched shut as you babbled to his fingers scissoring in you. You heard faintly the sound of a zipper, and peered open to see. The well trimmed patch of pubic hair, the red big tip point angrily to the sky, a vein that traveled down his shaft. "Javi, please."

Javi; the nickname you had given him since you saw his handsome face on the TV, it made you giggle like a teenager every time you discussed him with your girl friends.

"I'm going, sweetheart." He hushed, and your heart swelled at the nickname. He took his fingers out with a faint pop from your wetness and you spread your thighs even further apart, if possibly. He smeared your wetness across his dick, giving it a few good-luck pumps. Your mouth salivated at the sight, and your hands slipped to undo the buttons of his shirt, desperate to touch more of him.

He slipped the tip in and your eyes watered, pleasure shooting through your core.

"Just fucking ram it in, Javier." You demanded impatiently. He snickered, hands gripping your hips before he shot you menacing look. Propping himself in his knees, he slammed into you.

You moaned loudly, head rolling over the edge as you stretched around him. No thick fingers could have prepared you for this; he grunted, letting you know he hadn't expected it either. In your brief glory, he leaned over your body, mouth slotting against your ear, nibbling in your lobe and whispering, seductively.

"Never told you my name, honey."

You felt as if a bucket of icy water had been thrown over you as shivers ran your spine and your eyes burst open. You attempted to laugh, mind thinking of an excuse as he dragged his cock achingly slow in and out.

"I-I know," You sputtered, hands perhaps holding so tight into his shoulder as if measuring your strength. "I have every-" he had plunged into you more deeper than he had done before, forcing a stutter. "everyone who comes into-into my club registered."

He hummed, continuing his tortuously slow pace. You felt your thighs clench against his hips, waiting his response. You felt slightly more relieved as he begun thrusting quicker.

"And the name of your club is so intriguing." He spoke through his groans, although his words were so concise they felt rehearsed. "The lady of the night; I heard that name in my job."

Fuck. No. Stop. Red flags bloomed in your temple as you froze.

"Care to hear the story?" He asked, but his tone wasn't like the questions he had asked down in the bar. He stopped his ministrations, perchance attempting to concentrate himself. "She's a drug trafficker that currently has two million pounds entering the United States from, guess where, Colombia."

Yeah. He had you. Panic took control as your body begun shivering, violently. You managed to push him off your ear, seeing his face. Your juices glistened against his mustache as his teeth formed an almost casual smirk; lit by the dim warm light of your office, his face was contorted into the most pleasured expression. You panicked, hands pushing against shoulders which barely budged. He tutted, lips still stretched as he easily overpowered your wrists in his clasp.

He called your name, in full, not even the name you had on the club paper and the people around you knew you by; your actual fucking name. "You lied to me, bebita."

His cock was still kissing your uterus, you were sure you were so tense you had clenched around him like a vice.

"You lied to me," He repeated. "you actually are fucking celebrating your competition's downfall."

Yep. Correct, Perhaps if you agreed he'd let you go.

"Get off me," You snapped, teeth bared. "I'll scream."

He cackled almost childishly, before letting his free hand cradle your cheek. The sudden tenderness felt off.

"You can scream all you want, got the fucking police outside." He muttered. "all I needed was a quick arrest; but you presented yourself so easily," He begun rocking his hips once again. "So I thought, why don't I take my commission for the head ache you have caused me?"

His hand left your cheek and fell to cover your mouth, seizing your your shaking jaw in the process. You closed your eyes, thoughts rushing to your now sober head. The air was filled with the squelching noise of his dick ramming in and out and his heavy pleasure groans. He suddenly sighted, as if savoring the moment, and his hands blindly turned your body around, pressing his barely dressed chest to you damp back. Your chest spilled from the armrest, and you took the opportunity as he held your hip with one hand and aligned his cock.

"HELP-"

His forearm slapped against your neck, bicep bulging against your cheek as he choked words out of your mouth.

"Careful there," He rasped, sheathing himself in. You whimpered at the new angle. "Don't make me do anything you wouldn't like, at least not so fast."

