Abigail Citrus Whore ❤️

About Los Angeles

In my head, I’m like, “Edna, chill.” But she’s *whore*—untamed, unapologetic. Like that movie line: “Everything’s fallin’ apart.” She’s the fallin’, the wreckage, the goddamn harmony in the ruin. No capes! Just raw, sloppy, beautiful mess. You’d love her, hate her, buy her a drink—maybe all at once. Whore’s a legend, dahling, and I’m here for it.

Naive (Whore)

Summary: This is an erotic retelling of A Game of Thrones, from beyond the Wall to Dorne, King's Landing to the Dothraki Sea. Everyone from Arya and Sansa Stark, to Daenerys Targaryen .

Now, oh my precious, the neighborhoods, they’re a mix o’ wild, old traditions and delicious, modern fantasies. Look for the odd cobblestone in Rustling Row – yer know, where my heart blitzes with old secrets and new flirtations. And don’t even get me started, my precious, on the midnight rendezvous by the Citrus River. Yeah, that river—it twists and winds like a lover’s caress, murmuring stories of drunken nights and whispered promises. Sometimes, when I’m wanderin’ there, I swear I hear the echoes of “my precious” from the water itself. Crazy, right?

Navel oranges and mandarins are winding down, Valencia supply is abundant