dissonant.

be careful what you teach her. she will go blind looking for the god in sinners. ( indie oc ; semi-private )

[romanenka]

[michellekpoems]

Every god damn time you say hello I find myself perfecting the art of saying goodbye.

Michelle K., It Never Works Out, We Should Stop Trying.

[dailypll]

[romanenka]

motherhxgger:

  ❝ well— could be worse.                  he could be crazy. ❞

      "-- да, there's always that.         But he has his moments."

[romanenka]

manofblackheart:

      “Захар.”

       It’s a smooth flow, a quiet murmur against her mouth, and Lord        knows he’s been waiting for this a long time. The  warmth  of  a        woman’s skin, the hot clutch of their body, their hitched breath        and gasps of his name.  Let’s say he’s just eager.  Let’s  say  his        hand travels beneath the hemline of her dress, touches her here.

       What then?

      “Скажи это.”

       He won’t stop until he gets what he wants. Won’t stop until she        makes him stop with trembling fingers around his wrist, pulling        his hand away because she wants something m  o  r  e than that.

       Women were too easy. 

        She doesn't say his name; what gets out instead is the         breath  of  a curse because he doesn't waste  any  time          and  fuck  he knows what he's doing. Her grip tightens          on  the back of his neck,  free hand ghosting her  thigh         to tug the hem upward a little further.   Teeth graze her          lower lip and rather than protest,  rather than pull away,         she's  pressing  closer  with  a  slow  arch  of  her  hips.

        Say it. Nadia tilts her head to meet his eyes, and smirks.

        If he wants her to  beg,  he'll have to work a little harder.

      "Или что ... -- ?

[prettylittleliars-bitches-blog]

[romanenka]

motherhxgger:

 ❝ oh, shoot— sorry. and yeah.     at least,           i think we are. ❞

      "Don't worry about it.  ... -- mhm, that's         the thing about Mischa.   You probably         won't    ever   know    what    you    are."

[fallenforpayne]

[romanenka]

motherhxgger:

  ❝ uh, so far i’ve only gotten the      hugging vibe and i hope to avoid      the set my house on fire vibe too.      nothing— nothing. i just.    you’re      russian— he’s russian. i figured. ❞

      "-- he's Russian, I'm Ukrainian. Common         mistake. Is he a friend of yours, then ... ?"

[romanenka]

motherhxgger:

  another russian?    ❝ oh— okay, sorry. ❞   he shouldn’t ask—  ❝ do you know a mischa? ❞

      "...  tall, blue eyes, eccentric  --  ?  Like you can't tell if he         wants to hug you or set your house on fire?  Да,  I know         a  Mischa.  Do  I even want to ask what he's  done  now?"

[romanenka]

manofblackheart:

      “Are you suggesting we find someplace else?”

       He isn’t averse to the notion. In fact, he isn’t averse to        taking her in the alleyway or behind the bar, anywhere        but in the middle of the street, anywhere he could find        that was open and secluded from meandering patrons.

       Waiting for her answer wasn’t an option.  Less  chance        of  being caught with his pants around his ankles  and        her pretty little dress rucked up to her waist behind the        bar instead of beside it (  but who’s to say he cares?  ).

      “Сюда.”

        Rationality says it's a bad judgment call in every respect   --         he's been drinking,  she's damn near hit that level of defiant         curiosity that can't lead anywhere good, and that's not even         touching  on  the  Mischa issue.  Not that she went out with         the intention of fucking in the alley behind a bar,  but that's         beside the point.   The fine print won't matter if he finds out.

        ( but who's to say she cares? )

        By the time they've relocated, she doesn't give a damn  who         might  be  watching.  The  kiss is slow  and  easy,  fingertips          grazing  his  jawline,  palm  settling at the nape of  his  neck. 

      "Я до сих пор не имеют ваше имя."

[romanenka]

manofblackheart:

       He doesn’t need to be told twice, and certainly won’t        take his sweet time doing so, either. He leaves behind        a crisp twenty to cover their drinks and tip  (  because        what kind of man expects all things on the house in a        city like New York?  ),  then  rises  to  his  feet, guides        her to the front exit and dismisses any prior thoughts        of  finding  his  younger  brother.  Business  can  wait.

        He  might be taciturn,  but at least he doesn't skimp on         the tip. She's given up trying to read his expression  --         she    hasn't,   however,   abandoned  the  challenge  of          getting  a name before the end of the  night.  Once  the          door of the bar shuts behind them,  she casts a  glance          at  the street before angling her gaze a little toward  his.

      "You said it was a long walk back.   Что  делать  если  я         сказал черт с долгих прогулок ... ?"

[larmoyante]

Here’s to the girls on the highway who hit the gas pedal much harder than they should. The girls with cackles for laughs who rev up their engines, and smile like tornados. They don’t walk, they don’t even run. They crash into everything that comes into contact with their wildfire souls. Approach them with caution, love them, or hate them, but you should know one thing, you will never be able to extinguish them.

Hannah Sofia.

[romanenka]

manofblackheart:

      He can afford something akin to a smile — a small quirk       at the corners of his mouth ; nothing more, nothing less.

      “Ladies first.”

      'Smile' would be pushing it, but at least he's giving        her   something   to  work  with.     She'll  make  do.

       A second's pause, and then she's rising to a stand.

      "Завершите свой напиток."

[romanenka]

manofblackheart:

      “I’ve stolen a lot of things. … sad to say a tumbler        of vodka from the pub is not one of those things.”

       Not once does his gaze leave hers.  Not  until  his        last drink took the placeholder of the empty glass        and even then, he still keeps a level eye on her  —        she    was   a    pretty   young    thing   when    you        look past the pallid contusions around her throat.

      “Это    долгий   путь   обратно   в   свой    отель.”

      "Я  могу отвлечь бармена, если вы хотите дать         ему шанс. I'm sure they won't miss one tumbler."

        She isn't serious,  although she's acted the part         of  a  diversion with worse agendas.  The steady,         unwavering  eye  contact doesn't escape  notice         or reciprocation -- but his is inscrutable at best.

      "... mhm. Мы начнем получив немного воздуха."

[inlovewithprettylittleliars-blog]

[rxdrum]

word association: bruise.

word association game.

      “Sex.”