He began curling his hips into you, allowing you some breathe. Not that you could breathe well, his pace had become brutal, as if punishing you from every fucking gram you sold. The couch creaked as he placed all his hip strength in his thrusts. He panted like a dog, allowing thick moans to fill your ears.

"Nena mala, muy mala," He howled, pulling the straps of your dress down to grip your tits. Rough, calloused hands fidgeting with your nipples. "Just need some good cock to put you on your place, huh? un buen pito para esta putita?"

Hand on your tit, bicep choking you and dick all the way down to your abdomen, and you felt yourself clenching around him. As if he knew- he probably did, given by the short breaths he took- his hand fell down to between your legs. He found your clit easily, as if he had learned were it was, and rubbed it with the same pressure he was imprinting his cock into you. Too hard for your taste, but he was barely giving your the luxury of not choking your lights out.

No no no no, you though as you felt it. Sparking down from your chest to your core, forcing your muscles taut, sending more and more dampness around your bodies. With a wail you came around his cock, tears of humiliation spilling down your cheek and onto his tan skin.

It drove him wild, wild enough to stop choking you and hoisting your bodies up into the air, the hand that was pleasuring you rising to slap against your ass cheek as he rutted in wildly.

"Nena mala," He grunted as if that was the only thing running through his brain, punctuating his words with messy thrusts and sharp slaps to the side of your cheek. "gonna fucking teach you to behave."

Three final hits and he was holding down your lower stomach, pressing into you as hot ropes of cum painted your insides. He kept you like that for a while, and you felt crushed as he propped his weight in your shaky knees. His head came to lay on your shoulder and he suddenly was pressing kisses into your neck as a faux action of love. Your breathe hitched, sobs unable to properly escape as you hyperventilated. He produced a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, probably you had felt them when you groped his ass but chose to ignore it. He clanked them around your wrists, and you allowed him to before dropping you face first into the couch, with your dress still ridden up to your back and neckline still pulled down and cum still dripping into your legs and ass still stinging. He placed a cigarette over his lips as he zipped his pants up, shirt still torn apart.

"It's a pity;" He spoke, muffled as he lit the tip of the cigarette dangling from his mouth. "You are really pretty."

You craned your neck to look at him, taking a drag. Smoke circled around him as his body shined with sweat, your lipstick stained along his face and neck.

"But hey, the justice system is rigged; could get you out early if you behave for me."

[bonefanatic]

Miguel being overprotective with pregnant reader?

a/n: thanks for the request! i didn't know if you wanted a onseshot or headcanons so i kinda did both. also i used google translate bc i don't speak spanish

Miguel with a Pregnant Reader

NFWMB

Hozier

⇆ㅤ ||◁ㅤ❚❚ㅤ▷||ㅤ ↻

-protective asf

-especially later into the pregnancy

-like one time you were walking around and some lady accidentally elbowed your belly and before she could open her mouth to apologize, this mf GROWLS

-refuses to let you do anything

-cooking? dinner's already done. cleaning? the apartment is spotless

-even reaching for the remote, he's already got the exact show you wanted to watch on the screen and he brought snacks

-he knew somehow before you even took a test

-idk, spider senses or something

-he holds you super close even when you're home

-his body is curled protectively around you in bed, and he stands right behind you when you go out

-scary dog privileges fr

-no one asks any questions except for the doctors, all whom miguel hand picked himself

-always ready to go on midnight runs for whatever thing you're craving

-will rub anywhere on your body that is sore and this mf can massage like no other

-after doctor's appointments he gets so touchy

-like he needs to comfort you even though nothing hurt that much

"Miguel, it's not that important. It can wait 'til the morning", you hold his arm, trying to convince him to just lay back down with you.

His frown deepens as he looks down at it.

"It is important, amor. You said you were hungry."

"Migs, snacks aren't that important. I'd rather you just keep holding me."

He looks conflicted, then sigh. He sets his hands on your round little belly, humming slightly.

"Mm, tu mami está siendo tan mala conmigo, cariño", he whispers to the bump like you won't hear.

"I literally wouldn't let you go get me some snacks because it's almost midnight."

He flicks his eyes up to you, looking far too serious for the situation.

"Fine. At least let me rub your back, mami."

You roll your eyes.

"You're impossible."

[talonabraxas]

♱ ⛦ ☠︎︎ Here are some mantras to please Kali Ma ☠︎︎ ⛦ ♱

1. Bija Mantra:

“Kreem”

This mantra will protect you from all the evil forces.

2. Simple form of Kali Mantra:

“Om Krim Kali”

K stands for full knowledge, R means she is auspicious, I means she bestows booms, and M that she gives freedom

3. Kali Mantra:

“Om Kring Kalikaye Namah”

This mantra is simple and transforms the devotee to pure consciousness.

4. Simple Kali Mantra

“Om Sri Maha Kalikayai Namaha”

Only a few people use this mantra due to its purgative nature.

5. Kalika-Yei Mantra

“Om Klim Kalika-Yei Namaha”

This mantra is believed to bring relief from all kinds of problems, no matter how complex it is.

6. The fifteen syllable mantra

“Om Hrim Shreem Klim Adya Kalika Param Eshwari Swaha” It is believed that this mantra brings rapid growth to one’s spirituality.

7. Kali Mantra for Worship

“Kring Kring Kring Hing Kring Dakshine Kalike Kring Kring Kring Hring Hring Hung Hung Swaha”

Meaning: The Mantra consists of three seeds, krim, hum and hrim, and the name ‘dakhshina kalike’ and ‘swaha’, which signifying offering. This mantra is used by the devotees of Kali, the preserver of Earth, who saves us from all the ignorance and the fear of death.

8. Kali Gayatri

“Om Maha Kalyai Ca Vidmahe Smasana Vasinyai Ca Dhimahi Tanno Kali Prachodayat”

Meaning: Om Great Goddess Kali, the One and only one, who resides in the Ocean of Life and in the Cremation Grounds that dissolve the world. We focus our energies on you, may you grant us boons and blessings.

9. Kali Chants

a). “Om Kali, Kali! Om Kali, Kali!

Namostute, namostute, namo! Namostute, namostute, namo!”

b). “Ananda Ma Ananda Ma Kali

Ananda Ma Ananda Ma Kali Ananda Ma Ananda Ma Kali

Om Kali Ma!”

These are the simple chants to please the Black Goddess.

10. Dakshina Kali Dhyan Mantra : This is also known as karpuradi stotram.

“Om karala-badanam ghoram mukta-kEshim chatur-bhuryam. kalikam dakshinam dibyam munda-mala bibhushitam sadya-chinna shira kharga bama-dordha karambujam abhayam baradan-chaiba dakshina-dardha panikam”

Meaning: Om. Fierce of face, she is dark, with flowing hair and four-armed. Dakshina Kalika divine, adorned with a garland of heads. In Her lotus hands on the left, a severed head and a sword. She bestows sanctuary and blessings with her right hands.

11. Maha kali dhyanam

“Om khargang chakra-gadeshu-chapa-parighan shulang bhushundIng shirah shankhang sanda-dhatIng karistri-nayanAng sarbanga-bhushabritam. nIlashma-dyutimasya pada-dashakang sebe maha kalikang yamastou-chhaite harou kamalajye hantung madhung kaitavam.”

Meaning: Aum, Her ten hands is holding a scimitar, disk, mace, arrows and bow, lance, club, a skull and a conch shell. She is a three-eyed goddess, Her body is covered with ornaments, and Her countenance with the brilliance of blue diamonds, with ten limbs. We offer our service to mahakali, She who Brahma praised for protection from the demons madhu and kaitava, when Bishnu was in sleep. Kali Maa 🖤 Talon Abraxas

[gwynrieldreams]

How Gwynriel and Elucien mirror Quinlar and Satharion

SJM creates characters that mirror each other in each world. They have similar appearance/vibe, similar powers, similar backstory/family origins or similar role.

Rhysand, Ruhn and Dorian. Lidia and Aelin. Amren and Fury. Jessiba and Merrill. Connor and Sam. Einar and Beron. Danika and Fenrys or Danika and Nehemia, depending on how you see it. Yrene and Hypaxia. Vassa and Ariadne.

Even the villains, Vesperus and Maeve, the Valg, the Death Gods and the Princes of Hel. Their gods: Deanna and Luna, Hel and Hellas, Urd and Wyrd. Their kings and queens: Theia and Mala-firebringer. Fionn and Brannon. Elena and Helena. Gavin and Pelias.

Acosf and CC were written pretty much next to each other. So, what if Gwyn is Bryce's mirror?

They're both redheads with freckles.

Mixed: high fae + sth else that is considered lesser.

They work in a library/artifact gallery under a strict librarian.

They wear an amulet that librarians wear, with protective powers.

They both have Autumn Court heritage.

They both grew up or spent some of their childhood years in a temple.

Jelly jubilee was used to foreshadow that Bryce was Starborn and the heir of Dusk Court, while the miniature pegasus was connected to Gwyn in the scene where she cuts the ribbon and Emerie mentions that the pegasus liked Gwyn the best.

Bryce has light powers and it's possible that Gwyn also has similar powers. I believe since Bryce isn't interested in ruling or moving in Prythian, then the land will choose someone else. I just think that all those similarities and the miniature pegasus foreshadowing are something that cannot be ignored, in addition to Gwydion and the possibility that she'll be the one to wield it.

And what if Azriel and Hunt are also mirrors?

Hunt is called umbra mortis, which means shadow of death, while Azriel's name comes from Azrael the angel of death and he has shadow powers.

Dark and broody with wings.

Hunt worked as an assassin for the Archangels and hated himself, while Azriel is the torturer of the NC and hates himself. Also, this:

Just like Azriel, who was tortured and wasn't allowed to fly or see the sunlight for years.

Considering, also, the mating language parallels between the two couples, I believe all this just seals the deal for gwynriel endgame and opens the possibility that Gwyn could also be the one to wield Gwydion and/or rule Dusk Court.

Let's not forget their bonus chapters ended the same way.

Same goes for Sathia and Elain:

light brown hair and pretty

associated with flowers

in love with sb who broke up with her but still they went after him (Elain with Graysen, Sathia with Colin)

mated/married with a redhead who has done nothing but respect them and still wants to be with them after everything

Elain is soft and kind, loves to hold court. Her mother saw her as a "doll to dress up" and that she'd only marry for "love and beauty." Sathia is similar.

Lucien and Tharion also share similarities:

redhead, charming and sarcastic

no place to call home. Lucien is from the Autumn Court but his biological father is Helion, HL of the Day Court, he was emissary for Spring and now he's working as an emissary for Night, while staying in the human lands and in Spring Court/Tharion is mer but loves all things Above, he was hunted by the River Queen, he was staying with Ruhn, Flynn and Declan, until he was forced to make a deal with the Viper Queen

emissary work, Tharion is Captain of Intelligence but as we see he was sent as a representative to the Summit

Lucien wants to get to know Elain but her love for Graysen and her trauma makes it difficult, Lucien respects her decisions/Tharion married Sathia to get her out of a difficult situation but Sathia still went after Collin, Tharion respected her decision but still went after her in order to save her from the Viper Queen.

I think it's possible that Tharion and Sathia are also mates like Elucien, especially when we consider how protective she was of him against the Viper Queen -even though Colin was the one actually in danger.

[gangrenados]

Mala sangre

Yandere!Miguel O'Hara headcanons ft. Fem!reader

@liurnia is owner of the gifs, they're not mine

•I 100% belive this man got some yandere tendencies going on. He's obsessive and determined and will not hesitate to fight for what he wants or believes (even if it means body slamming a poor guy into a train but ayways)

•Miguel it's the type of yandere who won't show his love, he's not verbal, you won't even realize his feelings till he acts on them.

•He might not be the hopeless romantic type, but he cares deeply and believes that he knows what's right for you. So yeah, Miguel doesn't really care about what you have to say.

•Is he violent towards his darling? Well, not intentionally...you see, he gets riled up easily and when he gets angry he doesn't really measures his actions.

•The only way he could potentially hurt his darling is if she tries to escape. Spider or not, Miguel would haunt you down and drag you back to him no matter the cost.

•During the chase he acts crazy, rabid. He's the predator and you're the pray; so good luck hiding cuz the thrill of the chase gets him going.

•Towards others then yes, there's not if or buts. Miguel it's aggressive towards those who harm you or try to take you away from him, he has no mercy or control with them.

•Miguel is down to kidnapping, he might keep you locked up in that techno-bubble trap or perhaps go as far to get a little warehouse for you to live in.

•Also I feel like he would go as far as web you to the bed to prevent you from even thinking about running away.

(In a nsfw take he might web you to the wall or even the ceiling to get his way with you and act on his low desires)

•Whatever the decision might be, Miguel it's going to have his eyes on you 24/7.

•Listen, he's aware that his behavior it's fucked up and all, but deep down his delusional too.

Miguel calms down his anxiety by thinking that maybe this was supposed to happen, it's the right thing to keep you close and safe.

•He has seen too much and knows that the world it's an unforgiving place where anything bad can happen at any time. Miguel doesn't want you to be at risk, he can protect you from all that, he knows he can.

•He's just doing what heroes do, it's his duty as a Spider-man.

•Sometimes, Miguel let his mind wander through all his delusions and daydream a bit.

• Is it selfish to want a peaceful life full of love? He knows he can give you a beautiful life, he can be a good lover, a good husband, a good dad.

•Being this close to finally reach happiness and get his own family makes him have a little bit of hope for the future.

•To be able to have his pretty wife and a baby. Maybe with a bit of luck he'll be able to have a daughter of his own, his Gabriella.

•Yeah, Miguel would surely try for kids. Deep inside he truly believes he can be good, that you both could have a good life

•"Esto es lo mejor para ti, trust me." Miguel repeats that phrase over and over again like a mantr, at this point he's not even sure if he's still trying to convince you or himself.

[harrisonarchive]

Photos by Henry Grossman.

“[The Dark Horse Tour] was an extremely well organized tour. George had even arranged a Boing 707 for us, complete with a big Aum painted on the outside, and the inside rearranged so that the first-class area was a floor with carpets and throw cushions, like a Maharaja’s lounge. The entire plane was ours for the tour. Our musical instruments, cushioned in large protective boxes, were traveling by road along with the sound equipment, After a performance three trucks used to leave for the next city, while we would fly later on, so that when we landed and were whisked off from the plane directly to the hotel (by car), they were there to meet us. One of the trucks was even converted into a full kitchen run by Vasudevan [Ravi’s former cook], so that there was Indian food ready for us on arrival at the hotel!” - Ravi Shankar, Raga Mala (1997) “That was great. Everybody really got on well on the plane, all the Indian and Western musicians, The flights were the best times. It was easier to fly after the show, so we got into the groove of escaping out of the hall, running to the airport and jumping on the plane. Then we’d take off and go to the next city and there would be a little after-show party on the plane, and we would arrive late at night so we would already be in the town for the next gig. Jim Keltner, Emil Richards and Tommy Scott were so into all the Indians — they would be hanging out with Alla Rakha on those plane rides, playing different rhythms. It was fantastic. And with the kitchen truck, it reached the stage where the Western musicians would be eating Indian food and the Indians would all be eating pizza!” - George Harrison, ibid “There were many exchanges on different sounds with two percussionists with Ravi Shankar’s band. […] We somehow communicated through melody and rhythm. When Rij Ram, one of the percussionists, heard a new sound that impressed him, the look of joy on his face was indescribable.” - Emil Richards, Wonderful World of Percussion: My Life Behind Bars (2013)

[sitting-on-me-bum]

A young green sea turtle comes in close for a portrait in Maui, Hawaii where sea turtles thrive thanks to their strong legal protections,” says Capozzola. “This image was taken at Mala Pier in Lahaina."

By Renee Capozzola

Ocean Photography Awards 2023

[headfullof-ideas]

A second ‘Httyd/the deep rivalries’ post, as a sequel to the post i did of all the rivalries that will appear in my fic of characters from httyd and The Deep that wouldn’t interact otherwise (Ala Snotlout/Alpheus, Kaiko/Viggo, Astrid/Fontaine, etc.). Only this one’s a little different, as only one of these counts as an actual rivalry, while the other two are a little more ‘these are dynamics that are going to be REALLY fun to write’. Anywaaayyys

Ingrid and Astrid are more of a one-sided rivalry. Ingrid is one of the older girls in the village, about nineteen years old. She was top of her Dragon Training class, being the student who participated in the final test, and she had one of the fastest records to date. Ingrid is popular, if not always well-liked, and she’s really good at fighting and dragon-killing. Astrid doesn’t care about how popular Ingrid is, or about how pretty she is and how many boys faun after her, but another thing about Ingrid is that she is REALLY good at getting under someone else’s skin. And Ingrid REALLY likes getting under Astrid’s skin. Astrid prides herself on her resolve to be the best warrior she can be for her tribe, and her skill as a warrior, and Ingrid loves to make all of Astrid’s feats out as something unimpressive or subpar. She loves to suggest ways Astrid can improve in a way that makes it clear she’s saying Astrid isn’t near as good as she thinks she is, she loves to show off by doing whatever move Astrid is practicing and doing it better and acting nonchalant about it, and she ESPECIALLY loves to comment on Astrid’s skill with her ax. Obviously, this is something that drives Astrid nuts. Ingrid is hard to get back at though, so Astrid is just stuck seething and working as hard as she can to prove she’s better than Ingrid, who time and time again just brushes off Astrid’s efforts like they’re nothing more than childish feats

Fontaine and the older Riders is going to be a really fun dynamic for me to explore writing, mostly because of when they all finally meet up. I don’t want to say too much, because i want to leave it to the story, but what I will say is that it’s not really a rivalry like the others. On Fontaine’s side of it, she’s found out that her dead baby brother that she didn’t even know she had until a few years prior isn’t actually dead, and not only is he not dead, but he’s surrounded himself with his own little makeshift family in the absence of his biological family. And that family is largely composed of a lot of kids all her own age. This produces a lot of feelings such as jealousy, frustration, and self-doubt. The older Riders don’t know what to think of Fontaine at first, the idea of meeting Ant’s biological family a notion that they knew could possibly happen. But the actual presence of Ant’s older, biological sister, interacting with them and trying to get to know Ant, is one that’s making them realize that Ant’s biological family may want him back. And by this point in time, the Riders have long since settled on Dragon’s Edge. Most of this is coming from Fontaine, but both sides have a lot of complicated feelings to work through that I for one cannot WAIT to get to writing.

Mala and Eret is the least rivalry-esque of this batch, but it’s a dynamic that has been fun to figure out and write in segments as the characters watch the movie. Mala is the Queen of the Defenders of the Wing, a tribe dedicated to protecting dragons. Eret is the son of a dragon trapper who is the son of yet another dragon trapper, who have both had run-ins and minor dealings with Viggo Grimborn, who has been personally attacking Mala’s Caldera to try and get to the plethora of dragons they keep there beyond their Eruptodon. Naturally, there’s a little bit of contention between these two at the start, mostly from Mala who’s having a hard time grasping the idea that not all dragon trappers were in the business because they wanted to, and that some of them might want to get out. Eret is trying really hard to get Mala to at the very least tolerate his presence, especially when he is introduced to the young queen through the Dragon Riders. There’s gonna be a lot of fun bickering between these two, who are relatively around the same age, and trying to keep the peace in the presence of the young, impressionable riders.

Dagur and Eret are also going to be fun, because Dagur being Dagur is like ‘oh who’s this? Who’s this big brother shaped person with a dragon as well?? WHO’S THIS-‘ and Eret’s just trying to get along with the kids other friend. It’s like when you have two different friends from two different friend groups, and are trying to introduce them to each other. The Riders are in for a lot of PR control between the various groups they pick up as friends along the way as the story progresses

[hum-suffer]

Can you write a story about Madri and her kids?

I'm so sorry for the late reply!! I hope you like this!!

____________________________________________________

Protected. Protecting.

Madri isn't the first one to hold her children. It feels final, in a way. Satisfactory yet bitter.

Her husband holds the elder twin, and her co-wife's eldest holds the younger. Yuddhisthir looks at the baby with such tender eyes that Madri aches with the memory of her own brother, who hasn't visited her in years— angry at Pandu for condemning her to this life in forests. She feels her tears roll down the side of her temples and Kunti wipes them away with a knowing smile. They are partners, Madri thinks wryly, they both know what it feels to be abandoned by their maiden homes.

They didn't know what to name the twins. Madri swaddled them close to her chest, Kunti hovered over them to make sure that they were comfortable, Pandu held them close to his chest while Bheem sang a lullaby, Arjun played with them and Yudhishthir bounced them gently when they began to get fussy.

And yet, no one knew what to name them. Not until a week after their birth, when Madri found Sahadev constantly pulling at Yuddhisthir's rudraksh mala. Sahadev had a soft corner of Yuddhisthir's arms, it was almost a point of contention. It would be, if Madri wasn't so smitten with the fact that her sons loved her co-wife's sons too and everything would be fine and they would remain a happy family for the rest of their lives, even if they have to live in forests.

Madri gently pulled him into her own arms then, setting him down to let him sleep while they all sat around a fire, trying to fight off the cold at the end of the year. She didn't know what was happening, but one moment she had turned, trying to see who was winning the fight between the kids— all of them fighting for a chance to sleep beside the elder twin, who had a habit of holding the hand of anyone near him, when the object of their fight suddenly shrieked and Madri turned and—

Gods above.

Her heart thumping in her chest, Madri quickly picked up the younger twin up and away from the fire that he was inching towards. She held him close to her chest and heard him babble something, but there were tears in her eyes and her ears felt like they were going to pop. She pulled back frantically, checking the hand he had halfway near the fire, but it was completely unharmed.

Pandu came to sit beside her and held her shoulders with one strong arm while caressing the boy's forehead with the other. "It's like he is protected by the gods," he said, voice sounding tearful. "One more moment and we could have—"

Madri shook her head stubbornly. "No. No. Nothing will happen to my son. He is protected by the gods. You said it. He is, I just know."

In Arjun's arms, the elder boy shrieked with delight. Arjun looked up at Madri with startled eyes, confused. She looked down at the boy in her arms and shifted him to his father while talking away the other infant from the child. The elder one held out his hand, inching and grabbing towards his twin.

Something profound uncurled in Madri's chest.

"You like that thought?" She asked the boy in her arms. He babbled back at her nonsensically, grabbing and pulling at her rudraksha mala. "Yes, yes, you do!" She beamed at him, delighted to have understood him without needing a word.

"Then we shall name him that," she said, looking down at the boy in her husband's arms, the boy who could have died if she were a second late. "Sahadev." Protected by the gods. With the gods.

____________________________________________________

The elder twin was easy to name, after the younger had already been named.

Something whispered in her ear and her soul. Sahadev. Protected by the gods.

Nakul. Mahadev. God.

Protected. Protective. Protecting.

____________________________________________________

The first time Nakul learnt to speak, Madri felt her heart expand and her love grow and grow in her heart until it couldn't be contained anymore.

Little Nakul carefully looked at her, contemplating whether he should tell her a matter of utmost importance or not. Madri looked at him just as seriously, eyebrows raised as she waited for him to explain why he was dragging himself around the hut even when both of them knew that Nakul could crawl on his knees perfectly well.

(He was imitating Sahadev, who couldn't learn how to crawl. They both knew that too.)

"Maa," he said, voice high pitched,"sleep!"

Madri wondered how awful she must have looked for her eldest son's first words to be an order for her to sleep. Bheem had gotten sick recently and she was worried about his health, what with how he cried out in pain sometimes. All the adults in the house (and Yudhishthir, even if he tried to be sneaky) had stayed up for two nights consecutively, just to be in service of the boy.

The love in her heart roared and tears threatened her eyes and she wanted to go back in time and hear him call her that, hear her son continuously refer to her as a mother, as the centre of his focus, as the first step of his learning, as the first step of his very long life.

Madri smiled softly at him, entertaining him,"And who will take care of your elder brother?"

"I," he said, hitting his little hand on his knee, a habit he picked up from Arjun,"I care!"

Tenderness made home in her ribs, pushing it's way into her heart as she grabbed the boy and dragged him into her lap, kissing the crown of his head. "Yes, you will, dear boy," she sighed, eyes closed and begging the gods that her boys, all five of them, remained this happy and this innocent for the rest of their lives.

She fell asleep with Nakul in her arms. When Kunti and Pandu returned from the temple, they found almost all of their children curled around Madri, sleeping soundly. Sahadev was sitting, playing with Yuddhisthir's rudraksh mala. Yuddhisthir shifted closer to the boy, in his sleep, body responding instinctually.

Sahadev looked up in surprise when Kunti picked him up and grinned at her, positively beaming.

____________________________________________________

No one but Nakul heard Sahadev's first words.

"Nakul," he said, stumbling over the word and half stuttering. "You go!" He gestured towards the gate, where the rest of their family was setting up some picnic. Sahadev, despite being so little and unable to crawl properly, wanted his big brother to be an active participant.

Nakul shook his head stubbornly. "No!"

They crawled out of the house, hand in hand, when they imagined that all the work would be done and their entry would be welcomed, not berated.

Arjun glanced at them like he knew their plan to hog the attention to themselves and narrowed his eyes before picking them both up and spinning around with them in his arms.

Sahadev cried out,"Sleep!"

Arjun froze, assuming that was Sahadev's first word. He looked over at Madri, searching for guidance. (He always looked at her for advice and guidance. He wasn't interested in anything else.)

____________________________________________________

Madri saw almost all their firsts.

She taught them how to walk, laughed when she saw how snobbily Sahadev hit Nakul's arm, the first time anyone noticed their matching smiles was Madri.

The first time someone noticed their matching scars, was also Madri.

She yelled at both of them, shaking with rage, her ears empty as she ignored Kunti and Pandu's futile tries to settle things down.

"Listen to me and listen well, both of you!" She said, kneeling in front of them to be at their eye level. The sparring had done then we'll for strength and stamina building but both boys still cowered in front of their mother. They lowered their gaze.

Madri took a deep breath and controlled her desperation, fear, frustration, rage, panic. She rubbed her hands down her face and looked down, grabbing their hands.

"I need you boys to be careful," she said softly. "You are my smart boys. Lovely boys. When you two were born, my heart was cut in half and given to each of you. I will not bear it if the bearer of my heart gets hurt, clear?"

Nakul nodded and lowered his head. "I know, it was an accident, I promise I'll make sure never to do it again."

"You are named after a god, my dear boy," she tells him softly, wiping away the small dot of blood on his elbow. "And your brother's name means to be with the gods."

"Promise me," she told them softly, handing out her hand toward them,"Sahadev, my sweet boy, let yourself be protected. No one will love you as much as this family will. Let yourself be coddled. We love it." She turned to Nakul, who was nodding eagerly. "Nakul, my dear boy, promise me, that you will take care of your brother. Always."

They both easily made a promise that they would keep for the rest of their lives.

Later that night, Nakul held Madri's hand as he went to sleep. Sahadev snuggled up to her other side.

Madri closed her eyes. She did not care for heaven. The gods had already given her a wonderful family and amazing children.

[hauntedparaclassics]

“Non timebo mala” is a Latin phrase that translates to "I will fear no evil".  It is a reference to the show Supernatural and the Bible, and is a symbol of protection from evil. It is also sometimes inscribed on the barrel of a Colt.

Source: Zak Bagans IG Story